Submission

"What's wrong sweetheart", I ask my wife, hoping to get an answer from her and discuss whatever has her mind plagued.

"Nothing." she responds.

It's always nothing, but always something I think to myself. I am going to get it out her tonight, I am tired of her not being willing to communicate when she is down, always acting like everything has to be perfect, especially when around her family. She always puts undue pressure on herself and begins to shutdown.

"Come here." I beckon, motioning her with my finger curling upward and towards me. She complies.

I smile at her and give her a hug whispering into her ear, "You know I just fingered you and you came instantly right?"

She begins to laugh, hitting me, pushing me away, upset at me for not letting her pout. It is good to see her smiling now. I will do whatever it takes to keep that smile on her face.

I pull her closer to me, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, my thumb resting on her chin as I tilt her head backwards, looking deep into her eyes, I ask once more, "Now then sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She begins to unload, I don't let her go, I just listen, standing there with her in my arms, letting her get all of these things out. Trivial things that she just needs to unpack.

A few moments go by and finally silence. I pull her close to me, kiss her lips, and as she begins to melt into my arms I spank her ass. Hard.

I look down on her, smiling, and remind her of the rules. "We do not lie to one another."

She nods, acknowledging the rule.

"Good girl. Now what do we say?"

"Yes." She responds, being a little brat.

"Yes what?" I ask, tilting her head back further as I give her that look.

"Yes sir." she responds.

"Yes ma'am. I am sorry you are having to deal with all of that. It isn't easy, but remember, when you can't stand, I'll stand for you." I remind her as I pick her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around me.

She nestles herself into my neck as I carry her upstairs to bed. She's a good girl I think to myself, wishing she could see herself through my eyes. She is my girl, and I shall keep her protected, even from herself.

We make it upstairs, she is still holding onto me, her breath warm on my neck, her hair tugging on my beard. I can still feel the child inside of her, saddened by not having her parents approval, it tears at my heart. I wish she could see that her parents are simply hurt people as well. They are victims of their parents just as well. The cycle of pain passed from one generation to the next. The sins of the father being bestowed to the child. I wish she could see this and know she is loved, that she is good enough, and that she is cared for.

I stop at the edge of the bed, leaning over and laying her down. I force a smile, my eyes filled with sadness. The room is dark, she cannot see the pain I feel, and in this darkness my pain can hide.

I lift her hands from around my neck and over her head, pinning them as I gently kiss her forehead. I enjoy the curvature of her body, her legs still wrapped around me, the lines of her waist, the softness of her breasts accented by the hardness of the arch in her back, the beauty of the contrasting lines between hard and soft, she is glorious to behold, and hold her I shall.

My lips begin to move from her forehead down her neck, her collar, ensuring the stubble from my beard scratches each inch of her I explore. As I approach the top of her shirt, I stand up, and ask if she would join me in the bath tonight. I want to hold her close to me, to feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breasts, I want to feel the woman I love. She sits upright, her legs still wrapped around me, and softly she agrees.

I make my way to the bath, and begin to start the tub. I find myself lost in thought as the smell of lavender bath salts effervesces throughout the room. I cannot shake this sadness in my heart, this pain she feels, the pain of never being good enough, my headspace is a mess of thoughts. I light a candle and set the mood. I just want to focus on her tonight. My pain can be handled later.

Abruptly pulled from my thoughts, I feel her arms wrap around me from behind. Her head on my back, her breasts pressed firmly against me. I weaken. I feel vulnerable. I feel she senses my pain. She does. She begins to apologize for letting her family get to her. She begins to apologize for feeling hurt. She just apologizes.

I have to keep it together I think to myself. I turn towards her and hold her. My voice weakened, I let the words stumble out of my mouth, "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. We are allowed to feel hurt, we are allowed to feel pain, we are allowed to feel. You should not have to feel sorry for being human, those who caused this pain should be sorry for being inhuman."

I kiss her forehead again and lift her shirt above her head, allowing her hands to stay in the sleeves as makeshift handcuffs. I pin her to the wall, the smell of lavender filling the room, the sound of water echoing against the bathroom walls, the dancing flame of the candle casting shadows in the dark. I twist her shirt to tighten the cuffs, and begin to unbutton her shorts.

I will remind her of her humanity, I will remind her that she is mine, and I will remind her that she is my prized possession. I will simply have to remind her that she submits to me for a reason.