Squeeze an Orange

Patrick lives for the moment the straps close. Today Elise brought new hardware, and she wastes no time wrapping him tight. The orange straitjacket swallows his arms first, canvas cinched until his shoulders ache. A matching leg binder follows, lacing his calves into one rigid column. Last comes the enclosed hood, leather molded to every contour of his skull, only a small grommet left open for air. She hauls his helpless bundle onto the bench, steel-ringed straps crossing his chest, waist, and thighs. Every buckle clicks home, locking him flat and spread for whatever she decides next.