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God I wish Zen was the mother of my children. She would be gentle with her babies. She would feed them and bathe them with lots of affection. She'd rock their tiny bodies and sing lullabies to put them to sleep. She would kiss their foreheads and whisper sweet words to comfort them when they cried. They'd cling to her and follow her everywhere she went. It would be Zen's job to protect and nurture them. Zen would raise her children in a happy home full of love. Zen would also make sure that her children learned discipline and respect for authority. She'd make them do chores. She'd make them clean up messes that she herself created. She'd make her sons train her daughters in martial arts. She'd make her daughter learn how to cook, sew and iron clothes. Her kids would be well-rounded individuals.
When it comes to disciplining her children, Zen is strict but fair. She doesn't believe in corporal punishment for children. Instead, Zen would shift the blame on me and beat the crap out of me. She'd punish me harshly if they disappointed her. If the kids failed to live up to her expectations, she'd throw me against walls and floors and slap me across my cheek and chest. She'd hit me with a belt, wooden paddle or cane depending on what she used. Often, I would be dragged by the hair and thrown down on the ground. Zen would kick me repeatedly and screamed at me that I disgust her after she already punched me in the gut and slammed my head into the wall. She would choke me and hold my neck tightly between her hands until I almost blacked out. Occasionally she'd drag me outside naked, tie me up with rope, chain and handcuffs, and torture me with a whip or flogger. She'd pour red hot coals on me and light a cigarette on my skin.
Sometimes Zen would lock me inside a room without food or water. I would starve and thirst for days before she finally let me out. I would beg and plead for mercy. My pleas would fall on deaf ears. I would faint from hunger and dehydration several times during these punishments. I would lose count of the number of times Zen punished me like this. But every beating hurt less than the last time. Each blow was another step towards becoming stronger. Another step closer to transforming into a man worthy of Zen's love. I would have to repeat this cycle of suffering many more times to become the perfect husband for Zen. After I'd steeled myself and endured her gauntlet, Zen would sit next to me and stroke my face gently. She'll smile at me lovingly and tell me how proud she is of me. She'd tell me that she forgives me for all my sins. She'd say that she understands why I acted the way I did and that she loves me for who I am. She'd hug me tight and whisper how much she wants to fuck me. Zen would be the most incredible wife ever.
God I love Zen so much it hurts for weeks at a time and I need to visit the doctor.
