Eyeing the clear tape in my hands, I could tell what Briella was thinking. A strong breeze can usually rip the cheap packing tape and her upcoming bondage was momentary at best. Wrapping her legs first the lack of noise tipped her off something was off. Silently the tape soon was locking her elbows together, the tape continuing to compress tighter long after it was cut from the roll. Her mouth now stuffed with a rag, it circles her mouth now. Muffled mews of protest struggle to escape her packed mouth with little success. Her fingers are saved for last as several coils of tape render them useless. Clear or not, this tape meant business and Briella knew she was in trouble.
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