Crossing the Rubicon

Well, Nick read my blog the other night. I was pretty nervous about what he would think, but he really seemed to like it. I asked him what he thought about the "My Brain Needs a Pop Up Blocker" post, and he turned over and gave me a few meaningful pats on the bottom. I said, "What's that supposed to mean?" and he said, "What do you think?" So...I guess I'm getting that spanking. I have to admit that I feel like it should happen.

If I get by with something like leaving the kitchen a mess, the result is usually a lazier attitude on my part. But if I get by with something like hurting someone (especially him), I feel crappy about myself as a person, and it's hard for me to get past that. I'm already sorry by the time spanking comes up, but I need the punishment to reset my heart and make me able to forgive myself.

Perhaps the hardest spanking I ever got was over a week long bad attitude crusade, and it ended up being the most cathartic for me. Nick had been ever patient with my alternating ranting and moping, until I got to the point where I couldn't stand to be around myself. I knew I needed a spanking, and I finally worked up the courage to write him a letter asking for one. He wasn't able to get to it for a few days, but that Saturday morning, he announced that we had something to take care of.

By that time my guilt had faded a bit, and I came down with what a fellow DD wife calls spanking-schitzo (thanks, Jayda). I insisted that I didn't need the spanking after all, that my attitude had improved all by itself, and that I just didn't think he should do it. He responded by getting the horrible, evil fish paddle and ordering me to bend over the couch. By that point I decided that it would just be best to bend over and get it done with so I could get on with the rest of my day.

I knelt in the floor and laid my upper body on the seat of the couch, and Nick sat beside me on the couch and leaned his upper body over mine to hold me down. At that point I almost jumped right up, because he only holds me down if it's going to HURT. Well, it certainly did hurt. He started hard and he kept going that way. I kicked, I wiggled, I cursed, I forced myself out of his grip and onto the floor. He stopped long enough to put me back into position, and he started spanking me even harder. I started crying and begging and getting out of position again. Every time, he put me back and spanked harder. Finally, he said, "Tracy, if you move one more time, I'm going to pull your panties down and start over." Now that's a threat he's made good on many times, and I thought I would die if he spanked me that hard on my bare bottom, so I bent over again and made myself stay, sobbing uncontrollably the whole time. That lasted for a good minute or so before I just jerked back and sat on the floor, not because I was being defiant, just because my butt decided it wasn't taking one more second of this. I clung to his knee, crying and telling him how sorry I was and begging him not to spank me anymore. He looked at me like he wanted nothing more than to scoop me into his arms and hold me, but he said, "You only had three more to go. Now I'm going to have to start over." Begging went into overdrive. "Please don't! I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! I promise I've learned my lesson! Please don't start over!" He said, "Do you think you can hold still for three more?" I promised with every fiber of my being, and bent over for the last three. They were the hardest of all, and when they were over, I collapsed on the floor and sobbed. He let me cry for a few minutes, then he held me and made sure I was okay.

As he held me, I realized that he had done exactly what I needed, and I felt tremendous relief, not just that it was over, but that he had stayed strong through such a difficult experience. It was hard for him to listen to me cry and beg, but I needed that reassurance of knowing that he had the courage to give me what I needed, even as I fought it with all my will.

When our little girl was a baby, I hated taking her for her immunizations. It hurt her, and that hurt me. But it would have hurt us both more if I hadn't taken her, and she had gotten sick because she hadn't had the medicine she needed. By spanking me so hard and so long, until my rebellion was broken and I had come through to submissiveness, Nick kept me from getting to a point that would've been even harder to return from.

After he spanked me, I felt light and utterly safe, and my attitude was angelic for a very long time. I had a difficult time finding words to express how grateful I was once it was done, and how very loved I felt.

Do I want another spanking like that? Of course not, but I may need one. I can recognize that my insecurity is an insidious flaw, and this is far from the first time it has surfaced. I know I need him to be strong for me where I can't be, and I know that if he reads this before I get spanked, he will be. Whether I can help that along by pointing him here before then is something I will have to work on. I find loads of courage when I'm writing these things down and I can either hit publish or delete, either hand him the letter or tear it up. It's when it comes time to cross the Rubicon that I start to freak out a little. Okay...I'm going to post this now.

Really.

Right now.

And I won't delete it.

Eeep!