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.

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Kink in the time of Covid-19

Before I get to the subject of this post, an update on my friend with the virus. She is in the middle of Week #3. Still having fevers, still having O2 drops, and her exercise for the day is taking a shower. She has made two trips to the ER. However, her lungs are clear and unaffected, so the hope is that her body is simply exhausted and will rally after a time.

I remind you — she is fit, strong, and only 31 years old. You guys do not want this virus.

Anyway, enough of that.

In these days of social distancing and quarantining, if you’re a spanko and you’re fortunate enough to live with a spanking partner, more power to you. If you don’t… then as far as getting these needs met, you’re essentially screwed. No parties. No play dates. Not even small get-togethers, because even if you do have a limited gathering, you have to maintain distance. Anything tactile is off the table for now. Which cuts out… well, everything.

So what are people doing in efforts for some satisfaction? Seems you can do one of two things. You can either satisfy the physical craving and self-spank, or you can forgo the impact and focus on the head space part of things, by either FaceTiming/Zooming or talking on the phone. In other words, virtual scenes.

Sexy-girl-using-computer

Some people are blessed with wonderful imaginations. Their minds can take them into the deepest and darkest recesses, simulating what they desire. They can take a paddle to themselves while imagining that Mr. or Ms. Deliciously Toppy is doing it. Or they can use a visual on a screen or a voice on the phone and put themselves into the same head space they feel when it’s in person.

Sadly, I’m not one of those people.

I have tried self-spanking a few times. I figured if I could achieve sexual satisfaction by masturbating, I could scratch the spanking itch myself, right? Wrong. It is so not the same. First, it’s physically awkward, and very hard on the shoulder. I don’t need anymore shoulder issues after dealing with shoulder impingement syndrome all last year. Second, there is no way I can get the angle and speed and distance good enough to make a proper impact. And finally, perhaps most important, it makes me feel ridiculous. Not the feeling I’m going for.

So then we move onto the virtual stuff. Instantly, Zoom and FaceTime are out for me on my old computer. It doesn’t have a built-in mic, and my every effort to use an external mic has failed. For whatever reason, I get picture, but no audio. My tech practically took the thing apart and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. So until I get a new computer, that’s out. I suppose I could video chat on my phone, but the small screen is a hindrance.

So that leaves the phone. A disembodied voice + my imagination. Not something I’ve ever found fulfilling in the past. But in these times, needs must. We do what we can. We try things. We endeavor to broaden our horizons. Especially someone like me, whose horizons are admittedly rather narrow.

I was talking with a gentleman from Alt.com, a very interesting and bright man, good conversationalist, funny. He is local, but we had already determined that our kinks in person wouldn’t mesh properly. No one’s fault; it is what it is. However, since no one is doing anything in person right now anyway, he suggested we try a phone scene. He said he had a lot of experience weaving fantasy scenarios and all I would have to do is stay engaged and keep answering his questions, so he’d know in which direction to go (or not).

Because he was so articulate and seemed confident about his abilities, I thought, oh, what the hell. Go for it. Life is short, and fun is at a premium right now. It’s human contact, it’s kink, it’s exciting. Give it a shot.

So, last Monday, I called him at the time we’d designated, right on time. I had my cell plugged in so the battery wouldn’t die. Per his suggestion, I had water nearby and no TV or any other distractions on. We fell into easy conversation and the first hour or so was just vanilla get-to-know-you stuff.

Remember, I’m not a fan of the phone in general. I’d rather email or text people. About the only person I speak to regularly on the phone is John. That said… would you believe we were on the phone for six hours and twenty-seven minutes???

He was, as promised, very imaginative and there were no lags in the conversation. He needed a lot of feedback from me — whenever he said something or another, went in a particular direction, he’d ask me to rate how I liked it — a little, medium, a lot, extremely. Just saying “Yes” wasn’t enough. I can understand that; he had nothing else to read, not being able to see me, see my bodily reactions. A couple of times when the scenario went in a way I didn’t care for, he switched gears immediately without faltering. And he had a wonderful voice, deep and rich. A radio host voice. (And by the way, I saw his picture — he does not have a “face for radio,” as the saying goes. 😀 He’s quite the attractive man.)

I let myself feel, and to the best of my ability, I tried to imagine. My body reacted. We took breaks, used the bathroom, drank water, checked in, etc. But the action was almost continuous. Without spelling out any details, we went to some dark places, darker than I usually go, but I felt safe doing so. I came four times. When I was starting to feel rather selfish, he finally did too. Then we talked for about another 45 minutes to an hour.

Something of note happened, toward the end. After my third intense orgasm, I started to cry.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked. “What do you want?”

Without thinking about it, I blurted, “I wish you were here! I want to feel your hands on me, your arms around me. I need impact, I need physical contact, I need I need I need…” and I kept babbling on and crying. He was very kind, and in a few minutes I calmed back down.

But there it was. I. Need. The. Real. Thing.

This was fun, and he was lovely. He worked hard to give me some pleasure. I did have an intense emotional release, and some laughs and titillation. I don’t regret doing it at all; I’m glad I did. But I don’t think I’ll be doing it again. Hell, I’d love to talk with this man again. As friends. He’s fascinating. And so damned smart. But virtual doesn’t cut it for me. It was hard for me to give the constant verbal feedback; in person, it’s not as necessary. You have breathing, you have body reactions, you have skin color. A bottom can simply sink into the space of the scene, stop talking and just feel. Is it better than nothing at all? I suppose. But I experienced a kind of rebound.

When we got off the phone, I was delirious with tiredness. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. But I was also really hungry, and still a bit keyed up; I couldn’t just shut everything off. So I made myself something to eat, then answered a couple of emails. Then I even did a bit more work. By the time I went to sleep, it was 4:30.

I was very relaxed but exhausted the next day, and in a fog of unreality. I went through the motions of the day, worked, managed to work out, although I had to break the session in two because I hit a wall and had to stop and take a nap. I finally caught up with my sleep and by Wednesday I felt back to normal.

And extremely frustrated. The craving for play had come back with a vengeance and a ferocity.

Not his fault. Not mine either. It’s just the way it is. I need what I need, and all the facsimiles and simulations and fantasies and discussions and pictures painted with words just won’t cut it.

For those of you who have better imaginations than I do, I salute you and I envy you your ability to suspend disbelief and immerse yourself in what’s available to you. Me? I don’t know when the hell people will be able to play in person again safely, but until then, looks like I’m going to do without it.

I’m working. I’m healthy. John is well. I have a place to live and I can make rent. Life goes on, and this is not the end of the world.

It’s just kinda fucking frustrating.

Have a great weekend, y’all. Please be safe and take care.

PSA — strong words from a COVID sufferer

No kink talk today. I am sharing a post from a friend, who is currently on day 12 of having COVID-19. And no, she is not old, or immune system compromised, or high risk of any kind. She is early 30s, fit and in great health. And no, she is not an angry, militant sort. I’ve known her for several years and I’ve never seen her this pissed off or blunt. Normally, she is a very upbeat and cheerful person. Clearly, she has reached her saturation point. Oh, and she lives in Georgia, where the governor is relaxing restrictions.

Please, my friends. This is real. Please read this, from a real person, someone I love. And wherever you are, whatever your rules are, heed them. Yes, this new normal is a pain in the ass. Yes, we’re frustrated. Yes, we need to go back to work. But you will not die from unmanicured nails or uncut hair. You can talk to your friends via Zoom and FaceTime. You can still go out and take a walk. You are alive and well… these measures are in place to keep you that way. Not to “restrict your freedoms.”

Anyway… that is all I can say; it’s been said a million times already. I just thought that the words of someone actually living through this might make an impression. ♥ By the way, on Day 11, she did end up going to the ER because her breathing got so difficult.

* * *

UPDATE 5/9: Day 10. Today has been the hardest day so far. I woke feeling decent besides the ever-present fever, but the moment my feet hit the floor, that changed. My cough, which had been mild and occasional, suddenly became unrelenting.The shortness of breath that came with it was terrifying. I could barely catch my breath before the next bout began. I thought a warm shower would help, but instead found myself barely able to stay on my feet as the coughs doubled me over and sapped what little energy I had left. I’m glad [her husband] was there to help me.

By the time I made it to the couch, my chest was in pain, my lower lungs ached, my body was tingling, and I was nearly passing out whenever I tried to move. The muscles in my neck hurt from breathing so fast, trying to keep up with the oxygen my body seemed to be screaming for. I just kept telling myself to stay calm, because panicking only makes everything worse.

My pulse oximeter showed that my oxygenation was in safe range, so I took several cough medicines and tried to find a comfortable position to breathe it out. It took a couple hours before I could breathe with ease again, but the medicine eventually worked its magic. I am still feeling pretty weak and unpredictable when I try to stand or walk.

My fever had been peaking in the 102’s the last couple days and responding to Tylenol, but today I hit 103’s again. Took Tylenol and an hour later my temp had gone up, not down. 🙁 It’s finally down to 101 now, but I tell you all of this to be brutally honest and say, this is a different beast. This is not “just a flu” and isn’t comparable to any sickness I’ve ever experienced. Will it hit everyone this hard? No, thank goodness. But it is not predictable, and you’re an idiot if you don’t take steps to protect yourself and your family. Wash your hands and wear the damn mask, for your sake and everyone else’s, and for god’s sake stop complaining about your precious freedoms being trampled by someone requiring you to cover your damn mouth and nose in public, crowded areas. I’m pretty worn down and REALLY f’ing over it.

How are we doing, kids?

I wish I had something interesting to say. But here in Pandemic Paradise, each day is the same. Get up. Dress. Go online. Work. Take a break to exercise. Do some more work. Return texts and emails. Eat something. Work a bit more. Watch TV. Undress. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

The only time I leave my building is on Saturday when I head out to John’s to bring him groceries. To get my own groceries. Or for absolutely necessary errands, of which there really aren’t that many right now. I tried for two days to resolve a banking issue over the phone and online and was unsuccessful. So I made an appointment to take care of it in person at my branch tomorrow. Wearing a mask, of course.

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And hey, look, I cut my own bangs. Haven’t done that since I was about five years old.

No play, of course. Can’t even go on a pre-play coffee date these days. I miss it. Definitely a First World Problem in the face of death and unemployment and financial ruin, but what can I say. It’s wired into me and I crave it.

Many parties, small and large, have been canceled. Joe is staying positive and hoping Shadow Lane/Lodge can still happen over Labor Day. I’m skeptical. But that’s four months from now. Hope springs eternal. If we’re all still living, that is.

My stepmom turns 89 today. I can’t see her to take her to lunch like I usually do, but I sent her flowers. It’s a crap time to be having a birthday, but I wanted to brighten her day if I could. She loved them.

My moods fluctuate. Sometimes I can hunker down and work, and forget what’s going on out there. Sometimes I can go on Twitter or Facebook and banter with friends. Sometimes I even laugh. Other times, I feel so damn powerless and angry and frustrated I could rip through walls with my bare hands. Other times, I’m so scared, all I can do is break down and cry.

My dear friend Jay sent me a care package a couple of weeks ago. It was completely unexpected and I had no idea what was inside. As I opened the large box, the first thing I saw was a jumbo-sized canister of Lysol wipes. There was hand sanitizer included too. I bawled like a baby.

Another friend had a neighbor knock on her door on Easter Sunday. They backed away when she came to the door, but on the doorstep was a plate filled with Easter dinner, some candy, and half a 12-pack of toilet paper, wrapped with ribbon. This sort of situation tends to bring out the best among us. ♥

Unfortunately, it also brings out the worst. Yeah, I understand wanting to get back to normal life. But the stay-at-home rules aren’t a punishment cooked up to make us miserable — they are to keep us safe. So, to all those ignorant, belligerent little @#$%s out there protesting the quarantine, blocking traffic, carrying your stupid misspelled signs and Confederate flags, spreading your germs everywhere, and whining because you can’t play golf or get your hair cut — do us all a favor. Please feel free to spread all the virus you want among yourselves. Have at it and have an orgy for all I care. Just stay. The Fuck. Away from those of us who are following the rules and want to stay alive. 😦

lockdownprotest

And for those who attend this thing, or others like it (bring your children?? Jeezus Effing Christ) — oh, so many things I’d like to say. But I will refrain. I’ll just say one thing, paraphrasing Forrest Gump:

“Stupid is as stupid DIES.”

EDIT, 4/23: IMPORTANT!

I have just been informed that the above rally poster was a hoax. (Some hoax!) Whatever, thank goodness. However, the picture below is quite real. I stand by my statement about stupid.

For those who can still play, please have fun, escape a bit and blow off some stress. We need to stay strong. We need to find our moments of fun, of joy, of abandon, of release.

And for those who can’t… well. There’s still plenty of chocolate out there.

Or ice cream. And remember, pints are for lightweights.

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Please stay safe, friends.

An addendum to yesterday’s post

So, yesterday’s post was all about stress and anxiety and frustration. But I will have you know that at this moment, I currently have:

  1. A jar of peanut butter in the fridge with about one spoonful left.
  2. Two cartons of ice creams in the freezer with roughly one serving each left.
  3. A box of See’s candy (my favorite chocolate) with four pieces left.

What’s the big deal, you ask? Remember… for years, I was a compulsive stress eater. In days of yore, I would have inhaled all three of those items in short order, and probably a box of cereal and who the hell knows what else to boot.

stresseating

But now, I haven’t touched them, and I’m not going to, until I decide I want them. So yay me!

I think I deserve a reward, dammit. 😛

Happy “birthday” to Erica Scott

No, technically, it is not my birthday, which is why I put it in quotes. January is nearly over, and I’ve been so busy with work that I completely forgot to acknowledge a passage of time. Twenty years ago, in January 2000, I shot my first video. Twenty years ago in January, “Erica Scott” was born. I had come out as a spanko in 1996, but 2000 was the beginning of my online presence, my video presence. When I decided I wanted to keep my first name, but change my last, for simplicity.

I will never forget that day… the unbelievable excitement, the nerves, the joy, the exhilaration. The huge script to memorize for what turned out to be a 90-minute video. All the costume changes. Actually working with Keith Jones, who had been my first spanko crush from afar. Shooting for 9 1/2 hours, then going out to a late dinner, then playing some more, then coming home after midnight… and being so wound up, I still couldn’t go to sleep.

So very many experiences since then. Erica Scott may only be twenty, but she’s crammed a lifetime into those years. My alter ego has served me well.

Still my favorite picture from the “Naughty Secretaries Week Part 2” shoot, although I can’t recall what the hell we were laughing at. (Apologies for the poor picture quality.)

standingduo

I never would have thought I was launching something so monumental in my life, back on that day in January 2000. The birth of my alter ego changed my life. Broadened it. Freed it. Freed me.

And now Erica [real name] must get back to work.

Okay, okay, here’s the real parody

hohocat

You didn’t think I was going to skip the annual carol parody, did you? The one from last week was simply a bonus, because… well, because I felt like it. But ’tis an Erica Scott tradition to create a spanko parody of a Christmas carol every year, and I wasn’t about to slack off on it. Besides, work is slow this week, I have a wretched cold, so I have plenty of time on my hands and could use the distraction.

I’ve done several of these already (like this one from last year, for example), but as we all know, there is no shortage of carols to work with. The one from last year was complex with multiple verses, but this year, with my brain muddled with mucus, I needed to keep it simple. And what’s more simple and classic than “A Christmas Song”? Besides, to this day, I can’t think about that song without remembering my dad warbling “Jack Frost roasting on an open fire…”

So, with all apologies to Mel Tormé (co-writer) and Nat King Cole, here you go:

Bottoms roasting under open palms
Teardrops dripping off their nose
Misbehavior being handled by doms
And brats dressed up like Santa’s hos

Everybody knows a paddle and a strap or two
Help to keep the backsides bright
Whiny imps and the miscreants too
Will find it hard to sit tonight

They know a spanking’s on its way
They’ve got it coming and there’s nothing they can say
And all the good girls are gonna spy
To see what happens when you scheme and lie

And so the tops are rolling back their cuffs
To give the little brats their due
All Grinches out there, say goodbye to your duffs
Many spankings to you!

And yes, before anyone comments on it, it doesn’t escape me that I’m the biggest Grinch out there and should be the recipient of this holiday fare. To that I say, “Yes, please, bring it!” My mojo is definitely still very much alive. Yesterday, while in the throes of fever and boredom, I engaged in a brat war on Twitter — two other women and me against one male top. It was immature, it was silly… and it was so damn much fun. I haven’t done anything like that in years. And I’ve still got it, if I do say so myself. The top involved actually admitted, “Wow, you’re good. You’re really good.” 😀 So… once I get rid of this damn cold and get past the annual ho-ho shit, I will try to get back into the game and redouble my efforts to find a local play partner. Because I need this.

A final note… despite the heartache and disappointment and other bullshit that life tosses in our direction on a daily basis, I get by with a little help from my friends. For the special friend who had my back this week, thank you. ♥

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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