'Man Bites Dog

My husband is a brave man. I gotta hand it to him, there's something sexy about the fact that he faces challenges with the right amount of caution and forethought, and ultimately will forge ahead with the willingness to face the possible consequences.


Babyman has always had a problem with dogs, having been bitten by a German Shepard as a child.  Me, I'm a huge dog lover, and have worked with them in some capacity on and off for the past ten years. I have a reputation in the neighborhood as someone who will often board, walk, groom or train for a reasonable fee if not for free. Babyman understands my love for dogs, and has been quite tolerant and reasonable in my efforts to be around them, especially since I have relinquished the right to own one for his comfort. He has worked very hard to put his fear of dogs aside to accommodate my needs, and I absolutely love him for that. But there are rules. There are dogs he has come to know and trust and has no problem with. He'll put up with the inconvenience of having them underfoot, but they must be obedient and have a healthy respect for him. Under no circumstances am I to board a dog that he doesn't know, which is how I earned a previous spanking (see this post).


Recently I boarded our neighbor's dog, Annie, for 10 days. She's an easy going, lovable, stocky mutt, part Pit Bull, part Shepard. Babyman has no problem with Annie, we've known her for years, and he's made it clear that she is welcome in our home any time.


So, one of these evenings at 5:00 PM, I'm tearing around the kitchen, ripping things out of cabinets and generally freaking out. I had started a new recipe, the chicken and vegetables were simmering, and I can't find the all important box of Knorr Tomato and Basil Recipe mix. I know I had it! If I don't find it, the dinner will be ruined. Babyman walks in the door from work, pins me down and kisses me for a moment, and then watches me tear around some more like a confined hurricane.


"What's the matter with you?" he asks.


"I can't find an ingredient I need for dinner," I whine.


"You want me to go out and pick it up?" he offers.


"No! I have it. I know I do. I bought it yesterday. I just can't find it."


As Babyman shrugs, and walks off toward the bedroom to change his clothes, I hear him mumble, "If you had organized the cabinets the way I told you to you wouldn't be having this problem."


"Say what?" Suddenly I feel the hormonal dragon burst through my nervous system. I turn off the stove and storm in after him. He's sitting on the bed going through the mail. I point an angry finger at him. "Let me tell you something, Pal, this is my kitchen. I run it the way I see fit. When you get your own kitchen you can run it anyway you like, but until then, you keep your opinions to yourself."


He's laughing at me. He's got a boyish grin that can really piss me off when I'm trying to be assertive. "Is that right?" he says.


"And another thing, the next time you walk into my kitchen..." The next thing I know, he leaps off the bed and tackles me with his arm around my waist. Suddenly I am up-ended and my legs fly into the air. I am draped over one arm while his other hand pulls down my sweatpants and begins slapping my bottom. I'm yelling "Ow! OW! ow! ow!" I hear him laughing.


And suddenly, the assault stops. I'm not sure why until I look over my shoulder and see Babyman's face practically frozen in fear as he stares at something toward the door. I follow his line of sight, and there at the bedroom door is Annie, staring at him with a look in her eye that says, "Put her down… NOW!”


Now as much as Babyman like's Annie, he also knows that she considers me her foster mother, and he realizes that she will likely protect me against all enemies both foreign and domestic.


It's funny how a small simple thing can wipe a self satisfied smirk off a face.


I start chuckling. "Well, well well..." I sing. "You realize that one word from me and she'll rip your throat out."


No answer.


"Do you feel lucky? Well do ya… Punk?" I say in my best Clint Eastwood voice.


I feel his grip releasing me until my feet touched the floor. I pull up my pants and sit on the bed, cross my arms and cock my head. "Well, it looks there's a new HOH in the house."


“Sugar ..."


“Ah, ah, ah..." I lifted a finger to signal silence. "You' don't want to say anything you'll regret." I rise and sashay out the door, giggling, leaving him to mull over the fact that for the moment, I have the upper hand.


I eventually find the Ingredient I’m looking for, salvage dinner, and we eat in front of the TV.  He’s silent, and I know he’s thinking… weighing his options, considering the possible repercussions of the decision he has to make.


After dinner he gets the paddle from the bedroom and leads me to the den where he pulls me over his lap on the couch. This isn’t a punishment spanking, it’s an I-have-something-to-prove spanking. The slaps of the paddle are noisy, and it stings just enough for me to cry out in discomfort. “Baby, you’re making a mistake,” I utter through gritted teeth between slaps. “Annie’s going to come in here, and if she thinks you’re hurting me…”


“I’m mother f*ckin’ HOH up in here,” (WHAP!) “Annie is a guest in my home." (WHAP!) "She gives me any bull Sh*t, I’ll spank her too!” (WHAP!)


After a couple of seconds, as expected, Annie trots in to come to my rescue. She gives Babyman what I perceive as a threatening look. He doesn’t flinch, but carries out his business as he stares at her with the intensity of a bigger and meaner dog. After about 30 seconds, she backs down and trots out of the room, leaving me holding the bag.  Babyman gives me one more triumphant slap, lifts me up and shoves the paddle into my hand.  "Put that away," he says with a new air of confidence.

Like I said… My husband is a brave man. He summoned up the courage to take back his rightful place as HOH, and was willing to fight to the death for it.


There’s something sexy about that.