Falling Down the Cracks

When I wrote my last post, little did I expect to be writing another one so soon. As it is quite long enough, I will write about my post-spanking thoughts and feelings in my next post. Right now, I am still having to process what has taken place.

All I can say is that this weekend has seen quite a dramatic turning point for us, although whether consistency will be maintained, is another thing entirely. Suffice to say, that in our version of the TTWD/DD dynamic, the DD part decided it would tap me on the shoulder and issue a reminder that it had lain dormant for far too long, but I should never forget that it was still there in the background.

Saturday was such a horrible day that I am totally amazed that I am still here. I came within a cat's whisker of becoming just a trail of glittering stardust in the night skies above blogland. 

Remember Willie sitting at the bottom of her well looking up at all the mossy stones and dripping water? 

On Saturday morning I fell off the edge of our road and down into a seemingly bottomless chasm. 

Not a bit of moss or dripping water in sight. Just endlessly vertical rock face leading upwards, with scarcely a glint of light signifying the sky above; no handholds or footholds. Nothing.

It should have been such a good day.

I had planned it all out in my head that I would do my best to explain to Dan that I felt like a swarm of bees was under my skin trying to gain entry to the world, and that I needed him to address the situation. 

But as usual in the Starsong household, Murphy's Law rules.

I woke up early and went downstairs to do the tea/coffee run. I returned to bed smiling and happy. It went rapidly downhill from that point.

Dan sat sipping his tea and made up his mind to talk about our forthcoming move, and what we needed to do in order to make our house ready to go on the market. He wondered where on earth we were going to put 32 years of 'stuff' from our present abode, due to down-housing, and how we were going to tackle all the finances. This conversation was on its eighth or ninth re-run.

By the time he finished both his tea and his conversation, I had zoned out completely; and by the time he suddenly lunged at my bosoms expecting my usual enthusiastic response, the spark had completely disappeared. Instead of reigniting the flame, I felt annoyed and irritated. What I wanted was instant recognition of my neediness, not delicate butterfly kisses. After all, I reasoned, they could come later. 

I sulked big time, and from then on it went to hell in a handcart. 

I won't bore you with the details, but it was the usual "What's suddenly got into you?" followed by "Nothing." snarled back, followed by one of the most heated rows we have had in many a year. 

It became a full blown shouting match, which erupted into a full blown "Why can't you just spank me spontaneously like the other husbands do?" argument and then Dan lost it and said "All these bloody ideas you get from the internet!" So I yelled back that "Okay, if you want to go back to how we were, so be it. I'll take down my blog and we'll return to our uninspired little existence and I expect we will muddle through. After all, we always did. But I just want you to know that when you are like this, it makes me feel that what I want is always dangling up there just out of reach, and it hurts me so much to know that you can't even manage to help lift me up so I can reach it."

We yelled at each other back and forth for a while longer - all the usual topics being aired. It was ugly and horrid. Me crying and Dan raging. Hateful.

Eventually he slammed out of the bedroom and I cried in the shower for the next half an hour. We avoided each other downstairs, him eating cereal and me feeling as if I would choke if I tried to eat anything, and then he went off outside to continue with some hedge-cutting. I stayed inside and put on my earphones and ironed whilst listening to my I-pod. 

My very closest friend arrived ten minutes later and although she must've wondered why my eyes were so red and watery, she said not a word, and Dan came in for a cup of coffee and life calmed down somewhat.

In the afternoon we went out to a hardware store/garden centre to buy some new paintbrushes, a terracotta pot and some new garden tools, and we stopped on the way home at his sister's for a cup of tea. In fact, we ended up having a Chinese takeaway and so we didn't get home until 9pm, and we admitted afterwards that we had really enjoyed our impromptu visit.

If you want a long and successful marriage, you try to get over rows and arguments as soon as you can, apologising and trying to find middle ground. You own up to your shortcomings and you move on.

This was different. I felt thoroughly miserable because I felt I had handled it all so badly. Had I just produced a wooden spoon or a paddle right at the outset, perhaps the whole situation could've been diffused. Hindsight is a wonderful thing in any relationship, let alone in a TTWD/DD relationship. Bloody 'bitch-troll'!

We sat and watched a programme on Catch-up TV, and I went off to bed around 10pm. I am always an early bird going to bed. I like to lie and read my Kindle for a while, and Dan tends to arrive between 11 and 11.30pm - occasionally finding me already asleep. This time it was around 11.45 apparently. 

Rousing from a deep slumber, I gradually became aware that next to me was a bourgeoning HOH determined to have his say and determined that I would hear him. 

I vaguely remember hearing the words "spank your bloody arse" and "what the hell is this?" 

as he dragged up my nightie up around my waist and threw back the duvet, and then I was being rolled on to my front and his hand was landing so hard it almost made my bones rattle.

It wasn't at all amusing at the time. But looking back, I can now see that it did have its funny side.

It was pitch black in our bedroom apart from a little moonlight streaming in through a chink in the curtains, and Dan had, as always, removed his contact lenses for the night. Therefore he couldn't see a thing, and was spanking by intuition, not sight. As I sleep on his right, and he is right-handed, he was using his left hand. But it felt like a plank of wood.

By the third stroke I was crying, and by the tenth I was being bounced on the bed by the force of the strokes like a rubber ball on a trampoline. I began to think he was never going to stop. 

Then he did, and I wished he hadn't. I felt him leap up from the bed and cross the room to our chest of drawers. I could hear him opening and closing the drawers and he finally yelled "Which bloody drawer are they in, second or third?"

I choked. My crying came to a rapid halt and I drew a quick, shaky breath, quite unable to answer, and seriously wondered whether or not I had time to make a run for it. 

Craning my head round in the bit of moonlight afforded by the gap, all I could see was my underwear - froths of silk, lace, cotton and frills - exploding like a volcano all over the bedroom. 

Then there was a muttered "Right" and he was back on the bed and sitting on my ankles.

What followed was my admission to a very exclusive club. I believe the invitation stated "Barnwarmer" and it is a party that I hope never to revisit ever again in my life.  Those of you who already belong to this club will not need a description, and those who don't yet belong are not going to get a description as it is something too painful, both mentally and physically to describe.

Suffice to say I howled and howled. I was trapped and couldn't move an inch, so I just buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. I could not have responded verbally to what Dan was saying; and indeed, I could only hear the occasional word, as panic was setting in and I was wondering, at one point, whether I would survive or not.

Due to the fact that he still couldn't really see what he was spanking, Dan spanked a little on the 'high' side, and at one point I wailed "Too high, too high" to him, and he mercifully gave me a quick three-spank flourish on my right buttock, and stopped.

I continued to cry for a very long time while Dan stroked my bottom gently and allowed me to recover. It wasn't long before his strokes turned to other things, although I hissed when my backside made contact with the bed linen. The security and comfort I felt in his arms was indescribable and gentle, considering what had just taken place between us. 

Strangely, it was Dan who fell asleep first, an arm around my middle, holding me close, and who, having rid himself of all his stresses, had the best night's sleep. 

This is the first time I have ever been woken to be spanked. Dan always spanks me in the mornings, or during the day. Never at night. For me, it was too much to process all at once. I did finally drop off only to wake a couple of hours later with my head buzzing. I got up in the end and went downstairs and made myself toast and had a glass of milk - standing up.

Dan made our drinks on Sunday morning, and we then had another loving interlude before breakfasting leisurely and showering. 

But I was truly shocked when I caught sight of my backside in my full-length mirror. I look as if I have been mauled by a bear, with its claws out. 

Large purple and red paddle shapes cover both my buttocks, most of the bruising to the right, where he could reach better. 

I am walking very stiffly and sitting, even on a cushion, or on the sofa, is difficult and makes me bite my lip. I just can't get comfortable, and I now understand the meaning of the the saying "I'll make sure you don't sit comfortably for a week." It looks most unattractive and I just know my poor bottom is going to take ages to recover. Thank goodness for Arnica.

But I deserved it. I took the "Disrespect" rule and trampled all over it. Perhaps I thought it didn't apply to me any more. Luckily Dan though differently. Once again I underestimated my husband. 

All day long I have been as high as a kite. Strangely, I feel a bit like a newly wed, and I've noticed how caring and attentive Dan has been, bantering and smiling at me. I've noticed that he has given me several small 'requests' today, and ensured I wasn't able to wriggle out of them by staying close and attentive. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.

As I said at the beginning, I have no idea whatsoever whether Dan intends to be consistent. I shouldn't think so, although I plan no repeat performances - ever! I have learned the hard way, that prevention is most definitely better than cure! However, I am looking at him with very different eyes, and I fully intend to be better with communicating my feelings and my needs, in future. 

Perhaps, best of all, I didn't have to worry about the lack of hand and footholds in order to climb up out of that chasm. 

I simply floated out.