part 9

subject: I’m REALLY, REALLY really sorry

To: MackAttack

From: BoPeep

Date: 11/04  3:10p.m

Dear Mack,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I miss you. I need you to be there in my life. I need to get my life under control. I feel like I’ve been in a coma.

I know you’ll just get mad but I really want to tell you what has happened since the Bozo’s night. I need to tell someone, and I hope that you will listen. I don’t know anyone else I could tell this to. But, I know that you, out of anyone, will at least listen to me.

Davey is a psycho. (DUH.  I know! I know!)

For, the first few days he was here 24/7 it was really nice, and sort of okay (he was sleeping or watching TV all the time). But then it got really weird. I mean, he was here when I woke up, then here when I came home, and I couldn’t do anything without him bugging me. I couldn’t talk on the phone, or go on the computer. It felt like I didn’t have a minute to myself. Felt like a prisoner in my own house.

So, when I mentioned to him that maybe he should get out and circulate some. He freaked out. Like how could I? It was like, all out of proportion and a huge scene. Then he stormed out. I felt terrible, like I’d done something wrong. I didn’t see him for two days. I started to worry about him. I missed him. I kept thinking he’d be back. What if something had happened. I didn’t know any of his other friends, family, nothing. I didn’t know who to call. It was a creepy, weird feeling. Not knowing if any minute someone was going to unlock the door and come in. I didn’t sleep well. I washed his laundry, and folded it. I organized his stuff that he left here. I just waited. I can’t describe how weird it was. It was like I was under a spell.

He came back in the middle of the night. I heard the door open and close. Didn’t come in or say hello, or anything. So I got up. He was laying on the couch watching television, looked up and said “hi”. Nothing else. I said “So, where have you been?” and he said “None of your business, you threw me out, remember?” I stood there for a minute, not sure what to say. He jumped up and grabbed me and threw me on the couch. “Don’t argue with me!” He kept saying over and over. Then he threw me over his lap, pulled up my nightgown, and spanked me like I was 6 years old or something. It really hurt. I must have started crying, and he said “I’ll give you something to cry about.” It was just like my Mom used to say. It was scary. Then he stopped and threw me to the floor and stood over me. He said, “When you act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like a brat. I’ll spanked you every time you mouth off to me. Remember that. It’s called tough love.” Then he ordered me back to bed.

Mack, I’ve never been spanked before. Hurt like hell, too. I had welts for days. I ran and jumped into bed. I was shaking and crying. It felt really lonely in the room. A little later he came into the room, turned on the light, and had his belt in his hand. He was slapping it on the palm of his other hand. Threatening. He asked me if I was ready to be a “good girl” yet. He told me to get up and bend over the bed and get ready to get what I deserved. Mack, I did what he wanted. I held my breath and waited for the belt to hit my skin. Instead, he boinked me doggie style. He kept asking if I was “daddy’s little girl”. When I finally said I was, he held me and rocked me, kissed me all over. I was so confused. Then he left when I was asleep, and didn’t come back until the next night. It was sort of the same. Spank me – sometimes with his hand, sometimes with a belt or a hanger, or a hairbrush. Then he’d bed me, then rock me, then leave. He would tell me what I could and could not do, and that if I thought it hurt this time, I should wait. He knew what I was thinking. I needed this, because I was such a bad person. I’d thank him someday.

It was screwing with my mind. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I started doing just what he wanted me to do. Weird stuff like shave off my pubes, and, oh I don’t’ know, stuff that is just embarrassing. (He bought me certain “marital aide”  plugs that I was supposed to wear the whole day at work. He had me read and re-read the Story of O. And he had me take this weird slave oath. It was just freakish in every day.)

All day I’d think he was crazy, and think how I could escape him, or wouldn’t do what he said. But, every night, I’d wait, with a knot in my stomach and full of anticipation and fear and dread before he’d show up. But,wait for him. I didn’t go out, or hang with friends. I just came home after work and waited. My nights off I’d just wait for him. Some nights he’d come in and be so sweet. He would bring flowers and candy and just be so wonderful. He was never like that for two nights in a row though. The nicer he’d be one night, the meaner and more brutal he’d be the next.

It felt like brainwashing. Mack, it was really weird. It just wasn’t me.

He made all these demands. He said I couldn’t write you, or anyone. Or be on the phone. He didn’t like me on the computer. He didn’t like me to watch television, or talk on the phone.

Then, one day, I came home from work early. Davey was fucking some woman in my bed. He looked up and said “oh, hi, Aimee.” Then he ordered me to sit in the corner and watch. He didn’t even stop! I just stood there. He asked me to join in, but I just freaked out. I mean. I’m NOT going to do that. So, walked into the other room and dialed 911 and said that I needed an officer, and it was an emergency.

Davey must have heard me. He and the girl were OUT of there. He stopped at the door after she’d walked out ahead of him and said, “You’ll never be loved. I was your last chance. When you decide that you miss me, just remember this. Remember what you’ve done. You’ve broken my heart.”

Then he was gone. The police arrived a few minutes later and they didn’t seem to care that he’d just left. They told me to change the locks. In fact, one of the officers was really nice. He told me that I needed to get a grip. He was right.

So, for the first time in weeks, I was home alone. He left a lot of his stuff. It’s just sitting in a box in my closet. It’s been a week. I look in the mirror and I look so old, so weary. Mack, I feel so wrong. So totally wrong. What did I do wrong? I mean, did he love me? Was that love? I don’t know what to think.



Subject: She’s baaack!

To: BoPeep

From: MackAttack

Date: 11/4          11:40p.m.

Oh, Aimee, you were such a naughty girl, weren’t you? How dare you speak a word that displeased the slammer stud? He KNEW, didn’t he? Damn it! It’s just as I remember you in high school before we were going together, you always liking the guys who were bastards to you.

“He KNOWS,” you would say.

“Knows what?” I’d asked.

“He just KNOWS. You think too much, Mack.”

But now he is gone and has taking KNOWING with him. And you feel lost and wrong and don’t know. So, back to me, eh? Back to good old spare tire Mack whose wheel was spinning for a month not KNOWING if you had fallen off the edge of the earth. Well, I guess jail-bird got computer savvy in the joint and installed the block on your email. Did you even see the emails I sent, or did he just delete them?

I could rough you up. But I could never trust you wouldn’t have me arrested. I don’t want to go to jail where the 800 lbs gorilla would make me be his bitch. My dad told me no girl is worth that, and he was right. Sorry, my love of freedom is greater than any great love.

It sounds like you liked it, Aimee, and loved him, and didn’t have to know squat about the one who KNEW. Your dear Mommy probably would have loved the guy. Did she get to meet him?

Probably had you in a testosterone ecstasy, your favorite drug. I’m really glad you wrote this to me, though, for a personal reason. We must be psychically connected. I’ve been having a strange inspiration to write a new musical suite to the Spanish Inquisition, and now I know why.

It is good to hear from you. Relieving. I really thought you had blocked me and didn’t want to know me anymore. I can’t understand the Daveys because I am always so quick to feel in trouble when I really have done nothing wrong. Maybe we pick up each others slack. I don’t know. Daphne could make me feel in trouble constantly. I still wake some mornings cringing before I remember she’s no longer with me. She just FELT, and I had to agree that whatever she FELT was the proper judgment. So maybe I can understand you being afraid and loving the relieving moments when you got it right.

There was no better age when people had it all together. I mean, I KNOW I would love to give all emotional control up to a woman who would use the power wisely.

I had to learn to spank you with my words to get you really interested in me. Did I ever tell you that? It’s called “verbal abuse,” you know? Oh, it came naturally enough. No one was shitty in my family, but outside, baby, with the other kids, the guys and girls . ! Whack! You know my real name. It was back in grade school when they first started calling me Mack from McDowell and I hated it. They could see I hated it, and that’s why they kept it up. I still think they wanted me to be the Irish cartoon with a chip on his shoulder. I didn’t mind the mick jokes. I never knew any politically correct micks who felt victimized by words. The Irish, victimized by words. What a joke.

Gotta haul ass off to bed now and then off to work again tomorrow. The spinning wheel waits for me. Write soon. I am so glad to hear from you again.

Love, Mack


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