I was scared. I was scared that he wouldn’t come home and that he would. I had never seen him like that. He had actually slammed the door. Purposely, purposefully slammed it. He was mad with anger; his face proved it. His eyes, though, his eyes revealed the hurt. 

He accused me and I dismissed him. I lied as long as I thought I could get away with it and I finally barked back at him, “So what?” 

“’So what?’ Is that all you have to say?” 

I was trapped. “Don’t be all fucking high and mighty, when you ….” 

“Me? ME? You’re trying to turn this back on me?” 

That’s when he raised his hand. He had never, ever done that. I froze and stared. My lip quivered and my eyes welled up. I couldn’t blink to clear the tears. His arm shook, and that’s when he had left. 

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Two hours later he was home again. Was that a long time, I wondered? Was two hours good? Or not? He sat down and turned on the TV. As far as he was concerned, I wasn’t in the room. “I’m sorry.” 

He growled at me. “I’m trying to watch the game.” 

That made me flinch. I thought I should leave but wondered whether I should stay. I sat in the chair farthest away and didn’t look at him. I wondered what I should do. I stood up before I completed the thought of getting him a beer -- a peace offering, something to get us talking. I twisted the cap off even though it hurt my hand. He always opened the beers. “Here.” 

“Did I ask for that?” 

I started to answer, but, again, I wasn’t there to him. I took it with me and gently rocked myself at the edge of my chair. I waited but I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Half time. He muted the TV and stared at the wall where I wasn’t. I took a long swig of the warm beer and stripped off my t-shirt. I think I might have managed a smile and put on my sexy voice. I knelt between his legs and said, “Want to see if we can do this before the second half?” 

He crossed his legs, just missing my chin, and ignored my offer. He ignored me. That’s when I broke down. I was on my hands and knees and turned away, sobbing. I couldn’t stop. He stirred, and I crawled a few feet away, afraid of what was behind me. I stood and dashed to my chair in the corner. I didn’t dare look at him and I didn’t dare leave the room. What if he left again? 

“Jesus Christ! You’re the cunt and I’m the one feeling bad because you’re fucking crying?” I heard the cry in his voice. That helped me to stop. 

“I am the cunt,” I whispered, looking at the floor. I found the courage to look at his face and I saw his tears. “I am! I am a cunt!” I shouted. “This is the fucking cunt you married and she is sorry she’s such a fucking CUNT!” I broke down again, hiding my face in my hands. 

“I'm sorry,” I said again. I didn't know what else to say. “I was wrong. I was bad.”  I didn't expect forgiveness, but I hoped for acknowledgment. “What do I need to do to get a word out of you? Pull my pants down for a good spanking?” 

“Don't be stupid,” he said. He closed the door to the guest room behind him. I cried myself to sleep, lonely in our bed. 

---------------------------------- 

We both went to our jobs the next day. He ignored me in the morning, which was fine. I avoided him. I got home before he did and set out some cold cuts for dinner. I decided against a beer. He showed up later than usual and I smelled whisky. He hadn't had much, I didn’t think. He picked up a slice of ham from the plate and tossed it back. He poured a glass of his favorite bourbon and sat in front of the dead TV. I recognized the bottle but didn't know what it was called. I stayed in the kitchen and we kept not talking for a while. 

He took a deep breath. “I've been thinking.” He startled me. “About what you said.” 

I expected him to call me a cunt again, but that wasn't until later. “OK.” 

“About a good spanking.” 

I was dumbstruck. “Spanking?” 

“Yeah.” He grinned into his glass. I waited and he let me wait. 

“What do you mean?” I didn't want to ask. 

“I mean you said you deserved to be spanked.” He wasn't kidding. 

I didn't mean it and told him. 

“So you're not sorry.” He taunted me. 

“Of course I am!” I claimed. I dove to his side but he nudged me away. 

“Then take off your pants,” he said. 

I know him. He was serious.  As bad as I felt, that just pissed me off. “Fuck you!” I screeched. I wanted to talk, to work things out and he was playing with me. Or so I thought. 

He shrugged and pointed the remote at the TV. I pushed it down. He just smiled. I asked him what he wanted from me. His response gave me chills. 

“I want to punish you.” 

“OK.” I offered to get a sexy nightie and some neckties. He told me no. 

“Then what? Look, I’ll swallow. I’ll do all the things you like.” I didn’t know why he looked at me like he did. 

“No haggling,” he said. “Take your pants off.” 

“No?” I replied. He turned on the TV. “Please?” I sulked. I went back to my corner and sulked. I couldn't even cry. Was I sorry? Did I want him? Did I deserve to be punished? 

Did I need to be punished? 

I approached him, naked from the waist down. 

“Yes?” he asked, without looking. 

“Yes,” I replied. 

He turned off the TV and brought a kitchen chair into the room. He sat back down and patted his lap. This wasn't really going to happen, he wasn’t really going to spank me, but I still felt pretty humiliated with my ass in the air. His one hand was on my back while the other caressed me, lulling me. 

Crack! 

I jumped up. “What the fuck!” 

“Get back down here!” he demanded. 

“Fuck no!” I exclaimed. 

“Then leave.” 

There it was. Fuck him. I can do this, I thought. I draped myself over his lap. No caressing this time. 

Crack! It hurt. “You're making your point,” I told him. Crack! “Not so hard,” I said. I pleaded. I negotiated. Crack! 

I started crying. I was insignificant. He was going to whip me, humiliate me, and leave me. I went limp. I accepted this. No, I approved this. 

Crack! Please spank me again, I thought. As long as my worthless ass was under his hand, he was still here with me. He stopped then. He rubbed me, which stung a little. I couldn't see him. What was he thinking? Was it over? I shifted on his lap and said his name. 

“No!” he cried. Crack! 

“Yes!” I don't know whether I shouted that or not, but after I shifted my clit was square against his leg. I felt that last spank all the way through it. I readied myself for the next strike. I wanted to feel that again. 

Crack! 

There it was, the tingling that spread from impact all the way through my cunt. I am a cunt. Otherwise why would that turn me on?  I squirmed and dropped one leg so I could straddle his. 

Crack! 

I tried to touch myself but he swatted my hand away. “Don’t block me,” he said. I rubbed my cunt on his leg, lots of tiny rubbing, humping movements, hoping he wouldn't notice, hoping I could get myself off. But he stopped again, his hand resting on me. I froze. Did he know? I couldn't let him stop. 

“Is ….” My voice cracked. “Is that all?” 

Crack, Crack, Crack!  

That pushed me over the edge. I wrapped both legs around his, wave after wave of intense pleasure jerking my cunt against him. I cried out to God how sorry I was, but I wasn't. He shoved me to the ground and stood, staring at the wet spot I left behind. 

“What the fuck! Did you just cum?” 

I was on my elbows on the floor, sobbing about how good I felt. I wanted to touch myself but I didn’t. He asked again if I came. I told him no. 

“Fucking liar!” That made me jump. “Tell me the fucking truth you cunt!” 

I could only look up at him through my tears and nod. 

“Fuck.” He walked away and I propped myself up on his chair. “No!” he commanded. “You stay right where you are.” 

I sat on the floor where I was. He didn't go far, but he was out of my sight. I wondered what he was thinking. I didn't know what to think. I was more fucked, more fucked up than I could ever imagine. I waited for seconds or hours. 

He came back and set something behind the chair. He sat down and told me we weren't done. I climbed back up, unable to look at his face. 

Crack!  

I immediately tried to position my clit, but he just lifted my hips away. “No! Don't you dare!” 

Crack!  

He slapped my hand down. I wept again at this new punishment. He used to tease me like this, licking my thighs or my belly, refusing to touch my pussy, getting me aroused by anticipation. Now he wasn’t teasing, he was being cruel, but he aroused me anyway. His only touch was painful, but at least he touched. I moaned louder with every smack. I finally shrieked at him to stop, and that was when he jammed his fingers into my empty, drenched pussy. He rammed them in and held them as deep as he could and I screamed in ecstasy. 

He kept me still, still shaking, with two fingers on the small of my back. Then I felt something cool being poured onto my sore ass. It was aloe. He gently rubbed it across my ass, soothing it. His hand dipped between my legs, collected my fluids, and rubbed them on me as well. 

I knew he was done when he lifted me off of his lap with a touch under my shoulder. He faced me and placed his lips on mine. I kissed him then, harder than I've ever kissed anyone ever. I fumbled with his belt and fly but I needed my hands to be on his face, his head, in his hair. He caught my wrists and took my hands, leading us into our bedroom, where he let me strip him. I fell onto my knees, but he grabbed me by my hair. “No. Get on the bed.” 

I got on my back and he grunted himself into me. He fucked me like he spanked me. If it hurts, it hurts I resolved, but it didn’t, except my red, raw ass. He spanked my clit with every thrust, like he was still punishing me, like it was all for him, but it wasn’t. 

He surprised me when he stopped. He was deep inside and he just stopped. I dared to open my eyes and I saw him watching me. I saw the hurt fade. He loved me again. He wiped a tear away from my eye with his thumb as I wiped away his. 

His hips rose and fell, slowly, deliberately sliding his cock in and out of me -- in and out of me, not my cunt. He was so gentle when he came. I tightened myself around him and felt his pulse and the warmth from his seed. And then he kept going. My man didn’t rest as he pounded me and pounded me. I crashed my hips up into his, unable to grip him with my too-sensitive, cum-soaked pussy. I came and I came again, and we climaxed together. I didn't presume to speak, and he didn’t need to. He rolled me onto my side and spooned me, my tender, aching butt embraced by the big spoon and his wet cock. He fell asleep before I did, I think. I slept naked from the waist down, on the wet spot; the drenched spot. 

He was still there in the morning.