Spousal privilege

We were always into rough sex, but I think this time he couldn’t, no…he chose not to see the difference between fantasy and reality. I’ll admit it now, I was scared. I was scared when he grabbed me by my neck with his right arm picked me up and slammed me to the floor.

 

I’m a warrior, there is no fear in me so…

 

I got up and pushed him away, looking him straight in the face, I was um… testing the moment. I felt like a child when he backed me into his room, still standing out in the hallway, as if he could put me into time out.

 

But, I was not a child.

 

I punched him and pushed him as I made my way back out of the room. He became angry with my defiant and seemingly brave new attitude. See, I was always submissive, it was part of our fantasy. He was rough and I was supposed to like it. So he grabbed me, pushed me inside the room and against the wall behind the door. He shut the door behind him. Just me and him alone in that dark room. The light from the television was the only thing that allowed us to look at each other. His hand found it’s way around my neck and his face came close to mine, almost touching..”what are you doing” he said, with his clenched jaw. He squeezed harder and harder on my neck asking me over and over again…”what are you doing”.

 

What was I doing?

 

I was giving him my deviant smile still not aware of the reality of the situation. I still felt pretty certain I could get away if I really wanted to. I was letting him play into his little fantasy. I was allowing him to do this, I rationalized in my head.

 

Even as the back of my head throbbed from him slamming me to the floor and wall.

Even as my breathing became shorter as he applied the pressure to my neck.

 

I was being bad, and he didn’t like it. He threw me onto the bed, my head hit the windowsill.

 

“Ow, **** you’re hurting me…,” I said.

 

If the window was the force to slap me into reality, it came full force and I knew I was done playing. But he wasn’t.

 

He didn’t catch the change in my tone of voice.

He didn’t catch how I stopped smirking and became serious

He didn’t catch how I sat straight up to rub my newly created head wound.

He didn’t catch that I called him by name.

He didn’t catch that my eyes turned soft as I looked up at him through the darkness.

 

Instead, like a wild animal pouncing on its prey, he came charging toward me.

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