The snowflake drifts gently down in the dim grey light, making tiny spirals in the silence.
She kneels on the rug, the air is cold against her skin and she shivers, silk folds of the kimono sliding ever so slightly along her flanks.
Footsteps sound on the floorboards, the click-clicking of those boots she knows so well. They stop just behind her, and she hears the soft inhale and exhale of his breath. She knows not to look around, even though every instinct tells her to turn, to look… but she knows what the consequence of that would be, and this meeting is already laden with a debt she has accumulated.
A creak of leather as he kneels down behind her. She bites her lip as she feels and sees the mist of his warm breath brush past her neck. A long fingered hand trails slowly down her cheek. Pausing at her neck, wrapping around, hungry fingers taking her pulse and tightening ever so slightly as she exhales sharply.
In one swift movement, his arms grasp her and she gasps as she’s pulled back into the warmth of him. The bundle of brown rope, worn with use, that familiar scent of her own body mixed with the woody sharpness of the oils lovingly worked into the coils pulls her down, makes her ready to sink deep into that space, the one outlined by slithering coils of rope and deliberate constriction. Pause. Their breath slowly moving in time, till that moment that he seems to know how to grasp with both hands, the one that perfectly steals the breath from her.
He grabs her wrists and binds them, pulling them up above her head. The kimono slides slightly open, baring one breast and she shivers violently as the cold hits her skin, she twists involuntarily to escape the cold but he chuckles as his other hand slides around her, locking her in place. She struggles momentarily, until his teeth sink slightly into the side of her neck and she dissolves just a little more, going slack in his arms again.
Her arms are brought into the small of her back, and the other panel slides open, both breasts bare to the cold. The wind picks up for a moment, and snow falls onto her lily white skin as she gasps – she’s still warm enough for them to stick, to melt against her heat, trickling down her stiffened nipples and belly. His hand slides down to stroke the soft skin of her stomach and she moans.
The rope strikes round her, pulling tight and taking her breath – she’s bound tight, a rough jute corset pushing out her breasts in front of her as he weaves her into the shape he desires. The rope loops around her feet, preventing her from folding forward, and the kimono slips a little further, baring her pussy to the freezing air. Ropes wrap around her eyes, blindfolding her, and loop gently around her neck, just the slightest pressure, the reminder of her choice, to give herself over, life and breath for him. She hears the rope dragging, and gasps as she’s lifted ever so slightly from the ground, knees pulled up and dangling. He ties off the rope, and she’s sinking and floating at the same time.
Stillness. The soft sound of his breath, a creak again of leather and click-click-click of boots slowly making their way around her. He stops again, in front of her, she can feel him in front of her, smell him, the musk of him that drives her wild. She tries to lean forward, to bury her face in him, to taste him but the ropes bind her tight and she whimpers. Snowflakes continue to fall and catch on her skin, as she turns slowly this way and that in the air.
The footsteps recede, and she mewls in frustration and anticipation. She hears the crunch as he steps down into the snow. Moments pass, and she begins to drift as they do, letting herself go, letting expectation and impatience go. The footsteps return. Stop, again in front of her. She can hear a slow dripping of water now, the soft measured pat pat pat of slowly melting ice…
She cries out as the freezing handful is pressed against her breast, run down her stomach… panting, she pushes back into the rope, trying to escape, knowing what is going to come next… The ice slides slowly down her, and again she hears him chuckling as she can feel the radiating cold grow nearer to her crotch.
“Say it,” he commands. She groans, both hating and loving the cold, the spikes of sensation, but knowing that if she doesn’t she will be left to her own unfulfilled arousal, helpless and swinging in the wind.
“Please sir, please put the ice in my pussy.”
She screams as the ice is pushed onto her hot pussy, cold rivulets melting and dripping down between her legs. He pushes it inside her, and she cums, sobbing and shaking with the intensity of the sensation. Her moan draws out into a long tail of animal sounds as he runs his warm tongue over her now cold lips and clit…
The snowflakes drift gently down…