Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“And like I said a minute ago, it stops now. From now on, our partnership as parents isn’t good cop and bad cop. We are a united front. We have each other’s back. We make decisions together, and that’s that. I mean, come on. It’s the only way the two of us are going to survive Luna. It’ll take the two of us to face just one of her when she really puts her mind to something we don’t want her to do. Hell, she figured out the ‘go ask Daddy when Mommy says no’ trick when she was only two. And when she couldn’t get away with that any longer, she figured out the ‘just wait until Daddy gets home and ask him first’ trick. So… at least I taught her how to have a little patience, I guess.”
That earns a giggle from my doll, whose shivers have finally subsided and tears seem to have stopped. I knew if I could just get to this part, the part where she’d realize she wants to split the burden of growing a future contributing member of society, that her need to keep my fragile male ego intact would give way to make a little room for her own happiness.
“But luckily, we’ve got a really great kid. Like… she’s so fucking cool. And smart. And the imagination on that girl....” My voice is wistful, because I can’t believe I helped make such an extraordinary little human. “And thanks to you taking on that role of disciplinarian as soon as you saw I wasn’t going to step in and do it, it’s more upkeep than starting with a hellchild who’s never heard the word no.” I chuckle, hugging my wife closer but finally letting go of the headlock I’ve had her in against my neck. She fully relaxes against me and tilts her head back to look up into my eyes.
“So, my lovely Twyla, my darling wife, my good little doll, and—your latest addition—my mindless, slutty fuck toy…” She blushes immediately, and I sigh in contentment. “I’m so glad I didn’t fuck that out of you. Mm. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Repeat after me.” I wait for her nod, and when I get it, I say in a threatening tone, “You just wait until Daddy gets home.”
Her lips fold in so she can clamp them with her teeth, but her eyes give it away that she’s trying not to laugh. I lift a brow in mock offense.
“What? You don’t think I could punish Luna if she did something bad?”
She giggles softly. “Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something creative as a disciplinary action if need be. You’re very good at that.”
Ego stroked, I ask her, “Then why are you trying not to laugh?”
She grins. “Because you think Luna would ever take ‘just wait until Daddy gets home’ as a threat.”
I burst out laughing, a belly laugh that’s cathartic and makes most of the shame I felt at dinner dial back to a level that’s no longer overstimulating. When I get it all out, I sigh. “Yeeeah, you’re probably right. It’s definitely something we’d have to work on. But until then, I want you to practice. I know there are things that will happen while I’m at work, and you’ll need to take action right then. But when she’s really being a turd, instead of getting overwhelmed from trying to take it all on yourself, I demand that you wait. You wait and let Daddy step in. Got it?”
She bites her bottom lip, her eyebrow lifting. “I just clenched.”
Both my brows shoot up. “Oh yeah? Was it the command at the end or the ‘Daddy’?”
She smiles sweetly, then snuggles into her nook, her hand starting up its petting of my furry chest once again. “It was the part where I’m going to get to be the kind of mom I’ve always dreamed of being.”
I swallow thickly, fighting off the tinge of guilt her words dig up. I can’t change the past, but I can spend the rest of our childrearing years doing it the right way.
I chuckle after a moment of just holding her close, and she looks up at me. “What is it?”
I smile wickedly. “Ever looked into the ’50s household lifestyle?”
She shakes her head.
“Wife’s a homemaker, takes care of the kids, cooks, cleans—the stereotype.”
She snorts. “So what I do anyway when I’m not at the store?”
I poke her ribs, and she jumps. “Right. But they mastered the art of ‘just wait until your father gets home,’” I tease, and then get to what I was really talking about. “And if it’s a 24/7 dynamic with kinky fuckery added to the mix, think of all the possibilities.”
She does. She spends a moment thinking about what just those few little breadcrumbs could lead to, and then she nods. “If it’s anything like what I’m imagining, then I’d definitely be interested. Those cute housewife dresses… frilly aprons… those feather dusters that do nothing but toss the dust into the air for you to breathe or land somewhere else. A fairytale version of Madmen… without all the drugs and cheating.”