I expect this story to disappoint you. It features BDSM, an unethical male dominant and a female submissive who compensates for his lapse in ethics. The sex took place before the story begins.
Carol was sitting, strapped and chained to a bench. Blindfolded, she couldn't see anything. The ball gag meant she was constantly drooling. She was sweaty from the activity and the heat of the summer day.
She was hot under the collar too, if she'd had a collar. What Tommy did really pissed her off.
The chunk of ice resting between her breasts was damned cold, the drips cool as they ran down her belly and across her crotch.
Nowhere near as cold as Tommy had been just now.
Tommy's routine had become familiar. He wasn't changing it up much any more. He hadn't brought in new ideas the past few times, didn't even alter the order of their sessions. Saturday morning he'd required Carol to leave all her clothes in her room upstairs in the house, as usual. He'd taken her out to the barn and put her through a predictable routine of sadism. It was all consensual, she came to Tommy's place, way out in the country, once or twice a month for a day of submission to him.
Hung by her wrists from a hoist, she'd danced with her toes just reaching the rough concrete floor while she took random hits from a bunch of willow twigs, at unpredictable locations. He'd lowered her enough to stand flat-footed, then hit her lower legs with electric shocks so she'd go limp and drop her weight back on her tired arms. Sometimes it was minutes between shocks. She could imagine he was behind her, thumbing through something on his phone instead of interacting with her.
He took her down from the hoist, put a blindfold over her eyes and led her to one of the stalls built into the barn, bent her over and guided her between two rails, one under her chest the other above her, holding her down, and secured her wrists and ankles in place. That's why Tommy put in the ball gag, then gave her a strapping.
Tommy fucked her in the ass and finished up with another twenty swats with his boat paddle. That sucker could sting if he wasn't careful. Today he did not hold back at all. "That's for showing up with lube in your ass," he said over the final four swats. "I've told you I want it dry, so you really feel it."
Carol knew he liked it dry and couldn't imagine why he would. She'd told him she wasn't willing to risk getting torn inside. He'd started fucking her in the ass when he discovered it made her pussy wet. He didn't fuck her pussy any more. He never did anything for her, to give her an orgasm, but that was okay, it wasn't why she visited Tommy.
He released her ankles, then her wrists, guided her backward so she could slowly stand up. Leaving her blindfolded, ball gag still in her mouth, he led her to another location. He seated her on a bench, where he secured her waist and knees with straps, then chained her ankles. The cuffs on her wrists got connected to something over her head, separated. When ice dropped against her chest she knew what was next. When the ice melted, the rope between her wrists would be allowed to extend to full length. She would be able to free her hands, then let herself out. Once she was out, the usual routine was that she would kneel on his back porch, waiting to be let back into the house. Generally she was naked when she prepared his dinner, then she'd get dressed and leave. Sometimes he'd bend her over the dining table to take her again before she left, sometimes not.
It was very different this time.
"Okay, you know you have to wait." These words were familiar, but what he said after a long pause was completely unfamiliar. "Bitch, I'm through with you. You've lost interest, you're just going through the motions. I'm tired of this shit. If you're not engaged, why should I engage?" Something hit her face, she thought perhaps it was a riding crop.
He'd built the bench as part of his play area in the barn. He opened a latch and rotated the two halves of the seat apart, forcing her legs to spread wide. With the bench open under her she was completely exposed. Maybe it was true she wasn't getting as wet these past few times with Tommy, but even so she knew he could look down between her pussy lips, involuntarily spread by where he had forced her knees, and see some of her own lubrication. If he chose to look down.
How much more engagement did he want? She was the one who got tied up!
"You're not welcome here any more. You're never to enter my house again, if I catch you in there I'll beat you to within an inch of your life and then set you on your way. You wait, and while you wait you think about what a disappointment you are. Once you're free, you go. You leave, just as you are now, so people can see what a whore you are." His voice was angry, it didn't have that overly dramatic quality it had when, as part of the game, he was threatening her with something outside her limits.
She could hear his boots on the concrete floor going away from her, then crunching on the gravel of the drive.
She sat there in shock for a while. She was naked, even barefoot. There was no way she was just going to walk away from this farmhouse. Its isolation had been appealing when she started with Tommy, they'd taken the scene outdoors a couple of times, but it was also 20 miles from her place, most of that through farmland but the last two miles through suburban streets. She wasn't even sure where Tommy's nearest neighbor was, in what direction. What she needed was a plan.
Step one, she decided, was to change her timeline to faster than Tommy was expecting. She had to get out before he expected it. The ice block usually took an hour to melt, and she usually just waited until the cold was gone. She thought this icy spot between her breasts was bigger than usual. Not willing to wait, she pulled, hard, on her arms. Legs tied down to the bench meant she could put all of her effort into her arms. The ice crept higher on her chest, but did not budge.
She tried again, then again. Each try she held the pull as long as she could. Just as she could pull no longer on the fifth or sixth try, she heard the faintest noise. It was just a little "tink," a hint that perhaps the ice was giving way. She made a few more pulls, heard it again once. She decided to just yank on the damned thing until it broke, she started making short pulls, building up a rhythm. She began hearing the sound every time. After several minutes of pulling, suddenly there was a lurch and she had more rope, she could pull her wrists closer together. Not quite enough, though, so she took a short rest and resumed pulling. More progress, and soon she had broken out of the ice. Even if the ice was to last only an hour, she'd just gotten herself half of that hour. She released her wrists, then took off the blindfold and the ball gag. As soon as she had the blindfold off, she saw three of the dogs were standing there, tongues lolling as they panted in the summer heat. She felt for the latch and released the bench to move her legs together.
She looked down and saw the sonofabitch had put locks on the chains around her ankles. There was a small hammer right beside her, but it didn't look like it would be all that useful. That was the tool he intended her to use, consuming still more time. Looking around, she didn't see a key. She did see a pick in the garden tools stacked against the wall.. It was a struggle to reach it, but she pulled it over to herself. Usually, she would be more respectful of her master and the stuff in his barn, assuming either it was a puzzle for her to figure out, or he intended to return. This time she was in no mood to extend Tommy any courtesies. A little busted wood didn't bother her after what he'd said. It took a bit of experimentation, but she found the right spot and pried the ring off the bench on her right side. She freed her left foot in a few minutes more.
Her immediate concern was for her safety. If the dumbshit really was going to send her away without her clothes, without her car, without her phone, then he probably was prepared for other things. She went to the barn door, staying in the shadows to the side, and took a look at the house. At least he wasn't out on the back porch, waiting for her.
There was a kerosene lantern lit and hung from a peg, in the middle of the afternoon. Did that mean he expected her to still be there when it got dark? She retreated to the bench, surveyed the ice. There was a lot of ice there, probably another two hours. With the locks on her ankles, perhaps he did expect her to still be there in the dark. Maybe he thought she could make the whole trip home before sunrise.
Yeah? With her keys still upstairs at his house? He was either a bad planner, a bad dom, or an asshole. Maybe all three.
Carol went into the workshop, closed the door behind her so noise wouldn't carry. She found a hacksaw, squeezed a small piece of lumber between the chain and her ankle and started sawing. To her surprise, it took only a few minutes to saw through a link and break the chain. The other ankle was just as easy.
Opening the shop door, she moved back into the barn. She had to find a way to get upstairs, grab at least her car keys and her phone, ideally grab her clothes. That meant sneaking past a napping Tommy, getting him out of the house with a distraction, or threatening him with something. She ruled out stealth, the stairs alone in the creaky old farmhouse would give her away. Her first impulse was to take the kerosene lantern and set the barn on fire, that would distract him, but she decided not to return his cruelty with something that severe. How could she threaten him?
His gun cabinet, in the hallway by the kitchen, gave her a way to threaten him, keep him at a distance. She needed to get him out of the house, at least long enough to open his gun cabinet. After fifteen minutes of thought she had a plan. The clock on the workshop wall said it was three, he was close to the usual end of his nap.
The sound of a diesel engine woke Tommy. He recognized the sound of his own tractor. Just a little disoriented, he listened for a a few seconds, then realized the sound was going away from him. A quick look at the clock told him that little bitch couldn't be loose yet. That meant somebody else was driving it away. He popped his recliner upright, pulled on his boots and ran to the kitchen door. Looking past the barn, he could see his tractor, moving slowly down the gravel lane between his fields, nobody in the seat. Grabbing his car keys, he ran to his pickup to give chase, shouting a nonstop stream of curses as he did.
There were a few nice things about a tractor that old. It didn't need a key. It wouldn't stall in low gear at idle and the steering was so stiff it would keep going straight without having to be at the wheel. She expected it to run down the lane for a mile or more, going so slowly she knew she could jog alongside. Crouched down in the second row of corn, she watched him speed past in his truck, eyes on the tractor. Once he caught up with it, he'd spend some time chasing the tractor on foot. It was easier for her to jump off than it would be for him to jump on, and Tommy wasn't quite in shape for running. Staying off the road, keeping herself hidden in the corn, she ran as fast as she could back to the house. Crossing the gravel between the barn and the house was hard, so she slowed to a careful walk instead of the impact of running on gravel in bare feet. She could still hear the tractor running in the distance.
Inside, she stopped at the gun cabinet. She took out his pump-action varmint shotgun, grabbed a box of shells. She'd been raised in a farm town, dated farm boys. Two of the things she knew were how to drive that tractor and how to load and shoot. Tommy didn't know she could drive his tractor, the only time he'd seen her on it she was sitting on his cock as they bounced around on one of his fallow fields.
Upstairs, the room he always gave her faced the front of the house, while the current activity was all behind the house. As she hurried to dress she kept listening, but there wasn't a sound. Her phone was still plugged in and had full charge, she had her keys, she headed for the stairs.
As soon as she was on the top of the stairs, she could hear his truck come back, racing across the gravel and skidding to a stop. She waited. He burst in through the kitchen door. He charged to the stairs, but stopped as soon as he saw what was waiting at the top.
Carol stood there, the butt of the shotgun in her shoulder in a good shooting stance. The gun wasn't pointed at his head, which is what he'd have done. It was pointed much lower down, at his gut or maybe below his waist.
"Come on up. You just come up after me. I'd like that." Her voice was quiet, but shook a little. "I don't want to kill you. You need to live, so you can think about how stupid you are. I expect you'll need a bowel resection, though. I'm aiming to take out your balls. Maybe you'll lose your cock, too."
Tommy stood there for a minute, one foot on the first step, looking up at her. Her face showed only calm resolve. "Jeez, you're really carrying this too far. Get the hell out of my house."
