I was in front of him, on my knees, fully clothed, eyes lowered and sense of shame heightened. He circled me, talking; coldly, deliberately placing each word he uttered to maximize effect.
I suppose a little perspective is required; to my mind the pattern was evident- Disobey and you will pay. This payment was usually made in the form or physical or sexual punishment. The excruciating pain coupled with the great relief of being brought to justice and of being forgiven.
I feared the pain yet i craved it. I was terrorized by it yet i ached for it. He knew that, i just didn’t know he would use it on me.
He spoke to me about the great anger and disappointment I’d caused. He talked gently, at first, as if he empathized with me, which led to the birth of immense guilt inside me. Guilt for dishonoring the will of a man i had sworn obedience to. Obedience i had sworn willfully, freely, uninfluenced and with pride. I felt shame, true shame, the hateful emotion that i detest so greatly.
He continued talking, his tone becoming harsher, colder, less humane and more and more abrasive with each word. I didn’t know if i was a disgraced child or an irresponsible adult. His voice fell as if it were a prelude to a strike that would fall on my body, at any point in time. With each twitch of his hand i would mentally prepare myself for the struggle of not being able to defend myself with my unbound hands and bound mind against the impending assault.
He touched me but once, to raise my chin and have me look into his eyes; cold, just, calculating, incriminating.
He removed his belt and i knew well to lower my eyes again, he stood behind my head. I was ready. Ready to be struck, to be punished; i needed it more than ever before. I heard him swing it, i closed my eyes and prepared to gasp, but it never fell. He did it over and over, while a logical voice in my head told me to stop expecting it, the part of me that belonged to him knew never to stop expecting it and then there was this brand new part of me that hoped for it to fall, as hard as he could make it.
I begged, i begged him to strike me, to hit me, to shake me, to handle me roughly but all he did was lean closer to me and said,’ There’s more than one effective way to teach you a lesson’.