0073 - AJ Marion & Whitney Morgan
8:07 video
Ms Whitney Morgan is already gagged and partially bound, her elbows pressed together, her knees hobbled, as I walk her into the room and seat her on the couch. Once she's settled, I straddle her waist, holding her down.
“I know this isn't what you were expecting when I asked you for a meeting in the office, but...” I taunt.
Whitney mumbles and mocks me in response through the large black ballgag filling her mouth. I shove her down, lift her legs, and begin binding her ankles. She struggles against her bonds and the weight of my body. Grunting, complaining, and attempting to negotiate around her gag...
“I am a crazy ass, mother fucking bitch.” I state, translating her gag talk. “I know...now you're thinking, 'Man, she understood all that? She must do this way too often.'”
Once I'm satisfied with her restraint, I leave her to consider and contend with her circumstances.
Ms Morgan stretches and strains and sits herself up. She shakily stands in her stilettos, pondering the possibility of hopping to freedom. Thinking better of it, she settles herself back on the couch. Whitney shimmies her shoulders and flexes her arms, but the ropes give no release. Kicking off her heels, Ms Morgan manages to maneuver to a standing position once more.
Which is how I find her...I easily return her to the couch and flip her onto her stomach. Utilizing the extra length on her ankle rope, I restrict her mobility further and pull her into a hogtie.
“No more jumping around and standing up. No more.”
I pick up her pumps and place them by her head, leaving her to languish.