Last night was a rough one. Adam came home, and he wasn’t in a bad mood. I’d told him a couple pretty minor things, just because I wanted to know we had a “clean slate”, and I wasn’t keeping anything from him. It was seriously nothing big at all. He wanted to go in “the office”, to “discuss” this. Whatever…I went with it. When he put me over our bed, lifted my sundress, and then pulled my panties down, I got angry. I squirmed and protested. I don’t know what the fuck I wanted. I didn’t want a spanking, because I didn’t feel I’d done anything deserving of that. However, he and I both know, if he had let it go, I’d have taken that a certain type of way. Adam’s been real big on boundaries, lately. I haven’t been able to make him “bend”. I think there’s this internal fight I’m having. I want, hell I need him to be consistent. If he flip flops on rules or boundaries, I don’t respect them the way I do when he’s consistent. The other voice inside me screams, because she’s losing her power. I got frustrated, that all my best efforts couldn’t sway him. Like, dammit…I don’t want to be able to “win”, but yet I’m desperately fighting for power, at the same time. It’s a difficult thing to explain in words.
Adam never wants to be unfair, harsh, or especially, to hurt me. I love him for that. While I didn’t want him to spank me at all, the fact that it was sort of playful and in no way memorable, only added to my frustrations. Why did we have to go through “all of this”, when he clearly didn’t feel it was a big deal either? I felt like he pretended to care about things that he claimed mattered, but didn’t really. Anger and frustration absolutely boiled over inside me. I refused to give Adam any “yes sir”, in response to his questions, when he let me up. I laid on our bed, and stared through him. I gave him no words, whatsoever. He left me in our room. A few minutes later, he returned. He tried to talk to me again, but I continued to simply glare at him. I also blatantly rolled my eyes at him. Finally, I could see his own frustration had reached its max. He walked out, once more. I stayed awhile longer. Then, I went into our bathroom and threw my hair into a high ponytail. It was a mess, after all that had just occurred. I went out to the kitchen, and cooked our supper.
The following few hours, Adam and I barely spoke, except through text messages. I tried to tell him what I was feeling and thinking, but I don’t think I could have processed all of this yet, either. I wasn’t quite sure why I was feeling or acting this way. I didn’t understand much of my own reaction. I didn’t want to “win”. I have periodically had this thought bubble up, if I hold my ground long enough, not even Adam can help me. I haven’t ever made a conscious choice to do it, and I never planned it to happen, but it did. I was disappointed in myself, for my actions. I was also disappointed that Adam seemed to have just given up. I was sad. I was mad, I was confused. I was conflicted. I searched for words, to give clarity to both Adam and myself. I struggled to find them, though. He was upset with me, but I was upset too. I was really hurting. It was such a lonely and miserable feeling, believing I’d convinced my husband not to try anymore.
The truth was, he hadn’t “given up”. He’d given me time to think, and to cool off. He’d given himself time to do the same. I’d gone into our bathroom, to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me so upset. Adam and I continued our “text war”. He was in the living room. I sent one particular text to him, where I said, “You can’t handle it if I push back on you? That gives me lots of confidence.” I heard him get up, and heavy footsteps neared our bathroom. The door flew open. He went into our closet, and emerged holding his belt. He sat in front of me, silently daring me to keep pushing him. I wasn’t ready to back all the way down, yet. I softened my tone, and my words, but I ignored the threat he wielded in his hands. He turned on the shower, sat the belt down, undressed, and got in. I followed him in. Our naked shower talks are always the most raw and honest ones. There’s just something about being naked together, with nowhere to hide, that brings all the truths out.
Adam told me I’d put him in an impossible position. He knew, if he let this go, I would repeat what I’d done. He told me, if he let it go, I’d have essentially “cut off his balls”. I don’t ever want Adam to want to hurt me. I don’t like pissing him off. I don’t enjoy getting spanked. What I do want, is to know when he actually freaking means it. I need to believe him. A playful slap on my butt is fine! It’s all in fun. Going through all the trouble to appear serious, and then telling me he’s not really, with a couple little smacks, that frustrates the hell out of me. He wants me to know the difference between when he means it, and when he’s just messing with me. I want to understand, too! In my mind, he was either not serious, when he brought me into “the office”, or he was afraid of me. My protests had weakened his resolve. I could convince him to do whatever I wanted. I truly can convince Adam to do most anything for me, but I don’t want my bitchy, stubborn, arrogance to be one of the ways I’m able to do that. I want to persuade him through careful, thoughtful, respectful words and actions. Despite this awareness I have, I get mad sometimes, and I try him. I try my very worst “tools”, to get what I think I want. Even though, soon, I recognize that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I didn’t want it to work. I want to know that if I push against my “rock”, he won’t budge. I also want to get to a place where I won’t, can’t, or don’t push him anymore.
After an hour in the shower, talking through this mess we’d made, calmer heads prevailed. Adam ended up giving me the very worst spanking I’ve ever gotten.
I’d just stepped out, from the shower. Adam handed me a towel. He said something about needing to “get this over with”. I didn’t get a chance to respond. I hadn’t even gotten my towel wrapped around my body yet. I clumsily attempted to cover my backside with my towel, but he was quicker than me. He sat on the side of our bathtub, pulled me over his knees, and brought his hand down hard and fast. He covered my entire behind with many repeated swats. I was crying out like I’ve never done before. “Owwwwwie!” “Pleeeease” and “NOOO”! When he finally let go of me, I sank down to the floor. I still held my towel in my hands. I covered my face with it, wiping away tears. Adam gave me a minute there, before he reached out his hand for me to grab ahold of. I looked up at him, and hesitated a moment, before taking his hand. He pulled me up. We got ready for bed. It was late. The kids had been in bed for two hours already. When I walked to our bed, Adam was waiting for me. He held the blanket up, for me to climb in next to him. I put my arms around him, for the first time all day, and laid my head on his chest.
He was still home when I got up, this morning. As I stood in the kitchen, loading my Keurig coffee machine with some much needed caffeine drink, he came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head. Then, he gave me his sideways grin, and asked me how I slept. I declined to answer, and instead responded with a sigh and a shoulder shrug. I texted him, awhile ago. I apologized for last nights awful mess. He’d claimed I “lied” to him, because when he told me he was going to spank me, I asked him “what’d I do?” We both knew full well why it was gonna happen, but I guess I just wanted to hear him tell me. He continued to insist that I lied to him, pretending not to know why, and that had made the spanking worse. I still think it would’ve been the exact same experience on my behind, regardless of this “so called ‘lie’”…