From the Top Shelf - Late Bloomer

Our good friend Erica Scott has written an autobiography that's sure to be a best seller. I just finished reading it, and let me tell you, Erica's life has been full of ups and downs.

Late Bloomer has plenty of spanking in it, but I've chosen something else for today's post, and here's why. Many us spankos share the feeling of being all alone in our spanking desire, and that there is something wrong with us. It's something most of us have struggled with at some point, and the relief that comes with knowing we are not alone is overwhelming. Today I want to share Erica's description of the point in time when she discovered that her spanking interests were not at all abnormal.

Erica has just had her first spanking encounter and unfortunately, it was a disaster.   

I felt embarrassed and ashamed, but worse than that, I was disappointed. Here I thought I was finally going to experience what I'd been fantasizing for about as long as I could remember, and this was how it ended up. After all the buildup and anticipation, the frustration was unbearable. And I couldn't talk about it with anyone. How could I? It was my nasty little secret.

Going back to work the next day sucked. I still felt like hiding, but that wasn't an option. It was hot that Monday and I wore a sleeveless shirt, not realizing that I had finger bruises on my right arm.  My boss commented on them, concerned, and I was mortified. As the day progressed, I felt like this secret was going to burst out of my chest like an alien and if I didn't tell someone, I'd go mad. I called my therapist and left a message, asking her if I could have a phone session when I got home.  Upon my arrival, I found a return message from her, telling me when to call.

I was so shaky, I felt sick. But it knew I had to do this--I had to get it off my chest, out of my head. So I called Susan and with little preamble, I told her everything in a big tumbling torrent. The years of desire and the fantasies, the endless fixation and how I felt stigmatized and apart because of it. Meeting Ken and my encounter with him. And how, despite how poorly it had gone, it left me craving more. What the hell was wrong with me?

Finally, I wound down, grateful this was on the phone because I couldn't have looked her in the face. When she spoke, her voice was incredulous. "That's it? This is the big, terrible secret you had to tell me? Erica, do you have any idea how many women out there have thoughts like this?"

Come again? This was not the reaction I expected. After so many years of thinking I was a freak, here I was confessing it to my shrink--and she was telling me I was normal? That hundreds, thousands of others shared this with me? My brain struggled to wrap around this concept, and tears of relief gushed as we discussed it.  Not only did this person whom I respected and trusted tell me that my desires were okay, she encouraged me to explore further, safely.  I wasn't sure how I was going to do that, but it was nice to have someone grant me permission to do so.

I can assure you Erica figured out how to become an active participant in the spanking world. Buy her book (ordering information here) and read the rest of her fascinating story.