Shout-out to Jon Grey for planting this idea in my mind with his article on ice and wax play! Thanks, Jon!

“On your feet. Arms behind your back.”

Casey had spent the better part of the last half hour seated on the floor next to Sir. If she were being completely honest with herself, it was her favorite place to be and had been during the tenure of their few months together. But, in this particular case, she was more than ready to obey his commands. 

Before Casey had gotten seated at his feet, Sir had imprisoned her nipples in a vicious pair of clover clamps. Intense. Unrelenting. Sadistic. In other words, they were just like Sir. And they were perfect.

Casey loved to hate the clamps. They bit into her tender buds, never allowing her a moment’s reprieve or even a quick distraction. She was always painfully, acutely aware of them, and consequently, of Sir’s control of her body. And this was even before Sir had rigged up a cord to connect to the chain that spanned Casey’s chest, connecting the clamps. Using this cord, Sir could sit in his chair and tug at will on his lovely submissive’s nipples, providing all the sweet torture that both of them craved. 

But the time had come to remove them—Sir didn’t like to leave them on too long—and Casey now stood before him in the posture he’d commanded. “You did so well with your clamps today, little one. You made me so proud. Such gorgeous little whimpers, such beautiful strength in your submission. But it’s time for these to come off. And I’ve got a special treat for you today.”

The impish twinkle in his eye told Casey that whatever “special treat” he had in mind was bound to be part relief and part ordeal for her. Prior experience told her that removing the clamps was, in many cases, the most difficult to endure. Sir didn’t leave her waiting as he deftly removed both clamps at the same time. The aching, searing waves of pleasure and pain that seared through her nipples and radiated through her core sucker-punched her in the gut and nearly dropped her to her knees. Sir grabbed ahold of her hips to steady her as she grappled with the fiercest throbbing of the blood returning to her swollen nipples. 

“There’s my good girl…breathe for me…steady yourself…breathe nice and deeply for Sir and he’ll make everything better, hm?”

The promise of relief was a siren’s song Casey couldn’t resist, and she obeyed her Sir. As she always did. His promise was quick in coming. 

Sir reached into the glass on the stand beside him and pulled out two ice cubes, one for each hand, and applied them to Casey’s tortured nipples. The sensation was excruciatingly intense and comfortingly welcome art the same time. As her nipples throbbed back to life, he massaged the cubes against them in tight circles. Meltwater trailed down the underside of her breasts and her torso before falling to the cushion below her. She held position as Sir continued his ministrations. 

“Feeling good, little one?”

“Mmm…yes, Sir,” she moaned as she met his sharp gaze. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered. “Now, we’re going to keep going. Spread your legs and stay still for me.”

As she got into position, Casey’s mind rapid-fired through all the possible scenarios of what “keep going” might mean. Her answer soon arrived as Sir grabbed two more ice cubes and positioned one of them against her vagina. “Absolutely still, my good girl. Time to make me proud as I punish and pleasure this little pussy of mine.” Without further preamble, he used two fingers to push the cube inside, seating it deep within her. He repeated this with the second cube, then sat back in his chair to relax and watch the show.

Casey had never played with ice before—not on her nipples, not anywhere—so the evening’s sensations were beginning to overwhelm her. But she focused on Sir’s instructions—Stay still. Make me proud. She held onto his words like an anchor, the only thing to keep her from drifting away and dissociating from the intensity of the experience. 

The freezing cubes tucked into her warmth created odd sensations within her, cooling her entire body down while simultaneously making her hyperaware of her sex. In less than ten seconds from when he’d filled her with ice, the cubes began to melt and a steady trickle of water slid down her inner thigh while dewdrops fell from her chilled labia. 

“Looks like my girl sprung a leak,” he teased her gently, causing her to giggle and tremble at her own demise. He laughed with her as he trailed his fingers through her cool wetness and licked them. “Remember, absolutely still until the ice is all gone, my good girl.”

“Mmm, yes, Sir.” Casey stopped her giggles and stilled herself as a light wave of cramping washed over her—the cold cubes and her warm body were waging a war, and she didn’t want to end up a casualty. “Permission to ask a question during a session, Sir?”

“Of course, little one, ask away.”

“We’ve never used ice before, Sir. Why now? Why tonight?” The cubes continued to melt down her legs as she met his stare. 

“Fair question. So, I’ve been thinking about us lately. A lot. And I think we need to consider taking our relationship to the next level. The cold, hard truth is that I need you in my life. The cold, hard truth is that what we have is perfection itself. The cold, hard truth is that I love you. And I just wanted to make sure I had your full attention when I told you all about the cold, hard truth.”

And, for the rest of the evening and beyond, Casey never again shied away from Sir’s cold, hard truths.