Sex slave: Vivian

This posh little clip takes Keats’s ice-queen straight off the page and shoves her into her private dungeon. She struts in with a riding crop and not a shred of mercy, eyes the scared shit out of Vivian, who’s hog-tied naked to an X-frame. Belle could untie her, call it a day, let the trembling thing scamper out. Instead she drags a velvet chair right in front of the platform, crosses those endless legs, and lights a thin cigarette like she’s got all night—because she does. For three slow, mean hours Belle smokes and files her nails while Vivian’s arms go dead-numb and her bladder starts to ache. The only sound is the tick of Belle’s wrist-watch counting every second Vivian isn’t getting what she came for. When the last ash finally drops, Belle flicks it onto Vivian’s bare stomach, stands up, and smiles like the real fun is only just beginning.