Ice. She feels as though she is lying on a slab of ice. It's so cold, she doesn't want to open her eyes or feel around for the blanket and pull it up over her. She becomes gradually aware of a presence nearby. Large, masculine (men smell differently, she thinks) and quite warm. Radiating heat. The heat moves closer to her. Climbs into bed with her. She tries to open her eyes. No. Frozen shut? She can't think. The man (hot man, she giggles to herself) climbs atop her. Limbs begin to relax, defrost almost. Then comes the first blazing thrust into her. She wants to scream in agony but her mouth is unable to open. All the thoughts of cold melt away. He pumps her, at first slowly then more and more rapidly. The burning is unbearable. The Fire Inside her brain screams at her. The thrusts pick up pace until an eternity later lava shoots into her. Burning, burning alive, burning inside, being consumed by flames. She mourns the ice. He withdraws, leaving her burnt husk. Frost creeps in. Soon enough, she feels as though she is lying atop a glacier. Ice.
At the center of Dante's Inferno lies a plain of ice, sinners of the worst sort frozen for eternity. What sin merits a frozen eternity with intermittent rape by hellfire?
If you want to answer the question, please do.