Bed & Bondage
The room is warm, almost too warm. I am slightly damp from perspiration, and the occasional draft makes me shiver. The room is filled with a warm, diffuse light, sunlight through heavy lace curtains, giving the place an antique feel. The air smells of potpourri, mingled with red wine and musk. My eyes travel lazily along the ceiling, until they reach the far wall, where a full-length mirror stands across from the foot of the bed, tilted slightly forward in its heavy oak frame. The image staring back at me from the mirror commands my attention: a exquisite brass four-poster bed, and on it a beautiful woman, naked, her arms stretched tautly over her head, and her legs reaching out toward the posts at the foot of the bed. ...