Tanya's Wish List Pt. 02 - Dark Day

There is a theme of dominance and submission throughout this story, as well as ENF, CMNF and partner sharing. Submitted under BDSM, but could fit in other categories too.

***

The man in black advanced on her menacingly, brandishing a red hot poker. The woman desperately tried to pull away, anything to escape the unspeakable agony that was coming. Held firmly by two thugs, she could only beg piteously. "Wait, wait -- I can be reasonable!"

"That time is past."

"I'll tell you everything!"

An evil smile crossed his face as he held the hellish instrument an inch from her cheek. "Yes, I know you will."

That, of course, is a scene from "Raiders of the Lost Ark". I've always remembered it with morbid fascination. The woman, pathetic in her helplessness. Terrified, reduced to animal fight or flight instincts. But my enduring memory was the expression on the face of the ruthless man who was about to put her to torture. Sure, he needed information, but he also wanted to do it to her. He relished it. It took me years to understand that I wanted to see that same look on the face of my lover.

I knew I would have to explain it to Michael, and the details of what I envisioned would be a long conversation. But what I had put down as second on my wish list of terrible things was simply, "A Dark Day."

The scene Michael had engineered with his friends had been intense. Troy's participation was especially humiliating for me, along with the fact that there were photos and videos being shared among people of Michael's choosing. It's a sublime thing, having to act normal around people at a restaurant or gathering of friends, knowing that some of them have seen you being sexual and degraded. Although we are extremely sex positive, I liked playing with the idea that I should be punished for being a slut with Michael's friends.

Over several nights we discussed how I envisioned my "Dark Day", and Michael had me write out more details. I imagined a full day where Michael did his absolute worst. No holding back, no going easy on me. Hardcore from the first moment. There were a few specific things I wanted to happen.

First, I didn't want to know when it was coming. I wanted us to live our normal lives, maybe even have a nice companionable day before. But on the Dark Day I wanted Michael to abruptly shake me awake and literally kick me out of bed. Then when all I want is love and tenderness, he should give me a merciless beating. That was the start, there would be a few other scenes I described and Michael was free to plan the rest. The main thing was I wanted it to be completely authentic. I was curious to see how real it could get, and I wanted only a tiny part of my brain to know I was safe. Michael could be as sadistic as he liked -- the more cartoonishly evil, the better. And I wanted him to be as convincing as possible. I needed him to make me truly scared and allow me to access the deepest depths of my submissiveness.

As always, Michael prepared carefully and thoroughly. Not that I knew this at the time, but I sensed it was in the works. As any submissive will tell you, the anticipation is a big part of the fun. Although I'm not sure 'fun' is the right word here. I was actually scared. In our discussions Michael and I had uncovered the idea that I wanted to feel at risk both physically and emotionally. I don't think many kinky people play with emotional sadism. God knows there's too much of that happening in real life. But the love between us made me feel it was possible to safely explore this area. I trusted Michael absolutely, and I felt there could be rewards for going down this dangerous road.

Physical domination is usually the first thing that comes to mind when we think about sexual submission. But power exchange is another big part, and often the main focus for some people. What greater power could Michael have over me than leveraging my love for him? I imagined him threatening me subtly, implying that he might like me less if I didn't perform as directed. Or that his eye might wander toward another girl if I wasn't sufficiently entertaining. The thought made me shiver.

This is not for everyone. I hadn't been sure it was for me, but we decided our relationship could allow this sort of play. Having agreed on that point, I locked away all feelings of safety and security in a corner of my mind. Now I wanted to experience the growing fear as I waited for my Dark Day.

***

Just like the time I went skydiving, I knew what was going to happen, I knew what to expect and it still scared me senseless. Michael faked me out by choosing a weekday. It was a Friday morning, and I was scheduled to work. So when my butt hit the carpet I was so stunned I forgot about the whole thing and just gaped up at him in confusion.

He barked, "Stand up and bend over the dresser."

Michael had shoved me out of bed and I was rubbing my ass, still bewildered at what was happening.

"Up! Bend over the dresser! Now!"

It all came back to me. My heart thumped. It was happening today? Now?!

He was not going to be patient. Michael seized me by the hair, hauled me to the dresser and threw me over it. I was suddenly aware that I was naked while Michael was already dressed. I reached up to brush hair from my face, but he was faster and slammed my hands flat on the dresser. Then the belt, which I heard before I felt it. The pain was so sudden and intense my knees buckled.

"Stand up!"

I immediately straightened, and with no respite the belt landed on my ass again with a loud crack. I fell again, knowing I couldn't take this. I had been conscious for less than a minute and I was already failing. Michael yanked me by the hair, bringing my ear to his mouth.

"Stand up and present that ass. If I have to wait again, I am fucking DONE with you!"

"What???"

"I am going to beat your ass, and if you can't take it I am walking out that door. So long, goodbye..."

Utterly panicked, I assumed the position and begged. "No! No, I'll take it! Beat me! Beat me until your arm is tired! Don't go!" I tried to entice him by arching my back and wiggling my ass. I was shocked by the nuclear level of his threat, and it never occurred to me to disbelieve it. Normally, I want to make Michael proud of me. Now I was in survival mode, desperate just to keep him from abandoning me. I had been asleep less than three minutes before.

"Eyes forward, hands flat," he said menacingly.

"Yes, sir," I said, trying to placate him with complete obedience.

The belt. Hard and merciless. Michael wasn't playing, he was giving me a serious beating. I kept still and cried. I cried hard, from pain, shame and betrayal. But I absolutely could not move or defend myself. I couldn't risk his abandonment. So the belt crashed into my ass over and over, much faster and harder than any recreational scene. Michael read my thoughts.

"You wanted serious, you got it," he said beginning and ending the sentence with vicious belt strikes. A few more and then a pause. "Look at me."

I warily turned my head. Michael glared at me with contempt, the belt raised. "Ask me for more." Tears still flowing, I tried to focus on his face. He lowered the belt. "Unless you want me to leave?"

"No! No!" I cried pathetically. Chest heaving, I caved. "Please... beat me."

"Not very convincing." His disappointment was soul crushing.

I gritted my teeth and steeled myself. "Beat my ass! Take it all out on me -- I'll bear it for you!"

Michael smiled, which briefly warmed my heart. Then it turned evil, and with a sneer he raised the belt and delivered a tremendous blow. It was terrible to see it coming, and the pain was so intense it made me dizzy. But he hadn't told me to look away, so I kept eye contact with him as he rained hell on my proffered ass. It was just like the movie. He was enjoying putting me to torture.

It went on for I don't know how long. Probably just minutes, but to me it was endless. Michael was actually exerting himself, while I was covered in sweat (and angry red stripes). Delivering a final belt strike, he put his hands on his knees and rested. I felt like I had run a marathon, and endured a Roman scourging. But no rest for me. Michael hauled me up by my hair again. "Bring me a towel and a warm washcloth." When I hesitated, he snapped, "Now!" and I jumped to it.

Scurrying back, I found Michael sitting on the bed. He mopped his brow, toweled off and ordered me to rub down his arm and shoulders. I gingerly joined him on the bed, kneeling because there was no way I could sit after the belt, and began tending to him.

Ever have a moment where you see yourself from the outside? I realized incredulously I was comforting a man who was tired out from beating me, massaging the arm that was sore from swinging the belt. And I fucking loved it. My love and admiration for Michael filled my heart at this moment. He was an artist, and his medium was evil.

I desperately wanted to kiss him and receive tenderness in return, but I didn't dare. Instead I concentrated on kneading his muscles, hoping it would make things easier on me going forward. Having caught his breath, Michael stood and took me by the elbow. Brooking no nonsense, he propelled me toward the kitchen. "Make me breakfast. Good little sluts make eggs in the morning."

"Yes, Michael." I hurried to get to work. Naked in the kitchen, making eggs. Eager to please the man who had just taken a belt to my ass. I would have laughed if it weren't for the painful, angry welts.

Michael watched as I gathered ingredients. "You'll only need about half of that. You're not eating." I quickly returned some food to the fridge. When I started on the bacon Michael tossed me an apron. My appreciation quickly turned to self-consciousness because Michael began taking photos. It was a tiny apron, and it made me feel more exposed than simply being naked.

While the bacon sizzled he had me look into the camera for a brief video. After panning up and down my body, he asked what I was doing. The kind of answer he wanted was obvious. I stared soulfully into the lens and said, "Michael just beat me with a belt, and now I'm making him breakfast."

"How come?"

I swallowed my pride and answered, "Because I'm a good little slut." He made a point of showing me that he was sending it to some of our friends.

The bacon smelled wonderful, but none for me. I served Michael at the table and he pointed to a spot next to him. I knelt on the hard floor while he ate. You may be thinking at this point in the story that this doesn't sound like much fun for me. I suppose there's some truth to that, insofar as it's not exactly "fun" in the moment. But it was deeply satisfying, and I loved it. Michael understands there is a difference between being dominant and simply being a jerk. It was all calculated. He was working hard to make me feel debased and make me believe (except for that tiny part of my mind that knew I was safe) that I wasn't pleasing him and was in danger of being tossed away. The reward would come much, much later, when he told me that I really was a good girl. That was what I yearned for more than anything -- being Michael's Good Girl.

That said, I was really hungry. I didn't think I had much room to cajole Michael, but my hunger and the smell of bacon was making a good argument to try. I put a hand on his thigh and looked up at him with big, hopeful eyes. Michael regarded me incredulously. "What are you, a cocker spaniel?"

I decided to push my luck. "Can I please have a little piece of bacon? Just a mouthful? I've been good, haven't I?"

Michael slowly turned his head to look at me, and I realized I had made a mistake. He put down his fork, pushed back his chair slightly... and slapped me across the face.

I crumpled in shock. My cheek was on fire, my ass hurt from the belt and I thought I might have an orgasm right there. Though we had discussed it, Michael had been reluctant to introduce this sort of play. I tried to convince him that it wasn't much different than spanking because I was really curious how I would react. Now I knew. Cowering on the floor, wondering if he would strike me again, I felt so in love I would have agreed to have babies.

Now he stared down at me and growled, "You'll eat something soon enough. Give me that apron."

I divested myself and was once again naked, not daring to move from my knees. Michael seized my hair and put my face next to his plate. "Stay still." He proceeded to finish his breakfast with my nose an inch from his food. At this point I wouldn't have tried to take a morsel on a bet.

Michael pushed back from the table. "Put it in the sink, you can clean up later." I hurried to comply. As I turned back from the sink he was already there and took hold of my hair again. Forced to my knees, I was made to take out his cock and it was immediately thrust to the back of my throat. Maybe it was better that I hadn't eaten.

Most of the time Michael lets me worship his cock at my leisure, which I adore. Long, slow blowjobs with lots of eye contact. When I feel like highlighting my submissiveness I'll take his hand and put it on the back of my head, or rub his cock lovingly on my face. Today was different. He was going to take his pleasure how he wanted, at his pace.

Still holding me tightly, Michael put me in my place both physically and verbally. He told me I was getting not just what I had asked for, but what I deserved. If I wanted to be the lowest form of slut for a day, no problem. I would be used at his whim, and perhaps by others, and I had best shut up and take it. He demanded a response and I nodded pitifully, my mouth full of his cock.

"Oh, and you were hungry. We can fix that." Michael hauled me to my feet and dragged me toward the bedroom. Strange to think of it at that moment, but I actually mused that my day had only just begun.

Michael sent me sprawling onto the bed. He was tossing his pants aside and I began to beg him to be gentler, but he showed me the back of his raised hand. That threat made me cower again and I resolved to just quietly endure whatever was coming. He climbed onto the bed and gave me a dismissive push on my shoulder, putting me on my back.

Looming over me, Michael stared into my eyes with menace. Slowly, he snarled, "Cross your wrists over your head, spread your legs... and SHUT UP." I assumed the position, knowing I was about to be used very roughly. But I had been totally wet and ready from the moment he had slapped me, so I welcomed it.

We often have vigorous sex that makes me feel taken and submissive. But this was something else altogether. Michael lunged into me and it was off to the races. My ass hurt as it rubbed against the sheets and I knew my insides would quickly become sore from this kind of intercourse. But my immediate worry was how not to orgasm without permission. I was out of my mind aroused, and surely Michael could feel it in my extreme wetness.

I need not have worried. As my situation grew dire Michael suddenly stopped with just the tip of his cock inside me. "Don't you make a fucking sound," Michael growled. "I know when you're about to cum, and it's not going to happen."

He did know me that well. In a moment he began thrusting again and continued talking, whispering degradation in my ear. "You love this, don't you? On your back, putting out for me, your slutty pussy getting used."

I nodded feebly and agreed, far off into sub-space.

Sensing I was close to going over the edge again, Michael paused. Normally I could plead with him for an orgasm (usually denied), but that was definitely off the table during my Dark Day. He soon resumed taking his pleasure. I had sagged a bit from exhaustion and soreness, prompting him to admonish me. "Keep your legs spread!" I put my knees up and spread wide, relishing the dirty feeling of doing as I was told.

Getting back into his rhythm, Michael now enlisted me in degrading myself. He directed me to call myself names, to admit my true nature. We had done this a couple of times before, but now it took on an even bigger power.

"What's happening to you right now?" Michael prompted.

"You're fucking me like a slut!"

"You deserve this -- tell me you deserve this."

"I do deserve it!" I gushed. "This is how little sluts should get used!"

"You like it this way, don't you?"

"Yes! It's your right to use me like a whore! Whenever you want! You own me!"

Michael began grunting in my ear. "I'm going to cum! I'm going cum in that little pussy!"

Ecstatic, I urged him on. "Yes! Do it! Fuck your slutty girl! Fill me up!"

Looping his hands under my shoulders, Michael lunged hard. It hurt and I had to force myself to keep from crying out while he emptied his balls into me, using my pussy for its intended purpose. He heaved over and over, milking out every bit of his orgasm while I waited for him to finish. I made sure to keep my legs spread wide and to not distract from his pleasure. I soon felt Michael's weight on my chest as he panted and rested. I felt beaten on the inside and out, but also very proud of myself. However, there was no after-care in my future. This was my Dark Day.

I started to thank Michael, as I always did after sex (I think it's only right for a good submissive to say 'thank you' for being used), but the steely gaze had returned. "Quiet."

I shut up and waited. Michael grabbed his camera from the bedside and sat up at the foot of the bed. I saw the red light wink on. "You said you were hungry. I just gave you something to eat."

My mouth hung open in astonishment as I realized what he wanted. I wasn't shocked that I had to eat cum from my own pussy, despite it being as nasty an act as I could imagine. But rather that he was going to record it. Friends would no doubt see me in this moment of unspeakable wantonness. My emotions whirled and then settled not just on acceptance, but eagerness. Michael had outdone himself again, and I was going to gladly participate in this humiliation.

"What just happened?" Michael asked, surely for the benefit of future viewers.

Shyly but clearly I answered, "You just came inside my pussy."

He gave me a nod that was clearly an order. I reached down and slid two fingers inside myself, finding a swampy mess. I scooped out what I could and quickly brought it to my mouth where I made a show of savoring it. Then I went back for more, and did it again three times. After the last taste I licked my fingers while staring into the lens, then leaned over and took Michael's cock into my mouth for cleaning. He looked momentarily surprised, but quickly recovered. "Good little slut," he said before turning off the camera.

Michael put me to work with household chores while he relaxed. But first he had me set a ten-minute timer on my phone, which I left on the end table next to him. I was vacuuming when it went off and Michael called me over. He was all business. "On your knees, hands at your sides. I'm going to hurt your nipples."

When I hesitated, Michael slapped my face again. I whipped back around and looked at him accusingly, truly shocked. He raised his hand again. "Want another?"

Actually, I kind of did. But I felt it would be unwise to poke the bear. So I quickly went to my knees and prepared myself. I endure a lot of rough nipple play. But like everything else today, I sensed we would be going to unexplored places. He reset the timer to thirty seconds, showing me before placing the phone on the floor at my knees. "After I start, you can press start on the timer. Then your hands go behind your back and stay there. Ready?"

I had questions. Perhaps there were ways I could exploit the rules to my advanta... No! Michael seized my nipples and the pain immediately went to 11. No ramping up, no giving me time to adjust. I cried out and my body twisted. "Stay still!" Michael admonished.