Monday mornings, Jason lets me have it.
Things slide here a little on the weekends. Not necessarily my obedience, but we’re more lax with the regular things like food and bedtimes, and he likes me to get right back into my schedule on Monday. And I go from having him here with me all weekend to working, and having him busy all day.
So when Monday morning rolls around, I know I’m in for an intense session, and because I’m a wimp I usually try to get out of it. I know this might seem counterintuitive. Shouldn’t I want it? Well, spankings hurt, I’m a wimp, and I know he’s going to spank me anyway, so I think it’s a sort of necessary pushback. I mean, I don’t run from the house screaming, but sometimes have conversations like this.
“You know, I’m good today. Not sure I need a spanking.”
“Ha. Funny. Get over my lap.”
“Does it have to be with that terrible implement?"
“You have ten seconds to strip.”
And so it goes.
So, Monday morning rolled around and we started in on this. He had that horrible thick pink eraser thing and pointed to his knee.
“That’s loud, though,” I said with a little pout. My high schoolers were already at school, but my younger ones still here. Sadly, they were occupied and out of earshot, so that was really a flimsy excuse.
“Over my knee.”
“It hurts, daddy, and I’ve been a very good girl, you know.”
So…I “dropped ‘em” and got over his lap and tensed, waiting. And so it began. He lectured me good and hard about getting to the gym and staying on track and making sure I was being a very good girl. I squirmed and wriggled and said, “ow ow ow ow ow!”
He paused and chuckled. “You’re a wimp now. You used to be able to take a spanking. Not sure why you can’t anymore.”
I mumbled something about losing weight and getting older and hormones, but my reprieve was over and we were back at it.
On and on that spanking went until I felt myself getting to that release in submission. I let everything go. I let myself remember why we do this. I reminded myself why I obey him and why we have rules, and how good things are when I stick to my plan. And then, finally, he was done. He rubbed out the sting and told me I was a very good girl.
Monday seems to set the tone for the rest of the week, I think. Without that morning check-in, I don’t focus as well as I should. And the truth is, when he spanks me, even a hard maintenance session like this one, I feel loved. I’m at the epitome of his attention. His utter focus. He wants me to thrive with the structure and discipline he provides me.
I’m often asked how I accomplish what I do in a week, and I think it’s my not-so-secret secret.
Monday Morning Maintenance definitely helps.