Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “spanking”

The State of Erica

So it’s been an interesting few weeks, ones of much soul searching and roller coaster emotions. I’ve learned a few things, made some mistakes. And now I think I’m ready to move forward once again.

One of the mistakes I made was breaking my own promise to myself and allowing politics to pervade my blog, Twitter and Facebook. The events of the past few months have consumed me, as they have many, and I let myself get swept up in venting. The reactions were enlightening and depressing at the same time. I got a lot of backlash, but not necessarily from the opposite polarity. I also was ignored, unfollowed and unfriended by people I least expected to do so. In times of emotional crisis, I find out time and again who cares about Erica, the entire person (even in her darkest, angriest, most unlikable times), and who just wants Erica Scott, the witty, snarky spanko showing off her butt. I find out who my friends are. It’s a painful process, but a necessary one, I guess.

Look, I get it. This is a spanking blog. Politics can be read anywhere, anytime, any place these days, ad nauseam. When one comes to a spanking blog, one wants to read about spanking, yes? Same deal with followers on Twitter and other social media. Therefore, for the bulk of my venting, I have found two secret groups of Facebook (“secret” meaning that posts only show to the group members) where people can share their political concerns and fears. Likewise, I started another Twitter account and when I feel like retweeting the Orange Menace’s stupid posts and adding my own comments, or just want to rant about whatever’s going on, I use that. And as for here, I will not be posting anymore strictly political posts. They get crickets, for one, and then I have to put up with rude rebuttals from the likes of people who are so stupid, they need to be told how to spell their own name. So, it’s back to spanky stuff.

There’s just one problem with that; lately, I simply don’t have spanky stuff to post. I am not going to explain why, so please don’t ask, but I have not played (except for a brief moment at a holiday party) in over three months. My parties are few and far between, and my shoots are pretty much down to once in a great while. And I’m tired of hashing and rehashing the same tired discussions we’ve all seen a million times. Therefore, this blog will probably be periodic rather than regular. When the spirit moves me, when I have something fun and topical to report, I will do so. For example, in a couple of weeks we’re going to a big party in Vegas for a few days, so no doubt I’ll have some fun stories from that. But I’m no longer going to rack my brain trying to come up with things to write. I’ve written and written and written, for years. And lately, I’m (thankfully) so busy with work, I don’t have as much time for blogging anyway. So, when time passes between blogs, don’t fret. I’m still around. I’m just going to be here on a “need to post” basis from now on.

Oh, and mind you, I am not saying that I’ll never slip in some political snarky humor again, here and there. I mean, it’s inevitable, since this entire administration is one big punchline.

And with that, on to my most excellent segue*

Last week, Triple A Spanking released a clip that I shot with them three years ago. In it, John Osborne and I play husband and wife, and we are supposed to go to a gathering given by one of his friends. However, because I cannot stomach this friend, I make up a bunch of lies, including that I’m sick, to get out of going. So, what did John call this film about lying liars?

Yup, he went there… 😀

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(Yes, I edited that last photo. I hate those freaking straight-on shots! Unless you’re a proctologist, you don’t need to be getting up in there.)

I confess, seeing that title made me laugh harder than I had in weeks. So, who used that phrase better? John Osborne…

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… or Crack-Whore Barbie Con-job?

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I’d say John Osborne for the win!

So that’s it for now. Back to work with me, and then I’m off to spend the pre-Valentine’s Day weekend with my beloved. ♥ And no, we are not going to see “Fifty Shades Darker”!

Have a great weekend. y’all.

*For those who were educated at Cheeto-face University, that word is pronounced “seg-way,” not “seg-yoo.” 😛

Vote for me?

So yesterday, as I was trundling along on the treadmill, my mind wandered as it is wont to do, and I had what I consider a brilliant brainchild.

Consider the following:

  • I am one kinky, nasty woman;
  • I speak my mind often and tell it like it is, even though some people would prefer that I STFU;
  • I know zippity squat about how to run a country, but clearly, that doesn’t matter; and
  • I tweet a whole lot (going on 20K now)

I should run for president in 2020!! Not just the first woman, but the first kinky president! Hey, if we can have a PeePee President, why not a Spanko President?

electerica

Imagine the possibilities for slogans!

  • Embrace your inner safe, sane and consensual sadomasochist, America! Spanking pain is temporary; nuclear vaporization is forever!
  • Healthcare that everyone can count on, permanently — no one will piss it away!
  • Erica Scott’s promises are as solid as a frat paddle — with no (loop)holes!
  • Erica Scott will stand with you — since she can’t sit!
  • You can’t have America without Erica!
  • Red is the New Orange!
  • Erica Scott: Make America Black & Blue Again! #MABBA

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Of course, John would be the First… what? We’re not married, so already, I’m breaking tradition. But so what? We’ve been together for over 20 years; that’s longer than a lot of marriages. (Just ask the upcoming Commander in Cheat.) So, I guess John could be First Switch, Top of your Bottom in Chief. And then there’s my cabinet — oh, so many boxer briefs and panties to fill. But I think I’d start with Paul Kennedy as Spanker of the House, and make Alex Reynolds Secretary of the Posterior. Perhaps Michael Masterson should head up the Lap of Justice Department.

My White House pet would be a giant white dog (she’d have to be white, so I could name her — what else? — Snowflake, and any breed would work except sheepdog). I would train my faithful companion to always hide (or bury) wooden implements. She’d never bite anyone, but she’d growl menacingly whenever she sees someone anything orange.

One of my first acts would be to declare the non-consensual grabbing of pussies to be a capital offense. (Just to be clear, I’m talking about real non-consent, not our type of “oh, please don’t… don’t… don’t stop” consensual non-consent.) And ladies? From now on, no one will be able to get up into your business — unless you want them to, of course!

Tolerant, respectful people — of all nationalities and colors, all religions (or none), all genders (whether born or chosen), all orientations, all sizes and shapes, all ages and income levels — will be treated in turn with tolerance and respect. Those of us who choose not to follow the tried and true societal dictates will not be shamed, but welcomed. None of this bullying/prejudice/discrimination shit on my watch! This is America, not AmeriKKKa. (And yes, your leader will be spanked often for her shameless word play.)

I would redesign the Oval Office, of course. My office would need corners. All staffers would be armed with guns — squirt guns. And corporal punishment would replace capital punishment (but only for vanilla offenders, since kinky offenders would like it way too damn much).

What do you think, readers? Can you add any ideas? Would you vote for me? Come on, I couldn’t possibly be any worse than what’s coming. You’ve got nothing to lose but your inhibitions — and possibly your underwear. 😀

The more I experience…

…the less I know, it seems. Specifically, about implements.

implements

The above photo contains but a mere sampling of what’s out there to use on a spanking bottom. I’ve probably felt them all at some point or another. You’d think after 20+ years, I’d be an expert on implements and how they feel. But, aside from some general knowledge, I remain woefully in the dark. Which doesn’t help my ass any.

This post was precipitated by my getting together with an old FetLife friend for coffee last week, someone I haven’t seen in seven years. We chatted it up for a couple of hours and of course the subject of implements came up. He showed me a picture on his phone of his “punishment paddle” and I immediately said that would be a hard limit for me.

I’ve often said I don’t like wood and I prefer leather. However, “wood” is ridiculously general — it doesn’t account for the myriad types, thicknesses, etc. All wooden implements are not created equal. All woods are not created equal. I have heard many times that some are lighter, some are dense, some are quite tolerable and others are practically unbearable. But damned if I know which is which.

I do know that thick, heavy frat-style wooden paddles are a hard limit. When I said nay to my friend’s photo, he asked why. I said it’s just pure pain to me, no pleasure whatsoever, and the pain is BAD. I can’t absorb the impact; it thuds me down to the bone. “Even if it’s lower on the butt? Maybe people are hitting you too high with it,” he suggested. Nope. Even if it’s on the fleshiest part of my sit spots, I feel this horrible, heavy thud deep within my sit bones, and it’s wretched. I’m a tad more willing about other wood, like lighter paddles, hairbrushes and spoons, but even those are hard for me to take. I will take them on video a lot more willingly than in a private scene that’s for mutual pleasure, because they really don’t pleasure me.

So, generally, one would think leather is the ticket for me, right? Not necessarily. Because all leather implements aren’t created equal either, damn them. Thickness comes into play again, as well as wear. A buttery soft, well worn flexible strap feels entirely different from a stiff brand new one. Straps can run the gamut from a sensual snap to sheer agony. And I can’t tell just from looking at them which it’s going to be. I have made godawful mistakes in choosing implements at parties before: sometimes the most innocent looking items can be utter torture. Conversely, sometime the items that look the meanest can be fairly innocuous.

I like leather implements in general. But one of the worst things I ever felt was a double razor strap. Yeah, it was flexible. It was also thick, very heavy and very thuddy. I have made many people laugh by saying it felt like being hit with a side of beef.

And speaking of flexibility — if the give of leather feels so much more acceptable to me, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that other materials with give would also work?

Again, not necessarily.

I recall a scene at a party, many years ago, when I was playing with a top I knew well, and I knew the feel of his implements. He had a strap I loved to hate, and he wielded it with precision and evil intent. After I’d played a prank on him, he put a blindfold on me and then proceeded to strap the bejesus out of me. From the start, it hurt like hell, like nothing I remembered. I screamed and squawked and fussed, and he laughed at me. “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “It’s just my strap! You’ve felt it before! What’s the matter, are you losing your tolerance?” I gritted my teeth and bore it, took all he gave, even though my mind was screaming, “What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I take this? Why is this hurting so much?? Aaaaaaaagh!” Perhaps I was having an off night? A really off night?

It wasn’t until the next day that I found out from his girlfriend that the strap was NOT leather — it was rubber. Hence the blindfold, so I couldn’t see it. Grrrrr. I was marked like crazy, too. Deep bruises.

So now rubber is pretty much a hard limit as well. Although I guess Delrin is a sort of rubber, or similar? I will take a Delrin cane, although they hurt like a bitch.

Even canes don’t all feel the same. If I say in a general statement that canes are OK to use on me, what am I letting myself in for? I’ve never experienced a Singapore-style cane, nor do I want to. But a proper rattan caning, with a thin whippy one, in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing? Intense, but in the right head space, amazing.

I have felt everything, I think. From canes to belts to brushes to carpet beaters to tawses to crops to paddles to whips. I used to pride myself on what I could take. Nowadays, I find my desires changing. I still like to play hard… but only, ONLY if it’s someone whom I know is going to be measured, even, and careful. I no longer have any tolerance for stray shots–too high, too low, wrapping to the sides. I don’t like unevenness in cheekage. These days, I appreciate accurate and skilled players more than ever. The types I can trust with anything in their hands, no matter what it is, and know I’ll be safe and given just the right amount of pain. It’s a rarity, I’m afraid. Tops can be wonderful and kind and sensitive and skillful and many wonderful things, but still not adept with all the toys.

Perhaps now that I’m older, now that I’ve been doing this for a while, I don’t feel like I have to prove myself? (And to whom… to the scene, or to my own self?) I no longer have to show the world that I can get my ass beat all to hell with everything but the weed whacker. Or maybe I just don’t want that much pain and damage anymore? I really don’t know. But it does make me wish I understood the makings, the physics of implements better, so I could make the best choices for my play. Because, like everything else, I want quality over quantity.

But of course, there’s always hands. 🙂

Speaking of everything but the weed whacker — remember this?

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Anyone else find they have been fooled by implements before? Or that something they used to like is no longer acceptable? Vice versa? Has anyone’s tolerance levels changed?

My doppelganger?

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Greetings — I trust everyone had a safe and happy New Year.

Last week, I got a private message on Twitter from a friend/follower, who attached a picture with the question, “This is you, isn’t it?” I took a look, and even though I knew it wasn’t, it still took me aback.

mytwin

Similar body type, and that’s a classic Erica face. I’ve been pulling that open-mouthed expression since my very first video, as is evidenced by this photo with Keith:

golddress3

“It’s not me — you know how you can tell?” I told my friend. “I never bottom to women.” Also, I am not a big fan of naked spanking on video — I’ve only done it once in seventeen years — so that’s another giveaway.

So the question remains — anyone know who this is and where it’s from? I’ll bet Chross would know.

In case anyone was wondering what became of the Chiropractor Chronicles, since I haven’t mentioned him in a while, he’s still very much in the picture. Still says things that give me pause. In November, I had an appointment with on the very same day I had learned about the death of our friend, and I was already a basket case over you-know-what, so I was a wretched mess by the time I dragged myself into his office. After the opening chit-chat and finding out how I was, he said, “OK, belly down, and forget about everything except for the discomfort I’m about to inflict on you.”

If every bit of liquid in my body hadn’t already flowed out my eyes, I may very well have dampened myself over that one.

As he worked me over, he chatted up a storm, trying to get me to engage a bit. Daylight Savings had just switched over, so he commented, “Don’t you hate it when it gets dark at 5:00?” Yes, I know I’m the only one on the planet who feels this way — I answered, “No, I love it. I wish it would last longer.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “You’re not a vampire!” “No, but I’m a very dark person,” I snapped back.

He scoffed. “You’re not dark. You’re very bright, you’re witty, and you can light up a room when you choose to. You’re just kind of a pain in the ass right now.”

(he should only know just how much of a pain in the ass I am)

I couldn’t see his face, as I was face down, but I could hear the gentle affection in the blunt words, and felt the brief accompanying pat on my shoulder. Funny how I can fully accept that sort of thing from someone when I know there’s no malice in it.

Back to work with me — busy busy busy. Have a great weekend, y’all.

A bit of Friday humor and distraction

Taking a quick work break to share a little search word silliness. I don’t have a lot this time, but one of them was so off the wall, I couldn’t wait.

desi wife mirro spanking land

What the ever loving… Luuuuucyyyyyyy!! ‘Splain! I’m assuming “mirro” was supposed to be “mirror.” Unless they’re talking about that wonderful British actress, Helen Mirro.

And my other favorite:

erica spanked by steve scott

LOL! Several people on FetLife refer to John as “John Scott.” So now Steve is “Steve Scott”? Not very toppy, is it. 😀 Particularly amusing when you recall that Scott isn’t even my real name.

In other news… drama and stress with John continues. He’s having a rough time of it lately; not just work, but last week he got rear-ended on the freeway (no one was hurt, fortunately, but it was a three-car pile-up, with his car in the front). And all his work stress is affecting his teeth, which are costing a fortune in repair. Poor thing is having a root canal today as I type. (sigh) But on the good news side, my stepmother had her second surgery and compared to the first one, this was a breeze and she was home the next day. I will be going to visit her soon. Oh, and yesterday, I lost my prescription sunglasses, couldn’t find them anywhere, and had resigned myself to having to replace them (just bought them this year and they were $250). But then last night, I found them in my car, underneath the driver’s seat. I don’t know how they got there, but I was so relieved. I am very precise about where I put things, so I don’t lose stuff as a rule. When I do, I start wondering if I’m losing my mind. You know, genetics and all that.

Someone asked me if I would be spanked for carelessness, misplacing my sunglasses. I guess that’s how some spanking folks would handle it. Me? I punish myself enough, feeling stupid and upset and wondering if I’m dealing with early senility. John, rather than threatening to spank me, offered to pay for new glasses. I do love that man. ♥

There needs to be a spanking party, or something like that. Fun is needed. Some wild abandon and forgetting about all the shit going on is needed. I’ve had a bit too much life lately.

So, here’s a picture of a hot couple, Jonny and Stacy Stockton, pre-spanking. Because yum.

domestic-discipline-young-wife-spanking-001

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Size DOES matter

As in the size of riding crops! (WTF did you think I was talking about?)

Steve showed up at my door yesterday brandishing a crop I hadn’t seen before; he said he’d rediscovered it going through some of his stuff. The first thing I noticed was that the tip, while leather (there is no way I will allow a rubber-tipped crop; I’ve experienced that and don’t want to again), was very small and skinny, until the broader tip of our favorite. Uh oh. I’ve been around implements long enough to know that oftentimes, smaller means more painful, because it concentrates the sensation in smaller areas.

I was right.

Yesterday was intense anyway, for various reasons. I’m so damn stressed lately; things going on with John that I’d rather not go into (his work), plus all the anger and negativity everywhere over this @#$%ing election. Just the other day, I was called a “leftist Jew” on Twitter. I felt overwhelmed with tension and was fairly bursting with it when Steve arrived. We talked for a long time and I wept before he even touched me.

I also wept during our scene, and afterward. I guess I needed to.

But oh, that crop. I hate that thing! It’s nasty! I like sting, but this sting is different, since it’s so concentrated. It felt like I was being stung by multiple bees, again and again. I tried my best to keep still, to not squirm and writhe, but it was a challenge. Breathe, I thought. Settle. Accept. Take it in.

Feel. Just feel. Then you don’t have to think.

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Afterward, I was drained and tired, so drowsy. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep all afternoon. But I had to be all adult-y and stuff and work.

Someone suggested yesterday that I stay off all social media for the next two weeks. But I know I can’t do that. However, I no longer watch the news, or even any of the talk shows. I don’t want to hear about what’s going on. I have retreated into nostalgia — lately, I’ve been watching MeTV, AntennaTV and the Buzzr channel (old game shows). Although it’s pretty surreal to watch an 80s Johnny Carson show and hear him mention Trump. Some things never change…

Ugh. Must go work out. Must copy edit. And tonight’s reward, a new Law and Order: SVU episode. Last week it was pre-empted… for that fucking debate! 😛

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