Exploring the darkness

more selfies from earlier during patreon-tutorial time (▰˘◡˘▰)

The house is dark when I get home from work, but Daddy’s car is parked in the driveway. This never happens; we are both night owls, and never miss an opportunity to greet each other when we reconvene at the end of the day. I feel a flicker of dread. Is he sick? Worse? Did we lose power? 

I walk around the house, half-expecting to find him stargazing in the back yard, but find no signs of life inside or outside. I call for him as I walk through the back door. I hate the silence that follows.

I also hate our basement. I hate all basements, with their claustrophobic darkness, forgotten clutter, muffled acoustics. And it’s the dim basement light I finally see peeking from a crack in the door. I yell again, but it goes unanswered. Again, I feel a flutter of worry - for him, and for me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve walked into a well-laid trap.

Daddy, of course, has no such qualms, and uses the basement for occasional dart-playing, woodworking, and other forms of blowing off steam. But why isn’t he answering?

I take the first step and it creaks like a horror movie.

God, I hate this basement. 

My heels click down, one slow step after the other. I always feel like someone will reach up and grab my feet. I get chills every time. It’s been like this for years. No amount of uneventful trips to a basement will calm the fear; instead, it just makes me feel like I am one time closer to meeting my fate.

“Daddy?” I hear a hint of both irritation and fear in my voice this time, but it’s nothing compared to the fear that slams up through me when my query is met, this time by a voice from the dark corner.

“Don’t move, bitch. Turn around and put your hands on the wall, ” the voice says. But whose voice? Daddy, surely, but he sounds… so different. I look toward the corner and am reprimanded immediately. “I said turn the fuck around, slut! Do it now, and don’t say a fucking word.“ 

I obey, turning to face the cold cement wall, walking my hands up over my head. My heart thumps in my chest and ears. I can hardly bear the anticipation.

I process what’s happening - or try to. In my quick glimpse in the corner, I saw him, a hooded figure, Daddy-sized, wearing a full black mask. I am 99% sure it’s him - who else could it be? - but the 1% tears at me, just like I know he would want it to. 

I’ve heard him bark orders, I’ve been called every name in the book, but I’ve never heard that tone: don’t move, bitch.

I hear his footsteps. I become acutely aware of my incredible wetness, knowing he will soon make this discovery for himself. My bitch cock throbs, following the same accelerated rate as my heart hammering in my chest. 

I want to speak, to turn, but I don’t dare. Before I have time for another thought, his hand grabs me by my natural leash and pulls hard, jerking my head back. He puts his mouth to my ear, removing any doubt of the identity of this masked man - I would know these hands and lips anywhere. Chills course down my body. Hairs rise, head to toe. Fuck.

“You can make this easy or you can make this hard,” he says, my body bent to his will. “Either you’re going to be a good little slut and do as you’re told, or you’re going to be a bad little slut and get punished. Regardless, I’m going to use and abuse you for my pleasure, as I see fit.“ 

I almost cum from his words, from his breath, from this new tone, the urgency in his voice and his grip. What sparked this in him? I feel a full-body ache, butterflies fluttering. 

"Strip, bitch. Slowly. I want to watch you. And remember: do NOT turn around or say a word.”

Hands shaking - hell, body shaking - I slowly remove my work clothes. I’ve stripped for him so many times, in so many locations, but this feels new. I feel his eyes even while my own eyes hold on the dimly lit concrete in front of me.

When I’m down to my panties, he orders me to stop, and yanks my wrists behind my back. Reaching down, he bares me in his own way, ripping up instead of pulling down, roughly forcing the fabric through my fuckslit, jerking to tear the thin strap of material. I hear my own exhalation of surprise and utter hunger. 

I’m quickly cuffed and blindfolded with a black satin mask. He gags me, sealing away any words or questions once and for all. The straps are snug around my head. I follow him with a slight stumble as he leads me away from the wall by my wrists, pulling them painfully high behind my back.

I’m surprised to discover a mattress in the middle of the darkness. 

“It’s time to give Daddy what he wants,” he says. I wonder how long he’s been down here, waiting for his prey. 

He tells me to lean forward, press my face to the mattress and get my “slutty ass” in the air. His feet kick my legs open as wide as they’ll go. I’m so wet that I can feel it on my thighs. Sensing this arousal, he runs his hand between my legs, grazing through the wetness, and scoops it up with his fingers to smear across my face.

“Such a horny, greedy little slut! Cunt dripping already and I’ve barely touched you yet, bitch.”

Almost before he’s finished saying that, he’s sliding an 8” faux cock into my cunt. “Now, you’re going to hold this in place and do NOT let it fall out. Do you hear me, slut?” I nod my assent and try to say “Yes, Daddy” through my gag.

He laughs, tells me he knows I’m going to fail because I’m so wet and dripping already. Then comes the sting of the flogger, another familiar sensation, the long tails striking me just over the dildo, causing it to be sucked even further into my hungry cunt. He lashes me. Again. Again. Again. I clench as hard as I can to trap that cock, to prove him wrong. If it moves, I clench harder. With each fresh whack, my cunt grows even wetter. I whine in my gag as the cock slips halfway out. Daddy shoves it back in.

“I said do NOT let it fall out, slut.” He starts fucking me with it. Nice and slow at first, then he picks up the pace, shortens the strokes. Then deep, hitting my cervix. “Don’t you dare cum.”

I retreat behind closed eyes, try to find my safe place, somewhere I can concentrate and not fail him. But it feels so good. I can’t keep the explosion at bay much longer. I just have to hope he’s merciful. I’m almost embarrassed by the needy whimpers I make.

Instead of mercy, I get fucked harder. 

My hands claw air, my head shakes side-to-side, knowing my release - and my failure - is close. So fucking close. Please, I think desperately. Maybe he will give me permission if I beg behind the gag. He pulls the cock back and shoves it back inside one last time, harder than ever. 

“No, you may not cum, slut,” he says, a step ahead of me as always. He smacks my ass, then cools it off with a dousing of lube down my crack. I secretly pray that he’s not going to use that huge 8” toy in my ass. He starts fingering me - with his middle finger.

“Now remember: don’t let that toy fall out of your cunt,” he says with casual sternness, while my entire body is on fire. 

He works his finger in, twisting and turning, deeper and deeper. He taps on the end of the dildo that’s buried deep inside my cunt. I’m overwhelmed, but before I can seriously think about begging for permission to cum, he pulls his finger out and slides in his thumb. Then his other thumb, side by side, in and out. There’s always something inside me, stretching me. I’m dying inside. 

“Daddy,” I say, or try to say behind the gag. He ignores me, and lubes me up again. I feel something cold. 

“Remember what I’ve always told you, baby. Relax.” Oh, God. This can’t be good. I feel the head of a new toy - which toy? - start to enter. I clench, and get smacked, and reprimanded. Relax. I bear down like a good anal whore. He gets the head in and stops. I wait patiently, even as it burns. He works the tip in and out. 

“You want more, don’t you, slut?“ 

“Yes, Daddy." 

He slides in a few more inches, and the cock in my cunt starts to slip out. "You better not let that fall out, bitch. Clench it harder!” He forces the rest of the dildo into my ass, and I fail. I fail. The cock falls from my soaked cunt. He stops everything and walks away. I’m shaking, one cock still buried in my ass, cunt juice dripping freely down my thighs. 

I lose track of time. My arms cramp, still held behind my back. My feet shuffle on the carpet. I hate the silence - and in this basement of all places. WHACK! The most horrible sting sears across my back. WHACK! WHACK! The abrupt burn is almost unbearable. Daddy has the single tail, but I’m not warmed up for it. 

He cuts me his words, too. “What did I tell you, slut?” WHACK! “How many times did I tell you not to let that cock fall out of your cunt?” WHACK! Tears roll down my face from underneath the blindfold. My wrists are numb, hands clenched. I mumble pathetic apologies from behind my gag. 

“I’m going to teach you a lesson - one you won’t soon forget." 

He picks up the fallen cock and pushes it back into my cunt. He hits the end of the one in my ass as he fucks my cunt hard and fast. I barely have time to react before he grabs the ends of both dongs and starts thrusting them, fast, furious, simultaneous. I can’t breathe. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to explode. I try to yell his name behind the gag. 

"Don’t you dare cum, cunt!”

How can I do anything else?! DADDY PLEASE!? I want to scream. He fucks me faster, harder. If one slides back, the other slams in brutally. 

“You want to cum for Daddy, baby?" 

"Oh, yes, Daddy, please, please may I cum for you, Daddy, please?" 

"NO.” And with that, he stops. “Climb up on the bed and lay on your side." 

Following this simple order requires everything I have. My legs are weak, I’m shaking, and my hands are asleep. He undoes my cuffs and tells me to place my arms above my head, then refastens the cuffs to the legs of a nearby table. He wants me in the fetal position, and pushes my heels against the two toys still stuck inside me. 

I hear the unmistakable sound of duct tape, and then my feet and ankles are taped as close to my ass possible, keeping those cocks snug. Then comes the bullet vibe, which he pushes through my pussy lips and against my clit, like a hot dog in a bun. He turns it on high. Ohhh goddd.

He leans down to my ear and says, "You’ve been a bad little girl and now you’re going to be punished, just as I told you when this all started. You had a choice. You failed.” With those words, he pinches both my nipples hard, kisses my forehead, covers me with a blanket, and walks up the stairs. I hear those hated creaks again, this time accompanied by the bullet buzzing and my heart beating out of my chest. 

I hate basements. Oh my God, I’m going to cum, left alone down here like this, bound, gagged, blindfolded. The fear, the pleasure, the pain, his sadistic way of throwing me down to the place I fear most, yet knowing I’m safe… it’s all such a mindfuck. Oh God, I’m going to cummmm….

I don’t know what’s worse: knowing I failed and disappointed him, or having no choice but be forced to cum alone, and in such a humiliating way. I try so hard to fight it, but I lose the fight, my holes filled, my body bound and duct taped. I don’t just lose the fight once, either. I cum. Over and over and over I cum and cry and cum again. Alone. Daddy? Daddy?!

Thank you for the compliment.

And yes, it is hard work! Being responsible for another person is no easy task. It bothers me that people think it’s about finding someone to just boss around. There is so much more to it. Both parties are coming to the relationship to have a specific need met. Most submissives crave guidance, order, and some level of emotional support. That is far more than just sex and being told what to do. A vanilla guy can do that basic shit.