Check out Donna Steele at https://www.facebook.com/events/1464275540536631/ at 11:00 AM Saturday.
I've had a wonderful trip to the mountains with Nick since I posted last and it was a trip to remember. I'll tell you more about that Sunday or Monday, but meanwhile another wonderful thing - a brand new Fantasy Friday.
"Hi everyone. I have been a lurker here for sometime
now. Though I do not live in the lifestyle and DD is not something I am
familiar with, I have enjoyed reading stories surrounding alpha males and hot
headed females :). Cassiesspace has been a revelation when I first came across
it and from there, to here, has been a fascinating read. The love I felt for
Tom and Cassie, helped me reach out to PK and she was kind enough to allow me
to engage in this fantasy Friday. Thank you PK for that. For all the readers, I
hope you'll have fun reading it and encourage this novice's naive step into the
unknown... Thank you for reading it... :)"
Anger is not an
answer
"I don’t wanna hear a word!"
"I am sorry…"
I said, "I don’t want to hear another word from
you!"
"But I truly am…"
"Enough!"
"Please", she whimpered.
"Please.. what? Please allow me to lose myself? Please
help me lose track of my life, so that I can wake up one day and realize that
all is over?"
"No, I promise it won’t be like that. I promise to
never go back."
"Oh, you’ll never go back alright. If you even think
about that, you’ll see my wrath as good as you’ve done it. That’s a promise and
I ensure you, I’ll keep mine! I will know your every breath and I will know if
you even look in a direction I think is not right. Believe me baby, you’ll know
to fear my anger today!"
"I’m sorry that it came to this. But, please, you are
scaring me."
His silence was deafening. She is where he wants her to be,
to be scared of his anger. He is fuming on the inside. All he could think
about was that he should drive the car to their haven without either of them
getting hurt. His mind is racing a mile a minute with the thoughts of his wife
hitting a ledge guarding the road and only by the work of a miracle, did she
even survive falling over the ledge into a jungle of trees.
He saw the accident site and was surprised to even find her
alive, let alone with all parts intact, though it was a slow recovery. Now that
she is out of the hospital and is sufficiently recovered, he could no
longer put off his frustration on her choices.
She was thrown out of the car and was hanging on a tree,
unconscious. The car was down in the cliff somewhere, stuck to another tree. It
took an hour for the paramedics to reach her and take her to an emergency ward.
And then, they dialled him, informing about the accident. He went
limp at the very thought of losing her and braced himself for the
next words, fearing the worst. The paramedics said that she was in a
hospital and she would need an emergency surgery. He took the next flight home
and went directly to the hospital to see his wife's face, arms and legs covered
in bandages.
"She is lucky to be alive", the nurse said.
He did not say anything, but sat down next to her.
"She was on drugs," the nurse said, frowning at
him.
He looked shocked. They’ve discussed it and she said she
quit. Did she lie to him? Did she lose her mind to drive her car on a highway
when she was using drugs? Was she that selfish that she could not understand
what would have happened to him, if she was not around? How could she do this?
His mind was racing through resentment and anger at her actions.
He snapped out of his thoughts when they reached their home.
He sat quietly in the car, breathing softly, sensing her fear and saw her
trembling hands.
"Go and wait in the bedroom, please. I’ll be there in a
few minutes."
She implored with her look, worry crossing her face, her
anxiety making her imagination run wild.
"What are you going to do?", she asked,
trepidation in her voice.
"I asked you to go and wait for me in the bedroom. I am
very close to the edge and I advise you to not push me over it. Please
go." His voice was firm, his face was stern and his expression was that of
a lion guarding his territory.
He watched her retreating back and saw her climbing the
stairs. Once out of sight, he switched off the engine and sat there behind the
wheel, tears running down his cheeks, his hands trembling. He had been strong
for her, for both of them, shouldering their marriage and responsibilities
while she recovered. Now, he let go of some of those tears that threatened to
drown him. And over that edge of misery, lurking like a halo was his anger.
Anger made him sane, but now that they were back in their haven,
he confronted his emotions, feeling every inch of the pain that
was tearing him from the inside.
He could understand her fear, for he felt the same, for
different reasons. He could feel the confusion of her anger. He, who
is her saviour from every distress, is causing her pain.
He, who generally lets her run through her tantrums, with an understanding that
she will eventually see sense, is being firm, despite her pleas. He, who has
always been patient, kind and generally easy going, is flustering her with his
barely controlled anger. And he knew that she was scared of him at this moment,
not because she worried that he would hurt her, but because she could
understand his anger at some level and did not know how to lessen it.
He could see that she was on the edge of that line, where
fear becomes anger. He needed her there. He needed her to be angry, for him to
be able to go through with what he wanted to do. He cannot accept a docile wife
to feel repentant. He needed her angry, so that he could parade over those
defences and strip them all to their bare minimum. Only then will he be able to
get his point across and only then will she feel remorse. He needed her in that
emotional state of anger to feel his chastisement. He wiped the tears and took
a few calming breaths. He could hear her coming down. Now, he thought. He
smiled, thinking about the rampage about to happen and opened the door to one
very angry woman.
"Is this our bedroom? I was under the impression that
this is our garage," he said.
"Yes, this is your bedroom from now on," she said,
shaking with anger.
She wanted a verbal confrontation, he could sense that. But
he had a plan and today, she would realize just how far he would go, to show
her that despite their fights, he will be there for her, holding her,
comforting her, correcting her and just loving her. He hauled her over his
shoulder and carried her to their bedroom and closed the door behind him. He
set her down and leaned against the door and waited for her to say more. She
was positively trembling with anger. That is the beauty of her, he thought.
When she is angry, she does not talk, she lets her silence engulf the entire
world, his and hers.
"Close the drapes, please," he said quietly.
She was still staring at him. He walked across the room and
closed the drapes on the windows and turned to look at her. She was still
fuming, glaring daggers at him. He opened the closet and took out an old
leather belt and looped it in his hand and walked slowly towards her. His face
set, his eyes holding a warning to be very careful of him, he stared her down.
When she could no longer hold his gaze, he walked behind her and held her elbow
in a firm grip and gave a good whap on her lower legs with his belt.
Her head snapped at the realization that her worst fear came
through. However, her heart could not fathom his actions.
She screamed, "What the hell do you think you are
doing?"
He did not answer. Not the time yet. He continued to
deliberately pace his strokes, one after another, never losing grip on her,
while she screamed bloody murder. After the fifth stroke he let go of her elbow
and she ran to a corner and stood there, her back hugging the wall, her chest
heaving deep breaths, disbelief on her face at the events that just unfolded.
He just stood there and let her work out her thoughts. He had all day, after
all.
She took in his expression, wondering if he was through. She
forced her pain down, took a few calm breaths and stared into his eyes. He
looked beautiful, his composure that of ice and his eyes burning with fire,
he looked like a God of wrath, who just begun his destruction and is long
way from feeling done. She looked past him towards the door, calculating.
He raised his hand. She turned her gaze towards him. He took a deliberate step
forward. She slid down the wall, getting her knees together and watching him
like he was a poisonous snake.
He gave her a minute and then, walked purposely towards her,
and lifted her up. She did not have strength to hold him off. She did not have
the voice in her to fight. Her actions, his burden, his helplessness, his quiet
whispers to her when she was on the hospital bed, went past her eyes. His quiet
sobs that reached her ears through her phases of consciousness, reverberated in
her as she realized that he needed this. Her strong man felt vulnerable,
because of her. She took him to that edge of despair, where he was flayed with
raw emotion that thawed at him, inside out. She took in a few calming breaths
and firmed her resolve to see this through.
"Get naked and on the bed, now!" he said, noticing
the composure on her face. The queen is back, he thought.
She moved, without uttering a word. He watched her strip her
clothes, his heart swelling with pride at her actions, though his face did not
betray his feelings.
"All of them," he said.
She had the good sense to not pause and question. With
trembling fingers, she removed every piece of clothing she wore and lied down
on the bed, looking at him.
"Turn around," he said.
She did, lying on her belly, her face turned away from him.
He looked at the welts on the legs and touched them. She flushed at the feeling
running through her and a whimper escaped her lips at the pain. She closed her
eyes, closing her feelings. He sat next to her on the bed and leaned closer.
"Do you accept?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. He bent down, pushed the hair
away from her neck and kissed her very tenderly on the side of her neck.
"Good, for I still have more to say," he said.
She could not stop herself, despite resigning to her fate.
She had to attempt to stop this pain, to assuage his anger.
"Please. I’m sorry that I was reckless. I’m sorry that
I put you through that ordeal. I’m sorry for being so thoughtless and foolish.
Please, forgive me," she pleaded.
“I still did not reach the closure to grant you forgiveness
dear. I am still so angry that the pain in me is still beneath that boulder of
anger. I am trying to push it away,” he said.
"You think, by beating me you could resolve this?” she
challenged, her anger now surfacing.
His inner monster rejoiced. “No"
With that, he proceeded to spank her. Each smack well
directed and with a passion of a man who thought that the reason for his
survival left him. With each spank he could feel the anger in him move away.
With each spank, he could hear her scream her lungs out.
With each spank, she could sense the change in him and her.
Since she understood, at some intellectual level, why he needed to do this, she
endured. Every spank, she promised to herself that she would not scream, but
with every spank, the promise evaporated.
Her skin was burning and the pain was unbearable. She went
limp and gave up fighting her inner self.
"What in the world were you thinking? Drugs? Did you
lie to me?" he asked.
When he did not get an answer, he took a well-aimed smack on
her thighs.
"Answer me," he said. He gave another scorcher on
her thigh and paused, giving her a moment to compose herself. He saw her make
an effort to collect herself.
"I needed it. I had a big presentation and I was
worried about it. No, I did not lie to you. It was the first time I took, after
I said I quit and it was a small dose," she answered quietly. For that, he
was grateful.
"You could have spoken to me," he said.
"We had a fight", she whined. Ah, now, he
thought.
He gave a few blistering smacks on her thighs before he
leaned in, asking, "So?"
She was silent, except for her heavy breathing.
"So?" he reiterated, giving her another solid
smack. He knew she would not answer, but still kept asking, increasing the
tempo of his spanks.
"I was angry," she wailed.
"Who is paying the price of being angry now?" he
asked, quietly.
"We both are," she whispered. He nodded. He was
grateful that she understood, without having to explain, that this is causing
him as much pain as it is causing her.
"Do you think anger helps?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Do you think my anger helps?" he asked.
"No," she said, vehemently.
He hid his smile behind her and gave her a thunderous spank
and threw his belt across the room. "You see, anger does not solve
problems, just creates more. I love you and even if we have a fight, I will
always listen to what is important to you. Do you understand me?" he
asked.
"Will we have a repeat of this again?" he asked,
sitting next to her, his hand stroking her hair.
She was silent, her sobs escaping her throat, while he
continued stroking her hair.
"Should I continue flaying your skin or are you going
to talk? I don’t have enough patience and you deserved every spank you got. I
suggest that you not make me impatient today. I barely am over your drug usage
and foolish choices. You are an adult capable of making decisions, but if you
want me to make them for you, you wouldn’t be a happy camper. You get the
drift?" he asked, his frustration breaking his composure.
She sat on the bed, wincing through her pain, her eyes
boring into him.
"No, you don't have to repeat the lesson. No, you don't
have to spank me again. The only reason you could spank me was because I
allowed you. Yes, I am capable of making my own decisions. I realize that I
made a foolish decision and I’ll try to not give into my anger in the future. I
promise to not put you through that ordeal again. But, never again, will you
ever punish me like this. Just because you love me, does not give you the right
to do this to me," she said.
"You are my life. You are my love and you are my wife.
The right to correct you is my responsibility, as is yours when I need to be
corrected. I have never, so far, acted out of anger or spite and endangered
what we built. What made you think you could do it and get away with it? Did
you think that I would just accept your temper tantrum that risked your life
without a consequence? You behaved like a child, thinking with your emotions,
not once pausing to think through, insulting yourself, me and us. I never
clipped your wings, because you never made such foolish choice. But this time,
you go too far. And so, I had to treat you like a child who needed a stringent
adjustment on a fast track. I do not want to take you into my hand,
for you are everything I need you to be. But then, there are some things, I can
never tolerate and this is one of them. You can be angry, you can scream, you
can shout, you can fight. But make a choice after you get over your anger. For
your choices hurt me and us too. I assure you, I’ll never rope you in, as
long as you are ready to face the consequences and this is also a
consequence. Do you understand?" he asked.
"But, I am not OK with this," she reiterated.
He smiled.
"If you were not OK at some level, you wouldn’t have
lied down on the bed, naked, when my intention was clear. You know what? I know
your secret. I noticed. Every time I make my voice stern, you squirm under my
gaze. There is a skip in your heart beat and you do not meet my eye. You
swallow and walk back quietly; never needing any more encouragement to stop you
from doing whatever it is that you wanted to do. You like being held
responsible," he said.
"However, I don't want to take away your choice
for words. We will talk through or in our case, argue and shout until our lungs
are broken, but we’ll find answers to our problems, not by that," he said,
nodding towards the belt, "or by drugs," he continued.
"Every time you think of drugs, think of this", he
said, pressing his hand on the welt on her thigh. She screamed. "Every
single time!", he said, enunciating each word, looking into her eyes, his
voice stern, his face uncompromising.
She looked at him a while longer, until she could no longer
meet his gaze. She looked down and swallowed and lied down on the bed, turning
her back to him. He had a small smile on his face, when he slipped next to her,
pulling her into him and kissing her hair.
"I love you," he said.
"As I love you," she said,
snuggling closer to him.
~o~
I want to thank my friend for sending this in, please make her feel welcomed. I think besides just giving us a good story she shows that everyone can be a contributor to Fantasy Friday. I hope more of you will give it a try. Send your stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com
