A Shivering Predicament: Isis Love

Isis hates ice. The moment she caught wind of it, that fear flicked across her eyes. I ran with it. Two brutal ties on a block of ice, and she shook like she was breaking apart. Then came tight rope, ice pressed everywhere—cubes shoved in her mouth, more pushed inside her while my hand clamped over her lips. She thrashed, every muscle fighting the cold. The tank pushed her deeper. Turns out she’s terrified of being dunked, but she held her nerve and I kept driving the fear until it cracked. Pure heat on ice.