Nasty Snow Angel

It is so cold. I stop walking. I don’t want to make another move. I want to disappear into myself and find warmth. I need something soothing that covers my exposed body.

“Why did you stop?”, he turns around and looks at me. The flashlight from his camera goes straight into my eyes and I can’t see anything for a few seconds. “Move. Or are you defying orders?” – “No, Sir, it is just …. it is very cold.”

He laughs and squints at me. He is wearing his wintercoat, gloves. “You agreed to this. You knew this was coming. You don’t want to do this anymore? Mmm?” – “That is not what I meant. It is just cold!”.

He pulls harder on the leash attached to the collar around my neck, the camera still on my face, on my naked body. I stumble and fall to my knees. The cold snow kisses my skin and I want to run. Away from this icy madness. Away from the freezing wind biting every inch of my exposed body.

“Get up!”

I crawl and eventually manage to stand up. He smiles. “Good girl.”.

I silently follow his lead. to the bench in the park. The walk seems endless, the camera sometimes turned ahead of us, sometimes straight at me. The bench is covered in soft white snow. He points me to sit down. My lips must be blue at this point. I hesitate. I can’t feel my feet anymore, I can’t feel my hands anymore. My nipples hurt from the biting cold.

But here I am. In the park. In the middle of the night. The streetlight shining on the throne I am about to climb up onto. “Sit down and do what we all want to see. NOW!”. I look at Sir. He puts his hand around my wrist. He pulls me towards the bench and pushes me down.

“Sit. Down. Now.”

The camera is focused on my terrified face, on my shivering naked body. Despite the torturous cold, I try to make myself comfortable on the bench and sit back as far as I can. I spread my legs and look straight into the camera in front of me. They paid for this. Sir wants to show me off. He wants to make sure that I understand my place. I love my place. I want to please him. I love when he shows me my true self.

My feet on the edge of the bench, I focus. He had me drink bottle after bottle of water. He filmed me drinking. The liquid dripping down my wet lips. The look on my face when I couldn’t drink more but still continued to swallow. Gulp after gulp.

“Touch yourself.”

My frozen fingers pull my lips apart and I start rubbing my pearl. Circle it, rub it. pull it, flick it. The cold is disappearing. My own heat intensifies. I close my eyes. I feel so exposed. I feel tortured. I feel humiliated. I feel needy. And I really need to pee. The only sensation that I experience now is the need for relief.

I open my eyes and look at him. Desperate. I need to let go. I can’t hold it in anymore. But I know I have to wait for his command.

“Oh, you really need to go, don’t you?

I nod. I cringe. I need to go really bad.

“Well, beg for it, slut.”

“Sir, can I please pee?

“Oh, you can do better than this, slut. Try again.”

“Sir, can I please pee while you film me?”

“No, do better”. I cringe.

“Sir, can I please show you what a nasty slut I am and piss myself in the snow while you film me doing it, so all the horny men can see what a dirty disgusting bitch I am?”

“Ah! Yes, piss yourself! But don’t forget to show me how horny you are.”

I push my cunt forward, closer to the camera. I use one hand to pull my fleshy lips apart. I lean back, into the icy snow. I frantically rub my clit. I moan. I can finally release the pressure. I need to let go.

“Piss yourself, slut!”, he commands.

And I obey. I can feel the stream leaving me, the yellow flood running down my cunt, my ass, my thighs and dripping into the snow. I look down and watch the steam as the warmth from my inside heats up my frozen skin and the snow around me. The flow doesn’t stop. I can smell it. I can feel it on me, around me. Everywhere.

He is laughing. “You are a nasty slut. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, I am a nasty slut. Your nasty slut”. The stream is getting weaker and I feel another kind of need for relief taking over. The humiliation, feeling so exposed, has me aroused. “Come for me!”, he commands.

I twitch to his words, and put two digits into my hot cunt. The orgasm lets me forget the freezing cold around me. All I am is a nasty slut, coming to my Sir’s command.

When I open my eyes, it is suddenly darker around me. He has turned the camera off. He is standing in front of me, his hands on my head. “Good girl.”, he whispers. I feel his coat around my shoulders, his strong hands on my hips. He pulls me up and carries me, holding my back. I hold on to his neck with my hands, my legs hugging his hips. I feel safe. I feel happy. He opens the door to the car, and helps me sit down. “Now let’s go home and get some hot chocolate into you. You have been a really good girl.”