Pink gag

She stood and waited. Those were her only options, even though the restrictions were quite simple. A rope around her neck, tied of overhead and her wrists taped behind her back, knees taped together. That was it. That was all it took. Here she was, a veteran private eye, firearm expert, trained in various martial arts and looking like a fitness competition contender: helpless. All due to a piece of rope and some tape. And, of course, as an added insult, the ball gag.

That ball gag should have been a red flag, in hindsight. She had fully expected them to tape her mouth, just like her wrists. What band of lowlife, small-time burglars would carry around kinky equipment with them?

And it had all started off so wonderful. She had caught them red-handed at the scene. Then had come the most difficult part of the operation: the fight scene. She had had to make it believable that they had actually subdued her. It had been hard, first losing the gun, then deliberately missing with her kicks and punches, at the same time ducking as much of their wild swings as possible. After successfully bringing the fight to the ground she didn't have to pretend anymore: after all, there were three of them, all outweighing her by sixty pounds or more. At that point, she was just overwhelmed. As planned. She had even thrown in some grunts and squeels, as they taped her wrists and knees.

RP Short Stories

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