Ingrid. She is 31 years old, a Swede from Stockholm, with extremely fair—almost translucent—skin that has a cool, luminous tone. Her hair is platinum, long, and straight, cascading down her back. She has a tall, slender build, her breasts are large, firm, and high-set, with pale nipples that nearly blend into her skin. Her buttocks are small, yet firm and round, and her pussy is pink and delicate, tucked beneath a soft, blonde mound of Venus. She is wearing a white lace bodysuit that barely covers her body, the sheer fabric reveals her breasts and pussy underneath. She sits on a chair made of ice, her legs spread wide, and smiles. “You want to taste?” she asks, her voice cold. “Come closer.”