Punishment

He told me to finish what I was doing, he will be waiting in the bedroom. As I walked towards the room, my legs felt weighed down, my heart thudding in my ears and my mind in turmoil. The first thing I saw when entering the bedroom was the pillows stacked, with the cane on top. My instinct was to turn around, to tell him I am not doing this, but yet, I stepped deeper into the room.

I could feel the anger vibrating off him, as he stood in front of me. I tried to step back, sit down defiantly, but he pulled me back into that close uncomfortable space, making me stand in front of him, as he told me in a gentle voice that my days of living recklessly is coming to an end. Today. Now. I wanted so badly to defy him, to tell him that he does not understand and that he never will, but I knew in my heart that it would have been a lie.

As he ordered me to the bottom of the bed, and to assume the position, I was numb inside. I knew what was coming, I did not want it, I was already humiliated, burning with shame about my temper that seems to rule my life at times.  He lifted my dress, pulled down my panties, still lecturing, ordering me to not to move, and I could hear the anger increasing in his voice.

It was twelve strokes, but everyone of them burnt into my soul. I could not help but to whimper, the pain not only burning across my bottom, but into my heart. When it was over, he instructed me not to move, and with my bottom exposed, burning with pain, he left the room. I was told after an eternity that the punishment is over and that I could get up and get dressed, but all I wanted to do was to curl up in a ball. He was still angry, not willing to cuddle, and although he did I could feel that he is doing it only for me, and not for us.

My bottom was on fire, but a rebellion started burning in my gut. I was guilty as charged, I admitted to doing something so reckless that it could have resulted in my death, I was punished for it, but yet, his anger was not fully resolved, and he denied me the one thing that hurts more than all the caning in the world, his forgiveness, his safety, his arms around me, telling me that everything will be okay.

Not even an hour later, on our way out to have a late lunch, he tried to touch my face. I have been denying up to that point that anything is wrong, even defiantly stating that my bottom is not hurting, staying away from him without making it obvious. But as he reached out for my face, I jerked my face away, and as I tried to hastily avert my eyes, I knew it was to late. He saw the defiance, the anger, the rebellion shining in them.

I tried not to meet his gaze, dropping my head, but with his fingers underneath my chin, he tilted my head back, that he could look at me, forcing me to look at him. A quiet question about him detecting insolence hung in the air, I closed my eyes, resentment burning in me. How dare he ask that! How can he not know that I am angry? He punished me for I admitted guilt for, apologised for, but he denied me the full comfort of him. I wanted to shout at him, I wanted to tell him not to touch me, to leave me alone, but at the same time, all I wanted, was his arms around me.

He took me by the arm, leading me into the kitchen. I so desperately wanted to twist free, to tell him I am not going with him, but only a lonely "No" escaped from my lips. My feet following his, my arm staying in his hand willingly. As he made me held onto the kitchen chair, and lifted my dress for the second time in the day, and his hand finding an already burning bottom, I wanted to cry, my throat aching with the suppressed hurt,  but I did not.

We left for the pub about thirty minutes later, and as I got into the car, staring at the rain soaked street, I could barely sit. I refused to look at him, I did not want to talk to him, I did not want to be with him...then he gently put his hand on my leg, lightly rubbing it, not letting go....and like a sunflower turning her face towards the sun, I felt myself calming down, settling down, feeling safe, feeling loved.