Eyeing the clear tape in my hands, I could tell what Briella was thinking. A strong breeze can usually rip the cheap packing tape away, and her upcoming bondage was going to be momentary at best. Wrapping her legs first, the lack of noise tipped her off that something was awry. Silently, the tape was soon locking her elbows together, continuing to compress tighter long after it was cut from the roll. Her mouth now stuffed with a rag, the tape circles her mouth and clamps the cloth gag tightly in place. 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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