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She was used to it by now. Shibari suspension bondage. Hanging from the wooden suspension frame, bound tightly, often tormented and teased. Not getting loose, not even able to touch the floor, spinning around. But this time was different. He had bound her low enough that she could touch the floor. Barely. Enough that she would think that there was something that she could do. To get loose. And to stop the torment. But she was wrong.
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After time as a glam model walking that runway, she thought she’d enjoy something that she thought would permit her to sit and relax. She got part of that right, she was sitting on the floor but what she was doing wasn’t relaxing – she was struggling to get loose from the ropes, to get that mouth-filling ballgag from between her soft wet lips. And, as she moved around, to realize that those noises were becoming moans. Her body and mind quickly telling her that she waned more.
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She Knew where she wanted to go; he said he would take here there. Bondage Hell. This was the first day. The ropes were tight. And brutal. Her elbows pulled together hard; she could feel the strain up to her shoulders. Her wrists and ankles bound, then hogtied. Ballgagged. Her perky young breasts exposed; that she was enjoying this shown by her rock hard nipples. That and the wetness between her legs. At first struggling and whimpering; then beginning to make those moaning sounds. And the room beginning to take on the scent of a very aroused young woman.
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