First time in a straitjacket (M/F)
Posted: Thu Apr 25, 2024 11:47 am
Grace slid her hands and arms into the straitjacket, it's heavy canvas rough against her skin. She instinctively expected her hands to pop out at the end of the sleeves then remembered, oh right, this doesn't work that way.
She hadn't considered straitjackets for most of her life, other than wanting to generally avoid them; the idea, of comfortable restriction coupled with inescapability;, the cramped, stuffy interior, yet one she couldn't get out of herself, it always left her more than a bit nervous.
She'd seen movies and television shows where innocent gals were unfairly strapped into straitjackets against their will, struggling to escape while their captors taunted them. Sometimes they did more than taunt, a lot more; at least that's what was insinuated (after all, you couldn't show but so much on CBS on a Tuesday, 9pm).
But now here she was, standing nearly naked as a relative stranger strapped her into an institutional restraint which, by all accounts, was designed specifically so that people who trained to escape wouldn't be able to. It was overkill, driving a tack with a sledgehammer, as she'd be unlikely to escape from even one of the cheap Halloween costume types he'd shown her. This... this was impossible.
Yet here she was. He stood behind her, buckling the straps across her back and the two which went between her legs, on either side of her pussy. She only wore a pair of panties, special ones with snaps up the side so they could be removed without unstrapping the straitjacket. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to that.
"Okay, cross your arms in front of you," he said and she obediently did. He helped her thread them through the loop running vertically across her belly, as well as the two on either side, before buckling the strap. He put a hand on each of her elbows and pushed them towards each other before snugging the strap up tight, forcing her to give a big hug to herself.
As he secured that final strap she began to feel... different. It wasn't simply lightheadedness, it was something more, different, as if her body were being flooded with endorphins in a way she'd never encountered before. She was already a week bit drunk, a wee bit stoned, but this seemed to work it's way around all of that to create a feeling altogether different.
She dug her bare toes into the carpet, felt it beneath her soles. Doing her best to ground herself she stepped backwards off of it, towards the couch, onto the hardwood. She felt dizzy, almost ready to collapse as she leaned against him for support.
There was one final strap which threaded through the loops on the outside of her upper arms and went around her entire body, keeping her arms snug. Completely wrapped, she began to feel as if she were floating, a lightheadedness she'd never encountered before. She was barely aware as he lowered her onto the couch, sat next to her, leaning her into the pillows they'd set up, before placing her legs and feet onto his lap and covering them in a blanket.
This wasn't like bring drunk or stoned. She wasn't hallucinating. It was something else entirely, a feeling of fear, almost terror at being securely bound; yet there was a feeling of comfort and security in having no choice, not being able to move. She trusted that he'd be there, would take care of her in her helplessness, even as she knew he intended to take advantage of it.
But that was in the future. For right now she let herself relax and experience her very first subspace.
========
More to come, if anyone expresses interest.
She hadn't considered straitjackets for most of her life, other than wanting to generally avoid them; the idea, of comfortable restriction coupled with inescapability;, the cramped, stuffy interior, yet one she couldn't get out of herself, it always left her more than a bit nervous.
She'd seen movies and television shows where innocent gals were unfairly strapped into straitjackets against their will, struggling to escape while their captors taunted them. Sometimes they did more than taunt, a lot more; at least that's what was insinuated (after all, you couldn't show but so much on CBS on a Tuesday, 9pm).
But now here she was, standing nearly naked as a relative stranger strapped her into an institutional restraint which, by all accounts, was designed specifically so that people who trained to escape wouldn't be able to. It was overkill, driving a tack with a sledgehammer, as she'd be unlikely to escape from even one of the cheap Halloween costume types he'd shown her. This... this was impossible.
Yet here she was. He stood behind her, buckling the straps across her back and the two which went between her legs, on either side of her pussy. She only wore a pair of panties, special ones with snaps up the side so they could be removed without unstrapping the straitjacket. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to that.
"Okay, cross your arms in front of you," he said and she obediently did. He helped her thread them through the loop running vertically across her belly, as well as the two on either side, before buckling the strap. He put a hand on each of her elbows and pushed them towards each other before snugging the strap up tight, forcing her to give a big hug to herself.
As he secured that final strap she began to feel... different. It wasn't simply lightheadedness, it was something more, different, as if her body were being flooded with endorphins in a way she'd never encountered before. She was already a week bit drunk, a wee bit stoned, but this seemed to work it's way around all of that to create a feeling altogether different.
She dug her bare toes into the carpet, felt it beneath her soles. Doing her best to ground herself she stepped backwards off of it, towards the couch, onto the hardwood. She felt dizzy, almost ready to collapse as she leaned against him for support.
There was one final strap which threaded through the loops on the outside of her upper arms and went around her entire body, keeping her arms snug. Completely wrapped, she began to feel as if she were floating, a lightheadedness she'd never encountered before. She was barely aware as he lowered her onto the couch, sat next to her, leaning her into the pillows they'd set up, before placing her legs and feet onto his lap and covering them in a blanket.
This wasn't like bring drunk or stoned. She wasn't hallucinating. It was something else entirely, a feeling of fear, almost terror at being securely bound; yet there was a feeling of comfort and security in having no choice, not being able to move. She trusted that he'd be there, would take care of her in her helplessness, even as she knew he intended to take advantage of it.
But that was in the future. For right now she let herself relax and experience her very first subspace.
========
More to come, if anyone expresses interest.