Monday, 7 March 2011


Not so much a symphony in red, but an erotic mystery, a story we have to tell ourselves as no one else is here to do so.

She’s dressed herself from head to toe in red, a short and clinging dress to show of the pleasurable possibilities of her elegant body and to counterpoint her black lacy stockings, red stilettos eroticising her slim legs. Even her fingernails are carmined to blend in. Red, the colour not so much of danger but of challenge and confrontation. “Je suis ici. make of me what you will.”

But she’s bound and inverted, positioned for punishment with her svelte bottom upturned so now as well as being a pert temptation it’s an invitation to be spanked. Yet even as a prisoner to punishment she’s all of a piece, her captor binding her in even more red, he or she ensuring that this moment of punitive consummation is as perfect as it can be.

What we cannot see is her mouth. Is it gagged in the same material, bound in crimson so no cry can escape her lips as her torment proceeds, forcing her to suffer in icy silence other than the spank, spank, spank on her tightly clad bottom?

A mystery indeed, and a pleasure to contemplate.

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