Back in my happy place

Amazing what a few hours of special attention can do for a woman. :-)

Mr. D returned yesterday. I had been struggling with my own neediness vs. knowing he was doing a very kind thing, taking care of his ailing neighbor. I tried to keep the whining on my blog to a minimum. But he knew.

So, yesterday afternoon and evening spun slowly out into a kaleidoscope of treats -- talking, spanking, bondage, cuddling, massage, watching a video, and comfort food at Jerry's Deli. It was like having my own personal day spa, but they don't have handsome tops at day spas. Not the ones I know of, anyway.

We talked for a long time, catching up. His neighbor is in 24-hour hospice now, and is shutting down. It is a matter of a few days now; very sad. Mr. D has been overseeing all aspects of his care, coordinating and communicating with his only family (a nephew), and I told him I admired him for it. I know I couldn't do it. I don't have that kind of unselfishness in me. He can feel very good about himself and his character over this.

We also discussed my recent blogs, and he was none too pleased about all my yammering about ageing. He said that I was ageless and beautiful (blushing), and he was going to make sure I understood that if he had to spank it into me until we're both 85. "I don't want to live that long," I retorted. "OK, 75," he replied. And it was about that time that we segued into some spanking action.

I know it had only been two weeks, but it had felt like at least a month if not more. I didn't even have my usual period of giggling and sassing; I slipped right into the pleasure zone almost immediately, absorbing the sweet pain and rising up for more. And can I just say that his hand has gotten much stronger? I kiddingly told him that he should practice by slapping a brick, and I do believe he did it! Erica Scott, the Hand Toughener.

When we moved to the bedroom, he was delighted at my new panties, claiming them "Baskin-Robbins panties." For those of you unfamiliar with the name, BR is an ice-cream store that's been around forever; it's also known as "31 Flavors." Here are the colorful panties (with some added color by Mr. D):

And here's one of the BR logo cups:

After a long spanking with his hand, Spanking Buddy and wooden paddle (ugh), Mr. D had me lie on the bed lengthwise, and he shackled my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. Already fairly zoned out, I began to tremble all over. This was the moment of trust. The moment I knew, somewhere in my foggy brain, that once those wristlets and anklets clicked into place, I was completely helpless. That I had to let go and trust that I was in safe hands.

And I was. Absolutely 100%.

Doesn't mean there wasn't pain, though! :-)

The good kind of pain, though, and the good kind of fear, bringing on a torrent of tears that I had to simply allow to flow into the pillow, because I could not wipe them away. Before I knew it, though, I was freed and gathered up into strong arms.

Later, he asked me what I'd like for dinner. I didn't even have to think about it. I wanted soup at Jerry's Deli. A gigantic steaming bowl of comfort food. So we went to Jerry's, where he had a pastrami sandwich and fries, and I got Mom food: Chicken matzo ball soup, with lots of chicken, carrots and noodles, and a huge matzo ball. I couldn't finish it all, so now I have dinner for tonight as well. Happy, happy me.

Back at my place, I showed him When Danny Met Erica, which got us both fired up to play some more. I was one hell of a lot more sensitive during Round Two, and he teased me about it. Oh well... considering how much crap I gave him about his hand, I certainly couldn't complain!

But was I feeling absolutely wonderful? You tell me:

But wait, there's still more. He then got some lotion and gave me a lovely backrub, working out the knots in my shoulders, massaging out the soreness in my glutes, and finishing with my feet.

What do you think, kids? Did we make up for lost time?

He assures me, again and again, that he gets every bit as much out of all this as I do. I can't imagine how that's possible, but I'm so glad he feels that way. He deserves it. He's a good man.

And I'm a lucky woman.

Nice review

Playing tomorrow, folks (I hope! Not taking anything for granted until it happens, lately). Meanwhile... there is a new book review site called We Love Our Books, and a friend (who prefers to remain nameless) has written a review of Late Bloomer, which can be found here.

It's a vanilla site, so the kink in the book is downplayed. Thank you to the writer for all the compliments. I particularly appreciate the mentions of my humor; that's always huge for me. :-)

Speaking of reviews, kids -- just a friendly reminder. My Late Bloomer Amazon page has 18 reviews up (and thank you again and again to those who contributed!), but more is always better in this case. Please, if you read the book and you liked it, stop by that page, rate it and write a little review for me? Pretty please? It doesn't take very long, it doesn't have to be very long, and every review helps.

The Fifty Shades parade continues. Every time I see a book display recently, there's a new book (or two or three) with a black cover, some sort of semi-sexy/kinky photo and a title along the lines of Bared to You, Hot in Handcuffs and Decadent. Lack of imagination, much? However, I do look forward to Law & Order: SVU's take on it -- you knew that was coming, didn't you? Apparently this Wednesday (Ripped From the Headlines!), an author of kinky fiction is doing more than just writing about erotic asphyxia. The TV clip shows a really creepy and sinister-looking dude smirking and saying to the woman off camera: "You need to be punished." Oooh! One of my buzzwords! Yes, I will be DVRing this one, because some rocket scientist at the networks moved L & O from 10 P.M. to 9 P.M. this year, where it now conflicts with Modern Family. I must have my Modern Family fix. You know, I'm old enough to remember the days before you could record anything from the television. They sucked.

Hope to have something realllly fun for you tomorrow night...

Birthday greetings!

Today (10/5) is John's birthday. He's at work right now, but I'll be seeing him this evening. Happy birthday to my sweetheart! No big plans for the weekend; John is my polar opposite when it comes to birthdays. He hates the fanfare and the attention, while I suck it all up eagerly and want more. I think I've told this story before, but it's classic John: Several years ago, I ordered a festive balloon bouquet to be delivered to him at his workplace. After the fact, he carefully said to me, "That was very sweet of you, and I appreciate it. Thank you, sweetie. Now please, never do anything like that again."

It's also rather challenging buying gifts for him, since he's much more into giving presents than getting them. So I tend to stick to the three tried-and-true things I know he'll always like: books, CDs (nope, he hasn't gotten on the mp3 bandwagon yet), and shirts. He loves Ernest Hemingway (he says I write like Hemingway; I seriously doubt that), so I got him a biography about the man's later life, which he spent much of on a beloved boat (and John is a sailing fanatic). I also got him some classical CDs. And I'll try buying him dinner, but he probably won't let me. (Yeah, I know. I should make him dinner. I should do a lot of things. Like learn how to enjoy cooking.)

Also, a belated greeting (from 10/4) to one of my favorite people ever, Danny Chrighton, my former play partner extraordinaire. A wonderful friend who saw right through me from the getgo, declaring that there was a soft center beneath my blustering and sarcastic exterior. While others say I'm strong, he was the first to call me fragile. He knew.

I miss you, D! I hope you had a huge slab of pecan pie and a bacon martini to celebrate.

For those who have been asking/wondering about Mr. D, I caught up with him today. His neighbor is now on 24-hour hospice at home. His mind is still sharp, but his body is slowly shutting down, so it's a matter of time. Very sad.

Regarding next week, he gave me a choice: a limited time on Monday, or a longer time on Tuesday. I chose Tuesday. But I'm afraid to get my hopes up and count on it. So I'll just say "we'll see."

To end on a happy note: Last night I was watching Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and they did a spoof of the Romney/Obama debate, with the focus of the spoof being Jim Lehrer's (the moderator) lame job of keeping control and enforcing the debate rules. So, this is completely non-partisan, I promise. But it made me laugh so hard, my stomach hurt. If you'd like to watch, it's here. (Warning: it IS a bit on the rude side.) Enjoy, and have a great weekend, y'all.

Interchangeable asses -- what a concept!

A couple of days ago, I saw a post in FetLife Classified Ads that made my brain explode. Yeah, yeah, yeah, no judging, people have their own kinks, blah blah blah. Shut up. Some things are just blecchhhhh.

In dire need of destroying a new slaves ass. Any anal whores wanting a sadistic ass master message me.

So, I pasted this charming tidbit into a Twitter post, adding, "Really, who could resist this?"

I got several tweets in response. This morning, I received this one from Spanking Blog:

"Anal whores with extra asses they want destroyed are flocking to him even as we type!"

I laughed out loud. Ha! Who's got spare asses lying around the house? Then my feverish brain started sparking.

What about it, bottoms? Professional spankees? Frequent party attendees? What if we all had extra bottoms, ones we could swap out when necessary? Consider the possibilities!

First, the most obvious. Played too hard? Burned yourself out on Friday night of a party weekend? Got several shoots in a row and your ass is grass after the first one? No problem! Simply whip out one of your extra bottoms, switch it out, and you're good to go!

But that's not all. These extra bottoms could come with myriad custom features. Playing with a top who likes a mini-butt? Use your Victoria Secret Model spare bottom. Top prefers a bit more padding? Easy. Use the J-Lo version. 

Playing with an Edward Sissyhands top? Whip out your Ultrasensitive bottom, which derives pleasure and stimulation from the wimpiest of swats. And for the tops with iron hands and paddles like boat oars? The Super Deluxe Kevlar.

And, without getting too graphic, we could even have versions with extra-strong, super-elastic back doors. You know, for those who enjoy playing hard back there, but don't want to be torn to shreds, or incontinent before they're 50. "Wait, honey! Don't lube up that Mas Grande plug just yet. Let me switch to the Porn-Star butt."

Oh, and of course, these spare bottoms would be self-exercising and toning. Having a bad ass day? Wanna rock that skin-tight new dress? Forget Spanx and control-top pantyhose! New ass, new you!

I really like this idea, folks. Would one of you inventor types get on it? It's the future of spanking! This spankee has just finished bottoming to an entire football team, brandishing every toy in the Cane-iac collection. But you'd never know it, not with her Interchangeable Ass!

I can see only one potential drawback to this invention. Whenever someone tells you to "haul ass," you'd have to make more than one trip.

Dear Hollywood: You Suck! (OT Rant)

Wow, another rant in under two weeks! Erica's on a roll! How come? Well, let's review. On Friday, John lost about half of his day off, dealing with issues with his mother. On Saturday, we went to visit my stepfather, who has aged about 10 years in a few weeks. And then today, Mr. D had to cancel because his sick neighbor went into the hospital and he didn't want to leave him. Totally understandable... but that doesn't mean I'm not so damned frustrated I could croak.

Who are the @#$%ing rocket scientists who decided that living longer is a good idea?? Argh.

Anyway, since I can't do a thing about any of this, I thought I'd blow off some steam over something unrelated, but incredibly maddening.

Last week, I happened to notice a link to an online article entitled "Worst Hollywood Kisses." Curious, I clicked on it. Turns out it was about celebrities caught making out by paparazzi, engaging in, and I quote, "gross PDA" (public displays of affection), the kind that made people want to yell "EWWWW! Get a room!" I believe the term "bad taste" was used as well.

So I went through the pictures. Granted, several of them were gross. Gene Simmons and his wife lapping at each other's tongues. Angelina Jolie sharing a passionate, full-on kiss... with her brother. And stars I've never heard of, looking like they were trying to suck each other's faces off, men grabbing at their women's boobs, etc.

And then there was this one.

Wait a minute... what? This is gross?? Are you kidding me? Jay Leno bestowing a respectful and tasteful hand kiss to Betty White, the Grande Dame of Hollywood, is gross PDA? Since when?

I love Betty White. Betty White is my hero. Ninety years old, and still fully active, even starring on a sitcom (and often upstaging her much-younger co-stars). Sharp as a tack. Betty White gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, growing old doesn't have to be a crapfest. And yet, this wonderful woman has to be added to such a tacky list? Why? Because she's old? What bad taste? Uhhhh... he's not playing tonsil hockey with her, for Christ's sake. He's kissing her hand.

But wait, there's more.

This one was also included in the "Worst Hollywood Kisses" list:

What, pray tell, is EWWW-worthy about this? It's a couple lying on the beach and kissing, reminiscent of the classic "From Here to Eternity" scene. Nothing is exposed, he's not groping her, they're just sharing a kiss. So why is it in included in the GROSS list? Because, as the article specifically mentioned, the photo is of 54-year-old Sharon Stone.

Funny how age wasn't mentioned in any of the other photos. The implication is clear: Shame on Sharon Stone; she's too damned OLD to be frolicking on a beach and engaging in public displays of affection. I guaran-damn-tee you that a picture of a young starlet couple doing the exact same thing wouldn't have made the list.

Hey, Mr. D, are you reading this? Now do you get why I think ageing blows? Because of crap like this. Everywhere. Guess what, Hollywood? I'm 55, and I kiss John in public all the time. Checkers in the market call us "lovebirds." People whistle at us from cars driving by. I like kissing him, and I'm going to continue kissing him, wherever I damn well please. And those of you who voted the above photos as gross, if you don't like it, y'all can take your ageist attitudes, fold them four ways (with sharp corners) and shove 'em where the sun don't shine.

Still feeling pissed off. Perhaps I'll wander over to FetLife and see if there's some Uber-Dom idiot who needs a new one. (grumble)