Lindsay Lohan lookin' good ... and lookin' captured.
I don't really follow celebrities much, but while engaged in other activities I ran across this image of Lindsay Lohan in a bikini and one of those monitoring devices they fasten on the ankles of drunk and drugged miscreants to ensure they are in their homes. Generally if they are not in their homes, they are carted off to jail where they don't need to be monitored because they're in cages.
That image really has my bondar (bondage radar) pinging.
I think it's a combination of things, not just the ankle cuff, because I've seen pictures of, say, Paris Hilton being hauled into a jailhouse and they haven't produced so much as a peep on my bondar.
Obviously the skimpy bikini and the really fine body inside it are a big part of my response. If Paris Hilton has been hauled into a jailhouse in a bikini, that might have had by bondar pinging too, though to my mind Lohan has a far superior figure to Hilton.
But the thing that really sets off the image is Lohan's carefree pose and the fact that instead of trying to hide the ankle cuff as most would, she's actually displaying it. She's presenting herself as a captive.
It's a sort of come-on ... come to Lindsay's house, she's cuffed there and helpless and barely dressed and waiting for you. The image has a vaguely Gorean feel to it, of the naked slavegirl chained helplessly to a block in the town square with a bowl beside her, free for the taking by anyone with a coin to toss in her master's bowl, piteously begging passers-by to use her.
Oh, she's got the sunglasses on, party stuff in her hand, she's TRYING to look cool, but that ankle cuff belies it all. She's as chained down as that slavegirl in the market. She put that bikini on and those fuck me shoes on for a reason. It's visual begging for sex. She needs the party to come to her, just like the slavegirl in the market.
The electronic ankle cuff gives the image a nice modern feel. An excellent update of an old bondage them. Way to go, Lindsay!
1 comment:
I'm just saving this here so I can come get it later for a story about Susan MacDougall:
http://64.233.167.104/search?q=cache:BgoskFuuECIJ:www.truthdig.com/report/item/20070116_susan_mcdougal_the_woman_who_wouldnt_talk/+%22Susan+MacDougall%22+chained+cell&hl=en&ct=clnk&cd=1&gl=us&lr=lang_en
MCDOUGAL: One of the rules of a high profile woman prisoner was that she wear the red dress. It was something that let everyone know that this was a high profile case, and most of those cases were women who had killed children. And they were the most hated people inside the jail system. And so on murderer’s row, where I was being held for civil contempt, most of the women who were there were accused of killing a child or a helpless person—some kind of really bad, heinous crime. And they wore the red dress. And when you would go to court, the women who were in the red dress were put on the bus to court, but they were caged inside the bus in a cage that was locked. And the men and women who were on the bus would spit on those women, ejaculate on those women, call them names, try to get through the bars and hit them or tear at them, because they were the most despised people in the system, and they were locked in the bus for everyone not to be able to get to. And going to court was beyond description. I would spend a day getting ready to go to court, trying to get myself psyched up for going. Because you are woken at dawn, there is no breakfast, you are hustled downstairs into a locked cell, you’re strip- searched, you’re handcuffed, your legs are chained in irons. You’re in waist chains, and you wait for hours for the bus. Then you’re herded onto the bus, and you’re locked into the cage. And then all the prisoners come. They have no idea who you are, but you are abused the entire trip on the bus. And the women who are locked in there with you cry and sob all the way to justice, which is your day in court. It’s a lovely day, I can tell you, getting your day in court. You go to court, you’re locked in a holding cell, you go out into the court room, you are strip-searched, chained, locked inside the cage on the bus for the trip back to jail, then once again as you get inside you are strip-searched again. And by this time it has been a full, maybe, 12 hours of being chained and dragged around like an animal, and hooked to other people, and chained, and maybe they fall, and you fall. That happens many times, where you can’t walk in lockstep, and you all go tumbling down. And the degradation of it, of your day in court, is horrible that you don’t want to go. And so you get back in the locked room, and once again you’re strip-searched with all the other women there, and you are bent over, your cavities are searched.
In the motion, we put that about the day that they took the pad out—I was menstruating—and the blood ran out down my legs, and you’re just left until someone takes you to your cell, and then maybe you get a pad, or you don’t. The kind of degradation a woman goes through to get her day in court, was something I never could have dreamed of, in a million years, being a citizen of this country, and thinking that that could happen in America. From the time you wake up, to the time you get back in your cell, maybe 10 hours later, you are yelled at, you are screamed at by the guards, by the other inmates, in my case, because I was in the red dress. And you get maybe 15 minutes in court, and you don’t get to say a word while you’re in there. And all of that was in [the motion], and I remember the judge who got the motion that you were given that day, said --
TRUTHDIG: This is a Southern woman --
MCDOUGAL: Yes, She said, “I have no trouble believing that all these things happened, that these conditions exist, that the food is pushed underneath the metal door, and the rats will get to it if you don’t get to it quick enough, that the roaches fall on you all night long while you’re in your cell, I have no trouble believing any of these things, but I will tell you thiMCDOUGAL: For telling you these things, Susan McDougal is no lady. And I was always very proud of the fact that I was not a lady, if it meant that, maybe some of those kids ... because in the seven jails that I was most often in, I was the oldest woman there; these are kids we’re talking about. And it’s not about color any more. It may have been a racial issue at one time, but it is all about poverty. It is the poorest people you could imagine: kids eating out of trash cans, and never having anyone look after them, or never have any care given them, ending up in jail, and it’s all about drugs and alcohol and poverty and hopelessness.
After I got out of jail, the only nightmares I ever had, were about [the jail] Twin Towers. I remember the lieutenant at [the jail] Civil Brand came, and he said, “We have just the perfect place for you, McDougal: We’re putting you in the Hannibal Lecter cell at Twin Towers. And it was a cell in which the glass was so thick that if you came up and yelled at me, I couldn’t have heard you. It was a totally sound-proof, 24-hour-per day, lit, open toilet, me in this room. Twenty three hours a day. One hour a day I got to go out to a basketball court.
TRUTHDIG: No privacy?
MCDOUGAL: No privacy at all. And I couldn’t hear anything. I could look out and see the other women who were mostly charged with terrible, heinous crimes, who were going to church meetings, who were going to office visits. Not me—I was locked in. And that part was by far the part that I thought would break me. It was okay treat us in any way. It was what the sheriff told me when he called me down to his office and said --
TRUTHDIG: Do you remember which sheriff, do you remember where it was?
MCDOUGAL: It was in Arkansas. It was in Conway, Arkansas. He said, “I’ve been elected over and over and over again. I know politics.
TRUTHDIG: He was probably a Democrat.
MCDOUGAL: Yeah. He said, “I know politics, and you think you’re doing something; you think you’re standing up for principles. Nobody gives a damn about you. You’re locked in here and nobody even knows you’re here. And what you’re doing is so stupid. Nobody cares about people in jail. That’s something you’re going to find out. They don’t even know you’re in here any more. And it is a truism for most women in jail. Most women on visiting day never get a visit. On men’s visiting day, there are lines. You can’t even get in to see your male guy in jail, because the mothers come, the wives come, the children come. But with women, it’s not true. Most of those women are in there because they never had anyone help them in their whole lives, or a family to support them. But you know, after I had that meeting with the sheriff, they came days later with these huge bags of letters, 50,000 letters from all over the world, or people saying, “What is happening? What is happening in America, that you can go to jail in leg irons and waist chains and handcuffs, and be taken away to jail because you refuse to cooperate with Kenneth Starr. And most of those people cared not only about me, but about the women in jail, and [the letter writers] ask about them. And one of the things that I had the most trouble with deciding that I wouldn’t cooperate, was that I would be locked up with women who must be the worst people on earth. They must be these calloused, hard, terrible women; and that I would be locked up and they would be so different from me. And they begged me after these letters came, “Susan, can we read them?” And in the night in that place, I can remember lying there and I would hear a voice just in the darkness, say, “You’ve got to hear this letter. You guys have got to listen. And this little voice reading this letter out would say, “Dear Susan: I can’t believe this is happening to you, but because of your strength and your courage, I’m going to fight even harder against my cancer.” Or, “I’m going to fight even harder for what I believe in.” And how are the women there with you? Are they getting enough to eat? Are they warm? Are they getting what they need?” And [the other prisoners] would say, “Do you really think people out there care about us?” And it was astonishing to them that people were good in the world, that they had a care for people that they didn’t know. These were kids who never had a kind word given to them. These were girls who were in trouble because they rarely had anyone care. And to think that I almost gave up my integrity and everything I always believed in, because I was so frightened to go in that place, and then to hear their voices in the night, and I would lie there and think: I can’t believe it. I can’t believe --
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