Pain

Adam didn’t get home from work until after 7:00pm, last night. We had, what I call, a “fend” night. I got out leftover chili, beef and noodles, and lasagne. The kids had already eaten and gone off to their rooms to do their own things, by the time Adam got home. I was loading the dishwasher, when he walked into the kitchen. He smiled at me, then gestured toward our bedroom, and told me to come with him. I asked him, “Don’t you want to eat first?” He said nope, he’d eat later. He wanted to “do this” now. I walked to our bedroom. He followed, close behind.

As soon as he shut the door, I held up my hands, as if to say “stop for a second”, and I told him I needed to say something. I explained, “Do you remember Shannon’s friend, Sheyenne?” He nodded. I went on, “I was talking to Shannon, and Sheyenne asked me if I was going to see my mom. I told her absolutely not. She gave me the most condescending look and told me ‘that’s your MOM’. It really upset me, because she has no idea what she’s talking about, but made that kind of judgement and it made me feel like I had done something horrible. Then, Jelly Roll’s new song dropped, and you know that’s hard for me. I was just so sad, pissed off, frustrated, and overwhelmed. I know I took that out on you, and I’m sorry for that.”

Adam just said, “You’re right. You shouldn’t have handled it that way.” Then, he walked over to me, and bent me over the edge of our bed. He placed his left hand on my back, pulled my pants down, and began to spank me with his hand. I wiggled and squirmed, and shouted, “OWW ADAM, THAT HURTS!” I’ve never said that, during a spanking, before. He lifted his left hand, off my back, and I slid down on my hands and knees, onto the floor. I pushed my face into the side of our bed. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t speak or move. Adam picked me up, sat on our bed, and put me on his lap. I straddled him, with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I continued to cry into his shoulder. His whole demeanor had softened. He held me and we spent a long time like that. He told me how much he loves me, and that he is always here for me. He said that he wishes I would just come and talk to him, when I’m having a bad day, because he’s on my side. He said that I don’t even have to talk about things I’m not ready to. I can just tell him I’m having a bad day, and then talk more when I’m ready. The only thing I cannot do, is speak to him like I had, the night before. I don’t remember what it was he said, but he made me giggle, a couple of times, during this conversation, too. He got serious again, and asked me, “Are you going to work on doing a better job of communicating with me?” I nodded. He tilted his head, and gave me a “look”. I said, “yes, sir”. Then he told me, “Good. Now we have to finish your spanking. We’re only halfway through.” I was still straddling his lap. He wrapped his arm around me, giving me no way to escape or even move. I clung to his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, again. The last half of my spanking wasn’t as painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either.

When it was over, Adam held me for awhile. Finally, he stood us both up, and kissed the top of my head. I walked into our bathroom. He went out to the kitchen, to get his supper. I stood in front of the mirror, willing myself not to let anymore tears come. Despite my best efforts, more tears escaped. I kept using my hands to dry my eyes, before they could fall down my cheeks. I think I needed that “release”. To let myself cry for a minute. There’s never a good time to do that. You can’t just carve out time to go fall apart. It builds and builds, until I can’t hold it in any longer.

The rest of our evening was peaceful. We spent nearly an hour talking in the shower. When we climbed in bed, I laid my head on Adam’s chest for a few minutes. Then, I sat up, and looked him in the eyes. I asked him, “Please love me. I need you to love me.” Then, I pulled him so he was laying on top of me. He was very tender and spent a lot of time kissing me, and running his hands over my body. I woke up, this morning, wearing only his t-shirt. My behind is a little sore. I feel a lot better, though. Emotionally, I’m in a much better place. I had asked Adam, last night, “When does it stop? How long is my mother going to be able to hurt me like this? Why can’t I make it stop?!” He told me that, it probably won’t ever stop, but he’s always going to be here for me, and that he wished he could take it away. I really did marry my Prince Charming. ❤️

2 thoughts on “Pain

  1. You two make such a big impression on me ! Both individually and as a couple.
    Adam is right. Let him rescue you from a bottom warmin’ and just share the burdens with him. You have a big strong man there so Lean On Him! That’s what he wants and needs and you definitely need to as well as want to.

    As an HOH your use of the word sir resonated with me. That word brings up abusive memories for Linda so I rarely required it but I craved the respect it carries. Use it liberally.
    Thanx bunches for a special post and a very special blog!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It isn’t that I don’t trust Adam. It’s hard to explain, but I get angry because I get frustrated that I’m still allowing my mother’s memory to haunt all of the good I have. I get so angry about it. I feel selfish, if I admit that I’m still giving her space in my head. That space should be reserved for the people who matter. I feel guilty for it. Then, I feel stupid. Ultimately, I lash out. I hold it in and I push it down for as long as I possibly can. Eventually, I explode. It isn’t right. I know that! I just don’t quite know how to make it stop hurting. I haven’t figured out how to let her fully go. I wish she’d have just died. I know that sounds awful. I get jealous that we have all these pictures of Adam’s dad, around our house. He passed away, before our babies could know him. We tell them stories and keep his memory alive. I can’t do that with my mother. There’s no pictures. I also can’t stop desperately wishing that she loved me and my family like mamas are supposed to. As a mama myself, I just can’t understand it? I could never, EVER stop loving my babies. I used to avoid writing, when I was overwhelmed with these emotions. I’d only write when I felt good. I think it’s helpful to make myself write everyday, because I can get this shit OUT. Funny enough, I’ve even started to feel guilty for writing about that shit here, because it won’t stop coming up! It gets old, especially to me!

      Like

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