Dark as Ivory Pt. 01

I don't know how I didn't piece it together before then. I felt like an idiot because it would take huge cock to make me feel like he had and I already knew whose cock was big enough. I broke into a crazed grin and then into gleeful laughter. It was Flatline.

It was motherfucking Flatline. The John Galt reference after I had already told him my first masturbation discoveries were to The Fountainhead and Dante's Inferno. And the fucking horse cock. The head fucking. I jumped up and ran to my room, laughing and so fucking horny I couldn't see straight. I got the permanent marker and wrote Flatline Whore on my tits again, got a wine glass, and then messaged Flatline back where he had already messaged me earlier with something about movies we both liked. But I didn't tell him that I knew now because it didn't work like that. He controlled it and he was fucking fantastic at control. That menacing voice! It was one in the morning but it was Friday and I knew, just knew he would be awake all night if I flirted at the moment.

Are you there?

There was exactly a minute delay before he answered. Yes. Late hours, Two.

Two. I grinned because damn him, damn him, and damn him some more, but he was a god. I wanted to worship him for how he'd been brilliant about every fucking step. I was giddy as all hell. It is but I was thinking about something and I couldn't sleep.

I wondered if he was smiling, reading the message while he was laying in bed or doing whatever, his attention slowly being taken by me because he knew me by now. He knew when I was coy it meant I wanted to play.

I see. And what were you thinking about, Two?

I stared down at where my tits said Flatline Whore beneath the pretty dress I wore, his beautiful gift in replacement for my over worn work jeans and gamer shirt. I was thinking about when you told me the hottest humiliation fantasies you had, like deep torture humiliation, and I was thinking about your whipping post and fantasizing. Would you like some videos?

I placed the cuffs on my wrists while I waited for his answer, locked them, and threw the key on the edge of my bathtub. After that I took off my dress and kept the heels he'd given me on. I'd have to be careful with those and the cuffs with what I planned to do but he'd love it. I was feeling fucking filthy.

I see we like the whipping post. I'll have to remember that when you're screaming in the dungeon and begging me to stop. I'll have to remember that you don't mean it and remind you how much you love the post. Send me the videos, naughty fucking girl.

I took the videos, making sure everything was right. For the first one I pissed for him in the wine glass, kneeling with the camera angle showing off my cuffs and heels. I lifted the camera so he could see my tits with the humiliating script and lowered it while I finished my light watersports display.

I sent that one and then took the second one and in that one, I drank it. I took pictures of me lifting the glass and sipping and then took a video of me laying in my bed still with the heels and cuffs and my legs spread wide, my pussy still swollen from his abuse. I greedily drank it down, my throat working, and I licked my teeth, smiling sweetly while I waved playfully at him. Because I knew it'd drive him wild. I'd heard the desire and uninhibited avarice in his voice on the PlayStation chat so I knew that he'd burn to feel me beneath him again if I pushed him like this. He had made me so fucking crazy and now I wanted to make him a little crazy, drive him sexually wild.

He was silent after I sent the first video and I was grinning when I sent the second. The ... disappeared and then went silent. But I waited, knowing that the longer it took the hotter it would be. And in the meantime I was already thinking of other things I could do to torment him through the weekend. After this I thought that maybe he'd be spending the night wherever it was that he watched and stalked me from.

He sent through the answering message 15 minutes later and it was a video in his dungeon again. My heart jackhammered with the desirous flame it started just seeing that dungeon. This time the video he sent me was a chair and it was more of a torture throne straight out of Saw or Hostel than it was a sex chair of any kind. It was wooden with a slatted back to better tie his victim down. And sure enough an exact copy of my cuffs were roped to the arms. More rope lay coiled, wrapped around the slats threateningly, as if waiting for me. This time he seemed to have his phone propped at an angle because I heard movement off camera, heard something hard tapped against the concrete of his dungeon floor and flinched, knowing it was something terrible and evil without even being there or seeing it yet.

It was. It was a rattan cane. The last cane he had sent me a video of had been a leather wrapped horror but this one made me truly shudder. It was made for real play and torture. I had felt the cane a few times before, but I knew now that however bad I thought that was, Flatline would be four times as bad at least. My other playmates had nothing on him. They might as well have never existed next to the purity of his sadism and the level of cruel games he liked to go to.

He teased me again, stroking that cane up the chair slats, gently sliding the end of it up one side of a chair before his wrist flicked, a casual little horror of motion, and the cane snapped loud against a slat, making me jump and moan. My pussy pulsed for him and I was needy as all fuck, but it was all for him. Because I really appreciated Flatline for the level of the game he had given me, for how careful he had so obviously been in hindsight, how he had taken both of us to an edge that I don't think even he had been before. That took guts and balls and, in some strange way, a little bit of nurturing personality to do something like that. I didn't know his name, no, didn't even know what he looked like but I suddenly had to admit that I had respect for him. What was more, I had an odd trust for him that felt somehow deeper than it had with any other partner while still being in a tenuous, building stage.

I was eager to feel that godawful strip of a cane that snapped so cruelly against the chair when his wrist so carelessly twitched. The motion was nothing to him and he teased me with it again and again, but it would be everything to me when I was tethered and suffering and at his mercy when he had none.

No, that wasn't right, was it? He did have mercy, but when he was torturing he made it seem like he didn't, like the hell would never end. But when he'd fucked me tonight he'd left me with enough merciful clues to let me find the way. He'd used a rubber, for God's sake, even while he made sure I was too terrorized to be able to wonder why a stranger raping me would bother with a condom.

I felt even more aglow from the video of that cane, watching while he circled around the camera and went to the other side of the chair and tortured me with more teasing, loud strikes. He stayed out of view still and I liked him even more for that.

After the video, I backed out and read his message. It was another with emojis, the devil one again. You're playing with fire again, Two.

I can take the heat. I repeated that message from before, recklessly, flying high on the wicked, dark lust he inspired. I was fantasizing the piss was yours.

Fuck me, that's a turn on. Yeah? You like thinking of being tethered to the post until you're screaming and then having me let you down so you can kneel for a break, only to have me break you down even farther and use you like a piss slut instead?

Yes! I was fire hot from the idea of his torture, of his pure degradation. I was horny as hell on the thought of being brought low. I love thinking about having you use me in ways even lower than any other slave or playmate. I love thinking about being degraded and brought to the worst of humiliation torture. I sent that and then thought for a moment and sent another. Do you want another video?

Yes. That was it. Simple and I wondered if that meant he was taking another video even while I was.

For mine I got his terrible butt plug and this time I had to lubricate it. My pussy was still too sore from his fucking, so I broke and used the lubricant even though I hated lube with my anal. I had to get creative for something to set my phone on, eventually propping it with books carefully arranged and hoping it wouldn't fall in the middle of my video. I used a pillow for a point of reference in positioning myself, then started the video recording and went to my bed with my ass to the camera and my face down, my legs spread wide for a full view for him. I could see the image in my phone just barely from where I lay since I used the front facing camera and knew it was exactly perfect. I double checked and then went to work with the harsh toy, ignoring my pussy entirely because he'd left it so fucking swollen.

Christ, that cock. He was a monstrosity. I forced the toy the way he would want, without mercy on myself, daydreaming he was here with me again. I fell back into a place where I could feel his hard chest again, like a wall or a concrete cage and just as unforgiving.

A cry escaped me when I shoved the toy particularly deep, imagining it was him, knowing he would be even more painful in my asshole. He would be like nothing else I'd ever felt, like no one else. I worked the toy in a torturous rhythm in and out of myself, thinking of being in that hell of a dungeon, knowing that most other people would run at the sight of it. It wasn't a baby player's dungeon. It was a hard, sadist's torture chamber. I cried out again and this time it was a word. "Please!" I cut off self consciously because he wasn't actually hear for me to beg even though I was making him a video. I bit my comforter, one hand working the toy while my nails clawed into my knee with the other. I felt a sharp little pain with how hard I accidentally scratched, shoving the toy particularly hard, seating it inside of me. A little tickling feel made me aware of the small amount of blood that came from my clawing.

But I didn't leave the toy. I withdrew it painfully and fucked myself with it, whining softly. I'd never cum from solely anal stimulation, but I was about to. I could feel it right there and had no desire to touch my clit and make it too easy. I imagined him again instead, whipping me while I writhed, making me cry and scream for his pleasure.

"Please!" This time it was a shocked yelp and I came so hard I felt like screaming but bit my comforter again instead to keep silent. It was nothing like the nova orgasms he could give me in person but my God it was still better than anything else I'd ever felt and he wasn't even there with me.

I turned to the camera, post orgasm flush covering me, and I grabbed the other things I'd gotten from my bathroom. Two clothespins that I placed on my nipples, right under the words "Flatline Whore".

The video was long when I went to it but I cut down the first little bit of setup and was pleased as all hell when it sent. It was just short enough to send and I felt a surge of relief that was kind of astonishing for being over something like a successful video message. But it was a video I knew he would love and that made it a delight.

He'd already sent me his by the time I did too and I watched it.

"Oh, God." It was actually two videos. The first was of him pissing in a cup, a large glass one. The second was of the whipping post again. He held the camera the entire time for this one, sitting the glass aside while he got a funnel like thing from beside the post. The next image was a close up of the cock gag and that was when I moaned in desire.

It was hollow and the funnel was an attachment.

Which he made clear when he screwed it in before he got the glass of nearly clear fluid and poured it through the funnel. I closed my eyes when I heard the sound of the liquid hitting the concrete, imagined my toes dancing on that cold, intentionally cruel floor while I was forced to drink whatever wine he wanted to force feed me. He would have me in agony by the time he graced me with it, I knew, so that I thanked him and worshipped him for such a depraved reward while I was lost and trembling in pain fueled subspace.

My phone chimed and I fell back on my bed, reading. You goddamned tease of a fucktoy. I swear to God, Two, when I have you under me I'm going to make you regret this. I warned you that you were playing with fire so you are to suffer what I give you when I give it to you and I don't want any fucking complaining when it happens.

Yes, master. I have a question. I grinned up at my phone, thinking of how to push his buttons. I've never been a D type. Does it gall you in moments like these when you can't touch me and hurt me and make me suffer for pushing you the same way it galls me that I can't beg for your cock right now?

My phone was silent and then he sent me a video. It was him masturbating again, the heart ring glistening where it always was, as if he wore it all the time. My mouth watered for his cum when it spritzed out of his cock. You have no idea, Two.

Good! I would hate to be alone. I sent him angel emojis, knowing it would make him laugh in that deep, commanding voice he had. He flirted with me all night, driving me wild, telling me things to do for him in videos. He had me take pictures of my asshole after I had tortured it, pictures of my pussy while I spread it open for him to view. He taunted and threatened me that he would turn me into a pain craving fucktoy, that I would beg readily for sexual torture, that he would condition me so hard and often that I would orgasm from the strap or cane on my clit.

And I was going to keep fucking with him, I knew. That made me a bratty little submissive, but the ideas I had were games I definitely thought he would love based on games he had already told me about, fantasies from when he had even first starting talking with me. I went off those, grinning, because I owned a game store.

Which meant I loved games and his were more thrilling than any I'd ever known.