Dark as Ivory Pt. 01

He was laughing at me, damn him, and I hated him for it. "Such a wet little cunt." The words came out a growl of violent pleasure, much like the growls I'd heard when he'd orgasmed while having me speak to him. And damn him for that too because my body shuddered in desire for him at the sound, at how impossibly big he was, at how his energy was pure fucking animal. All of him was something feral and terrible, some wild thing that started the tempest inside of me like a goddamned sorcerer. "I don't think I'm hurting you at all, Tuesday. I think you're a naughty fucking girl who craved a hard spanking."

He went back to that spanking as he brought it up, only this time I felt defeated and broken by his words because I felt like they were true. He was assaulting me and all I felt was pleasure at that fact and hated myself for it. A naughty fucking girl, he'd said. It felt like a brand I had earned, my scarlet letter.

I whimpered and took his punishment for that, thinking that I absolutely deserved it and worse. I arched back and he laughed when soft pathetic mewls escaped me. "Please," I whimpered. "Please, I'll listen. Please, I'm good, not bad."

"We'll see in a second." I heard something tearing but I was dazed and floating in some strangely exquisite hell. I just listened, lost, and not entirely sure what anything meant anymore.

But then I felt the blunt nudge on my slit and moaned. "No... please..." but it was so weak as to be laughable and he did laugh at it.

"Quiet, Tuesday. Look at how you're dripping on your floor for this. God, you're a fucking masochistic slut, aren't you?"

I didn't disagree with that but I squirmed and struggled when he pressed inside of me, choking in shock. "Oh my God, no!" I had had my fair share of kinky sex and I didn't know what was wrong when he started to force into me and I couldn't stop and breathe and think about it, but he hurt me. Even with the amount of cum and even with my pussy more than eager to take him, he hurt. I could feel him throbbing with every inch he slid inside of me.

"Such a tight fucking hole for such a horny whore for me, Tuesday."

"Stop, please, please! Please, it hurts!"

"I'll stop when I feel your cervix. Christ, look at you. You don't even know me and you're such a slut for it that your arching back for fucking more. You'll be begging me for harder by the end of this, won't you?"

I cried. Actual tears of miserable heat, because he was right. I was arching back for more of him even though it hurt. I would like to claim it was because I was trying to get it over with or some other reason like that, but I wasn't sure. He stretched me so wide, so painfully wide that I might have been craving for more of it. "I hate you," I whimpered. And it was the most pathetic sound in the world because his cock made me feel so horrifically vulnerable that I couldn't even summon any kind of real fight anymore.

"Do you?" He moved his hands from where he'd been holding my waist, fisting one in my hair and curling the other around my throat, lifting me so that the angle was even deeper. His next push was a thrust and I squealed with the abrupt force that ground his cock into my cervix. I thrashed on him, writhing. "Do you hate me or do you want more?"

"More! I want more!" Delicious agony and torment were pulsing in waves from where he massaged that spot so deep inside of me, where he humped me mercilessly, as if he had every intention to bruise me inside and out. But the stretch and the fullness and the fact that he was so deep and I couldn't see anything, was forced to just feel him... It all set me off like wildfire.

He laughed again. "Such a whore. Apologize for being a bitch then."

"Please, I'm sorry I was a bitch! Please, I'll be a good whore! Please!" My cries trailed off into needy repetition and my world was going white at the edges. It seemed like the feral pleasure of this should kill me. My heart was thundering and I felt blood on my wrists where I struggled so fucking hard around him, but it wasn't the struggling from earlier. It was a struggling for more friction, a sexual kind.

"Good girl," he said and this time there was condescension in his voice. I whimpered and then he withdrew and I cried out at the loss of him. But then he thrust and I screamed in ecstatic joy, blood rushing through my ears.

His pace was brutal when he started, but I was grateful for it because if I had time to think I would have felt nothing but horror. As it was, it was almost merciful of him to fuck me so viciously because I couldn't think at all, could only feel. He was an animal but I was an animal like him and I imagined a monster behind me, using me like the prey I was. I imagined some grotesque gargoyle of a creature making those soft growls that reverberated through me and my body loved that thought. As soon as the image of a satanic beast crouching over me came to mind, I rocketed up the pleasure ladder, racing to reach the top. He reached around to stroke my clit and I shouted a howl of a sound, incoherently begging. He went harder, faster, torturing me with pleasure. "That's right. Give over, Tuesday. You know how much of a whore you are, what kind of a slut you are. You're the kind that drips so much fucking cum on your floor while a stranger is raping you. Christ, that's more cream than even I've ever seen from the filthiest fucktoys. You're drenching my cock like a goddamned river and you haven't even finished yet."

I hadn't orgasmed yet because I was fighting still, trying to not do that last terrible thing, but his words ripped through me and he abruptly slapped my clit and tugged the piercing there and my world blasted apart. I was dimly aware of the keening sound coming from far away, like a howling little animal wounded in a trap.

I'd had a lot of orgasms and most of them were pretty good. With doms who knew how to play there was always a good few orgasms and when I stroked my clit alone at home, I knew how to do it and came pretty hard and easily. But nothing, nothing was like what the demon behind me did to me. Only Flatline's online forays came close to giving me anything like the one my caller gave me. I couldn't hear, couldn't see, and it felt like the ground had been obliterated from under me. I shattered apart, my mind going dead with so much pleasure.

I came back to him still fucking me, his cock railing me like a piston. I was just barely aware of the trickling blood on my wrists and the feel of his hands softening their hold. "Fuck! Fucking Tuesday, just Jesus goddamn..." He trailed off, riding me through his own wave of bliss while I realized my eye mask was soaked with tears. I moaned, my knees shaking. He stroked me after his finish, his hand tracing a line down my spine, and I sniffled pathetically. "There's a good girl," he crooned. "That's how good little whores act and take it, Tuesday. And I suggest you start using toys to make yourself more ready for the next time I want to feel one of your holes milking my cock."

I moaned again, wondering how often he would want this, wondering if I didn't want more of it. He chuckled to my soft sounds and withdrew. My knees gave way as soon as he wasn't behind me to support me, but he caught me easily and set me on the floor. "Good girl. On your knees where you belong, ready to take some cock down your throat." He laughed again at his own sadistic words, loving the fact that he could torture me with them and he could. He had felt my every reaction to what he said and did from my pussy communicating it straight to his dick. "Now, behave yourself, Tuesday. I don't want to end this on a punishment note and you don't want that either, do you?"

"No, sir." The words slipped out so easily, so goddamned easily it was hateful. My submissive tendencies rose like a tide in the wake of what he'd done and it was true. I desperately wanted to please him.

"Aww. Look at you, saying sir like a good girl. Don't take your mask off. I will tell you when, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He chuckled and I heard the sink start, heard the rustle of plastic. I didn't know what any of it meant and I couldn't have cared less in that moment. "Saying sir like a good girl" he'd said and Flatline knew I said sir all the time, expected it. I was more than convinced that a stranger had given me the most intense orgasm I'd ever felt, had held me down and raped me while I bled from zip ties, but I couldn't even find the willpower to care. I was defeated and there was no fight left.

I jumped when he grabbed me by my hair, lifting almost gently so that I rose on my knees, wondering what he was going to do now. Kidnap me? He wasn't acting like it. Fuck me some more? Maybe.

None of what I thought was the answer. He pressed a soft terry cloth between my legs, gently washing my pussy. I moaned at the feel of the warm water and leaned to him, wordlessly begging for more of his almost gentle care. Almost gentle, because violence still sparked through his every mannerism, like a leashed beast waiting to get out and play again.

In answer he chuckled. "That's a sweet little girl. See how kind I can be to good little whores who behave themselves?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

"And you are my good little whore now, aren't you, Tuesday?" Soft menace coursed through the words expectantly.

I moaned but answered with what he obviously wanted to hear. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I was kind to you this time since you were startled, but next time if you go to try to lock me out when I call to give you directions, I'm going to leave you with cuts on your tits and I'll hurt you too badly for you to come. No orgasms and a lot of pain, Tuesday. I don't want that." He said the last bit with such twisted sincerity that I shivered. "I don't, little Tuesday. I'd rather torment you some and feel you milk my cock when you cum so hard I have to cover your mouth. You don't get any more leniency. You obey me like a good girl next time, understood?"

I closed my eyes behind the blindfold, feeling more tears escape. Because his voice made it obvious that there was definitely going to be a next time. I both dreaded it and was shaking with desire for it. "Yes, sir."

His lips brushed my forehead and it shocked me so much that it almost scared me. He laughed. "But if you be good for me, be my horny little whore and obey me, I'll be so very kind again. A little spanking, some easy pain with a paddle or belt, some clamps, and you'll cum all the harder for it. You know that's true, don't you, Tuesday? That you're a little pain hungry whore?"

I moaned because my God, it was definitely true. I could still feel his hand searing my ass and all I could think of was how a cane might feel in his hands. "Yes, sir. I like canes and whips and straps, too."

He laughed. "Of course you would. But you have to be good if you want the nice kind of pain, understood?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Such a good girl when you try to be. Now, I'm going to cut you free, but you don't move. I want you to stay kneeling right here. I'm going to give you your store phone and when you hear it ringing you may take the blindfold off."

"Yes, sir."

He cut the zip ties and left me there with the phone in my hand while I still knelt on the storage floor, still blind and submissive where he left me. When I was sure he was gone I whimpered pathetically, "But someone already owns me." And then I felt weird that somehow the first thought I had after enjoying what had happened was that I was pretty sure it wasn't Flatline and I was somehow cheating on him. Not the sex. That didn't feel like cheating because we'd both said exclusivity wasn't a priority. But the kink? The hot intensity? That felt like cheating.

It was a while before the phone rang, so long that I wondered if he had forgotten about me, but I didn't dare move from my knees where he'd left me. Not after his terrible threats to torture me if I didn't obey. I jumped when it finally rang, having fallen down into a dark, submissive world.

"H-hello?"

He didn't answer. He hung up and I lifted the blindfold with shaking hands, holding it close to my chest and staring in front of me at the back door to my storage room. It wasn't fully closed and hanging off of the door handle was a plastic covered dress, like a fairy's night party dress. The top of it glittered like a dream and the bottom flared out adorably. A jacket went with it since it was sleeveless. The tatters of the clothes I had worn to work were gone. My gaze went back to the floor and I swallowed at the sight of all the cum I had left there, so fucking much of it. Almost mechanically, I stood and got dressed in his gift, which was stunningly comfortable, albeit a little mismatched with my favorite flats I had worn to work. But then I realized he had left sandals with it too, set to the side, and I put those on instead, feeling a weird disconnect between the act that had just happened and my beautiful new clothes. I was like a princess, but the filthiest, sluttiest whore of a princess at the same time. I cleaned up the back storage room in a daze, using hard cleaner, and left.

————

The subway ride brought me a little back down to reality, although it still felt dream like and my dress was an overdress to say the least. When I got off and went upstairs I was in a strange mental place of the darkest submission I'd ever known. The sheer violation and violence he had visited on me was astounding. I jumped at everything, even the sound of my door lock and it felt like a fucking useless act to lock the door back. I did it out of habit and statistics anyway.

I turned on my PlayStation, wanting a stupid game to play, something cute and colorful and silly to comfort me, but then when I started it and added a few friend requests, I didn't start any game at all. I made a party as if to talk to someone to help me think of something, anything else, and then I didn't. Instead I went to my bedroom, in the same routine as usual, and went to change from my work clothes. But then I didn't do that either because when I looked in the mirror and saw myself with a shellshocked gaze and wearing the crazy beautiful dress, I couldn't take it off yet. I was his whore and this was how he had dressed me. I couldn't take it off yet. I couldn't...

I looked at the TV screen and saw someone in the party I had made, one of the new people who had added me. The handle was JohnGalt with some numbers and I smiled at the reference, picked up my headset and turned it on. "Hello," I said it and it sounded human.

The chuckle in my ear made me freeze and I moaned in dread. "Hello, little Tuesday."

"No. No, please. No more." I begged it of him even while my pussy throbbed. I was already starting to feel sore and there was pain from his brutality but my body reacted to that with fiendish delight.

"Oh, but yes, Tuesday. A little more. I'm sure you can take it. That was so hot that I got home and had to play again."

"It was." I couldn't deny that anymore. I had never come so hard. Never. "But..."

His voice shook in my ears with his arousal and I sank to my knees on my carpet, automatically falling back under the waves of terrible submission. "But what, Tuesday? Did I traumatize you, little whore?" The words were coolly mocking.

I hated how right it felt for him to call me that, especially ‪this night‬ after what he'd done and how I'd loved it. "No." I didn't actually know what trauma was but wasn't sure if it could possibly come with these dark feelings of filthy desire. And also I didn't want him to have affected me so hard so I'd take any denial available to me. "No, I'm fine."

His breath shook and I whimpered, closing my eyes and thinking of that monster I had fantasized about. I pictured that demonic creature stroking his cock in profane lust and grabbed the blindfold from my backpack. I tied it between the headset, painting my world black.

And then I reached between my legs because the arousal there was already rubbing against my thighs. And I wasn't disappointed. When I dipped a finger into my slit, it slid as if I had covered myself in lubricant. And then it was my breath shaking in his ear while I flinched from the pain he had left.

He growled at the sound. "What are you doing, Tuesday, and don't you dare lie to me."

"I'm wearing your dress and blindfold and fingering myself while you stroke your cock." They were dirty talk words, but I didn't say them in a dirty talk voice. I said them in a whimper borne of my terror for him and how he might hurt me the next time if I didn't obey and say what I was supposed to in exact detail.

"Such a greedy little whore with a greedy little fuckhole. I was going to ask if you'd rather I ask you questions to make you talk while I jerk off again, but maybe you'd rather dispense with all that and cum for me while I talk to you instead. I don't care one or another, Tuesday, and I don't mind telling you outright that I'm jerking off to the sound of your voice while thinking about how your pussy looked being forced open and ruined on my cock. And you loved it."

I gasped, moaning at his filthy words and how aggressive he was. He had a hard edged dom voice that he used all the time. I had had other playmates but none of them came close to this man's level of domination. He was all encompassing, consuming and suffocating. He was a raging wildfire to be near and he had blown my world apart, had wreaked havoc on my day to day life. "I didn't like it," I whispered.

And he laughed evilly, cruelly. "Lying little fuck. Tell me you loved my cock hurting you, Tuesday, or you won't orgasm next time. Say it right now and you'd better convince me."

"I loved your cock hurting me!" I said it desperately, with so much shame it hurt, but I craved more of that orgasm. What was more I was scared he had ruined me in some way. Not my pussy, no, but I was scared that if I went out to get laid with just a vanilla one night stand, I wouldn't be able to orgasm at all anymore.

He laughed again and I was starting to hate that laugh. It was only ever at the expense of my humiliation or suffering. "Now tell me you're my greedy little whore."

I obeyed, thoughtlessly lost to the pleasure, rubbing my clit now. "I'm your greedy little whore."

"That's right. God, you came so fucking hard you passed out from it. Cum again for me, Tuesday. Let me hear you. Fingerfuck that sore little pussy while wearing your pretty dress and cum hard for me." I filled myself up with my fingers and cried out to his command, my body alight with nothing but sensation.

His breath turned quick in my ear and I heard that growl and now I knew that meant he was coming because that's what had happened when he'd fucked me. "Good girl," he said softly and his voice was replete with satisfaction. I lay on my floor right where I was, having felt too much too quickly, and reached up with the blindfold still on to grab my throw blanket. "Did you find the medical cream?"

I cuddled in my dress, thinking I should take a shower, and then thinking I didn't deserve a shower after how filthy I was. No, I deserved to sleep with this feeling of being dirty down to my soul. "No, sir. I didn't."

"Ah, you need to get it tomorrow and use it, Tuesday, understood? It's laying on the table in your storage room."

How the hell had I missed that? I would have to go in early and find anything else that escaped my attention. "Where do I use it?" My voice sounded far away to me.

He chuckled in my ear. "Your wrists, little girl."

Oh. Right. Because I had chafed them to bleeding trying to escape and then again when I orgasmed. "Yes, sir."

"Goodnight, Tuesday. Remember to get it. I'll know if you don't behave and then, well, you won't have as much fun next time. I will, but you won't."

I shivered. "Yes, sir. Goodnight."

And then I was out. But I woke up only a couple of hours later, sitting up in my floor bolt upright and thinking. Thinking. My pussy was so freaking sore. I had never felt anything like it and I wasn't a choir girl. I hadn't done a ton of fetishes but more than most probably had and I had experimented with toys a fair bit. But nothing had felt like the pain of his cock forcing me open. Of course, after the pain nothing had felt like the pleasure either.