Dark as Ivory Pt. 01

Again, that growl in my ear. No one had affected me like this, fucking no one. Ever. I was a wreck and I wasn't even talking about Batman anymore. I had been freaking rambling and if it wasn't Flatline on the phone talking to me, then it was still Flatline who was fucking me up like this. If it was a random guy, he was playing a part he had no idea he was playing.

He laughed in my ear, wicked, sinful laughter that sent cold chills of warning down my spine. And he hung up, leaving that laughter as the last thing I heard. It was like the devil in my ear, that same kind of voice Dave Mustaine used to sound purely satanic.

I finally turned my attention to my phone, my hands shaking.

Another one that bangs hard is Pantera. The Art of Shredding is so underrated.

Are you still there, Two?

And then Everything okay?

I finally answered. I'm still here. Sorry. Pantera is amazing. Walk is overrated but awesome but I hate that it's what everyone knows. I'm scared to be in the store by myself now.

Even my messages were frantic and rushed. I didn't have anyone to turn to besides him because he was doing what he wanted. He was head fucking me so hard.

No pity from him. No mercy. He messaged back instantly. Good. I want you on edge with continual fear and arousal, so go to your back room. This time I want you to rub your clit until you cum and then put your butt plug in and wear it for the rest of the night. Video it so I know you're being a good girl. And you did behave and take the toy with you like I commanded, didn't you?

Yes, sir.

Good girl. The words were like a balm, like a blessing. The praise was more than I could have hoped for and the commands were soothing. I fell into the role of submissive like wrapping myself in a comfort blanket. I put my cuffs on too, for more of his distant control, leaving the keys on my table with the register. I went quick, stroking myself for him, though I knew no one was coming in while I was in the back room during this hour. The boxes of comics I locked behind the register anyway and listened for the door, which generally hit the bell when opened.

I videoed myself stroking my clit in circles and nothing else since that was what I'd been commanded. There was so much cum all over my fingers and stranded between them that it was obscene even if I didn't finger myself and my cry was smothered to try to keep quiet but still so fucking slutty. I used the cum to spread my asshole and videoed myself whimpering and whining with suffering as I inserted the brutal toy.

I sent the videos to him and walked back out to a store that was still empty. This was my upkeeping hour and it was a routine I had learned so very well from owning the store. It was during school and work hours on a weekday and always a routinely safe hour to get my projects done. But then I turned to the counter and realized that routine had been fucking broken.

The keys to my cuffs were gone. I ran out the door, thinking I should have my business taken away from me and I should die down an alley. But he wasn't there. There was no one in front and no one going towards the parking garage or to where I knew the subway was. I ran back to my phone in time to see his message. Bad fucking girl. I hunt you in this. You don't chase after me. Do you want to be my submissive or not?

Yes! It was a desperate response. Yes, sir, I want to be your submissive.

Then no more fucking orgasms for the next three days and don't you dare try to steal any. You suffer your punishment and obey me. And maybe then I'll give you the keys to your cuffs back.

Yes, master. I'll obey. Can I message you when it feels too much still?

Of course, baby. I won't be so mean as to cut you off.

I stroked my cuffs before answering. That's because it's not really punishment, is it? You didn't care about my chasing you just like you didn't care about my looking out the window or looking over my shoulder to check. It didn't matter what I did. You were going to take my orgasms either way.

I waited for the answer. For the first time since we'd talked he spoke with emojis. Three devil emojis that were followed with the message. Good call, baby.

Can I beg you for something?

But of course. I'm delighted to hear your terror and begging.

Please... please when you make me suffer tell me sometimes or whenever it pleases or... I don't know... but tell me when it's actually punishment?

Aww. Does that make it easier, little slave heart?

Yes, master.

Well, because you were such a sweet girl and because you used that oh, so provocative honorific, I'll agree to that. You're right. It didn't matter and I do love watching you look over your shoulder. Some things are too intense for funishment, yeah?

I breathed easier. I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's wrong and it's weird because I always love being a sassy brat or being mischievous. I'm sorry.

I was fast realizing that he was so weirdly kind despite his cruel, hard proclivities. Don't apologize, baby. It's just the way it happens sometimes when there's so much fear, when the words "good girl" are a kindness to give you some strength, especially when they're so hard to earn and so very well deserved.

I grinned, feeling better, rubbing my cuffs. I better be a good girl! Do you know how hard it's going to be to not come with the things you do?! I go to sleep daydreaming of your cock and see the whipping post in my nightmares and wake up with my asshole filled with a pain toy and so much cum on my sheets that I've had to change them twice in four days!

Ha! That was his immediate answer but then it was followed by more. Speaking of which, since you were a good girl showing me yours I'll show you some more of my toys. And since you have that plug in for the rest of your work night you don't have to wear it to bed tonight but you will the next two. You'll sleep in your chair for me so I can see you suffering when I wake up at night, yes?

Yes, master.

He continued his filthy talk while I started to get the customers from after school and for the first time I realized it comforted me to have others in the store with me. I put on my sweatshirt to cover my cuffs and worked with an easy smile.

————

Ivory

I had to take a moment to consider my movements and give us both space while she suffered her orgasm denial for me. Well, some space. Alright, it wasn't a lot of space but it was an honest effort. I started every morning with a message to her to tell her how beautiful she was to watch, quivering in her sleep with her face flushed in terrible arousal. And that night I kept on my promise. Instead of the whipping post in my dungeon, I took a video of my torture rack and the sound of my leather wrapped cane striking it when I flicked my wrist. And then I went to my other apartment where I could watch her, already deciding I was spending the next few nights there to see her. Poor little Two. So horny. So needy. And all I gave her was cruelty and more cruelty.

I taunted her to the max while considering how best to continue. Her voice on the phone had been broken with real terror and frantic confusion. She didn't know what to feel anymore. I thought one more week of confusion might do the trick and then we could move on to a little different game. I would still leave her confused because oh, how I adored the quaver in her voice. I had cum so fucking hard while masturbating to her voice that day and was blatantly lying to her in the messages. What are you doing, she had asked. Ha. Like I'd tell her the truth. No, I wanted her a shaking mess, wanted her to be scared to go to the subway, wanted her to message me while she walked in all that stark terror.

But I had to do it carefully. I didn't want to break my little Two, never. I wanted to play with her, not ruin her for the future of my desires. I couldn't have a playmate who continuously screamed in traumatic paranoia. I wanted one to play edge games with me while she cowered.

So, carefully. With nice encouragement. It was a tightrope on when to use the gentle speaking and when to torture. And in between those still were the conversations we had that weren't either of those things, where we spoke of hard metal bands and horror movies. She liked all the same things I did and then some more as it turned out. I flinched to consider those conversations actually because... I didn't want to think about why. I only knew that I wasn't going to stop doing them and they were necessary in some way.

I watched her through her denial days, so proud of her willpower. It was obvious that she was in such pain and she messaged me with pathetic begging to ask me to distract her. When I was at work, going through the now dull motions of running my company since it had become so stable, I would take up my phone and answer her kindly. But she obeyed. Beautifully, she obeyed me.

On that third day exactly, I waited until she went to the back room of her store and quietly went in to to set the keys on her counter with a small note I had written for her. "Such a good girl," it read. "Why don't you go and reward yourself and imagine it's me?"

This time, I waited around to watch her in a blind spot outside her store. I saw her stop and stare at the counter... and then beam with a pride that she had well earned. Such a good girl she was for me.

My heart throbbed a little too hard and it was suddenly torture that I didn't want to think too much about. What the fuck was this shit that made my chest feel heavy?

And yet even while my thoughts raged, I smiled when she sent me the video not even five minutes later and it was a full, stupid smile. She was in her back room and she finger fucked herself furiously, bringing herself to orgasm. As I watched, she slapped her clit, her moans so hot they were like a blowtorch to my already crazy fantasies. She came again in a frenzied mess.

And then she did it again. All so quick it made me laugh. Good girl. You passed one of my tests baby. I'm so proud of you. Now, keep behaving for me and be an obedient girl and I'll make it worth your while, understood?

Yes, master!

I laughed at the answer and had to make myself walk away.

I called and tortured her again during the middle of the week, masturbating to her voice while making her talk and listen to my depravity.

But it was the Friday a week and a half after her orgasm denial training that I made my real move. I couldn't stay away from her anymore. Tuesday. Quirky little Tuesday. Metal head Tuesday. Deviant Tuesday.

I wanted her next level. And she was so obviously more than receptive enough to giving it. She gave me all kinds of signs when we were talking, which was necessary when I didn't want to tell her my games because that'd ruin a lot of the fun.

I just took from her and of her. And this wasn't any different. It was who I was, who I always was, but at least she seemed to like who I was. For the first time in a long time, a very long time, I felt accepted, enjoyed even, and it was wonderful. It was something I hadn't known was missing, this feeling of companionship.

It was strange too because acceptance wasn't usually something I cared a fuck about, but this feeling of not being alone in the world? That was what made it important for me.

————

Tuesday

I didn't always have MTG tourneys on Friday. Sometimes I showcased board games and I loved these nights. They were happy nights and I always showed one game that was a short game for casual players and one game that was way more in depth for people who wanted to try out something more complicated and had the time. It was always a success and I could make up the money with snacks and energy drinks alone. It was for these nights that a lot of my free time was spent looking through board game review sites for the most fun and engaging and downright challenging games I could find.

I was beyond pleased when I started closing the store by myself, so pleased I sent my two weekend employees home early because of the major PlayStation release that had come out and I knew they didn't want to be cleaning up at the store. Tate and Jackson didn't ask and they never would but I rarely made them close because it felt cruel somehow when they went to an awesome college and should have some Friday nights to themselves. On the few occasions I did ask them to close, they never had a problem with it. And they were really good at what they did with me. The things I didn't know, they did. Because despite my deep geekiness, I wasn't perfect about it.

And closing was actually kind of soothing. Or it had been before the phone calls. I looked up when the phone rang and felt my body shake with fear. Was it him? I had heard from him earlier that week already so maybe it wasn't. Sometimes people called after hours when they didn't know the hours or when someone left something while playing a board game... I picked up the phone, my hand shaking, my knees going a little weak, and managed to get through my greeting.

"Listen to me very carefully, Tuesday." I whimpered because it was him and there was a tone to his voice that made chills run down my spine. "Are you listening?"

He made it perfectly clear that I was to stay on the phone and do whatever he said with nothing but the intensity in his voice. "Yes." My voice was so hoarse and my tongue was suddenly dry with terror. "Yes," I repeated, a little louder.

"Good. Go to the far right of the store. Pretend like you're walking through the door and go to the very first bookshelf you see. Do you know which one I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

I made like I was following the instructions, going to the front door, trying to sneak to set the deadbolts. Why the hell hadn't I already? His snarl in my ear made me choke out a cry. "Don't you fucking dare. Do what I fucking said and listen to me. If you listen you won't be hurt and you don't want to be hurt, do you, Tuesday?"

My heart thundered. "No, sir." Maybe if I was soft and polite he'd be nicer. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I wouldn't die. I had become ever more doubtful that the caller who tortured me was actually Flatline.

"That's much better." He practically purred it when I broke and obediently went to the shelf he spoke of. My eyes instantly fell on the book that stuck out just a little bit.

It was Death of the Family. I whimpered, wondering if this was what a lamb felt like when it obediently walked to its own damn death and then instantly discarded that thought. The lamb usually didn't know what was up. I could imagine and it was driving me to the edge of insanity. "Open the book, Tuesday."

I shook so badly that it was amazing I could obey him. And when I opened the book, I cried a little. "Please no. Please d-don't hurt me." There was a terrible humiliation in crying and pleading to this person who mostly only laughed at me. But when I saw the eye mask in the book it broke me. It wasn't the serious kind of gear that Flatline had shown off in his videos when he showed me the whipping post and the rack. This one was simple, almost like a sleeping mask. The disconnect made me lose hope that this was any kind of game.

"Do what I say and I won't hurt you. We won't even leave the store, if that comforts you. Put the mask on, Tuesday."

I trembled as I did it but obeyed him, making sure I couldn't see. Which I couldn't. The mask, for all its simplicity, was effective as all hell.

Over a roar of panic I heard the door lock and squealed in fear, but just as soon as I could remember anything to try to take the mask off, try to fight, he was there. And he was big. His grip felt like it could snap me in two. When his torso brushed me it felt like I'd hit a wall, except it was warm. He jerked the phone from my hand and quickly pulled my wrists in a hold. Something abrasive locked my arms behind me, securing me, and I somehow realized it was a zip tie when I heard the sound of it. "There we are, you helpless little fuck."

"Please! Please!" I cried the words out miserably, being jerked in front of him. He manhandled me with no reservations, so that I felt frantic and disoriented and when he finally shoved me forward to a table I didn't even know which table it was. I felt the rougher surface against my cheek and knew it was one of my store's tables, knew we hadn't left, but I no longer knew anything else.

I thought I'd been shaking before but when he unzipped my jeans and tore my shirt, literally ripped it from a weak seam, I realized my fear hadn't made me shake at all. Those little tremors were nothing to the way I vibrated all over, from head to foot.

What was worse? It wasn't entirely unpleasant. And the side of me that enjoyed the fear and the violence was fast reacting to this man, whose face I didn't even know. I tried to keep still, tried to not react. I felt something sharp across my chest and gasped when he cut through my bra, then shrieked and struggled when I felt a cold blade touch my throat. I meant to be good because he was violent and his reactions would be terrifying, but I couldn't stop myself. It felt so cold and so sharp.

"Be fucking still, Tuesday. Be still and quiet if you don't want to get cut. I said I wouldn't hurt you if you listened to me, you horny little whore, so stop flirting with me unless you want some pain that badly." His voice was the worst part of it all. He was violently amused and when he pressed me forward I felt the outline of his cock against my ass and, my God, he was hard for it. I really was turning him on something fierce.

And that, horribly, turned me on even harder. My body responded to him, shuddering even though a knife stroked my throat. He shoved my jeans down as carelessly as he'd taken the rest of my clothes and the knife left for a minute while he knelt. "You kick me, little bitch, and we'll spend the night listening to you beg and cry while I leave nicks from the knife all over you, understood?"

"Yes," I whispered. It was all I could manage for an answer. Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please be Flatline, please don't kill me.

His hands were so large when he pulled my jeans and shoes off, leaving me naked and humiliated. He stood up to press me down onto the table, one hand holding my wrists. The other hand I didn't feel for a moment.

But then he spanked me and I shouted in shock, stunned for a moment. His hand squeezed the flesh where he'd struck it. I couldn't get over how big he was and was abruptly struck by just how tiny I was. His entire hand was larger than the asscheek he punished. And he didn't stop with that one strike. That was just the beginning.

He slapped the other cheek four times and they weren't soft, playful spanks. They were hard and cruel and the violence that he radiated was even hotter when he was striking me. He switched back to the other cheek, his hands hard enough to be like the times when other doms had paddled me. And the blows kept falling, the pain layering with repetition. I tried to suffer in silence, hoping that he would lose interest, and I could take a fair bit of pain, but after 18 when he still wasn't slowing down, I broke from with a wail. "Please! Please, you said you wouldn't hurt me!" I danced on my toes, but in answer to my movement he stepped on my shoes, holding them down with one foot over both of mine.

"I did say that, didn't I?" And yet even as he spoke he kept spanking and tormenting the already heated flesh with squeezes. "Let's see if I'm hurting you, Tuesday, because I don't think I am."

And then he did the worst thing he could have ever done. He thrust two of his fingers into my pussy.

I was so fucking drenched that it was obscene. I could hear it when he filled me and I burst into tears, realizing that my body had never been so aroused and he was controlling it against my will. I struggled in my zip tie, thrashing against the table and I couldn't even tell anymore if I was trying to get away or trying to rub something, anything, against my clit. I just bucked, internally in a maelstrom of torture. "No! No! Don't, please, don't!" I was shouting it, wild and frantic and held down like prey.