Thursday, January 23, 2014

Another Post About Husband

Sometimes I worry about the image I create in people's minds about my Husband. It matters to me, because I think the world of him, and would hate to think I've painted this picture of him being overly sadistic or cruel.

And I know for some of you, your first reaction to that statement is going to be "there is no such thing as overly sadistic." But you know there is. Everyone has their boundaries, I don't care who you are, and if you've ever had a guy (or a girl) violate those boundaries, you know what I'm talking about.
I'm not talking about a guy hurting you in a way you want to be hurt,  making you wail in delicious agony or beg in thrilling fear. I'm talking about a guy hurting you in a way you didn't, and don't, consent to, demeaning you, belittling you, making you question your own power in the relationship, and as an individual.
A D/s relationship is an exchange of power. If the Dominant tries to relegate the power of the sub, crush her spirit to make her more susceptible to his manipulations, the relationship is corrupt. You cannot give something you do not have; on the same vein, you cannot claim you accepted something that you stole away.

Husband can be a sadistic man. How sadistic you think he is depends on your point of view, since like most things, sadism is relative. I happen to think finding a good Dom for yourself (really, finding a good life partner) is a lot like playing Goldilocks: some Doms will be too hot, and some Doms will be too cold; the trick is finding the one Dom who is just right.
I know Husband would not be a good Dom for everyone. Which is an irrelevant thing, I guess, since he is mine. But recently I got worried that maybe I was showing only one side of him, his sadistic side, and not playing up his other, more sensitive and selfless attributes.

Yes, I can tell you about the man who belted me last night, first with my pants on, then with my pants off, making me lean over the bed on my tiptoes and not move, belting me even harder when I so much as shifted my weight, making me bite the blanket between my teeth so I wouldn't scream.
I could tell you how he pinned me down on the bed, his full weight sinking me into the mattress on my stomach. How he laughed as I tried to buck him off. How he twisted my arms behind my back so painfully, tears pooled in my eyes.
I could tell you how he spread my legs open with his own and threatened to take my ass, sans lube, unless I yielded. How I became frantic after hearing that, and tried to get away, and how he mocked my efforts with hoarsely-whispered taunts.
Where do you think you're going? You think you're getting away? Oh, no. I'm not done with you yet. 
I bucked and twisted and thrashed, and he laughed...and pushed into my dry, clenching asshole.
Please what? Please stop? Do you yield? I don't hear you saying it.
I screamed after that, feeling him breach me, feeling the terror and pain that he would take me in such a way. I begged him, over and over again, please don't, please don't, and he just held me down and ignored my cries and kept going, until I finally broke, and surrendered with a wailing sob. I yielded.

You might hear these things, and think Husband is a cruel man, a sick man, maybe even an abusive man. But the thing is this: the memory of last night is still playing out in my mind, making me wet every time I think of it. It's so hot, so arousing to me...and yet I have so many other memories, just as kinky, just as raunchy. For this, I consider myself truly blessed.

I could tell you about the man who plagues me with his sharp teasing wit. I know what "negging"is, and can understand how it's considered obnoxious in American culture, but the thing is, by Israeli standards (which is where I met him), talking that way is usually considered quite normal. What others call negging, Israelis would call speaking the truth. And they don't mean to be cruel or ridiculing; in fact, they think they're being nice by being honest.
So when Husband tells me I'm pudgy or wrinkly or my hair looks flat, when he calmly suggests I shut my mouth because I'm beginning to sound stupid, he isn't trying to demean me in any way. He's just telling it like it is. Sometimes, he's actually trying to do me a favor, and tell me something I might want to know.


Him: "Did you have chocolate yesterday?"
Me: "Yes, why?"
Him: "I could tell. You have pimples on your cheeks."
Me: "What are you talking about? My face is fine."
Him: "Not those cheeks."
Me (in equal parts horror and humiliation): "Are you telling me I have a pimply ass?"
Him: "Yeah. But it's a sexy pimply ass." (Spanks it.) "Don't worry, I'm still gonna fuck it later."


I could tell you about the man who took care of me when I was sick, who ordered me to bed without a second hesitation, and called his co-workers to tell them he wouldn't be in to work because he had to take care of his wife. The man who checked up on me every half hour to make sure I wasn't too hot, or too cold, or too thirsty.
The man who woke up with me at two o'clock in the morning when I was delirious with fever, who rubbed me down with a cold washcloth, who opened the windows so I could get some fresh air, even though it meant he would be freezing. How he held a bowl to my face when I was throwing up in bed, too weak to walk to the bathroom. How he held me and soothed me when I cried, and stayed awake long after I'd finally fallen asleep, watching to make sure I was breathing comfortably.

I could tell you about the man who has always supported me in all my endeavors, mentally, emotionally, and yes, financially, no matter how crazy he thought my ideas were. How he constantly tells me how beautiful I am, how insightful, how smart, how talented...how much he loves me, and how much my love means to him. I could tell you how he looks at me like I am his entire world. He tells me that, too.

I could tell you all these things, and you would still not know all there is to know about the man. He is all these things, and he is so much more. He is a man, a Dom, a Sadist, a lover, a father...he is also a comedian, a therapist, a confidante, a nurse, a mastermind, a play partner, an arch nemesis, a hunter, a detective, a savior, and a best friend. He is a husband.

My Husband.

I know him better than anyone else in world. I still don't know him completely. I don't think I ever will.
But I hope I get to spend the rest of my life trying.

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