Eric and I don't fight. By that, I mean each other. We will battle the world in a heartbeat; defend what we believe is right, advocate for the underdog, and be selfless in our actions- almost to a fault. (We sound like the Avengers, lol) It's those traits that attracted us to one another and the very ones that tear us up inside.
Eric and I both solve problems. We both do whatever we can to make each other and everyone else we care about have better lives. On the rare occasion when an issue comes up between us, about us, we both take it to heart and our tendency is to run.
Life happens. We hurt each other. Not purposely, but it happens, and we both run.
I run physically. I take off on foot, in a car, or I have even been known to jump on a plane to get as far away as possible. I leave Eric to wonder where I'm off to and how long I'll be gone. While dating, he learned that I always come back. Sometimes the loop is long and oval, has taken as long as two months. Other times it's a quick circle around the track. Since our wedding, it has become less necessary as I've learned to trust that he will be there no matter how bad it gets. Now, most times, I tell him I'm going to run and ask him to come along and help me through whatever is in my head.
Eric runs emotionally. Shuts off. Won't talk. Goes inside himself and leaves me with a passionless shell of the man I love. I push and poke and pray that he will return. He ignores me, returns short one word answers, or suddenly becomes a "company man" who has no time for even a text before bed or first thing in the morning. This only happens when he believes he has let me down, but the scary part is his first response is always that until he comes up with the solution, I am better off without him. My response to that is, I'm never better off when he is away and I'm not in this for his solutions to my issues. I'm in this because of the immeasurable love that grows in my heart for him every single day, whether he's solving problems or not is irrelevant to me. I know he is always there for me in all capacities.
I sound ridiculous but I'm human, and a girl. So there. Now back to the last three days.
Eric came home early and we all know how that went. Incredible reunion. I made a personal resolution to be his "bad Amy" more often, in a playful way. I even found a theme song. Well, the lesson here is it takes two to play and my mistake was in playing (by myself) that his first day home wasn't amazing for me but pissed me off instead. Not to bore you, I basically pulled off that I was really angry that Eric hadn't told me he was coming home early, in that raging PMS kind of female way. I wore the dreaded pink dress and dark sunglasses (a whole other story that could have ended our romance the day it began), told him I didn't like surprises and griped about it "being rude not to let his wife know what he doing so she could make plans and find some happiness in the anticipation of him coming home". I had him going and accentuated my point by getting in my car and driving off, two suitcases (empty, I might add) in the backseat.
30 minutes later, I texted him "just kidding" and drove back home but he didn't respond to the text and he wasn't there when I arrived.
Neither was his car.
I called. His phone rang, from the bathroom counter where he'd left it when he ran out after me.
I faked a run and Eric believed it. I then spent four frantic hours searching for him; the same four frantic hours he spent driving around and searching for me. Horrible, horrible night. We finally crossed paths at home around 10 pm. I cried and held onto him as though he were my only source of air. He did the same, so relieved to have found me; until I told him it was just a joke, hoping to lead to a playful spanking and a silly night. I saw the anger cross his face and he pushed me away, back against the floor and made one simple statement, "Don't ever scare me like that again," and he was dun. Did not talk to me for two days. Barely acknowledged my existence, no matter what I said or did. I faked a physical run and then he ran emotionally and that hurt, the pain between us hanging heavily for far too long.
Today was day three. We got out of bed, having layed there for hours back to back, having spent no time asleep, Eric pretending to be out and me crying as quietly as I could so as not to disturb him. I tried again to get him to forgive me. Apologized again and said I'd do anything to take back that day. He just stared through me and then shook his head. We both went to work. We both came home. We sat across from each other at dinner and I finally stopped talking, crying and begging. I just sat and ate in silent defeat. It was all he needed.
Eric left the table without a word and a moment later returned with his thick black belt in hand. He stood before me and I watched as he weaved the leather through each loop in his pants, buckling it in place. He grabbed the keys off the counter and then took me by the back of the arm and led me to the car. I did not speak but jumped at the sound of the engines roar and the uptake of the garage door behind me. I had no idea where Eric was taking me but in my gut, I knew the time had come.
We drove for over forty five minutes. Dusk was upon us and the road way out in the country stretched further and further from home, light shining off the damp ground while dark storm clouds ominously made their way around peach colored sun baked counterparts.
I swallowed so hard I was sure Eric could hear it over the sound of the tires on the road. My palms were so wet, I was sure the sweat would drip from my fingers and my heart raced so hard, I thought it would beat straight through my chest.
When we finally came to a stop, we were in front of a large barn in the middle of nowhere. Eric undid my seat belt and walking around to my side of the car, opened the door and yanked me out by the back of my arm again.
I went willingly but Eric was walking so fast, it felt as though I was being dragged. On the opposite side of the barn, there stood a large wood pile, neatly stacked a good four feet high for winter. Still not talking, Eric bent me over the logs and raising my dress, pulled my panties down to my knees. The tears began immediately and as though he were blind to them, Eric very deliberately undid his belt buckle and slowly pulled the heavy implement, loop after loop after loop.
Now, I've been punished many times with this belt before and it is responsible for the very first bruise I ever encountered. But, Eric has always spanked me with just the last six inches on the end. This time, through the tears that were already falling, I watched as he folded it in half and raised his arm over my naked flesh.
The first strike sent searing pain across my right cheek and I cried out, grasping at the wood I was pressed against, searching for anything to keep me stable. Eric's other arm rested on my back, pinning me into position, and the belt soared through the air crashing down on the same spot a second time. I bellowed. All sense of inhibition was gone.
Eric struck and I cried. Eric struck and I wailed. Eric struck and I screamed.
Get the picture? Need more?
Eric counts. There was no counting.
Eric rubs between spanks. There was no rubbing.
Eric checks in. There was no checking.
Eric has never spanked me in anger. And true to form, this time, there was no anger. This spanking was pure, raw, calculated consequences for scaring us both.
When the belt finally stopped, I found myself in the midst of an extremely ugly cry in the middle of some ranchers property in the arms of someone I would do just about anything for. Eric waited until I was quiet enough to hear his words and then, for the first time in almost two full days, spoke to me.
"I love you very much, Amy."
And that was it. We got back in the car and drove home. We walked in the house and made love for hours. We slept until the snooze button would no longer snooze and then I went to work, to sit on the most bruised and welted ass I've ever had in my life, knowing without any doubt that my husband still loves me...
but will not