Don’t Get Him Mad, Get spanked

Well, I have made it through work and survived.

I have been a bit lax about writing recently. I did not want to do a “tired drone” post, the type where I say, “I would write but I am tired” because I know when I am scooting about the web finding things to read the last thing I want to read about is people being tired.

So- here I am! I woke up this morning at 5:45 full of beans and ready to go. I lay in bed, seeing the white glare of snow through the curtains and curling up deliciously warm in my duvet. I made a plan for my day.

I have one millions things to do but a key part of my day will be a nap at some point. I love being able to sneak onto a sofa with a blanket and sleep in the day. It feels wonderfully naughty; even so, I cannot imagine why I like it quite as much as I do.

I read something this morning that made me want to write.

Someone asked Himself if he was angry and when he said that he wasn’t (I know him, he was not even a little cross) she asked when he did get angry and it is this I want to write about.

I have a mixed relationship with anger.

I hate to be shouted at. It makes me cry, shake and close up like a daisy in the night. I can’t hear what someone says when they shout, I get too scared to have open ears.

But I also grew up in household where anything bad was ignored, death, sex (of course sex is bad in such a house), and bad behaviour were all treated with the same disdain. No one got mad with me as child, well maybe they did but no one ever told me off. Not once in my life was I told that anything I did was not acceptable and not once was I held to account. The idea that anyone could possibly notice me or like me enough to get angry about what I do is a brand new one.

This brings me neatly to

Himself.

It has taken a little while to learn to be naughty with him. I am used to being ignored and I loved being with him so much that I did not want to be too bad and have see me for a bad egg and thus leave me.

He has taught me that it is good to be myself with him. There are lots of consequences but not one of them is ever being ignored.

When I am bad, no matter how bad, he never turns away from me. He does not roll his eyes and pretend not to see me.

If anything, he looks at me more intently. His blue eyes narrow just a little and even when I spend time inspecting the carpet or the wall for interesting new developments I know that he is still there, staring and waiting.

When I am a little bad he sometimes struggles to hide his smile. He says that he does not smile at these times but I know that not to be true. I know that all my naughtiness is wonderful fun (it is) and very often it makes him laugh on the inside. This is true all the more when he sweeps me over his lap and starts the ignoble business of turning my bottom all pink. He says that makes him smile more than any naughtiness. At this point I tell him he is mean and that he has a dastardly hard hand. He sometimes chuckles at this which is proof positive of his meaniness.

When I am very bad he does not smile but he does come and find me. He gets inventive at these times and takes me to places that I do not wish to visit. He bends me over in ways that allow for not a shred of modesty and he spanks me not just with his hard, hard hand but with a variety of implements, not one of which is a feather. No matter what a snit I am in he adjusts my mood and does not stop until all I want is to slide into his arms and rest there. I think there must be a mood indicator on my back for him to work out my needs from.

I can be infuriating. I can be resistant to all reasonable suggestions. I can sulk at nothing. I can be repetitive and whiney. I change my mind fifteen times a minute and fight bedtime to the point of tantrum when I am tired.

When I am very, very difficult and have pushed and pushed and pushed, then sometimes he rubs his forehead with his hand. That means that I have made an impact and it is far too late to do anything about it.

But that is about the height of it. He never raises his voice, he never says anything mean and he never slams something down or shut.

I wondered about this as I wrote about it. He feels things deeply, he is never a cold or unemotional man.

I think now I understand it but it is only a theory and I could be wrong.

I think that maybe he does not get cross because he does not have to. I wonder if because he knows that all he has to do is intervene and the situations will stop and change with his will; does that prevent him from being angry?

I know that he is a calm man but maybe even a calm man is soothed by having a solution to a difficult girl in the palm of his hand.

Would you like another?