Spanksgiving With Erica
A few years ago, Erica Scott’s Thanksgiving celebration was particularly festive. May you all have this much to be thankful for today!
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Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best
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A Strap Spanking For Erica
I kept the link for Erica Scott’s blog after she stopped blogging in 2017 in hopes that she’d be back, but I hadn’t followed the link in a long time, and nobody told me the good news that she quietly started blogging again about six months ago. She’s been up to her usual on-again off-again spanking shenanigans; here we join a spanking in progress, as she talks herself into a strap spanking and then runs her mouth for extra strokes:
I had mentioned earlier that I loved strappings with a man’s belt over my ottoman, and while we were in the middle of hurts-so-good hell, I said “We can do that next time, maybe?”
“Hell, no!” was his answer. “Let’s do it now!”
Oy. Again, me and my big mouth.
I’m always a tad leery when I’m about to be strapped by a top for the first time. I love, love, love a leather belt. I love the feel, I love the sound, I love the imagery. However… a lot of people can’t do it right. They can’t control the strap — they’re too high, they’re too low, they wrap, they hit the right cheek over and over and not the left, etc. And it ends up being rather unpleasant. I get so tense, wondering when the misfires are going to hit, I can’t relax and sink into it.
Not so this time.
Holy crap. This man is magic with a belt. Spot on every single strike. Even knows the trick of switching sides so each cheek gets equal brunt. I forgot about bratting and blurted, “You’re so good at this!!” For a brief while, my whole world shut down and focused on his belt and nothing else. Gone was the stress, the work, the political quagmire, the losses I’ve endured lately, the money worries, all of it. Just the bliss of impact, of endorphins, of pleasureful pain. I seem to recall murmuring at some point, “You are making me so happy right now.” He has joined the ranks, in my mind, of the top strappers I know — Dr. Lectr, Paul Kennedy, InspectHerHide, and a few others.
But of course, my true colors never fully disappear. He had decided I was getting forty more, twenty on each side. When he was finished with the first twenty and switched sides, once again he teased, “How’s that tickling feel now?”
To which I replied, “Oh, fuck off.”
“Oooh, bad idea,” he said. “You just got ten more.” And he delivered; no breaks for an excited utterance. :-Þ First the original twenty more planned, and then an additional five on each side. Can I take a moment and admit how utterly fucking hot that was?? (sigh)
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A Hell Of A Belt Spanking
You can tell by the look on her face that she knows: somebody is about to get one helluva belt spanking, and it’s her!
I know this has to be coincidence given the source and all, but doesn’t she remind you (just a little) of spanking movie model and long-time spanking blogger Erica Scott?
Artwork is from the cover of I Casi Della Vita #105.
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The Spanking Scene That Should Have Been
There are a lot of reasons why a person might dislike the movie 9 1/2 Weeks. Hollywood has a terrible track record when it comes to movies about kinky people. But I agree with every word that Erica Scott has to say about the criminal mismanagement of what might have been a good spanking scene:
They totally screwed up what could have been a really hot spanking scene.
Oh my God, the buildup was perfect. She’s left alone in his house, so she snoops in his closet and drawers. He then calls her, and almost as if he had a hidden camera on her, he asks if she was being a “nosy Parker” and snooping in his things. His voice is low and silken and cajoling, and she confesses that yes, she was. He says, “Shame on you” and hangs up on her.
Next minute he’s back at his house, and she’s waiting, looking very nervous. He walks in, looking grim, and says with little preamble, “You were a very bad girl, Elizabeth. I want you to face the wall and raise your skirt. I’m going to spank you.”
“You’re kidding, right?” she blurts. “No, I’m not kidding,” he answers.
Now here’s where she should have meekly and reluctantly complied, as she did with all his other orders up to this point. But for whatever reason, this struck a nerve, and she gets incredibly pissed off, starts to flounce out, then stomps back in, screams “Who the fuck do you think you are?” and slaps him in the face. A struggle ensues.
OK, the scene still could have been salvaged. He could have wrestled her to the nearby dining table, bent her over it and given her that spanking. That would have been steamy as hell. But instead, he pushes her onto her back on the table, rips off her panties (you hear fabric tearing), and rapes her.
Yeah… that’s totally acceptable, but spanking her wouldn’t have been?? How lame! Way to represent us, Hollywood.
Indeed. A terrible waste of a well-set scene.
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The Toughest Boyfriend She Ever Had
I am not quite as picky about internet spanking stories as Erica Scott says she is, but like her, I’m inclined to like only parts of even the best stories, and so reading them becomes a constant project of sorting out and trying to ignore the distasteful or annoying or boring parts. However, Erica has carefully saved her favorite story from the old Soc.Sexuality.Spanking newsgroup, and I have to agree with her that it’s a very fine spanking story indeed. The story is called The Toughest Boyfriend by DLynn, and it really rewards reading the whole thing. But here is a short excerpt from one of the spankier parts:
When my panties were around my knees, he stroked his left hand across the skin of my behind. Gentle. Tender. But all I could think of was the belt waiting in his right hand.
He moved his left hand around my waist, holding me down, but I never would have tried to break free at this point, no matter how afraid I was. I wanted to hurt. I pressed my forehead harder against my arm curled on the cushion.
The belt came down like fire, driving every bit of breath away. I had sworn that I would not cry out, but the pain was audible in the sounds that flew from my throat, half-grunt, half-cry.
I couldn’t keep myself from shrinking away from the belt he was already raising again, but his hand on my waist was firm. The belt came down again, across both cheeks, overlapping the first stroke that still ached and burned.
No. I hadn’t wanted this. I was already moaning, “I’m sorry,” but the belt was already coming down again. He caught me across the tender skin of my thighs, and all pretense of dignity deserted me as I yelled and convulsed on his lap.
“Oh, God, don’t. Don’t.”
But the belt was already lifting again…
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A Fetish For Punishment
It turns out that “punishment” is one of the words that always captures Erica Scott’s erotic attention:
Punish. And all its forms (punishment, punished, etc.).
Damned if I understand why, but that word gives me goosebumps. We all have our buzz words, and of course for most of us, “spank” is one of them. For a lot of others (myself included), “bottom” is another. Punish is definitely high on my personal buzz list.
…
What is it about that word? I don’t know; just one of those weird wiring things. But because I’m so drawn to it, I tend to remember all kinds of random instances where I heard it. And recalling them gives me the same shivers as they did then.
As she notes, “spanking” is a word that has this effect on a lot of us. So tell me, gentle readers, do you have others that are related to our fetish? If so, what are they?
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A Binder Full Of Erica
Trust Erica Scott to turn a bit of gentle bondage into a sassing opportunity:
We had some fun with politics tonight. He teased me by saying that my bottom would need a nice thick binder. I beg your pardon?? I snapped back that if we collected all of his wit and wisdom, it would fit in the world’s thinnest binder.
I knew I’d pay for that. It was worth it. :-)
Anyway, after the OTK warmup, we proceeded to the bedroom where he decided to “bind” me. What he didn’t count on was my itty-bitty wrists. As he was whaling away, I felt my hands slipping slightly through the restraints. Calculating the slack, I thought, yeah, go for it. So, with one sudden movement, I yanked both hands free. And laughed my freaking head off.
“Oh, that is never, EVER going to happen again,” he growled, pulling my hands back into the restraints and securing them tighter. Not uncomfortably so, though. But I couldn’t move my arms or legs; all I could do was wriggle. I was doing plenty of that by the end…