Btw: The last time anything like this was done to me, my 'master' (who died 15 years ago) was concerned about the neighbours hearing me making too much noise in crying out. So he gagged me, not with one of those red balls in the mouth like the guy on right above, which is more usual these days, but by stuffing a soiled pair of his underpants into my mouth - and I really do mean 'soiled', deliberately I'm sure - and so I couldn't eject it, wrapping sticky parcel tape round my lower head. Boy, did it work! I could wriggle like hell trussed up tight in the ropes, arms handcuffed behind me, roped to a tree in a standing position in his high-fenced back garden, but I was quiet as a mouse - and (get this!) with a cork from a wine bottle he lodged in my shithole with the threat that if it fell out (or inside me) or if I expelled it by farting it out, I'd have all hell to pay. Did I manager to keep it held in place while he left me and went out to a pub for a drink? What, for all the two hours as he'd ordered? What do you think? (What happened next I'll reveal in another posting).
I could chuckle afterwards about the ordeal and his ingenious nastiness - but during it? Christ NO!
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