Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of extreme dominant behavior well into the realm of humiliation. All acts against other people in this chapter are consensual .

The Tattle Tale

Chapter Seven

It took more than a year of training on her part and learning on mine before I took a bold step. I spoke with Joey about my intentions and that I needed him to not interfere with me. I needed to go through with the plan I had come up with on my own. When he asked why, I told him it was the final test, except it was her that needed to be tested in my eyes, not me.

“You’ve communicated well with me and her over the last year or so, babe. Melissa has taught you so much and you’ve absorbed it all. I’m proud of you for all of this. Our life as we know it is all your doing and I think I can speak for all three of us when I tell you that we all could not be happier.”

I nodded and said, “Yes, but there’s one thing left.”

I motioned for him to follow me. I lead him to our bedroom and rooted around in my panty drawer until I found it.

“When I had time alone, I took time to decorate this,” I told him as I showed the decoration.

It was a small padlock. It was brushed silver with a slightly longer than usual shackle. I affixed small, deep red gemstones in strategic places. For the rest, I carefully engraved her name on the side that would be facing out. Around her name, I inscribed ornate style lines that closely matched my collar. On the back, I carved a heart with a date neatly printed on the inside. It was when she first took part in what was then our game.

I pointed out each thing to him and told him why I did it. He listened intently and his smile widened with each explanation.

“You spent so much time on this, Kelly,” he started before I interrupted him.

“I would like you to call me Kitten. I loved that she picked that name for me, and I would like you to adopt it as well,” I told him.

“Of course,” he said. “You spent so much time on this, Kitten. I know she’ll love it.”

“She will if she can reach beyond what I intend to do first,” I said hesitantly.

“If she can’t, she doesn’t really deserve this, does she, Kitten?”

I grinned at him as I stared into his eyes and said, “No, sir, she doesn’t.”

He made love to me that morning, but my mind was on my other lover. The initial excitement I felt about Melissa inevitably faded away, but the honeymoon phase still very much existed with her just as it had continued on for my husband. That morning when I showed my husband the gift I was gonna present to my Mistress, my excitement roared back, and I became nervous to see her that day.

I was rightfully nervous since I could either come home with her hand in mine or come home alone, never to see her again.

After my shower, I meticulously picked out what was gonna wear. Each garment was inspected carefully. I put my bra and panties on and spun around while looking in the mirror. I focused on my butt since, just like Joey, she had come to adore. My panties hugged my hips nicely but not tight enough to indent my skin. That was a requirement she never let up on. My dress freshly ironed the day before. It was a plain red dress that stopped halfway down my thighs and only a quarter the way down my arms.

I put my hair up and slipped on my shoes. My dress had a small pocket on the front where I put the small lock. Finally, I adjusted my collar as I imagined the tiny lock dangling from the front of it.

Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do, I wondered.

I pulled up to her place and quickly walked to the door. I took a deep breath, open the door and walked in. She had almost made it to the door, and stared at me in surprise as I walked past her and didn’t acknowledge her.

“Kelly?” she said as she chased me into the kitchen.

I took the first drink from the fridge I could get my hand on and sat at the small table. I kicked my feet up and took a sip.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

The surprise in her appearance was gone and replaced with building anger.

“I need to know why nobody can touch you without your permission,” I casually told her.

She stepped up to me quickly and angrily addressed my actions.

“What’s gotten into you that you think you can just walk in here and demand things from me?”

“Tell me,” I said, my tone getting more confident and aggressive.

“I don’t owe an explanation to you or anyone else,” she told me, maintaining strict eye contact and her previous level of aggression in her tone.

I stood quickly and put my face in hers.

“Then tell me, Melissa,” I said, mocking her name, “how bad does this get? You’re hiding something from me, and I can’t be everything to you if I don’t know your last secret. What are you afraid of? Are you holding back something from me?”

I was angry then. I furled my brow and glared into her eyes.

“Stop it, Kelly,” she said with a shaky voice.

“Why are you trembling?” I asked. I had become accusatory. “What the fuck am I to you that you feel you have to still hide things from me?”

Melissa said nothing. She stood there, shaking.

“Show me what you’re afraid of,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

In my heart, I knew I wasn’t in danger of physical violence. I had studied her for a year and based on my observations, I was convinced that she was holding back. She had a secret that controlled her actions. Rather, keeping that secret might have been how she was able to control herself. I felt sometimes that inside she wanted more.

Still shaking slightly, she said, “Ask me one more time.”

“Show me how bad it can get. Show me what you’re capable of.”

“Are you going to leave me if I don’t?” she asked me with anger building in her eyes.

“Yes,” I responded, intentionally not obeying our customs.

“Bitch,” she mumbled before turning and walking away from me.

I remained standing there, waiting to see what she planned to do. When she arrived back in the kitchen, she had a length of rope in her hands.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she told me calmly. “You told me not to humiliate you yet here you are, asking me to do exactly that. Turn around, you cunt.”

I was a little shocked at her choice of words but did as she told me. She bound my hands behind my back and dragged me to her bathroom.

“Get on your knees,” she practically yelled.

I obeyed without a word being said. She tied my ankles together, then secured my hands to my ankles, leaving me extremely limited in my movement capability. She turned me until I was facing the door and got down on a single knee in front of me.

“What was it that you asked me first after barging into my house? What, can’t remember?” she asked, without allowing me to answer. “You’ve chosen to misbehave today. Not only that, you somehow got it into your head that I owe you an explanation about something I already said you may never get. You had to push me, didn’t you? I’m disappointed in you.”

She got up and walked away. I heard rustling in the kitchen, then footsteps heading back toward my direction. She stopped at the door and stared down at me.

“It seemed that drink either gave you courage or made you stupid. I don’t know which it was. Let’s see what this does for your level of courage,” she said.

She dumped the small plate of food into the floor in front of her.

“Have your lunch.”

I had decided before I left the house that I needed to see what she was protecting me from, and I knew she was protecting me from herself. I needed to know why and obeying her wasn’t gonna get me those answers. It seemed she wasn’t gonna give me what I wanted simply by asking. I needed to force it out of her.

I sat as straight and as defiantly as I could. The smug look on her face disappeared. It was replaced with renewed anger.

“Fucking cunt,” she hissed as she lunged toward me.

She wrapped her hands around my neck and shoved me to the floor.

“Eat, bitch!” she yelled.

I ate the food off the floor as fast as I could. I could tell by the way she was holding me and the sound of her breathing that it was almost like she was doing what she was doing against her will.

“What made you this way, Melissa?” I asked when the food was gone.

“Stop asking me that question!” she demanded.

“Will you beat me now?” I asked.

The mood displayed on her face changed.

“Beat you? Do you think I am capable of that?” she asked. She seemed horrified of the idea.

“I think you have something in you that you’ve been hiding from me,” I told her.

Only a second passed and she spit in my face. I had prepared myself for all those types of responses. I assured myself that anything she did would be a natural response she would have as she tried to protect her own secret. I didn’t enjoy what happened in that moment. Nobody had ever done that to me, but I accepted it from her because she meant that much to me.

Had she done that any other time, our relationship would have been over immediately. Instead, I steadied myself and remained firm in my convictions.

“Let that sink in, bitch!” she yelled at me before walking out and slamming the door.

I watched the bottom of the door to gather whatever information I could. I saw her stand there. The shadows of her feet were perfectly visible based on the difference of light between the bathroom and the hallway. Suddenly, the two shadows of her feet turned into a single shadow after the sound of a thud filled my ears.

It’s happening, I wondered.

I heard weeping from the other side of the door. Her response to being upset was initially to be angry. She would hold that as long as she could, but I lasted longer than she could. It was in that moment that I had an idea of what went on in her life. She either tried being the sub or she was forced to be at some point. The more I tried to think about it, the louder her crying became. I felt awful for what I had done, but it still seemed necessary. I needed to tell her something.

“Mistress,” I said loudly, hoping she would hear me through the door and her feelings.

When I got no response, I decided to reveal another card in my secret hand.

“I love you, Mistress.”

It had been more than a year since our relationship started and we shared a lot of emotions between us. I at all times believed that we had a true love building from day one but neither of us ever admitted it until that moment.

The single shadow became two again and the door opened. Her face was a mess.

“What did you just say?” she asked. Even if I had not heard what she did outside the door, it was clearly written on her face what state of emotion she was in. She wiped the tears from her face, and she was trying to be as hard hearted as she could.

I retained as defiant a position as I could considering the restraints on me.

“I love you,” I told her to her face for the first time.

Her eyes narrowed and her hands covered her mouth and nose. I saw tears flow from her eyes as her body shook. She was sobbing hysterically behind her hand.

“Tell me why,” I told her.

“What did you say before?” she asked me.

“I said I love you. I’m not going to tell you again until you tell me what you’re hiding from me,” I said with no emotion attached to my voice.

She rushed in and knelt before me.

“Please say it again,” she pleaded.

I relaxed my eyes and my body and gave into her.

“I love you,” I told her.

Again, she covered her mouth and nose with her hands and cried. My face was littered with food particles and her spit, but she still stared at me adoringly. I remained as proud as I could but faltered when she became overly emotional. I wanted to hold her the entire time. She finally opened up after she wrapped her arms around me and held me as best she could despite me being tied up still.

“When I was young, my mother’s boyfriend used to tie me up. He wanted to control me at every possible turn. For him, it was nothing sexual at all. He never touched me except what was necessary to tie me up. He enjoyed seeing me tied up, though. He would do to me what I did to you just now. He would scream at me, make me eat my meals like a dog and spit on me when I challenged him, and I challenged him a lot. I never intentionally gave into him.

“I sometimes think I allowed him to do it. The fucked-up part is that I liked him. I still like him. I don’t think he hated me at all. I assume he asked Mom, and she wasn’t into it. It started small and built up from there. He controlled me like I think he wanted to control Mom, but she never let him. I liked the behavior but not my role in it.

“I defied him at every turn at first out of defiance, but over time, I did it to learn. I knew I belonged in this lifestyle but his teachings, as fucked up as they were, didn’t give me the wherewithal to figure out which side of equation I belonged. It was through his actions, though that I developed a preference for women. They’d never hurt me before or did things without my permission”

“It seems that would make you more of someone in my position than yours,” I suggested.

She nodded in agreement with me but offered, “I thought so myself, but I resented that position and never wanted to be there again. In my early years in this lifestyle, though, I tried being a sub and it wasn’t for me. I rebelled too much for the doms who came into my life so, I decided I was the dom and I began searching for the proper sub.

“I haven’t answered your question yet, though. When I was practicing being a sub, one of the doms was especially dominant. He wanted control over everything which was fine, but he couldn’t respect my boundaries. I tried to work with him, but he never changed. Whenever someone touches me in a non-casual way, it at all times feels like someone is trying to dominate me and in my head, I feel like they are gonna try and sub me. It may not sound logical, but I feel that way in my soul when it happens. When I give permission for someone to touch me, I know to expect what’s coming. It also feeds into my need to control what is happening.

“This relationship is no different than any other when it comes to demanding respect from each other. That is why I was sure to get your consent the first time I touched you in an intimate way. I wanted you to know that I respect your right to choose who touches you and who does not.”

“Am I the one? Am I the proper sub for you?” I asked.

“I’m sorry I did this to you!” she said as she broke down again.

“Mistress,” I said calmly, “we’re in your home, in a private setting. This is humiliating, for sure, but I tolerate it only to this end. Do you have anything else you would like to do to me?”

She went to respond but I stopped her.

“Before you answer me, I came here ready to take whatever punishment you saw fit as long as this last mystery was solved.”

I was sincere in that question. I was ready to receive anything else she wanted to dish out. Joey and I spoke about what could happen and everything came to mind except physical abuse in the form of violence. In the position I was in, I would have been forced to take it, but it would have certainly been the end of it all, even if she tried to apologize. It seemed that type of response was not in her repertoire and that is what I banked on.

“I thought you might hit me,” I lied.

I wanted to see where she stood.

“I could never hit the woman I loved,” she admitted for the first time.

Despite being covered in food particles and spit, I smiled widely.

“You love me?” I asked.

“You know I love you, baby. I’ve loved you from the moment we reconnected. I loved you every day since then.”

My heart swelled and I wanted to cry with her, but I stuck to my guns.

“Reach into my pocket, my love,” I told her.

A curious expression came across her face. She looked me over and realized the presence of the small pocket on my dress. Her fingers fished out the small lock that was inside it.

“What’s this?” she asked as she inspected it. “You changed it!”

“I made it ours,” I told her as I restored my posture as it was before. I sat up as straight as I could and looked her in the eyes.

“I love you, Melissa. I give this to you to put on me if you find me worthy,” I told her. “I will love you my whole life.”

It was like a proposal without the obligation of getting married. I didn’t think about it beforehand, but being in the position I was in when she first saw the locket made the moment even more special for me. I was covered in the worst I knew the relationship could ever devolve into, physically and emotionally, and we both ended up in tears pouring our hearts out to each other.

She put the symbol of our love in her pocket and began to untie me. She tried to apologize but I wouldn’t have it. I instigated everything that happened that night knowing I was pushing her to places I would not normally dare. Some may say it’s no excuse for what she demonstrated that she was capable of, but I need to know what that was as well. Because of that night, I knew what I should expect at all times, what she was capable of if pushed so far, and what she was absolutely not capable of.

At the end of the day, I made a decision to go through with everything that happened, and I was happy with the outcome.

She untied me and escorted me to the bathroom. She took great care to undress me and gently clean me off. She used a soft washcloth to wipe my face and talked sweetly to me the entire time. She professed her love for me and how she wanted me in her life for however long that would be. She kissed my face softly and often as she spoke. I knew I was as loved in her presence as I was when I was with my husband.

She surprised me by taking my collar off when she was done wiping my face.

“What did you take that off?” I asked, panicked that she changed her mind about something.

She set it on the edge of the sink and turned to me saying, “Don’t worry about that for now.”

She pulled me close and stared into my eyes.

“Yes,” she said just before pressing her lips to mine.

Her hands roamed my body as she continued to express her love and devotion.

“Yes, I want to be yours forever. I have a gift for you, as well my love.”

I had become engrossed with my own hand placement as I tried to relieve her of her own clothes when she came out with the shocker.

“When I give you my heart and my love, I give another gift with them, my trust. You learned everything you should ever need to know about me tonight and I learned all I need to know about you. You have my trust, my sweet. You never have to ask to touch me again. I know when I feel your touch that whatever you do will be in the name of love and will have no ill will behind it.”

I was not expecting that at all, and it showed. She giggled at me as I tried to discover my words.

“You don’t have to say anything. In fact, stop talking,” she said in a sarcastic tone, “the more time you spend talking, the longer it seems to take you to remove my clothes.”

I pushed my head against her shoulder and laughed at the sudden reemergence of her wit and sense of humor.

“Less laughing and more undressing,” she insisted. She had her hands on her hips demonstrating a near comical display of impatience.

When I laughed harder again, she couldn’t help but join me.

When she was finally undressed, she asked me to get the water ready. She said she would be right back and wanted me to already be in the shower when she returned. I did exactly that as I knew we would be showing our love in all kinds of familiar and unfamiliar methods that evening. Once I was initially rinsed off, she arrived in dramatic fashion. The shower curtain was flung open, and she stood there with a strap on dildo hanging between her legs.

“Oh my,” I said, feigning shock.