Amordaza wrote:jgirl87 wrote:Whether it's fantasy or real life, what is your favorite way to be rendered helpless?
As for my fantasy tie, I'll have to give that some further thought.
Okay, I thought of a fantasy tie.
Sorry about the length, but...my imagination ran away from me.
I am an escape artist who has accepted a challenge to escape from an asylum. After arriving to the asylum, I am escorted to a check-in area. A group of nurses methodically remove my clothes until I am wearing nothing but a black thong. They slip a canvas straitjacket over my arms and begin to strap me in. The jacket is fitted to my size, and the arms taper down so that they feel tight. The ends of the arms have leather pads to prevent me from manipulating objects with my hands. In addition to the two crotch straps, the jacket has a strap in front that will be wrapped around my forearms and buckled into place to prevent me from lifting my arms over my head. While two of the nurses secure me in the jacket, another wraps leather cuffs around my ankles and connects them with a short chain. She locks them into place.
I am not worried. Despite the tightness of the jacket, I am flexible, and I have hidden lock picks in my mouth.
Restrained, the nurses lead me to my cell. We pass by rows of cells until we get to one with a shiny new nameplate with my name on it. A chart on the door has a check-in date of today. The checkout date is marked as TBD.
A nurse unlocks the door, opens it, and I am led inside.
Upon entering the 6x8 foot cell, the nurses push me to the center of the room. There, bolted into the floor, are three D-rings. Using heavy chains, the nurses lock my ankle cuffs to two of the D-rings. They then lock a chain around my neck with one padlock and secure it to the third D-ring with another padlock. I am now triply locked to the floor.
I stand for a moment considering my situation. This will be a difficult escape, but with the lock picks hidden in my mouth, I think I have a chance.
The nurses flank me, reviewing their work. One of the nurses approaches me and begins to brush my hair. Her hand is soft and warm, and given my restraints, the sensation pleases me. She smiles and slowly begins to kiss me. I close my eyes, relax my arms and shoulders, and enjoy this good luck gift.
I feel her lips withdraw, and before I can open my eyes, I taste rubber in my mouth followed by leather against my face. Startled, I open my eyes to see that the other nurses are securing a leather muzzle on me. It covers my nose, cheeks, and chin, and as they secure the straps, I begin to feel my jaw pushed against the rubber ball attached to the muzzle that is now filling my mouth. I want to protest, but there is no point.
The nurses conclude their work by applying small padlocks to every strap: those on the straitjacket, those on the leather ankle cuffs, and those securing my gag and muzzle in place. They each look over their work with smug smiles.
I watch as they file out, close the cell door, and lock it.