“I told you I'm sorry about it,” Lindsay said once again and more defensively.
“So, what is 'I'm sorry' supposed to settle? Jack replied. “First, you deliberately disregarded my instructions when I told you not to drive the car.”
“You didn't tell me WHY it shouldn't be driven!” she retorted.
“Look, when I walk through the kitchen and you tell me not to jump up and down, do I need to know it's because you're baking a cake and it might fall if it gets shaken? Or is it enough to know that I was asked and should do what I'm asked? The car had an oil leak because some dumb shade tree mechanic stripped the drain plug on the oil pan. There was no oil in it. Did I need to explain that to you, or wasn't it sufficient to tell you not to drive it?”
“Well. . .”
“So you couldn't wait to show your girlfriends your classic powder blue Mustang birthday present, and while I was at work you drove off without any oil in it. You got ten miles before the engine seized. Then, as if that wasn't enough, you added deception to disobedience by having it towed back to where it sat, as if I wouldn't figure out what had happened. When I finally found a replacement oil pan and put it on, the dammed thing sounded like a bag of bolts being shaken up when I tried to start it. Then I looked like a fool when I called up the seller and wrongly accused him of pawning off a wreck on us! You had plenty of time to confess up to your deceit before his denials caused me to check the odometer reading and discover that more miles had been put on the car since it was delivered to us. Miles that only you could have added. And now you're being defiant about it!”
Jack stood there, silently waiting for Lindsay to respond.
“Alright, so I shouldn't have driven the car, and I shouldn't have lied about it. Now what?”
“Once again, 'I'm sorry' doesn't settle anything, especially when I don't detect any real remorse from you at all. The 'now what' is that you're going to be punished for this.”
“Punished, yes. Go up to the bedroom and prepare yourself to get a whipping with my belt. I'll be along in a while once I've gotten myself under control. I'm very angry with you right now!”
“A whipping!? Surely you're joking! You can't possibly be serious!”
“I am perfectly serious. I told you six months ago, when we got married, that there would be zero tolerance for lying within our relationship as husband and wife. I told you there would be disciplinary consequences for it, and you consented to that.”
“I consented to it because I didn't think you'd actually do it!”
“Well, it would certainly appear that you were wrong in that assumption, wouldn't it? So go get ready.”
“And just suppose I don't, Jack?” she said defiantly, with her hands on her hips.
“Lindsay, I cannot force you to accept this discipline. But if you choose to defy my authority about this, well, I don't see that that there's any basis of mutual respect that would allow us to continue as a married couple.”
Oh, my God, thought Lindsay. I cannot fucking believe this! He's telling me we might as well be divorced if I don't let him punish me for this! That bastard! Well, if we're going to be divorced, it's going to be on my terms and at my convenience rather than his! Her eyes shot daggers at him. “I'll be upstairs in the bedroom. When you're ready!” she announced, and then stalked off.
Fifteen minutes passed before Jack was able to compose himself enough to go upstairs. He found Lindsay in the bedroom, naked and pouting, waiting for him. She watched as he slowly and deliberately unfastened his belt buckle. She heard the surreal sound of leather swishing against the fabric of his trousers as he pulled it through the belt loops.
Jack wouldn't dare whip me, she thought to herself! This is the 21st Century, not some primitive, medieval age! Women aren't chattel any more. We have rights now!
“Lay face down across the bed, Lindsay,” Jack said calmly. “Stay there and do not move until I'm finished.”
He's bluffing, she thought!
And then, the first strike of his belt landed across her buttocks. It was a hard strike, not tentative at all, and Lindsay flinched in disbelief once the pain of it registered in her brain.
Oh, my God, he's really doing this! And it hurts! My husband is whipping me!
Jack laid another strike on her, and then another. He whipped her using a steady rhythm of about one stroke every five seconds. The pain of each stroke didn't quite dissipate before the next one was applied, so there was a cumulative increase in the agony as the punishment went on. It was taking more and more of Lindsay's willpower to keep from crying out, but she was determined not to let her husband get the best of her!
Who the hell does he think he is, doing this to me, she thought. What a sadistic rat bastard! I'm going to the cops once this is over and have him thrown in jail. I can feel that my ass will have welts, and that will prove spousal abuse. Monday morning, I'm going to hire a divorce lawyer and take this son of a bitch for everything he has! I'll get a carving knife and kill him in his sleep! I'll cut his fucking balls off! Lindsay was playing out these scenarios in her head the whole time Jack was whipping her. They were her means of resisting, her way of being defiant, but they were becoming less and less effective as the chastisement continued. Lindsay was starting to cry out with each new stroke now. Jack continued to maintain the rhythm and the force. As far as Lindsay was concerned, it seemed to go on forever, and she was approaching the point of breaking down.
And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended.
Lindsay lay there still for a minute. It's really over, she thought. And he didn't get the best of me! Ha, I showed him! She turned over to look him in the eye and stare him down. She was triumphant. She had won. She'd. . .
But when she looked at Jack, all her resolve disappeared in an instant. Jack was crying! Tears were rolling down his cheeks, and Lindsay could see that it was all he could do to keep from collapsing in agony.
“Jack?” she asked. “Jack, are you okay?” There was a sinking sensation in her stomach, and she knew that he was most definitely not okay.
“Don't ever make me do this again, Lindsay,” Jack begged between sobs of grief. “Don't ever lie to me and make me hurt you again! he pleaded. “I didn't want to do it, but I had to. I had to do it, but I hated it! Lindsay, I love you and don't want to have to hurt you! Please, please promise me you won't lie to me any more!” and he broke down completely.
Lindsay was dumbstruck! She took him in her arms and held him, and her own bitter tears began to flow as it dawned on her what pain her actions had caused. If there'd been no remorse on Lindsay's part before, it was certain there was remorse now!
“Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I lied to you and disobeyed. I deserved to be punished, Jack. It wasn't your fault!” and she felt such loathing over the way she'd acted. All the pain I made my husband suffer through, she thought. My husband, who does so much for me, the man who loves me.
The man I love.