Heart of Ice

Heart of Ice

By: Michael Alexander

“Breanne!”  A voice called down the hallway.  It was late and Breanne Erikson turned at the sound of the Entertainment Director’s urgency.  With a weary smile she nodded at William Price as her boss stepped out of his office, waving at her.

       “Hello, Mr. Price.”  Bre said.  Unconsciously she resettled the large purse over her shoulder as Price quickly moved down the hall toward her.

       “I know you’re on your way out, Breanne, but I know you aren’t working tomorrow, and one of our members wanted me to inquire if you were available Friday for a private engagement.”  Price said, as he approached.  Price was the Entertainment Director for the Silver Locke, an upscale BDSM Sex club that catered to the ultra elite.  Breanne knew that some of the clients the Locke served occasionally hired one of the club’s performers for a “private” performance.

       Breanne wasn’t wearing the normal attire of the Silver Locke, but the more casual traveling clothes that you would find any twenty something girl wearing to and from school: jeans, tee-shirt, and a denim jacket.  Her auburn colored hair was pulled back in a loose but attractive pony tail and she had replaced the thicker stage makeup she customarily wore at the Locke with more normal, natural enhancements.

       She shrugged.  “I was only scheduled to work a normal shift here, Mr. Price.  What kind of engagement and how much is he offering?”

       “She.  Not a he.”  Price said with a tilt of his head.  “Jessica Poole will be hosting a small dinner engagement for several close friends and associates.  She’s been a member for about eight years now and we’ve never had an issue with her parties.”

       Breanne nodded.  Being requested by a woman was no big deal for her.  Breanne was bi-sexual and sometimes being with a woman could be just as erotic. “So it’s a domme party?”  She asked.

       Price shrugged.  “She hosts one every year or so.  Shelly worked the last one, so if you want you can ask her about it, you can.  It’s usually pretty hush-hush.  That’s why Ms. Poole likes using girls from the Locke.  We keep our mouths shut.  But in any event, Poole requested you specifically.  She’s offering you twenty grand for the entire evening.  She would like you there at about five.  The party starts at six.”

       Breanne thought about it for a moment.  Friday nights were a pretty decent shift to work at the Locke, and she was still a hot item.  There had been nights in the past where she had walked away with more than twenty grand in one evening, but not many.  She looked at Price and nodded.  “Sure.  What will I need to wear?”

       “Don’t worry about attire.  They will provide you with anything they particularly want on you.”

       He handed her a piece of paper.  “Here is the address.”  He smiled and turned to head back to his office.  “Oh…and Breanne.  Just like here at the Locke, there are no safe words.  So if they ask about your limits, be specific.”        

       Breanne laughed.  “I’ve worked with the house rules for long enough, I’m not worried about it, but if they ask, I’ll let them know ‘no animals!’  Happy?”

       Price chuckled and waved her away, knowing she was eager to get home.  For a moment she watched him walk back down the administration corridor and then she turned and headed toward the parking lot.

       With her keys in her hand she moved up to the BMW convertible she had recently purchased when she saw Shelly getting into a red mustang a few spaces down.   Breanne waved to the pretty brunette who was already turning the ignition.

       “Hey Shelly, what are parties at Jessica Poole’s place like?”  Breanne called out as Shelly was closing the door.

       Shelly turned and looked at Breanne as she revved the engine.  With a laugh she grinned.  “Oh they’re cool, Bre.  Real cool!  Have fun!”  And then Shelly popped the clutch and pulled away.

       Friday evening at a quarter to five, Breanne pulled up to the large metal gate that barred the paved drive to the Poole residence.  Large shrubs decorated the sides of the heavy gate and brick wall.   It didn’t faze her.  A number of the private parties she had attended as entertainment had the same recluse mentality.  Rich folks spent a great deal of money to keep out poor folks.  It was one of the reasons that Breanne didn’t mind taking their money.

       She pressed the intercom speaker and was instantly rewarded with a polite inquiry into her presence and purpose.  When she explained she was the entertainer from the Locke, the speaker grill instructed her to drive around to the back of the house by the kitchen entrance and park next to the delivery truck.  Once she parked someone would meet her at the kitchen entrance.  The gate swung open with barely a squeak.

       The grounds were immaculate; a startling green, which could only have been produced with fertilizer and chemicals, spanned acres of yard that ended on all sides with pine and evergreen trees.  A large building stood on the far side of the compound, nestled in a maze of white fencing, and Breanne had no trouble imagining the large barn filled with thoroughbred horses.  Slowly she took the drive up to the house slowly, pulling off toward the back, rather than circling up to the front door.

       As functional and efficient as the front door was ornate, the kitchen and services entrances of the mansion were easily recognizable and Breanne immediately saw the delivery truck.  It had a refrigeration unit on the front and it hummed noisily as she parked.  Finally, she stepped out of the car, smoothing down her mini skirt.

       She had worn comfortable clothes for the drive out here, since it was forty five minutes away from town, and the comfortable pumps she wore crunched slightly on the gravel drive.  She closed the door and locked it, just as the kitchen door opened and a woman stepped out to meet her.

       “Good afternoon, Ms. Erikson.  I’m Erica Stafford, Ms. Poole’s residential manager.”

       Erica Stafford was approximately forty five years old, and slightly over weight, but the well cut black dress she wore hid it well.  It was stark and severe, with a collar that buttoned up at the neck, and Breanne felt it would have looked appropriate as a servant’s outfit in Gone with the Wind.  Breanne nodded and gave her a polite smile.

       “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Stafford.”

       Stafford inclined her head and held out her hand.  “Please, come with me.  We have a few things to accomplish before Ms. Poole’s party begins.”  She motioned toward the kitchen door.

       Breanne moved toward the kitchen and Stafford fell into step with her.  “I’m sorry about my attire, but Mr. Price told me that my costume for this evening would be provided by Ms. Poole, so I dressed comfortably for the ride out.”  Breanne said as they stepped through the door into a spacious and modern kitchen.

       Erica Stafford waved her hand, dismissing Breanne’s apology.  “It’s not an issue at all, Ms. Erikson.  William Price was totally correct that your attire was not a concern.  In fact, you will not be wearing anything for tonight’s activities, so you need not worry about your dress.”

       Breanne’s eyes widened slightly at Stafford’s comment about her costume for the evening.  While performing naked for a guest was standard for every party she had been to, she couldn’t remember one where she had started out in the nude.  “All right.”  She replied.

       Stafford took the lead and walked Breanne through the kitchen.  To Breanne’s surprise, there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen, and she remarked on it to Stafford.

       “I suppose this party is being catered?”  She asked.

       Stafford smiled “You’re very astute, Ms. Erikson.  Ms. Poole is a fan of fresh seafood and she has a chef who was trained in Japan.  There will be a seafood buffet at the party.  A special room next to the ballroom has been set aside for preparations and the cooking staff is there now.”

       As they turned down a long hallway Breanne saw a girl barely in her teens, dressed in the stereotypical French maid’s outfit walking down the hall.  She was a pretty brunette, tall and shapely and Breanne stared at her for a moment.  The girl’s face brightened perceptibly as Stafford and Breanne approached.

       “Is this the entertainer, Ms. Stafford?”  The girl asked, her voice a trembling slightly.

       “It is indeed, Wendy.  This is Ms. Erikson from the Locke.”  Stafford replied.

       Wendy gave Breanne a little curtsey and Breanne nodded back, astonished by the little French maid. 

       “Thank God you’re here, Ms. Erikson.  I thought Ms. Poole would force me to entertain tonight and I just couldn’t deal with enduring the…”

       Wendy’s sentence was interrupted by the sharp glance of Ms. Stafford along with a quick clearing of the throat.  Wendy quickly fell silent and then nodded at Ms. Stafford.

       “Well, I’m just glad you’re here, Ms. Erikson.”  Wendy said softly and then hurried off down the hall.  Breanne looked over at Ms. Stafford, who had a look of slight exasperation on it.

       “You’ll forgive my concern, Ms. Stafford, but what exactly will I have to do for Ms. Poole?  No one has really told me anything about the specifics of tonight.  And after Wendy’s comment…”  Breanne left the question hanging.

       Stafford paused momentarily, glancing at Breanne.  “No one has told you anything?  I would have thought that previous entertainers would have explained what happens at Ms. Poole’s parties…”  She trailed off.

       Breanne shrugged.  “Well, I didn’t really have time to talk to anyone, except for Shelly, who entertained at last year’s party.  All she said was that it was cool.”

       Stafford smiled slightly and nodded.  “Well, I suppose you could say that.”  She turned away and continued down the hall, forcing Breanne to hurry to keep up with her.

       “So can you tell me any of the specifics?  What is Wendy afraid of?”  Breanne asked, a little suspicious.

       Stafford stopped in front of a door and opened it, leading Breanne into a small room.  A small single size bed stood against the wall along with a bureau and vanity.  The room was sparse, and a small doorway led to a bathroom in the back.

       “I can tell you Ms. Erikson, that nothing will be required of you that will violate your prescribed limits with the Locke.  Additionally, I can promise you that your primary responsibility will be to react to the stimuli Ms. Poole wishes to have applied to you.  You will not be expected to take the initiative during any course of the evening’s activities.”

       Breanne looked at Stafford in quiet astonishment.   “Well, that certainly makes things easier, doesn’t it?”  She said after a moment.

       Stafford chuckled.  “It does indeed.  As for the maid, please understand that on occasion Wendy is disciplined and Ms. Poole even uses Wendy for her private entertainment.  Tonight however, Ms. Poole felt that a professional entertainer was needed.  Now, in the shower you will find a selection of several bottles of a variety of personal materials.  Please use every one.  Shower completely and then reapply your makeup.  There is a full selection of items in the drawers of the vanity, so you shouldn’t have any problems finding what you need.  I’ll return in approximately forty minutes to examine you and take you to the ready room.”

       “The ready room?  What’s that?”  Breanne asked.

       Stafford nodded.  “It’s a small area off the ball room that is being used to prepare the evening’s entertainment.  Don’t worry about it.”  Stafford nodded and then went to the door.  As she exited she turned back and smiled at Breanne.  “I would recommend that you take a hot shower.  A VERY hot shower.”  And then she closed the door behind her, leaving Breanne alone.

       Standing in the small servant’s quarters, Breanne suddenly wondered at the wisdom of agreeing to this party without finding out what was going on.  She trusted William Price however and Shelly seemed to have endured the party with no ill affects, even if it was a year before.  Breanne mentally scoffed.  Anything Shelly could deal with would be easy for Breanne.  Shelly wasn’t exactly in the same league as Bre.

       Breanne knew she didn’t need the shower.  She had showered before coming out to the estate, but it was obvious her client preferred her freshly scrubbed and she would oblige.  Her fingers pulled off her halter top baring her delicious curves and she shimmied out of the skirt, taking only a moment to slip off the pumps.  Stepping into the bathroom nude, she frowned at the small size.  Barely bigger than what you would find in a two-bit hotel, it was obvious that Ms. Poole wasn’t very generous to her house staff.  Breanne pulled the shower curtain back and turned on the water, only to find a row of bottles on the sill of the tub. 

       One was shampoo, an expensive kind that Breanne rarely even bought for herself, and she smiled, evidently pleased at Ms. Poole’s consideration.  A matching conditioner, the scent of coconut and honey, stood next to it, as did a bottle of liquid soap.  The final bottle brought a frown to Breanne’s face.  She was no fan of depilatories, preferring as did most girls at the Locke, the laser hair removal process.  Not even a tiny bit of stubble marred Breanne’s perfect flesh anywhere below her auburn tresses.

       With a sigh she began to apply to depilatory in the appropriate places, feeling the tingle of the foam against her skin.  After waiting the appropriate amount of time, she turned on the shower and let the hot cascading water flow over her, rinsing the depilatory away.

       It didn’t take long to lather her hair and soap down her body, and in a few more minutes she was rinsing her body and shutting off the water.  A large heavy towel had been left for her, and once more she was struck by the incongruity of the dense expensive towel in the drab servant’s quarters.  Suspiciously, she opened one of the small towel cabinets, only to find thin cloths that could barely be described as towels.  With a sigh, she wrapped the luxurious terrycloth around her and moved back into the main room, sitting down at the vanity.

       With a blow dryer, Breanne quickly made her hair presentable and then began the process of reapplying her makeup.  She got the impression that her more natural look, rather than the dark and heavy highlights she used at the Locke, would be appreciated in this environment.  She was just finishing with the mascara when there was a soft knock on the door and Stafford walked in.

       Breanne stood up quickly, the towel still wrapped around her body, covering her breasts, leaving her shoulders bare.  Stafford nodded politely.

       “Did you find everything to your satisfaction?”  The older woman asked.

       Breanne nodded. “Oh yes.  Though, the depilatory wasn’t necessary.  Most of us get the laser hair removal.”

       Stafford nodded.  “Well, as you said, only most of the girls at the Locke undergo that process.  Ms. Poole is adamant that her entertainers are clean looking.”  Stafford took a step closer.  “I hope you will understand, but I do need to make sure that you are properly prepared.”        

       Breanne reached up to the towel and pried the folded edges apart, opening it wide across the front of her body.  With an erotic tilt of her arms, she dropped it on the floor behind her, cocking one leg, the arch of her foot simulating the angle of a high heeled shoe.

       “Very nice, Ms. Erikson.  I understand completely why Ms. Poole was taken with you.  You are very attractive.”  Stafford said, leaning over slightly to get a better look at Breanne’s sex.

       “Is this just a visual inspection?”  Breanne asked politely, wondering if Stafford intended to touch her.

       Stafford straightened immediately.  “Yes.  I’m not interested in you sexually, Ms. Erikson, I’m merely ensuring that you will be to Ms. Poole’s satisfaction.”

       Breanne smiled and raised her hands.  “I suppose I pass?”  She asked, a bit flippantly, but with a light tone.

       Stafford couldn’t help but to smile.  “You do indeed.”  She looked around for a moment and then rubbed her hands together.  “Well if you are finished, then I will escort you to the ready room.  We have only a few more minutes before the party begins.  Most of the guests have already arrived.”  She moved to the door and held it open.

       Breanne didn’t even bat an eye as she followed Stafford out of the room, her nakedness a direct incongruity with the residential manager.  Once more Breanne found herself walking down the hallway, though this time the cold tiles she stepped on caused her to move a tad quicker, her bare feet slapping against the ceramic.

       To Breanne’s surprise, they encountered no one during their procession.  She was shown into a medium sized room with a set of double doors on opposite walls.  Oddly, a large portable spa stood against one wall, steam and heat rising from its bubbling surface.

       “This is the ready room?”  Breanne asked, still trying to figure out the enigma surrounding her.

       “It is.”  Stafford replied.  The older woman moved toward a small cabinet and opened it, extracting a pair of leather cuffs and a ball gag.  She moved back over toward Breanne who held out her wrists.

       Stafford smiled.  “I suppose you’re used to these.” 

       Breanne chuckled.  “I wear them almost every day at some point.” 

       “Well you’ll be in these for much of the evening.”  Stafford quickly buckled them on and then pulled Breanne’s arms back behind her, clasping them together. In moments, Breanne was bound; her shoulders pulled back, her bare breasts thrust forward.

       “Can you stand on your tip toes for a moment?” Stafford asked, pulling out a small measuring tape, the kind seamstresses used.  Breanne nodded and spread her legs slightly, rising up on the balls of her feet, as if her high heels were still on.  It took Stafford only a moment to measure Breanne’s inseam.

       “What’s that for?”  Breanne asked.  Stafford quickly put the tape back in a small pocket of her dress.

       “For the first activity.”  She held up the ball gag.  “Open wide, Ms. Erikson.”

       Breanne hesitated for a moment and then opened her mouth.  The ball was a bit smaller than the ones the Locke preferred, and she found herself thankful for that as her lips were spread around the circumference of the small rubber ball.  Stafford carefully strapped it around her head, pulling her hair out from under it.

       “You look fantastic, Ms. Erikson.”   Stafford said, taking a step back.  “I’ll be back in just a moment.  Please wait here.  I will return in a moment with Shika.”  And with that Stafford went to the doors at the far side of the room, quickly opening them and stepping into the ball room.

       Breanne stood for a moment, her arms bound, her jaw beginning to ache slightly, alone in the room, wondering who Shika was.  Shrugging, she took a few steps to the spa and turned around, pressing her bottom against the side.  Leaning back, she dipped a few fingers in the water, finding it very hot.  She wandered a bit, looking into the open cabinet, seeing the thick white terry cloth towels, and then studied the wood work on the ceiling, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

       She almost jumped when the ballroom doors opened again, and Ms. Stafford entered the room.  She was followed by another woman, a small oriental lady who was dressed in a black robe, buttoned to the collar, embroidered with gold and red thread in a vine like pattern.  It was dramatic and made the Japanese woman seem indomitable. 

       “Breanne, this is Mistress Shika, Ms. Poole’s personal trainer.   She will be your mistress for the evening.  She is a trained professional and has been performing these duties for Ms. Poole for many years.  You will follow her orders to the letter.  Dinner has already started and Ms. Poole wishes to be entertained.”  Erica Stafford said.

       For the bound and gagged girl in the room, there was only one response she could give, and she bobbed her head once in the direction of the oriental woman.  Shika was diminutive, but seemed wiry and strong in a way that was hard to describe.  She was older than Stafford, but had a look of hard beauty that Breanne immediately respected.  For a moment, Bre had an image of Shika wrestling against Sade’ in the arena of the Locke, and Sade’ wasn’t winning.

       “It is time.  Come.”  Shika said, her voice accented in the familiar clip-ness of the orient.  Breanne moved forward, following Shika out into the main ball room.

       It was huge, easily the size of the main performance room of the Locke.  Bright scones illuminated the walls, and the parquet flooring was expensive hardwoods cut and laid in intricate patterns.  Despite the immensity of the room, Ms. Poole’s party was only taking one small portion of the floor space.  Breanne could see a number of exquisitely dressed women, sitting around a large curved table, their backs to her approach.  At one side of the table, another oriental girl, dressed in chef whites, stood at a large kitchen type granite counter, slicing fresh seafood and preparing sushi and other delights.   Breanne recognized Wendy, working beside four other girls dressed in maid outfits, shuttling the fresh food to the tables, refilling glasses with dark wines, and responding to every little beck and call.

       The elongated and curved table faced the large windows that overlooked the gardens beyond.  Huge draperies, with yards of pleated cloth hung at the sides, forming a back drop to the small black stage that stood in the center of the curved table.  Shika led Breanne toward the right side of the room, still unnoticed by the guests, and Breanne felt a sudden chill in the air.  To both sides of the stage stood tall glistening ice sculptures, fascinating and beautiful carvings.  One was in the shape of a woman, breasts and loins carved perfectly, the ice white and smooth.  The other, some strange wave form, like a cresting ocean breaker frozen in the moment before crashing onto the beach, stood proudly.

       Shika paused for a moment and Breanne noticed the oriental woman’s nod to a petite Japanese girl dressed in a similar black oriental cut robe.  The girl returned the nod and quickly moved to a pair of doors behind the chef and opened them.  Breanne watched in astonishment as  Shika’s assistance and a similarly dressed woman quickly entered the ball room, pushing a large, cloth covered fixture, obviously on wheels, into the ball room.

       Breanne’s eyes narrowed.  Despite the cloth, she recognized the unique shape of the contraption.  She was no stranger to the wooden horse, and had ridden the genitalia abusing device a number of times.  With a heavy sigh she watched as the two women rolled the fixture up a ramp at the back of the stage, and then positioned it in the center, facing the guests.  Bending down quickly, it was locked into place and the two women retreated, moving off to the side of the stage.

       Shika turned and nodded at Breanne, and took the pale auburn haired girl by the arm, propelling her forward.  In moments, the conversation at the table died down and was replaced by the fascinated stares of approximately twenty women.  Shika moved Breanne to the center and then bowed to the woman sitting at the very center.

       “Well, Shika, I see you bring that beautiful young creature I saw at the Locke to our table.  Breanne, isn’t it?”  Jessica Poole asked, her hand holding a wine goblet, full and red.

       “Hai, Mistress Poole.  This is Breanne Erikson, of the Locke.  She is here to fulfill your desires.” 

       Jessica Poole was a thin woman, nearing fifty years of age.  Her nose was still peppered with the freckles of youth, and her hair was the same color as Breanne’s, though with an obvious natural look that made Breanne’ blush with embarrassment.  Breanne’s red hair was the result of an hour’s worth of work at a salon.  It was obvious that Jessica Poole’s hair was the result of genetics.

       Poole waved her hand.  “Well, get started.  It will only keep for so long.”

       Shika bowed once more and then turned, forcing Breanne toward the stage.  They took a step upward and Breanne found herself before the wooden horse, still draped with the heavy cloth.

       Shika pulled the cloth away and there was sudden icy blast of air that caused Breanne’s nipples to harden instantly.  As the little oriental woman revealed the hidden fixture, Breanne gasped despite the gag.

       A wooden pony is nothing more than a triangular prism, the point positioned upward, at a sufficient height, that anyone forced to straddle it would be placed in a very uncomfortable position.  And while Breanne recognized the general shape of the object before her, the fact that it was made of ice awed and frightened her.

       Two small blocks of ice sat to either side of the ice pony, and Shika motioned Breanne forward, urging her to stand facing the guests.  Breanne trembled, her body already feeling the cold.  As she got closer to the pony, she realized that there was an actual interior frame made of wood that was embedded in the cut form of the ice.  Shika gave her arm an impatient push and Breanne lifted her left foot and stepped up onto the small block of ice at the base of the horse.

       It was cold. Very cold, and Breanne felt the sole of her foot burn slightly.  Wanting to relieve the temperature difference, she quickly swung her other leg over the horse, feeling the icy side graze her thigh, only to place her other foot down on a similar block of ice on the opposite side.

       For a moment, her thighs and sex grazed the pointed edge of the ice pony, causing her toes to curl and her feet to arch, lifting her up as high as possible.  Her arms strained against the bondage.  She felt the ice beginning to melt beneath her toes, the wet water freezing, almost seeming to seep upward and over each digit.  Her calves strained as Shika backed off, but stayed close, monitoring.

       Jessica Poole stared at Breanne.  The flashing green eyes of the older woman took in Breanne’s straining muscles, watching as the pale beauty contorted her body to keep her delicate sex from the icy edge of the horse.  It was a futile effort though, Poole knew.  Eventually the girl’s calves would tire, dropping her down, and as the blocks of ice slowly melted it would be harder and harder for her to relieve the burning cold and pressure on her sexual organ.

       Breanne let out a terrible but muffled squeal through the ball gag as she lowered herself down upon the ice horse.  The burning touch of the ice on the sensitive and delicate petals of her flower seared like a hot iron.  In moments, her sex grew numb and trickles of icy water flowed down her legs, soaking her skin and leaving trickles of runoff on the stage.

       The auburn haired beauty was no stranger to ice.  Breanne had frequently been subjected to icy torments, everything from chips held against her nipples, to small tubes of ice inserted into her bottom, to even frozen ice dildos.  But nothing before had ever prepared her for the burning intensity and the pain of riding a sexual horse made of ice.  She felt herself slip slightly and sink into the edge of the ice.  For a moment she lifted herself clear and saw that she had already managed to melt an indentation into the cruel edge, broadening the seat and dulling the point.  Her eyes brimmed with tears as her calves trembled again, her toes burning with cold, her body covered with goose bumps.  She began to shiver, and she knew her teeth would have been chattering if it hadn’t been for the ball gag holding her mouth open.

       Finally her legs gave out, and she dropped down solidly on the melted edge of the ice horse.  The curved indenture fit her form perfectly, and she felt the ice touch against her clit, burning the already chilled nub of her sex with direct intensity.  Her voice screamed out through the gag, a muffled murmur of displeasure and agony that seemed to entrance the guests.  Through half closed eyes, Breanne barely noticed the gestures of interest, the quiet but excited comments of Jessica Poole’s guests.  Her hips rocked and she began riding the ice pony in earnest, her body thrashing along the melting slippery saddle. 

       Her entire sex was numb, a burning ache that she felt would never thaw.  As she thrashed upon the horse, she began whimpering, giving way to the cold, slumping downward as what little heat her body had was whisked away in icy sexual torment.  Her toes slipped on the ice blocks, which had almost completely melted, and she was left truly supported by nothing more than the saddle, her legs dangling freely, her entire weight supported on her sex.

       Just as she started to fall over, Shika was there, reaching up, pulling her from the ice horse, supporting her as she fell.  In a flash, the two women who had brought the horse to the ball room were at Shika’s side, and together, the three of them quickly hefted Breanne’s cold and unconscious body and rushed her from the stage and back to the ready room.

       The heat of the spa woke her immediately and she cried out as they dipped her in.  Slowly at first, but then more rapidly, Shika quickly removed Breanne’s bonds as the auburn haired girl was settled in the water.  One of the other girls quickly took off her own dress and slipped into the water with Breanne, supporting the still shivering, barely conscious, girl.

       It took almost five minutes before Breanne stopped trembling, and she began sobbing into the shoulder of the girl in the spa.  Shika watched in disinterest as Breanne clutched and cried.

       “H-h-h-how could you do that t-t-to me?”  She demanded, her voice still wavering.  “Y-you’re a w-w-woman!”  Breanne said her sentence punctuated with sobs.

       Shika shrugged.  “You lasted a respectable amount of time.  I’ve had subjects with longer rides, though not by much.  You only rode the kori for twenty-two minutes.  I have examined your body and you have not suffered any damage.

       Breanne closed her eyes and concentrated on getting her breathing under control.  The heat of the water was finally seeping in and the tingling of her toes was going away.  Another ten minutes, still in the arms of the girl supporting her, finally returned Breanne’s temperature to normal.  Shika had left, leaving Breanne in the capable hands of the two assistants, who chattered with each other in a sharp tongue Breanne didn’t understand but recognized as Japanese.

       Finally, Breanne felt the heat overwhelming her and she rose, lifting herself out of the spa.  The first assistant quickly grabbed two towels from the cabinet and gave one to Breanne, and one to the other girl.  Bre patted herself dry and then stood wondering what would happen next.

       Several minutes later Shika reappeared and stood gazing at Breanne.  “You look recovered.”

       Breanne didn’t reply and Shika once more shrugged.  With a command completely oblivious to Bre, Shika barked an order at the two assistants.  Quickly, one of the assistants retrieved the dropped wrist cuffs while the other went to the cabinet and retrieved a second set.  Moving to Breanne, one bent down, quickly attaching the cuffs around Breanne’s ankles while once more Breanne’s wrists were bound.  In moments, the rubber ball gag was reinserted.   Pulling the towel from around Breanne’s shoulders, the two assistants stood at her side, all three under the intense gaze of Shika.

       “You are ready.  Follow.”  Shika ordered.  Breanne took a deep breath and stepped forward.  Her body was tense, but she asked herself how things could possibly be worse that what she had just endured.  Once more she followed Shika out into the ball room.  The dinner party was still in session, and as they approached Breanne recognized Wendy pouring another glass of wine. 

       This time, the stage was already occupied.  A large wooden frame, with restraining clips at each corner stood erect in the center of the platform.  Breanne sighed in relief when she saw that it was just normal wood, and not an ice coated machine of torment.  Shika wasted no time and marched her directly up to the frame.  Breanne didn’t even need to be told and raised her arms up to the corners.  The two assistants quickly secured her to the wood, her arms and ankles pulled taut to the four corners.  Breanne rocked the frame slightly and realized that it was secure in the stage and wouldn’t topple, no matter how much she moved.

       The assistants stepped down from the stage and quickly exited the ballroom, going behind the still working chef as Shika turned and bowed to Ms.Poole and the guests.

       “Mistress Poole, I present Breanne Erikson for your amusement and pleasure.”  Shika announced.  Breanne watched as Poole nodded and then turned to the woman next to her and began whispering softly.

       There was a slight commotion from behind the chef’s counter and Breanne turned her head to see Shika’s assistants come running back into the ball room, this time carrying some sort of pedestal.  As they came close Breanne’s eyes widened in horror and she pulled hard on the wooden frame.

       The two girls set the pedestal upright before Breanne, who squirmed away, trying to wrest herself free of the frame.  It came up mid-waist on the bound girl, a tapered tube that rivaled any phallus in existence.  It was easily two inches wide at the slightly rounded top, and it spread to as many as four at the base.  But it wasn’t the width or the length that frightened Breanne.  It was the fact it was made of ice; cloudy, white, and frozen.

       The ice phallus was hardened and shaped on a large dowel that sat in a wooden base.  It was obvious that the height could be adjusted and the two assistants spent a moment dropping the phallus down and then pushing it between Breanne’s outstretched legs.  Shika moved behind Bre, grabbing hold of the thrashing girl and holding her still as the two assistants raised the phallus.  They pushed the icy tip into Breanne’s sex, parting the petals wide and driving a full nine inches of the icicle up into her body.

       No one present doubted the intensity of the sensations the bound beauty was enduring.  Despite the ball gag, Breanne was able to make the searing touch of the ice spear into a vocal protest.  Had she been unrestricted, her scream would have filled the room.  Her hips thrashed and she bucked madly, her bright red pussy plunging up and down upon the ice phallus in a crude simulacrum of sex. 

       The two assistants disappeared again, leaving Shika to monitor Breanne’s icy self fucking.  Breanne pulled and lifted herself to the top of the frame, her ankles stretched downward, desperate to get the freezing pillar out of her body.  But it was too long, and embedded too deep, and she resorted to a peculiar up and down motion as the ice melted, leaving wet long trickles of icy water running down to the soles of her feet.  Her toes curled tightly.

       One of the assistants reappeared, handing Shika another dowel encased in a thin layer of ice.  It was only a foot long, with only the last eight inches or so frosty, but Shika held it up, moving around to the side of the frame.  With a dispassionate look, she moved the frozen rod forward, pressing the icy tip against Breanne’s right nipple.

       Breanne screamed again, pulling away from the surprise torment.  Her eyes flashed in anger at Shika, who followed Breanne’s movements, grinding the ice covered dowel onto her sensitive nub.  As Bre thrashed under the torment, Shika moved to the other breast, plying the icy dowel across the pink nipple.  The oriental torturer dragged the dowel down Breanne’s side, eliciting a screaming squirm from the bound victim.  Shika moved the dowel to Breanne’s hip, and then traced the bikini line straight to Breanne’s clit.

       Breanne tried to lift herself up as high as possible as the frozen rod touched her still tender clit, sending waves of freezing agony through her sex.  Her hips bucked madly and then she dropped, impaling herself all the harder on the huge ice phallus buried inside her.  Her body was covered in goose bumps and she felt the first shivers as her temperature dropped.  She could already tell that the phallus between her legs was melting rapidly, and she wondered if she would outlast the icicle.

       As the penetrating phallus melted, Shika would apply the ice to various parts of Breanne’s body, touching the poor hanging girl on the nipples, the clit, her bottom, even prying apart her buttocks to press the cold ice to her anus.  Even non-sexual parts of Breanne’s anatomy were subject to the cold.  Shika spent time pushing the edges of the slowly melting ice encrusted dowel to Breanne’s underarms, the undersides of her breasts, and the backs of her knees.  Within minutes, she was whimpering, hanging limp in the frame as the melted ice water seemed to gush from between her legs.

       She was so cold and so numb, that she barely realized that the phallus was gone and the two assistants were once more releasing her bonds.  Trembling in dramatic shivers, she could hardly stop the two girls from draping her arms over their shoulders and half carrying her back to the ready room.  Shika followed at a statelier pace.  Once they were back at the spa, the ankle and wrist cuffs were removed, as was the gag.  Immediately Breanne’s teeth began to chatter and the two girls helped her into the spa.

       The heat seared her, almost painfully and she grit her teeth hard as the heat streamed into her body.  Her sex was the most painful; a prickly feeling as if someone had whipped her hard between the legs.  She trembled, shaking in the water, slowly recovering as she glared at Shika.

       Shika looked at Breanne with a questioning glance.  “You do not approve?”

       Breanne’s teeth were still chattering but she was able to form her sentence coherently.  “H-h-how c-c-can you ask that?  T-t-this is just c-c-cruel.”

       “Have we violated the limits your organization established?” 

       Breanne opened her mouth, angry, but then hesitated when she realized that in truth, not a single thing had violated her agreed upon limits.

       “Exactly.  We are well within our rights.  You are Ms. Poole’s chosen entertainment.  She enjoys the sight of beautiful young girls like you, bound, and tormented with ice.  When Ms. Poole was a little girl, she was caught in a snowstorm in Colorado and almost froze to death.  I expect that this is the root of her fetish.  I am skilled in many facets of torture, both sexual and physical, and I enjoy the challenge of meeting Ms. Poole’s requirements.” Shika said.

       Breanne didn’t know how to reply and merely sat back against the side of the spa, her head dropping.  The pretty Japanese woman merely stared at Breanne.  After a few moments she left, once more entering the ball room, leaving the auburn haired entertainer in the company of the two assistants.

       “Do you speak English?”  Breanne suddenly asked, directing her question at the two assistants. 

       One looked at her curiously and then nodded.  “Little.”

       “What’s your name?”  Breanne asked. 

“Name is Natsumi.”  The girl replied.  “She is Yuki.”  Natsumi said, pointing at the other assistant.

       “Natsumi, do you know what Shika is going to do next to me?”  Breanne asked tentatively.

       Natsumi stared at Breanne for a moment, and then turned and asked Yuki something in Japanese.  The girls conversed for a moment and then Natsumi looked back at Breanne.

       “You to be kori tortured.”  Natsumi said.

       Breanne’s eyes narrowed in confusion.  “Kori?  What’s that?” 

       Natsumi looked up at the ceiling, obviously searching for the right word.  It took a moment and when she remembered the English word her face broke into a big grin.

       “Kori is Japanese in English called ice.”  Natsumi said.  “You out stand now.”  She reached in and pulled Breanne up as Yuki moved forward to help Breanne out of the spa.

       Bre stood dripping, letting the two Japanese girls dry her, ignoring their smiles.  Her body ached, especially between her legs, but at least she wasn’t cold.  Natsumi and Yuki took the discarded leather cuffs and reattached them to Breanne’s ankles and wrists.  Then they gently put in the ball gag and together the three women waited for Shika to return.

       It wasn’t long before the double doors reopened and Shika entered to find Breanne prepared.  There was a resolute look on the red haired girl’s face, a kind of acceptance.  Her bare feet stepped lightly on the parquet tile floor as she left the ready room with her tormentors.

       It was fairly obvious the dinner was winding down.  Most of the dishes had been cleared away and the chef was no longer at her counter.  The maids were still busy, refilling wine glasses, or bringing small cups of iced sorbet to the guests.  A new restraint was sitting in the center of the stage; this time a “Y” shaped restraint.  Nowhere did Breanne see any ice, other than the slightly melted ice sculptures to the sides of the stage.

       Shika led Breanne up to the restraint and moved her around to the back.  With a nod a Natsumi and Yuki, the two assistants lifted the bottom beam of the “Y” and tilted it upward, placing the outstretched arms on the floor.  A center cross beam acted as a pivot, enabling the girls to literally tip the support like a see saw.

       “Lay against the restraint.”  Shika ordered.  Breanne nodded and put her back to the center beam.  Shika knelt quickly and clipped Breanne’s ankle cuffs to the large metal rings embedded in the wood of the outstretched arms.  When she stood, she lifted Breanne’s arms above her head and secured them to the center beam.  In effect, Breanne was upright, her back to the guests, her legs spread, staring at the large windows.

       And then Natsumi and Yuki tipped her.  In moments she was upside down, looking out at the ball room at a slight angle, her legs above her.  She moaned softly, her mouth aching around the rubber gag, her eyes blurry from a mixture of tears and the blood rushing to her head.  Natsumi and Yuki had disappeared as soon as Breanne was upside down and in a moment Breanne gave a cry of anguish as she saw the petite Japanese girls returning with a thick sheet of ice vertically clamped onto a rolling cart and several more ice phalluses.

       Shika took an ice phallus from Yuki as Natsumi rolled the cart directly in front of Breanne’s face.  There was a moment of adjustment and Breanne watched as the girl tilted the ice sheet slightly and raised it up.  Natsumi looked up at Shika and then together, at almost the exact same moment, both oriental women moved.

       Breanne screamed into her gag as the thick ice phallus penetrated her sex.  For some reason it felt different, and she realized that while the phallus earlier had been thicker, it had been straight.  The icicle currently being rammed into her body was knobby, wavy, as if frozen in little mounds and hills.  But it was a double assault.  The thick sheet of ice Natsumi had adjusted was pushed forward until it pressed against Breanne’s breasts, icing the firm melons with freezing pressure.

       Breanne could do nothing but take it.  Her body, upside down, was totally unable to relive the stinging cold between her legs, or even the thick ice on her breasts.  She could feel the icy melt water trickling down to her shoulders, and then her neck, to drip off the top of her head.  Ice water ran in rivulets down her stomach to join the cascade dripping from her bosom.

       Her body ached with agony, a burning sensation that came not from heat, but from the total absence of heat.  Her skin puckered and she trembled slightly.  She couldn’t see anything other than the bottoms of the cloth covered tables of the guests and the steady drip of ice water off the sheet of ice.  She felt movement between her legs and suddenly clenched tight as another ice phallus began to probe between her buttocks.

       Shika knew exactly where to push however and Breanne screamed again as a fresh ice phallus was slipped downward into her inverted bottom.  She bucked on the restraint frame, her hips thrashing as she began quivering.  Shika grabbed the phallus in her sex, pulling its already much reduced girth from her red and dripping hole, only to ram it back in hard, pushing it much deeper.  Shika thrust it in fast, pumping it in and out of the poor girl’s body like a violent piston.  Breanne couldn’t help but react, her hips thrusting outward to meet the violation of her sex.  For the first time that evening, Breanne felt the primordial urges of lust, her body burning.  In a flash, her sex had lost the numb sensation and she pumped with abandon, melting the ice phallus until it disappeared inside her.

       Shika was prepared and pulled out a third fresh phallus, even bigger than the one melting in her bottom, or the one Breanne had already endured.  With barely a grimace, she rammed it home, spreading the red inflamed petals of Breanne’s sex, fucking the inverted bound girl with a crystal of frozen water.

       As it penetrated deep Breanne tightened, screaming out in a rush of pain, agony, and ecstasy.  She groaned, and then, with toes curled and fingers in fists, she screamed, orgasming in a mind-blowing climax.  There was a loud crack and Shika’s eyes widened in surprise as she pulled the ice phallus from Breanne, only to find half of the frozen rod in her hand.  Breanne continued to cream, eyes rolling as her orgasm rolled through her and Shika frowned.  The torturous woman laid the remainder of the phallus across Breanne’s clit, smacking it softly with the broken-off ice shaft.

       The searing cold and pain was enough to set Breanne off again.  Her voice rose to a muted crescendo and she pulled hard against her bonds.  Her clit throbbed in freezing agony and she bucked, thrashing against the cold in her breasts and loins.   She came with gut wrenching scream that set every guest to excited whispering while Jessica Poole looked on with cold dispassionate eyes.

       “Enough!”  Poole announced, standing.  Shika looked up in astonishment, pulling the half melted phallus away from Breanne’s clit.

       “Can’t you see she’s cumming?”  Poole demanded angrily.  “I want her tortured!  I want her cold!  I want her iced.  I want her vagina frozen!  If I could I’d lock her in my freezer!  Remove her and reheat her and we will try again with the next activity.” 

       Shika bowed low, clearly at a loss as Breanne gasped, her chest heaving.  Natsumi quickly pulled away the half melted sheet of ice, exposing the bright red skin of Breanne’s breasts.  In moments, the three Japanese women had Breanne righted and detached from the restraint, carrying the exhausted and chilly girl back to the ready room.

       Breanne barely noticed them slipping her into the hot tub, and only roused as the hot water seared her body as surely as the ice had earlier.  The last remnants of the broken off ice phallus which had been left buried inside her melted almost instantly in the intense heat and Bre pushed a trembling finger into her sex swirling the cold water with the warm.  Her body felt as if a thousand needles had been stuck in it, but especially on her breasts and between her legs.

       After several minutes the pain went away and she slumped against the side of the spa, Natsumi holding her arm, making sure she didn’t slip under the water.  Part of Breanne wanted Natsumi or Yuki to get in the spa with her, to wrap their arms around her and hold her.  And part of her wanted the party to end.

       And yet…the orgasm she had experienced was totally different from anything she had felt before; different in an unexpected way.  She had been sexually tortured before, of course, but the freezing burning searing intensity of the kori torture had been more than she ever imagined possible.  Sitting in the spa she realized that she had not one, but two orgasms while inverted.  She didn’t think it was possible, and yet, she could feel the remnants of the extreme pleasure still seeping through her frozen veins.

       Shika stood at the edge of the spa, her face a stone cold mask.  Breanne could tell she was displeased, but the older Japanese woman didn’t focus that displeasure on the victim of her tortures.  Shika knew exactly who was too blame, and she was looking inward, trying to figure out how Breanne had managed to explode, experiencing the ultimate pleasure during a torment intended to do no such thing.

       This time it was Breanne who lifted her own body out of the spa, with both Yuki and Natsumi moving close to help.  The assistants were still dressed in their own dark close fitting outfits, the oriental cut looking erotic and beautiful.  For the first time, Breanne really noticed the intricate embroidery on Shika’s robe as well, marveling in the dark interweave of colors.

       Breanne knew the evening wasn’t over, despite the late hour.  There wasn’t a clock visible, but she could feel the passing of time.  It was easily approaching nine o’clock.  Yuki picked up the two sets of cuffs while Natsumi darted from the room, back through the hallway, rather than into the ballroom.  Breanne patiently held her wrists up for Yuki as the pretty assistant carefully buckled the heavy leather cuffs onto her arms.  Yuki’s hair was a glistening black that cascaded halfway down her back.  The lights from overhead even reflected from it, creating the illusion of a band of brilliant snow, glistening in the sunlight.  Yuki finished buckling the ankle cuffs and stood, flashing Breanne a brilliant delicate smile.

       The sound of the hallway door made Breanne turn.  She saw Natsumi enter the room, a large heavy winter jacket draped over her arm.  Natsumi shook it out and held it up for Breanne, who nodded and slipped her arms into the offered coat.  She couldn’t even imagine why she needed a winter coat.  Outside the weather was warm and pleasant, and she wasn’t really that cold.

       But Breanne was not the kind of girl who would argue, especially with women who had proved they were merciless in inflicting pain.  The coat draped down low, past her knees, covering up half of each calf.  The same feeling of warmth came over her and she pulled the front open a bit more, letting the cool air touch her stomach. 

       To Breanne’s surprise, Shika motioned for her to follow Natsumi out of the room without placing the ball gag back into her mouth.  Breanne was grateful.  She hated ball gags.  For her, they were one of the worst things to be endured, and only the blazing intensity of the torments inflicted upon her had kept her mind from the discomfort the gag caused.

       She followed Natsumi into the hall, who turned a different direction than Erica Stafford had led her.  Breanne wondered where the residential manager was, since she hadn’t seen the brunette woman since she had been placed in Shika’s hands.  Natsumi led, while Breanne, Shika, and Yuki followed.

       The mansion was huge, and Breanne was led down several small corridors.  It took Bre a moment to realize that the maze of corridors were too small to be the hallowed halls Jessica Poole traversed to get from room to room, and her suspicions were confirmed when Natsumi opened a small door at the end of one passage, only for them to emerge in a large hall that spanned two huge rooms.  Breanne caught sight of a grand piano and lounging chairs in one, but Natsumi whisked them across the hall and into another servant’s passage before Breanne could see what was in the other room.

       It was Breanne’s feet that told her that the temperature had dropped.  The ceramic tiles, cool to the touch before, had turned sharply cold and Breanne’s walk became almost a goosestep march.  A heavy metal door finally appeared before the four women and Natsumi released the heavy latch and pulled the door open.

       When they stepped out into the large room Breanne gasped.  A full enclosed indoor ice rink filled the room.  It was standard size, easily big enough to host an ice hockey game.  They stepped out onto a carpeted platform at one end of the rink and Breanne stood staring at the ice.

       The first thing the winter coat wearing girl noticed was that the retaining walls along the end had been removed, making the transition from green carpet to ice immediate.  There wasn’t even an edge.  The carpet ended and the ice began.  The other most noticeable oddity was the small red circle that seemed painted on the ice. But as Breanne stared at the circle, she realized that the ice wasn’t right.  She had seen ice hockey games before, but the ice here appeared to uniform.  She took a few steps closer and gasped in shock as she realized that the entire field of ice was coated with loose, perfectly smooth snow.  Even the red circle was colored snow, expertly placed.

       Breanne moved away from the rink, her toes cooling rapidly, despite the winter coat, and she was glad she was wearing the heavy covering.  She had no doubt whatsoever that she would soon be out on the ice, in all probability without the coat.  Suddenly, another set of doors at their end of the rink opened and there was a flurry of activity.  Wendy, along with the other maids were hurriedly bringing in heavy chairs, placing a little more than a dozen along the edge of the rink.  The heavy wooden chairs were split into two groups and lined up on the sides of the rink, with the red painted circle in the ice between them.  Breanne counted fourteen chairs, seven to each side.

       One last chair was brought in, thick and comfortable, and it was placed directly in the middle, as close to the red painted circle as the carpet allowed.  The maids continued to scurry and Breanne watched as they began pulling large red plastic boxes, which Breanne hadn’t had time to notice, toward the two banks of chairs.

       They had barely finished when Jessica Poole swept into the room.  Erica Stafford was there, holding open the door for the lady of the house, and Breanne felt herself shudder involuntarily as Poole’s gaze bit into her like an icy gale.  The guests were chattering and laughing, but seemed to know exactly what was going on.  Some of the guests deliberately separated and moved to either side of the rink.  No one sat until Poole moved to her seat.

       Shika pulled Breanne forward toward Ms. Poole and the rink.  Yuki and Natsumi took hold of the coat, pulling it off  Breanne’s body, letting the rush of cool air chill her.  Breanne’s nipples puckered instantly, rising in the wintry temperature of the ice rink.  Shika took Breanne’s arm and led the naked beauty to the ice.

       “You will stay in the circle until you are told you may leave it.  If you, or any part of your body exits the circle, you will be severely punished.  Do you understand?”  Shika asked.

       Breanne nodded, clearly bewildered, but dreading the upcoming torment.  The snow looked very cold, and Breanne had no doubt that lying several inches below the snow was a rock hard sheet of ice.  She took one step out onto the rink, her foot crunching through the wet freezing snow, instantly bringing a grimace of pain to Breanne’s face.  Quickly, she hopped out to the circle and began a strange dance, lifting one foot then the other, stamping down the snow into a slightly slush cold hard padding, trying to ease the burning cold in her feet.

       Jessica Poole smiled.  “Polar Bears versus the Penguins.  Ladies, you may begin.”  Poole announced.  The assembled maids rushed forward, handing intricate and heavy mittens to each guest.

       Breanne turned and looked at both banks of chairs, watching as the excited guests lifted the covers of their boxes, each extracting a perfectly smooth sphere of white.  Breanne gasped, realizing what was in store and she watched in alarm as the first snowball was hurled in her direction.

       It missed, but in moments there were more flying through the air, coming from alternating sides.  Breanne felt the stinging freezing impacts along her side and bottom as she faced only one side, dodging the flying missiles.  Several more snowballs exploded against her body, driving her slightly forward and she turned around, just barely managing to dodge another wave from the more accurate team. 

       She wasn’t sure if they were the Polar Bears or the Penguins, but their accuracy was much better and she turned toward them, her eyes wide in alarm as they hurled together, all at once.  She twisted, trying desperately to dodge the freezing bullets, only to slip and fall face first into the snow.  She yelped as her breasts and stomach were mashed into the ice and snow and she quickly rose to her feet, her back and bottom already receiving multiple hits. 

       A snowball smacked her soundly on the side of her head and she swayed, suddenly dazed until another well placed snowball exploded on her chest, sending a spray of fine white snow, like dust, over her red and sensitive curves.  Breanne lifted her arms to protect her head, realizing there was no way to dodge the bombardment and she cringed as the each snowball smacked her with freezing intensity.  In the end she was curled into a ball, her side buried in the snow, her bright red skin patterned with impact marks from the thrown snowballs. 

       As she huddled, sobbing, she twisted when particularly cruel impacts landed in delicate areas.  Her upturned bottom was a favorite targets, as were the few points of her soft underside that her arms were unable to protect.  An unmoving target was easier to hit and Breanne felt as if every missile thrown by the guests made contact.  She shuffled away from the worse side, moving around.
       And then Jessica Poole’s voice filled the rink.  “Enough!  Polar Bears have won.  The snow captive has been driven out of the circle onto the Penguin’s side.”

       Breanne continued to huddle, only barely realizing that the onslaught of snowballs had ended.  The sound of heavy boots crunching in the snow roused her and she timidly lifted her head to Shika bending down, the heavy coat in her hands.

       Breanne tried to rise, but she was too cold and Shika draped the coat over her body and pulled her up.  Shivering, her teeth clattering violently, Breanne let the petite but strong Japanese woman walk her back to the carpet.  Breanne didn’t notice the guests chattering, or Jessica Poole watching in pleasure at Breanne’s discomfiture.  Suddenly Natsumi was before her, holding out a large blue blanket.

       “Wrap this around you.” Shika ordered, pulling the coat off Breanne’s shoulders.  Breanne was too stunned to resist and barely managed to take the blanket.  A ferocious heat seemed to come from it and she settled it around her as Natsumi patted Breanne gently. 

       As Bre warmed up, she realized it was an electric blanket, and she dipped a corner down so that she could put her frozen toes to the soft heat.  Her trembling slowed considerably as she recovered, the heat of the blanket seeping into her frozen and icy limbs.

       She wondered why Ms. Poole had stopped the contest and Breanne looked out onto the ice.  The red circle was still clearly in view, and almost the entire center had been stamped flat.  It took Breanne a moment to understand the tracks in the snow, and she saw that the pristine expanse on one side of the circle’s exterior was marred by the full imprint of her body.

       Breanne burst into tears as she realized that she was only being prepared for the promised punishment.  Sobbing into Natsumi’s arms, she failed to notice Jessica Poole’s hardened gaze, a grin of pleasure on the old witch’s face.

       As soon as the sobbing fit had run its course, Shika moved forward once more, taking hold of Breanne and pulling her from Natsumi’s embrace.  Shika ran her hands along Breanne’s limbs, touching her skin, feeling for any trace of coolness, even going down and touching the soles of the auburn haired beauty’s feet.

       Nodding in satisfaction, Shika pushed the blanket off the naked girl and led Breanne forward.  Breanne saw Yuki sliding a heavy metal plate onto the ice near the winning bank of women, the polar bears, and Breanne saw that it was easily eight or nine feet long with two metal stands at the far ends, rising up at least two feet into the air.  Without hesitation, Shika pulled Breanne back out onto the ice, the heat of the blanket disappearing in an instant as the poor girl was led to the plate.

       Shika was careful not to mar the snow behind the plate, instead letting Breanne approach from the side.  “You will lay down in the snow, on your stomach.”  She ordered.

       Breanne froze, frightened by the prospect.  She stared down at the snow, already burning the soles of her feet, and quailed.  Shika saw the look in Breanne’s eyes and quickly grabbed the frightened girl and knocked her down, pushing her into the snow.

       Breanne screamed as she went down, kicking out at Shika.  Both Yuri and Natsumi rushed out onto the ice, going to the aide of their mistress.  Shika held Breanne down, pressing her body into the slushy ice.

       Natsumi took hold of Breanne’s left leg, yanking it outward until the ankle cuff could be attached to the metal stand.  Once she was secure, Yuki followed suit, trussing Bre’s feet to the metal stand, leaving her on her stomach, legs spread wide apart, with only her chest, head, and arms lying on the ice and snow.  Breanne sobbed, her tears flowing freely down her nose to drip into the white cold snow.   

       “Before we begin the punishment,” Ms. Poole began.  “I must deal with another matter.”  Poole looked directly at Shika.  “You failed me earlier.  You allowed her to orgasm, not just once, but twice, in my presence.  You will be punished for this failure.”  She announced.

       Shika bowed her head, her face dark.

       “As your punishment, you will endure the same as the snow captive, except on your back.  You will offer the Penguin team the opportunity to inflict your punishment.  Let it not be said that all my guests are not treated to the best.  Now disrobe.”  Poole ordered.

       Breanne looked up through her tears to see Shika unbuttoning the front of her embroidered robe.  It took only a moment and then it fell to the ice, exposing the delicate petite body.  Shika was by no means busty, her body the typical diminutive Oriental form, a dark patch of hair covering her sex.  Carefully she folded the robe and then dropped it on the carpet.

       Her feet were still encased in calf high leather boots and she bent down, tugging the zipper along the ankle downward.  It took a moment, but she was able to elegantly remove both boots, standing before the assembled guests just as nude and vulnerable as Breanne.

       Breanne had propped her head up on her arms, her body numb from the snow and ice.  She watched as Shika stepped into the snow and quickly crossed the rink to stand before the assembled women on the other side of the ice.  Breanne marveled, wondering how Shika could stand the cold.  It appeared as if the freezing surface didn’t even faze the Oriental dominatrix turned submissive.

       Shika sank to her heels a few feet away from the line of guests who watched her expectantly.  She seemed to settle, crossing her legs in a graceful arc until her petite bottom touched the snow.  Breanne watched in astonishment as Shika laid back until she was stretched out on the icy field, her shoulders and head sinking into the ice.  With controlled motions, the oriental woman spread her legs, planting the soles of her feet in the ice, lifting up her loins and rising up slightly to present the best target for the assembled guests.

       “Ladies, you may begin.”  Jessica Poole intoned, and Breanne watched as the ladies opposite her all picked up snowballs and hurled them at Shika’s presented sex.  As Bre watched the first tiny comet of ice impact into Shika’s unprotected flower, the auburn haired beauty felt the heavy impact of the an icy projectile on her own sex, the snow exploding into her pussy and flattening the puffy and swollen petals.  Breanne let out a sharp scream as several more snowballs struck her.  A fine dusting of snow exploded from her loins, coating her back.

       Breanne squeezed her eyes shut, putting her wrist to her mouth as she screamed loudly.  The pain was intense; a burning, stinging, pounding force that felt as if someone had taken a paddle made of ice and was striking her pussy over and over.  Her whole body jumped as she was struck, the hurled missiles landing on her thighs, her buttocks, and her sex.  She lifted her head for a moment only to see Shika’s body shaking, but holding position as snowball after snowball was hurled into the spread open body of the Japanese woman.  Breanne could barely see the dark patch of pubic hair under the caked layers of snow.

       The pelting continued, tears seeping from Breanne’s eyes, only to freeze on her cheeks.  Her body burned with an ache that began between her legs, and she was sure that she was bruised on both her bottom and sex.  The throwing had diminished as the guests were finally tiring and Breanne hoped Yuki or Natsumi would soon come and release her.  Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as two or three more snowballs landed between her legs.

       And then Breanne saw Yuki stepping up to Ms. Poole, whispering slightly in her ear.  Poole nodded and then smiled.  Breanne watched as the red haired mistress of the house stood and walked across the ice to Shika’s body.

       “You may get up now Shika.”  Poole said to the shivering oriental woman.  Shika nodded, and slowly curled herself up until she was able to stand.  Her body was red and streaked with bands of snow.  With dignity that Breanne felt she could never possess, Shika drew herself up and stately stepped through the snow to her folded robe and boots.  The Japanese woman brushed off her feet and pushed them back into the boots, then picked up her robe and quickly pulled it over her body, buttoning it back up the front.

       Breanne whimpered as Shika approached and Natsumi and Yuki immediately moved out onto the ice to release Breanne’s legs from the metal plate.  A mound of broken snow had built up between the bound girl’s legs and it took both assistants to help Breanne up.  It was clear that Bre was in a worse state than Shika.  Not only had Breanne been on the ice for much longer than Shika, but the cumulative effects of the nights torments had added up to make her much more susceptible to the icy tortures.

       She could barely walk, and Yuki threw the still hot blanket over Breanne’s body as Natsumi put an arm around the auburn haired girl and helped her to the door.  Breanne didn’t even look around as the four women entered the same servant’s corridor they had used to get to the rink.  It took only a few minutes to get back to the ready room and Breanne stumbled to the spa, only giving a sigh of relief when she slipped into the warm waters.

       To her surprise, Shika also disrobed, baring her very beautiful body and slipping into the water.  She stayed on the opposite side of the spa, away from Breanne and closed her almond shaped eyes, breathing deeply.

       It took awhile, but when Breanne began to feel remotely recovered she looked over at the silent Shika and spoke.  “Shika, are you okay?”

       Shika opened her eyes, staring at Breanne. “I am fine.  Thank you for asking.  I was not in contact with the ice as much as you.”

       “But the way you were positioned…”  Breanne said, her voice filled with concern.

       Once more the oriental woman shrugged. “Pay it no mind.  I have been trained to deal with physical discomfort.  Part of being a dominatrix is the ability to understand and be submissive.  Trust me I have endured, and dealt, much worse.”  Shika shook her head.

       Breanne nodded.  “Are we done yet?” 

       Shika frowned.  “For me, yes.  For you, I’m afraid there will be more.”  She sighed and looked upward, as if collecting her thoughts.  “After our recovery you will be taken to Ms. Poole’s private rooms, where you will be bound upon her bed.  Natsumi will stay with you until Ms. Poole returns to her rooms once her guests have left.  I imagine that will not be much longer.”  Shika explained.

       “You will then be subjected to whatever Ms. Poole desires to do to you.  I can assure you that Ms. Poole’s direct and personal torments are easy compared to what you have already experienced this evening, or what you would experience with me if I were given free reign to punish you.  After Ms. Poole has been given the satisfaction of using you, then you will be unbound and required to complete several small actions upon Ms. Poole.  After those actions are complete, you will be free to leave the compound, with your contract fulfilled.”  Shika said.

       Breanne’s eyes narrowed in curiosity.  “What actions are we talking about?  The ones on Ms. Poole I mean.”  Breanne asked.

       Shika sighed.  “When I told you earlier that Ms. Poole had been caught in a snowstorm, I didn’t explain the minor details.  She was actually caught in an avalanche after wandering off a mountain ridge during the snowstorm.  She was sixteen years old.  After the snow ridge collapsed, Ms. Poole found herself upside down, buried in snow and ice, her legs parted at a painful angle, and a heavy block of ice pressing down between her thighs.  Her snow suit was ripped, and the only a pair of light shorts and the thin cotton cloth of her panties separated her body from the ice.  She spent approximately three and a half hours in this position before she was dug out.  During that time, she suffered frostbite and nerve damage to her toes, fingers, nose, lips, and most importantly, her genitalia.  For the most part, Ms. Poole was able to recover with medical assistance, however the nerves in her sexual organs were damaged by the weight and extreme cold.  She is no longer able to experience an orgasm from normal stimulation such as you.” 

       Shika sighed and slowly stood up, lifting her beautiful body over the edge of the spa wall.  She motioned for Breanne to follow as Yuki handed both dripping women terry cloth towels.

       “After Ms. Poole is done torturing you for her own pleasure, you will be untied from the bed and Ms. Poole will take your place.  Her legs will be bound spread at the exact same angle they were in during her ordeal.  You will then be given an ice phallus, which you will put into Ms. Poole and you will fuck her with it until it has melted away, irregardless of any orgasms Ms. Poole might experience.  Do you understand?”

       Breanne nodded.  “So she can still have them?”

       Shika nodded.  “The nerve damage was not total.  She can feel some pressure and intensities of cold and hot.  But it takes great temperature differences for her to become aroused.  The ice phallus you use on Ms. Poole will be one you have not experienced yourself this evening.  It is specially made with a higher freezing temperature.  It will last almost a third longer than regular frozen water.  Additionally it is specially carved, with a much broader width throughout its length.”

       Breanne snorted once. “I’ve taken some pretty big dildos before.” 

       Shika smiled softly as she finished drying off, picking up her robe.  “No doubt.  I sense in you, Ms. Erikson, a special spirit that works in harmony with my own.  While here in this place I am under the specific requirements of Ms. Poole, I would enjoy taking you for my own amusement at some point in the future.  You are aptly vocal in your distress, yet you posses an amazing resiliency and will that makes you perfect for my needs.”

       Breanne looked at Shika in surprise as she finished drying her hair.  “Are you offering to torture me?”  She asked.

       Shika looked at her.  “Of course.  Unsurprisingly, I can not afford your services as can Ms. Poole.  And in any event, when you are paid for your time and body, you have limited capabilities at refusal.  Should you however wish to test your mettle and discover where the true limits of pleasure, pain, and sexual agony meet, then I encourage you to seek me out.”

       Breanne bit her lip and then nodded.  “I appreciate it Mistress Shika.  I’ll think about it.” 

       Shika nodded and finished dressing.  Her nod to Yuki and Natsumi brought the two assistants forward and Breanne sighed as the ankle and wrist cuffs were attached once more.  As soon as the two pretty Japanese girls were finished, Shika motioned for Breanne to follow her out into the servant’s corridor.

       She was led through another maze of corridors, following behind Shika, whose black booted feet made sharp staccato sounds.  Breanne was of course barefoot, her naked body still exposed to the slightly chill air of the mansion.  After a few turns and a stairwell, they exited into a large sitting room in which a double set of doors was thrown open to a decadent bedroom beyond. 

       Shika led the way into Jessica Poole’s private sanctuary and Breanne stared at the strange decorations.  The room was painted off-white with blue undertones and the shimmering white curtains that covered the windows were almost see-through.  The bed was modern, a black king-sized expanse with four black posts rising from the corners.  The carpet was an unusual shade of blue, and Breanne felt as if she were entombed inside an iceberg.

       “This woman needs some serious psychological counseling.”  Breanne said.  For a moment, it appeared Shika’s control might break and Breanne thought she saw a slight upturn of the mouth.  Yuki and Natsumi hurried forward to the bed and spent only a few moments at the tall pillars at the foot of the bed, untangling what appeared to be several lines of black cording that Breanne had not noticed.

       Shika pointed to the mattress.  “Please lay on your back and allow Yuki and Natsumi to bind your legs.”  Breanne nodded and sat down on the edge, rolling onto her back.  The two assistants grabbed hold of her ankle cuffs and lifted her legs, tying the black cord to the cuffs with sure knots.  The two assistants pulled and Breanne groaned a little as her legs were lifted high up into the air and pulled apart, stretching her bruised thighs.  It dawned on her that almost every torture she had endured this evening had put her in the same position.  The ice horse had spread her legs, forcing the ice upward into her sex.  The box frame she had been bound too while she was impaled on the ice phallus had spread her wide apart.  Even the “Y” frame’s arms, in which she had been bound to upside down, had spread her legs at the same angle.  Lastly, the punishment plate on the ice rink had stretched her limbs, exposing her most secret places to the ice punishment Ms. Poole demanded.

       “I get it now.  She’s recreating it.”  Breanne said suddenly, her eyes wide.  “Everything that’s happened!  It’s all about recreating those three hours!”  Yuki and Natsumi looked at her in confusion, her words meaningless to them, but Shika finally smiled and nodded at Breanne.

       “You are correct, Ms. Erikson.  Everything you have experienced tonight is a recreation of Ms. Poole’s incident.  However, while you were released and reheated so that no permanent damage could occur, Ms. Poole spent the entire three and a half hours pinned.  But you are very astute.”  Shika patted Breanne’s thigh and spoke rapidly in Japanese to her two assistants.  Quickly the two girls moved to Breanne’s wrists, pulling them over her head and binding them to the other two posts at the head of the bed.

       Yuki pulled an odd shaped pillow out from under the bed, placing it under Breanne’s back and bottom and Breanne sighed in relief as some of the pressure on her limbs eased.  It would make waiting for Ms. Poole much more comfortable.  She nodded to Yuki, smiling, hoping the young assistant would understand the universal appreciation.

       Both Yuki and Natsumi left the bedroom, leaving Breanne with Shika.

       “Didn’t you say Natsumi would stay with me until Ms. Poole arrived?”  Breanne asked.  Shika nodded.

       “Natsumi went for a few of the items needed for the wait.  Ms. Poole has given specific instructions for your time spent bound here.  In any event, I want to make sure you remember your instructions in dealing with Ms. Poole after you are released.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Yes, I remember.  I’m to take the phallus Natsumi gives me and masturbate her with it.” 

       “Very good.  You have been a delight to work with Ms. Erikson.  I will see you after Ms. Poole releases you.  Until then.”  Shika bowed and left.

       For several moments Breanne lay on the giant bed alone.  Her mind drifted off to the numerous torments she had endured over the last few hours, the horrific snowball game, and the monstrous ice horse were still fresh in her mind.  She closed her eyes and was on the verge of falling asleep when Natsumi came back into the room, closing the bedroom doors.

       She was carrying a large bowl and she set it down on the edge of the bed between Breanne’s outstretched legs.  Breanne barely noticed and closed her eyes again, letting the weariness of the evening wash over her.

       Natsumi reached into the bowl and picked up a small cloth.  Wrapping it around her fingers, she reached back into the ceramic container and snagged an ice cube, rounded at the edges.  With deliberate care she leaned forward and then pressed the ice against Breanne’s clit.

       Breanne awoke with a cry, bucking madly as the searing ice stung her sex.  “Natsumi!”  She yelled, wriggling her hips as she glared at the diminutive Japanese girl.  Natsumi ignored Breanne’s protests and pushed the cube through the petals of Breanne’s flower, then drove the already melting object deep into her.

       Breanne gasped, groaning in agony as the ice sank deep into her body.  Inverted as she was, it filled her sex with cold water that numbed her almost immediately, but that still caused her body to tighten, cramping slightly at the intrusion.  She glared at Natsumi, horrified that the girl was tormenting her for no good reason.

       “How can you Natsumi?”  Breanne begged.  “Please…no.   No!  Don’t!  No!  NOT ANOTHER ONE!”  Breanne tugged hard on her bonds, unable to move much as Natsumi calmly inserted another ice cube into Breanne’s hole, rubbing it around the bright pink petals of Bre’s sex first.  Bre bucked, whimpering, agonizing as the ice seared her body.  After a moment, a small trickle of water seemed to seep from her puffed out pussy, and Natsumi once more reached into the bowl.

       “I say sorry, this Shika make do.”  Natsumi said in her broken English as she pushed another ice cube into Breanne.  Breanne’s eyes closed and she suddenly sobbed, turning her head into her arm as the ice burrowed deeply into her body, freezing her very core.

       The cubes were separated by several minutes, and Natsumi waited patiently for each one to melt.  After a while, Breanne almost looked forward to the moment Natsumi would rub the edge of the cube against her clit, almost bringing forth an orgasm.  Soon Breanne was begging, pleading with the little Asian girl to rub harder, and longer.  Natsumi complied and soon Breanne was writhing on the bed, not from the freezing cubes being melted inside her, but from the sharp and rapid friction of the edges of the cubes being rubbed against her clit.

       And then Natsumi glanced back at the doors.  With a hesitant expression, she bent down between Breanne’s outstretched legs.  For a moment, Breanne wondered what her tormentor intended, but then gasped in wonder as Natsumi’s tongue began licking Breanne’s swollen and tender sex.  Long laps up and down the petals, stroking the abused and bruised flesh, made Natsumi’s head bob.  Finding Breanne’s clit, Natsumi drew it into her mouth, sucking hard.

       For the third time that evening Breanne came.  And she came hard.  Screaming out her excitement, hands clutching the sheets beneath her, tugging hard against the bonds she exploded in exquisite delight, certain that Natsumi’s actions were not only prohibited, but would be rewarded with deliberate and certain punishment if discovered.  As Breanne slowly relaxed, her body flooded with endorphins, there was a sound at the door and Natsumi moved back immediately, grabbing the bowl and with her bare hand snatching up an ice cube.  She brought it down fast and hard, smashing it into Breanne’s body with desperation of guilt.

       Breanne grit her teeth as the searing cold immediately undid the waves of pleasure she had experienced under Natsumi’s tongue, and then closed her eyes as her deep well tightened around the hard rock of ice that had been rammed into her.  She heard Natsumi give a polite greeting in Japanese and then Bre opened her eyes to see Jessica Poole staring down at her.

       The matron was all Irish, from her freckled cheeks to the blazing red hair, and her face was very pretty.  The bun that her hair had been folded up into during the party was now undone, and her locks had been loosed so that they hung past her shoulders in long waves.  Poole was neither fat nor thin, a difficult balance for those of her coloring, since usually the genetic makeup of such women made them either sticks or overweight, and it was apparent that Jessica Poole took good care of herself.

       “It burns, doesn’t it?”  She asked, running her fingers down Breanne’s leg, over her thigh and up her side.

       “Yes Mistress.”  Breanne replied, squirming slightly from the melting ice cube Natsumi had pushed into her.

       “You have been exquisite tonight, Ms. Erikson.  But what I was most impressed with was your double orgasm at the sensation of the ice phallus being used on you.”  Poole sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for the bowl of ice Natsumi had left.  She picked out a small cube of ice and touched it to Breanne’s left nipple, circling it round and round the quickly distended areola.  “Tell me, Breanne.  Do you normally orgasm with ice inside you?”

       Breanne whimpered, the ice first searing her nipple, but the quickly numbing it.  She took a moment to think of her answer and then responded.  “I have come before while tortured with ice, Mistress.” 

       Poole nodded.  “I know.  I was there at your initiation trial at the Locke. I know you didn’t see me.  I have a private VIP suite upstairs and I rarely purchase a lady.  But I watch, and decide who might serve my needs.  I have had very few invited here.  Most have known only the torment of the ice.”  The red haired vixen leaned down, closer and closer until her lips were only an inch away from Breanne’s mouth.

       “But none have ever shared the ice with me like you.”  Poole kissed Breanne passionately, her mouth open and her tongue slipping into Breanne.  Bre responded, taking the kiss softly, hungrily; her body responding to the sensual touch.  But as they kissed, Poole moved the ice cube from her left breast to her right, pressing it hard against her nipple, recreating the same searing intensity that caused Breanne to struggle against her bonds and arch, pressing up into not only the kiss, but the ice.

       Jessica Poole broke the kiss, sitting up, running the ice in wet cold trails down Breanne’s stomach, causing the bound beauty to squirm under the touch.  The melting cube left a pool of icy water in her navel, and the mistress of the house ran the shrinking remnant of the cube over Breanne’s belly until it neared her slit.  Breanne let out a whimper as it became obvious where Poole intended to move the ice.  As it touched her clit, Breanne cried out, thrashing against the tight bonds that held her, partly inverted, her legs up in the air and spread wide.

       Poole didn’t push the last wedge of ice into her, instead she choose to rub it back and forth across Breanne’s clit until it disappeared at last in a trickle of clear liquid, dribbling down Breanne’s body until it soaked the sheet underneath her.  Poole quickly removed another ice cube, a full sized one this time and once more concentrated on Breanne’s clit.

       The torture was excruciating.  Breanne’s body wavered between the incredible sensations of sexual stimulation, but couldn’t overcome the searing bitterness of the small piece of ice that seemed the only thing she could feel.  Tears sprang to her eyes as she rocked, her hips thrusting upward, gasping and moaning, interspersed by whimpers and the small tiny cries that so many tormentors had extracted from her over the years.  Her body burned with need.

       Jessica Poole worked with single minded intensity, running the ice cube down to Breanne’s tiny puckered opening, before running it back up to her slit, icing the petals of her flower, working it deep into her sex before returning to hold it against the swollen and pink clit.  She hummed off key as she worked between Breanne’s legs, every movement driving the poor girl crazy with need and agony.

       A fresh ice cube from the bowl was applied once more to Breanne’s clit and she gasped, biting her lip to keep from begging, her hips involuntarily thrusting.

       “You know,” Poole began, sliding the ice through Breanne’s outer labia, “I think you are the first girl I know, who would be able to appreciate my special phalluses.”  She dipped the ice cube into Breanne’s well, jerking it up and down fast.  “The water used to make them have a few special properties that allow the ice to melt much slower than regular water, and they are thick and very long.”  Poole looked back at Breanne’s face, smiling softly.

       “But they are very cold, much colder than this little piece of ice.  I have to keep them in a special lubricant.  I have only once used them on another woman, and poor little Wendy screamed so much that I didn’t have the heart to keep it in her until it melted.”  Poole said casually as she returned the ice cube to Breanne’s clit.

       She dragged the melting edge over Bre’s burning nub and Breanne cried out again, lost in the torment of desire and ice.  Her head thrashed from side to side as her hips bucked upward and she was barely was cognizant of Poole’s soft voice.  She never heard the snap of Poole’s fingers, nor saw the red haired matron point to the small freezer tastefully hidden in the wall. 

       Natsumi wasn’t exactly sure what Ms. Poole desired.  But she had understood enough that she went to the freezer.  Taking two special gloves from a tray above it, she reached in and extracted a gleaming phallus, slick and hard.  The air in the room turned chilly, just from the open door, and Natsumi quickly closed the freezer and hurried across the room to Ms. Poole. 

       Jessica Poole took the extra glove and nodded her thanks to Natsumi.  In moments the ice phallus had been transferred to the red haired matron and Natsumi bowed, retreating back across the room to her chair, watching in astonished delight.  It was easily apparent what Poole intended, and Natsumi sat with eager interest.  Never before had any of the entertainers been tortured with Ms. Poole’s special phalluses.

       Poole moved around to the end of the bed, kneeling between Breanne’s outstretched legs.  Breanne’s eyes were wide in desperation, torn between the desires of lust and the fear of being penetrated by such a cruel instrument.  She whimpered, opening her mouth to beg.

       “P-p-please, Mistress! I beg of you…please don’t!”  Breanne gasped out, her neck straining upward.  Poole ignored her and lifted the ice phallus above Breanne’s gaping pussy, the swollen pink petals of her sex laid open and wide.  Slowly Poole brought the icy tip downward, holding it like a matador, plunging the final sword into the bull.

       It was not a fast penetration, despite the oily lubricant that coated the entire rod.  The ice phallus was easily four inches thick, and was only tapered slightly at the tip into a rounded point.  Breanne’s scream was horrible, a gut wrenching cry for help that seemed as if it would be heard miles away.  Poole ignored it though, pushing and pushing until the tip hit home, a full nine inches of ice core buried in the wet punished depths of the auburn haired beauty tied to the bed.

       Breanne’s scream stopped only long enough for the girl to take a breath, her body pulling on the bonds with strength that would have marveled a weightlifter.  The blazing pain burned through her like a knife and Poole began pumping the phallus in and out of her body.

       And then Breanne went numb.  She could no longer feel the pain of the phallus, only the deep pressure and a sense of cold.  She let out a tiny whimper and fell silent.  Poole continued to thrust, but then began running the fingers of her other hand across Breanne’s clit, rubbing the besieged nub of flesh until Breanne was bucking back against her.

       And the lust returned.  Breanne felt the tightening of her loins, the strange dull ache that had occurred before her last kori orgasm.  Her chest heaved in rapid gasps and she moaned, thrusting up to meet Poole’s downward plunge.  As the red haired matron’s nails scraped against Breanne’s clit, the young girl cried out, head tilted back in a mixture of pain and pleasure, legs straining, as the tsunami of her orgasm rushed from her clit to the depths of her well, and then froze there.

       Breanne wailed, her orgasm cresting over and over, unable to subside as the ice phallus repeatedly impaled her.  She could tell it was melting, albeit slowly, since she no longer felt as full, but the overwhelming sensation of her orgasm washed away any vestiges of discomfort and she wished the phallus was its original size and intensity.  She pulled hard on the ankle bonds, trying desperately to control the penetration and depth of Jessica Poole’s plunging thrusts and finally, she climaxed.

       Her final scream rivaled the initial outcry of penetration, once more filling the bedroom.  But it was a scream of satisfaction, of ultimate orgasmic pleasure, of primeval longing and desperation met with violence and pain.  It penetrated the soul.  The only witness in the room, Natsumi stared in shock and longing, wishing it were she that had the ability to experience the orgasm Breanne Erikson was enduring.  Outside the bedroom, in the sitting room, Shika had heard the initial cry of penetration, wondering what her mistress was doing to the entertainer, and it was only Breanne’s second cry that Shika realized that Poole had used the special phallus on the young girl.

       Two rooms away, Erica Stafford sat in a desk chair, reclining slightly as she listened to the whimpers and moans.  She had installed secret microphones in Poole’s room years before, and her dress was bunched around her waist, her fingers wet as they plunged in and out of her sex.  A small bowl of ice sat near her.

       And huddled in the servant’s corridor behind the wall of Poole’s room, Wendy the maid huddled in a corner, arms wrapped around herself as she cried, wishing that the beautiful Ms. Erikson hadn’t been so cruelly tortured, so humiliated, so abused, but at the same time grateful that it wasn’t her screaming.  Wendy knew the pain of the ice phallus, but unlike Breanne, was incapable of reaching the point where pain and pleasure were the same.

       At some point, the ice phallus became too small to work in and out of Breanne’s slit, and Jessica Poole regretfully pushed it in her dark opening for the last time.  It would finish melting, a gentle reminder to the young beauty of her agony, of her torment.  Poole patted the inflamed folds of Breanne’s sex and then stood, her hands going to the ankle cuffs.  Natsumi hurried forward and began helping to unbind the sobbing Breanne, who eyes gushed tears.

       As her legs dropped to the bed, Breanne curled them upward, her body aching and burning in ways she had never experienced.  She was cold, her skin puckered in goose bumps, and her teeth chattering.  But as her buttocks touched the sheet and blanket beneath her, she realized that the bed was heated, which was why she wasn’t colder. 

       Natsumi hurried around and released the wrist cuffs, leaving the heavy leather on the bed.  Breanne brought her arms around her chest, her fingers moving between her legs to cup her tormented flesh.  Her hand was warm and almost felt scalding as it probed softly her painful sex.  Natsumi reached out and took her arm, pulling her softly toward the edge of the bed.  Breanne looked up and nodded, realizing it was time.

       She rolled to edge and saw that Jessica Poole was calmly undressing.  The beautiful dress the red haired matron had worn was slipping from her shoulders, baring a nude body that could easily have performed at the Locke.  Her skin was a creamy pale white, marred only by the spattering of reddish freckles across it that made her look as if someone had sprinkled red pepper flakes across her body.

       Breanne had trouble standing and Natsumi supported her, moving her around to sit at the foot of the bed.  Breanne ignored Poole as the matron laid down in the same position Breanne had just been in.  It was Natsumi who lifted each foot, buckling the ankle cuffs and spreading Poole open.  Breanne saw that the woman shaved, leaving only a small patch of bright red hair above her cleft.  Natsumi hurried to finish binding Poole, lifting the red haired woman’s hands to the manacles left on the bed and then pulling them taut, stretching the forty something year old woman.

       Breanne stared.  At the age of sixteen, this woman had been forced into this position, not by a man, or a mistress, but by nature itself, spreading her legs obscenely and inflicting the most painful of torments on her body.  Once more she was spread, her legs aching as Breanne knew from direct experience, and preparing herself for the same torment she had endured for hours before.

       Natsumi stood at Breanne’s side, holding a padded glove in one hand, while the other, also gloved, held another phallus.  Breanne put on the offered mitten and then grasped the phallus, surprised at its weight.  She studied it a moment, admiring its perfection, the thickness, and the width, but then turned back to Jessica Poole, inverting the phallus in preparation for a quick penetration.

       Poole lay with her eyes closed, breathing softly and calmly, with no trepidation at all for what lay ahead.  Breanne lowered the tip of the phallus until it touched the light pink petals of Jessica Poole’s flower, spreading them as she forced the thick monstrosity in.  At the point where she, Breanne, had been screaming, Poole still lay in complete control, with only a slight tensing of her muscles indicating she felt the massive impalement. 

       Breanne rammed it home, driving the full length of the phallus into Poole, watching with satisfaction as a look of pain flashed across Poole’s face.  Breanne extracted it, almost to the tip, and once more thrust the ice core deep.  Poole never cried out, never voiced her protests, never even moaned as Bre masturbated her.  Only the curling of her toes and the clenching of her fists indicated her sensations.  When Poole’s eyes closed and her mouth opened in a silent moan, Breanne pumped rapidly, pounding the ice into the insane woman, remembering the pain and agony she had endured throughout the night.

       There was the pain of the ice horse, in which the sharpened edge had parted Breanne’s sex, her entire weight born by the delicate folds between her legs.  Breanne viciously thrust the phallus.  There was the ice rods touched to her clit and breasts, while she was impaled by an ice phallus.  Breanne pummeled Poole hard.  There was the inverted torment, where Bre’s legs had been stretched into this very position while the ice had frozen her most private parts.  Breanne rammed the ice phallus in deep and with her other hand pinched Poole’s clit hard.

       With each thrust Bre relived the night’s torments, and she remembered Poole yelling at Shika, demanding the torment to end because Breanne had orgasmed.  The red haired matron was bucking, her hips thrashing upward as Breanne jacked the ice phallus deep.  She kept up with the stroking until the mostly melted ice slipped from her mitten, disappearing into the sucking wet depths of Jessica Poole’s tormented sex.

       Breanne looked at Poole’s face, seeing the pleasure of release on it.  The bound woman was still in the throes of orgasm, her body arching and tensing as the phallus finished melting inside her, legs pulling hard against the bonds.  Breanne watched dispassionately, waiting until the silent woman finally relaxed. 

       Jessica Poole lay quietly, her body slumping in the bonds, and Natsumi softly stepped forward.  Quickly releasing her fallen mistress, the little Asian girl lowered Poole’s legs to the bed, a soft towel wiping her sodden sex of the excess water.  A soft blanket was placed over the sleeping form and Natsumi nodded to Breanne and motioned toward the door.

       When Shika heard the door open, she stood, watching with direct intensity as Breanne limped out of the bedroom.  The poor girl was a wreck, her skin blotchy from the snowball impacts and being bound, her tear streaked cheeks wreaking havoc on her complexion.  But despite that, Shika felt drawn to the girl.  Never before had anyone endured Poole’s phallic torments with such strength.  Shika marveled at the quiet grace and dignity.

       “Ms. Erikson, you have performed most superbly this evening.  I would imagine Ms. Poole will be sending you a sizeable bonus.”  Shika said, moving up next to Breanne.  “Let me take you back to the ready room.  You may sit and soak in the spa for as long as you want before leaving.”

       Breanne shook her head.  “Thank you Shika, but I just want to get my clothes and head home.”  Her body ached.

       Shika nodded.  “I understand.  Let me show you to the room where Ms. Stafford has placed your things.”  Shika turned and led Breanne into the small servant’s corridor.

       As they walked Shika looked back at Breanne.  “Ms. Erikson, I realize I mentioned this earlier, but I wanted to express my absolute desire to have you as my very own slave.  You have potential that is wasted in your current profession, and to be honest, you inspire me.  The things I could do to you…”  Shika trailed off.

       Breanne stared back at the woman who had tormented her.  “More kori torture?”  She asked, her voice soft spoken but with an edge.  Shika smiled and shook her head.  “Oh no.  I do not regularly use ice on my slaves.  On occasion it serves a good purpose, but it is not my specialty.   If you were to submit to me, you would not be in any condition to return to your life at the Locke.  You would be tortured beyond your belief, worse than anything you have endured so far.  I would test your limits and break them.  You would be bloodied, burned, humiliated, bound, and experience trials that would damage your soul as they would your body.”  Shika turned with a smile.  “But your soul!  Your soul would be tempered in the fire!”

       Breanne said nothing as Shika shrugged and continued, moving down the hall once again.  “I would start by binding your hands above your head, rough hemp rope on your wrists to a heavy wooden beam, while I would practice the art of Shibari on your body, binding your breasts and sex.  Then I would take a bamboo cane and whip your breasts until they bled, staining the rope.  Then your legs would be tied spread and I would cane your sex until your body were cut and bruised.  Then your clit would be clamped and weighted while you recovered.”

       Shika missed Breanne’s look as they moved down the hall.  Breanne’s silence was readily apparent though and Shika sighed softly.  In a moment they were at the small servant’s quarters Breanne had initially been shown to and Shika opened the door.  There on the bed were Breanne’s skirt, halter top, and pumps.  Gratefully, she hurried to them, quickly pulling them onto her sore and tired body.  Slipping into the shoes, she turned back toward Shika who nodded and then stepped back into the hall.

       Breanne quickly strode past the Oriental woman who had so blithely declared her intent to torture her and managed to find her way back to the kitchen.  To her surprise, Erica Stafford was waiting there, looking stately and relaxed.

       “Ms. Erikson, Ms. Poole has instructed me to give you this bonus check.  As you know, the fee for this evening was deposited with the Silver Locke earlier, but Ms. Poole felt that your…above average performance as the entertainer tonight deserved something special.  Ms. Poole also instructed me to inform you that you have a standing invitation to visit the manor, in the event you wish to share another, more private, evening with Ms. Poole.”  Stafford said, holding out a check.

       Breanne nodded, smiling slightly as she took the check.  A glance made her breath catch in her throat and her eyes widened slightly.  Stafford nodded and smiled.  “Ms. Poole asked me to tell you that checks similar to this one would come with each visit you made to the manor.  I think she appreciates your special talents.”

       Breanne chuckled softly.  “Please tell Ms. Poole that I appreciate her commendation of my performance.  The evening’s activities were interesting.”

       Stafford nodded.  “Ms. Erikson, I have to ask…what did it feel like?  That thing?  Wendy won’t even speak of it.”  Stafford looked down at the floor embarrassed.

       The auburn haired beauty of the Locke bit her lip and looked at both Shika and Stafford, seeing that both women harbored the same curiosity.  She took a deep breath and then shook her head.

       “Its something that can’t easily be described Ms. Stafford.  It’s as if someone poured molten lava into your body, which forms a hard pillar.  Your body numbs and then aches, a deep throbbing ache that hurts as if someone had beaten you half to death.  And then, for me at least, I felt a burning in my clit, a fire, a desire that seemed to explode through me like lightning.  That woman rammed the thing into me over and over and I couldn’t help it.  I came.”  Breanne shrugged and made for the door, opening it and stepping into the warm night.

       Shika followed and quickly touched Breanne’s arm.

       “You are special, Ms. Erikson.  If you ever wish to submit to me…”  Shika held out a small business card, forcing it into Breanne’s fingers. 

       Breanne gave a curt smile, nodding, and then pulled free.  She opened her car door and quickly got in, turning the key in the ignition.  In moments she was leaving the estate, her heart pumping, warming, thawing…as the ice melted.

       

       

The End

Of this chapter of Breanne’s Adventures…

Special Thanks:

       To Chuck for his phenomenal patience in editing the work, and making suggestions that only improved the original.

       To Breanne for her inspiration, for her patience, and her willingness to be the model for my fictional “Bre”.