Dark as Ivory Pt. 03

I turned to see him in the doorway of our bathroom. "Yes, master," I whispered. Because it was. "I love you, master." Because I did.

He crawled over top of me for an answer and was inside me in a second, riding me hard and slow while the sheets chafed across the soreness in my ass.

————

There was also another proclivity he had. He, of course, knew when my period started or was about to start. For a while he left me alone on these days, except to make me hot cocoa or something comforting. Mine weren't bad or anything but they made me sore and he studied me during this like he studied my reactions to everything. And then one day my soreness started the night before I would start, like it always did, and he was waiting for me when I got home, his eyes excited in a way that made me shiver. That gaze aroused me even though my pussy felt sore and raw at the moment and my body was weak all over. The night before was always the worst for me and he knew as much.

He circled around me right inside his door, kissing my temple. "Do you know there's something I've never gotten to take advantage of and indulge in? You see, I had most of my forays in sex clubs and females are there for sex. Needless to say, I haven't gotten to enjoy torturing a submissive while she's already so nice and sensitive from this time. It seems like such a waste when there's so much pain, so much feeling, to be capitalized. But now it occurred to me that I have a little slave whose purpose is to serve me in these ways. And I'm feeling a little romantic actually."

I moaned, staring up at him in dread, knowing this was going to be bad. And oh, it was.

He let me wear boy shorts and a sports bra, telling me that during days like this it was what I would always wear, both red. And his reasoning was ominous. "First, I value the cleanliness like you. And second, well, I don't think I'll need access to piercing needles through these tits or this cunt in order to have you in satisfying amounts of agony while you're like this."

And he knew that. He knew that because he had studied me this whole time. I trembled while he tied me to that throne of a chair, using rope to tether me down with my ankles apart and my arms on the slats that served as armrests. More rope wound through the back slats, holding my torso in place with the figure 8 pattern he wound around me. I whimpered up at him when he brought that cock gag, but it wasn't much of a protest. I was too bowed by basic biology. Ivory chuckled and pat my hair. "There, there, little pain slut. We're just going to experiment a little. Well, I'm going to experiment and you're going to suffer for me."

Horribly, he also dispensed with the eye mask, opting to let me see and for him to see me instead. I watched him warily while he smiled in pure sadism and got an entire range of toys, from the crop and the tawse to the short whip and the small dowel he used for a cane occasionally. "Let's see what reactions we can get from this oh, so very sensitive body."

I quivered but then just waited. There was no fight at the moment, just resignation.

He started with the crop and I jumped in my ropes, whimpering, because he licked it against my lower belly. He worked me over that way and he knew what to do, of course he did. By then he had seen me curl up with a pillow when I slept because it felt nice during that time. He knew where every sensitive part of me was.

And he used it. The crop was torment with even just the small licks he gave me. I lowered my gaze, miserable, and unable to even feel the general sexual pleasure I usually got from his sadism. No, this was all pain and discomfort in nothing but the bad ways. Ivory touched the crop to my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. "Look at me," he said softly, in his intense voice. "I want to see it."

I obeyed, staring into his eyes as a way of coping, his wildly green eyes. My face flamed when I felt tears at the corner of my eyes and I didn't know why the hell they were there. He was being more gentle than ever, though that wasn't saying overly much. Even so, I had suffered so much worse at his hands. He smiled wickedly and switched to the tawse. "Let's see what else we can pull." The tawse made me shiver a little. Now that could be true pain, if applied correctly, and Ivory for damn sure knew exactly how to apply it correctly.

He cracked it on the tops of my legs and I squealed, staring up at him and whining, crying. And his eyes made me feel even more hopeless with the amount of excitement those reactions so obviously gave him. He snapped the tawse down while my nerves screeched with protest at his assault. My head fell back against the chair and I stared up at Ivory. After a few hits, he smiled evilly... and slapped it against my pussy. I screeched instantly, shaking and whimpering and then the tears really fell. They fell even harder when he moved on to the dowel, stroking the cool strip down my legs once before he flicked his wrist and I moaned, my eyes fluttering. And then I felt the horrible mental arousal that came from the fact that this was pure torture. Of course his other nights of agony had been too, but this was somehow even worse since everything already hurt in such a way that I wouldn't be having even one of those mental orgasms. Somehow that knowledge gave me even darker masochistic pleasure than usual. Besides that, there was the pleasure of how effective this was, of being brought so terribly low and having my body turned against me so thoroughly it was almost an art form on his part. The horrible thought of no pleasure or any kind of release at all gave me just enough arousal to edge me for him. "So much feeling you have, pretty girl. So much to take advantage of. I've always admired your gender for the fact that you are made to feel more in every way. More physical sensation and, yes, more emotion."

I stared up at him while my tears fell in those ridiculous, desolate amounts when I didn't even know why. All I knew was that my body had been tired and aching all day and I had dissatisfied a customer which would raise my anxiety on a normal day. And suddenly I knew what he was doing.

Oh, it was partially for his deviance, for certain. He was, indeed, cruelly capitalizing on how much my body could hurt at the moment. But, while that kind of game was generally the only reason we played, there was an ulterior logic this time.

He knew how much I hated being a female, how much it irked me to feel such bullshit emotions that didn't make sense when this time started to occur. He knew also that I shoved those emotions almost angrily aside as best I could and anytime I could. There were things that would normally make me shed tears that I wouldn't break for during this time for fear that it was female bullshit. He had seen it.

And he was giving me an excuse that would be acceptable in my own eyes, an excuse to cry all I damn well wanted. I broke beneath him in the best kind of way, tears pouring down my cheeks in a catharsis that was so much relief. It didn't matter if he saw me cry. Or rather it did matter because he loved my tears, wanted to bathe in them sometimes. He chuckled above me and snapped the dowel against my pussy. Then down my thighs. He struck my tender abdomen so that I squealed the loudest and suddenly I was much more animated and alive and... weirdly happy. It might not have made sense but his breaking me down gave me more energy. It was like I had been so cold and dead all day and his pain was a fire to heat me until I vibrated again.

Oh, it still hurt like hell. I stared up at him to let him see what he obviously wished to see, which was that every strike, no matter how gentle he made it, was far worse during this time. And he loved it, his smile growing with greater and greater satiation at every little reaction. "My God, what a waste to not take advantage of this and use you as a pain slut this way. You can't even get off on one of those masochism orgasms you have, can you?" I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide but I stared into the depths of his and adored him. His gaze darkened and he approached me, his hand curling around my throat. "Take it," he breathed. "Horny little victim. Look at all this pain and it still arouses you, doesn't it? But you can't have any release at all." I'll be damned if I didn't almost reach that point just from his words alone, but my body was just too sore and he was snapping the dowel against my pussy, thighs, and abdomen in sharp, militant snaps. He laughed in my face when he saw that I still couldn't quite reach the point of tortured pleasure, even when my eyes snapped to those strict motions of his wrist and that sight always turned me on. Especially when he was wearing short sleeves like he was now. I moaned around the gag, lifting to the dowel now to try to deal with the tease of pleasure. And I knew that action damned me by the look in his gaze, the sudden excitement that appeared there.

He leaned over the chair, his left hand holding mine in the chair arm while his right stroked the dowel up my thighs. "Have I ever told you that what you just did is one of my most favorite fetishes? The way you just lifted to the dowel to try to chase the masochistic pleasure in your mind away since you won't be getting relief? It's my favorite game to deny orgasms for a week or more until my submissive comes to me begging me for the cane with tears in her eyes because the torture is preferable to the maddening edging. Imagine it Tuesday. Imagine all that fiery lust inside you that I can build up with you and imagine how desperately you would bow to me and beg. Imagine coming home when I'm so casually reading or watching something and you're burning alive and the only mercy you have hope for is for me to torture you."

Oh, I could imagine alright. He had been complete hell when he'd edged me over a three day period, making me hold vibrators to my pussy until I was crying. He hadn't done that lately with my living with him, but I couldn't keep from reacting to the dread and high octane lust it gave me just thinking of it.

He laughed, grabbing me to lick my face. "No more orgasms until I say otherwise. Since it's this time of the month, the first little bit should be a nice, easy start to your denial. I want to see you break for me, Two. I want to see you an insane animal for me."

I moaned but went still so easily, thinking of how he'd given me an out to cry, even around the pride that made me hate my own gender. God, I loved him. But more to the point, I trusted him with my life by that point. I knew it would be a horrible trial, but I also knew that every game we played, no matter how long, always ended up being worth it.

————

Not even three days later, I thought I was already insane. The first day of my period I was bleeding too badly to play much but it was the only day like that, which he well knew. So he used that day to torment me with commands and so soon after his very effective torturing I would obey them and turn heated for him, thinking of his threats and what was in store for me. The second day was a little less of a respite day. He had me stand in the bedroom where he tied me in my boy shorts and held a vibrator over them. He had me fitted with the cock gag and one command and that was to not cum. And the worst part was it wasn't actually a hard command to follow. He used a mercifully low setting and it was over clothing so I had enough control especially after his previous denial training periods. But it was effective, a low humming tease of pleasure that I readily fell to after all of his torment on my overly receptive body. In the way of his usual use of me as his pain slut, he didn't speak to me, didn't give me any other commands past the one. I went to bed restless.

And the third day was when he upped his ante. He woke me early to shower with him and in the shower was when he used my asshole, placing his hands over mine against the wall and growling his reminder in my ear. "Don't cum." I moaned at that, the soreness having left my body, and pleasure was fast in its assault. It rose like a storm, my sexuality hating even small two day breaks from his sex. I was more than ready to ride him to an anal orgasm, but his command held me fast, and I whimpered pathetically instead while he filled me with cum. He dragged me from the shower only to paddle me, but that was so gentle that it only fed me more hot arousal. He left with a satisfied look in his eyes while I shook and shivered. "I want you to go to the room after I leave and hold the vibrator to your pussy for ten minutes. Make sure to get up early to get ready for work and do it again for another ten minutes."

I stared at him in horror even while my mouth opened and said the words, "Yes, master."

He was smiling sadistically when he left and he gave me one last terrible thought to consider. "Once you stop bleeding, I can start fucking your pussy while you're in denial, have fun eating it out, and then we can really watch you spiral to hell."

I moaned in dread, shaking and wondering what game I had gotten myself into. It was as if Satan had leaned over me and purred out his idea of the worst kind of torture for a damned soul and I had agreed to it. I ended up calling Ivory before I even left, just to hear his voice and to beg him for something to distract me with. There was deep pleasure in his words at the sound of my desperation. But he still didn't hurt me. He fucked my ass again as soon as I got home and then again before we went to bed, leaning down to whisper, "I'm going to need to use you all the more for this. God, it turns me on to watch you suffer."

And he did. He woke me up again in the morning to use me and in the shower I whimpered it out. "Please strap me, master, please."

He laughed in disdain. "No, because that was a pathetic excuse for begging. Hold the vibrator to yourself for two twenty minute sessions instead of ten since that was obviously too nice."

I started crying. Denial was true hell. What was worse about it? His casual use of me without my own pleasure being allowed at all made me so fucking hot to think about that it alone would have made the denial hell. My masochism reveled in that type of use and if this was a head fuck, I would have been able to get off from the thought alone. And even worse? His dick turned so fucking hard at the sound of my misery and he growled with delight. "Get to work after I leave and I'll know if you disobey, little slave."

After that I was definitely going insane with it. I edged myself obediently while sending him the video I knew he would want. Then edged again before work and when I left I was antsy and whining, throwing myself into work like before. This time he called me during lunch, purring cruelly in my ear. "I can't inspect my little cunt at the moment so I want you to message me and describe how badly that pussy aches." I did. I messaged him with begging and pleading.

"Please hurt me!" I threw myself at his knees that night and he laughed, placing his boot on my head to make me bow lower.

"Good girl. That's more like how my slave should beg me. It's a pity you already ruined it this morning. No, and you can try again tomorrow. In the meantime, that turned me on." He lifted me and bent me over to chair again, fucking me so violently I would have cum three times if I'd been allowed to. Instead I took it, shivering and whimpering when he whispered menacingly in my ear after he came, "Good little fucktoy. And that's what you are right now. Your pleasure doesn't matter and it's mine that does, isn't that right, little slave?"

Heat and fiery arousal sizzled through me at those words but he knew that and it's why he said them. "Yes, master."

God, I felt like a slave. I woke up to his touch the next morning and my head was bowed in terrified defeat. We both knew my bleeding was over. He took me to the shower again, his eyes eager and intense and I knew what was coming. It was torture when he fed his cock into my pussy and he prolonged it with soft, horny growls in my ear, stretching me deliciously since I hadn't taken his cock in a week. I whimpered with each inch and shuddered around him when he was seated as far as he could go. "Don't cum." He snarled it like an animal. "Don't you dare."

My voice was defeated. "Yes, master." I spread my legs wider, so submissive and in such a headspace with his denial. I let him have me for his enjoyment, opening myself wider, arching myself even while I whimpered soft, pathetic little sounds of unrequited need. He switched to my asshole at the last minute and that was to cum inside of it. And then he knelt in front of me with an evil little smile and lapped my pussy in the shower, laughing when I whimpered in pleasure, delighting in my torture. That didn't last as long but it served to amp me into madness. "Twenty minutes twice again, little fucktoy. Understood?"

"Yes, master."

And it went like that. He fucked me three times a day while I cried. Although that night when I threw myself at his knees and begged for pain, I was sobbing, actually crying and pleading with him, and it made him pleased enough to fetch his cane. "Over the chair, Tuesday. This is mercy for you so I'm not going to help you. We can keep going until you decide you've had enough."

I had to close my mouth tight to keep from begging him to stop when he started, knowing that he'd oblige as soon as the words left my lips and I needed the pain to focus. Each stroke was torture that took the edge off a worse torture and I arched up as a coping mechanism. "Good girl." He cooed it over me, stroking me when I curled into his arms and whimpered. He didn't get any easier with his gentleness.

He made me sleep in the chastity belt with both the anal and vaginal toy attachments instead, making it far worse. Six days became nine where I begged for more and more pain, where he started to make me reverently kiss his cane, where he pet me with that terrible strip of agony. Nine became twelve where my body started to get so confused in the worst ways. I sank into any torment he gave me, readily and eagerly, and our dynamic had turned into something with less talking between us but with far more depth. I started to turn fiendish at the thought of the cane because... here's the thing.

It hurt like hell and at first it was to save me from my own arousal. But then, horrifically, it became tethered with that same arousal it was supposed to be saving me from. I had to start to focus on the pain for it to work at all when I was becoming so goddamn turned on by what he was doing and how effective his conditioning was.

Twelve turned to fourteen and when I went home, my head was bowed in defeat. I was broken and didn't have any hope that he would ever let me up from this because he made it clear time and again that it aroused him so much, as much as it aroused me. And while the defeated feeling was dark, it wasn't a miserable dark. It had transformed me like every other dark thing he did to me so that this was just hopeless desire.

He was waiting for me when I walked in the door and he had me in an instant, his assault rough and horny. He pulled my shirt over my head and threw it while I gasped up at him and then just as quickly fucked his fingers inside of me. The only times he spoke were to torture me with word porn and he did that while I whined desperately. "God, you're always wet for me now. I don't even have to work to make you ready for me when you're this desperate. Taste how wet this pussy is for me, baby." He shoved his fingers into my mouth while I suckled, my eyes closing because there really was so much cum it was obscene. He shoved my skirt down while barking at me to get out of my shoes and then I was lifted against the wall and his cock was free and-

"Mmmmph!" The sound was slutty around his fingers and my mouth parted with desire. Every motion he made brushed against my clit and I shook with the effort of holding off orgasm, of not climbing that ladder of pleasure, and I had practiced so much that it was becoming terrifyingly easy so long as I didn't think about the cane and my wicked relationship with it. Even so, my clit felt swollen, engorged, dying for just that one touch and his permission... but I had lost hope for either of those things and I focused on his pleasure instead, opening for him to use.