White lies lead to red asses – Part I

It started without thought and intensified very quickly. Within moments I was beating him bare-handed over and over, not fully in control of myself, until his ass reddened commanding him to apologize.

I imagine finding out that he had lied to me indiscriminately didn’t help but add fuel to the fire but if the house was burning down, he was going with it.

It all started three weeks ago when I asked my boyfriend a very important question.

“Will you be my submissive in training?”

I rarely get nervous but I nearly forgot to breathe as the words fell from my lips.

Almost without hesitation he answered, “Yes”.
 
This angered me.

This was an important question for me and he was answering as if I had just asked if he wanted a glass of juice. I expected some deliberation, some soul-searching thoughts, and most of all time to process what it meant.

I chided him and told him exactly that. He responded with mention that he already was submissive to me, so this couldn’t be “that much different“.

I needed him to understand what this meant to me. I spent time explaining myself, my fetishes, what I expected of my submissive, how much additional work this could entail, and most of all how it wouldn’t always be fun for him.

I thought we were making progress, even if he looked a bit overwhelmed when I tried explaining the difference between a bottom, submissive, switch, and slave. But he hung in there and asked questions and generally seemed like he had an interests in certain aspects of the lifestyle himself.

Then I found out he had lied to me—had been for the past three months.

I wasn’t as angry as I should’ve been at first, mainly because I caught him and I was absorbed in the satisfaction of my righteousness. But then it hit me.

He LIED to me.

Breaking the one relationship rule I had asked him not to at the start of things. It doesn’t matter why he chose to seek other women’s company outside of the relationship, all that matters is that he did and he lied about it. The fact that it never moved to any in-person meeting and physical interaction was the only silver lining but it didn’t curb my anger.

Two days later we were slated to attend our first rope party together. It was a previous RSVP and as much as I wanted to back out he wanted to go. Perhaps he wanted to prove how open-minded he was but I think a lot of it was trying to gain my forgiveness.

I only agreed because I hadn’t decided if he was worth my continued time or not and because I didn’t want to back out at the last minute as I know that can be frustrating for party host.

I packed my play bag albeit non-enthusiastically but I packed it nonetheless. Rope, paddle, lube, clothespins, all ready to go.

I tried to mask my emotions during the party, play the good couple, introduce him to this side of my life with a smile but it was a struggle. Half way through the party we had made our way downstairs to the equipment. We hung out with others before branching off to be alone in the room with the spanking bench, bondage swing, and bondage table with a cage.

This is where I started to feel more like a Mistress and less like his hurt girlfriend.

“Take off your shirt and pants,” I said as I reached into my bag for rope, “We need to talk.”