There’s a pretty predictable “routine” that follows something I’ve done to earn Adam’s hard hands. His hands are usually so gentle. He holds my face in his hands and kisses me. He rubs my back. He hugs me tight. He plays with my hair while I’m laying beside him. He holds my hand when we’re in the car. There are times, though, when his hands turn to stone. My gosh, his hands can be so hard. I’ve looked at the scars on his knuckles. I know they’re from his younger, wilder days. I can’t even imagine what the full force of his angry fist would feel like! I know there’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever find out, either. Adam would absolutely never harm me. I know I’m safe with him. There’s never any danger to me when I’m with him. That’s not to suggest that his open palmed “hard hands” connecting with my behind don’t create any fear factor for me.

With reliable predictability, I will do my very best to explain my actions to Adam in a way that helps to minimize what I’ve done. With reliable predictability, it won’t work. I sometimes get frustrated about that. Usually, I know it’s best to shut my mouth and just accept that I’ve fucked up and he’s going to punish me. Occasionally, I’ll fight him on it. I have been known to succeed when I do that, but not lately. He’s really gotten good at refusing to let me break him down enough to change his mind. I’ve been helping him with that. He asked me to write him a letter a few months ago. I can’t remember why? I had done something dumb, but not serious enough to warrant a spanking. He wanted me to write him a letter. He keeps it in his drawer in our bathroom. I basically told him to stay on point and don’t let me take him off track so that we just end up both being angry, sad, and lonely. I don’t even remember everything else I said, but it has worked. There hasn’t been a time, since, when I’ve successfully talked, or argued, my way out of a spanking because I got him angry enough to step down from his pedestal and lose his authority because he said something stupid and hurtful and immature to me. You’d think I’d just stop trying, but there’s still something in me that can’t help but push him to do it so that I don’t have to feel like I’m the only one who’s wrong in the situation. I know it’s stupid and immature… when I’m not in it. This is why this letter was written the way it was. It’s only when I’m in the moment, feeling this overwhelming anger, frustration, shame, and fear that I go temporarily “insane” sometimes.

Adam never spanks me in front of anyone when it’s a serious one. He smacks me on my ass all the time, without a care for who’s watching. Sometimes, it’s a warning or a quick “knock it off” kind of thing. Mostly, it’s playful. He doesn’t degrade me. He never embarrasses me in front of people. When I’m in trouble, he calls me into our bedroom and he shuts and locks our door. I never have to wonder why I’m in trouble. He is very clear and takes plenty of time and energy to make sure I understand exactly why we’re here. He doesn’t lecture me while I’m being spanked. He talks to me before, and then after. I have never cried during the spanking. I have absolutely broken down after, when he looks at me and I can see that he’s genuinely hoping I’ve gotten the message this time. I can feel his struggle. I know it is very hard for him to hurt me. He’s always watching and listening to me. Making sure I’m okay, but I’m also taking this seriously. He’s careful to make sure that my mind and body are focused on what he’s punishing me for. Always making certain that I’m not going to a place in my mind where, instead of learning a positive lesson, I wind up traumatized and overwhelmed. He’s watching me, making sure I’m still “with him” and not going to that dark place where I feel only fear. Adam understands very well where my brain can go to sometimes. Although, I’ve never had this happen during a spanking. I had a panic attack once while he was tickling me. I sometimes start to struggle when he’s holding me, and he can sense it and immediately loosens his grip or lets go altogether. Seeing the effort he’s still putting into ensuring that I’m okay, regardless of how upset with me he might be, that breaks me. He’s disappointed in me. He’s hurt. He’s sad that he has to do this. It’s my fault. I feel awful. The shame is just too much. The combination of everything the experience of a punishment spanking involves just works, for us.

Maybe I’m weird? Maybe we’re kinky? Maybe it seems crazy to some people to imagine their own relationship looking like this. That’s fine. This is my life. This is my husband. This is me. I’m not going to suggest that I enjoy being punished. I don’t. I’m also not going to deny that it is sexy as hell to me, later, knowing and remembering the way my husband bared my bottom and humbled me. It’s the emotions that get me. Emotions I wouldn’t have without being combined with his hard hands leaving impressions on me physically, mentally, emotionally.

On Tuesday afternoon, I finally sent Adam text messages about something I had neglected to tell him about the day before. It didn’t exactly go well…

I knew his patience was pushed past the limit when he barely replied to me, except to say things like, “we will discuss this when I get home”, or “I’m floored right now”. It’s difficult for me to even write about this here. I’m ashamed to admit that I “side stepped” something again. I didn’t realize what I had done until it was too late to take it back.

I was so nervous for Adam to get home. I felt like such an asshole because he made it very clear to me how much I’d hurt him. He didn’t text near as much as usual. He didn’t ignore me, but I couldn’t soften him up at all. It was obvious in his responses to me. When I knew he’d be getting home anytime, I watched our outdoor camera from the kitchen and waited for his truck to pull into our driveway. My heart skipped a beat when I finally saw him arriving home. I stood in front of the stove finishing supper and held my breath. I had worn a cute Fall sweater and blue jeans that make my butt look good. I had my tall wedge sandals on and had straightened my naturally curly hair so that it looked extra long and pretty. Adam later told me that he was very angry when he walked in the door, but when he rounded the corner and saw me in the kitchen, I looked so beautiful he couldn’t help but smile. He asked me if I wanted to “do this” now, or later? I told him I had supper almost finished, can we wait until after? He said sure, let’s eat. After I’d dished up the kids plates, he handed me one and told me to get something to eat. Surprisingly, I actually did eat some supper, despite my stomach being tied in knots. I cleaned the supper dishes while the kids went to take showers and do their homework upstairs. Adam came in and waited for me to finish loading the dishwasher. When I was finished, he took my hand and led me into our bedroom. After he’d closed our door, he gestured toward our bed and, when I looked over, he had laid out his belt and a wooden spoon. He informed me that I had three choices. The belt, the spoon, and he held up his hand. I started to panic and couldn’t respond with anything but a head shake. He said “ok, then the belt it is”. I said NO! I threw the belt off the bed and toward our bathroom, as far as I could get it out of the way for the moment. Then, I had two more choices. The spoon, or his hand. This was a struggle. The spoon doesn’t hurt that bad, or it hasn’t yet. However, I figure that his hand can at least feel how hard he’s spanking me. I had only a brief period of time to think this through and I wound up taking his hand in my hands and signaling to him that was what I’d decided on. He laid me down on the bed, facing him, and immediately started to unbutton and unzip my jeans. I wasn’t fighting him too much, that I recall anyway. He turned me over and pulled my jeans down past my thighs. When he asked me if I was ready, all I could do was wimper and push my face into our bed. He proceeded to spank me with force that I haven’t experienced before. One of his swats landed so perfectly hard in the same spot as the one before, my knees buckled and I fell to the floor. I put my head down and fought not to let any tears escape. He gave me a second before he leaned down and told me I had one more coming. I said noooo. He replied “yep” as he stood me up and gently laid me back over the bed. I thought, in that moment, about how soft his voice had been, and how gently he had helped me back up. He was using those same hands to be both soft and hard, at once. My thoughts were interrupted as I saw him raise his arm high in the air. I’m not exaggerating when I say, every time I think about this experience, I get goosebumps and I shudder. I absolutely do not want to repeat this. At the same time though, I realize how deeply I’ve been affected. I mean it so sincerely! I’ve been sore, where I can feel “Adam was here” the next day. I’ve never had to sleep on my stomach for two nights because my butt hurts too much to put pressure on it and get any sleep. I’ve believed that Adam “meant it” before, but holy hell… It was a whole other level of disappointed in me that he expressed that evening.

He asked me a question when he was finished. I sat on the bed with my pants still down to my knees and tears falling from my eyes. He was standing in front of me, making himself seem even bigger than usual, and me even smaller. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t figure whether the response should be yes sir, or no sir. The brief pause while I debated this made him think I was being stubborn and he started to accuse me of not getting the message. I begged him no! That wasn’t the case. I explained that I wasn’t sure how to answer him. He repeated the question. “Are you done keeping things from me, so we don’t have to do this again?” I said yes, sir. He sat down beside me and lifted my chin so that I was looking him in the eyes. Again, I replied yes, sir. He said, “you are always telling me you never want to become your mother, correct?” I nodded. He continued, “well, what do you think was the first thing that broke down between her and your dad? Communication. She didn’t tell him shit.” We’ve discussed this before. I’ve wondered what might’ve happened if my dad had stood up to her much sooner. If he’d have refused to allow her to continue on with her bullshit long ago. Adam was speaking to my heart and soul this time. I do not want to be like my mother. He told me to give him a kiss. I did. Then there were more tears that I couldn’t stop. He asked me if I needed a minute and I shook my head and said no. I wiped my eyes and I stood up. It was over.

I don’t even have any bruises on my behind! It hurts, a lot, though. I’m not angry with him. I don’t blame him. I honestly think he was 100% right. I’m so sick and tired of doing this over the same issue. What the hell is wrong with me?? In a way, I’m glad my ass is still reminding me to knock this shit off! I love my husband so freakin much. I feel guilty that he has to be so “hard” in order to gain my compliance. I need to just do what he’s asking. I want to. I intend to. I don’t think my behind can handle a repeat of Tuesday night again soon. I don’t want Adam to feel that he isn’t getting through to me, either. I’ve got it. I really am getting better. He doesn’t allow for any failure with this issue anymore, though. That’s exactly what he should be doing. I recognize that. Letting me get away with things like this, even sometimes, leads to more times, and then I’m here, fighting against a bad habit I didn’t know I’d picked up.

Yesterday evening, I wondered how he was feeling. Did he feel guilty? Proud? Still angry?

Why is it so hard to make it through a Tuesday without having one of these conversations with Adam and then getting my butt whipped?? I could not even sleep on my back last night. Adam actually got tears out of me and everything. Not sobbing, uncontrollable crying with snot and tears that won’t stop. But, I couldn’t hold back a few tears that escaped and ran down my face. I had chosen to avoid including Adam in a financial decision I made. I move money around and plan and organize constantly. He honestly does back me almost always when I want to do that. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to him, except that I just didn’t feel like talking about it that night when I’d made that decision. I was grumpy and hormonal and I said something snarky and went to sleep with my back to Adam. I didn’t quite cross the line with him that night, but it was darned close. Then, yesterday morning, it dawned on me that I was likely getting a guilty conscience before I even realized or accepted that I’d done something wrong. That’s probably why I was so cranky. So, I told him. I laid it all out. He told me that he was most hurt that I’d let him go to sleep thinking he had done something or said something wrong. He went to bed feeling guilty for my upset. Ugh. That made me feel awful. I’ll write tomorrow about what happened after Adam got home last night. Suffice it to say, I have a serious ache in my behind today.

I bruise easily. I get, what I call, “finger bruises” often. If I’m picked up under my arms, I can get them where I was held from. If I’m tickled, I’ll get them, and when I’m spanked, I sometimes get them. I have a few small “finger bruises” near my hip that Adam was noticing last night, in the shower. Likely, they’re from him holding me down when he had me bent over on our bed. I asked him “are you proud of yourself?” He gave me such a sincere look and said “NO. It’s very hard for me to have to spank you like that. I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry it came to that.” I remembered the last text messages we had sent that night, before he got home. I had text him “I love you [Adam] and I don’t want you to be mad at me or especially disappointed.” He responded back to me “I love you too. That’s why it pains me so much to have to do this.” Honestly, my butt is fine. It’s my ego that takes the biggest hit. Mentally and emotionally, there’s a powerful thing that happens to me when Adam spanks me. I feel sorry and ashamed, embarrassed, and “small”. I actually have a whole lot of power in our relationship, but not when I’m in trouble. I am at my husband’s mercy. I know that I’m safe. He would never harm me. I’m always nervous, but not because I worry that he will go too far. If anything, he’s too soft on me! When he had finished disciplining me, he stood back and asked me a question that I did not supply the correct “yes sir” response to. I giggled a little and I said something smart ass-ish. He told me he was trying to decide if the message had gotten through, and clearly it had not. He came back to me and yanked down my jeans (without even unbuttoning them) and pulled me over his lap and gave me two of the hardest hand swats he’s ever given. I pleaded with him that I didn’t mean it! I was just kidding! I’m sorry! I did not continue to give him anymore foolishness. He had successfully humbled me.

Jackie had driven over to my sister’s house to pick her up and bring her back over here for supper with us. My sister’s husband was gone for a couple of days for his work. Jackie knew all about my situation with Adam because I’d talked and texted with her about it most of the afternoon. I text her when Adam pulled into our driveway that I would let her know when to head back here. It was only about 10 minutes later that I text her again to let her know I was fine and come home and eat now. This was the following conversation…

Yesterday, Adam and I had been texting each other like we normally do periodically through the day. Until, right after noon I’d sent him something and got no response. I don’t freak out because his job has him moving from job site to site and he’s driving a lot or else he’s on site with the builders, so it can take a little while to hear back from him sometimes. After a couple of hours, I text him again asking if everything was ok? Still no response. An hour later, I tried to call him and it rang several times and went to his voicemail. Now that is very unusual. He can be in the middle of a meeting and, if I call, he’ll answer. We have an understanding. I don’t call him often. Text everyday, but calls from me always mean it’s something important. He calls me while he’s driving sometimes, but I don’t call him at work unless I need to get ahold of him now. My concern only grew after another hour passed with nothing from him. I thought about calling the office, but there are several locations in Nashville and I had no idea which one he would’ve been at. All I could do was keep trying to get ahold of him and wait. I would get anxious every time the dogs got excited at the window. Part of me panicked thinking, what if someone is here to tell me Adam got hurt really bad? Tears formed in my eyes every time thoughts like that raced through me. I kept thinking about how, just 24 hours earlier, I did not particularly want my husband to walk in the door because I knew he was going to call me into our room and spank me. Now, just 24 hours later, all I wanted in this world was for him to walk through that door. Finally, he pulled in our driveway. I ran out and said “WHAT THE HELL?!?! He showed me his phone. The entire screen was smashed. It had fallen out of his pocket while he was high off the ground and broken. I still lectured him that he could’ve called me from someone else’s phone, or the office!! He insisted he was not trying to make me worry and that he hadn’t gotten back to the office until after closing. He didn’t even go inside. Got into his truck and drove home. He did show me how he’d tried to use his phone through his truck’s Bluetooth and tell it to “call Eve”, but even that wouldn’t work. This morning, he’s getting a new damn phone! He had laughed at how worried I was when he got home, until later, when I tried to explain the overwhelming fear I had about someone showing up to tell me he wasn’t coming home. I don’t cry easily and I couldn’t even spit out the words without tears pouring down my cheeks. He felt terrible then. Promised me he would never do that again if this happens again. He would make sure to have one of the other guys at least call me to let me know what happened and that he was fine. I love that man so much! The thought of losing my one true love is more than I can bear to contemplate.