As I mentioned in my last two posts, I happened to get myself in hot water with Jim (something I am very good at). You can read about it here if would like.
Anyway, there I was convinced that my behavior was excusable and justified and holding my head high. I continued to push, spit vile words, and even say the worst words EVER: "maybe we should just stop ttwd!" yes, my mouth did in fact runneth over.
I threw myself around, I nagged, I pointed out flaws all while ignoring my own. I stood tall in my argument against it all, and then the look happened. You know 'the look', the one that can stop you in your tracks and play back the last 24 hours of your life in a flash. The one that says, you are going to pay for whatever it was you just did.
Oh I put on a big show of defiance, acted like I could combat an army and win all on my own. By this time I was in the kitchen, Jim moved so quick my brain could not register the shift in power fast enough. I am a full 12 inches shorter than my husband's square 6'1" frame, so when he is mad, there is no question about it.
Jim grabbed my wrist and dragged me willing and unwillingly (cause I am weird like that when I am mad) to the bedroom.
Once we passed through the doorway to the bedroom, he pointed to the bed "take your panties down, now".
One part of me knowing I could not get out of it, and the other part of me relieved his was taking back control. I complied with his demand. Skirt off, and panties dropped to the floor. I still felt the brat trying to surface but, tried to ignore her as much as possible.
There is a mirror at the head of our bed, that was unintentionally placed there on the wall years before we rearranged the bedroom, that allows for some fun kind of play. However, I hate that mirror when I am in trouble because Jim makes me answer him while looking up at the mirror at his and my reflection, which means if I don't avert my eyes in time, I have to watch the strike coming while being lectured.
He used his favorite oak paddle, reserved for when I am in deep shit. I laid burying my face in me pillow to muffle my protests. Smack, lecture, smack, smack, lecture, smack smack, lecture, smack Smack, lecture again.
I was given a break from my punishment, for about an hour before it continued.
Only, this time he snuck up on me while I was in the bedroom getting something and I sassed. One look in his eye and I knew I had done it, he decided to use his hand this time. Jim is a man with very large strong hands so a hand spanking is not an easy punishment, in fact it hurts like a SOB. I cried, I cried hard. Now to anyone else this would not be a big deal, but I do NOT cry. I was a mess of emotions. Sore ass, mad, sad, disappointed in myself, guilty, and a blubbering mess, all while realizing I was crying! Jim noticed the tears and said something about it being a wonderful thing that I was crying, that I was letting go, I was letting myself feel. I use numbing to cope with stress.
Pride filled me, and I spent some time in the arms of my loving husband, aftercare is very important.
Later in the evening, Jim and I shut the world out and spent over 5 hours in the bedroom talking. Which means he talks, I talk, he plays, I give. Some of the talk was about the core of what happened, some was about rules we will be adding.
And then the talk turned into me laying there my whole body exposed to him and for him. His fingers dancing on my tender flesh, bringing me to the edge and denying any release for several hours, I love this kind of punishment. When he does this, it is like a drug to me, I will and do, do anything he asks of me. Sometimes, I even get lucky and am commanded to do what he wants or needs.
We stayed up into wee hours of the morning (a perk to Jim being retired), and finally I was given a release so intense it brought tears to my eyes, I was then commanded to top from the bottom in the good kinda way.