When I snapped to, I instantly could tell just how groggy and sweaty and sore I was. It was like a hangover coupled with day drinking mixed with the final day before your body finally kicks the flu. I was thirsty. My belly rumbled the same way it does the morning after late night pizza. I could feel the dirt on my skin. I needed a shower; I could smell myself.

My eyes fixated on a naked body in the orange, rusted light. Across the room from my seated position was Avery. My best friend. My sorority sister. My maid of honor. It was clear to me once my eyes fully focused to the light that Avery now was not what Avery was then.

I studied her intently, trying to squint the sleep and grime from my eyes as my pupils focused on what appeared to be rope wrapping itself up and down, around, and in between her breasts. The once pale skin of her large bust was now a shade of purple one only sees in bruises. Her skin looked tight. Ready to explode. It had to hurt. That rope coiled around each tit tight and made them both bulge outward.

It looked incredibly bizarre. Her left nipple pierced. Since she never got around to piercing the right, it was the only way I could truly identify her. Once my eyes made their way up to her face, a black, possibly leather blindfold was affixed over her eyes and around her head. A red rubber ball was lodged into her mouth, her teeth and lips on display as she clenched down on the thing. From popular culture, I could identify it as a ball-gag. For bondage. Oh god.

Her breasts heaved as Avery took short, stunted breaths. She was crying. Drool formed around her lips and the ball and dripped down her chin and onto the purple mounds that were once her perky, shapely tits. Her mascara was running under the blindfold. I couldn’t see her arms, but the rope that decorated her shoulders I assumed was keeping her arms and hands tied behind her. Her legs were criss crossed, more rope fastened her ankles together and kept her in a tight package. Her running shoes remained on. The only piece of clothing that remained from either of our jogging outfits. The authorities would find my right shoe fifteen yards from where we took the last known photograph of both of us. Avery’s sunglasses were found in the parking lot that night. Everything else was disposed of in a more proper kidnapping fashion.

I tried to call out to Avery, but found my tongue was pressed against the floor of my mouth by fabric from my white sports bra, which also assisted in keeping my jaw as wide open as possible. Tape, or what I assumed to be a tape of the duct or electrical variety wrapped itself around my mouth and lips and made spitting out my own gag impossible, try as I might. I screamed and shuffled, which got Avery’s attention. Anything audible she said was impossible to decipher. The drool and ball gag translated her words and sentences to in indecipherable, muffled mess. She screamed and cried. I tried to soothe her terror. I think my own muffled pleas terrified her even more.

At least I could see. The poor thing was in the dark.

I tried to look down at my own self, but found something around my neck that felt like a neckbrace. When I shook it jingled something on the collar. I tried to look left and right to register my surroundings. No dice. That’s when I realized just how much my arms ached. They were pulled behind me, pushing my chest out. Attempting to bend my elbows was fruitless, whatever diabolical thing my arms were sealed into made my elbows touch one another in their prison, the leather was as strict as it was petrifying. Straps of black criss crossed over my shoulders and made it impossible to wiggle out of the fucking thing. The leather creaked when I searched for any sense of comfortability, almost as if it were mocking me. I couldn't bend forward. It seemed as if the piece of gear hugging my arms was attached to the floor in some way shape or form. I could feel it tugging when I jostled, like a boat secured to a dock being rocked by waves.

I tried to shake left and right. My H cup breasts refused to cooperate and didn’t jiggle side to side one bit. Craning my neck as much as I could, my iris shooting to the side of my eyes, and I could make out the same rope on me that I observed on Avery. My tits were bound just the same; appearing like cupcakes on both of us.

Despite their purple appearance they didn't hurt. If pain wasn't the purpose of this rope, what was? This thought festered.

My olive complexion made the hue of my breasts less noticeable than Avery's. At least I knew she wasn’t in pain. Unfortunately for me, once I shifted my weight I could feel the intruder. Buried in my butt was something of sizable girth, that much was clear. How big, and of what material was left to the unknown. I wondered if Avery was also stuffed. 

I was situated in a kneeling position, I could feel something holding my ankles almost to my thighs, hugging them and keeping them firmly attached to whatever padded piece of furniture I was squatting on, my legs spread and bound. 

I was naked. Avery was naked.

Completely naked. 

[Hello DPP! I'll be playing myself, obviously. If you're reading this and want to play Avery I am totally okay with that and I'll control the scene from my view of the kidnapper(s), allowing you to work as Avery and react in scene. (We can discuss details, of course!).

If you're looking to Top, that also works, all that matters to me is that we connect and write well together!]