Substitute players mummify and humiliate team captain

Aly runs the show. Coach’s golden girl. Always starting. Aisha and Lex? Bench-warmers, day after day. The bitterness curdles, thickens. One night they decide the bench has had enough. Aly slips into the hotel yoga room. Quiet stretch. She never sees them coming. Aisha clamps her arms from behind while Lex starts unrolling the heavy tape. Wide silver strips cross her chest, crush her arms, bite her thighs. Every layer pulls tighter than the last. In seconds the captain’s trapped, straightjacketed in shiny tape. Lex jams a pair of rank socks into Aly’s mouth, seals them with another tape wrap that bulges her cheeks and seals her jaw shut. More tape circles her head until nothing but her eyes can move. She’s a tape mummy from crown to ankle, every curve squeezed and smothered. Aisha and Lex step back, savoring the view. Aly thrashes, muscles twitching under the silver cocoon. They like what they see. Rope comes next. Thick cords loop over the tape, cinch her waist, pin her thighs, then haul her upward. The bamboo frame creaks; Aly swings, suspended, zero slack left. Vibrators buzz to life. One presses between her taped thighs, the other against her breasts. They work her in waves: close, then ease off, then slam her harder. Bound, gagged, suspended, she jerks and convulses while they keep perfect control of every orgasm they force out of her. When they finally leave, a single vibrator stays taped flush to her crotch, humming without mercy. Aly hangs limp, mummified and dripping, the revenge still pulsing through her helpless body.