"Toppy Knows Best"??

No, I'm not stating that as fact. I'm repeating something that actually came out of Steve's face today. If I hadn't already been horizontal, I would have keeled over laughing.

We are definitely back in gear, kids. Today was delicious, even with an unexpected interruption.

As always, we had a nice long hand spanking on the couch, one that practically put me in subspace on its own. During that portion of our scene, his phone rang, but he ignored it. While I was resting before Round 2, he checked messages. Turned out he had to deal with something right now.

I watched him switch gears, go from Top mode to Responsible Adult mode, making calls, dealing with the issue that had come up, sending emails, making more calls. Every now and then, he'd look over at me and mouth, "I'm sorry." What could I say? Life stuff doesn't take a break just because we want to escape from the world for a few hours. 

This went on for about a half-hour, and I figured, oh well. There won't be any Round 2 after all. He'll be too preoccupied, the mood is lost, he'll be stressed, etc. At least we got to play some, if not all we wanted. I tried hard to swallow my disappointment.

When he finished with his final call, he sighed, rubbed his eyes, put his glasses back on and straightened, glancing at me. His brow had unfurrowed. "Ready for the ottoman?" he asked.

Huh?? "You up for that?" I said, incredulous. "Sure, are you?" Well, duh, of course I was. "I've taken care of everything I can for now, except you. Your turn." 

Feeling my enthusiasm bubbling up again, I settled myself in position on the ottoman while he went to get two toys: my leather paddle and that @#$%ing Licking Stick. Damn, I hate that thing. But I was so happy that we were going to play some more, I didn't even mind that. Much. And I didn't even feel like bratting him. Much.

"Are you getting what you need?" he asked. "I need you!" I gasped, flinching from the implements and welcoming them at the same time. "You've got me," he assured. "I'm right here, taking care of you." 

No tears today, either. I was too blissed out. Oh, and during Round 2? His phone rang again. Twice. I kept waiting for him to stop and answer it. But he didn't. ♥

We did have our silly moments, of course. Most of them after the scene was over. His aftercare today including biting. Yes, you read correctly.

"I just want to bite that bottom," he mused. "You know, I think I will!" 

And he freaking well did. Those circles are his teeth!!

Look close; see my hand turned up, like I'm saying "WTF are you doing?" :-D

"Put those legs down..."

Me, being a ham and striking poses...

(No, he didn't spank me in that pose. And no, he didn't spank me with my remote control. Just that damned stick and the paddle.)

All good things must come to an end, though, and at last I had to get to my feet.

He couldn't linger this time, but it was OK. He stayed long enough to hold me and let me come down. I'd gotten what I needed, and he'd gotten his own stress release. Win-win. :-)

The biting thing? Welllllllll, I've always liked a little nibbling. And just this past weekend, John referred to me playfully as his "chew toy."

(Yes, that's his artwork on my neck.)

Prize of the day goes to a FetLife commenter, regarding the bites on my butt. "He's obviously not on a glute-free diet!"

Glute-free! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Happy Monday...

Helpful Comments 101

I swear, there needs to be a course on this for some people. Because so many out there wouldn't know how to say something properly empathetic if the words appeared on a teleprompter in front of them.

Mind you, I'm really, really appreciative of the kind things people said to me when I was stressed out and unhappy. Yes, I know I was dealing with "first-world problems" -- no one died, no one was hurt or sick, there wasn't a natural disaster, etc. But I was still hurting. For those who said stuff like, "I'm sorry you feel bad," or "I hope you get to see Steve soon" or "hang in there, things will get better," etc., or just sent a virtual hug, thank you. :-)

But a few others... oy. Some of the stuff people wrote to me in the last few weeks would have made me laugh out loud if I hadn't been so damn depressed.

So, as a public service, here are a few suggestions of things not to say when a spanko is missing her special top:

1. "I'd spank you if I lived closer."

First -- well, you don't, so that solves nothing. And second -- if I actually know you and have played with you, thanks. But if we've never even met in person, that's kinda presumptuous of you.

2. "You could have spankers lining up outside your door if you wanted."

Uh... no, not really, although I'm flattered that you think so. But why on earth would I want that, anyway? Haven't I said umpteen times that I prefer quality over quantity? I'd rather have one Rolex than a dozen Timexes.

3. "I'd be happy to be his substitute for a while."

Did I ask for a substitute? No, I did not. You know why? Because I don't want a freaking substitute. Once again, the implication is that tops/spankers are interchangeable and generic, and one will do just as well as another. Perhaps for some, but not for me. If I'm craving lobster, I'm not going to be happy with canned tuna. There's nothing wrong with canned tuna, and maybe I'll get some basic nutritional value out of it, but I sure as hell won't enjoy or savor it.

Yeah, I know. I use a lot of metaphors. I'll stop now.

My personal favorite:

4. "Too bad you don't switch. You could spank me and get rid of some of that tension."

Really? This is supposed to be helpful how, exactly? And since you're going for the ridiculous, use some imagination next time. Maybe something like, "Too bad the moon isn't made of cheese. We could all fly up there and have a big fondue party."

Yes, the Queen of Snark has returned. Miss me? 

My butt and upper thighs look like I was hit by a bus. They feel like it, too. It's most fortunate that I like that sort of thing, huh?

Looking forward to tomorrow night with my sweetie. Have a great weekend, y'all. :-)

Reunited and it hurts so good

Yes, I'm still alive. I just took a break. Didn't want to make a big dramatic exit out of it; I simply got sick to death of my own gloom and sadness, and figured I'd come back when I had something good to post. Something fun. 

Steve is back. It wasn't just the move; there were a lot of other things going on with him too, all at once. I could not fault him for not being able to play; that was frustrating and disappointing, but I understood. But what sent me over the edge was when he completely disappeared, didn't return messages or texts. I cannot stand disappearing acts. I just can't. He thought that if he couldn't be a strong top for me, he should stay away and not contact me until he could pull things together. Now he knows, that was the worst thing he could have done. 

We talked for a long time when he arrived this morning. He had already apologized to me many times; both verbally and in writing. I knew he felt bad. But my trust, my feelings of emotional safety, had taken a hit. Time would heal me, but I did need time. Fortunately, he got that.

Amazing how my skin marked so easily after weeks without a full and proper scene. I was mottled just from his warm-up hand spanking, but it didn't feel too painful. I welcomed the sensations, having missed them for so long. Then we moved to the ottoman, and to implements. 

They hurt. And I broke down, almost immediately. All the hurt and pain and sense of loss I'd been carrying around came flooding out on torrents of tears. I was crying so hard, he cut the scene short to take care of me.

Taking me to my room, he wrapped me up in the comforter and took me in his arms, where I wept for I don't know how long. It just went on and on; I couldn't stop. He whispered sweet words, gave me more apologies, promised he would never disappear like that again, encouraged me to let it all out. I did.

I was exhausted after that. But, unlike all the crying of the past few weeks, this storm of tears left me clean and at peace. After a while, I was even able to giggle and tease, making him jump by sticking my cold feet on his leg.

He was able to stay for six hours, a nice long time. Despite my marks, I found myself wanting to play again, but this time in a more lighthearted vein. So we went back to the couch, put on his camera and recorded this bit of silliness. Hope you guys like it. (Warning: if you don't like extreme redness, you might want to pass on this.)



Yeah, I know. Back to that "Top is always right" crap again. :-) But believe me... that was just for the video. His apology to me was more than sincere.

We are back on track. And I'm back where I belong.

To those who emailed me, sent me private tweets, messaged me on FetLife and posted on my wall, texted me -- thank you. When you're in the pits, it's good to know that people care. ♥ And for all those who posted on that last blog, the one I took down, I copied all your comments and pasted them into a document so I could keep them. I don't usually remove blog posts, but that one was just too personal, too much information, too much everything. I figured if I was going to go away for a while, I didn't want to disappear leaving such a sour note.

Tonight, I am so tired I could croak, my eyes are swollen, and I'm sore as hell. And I'm completely at peace. I'm ready to rejoin the living... after I sleep for about 12 hours.

Round Table Discussion: Role-Playing

Renee Rose kindly invited me to join the Spanking Romance Review Round Table this time. The topic is role-playing, and it was left open as to how we wanted to write about it. I chose to relate a couple of real-life experiences I've had with role-play.

Several other bloggers have joined in this conversation. To see their contributions, check them out here: 

So, here goes.

One would think that because I’ve done videos for the past 13 years, I would be well-versed in role-playing. It’s true in part; I have played a few elaborate roles for films, including a Puritan widow, a saloon owner in the Old West, a psychotherapist, various men’s wives. But for the most part, even in video, I’m usually playing an exaggerated version of myself.

In general, I’d have to say that I’m not that much into role-playing in my personal life. I have no interest in costumes, or in inhabiting a character who isn’t really me. I had to do role-plays with strangers when I worked in a dungeon years ago, and I found them to be awkward and contrived. However, if I know someone well and have that elusive chemistry with them, and can suspend my disbelief and just go with the scenario, a role-play can be extremely delicious indeed.

I have two favorite stories that illustrate the hot side of role-play. The first one happened several years ago, when I had a spanking play partner who was a college professor. He suggested we do a scene where I was a college student and he was my professor, and he’d caught me cheating on a final exam. So I had a choice: take a spanking from him, or he’d report me to the Dean. Formulaic, right? Of course. But it turned out to be one of the most intense scenes I’d ever done.

For one thing, he was completely believable, because he was largely playing himself. And for another, while the “take a spanking or else” formula may be well used, we put a creative spin on it. He gave me a long, hard spanking. First with his hand while I was OTK, and then he bent me over the back of my recliner and whaled on me with a leather paddle until he could sense that I’d had enough. And then, after some corner time, I turned the tables on him -- during aftercare, I seduced him.

Wait a minute -- Erica Scott in corner time?? Yes, really. It’s not my thing, but he made it very sexy. Instead of just leaving me standing there, he’d sneak up behind me, whisper in my ear, pull away, whisper in the other ear. He’d command me to stay still and quiet, threaten me with what he’d do to me next time if he ever caught me cheating again. And when he finally let me out of the corner and had me get lotion, I could feel the power shifting. He was now catering to me, soothing me, and I chose to press the advantage. After all, why would my professor go to all this trouble to comfort me after a punishment, if he weren’t secretly attracted to me?

As I lay over his lap, feeling him knead lotion into my sore bottom, I teased him, goaded him into admitting his attraction. Of course, he didn’t really have to admit it, since I could feel the evidence, hard and insistent, under me. He argued and denied, told me he thought I was a very naughty girl. “You think, you think,” I taunted. “Don’t you ever want to just shut off your head and feel?” “What should I feel?” he asked. “Me,” I replied.

Clothes were fully removed then, and I completed the seduction of my professor, reveling in his vulnerability and release as I gave him my full oral attention. “Are you going to blackmail me now?” he gasped. “Are you going to report me to the Dean?”

“Of course not,” I assured him. “Why would I? I’m just a brat, not malicious. Besides, I can see that I’m going to need more of your counseling in the future.”

“Yes, I believe you are,” he agreed.

Damn, that was fun.

The second story is from 2011 (to all those who already read about this in my blog when it happened, my apologies!). I’d been playing for about six months with a man I referred to as ST. We got together every week in my apartment and we’d forged a trusting relationship. He knew just when he could push my limits a little, but also when it was time to stop. I felt completely safe with him.

Cut to a day when I was perusing FetLife and happened upon a photo from a local man’s profile. It was a professional video shot, for a company that produced various kidnap/abduction clips. In the photo, the handsome (but very sinister-looking) man had a woman in his grasp, with one hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Her eyes, staring at the camera, were wide with terror.

I’d never had any sort of “damsel in distress” fantasies before. But I could not stop staring at that picture.

Finally, I copied and pasted it into my blog, and mused about how hot it would be if a suave intruder broke into my apartment, restrained me and had his way with me. Not with rape, though -- with spanking. “Don’t be afraid, honey,” he’d purr. “It’s only going to hurt for about an hour.” Then he’d hold me down (or tie me up) and force me to take a spanking, until he was good and ready to leave. Consensual non-consent at its finest. Yum.

Blogging about it kind of got it out of my system and I forgot about it -- until ST showed up on Monday. When I opened the door, I smiled and reached out for him, ready to greet him with a big hug as I usually did. He did not smile in return, and he shrugged off my arms. Then he grabbed my hair and steered me into the bedroom. Shocked into speechlessness (yeah, I know...huh? Erica, speechless?), I stumbled along with him.

Wordlessly, he pushed me facedown onto the bed, and before I knew it, he was tying my hands together behind my back. Finally speaking to me, he leaned down and hissed, “Did you really think you could post something like that on your blog and no one would get ideas?”

OK. I knew what was going on here. He was giving me my fantasy. My heart pounded. Somewhere deep within my head, I knew I was perfectly safe. But he was so convincing, and I lost myself in the moment. The fear was an illusion; I knew this wasn’t real, but right now, it felt real.

I stammered a bit, and his fist tightened in my hair. “Did you?”

“I don’t know!” I blurted. “I couldn’t help it! That picture just… sorta did something to me.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m going to do something to you.”  Oh. My. Freaking. GOD.

He pulled off my clothes from the waist down, then tied my ankles together. The spanking that followed was fierce; hard and fast, no warm-up. But my adrenaline and endorphins were soaring so high, I barely registered the pain.

And then the implements came out of his bag. He brushed them against me, taunting me. “Are you scared?” he asked. “Yes,” I murmured. “Good. You should be. Be careful what you wish for.”

Oh, he was good. I couldn’t believe how menacing he could be.  I was scared, and so incredibly aroused.

When he began to strike me with the strap, I whimpered, “Please…” “Please what?” he said, snapping it down again. And again. “Please… don’t hurt me!” I blurted.

“But I want to hurt you,” he hissed in my ear. And then he did. Repeatedly, with several implements. I writhed and moaned and squirmed, but could barely move. I was powerless and at his mercy.

Finally, he paused. “I like hurting you,” he mused. “And you like it too. Don’t you!”

Even as I wept, I nodded my head vigorously. He then finished me off with ten hard paddle strokes, which he made me count out loud.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The cruel stranger disappeared, and ST was back, untying me, soothing me, holding me close. He lifted my face to look at him, so I could see his gentle smile. It took a while before my crying and trembling abated. And then, when I could finally speak, my first words were, “Oh, my God… that… that was soooo fucking HOT!!” He laughed. Said he thought so too.

I had been tied up before, but I’d never had it sprung on me like that. It surprised and delighted me how quickly I was able to snap into the role of “spanking victim” and just ride with it. As I’d mentioned before, I couldn’t do this with just anyone. I trusted ST deeply. In our nearly two years of play, he pushed me to the edge several times. But he never let me tumble off the cliff.

But wait, there’s one more twist to this story. The man whose picture I had been perving? Long story shortened, I ended up meeting and befriending him. And several months later, I once again got to act out my fantasy scene. With him. On film. This time, I got to be the woman with the terrified eyes.

Sometimes, I really do like my life. :-)

Dear Real Life...

... YOU SUCK!!!!

No, don't worry. Nothing has happened. I'm just frustrated and in a MOOD, and need to blow it off. 

Fun is needed. Play is needed. Distraction is needed. Balance is needed. Because there's just too much real life I'm sick of, at the moment.

I'm sick of hearing about a dysfunctional government run by a bunch of babies, and being at their mercy. I'm sick of having too many friends living too far away. I'm sick of not having enough money to go be with said friends. I'm sick of worrying endlessly about the man I love more than anything in the world, because what will be, will be, and all my worrying helps nothing. I'm sick of wondering when I'll get my next job project. I'm sick of all the "what-ifs" that swarm in my head during times like these. (No, I'm not going to list them. That would give them too much validity.)

I'm sick of ME -- of how my well-being so often depends on externals. It annoys the hell out of me that all I need to snap me out of this maelstrom is a damn good spanking and all will be well with the world again. How screwed up is that?? I'm sick of how I need attention. It's tedious.

Yeah, I know. I have a lot to be grateful for and I'm whining. Don't lecture me. I know what I'm doing. Instead of stuffing down my feelings (along with half a jar of crunchy peanut butter, or too much chocolate, or whatever else would be my drug of choice), I'm admitting where I am today. You lucky people.  

Fortunately, I am meeting a friend this afternoon, so I will have an hour or two of fun and distraction. It's a gal pal, so there won't be spanking. But there will be frozen yogurt. With crumbled brownie topping, dammit. And chocolate sauce. And nuts. Fuck calories. I'm burning them up right now with all my stewing.

I guess now is the part where I wind down with some sort of bromide about how this too will pass? Meh. Forget it. I'm just in a rotten mood today.