Postby respectfulbondage » Mon Aug 30, 2010 11:52 am
I would want you to be dressed in your volleyball practice uniform; but unlike many posts in here that would wait until after you were finished practicing, I will bind and gag you before practice starts. After all, you won't be able to struggle and strain as much if you're worn out from training, haha. While your eyes are staring down at the floor, distracted by the routine of lacing up your shoes, I would approach stealthily from behind with a pair of Smith and Wesson handcuffs. Clasping my hand over your mouth, you lunge up from the bench in shock, uttering a muffled shriek as I muscle you further back into the lockeroom and away from the door. Reaching for my forearm, you flex your lean biceps and pull as hard as you can to try and pry my hand from your mouth as you try desperately to scream for help; but being as athletically trained as you are, the strength in my arm easily overpowers both of yours. While you kick and flail helplessly, I clutch one of your wrists and twist it carefully behind your back despite all you efforts to wrench it free from my grip. Snapping one end of the cuffs onto your arm, I quickly replace the hand gag I had maintained over your mumbling lips and, grasping your other arm, beautifully defined by lean muscle, I overpower it as well and pin it behind your squirming body. As the teeth on the other end of the handcuffs cinch themselves closed, the restraints begin to pull your arms together tightly and uncomfortably. With your shoulders and triceps flexing under the strain of having your arms handcuffed so tigthly behind your back; you kick with your powerful legs in an attempt to wriggle your way out of my grasp, but it's useless. Withdrawing a rag, soaked in ether from my back pocket, I clasp the anisthetic over you nose and mouth before you can take one last deep breath of untainted air. Pressing the rag down tight over your face, your mouth and nose are sealed off from any other air beside that which is saturated with ether. With your lungs burning from having not taken a breath, you reluctantly give in from the lack of oxygen and with an audible gasp, you begin to breath. The effects aren't notieable after the first breath, the odor is the only indication that you are breathing something foreign into your body. The stainless steel chain links on the handcuffs clink loudly as you exert every ounce of strengh you can into breaking them. Amused by the sight of the muscles in your arms quivering under the strain you are placing on them as well as the angry tightness in your face as you grunt angrily and defiantly into the rag, I taunt, "Don't bother; as athletic as you are those cuffs can take 1,900 pounds of pressure before breaking and there's no way your arms can produce that kind of power." Angered by the accusation of weakness, you scream angrily into the rag as you pour every last ounce of strength in your body into one final effort at breaking the handcuffs. With every unsuccessful attempt however, your muscles burn with exhaustion and demand more oxygen; with the demand comes an accelerating breathing rate. Unable to hold your breath, your breathing becomes less intense and erratic and more relaxed and steady. A tingling sensation begins to spread throughout your body as the strength in your straining arms and legs begins to fail you. Shaking your head defiantly, you continue to try and struggle free, but every exertion takes its toll. I'm eventually able to pull your head back until it rests weakly and comfortably against my shoulder. "There you go," I explain, "Feeling weak now, aren't you?" The handcuffs continue to clink, albeit less and less violently as your flexing, struggling arms start to relax and sink down against the small of your back. Removing the wrag before you lose consciousness, I gently lower you to the floor as your eyes flutter weakly from exhaustion. Unable to offer any resistance with your arms bound behind your back with the handcuffs, I remove a roll of duct tape from another pocked and quickly remove a six inch strip from it. "Just so no one can you hear you moan," I assert as I press the silver adhesive against your moaning mouth. I take a good amount of time smoothing the tape down as tightly as I can until your lips begins to show through it from underneath; satisifed by the restraint and the effective gag, I turn to your ankles and begin to wrap layer after layer of industrial strength duct tape around them, securing your powerful, muscular legs together until they are as good as useless. Looping the tape again through the middle, in between your legs to cinch it down even tighter around your ankles, I eventually cut the duct tape off at the end and, burying the end of it deep down in the middle of the wrapping so your hands will never reach it, I stand back and admire my handiwork. A beautiful volleyball player, the athlete with the perfect physique, handcuffed, tape gagged, and her ankles secured together with the same silver adhesive. As your head slumps over toward the floor weakly, I take the ether saturated rag and place it over your nose and mouth again. "Sleep," I command calmly; you offer no resistant as you nod cooperatively and begin to breath. "I have no other choice," you tell yourself as you begin to slip into unconsciousness, "I have to do as he says, it may be the only way he lets me go later on." Stroking your hair gently, I assure you, "I'm not going to hurt you, just relax and breath; this will all be over soon." You manage to nod and mumble a weak, "MHMM," just before your body collapses toward the floor, unconscious. Catching you before your head can hit the hard floor, I carefully lift your limp body from the floor and sling it over my shoulder. This is just the beginning of an incredible journey into the world of bondage...