We both have our anger management strategies. She knows to proceed with caution when she comes home to me vigorously chopping vegetables while blasting Nine Inch Nails. I'd never turn my anger on her, but frustration tends to be an omnidirectional weapon. We respect each other's techniques, and only intervene when things get out of control. If she sees me start to Hulk out, she'll yell, "Stitches," to remind me of the time I hurled a knife into the sink in an uncontrolled fury and it orbited the rounded steel to come right back at me.
So, I'm not exactly shocked when I come across her ripping a cardboard box to pieces in the garage. She breaks things sometimes, but never anything important. I enjoy the periodic TV remote upgrades, and I use any holes in the wall resulting from thrown water bottles as an excuse to paint and redecorate. She hates how those divots remind her of losing control, so I love to watch her face light up when I've changed the room around so she doesn't have to look at where the dent used to be. By the time I do it again, she's forgotten about the last one.
When the box is confetti I expect her to take a deep breath and center herself, but there's no peace to be found for her. She looks around for something else to destroy, but nothing presents itself. "Hey, do you wanna talk?" I ask.
She growls. "No! I mean, yes, but not now 'cause ... ahhh fuck everything!" She smashes her fist onto the work table beside her and immediately turns her back to me, but not quickly enough to hide her grimace of pain. After a few huffing breaths, she casts her eyes around once more, and I see them land on a sledge hammer I used to break up some old concrete in our yard.
I step toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're angry and trying to find your way out, but you need to calm down before you hurt yourself badly or destroy something that you can't replace."
She spins to face me, jerking away from my hand. "Fuck you! I'll destroy whatever I want!"
"I just want you to think about what happens after." I scratch the scar on my jaw pointedly. She punches my chest, but she couldn't hurt me like that if she tried, which she did. I suck down a deep breath and loom over her. "That's enough," I rumble in the voice that she usually loves to obey. I reach out to take her by the elbow, but she pulls away from me again before kicking me in the shin.
I grab her by the shoulders and spin her to face the work table. One firm hand on her back shoves her facedown on it. She struggles and grunts, but she doesn't supply the one thing I'm listening for, the one thing that always makes me freeze. I spank her hard half a dozen times with her pinned in place, leaving my hand on her ass after the last one.
Her physical protestations rub her cute little butt all over my palm, and I suck down a lungful of air as my mouth starts to water. I squeeze her cheek tightly for a moment before I let her up. She spins quickly to face me, eyes dark with anger, but I'm already sitting on my heels, so her eye lasers fire harmlessly over my head. I enjoy another handful of her ass as I pull her onto my shoulder and hoist her into the air. My arm behind her calves restrains her legs as she drums out a rhythm on my back with her fists. I reach across my chest to paddle her ass again several times, harder than before, finding one of my favorite enticements - the fleshy resistance of her body beneath my hand. She howls, but the pounding on my back stops. I carry her inside and directly to our bedroom.
I throw her on the bed and immediately cover her, pinning her arms and legs. Her desperate struggles smear her body against mine. I harden quickly, guiltily, worrying about how much I enjoy it until I force myself to acknowledge that she still hasn't given me her safe word, which means she's right where she wants to be.
I can't strip her without letting an arm or leg loose, and she fights me the whole time with what little of her body I release. Once I have everything else off her, I flip her face down and sit on her heels to yank her panties down her legs. Some stitches rip, and I can't keep the satisfied, hungry smile off my face. While she tries to pull her legs free I consume the creamy flex of her clenching ass with my eyes, spoils for the victor of hand-to-hand combat.
I hoist her hips into the air and paint her ass pink with a dozen hard swats before I stand beside the bed and strip quickly. She stares at me with sullen eyes. "On your feet," I tell her, but she remains obstinately still as her eyes narrow.
My aggression flares at the audacity of her making me hurt her. I reach down and grab her by the hair. She smacks and tugs at the arm that's dangling her as I pull her upright and off the bed to shove her against the wall. My hand brushes her hair back from her ear and holds her in place. I paddle her ass, looking for a scream with every smack, which she diligently provides. When I'm satisfied with her beating, I press my hardening cock firmly between her cheeks, and she gasps as the stinging in her ass flares. That doesn't stop her from wriggling in my grip. Her futile struggles turn me on even more the second time. Absolute power corrupts.
"Only bad girls destroy things," I inform her. She freezes and sucks down a ragged breath when I lean down to nip her earlobe. "Since you need to destroy something so badly, you're going to help me destroy my favorite thing to destroy - you," I tell her with my lips on her ear.
