The ice slave

It was difficult for Angela to be her own dominant. So far though, that is as far as it had gone. Single, thirty, and lonely she daily did her duty by going to work in the office and spending eight hours a day typing the boring reports her boss dictated. At the office, she always appeared a modest professional woman. Little did they guess her fantasies. Besides herself there were four men and four other women who worked at the small legal firm and Angela would have gladly submitted to any one of the of either gender if they only had the stones to command her. Of course, she never talked about any of this at the office. That talk was saved for the evenings and weekends when she would sit naked in her small apartment typing away at her computer in a BDSM chat room where she called herself “The Ice Slave.”

She called herself the Ice Slave for a simple reason. She had been at the store one day and seen a device that was used to make your own Popsicles. Basically, it was a plastic tray that had six round tubes that you poured Kool-Aid into and then you inserted these plastic handle things into the tubes, then you put it into the freezer until the Kool-Aid froze. Angela found that if she filled the mold with water she would get six really nice frozen cocks with plastic handles on them and she would sit on a large fluffy towel and fuck herself with the frozen dildos while she typed out her fantasies or read fantasies others were typing out.

Fantasy after fantasy after fantasy had been read and written for more than a year before someone mentioned the phrase self-bondage. Bondage was what she craved but she had trouble finding ways to bind her self where she was actually unable to release herself for a time but then able to release her self later when her time was up.

Eventually, she met one other person in the chat room who both lived in the same city and appeared to be someone she could trust. The other person was a girl whose screen name was “Brittle” and on their first meeting, Angela found Brittle just as confused and lonely as she was.

They tried having a relationship but it just didn’t work as either one of them wanted to be dominant. They both craved the submission. They tried having dates where one of them would bind the other and later release her but Brittle always bound Angela in a way that was appealing to Brittle, not to Angela, and of course, the same was true when Angela was in charge. Eventually, they agreed that they could not be lovers or BDSM partners, but they could help each other out as safe-calls. The way it worked was that they exchanged keys, and then Angela could call Brittle and request that she come to Angela’s apartment at a prescribed time simply to unbind Angela. Then, Angela could start earlier and bind herself in some way and remain bound until Brittle got there to simply unbind her. Angela could also return the favor.

The first time they tried it Angela arrived at Brittle’s apartment to find the young girl naked and standing with her hands locked in standard handcuffs to the ceiling fan. The key had been tossed on the floor where Brittle could see it but not quite reach it with her toes. They understood it was dangerous. I mean they both lived in apartment buildings. What would happen if some burglar had broken in to rob the place two hours before Angela was scheduled to show up and found Brittle there naked and bound? What would have happened if there had been a fire in the apartment down the hall? What would have happened if Angela would have gotten in a car crash on her way over to free Brittle?

The two women discussed these things and acknowledged the danger but they both realized that the danger they were placing themselves in was the thing that got them off, so they continued. They did refine things a bit. For instance, Angela would rarely tell Brittle to come over at say 3:00 PM. She would be more likely to say something like “I will bind me at noon, come over to free me sometime between 3:00 and 7:00.”

Angela had also figured out a way to bind her self for a good deal of time and still be able to release herself without the help of her safe-call. She would use her old friend, ice, to accomplish this. So she started working on her most complex project to date.

It started by clearing everything out of her small dining room. Living by herself she hardly ever used the dining room anyway so it was no big deal to give up space. Once the dining room was cleared she bought some lumber and built a special chair. Basically, it was a sawhorse with the long part made out of a sturdy 4×4 and the rest built out of 2x4s and all screwed together with stout long screws. It was 18 inches high and about three feet long. She would sit on this sawhorse as part of her bondage. She placed the horse at one end of the dining room. Since she would be sitting on it for a good deal of the time she added a wooden plug made from a shovel handle that was two full inches in diameter and tapered into a round point at the end. She cut off six inches of the handle and threw out the rest of the shovel. She mounted the wooden dildo right in the middle of the seat of the sawhorse so that she would have to impale her ass on it as she sat. She affixed it with plenty of good glue and let it dry so that it was firmly a part of the piece of furniture.

She added leather straps to the legs of the sawhorse so that when she sat on it she could spread her legs and buckle them into the straps holding them open. She also added a large leather belt that ran from one side of the seat to the other. Once she had sat down on the bench with the shovel handle firmly inside her she would buckle this strap across her lap so that she would not be able to raise herself up off the seat freeing herself of the dildo. Of course, with her hands-free she would easily be able to unbuckle herself and free herself any time she wanted, but, she did not intend to allow her hands to remain free.

Using a bracket she firmly bolted a pair of handcuffs to the side of the seat so that they would hang just below her pussy when she was sitting on the seat. The bench was now ready. She could easily be bound into the device. Once seated and buckled in she could snap the handcuffs onto her wrists and she would be firmly held until someone handed her the key. As anxious as she was to try it she resisted the urge to call Brittle and set up a scene. She was not yet done with her project.

She put two eyehooks in the ceiling and tested them for fit. She had to move the bench only slightly to get it in the correct position. She completed the device on a Monday night. She would test the timing and balance every single night that week, and then, if Brittle was available for Saturday evening, Angela would try the device on Saturday. It would be a long week at work.

Each day at work she would get through the day typing the boring reports while fantasizing about kneeling in front of one of her co-workers and accepting them as her Master or Mistress and pledging to do anything they might command no matter what it was that they commanded. Each night she would arrive home even more unfulfilled.

Friday night, before she went to bed but after the final test, she made the final preparation by filling an empty gallon jug, that had originally held milk, with water, and placing it in the freezer. That night she dreamed of being a man’s sex and bondage slave. He would tie her up in the most delicious ways and use her for quick fierce sex that was totally designed to please himself. Her pleasure would not matter a single iota to him. Somehow his face looked familiar. In her dream, the face never became really clear but Angela was pretty sure it was her boss at work. She fantasized of him often.

The first thing she did on Saturday morning was to open the freezer and check her water. As she knew it would be the milk container was full of hard frozen ice. Everything was ready. It would be a long day waiting. Angela made herself a light breakfast. It is all she would eat before her long afternoon of self-bondage. She wanted to fully digest and eliminate the meal before she strapped herself in. Her biggest fear was that Brittle might just happen to not be available. She had been disappointed twice in the past that way. She certainly did not blame Brittle for that. They both had lived. They both had commitments. They had no relationship and owed each other nothing. Briefly, Angela thought about perhaps cultivating a few more safe calls in her area so that if one were busy another might be called upon.

Waiting until almost noon Angela finally dialed the phone. Brittle answered on the second ring. Gratefully she was available. She did not fully understand, but she agreed when Angela instructed her not to come over at 5:00 PM but rather to call at that time, and if Angela did not answer the phone she would then come over.

Angela took a quick shower. She dried off. Naked she went into the dining room. The first thing she did was spread a good deal of KY Jelly on the butt plug of the bench. Then she cleaned her hands. She threaded the string through the two eye rings. To the one closest to the bench, she attached a three-pound weight and the key to the handcuffs. The weight pulled the string down so that the key hung right next to the handcuffs dangling in front of the bench. She then went to the other end of the room under the other eyehook. She first placed a large bucket on the floor directly under the eyehook. She attached a net to the string. She took the heavy frozen ice bottle out of the freezer and slid it into the net with the bottle upside down. The ice end of the string was now heavier than the weighted end with the key so it slid down and the key slid up to the ceiling. As the ice melted in the jug it would drip into the bucket but that would make that end of the device slowly less weighty and eventually the key would start slowly falling down to where she could reach it. If the tests proved correct it would take somewhere between three and four hours for the ice to melt enough for her to reach the key.

It was five hours before Brittle was scheduled to call her. She knelt naked on the dining room floor and closed her eyes. She commanded herself to stop being Angela and turn herself into the Ice Slave.

The ice slave opened her eyes and slowly rose. She walked over to the bench and looked at it. She reached up and pulled slightly on the key to make sure nothing was binding the string and the key would, indeed, fall as it was supposed to, then she let it go so that it was once again up by the ceiling. She sat slowly on the bench impaling her self as she did. First she buckled in her left ankle, and then she did her right ankle. With her legs now buckled fast to the chair, she reached for the seat belt and tightened herself down. She was almost completely bound now. She looked once up just to make sure the key was there. She slipped the steel cuff onto her left wrist and closed it. She did the same with her right wrist. She tried her bonds. They were firm. She would now be there, and only there until the ice melted and she could reach the key. Of course, if something bad happened, she would be there a little longer until Brittle got there.

The Ice Slave closed her eyes and felt her self slowly slip into a nice state of mind. Her breathing got easier. All of her duties and responsibilities magically lifted themselves off her shoulders. She could struggle as much as she wanted and she could not free herself. She was bound. She was attached to the piece of furniture. Her tender rectum would be the storage place for the big hard wooden dildo as it was no longer her choice. She could no longer choose to expel the piece of wood from her body. Her legs she could not close. She would sit there naked and opened-legged like a little whore. Closing her legs was no longer an option. She had cleverly removed that option from herself. She would now be an opened-legged little whore and there was nothing she could do about it. This removed any guilt from her for being an opened-legged little whore. She was not sitting up straight. Because of the way her hands were bound she had to slouch over a bit. She could not sit up straight. She briefly had a picture in her mind of her mother standing there, shouting “POSTURE” at her. The Ice Slave was no longer responsible for having perfect posture. Her bondage prevented it and she could not attain it no matter how she struggled. She would have bad posture until the ice melted. It was no longer her problem. She was now totally free to sit with bad posture. Because of the position, her hands were in she could reach absolutely nothing but her pussy. Nothing. Her sex was the only thing her hands could reach. Her fingers were free to touch her moist nether flesh whenever they dared. There were no priests or nuns in the room to tell her that masturbation was a sin. There were no co-workers to giggle at her if they caught her fingering her own twat. She had nothing to do at all for the next three or four hours except finger her twat. There would be no shame in keeping herself occupied for the time. The Ice Slave entered a totally relaxed state of mind. She had heard others on the BDSM chat room talk about being in space, or being in slave-space. She wondered if she were there. She knew the answer. Inwardly she smiled.

She opened her eyes. Briefly, though she had just started, she wondered how long she had been there. She looked around and noticed that she could not see a clock. She wondered if that were a total accident or if her subconscious had picked this place for the bondage bench because it would deprive her of a clock. She looked at the ice bottle. No ice had yet melted. The sides of the bottle appeared to be a bit sleeker as if moisture were now accumulating on it. She went back into her high-school physics class and remembered that air can hold a certain amount of water at a given temperature. Colder air can hold less than warm air so when the warm air of the room meets the cold side of the ice bottle the air would loose some of it’s heat into the bottle and would therefore be able to hold less water and it would be shed like dew on the side of the bottle. That meant, of course, that heat was in fact entering the bottle and melting the ice. She tried to force the science lesson from her mind. She closed her eyes and let her fingers work their first bit of magic on her pussy flesh. She knew her fingers would be quite busy for the next couple of hours. She smiled.

Later, with her fingers now still, resting themselves, and her eyes closed she slipped just a little out of her slave-space when she heard a tiny noise. She had been quite happy with the quiet. She lived in an apartment and it was a Saturday afternoon. She could not expect her neighbors to be completely quiet, but so far she had enjoyed almost total peace and quiet, and now some strange noise had disturbed her. For some reason, it did not frighten her but she did wish to identify the sound. She forced herself up out of her slave-space and opened her eyes. She tried to remember exactly what the sound had sounded like and realized that she did not remember the sound at all. She remembered being disturbed by a sound but could not define what the sound sounded like. She looked around at her surroundings and everything looked in place. She focused her eyes on the water bottle and was staring at it mesmerized as a single drop of water slipped out the neck of the bottle and fell through the air the short few inches to the bucket below and as the drop landed in the bucket it made a little ping. The Ice Slave realized that the ping of the water drop had been the noise that had disturbed her. Already it was starting. Her old friend’s ice was doing its work. She would now simply watch the drops fall until she was free. It would still be a long, long time, but it was beginning.

She closed her eyes and started her fingers working again. She forced a fantasy upon herself. In this particular version of the fantasy, her boss had placed her in this bondage position and the key was not falling to her as the ice melted, it was rather in his possession. In this fantasy, she would be his to do with as he wished until it would be his choice to release her. In this fantasy, bound as she was, she saw her boss look around the apartment until he found something suitable to stand upon. Whatever it was he carried it over and placed it on the floor between her opened legs. He then stood upon it bringing him to exactly the right height where he then grabbed two handfuls of her hair and shoved his cock in her mouth. He then, if only in this fantasy, fucked her face. When he was through he got down off the thing he was standing on but she noticed that he left the thing he was standing on right where it was on the floor between her legs. Perhaps he was not done standing on it for the day. In her fantasy, she looked down to the floor and saw that the thing her boss had stood upon was the footstool that she kept in the living room in front of her favorite chair. Her fantasy ended as she looked over into the living room and saw the footstool in front of her favorite chair. Silently she cursed the nice little footstool for spoiling the best fantasy she had conjured up that day.

Sometime later the shrill chirping of the phone in the kitchen startled her out of slave-space. She listened as the phone rang a second time and also heard the familiar recording of her voice as her answering machine answered the phone on the third ring. She looked quickly to the bottle of ice. It was almost full. She knew it was not time for Brittle to call. A telemarketer announced the amazing product he had for sale and left a number where he could be reached. Silence once again claimed the apartment. She looked around. To her left was the kitchen. The dining room was not separated from the kitchen except for a change in the color of the tiles on the floor. To her right was a low half-wall about three feet high that separated the dining room from the living room. She had installed eyehooks along the floor on each side of the low wall so she could bind herself naked, spread, and lewdly bent over the wall awaiting either a spanking or a fucking. It would not be her choice. It would be the choice of the fantasy man who had never actually been there to make the decision. Looking straight ahead of herself as she was sitting on the bench she saw the water dripping ice contraption. Beyond it was the small hall that led to her bathroom and bedroom. To the left in the small hall was her door to the outside world. She could not see the door from where she sat. If the ice thing didn’t work and she had to wait for Brittle she would not actually be able to see her until Brittle was fully three steps into the apartment. This did not worry about the Ice Slave. Rather it pleased her. Knowing for sure that it would never happen she still fantasized that Brittle would rather than releasing her force her to sign a slavery contract making her Brittle’s sex slave. It was not as good as fantasizing about belonging to a man like her boss, but for a long afternoon of free fantasy, it would do.

Her fingers were once again sore from straining and overuse so the Ice Slave let her fingers stop their ravishment of her tender cunt flesh. She slowly opened her eyes. She knew she was covered with sweat as she had made herself cum maybe six or seven times in the past hour, or what she expected must have been about an hour. She looked up and saw that the weight-bearing the handcuff key was a good two inches closer to her than it had been when she had started. She gazed over at the bottle of melting ice and noticed the bottle must have been about three-quarters full. She knew that the key would fall to her reach while there was still about a quart of ice in the gallon jug. Therefore she figured she was about a third of the way through her time. She wished it would slow down a bit. She wanted to savor this precious bit of bondage time. The tiny drips of the melting ice turned water was now a steady rhythmic cadence. It was not a fast pace, but she could now close her eyes and count heartbeats until the next drop hit the bucket and get it right within a single heartbeat.

She closed her eyes and decided to count one hundred drops. One, Two, Three, Four…

She once again looked up at the key. It was noticeably closer but still a bit above her head. In thirty or forty minutes the key would be eye level. It would be maddening to see it there just out of her reach. She hoped she would be able to resist the urge to touch it with her face. It would be really tempting. It would not make the ice melt faster but it would make the time waiting for the ice to melt seem to go by faster. She did not want though for the time to seem to go by faster. She wanted the time to go by as slowly as possible. She considered that when the key was as high as her face she might take the key in her mouth and keep it there not letting her hands have the key and extend her time on the bench until Brittle got there to release her. That would be cheating though so she knew she would not do that. The idea did tempt her though.

She heard a noise in the hall as if footsteps were walking the hall. She clearly heard them. They appeared to stop right in front of her door. She heard a loud hard rapping on the door, so loud it must have alerted every neighbor within a mile. She was about to scream something to send the intruder away and then she heard the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Clantsey across the hall opening her door and talking softly to the person. They must have been knocking on the door of the Clantsey’s instead of the Ice Slave’s door.

The butt plug was large and unforgiving. She had counted on it being uncomfortable but she had not counted on it actually causing her the steady pain that it had recently started doing. Flexing her knees and pressing up as hard as she could she was able to raise her body perhaps an inch and a half off the bench before the seat belt arrested her progress. She could not get anywhere near high enough to expel the dildo from her ass, but she could, briefly, take the pressure off her sore anus. Quickly though the pain would start building in her knees and thighs. She could not hold herself up in this awkward position straining against the belt for long, then she would slowly give in to the pain and let her self slide back down the inch and a half re-impaling herself firmly upon the hard wooden ass cock.

It became hard to fantasize. The ice had melted and dripped out of the bottle to such a degree that the key had now been lowered to her eye level. She could easily see it. It was perhaps six inches from the tip of her nose. It was actually hard to open her eyes and not focus on the key. It seemed darker in the apartment than it should have been. The Ice Slave estimated that it was two or two-thirty in the afternoon. She had, of course, drawn the shades on the windows, but they still let in a good deal of light. It was the middle of the afternoon. The apartment should have been flooded with natural light. Still, she could clearly see a shadow cast by the low living room wall towards her there in the dining room. She started to briefly panic. It should have been the middle of the afternoon but the shadow told her it must be almost sunset. At this time of year, the sun would set between 6:30 and 7:00 PM. That was significant. If it were true that late it meant that the ice was not melting fast enough and she had been on the bench twice as long as she thought she had been there. More than that though it meant Brittle was late. Did that mean that Brittle was not coming? For a terrorizing moment the Ice Slave slipped into being Angela and Angela then really started to worry, but just then she heard the low strong rumble of thunder. Less than a minute later Angela heard the unmistakable sound of rain pelting her building. It was simply darker outside because it was raining. Angela took a deep breath in through her nose and expelled it slowly through her mouth forcibly willing her heart to stop beating so fast. She calmed herself down, closed her eyes, and once again commanded the Ice Slave to make her appearance.

She once again opened her eyes. Her back was now starting to hurt from being in the same position for so long. She wished she could take a five-minute break and get off the bench, walk around, stretch, and then get back into the contraption, but that was quite impossible. The key had now been lowered to chest high on the bound girl. In the back of her mind, she always knew she would do what she was about to do but she had told herself not to think about it because she was way to mature to do it. The key was between her tits. Her nipples hardened on their own. Neither Angela nor the Ice Slave could control them. She thought back to the first time a boy had gotten his hand under her shirt and shoved her bra aside and felt her boobies as she referred to them back then. She had been a freshman in high school and he was a year older. They were in her parent’s living room watching TV. Her father was not yet home from work and her mother had just left for the grocery store. She thought they had been a bit too lax allowing her to have a male friend in the house alone. The boy’s hand had felt really nice and she wanted to let him go a good deal farther but somehow had said the right words to convince him to stop. Her nipples screamed out at her to stop the trip down memory lane and demanded that she give them some immediate attention. The three-pound weight was tied to the string, and the key was tied to the three-pound weight, and it was currently hanging from the ceiling right between her aching nipples. She sighed and gave in to their demands. She twisted her body to the right so that her left nipple scraped against the key. The key jiggled away but gravity brought it right back where it should have hung. She twisted her body to the left, which allowed her right nipple to scrape the key. “More” her nipples kept shouting. Eventually, she found the right rhythm of rocking her body back and forth to make the key bounce from one nipple to the other and back again. Vaguely, she wondered what would happen if this motion she was making, would knock the key off of the string. “Shut Up!” her nipples screamed at her.

“Naked whore slut naughty slave-tittie ping-pong”, as she called the little game lasted only about five minutes because the ice kept melting and soon the key was to low for her to reach bound as she was. Her nipples said a silent thank-you to the Ice Slave for their brief but necessary attention in this bondage session.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to imagine she was sitting much as she was on the bench but facing the other way with her back and ass exposed to the space of the dining room rather than the front of her. In this fantasy, there was no key or bucket of ice hanging in the way and someone was using a nice heavy leather flogger on her. She had a small collection of bondage gear that she had purchased from the Internet. She would occasionally sit on either the low wall or sometimes the footstool and hold the flogger in her hand and reach over her self and flog her back with the flogger. It felt good when she did it but so far she was the only person who had ever flogged her. She had asked Brittle to do it once but the girl had refused. She dreamt now that some man was behind her whip in hand wailing on her exposed flesh. She could almost feel the rhythm of the leather striking her. She desperately wanted to have that experience in real life.

The next time she opened her eyes the key had slipped down to belly level. If her math and testing proved accurate she had about thirty more minutes of bondage. Soon, almost too soon, she would slip out of the Ice Slave persona and Angela would take over and she would calmly enjoy the last few minutes of captivity. Then she would unlock the cuffs and free herself. She desperately wanted just a few more precious minutes as the Ice Slave in bondage, but Angela was almost to the surface now.

She clearly heard voices and footsteps out in the hall of the apartment building and wondered who was visiting her neighbor now. Then, clearly, she heard a key inserted in the lock on her own door. Then, in a real dramatic moment where her heart practically leaped from her chest she heard the key turned and the lock opened. Irrationally telling her self that if she kept quiet maybe they wouldn’t find her. She stared at the small entryway as she heard her own door unmistakably open. She immediately calmed down as she heard Brittle’s voice say “In here Master” but the panic quickly reasserted itself as Brittle came tumbling into the apartment as if she had been shoved in by someone very strong.

“Kneel Slave,” someone said. It was a familiar male voice but Angela could not immediately place it.

Brittle answered “Yes Master” and fell to her knees. “I am sorry Angela” she screamed when she turned her head towards the bound woman.

The door closed and she heard the lock turn. The man stepped into the room. Her boss took a good long look at his naked bound open-legged whore of a co-worker. “Hello little one,” he said in a nice calm every-day voice as if he were walking into a grand social event, “It is so nice of you to invite us to your little party.”

There was a big grin on his face. He looked at the contraption Angela had built and quickly understood its mechanics. Angela strained her fingers trying to grab the key. It was still a maddening two inches from her reach. Her boss calmly walked into the kitchen area and opened first one drawer and then a second finding a small sharp kitchen knife.

He walked over to where he could stand in front of Angela and reached down and took the string with the weight and key in his hand. “Ingenious,” he said. “I had no idea you were this well versed in the principles of engineering.”

With the knife, he cut the string and when he did the net and container of melting ice fell into the bucket on the floor with a bit of a splash. He addressed the kneeling Brittle “Go to the bathroom, get a towel, wipe up the spillage, empty the water into the kitchen sink, and put that stuff away, slave.”

“Yes Master,” were her only words as she quickly did his bidding.

So far Angela had not said a word since the two had entered her apartment and found her in such a vulnerable state. She could not think of a single word or phrase that would have, at the time, any significance, so she kept her mouth shut.

Her boss stood directly in front of her and for several minutes made no sound and also did absolutely nothing to mask the fact that he was taking a good long look at her, every inch of her.

Done, at least temporarily, with the lewd visual examination he began to speak. He told Angela that he had met Brittle in the BDSM chat room about two weeks ago and they had been seeing each other ever since. Brittle had talked about the Ice Slave and how they acted as safe-calls for each other. When she had called earlier that day he had been at Brittle’s house and had decided to accompany her here to meet the Ice Slave earlier than they were supposed to arrive. Until he had walked into the room he had not known that the Ice Slave was, in fact, his assistant Angela, but he made it clear that he was not disappointed in the least. He told her that things were going to change in her life. He was going to enslave her that day and he was going to keep her as a pet and sex slave. She would continue to work for him so that he could keep an eye on her all the time. In fact, he was also going to hire Brittle so that he could keep both of his slaves around 24×7.

As he was talking he had been doing two things. He had been walking around the apartment looking at things, and he had been removing his own clothing. Naked and erect he stood directly in front of the bench where the Ice Slave could not help but see him. He turned and spoke to his slave Brittle who was by then finished putting the things away.

“Go to the living room slave, fetch the footstool, place it on the floor right here in front of this bench” he commanded.

“Yes Master” she chimed as she hurried to obey.