Rope Tutorial Part 4: Venus

She’s lashed to the chair now. Rope tight around her breasts, squeezing, lifting. Two columns dig into the soft flesh until the skin bulges above the hemp. Her arms are pinned behind the chair back, wrists crossed, elbows forced together so her chest stands out like an offering. He threads another length between her thighs, wraps it once, twice, then knots it high so the strands press the denim flush against her crotch. Every shift of her hips makes the rope slide. The ball gag sits snug between her teeth, straps biting into the corners of her mouth. A slow thread of spit slides down her chin. He steps back, eyes the work, then leans in to give the chest ropes a final tug. She gasps around the rubber, pupils blown wide in the dim light.