We've experienced two different DD-induced emotional breakdowns just this week. Allow me to reiterate for the hundredth time how we are in an intense phase of life right now...
So sometimes submission is so deadly serious that it is devoid of any type of eroticism, at least in the moment, and the situation you face tests your capacity to submit in the most extreme ways. A few nights ago we had one such moment. We were talking about something meaningful to me, and then suddenly (at least from my perspective) he said we needed to stop talking about it for now. This is classic OCD looping; I think we're having a productive conversation only to find that the other party feels we are merely rehashing. The horribly disorienting part is that I can never recognize this, even after it is brought to my attention. When he said we had to stop I think I knew somewhere within me that doing so was probably the best course of action, but most of me just felt so frustrated and cut off.
I tried to calmly explain myself, but the more I tried the more frustrated we both became... nearly a half hour later he finally demanded I retrieve the paddle, and the anger and hurt I felt in that moment was so incredibly strong. I begged him not to spank me right then, but he wouldn't have it. Oh I felt he was being so unfair and off-base. Luckily we've both previously identified fairness as an invalid aspect of whether or not I submit, so I knew I had to obey. I angrily did as I was told, and soon I was bent over the easy chair while he briefly recapped the situation in a lecture. I felt so angry that when he asked if I understood I chose silence, even though I knew it meant receiving more strikes, rather than affirm his logic. He of course spanked me more in response, and I merely clenched my jaw and cried angry tears. The spanking hurt so badly but part of me just didn't care. After a while I literally couldn't take any more and finally had no choice but to affirm that it was right to stop. I did so as briefly as possible, and when he sent me to return the paddle I even swore at him under my breath. Back on the couch he insisted I sit close to him, and he put his arms around me while I resentfully tolerated his embrace.
We watched a show together, and although he refused to let me express myself, he didn't stop holding me. Eventually I softened enough to at least sincerely pray for help to put it out of my mind, and of course from there it wasn't long before I not only accepted his embrace but clung to it. He had done exactly what we'd agreed on, and I had been the one to not uphold my end of the bargain by resisting so heavily. I regretted my actions and anger so much, and once again felt so grateful to have found DD. He finally has the tools to shut me down before I can ruin the whole night. Pathetic that I'm that broken, but there it is. When I think back on it now, the whole thing does seem erotic, but there wasn't even the faintest hint of that while it was happening. But I strongly believe that submission without eroticism, these times are what make the dynamic truly authentic.
I had another somewhat different DD-induced emotional breakdown within a night or so of the previous breakdown. While this one was gentler, more loving, and devoid of anger, any breakdown is nonetheless upsetting, intense, and frankly exhausting. I had dressed especially nice for work that day because I knew we were going out to dinner together that evening. Heels, a pretty blouse, matching jewelry, and even matching lace underwear... before I was pregnant this would happen at least twice a week or more, but lately (as I've been pregnant for nearly the past two years now) it happens far far less. By the time we finished dinner, put our daughter to bed, and collapsed on the chaise lounge in our bedroom it was unavoidably clear that he hadn't noticed my efforts in the slightest. In fact, he asked why I still hadn't changed out of my work clothes! I began to do so, admitting that I wished he would have noticed the difference, not that there's much that is sexually desirable about a 7+ month pregnant woman. He came to me and hugged me, apologizing for not noticing. He said he had thought I looked nice but hadn't really stopped to think why, and true or not that made me feel a little better.
At this point I was almost completely undressed, a state I avoid as much as possible with my very pregnant figure. He guided me toward the bed and I reached for my tank top. When he pulled my hand away I begged for him to let me cover up a little, but he said no. Suddenly the vulnerability and insecurity of being so exposed in a time that I wished not to be had me crying hard. The vulnerability somehow felt so much deeper than just clothes. He spoke gently and lovingly, but spanked me long and hard for "saying stupid and untrue shit about my wife, and the mother of my children." As the loving sincerity of his words washed over me I cried harder, profoundly aware of the fulfilling of a need that I didn't even realize I had. I needed his approval and his praise. And in the humility of being overworked and very pregnant I needed to feel a little dignity. Strangely enough, in that moment he was giving me just that. When the spanking was over we made love and I settled into the crook of his arm feeling exhausted but very cherished and loved.
So there it is: two breakdowns in one week. Wow is this a time of life we will remember forever with its unrelenting way of stretching us both. Nonetheless, the closeness and growth that both of us have been experiencing is rewarding to say the least. I admit I am thoroughly and utterly exhausted. But all things considered I really wouldn't have it any other way.