"Disease, Defiance, Decisions and Bad Grades"

“You left me!!” “I needed you!!” “You ignored me!!”
She’s crying that angry cry. The tracks of her tears may leave a salt stain, but bitterness is flowing at the moment. I stand dumbfounded. And even though she’s just about screaming, “Go! Just go on. Go on to work!” I am stunned to immobility. I eventually did leave for work. That was this morning.

I had watched the funk slowly descend upon SugarAnne over the past couple of days. Even though it doesn’t rain like it used to, I know the dark clouds of depression when I see them: a lack of effervescence with gloom behind the eyes; a general sluggishness with a lack of “presentation”. I know I’m dealing with disease here: Depression. But since we began our D/s relationship it has been either scarce or, when it attempted to rear its ugly head, I had been able to “go in there” and pull her out.

When she woke up in a bad spot yesterday, I went “in there” and gave her a “steak peppering” stress reliever. It was seasoned with sincere platitudes of love and high value. It would be the second paddling since I broke my “fast” last weekend. As I left for work, I was hopeful. Hopeful that she was convinced of her worth; hopeful that she would make it to the gym; hopeful that she would “girl up” for my homecoming as she was instructed during the proceedings.

But an afternoon phone call revealed that my paddle panacea was not a panacea at all. She had not gotten out of bed. She had not gone to the gym. She had not “girled up”. As a matter of fact save a shower, “NOT” was all that she had done to that point in the day – NOT NUT’N! I did everything I could, within the parameters of a phone call, to get her up and to get her out.  She needed to get out into the bright sunshine of a gorgeous day. This disease is a mutha. So I “tasked” her on going to the gym.

When I give her a task I confess, I sometimes struggle with the idea of having to execute punishment if it is not completed. As HoH I know it’s necessary; there’s always a bit of “excitement” to it; and I love the effect that it has on our relationship. But punishment is not a quick and easy second nature sorta thing for me. I have been effective but, there’s usually some anxiety that comes along with it. “Tasking” her would get her up and out for sure. Better she go nowhere fast up on a treadmill, than to go down fast to nowhere on a bed vacant of endorphins.

Coming home saw my hope pick pocketed by the dark days of old. She had quite successfully gone down fast to nowhere. She was still in bed. I wasn’t alarmed (maybe I should’ve been). I was more worried than disappointed.

“Did you make it to the gym today?” I gently probe not exactly sure.
“I just couldn’t make it”, she says, to answer seemed like a workout for her.
“Hmm…that’s not good”, I reached out and touched her thigh.
“Is there something I can do for you?” I offer.
“No”, she says glumly.

She had earned a spanking that’s for sure. And knowing Sugar, if it where humanly possible, she would’ve done everything she could to avoid another “bang on the bongos” in the same day. “Is it defiance when disease just won’t let her do it?”

Like a deer in headlights, I was caught trying to make a decision between disease and defiance; between compassion and control. I stepped back onto the sidewalk. Disease and compassion won out. I lost: my bad HoH instincts left her there – or should I say “in there” – hoping that the disease would ease it’s grip before the evening was done. It did not. And there she stayed until morning. That's why my day started with a heart piercing, “You left me!!” “I needed you!!” “You ignored me!!”

Bad instincts makes for a bad HoH who will make bad decisions.
Bad grade: F(uck!)