Twenty Minutes

by B. Larson

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© Copyright 2023 - B. Larson - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; model; collar; straps; strappado; bench; chain; gag; reluct; X

So today is my take a deep breath, let's-do-this day. I've taken the day off from my waitressing job at the cafe, and come up to the city on the train. Getting to the studio partly on foot in this heat has made me a little hot and bothered, but the real stress came from the anxiety of finally taking the plunge.

Ever since I'd moved to the Bay area, I'd been aware of this studio, and of the kind of movies it specialized in. Damsels in distress - it was the kind of thing I'd fantasized about ever since that one time an ex had tied me down as a teen, and I'd pretended not to like it. He'd shown me pictures of girls tied up, ball-gagged, and such. I was younger then, and forgot about it, consigning all that kind of thing to the domain of misogynistic fantasy. 

But I also felt there must be a part of it that's real. The models in those movies I'd seen, were they there just for the money? I had later become fascinated by them, and as my interest grew, I would often imagine myself in their shoes. I had grown into a beautiful young woman, and I felt there was no reason I couldn't look just as good as them. 

A conversation I'd had with a girl in a recent yoga class had crossed into the subject of shibari, and talking about it with another human had suddenly made what I wanted to do today seem a little less "perverted". The itch I had had grown, and needed to be scratched. Today I was doing something about it, once and for all.

The girl who buzzed me into the reception stands up to greet me when I come in.

"Welcome Sarah" she says with a smile, and shakes my hand. "We spoke on the phone right?" l nod. "Well I'm Gretta. I'm the office manager here! So it sounds like you're taking the plunge today, huh?" She returned to her chair, and invited me to sit.

"Yes!" I say, "That's a good way to describe it! I've been thinking about this for a while - I did nearly chicken out on the way over here. But mostly I think I just need to try this out once and for all, you know? See how I go, take it from there?"

"Oh yes, of course. Sarah you wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that exact sentiment coming from that exact chair, from beautiful young women, just like you. The first step is the hardest, no doubt about it."

"So now," she continues, “today is going to be part interview, part introduction. I'm going to first chat with you about what we're expecting from you, and then I'll hand you over later on to Henry in the studio for some practical work, if you like." She laughs, and it's genuinely disarming.

"Sounds good!" I say.

Gretta steps me through my portfolio, and says that despite my lack of experience, my success would more likely come down to my looks, my flexibility, and my stamina.

"So you're a good-looking girl, Sarah. I'm surprised you haven't done any modeling before. These photos in your file, did you get them done by a pro?"

"No," I laugh, "Those are all done by my ex," I lie. I don't want to admit I'd done them myself with a timer. They are about as risqué as I'm willing to share, and I left some of the more extreme samples at home. 

She holds up a picture of me in a bra with my hands cuffed behind me. It's the edgiest photo in the set. "Would you like to end up with a few more like this today?" she asks.

"Well, that's the kind of thing you want here, right?" I say, trying not to blush. Gretta holding up one of my pictures feels a little like an invasion of my privacy, but that's something I had expected today. 

"Not far off!" she says, "We'll get Henry - our rigger here - to take a look at you and see what you can do. Oh, I should also mention that there is a pretty well-known producer coming in today. He might be interested in taking a look at you too if there's time."

"Oh - who's that?"

"Jason Green - his signature is straps and belts, and tight elbows! He's always interested in models who can get their elbows together, especially new models like you. Would you be comfortable with that - with him coming in to see your progress?"

I gulp. Today was going to be my big day getting bound for the first time. That's already a lot. Is Gretta now suggesting this would become some kind of screen test for some adult movie producer?

I try to avoid that reality by backtracking: "I meant to ask you about that - how strictly do I need to actually have my elbows touching?"

"Yea - that's a good question," she says, "We are pretty big on that here, and Jason is known to be super strict on it. I've seen him go for less good-looking models just because they had better flexibility, you know? He really wants that tight look. So how is your flexibility?" She sees me flinch and continues, "Don't worry - Henry can help you out there. He's very good at getting the most out of our new girls; he's got a few exercises that'll help you get those elbows together."

"Exercises - You mean he's going to do some stretching with me?"

"You could call it that," she laughs. "So with Henry, he's going to put you through your paces, test you out. He might try some other stuff with you, but mostly he's gonna check your elbow flexibility, and see what your limits are. If he's got some stretching for you to do, you could be in there for an hour or two, but you’ll be out of here after that. That sound OK to you?"

"Sure - I've got the day off, so I'm pretty much all yours," I say, without noting the irony of my own words. 

"OK! Great! So let's get you out to Henry!" she announces cheerfully. "The sooner you start, the sooner you finish!"

She gets up to show me to an already open door, and leads me out into the hall. The next door up is titled "Tack Room". She pushes it open and calls out for Henry, who eventually emerges from behind some shelving holding a screwdriver.

"Oh, hi!" he says.

"Sarah - this is Henry, our main rigger and trainer," says Gretta.

"Hi Sarah - I hear we've got some tying to do today, is that right?" says Henry.

I blush into a nervous smile; "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed! What have I gotten myself into?" I say.

"Ha don't worry, we'll go easy on you," he says, looking for somewhere to put down his screwdriver.

Gretta announces, "So Sarah's going to need your help to get her elbows touching by this evening - can you get on that? If she can manage it, Jason will maybe be interested in taking a look at her if he comes in later. Sound good to you guys?" she says, rather like a teacher.

I nod in agreement, and as Henry comes to shake my hand, Gretta goes to leave, saying:

"Alright Sarah - knock "em dead!" giving me a first pump gesture. Then she's gone, leaving me to my fate.

Henry looks like he's about to say something to break the silence, and I'm now feeling a little like I've been thrown to the wolves. It's just me and him now. I start to feel a lump in my throat, but then the door opens again, and Gretta pokes her head in. "Henry, don't forget - collar first." She smiles, and the door closes again.

I catch my breath at the comment, but don't question it. Presumably she means I’ll be asked to wear a collar? Who knows.

Henry has by now already taken my handbag, and hung it up on a coat hook on the wall. He heads over to the counter and starts rooting around a drawer full of buckles and straps. He's not so chatty, but his demeanor is reassuringly relaxed and easy. 

"So, welcome, Sarah," he says finally, "Is this your first time doing this kind of thing?"

"Yes it is, I had to pluck up the courage to come over here today." I laugh.

"OK - so definitely some of this will seem weird to you, and uncomfortable, but just keep in mind all this is just to prep you for the real thing, OK?"

"Sure - I am fully expecting all of the above!" I laugh again.

He smiles. "So first of all I'm gonna ask you to take off that shirt - it's a little bulky for this kind of thing, OK? Wanna hang it up there with your bag?" he says, heading for the shelving at the back of the room.

My shirt is a long linen man shirt, and it dawns on me it might not have been the wisest choice for today. Underneath I've got a very revealing black thong bodysuit. It seemed sexy putting it on this morning, but now seems inappropriately revealing in front of Henry. 

Pushing aside my squeamishness, I get busy undoing my buttons, and reach to hang the shirt up on the hook. 

I scan my body to see if I'm falling out anywhere - the suit has the highest narrow thong leg you can imagine, and the button bottom gusset sometimes gets its own ideas.

"Shoes too?" I shout, reaching down for my right ankle strap. 

"Oh you can keep them on if you like," he shouts back.

Nothing screams "whore" louder than heels and a thong, but taking them off will make me so short and small! I bite my lip and cross my arms to cover my chest! 

He turns to see me standing awkwardly. "Oh wow, look at you! What are you, a track athlete or something? Man, you're in great shape!" I blush but the ostentatious compliment is actually quite reassuring right now. "Take a seat."

I half sit on a nearby high stool, as he approaches me with what looks like a black dog collar.

"Alright, let's see…" With a touch of my chin, Henry loops the collar around my neck. I lift up my ponytail without even thinking about it. From behind me he says, "So this stays on while you're here - think of it as your work uniform! So you'll never be fully naked," he laughs.

"OK," Is the only nervous response I can come up with.

He then fidgets with it and l hear what sounds like the click of a lock. 

"Is that a padlock?" I ask. 

"There you go! Looks good on you!" he says, ignoring my question.

"Thanks?" I grimace, fingering the small lock behind my neck.

"OK, so we're gonna get your arms bound, priority one." He's back in front of me now, counting on his fingers, in a matter of fact way. "And we're gonna see if you pass the elbow test - let's see how flexible you are." He moves back behind me, and pulls my forearms behind me to touch my two wrists together. My breath quickens. I feel my moment of submission coming. I take a deep swallow and surrender my wrists. 

"OK - this is promising," he announces as he pushes my elbows together, gently at first, then more forcefully as I notice my chest pushing forward under the strain. He lets go, and I pull my arms back gratefully back in front of me, but he stops me. "Hey I need those back!"

Like an obedient student I connect my wrists together behind me again, not realizing that he's now pulled a short buckled strap out of his pocket. Gripping both wrists together in one hand, he quickly loops the strap around them and buckles it tight. I freeze in shock.

"Oh, so you're tying me right now? OK…" I gulp.

Oh my God… This is really happening, and my heart starts pounding so loud I'm wondering if he can hear it. I'm still trying to judge the character of this guy, but asking me to trust him with all this is really REALLY difficult for me right now. 

He doesn't respond to my question but now picks up a longer strap from the counter top. I involuntarily pull away from him, as he slips it behind my forearms, below my elbows.

"Quit wriggling."

It's a request to fully accept my captivity, and take it like a man. It's a power shift and it takes me by surprise. I know I have to buy into what's being done to my body, but I'm having trouble with how fast we're moving now. 

"Quit MOVING!" he orders again.

Part of me wants to say: "STOP", but I just can't get that simple word out - I really don't need more conflict to add to my stress right now!

I'm almost panting wondering what's happening behind me, as I feel the strap tighten a little. Then he gets more purchase and really forces my elbows closer, forcing an audible grunt out of me. The strap tightens some more as I hear the steel of the hasp being buckled.

I breathe again - although with shorter breaths. 

Oh my God - what am I getting into. A man I've just met has just turned me into a bondage sub less than five minutes after meeting him. Despite my heavier breathing, there is a silence between us now that makes the atmosphere a little uncomfortable. Henry's all business and now he's coming back with a third strap.

The stool wobbles a little as I try to slip back off it, and take a step back. It's weird but I can't help but move away from him. Is this a game? If it is, I'm definitely the mouse. I'm so nervous I think I might giggle.

As part of me considers fleeing, he reaches up to my collar and puts his finger through a small D-ring I hadn't noticed was there. Looking straight into my eyes now, he pulls me forward, like an errant dog. My heels make a racket on the floor as he pulls me almost off balance and drags me up to the counter. He keeps pulling on the collar until my chest is almost down on the counter.

"Jesus, Henry!" I say.

"Sarah, this will all go much easier if you don't fight it, you know."

Oddly, his comment makes sense. I take a deep breath. I try to relax and be still. I focus on my breath forming condensation on the glossy countertop, and listen as he lifts my arms and manages to get the third strap under my upper arms.

"Let's finish you off with this one," he says. This last strap pinches more than the others.

"Ow," I say in protest, but I feel the strap being buckled snuggly anyway. He backs away and watches as I pull myself up straight and turn to stop him checking out my bare ass cheeks. I turn to face him, and observe that maybe he's enjoying this a little too much.

"Happy now?" I say, with equal parts protest and sarcasm.

"Sarah - come on. I know it's uncomfortable, but it's part of the process."

After a pause l say, "Look OK. I'm sorry, OK? I haven't been bound like this before is all." 

"And that's FINE!" he says, "but you're just making it difficult, OK? I hate to be pushy but I've got other stuff to get through today."

I cast my eyes down, and see my breasts now bursting forward. The struggle has given me a pair of very obviously erect nipples, displaying proudly for Henry's viewing pleasure. Aware of his eyes on me, I'm taken aback that I feel myself becoming a little moist. The tense interaction makes me want to cover myself somehow.

Looking down I try to see if my thong front is starting to get hitched up into my labia, but it's getting difficult to see anything below my newly expanded chest. I sigh loudly. 

"Look, that's about as close as I can get them for now," he says (He's talking about my elbows again). 

"Now we're going to have to crank you up a little to encourage a bit of a stretch in those shoulders," he says, disappearing off into a store room. 

This must be the stretching Gretta was talking about. I think I was picturing something more yoga-like! I never dreamed I'd be doing stretches dressed like this! 

I'm glad of the fleeting privacy, but I don't really know what to do with myself. My bound arms feel almost like a rope - a useless heavy rope - dangling stiffly behind me. 

I look around for a mirror. I don't see one. I want to check how I look and see if my gusset might be betraying my newly aroused state. 

I figure the biggest discomfort is the social one - being robbed of my arms to cover myself with. I shake my arms as if to get loose, and walk up and down a bit to relax. For a second I imagine myself as a confident femme fatale and splay my feet shoulder width apart like a gun slinger.

At that exact moment Henry comes barging back and I quickly stand up to attention. He's carrying a soft spongy pad - like a cushion. "Can you move over here Sarah?" he says, indicating a narrow padded knee-high bench. I feel his warm fingers touch the skin on my hips as he moves me towards the bench. "OK - now kneel down on this," he says, placing the cushion on the floor by the bench.

"Huh?" I ask.

"Yeah - you'll need to be kneeling for this, it's the only way to do it comfortably."

My balance seems now a touch harder on my high heels as he guides my shoulders down until I'm kneeling. I now notice a chain hanging above the bench.

"So what's going to happen to me now?" I ask. I need to keep up with what's going on, and I can't deal with his strong silent type of approach. He must know I'm uncomfortable.

"We're gonna stretch you a little, intermittently, and get those shoulders and elbows loosened up."

As he speaks, he guides me down until my protruding chest touches the bench, with my ass cheeks now on full display for him or anyone who might come in. I'm wondering what Gretta would think if she saw me now. 

With an increasing feeling of defeat, I resign myself to just wait and see what happens next. 

Henry catches the strap on my wrists and pulls it upwards to clip it to the chain connected to the chain above me.

"Is this some kind of torture chamber? I wasn't expecting this!" I ask, "Will this make my elbows touch?"

"You bet it will! We'll get you touching today… trust me," he says.

"Trust him" …that's pretty much what I've been doing, I think to myself. I'm getting a bit fidgety and test my bonds and give the chain a good shake, but Henry is back to pull straps anchored on each side of the bench up around my waist. Connecting yet another buckle, he instructs me to inhale as much as I can, before he tightens it a little more and then fastens the buckle on what is basically a fixed waist corset.

"Oh my god, that's tight Henry," I say, my voice showing signs of stress now.

My body and the bench are now connected as one corporate unit. As I consider the sensation of being strapped down like this, I'm also aware that he's lingering rather a long time behind me. With my waist now compressed against the bench and my ripe ass protruding behind, I must look quite the treat for his private viewing. I squirm a little as I hear him mutter almost to himself: "Very nice." Just a little humiliating. "And I love the outfit you wore today - really nice. I think Jason Green might really love seeing this… but he'll want those elbows touching, huh…"

Rolling my eyes, I give a jerk down on the wrist chain, but he's now winding a hand crank on the wall. He clicks it a few times as my arms are pulled upwards away from my body. As the strain on my shoulders increases I feel the waist belt start to press into my lower back. 

I drop my head in submission. 

"Owwww," I say plaintively, "I think that's enough?"

He stops with the crank… What a relief.

"OK Sarah - this is how we stretch you… like it?" The thick sarcasm is almost humorous.

"Oh I love it, thanks. And now what?" 

"Well I keep you like this for twenty minutes and then let you out, loosen out those shoulders, and then start again."

"Twenty minutes?" I say, "OK - but I'm already feeling the pain here."

"Oh that will subside. Please just give it ten minutes and it'll start to ease a little."


No answer, but I'm sensing that the objective of connecting my elbows together has now taken on real purpose for Henry. We are sharing the same goal now, it seems. 

But now he's back with… what's this? Another strap is waved in front of my face. A red orb flashes before me! Oh no! A ball gag! I crane my neck to give him a "WTF" look.

"Sorry Sarah," he kneels down to bring himself level with my face, "You must have known this was coming." He seems almost empathetic. 

"Well… I wasn't sure it would all happen this soon. I'm just getting started here, ya know? Is that Jason guy going to come in and see all this?" I ask worriedly. 

"If he comes, he's likely gonna want to see your elbows touching first hand, yes. I don't know when he's due. Are you getting shy now?" He's mocking me, a little unfairly.

He's presenting the gag to my lips now, and looks like he's about to grab my ponytail… I panic.

"Wait wait wait - like what if I don't want him to see me - like does he come in with a whole crew or what?"

"Sarah - come on, you're a model now. You're collared. You're in character - this gag is another part of your work uniform, you know? You're playing a role, and what you'll get paid for - eventually - is to display yourself, uh, in a quite public way. That IS the reality of all this, you know?" he says. I know he's getting impatient with me.

"Well it's just humiliating." I cast my eyes down… tug at my wrist chain, and sigh. "Does he have to see me all strapped up like this? Like, do I get any say in this?"

"Would it help if we concealed your face? I could put a hood on you, and nobody would know who you are?" he offers.

"Hood me?" I ask in shock.

"Yeah. Hold on, I'll show you." He's practically jogging back to the counter now.

"No STOP! I don't want that!" I shout. Oh Jesus - please don't let him hood my face up.

"Oh come on you, just take a look." He pulls open a drawer, and a sealed bag appears with something black inside. He looks closely at it, and says, "Yes - look at this one - it'll even cover your eyes."

"NO! Forget it!" I retort. Oh my god. He's holding up the mask towards me. I refuse to look, instead eyeing the ball gag still on the bench in front of me.

"There's even a hole for your ponytail!" he says, hopefully. He kneels down again and holds up the display picture for me to see up close.

"Please Henry - no." There is cracking in my voice, and I'm not sure if I might burst into tears. The idea of being hooded and blinded is just too dehumanizing for me right now.

"I think your ponytail could look pretty like that, no?" He reaches to lift up my ponytail.. Pulling my head up and back. I later realize that he's really challenging my self-esteem now. I've already said no to this one, but he's waiting for me to surrender AGAIN, and hand over more dignity to him. Still holding my ponytail.. now jerking it from side to side for fun, he's no longer being very professional, and I feel taken advantage of with this mind game.

Threatening to seal up my whole head with rubber is making me tremble, but it's like I can't talk him down from it, and he's already so good at making me “do stuff" I never thought I would allow him to.

"Look Henry, just f**king gag me with that first one, will you?" I say. I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I'm now requesting he do to me exactly what he threatened me with at the beginning. I feel it's the only way out, and he knows it. The lesser of two evils and all that.

With mock reluctance, he places the rubber hood on the bench and picks up the strap gag. Holding the ball up to my lips, he thumbs it in behind my teeth, then firmly pulls the straps back behind my neck.

The red silicone ball presses down on my tongue, and slots snugly into my mouth cavity. It's solid but I feel it give a little when I bite down on it.

Oh my god, I'm gagged. With a ball gag. I've tried one before, but never has one been put in my mouth by somebody else. It's another reality check as the straps are pulled roughly against the sides of my mouth. A couple of jerks of my head, and I feel Henry's fingers roughly close the buckle at the base of my neck.

"Ungggggggggggggggggggg," I gasp loudly. It's done. I'm gagged. I shake my head, but can't undo the feeling of my mouth gaping wide open.

He pushes my head sideways to more fully view my ball-gagged visage, before I feel the weight of his body move away from me finally. Hands on hips, he says with finality, "There." It's almost a declaration of victory. And defeat for me. I feel him standing over me, but I refuse to return his gloating stare.

I sense a tear collecting at the edge of my eye, and suddenly yearn for him to give me a hug or make any kind of gesture of tenderness, or even approval. But his body language right now makes me feel more like a piece of meat. His little stretch project. I wait for him to say something, but sensing that I'm getting emotional perhaps, he backs off. I hear his footsteps moving away.

I finally open my eyes to see a drop of drool string down from my mouth to the bench padding below me. It's too far away to rest my head on it. Shifting in discomfort, I hear the chain above me clink a little. I feel the tightness of my bindings, the shock of the initial onslaught now subsiding into a dull ache. My biggest defeat is the mental one. I've never felt this before. Although I had fantasized about being bound, I couldn't have imagined how surrendering my body to Henry would be so emotionally crushing. Choosing to struggle against him had been a mistake, which now made my submission feel all the more profound and damaging. My mind raced with all these thoughts. 

"Twenty minutes." Henry shatters my internal dialogue. It's almost welcome to hear him announce the length of my sentence. Twenty minutes doesn't seem so long. I decide I'm going to accept this and get through it, like a good sub. Henry sits to watch me from the high stool. "It's hard at the start… Rome wasn't built in a day, Sarah."

I look over at him.. I feel a hint of a tear in my eye but return his gaze. I consider responding verbally but the ball locking my mouth open stops me even considering that. For the next twenty minutes, this is a master/slave relationship. And I am the slave. Physically and emotionally. 

I drop my head again, and try to shift on my knees, making the bench squeak a little on its bolted-down steel legs. 

Henry approaches me, and unexpectedly pulls my head back by my ponytail, looking down into my eyes. It's not the tender moment I was banking on.

"Good girl," he says. 

I don't know what's in his head, but his eyes shift back to my suspended arms, the chain, and then to my protruding ass. He drops my ponytail and walks around behind me. I half expect he's about to touch me or grope me, and I'm not sure I'd consent to that right now.

I close my eyes and try to disappear. The silent inspection makes my skin crawl a little, but I remain still and endure it. Can he be planning even more ways to torment me? He finally moves away and disappears into the store room.

Alone again, I pull on my wrists and bite down onto my gag. The drool from my mouth now strings all the way to the bench padding. I hear the distant sound of boxes being moved about. I stop my breath to try to listen more closely. 

Henry's coming back. He emerges from the room and stands in front of me. When I see what he's carrying, my eyes almost pop out of my head.

Twenty minutes.


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