Thursday, February 12, 2015


I stand at my kitchen sink, frowning. I've lost my temper, and I need to confess. Jason is upstairs. It wasn't awful – none of what I used to be like. But I did raise my voice and yell at one of my kids who was exasperating me to no end, and I'm not allowed to do that. I did go to her and apologize shortly afterward. But still, I need to tell Jason. 

I go upstairs and shut the door. I tell him I need to confess something, so he nods and lifts his arm and I snuggle up onto his chest, lift my eyes to his and my belly twists. He's looking at me with adoration, and I lose my resolve. “What is it?” he starts. “Did you leave the stove on?” 


“Did you leave your hair straightener plugged in?”


“Did you text in the car?” 

“No!” I finally blurt it all out and tell him what happened. 

“Well, I know the situation is very frustrating, and it's hard keeping my own temper in check sometimes. So I understand. Still, you know I'll spank you for this.” 

I nod. I do know. But it will be some time before we have any privacy. I start reading a book to distract me, and I fall into a deep sleep. I wake hours later, and he's downstairs, getting some down time. I just need him to take my bracelet off because I can't sleep well with it on and I'm not allowed to take it off (It's just one of our things, kinda similar to my collar). I scuffle downstairs and he tells me to go back to bed. But I have a history of pouting when he's getting his down time and I'm in bed alone, and he's strict about not letting me go there. I rarely do anymore, but he's still wary of it. So he sends me back to bed sternly. I go back to bed, but now I can't sleep, so I read again. I wish he'd come up. I don't like having a punishment, even a small one, hanging over my head, and I don't sleep well unless he's next to me. 

I start letting my irritation fester, and now I'm starting to get angry at him. He's been down there hours. Isn't he ever going to come to sleep? I know he will not have forgotten he told me I'm in trouble. But then I stop myself. 

He needs some down time. Let the man get some down time. Lord knows when you need it, he gives it to you without a second thought. Let him be. 

He knows you're in trouble, but he's in charge here, not you. 

So let it go and trust him. 

And I feel at peace. After a short while, he comes in the room. “I don't like you coming down angry because I'm not up here.” I know that's not why I went down, so I simply tell him the truth. 

“I didn't. I just wanted you to take my bracelet off.” He recognizes it for what it is – not backtalking, just clarification – and nods. My anger was after, when I was alone, and fortunately I worked my way around that. He gets ready for bed and climbs next to me. I wonder what he'll do about my punishment. He's exhausted now. Maybe he'll tell me to wait for the morning. 

He doesn't. Softly, he says, “I need to give you ten, baby.” 

I nod. There's something about how he's talking to me – that firm gentleness that inevitably stirs thankfulness in me – that makes me eager to take my punishment, put this behind us, and please him. 

“Come and lie over my lap,” he says.

I obey, lie myself over his lap and lay my head on my arms, as he bares me and administers my punishment. When he's done, I curl up on his chest and he holds me. He chuckles at how I nearly pounce on him. I've missed him. I'm glad the punishment is behind us, and now I want to feel him.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I will do better tomorrow.” 

“Of course you will, baby,” he says, and I lean in and kiss him, feeling that jolt I do with the scruff of his beard on me. I wish it wasn't so late at night. I'd love for him to take this further. I'd be a willing participant. But he doesn't. The poor man is exhausted, and I know it. I slither down to the bed and roll over on my side, tucked up against him. I feel the length of his body, warm and strong, up against me, and his arm curls around my waist. 

“We're so weird,” he murmurs, so sleepy now, it's a wonder he's still talking. 

“Oh?” I ask. 

“You know, curling up in bed together. And the sex. Don't you know it's like a rule that we're only supposed to be having sex on Valentine's Day and holidays and stuff? And we're breaking all the rules. We cuddle and have tons of sex. Total weirdos.” 

I smother a giggle, as I'm thinking it's probably, by most people's standards, a little weirder that my husband just gave me a spanking for disobeying him. I settle down into his arms, feeling tired and content now, grateful for his appreciation for what we have. I yearn to please him. And I love knowing I make him happy. 

“I like being weird,” I whisper, as we both settle down to sleep.


  1. Haha, I often feel like a weirdo too. I mean who has sex as good and as often as we do? Well you guys, but still, you know what I mean.

    I have had one similar situation, where I was actually successful at letting go of something, and by doing so, I felt I was 'actually' submitting.

    1. Yes, I know what you mean about "actually" submitting. Totally get it. And I agree on the, um, sex part! lol

  2. I like being weird, too. Lol. Normalcy is overrated. And TTWD makes the relationship so much better that way, I think.

  3. I don't think we are weird. It's all those vanillas!!
    love Jan,xx

  4. Nothing wrong with weird. If I'm weird, then I don't want to be normal!

  5. The first time my husband ever spoke to me he off-handedly said he was weird. I replied "Weird is good." That's what prompted him to get to know me better. We've always been cuddly and snuggly. We've always been respectful to and honest with each other. We've always though better of each other than we have of our selves. He tells his friends I'm a saint, I think he's perfect, we both think we have each other fooled. If we and our marriage are weird I wouldn't ever want it any other way, because weird IS good.


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