Roxi St*ne had intended for the night to be hers alone—a rare moment of solitude after a long, exhausting week. Her small apartment, dimly lit by the warm glow of a single bedside lamp, was quiet except for the hum of a distant fan. She had chosen to wear something playful and daring: a skimpy pair of leopard-print underwear, part of a set she'd bought on a whim but never really had the courage to show anyone. It made her feel bold. In control.

But that illusion had shattered quickly.

Now she lay face down on her bed, her body tense with discomfort and fear. Her wrists had been pulled tightly behind her back and bound with several loops of duct tape, the silver material glinting faintly in the low light. Her legs were similarly restrained—taped together at the ankles and above the knees—rendering her unable to kick or even shift without great difficulty. A wide strip of tape sealed her lips, silencing any cry she might have dared to make.

The mattress, once a place of comfort, now pressed cold and unwelcoming against her bare skin. She could feel every crease of the sheets, every subtle draft in the room against her exposed body. Her breathing was heavy and uneven, the sound muffled behind the gag. Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird as her mind raced through the events that led to this moment. How had this happened? How had she lost control so quickly and c*mpletely?

The room felt darker now. Smaller. Every creak of wood or whisper of wind against the window seemed amplified, threatening. Her muscles strained with every futile attempt to twist her arms free. The tape didn’t budge. Her fingers, aching and tingling, searched in vain for an edge, anything to peel away the bonds. But there was nothing. Whoever had done this had been thorough.

She tried to calm herself, to focus her thoughts, but it was nearly impossible. Vulnerable and exposed, she felt more like an object than a person. Her heart pounded as she listened for any sign of movement—any hint that she was not alone in the apartment. The silence offered no comfort. Was someone watching? Waiting?

She didn’t know how long she’d been like this—minutes? An hour? Time had blurred, stretched by fear and discomfort. One thing was clear: help wasn’t coming anytime soon. If she wanted to get out, she’d have to do it herself.

But first, she had to survive the night.

Blondes Lingerie B*ndage Roxi St*ne taped up with C4s.com

Blondes Lingerie Bndage Roxi Stne taped up with C4s.com