Monday morning after reading the blog, Daddy began looking for that tube of lube mouse had unwittingly purchased. He swore he left it in the top drawer of his desk. Monday evening when he used mouse he didn't mention it again. Tuesday morning he asked mouse about it. Actually he accused her of hiding it. When mouse said she had no idea what happened he again accused her of lying to him.
He bent her over the desk and using the cane didn't hold back much, after he told her to tell the truth and she said nothing.
Oh she was soooo angry with him and then when she began to the laundry, her rear still smarting from the punishment, while going through his pants she found the bottle of lube. Two thoughts crossed her mind.
Thought one: she considered since he's already punished her, she might as well throw the evil shit away.
Thought two: There would be little satisfaction in thought one. He would still think she was guilty and lied to him.
So, she placed the tube on his desk where she knew he'd find it, and closed the door behind her. This punishment had deeply pissed mouse off. He had rushed to unfairly judge and convict her of something that actually was his own damn fault. When he returned home from work that evening mouse struggled to be nice and made it clear she was only going through the motions.
Dinner wasn't fancy some sausages he liked with onions, peppers and potato. It was all she could do to keep from throwing the ketchup at him. He went to his study after dinner and called for mouse shortly after. Guess he found the lube, but mouse took her time and waited until the kitchen was cleaned up.
He didn't ask where she found the stuff, he simply acknowledged it was on his desk and mouse replied that she found it in his pants. It might have jogged his memory because he apologized and put the evil stuff into the wardrobe cabinet.
In one or mouse's fantasy scenarios, when Daddy learned of his error he vowed to make it up to mouse and threw the evil stuff into the trash.
He asked mouse to bend over his desk, and he lifted her skirt looking at the welts he left behind.
In the other fantasy scenario he kissed the welts tenderly -- seriously mouse needs to stop reading romance novels.
He asked if it hurt very much. It wasn't too bad, mouse admitted. He turned her around and told her he was again sorry. There was something in mouse that demanded more than just an apology. A hug, a tender kiss, something sweet, but no.
"That's all?" mouse asked as she saw him sit behind his desk, with her own frustration and anger rising.
"I erred and apologized. What happens next is up to you. You can forgive me or remain angry, I cannot force you to accept it. I could apply a balm of irrational sweetness, prostrate at your mercry, however we both know it would be false."
The words emotionally stunted bastard flew out of mouse's mouth before her brain could stop her and she stormed out of the study.
Yes, he had a point I could simply forgive that he made an error and let it go, but did he have to act like it wasn't a big deal? He punished me for something that clearly wasn't my fault and then made me feel almost guilty for expecting more!
What the fuck did that mean? Was he saying and admitting that he'd have to fake it just to make me feel better? What's wrong with that anyway? What the fuck is wrong with him?
Yes, mouse was completely fired up at this point and beyond pissed off at him.
We've had arguments like this before, each have been difficult to overcome, because he doesn't concern himself with pesky emotions and we all know mouse is highly emotional. Usually that balances us out, except when it doesn't. So mouse did the most adult thing she could manage, she went upstairs to our bedroom, hid in the closet and cried.
After an hour or so of tears mouse went back downstairs and returned to his study. At first she was going to yell at him more, call him names. He wasn't working, as she had assumed, but just staring -- like he does at times.
"You want anything?" mouse asked leaving off the "Sir" part a bit on purpose.
He took mouse's hand and held it a moment in his own and kissed it softly. He quietly explained himself a little more -- things that mouse was always aware of but sometimes forgets about. He's never been one to express emotions. It's frustrating to reconcile at times. This probably wasn't the life he'd ever imagined for himself.
At this point mouse is tempted to stop writing because he'd really hate what she's about to say. He's always been perfectly comfortable with his loneliness; people are often a nuisance to him. He's always imagined himself basically alone with work and the occasional fuck -- ok maybe more than occassional fuck. Yet, despite this, he's a loving, doting father. He cares and worries about people who mean the most to him. Worry is probably his closest companion. He seemed worried or at least uneasy. He's got his tells.
This morning things between us are fine more or less. And just so there isn't any confusion on this, mouse has completely forgiven him.
Now if he would only forgive himself.