Mommy frowned at me. "Look at you, reading that naughty book, your mind still full of all the cuss words you used and heard with watching Sons of Anarchy and you want to work on my story with dear Joey?"
"I can separate the parts of my mind." I rolled my eyes at Mommy. "Aren't ya going to scold me for being naked too? You're being as overbearing as my mother."
Mommy grabbed my shoulders, her grip just tight enough to start to pinch. "Joelle, do not even go there! You intentionally wrote me to be better than Joey's mom, better than your mother. You simply cannot write a scene with Joey roleplaying elementary age with your mood and your word choice this morning."
I start to pull away from her, worried that I know where this is going.
"No you don't." Mommy wraps a hand around my arm. "We're going to the bathroom now."
"No, Mommy, no! I'm not into mouth soaping!"
Mommy clicked her tongue. "It's supposed to be a punishment little girl." She flips on the bathroom light.
I struggle harder when I see her reaching for the hand soap container; a separate part of my mind watching this thinks on how glad I am that my soap is just diluted castile soap.
"Stick out your tongue," she orders.
"But Mommy, I have a painful canker sore," I whine.
"Stop your whining and do what I told you." Mommy's hand moves from my arm into my hair, holding my head as still as she can. "And if you can't stop swearing in your head at the TV marathon your Master has on, this'll only get worse!"
Avoiding looking in the mirror, I stick my tongue out, my mouth shaped so my canker sore is covered, my lips not pulling on the sore.
The soap splashes across my tongue as Mommy pushes down on the soap dispenser.
I cup my tongue without thinking and find the soap collecting and staying. I spit into the sink, hoping it won't get me into more trouble.
"I guess since this is your first soaping." Mommy starts to spank me with her other hand, not sweet soft pats, but slaps meant to hurt.
I hold in my begging because I don't want to swallow any soap and get myself sick to the stomach to add to all the other things wrong this morning.
Another moment and everything is calm. "You can rinse with water now. After a moment you should use your mouth wash."
"Yes, Mommy." Trying to embrace the calm, I obey Mommy even as I think on my owwie butt and finishing the scene with her and Joey after church service and after dealing with hospital stuff. This'll teach me for only managing a few sentences of the story while having time with friends and not writing.
I'm still pushing through finishing "Mommy." I came up with this idea after pushing myself through the first episode of "Sons of Anarchy." I've been a big fan of Marilyn Manson since I was a teen and when I found out he was going to have a role on SoA, I was really excited. Sadly I didn't sit down to watch it before James Dornan asshatted about a BDSM dungeon so it was hard to get through the whole almost 2 hour episode for just 10 minutes of Manson. But this time with Mommy just seemed to make sense, even if you can probably tell my growing anger as I was pushing to write this while thinking on church since I missed last night (I go to an online church that has two services a week), my teen bugging me, and frustration thinking on all the crap I gotta deal with for my D&C coming up on 1/6. Of course I have the book "Cunt: a declaration of independence" by Inga Muscio, which may become the thing I blog on for Taboo Tuesday tomorrow.