Dark as Ivory Pt. 01

I stared down where I was washing my hands in the bathroom, while reading the messages as they came through, and shivered. He was right. I was so edged from the night that cum had nearly squirted from me.

I finally answered when my hands were clean. It hurt so bad after a few hours.

Poor baby. Did your little pussy quiver all night?

I sprayed down my entire back room with bleach cleaner while I talked now, humiliated and still so aroused. Yes, sir. It spasmed the worst when I thought of being filled with your thick cock.

I was still hot but sane enough to finish cleaning and closing up, putting my floors back the way they were and making sure my bookshelves were still in order. I could flirt and try to get home at a decent hour at the same time now.

But my arousal still simmered. It was a static sound that hadn't stopped after he'd watched me masturbate in my apartment and it still wasn't going away even after I fisted myself for him. I felt like the most sexual creature alive these past few days, masturbating more often than ever before. It felt like he had ruined me, like I was a sex kitten now, continuously hot for him.

Oh, you mean this cock?

I played the video, whimpering and watching as he jerked off again. This time he was laying down and the frame showed hints of black sheets. He jerked himself sensuously, his horse cock far bigger than his hand and every stroke made me more aware of my sexuality. I moaned when he came, salivating again. Was it just me or did he spritz less cum than he had before? I wasn't sure because he came a lot and I was lost for him, needy for him. He wore that black heart ring again and even that seemed to arouse me.

Yes! Yes, please, that cock, sir.

Such sweet begging you have tonight, on your video and through text. I think I'll give you a treat. Don't go anywhere, Two.

I finished closing while waiting and stayed in the store even though I was pretty sure his command was just to keep me waiting for the video he was making and not specifically in the store. What image would he torment me with next? It couldn't be worse than the sight of his cock spritzing cum that I ached to swallow, could it?

It was. Oh, it was much worse. The video was carefully made so that I still wouldn't get a glimpse of him. I saw his wrist at the beginning and that same hand with the heart ring. But this time that hand was holding a lethal bullwhip, a tail of leather made for agony and torture. Even in that brief view it was obviously no light 50 Shades of Gray bullshit. And there was one brief glimpse of a torso covered with a black T-shirt before he stepped back and was out of sight. Instead, I was looking at a narrow view of the darkest dungeon I'd ever seen in my life. It was deliberately crafted to be a nightmare to any sub foolish and brave enough to end up there with him. This specific image was of an area that was a strange reverse dais. Instead of being raised, a square had been cut lower into the floor and a whipping post was built right in the middle of it, but it wasn't like other whipping posts I'd seen. This one was harsher. It was iron with adjustable bolts and it was the height of a person. In the middle of it was a belt attachment to force the body still and there was a head harness at the top with crossing leather straps and a cock gag to tether and lock the head in place. There would be no moving or escape once locked into place of that post. It was some serious gear too, not the fake pleather toys that a submissive could easily escape from. There were small padlocks around the backs of those harnesses. That's the kind of gear he evidently had minutes away from where he'd lain and jerked off.

The whip crack made me jump, my breath catching in fear. The lethal strip made a crazy loud sound against the post. It was singularly terrifying, nothing like the playful books online. This was something more from the darker sites of torture porn I read sometimes. My heart beat a fucking tattoo against my rib cage. He snapped the 6 foot whip again and I jumped again, whimpering. An inferno burned through my abdomen and I had to sit on the floor of my store or have my knees give way with how weak I felt. When he shook the whip against the floor, it rustled teasingly. I flinched when it abruptly flicked, anticipating the sound, but it didn't come. No, it was another tease of his, the whip skittering cruelly. But then he did do it again and I moaned to the sound. Damn him, but when I was finally calm enough to think, it turned out to be nothing but the eye of the storm before he threw me back into it with this. My blood was a conflagration of need and this time it wasn't the kind of need that could be slaked by myself. I craved to feel that cock gag and have that whip torture me all over. I watched him strike it again and needed it all the more, but couldn't look away from the video to stop the build of terrible desire. That whip would be preferable to the miserable denial I felt now. I was shaking pathetically on the floor with it and didn't even care that there was no dignity left to me.

The video ended too soon where I got a glimpse of his shirt again before it went black. I sent him a message response that was even less dignified than the rest of me and still didn't care. Please, sir. Please.

Poor little Two. So horny and needy and with no way for this kind of relief without a playmate.

I closed my eyes and breathed through the raging fire burning up my nerve endings. I messaged the only thing that came to mind for the moment. Please whip me, sir.

We'll get there, Two, but in my time and my way. You might say this is a little taste for later, a glimpse.

Yes, sir. Please keep telling me what to do, please. I'll do anything, sir.

Of course you will or I'll make you.

I managed to get myself together and stand up, sending him flirtatious messages but at the moment they had an undertone of serious desperation. I walked to the subway and took it home, going up to my apartment while talking to him. And I slept in my favorite recliner like a curled up puppy so that he could see me if he wanted to or could. If he could, he didn't bring it up and I wasn't allowed to ask. Instead he sent me threats, dark erotic tortures he wanted to put me through, and all the while I burned with a hunger I couldn't sate.

————

Ivory

I couldn't keep calling her while she was at work. It wouldn't be as much fun if I did and she'd figure out for sure it was me all too soon. No, I had a plan for how this would go so I left her to wonder about the caller who jerked off while she spoke of games. I knew she already suspected but there would be some doubt there and I wanted to let that doubt take a nice hold and fill her with paranoia and fear while she wondered. Had it been me? Would she hear from that person again?

I grinned with a sense of delight all throughout the weekend. I would wake up and drink my coffee and catch myself smiling while staring out the window, thinking of her restlessly trying to sleep while she daydreamed of the whip video, envisioning how she might agonize over her obvious arousal to the call she'd gotten.

But I couldn't stay fully away from her either. I ended up at her apartment building while she was away, running her game nights and LAN parties like a fun little fae. I slipped an envelope under her door that had photographs I had taken one night when she was at work along with a note of instructions for her to go down to her apartment's basement. Right before I knew she was on her way home I hid a box for her behind the water pipes. My instructions also told her how to get there without being seen - because shady sneaking was my part of this game and not hers and I didn't want her confronted - and where to look and then went to my apartment and waited, staying in the dark again so she wouldn't see me.

She looked like she'd had a draining day when she walked in, wearing her standard jeans with a gamer shirt. But then she stepped on my envelope and looked down. I couldn't see her expression but knew her eyes were probably widening. Some fear, some excitement.

She threw off her backpack and grabbed it, evidently forgetting whatever had made her walk through her building with such exhaustion. Instead of the tired girl I had seen, there was an energetic thrill seeker, chasing the lightning I gave her and I smiled at her newfound energy, grabbing the binoculars to see her better.

Two was such a delight and easily the most edgy playmate I'd had in a long time, at least ten years now. She opened the envelope, ripping into it, and sank down into her favorite recliner, sitting on the edge while she looked through the pictures I'd taken of her. They were good pictures too, ones where she'd been looking through a box of shipments and grinning with the packs of playing cards she was opening. She had posted the rare ones on her Facebook page to sell for instant profit and there were buyers before the day had ended, so some pictures had her checking messages. There were pictures from when she'd gone to get coffee later when Tate was there. I'd used my phone camera for all of them so they weren't the best quality but my phone was a hell of a lot more discreet than a goddamned Nikon so it was what it was.

Her eyes were wide as she looked and then she did an action that I wish I could have caught on camera, one that I would remember as a favorite moment. Because she turned and looked over her shoulder in her own apartment and I had to smile, my heart going dark with wicked pleasure. I was getting to her and it thrilled me, power trip adrenaline rushing through me. What would it be like to break into her apartment and wait for her to come into her bedroom where I could hold her down and rape her while she struggled and cried tears for me.

But I wasn't to that point yet. There were a few reasons why, but the biggest one was that there's a line that is violating someone's home door and I hadn't played enough games with her yet to do things like that. For her case, it seemed like a good rule to at least wait until I was close enough to her that I could copy her key. If I had to use a hidden spare from under the doormat or break in another way, it was, first of all, shady and second of all, too goddamn soon for that shit.

No, the way I had planned it out to fuck with her and eventually fuck her was perfect as it was. It was a game that had ruled my obsessions for so fucking long that I thought about every little detail. Now that I had a person to do it with, a specific character to plan for and around, the details were even more solid.

For right now those details involved a more subtle form of fuckery than sex. For right now I watched her fearfully read my note and it made me smile. She seemed to think about it for a minute but then I saw the beginnings of my favorite expression.

It was that little smile she had in her photos. That little quirk that just hinted at the devil behind her innocent fae face. And the more I learned of Two and played with her, the more I was realizing that it was a devil to rival my own and mine was a sick fuck. But while my entire demeanor and stature screamed of threat and broadcast my demon, her appearance was tiny and innocent.

Except for that smile where a little mischief shined through. She left her apartment and I waited while she obeyed my commands.

Sure enough she was undeterred in obeying me. She came back with the box of gifts and sat it on the table, still in plain sight of her window and that was on purpose. She stayed there for my viewing pleasure if I so desired.

Good girl.

She opened the gift and blushed, but grinned as well, and I had to laugh. She was so open, her heart on her sleeve. She set the butt plug I'd sent her to the side, staring at it with trepidation. It was the largest version of an extended wear plug and it was unforgiving steel to hurt her little asshole. I'd also put a rather special set of cuffs in the box, a comfortable pair that, nonetheless, padlocked shut once they were adjusted on the wrist. Each cuff had a notch to adjust the leather and a heart shaped padlock that fit perfectly through the hole in the notch. A nightie was the last thing, a sheer black one that would show off her tits and it had a nearly see through thong to tease me. I smiled at the sight of her staring at it in shocked joy and got my phone, deciding to play some more.

Those cuffs are the exact ones I use with my whipping post. I thought you might like to get used to the feel of them while you stretch your asshole to eventually take my cock. You can even lock them if you're feeling brave, but who knows where the keys might disappear to if you're out with them and not paying attention?

She jumped when the message went through and dove for her phone across the table. Her head snapped up and she looked at the window while my smile broadened. But she was grinning too, that same wicked grin that she'd had when she had run to the back of her apartment to write "Flatline Whore" on her tits. It was a grin that meant she was going to tease and push me.

While I watched she fitted the cuffs, locked them, and threw the key carelessly to the table so that I laughed. Naughty fucking girl. I had no doubt that she was going to go out over the course of the week and leave those keys anywhere she thought of to leave them.

I played with her that night too, commanding her to wear the nightie while she made cookies and danced around her apartment. I made her wear the plug too and she winced at times. She messaged back and forth with me and drank a little wine. Or more than a little. I watched her get steadily more drunk while I scolded her.

She fell asleep in that recliner where I could see her shifting restlessly with her sexy little cuffs and her massive butt plug torturing her through the night.

————

Tuesday

My weekdays were no longer boring. I looked over my shoulder every time I walked to the subway, wondering if any of the people around were him. Especially at night I looked and hurried, fearful of every moment now. He messaged me daily, taunting little messages that asked what I was doing or thinking about.

But he sent me other messages now, too. Messages where he asked questions about music and movies. He let me talk to no end about how much I loved Lamb of God and how Metallica's best album was definitely either Master of Puppets or ...And Justice for All. It turned out he liked the hard stuff too. We went back and forth over how the opening riff of Raining Blood was a work of true artwork.

I wondered what he was doing during those moments. They always seemed to happen during the day so I imagined he was at work with a little down time that he decided to use on me. And then I wondered what he did, but I couldn't ask those things about my play stalker. He stayed anonymous, taking pictures of me, naked and dressed, while I didn't even know so much as his hair color.

It drove me wild. And it was during one of these conversations that I got a call on the work phone again. I was sorting out comic books and new releases and it'd been days since Flatline had sent me the toys and played with me, stalked me. It made the thought of that phone call torture. Every day felt like another time he would have called to tease me again, if it was really Flatline, but I wasn't sure. What if this was his teasing instead? Leaving me to think and torment myself for him?

The phone rang and I answered with my greeting, alone for a good few hours at the moment while I messaged my distance dom who wasn't so distant.

"Hello, Tuesday."

I froze at the voice, swallowing and looking at my phone. It was cool and commanding as before but here was the thing. Flatline was still messaging me on my phone about the brilliance of the song Damage Inc.

"Hello." Thank God for my years of customer service. Without the reflex I might have sat there for a full five minutes like an idiot, staring blankly at partially sorted comic books. "Did you want to talk more Blackgrave?"

He laughed, to my mortification, laughed at me. He had to know I remembered him because he masturbated over the fucking phone, right? My phone got the message from Flatline and I shook, an actual body quiver of fear. What the fuck was going on? Was it him? I couldn't even decide and I felt a little bit of panic claw up my throat.

Can I ask you a question if it's kind of within the rules?

I sent it to Flatline while whoever was on the phone kept talking without missing a beat. If it was Flatline he was fucking good because I didn't hear a hint and that's what tripped me up the most. It was freaking me out a lot. The man on the phone didn't break conversation the way someone would if they were texting as well. Well, the way someone generally would. I had known some people who could do both but not many. Maybe it was Flatline and he was one of those?

God I was turned inside out and I just barely could focus on my phone friend's question to remember it.

"Not this time, but I do want to order it when I get a chance to come in." He was never going to come in and order it, whoever it was. That's how I felt anyway. "This time, I wanted to know where to start with the Batman graphic novels and ask if I could order those from your site or if they would have to be special ordered."

Christ, another one with a lengthy reply. "Okay, so, where to start." He just wanted to hear me talk, I knew, so I could just dispense with the questions entirely and go right through the explanation and oh, God I was going to fucking play along again. It wasn't even Flatline... but what if it fucking was? I read his answer while I made my reply. Sure.

What are you doing? It was a dumb question and I knew, I knew he would answer as he damn well willed. If he felt like misdirecting to fuck with me more, he would. If it wasn't even him, the answer wouldn't make a difference either way, but God, God, I had to ask something because I was losing my mind a little. When I answered it was higher pitched than usual. "Okay, so it will depend on how dark you want. If you want the delightful grittiness of DC's underworld, the New 52 remakes are what I think is the way to go. They made a run that became a graphic novel called Death of the Family-" I stuttered in talking about one of my favorite comic series when I heard that shake of breath. My phone had gone off already with Flatline's answer and I hadn't gotten to look at it because if he could answer while talking, then I was damn well the opposite and could definitely not. But now I dove for it like a life preserver, squeaking in my answer. "Death of the Family instead of- of-" Listening to a boring as fuck accounting check up and getting coffee. What would you rather I be doing, Two?

"Instead of?" He prompted me and again he was amused, his fucking deep voice so commanding and controlling that I forced myself to continue, feeling like I was in high school and incapable of saying no to anyone again. As if I hadn't gone through the torture of learning some damn assertiveness to try to be an adult.

"Instead of the previous Death in the Family. They upped the ante with the new ones and made it even more twisted and now it's a neat little ride. But beyond that one, because I realize that's not a lot of material, but after that one-" The voice shook at the same time my phone lit up with another silent alert and I closed my eyes, feeling way too much, torn on an edge where I could fast fall off into either terror or the hardest orgasm I'd ever had in dreams or life. "After that one, Batman Hush is just pure awesome too. I don't consider it quite as dark but-" His breath hissed in a shudder in my ear and I whimpered. I actually broke and whimpered. And my voice rushed out, panicked, when I continued again. "And also the New 52 version has a lot of dark tie-ins that are pretty cool in the universe like John Constantine appearing in... in... in..." My pussy pulsed. His breath ran quicker. My phone lit again. It couldn't be him when he was so obviously doing this while on a business call too, could it? Or could it and he was just doing so much in his power to fuck with me and oh my God it was working and there was a wet spot on my fucking jeans again and my clitoral hood ring tormented me. My voice came out frantic and needy and I couldn't fucking stop. "In Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, which is both dark as all delightful hell and crazy good and ties in with DC and there's a whole graphic novel about Lucifer and the Art of Shredding by-" Fuck me I had looked at my phone and read the freaking title of a Pantera song and fucking cursed. His breath was intense in my ear. "I mean. Um, Lucifer which is the the TV show now and all the references from New 52 are a lot of fun."