PLEASE NOTE: This blog contains adult subjects and content, and because of Google/Blogger's recent nonsense, I HAVE MOVED TO WORDPRESS. For my enlightened friends who wish to visit me in my new home, it's Please bookmark it!

The rest of you? Please take your judge-y selves somewhere more wholesome, like here:

Go on.... shoo!

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Post #200!

I can't believe I've been on Blogger under a year and I've already reached 200 posts. Apparently, I am quite the chatterbox.

I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with a fun (and hopefully interactive) topic. We all know about the done-to-death "What are your favorite spanking buzz words/phrases?" question. No, I'm not going there. I'm being more specific.

Do your tops/play partners/spouses have a signature phrase they utter often during spanking sessions? Something fairly unique to them?

Of course, I have a few examples. Are you surprised?

New Guy has one he says, without fail, at some point every week. "Oh, does that hurt?" Yes, of course he's being facetious. Of course he is goading me. Because I could simply answer "Yes" and be done with it, but my mind reels with sarcastic replies and, unless I am nearly done in, one of them will inevitably fly from my mouth.

"No, it tickles."

"What the @#$% do you think??"

"Stop asking me stupid questions!"

"Yes it does, you bastard."

As you would guess, not one of these helps my case any.

Craig had a way of being rather incredulous when I had the nerve to say something bratty while in a compromising position.

"Really? You're saying that to me now? Really???"

One time, he got so emphatic, his voice cracked on the final "really." I asked him if he was going through puberty. That wasn't appreciated.

And then there was Danny. He used to sigh and say in an exasperated tone, "Oh, Erica. When will you learn?" To which I'd answer, "How about never? Does 'never' work for you?"

It didn't.

Anyone else? OK, I know we're coming onto a holiday weekend and it's going to be Death Valley around the blogosphere, but c'mon, it takes two minutes to comment. :-)

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Semi-bored Tuesday

I actually had some work today. Someone found my work listing somewhere online and gave me a cold call. This person is self-publishing a book and his document just needed one thing... a new writer. (sigh) But work is work.

Earlier today, I was getting my hair cut, and my hairdresser mentioned that they had chocolate mint cookie yogurt at YogurtLand, a popular self-service frozen yogurt chain in these parts. And of course, I couldn't stop thinking about it after I left.

I struggled with that wretched file for about three hours and thought, I deserve a reward, dammit. It wasn't super hot outside, and there is a YogurtLand about a half-hour walk from my place. So I put on my iPod and went for a brisk walk, figuring I'm burning off the calories in advance.

Finally get there... and no chocolate mint cookie yogurt. @#$%&*!!!!! However, they did have dark devil's food chocolate and coconut together in one machine, so you could swirl them. That plus some chocolate syrup tastes like a Mounds bar. Yum.

And then another half-hour to walk back home. Incidentally... walking for an hour after some heavy-duty spanking the night before? I don't recommend it. My butt muscles hurt with every freaking step. Yeah, yeah, I know. No one feels sorry for me.

I noticed there's a 50-question meme floating around the blogosphere. I haven't seen one of those in a long time -- back in the MySpace days, I used to see those silly things nearly every day. For whatever reason, I'm a sucker for them. So, because I'm bored, here goes. Feel free to copy and do it yourself on your own blog, if you're of a mind to.


Sort of. Jews have a tradition of giving their children a name that begins with the same initial as a deceased relative's name. My mother named me with an E name in honor of her aunt Elsie. Thank god she didn't name me after the Borden cow!


Hmmm... for once, I don't remember. Sometime last week, I think.


(shrugging) Who handwrites anymore? I guess it's OK.




I do not.


LOL... these things always have the requisite really stupid questions. I dunno. Maybe. I wouldn't expect a whole lot from me, though.


Nahhhhhhhh... why on earth would I do that?


Nope; had them out at 11.


Sure... right after I flap my arms and fly to the moon.


I mix different ones; I like stuff with raisins and nuts. But not dates -- blech!


Not if they don't have laces.


Physically? So-so. Emotionally? Not very.


That's like asking what my favorite movie is -- too many choices to pick one.


Oh, come on, let's be honest here. The absolute first thing we see of anyone is how they look, so I will say looks.




My inflexibility and fearful nature.


My father


Weights and machines.


Not wearing any at the moment.


Frozen yogurt! :-)


iTunes radio -- Radio Bop 60s.


Spank Me Scarlet


Anything baking, fruity/citrusy scents, my sweetie's hair




Neither -- a four-star hotel!


Don't like sports.






No, glasses


Starchy stuff (bread, pasta), seafood, fruit and veggies


Happy endings (no, not those kinds, you perverts)


Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (taped it from TCM, after Elizabeth Taylor passed away). Good gawd, what a downer film.


Magenta tank top.




What, I can't have both?


Pretty much anything chocolate, but a couple of favorites: Marble cake with chocolate frosting, German chocolate cake.


Both. But if I only have time for one, then strength training.


Computer with the television on in the background. Oh, and for just sitting and watching a movie or TV show, always the television. Don't like watching programs on a small screen.


Dick Van Dyke's autobiography.


My mouse -- duh!! Seriously... Quentin Collins. Yes, really.

(where the hell is #41?)


The sound of one hand clapping. The non-sound of absolutely blissful silence.




New York


I have perfect pitch and an uncanny memory for useless trivia. Other than that, I'm quite ordinary.


Beverly Hills, California


Encino, California


I don't have a house. My apartment building is tan with rust-colored trim.



All except the stupid ones, like that one.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Have I mentioned lately...

... that I effing love, crave, absolutely adore Monday nights with New Guy?

The world goes away for a couple of hours. I forget it all... I forget about the bills that won't go away just because I'm not getting work. I don't fret about my boyfriend who is exhausted all the time, about the threat of inevitable heart surgery looming, even though we never talk about it. My mother, whom I haven't spoken to since New Year's Eve? She disappears for a while too. The treadmill of doom grinds to a halt.

All that's left is a fiercely dominant and sweetly compassionate man, as dependable as the dawn, his bag of tricks, the trust and the pain. The pain that takes me out of the future and the past and puts me squarely in the moment. The pain I struggle against, then surrender to. And the trust that allows it.

I don't remember the sequence this evening. It seems both of us were insatiable tonight -- he couldn't spank enough, and nothing was too much for me. I know it hurt... I even remember crying out his name at one point, and I only do that when it's really pushing my limits. Was everything harder and faster than ever tonight, or did I just imagine it? Bent over my recliner, over the ottoman, on the couch, on the carpet... it's all a blur.

Not many pictures this time. He was too busy whacking to do much clicking. This was taken early in the evening:

Notice that @#$%ing toy bag of his on my left. Arrggh.

Oh, and one more thing is prevalent in those couple of hours. Laughter. Lots of it. He got a wee bit overzealous with the flogger and hit the lamp with it. No damage. "Hey," he said, "does that mean I'm a light spanker?" Oh, har har har. He made another couple of light/lamp jokes, and really, what else could I do but tell him he wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier?

Paid for that, of course.

When we were winding down and talking, I mentioned that I was reading Dick Van Dyke's autobiography. He said we could play Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore; I said no, because Mary was 12 years younger than Dick, and I'm two years older than NG is. "So?" he said. "It's just pretend. I'm not really Dick Van Dyke."

"Oh, I don't know," I murmured. "You're kind of a Dick sometimes."

Paid for that too. :-D

He did stop spanking me long enough to... guess what?


Watch two episodes of Dark Shadows with me! Yes, I initiated him into my second favorite obsession. He even got to see my heartthrob Quentin.

Wonderful spanking, Dark Shadows, and I'm about to have some chocolate. At this moment, life is quite perfect, thank you.

And I guess this moment is all any of us has.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 6/24

Been mighty quiet around these parts -- where the hell is everyone? Perhaps a few Friday laughs will bring you around.

Today's first offering is from a 19-year-old (can these guys count?? Do they have any idea how much older 53 is than 19?):

i love ur long legs and booty ;]

Ah, thanks, babe. And I love that sweet li'l soft spot on the crown of your head.

i too luv 2 spank on my buttoks

You know, it's a lot more fun when someone else spanks your buttoks.

hello sexy lady llike to enjoy my dick on cam 2 cam lets hv cam chat on yahoo messenger

I prefer to enjoy dick person to person, thank you. And what does "hv" stand for?

Wow that is a lovely bottom. Especially for your age (I bet you hate hearing that).

You'd win that bet. And yet, you said it anyway, asshat.

And here's the Gem of the Week:

You sure are pretty. If I ever get the chance to spank you, would you allow me to spread open your yummy cheeks as you order me "Xxxxxxx, makeout with my asshole as if you were kissing your first loves lips"

OK, now I know what "hv" stands for -- Heavy Vomit. Gaaaaaaa! Definitely brings a whole new meaning to "kiss my ass."

Here's a tip, Junior. Do not liken a woman's lips to her anus. It's a very unattractive and unflattering image.

A side note before I close: I'm thinking about joining Twitter. Not because I think I have a lot of fascinating tweets in me (really, how much can you say in 140 characters?), but because so many people I know are on there and I'd like to follow them. But I'm resisting, because it's yet another way to waste time on the Internet.

So who belongs, and who tweets? Why should (or shouldn't) I take this up?

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Elephant syndrome

A good memory is a blessing in many ways. My mind is a treasure trove of archived moments of joy; words that lightened my heart; people, places and things I wish to keep close to me. However, the flip side is that I don't forget bad stuff, either. Or bad people. When someone @#$%s with me, or with my friends, I don't let it go. Not a trait I'm proud of.

Several years ago, an utterly dreadful man and his equally dreadful wife joined Shadow Lane. They (mostly him; she was more stupid than arrogant) infiltrated the message board and chat room, holding court, offering unsolicited opinions on pretty much everything. He was a gun-toting, Uber-conservative, bull-necked little toad of a man, and what he lacked in brains, he made up for in nerve. He'd try to tell Tony and Eve how to run their company, their parties, their site. He'd come into the chat rooms and if any of the actresses were there, he'd tell them they shouldn't be doing spanking videos. He'd glom onto every new female that wandered onto the site. He insulted several of my friends, and once, when His Highness didn't care for the SL party at the Riviera, he wrote such a nasty critique (on the Shadow Lane board, no less!) that a flame war of epic proportions ensued. 

I really don't know why E & T put up with him, but I guess that's why I'm not a business owner. I allow personalities to affect me too much.

One time, there was a thread about personality types, and I posted something tongue-in-cheek along the lines of "I tend to evoke one extreme or the other in people -- they either love me or they hate my ass." Shortly after that, someone anonymously posted, "Please count me among those who hate your ass!"

Oh, yes, so brave, taking anonymous potshots. But what this person didn't know was that, although his name didn't show up on the post, his email address came up on Tony's end of things. Guess who? Yeah, Mr. Bull-neck. Tony emailed me to let me know what he'd done: He'd copied and pasted that nasty comment into an email, sent it to Bull-neck and added, "Peekaboo, I see you." I nearly fell off my chair, laughing. Wanted to reach right through the computer screen and give him a smooch.

But here's the best part: Bull-neck, busted and pissed off, quit SL! He and a few of his malcontent cronies then tried to start their own parties, but they quickly discovered that it wasn't as easy as they thought, infighting occurred and their group dissolved after one or two gatherings. Then he and the Mrs. took off in their trailer and disappeared into the cyber ether.

So why am I mentioning this now? Because I saw this person on FetLife last night. Saw his stupid redneck handle, his big stupid face, and all the anger and icky feelings came flooding back. Saw that a couple of friends of mine had commented to him, and my mind screamed, "NO NO NO! Don't be friends with this creep!" Like it's any of my damn business??

FetLife is a huge place with a bazillion members. He has very few friends, so it's highly unlikely that our paths will cross due to friends in common. But just knowing he's there creeps me out. And that's my problem.

My mother spent most of her life ranting and railing about people who had done her wrong, steeping in her own bitterness. I do not want to be her. Not in any way. Resentness is like acid -- it only corrodes the vessel in which it is kept.

Anyone else struggle with grudges? I know it's human nature, but this is a part of my humanity I could do without!

Monday, June 20, 2011

Guess what??

It's late Monday night! And you know what that means...

Yeah, tomorrow's Tuesday. 'Night, y'all.

(OK, I'm kidding. I'm kidding!)  :-D  Sorry. It's been that kind of night. I can't stop giggling and being silly.

Yes, tonight was all about fun and games, after last week's intensity. Hard spanking too, of course. Right from the start, thanks to my big mouth. I have been feeling a bit edgy and impatient -- I feel like I spend half my life waiting for things and wanting them NOW, and it puts me out of sorts at times.

When he first arrived, I went into the kitchen to pour him a glass of water, and he followed me in, plucking things out of the dish drainer and swatting me with them. First a wooden spoon, then a regular tablespoon. When he picked up a saucepan, I told him to get away from me, but he thumped me with it anyway. "Is that teaching you anything?" he teased.

"Yeah, it's teaching me that you're an idiot," I snapped. Oops. Not too bright of me, I guess. He yanked me over to the ottoman and pushed me down onto it. "Ten with this," he said, snatching up a thick leather slapper.

"I'm not warmed up!" I protested.

"You should have thought of that before you called me an idiot."

Ugh. All right, guess I had that coming.

"OK, time for your warmup!" he said cheerfully, pulling me up and over to the couch, and across his lap. He was soon to discover that I had a brand-new thong on, which he liked. "I suppose you think that because these are so cute and they allow so much exposure, I'm just going to leave them up, don't you?"

"I know better than that," I answered. This man lives to remove panties. He even likes to pull them back up so he can yank them down again.

You can't really see them in this picture, but trust me, they're still up:

Not for long, though. After a nice long hand spanking and some smaller implements (both leather and wood), he sat me up, pulled me up into his arms and carried me to the ottoman once again, depositing me there. (Freaking Neanderthal! What's up with the manhandling, huh?)

Some different sensations followed -- his deerskin flogger and then (I think?) a quirt. Impact first, then biting sting. He'd mix things up, changing tempo and intensity; one second he'd be lightly flogging my upper back, then he'd bring it down with a mighty THWACK on my butt.

By the time we got to the paddle finale, I was quite incoherent.

"Still feeling frustrated?" he murmured, stroking my hair. I shook my head. "Think you'll be a little more patient now?" Uh huhhhhhhh...

Our first scene is always more intense. But we're both insatiable, and thus we've fallen into a groove of taking a break, sitting and talking, relaxing, and then playing again. Tonight, during Scene Two, I don't know what got into me, but I could not stop giggling and laughing. No matter what. Thank goodness he has a sense of humor and doesn't get bent out of shape about laughter during spanking. But he still let me have it regardless.

I wanted to stop laughing! I really did! He kept escalating the swats, trying to get me to shut up, and after one particularly hard flurry, I blurted, "That was just mean!"

"That's me, mean," he shot back. "I'm full of meanness."

"That's not all you're full of," I muttered. He heard me. Oh dear. That didn't help my case at all.

But finally, all good things must come to an end and he had to reluctantly take his leave. At least I managed to stop laughing.

Oh, and my nice new thong? It was part of a set. Just had to get a picture of that, didn't we?

I forgot to cut out the tag, dammit. Hey, men? When you're taking a lingerie shot, don'cha notice when a tag is sticking out?

Pleasantly sore, relaxed and happy, I bid you all good night.

NG, as always, thank you, sweetie. :-)

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Father's Day

Hope everyone who celebrates it has had a good one. My own father has been very much on my mind this weekend; not only because of Father's Day today, but yesterday would have been his birthday as well.

Each year, I try to come up with some sort of random anecdote about him. I think by now, I've used up my best ones, but I can usually remember something or another.

When Dad was younger, he was larger than life, kind of arrogant, loved to pontificate and overstate. In his later years, however, he grew much more understated and didn't like talking about himself at all. He certainly didn't like discussing any health problems. So I was pretty much left in the dark as far as any of his issues were concerned.

In May 1995 during one of our dinners out, he casually mentioned that he was "having a little bit of work done." The way he tossed it off almost as an afterthought, I figured perhaps it was something elective and minor. Not quite -- turned out it was triple-bypass heart surgery. If he was concerned, he didn't let on to me. Aside from telling me the date and the hospital, he refused to share any details with me. I knew very little about open-heart surgery and what it entailed.

The following month, he had the procedure. He came through it beautifully, was out of Intensive Care in record time and back in a regular room. I went to visit him, bringing flowers, and was pleased to see how alert he was, sitting up and struggling with a rather tough piece of meat, talking with his visitors. Again, he told me nothing of the care he'd receive once he left the hospital, just said not to worry, it was all handled.

Part of me was relieved, but I was curious and concerned nonetheless. C'mon, Dad. I'm a big girl. You can tell me what's going on with you.

Once he was back home, we talked regularly and when he was ready to go out to eat again, he had me come over to pick him up. He seemed like his old self, maybe a little thinner, and I took him to one of his favorite places, The Daily Grill. He still didn't tell me any details. I thought perhaps during dinner, I'd ask him, see if I could get him to open up a little.

I ordered the double breast of garlic-broiled chicken, and was quite surprised when my plate came. I'd expected two small fillets, but got an enormous butterflied portion of chicken that filled the plate, the two breasts still anchored by the breastbone. There was no way I could eat all that, so I figured OK, I'll eat half and take the other half home. I picked up the large serrated knife they'd provided and sawed heartily through the chicken, crunching down the length of the breastbone.

My father watched me carve away as he pierced the crust of his chicken pot pie, letting the steam escape. After I was done, I picked up my fork and speared a bite of chicken. "So, Dad," I said, as casually as if I were asking about the weather, "what exactly did they do to you?"

Dad nonchalantly took a bite of his food, took a beat and then replied, "Pretty much what you just did to that chicken."

He always did have spectacular timing. I tossed my fork and knife onto my plate, pretending I'd lost my appetite. Well, I'd asked.

Nearly three years later, he made light of his physical condition once again. When his kidneys failed, he joked about having a new part-time job, three days a week. The job? Going for dialysis. Unfortunately, his humor wasn't enough to get him through this time.

Miss you, Dad. Love you always and forever.

Friday, June 17, 2011

A bit of search-phrase weirdness

I don't often write about the keyword phrases I find in my stats, because most of the time they are boring. Also, I don't want to rip off Bonnie's hilarious "Keyword Chaos" bit. But every now and then, I get something so bizarre or silly, it warrants a comment or two.

adult spanking and losing composure

This is a search phrase? What is this person searching for? Maybe they want to see tears/reactions to a spanking? Why not just type that?

disciplinarian madame cane

OK, I do believe the woman you're seeking is here (and may I commend you for your good taste). But you spelled her name wrong, for one. For another, I don't think she'd be all that crazy about the honorific "madame." And finally, you need a new search engine. If you're seeking a femdom disciplinarian and it sends you to a spankee, there's a glitch in the works.

And finally...

erica hammana

W...T... F???

OK, I realize many won't get this reference. On the old Jackie Gleason show The Honeymooners, Gleason's character Ralph Kramden used to stammer and sputter "hamanna hamanna hamanna" whenever he was nervous, or his wife Alice caught him in one of his hare-brained schemes.

And this has to do with me because...?

Oh, and while I've had my fantasies about being spanked by TV characters (Quentin Collins, anyone?), I would not want to be spanked by Ralph Kramden.


Final note: Blogger has a spam folder set up for wayward comments, and we're supposed to check ours periodically to make sure a legitimate comment didn't land in there. Welllllll... I didn't, until today. And I found a lovely post from a woman who said she rarely comments due to shyness, but she wanted me to know how much she loves my blog.

Ugh. And I didn't acknowledge her comment, because it went to spam? I feel awful!

So, Callie, if you are reading this, thank you so much for the sweet things you said back in April. I do apologize.

Have a great weekend, y'all. And to the dads, Happy Father's Day.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook

Last month, I received a message from author Gemma Forbes, with a polite request to read and review her new book, The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook: A Comprehensive Guide to Corporal Punishment. I'd already heard about this book from John Smith (of Kink and the City), and the title intrigued me. So I replied yes, I would be pleased to do so.

The prologue begins with "Governess Gemma Forbes is one of the best known spankers you’ve probably never heard of." And I confess, I had not heard of her. But I liked her from the first chapter on. A retired pro domme with many years in the scene, Ms. Forbes had much to share, and she did so in a detailed and witty manner.

Establishing from the start that the book is purely about spanking and does not cover other forms of BDSM, Ms. Forbes also clarifies two other points: 1) She is not a switch and bottoming is not to her liking, and 2) while she acknowledges that many enjoy sex with their spankings, that aspect of TTWD will not be delved into here. The purpose of this book is to provide a comprehensive primer on the ABCs of spanking.

The ASDH goes on to discuss all things spanko, including definitions of orientations, discussions of implements and techniques, scenarios, role-playing vs. pure sensation play, and much more. A common thread running through all the chapters is that of safety, communication and trust. For the newbie (and for us old-bies too), these things cannot be emphasized enough. She also covers the topic many shy away from -- how things can go wrong, and how to handle it if they do.

I really enjoyed Ms. Forbes' writing style. For one thing, even though she is a top, she did not write the entire book from a femdom viewpoint. She changes up the orientations, describing various scenes and aspects from an M/F POV as well as F/M and some F/F. And for another, she is funny, warm and compassionate. Clearly, she understands the bottom psyche, even though she is not one herself.

According to Ms. Forbes, one of the hallmarks of a good top is the ability to command authority without being abusive. I couldn't agree more.

Finally, for those who have considered going pro, there are chapters at the end with thorough information dedicated to this subject.

For an engaging and informative read on our beloved kink, I recommend this book heartily!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

I'm OK... honest!

It has occurred to me that my post from Monday may have disturbed some people. Perhaps I didn't reassure well enough that, after the fact, I was totally OK. That even though this scene went to a little darker place than usual, I knew I was safe every second, no matter how scary those photos looked to some.

It's all relative, I guess. Some found the intensity of the scene a little creepy. And yet, when I posted one of the bondage photos on FetLife yesterday, one of my friends commented jokingly, "If he were truly a bad man, he wouldn't have put pillows on the table!" That cracked me up.

Anyway. I noticed I got a huge amount of hits on that post, but relatively few comments. So I thought I'd lighten things up a bit.

After I'd been untied and recovered somewhat, NG snapped a photo of me wearing that goofy cheese necklace he brought me. Notice the ultra-giddy smile? As you can see, I'm more than all right. :-)

And yes, I altered the photo a little. While I never seem to have any qualms about baring my butt to the world, I'm a little more reticent about the girls.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Bad Man

(Just an FYI -- tonight's session was a little edgy. Remember... I wanted it.)

New Guy wrote to me again this morning. The Bible thumper from yesterday was nowhere to be found.

He'd written to me several times this week -- brief, threatening notes saying that my naked pictures would attract the wrong kind of men. Bad men. To all these, I scoffed. I believe at one point, I wrote back, "Maybe you're a bad man. Ever think of that?" Probably not the best idea.

This morning's note said I was to answer my door tonight dressed exactly as I had been for the red couch pictures. (In other words, not dressed.) And his last sentence read: You will find out precisely what type of man pictures like that attract.

Uh oh.

I had all day to think about it. What was he going to do? Did it matter? Not really. I just wanted to see him. Feel his hands again, feel the impact of his arsenal.

Would it hurt? Hell, yes.

He showed up right on time; good thing, because by then, I was so nervous, I could hardly stand on those damn high heels -- the only thing I had on.

No niceties, no catching up. Not yet. New Guy wasn't here yet; he'd be there later. Right now, I had to deal with The Bad Man who was going to show me what happens to naughty girls who post naked pictures on the Internet.

He told me to clear off my coffee table; I did so. He threw two pillows onto the table, then pushed me down on top of it, pulling my arms forward. Out of his bag came lengths of rope -- first he tied my wrists together, then the other end to the table leg. Then he tied each of my legs to the table. Finally, he wound rope around my waist. All the while, he was taunting me, winding his fist in my hair and making me look up at him.

"You're going to learn a good lesson tonight," he said. I couldn't hardly move. My hair went in my face, into my mouth, but I couldn't do anything about it. The table felt cold under my bare arms.

It's New Guy. It's the man you trust. You're OK. You're OK. Take it. Be in it.

He'd purchased a brand-new belt during his travels... nice and stiff. A gift for me, he said. He'd thought about me when he bought it. Oh my god, that thing hurt. Hurt good, but still hurt. I moaned and jerked, but I couldn't get away from it. The paddle, the big strap... l wanted so badly to put my hands over my mouth so I wouldn't scream, but of course, I couldn't do that.

"You're not going to scream, are you?" he said, running his nails down my back.

"Please," I begged, "please don't make me scream!" My neighbors... but oh damn, I needed to scream.

He made me face him again; there was something in his hand. It looked like a towel. "I guess we can't have that, can we?" And he stuffed the cloth deep into my mouth.

I've never been gagged before. I suppose I could have spit it out, but I didn't dare. Now I could scream, but all that came out were muffled shrieks. The helplessness, the emotional surge, the pain all merged together and engulfed me. I started to cry.

"This is what the bad men do," he growled. "They spank girls until they cry."

I wept as he continued, feeling my entire body tremble within its bounds. It seemed to go on for a long time, but in reality, it probably wasn't as long as most of our scenes. But it was off the scale as far as intensity was concerned.

And then, finally... "Are you ready to be untied now?" I nodded vigorously. He released me then, and I collapsed into the table, crying hard. It wasn't bad crying, though. It felt like it was cleaning all the emotional crud out of my system.

The Bad Man disappeared. In his place was the sweet top I know, soothing me with lotion, bringing me tissues, checking in with me. Quoting Pixie Wells, I gasped out, "Tears are hot, snot is not," and blew my nose. Yes, I'm too sexy.

After I'd returned to reality, drunk some water, etc., he booted up his laptop and showed me all the cool pictures he'd taken during his trip. Oh, and he brought me a necklace from Wisconsin, made from bright yellow plastic cheese wedges. :-D

Later, I told him all about my adventures at Spanking Court and what a little monster I'd been. Guess what? He decided I needed more spanking. This time, it was OTK on the couch. Awesome...

Finally, he had to take off. But that's OK. I'll get to see him again in just a week. No more long waits. No more hunger.

So, am I sore? Yes, my toe definitely smarts.


As he was leaving, he brushed up against my Barnabas cane, and it fell over. The silver handle landed on my big toe. I jumped and yelped, but then forgot about it. Until a few minutes later when I glanced down at my foot.

Freaking cane cut my toe!! OK, I figured I'd be in some hurt tonight, but not my toe, for God's sake.

OK, OK, my butt's sore too. (dreamy smile)

Welcome back, NG. Even when you're bad, you're fan-f*&#ing-tastic. :-)

Sunday, June 12, 2011


New Guy is home! He's been driving and flying cross-country for the past month, visiting friends and family. Apparently, he made a stop at some point in a family church.

Today, I received this photo via email:

Accompanying the photo was a Sunday sermon:

She who displayeth her nakedness before all the world and hath no shame shall surely suffer. For he who claims dominion over her bottom shall spanketh it without mercy. ~New Guy 3:14

Oh, God.

First, I laughed until my stomach hurt. Then I asked for his permission to repost this.

Really, what makes him think this Biblical crap stuff means anything to me? I'm Jewish, for Christ's sake. And can you believe he's still yammering about those naked pictures? The man has 23 pictures of my bare a#$ on his FetLife page.

Oh, and shouldn't he be the one in trouble for blasphemy?

Ah well. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. This time tomorrow night, I will be a very well spankethed woman. :-D

Friday, June 10, 2011

Off topic: Repost, sort of

Back in 2008, I posted an entry on my old MySpace blog about Leonard Stern.

(Who the hell is that?)

Some of you may remember seeing the name in various TV credits, back in the day. He was a prolific writer and producer.

You may also recall that I had this photo posted in my old MySpace album, from a 1961 TV Guide article:

Hard to read the small print, but Leonard Stern is one of those bearded bards, sitting second from the left. (Oh, and the man on the far right, with his name taped off? My dad)

Anyway, this is part of what I'd written back then:

Mr. Stern has had quite the career, and happily, he's still around to talk about it. He was executive producer of Get Smart. He was also the Stern of Price/Stern/Sloan, a publisher of children's books. They also published Mad Libs. Who remembers Mad Libs? They were hugely popular when I was growing up. They were pads of various stories with several words removed, and in place of the missing words were blank lines, with noun, verb, adjective, etc. under them. You could play with one other person or several; one would hold the Mad Libs pad and ask for a noun, or whatever was called for, and the group would call out words to fill in. After everything was filled in, the pad holder would read the story back, with all the supplied words.

If you still have no idea what I'm talking about, you can read about them here.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention. It was very common, especially with pre-adolescent kids, to use dirty words. Back to that later.

Anyway, since most of my father's colleagues and peers in the industry have passed on, I was happy to find out Leonard Stern is still among us, and I Googled him, trying to find some way to contact him. Sure enough, after some searching and poking around, I found an email address. And I wrote to him, introducing myself.

Guess what? He wrote back, saying it was a delight to hear from me, that he and my dad had a "close acquaintanceship" and he had many funny stories. He gave me a phone number and urged me to call him.

I just did, this afternoon, and we had a lovely chat. He didn't have much time to talk, as he was preparing to go out of town, but he said when he comes back, he'll call me and we can have lunch.

But he did share one story with me. Apparently when my brother was young, he brought Mad Libs to school, and was caught with them, filled in with all sorts of bad words. Leonard told me he was in his car, and my dad was driving in the same direction. He pulled up next to Leonard at a red light, and motioned for him to roll down his window, which he did. My father then glared at him with mock anger and said, "Do you know where I'm going?"

"No," Leonard replied, "where?"

And my father snapped, "I'm on my way to my son's school, because of your fucking Mad Libs!"

I laughed my head off. I could just hear my father saying that.

Mr. Stern never did call me back for that lunch, though. And I forgot about it.

About a year ago, I thought of him and really wanted to meet him. I still had the phone number he'd given me... but I hate the phone. So I emailed him again. This time, he didn't answer.

He passed away this week, at age 88. The obituary said he'd been ill for the past 15 months. I guess that's why he didn't write back. Now I wish I'd called.

Ah, this makes me sad. Damn stupid week. I'm so ready to say goodbye to it.

Next week will be much, much better. I know it.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

A taste of honey...

... is worse than none at all.

My fellow oldies aficionados will recognize that as a line from "I Second That Emotion" by Smokey Robinson & the Miracles. Do you think it's true?

Bizarre phenomenon about this thing we do. At times during my years in this, I've had droughts -- weeks, months without it. I didn't like that one bit, but for the most part, I dealt with it. But now that I'm getting spanked weekly, it's in my blood. If I go without it, I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin.

Because I had eating disorders for so many years and food was my drug of choice, I often liken things I enjoy to food. Allow me to wax metaphorical here for a few moments.

During the three weeks before last Saturday (three New Guy-less weeks), I had a vague but persistent craving for chocolate cake.

It was annoying, to be sure. And it wouldn't go away.

Then, last Saturday, it happened. Ahhhh, there it was, Devil's Food cake, proffered by quite the devilish one himself. Mmmmmmmmm. I got to have one wonderful taste.

Plus a little extra frosting, if you count the quickie fortune-cookie caning. Then I had to wrench myself away.

And I've been obsessing about that fucking cake ever since.

A taste wasn't enough. The greedy monster within was roused, and I wanted more.

I am not making this up -- last Saturday night, I woke in the middle of the night, all keyed up from the day, unable to go back to sleep. I had a terrible urge to waken John and say, "Hey, honey, wouldja...?" No, not have sex with me; spank me. My whole body craved it. But I didn't wake him up, of course. The man works insane hours and is an exercise junkie; he is chronically exhausted. He needs his rest.

New Guy and I had an interesting exchange this week, as you know. He'll be back in town tomorrow and back in my apartment this following Monday. When he said it looked like I'd gotten what I deserve at Spanking Court, I said it was an appetizer (again with the food!). He wrote back that I could expect an all-you-can-eat buffet from him. Never knowing when to stop, I told him that sounded dirty. :-D He then answered that I'm a naughty girl and I have a filthy mind.

(Yeah... and your point is...?)

But you know, I am a very lucky woman. I don't have to wait and crave much longer. That exquisite and ferocious pain, the surge of emotions, the sweet oblivion... all will be mine once again. Soon.

(Don't you want to just dive into that? I do!)

The greedy little monster within will be sated. I will have all the chocolate cake my little heart desires. And whaddaya know... I won't gain an ounce. :-)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

A tribute to a retired superstar

Last week, I was reading Eve Howard's column at the Shadow Lane site, and she mentioned that they'd shot another video with Steve Fuller. She then said it would be his last -- he was retiring from shooting.

Damn!  :-(

Steve has been a favorite of mine for many years; I met him first via my old Southern CA Spanked Wives and Girlfriends online club and then in person at his first Shadow Lane party -- I believe that was in 2002, but I could be mistaken. But I know for sure he made his video debut in 2003, in SL's The Spanking Professor. I was lucky enough to be in it with him, playing the slutty and frivolous wife to his exasperated college professor.

From the start, Steve had the slow burn and stern demeanor down. Check out the way he's looking at me here. It seems I'm trying to sweet-talk him, doesn't it?

Whatever I was doing, I don't think it worked.

Steve went on to star in many more Shadow Lane films, including two of my favorites: Prep School Punishments (with the wonderful Clare Fonda and the debut of Sierra Salem) and Bare Assets (with Nikki Rouge). He worked for several other video companies as well.

When Spanking Epics shot the Being Keith Jones trilogy, he was part of our troupe back East. We had so much fun -- besides his part in the trilogy, he was in several of their short films (spanklets, they called them), plus the impromptu DVD with me, Keith Jones and Sierra, The Great American Spank-Off.

I liked our completely ad-libbed Behind the Scenes spanklet best, I think.

I gave him all kinds of crap, but we were buds...

Back when L.A. actually had a decent spanking scene, John and I saw Steve at several private parties. He'd use any damned excuse to spank, as I recall. One time, he said the bite of cake I took was too big. Another time, I was helping to clean up, wiping a dish, and he said I missed a spot. And then, of course, there was the famous Gummy Worm incident. Most of you know this story, but for those who don't -- I put a Gummy Worm on his shoulder, which he didn't appreciate. Not only did he spank me for it, but he refused to stop until I took a bite of that disgusting thing, chewed it and swallowed it. Some people have no sense of humor.

And oh gawd, could that man spank. I know just a few men who are capable of making me say "mercy" with their hand alone. He's one of them.

This reaction is not faked -- and yes, that's his lap.

He was great fun to work with, always pleasant and easy-going, no matter how difficult the shoot circumstances were (shooting chase scenes in 90 degrees outdoors, or in a non-air-conditioned top floor triplex in the middle of August). And no matter what I threw at him, dialogue-wise, he was able to toss back his own guff without taking a beat. Every single time.

Me: Stop that! The neighbors will call the police!
Him: Well, I guess they'll just catch me red-handed then, won't they!

(On the SCSW board)
Devlin O'Neill: Hey Steve, when you shot with Erica, did your arm hurt afterward?
Steve: No, but my ears rang for several days.

It was hard to keep a straight face sometimes. :-)

It's a shame to see him retire -- as Eve said, he was on the top of his game. But life takes us all in various different directions, and I know he is very happy. Deservingly so. :-)

You'll be missed, Deputy Virgil/Professor Woodward. Big hugs to you.

In my email box this morning...

Looks like you had fun and got what you deserved at Spanking Court. Of course you are going to get what you deserve next Monday too. I am very disturbed by the naughty pictures of you on the red couch. It's bad enough that you would allow such photos to be taken by a total stranger, but then to post them for the whole world to see! I will deal with you when I return!

Now wait just a damn minute. Total stranger? OK, so he was a stranger to me, but also a professional photographer with many references and a website with his full name and several details. Not just some Joe Blow with a camera off the streets. Naughty pictures? Nay! Artistic! And as for showing them to the whole world... would he expect any less of me? :-)

Next Monday... why is it only Tuesday? I want, I want, I want....

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Another day in (Spanking) court

If going to real court were this much fun, we'd all be clamoring for jury duty.

I didn't have to be there until 3:00 this time; they had a very full docket. When I arrived, apparently everyone was in the court area, because the conference room was empty save for one man I didn't know. He introduced himself as the makeup artist; the young woman from last time wasn't there. Missy, a friend of the Court gang and someone I knew from a few years back at Shadow Lane and some local parties, came in to greet me. She and I chatted while my face was put on.

Makeup artists really are artists. This guy had various palettes of paints in the form of blushes, eye shadows and lip color. He'd dip the sponge or brush not into one color, but several, and blend everything flawlessly. I'm not used to professional makeup, so I was really tickled when he was done and I looked in the mirror. I don't know what he did with my mouth, but my lips looked twice as full as usual -- plump and shiny. "Wow," I blurted, "you made me all pretty!" I'm such a kid sometimes... the littlest things delight me.

One by one, people drifted into the conference room -- Cali, her hubby H, the Villain and Dana. Lots of hugs and happy greetings. They were also shooting an elaborate scenario with a mom and three lazy daughters, so I met Pandora (the mom) and Snow, Ivy and Sybil (the sisters). Their courtroom scenes were done, so it was time to shoot all their spanking scenes. But first, I was shooting my bit with the Judge.

I changed into a skirt and top and met them all in the courtroom. Several of the others were crowded into the sentencing room, talking and laughing, so Cali asked them to please keep it down for just a minute; even with the door closed, their voices would float through. "Yeah," I said, leaning into the door and right into V's face, "so shut up in there!" They laughed, and V announced, "Erica Scott is in the house!" LOL... I do make my presence known, don't I.

My scene with the judge went quickly; he checked in with me, asking how I was doing and how I'd felt after my session last time. I told him I'd felt quite relaxed and euphoric afterward and I was doing reasonably well, but I was feeling guilty, because I'd been in a bad mood coming in and was rather rude to both the Bailiff and the Disciplinarian. He said he was increasing the count to 150, and gently admonished me that the Bailiff and Disciplinarian were here to help me and they deserved to be treated with respect. I hung my head. "Yes, Your Honor." I was properly demure and contrite.

I put on the prison scrubs and sat on the couch in the hall, reading a magazine and listening to the sounds of all three girls getting their first series of swats. Apparently there were several scenes to be shot, sometimes with one, two or all three. But after this first one, it was my turn.

I tried to be nice and polite, y'all. I really did. When Bailiff Dana first led me in and asked for my pants, I looked her right in the eye and told her I was sorry for being rude to her. She answered that she'd never call me "ma'am" again. "Thank you," I said, smiling at her. So, all was well and forgiven with the Bailiff.

With the Disciplinarian? Not so much. Apparently, he still had his nose out of joint over how I'd behaved last time.

As he strapped my hands to the bench, he coldly said, "You know, we just work here. There's no need for you to give us a hard time."

And there's no need for you to be such a hard-ass, I thought to myself, but I didn't say it. Instead, I just mumbled, "I know," not looking at him. I didn't want to see his glare.

"One hundred and fifty," he said. "Are you going to count?"

"Yes," I answered, and he said, "Thank you." Oh, that thank you was tinged with sarcasm. I couldn't help it -- I replied "You're welcome" with equal sarcasm.

I made it nearly halfway through, counting obediently, keeping still. But then, he gave me numbers 65-70 extra hard and all in the same spot. WTF?? I didn't comment, but my tone in the count was angry. "That," he snapped, "was for my bailiff!"

OK, that did it. Respect be damned... if he was going to mess with me, I would return the favor. "Your bailiff?" I snapped back. "Do you own her?"

He didn't answer that, just gave me another smack. "I lost count," I said calmly. "You distracted me."

I'm sure the good Disciplinarian wanted to start all over again at #1, but the Court wouldn't approve. "Seventy-one," he bit out.

What happened after that, with the rest of the count? I'm not telling. You'll just have to wait and see! :-D  I'll tell you this much; I caused the oh-so-stoic Mr. Robo-Sadist to blow his cool. Next month, there will be hell to pay. But for whom -- him or me? Or both of us? Stay tuned...

After the cameras stopped rolling, the grand War of Wills disappeared and we were all hugging and laughing. V looked like he'd just stepped out of a steam bath and my perfect makeup wasn't perfect anymore. Damn, that was fun.

I changed back into my street clothes and sat on the couch in the hall once more, waiting for a break in the shooting. V came out shortly and sat with me; Dana was doing the next couple of punishments, including a caning for Sybil who had been in contempt of court. Tsk tsk! So we talked a bit until the door opened and the sound of talking and laughing floated out. Break time!

Cali came out and gave me my pay, and when H walked out, he looked over at me and said, "Hey Erica -- you didn't get a fortune cookie yet!" Fortune cookie?

"Oh, yeahhhhh," V grinned. "She has to get one of those! Let's take care of that right now." Hmmm. I've never seen anyone so eager to give me a fortune cookie before.

H brought over a bright red Chinese take-out carton, offering it to me; there was one cookie left, so I took it. "Open it," V said, giving me his evil eye. So I tore open the plastic wrapping and broke the cookie in two, pulling out the slip.

"One dozen with the cane."

Oh, brother. Custom-made spanking fortune cookies. Who knew??

Since the sentencing room was open, V went in and selected a cane off the wall of implements. He had me bend over and brace myself against the Judge's desk and gave me 12 cane strokes over my pants. "Aw... is that it?" I complained. He answered by giving me a flurry of fast strokes and I screeched but held position.

The girls in the sentencing room were looking at us like we were nuts! Sheeeesh... she just did a session and she wants more?  Welllll... yeah. I usually do. I am insatiable. Remember, I'm the same woman who did a nine-hour shoot with Shadow Lane and still went to play privately with Keith Jones for an hour after that. Besides, I've been spank-deprived lately.

After that, I reluctantly decided to go; break time was over, they were shooting another scene and John was home waiting for me. So I said goodbye to everyone and got another round of big hugs.

You'll be happy to know that I did not get lost this time, and I got to John's just before 7:00. We went out for sushi and I bubbled all about my day to him. He always gets a kick out of me after I do a shoot; I'm all giddy and chatty and blissfully happy.

Today, I'm sore... but not where you'd expect. Strangely, my legs were aching, particularly my quadriceps. I couldn't imagine how I'd stressed my legs, but then it came to me. So silly, but no matter how many times I do this, I still get that jolt of nerves beforehand. When V was strapping me down to the bench and my legs were dangling off the other side, I could feel them shaking. I stiffened them, but they just shook more and then jerked with little spasms. Arrggh! Stop, dammit, I thought. It'll show on camera and look ridiculous! So I clenched my leg muscles very tightly, willing them to be still. I guess I gave myself a mini-workout.

Plus, I have a mystery bruise on top of my left foot. I can't remember for the life of me what I did to get that. Perhaps I kicked something and wasn't even aware of it. I'm assuming it wasn't V's chin, or else I would have heard about it. :-)

But no marks. The wooden paddle this time packed a lot of sting, but it was thin, so it didn't have that hard bruising impact. No mementos for me this time. Maybe next time.

Thanks, guys! Once again, I had a blast and you made me feel like a million bucks.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 6/3

Happy Friday, everyone. In the mood for a few laughs? I know I am.

Our first gem is courtesy of a 19-year-old (!!):

im xxxxxx, i was checking out ur pics and i love ur ass ;] id love to lick it and fucking it ;]

My my. Do you kiss your mommy with that mouth, little boy?

Hellow. love how you ass look and you panties

Goodbyew. don't like you writing.

Here we go again...

It is hard to believe your bottom look like this at age 53!

(rolling eyes) Oh, I give up. You got me. That picture you saw is one I stole from a 25-year-old. My real bottom looks like two leftover pancakes.

And finally... put a shield over your screen and keyboard before you read this one. Your brain may explode.

hi u nauthgy young lady i am a pro . spanker n more in store u have a butt beauifull n it lokkks like it needs one of mine over the knee enjoying straring out style spanking -paddling/ croping n to top it off my cat of -12- tails- i travl for all over for work -wwe manger- i also did make 3 movies tne best one is the taletail a delitfull spankings of all the ways n more i am 51 a lifestyler d/d free -w/male - live in flornce 5 min. from airport n going to calf. late july love to take u out for dinner n sees how u enjoy my style butt u have a beauifull butt n boby

There's no way I could make this up. I couldn't conceive of this degree of illiteracy. Amazingly, he did spell spanker and spanking correctly.

Well, despite this delitfull missive, I think I will turn down the dinner offer. The thought of his "more in store" makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

In other news... Lots of people are at the FMS party this weekend. Didn't they all just come home from the BBW party?? (sigh) Yes, I'm being snarky. Sour grapes. I wish everyone a good time -- this is merely envy, not jealousy. And I get to have my own good time tomorrow! :-D  This week has dragged and dragged and DRAGGED, but finally, it's Spanking Court time again.

Am I nervous? Sure, always. Not quite as much as I was the first time, though, since now I know what to expect (somewhat). I so look forward to seeing everyone again. 

Wanna know what I'm most apprehensive about? The spankings? Nah. What dastardly implements Mr. Villain will choose? Meh. What I'll say to the judge? I'll wing it. No... Cali sent us all email yesterday, reminding us that the makeup artist will be on hand again, so we should all show up with bare faces.

Say what?

OK, I'm not one who can't leave my house without full makeup on. I don't wear all that much of it anyway. But honestly? My unadorned face has a rather ghostly pallor, and I have dark circles under my eyes no matter how much sleep I get. Some concealer and blush are necessary, or else I could frighten small children. Fortunately, there won't be any on these premises.

(groan) I'll just have to hope that our talented makeup artist will work her magic as soon as I get there, so I'll look like I'm about to do a fetish video, rather than a remake of Zombies From Hell.

Have a beauifull weekend, y'all.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

A fun photo shoot

I have had good luck on Model Mayhem so far, with the photographers I've met. I've worked with four of them now and each one has been charming, complimentary and talented. After hearing/reading about some of the creepazoids out there in the business, it seems I've chosen well. I guess my instincts are still looking out for me? :-)

Anyway, I recently did a quickie shoot with a lovely man for a special project of his, one he wants to show at a gallery and hopefully put into a photo book. He has this very cool red leather sofa, and his idea for the "Red Couch Series" was to shoot about 30-40 different women, all ages and types, posing on this couch. I thought sure, why not? Sounds fun.

He asked me to bring two things: 1) my favorite pair of heels, and 2) something that is special to me. He's asking each woman to bring an item that means something to them, to make their pictures different from all the others. I wasn't sure what he had in mind, at first, so I jokingly asked if I could bring my boyfriend, since he's special to me. :-) He found that amusing, but he'd meant something I like. For example, if I enjoyed photography, I should bring a camera. If I collected something, bring an example of it. If I'd received a special gift, bring that. As long as it wasn't too small or too large.

What do I love, kids? No, not that. The other thing. Dark Shadows! And what perfect piece of memorabilia do I have from Dark Shadows? My Barnabas cane, of course. (Wolfie, are you reading this? You're one of the few spankos I know who is also a DS fan.)

A replica of the silver wolf's-head cane that Barnabas the vampire always carried, given to me by a sweet friend in the scene who has since passed away. I couldn't think of anything better.

So I showed up with this cane, and the photographer, even though he'd never heard of Dark Shadows (!!), flipped over it. He came up with some creative and fun poses with me holding it, and we got some good shots. He told me I'll definitely be included in the series.

Oh... one other thing.

Those favorite heels he had me bring? They were all I wore. :-D

Tasteful, though. The cane and my arms were strategically placed so all parts were covered.

I really must be an exhibitionist; I was remarkably comfortable doing this. Or maybe he was just a gentleman and his matter-of-fact demeanor made me comfortable.

Anyway... it was fun. I guess red really is my color.

Hey! It's JUNE! Spanking Court and New Guy's return. It's going to be a great month. Maybe I'll even finish my book, huh? (sigh) It's taking longer than I'd originally thought to finalize it, but I should have expected that, I suppose. I actually thought I was done with the writing and all I had to do was tweak and  polish, but today I wrote a new chapter. I'm up to 313 pages; geeezus, I really hope people have the patience to slog through this thing. :-)

By the way, you know the issues that Blogger has been having for, well, forever? I asked my computer tech about that today (my computer is acting up a bit) and he asked what browser I was using. I said Internet Explorer. I know everyone seems to think Mozilla Firefox is the be-all-and-end-all of browsers, but I downloaded it and found it to be glitchy, so I went back to IE. My tech suggested that I try Google Chrome, which I did. Poof. No more Blogger problems; I can sign in, sign out, comment on blogs, all that good stuff. Just thought I'd share that tidbit in case others are still enduring Blogger frustrations. It might help.

Night night...