Sweet and Sour

What a whirlwind of a weekend. Between punishment failures, miscommunication, vanilla troubles… I don’t even know where to start.

A couple weeks ago, Roommate and I decided to have a girl’s night out and see a movie that neither of our loves really wanted to see (The Vow). While there, we saw that tickets for The Hunger Games were available. So I got us tickets to the midnight showing. Then, a few days later it dawns on me.

A Midnight showing. On a Thursday. When I have a bedtime at 11 pm.

Fuck.

So I called Sir, and we talked about it.

It’s not that I meant to be disrespectful. It’s just hard in an everyday situation when we’re apart a lot of the time to get into the habit of asking for permission for things I never considered before. I didn’t even think about it; we wanted to see a movie, so I got us tickets. Done.

So we had a few options. He could deny me permission to go. He could give me permission to go, or He could give me permission to go, but I’d be punished.

The third option was chosen.

When I finally see him on Saturday, we get in late (ironically after seeing The Hunger Games together) and I know its time to pay. Earlier that evening, he requested that I obtain a notebook and pen. I’d been wondering what it was for all evening, but he just looks down at me and tells me that I’m “not going to like it”.

Once inside, without preamble, he orders me to strip. I take everything off. He chains my hands together and locks them. He throws a pillow on the floor, then orders me to kneel in front of his wooden chair. Upon the chair he places the notebook. He asks me what my bedtime rule is.

“I will be in bed by 11 pm on a work night and 12am on Saturday, unless I’m with you, or have your permission”.

He then asks me to repeat after him:

“I will not deviate from my bedtime without Sir’s explicit permission”.

I repeat after him.

“Say it again”, he orders.

“I will not deviate from my bedtime without Sir’s explicit permission”.

"Good girl. You will write this sentence 200 times in that notebook. You have one hour."

One hour?! Is that even feasible? I start writing furiously because I need a baseline to determine if it is. I don’t even consider that I’d usually be extremely self-conscious about my nudity. 28 minutes later, I’ve gone through 50 lines. Writing with my hands chained together sucks. It’s hard to make it legible. The chain is digging into my hand; I still have a bruise from it. And I have trouble kneeling on a good day so I’m constantly fidgeting. Though I am grateful for that pillow. I can only imagine what it would have been like without it. I do some quick calculations, and at my current furious pace, it should take me 112 minutes to do all 200 lines. Well, I have 60 minutes total, so there’s no way in hell I can accomplish this.

I start to get really upset. Why would he set me up to fail? There’s no way I can accomplish this task. And he knows I become extremely upset when I fail him. I sat on the floor in a pathetic blubbering mess when that quarter went into the dresser. I cried despondently when I couldn’t get my hands behind my back how he likes. No matter the task, if I can’t complete it for him, it unhinges me.

Nevertheless, I keep writing. I give myself mini-goals just to keep myself going. I need to at least get over 100 before time is out. I’m also mad as hell while writing this, because I don’t feel I’m being punished for the right reasons. He said I could go, therefore I did have his explicit permission to be late with my bedtime that evening. Yes, he did say I would be punished, but I thought it would be for getting tickets first and asking permission later. I should have asked, and then purchased. We have to work on changing my mindset in the vanilla world, where I make all my decisions, all the time. It’s hard to stop and think about deferring to him when he’s not around and I do for myself most of the time.

I make it to 120 and a half when he says time is up. He asks how far I’ve gotten, and then says I may stand. I slowly get up. My legs feel like jello and my knees are aching. He unchains my hands, and asks me if I am going to forget my bedtime again.

“No, sir.”

I feel certain that I won’t, so responding like this is actually a big deal. Usually I say that I’m not sure, because I don’t wish to lie. However, I’m still seething inside, and teetering on crying.. I guess he notices, because I’m abnormally quiet. He asks if I am okay. I say no. He asks if I am mad at him. I say yes.

We end up talking about it, even though I really don’t want to. He still feels that the punishment is for not getting permission to miss the bedtime, and I do see his point about putting him in a position where he feels like he must say yes. He wants me to do things with my friends. He doesn’t want to be the guy telling me that I can’t do things with them. But I also still don’t feel like my feelings were wrong. And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

The next morning, he gets up and is gone for what feels like a long time. I’m in bed, waiting for him. I can’t leave because he’s not yet taken my sleeping collar off; so I just wait. Then he comes in with a tray, and on it are waffles, syrup and milk. He made us breakfast and brought it to bed. What a sweet man.

He also helped me out in a major way yesterday. When I went to see the movie with my roommate, my car started smoking out and stalling as soon as we got to the theatre. I brought it to the mechanic, but was and am still carless (Maybe its some type of karma for not being in line with Sir). My contract at my main breadwinning job ended on Friday, and I had an interview yesterday. It was a second callback interview where I had to give a presentation, so it was really important.

Since I didn’t have a car, I was going to get up really really early, and rent a car so I could be on time for the meeting (at 8:45 am). Sir decided that it all sounded very silly and a lot of work and money, so he took the day off work so he could drive me. He also stayed up with me and helped me prep my materials until 2:30 am. I love this man.

Even though I’m still not sure how to feel about the Hunger Games Bedtime Permission Punishment Incident, I know in my heart that he is a kind man that, to quote him “ always has my back”.

Even if him having my back means he’s got evil designs on it.