I am floundering, questioning, uncertain and scared.
I need him.
I need to know he's got me.
We've had an awful couple of days. Words have been said, words that never should have been said, words that wounded. I have so much I need to do I don't even know where to begin. I fight the urge to crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head.
I am craving his dominance.
I am walking around in a haze, trying to do what's right, trying to do what needs to be done, but so uncertain.
I turn away from him, off to go do something, anything, to keep me moving.
His voice stops me.
"Come here," he says.
I obey. I walk to the top of the stairs and raise my eyes to his.
"Go to our room and sit on the bed," he instructs calmly. I wordlessly obey.
He comes in and is getting ready for the day. I see something on the floor that needs to be put away. I rise to get it, and he turns to me, skewering me with his eyes. I freeze.
"Did I tell you to get up?" he asks. I shake my head. "Go back to the bed," he instructs with an index finger pointing back to the bed.
I feel the beginning of my safety net returning. A concrete instruction. My husband, in charge. My husband, who is to be obeyed.
My husband, who knows I need him right now.
I sit meekly and wait for him. He walks to the dresser and gets the brush. He sits on the edge of the bed and lays the brush down next to him. He opens his arms out to me.
"Come and kneel in front of me," he says softly, and I do, fighting the urge to fall at his feet. I kneel and rest my arms on his knees.
He puts a finger under my chin.
"Tell me what you need to do today," he says in a low, even voice.
And it all spills out. The pile of things I have to do that has overwhelmed me so badly I'm almost paralyzed.
"No," he says, with a gentle shake of his head. "No. These are the two things that you need to do." He plucks the two most pressing tasks out of my list and instructs me to do those things and nothing else.
His hands on either side of my face, my eyes are looking directly into his, and I feel a myriad of emotions sweeping over me. Trust. Compassion. Calm.
The uncertainty, the frustration, it begins to melt away. He's got me. He's helping me. He knows what I need.
His blue eyes look steadily at me. "And I want you to focus on the kids. They come first."
Yes, yes of course. That's what I need to do.
His hand on my chin now, he holds my gaze.
"Tell me what I expect of you."
I do. I repeat what he's asked of me.
"That's right," he smiles. Then, calmly, "Now over my lap."
I obey him, willingly yet reluctantly, wanting a spanking that will cleanse and heal, and put me in my submissive place. It hurts, badly, but I need it. Swat after swat after swat he gives me, with a lecture on obeying, and doing as I'm told, and my attitude. He talks, and holds, and pauses, and caresses.
This isn't a punishment. He's reaffirming his role -- my leader, my protector, my Dominant. He's reaffirming mine -- his girl, his lover, his Submissive.
His voice washes over me as the slow, steady, but bearable pain pushes all my worries away and I can do nothing but let myself go. I let it all go and I'm his.
I'm here now. Fully submitted. Over his lap, nothing between us anymore, no worries or fears. In his hands, where I want to be.
When he is done, he holds me tightly, close to him.
"I love you," he says, his voice soft and thick with emotion. "I needed to show you I'm in charge."
"I love you," I whisper. "I needed to be shown."
I'm in his arms.