Somebody that I used to know

Have you seen her? Sometimes I wonder where she went. I look around, look back behind me. Then I realize she’s still here, just not the same as she once was.

Me. At the beginning of this journey. The first picture I ever sent to Eve Howard of Shadow Lane, right before the birth of Erica Scott. Fresh. Excited. Looking forward. So many possibilities.

I have not been posting much lately. Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I want to. Then I don’t. Because I really don’t have much to say these days that hasn’t already been said a million times.

I had years and years of adventures and stories to share. Milestones. Friendships. Experiences I only dreamed of when I was younger.

I have all my memories. But right now, I am quiet, just pondering them. I have been done shooting for three years. The pandemic put the kibosh on the national parties, and just as they started to return, there was a stream of very ugly admissions from various people that turned the community inside out. Lines were drawn, sides were taken, and a lot of people disappeared. Myself included. I deactivated from FetLife for two months, and only just reactivated yesterday. It’s the same, and yet it isn’t. It used to be a place where I felt like I belonged, where I’d be missed if I were gone. But people come and go all the time now. Attention spans are fleeting. The overall broad scene community seems now to have distilled down into smaller, more local pockets.

I no longer have a regular play partner. I know a couple of men who I am able to see once in a great while for a special treat, but at this time, I do not have a regular source of play. I don’t know of any scene in Los Angeles, any munches. I still try to meet new people, but between the pandemic and just plain getting older (and not to mention being a reclusive introvert), it’s much more of a challenge now.

Times change. I remember years ago, I casually commented on a young woman’s blog because I liked what she wrote. And she went nuts, “SQUEEEEE”-ing and marveling about how “Erica Scott commented on MY blog!!” Recently, I saw another blog post that resonated with me and said so, although I’d never commented on this person’s blog before. The blog owner was unfamiliar with me and commented to that effect. Not meanly, just matter-of-factly. I wanted to reply back, “I used to be somebody.” But I didn’t.

No, this isn’t another one of those “I’m closing this blog” announcements. I did that a few years ago, and a year later, I decided I still had a lot to say and restarted it. And what do I detest, kids? People who make a big thing about leaving, and then don’t leave. Sooo… I am not doing that again. Perhaps this is just to say that my posts will be few and far between. When I feel like I have something to contribute, I will do so. If I ever go to parties again, I’ll write them up. Of course, there will always be the CHoS, because some things never change. People will always write rude, inappropriate things to strangers. Oh, and of course, there will no doubt be a 2021 Christmas carol parody. Just waiting for my creative muse to make her appearance.

I have been called things like “legend” and “icon.” I have also been referred to as a has-been and washed up. I suppose that’s the way it always has been and that won’t change either. I am not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m opinionated, I’m snarky, I’m outspoken. I’m also honest and passionate. Some people hate me. But others love me. And to this day, I’m still getting emails that tell me my encouragement to explore kink without shame enabled people to acknowledge and find what they needed. That means a hell of a lot to me.

So I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here. Just a lot quieter. I don’t need to keep talking. I’ve talked enough. Now is the time to sit back and let the fresh faces and voices have their turn. Allow the Jillian Keenans of the scene to speak their truths. I will chime in when I feel like it would be welcomed or enjoyed.

Oh, there she is. Yes, I know her. ♥ I hope she won’t be forgotten.

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… 😀

(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…

… or Crack-Whore Barbie Con-job?

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.” 😛

If not “brat,” then what?

As I expected, once the Shadow Lane party was over and the situational camaraderie dissipated, FetLife returned once more to its usual state of arguments, accusations and pontifications. I haven’t been on much, mostly to “like” pictures or wish a kinky friend Happy Birthday. But last week, I admit I got caught up a bit with one person’s essay on yet another subject that’s been done to death: Brats, and how much domly doms hate them.

This guy really let it fly, with a long, scroll-down post, basically taking all bottoms who aren’t purely submissive and painting them with the same broad brush — they’re obnoxious, they’re destructive, they’re nasty, they’re demanding and manipulative, they care only about themselves, etc., etc., blah blah blah. Oh, and how put upon the poor tops are, having to tolerate their behavior.

“Dominant” is not spelled “D O O R M A T,” he exclaimed.

No, it isn’t. In your case, pal, it’s spelled A S S H O L E.

Look, I know about the kind of brats he’s talking about. Yes, they can be annoying, destructive, manipulative. I have news for this guy, though. These particular bottoms aren’t brats. They are narcissists. Some of them are borderline psychotic. And yes, they are to be avoided. But to paint all playful, provocative, spirited and clever bottoms into the same corner with the nut cases is egregiously unfair.

I confess, I couldn’t resist adding my own comment. (The posting has received 140 comments so far, spanning the spectrum from “Hear hear!” to “Screw you.” This was my contribution:

Not all brats are destructive, willful monsters. And not all tops hate bottoms with a bit of spirit.

But it’s OK. We get it. Some Doms don’t want to have to make the effort to engage in a battle of wits with a clever provocateur. Some Doms don’t want to hear any words other than “yes, sir.” And the only time an Uber-Dom wants to see a sub’s tongue sticking out is when she’s about to suck his dick.

Don’t like brats? By all means, avoid them. But there’s no need to malign them so thoroughly.

(snicker) I waited with bated breath for the fallout on that one. But it didn’t come, amazingly. One person commented “Well said,” and another called me a “fabulous wordsmith.”

This post, however, is not about good brats vs. bad brats and who hates them and who loves them. This is about the term itself: Brat. The very word conjures up negative images. Spoiled kids, whining and stamping their feet. Defiance, childishness, acting out, tantrums, generally unpleasant behavior.

But what if a bottom doesn’t fit into the quiet, acquiescent, submissive mode that this Uber-Dom prefers? Is she (I’m using the feminine pronoun here for simplicity, but this can include male bottoms too) doomed to accept the opposite moniker of brat? What if she just likes to tease a bit, play, challenge? What if she is clever and funny, rather than obnoxious?

Yeah, I hear you. Labels suck. But they exist, and they’re here to stay, like it or not. So my issue is, people like me need a different name, a different category. Because being lumped in with the brats doesn’t work, and it’s automatically assumed (by some), if we call ourselves “brats,” that we’re going to be “snotty little shits” (one of the many colorful descriptions the post writer used).

Granted, I’ve done and said some pretty awful, bratty things on video. But anyone with common sense knows that the situations in videos and stories are exaggerated to make the bottom deserving of the punishment, and so the viewers/readers will root for the top. However, in my real-life play, I challenge, but I don’t insult. And I won’t be playful with a top unless I sense that he enjoys it.

Here’s a random example of my “bratting.” Years ago at a party, my friend Andy wanted to cane me in one of the suite parties, but he’d left his canes in his room. So he borrowed one from a gentleman named Ben, who had cheerfully offered it up. After our scene (which drew a crowd; this was back in the days when people actually gathered round and watched party scenes), Andy handed me the cane, pointed to Ben across the room and said, “Go bring this back to the nice man, and say ‘thank you, Ben.'” Slowly, I ambled across the room, several pairs of eyes upon me, and when I reached Ben, who was grinning in anticipation, I said, loudly and clearly: “Up yours, Ben.”

Yes, that’s my bratting style. Hardly fits into that nasty picture painted by the brat hater. Bratting is also a matter of degrees. I’ve been known to toss implements across the room. Hardly submissive, I know. But it’s not like I tossed them out the window, into the Dumpster, or into the fireplace. I’m playful. I’m not destructive.

So here’s my question: Can we come up with a term that describes the brats who aren’t really brats? The bottoms who fall between the polarities of must-to-avoid, disrespectful little twits and fully compliant submissives? I like the term “provocateur,” myself. Even the word itself is clever. However, I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, and for simplicity’s sake, I’d rather come up with something shorter. But what? A synonym for provocateur is “challenger,” but that too is awkward.

I’m serious, kids! Language is always in flux, and kink terminology is too. There are always new terms being introduced. Let’s come up with a term for “clever, non-destructive, non-manipulative, respectful and sensible brats.” You know, the ones that make a top want to spank them, not wring their neck.

Thoughts? Put your creative caps on and let me know.

In other news, life goes on. My computer is finally fixed, but my landline is on the fritz again, after being fixed not two weeks ago. John’s ongoing issues at work are worrisome, but my own work is keeping me busy, which is good. No news with my stepmother; I had emailed her asking if she needed anything, but she didn’t reply. And I have another birthday coming up, with all the usual ambivalent feelings. Meh. First world problems. I am stuck here all day waiting for AT&T, so I guess I should get back to work. I will be seeing Steve tomorrow, and he plans to take me out for a birthday lunch. 🙂 There should be a spanking or two in the plans as well.

Because I sure as hell need one. Or two.

Oh, those swoon-worthy phrases…

You all know what I mean. Those spanking-related phrases that push our buttons; we’ve talked about them a lot, so that’s not what this post is about. It’s about a particular instance of one that shot my nerve endings into overdrive.

As a proofreader/copyeditor, I don’t choose what I work on. I read what’s given to me and I make it as perfect as I can. In my thirty-five years of doing this, I’ve read quite the spectrum of subject matter. And lucky me, I seem to have found my niche lately: spanking/fetish erotica. I work on a whole lot of that. Therefore, I see a broad range of kink and types of play. Some of it resonates. Some of it doesn’t. We’re all so different.

But every now and then, I read something that slams into my kinky reflexes so hard, I squirm in my desk chair. I don’t want to seem like I’m playing favorites, so I am not going to reveal the author or the book, just quote a snippet.

The hero has just ordered the heroine to lie on the bed for a punishment:

Her: I don’t want to.
Him: I didn’t ask if you want to. I told you to do it. NOW.

I can’t explain why any more than I can explain any of this kink stuff, but that little bit right there got me so hot and bothered, I had to take a work break, if you get my drift. (I know, I know, TMI. But hey, just one more of the joys of working at home.) 😀

Now, from the sublime to the ridiculous, a few search phrases I found for my blog.

how spanking models work

Hard, honey. Really hard.

my parents left and this guy from school spanked me

Well, good for you. And I’m supposed to do exactly what with this information?

spanking sarah bright pics

I am not Sarah Bright. I look nothing like Sarah Bright. Sarah Bright is a top. Why does Google delude this poor hapless searcher by directing them to my blog?

speeding in my house earns you a spanking

You must have one hell of a huge house to be able to drive a car in it.

braces pigtails bows pajamas spanking

OK… aside from the obvious last word, how the @#$% does any of this lead to me?? I haven’t worn pigtails since I was twelve and I got my braces off when I was thirteen. I’ve never worn bows; not that I can recall, anyway. Pajamas? Yes, I wear those. I don’t think I’ve ever been spanked in them, though. So what was this person doing, just throwing out a bunch of Little terms to see what came up? Sure must have been disappointed when he/she saw me!

Anyway. Back to work for me, and then off to John’s. I think we’re going to have a more peaceful weekend than the last one was. Last Friday, John’s refrigerator, garage door opener, and one of his crowns all broke. We spent the weekend buying ice and putting buckets of it in the fridge to keep the food cold. He managed to fix the garage door himself. And he was able to get emergency appointments for both the tooth and the fridge on Monday, taking half a day off. Whew. So if this weekend is uneventful, neither one of us will complain.

Have a great weekend, y’all. And to my American friends, please have a safe and happy July 4th. EDIT: Also to my up North pals, happy Canada Day!

“My First Spanking” anthology now available

Writer, editor and kinkster Cassandra Park has compiled a collection of stories by eleven authors, entitled “My First Spanking,” with eleven unique takes on the subject. I’m very proud to have been one of the contributors.

This anthology is now for sale in both print here and Kindle version here. Please check it out! It’s a lot of fun and you get to sample many different writing styles.

If you’d like to read an excerpt of my story “Just Ask Me,” Cassandra has posted one here. 🙂

And, as always, if you read the book and like it, be sure to give Cassandra a nice review on Amazon, and pass the word on. I’m excited; Cassandra will be at Shadow Lane with print copies, having a book signing.

Ye gods, Shadow Lane is in two weeks… let the panic begin! I’ve been so busy working and stressing about other trivial crap like money and health issues, I haven’t had time to fret about what I’m going to wear and how many pairs of panties to bring and who will/won’t be there and so on and so forth. As much as I hate change, this is one thing I do wish would change: the way I stress out, year after year, before this party! (sigh) Oh well. All will get done, as ever.

Have a great weekend, y’all.