I was chatting on the phone to him in the kitchen. I was making a drink, dropping ice cubes into a glass one by one. He heard the sound of the ice through the phone and asked what I was doing. When he heard that I had a tray of ice out, he made a thoughtful "hmmm..." sound. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

"What are you wearing?," he asked suddenly. I told him that I was wearing shortie pajamas, and he made me strip down to nothing while I stood there in the kitchen. "Take a piece of ice and put it in your mouth. Let me hear you suck on it, " he instructed. I lapped at the ice. "Smooth down one end of the cube in your mouth."

I looked around me, wondering what the neighbors could see through the window, if anything. Would a naked girl sucking on ice strike them as strange?

He continued: "Spread your pussy open with one hand and touch the ice to your clit with the other...don't take it off until I say so."

I took a deep breath and paused.

"I'm waiting," he growled.

I touched the ice to my clit and immediately cried out. The cold, hard pain was much more intense than I thought it would be. It burned my sensitive, exposed skin and I wanted to pull the ice away immediately.

"Keep the ice there until I say, Kitten," he urged over my cries. I held the ice, held it, longer than I thought I could, before he let me take my hand away.

"Did that hurt, Kitten," he cooed, as if he didn't make it hurt in the first place. He was sympathizing with me over pain that he had caused. But I was so relieved that he had let me take the ice off of my clit and that the feeling was returning to my pussy that I didn't notice.

As soon as my whimpers of pain subsided, he spoke again with that hard tone in his voice. "Put it back on your clit, now Kitten." I whined, but complied, crying as the pain burned icy-hot on my pussy.

He made me do it over and over again, until my legs were shaking as I tried to remain standing in the kitchen. He even made me touch the ice to my asshole, making me shudder and sob from the sensation. But I did it. I didn't even think about disobeying, although I could have. I could have said no, I won't hurt myself for your sick amusement, I won't get you hard with my cries of pain.

An hour later, after he let me come hard, kneeling in the puddle of water on the kitchen floor, I thought about why I did exactly what he wanted me to do. I thought about the feeling of his hand over mine as I moved the ice toward me, and his hand on my neck as he stood behind me while I writhed in pain. I was struck by how he seemed to be there with me throughout the entire experience, whispering in my ear and requiring my compliance with his very presence.

But he wasn't there, and he couldn't have hurt me if I didn't comply. And he wouldn't even have known if I didn't comply but pretended that I did. But none of those options crossed my mind. In the moment, I did something that hurt me very badly and made me extremely uncomfortable just because I thought I had to.

He reprogrammed me. He rewired me. He's inside my mind now. What else could he make me do, now that I'm like this?


Jessica said...

I really like your writing. I don't know why you don't get more comments. I don't have anything insightful to say but I thought I comment to let you know I'm reading!

Kitten said...

Thanks for reading and commenting, Jess. I know there are others out there reading (from checking StatCounter) and I do get a lot of encouraging e-mails.

But last week, when I was Fleshbotted and saw a tenfold increase in readers, there weren't increased comments. Perhaps I should have a mass delurk day?