I knew I was in for a rough night when Master put on his black fedora and called me Dolores. The fact that he was holding a machete didn't help.
He'd been reading my old diaries and wanted to know why, in November of 1988, I had gone to a movie with "Teddy". I told him I didn't remember any "Teddy". He put me on my knees, hit me hard as I knelt in front of him. The machete is dulled at the edges, but as a tool for beating is very painful, with no give at all. He asked me why I had held hands with this Teddy person at the movie, why my hand had made it's way into Teddy's pants during the movie. Why I had fucked this other guy when I was supposed to belong to and be faithful to my Master.
He still called me Dolores.
I denied everything. I sobbed. I didn't know any Teddy, or go to any movie with anyone. I couldn't remember anything about 1988, for Christsake. The knife really hurt though, and he kept hurting me relentlessly until I admitted seeing a movie with Teddy, holding his cock in my hand, letting him fuck me afterward. I confessed to everything, folding like a napkin until the torture of that heavy knife.
Later on, after he'd fucked me and given me powerful orgasms, I cuddled up to him in bed. My mind confused by pain, exhaustion, subspace and Nyquil, I asked him timidly,
"There was no Teddy, really, was there?"