Ami's Fall From Grace

I've gone and done what I always said I would never do.

Time and time again I have spoken out against others who have a tendency to do this.  

"How could you?"  I would ask.  "As far as I am concerned, if you behave like that you deserve everything you get.  So don't come running to me complaining after you get it!"

"You're behaving just like a child who can't have her own way" I would add.  "If only you could see yourself!"

And now I have fallen into that very same pit.  I have ignored all the warning signs, lifted my chin into the air, and marched on with complete disregard for the consequence of my actions.

I've been caught sneering at common sense; robustly denying my position in the new order of things; and putting down a hoof and pawing at the ground, before charging forwards at great speed in order to overtake my champion and defender, and leader of the herd.

And all this because he is now in the second week of his "Man Flu", and I feel driven mad by him dragging himself around between bed, sofa and kitchen chair, downing vast quantities of cough syrup, paracetamol and Scotch, and most of all his absence in our bed!  Poor Starman.  He truly witnessed the beast rising from the abyss this morning!

I feel ashamed - and so I should.  Because this morning I was guilty of being the worst kind of BRAT ever!  It reminds me of the old poem:

"There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead,

And when she was good,

She was very, very good.

But when she was bad

She was horrid!"

Starman appeared at my side of the bed with a mug of coffee for me around 7.30 this morning.  I rolled over and observed him snuffling and groaning, and then I rolled back again. 

"I still feel awful" he moaned.  "I'm going back to the doctor to see if he'll give me some more antibiotics.  I don't think the last lot got rid of the tracheaitus (haven't a clue how to spell it!) like they should've.  I'm fed up to death with feeling like this."

He disappeared off back into the spare room.  I glared into my pillows.

I eventually heard him make his call around 8 am, and I decided I would get up and have some toast.  I moved quietly downstairs and put the kettle on for another coffee.  Then I had my usual single slice of 50/50 toast and peanut butter.  (50/50 is half wholemeal and half white)

I sat there sorting out my tablets out for the week (I have to do this every Thursday) and putting them in my container our son bought me specifically for ease of purpose and in order not to forget what to take and when.  Starman came down and joined me.

"No eggs?" he said looking around.  I grunted in reply.  He saw that I wasn't going to do anything about it so he went and poured museli into a bowl and sat chomping on it.

"Blimey it takes you all day to do that" he observed. "Wasn't it easier when you used to just take a tablet from each box every day?"

My reply was/is unprintable.

Each time he started up conversation I snapped back at him like an angry grizzly bear.  

The sky outside was yet another shade of grey, the air was cold and bleak, the squirrels had eaten all the birdseed from the feeders, and Ami Starsong was on the warpath and she didn't care a jot!

"I thought we might go over to W---- M---- for a visit.  We need some more salt tablets for the water softener, and you said you wanted to go to that quilting shop" Starman ventured.  (He's nothing if not persistent.)

"I'm really not bothered" I muttered.  "I can't actually see the point.  All you want to do is get a pound a bag off the price, and it'll cost us that in fuel to drive there.  And if I go to the quilting shop I'll spend money I can't afford, and then you'll have a go at me."

"Hmmm" he said looking at me speculatively.

"Well, I'm off to shower".  I flounced out of the kitchen and upstairs.

Starman followed.

"Don't come upstairs unless you bring those shirts of yours I ironed last night" I threw over my shoulder.

I had my arms full of bed linen, so I stopped on the landing and opened the doors of the airing cupboard and started putting it inside.  I hate an untidy airing cupboard!  Starman appeared with the shirts.

"There's actually only one of mine" he informed me.  "The rest are yours."

"Oh?"  I sniffed, snatched them out of his hand and marched into the bedroom.

I started to sort out hangers, and to put the shirts into the wardrobe.

I felt his presence behind me, but I was disinclined to look round.  I hung up a blue shirt and turned to the bed to pick up a white one.  

But I didn't even get to pick it up, because suddenly there was an arm round my waist, and I was being forced over the footboard of our sleigh bed.  It happened so fast that all I could do was put out my hands to prevent myself from falling flat on my face.

"What the hell?!" I tried to stand up.  He wasn't having any of it.  He hoicked up my nightie (I only wear one when he's in he spare room - I get cold without him!) and slapped me twice very hard on my bare bottom.

I was too surprised to say anything.  

He let me up and removed my robe and nightie in one swift movement.

"Get the spatula!  Now!"

He went and sat on the bed in his usual position with his back to the head board.  "Hurry up!"  He purposely lifted his right eyebrow (the rat!) and glared at me.  "Get it now, and get the lube while you're about it!"

I stood with one hand on my butt and backed against the chest of drawers.  He was not a happy man.  Even allowing for the fact that I hadn't been very happy before, I was not now a very happy Ami.

I kept glaring right up to the moment I handed him that horrid spatula, but as I did so he grabbed my left arm and practically dragged me down over his lap.  

"I've had it with you" he told me.  "What has gotten into you?  I don't expect you to act like this!"  The spatula came down with such momentum it must have caused air displacement!

"Aren't you going to warm me up first" I suggested weakly.

"Do you think you deserve it?" he snarled back.  And for the first time ever I felt him really hold me down.  I put my face in the duvet and resolved not to make a sound.

Alas, a resolution I couldn't keep beyond the first five or six spanks.  My legs developed a life of their own and I started to chew the aforesaid duvet.

"Aren't you going to say anything to me?" I asked him between mouthfuls.  

"What do you want me to say Ami?" he responded crossly.  "Do you want me to discuss the current banking crisis?  Or maybe the problem of culling deer because we are being over-run by them?  Or perhaps I should discuss (and he was spanking away and I was gritting my teeth between yelps) the fact that I don't want, or deserve you to speak to me the way you have been doing this morning?"

I shut my mouth round the duvet, anger swirling in my eyes like flames in the eyes of a dragon.  But the intensity was, alas, rather more than I could take without making loud yeowie noises. 

"If you keep on like this the neighbours will hear" Starman remarked, still spanking.

It didn't go on for a huge amount of time.  Probably just a few minutes at the most.  But the more I wriggled, the more he held me in place.  I had nowhere to escape to.  Eventually I started to yell "Oh God! Oh God!" and try to crawl forward to escape the awful burn.

"Let's try this" was Starman's answer to the wriggling.  "Let's see if a little crescendo makes an impression!"

He started spanking very softly, and rapidly, in one spot, building to sharp deeply stinging smacks, first on one cheek then the other.  Still determined not to give in I was unfortunately yelping loudly with each flurry.  

"Have you had enough?" he asked me eventually.

"You're the HOH, you're the one who's meant to know.  Not me!" I replied still trying to arch away from the bloody spatula.

He carried on another couple of times.  Then thankfully he tucked it under his pillow and started rubbing my backside.  I exhaled in relief.  As horrible as it had been, the pain had gone the minute he stopped.  At least it seemed so at the time.

I just wanted to lie there and recover, but he pulled me up on to my knees astride his lap.  I've never winced before, and have often wondered why you would want to, but I did this time.  It was like sitting on a very hot surface.  

He noticed me wince.  "Are you a bit sore dear?" he asked me grinning.

I wanted to snarl back at him, but I found I couldn't.  He has the most endearing grin.  I hadn't cried one tear all the way through.  But now my eyes watered.  

"Why do you get like this?" he asked me.  "I thought we were past all of this."

"I really don't know" I replied.  "I didn't want to be like it, but I just couldn't fight my feelings of frustration and irritability.  

I'm really very sorry I was so nasty to you.  I've been everything I said didn't want to be.  I don't know where it all came from for the life of me.  It just built and built.

He gave me a hug and as is his wont, he played with my boobs.  He knows just which buttons to press...  

Perhaps for some, sex after a spanking is a no-go area, but for us, today, it was very important.  It was, I suppose, 'make up' sex.  Forgiveness and moving on.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

I was able to smile back at him properly and answer truthfully.  "I am now.  I have no idea why I should be, but not only am I okay, I am better than okay. I think we still have a very long way to go with this though.

You're very good at spanking you know.  Whilst a part of me was shocked, another part of me was amazed at how the spontaneity of those first couple of spanks refuelled a fire within me that had begun to burn rather low.

I think it turns you on too, doesn't it?" I remarked looking downwards.

He didn't blush.  He's far too HOHy to do a thing like that.  But he pulled me in towards him.

"Yes, it does" he replied, and he squeezed my burning butt causing me to gasp.

My anger had gone.  Totally extinguished.  I tried to analyse my feelings but it was hopeless, and I decided I would have to go with it.  I've always wondered if I would feel resentful.  I think I probably did during the spanking.  But not when it was over. 

After we showered he rubbed some arnica on to my bruises.  "They're not very bad" he assured me, not lingering.

I backed up to my full-length mirror and studied my rear view.  Too large purplish patches reflected back at me and I sighed.  "No swimming for me tomorrow" I thought.

Addendum:

It's evening.  We had a really good day.  Starman got his antibiotics from the doctor.  We went out briefly to buy some cellophane, ribbon and a Mother's Day card, in preparation for me buying some flowers tomorrow, and making a bouquet for his mother to give her on Sunday.  

We both felt good - on a high - stress free.  Starman has banished 'bitch-troll' back to the nether regions of the abyss where she belongs.

But Ami has realised that she is as susceptible to the fall as any one else.

So, until the next time.....