Just Cause, or Just 'Cuz?

The more I learn about ttwd, the more I am aware that we are coming into our own identity as a couple. I remember the day I asked BabyMan to spank me the first time. I made it clear that my derriere was my most sensitive erogenous zone, and that just touching it will set me off and turn me into a aggressive sexual commando. I had absolutely no interest in being punished or corrected or disciplined. I was after eroticism, and today, ten years after that initial conversation with him, he accommodates me at least once a week in that area.

But something's happened that I hadn't expected. My man turned into a spanko lunatic. Not only is he finding opportunities to put me over his knee, but now sometimes those opportunities aren't even verbalized or justified. And when I press for explanation, more and more I receive the answer of, "Just 'Cuz."

Does this mean Just because I can, or just because It (my butt) is there, or just because I feel like it? Or is it Just Cause, as in Your behavior over the last few days has given me just cause to burn your butt for your sarcasm, your disrespect and your disobedience?

The latter Just Cause explanation has usually been the norm. It's usually a culmination of his irritation with all the things that I may or may not be aware of over the past 10 days or so. Sometimes more frequent. and I'm beginning to be able to see the subtle signs that there's a storm brewing behind those eyes of patience and wisdom. In giving him a bit of my own brand of attitude every once in a while, the problem usually lies in my timing. My sarcasm can actually be quite adorable, if I must say so myself, and quite often he relishes in my sense of humor. But there are times when he's clearly not in the mood. These are the times I need to be more aware of his temperament.

Recently a new reader commented on my last post in appreciation of BabyMan's innovative style when planning Submission day. In it she exclaimed that I have the "Ideal husband."

As much as I love it when BabyMan's head gets huge and can't fit through the door, I felt, for some reason, that I needed to deflate it just a bit. Nothing overly rude or disrespectful... just an answer to her comment suggesting that I was responsible for molding him into the ideal husband.

Now, while BabyMan is at work, he tends to pop into my comment section a couple of times a day. For some reason, I suspect, my comment didn't quite sit well with him. He then wrote a comment making sure that I understood that he was not pleased. This was the last thing added to his list of all the little things that aren't worth spanking over on their own, but accumulated, created Just Cause for a maintenance spanking.

When he got home that night, he was his usual upbeat, cheerful self. He kissed me and said, "So... you're molding me, huh?"

"Come on, Baby, I was only playing..." I giggled. I grabbed his face with my hands and looked into his eyes. "That didn't really bother you, did it?"

"Bother me? No," he smiled good naturedly. "I know you're molding me, Sweetie. I know I am a product of your creative desire." He kissed me again and disappeared into the bedroom to change.

I'm not quite sure what to think when I can't read him. I've known this man for 13 years, and he can read my every facial expression, body language. Every sound that comes out of my mouth and every scent that comes off of my body tells him what I'm thinking or feeling. He prides himself on knowing every nuance of my psyche. He calls himself a Sugarologist with a Doctorate degree in the study of SugarAnne.

But me, I'm still working on my bachelors in BabyManology. He can sport a pokerface that can keep me guessing right up until the last second... and today was no exception.

After dinner he announced that we were going to engage in a little maintenance, and I was to get the paddle and meet him in the den. He still had that good natured, big hearted smile on his face.

These things usually take me by surprise, and I wind up staring at him, with a dozen thoughts flying through my head. Is this gonna hurt? What did I do? How many things over the last few days am I getting spanked for? Was that "molding him" crack the catalyst for all of this? Why does he have that stupid grin on his face? Is this a joke? Is he serious?

"Sugar?"

I'm snatched out of my thoughts and back into reality. "What?"

"You're hesitating again. I think you should move.   Now."

I realize that my jaw is still on the floor. I close my mouth and walk into the bedroom to retrieve the paddle and go to the den to wait for him.

When he came in I was told to stand up, drop my pants and turn around. He simply begins slapping me on my upper cheeks as I stood there holding my shirt out of the way. This is almost more painful than the sitspot.

I'm frustrated. I'm being spanked as hard as a punishment spanking, and he's not giving me any information. And he's still smiling.  Just what does he have to be so cheerful about?

This is driving me crazy. I have to try to get some answers out of him. "Come on, Baby, you can't be mad at that comment about molding you."

"I never said I was."

"So what are you mad about?"

"Nothing Sweetheart. I love you, and I just love being molded by you."

Dammit, he keeps bringing that up! "Then why are you spanking me?" I squeal through gritted teeth.

"Just 'cuz"

Just Cause? Just 'Cuz?  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

He grabbed me and pulled me over his lap and began slapping my sit spot with the paddle. Hard. My hand is on his ankle and he informs me that if I remove my hand from his ankle, it'll be worse for me.

I held it there as long as I could while the spanking became longer and harder and more painful. I held in the screams and eventually let them fly into the pillow.  I began apologizing (for what, I'm not sure) but I figure this is what he wants to hear. I'm on fire now, and begin to struggle, bucking my body and my legs up with every swat. BabyMan takes his elbows and pushes both halves of my body back down forcefully and delivers the next scorching swat that causes me to buck again. At some point my hand came off his ankle, and flew behind me to protect myself.

"Move your hand," I heard him say sternly. I nervously placed my hand back on his ankle.

I'm not getting the usual lecture enumerating my many infractions over the last few days, I'm not getting any information at all. Just a spanking that is so long and hard that I'm beginning to cry.

When I realize that he has finally stopped, my mind is consumed by a combination of fatigue and confusion. I'm breathing hard, as I lie there, waiting for him to give me permission to move. After about a minute, I hear him give the okay. I push myself up and kneel next to him on the couch as I rub my bottom and squint at him through watery eyes, still trying to read his face. Finally I asked "What the hell was that all about?"

"Nothing, Darling. I just love you, and I love being molded by you." His eyes narrowed.

My mouth flew open. "You ARE upset about that! Are you kidding me?"

"No, Dear, I'm not upset by that at all." His voice is even tempered, calm, loving, almost musical.

He's playing with me now. I wiped the water from my eyes.

Then he said, "I want you to hug me and thank me."

"Thank you? What for?" I whined.

"I want you to thank me for allowing you to mold me."

He saw that I was hesitating again as I stared at him in disbelief.

"Now," he was smiling and stern at the same time.

I figured I better obey him at this point. I put my arms around him and kissed him on the lips and said, "thank you for... letting me... mold you." I felt silly... embarrassed... pissed. When I pulled away and saw his face, his eyes were full of a twinkle of humor and amusement.

"Go to bed and wait for me," he commanded.

I wanted to scream, No! Not until you tell me what the hell just happened here! But from what little I could read on his face, he wasn't about to offer up explanations. I went and got in bed, and when he came in, we made love passionately as my 400 thread count sheets felt like sandpaper against my freshly paddled bottom.

This happened several days ago, and to this day he's never explained why the maintenance was so severe that day. He never admitted to being angry, he never enumerated my past misdeeds. His only explanation was that he loved me.  But I think he wanted me to know just who, indeed, is molding who.

And that is Just 'Cuz.