The Trapped Tenant -- Part
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I had been living in Vinny's house for a little over two months now. She was polite, quiet, and carried herself with a kind of graceful discipline that was rare. Always dressed in flowing churidars or abayas, her face often framed with a hijab and her hands always covered with thin gloves when outside--even while cooking. I had never really seen her hair, or even her wrists. Mysterious, elegant, distant. Just the way I liked it.
My room was simple--one bed, a study table, a cupboard. I kept to myself, especially after dark, when Vinny would disappear into her part of the house and lock her door quietly. Sometimes I could hear faint sounds--maybe the rustling of scarves or the zipping of some fabric--but I never dared to ask.
One night, everything changed.
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It started with a small mistake. I had forgotten to log out of my private profile on my laptop. I had a folder filled with my fantasies--images of scarf bondage, latex hoods, strict gags sealed with microfoam tape, breathplay with swim caps... things no one would understand.
Except... Vinny had seen them.
I only realized something was off when I noticed the laptop was moved slightly the next morning, and the lid was slightly open. I had been so careful. I told myself I was being paranoid.
But Vinny was... different that day. Softer. She looked at me longer. She served me tea without asking. Her smile lingered strangely when she handed me the cup, her gloved fingers brushing mine.
"You should sleep early tonight," she said gently.
That night, I obeyed. I shouldn't have.
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2:12 AM
The room was dark and still. I was drifting in and out of sleep when I felt it. A presence. A weight shifting on the mattress. Before I could open my eyes, a thickly sweet scent invaded my senses. A cloth pressed tightly over my nose and mouth.
"Mmmfff--mmmh--" I thrashed weakly, arms flailing. But she had anticipated this.
"Ssshhh..." a calm whisper came from behind me, soft but commanding. "Breathe in, slowly. Just like in your little folder."
My heart froze.
The scent was strong. My head felt heavy. My vision blurred. I tried to speak, but the cloth muffled everything. My limbs went limp as her words floated into my ears like fog.
"That's it. Sleep for me..."
Darkness took over.
---
When I woke up, I was lying on something soft--but my arms wouldn't move. Neither would my legs. Panic kicked in as I realized my limbs were tied tightly with cotton scarves. My wrists were bound behind me, crossed and wrapped again and again in soft fabric. My ankles were similarly knotted. Another scarf connected my wrists to my legs in a gentle but inescapable hogtie.
And my mouth--oh God. A thick cotton scarf had been stuffed deep into it, forcing my jaw open. Another was tied around my face, pressing it in. I tried to scream, but it came out as nothing more than a muffled whimper.
Then I saw her.
Vinny.
She stood by the door in a black abaya layered over a white churidar. Her hijab was wrapped tight around her head, and a scarf covered the lower half of her face, revealing only her intense, lined eyes. She wore skin-tight black latex gloves that creaked softly as she adjusted the cuffs.
She walked toward me slowly, her scarf brushing against her chest, the soft swish of fabric echoing in the room.
"Well," she said, crouching down beside me. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?"
I shook my head wildly, heart pounding.
"I saw everything. Every folder. Every file. You like this, don't you?" she whispered.
I froze.
"I never imagined... my quiet little tenant... wanting to be gagged, bound, helpless."
She ran a gloved finger slowly across my gagged cheek. My breath caught.
"Do you know what happens now?"
She leaned close to my ear.
"You live your fantasy. For one week."
The Trapped Tenant -- Part 2: Unseen Intentions
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I couldn't move. The scarves dug into my skin with every slight attempt to shift. My body was firmly held, unable to escape from Vinny's meticulous restraints. The realization of what she had just said hit me like a brick.
One week.
The weight of those words pressed down on me harder than the tight scarves. I struggled against the bonds, but it was no use. The scarf gag in my mouth, now a thick mass of fabric, muffled any protests I tried to make. I could only make small, desperate sounds, my eyes wide with fear and something else--curiosity.
Vinny's gaze was unreadable. She observed me quietly, running her latex-covered fingers along the edges of my restraints. There was no rush in her movements, no anger, just cold, clinical control. She was enjoying this. She knew exactly what she was doing.
I swallowed hard, the fabric in my mouth pressing against the roof of my mouth as I tried to speak through it. "Mmhmm!" I muffled into the gag.
