The Lying Game
âWhatâs that on your face, baby?â I look at him, questioningly. He traces around my eye, gentle enough to not hurt me. âHow did you get such a nasty black eye?â
I stare at him, confused. âYou gave it to me because I came home lateâŠâ
He shakes his head. His thumb presses into the bruise and I flinch in pain. âDonât lie. No one would ever believe such a ridiculous lie. Tell me how it happened.â
âBut Daddy itâs true, you hit me yesterdââ A short, hard smack to the face ends my sentence. He grabs my throat. He holds his arm back, ready to strike.
âLast chance to tell the truth.â
A tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. I hate these games. I never win his games. I donât even know when weâre playing anymore. âI opened the cupboard door and⊠it hit my face?â
He slaps my face, hard. My ears are ringing and my face is throbbing in pain. He gets ready to strike me again. âIâm not convinced, are you lying to me?â
âNo, Daddy, please⊠I opened the door and hit myself in the face. Please donât hurt me Daddy, please.â He slaps me again, almost his full strength. I taste blood. I struggle against him and try to talk between sobs. âI opened⊠the⊠door andââ he backhands my face and I moan in pain. He glares at me, and curls his hand into a fist.
I force myself to stop crying, managing to form a sentence before the sobs return. âI opened the cupboard door and hit myself in the face. Thatâs why I have a black eye. Please believe me, please, please.â I beg him, my eyes swimming with tears, my head aching from his blows.
âI believe you, babygirl. Now legs apart please, I need to punish you for being such a clumsy little bitch.â
Gaslighting is so hot
Thatâs terrifying
Seriously, let's roleplay this! DM me.





















