My bloody Valentine
Last year on Valentine’s night, I crammed my pale flesh into a tight fitting laced up corset dress complete with pink ribbons made by my own industrious hands, and propelled myself to the Torture Garden’s Valentine Ball as fast as my spiky heels would let me. It was a most joyous night; after a reasonable consumption of over-priced alcopops, I whipped a few strangers and got two fingers mangled in the doors; Torture garden indeed. All those sweaty, leather and rubber-clad bodies moving to the same rhythm. .
This year I will do as my heart bids and my bank account forbids: I’m flying out to see my beloved. Sweat and rhythm we shall have, without the leather and whips.
Although….

I love fetish freaks.