The address had seemed unremarkable when Rachel first pulled it up on her phone—a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city, the kind of place that could house anything from a boutique photography studio to a black-market dentistry operation.
She'd double-checked the email confirmation three times before slipping into her see through yellow dress, the one that hugged her hips just right and made her legs look a mile long in her strappy heels. Fashion shoot for a high-end lingerie line, the message had said. Discretion required. Serious applicants only.
She'd assumed that meant no Instagram selfies, no leaking the designs before launch.
Her confusion is evident when the Agent, leads her into a room filled with leather accessories rather than cameras.
?"This is a specialized modeling position," the he explains, presenting an array of ball gags in various sizes, belts and rolls of tape .
Prove you're serious," his voice a velvet command. "Take off the dress."
Her breath hitched. The air in the room felt thicker suddenly, pressing against her skin.
"Just—the dress?”
The Agent laughed, a low, knowing sound. "For now.”
The dress pooled at her feet as she stepped out of it.
The cool air raised goosebumps along her arms, her nipples tightening against the thin lace. She was left in nothing but her tiny thong, and the heels making her her feel exposed in a way she hadn't anticipated, the way they arched her back, thrust her hips forward.
He produced a length of black leather from the table—a belt, thick and supple. "Hands behind your back."Rachel's shoulders burned as her arms were held closer together, her breasts thrusting forward obscenely.The leather cinched tight, pulling her heels closer until her calves ached.
A harness ballgag pressed against her lips, stretching them obscenely, filling her mouth, her tongue flattened beneath it. The straps tightened behind her head, the buckle digging into the base of her skull.
Rachel tested the bonds instinctively, twisting her wrists, flexing her ankles and struggling. The leather didn't give. She whimpered, the sound muffled, pathetic. She tugged at her wrists again, but the belt only bit deeper. Her pulse roared in her ears.
The Agent produced another belt, this one shorter,. Rachel's breath came fast through her nose as he secured the belt to her bound wrists, then to her ankles.
"Hogtied," He said, approval thick in his voice. “You're doing so well, But we're not done yet.”
Rachels Belts are removed and replaced with Tape and a huge ballgag secured in her mouth.
She thrashed, her bound limbs straining as the he tape cut into her skin.
Her struggles grew more desperate, her body twisting, her muscles burning, her skin slick with sweat. The tape bit deeper, the gag filling her mouth until her jaw ached.
“Perfect," The man said, his voice a dark caress. "Absolutely perfect.”
Rachel lay there, her body still bound, She was trapped. Helpless. Owned.
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