Of course I knew that defiance would have consequences.
It’s why I agreed to come to this underground bar, why I’m dressed in this little red cape. Why I acquiesced to your gift – a red choker. To match red fishnet stockings.
Tied up in teasingly flimsy bows, long red satin ribbons against black chiffon are all that hold together my performance of l’ingenue tonight. Ribbons that fall indolently between the curves of my breasts. Where the buttons of a good girl’s blouse would be done up neatly to conceal her cleavage, I am exposed, tumbling up and out of the too-tight red bra.
Red signifies danger. Tonight I do not want to be a good girl. Costumes can transform as well as disguise.
Cinched underneath the bra, drawing in my waist, a black satin under-corset is a-flutter with red butterflies. The discipline of steel boning turns my torso into the stem of a chalice. You have only to tip me to sip from me.
In these seductive flourishes of ribbon, I am a gift to be torn open. As I teeter in high heels through the club, they could ensnare me on anything. Or anyone.
Catch me if you can …
I feel many eyes glide over me, as I search for you. In this twisted basement-bar version of a fairytale gone wild, a Cheshire Cat with a flogger over his shoulder is watching me with interest, while a Snow White has her skirts up, being spanked across a Wicked Witches’ knee.
Then I sight you. Turned away from me, your tail seems to sense me first. As I approach, it dips, then rises, pointing in my direction.Tight leather pants gleam in contrast with its feral aura. You’re wearing an elegantly crafted brown leather mask, with angled eye slits, a suggestion of pointed canine ears, and a cruel snout.
My big bad Wolf.
Under that mask, do I really know who you are?
“Who’s there in the shadows?” said Red Riding Hood.
You haven’t noticed me yet. And I want your attention. All over me.
I decide to cross a boundary.
I pull your tail.
Red Riding Hood enters the wood.
You’ve wheeled around, and in an instant, you’ve picked me up by the arms, growling, and pushed me against the bar.You use one arm and your body weight to grapple both of my wrists into a firm-hold in the small of my back.
“Tsk,tsk,” you whisper. You smile, lips smeared a carnal red. Your other hand, very slowly and deliberately, begins to undo the first of the red satin ribbons.
“That was very insolent, Little Miss Red.”
Watching me watching you, loosening the second of the ties, pulling the ribbons through your thumb and forefinger, resting your eyes on what is revealed.
“Don’t you know a wolfs’ pride is in his tail,” you say as you caress the swell of my breasts, parting the chiffon blouse even further. I am suddenly aware of the pulse in my neck, beating hot under my skin. As if you too can hear it, you stroke your fingers there, and up the side of my neck.
“I think I shall have to teach you to show more respect.”
You wind my ribbons around your fingers, draw me to you, so I can just glimpse the blue of your eyes through the wolf-mask. Then, you pull me towards you off the edge of the bar, spinning me around gently and guiding me backwards until I am suddenly against a wooden structure.
Taking my hand, you bring it up to touch the ornate red-and-gold choker.
“Remember, this means you are mine for the evening,” you whisper. I nod, breathing deep into my diaphragm, enjoying the delicious contrast between the hard wood along my spine, and the fleshy heat of your leather-clad hips and groin against my sex. Your kiss is tender, intensifying into demand as you lift my right arm and stretch it out. The weight of your torso holds me in place as you capture both wrists in the grip of leather and steel. It’s impossible not to feel vulnerable. And then your thigh slides between mine, pushing my legs apart.
The lights have dimmed down into a lurid red; the room, strangely transformed.
Bodies in various states of undress, contorted in clusters of two, three or four, form strange hieroglyphics around me. Speaking a language of pleasure I do not yet understand. Others stand watching, as if transfixed. An imperious Red Queen is whipping a pudgy, bald Humpty-Dumpty, his ass as bare as his head. Bathed in red, I feel like I have been swallowed whole, trapped in the entrails of a wild beast.
Smiling, you produce a mask with no eye slits. Place it across my eyes.
The room disappears.
The woods are dark in places, darker than Red Riding Hood could have imagined.
Here at my neck, hot breath, a devouring bite.
There, a rough caress that sheds chiffon and ribbons onto the floor. Lighter strokes along the curves of my cleavage, enlivening the soft shy skin. Then, deliberately, I feel your hand encircle each breast, lifting them out of the bra, exposing their fullness above my corset. I feel you step away. Just when I most want you close. Cool air hardens my nipples as I strain to sense you.
Delicious ribbons of anticipation ripple through my body. Red ribbons of desire…
Unseeing, but oh so very seen. Exposed to this roomful of strangers in ways over which I have no control. Deprived of vision, my sensitivity to smell, sound and touch are amplified. I sense you circling me, disorienting me with where and how you will next touch my body. Like a wolf playing with his prey. Your teeth deliver a trail of sucks and canine nips up my inner arm from wrist to armpit. I twitch with each bite. A soft menacing snarl, first at one ear as you claw into the back of my hair, then at the other as you run your hand up the inside of my thigh. The sheer lace of my panties, moist between my legs at the closeness of your touch.
Then, nothing for a long moment. Nothing but the gnawing ache of erotic anticipation.
“I’ll keep you safe, Little Miss Red,” you whisper, your breath suddenly hot upon my ear, your paws in my hair. “But not too safe.”
Red Riding Hood knew the woods were a wild and untamed place. But she entered them, all the same.
Image : Jessica Tremp
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© Adrea Kore 2014 (Not to be reproduced or reprinted, in part or in whole, without permission of the author)
Boundaries. Thresholds. Abandoning the familiar, stepping into the strange. These are places that fascinate me to explore, both on and off the page. These places are potent with tension and contradiction. Fear and desire. The known and the unknown.
Exploring our sexuality inevitably flings us up against our boundaries, teetering on that heady edge between resistance and surrender. One step backwards, and we are back into the familiar. One step forward and we enter the unknown, opening ourselves up to new feelings and sensations. Threshold experiences contain great potential for growth and transformation. But we have to make that choice: to step forward or back. We may have preparations to make before we can take that step forward; we may need to seek out trustworthy companions to journey with us.
I’m re-working an older story here, in preparation for its inclusion in my upcoming collection of erotic stories. In Under My Cape, I’m weaving elements of the fairytale of Red Riding Hood into a contemporary erotica story set in a kink club, but I’m also subverting those themes. I wanted to explore how the lure of danger and the unawakened elements of Red Riding Hood’s sexuality are represented by both the forest and the wolf. Red Riding Hood does not enter the woods in complete innocence of its dangers. She enters it, desiring the transformative experiences she senses it conceals within its shadows. She seeks out the shadows, because she knows that there she will better be able to encounter her own darker desires. Only there can she come to know the wolf.
Examining the tropes and themes of the original fairytale, led me to wonder why she would wear such a bright and eye-catching coloured cape to journey safely throught the forest. But you’ll have to read the whole story to see how I interpret that …
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