Remorse

If I were to say that my husband is a patient man that would not be completely accurate. At the same time, he knows me well and he has come to know when it is right to cajole me or provide me with some special attention and when it is right to ‘read the riot act’. I think he feels that a bad mood, left uncorrected sometimes leads from bad to worse, and the girl needs saving from herself. I have come to see that he is usually right about this. I’m not afraid to admit that my behaviour is not angelic all of the time.

Sometimes, I’m a bit like the little girl with the little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. I’m usually very good. And, occasionally, I’m horrid. About a year and half ago, there was a particular day when I was horrid. I can’t for the life of me remember what precipitated this nasty turn of events, but I do remember that ultimately my husband was disgusted with me. He told me that he was leaving the house and would be out for the day and not to contact him on his mobile. He didn’t want to talk to such a nasty girl for the rest of the day.

I was shocked. He had just said, in so many words, that he wiped his hands of me and didn’t want to be with me. When he was gone, it very quickly dawned on me that I had pushed him too far. Nobody and I mean nobody hates being in the doghouse more than me. I am very, very quick to apologize in such situations and try to put things straight. It matters not to me who is right or wrong in these situations. I just want harmony restored. I called his mobile number ready to express my sincere apologies.

“Did I not tell you already that I did not want to talk to you for the rest of the day? I do not want to hear from you again. You just think about your behaviour!”

He hung up. It wasn’t just his words that stung me. It was his calm, but angry voice that really threw me into the abyss. My apologies were worthless. He was not interested. I was more than upset. I was lost. I had no idea what to do. I felt abandoned and feeling that way made me want to flee. I had to go. I took my car keys and my handbag, got into my car and began the long drive to our holiday house. Tears were flowing down my cheeks and I was a total wreck.

Somewhere down the highway, I had a desperate desire to make contact with him. I knew not to call him. I couldn’t recall him ever being this angry with me ever before and I dared not call him against his instructions. And yet, I felt that in some way I just had to connect. I wrote a text message and sent it to his phone. I’ve no idea what I wrote but I suspect I said that I was too upset to stay at home and that I was going to the holiday house for the night and was half way there; something like that. Mind you, on some level I knew what I was doing. I was alerting him to the fact that I was out of control and doing a dumb thing. I, sort of, knew that; that I was looking for him to take control.

Sometime thereafter, I turned the car around. Even a nutcase such as I was at that moment, knew that she was being ridiculous. But then, a few miles back to the city, I thought of being at home and so sad, and I turned the car around again, heading out of the city once again. I did that, probably, three times in all. Did I mention I was acting like a nutcase?

Maybe an hour or an hour and a half later, my phone rang and I stopped the car and answered it. I remember at this stage I was on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by huge, swaying trees.

“How dare you take off like that? You know that tomorrow is an important day (Mother’s Day) and it is unforgiveable what you are doing?”

Of course, that isn’t all he said. My husband can give a mighty fine lecture and trust me, they are not short and to the point. At some point, in a flood of tears and feeling completely bereft, I said,

“Well, you don’t love me anymore!”

“Of course I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. But, I loathe your behaviour at the moment.”

The next bit I can quote verbatim. He definitely said these exact words:

“You are just a very, very naughty little girl.”

I was crying my heart out down the phone but it just didn’t seem to deter him one little bit.

“Well...what do you want me to do? Just tell me what you want me to do?”

“Here’s what you are to do! You turn the car around right now and come home. When you get home we will eat the dinner that I am about to prepare. And, after dinner, I am taking you to the bedroom and I am going to give your naughty bottom the caning it deserves. Now, you drive home safely! Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you.”

“All right. By God, your backside is going to be sore when I get through with you. Now, are you in control of yourself?”

“Yes.”

“All right, where exactly are you?”

I told him, as best I could.

“Then, I’ll expect you at around 7 pm. You drive safely. Bye bye.”

That I was to be corporally punished was not at all alarming to me. He had rescued me from the deep, dark hole. I could see through the fog. I had a plan. I knew what to do. Any strokes of the cane were manageable because I had been told what to do and what I had been told to do was to return to him. I was to be punished but of what significance was punishment really so long as I was not rejected. One punishes a loved girl; one abandons an unloved girl. At least, that is the way it felt to my mind.

I drove home feeling a thousand times better than I had before his call. I had been told to come home and so I now knew that I was heading in the right direction; back to him. I was still in trouble but it was trouble with an end. I’d take my caning and give my apologies and it would be over. I would be forgiven. I almost looked forward to it.

Rejection of a submissive is a powerful tool for the dominant to use. If she is so bad and so unacceptable to the dominant that he chooses not to speak with her, she swims in the murky waters of her own guilt and his disappointment with her. She cannot swim there long before she begins to feel that she is drowning. Her only wish is to find a way to please him; to feel his affection again. It is the most severe of punishments. A caning is child’s play in comparison to that.

It cannot be denied that I learned a lesson that day. I had pushed him too far and to this day, I have yet to do it again and he has yet to find cause to dismiss me from his sight; to reject my call. It was a very hard lesson to learn but learn it well I did.

There is someone else who has reason at the moment to be displeased with my behaviour; to be displeased enough to feel it right that he should be left alone at this time; that we should not talk. Needless to say, I am filled with regret and with guilt. I chose very poorly and I am paying a high price. Yes, I disobeyed. I didn’t do it as I should have. I weakened and the moment I agreed with the person to do it her way and not the way I had been directed, I felt sick. I knew I was doing it wrong. I knew that dumb decision would come back to bite me in the bum. I deserve his displeasure, as awful as that is.

As beautiful as the job is, as wonderful as it looks, I know in my heart that I must do it all over again, and this time, do it right. I know in my heart that it is the only acceptable course of action to take. As I look at them right now, they are devastatingly beautiful. I wonder if he could see them, would he not agree that to break them and re do them is unnecessary. But, it is not the point, is it? A submissive girl who is given a direct command is wrong to offer excuses. Did she obey the specifications given? No. Is that acceptable? No. If only I had chosen to be strong and obey. I sit here chastened, repentant and full of remorse.