0007 - AJ Marion & Mr. Ogre
9:05 video
My platform, stiletto heels click on the wood floor as Mr Ogre pushes me towards the couch. Already partially bound, my wrists and elbows molded together and anchored to my shoulders, Mr Ogre tosses me unceremoniously onto the couch. I squeak and grunt as my body bounces on the cushions. He holds me down easily, his large hand encircling both of my slim ankles. He makes quick work of binding my ankles, my ombre leg warmers bunching around the ropes. I cry into the silver tape gag over my mouth, but my whimpers fall on deaf ears.
Once the ankle ropes are secure and my ability to stand and walk hampered, Mr Ogre roughly sits me up. He presses me firmly down, nearly folding me in half with a hand on the back of slender neck. My eyes plead, looking around the room for any sign of possible escape, and settle on my captor. Mr Ogre soon begins lashing my knees, taking no note of my writhing and sighing. I pump my hips and squirm, but neither my restrains nor my assailant provide any relief. Mr Ogre hoists my legs in the air presenting my ass as he ties off his ends behind my knees. A couple of good swats, and I'm left to test the limits of my restraints.
Shimmies. Grunts. Stamps of frustration.
Apparently dissatisfied with current mobility, Mr Ogre returns to dump me face first onto the cushions, flipping me onto my stomach, and pulling me up into a hogtie. My maneuverability further limited, I strain against my bonds and whine into my gag.