I stand in front of the dark wood-panelled mirror, in a room with weathered oak walls. Soft candlelight flickers across the parquet floor, casting dancing shadows around me. My black corset, now completely open, hangs over my hips, revealing my bust in all its vulnerability. The delicate lace of my lingerie contrasts with the shiny leather of my long gloves, which reach up to my elbows. My hands, fastened behind my back with ornate bracelets, give me a look that's both captivating and provocative. Suspenders hold up my black, floral-patterned stockings, and I feel the fabric brush against my skin with every movement. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me, as if another version of myself is staring back at me, whip in hand, ready to take control. The atmosphere is heavy, charged with palpable tension, in a setting that seems straight out of a period novel. How do you feel, seeing me like this, so exposed, so offered up, in this room where time seems suspended?