46 photos; 9:42 video

I lay helpless on my bondage bed, completely encased in a shiny black PVC catsuit that clung to every curve like a second skin.

My hands were fixed to the sides with cable ties – wrists secured tightly, no chance to pull free.

My legs were crossed and bound with more cable ties – thighs, knees, ankles crushed together in one unyielding line.

The knee-high ballet boots locked my feet into an extreme stretched position – toes pointed painfully, arches straining with every futile attempt to move.

My mouth was first stuffed and sealed with tape pressed firmly over my lips.

Then the muffle harness was strapped on top – the thick leather pad filling what was left, the straps buckled so tight that only the faintest, desperate “nnnfffffffff” could escape.

Over my most sensitive spot, the Trembler was strapped mercilessly tight – a relentless masturbator/milker with a freshly charged battery, humming constantly, keeping me in a state of permanent, maddening arousal.

There was nothing I could do against it – no shifting away, no stopping the waves, no relief.

I tugged at the cable ties, arched against the ballet boots, whimpered into the muffle harness – all in vain.

The PVC squeaked with every movement, the restraints bit deeper, the vibrator owned my body completely.

No escape.

No mercy.

Just glossy black PVC, tight cable ties, extreme ballet boots, a sealed mouth, and endless, merciless arousal.