The thing is...

i know, i know…i’m an addict…i just can’t stop my brain… and then Tip said what he did and…

She stood, arms tied above her to the support brace of the small shanty. Not even a shanty, really, the fishing shack was even smaller than her backyard shed. A tiny heater churned in the corner but the cool air rising from the ice rose up over her boots, tickling her legs, belly, and breasts with its frigid breath. This was not what she had envisioned when she suggested coming up to be with her Sir.  She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d thought would happen on his annual ice-fishing trek. Maybe he’d have her baiting the hooks, or helping to drill the holes in the ice. Perhaps she’d make food and bring it out to him as he sat on his stool on the ice.

Never had she thought that he’d strip her down to her boots, tie her this way, and finger her almost to an orgasm. He’d stood right there in front of her, that devilish smile on his face, wiping his wet fingers on her cheek.

“I’ll be back in a while, slut. You just hang out here and wait for me.” Laughing, he was out the door in seconds, nearly freezing her in the sudden whoosh of in-rushing air.

She shivered, her nipples rising as another puff of air swirled under the shack. There was no clock in here, and she had no way of knowing when he’d be back.

She thought she heard….something. Voices.

Turning her head and leaning her ear against the outer wall made her back arch, thrusting her tits out.  But yes, she could definitely hear His voice. His laugh.

Coming closer.

The door opened then, flinging a whirl of snowflakes and another chill burst of air into the room. Her nipples were so hard that they throbbed, a beat echoed between her legs.  She looked up at him, her longing to be touched clear. The door opened again. And again. And again. Her Sir had not come in from the cold alone.