Then my feet come into frame.

They’re dirty, c*mpletely free, flexing while the rest of me struggles. I lift them up instinctively, toes spreading wide, soles facing you like they’re answering for me. I rub my feet together while I keep trying to talk through the tape, my muffled voice cutting in and out as I curl my toes and grind my arches together. The contrast is obvious — my body tense, my breath uneven, my feet slow and deliberate like they’re enjoying this.

I kick slightly, frustrated, then stop and flex my soles again, dragging one dirty foot over the other while I try to speak through the gag one more time. The sounds come out needy, strained, almost embarrassing — and my feet stay calm, teasing, in control. Every struggle just makes the silence between movements heavier, every muffled word pulling more attention back to how trapped I am.

By the end, I’m still bound, still gagged, still making useless sounds through the tape — breathing hard, shifting, unable to stop myself — while my dirty soles stay right where you’re staring, flexing slowly like they know exactly how much control they have over you.

26:T786,

already pulled tight, wrists taped behind my back, ankles bound just enough that every movement feels awkward and frustrating. Thick tape is stretched over my mouth, pressing my lips flat, but I’m still trying to talk through it. The sounds come out muffled, messy, half?formed. You can hear the strain every time I try to say something anyway.

I shift and squirm on purpose, testing the tape, breathing harder than I need to. My words turn into frustrated sounds, broken sentences you have to listen for, and I know that makes it worse for you. I shake my head a l*ttle, try to complain, try to tease, try to act annoyed — all of it swallowed by the gag. Every failed attempt to talk just reminds you how restrained I am.

Then my feet come into frame.

They’re dirty, c*mpletely free, flexing while the rest of me struggle

Gag Talk Milf Did “Dirty Foot B*ndage” [Tape] with C4s.com