Rope. A coarse as possible, that was what she wanted. Thick and stiff, it rasped and scraped across her skin when she twisted and struggled. She could be pinned down in the dark, like a moth in a cave, blind and witless. Spread-eagled on the cold floor, she'd pull at the rope until her wrists and ankles burned like fire. Sometimes she waited forever before Jack came.
No matter how tight Jack tied her, how taunt he spread her, Suzie could always struggle. Jack would run ice over her nipples and between the lips of her pussy -- the cold like a shock of a bullet -- and when she screamed the sound echoed back from hard, close walls. She couldn't escape but she could fight.
It was always dark where they were, pitch black, and Suzie had no idea how Jack saw what they were doing. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he was as blind and lost in the dark as she was. He'd chill his mouth with ice before kissing her, before biting her, before licking her wet and open. The only heat in the dark were the four bands of pain pinning her down and the melting ache of her pussy. He'd fuck her with a glass dildo, driving the cold into her bones, and Suzie would scream, and hear her own screams, and fight until blood rose hot where the rope bound her. The burn would spread through her muscles, through her nerves, until the dark lit up red and white with pain. She'd come and come and come until the cold floor under her body was the only solid thing in the world. Then, sometimes, Jack would fuck her with his dick, lay his weight relentlessly down on her so she could hardly breathe while he burned like a furnace against her. Coming then was like nothing else -- like coming back to life.
They never talked, there were no words. There was just the dark and the cold, waiting for them underneath everything else. Suzie would carry the welts on her wrists and ankles like bracelets for days after, a reminder that she couldn't escape but she could always fight.