KindredFlame
Twisted Essayist
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2019
- Posts
- 515
Ok I am thinking of Trinity (Carry Ann Moss) in the time of the first matrix movie here.
The door, a slab of reinforced steel, hissed shut behind Trinity, severing the last tendrils of the outside world. Within, the silence was absolute, a heavy velvet shroud that muffled thought as much as sound. Trinity stood, a sleek, obsidian silhouette against the muted glow of embedded floor lights. Her polished leather catsuit, a second skin, gleamed, reflecting the subtle gleam of the myriad instruments that lined the sterile white walls. She had come seeking something elusive, a connection that transcended the physical, a flicker of genuine warmth in the stark landscape of her existence. She had called it love.
The room itself was a paradox: clinical yet overtly carnal. Ropes of varying thickness hung from ceiling anchors, some already tied into intricate knots, others coiled neatly. Whips, paddles, and more delicate implements of sensation lay arranged with surgical precision on a long, stainless-steel table. But it was the furniture that truly defined the space. Gleaming chrome and dark wood creations, each sculpted to elevate, restrain, and expose, promised not comfort, but profound, exquisite vulnerability. One such contraption, a high, ergonomic chair with wide, stirrup-like leg rests and an adjustable, padded restraint for the torso, dominated the center of the room.
And there, already posed upon it, was Emily.
She was a wisp of a woman, barely five feet tall, with a shock of almost translucent blonde hair that framed a face sculpted for innocent mischief. At twenty-five, she possessed the delicate features of a forgotten porcelain doll, an illusion quickly shattered by the languid, almost insolent curve of her smile. She wore little more than a thin silk thong that barely contained the swell of her Venus mound, her small breasts pert and unblemished. Her eyes, a startling glacial blue, met Trinity’s with an unnerving frankness, a profound lack of shyness that was both disarming and intensely arousing
What happens next could lead to anywhere.
The door, a slab of reinforced steel, hissed shut behind Trinity, severing the last tendrils of the outside world. Within, the silence was absolute, a heavy velvet shroud that muffled thought as much as sound. Trinity stood, a sleek, obsidian silhouette against the muted glow of embedded floor lights. Her polished leather catsuit, a second skin, gleamed, reflecting the subtle gleam of the myriad instruments that lined the sterile white walls. She had come seeking something elusive, a connection that transcended the physical, a flicker of genuine warmth in the stark landscape of her existence. She had called it love.
The room itself was a paradox: clinical yet overtly carnal. Ropes of varying thickness hung from ceiling anchors, some already tied into intricate knots, others coiled neatly. Whips, paddles, and more delicate implements of sensation lay arranged with surgical precision on a long, stainless-steel table. But it was the furniture that truly defined the space. Gleaming chrome and dark wood creations, each sculpted to elevate, restrain, and expose, promised not comfort, but profound, exquisite vulnerability. One such contraption, a high, ergonomic chair with wide, stirrup-like leg rests and an adjustable, padded restraint for the torso, dominated the center of the room.
And there, already posed upon it, was Emily.
She was a wisp of a woman, barely five feet tall, with a shock of almost translucent blonde hair that framed a face sculpted for innocent mischief. At twenty-five, she possessed the delicate features of a forgotten porcelain doll, an illusion quickly shattered by the languid, almost insolent curve of her smile. She wore little more than a thin silk thong that barely contained the swell of her Venus mound, her small breasts pert and unblemished. Her eyes, a startling glacial blue, met Trinity’s with an unnerving frankness, a profound lack of shyness that was both disarming and intensely arousing
What happens next could lead to anywhere.
