Pat and the cold room.

"What do you mean, I'm not enough of a masochist?" We were tussling that spring over what it all meant. I don't think Pat knew about Janne, but I was dissatisfied in general and ready for something to happen. Pat was a small blonde woman, in her thirties then, pretty and sweet but not too adventurous to that point. More so than the woman I'd been married to when I met her. "I like a good spanking as much as anyone." I looked at her and didn't say anything. "Okay," she said, "what do you want to do then?" She was nervous. "Do you want to use your belt? Is that it?" I pulled my robe open to show her my hard cock. "I think you are on the right track." She looked at my penis and then back at my face. "You want to whip me with your belt?" I sighed. "You just don't get it. I want to hurt you. I want to do whatever I want. I want you to want that. You don't want that. It doesn't turn you on. It doesn't work if it doesn't turn you on."

We were sitting in the living room of the apartment on South Grand. Pat was on the couch and I was sitting in the rocking chair. "You don't know me as well as you think you do." She was pissed off and I didn't think I'd be 'getting any' any time soon. I thought about who I might go stay with for the interim, until I could find a place to live.

When I was first with Pat she was coming out of more than a decade with Larry who was perhaps gay. They had had sex approximately fifty times in all those years. Pat had had a couple of affairs, notably with her cross-the-street neighbor and Larry's professional friend, John. After we connected she had tried to turn off the Janne thing in my life, but it would never go away. On some level she knew how much I loved that sharptongued skinny vixen. But at first Pat and I had sex at least two and sometimes more than three times a day. This went on for three years. During that time we were not particularly experimental, although we probably thought we were. We smoked a lot of pot and we fucked a lot of straight fucking. We did do some oral sex, and even some anal. Bondage a few times. I got her to shave her pussy. But when I pulled out my belt she backed away. That was the beginning of the end, of course. After that I knew I couldn't count on her to be the lover I needed. And of course I had Janne who though she was married to someone else, would provide the kind of release my tender ego needed.

I figured that would be the end. And a year or two passed.

***

That afternoon she came back to the apartment. When she came in the back door she still looked pretty distraught, but somehow determined. She said hello to me where I was sitting at the dining room table, working on the typewriter, and disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour later she came out, her hair done and curled, lovely brown-blonde locks, her makeup exquisite, just short of looking like a whore, and naked. I saw that she had shaved her mons veneris carefully and apparently rouged her labia. Her nipples were stiff and also rouged.

"I am your's now," she said. "For any thing you wish, no matter how painful."

"I will make you cry." I leaned back in the chair.

"I want to cry. I want to scream."

"Are you aroused?" I stared at her, wondering where to take this. Her hand went to her vulva. She pulled at her clitoris. "Yes." She lied. I knew her well. I knew she was lying.

I got up and went over to her, taking her hand, pulling her to me, I lightly kissed her lips, sliding my tongue in her mouth. I walked her into the bedroom, and pushed her down on the bed. "Spread yourself open. This is going to hurt." I pulled my belt from its loops. She lay back and spread her legs far apart. "Not enough," I said. "More." She widened the gap, pulling her lower lips apart. "How many times shall I hit your pussy?"

Her eyes blinked and watered. "As many times as you like." she whispered.

"Good answer." And I hit her, right across her pussy lips. She hollered and snapped her legs shut. "Oh my god. That really hurts." I pulled my robe off. "Is this really what you want?" I asked her. She looked up at me, ready to start crying. "I just want you. I want you. I need to be with you."

"Then open your legs and keep them open." And I started slapping her between her legs as she struggled to keep them apart. I knew I would have to tie her. You always do, eventually. I've never met one who's will could keep her body completely open to the lash. Maybe that girl, if there is one, will be the perfect fuck.

And I slapped her with my belt between her legs fifteen or sixteen times, until her face was wet with tears. And I tore her open with my stiff cock. It hurt going in, but Oh the Glory of it. I fucked her painfully for a little while, finally coming to an exquisite orgasm, while I licked the tears off of her face.

"Not very good, but you get the idea." I said. "Now, did you really enjoy that or was it just a terrible adventure?"

She wiped at her face and said, "It was great. I really liked it, but it hurt so much and it was hard keeping my legs spread."

"Yes, next time we will have to tie you." She embraced me and held me close. "Anything. Anything you want. Anything."

It was a temperate spring day. April. The cruelest month.

***

The Cold Room.

I ran the air conditioner in the bedroom, set all the way up. It was actually quite cool outside but I had something special in mind. Pat hated being cold. But she also hated being hot. The air conditioning was all window units in the old apartment building. The one in the bedroom was the newest one we owned. And really too powerful for such a small room.

I called Pat at work. "When you get into the garage you are to take all your clothes off, including your stockings and shoes. Then you are to walk into the apartment from the garage." "Someone will see me." "We can only hope." She sighed. "Okay."

I put the pitcher of ice water in the refrigerator. I put the enema bag and the nozzle in the freezer. I checked the mold to make sure the icy cock was hard and frozen.

At a little after five the back door opened and Pat came in the kitchen, nude, as ordered. "I don't think anyone saw me, except that old lady on the third floor. Well she already thinks I'm a whore." She was apprehensive. She knew I had been planning something.

"Come in the living room with me," I took her hand, kissing her and idly caressing her breast. We sat on the couch and kissed and I moved my hands over her body. "Take this," I handed her a small purple microdot of lysergic acid diethylamide. She sucked it in her mouth.

I moved my hands between her legs. She was bare, shaving daily as instructed. I put fingers in her pussy and spread them apart. She was lovely and strained to be as open as she could. I put three fingers in her asshole, just to force the issue up a notch or two. "It's going to be a lovely asshole hurting night, darling." She sucked at my tongue. "Please be gentle," she pleaded. We had done a lot of anal sex, but always with considerable preparation, and sometimes she would say she couldn't do it. I shook my head. "Not this time, darling. Gentle is what we won't be." I squeezed her breasts very hard, tugging the nipples. "Are you in for this?" "Yes. Okay. Whatever you want." She sounded resigned.

I leaned back. "Suck me while the acid comes on." She opened my jeans, tugging them off and kneeling before me. She licked my dick very prettily and then set about sucking me hard. I knew she was thinking if she could get me off that would ameliorate the level of pain I was going to take her to. And she was right. If she could get me off that might interrupt the plans. I could feel the acid coming on. And I could feel her increasingly frantic sucking and her fingers playing with my testicles, lightly, delicately. I drew my legs up so she could tickle my asshole. She licked my balls, she licked down the flesh to my asshole. She stuck her tongue in my asshole while frantically jerking me off. Poor baby. "Nothing is going to save you today, my little virgin martyr." She came back to my penis and deep throated me, choking as she did so. Bopping hard down on my stick, taking it all the way in, her mouth pressed to my pubic hair. I held her head like that, knowing she couldn't breathe.

I let her up and she came off, starting to retch. When she calmed down, while I sat there rubbing my lengthy boy and watching the room glisten with the drug's effects, she lay her head on the couch, still kneeling below me. "Are you ready for the eveninng's fun?" I asked her. "Aren't we going to have dinner?" "Maybe later, if you are a very good girl. Actually I don't know whether you will have much appetite in an hour or so." I ran my fingers through her hair. She had started to cry. I almost came at that.

"I want you to go to the kitchen and bring me what you find in the freezer. I also want you to bring the pitcher of ice water in the refrigerator. And be quick about it." She rose to her feet and padded off through the dining room into the kitchen. I could hear the door opening and her deep sigh. And then a loud, distressed sob. She appeared in the doorway between rooms. The tears were rolling down her cheeks now. Her chest was heaving and she had started to cry for real. "Please, please don't make me . . . " She carried the enema bag and nozzle in one hand and the pitcher of ice water in the other. "Please …"

"Ah yes, just what I wanted you to bring." I took the bag from her and put the hose and nozzle on the coffee table. "You can help me fill it with the ice water." I could see that she was trembling. I held the bag and gestured for her to fill it and she poured the water and small bits of ice in, shaking a little as she did it. Spilling some on the carpeted floor. When it was full and bulging out the sides, like a fat pregnant orange ball, I told her to stop. "Now, screw the hose into the bag." She could hardly control her hands, but she complied with the order. "Now, get the Vaseline." There was a jar on the side table by the couch and she reached for it, opened and proferred it to me. I held the bag in one hand and the nozzle in the other. "Grease it up darling. Use plenty and it won't hurt quite as much." She put some on the black plastic stick.

"Now, kneel down and lay on the coffee table with your hands above your head." Pat visibly pulled herself together, and, like a beautiful sacrifice, knelt at the foot of the table and lay herself, face down across its length. "Now, take your hands and reach back and pull your cheeks wide apart." Slowly, one at a time she reached behind her and parted the globes of her derriere, exposing her red anus.

"The rule is, you hold it until I say you can let it go. If you fail I will whip your pussy until you faint. Got it?"

She started crying again, "whatever you want." I put the nozzle into her asshole and shoved it up there good. I turn the little device and let the ice water flow down into her.

She started sobbing continuously, her back to me, shaking. I squeezed the bag hard, forcing more of the liquid into her bottom. I pulled the tip out of her, "Close it off. Don't you dare drop a single drop, my darling." My cock was as hard as it has ever been.

She lay there, across the table, sobbing. After a few minutes she pulled off onto her haunches and lay on the carpet, in the foetal position. "Please, please, please, make it stop . . ." she whimpered very prettily. I stripped off all my clothes and knelt down in front of her, pushing my cock into her face, into her mouth. She sucked me very sweetly, the tears falling down her cheeks to the floor. "Please," I could tell she was still begging me. After a couple of minutes I pulled away and got up. "You stay put and no leaking!" I told her. I went to the kitchen and got the ice cock from the freezer. I put it in the bedroom, by the bed. We were headed there, but first.

I went into the living room and pulled her up off the floor. She was bent over, trying to make the cramping less intense. "Please, can I go now?" I led her by her hands to the bathroom. When we got there I pulled a cord out and tied her hands together. I turned on the shower and pushed her into the tub. I had turned only cold water on and she started screaming immediately. I took her hands, tied together and put them over the shower head so that she was half hanging there in the cold stream and I pushed her head under the stream. "I said, you better hold it until I say you can let it go." "Oh God! Please let me, please please …" She was jumping up and down one foot to the other, the water running hard on her, her hair wet. "Okay, you may evacuate." She double-clutched in place and then the water expelled from her rear and into the tub, running down the drain with the water from the shower.

I turned off the shower and took her down from the showerhead. "No dry" I told her and dragged her into the bedroom and forced her down on the single sheet. The room was frigid. You could practically see your breath in the air. She huddled on the bed, shivering. I took her hands and tied them to the top of the bed and then I spread her legs and tied her feet to the two bottom corners. She was wild eyed with fear and she shivered constantly. "I know how you like your air conditioning. Here's a little something to decrease your temperature." I took the icy cock and brought it to her hairless pussy. I spread the lips and noted that despite it all she was lubricated. I forced the ice cock into her. Hard. She grimaced and started crying again. I fucked her with the cock for a few minutes, then untied her feet and told her to pull her legs up to her chest. "And spread them wide" She looked lovely like that, the ice sticking out of her pussy. Her asshole was red and swollen. I brought my big cock, hard and very very mean, to her asshole and wet the tip a little. Then I drove him in, feeling the very cold passage. Ah. Now that was fucking.

I screwed her cold asshole for quite awhile. She sobbed under me and I held her legs back over her head, driving in deep and feeling the ice cock sticking out of her pussy. "ahhnnnhahhnnn,,,please,,,,hurts…." She sounded so beautiful and pathetic, trembling below me. I finally allowed myself a huge machine gun like come. It felt like I was ripping open the world.

About a month later, I moved out. She never really did forgive me for that fuck. That's why I always insist upon complete consensuality. It's better if they want it too. It's more pure that way.