Strap tied
When I met him at the bar he knew that I was a crossdresser. He was very nice. He told me that he liked bondage, that it was just a game, and convinced me to accompany him to his house to teach me a little more about this. At first it seemed an innocent game, and I let him tie me hand and foot with straps. Now that I let him gag me, it no longer seems like a good idea. Now I am helpless waiting for what is next in this game.
"What's your poison, darling?" The bartender's question echoed through the dimly lit room, the smell of cheap cologne and stale beer lingering in the air.
"Surprise me," I said, flashing a coy smile. The bar was packed, a cacophony of laughter and shouts melding together in a pattern of chaos that only a costume party could produce. The theme was "Dress to Impress," but my choice was more "Dress to Confess." In my blue maid dress, white pantyhose, and white high heels, I was definitely turning heads.
The man who'd caught my eye earlier approached, his gaze unwavering. "You're not here for the usual, are you?" His voice was smooth, like whiskey over ice. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I can tell by your outfit."
I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. "And what do you think that makes me?" I asked, playing coy.
"Someone with secrets," he said, his eyes scanning me up and down. "Someone who knows how to keep people guessing."
He bought me a drink, and we talked. His name was Alex, and he had a way of making me feel both nervous and thrilled. When he mentioned bondage, my heart skipped a beat. It was something I'd fantasized about, but never had the guts to try.
"It's just a game," he assured me, his smile disarming. "I'd love to show you a few tricks."
The offer was tempting, and his confidence was intoxicating. I agreed to go with him to his place, a decision I'd later come to question. As we walked through the crowded street, the chilly October air a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Once we arrived, Alex led me to a room that was anything but innocent. The walls were adorned with various contraptions that looked like they'd been pulled from the pages of a dark fantasy novel. He offered me another drink, and as the alcohol loosened my inhibitions, I found myself agreeing to let him tie me up. It was all fun and games, or so I thought, until he placed the ball gag in my mouth and secured it with a strap. The sound of the buckle clicking shut echoed through the room, and suddenly, the situation didn't seem so playful anymore.
Now, with my hands and feet bound by leather straps, I lay on a cold, hard table, unable to speak or move. The only thing I could do was listen to the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the room, the anticipation of what was to come a heavy weight in my stomach. The initial thrill had given way to a creeping sense of unease. This was no longer a game I could simply opt out of. I was his to command, and the realization was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
"Surprise me," I said, flashing a coy smile. The bar was packed, a cacophony of laughter and shouts melding together in a pattern of chaos that only a costume party could produce. The theme was "Dress to Impress," but my choice was more "Dress to Confess." In my blue maid dress, white pantyhose, and white high heels, I was definitely turning heads.
The man who'd caught my eye earlier approached, his gaze unwavering. "You're not here for the usual, are you?" His voice was smooth, like whiskey over ice. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I can tell by your outfit."
I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. "And what do you think that makes me?" I asked, playing coy.
"Someone with secrets," he said, his eyes scanning me up and down. "Someone who knows how to keep people guessing."
He bought me a drink, and we talked. His name was Alex, and he had a way of making me feel both nervous and thrilled. When he mentioned bondage, my heart skipped a beat. It was something I'd fantasized about, but never had the guts to try.
"It's just a game," he assured me, his smile disarming. "I'd love to show you a few tricks."
The offer was tempting, and his confidence was intoxicating. I agreed to go with him to his place, a decision I'd later come to question. As we walked through the crowded street, the chilly October air a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Once we arrived, Alex led me to a room that was anything but innocent. The walls were adorned with various contraptions that looked like they'd been pulled from the pages of a dark fantasy novel. He offered me another drink, and as the alcohol loosened my inhibitions, I found myself agreeing to let him tie me up. It was all fun and games, or so I thought, until he placed the ball gag in my mouth and secured it with a strap. The sound of the buckle clicking shut echoed through the room, and suddenly, the situation didn't seem so playful anymore.
Now, with my hands and feet bound by leather straps, I lay on a cold, hard table, unable to speak or move. The only thing I could do was listen to the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the room, the anticipation of what was to come a heavy weight in my stomach. The initial thrill had given way to a creeping sense of unease. This was no longer a game I could simply opt out of. I was his to command, and the realization was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
