My mouth hung open at the audacity. Everybody has a camel toe these days; how archaic of him. “It’s the tights; that’s how they’re made.” I hate when he just casually reads his phone or tablet while I’m in the middle of a meltdown. It’s so insufferable. Since he didn’t care, I decided to grab my gym bag and head to the door.
I didn’t even make it five steps before he was there. Face set like a marble statue, eyes staring daggers straight ahead and his arms like bands of steel as they lifted me off my feet, rather unceremoniously, I might add. “What’re you doing? Put me down; I was only going to be an hour.” I tried hitting him, but he didn’t seem to feel it.
Instead, I found myself facedown across his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. He dragged m tights to just beneath my butt cheeks and spanked my bare ass hard. I screamed more with indignation than from any real fear or pain, but he just carried on. I noticed he wasn’t saying anything as he carried out my punishment—no making me repeat a mantra of why I was getting my ass beat.
Which means he’s in one of his moods again. He always gets like this whenever it has anything to do with his daughter. He hasn’t cut her off completely yet, which is fine. I never really wanted him to. How else would she get to see me living the life she’d lost if she was gone?
But I’m beginning to resent the time he still spends with her. I recognize that it’s jealousy and that I need to get over myself, especially since I’m the one who started this from a place of revenge. I counted five more spanks bringing the total to twenty. My ass was on fire, and my face was swollen with tears.
“Is this about me having lunch with my daughter today? Hmm?” He turned me over in his arms to cuddle. That’s another thing; why is it that after he’s put me through the humiliation of a spanking, I crave his touch? If he’d just walked away, I’d have spent the rest of the evening feeling hurt and sulking until he paid me attention that night in bed.
But when he’s like this with me after, I don’t even remember why he was mad in the first place, let alone the spanking. I pouted instead of answering him. “’ How many times must I tell you, you have nothing to be jealous of. Darla is my daughter; you are my woman.” My pout got longer.
He'll never understand; of course, I hate you spending time with my archenemy. I don’t want you smiling with her or liking her or wanting to be around that pig. “Come on, smile for me, baby.” I bet I won’t. I know why I was cranky, why we both were. Last month we’d thought I was pregnant since I was a few days late, only to have my period come a day later and last just one day.
I figured my body was just playing catch up to losing my virginity the month before. Then this month again, it did the same thing, and we’re both a bit bummed. I haven’t even thought about revenge since he kicked her out of the house, I mean, it’s anticlimactic, but I’ve already achieved what I meant to.
I came between her and her dad, got her kicked out, and now I’m the one living here, and I hadn’t even had to reveal my true identity. Still, I don’t feel like it’s over like I’ve done all I wanted to. I’m still hurt by what she did to me, she and her mother, but Susan hasn’t been doing so well since Gregory kicked her out, so she no longer counts.
Last I heard, her parents had shipped her off to some care facility which her daughter was paying for since my man refused. Apparently, they were getting too old, and it was too much stress on them. I don’t see how since she has a bevy of medical personnel around her at any given moment.
Darla-Sue, on the other hand, was still sniffing around, trying to cut into our honeymoon phase. Now there’s this one lunch-a-week deal and one dinner on the weekend, excluding me, of course. I hate it, and I hate that he thinks it’s okay to go, after everything she’d done to me, and he doesn’t even know the worst of it.
Each time, each bloody time, he uses the same argument. ‘She’s my daughter,’ said in a whiny tone in my head and nothing at all like the forceful way in which he likes to remind me. So, this is another reason why I hate that I’m not pregnant and my body has decided to betray me by becoming irregular.