Why do I come back to Marina Pia?There is no shortage of other sites where girls suffer for us, where fingers and thumbs and cords and garrotes and all sorts torture redden and bruise slender necks, press into soft smooth throats. Why is it that Marina Pia is the only host to my fantasy to whom I would give near all to persuade just to do one film to my own script? The answer, apart from the sheer quality of her work, is twofold. One is her girls and the way they are treated. Yes, they are all lovely and, in my minds eye, two in particular are simply beautiful and, more importantly, have the necks and throats which their God must surely have intended to feel that most feminine of tortures, slow, erotic and utterly sensual strangulation. Just about every other site offering images of girls being strangled dish up fare ranging from gross to obscene, images of crudity and gratuitous degrading of their girls, to lolling, ugly tongues and eyes that seem to roll back in the no longer lovely head while some uncouth yobbo slobbers over her or a two meters Amazon screws her face up in pretended glee as the girl dies hideously.
Marina Pia treats her girls as gentle beauty deserves to be treated, sensuously and lovingly. Other sites have as their whole purpose the killing of the girl rather than this being the culmination of the erotic process, which brings the girl to this inevitable conclusion to her suffering. And Marina Pia maintains the beauty of the act of strangling her girls right to the end such that that end itself becomes the most erotic moment of the whole film, from the time when the girl's struggles become weaker to that moment when she stops breathing, her head, still very, very lovely, falls to the side. In that exquisite segment of the long strangulation of Layla in the car scene, we see her lovely eyes turn from her tormentor, having begged to be allowed to live, and begin to stare blue and beautiful into infinity as she dies. And then the camera reluctantly ceases its love affair with her tortured, bruised and reddened neck to travel ever so slowly to her beautiful face, closing on her lips to record for us not ugly lolling, but the tip of a pink little tongue as it parts the redness of her mouth, flickers in final pain and then stills and she is gone. And we suddenly realize we have not been breathing either. This film by Marina Pia is, to me, a classic in the genre. It has it all. That amazing opening as we see Layla come to the piano, sweet, young and talented. The long pony tail is thrown back as she sits, the sweep of her hair displaying to us her long, near flawless neck, a neck we know is going to suffer dreadfully over the next 50 minutes, a neck we see in close-up as the camera zooms in to take in it's svelte length. The divine images of a beautiful girl we know is going to die at the end of a long, long passion endured for our pleasure. And while she ultimately dies in the "care" of one of my own kind, a girl, the sequence second only in eroticism to her death is when she suffers in the hands of a male, for to me such a neck as Layla's was created to feel the thumbs and fingers of a man upon it. And it is as he strangles her with those strong male hands that we see best the effect of strangulation on a girl, the throat pressed, the fine young skin reddening, the thrill as Layla's face and neck take on a delicious hue shown only to us by a strangling girl, as her body reflects what is happening to it, tells us of it's suffering as she struggles against his strength. Fifty minutes of perfection. Finally, I wrote of a wish that if I were to script my own film then only Marina Pia would craft it. But who amongst her girls would I want as the star, the girl to do the suffering and finally the dying and yes under the feel of male hands? It would be a girl very patient and accepting of what must happen to her, who would be calm and accepting of her suffering even though she did not want to suffer much less die. And she would need my perfect attributes for such a fate, clear expressive eyes, and a sensuous full mouth to wordlessly express her suffering. And above all she would have that neck, long and slender, that throat flawless and smooth and soft, not the slightest blemish to be seen as both camera and man make love to it, punish it and her both for being so perfect. She would be Patricia.
And viva her girls, all of them, for ours is but a fantasy and we would not see harm to any.
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