The Ice Princess

Behind her back we called her the Ice Princess.  Stunning face, blonde hair cascading down her back, slim waist, fine tits, superlative legs.  And she made the most of them as well, wearing fine sheer hose and four-inch stiletto heels, tightly cut dresses ending above the knee, low enough to satisfy conservative employers but high enough to make everyone dream.  Our cocks strained at the mere sight of her; but not one of us could talk her into a date, let alone bed.  At Yale Law School, where I first knew her, she graduated third in her class (I graduated 127th, though perhaps I could have done better if I hadn’t been staring at those tits and legs through my classes).  I tried to ask her out once, and she looked through me and barely offered a reply.  She was no virgin – there had been a boyfriend back home, we gathered, but even when he was out of the picture there was nothing there for the rest of us.

Her name was Alicia Zimmerman.  Out of Yale she had her pick of the finest law firms in New York, and took a position with one of the very best.  She was universally tipped to make partner before very long: she worked long hours, remaining at the office far into the night, and (perhaps in consequence) appeared to have no inclination for a serious social life.  I was working in New York too, at a rather less regarded firm, and would see her around the courts from time to time.  She showed no sign of recognizing me, and I did not see any point in attempting to renew the acquaintance.

My good drinking buddy Derek, however, was at her firm, and so I was treated to the constant complaints.  Alicia got such-and-such a case ahead of him, Alicia was singled out for praise in meetings, Alicia was the partners’ golden girl.  He cursed his luck at having someone around to whom he would always have to play second fiddle.  And above all he cursed the Ice Princess’s refusal ever to give any man the time of day, not just because he would have loved to bed her himself (who wouldn’t?), but because a sex life might distract her from her work enough to give the rest of them a chance.

It was around then that I had a piece of wonderful good fortune.  My brother is a genetic scientist at an innovative laboratory, and was working on the side at one or two projects which allowed him to explore some of his more private interests – interests, I should say, that he and I shared.  And his research had just reached fruition: he called me in great excitement to explain it all.  I immediately saw the possibilities for the delightful Ms Zimmerman; I talked it through with Derek, and he too loved the idea of melting down the Ice Princess forever.  It would require a lot of planning, and quite a lot of money too, but one advantage of being a New York corporate lawyer is that funding and planning is our meat and drink …

*****

Alicia Zimmerman was, as often, working late at the office: she was determined to finish the brief she was preparing before leaving for the night.  Finally she wrote the last words, fired it off in an e-mail attachment.  She yawned and stretched in relief and satisfaction, and slipped on her shoes and buckled the straps around her ankles ready to go home.  She was not the last to leave the office by any means: several paralegals were still hard at work, and she noticed with a mild twinge of irritation that Derek too was at his desk, as he had been for a couple of weeks now.  Something made her a little uncomfortable around Derek – she had sometimes in the last few days turned and found him staring at her intently.  The sex thing, she supposed – it irritated her no end that her male colleagues seemed unable to stop acting like crazed adolescents.

She rode the elevator to the ground, and waved to the doorman as she exited.  As always, she crossed the narrow plaza to the side of the building as a quick cut through to the main street where she could easily pick up a taxi.  As always, it was deserted at this time of the night; the only sound was her heels clicking on the sidewalk.

Suddenly the world went black as something descended over her head.  Her arms were entangled in the heavy cloth.  She tried to scream, but she could barely draw breath; she tried to kick, but nothing connected.  She felt someone seize her upper body; she struggled, overbalanced, and found herself on what felt like a metal floor.  The floor of a truck or car?  Yes, the engine was starting up.  In her panic she fought to extract her arms, but to no avail.  She struggled to sit upright, but still her upper body was trapped in darkness …

*****

The abduction went perfectly.  Derek called me on my cell as soon as he saw the Ice Princess leaving, and my brother and I were waiting with the sack.  Over her head it went, and then I tied it off at the waist.  I pushed her into the back of the truck.  It was wonderful to watch the way her skirt rode up as she struggled, revealing black lace panties underneath the hose, and her lovely long legs kicking vainly with her feet in their elegant stilettos.  I locked the door of the truck compartment, scooped up her purse from where it had fallen, and leaped into the front seat to drive to the place we had specially prepared.

The drive was around an hour; we had rented a house just outside the city limits.  We needed to be close in to fulfil the last part of our plan, but we also needed enough space and distance from neighbors – we could hardly do what we needed to in a Manhattan apartment.  I pulled up into the driveway, parked and unlocked the back door.  We had put on masks and I was holding a gun in case she had succeeded in struggling free of the sack, but as it turned out neither was needed for the moment.  Her upper body was still totally trapped by the sack; all she had managed to do was push herself into a sitting position.  I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her out of the truck; I heard a muffled shriek as she tried to find her footing and run; but the four-inch stilettos were not made for running (or even balancing) in.  She collapsed to the ground, the sack heaving.  I dragged and pushed her into the house, and into the cell we had made ready.  I banged shut the door.

After a couple of hours Derek joined us, and we watched the video from the camera in the cell.  Alicia had succeeded in standing up; she had found thbed and was sitting on it.  She seemed calmer now, which suggested that she had probably already explored the tie around her waist and found it impregnable.

We went into the room, and Derek and I grabbed her body from either side to hold her steady.  We pushed her forward onto the bed.  My brother pulled her hose down her kicking legs, then her panties; and while we sat on her back, he took his hypodermic needle and plunged it into her buttock.  She shook and quivered, and then her world went even blacker than it was already.

We were now able to remove the sack, and to admire our acquisition.  The Ice Princess lay asleep, her long hair tousled and matted with sweat.  Her white blouse under her gray suit was also soaked; we carefully removed both and folded them on the wooden chair which comprised the only other furniture in the cell.  We held her wonderful tits in our gaze – how often I had looked at them under layers of clothing, and now there was nothing but a lacy bra between me and them.  That bra was the next to go, followed by the hose, panties and shoes.  We lay her on her back, naked at last.

Now we were ready for the next stage

*****

Alicia awoke in a daze.  To begin with her mind could not quite compute where she was.  Her eyes half opened, and she saw a small bare room, which made no sense, with a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, which also made no sense.  She was lying on a bed – and then she remembered.  She had been kidnaped!  She pushed herself upright – and then fell back with a groan, as her weakness took over.

Something else forced its way to the front of the fog of her mind.  She was naked!

Had she been raped?  That was the first and obvious question.  She gingerly felt around the opening of her vagina; she thought there was perhaps a slight tenderness, but no tearing or pain that she would have expected if a penis had been thrust into her while she was unready.  Perhaps she had been spared that – but then, what had happened to her?  What was the purpose of this abduction?  Ransom?

She looked around a little more carefully.  There was a chair in the room, and on it her clothes were neatly folded.  She let herself gently down on the floor, and tottered over.  With some effort she pulled on her clothes, and at last felt less vulnerable.  But she was tired, so tired … She went back to the bed and lay down to sleep.

She was awakened again by a dull ache in her genitals.  She shook her head and reached down with her hands, but she was still fully dressed: nothing had happened to her.  But the ache was there, and getting worse.  It began to burn more and more, until she was doubled over by the pain.  As she lay moaning, with her hands clutched to her groin, the door opened and a man walked in.  His face was covered with a full mask, and he was wearing dark glasses.

“Good morning, Alicia.”  His voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if she had heard it once long before.  “I think it is time for us to have a little talk.”

Despite the cramping agony in her genitals, she forced herself to sit upright and look straight at him.  She yelled at the top of her voice – a satisfying release to be able to do so.  “You BASTARD!!! What do you want with me?  What have you done to me?”

“Well, Alicia, here’s the thing.  You are probably feeling a lot of pain now; it’s only going to get worse.  We’ve inserted into you a parasite – a very special parasite, genetically modified to our own specifications.  It attaches itself to the pudendal nerve – the nerve, in case you were wondering, which supplies the whole genital and anal area with sensation.  Or, in this case, with pain.  Every millimeter of that nerve is now firing with pain.  If left unchecked, the parasite will in the next 24 hours or so burrow its way through the nerve, then it will enter the bloodstream and find its way to your heart.  At that point you will die, though by that point you may well want to die, if you are still sane.”

They were going to kill her?  She was going to die of this?  Her mind couldn’t register it; she began to shake her head from side to side and wail.

She was brought back to awareness by a slap on her face.

“Stop your bawling.  You’re not going to die – at least, not yet, and not unless you want to.  I said ‘if it is left unchecked’.  Well, there’s a way to check it.  The parasite’s actions can be blocked by one thing: human semen.  Coat the inside of your cunt thoroughly with semen, and the pain will go.  Your immediate problem is that there is only one source of human semen in this room.  Me”.

“You mean – you want me to fuck you, you bastard?”

“No, Alicia, you still haven’t got it.  YOU want me to fuck YOU.  That is the only thing currently standing between you and an agonizing death.  But I’m hardly going to do it if you call me things like ‘you bastard’.  You’ll have to beg me, really beg me nicely, and then – perhaps – I might agree to fuck you out of the goodness of my heart.”

“I won’t do it!  How do I even know you’re telling the truth (oh god, it hurts so much)?  How do I know this isn’t just some ploy to sleep with me?”

“You don’t.  But here’s the thing, Alicia.  If I’d wanted to ‘sleep with you’, as you so delicately put it, I could have done it already.  And the pain is getting worse by the minute – isn’t it?  Do you have any other options than to believe me?”

“OK, OK, OK – I’ll do it.  Oh god, oh god, oh god.  PLEASE fuck me, I’m begging you.  PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE FUCK ME, I’LL DO ANYTHING BUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCK ME”.

*****

So there at last I had my victory.  The Ice Princess was begging me – ME – to fuck her.  Of course, she wanted to rush into it – as soon as I generously agreed to do her that favor she started to tear off her clothes.  But I insisted on doing it properly.  I kissed her, undressed her lovingly and piece by piece.  I massaged her tits, and made her gently caress my cock and balls.  When I entered her, I did it with the maximum deliberation, savoring every slow stroke in and out; it took nearly 45 minutes from start to finish.  And all the while my pleasure was doubled by the knowledge that she was experiencing no pleasure at all; her whole body was shaking with growing agony and desperation to bring the act to its consummation.  At last I thrust inside her and came – and then watched her face relax in a wonderful parody of post-coital satisfaction, as the semen did its work, and her pain subsided.  I had in fact been telling the truth – though, like many lawyers, not the whole truth.

I got up off the bed.

“Now, Alicia, I’m going to leave you alone for a bit.  The semen will keep the parasite dormant for a short time – perhaps five hours or so on average.  Then the pain will start again; when you need my ‘services’, call me …”

***

Alicia dressed herself and lay on the bed.  The pain had gone, but the humiliation was very much alive.  Five hours, he said.  Would she have to do this every five hours forever?  But there must be ways of living her life around that: she could find a steady boyfriend and carry his semen with her to use.  She would have to make some explanations, but it didn’t have to affect her life.  And in time she was sure that a doctor would be able to find and eradicate whatever it was that was causing this horrible thing.  And in the meantime, she could certainly see that smug bastard behind bars.  Perhaps rape would be a hard charge to make stick, under the circumstances, but his DNA was in her, and there would be no trouble proving kidnaping and assault against him.  These happy thoughts continued, until they were interrupted by a familiar ache. 

She knew what she needed to do.  She shouted out “HEY, COME HERE, I NEED YOU.”  No response.  She waited, then shouted again.  She rattled and banged at the solid door, she shouted and screamed as loudly as she could, as the horrible pain burned worse and worse at her most sensitive parts.  No one came, and in the end she collapsed onto the floor, her hands pressing between her legs.

*****

I had been watching her on the video throughout, of course, but I thought it better for her to be made to wait.  When I saw her writhing on the floor, I sauntered into the room.  She cowered before my feet pleading and sobbing.

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCK ME, I CAN’T STAND ANY MORE!!!”

So I once again generously allowed myself to fuck her – once again, of course, with all the foreplay and the gentle stripping, the caresses and the slow, slow penetration, all while her eyes filled with tears and her teeth gritted as she sought to bring me to climax without antagonizing me by going too fast.  At last I thrust in, ejaculated, and pulled out with a satisfied sigh.  And then I watched Alicia’s face, as the realization gradually dawned on her.  The pain had not gone away, not even a little.  Her mouth convulsed with horror and panic.

“IT’S NOT STOPPING WHY ISN’T IT STOPPING OH GOD OH GOD IT HUUURTS ME!”

And at this point Derek came into the room, masked just as I was.  He said nothing, he didn’t even pause, but pulled out his dick and thrust hard into her as she lay crying on the ground.  There was no pretense at consent, this was rape pure and simple.  I sat on her hands to ensure her co-operation, leaving her with nothing to do but kick and buck, scream and cry, as the pain of the rape mixed with the agony throughout her whole cunt.  It didn’t take long: in a few minutes he came right inside her, and pulled himself out with a sneer of contempt.  She lay there sobbing still, and then gradually realized that, even with the aftermath of the rape, the pain had subsided.  She looked up at us both.

“Now, cunt,” I said, “you know the full truth.   Semen stops the parasite, yes.  But this parasite has a very robust immune system: it adjusts itself each time to block the DNA pattern in the semen.  So each time you need to find a new source of DNA: no man will work for you twice.”

“Then … then why did you …”

“Just for my own pleasure – and of course your pain.  There IS no better reason than that.  So now think it out, my prudish little sweetheart.  Every five hours – or perhaps six, or perhaps just four - you need a new man, a new source of semen.  That is going to be the focus of your life from now on.  And don't think that any doctor will help you: this parasite won’t be in any of their books, and by the time they’ve researched it, you will be dead.  They can block the pudendal nerve to end the pain, but that will also remove all sexual pleasure, and anyway it won’t stop the parasite from going through its routine and killing you.  In fact, the pain gives you the warning: without it you will simply die. 

“Of course, this is probably going to kill you anyway.  Unprotected sex with five different men every day?  Thirty-five men every week?  One hundred and fifty every month?  And then, you need to think about whether there are enough men around to fill your needs.  No problem now, perhaps, when you are young: but do you think people will be so keen to fuck you when you are fifty or sixty?  You should think about making some money out of it now, because before long you are going to have to pay them.  Be discreet, though: you don’t want to be picked up by the police for whoring, after all.  Two nights in an all-female jail will be enough to kill you.

“But look on the bright side: we did you one favor.  My partner here wanted to put the parasite in your ass.”

And with that, Derek and I walked out of the room.

We left her there another five hours, until once again she was screaming with the pain.  My brother declined to service her (he always prefers watching to acting), so there was nothing else we could do for her.  We drove her back to New York, and let her go somewhere in the East Village.  The last we saw of her, she was staggering towards some bar, almost overbalancing in her high heels as she tried to stay upright despite the cramping agonies in her cunt.  She disappeared into the bar.  I presume she was planning to pick up a man: I hoped for her sake it didn’t take too long.

Alicia never reported us to the police.  Perhaps she was too ashamed by the story, or perhaps it was too hard for her to make appointments now, knowing that any overrun would leave her running out to look for a new lover before it was too late.  Or perhaps she could no longer focus on anything except her need for sex, her need to find a new man every few hours.  Certainly within the week she had resigned from the law firm – hard to concentrate on legal cases when you need to leave the office a couple of times a day, and when your main focus is how you are going to pick up your next man.  She gave up her apartment too – she was hardly there, since she was spending her time cruising bars.  I gather she now snatches a few hours of sleep with her ‘dates’, and eats when she can persuade them to buy her a quick meal as part of the ‘courting process’.

I saw her for the last time a few weeks ago, two years after we had changed her life for her.  She was still beautiful, but looked strained and tired as only a woman can who has had more than 3500 different sexual partners shooting their load inside her.  Her clothes were now more blatantly sexy (micro-skirt, tight blouse with no bra underneath, and ultra-high heels): she needed to take every possible short-cut on her endless quest for sex.  She sat next to me at a bar: there was no glimmer of recognition in her face.  She looked at me in a seductive way; she nuzzled to my body as close as she could without actual sexual contact.  I responded with surprise and hesitation, then with tentative enthusiasm.  Yes, I knew I should be careful about having unprotected sex with the biggest slut in New York, but I couldn’t resist it despite the risk.

I managed to string her out for more than three hours.  I insisted on buying her dinner, on taking her home.  I kept my dick out of her cunt as long as I possibly could, insisting that she caress it with her hands and lick it with her tongue instead, and she had to do so, even though she was terrified that I might come too early and waste the valuable semen outside her.  Every time she appeared to be giving me up as a lost cause and finding someone else, I pressed her closer for encouragement, all without actually completing the act.  By the end I saw her gritting her teeth with the pain, but trying desperately to conceal it.  And then I shot my load into her, and watched her wait for an easing of her agony.  But no easing came.  Before she had a chance to react, I kissed her goodbye and pushed her naked out of the door: I threw her clothes out after her.  She had to start again from scratch and try to find somewhere to pick up a man in the middle of the night, to act the seductress with her whole cunt burning her up.  And as I knew well, there were no bars or clubs in my neighborhood, even if one knew where to look. Perhaps she would be lucky and find a rapist.

As she pulled her clothes on and teetered down the dark street, I thought I heard a keening wail.

And that is how we melted the Ice Princess forever.

THE END