ICE TIME The position was intensely humiliating. But, then of course that was the goal all along. Brad sat relaxing in the leather chair, reading the Sunday Times while drinking a hot cup of black coffee. He didn't even have to look up to check on Kevin. The moans filtering through the bit-gag assured him that his personal weekend slave was still concentrating on some tougher problems than the Sunday crossword puzzle. Hearing a particularly sharp yelp made Brad's cock stir against the smooth shiny material of his gym shorts. . Kevin looked to be in great pain. If you looked at him from the front, it was hard to see the reason. Stripped, he was on all fours on the cold floor. His arms and legs were held apart at a regular distance by steel rods attached to ankle and wrist cuffs. He was unable to lean to one side, or to squat down. The simple steel rods forced him to stay dog- style on his knees and hands. A heavy black leather belt was around his naked waist. Pulled quite tight, it made breathing an uncomfortable and difficult act. His dog-collar (with the little spikes inside-like 1000s of little incessant mosquito bites) was attached tightly to the belt by a strap running from the rear of the collar over his back to the belt. This kept his head in an upright position, no chance to let it hang or rest throughout the torment. Still, the true center of the torture lay hidden. . Looking from behind, the secret was revealed. A 50 pound weight was sitting atop a large block of ice. The block had come from an industrial ice supplier, and was a slick, blue, slowly melting cube over a foot high. The 50 pound weight was attached to a hank of clothesline, which in turn was running up to a ceiling beam and then back down to Kevin's nut-sack. Kevin's crotch had been shaved by Brad in an unexpected and unanticipated act of humiliation. A pet clippers had been used, taking large swaths of Kevin's pubic hair along with each buzzing pass. His caged balls were snugly held, but not stretched by the current position of the cord and the weight. Not too much pain, or at least not too much pain as of yet. . This was going to take all day. Brad intended to finish the Sunday Paper, do some schoolwork and fix himself lunch. By the time Sunday Football was over, the diabolical scheme should be fully at work. As the block of ice slowly melted, the ice water would run forward against Kevin's feet, ankles, and hands. Keeping him chilled and increasing his discomfort. Moreover, as the block melted, the weight would gradually, imperceptibly move lower, millimeter by millimeter. And the result would be slow certain pressure mounting on Kevin's slave balls. Brad raised himself from the chair, and walked over to his slave. "Nice Day, isn't it Kevin?" . Pouring the last few drops of his coffee into Kevin's eyes, Brad stood in back of the bound guy. "I really drank too much coffee, now I gotta piss." Kevin stirred perceptibly. Girding himself for the onslaught of more liquid. "No, man, not what you think." laughed Brad. Brad began pissing on the block of ice. Kevin moaned knowing that the warm fluid would only serve to speed up the melting process for a time, and then return the block to it's previously slow melt. Feeling wicked, Brad reached forward and grabbed Kevin's slavedick. . "Bet you'd like to feel good right now Kevin." . He began slowly stroking the hardening shaft. After seeing chills run down Kevin's chest, Brad abruptly stopped and snapped his fingers onto the slave's nuts. . "But, of course you won't get any more." . "You haven't earned it, yet." . With a swift kick to the ass, Brad returned to his chair to finish reading and drink a fresh cup of coffee.