My thong-split ass perches on the edge of the high stool and I watch as Blayne goes through a mess of electric cables and plugs on the floor. He's trying to find a free socket to get some power for the device. I'm half way between excited and nervous! I'm already pretty uncomfortable being so underdressed in front of Blayne, but what he's about to do to me next is another level.
'OK,' he mutters, and peers into the back of the unit on the counter to check it.
'We got power!'
It's the control unit for the pressure sleeve wrapped around my elbows. When he turns it on, it's just like that blood pressure sleeve you get at the doctor, and I feel the squeeze as the air cushion surrounding my elbows inflates to gently compress my elbows together behind my back… tighter and tighter…
Woah!
Just as the crush comes on and I hiss out a breathless 'Oh my God,' he expertly hits the OFF switch. The goal is to see if my elbows can touch, and if they can't, to encourage them!
He looks at me for acknowledgement.
'Too much?'
'It's OK for now,' I sigh.
'Great,' He moves behind me, saying, 'I just need to strap you up a little… keep everything lined up.' I don't think to ask what he's doing or why, but he's already grabbed a short Velcro-padded strap from the counter and now slips it around my wrists. He pulls it tight to seal it in place.
I give him a disapproving look but he's already walking over to pick up my shirt-dress and belt, and my handbag. He hangs them all on a hook on the wall labelled: '#5'.
I've already been warned how I'll need to understand that several boundaries will be broken today… and that given the business I'm getting into, l have to either simply accept this, or leave! Today, it's about preparing me for the obvious physical demands, but also to get me to buy into the requirement that as a bondage model, I'll have to surrender certain liberties.
I look down at myself. I'm regretting wearing this ultra skimpy bodysuit. Combined with the heels and my restraints I feel like a perfect sex offering. With my breasts protruding so obscenely, it's like I'm asking everyone - or Blayne - to look at them.
He leans against the counter beside me. 'We're gonna let you settle like that for a mo, OK?'
'So are they touching, or what - I can't tell?' I ask.
Earlier he made it sound like touching my elbows together would be a 'biggie' for the role. Leaning in to peek over my shoulder, he says, 'Um no - but less than an inch to go, I'd say. Not bad.'
He grabs on the strap binding my wrists and gently lifts up my arms, and down, and up. 'So you'll have the initial strain, OK? That eases off, and then we go again just a bit more, and see where you max out. That sound OK?'
'You're the boss, boss!' I say, feigning my best interview positivity.
He grabs the sleeve on both sides and I wobble on the stool as he tries to hoik it up a little. Blayne, my so-called trainer, is being totally professional with me. But he's pretty no-frills. What's something of a head-rush for me all seems pretty run of the mill for him.
Back at the control unit, he looks at me, and l nod to him the go-ahead. He twists a dial a little, and then flicks the ON switch to start the electric motor humming again. The sleeve creaks and compresses me some more. I gasp as a loud cracking noise comes from my ribs.
'OKAY OKAY' I shout, but a couple of seconds pass before he trips the OFF switch.
'Blayne that's too TIGHT - I don't feel good.' I dart him a look and lurch forward. Pursing his lips he finally starts to ease off the pressure with a stop-start-stop action, each time releasing a little hiss of air. My head drops in relief and I can feel my arms again.
I grin with relief and he smiles politely, but l wonder if he's disappointed with me.
'Good?'
'Yea… yeah that's OK.' I say. My arms and wrists are still tightly bound behind me, but I can handle it.
'Not bad at all for a first timer! But we'll need to keep you in that for a little longer, OK?
We'll try to bring them a little closer next time.'
'Next time?'
He laughs. He's already told me I'll need to come back tomorrow for more 'stretch training', before I'm hopefully ready for my screen test.
He hops up on the other stool and takes a sip from his coffee. Mine's going cold on the counter!
'So how many girls have you tied up like this?' I ask.
'Haha… You don't wanna know. A lot.' He raises his fingers as quotation marks.
'It's funny because when we started here, maybe ten years ago, things were slow enough. We'd see a girl like you - a newbie - coming in, maybe once a fortnight or so… but since lockdown, it's totally jumped.
'They say lockdown kickstarted people watching… our kind of stuff, but also got girls interested in modelling for it. I think this week we've got close to ten girls coming in? Two more are coming today. Some of them are experienced too…
'I don't know if it's the economy or just more that college girls want to work during the break, but we're getting much more selective about who gets in. Like, that's why we have the elbow training - it's like a filter!' He laughs.
'That's amazing. So your industry is booming! Not sure if that's good, huh…'
'My industry? Well it's yours now too Briana!' Laughing.
'Yeah, I'll maybe think of it that way if I get paid sometime.' More laughing.
'Ha - You'll get paid when you start proper working, don't worry…' Then, more thoughtfully, 'I know… Like, I know it's a growing industry, and it's got its bad side and stuff, yeah I get it. But I think this studio keeps high standards at least, and a girl coming in here knows she's coming into a professional environment.'
He breaks off… I'm almost impressed by his honest take on 'the industry'. Probably for my sake he's not yet referred to this line of work as 'porn'. We both skirt around that term without mentioning it. Nor does either of us want to get into the #metoo ethics of an adult male tying up a young woman, and calling it 'training' or 'professional'.
'Oh jeez I almost forgot… Uh you're supposed to be collared…' His eyes move to some drawers under the counter.
'What? Really?… For WHAT?'
'Yea. Sorry. I should have said earlier.'
'And don't take it personally - All the girls get collared before they're tied, even for training. The boss is strict on it. says it's about getting in the right “headspace”, etc., etc.' he says, adding quotation marks again. I can feel my cheeks reddening. He opens a large drawer where I can see a tangle of leather straps, and pulls out a very wide collar, then another one - thinner - and holds it up.
'This looks short, but let's see.'
My breath quickens as he approaches me and tips my head forward a little. I don't resist. He flips my ponytail to the side, and I feel the leather band sliding around my neck, and then tightening. It's a good two inches wide, and he tugs at it to get the double hasp home. I lurch a little as it tightens too much before settling to something bearable.
He tips my chin to raise my head. A nervous swallow and I feel it press against my Adam's apple briefly.
'Sorry,' he says.
'How long do I have to wear it?' Not quite pleading yet.
'Well. uh until you leave, basically' hands on hips in front of me.
There's a pause. I cast my eyes down and roll my neck a little. He says you get used to it, but part of me feels like I've just handed some major liberty over to Blayne. Like those awkward role plays at school, but just a little more real.
Sensing my mood drop, Blayne places his hands on my restricted shoulders and, motioning me to stand, faces me up to a mirror I hadn't noticed on the wall behind me.
'Stand up! Take a look.'
'Aren't you beautiful!?'
Believe it or not, the compliment doesn't seem out of place as I'm a little shocked at what I see. My body looks different! Although my shoulders have weirdly disappeared, my chest heaves forward eye-catchingly. The sleeve in combination with my heels forces my body into more of a postured, pretzel shape, ass and chest protruding.
As Blayne leaves me to admire myself, I twist and turn to try to see where my arms have gone, and I'm enjoying a little too much how my body now looks like some kind of beautiful pornographic object. My high ponytail makes me taller, even statuesque.
The collar adds a degrading touch, yes, but my normally embarrassing B cups now seem to stand out proudly.
I'm distracted by the voice of my new line manager, Blayne:
'Admiring your boob job?' he beams.
'Oh man, it looks like they grew! Can I keep them?!' I joked… but then a thought-provoking response…
'Well I can keep you bound up all afternoon if that's what you want…'
I smirk at that but when l catch his eye I see he's not smiling.
He's stopped to stare at me in the mirror. Our eyes lock as my smile vanishes… a wave of blood rushes through me. Oh my god. I drop my gaze and break into a dumb grin, tossing my ponytail forward.
Is he hitting on me, or am I hitting on him? What's going on here? Keep calm! This is a professional audition, OK? Yes, the line suddenly seems blurred - to me, at least. Is this just 'the job' for him, and am I the only one feeling a moment happening?
He's turned away to the counter, leaving the moment lingering.
I do find Blayne's experienced confidence makes him attractive, no doubt, but it's been all professional up to now. He's a bit older than me, and my beginner status underpins the master and pupil transaction happening here. I'm guessing he can hear the cogs turning in my head as he breaks the silence:
'Let's see what else we can get you wearing while you're here,' he suggests, right on cue.
Looking around, I see he's at the drawer full of leather strapping.
'Oh Jesus what else are you going to put on me?'
'Oh come on - you look amazing. Don't you wanna accessorise a little?' He giggles.
OK, this guy really knows how to press my buttons! Accessorise is my middle name!
'This would really match your collar well,' he says, holding up a wide leather belt.
'Aren't we supposed to just be training my elbows here?'
'Oh sure, but I thought you'd like to try out some of the stuff in here - You mightn't get the chance again?'
He's staring at me, still holding up the belt to my reflection in the mirror.
'Wanna try it?'
'Alright.' I accept.
Coming up behind me, he slips the four-inch belt around my waist, and reaches around to close up one of the two narrower cincher belt buckles at the front.
'Now… Let's suck it in as much as you can, OK? I think this goes to 24 inches…'
I watch him in the mirror as he pulls the small upper belt ultra tight, and then gets an even bigger pull on the bottom one, pulling me off balance for a second. I'm not sure if I can squeeze to 24 inches, but sure enough, he gets the belt snug even if I suck it in fully.
I breathe again and feel the new restriction all around my waist, something to add to my already straining shoulders.
'OK - that's VERY tight.'
I say it mostly to cut the ice, because he's still behind me with his hands on my waist. The girl in the mirror now has a significant wasp waist but I'm now nervous about the elephant in the room now swinging between my legs! From a rectangular shaped u-loop positioned at the front of the corset belt is a secondary - inch wide - strap, hanging down past my knees.
I start to shudder, guessing what's coming as he reaches down to grab the strap and, without asking, yanks it down and back into my crotch.
'Ungggggg.' Something approaching a moan escapes me as the strap presses firmly against the front of my thong gusset.
Oh my God… has he heard that? This is getting a little bit… close for comfort. I can't believe I'm getting turned-on here!
I squeeze my eyes and mouth shut tightly. Now I hear the creaking sound of leather as he moves aside my arms to hitch the strap to a buckle in the small of my back, working to get the hasp as tight as possible. I hold my breath and watch in the mirror as the inch-wide strap pulls the already narrow bodysuit gusset up to almost disappear into my crotch.
With that I cross from beautiful to slutty, as my tan line becomes all too visible. As I close my eyes, and feel the belt now snug against my butt crack, I emit an audible gulp.
'That OK?' He asks finally.
'It's OK…' My voice is unsteady. 'This is all quite new to me.'
He nods, 'Yeah - I know.' Empathetically.
'It's like anything, huh. You get used to all this eventually… ' before venturing: 'And maybe even get to like it.'
He darts a look at me, and my face goes beetroot red. Could he know that I'm getting a little switched on? I want the ground to swallow me once again… I'm stunned to silence at the comment, almost like I'm arguing with him.
Then the atmosphere suddenly changes. I'm shocked to feel his fingers on my ponytail! He pulls my head back to show my rosy-cheeked face in the mirror. We're staring at each other in silence as his other arm locks around my bound elbows. Pushing from behind, he motions my unsteady feet forward to within inches of the mirror. OK, this is getting intense… but to my shame, I'm also super aroused, so I don't try to escape. He seems to tower over me now, as our eyes lock in the mirror.
Still pulling my ponytail back firmly, I hold my breath as his other hand moves to grab the crotch strap below my belly button.
As l feel it press up into my tingling vagina, his mouth at my ear breathes a menacing:
'Shall we continue?'
It's almost a threat, and I don't know what 'continuing' means, but lordy this guy has changed my chemistry somehow in the last ten minutes. I've clearly handed him the power, and not sure if I can dare to say 'no' at this point.
I watch my mouth in the mirror, and in almost a trance I hear the word come out, 'Yes.'
We stare at each other in silence. I gulp, and feel the collar tight on my neck. He lets go of my bisecting crotch strap and my ponytail in one movement, and goes back to the drawer. I am left in a state of daze as I stare at myself in the mirror… oblivious of all time and space.
The incredibly intense moment has passed… but I see my whole body is a mass of shimmering goose pimples. I'm wondering what on earth has just happened. I seem to have surrendered in some way - a sexual way - yet I haven't even kissed this man, a man I met for the first time about 45 minutes ago! This is all very hard to digest!
I'm only half aware that he's back at my side. His body language now sulky and dominant, threatening even. Drill sergeant Blayne is so close I can feel his breath but I dare not look at him, keeping my eyes dutifully to the front. In the mirror a skinny girl stands to bound attention, waiting, her chest heaving.
Despite my crazy high stiletto heels, he dwarves me. His hands are behind his back. I can see he's brought something. Leaning into me, he asks, 'Are you ready?'
In the mirror I take my eyes off his clenched jaw, and avert my gaze back to myself in time to see me say, 'Yes.'
'Yes, SIR.'
I close my eyes. 'Yes, sir.'
Boom… It's done. I hereby officially seal my status as a consenting slave. I blush… I can't believe I'm thinking of my mother… what would she say if she found out about this 'modelling audition'. This new secret of mine that only Blayne and I know about. What started out as a professional audition now seems to be going up an unexpected avenue, though nothing has happened yet!
My eyes flash open again as my ponytail is jerked back. The young woman in the mirror now has a red ball being pressed against her lips.
With refusal seemingly not 'an option', my mouth opens involuntarily. My internal panic is now betrayed by the sound of my quickening breath.
As if in the third person, I silently watch the submission unfolding in the mirror as the ball is pushed behind my teeth. A jerk of my head reminds me that this is real as I watch the strap being secured, cutting tightly into my cheeks.
Blayne leaves me briefly to marvel at the reflection of my own degradation. I've seen these images of gagged girls before. Now I'm one of them. I turn my head to see the black strap buckled behind my right ear. Even if I bite down on the firm silicon I can't manage to close my lips over the red ball, my white teeth contrasting against it. I shift on my platform toes, but still feel like I cannot move until he 'gives me permission'.
My panting breath picks up again when he returns with a noisy bunch of keys, and a cloth sack with yet more straps, or maybe a whip, hanging out of it. Will I be whipped? Obviously I want to ask, but I've never been gagged before.
I'm a little unsure of what I should do, when he grabs the O-ring on the front of my collar, and pulls me firmly towards the door. He opens it, and pulls me out and down a corridor I haven't been before. As he backs up and opens a push door, he gives me a fleeting but reassuring half smile before helping me down a step into a long concrete floored hall, occasionally lit by spot lights hung between the vents overhead. The temperature drop makes me shiver and I spot that my nipples now protrude erectly in the cold air. My cacophonous steps take me further down the corridor past a series of steel doors.
At a door labelled '5', he stops me. Finally I try to ask him: 'Where are we going?'
It comes out as pathetic mumbling, but he's busy trying keys in the door, leaving me to examine this cold prison-like hall. There must be ten other doors just like this one, but other than the keys rattling in the lock, all I can hear is the air-con piping overhead.
The corridor lighting floods into the room when the door finally opens, and my heels grate on the floor again as I'm forced inside, now nervous, and rapidly losing the sexy feeling I had minutes before. As I'm trying to make out anything visible in here, I jump at a massive CLANK!
He's closed it! OH MY GOD?! He's TRAPPED ME! WHAT THE F***?!
In the darkness I scream as loud as I can through my gagged mouth, but all I hear is the double turning of the key, sealing me into the pitch black coldness of the room '5'.