Spanking you back to normal

You’re doing that thing again. You’re doing that thing where you’re crying all the time without shedding a tear. You’ve been doing it for days. The first day, I noticed it without understanding. You were silent as the coffee brewed. Your kiss before you left for work felt like something I’d get from aunt Betty on Thanksgiving. When I got home you were already in bed reading “The Winter of Our Discontent” again. I watched a movie in the other room. I kept looking over my shoulder expecting you to come sit with me. You never came.

The second day we went to the park. You held my hand. You breathed in the fresh air. Your hair danced in the breeze but you were so quiet. You didn’t stop to pet every dog we came across. You didn’t take your sandals off so you could feel the cool grass between your toes. We grabbed lunch and when you weren’t on your phone I could tell you were mired in thought. I fought back the urge to ask, “Are you’re OK?” When something is wrong I know I tend to not let go. I didn’t want the rest of the day to be about me Sherlock Homsing my way to the bottom of this mystery.

Now, it’s day three. We had sex this morning. You came. I came. Underneath me, you let out a long sigh. I could tell my magical cock didn’t do the trick. You didn’t even laugh when I used the words “magical cock.” You left while I was in the shower. You reached in past the shower curtain to say goodbye. I grabbed your hand. I held it and pulled it to me. I waited until you looked in my eyes. I said, “I fucking love you.”

You squeezed my fingers. Your face crinkled up and you said “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself. I love you.”

All day, those words stuck with me. “I haven’t been myself.” Does that mean your sadness isn’t a part of you? Does that mean you’re only you when you’re happy? I reject that out of hand. If you weren’t running late for work I would have told you so. I would have done then what I plan to do now.

You’ve been doing that thing again. That thing where you’re crying all the time without shedding a tear. So, soon you will be home. I will lovingly and affectionately take your hand and lead you to the bedroom. I will undress you. I will lay you down on your stomach. And I will use every implement we own on your ass until it’s bruised and covered in bright red lines. I will break skin. I will be merciless. I will be as hard on your body as you are on yourself. And you will cry. You will give me every tear you have. You will give them to me or I will take them by force. And when you have no more tears left we can discuss the idea of what being “yourself” means.