I love being bound and gagged

I love being dominated while wearing lingerie, pantyhose and boots, being tied with my hands back and my legs together, gagged and left helpless and fighting against my bonds. Completely at the mercy of my captors.

 

I sat at the edge of the sofa in the living room, m heart racing faster than the droplets racing down the glass. My eyes darted to the closed door, then back to the shadows playing on the walls. I could feel the anticipation coiling in my stomach like a tightly wound spring.

"Ready?" His voice was a low, gruff whisper, sending shivers down my spine. I nodded, unable to form words as I took a deep breath. He stepped into the room, his silhouette looming in the doorway, a dark figure against the dimly lit hallway. His presence was commanding, and I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of fear. This was what I had been craving all day, the thrill of submission that made me feel more alive than anything else.

He approached, his boots making no sound on the plush carpet. With a gentle, yet firm grip, he took my wrists and guided them behind my back. I felt the ropes tighten, binding my wrists together, the rough fibers digging into my skin just enough to remind me of my helplessness. He worked quickly and methodically, looping another rope around my torso and anchoring it to my wrists, pulling my arms closer together until my shoulders protested with a delightful burn. The pressure from the ropes pushed my chest forward, making my breath shallower and my pulse race even faster.

My legs trembled slightly as he knelt before me, his calloused hands sliding up my thighs to my waist, where he tied another length of rope around my lower back and thighs, pulling my legs tightly together. The pressure from the ropes against the fabric of my pantyhose made me squirm, and I felt a wetness growing between my legs. He noticed my reaction and smirked before standing up and grabbing my elbows, guiding me to my feet and then to lie down on the floor.

I stared up at the ceiling, my breaths shallow and rapid, as he worked on my ankles, binding them with the same deft precision as before. The rope was cold against my skin, sending jolts of sensation up my legs. With each knot, I felt more and more vulnerable, more and more exposed. The sound of his zipper echoed through the room, and I bit my lower lip, my eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. He stepped away briefly, and when he returned, a roll of black tape was in his hand. He leaned over me, and I could feel his hot breath on my face as he whispered, "Open."

I parted my lips, and he smoothed a piece of fabric in my mouth, securing it tightly behind my head with the tape. The gag muffled my moans of excitement, and the pressure against my mouth was oddly comforting. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, and I watched his eyes roam over my body, taking in every inch of me, bound and at his mercy. His gaze lingered on the swell of my breasts, straining against the bodysuit, and the way my legs in pantyhose lay entwined together.

He reached down and traced a finger along the rope that dug into my skin just above my knee, making me gasp into the gag. The sensation was exquisite, and my body responded with a jolt of desire. He chuckled darkly and leaned in, his fingers brushing against my cheek before he grabbed the back of my head, pushing my face into the plush carpet. The fibers tickled my nose, and I struggled against the ropes, my hips bucking in an attempt to get closer to him.

He saw my struggle and then left me again, the sound of his boots retreating from the room. I lay there, bound and gagged, my heart thumping in my chest like a wild animal desperate to break free. The silence was deafening, yet filled with the promise of what was to come. I strained my ears, listening for any clue, any indication of his next move. The anticipation was a sweet agony, each passing moment making the ache between my legs more insistent.