Rylee
There's something strangely thrilling about being tied up with a belt. It's cold, tight, and a constant reminder that something could happen at any moment. I've been restrained before, but this feels different—a mix of fear and excitement, maybe even a bit of a turn-on.
After trapping my hands in the leather strap, Alvar gets up and rummages through the closet. I try to sit up, to escape, but he's back before I can move an inch, carrying more belts.
He easily pushes me down onto the bed again.
He yanks my ankle, lifting my left leg.
“What are you doing?” I shout, panic rising, but Alvar’s made up his mind to ignore me. He fastens a leash around my left calf, securing it to the bedpost. My leg is raised, bound, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. He repeats the process with my other leg.
Now, with my legs wide open, I'm completely at Alvar’s mercy. He stands at the foot of the bed, towering over me as I struggle. He’s holding another belt in his hand, folded in half, poised like a
