Wednesday evenings always leave the house so quiet, the silence humming in my ears after the day's duties are done. I was scrubbing the stone floors in the kitchen on my hands and knees, the cold seeping through my apron, and I found myself lingering far longer than necessary in front of the icebox. The frigid air bit at my skin, hardening my nipples to aching points, but I didn't move. I just stared at the blocks of ice, imagining the shock of it being pressed against my overheated, needy cunt while my Master watches. The contrast between the freezing chill and the burning heat of being filled and used... it makes me shiver just thinking about it. It’s amazing how a simple household chore can twist into such a filthy, desperate longing for that cold, hard discipline.