I was sucking my son as he woke up. He woke with a start and shoved me off the bed with his foot, I landed hard on my butt and I scrambled to get out of sight. I looked forward to the punishment, but what I really wanted was the chase.
My son, my master, is a hard man to please. I try, but there are a lot of times when what I think is my best just isn't good enough. In the beginning, I woke him by putting my lips around his penis. He makes me call it a cock. After a while, I think it annoyed him more than relieved him.
I thought I was doing the right thing. He wakes up hard every morning. I thought it would be my duty to relieve him. My husband had a morning routine that he demanded. He trained me to certain things. My son does things differently and sometimes changes things without telling me. I think sometimes that he only does it to give him a reason to punish me.
My husband was my whole life and when he died, I didn't know who I was or where I belonged. I got married young and our first year together was just naive newlywed bliss. I was discovering how to be a house wife and mother. As much as I really loved that life, I knew I wanted more.
I didn't want to work. I wanted to keep my house and family in a way that made me proud. We had a daughter, and my husband began to change our life. I should really say that I changed our life. My life became all about the baby. I both saw and didn't see where my life was going. My home began to slip. It wasn't big things. It was small things that I didn't think were a big deal.
When my husband questioned things, I told him about my day. Everything I said sounded like the right thing to say. My family agreed. My friends agreed. Women in general seemed to agree and even the women on the outside, on the computer, on TV and in magazines said the same things. After a couple of months, my husband had enough.
He came home very calm. I was in my usual place. There were a few things that needed done, but not important things. I hadn't gotten around to making dinner. I thought I would just order a pizza or throw something together. I can't remember, but I think I smiled at him when he got home and he smiled back. In just a second, my life would change. I had no idea when I saw him coming through the door that day.
I don't remember if I smiled. I don't remember what I said. I probably just said hello and asked how his day went. A minute later, I was on the floor in a daze. My cheek was stinging and I couldn't wrap my head around what had happened. I had been knocked across the room and into the wall. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.
My husband explained it to me much later. I don't think I even asked what happened until a year later. When he came through the door that night, he had a single thought in his head. It was a black and white question in his mind. You could call it a lot of things. No matter how I could describe it, it came down to a way of life.
When he came through the door that night, he didn't have a plan. He just had an idea. The idea was a question. He asked himself if he was willing to live like other people lived or live the kind of life he wanted. The reason he was thinking that way was because of the answers. He had decided that the answer didn't matter. He would either stay or go based on what happened this night.
When he set his mind to this, everything that happened was just a natural course of events. His eyes traced the room. A little dirt was on the floor. A little spilled food was on the baby's tray. There were a few dishes in the sink. He casually asked how my day went. I gave the same bland answers I had fallen into. I was taking care of the baby. Marcie stopped over. Mom called.
As I said these things, he casually took off his jacket. He went to the door and placed his jacket on the hook. He came back rolling his sleeves up. When he reached my chair, his hand came up. A second later, I was on my butt, leaning back into the opposite wall. I was trying to figure out what had happened. Even as my hand came up to my cheek, he was crossing the room, coming after me.
I asked later what had happened. At the time, I really wasn't sure if I had been hit with something, punched or slapped. It turns out that it was an open hand slap. It was powerful. It felt like he wound up and got his hand moving from way behind him. His hand came across his body and made full contact with my face. That wasn't as surprising as what happened next.
My husband crossed to me. I was trying to catch my breath and trying to sob but nothing but gasping was coming out. He grabbed a hand full of my hair and dragged me down the hall. When we reached the hall closet, he stopped and pulled me to my feet by my hair. He put his other hand on my throat and got really close. I could feel his hot breath on my face.
He was inches away and looking me right in the eye.
'You have some thinking to do'.
I opened my mouth.
'Shut up. When I want you to talk, I will ask you a question'.
This worked in my favor. I didn't know what I was going to say.
'Right now, you need some time to think'.
