Gagged Blind, Left Behind

She sits strapped in that spinning chair with nowhere left to run. Black hair clings to her damp skin. A ball gag stretches her jaw and a blindfold steals the light. The seat turns slowly under her bare thighs while someone watches and waits. Every time the chair clicks to a new angle the unseen hand finds her again—pressing, teasing, then pulling away before the heat crests. Her hips jerk against the straps, desperate for the touch that never stays. The silence stretches, broken only by wet sounds and her muffled pleas. She came here wanting to be bullied and denied, and the chair makes sure she gets nothing more than that.