Self Bondage School

The girls follow orders without a word. They cinch the rope tight around each other’s thighs, then wrap it around their ankles until the knots bite. Christina has them turn, one by one, so she can check the work. When their wrists meet, the rope goes on fast, loops locking wrist to wrist. The three are stuck together now, knees touching, shoulders bare. They spot the black leather flogger peeking from the open bag. Blake’s breath catches. Rosie tugs at her bound wrists, testing how little room she has. Emma presses her big tits against Rosie’s arm, half hiding behind her. Christina smiles, draws the tails across her palm, and tells them to kneel. They drop together, bodies pressing, the rope pulling tighter with every shift. The room smells like sweat and new rope. Christina walks the line, letting the flogger drag over their shoulders, their chests, the heavy swell of their breasts. No one speaks. Every quiet slap of leather on skin makes the knots feel smaller.