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Click, clack. Click, clack.

Mr. Andrews leads me into the room by my neck, my wrists and elbows already bound behind me. He aggressively places me on an oversized red leather chair. I slightly reposition myself as he retrieves a length of rope. When he returns, he grabs my ankles, brings them together, and binds them. I watch quietly as he works. I sit up tall and shimmy as I anticipate what's next while he fetches another piece.

Mr. Andrews loops a length of nylon around my neck, runs it under the chair, and secures it to the cinch around my ankles. Neck rope predicament bondage! One of my favorites! Next, Mr. Andrews unbuttons my midriff tied-off top, and spreads the fabric wide, exposing my pert breasts. My nipples are now available and on display, and he takes this opportunity to pinch them. I moan and groan through the ballgag filling my mouth. He locks on to my left nipple pinching and pulling.

He leaves me momentarily, and I take a few moments to recover and catch my breath. I hear clanging, and see Mr. Andrews carrying the banner T towards me. I am very confused, and have no idea what he has in store for me. A piece of rope is attached to my ankles and pulled up and away from me. This lifts my feet off the ground and tugs on larks head around my neck. A second of reprieve, then Mr. Andrews jerks the rope up, forcing me to engage my thighs and hold my legs high. That rope is then tied off to the banner T. Luckily, the nylon has enough stretch to allow me to reach the hardwood with the tips of my toes. I rub my pantyhose encased legs together and begin cooing rhythmically as I endure my predicament.

Apparently dissatisfied with my quiet suffering, Mr. Andrews squeezes my left nipple once more, and my coos become cries. My legs are released, and he helps me to lift my head.

“Can you breathe good? Hmm?” he asks me.

I attempt to recover once more and process his words. “Mmhmm.” I squeak and nod my head.

“Good. That's important.” he states as he presses microfoam firmly against my face over the ballgag, surprising me.

Once further gagged, he grazes my nipple and I jump and shriek abruptly. I breathe deeply and audibly. He finds some thin cotton rope and tries a few different ties on my nipples. They all cause me to squirm and squeal. I writhe and groan as my nipples serve as Mr. Andrews playground.

Finally, my legs are pulled the farthest up they've been yet, secured to the banner T, and I'm left to languish.