Content Warnings: Consensual, BDSM, Bondage, Femdom, F/m, Straitjacket, Sensory Deprivation

“You think you’re sooo smart, don’t you?” 

“Hmm?”



Bradley blinked. He twisted his head to look at the woman who spoke. Tina, the owner of the store he’d been standing in for the last… oh wow, how long had it been since he walked in? Three hours? Less? More? He hadn’t been able to look at the hanging wall clock since he’d signed the waiver, and that was about forty-five minutes after he entered…

A while. It had been a while. 

Now Tina, standing just at the edge of Bradley’s peripheral vision, was smirking at him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, but couldn’t really look at her. The posture collar he was wearing wouldn’t let him turn his head very far and the support beam he was tied to wouldn’t let him turn the rest of his body much further. Bradley’s eyes, fingers, and toes were really the only things he could move without issue. 

The Dragon’s Cave was an out of the way store buried deep in the city. It wasn’t hard to find, but it didn’t draw attention to itself. The sign outside wasn’t anywhere nearly as ostentatious or eye-catching as a sign bordered with chains and flames probably should be. 

It was a bondage store, loaded to the brim with more ropes, gear, and sexy toys than it should have been able to fit. Immediately upon entering its solid oak door a customer would see one of three things. There was a rack of rope, tape, and a variety of gags that declared loud and clear what the store was all about. Directly opposite the door was the counter and cash register, usually with Tina sitting there calmly reading a book or playing video games before looking up to either warmly greet a new customer, give a casual and friendly hello to a regular, or gently warn away someone who obviously wasn’t ready to shop in a bondage store. Finally, off to the side of the counter in full view of the door was a sturdy wood support beam. 

There was another support beam, spaced an even distance away on the other side of the room. But that one had stock hanging from on it, another surface to hold the things that were for sale. The one closer to the door was usually bare, save for the big “FREE TRIAL” sign attached near the top of it. 

At the moment, however, it wasn’t bare at all. Bradley was thoroughly, inescapably, wonderfully bound to it. 

Beyond the posture collar, the man in his mid-twenties had been stuffed into a leather straitjacket. His arms were pulled tautly over his gut and strapped down to keep them there. He could shift and wriggle them around a little, and he’d definitely been doing that for however long he’d been “trapped” inside the thing. Sometimes he strained his arms more seriously, but the straitjacket always held tight. 

Above the collar was a hood. Bradley’s features were almost entirely hidden. Only his eyes were visible to the world, along with two little holes near his nose. All the rest of Bradley’s head was locked away from the world. There was a space for his mouth, but it was entirely covered by the panel gag that kept him quiet. 

Around Bradley’s legs, from his calves to just under his pelvis, was a bondage skirt. It was actually the first thing Tina had put him in, pulling the row of straps that were exposed on the back tight until the young man essentially had only one unwieldy leg to hop and stand on. You could probably see the straps if you looked at Bradley from behind, otherwise someone could only see the shiny black sheen of the skirt part. Or so he assumed. The collar kept him from looking down to check. 

Finally, across his ankles, knees, waist, chest, and the top of Bradley’s head were bondage belts. The things that were actually tying him to the support beam. Sometimes they’d slip a bit and Tina would adjust them when she came to check on how Bradley was doing. 

The answer was great. Bradley was doing great. He’d done enough self-bondage to know he was going to enjoy himself when he finally worked up the nerve to come to the store and ask about the sign attached to the top of the beam. What Bradley did not expect was how MUCH he would love it. Even now, after however much time had passed, he was just as giddy as he’d been when Tina first left him alone. 

FREE TRIAL, the sign said. Anyone could test out some of the equipment The Dragon’s Cave had on offer by being bound to the support beam. The store’s website had pictures of people tied to it with rope, tape, and even chains. Bradley had looked at every single one of those pictures, maybe a bit more than he should have. 

A handful of people came into the store while Bradley was having his free trial. They seemed to be regulars, because none of them paid him much mind beyond a quick glance or a smirk. That or they thought he was a mannequin. That was also possible. 

The unmistakable sound of high heels on hardwood thundered in Bradley’s covered ears as Tina took slow steps forward, leaving her customer’s peripheral vision so he could see her more fully. Holy Hell was she gorgeous. She wasn’t looking at Bradley, but that little smirk was a regular feature of her cute, heart-shaped face. Her black hair, tied in a high ponytail, bounced back and forth as she took step after meandering step. She wore a dark sweater dress, and her legs were covered in sheer black pantyhose. 

She’d been coming up to Bradley every so often to ask if he was okay and give him some water. Maybe every… half-hour? When that happened her voice was soft. Now there was an edge to it. 

“I’ve had that free trial sign up since day one, you know. It was the first thing that came to my head when I looked at the property and saw that support beam. That was four years ago, and in that time I’ve found that there’s usually three kinds of people who ask me about it.” 

Tina was on the other end of Bradley’s peripheral vision now. Leaving it, actually. Another couple of steps took her too far for him to see. 

“First are the dumbasses and assholes. For the most part. They’re all dumbasses, but only about half of them are assholes. Maybe a little more than that. The rest of them, the ones I say yes to, are nice enough even if they are being morons. These are the ones who ask to be tied up because they lost a bet or were dared to do it. College boys, mostly. Sometimes it’s girls, but it’s usually guys. 

“Second are the bonafide BDSM practitioners. Doms and their subs. Couples and sometimes throuples. The ones that know what they’re doing and just want to test something out before spending their money on it. I don’t even have to do anything with them, just hand over the equipment and watch.” 

By now Tina had come full circle, and was back on the same edge of Bradley’s vision she’d started on. She still hadn’t looked at him. Not even once. She inspected her store instead, eyes wandering all over the walls and racks. 

“The third kind are my personal favorite. The shy ones. Bashful, blushing boys and girls who really want to give bondage a try, even if they don’t know it yet. Sometimes I have to talk them into it. They come in all wide-eyed, maybe a little shocked at what they’re seeing. They ask me what “free trial” means and get all nervous when I explain it to them. It’s adorable. I’ll start them off with a pair of handcuffs, and when they love it I’ll ask them if they want a little more. Next thing they know they’re all bound up nice and tight and desperately trying to hide how hard or wet they are.” 

She trailed off, halting her methodical steps in front of her captive audience while staring off into space. Bradley even saw that she was biting her lip as she let herself get lost in the happy memories. Something told the straitjacketed man that some of the people she was remembering had come back for more. 

Then, abruptly, she turned to look Bradley dead in the eye. Bradley froze. Not just his bound body, it was like his mind was suddenly locked into place by the sight of Tina’s rich brown eyes boring straight into his wide blue ones. 

“And then there are the creeps.” 

“Hmmph?!” Bradley whimpered. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. Tina’s smile was too wide and hungry to be called a smirk anymore, and there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. 

“You see, it’s only usually three kinds of people that want my trial. There’s also a fourth category that’s a lot more rare than the other three. The creeps. The ones that know damn well how much they want to be tied up and just want to trick a smoking hot store owner into doing it for them.” 

Bradley felt himself go entirely pale. He shook his head no with as much ferocity as the posture collar would allow him too. Garbled protests erupted from his gagged mouth.

“Ah ah ah,” she shushed him by holding a single finger up to the panel gag. “Don’t try to pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. Here’s a little tip for you. The ones that actually do need a little push don’t tend to put on a chastity cage before they even step inside.” 

Oh. 

Right. 

Blood came rushing back to Bradley’s face. If he wasn’t already blushing bright red underneath the hood, he would be soon enough. He’d almost forgotten he was even wearing the cage he ordered online months ago, even with the constant sensation of the steel preventing his cock from hardening. The sheer fact of being reduced to a wriggling mannequin had driven all thoughts of it from his mind. Now he fell silent and still. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t grab your crotch, but I could see the shape of it underneath your pants when I was tying you up. And when a guy loves being tied up as much as you clearly do, it’s harder to NOT see their erection. You’re not some curious little rabbit who needs a nudge, just a little bondage freak, trying to trick a poor shopkeeper into tying you up.” 

Bradley’s gaze fell. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore and squeezed his own shut. Now he burned with shame. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead Bradely felt her finger trail down his chin and his collar until her entire hand was on his chest. He tried to pull his unworthy body away

“But I don’t think you’re really in that fourth category.” 

“Hmm?” Bradley’s eyes opened. She wasn’t looking at his face anymore. Now her gaze was on his chest, watching her own hand feel him up.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. The real creeps tend to be a lot more aggressive than you. They trip all over themselves to try to flirt, which they suck at; they don’t try to hide their erections–or wet spots, the one time it was a woman–and they get mad when I tell them to leave. There’s a reason I keep a can of mace with me at the counter, although I haven’t had to use it yet.” 

Her other hand was suddenly touching Bradley’s side, caressing it just as gently as she was with his chest. 

“You though… you were definitely trying to trick me. Don’t pretend you weren’t. But I don’t think you were really acting. And you’re in luck, because I might have an offer for you.” 

“Wmmmph?!” What was even happening at this point? Bradley’s mind was going all over the place now. He had no idea what to think or what to expect. All he could do was silently wait for Tina to continue on. Which she did, a minute later, after withdrawing her hands from his body and taking a step away from him. Another whimper escaped Bradley, which made her snort as her eyes went back up to meet his gaze. 

“I’ll tell you what. I close in an hour or so. If you want to stay up there until then, you can, and then I’ll take that gag out and we can talk about my offer. How does that sound?

Bradley spent a dozen seconds staring, then found the presence of mind to nod. Yes, that sounded good to him. 

Tina smirked again. “Good boy.” 

ONE MONTH LATER 

Bradley’s entire world was reduced to mindless sensation. His awareness ended at his body, and whatever happened to be touching it. Which, at the moment, was little more than Mistress Tina’s sock covered feet resting on his side, forcing him to hold as still as he possibly could, so as not to dislodge them or distract her. And the floor. 

Unlike when he was first bound to the support beam in Mistress Tina’s store, he wasn’t wearing street clothes. He was fully contained from neck to foot in an amazingly constrictive latex catsuit. Bradley loooved the catsuit and the way it pressed down on all sides of nearly every inch of him. Just standing around in it was enough for him to start squirming in place, making his Mistress laugh. 

The posture collar around his neck was the same he wore that first day, but the hood was new. Latex instead of leather, with a padded blindfold enveloping the upper half of his head on top of it. Instead of a panel gag, a spongy gag was inserted into his mouth and kept there by at least seven layers of vet wrap wound around his mouth and head. It could be more, Bradley wasn’t sure. He lost count around four or five. 

A pair of knee high heeled boots were on Bradley’s feet, which were kept all the tighter by the straps that bound his calves to his thighs. Between that and the boxtie armbinder he was totally secure and unable to do much of anything beyond lay there curled up on the little dog bed Mistress bought for him and take whatever she deigned to give him. 

Bradley could hear her tapping away on her computer, even though the soft foam plugs that filled his ears. He could feel the tapping too, from the little echoes that resounded through her desk. They were in the upstairs apartment of Mistress’s store, where she lived. Where Bradely might be living too, in the near future, instead of coming over when he could to be Tina’s fidget toy, footrest, and stress ball. 

Just then, Tina’s feet withdrew from Bradley’s body. He squirmed in place, moaning in what he hoped was a quiet voice for all of five seconds before he felt her hand on the top of his head, affectionately stroking him. 

“I swear, I have lost so much productivity since I collared you. I had no idea you would turn out to be this much of a needy little slut. You were so quiet when I had you on the beam!” 

Bradley whimpered out a little apology. 

“Oh, shush. We both know you’re not really sorry. But you will be if you can’t keep quiet and still for five minutes, got it? I need to send a couple of emails.” She ended her petting and gave him a firm little cuff on the head. 

Bradley fell quiet and still then, for as long as he could. The problem was that it was pretty much impossible for him to tell how long five minutes was, and equally impossible for him to hold still forever. Being quiet wasn’t too hard, but how was he supposed to keep from moving when every little breeze, every little bump against the walls of the desk, and every one of Mistress’s motions up on the desk vibrated down to her contained subby toy? 

Had it been five minutes yet? Had it even been one minute yet? Or maybe it was way more than that. Seven? Ten? It was impossible for Bradley to know. And surely Mistress Tina wouldn’t let him go too long before she started playing with him again, right? He half expected her to activate the vibrators connected to his cock cage and buried up his ass. But no, that would almost make him scream and she needed to concentrate. 

Oh! Her feet were back! Not resting on him, but touching him. Mistress poked at Bradley with her toes and he sucked in a sharp breath that he hoped was quiet. 

The phone rang, making Bradley jerk and hit his head on the desk. Half a second later he felt a jab to the chest from Mistress. Not a kick, but something close to it. A reminder to be quiet. 

“Hello? Oh, hey Dad. Yeah, I can talk for a bit. I have plenty of time.” 

Bradley stifled a moan, felt his smile widen, and carefully pressed himself to the back of the desk as Tina carried on her conversation and made plans with her parents. Before he knew it he was being a footrest again, even moreso than before because his Mistress was leaning back and not doing much work.

Eventually she would get off the phone, and then she would touch him again, centering all his attention on the focal point of whatever part of his body she made contact with. If something happened to frustrate her–either because someone was causing a problem or because having Bradley there was distracting–she would get a little more aggressive. Bradley would change from a fidget toy to a stress ball. She didn’t often outright hit him outside of punishment, but her groping touches might grow more aggressive until she relaxed a bit more. Then she might go back to petting and patting, or else get so engrossed in her work that she would have no attention to spare her sub. 

But Bradley would still be there. A snugly bound up little toy, reading to accept whatever attention was thrown his way, and happy to be Mistress Tina’s plaything. 

Bradley let out a contented little sigh. Life was good.