Fantasy Friday - Anger is not an answer

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.

This story come from a long time reader, she has been kind enough to lurk and occasionally comment on both my sites for a long time. I really enjoyed her story and and I think you will too. I asked her what she would be willing to share with us and she sent the following…

"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