Not buying it

I was throwing a fit, basically. Not intentionally, I just wanted to get away, to not be reminded of what wasn't happening, of my own inadequacies.

It's so frustrating to want something, but only on certain terms.

He fell asleep. I finally felt more or less okay, just a stray cough here and there, and he fell asleep. I moved to get up, to come use the computer in the kitchen. He stirred and told me to lie back down; I refused. I got up, walked around the bed, and I heard him get up too. Not wanting him to follow me, I stopped in the alcove at the bedroom's entrance, bracing my arms on the walls to either side of me. He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me.

"Get back in bed," he whispered against my hair.

"No, husband." I responded sadly. "You get back in bed."

"Let me fix it, baby. I can't fix you being sick, but let me fix this. Get back in bed."

"It won't fix it. It'll just make it worse. It's so frustrating being me." My voice broke on "frustrating," tears dangerously close. I laughed a small laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He responded to the laugh with one of his own. "I know." His strong arms started prying my hands away from the wall. I resisted, squirming away, planting my hands more firmly against the wall.  A ridiculous struggle ensued, but then he had my hands and he held me against his chest.

"No, husband," I whispered against his shirt. "No, no."

"I told you to get back in the bed. Now do it." I shook my head stubbornly. He got behind me after another struggle, his arms wrapped around me, keeping my arms from bracing against the walls again. "Move."

"No, no, no."

His knees bent into the backs of mine, forcing my legs to bend. He lifted my bent leg against his, forcing it forward. Two of his steps and we were back to the bed, where he practically threw me. "I said get in bed."

I whimpered, sad, defeated, resigned to this thing I had forced into happening, but determined not to respond to it.

"I have to punish you now, you know. It's one thing if I have to tell you twice, or three times, but by the third time you really should obey me." He took off my clothes, then held the blanket up for me and ordered me under it.

Then other things happened involving a flogger, and hot sex with a lot of throat holding. Followed by more sex in the morning. My resolve not to respond to any of it pretty much dissolved with the first blow of the flogger on my breast. If he's not for real, he's very, very convincing.

Ideal, really, and the sex (both times) was awesome. I'm still not sure how I feel about all of it, though. I tell myself it shouldn't even matter as long as we both enjoyed ourselves, but I'm not buying it.