"It's not the heat, it's the humidity!" If you live anywhere close to the midwest, you hear this all summer long. When I hear it, I want to punch someone in the face. It IS the heat AND the humidity! If the actual temperature wasn't 101 then the 95% humidity wouldn't be so damned horrible! So, we stay inside, but since I am close to that Age of Black Magic (also called menopause), I'm still hot, despite the air conditioning. I complain. I whine, I grouch for a while. Finally, my Man has had it. He orders me to the Room. Again, rather than submitting like I know I should, I complain that it's just too hot to fool around. He gives me a look that tells me he is, most assuredly, NOT fooling around. I go. I know better know than to push him, so I follow his rule and remove my clothes before I enter. I'm not allowed to wear anything that he has not put on me into this Room.
Shortly, he enters as well and he's carrying a small cooler. I look at it skeptically but he says nothing. At first. Then, he tells me to go to the Cross. It's isn't really a St. Andrew's Cross, but rather four eye hooks with attached carabiners which are screwed into the wall at the appropriate places. Once I'm in place, he attaches four cuffs to my ankles and wrists and hooks me in. Now, I'm immobile. He pulls ice bullet and puts it inside of me. I gasp at the coldness of it. Just to make sure it stays in place (since my legs are spread open), he fashions panties of sorts out of rope.
"Okay, okay," I say. "You're tired of my complaints. but holy hell that's cold."
"It's about to get colder," he warns. "And then, then it will get very, very hot."
My Man is always right.
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