Monday, June 10, 2013
"I've got you."
It was one of those days when I ask myself, "Am I crazy?"
I was washing the dishes, and I had a spanking coming. I knew I deserved it. I knew when it was all over, I'd feel better, reassured, connected, forgiven. But while I was cleaning my kitchen, I walked around with a look of perplexity on my face, eyebrows furrowed.
Why do I want my husband to spank me? Why would an adult like me want to be punished?
I've written about this many times. In my heart, I know why I want my husband to be in charge. In my heart, I know I want to be punished if I've done something I shouldn't. But sometimes when it's time for the rubber to hit the road...or the brush to hit my bottom, as it were...I start to question.
Am I out of my mind?
This is part of the reason why I blog. To help me think. To help me process. To help me remember.
Several months earlier....
I am angry with my husband. We are supposed to be leaving for a party, and he's watching a game on tv. I try ineffectively to stomp my feet, huff and puff, and otherwise get his attention, to no avail. Finally, I stomp my way over to the tv and block his view. His eyes narrow. I stand my ground and cross my arms across my chest.
"Shut the damn tv off and let's go!"
"No," he says. "I'm not done. We have plenty of time."
I fight the desire to snap it off myself but barely resist. I storm out of the room. He finally shuts it off and follows me out, and we silently fume at each other in the car. And then we lose it. We are screaming at each other. He says nasty things, I say nasty things. It's awful. I'm crying. He's furious.
He's already spanked me before. But it was only for a few things. He told me he wouldn't spank me for my attitude, so boy am I ever using that to my full advantage.
We get into one of the worst fights we've ever had and when I'm all done, and I can't believe how terrible I've been, I say, "Please, why don't you just spank me. Why do we have to fight like this? If you'd just stand up to me and my stupid mouth, we never would've gotten into this."
I beg him. Please, put me over your knee and show me who's boss.
He refuses. I cry. A weight is on my chest and I can't lift it. I sob out my frustrations, and we go home. We make love. He forgives me. We are on the mend, things will be okay, but I want that spanking.
I want that forgiveness.
In the morning, he takes me over his lap and spanks me. And I'm better.
Later in the day, he is watching tv and I need his attention. I start, the brat is rising, I turn to him and say something snippy. He turns to me with narrowed eyes and says in a warning voice, "Are you scolding me?"
My heart stops. I shake my head meekly, and turn back to what I'm doing.
And I think, "He gets it."
I wake up early I'm irritated with my husband. I get up, and slam the door. I will regret that door slamming when he is waking up and I'm wishing him a good morning. He kisses my forehead, then rolls me over, spanks me soundly and warns me, "Don't you ever slam a door on me like that again." I apologize.
Later that same day, I put some food on the stove to heat up, then I grab my phone, go in another room...and get lost in cyberspace. I completely forget about the stove until I come in later to hear the snapping of dry food in the pot and smoke. Oh, no. I've done this three times now in the past week, and the last time I did this, my husband warned me I'd get a spanking if it happened again. Head bowed, I go to him and tell him what I did.
"I told you not to do that!" he says, then he takes me by the arm, pulls me in the hallway and gives me a swat. "I'm not happy," he says, and a short while later tells me, "You are getting a spanking tonight, no question about it."
I nod meekly.
Who are you and what have you done with my husband?
And now here I am, cleaning up the dinner dishes, knowing I'm going to get a good spanking later that evening, and asking myself, "Am I crazy? Am I nuts? Why do I want a spanking?"
I hear him call my name. I sigh.
"Yes, Jason," I say in a "poor me" kind of voice. He hears the tone.
"Come here right now," he says sternly.
I drag my feet as I know I'm in trouble. He beckons me over. I kneel in front of him and place my arms on his knees. He reaches down and takes my face in his hands. He is looking at my sternly, no question, but there's a tenderness in his look.
"I'll have none of that attitude," he chides. My eyes widen. Did I have an attitude? I tell him everything, my eyes welling up with tears. I didn't even know I had an attitude, but he did. After a chat, he kisses me, sends me on my way, and I'm back in my submissive place.
How things have changed! Just a few short months...and there is now one, and only one, person running this household.
Later that evening...
The time has come. My stomach is in knots, but I have that strange feeling of anticipation knowing very soon, all will be better. Very soon, my heart will be put to rights again over the knees of my husband.
I am standing by the bed and he says evenly, "Get the brush please."
I have a love-hate relationship with the brush. It is a dense, heavy brush that stings worse than any other implement he's ever used, and unlike the stingy things, the feeling lasts. I love that it effectively brings me that level of forgiveness I crave. I hate that it hurts like hell.
I open the drawer and hand him the brush.
"Go sit on the edge of the bed and think about what you're going to do to prevent this from happening again," he says. I obey.
A few minutes later, he sits next to me. He reaches for my hand. We talk and he thinks I've come up with a good plan.
"Get over my lap," he says, so I stand, my heart pounding, but still strangely relieved it's almost over. I lay myself belly down. He bares me and lifts the brush.
"You're not going to make this mistake again, are you?"
"No," I murmur, my hair pooling into my face, my hands planted on the floor.
He delivers a warm up spanking, then rubs as he talks.
"You know I do this because I love you," he murmurs, and I feel a knot rise in my throat.
"I know," I whisper, and then he is spanking me in earnest. It hurts. That brush stings, deep and long, and he doesn't let up until he's delivered a good set of stinging spanks. He pauses, and rubs.
"You know I don't like punishing you," he says in between, "and I want you to try harder not to be in this position again. I want to give you your good girl spankings. I don't want to punish you."
"Yes," I say, and he's spanking me again. I am holding onto part of the blanket by the bed now to help me stay in position, to prevent pulling away and twisting from the pain.
But I'm feeling the guilt dissipate while I'm over his knees.
He is rubbing me again and says quietly, "This is going to be harder now. I want this to make an impression. I want you to remember this."
I nod meekly, and he spanks me hard, no break in between, two more sets of spanks that are hard and furious and I wonder how much more I can take.
Then he's done.
"All done, sweetie," he says, and I stand up. His arms are around me and I find myself kneeling, unable to do anything but fall into his arms, my head in his lap, his calming voice saying, "Shhh, it's all over now. I love you. We'll put this behind us."
I feel forgiven. My heart is in his hands.
My everything is in his hands.
He is mine, and I am his, his treasure, the one he adores. He will protect me and guide me. He's demonstrated that nothing, not my attitude, or my heedless behavior, or anything, will come between us.
He puts his arm around me.
He's got me. He tells me this when I'm unsure, waffling, uncertain.
"I've got you."
I'm not crazy.
I am blessed beyond measure.
Posted by J Girl