Dark as Ivory 3

Tuesday

It took the entire ride to a parking garage but by the time he parked I was a little more coherent again. And it was mostly thanks to that hotter than hell sports car he had that I started coming back to reality. Otherwise I might have just stared at Flatline some more, like a fucking idiot. But when I saw his car, my eyes went wide. “Woah. Bitching ride. What made you decide on it?”

He grinned and then I was talking to him easily because I wasn’t looking at him, instead distracted by the smooth as silk interior. His car was one of my favorite models for my own reasons but I wanted to hear his. And it was easy to talk about that because Flatline and I had enjoyed many conversations, both sexual and not. Distracted by something else to look at, it was easy to talk with him and as the conversation went on while we disagreed on engines and talked older cars and newer cars and sports models, it started to sink in that this was a man I knew. He had fucked me in perverse ways, cut me, made me fear for my life, kept me safe, lecherously licked my tears, castrated me from orgasms for days at a time, and always, always taken care of me with every game.

He took a second to kiss me in the parking garage, smiling again. “There’s my Tuesday again. Come on, baby, let’s go see a show.”

“A show?” I trailed after him, my heels a little strange for me but not uncomfortable. He hadn’t been cruel with those and they were small kitten heels. “What kind of show?”

He laughed at that. “Dearest Tuesday, you haven’t broken my rule about questioning my games yet. Don’t start now.” He pulled me beside him, shaking his finger in a tsking motion. “No ruining my fun surprises.”

I was smiling, still staring every now and again, and even more dangerously enamored than before. God, he was beautiful in a way that screamed sin, with that dark hair and the way his entire demeanor shouted warning and danger. It wasn’t just his massive stature or his obvious muscle build. It was his gait, the way his eyes sharply noticed everything, the way he didn’t ask any questions but seemed to know exactly what he was doing. And the way he glanced at me every now and again when he felt me watching….

Dear God. Even on a date and without the collar there was no way I could forget I was his sexual object to hurt and fuck at will. Even dressed like a princess, I was his slutty masochist of a princess, and any glance he gave me just underlined that fact in bold.

He guided me to a theater, covering my eyes with a flirtatious whisper in my ear, “Just a little longer.” And I had to laugh at his insistence on his surprises but I’d never fight him with those. He only kept my eyes behind his palm while we walked through the door.

The place was gorgeous, but also currently had a strange vibe in the exotic sense of the word. Just like some of the people I saw were… slightly strange. A few of them anyway, the ones that stood out. Most everyone was actually pretty normal, but the attire was definitely formal. Flatline led us to a box overlooking an auditorium, making sure I couldn’t see any kind of indicators as to what was going on. He was in high spirits too, tugging me along with a playfulness like the night he collared me and said he had to kill his private room coordinator.

Was that playfulness… wait. Was that Flatline’s form of being nervous? It was way different than anyone else’s brand of nervous if it was. He was so smooth and easy and of course to him there was nothing unusual about talking to me when he saw me all the time, most often naked.

“My God, you are unfair to look at.” I watched him in our mostly private seating, glad for that privacy. It felt like a chance to breathe and take him in. He had buttoned his suit up and put on a tie, fixing it in his car mirror and it was a deep red one that matched me. To me, female formal attire had so much variety and men’s seemed almost boring, but he for damn sure didn’t make it look boring.

He laughed, talking with me softly in our seats, his arm easily around my shoulder. And I realized that almost naturally I was leaned into him, my body aligned towards his to speak to him. It was all totally feeling based but so subconscious too, a side effect of having felt him while blind for so long. “If you’d look in the mirror a little more often, you’d realize that you are too.”

Amazing. My belly tossed with butterflies. He didn’t apologize for looking gorgeous and didn’t deny it, but I knew he wasn’t a narcissist either. My God, he’d been dating me without even using his good looks so he obviously didn’t need to delude himself about it. He was just confident, in a way that made me remember three goddamned days of his edging torture. “That might be true.” But I laughed. “But I like my sleep a lot too, so I end up rushing past the mirror. Also I can’t see hair colors when I try them and end up with tiger stripes.”

“Dear lord, you tried to dye it yourself? You are not one to let a physical setback stop you from adventure at all, are you?”

He was smiling in a way that made me smile, a way that made me love my impulsive antics. Some people I’d tried to date before I knew myself well enough had always treated that recklessness like a failing, but not Flatline. He approved and it was clear that he did. Of course he might have been biased since that same behavior led me to date him. “Not at all. I could give a little more effort in something like styling though, it’s true. I don’t even have a color excuse for that.”

He stroked a stray hair behind my ear gently. “Oh, I don’t know. I have dreams of those French braids you wear like a little Million Dollar Baby and that Osgood hockey jersey with nothing else beneath it while you serve me scotch or coffee.”

I laughed. “I started buying his jerseys after the octopus thing because he really was bloody brilliant. Okay, what’s your favorite cookie?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Favorite cookie? Peanut butter chocolate chip, I suppose.”

He would choose a difficult bloody cookie. I jumped when the lights went down, catching a glimpse of the wicked little smile on his face before it was dark and the stage was lit. I buried my face in his shoulder, blushing but delighted, when the introduction said the phrase “annual burlesque show”. He nudged me, his whisper insistent. “Really? I release you from months of blindness and you hide your face? Not on your life, Tuesday.”

I grinned and turned back to watch what he wanted me to, knowing it was to tease me all the more. When he got a chance he disappeared for a moment and came back with two small glasses. “Tell me, have you ever had absinthe?” Sparks danced in his eyes, sadistic sparks, and I shook my head.

He lifted a glass to my lips and I obediently drank. It hit my tongue like licorice flavored fire and my eyes went wide with delight. Much like any other intense sensation, it killed any hope of taste for the rest of the night. He fed me both small glasses after that and the night seemed to grow more and more magical with every sip.

————

He had a penthouse suite – but what else would he have – and after our foray of high class, jazzy sex fun – my bad, the proper word is obviously sensual – that’s where he took me, taking me up an elevator and laughing at whatever ridiculous shit I was spouting off. Maybe it was the absinthe, maybe it was that my body was starting to catch up with my eyes and I was getting used to the beautiful sight of him. I wasn’t sure but after watching a burlesque show with him, it was impossible to not feel amped with the sex he had injected me with over the past three days.

He closed the door and turned to me with a predator’s look, taking off his jacket and tie and throwing them over a chair while his eyes stayed on mine, his smile wicked. It reminded me of the absinthe all over again and I shivered, horny and eager. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

He winked and lifted a remote until music played throughout his wide living room. But his music wasn’t jazzy, no. It was edgy and dark, industrial rock that pulsed both sex and violence. “Your turn to tease me, baby.” He lifted the dress over my head, his hands stroking down my sides, his gaze hot when it moved over the sheer bra. I turned with his motions when he manipulated me and my body was forced into a dancing rhythm to the beat from his surround sound, but it was a kind of dancing rhythm that brushed my ass against his cock and I moaned, feeling the length as hard as it was. My body took over from there, arching erotically in his arms because fuck, was I riled up to insanity. It was so easy to tease him like the slut he obviously wanted when I felt so slutty and needy. “More,” I moaned when he pulled away.

He chuckled and came back, but he didn’t grind his cock against me again. Instead I felt my collar at my neck and he clasped it and locked it, having already removed the necklace to place back in its beautiful box. It was mine, he’d said, but I asked him to hold onto it because he could match it while I couldn’t and I was terrified of having something like that, terrified of hurting it. “Such a horny fucking girl you are. But I want a nice tease for me and my little slave serves, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, master.” I practically purred those words while he pulled me to the middle of the room where a chair was and sat down. If it were anyone else I would feel stupid and find a reason to stop. But I didn’t dare stop with Flatline, didn’t dare rebel anything he demanded. I was eager and hot all over, my pussy alive with need, and it was impossible to not feel like a sex object. And then the last reason I couldn’t feel stupid like this?

Flatline never let me have control, never let me take any reins, and he didn’t start with this. Like with everything else, he took over and he didn’t ask. He just did, taking of my body as he willed. His hands moved me to the rhythm and he purposefully arched up so that I felt his cock brush me, which made me whine and grind and tease him as he wanted. When he wanted me bent forward he reached up to stroke over my tits in the bra. I moaned with greed and arched to his touch while he spoke, low and encouraging and fucking filthy. “That’s it. Be a horny little whore for me. My little set of holes to use as I want.”

When he turned me to face him I was insane for him, actually out of my mind. I couldn’t think past the pure need that screamed in me and now that I could see his eyes, had permission to look on his face? I moaned and straddled him like he guided me to, my ass lifted like an animal in heat. I arched the way he wanted and, oh yes, I teased. I licked my tongue across his lips while he growled, his eyes holding me captive. He raised me higher, his gaze traveling down my body with hunger in it, until my pussy was right at his face, the rhythm shaking me. His nose skimmed my sex so that I cried out, breaking. “Please! Please!”

He snarled and undid his suit pants beneath me, pulling them down even while he impatiently pulled my thong off, leaving me in the garter and heels. And he switched up from the chair to his couch, throwing me back onto it, sideways, while he crawled over me. One hand locked over my wrists on the armrest and held them still while the other stroked up my back first and then reached down to guide himself inside of me.

His cock head against my slit made me arch with cries of desperation. I writhed upward, a wild thing in heat, and I thought that after his cruel edging and the show and the absinthe and the pure sexual sensation of getting to see his face and my God, dancing for him? I thought I might have attacked him. As it was my hands made clawing motions in his grasp and my body fought his, but not to get away.

He laughed above me. “Aw, look, you’re like a little cat caught by the scruff of its neck. Are you my horny little pussy, baby?”

I moaned up at him, arching for him, and I was in pain. Actual pain. Everything hurt with anticipating need. “Yes, master, I’m your horny little pussy!” I would agree to anything, do anything he asked, for his cock.

And he knew it. He held still above me, his eyes watching in greedy pleasure at my mindless agony from his build. “You seem to want some cock. And yet…” He mock sighed. “I haven’t even hurt you yet. Let’s make a deal then.” I moaned in fear and dread because I was going to bow to whatever it was and regret it later. I was too far gone to think past anything but the burning need. “I’ll be a kind master and give you this orgasm for free, but each successive one is going to cost you a compounding interest of pain. And needless to say, I’ll be deciding how many you pay me for.”

“Yes! Yes, master!”

He laughed above me. “You’re going to regret that, horny little slut. By the end of the night, you’ll wonder why you didn’t beg for weeks more of denial and edging instead.”

I shivered at the deliciously ominous words and stared up into his eyes as they glinted with twisted deviancy at seeing me brought low, to this point where I would have agreed to anything, absolutely anything. He might as well have been a god-king of my world right then. And I did agree.

He watched me struggle for one more minute and then grinned evilly, thrusting inside of me so abruptly I squealed with the sudden feeling of being impaled on his massive size. But I ignored the pain and thrust up against him. It took two strokes and I howled with release while he grunted, my pussy constricting and milking his cock with my hunger.

And then came what he’d promised. The pain. He stopped his thrusts to bend down and bite my nipples between his teeth until I keened under my breath, hissing from the way he continuously worried the peaks. He alternated back and forth in a circuit until they were sore and then he still kept going until I wished it were the clover clamps instead. But then his next thrusts were bliss that sent me spiraling again. I tried to make it last as long as it could, whimpering in fear even when I finished, knowing that the next pain would be worse and now I was able to think clearly and realize that he was going to make this go for a long, long time. It was a special night, our first real date, and he’d shown me his face.

This was going to be torture.

————

I woke up in his bed the next morning with a moan and he actually had to wake me up. He was as bad as his word, putting me through orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. The last one had been so expensive that he’d had to cock gag me to muffle my shrieks while he caned candle wax off my pussy and tits, pierced my breasts through with needles again, and all while a spreader bar held me open. The spreader wouldn’t have been so bad, except he had placed it on me hours before and held me at the widest setting in his bed. After so long it hurt, a continuous discomfort that quickly went to pain. From the orgasms leading up to that? My ass was bruised and my shoulders had markings from a short stock whip while my thighs had taken the tawse. He would torture me and then deliberately hold me down for a wand vibrator while he said, “Time to cum for me, baby, so you’ll owe me more pain for the next one.” And I dreaded the orgasm build. I started to fight them for fear of what followed, but he was relentless and a sexual god and I always ended up crying out in bliss. And then instantly sobbing in terror when he grinned wolfishly.

He shook me awake a second time and I moaned again, never wanting to move from his bed. It was the black sheets and covers I had seen in his photos and my God, it was more comfy than anything I’d ever felt. Fuck me, but I was willing to even try the continuation of a relationship for the hope to one day sleep with him in that bed. His sheets were like Egyptian cotton or something I didn’t indulge myself in because I once upon a time thought it would be dumb. But laying in it with my body throbbing all over from his torture and sex spree made me seriously reconsider what had been missing from my life.

He chuckled. “I would be a very bad master if I let you continue sleeping, lovely. You have a few extra things to do this morning, little Tuesday.”

Goddamnit. He was right. I had a fucking life and bullshit. I opened my eyes to see him standing above me and he smiled in approval when I nodded up to him unwillingly. “Grr.”

He laughed and took my hand. “Come on. Shower is this way and I have clothes for you. I can spend some of the morning with you, too, and keep you company.”

No. Fucking. Way. How perfect was he? He wasn’t going to do it. No one was kind enough to do that after a sex spree when they could stay in that heaven of a bed.

He fucking did it. He drove to work with me and helped me open the store. He’d even given me a gamer shirt and jeans, which made me cringe to put on over the marks he’d left all over me. And oh God, the marks were torture through the day, a constant source of arousal.

He even hummed. In the morning. He hummed. I didn’t know what to do with him. What, he just woke up with all that sexual energy he continuously had with me? How? I mean, granted, I had the sexual part too because I was a horny fucking slut, but the energy? No, that took coffee. Which I made as soon as I was in the store.

With the coffee came my mental ability. “Master?”

He looked up from one of the tables where he looked out of place going through Magic cards. “Yes, lovely?”

“Does this mean… um, is the routine going to change? You know, how you call and tell me what to do and all that?”

He smiled. “Oh, it will, but I think you’ll enjoy the changes. Just keep telling me your schedules and following my lead. I’m sure you’ll do just fine, my little relationship phobic sub. In the meantime, how do you play this?”

I laughed, but it gave us something to do so I set across from him with some of my decks and showed him, going through the rules and how each card changed those rules. Flatline was a delight to show games to, I soon discovered, and he adored anything with strategy. It wasn’t an accident that he had beaten me at chess that one night. He was good. I let him look through all of my Magic decks, both current and past expansions, to see how they worked.

“Mine mostly suck or are beginning learners’ decks because I sell the truly rare cards from my packs. If it’s a lotus or anything else coveted, I’m not keeping it when it pays for the pack I opened multiple times over.”

He laughed. “Ah, the decision between being a gamer or a businesswoman.”

“Business wins for me,” I answered easily.

I stood up when I saw one of my regulars, glancing back at Flatline when he looked thoughtfully at the door to watch the man pause and then leave. Which didn’t shock me. He was a strange one, not that I could judge that at all. He was overly shy. Usually nice enough, always polite, but he didn’t stay around when other people were around sometimes.

He would either call or come back later, though, because for some reason he got along well enough with me.

I went and sat back across from Flatline, who studied me. “That’s who saw us that one night.”

“Him? Are you sure? Don’t answer that. Dumbest question I ever asked. Of course you’re sure. It’s just weird. I’ve never had him come in at night before. It’s too busy then and he’s too introverted.”

He smiled at my monologue, chuckling when I instantly struck doubt from him. “I’m just telling you. Be careful for me, little Tuesday. I’m becoming a bit fond of having my own personal torture toy, so if you have problems, you are still to come to me. If you end up in danger and I find out it’s some fault of your own, I’ll have to introduce you to some real punishment, baby.”

I shuddered at the thought of his punishment when he’d done everything last night as mere sadistic playtime. The thought of his wrath truly terrified me, so I softly said, “Yes, master” in the meekest voice I was capable of. And then I blinked, watching him go about my store, picking things up. “W-what are you doing?”

“I have to go soon so I’m getting what I want to buy from you.”

I watched in awe. He picked up the only copy I had of the Blackgrave and Darkgrave pack – the one I’d gotten shipped literally the day before – picked up Death of the Family, picked up an MTG starter kit. He also got the first graphic novels in the Sandman series. And I watched, shaking a little in a sudden terrible realization, a little bit of panic choking me.

He nodded. “That’s all for now, I think. What’s wrong, baby?”

“I don’t know how to…” I gestured at the register and then him and then felt really stupid because goddamnit, this was my job.

But… He chuckled and circled around the desk where no one had ever trespassed because I had made the last person who dared to try cry. And where was my assertiveness now? Where was any of me now? “Little slave heart. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around me, going to the POS, his voice slow and methodically soothing. “You do it like this. Go to your transaction start.” I obeyed that mechanically, quivering a little, because what the actual fuck? At the same time my body thrummed all over from what he’d done to me the night before. “Now type in the password to start it.” Again, I obeyed. And he wrapped his hand around mine, moving it like I was his doll again to lift up the scanner. He rang the game and the books… and the cards… using my hand while I leaned into his arms. And then he pulled away to get his card and I shivered once at the absence before he held me again, clicking the manual card option. And he used my fingertip to type in the numbers, finishing it.

And it was over. He left from behind the counter and leaned over to kiss my forehead. “You do it just like that.”

God, I was fucked where he was concerned. Those three words got trapped painfully in my throat and it felt fucking stupid to not tell him when he had to know by now. But he never once pressed it. And he didn’t that time either. He merely winked and helped me bag what he’d gotten before he said his goodbye with one last command. “Get online tonight and play with me.”

“Yes, master.” And I was smiling again, easily.

————

Ivory

My bond with Tuesday turned into something almost too much for me to bear after I showed myself to her. Jesus, the look in her eyes when she turned to me. I’d never forget it. It was singularly adoring and worshipful all at once, with awe all over her features. It was the kind of expression that every dominant soul both hoped to see and never expected to actually see. Almost like movie romance and how real life never played like that.

That’s how Tuesday looked at me. And then after our first date she had asked that one question that almost made me laugh at her, and not in my usually controlled sadistic way, but a way that might have hurt her feelings. Because she’d asked me if things were going to change, if the routine was going to change.

And damn straight it was going to change. After that date I realized what I’d been missing and that was more of her company which I instantly started to demand more of. I made her get online to play a game with me at nights or to make her masturbate while I listened. But then two days later when she had a day off I made her come to the address for the jewelry store I was working at. It wasn’t the one closest to where she lived either but I was in charge and fuck me, but I demanded more of her. My possession was a raging force far worse than it had been with anyone else I’d ever tried to date. I wasn’t for sure as to why that was, but thought it likely the beast inside me recognized Tuesday as the first person who could handle his bullshit, who might be able to take it even when I finally took her to my dungeon where the worst would wait. And he didn’t want her out of sight with that hope. It was driving me a little crazy with the hope and I was terrified I was becoming suffocating, that it would only drive her away.

But Tuesday didn’t complain because she was a miraculous goddamned angel. She laughed when I sent her the address with an easy, “Yes, master.”

And another thing? Remember how I didn’t usually dig on commanding a slave’s dress or appearance or eating habits and all that? I damn well discovered a new fucking fetish. With her and after having her closer, I got all over it, burning for every kind of more control. “Wear your short black uneven skirt with the stockings, your furry boots, and long sleeve leotard that I like. And hair in French braided pigtails.”

I partially waited for a protest to these kinds of things. She hadn’t signed for this bullshit so she had every right and yet still she didn’t. “Yes, master,” she answered easily instead. Yes, master. Always those two words. I didn’t deserve her, would never deserve her, but she obeyed anyway and I was grateful. I was almost scared that I had lied to her when describing how her slavery would go with me, that I would start to command where she slept and shit, but then remembered when she’d been in my bed and how happy she’d been. And I breathed a little easier. Because that’s exactly where I wanted her, right beside me, exactly where the monster inside of me wanted her too so he could roll over and take his advantage whenever we wanted.

She opened the door of my jewelry store, carrying a box and two coffees, and stared in wonder. “So this is another of your businesses.”

I smiled at the sight of her, wearing exactly what I commanded her to. Deepest satisfaction filled me and I took the coffee she kindly handed to me. “This is my main one. It’s a chain actually. You’ll notice I rotate between stores when I call you to visit.”

She laughed in delight and it wasn’t the fake laughter I’d gotten before when showing off my stores. No, Tuesday was the exact same cloth from me in every way so she was interested. “Is this another one co-owned with your brother or just yours? And are there any others?”

I smiled and leaned against a window, watching the workings in the store with her. “These are solely mine. The club is mostly my brother’s and my interest is mostly capital and accounting work there. There is one other, however, that I do own by myself and that’s a fetish wear and toy store, but this one is my main life. Well, in a way. I put so much time and effort into its first few years that it almost runs itself now. I spend my days rotating the stores each week for visits, choose one day a week to go to the fetish store and take calls with the person I have managing it while I’m here. Then I choose some nights or weekends to go to visit my brother at the club and make sure it’s good. My management here, though, are amazing. Heh heh. They’re gems, if you will.”

She laughed at me, her facing shining. “No! I don’t will.” But she was grinning. “Wow, that actually doesn’t sound bad to have multiple interests and with two under your sole ownership, the taxes would actually be decently straightforward.”

“They are, believe it or not, which is why I think you would enjoy branching out. You would just need to train Tate to manage and he knows his shit. I’ve heard him and how well he does and my God, he’s definitely loyal to you.”

She considered that. “A vape store, huh? It does actually interest me.” And her eyes were shining with thought and intelligence. She knew how to open and operate, had done it before, so I knew she was considering where to begin. “Let me do some google work. The clientele would be easy to traverse from the gaming store. You were right about them having the same bloody demographic, but I would have to learn the ordering really quick, which shouldn’t be a problem and-“ She grinned at me. “I’ll see how it goes.”

I kissed her forehead. “I would love to help you, baby. Come on. Let me show you my office. And what’s that?”

She blushed and looked down at the box. “It’s… it’s for you.”

I chuckled at the shy look on her face, the way she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, and the awkward way she fidgeted with the box. I took it from her and smiled, opening it while she followed me to my office.

She’d baked me chocolate chip peanut butter cookies. I smiled my pleasure down at her because the way to a submissive’s heart was partially through her pain tolerance and partially through the words “good girl”. “Thank you, little Tuesday.” And I knew my expression was enough when she beamed, the smile transforming her face into pure angelic beauty. I closed the office door behind us and went to my desk. “Now, come here.” When she was beside me, I pointed to the space beneath my desk where my feet would go, the spot that was hidden by the back. “It’s just Tuesday sized, isn’t it, baby?”

Her eyes went wide in lust from the thought of kneeling and I smiled, pushing her down. No one would see us and this was where I craved to have her while I worked. Well, when she had the day off, that is. I didn’t think I could ever take my Tuesday’s life from her even for my deep selfishness of her. But I could take what was free, and did. She crawled beneath the desk, curling up like my slave should, as if she were a kitten afraid of the people outside this room.

But I had another surprise for her that day. I had finally chosen the perfect leash for her and this moment. It was one I already owned, though I had never used it, a little clasping leash that I wrapped around my desk handle and then clipped to her collar before taking my seat.

My mind was clearer with her at my knees. I fed her bits of the cookies she’d made me while eating the other parts and closing my eyes in pleasure because they were freaking amazing. Whenever I wanted a burst of satisfaction, I looked down to see Tuesday curled in obedience and she lifted her head to meet my eyes each time, smiling in her own satisfaction.

The next time I had her visit I refrained from doing that, instead letting my other employees meet her and talk with her about her own business because she wasn’t just my mistress or fucktoy or something. I might tie her under my desk with a leash but I wouldn’t fuck her in my office, which sounded hypocritical when put next to all the times I’d violated her in her own back room. But my office had other people around and I was too proud of her to reduce her to a sexual creature where they could see. I wanted them to respect her and they quickly did.

But of course I had zero problem turning her into a sexual creature between the two of us. And just because my thoughts were of respect and romance? Oh, it still didn’t mean I suddenly got the dom sentiment of wanting to protect her from myself or wondering why I wanted to hurt her. Whatever created that seemed to be missing entirely from my being because if I ever would have felt it, it would have been with her.

But I didn’t. And I didn’t get kinder. I got worse and worse. The more of her tears I tasted, the more intensity I craved for. Like a vampire, I took of her and took some more, allowing her reprieve only so she could replenish that force to let me feed on it again. A week after our date, I took her back to my penthouse again after work and in my luxuriant bathroom I filled her bowels with uncomfortably warm enema water until her belly bulged from it and the pain of cramps spasmed in her eyes. While she cried in misery I held her gaze with my hand on her jaw and hissed in her face. “You hold that in your asshole until I say otherwise or you’ll be in denial for a week while you sleep with vibrating chastity belt toys in this penthouse.” Her eyes went wide with my cruel voice and she nodded frantically because I’d fixed her with a thick cock gag.

I cropped her thighs while she shook beneath me and she somehow pulled on enough control to manage to not release her bowels.

The next night I made her stand before me warily in my bedroom. “Well, little Tuesday. I think we learned something about you yesterday, about just how terrified you are of the chastity belts and denial training, so I thought we might play a fun little game together. It’s called ‘How high can we take Tuesday in one night? How much of a slut can we make her and what all can we make her suffer in exchange for an orgasm?’”

She groaned and I laughed, starting to fit her in her toys. First was the chastity belt with adjustable attachments. I got a nice thick vibrator for her pussy and a fun little anal toy that not only vibrated but would have weight inside of her. I fitted her to that and then a spreader bar on its widest setting at her ankles. I ignored her cuffs, using a different set to bind her just above her elbows, and those bindings were the ones I roped up to the carabiner from my bedroom ceiling. Lastly, I fitted her with the cock gag that was becoming my favorite. It muted every sound to an arousing amount, reducing her to a body that was to suffer at my delight. And she was that. When I was done, the view was such that my little fae was turned away from my king bed and facing my doorway. I deliberately went and got my book from the dresser where she could see, carrying the controls to both of her toys in plain view as well. And then I lay down and turned them on, flipping to the page I was on.

I left her there for a truly cruel amount of time, turning the vibrators off and on to torture her while small little whimpers of distress escaped her. She danced in her strict bondage and I saw tears when they fell on my bedroom floor. She shifted in her dark hell, poor little Tuesday.

When I finally took her cock gag out, she was begging instantly. “Please! Master, please!” I stroked her between her legs, teasing her around the metal of the chastity belt so that she sobbed even louder.

“What will you give me in return for an orgasm?” I asked it so calmly while she was falling apart, clothed where she was naked except for constraints. Each little thing was another fuel for my power imbalance delight.

“Anything!” She cried it desperately and I smiled. I loved her this way, ready to take whatever torture I would give and so hot that she could take more and more pain.

“Anything? That’s not persuasive at all, Tuesday. You’ll give me that anyway or I’ll just take it from you. Your past doms may have enjoyed your willingness but you’ll find that I don’t need, or sometimes even want, it. Now that I think about it, you don’t really have anything at all to offer me in return.” So cruel, so mean, and I said it in the most condescending and disdainful voice I could.