Spirit Binding

It was an entire wall that she had transformed into a creative matrix, plastered with fabric swatches, color charts, sketch drafts, and reference images clipped from magazines and the internet. Strands of colored thread crisscrossed between nails, attempting to weave scattered thoughts into some recognizable order. And in the very center of the wall, occupying the largest space, was a black and white photograph. The photograph showed a woman, her back to the camera, kneeling on the floor. Her hands were neatly bound behind her back with hemp rope, her arms pulled together and tied, the rope cinched in tight coils from her wrists to her elbows, the rough texture of the hemp catching the light. The rope continued, crossing over her shoulders and chest, weaving her entire upper body into an intricate net. Her face was not visible, only the subtle creases formed where the rope dug into her skin, and her slightly bowed head—there was something in that posture, both like surrender and like flight. Lin Xiao could no longer recall where she had cut out this image. Perhaps from a hidden corner of a photography website, perhaps from a forum post. She had pinned it boldly in the center of her inspiration wall, explaining to every client and colleague who visited her studio that it was a "visual study on the relationship between the body and restraint." No one had ever questioned this explanation. In fact, no one had ever truly questioned anything Lin Xiao said. She was too adept at explaining—using those academic theoretical terms, those beautiful phrases about "body politics," "space and freedom," and "the discourse of fabric's power." She could, with a three-minute impromptu discourse, convince anyone that everything she did was a pure, rational exploration driven by artistic motivation. Only she knew when those theories had been appended after the desire. Her gaze shifted from the photograph to the dark red oak box in the corner. The box was not large, salvaged from a flea market during a move. Its dark wood grain was covered in scratches left by time, and the brass clasp had oxidized to a greenish hue. It squatted quietly in the most inconspicuous corner of the studio, a few rolls of sample fabrics piled beside it, appearing to be just an ordinary storage container. But when Lin Xiao's eyes fell upon it, her fingers involuntarily curled. She knew what was inside. Several coils of hemp rope of varying lengths, uniform in thickness, with a firm feel. A bundle of dark red cotton cord, softer than the hemp, suitable for close contact. A black leather gag, its stainless steel buckle reflecting a cold light under the lamp. A red silicone gag, more elastic than the leather, but no less forceful in stretching the lips apart. A roll of black electrical tape—a backup, in case more thorough silence was needed. And other items whose names she was reluctant to even list in her mind. Each one had been purchased by her own hand. Each one had been taken out and used late at night. In those solitary moments, when the studio door was locked from the inside and the curtains drawn tightly, she would bind herself with an almost ritualistic caution—wrists, elbows, legs, the knot between her thighs, the gag in her mouth—and in that suffocating pressure, find a peculiar peace. It was an experience difficult to articulate to anyone. The moment the rope tightened around her wrists, her entire nervous system seemed to be recalibrated. The anxieties that tormented her during the day—about the progress of the new collection, about her partner's expectations, about the relentless pressure of the industry, about the role she had to play as the "genius young designer"—all that noise, the instant the rope bit into her skin, suddenly fell silent. It was as if someone had flipped the screaming switch in her brain. She became a purely physical being. All consciousness was compressed within the boundaries of that rope. She no longer needed to think, decide, perform, or persuade—she only needed to endure. To endure the restraint of the rope, the limitations of her body, that suffocating sense of presence. In that moment, she was not the designer Lin Xiao, not the "her" in others' eyes; she was simply a bound woman, a restrained body, an existence finally free to stop all pretense. This need had been with Lin Xiao since she was fifteen. Initially, it was just vague impulses—a strange feeling that arose when she saw bound characters in movies, or a moment of release when her joints felt pressed tight during stretching exercises. She didn't know what it was, nor did she have anyone to ask. She only vaguely realized that she was different from others. It wasn't until she was twenty, and stumbled upon a rope bondage video online, that she first learned this longing had a name. At 1:40 PM, Lin Xiao stood before the full-length mirror in her studio, completing her final outfit check. Today, she wore a sleeveless, modified qipao in a deep navy blue. The collar was a simple, high stand-up design, revealing a slender neck. The hem was shorter in the front and longer in the back, reaching mid-thigh in the front and the hollow of her knee in the back, with a perfectly placed side slit that hinted at the curve of her outer thigh. The qipao was made of heavy silk, with excellent drape, catching a soft sheen with her every subtle movement. The waistline was cinched incredibly narrow, accentuating her already slender figure to an almost unreal degree. Beneath the qipao, she wore a brand-new pair of ultra-thin nude stockings. She had chosen a 5D thickness – the thinnest kind, almost transparent, revealing only a faint, matte texture when the light caught the skin beneath. From the top of her thighs to her toes, the stockings perfectly encased her legs, concealing any minor imperfections and rendering her leg lines smooth as porcelain. It had taken her a full fifteen minutes to put them on, smoothing out every wrinkle and ensuring every inch of fabric lay flush against her skin. Her toes, encased in the stockings, appeared more rounded and full, her toenails painted a subtle nude pink, peeking through the sheer fabric. On her feet were a pair of silver, pointed-toe stiletto heels with 12cm heels, as slender as needles. The shoes featured a double-sided cutout design, fully exposing the arch of her foot, which was encased in the stockings – one of her most admired body parts. The arch was beautifully curved, the instep smooth and fair, with no protruding veins or joints. A delicate rhinestone ankle strap dangled loosely on either side of her ankle, not yet fastened. She hadn't tied her hair up, letting her long locks fall naturally, the ends subtly curled inward, resting at her shoulder blades. Her makeup was a meticulously crafted "no-makeup" look – which had actually taken twenty minutes to achieve: a light foundation, a subtle nude lip gloss, and barely-there eye makeup, with only a fine inner eyeliner drawn at the outer corner of her eyes to make them appear clearer and more expressive. The overall effect was restrained, elegant, and perfectly suited for a young female designer meeting with a partner on a Sunday afternoon. No one would guess what lay beneath the qipao. No one would guess the considerations behind her choice of stocking thickness. And no one would guess that the height of those heels was precisely calibrated to maintain her legs' perfect line in specific poses. She simply looked… beautiful. At 1:45 PM, Lin Xiao began arranging the studio. The large central worktable was pushed against the wall, clearing a space of about ten square meters. In the center of this cleared area, she laid down a light gray yoga mat – a new purchase, its plastic film just removed. The items on the inspiration wall were reorganized. The bondage photograph remained in the center, but around it, she had added several sketch studies, depicting the breakdown of various knot structures, neatly arranged in a circle with thumbtacks. This served two purposes: First, it made the entire space appear more like a "research workspace" than a "private play area." Second, these sketches could be taken down at any time and used as "teaching materials" to illustrate the specific types of ties she required. On the coffee table, she placed two unopened bottles of mineral water, a box of tissues, and a brand-new notebook with a pen – props for "creative documentation." Beside the notebook lay a printed sheet she had prepared beforehand, titled "Sensory Deprivation Series: Embodied Intervention Research Proposal." She had stayed up all night to draft this document, using the format of an academic paper, including research objectives, methods, expected outcomes, and even a few fabricated references. This document was the most crucial part of the entire presentation – if Chen Yu had any doubts, this paper could be presented at any moment as proof that "this is a legitimate art project." The actual props, however, still lay in the half-open red oak chest in the corner. Rope. Cotton cord. Gag. Anti-chafing balm. Scissors. She hadn't taken them out yet. That would be the final step. "Today, we'll start with the most basic, just binding the upper body, leaving your legs free to move. This way, I can still stand, walk, and adjust my posture, not completely losing my mobility." She spoke with restraint, avoiding phrases like "Don't tie too tight the first time" or "Let's take it slow" – such words were too intimate and would shatter the carefully constructed teacher-student dynamic. "Alright, just the upper body." "Next, I'll demonstrate the basic posture for you." Lin Xiao turned, presenting her back to Chen Yu, and then slowly knelt down. This was a movement she had practiced countless times. Her knees touched the ground first, followed by her insteps flattened – the heels of her high heels pointed upwards behind her, forming an elegant curve with the arch of her foot wrapped in stockings. Her hips settled onto her heels, her spine straight, her shoulders naturally relaxed. This was the standard kneeling posture, known in Japanese as "seiza." But in this posture, combined with the cinched waist outlined by the sleeveless qipao, her legs encased in sheer stockings, the slender heels of her silver pumps, and her smooth, bare arms visible from behind – this posture was no longer just "seiza." It was a presentation. An invitation. A statement spoken by the body, older than language itself. "We'll start with this position," Lin Xiao's voice remained steady, but she could feel a slight warmth spreading across the back of her neck. "Kneeling straightens the spine naturally and makes the shoulder blades more prominent, making it easier for you to find the anchor points for the ropes. Observe my current posture, and memorize a few key positions – where your wrists meet, the angle of your elbow bend, the width of your shoulders." The sound of light footsteps came from behind her. Chen Yu was approaching. She heard him stop less than a meter behind her. She felt his gaze on her back, a palpable heat through the silk fabric. She could imagine what he was looking at: the sliver of nape exposed by the qipao's collar, the black hair cascading between her shoulder blades, the sharply defined waist, the thigh peeking from the qipao's side slit, encased in stocking. Then his voice: "Wrists together, placed behind the waist, palms facing each other?" "Yes. Behind the waist, not on the hips. The backs of your hands against your lower spine, fingers naturally extended." "Understood. And then?" "Then you can begin to tie me." Lin Xiao took a deep breath and then reached her hands behind her back, crossing her wrists together. This was an active gesture. Not a submissive one. She – Lin Xiao, the designer, the one in control at this moment – was actively placing her hands behind her, surrendering control of her arms to the man behind her. Just like she had told him on the phone that night: "Come on~ Tie me up~" Now, she was repeating those words with her body. Her fingers interlaced loosely behind her back. This position naturally brought her shoulder blades together, pushing her chest slightly forward, tightening the silk fabric at her throat just a fraction. She could feel the silk taut against her back from the retraction of her arms, outlining her shoulders more clearly. "We'll practice the most basic, the 'straight-arm bind'," her voice regained a touch of stability as she uttered these professional terms. "This is the most fundamental and commonly used technique in Japanese bondage. First, fold the rope in half, with the fold at my wrists." The sound of Chen Yu's footsteps approaching the wooden chest came from behind her, followed by the slight creak of the lid being lifted, and the rustling sound of hemp fibers as the rope was taken out. "This one?" Chen Yu's voice came from behind her. "Yes. Off-white hemp rope, 7mm in diameter, 8 meters long. That's the standard size, good for practice." Lin Xiao remained silent, but she knew the expression on her face. It wasn't pain, nor tension, but a kind of satisfied recognition – though Chen Yu only saw the surface, thinking she was documenting a creative process. But he saw *something*. He saw her bound, and found it aesthetically pleasing. That was enough. At least for now. But it wasn't enough. Her plan extended beyond this. The straight-arm bind was only for the upper body. A bound torso was incomplete for Lin Xiao without a perineal tie. And before adding the perineal tie around her hips, she wanted Chen Yu to perform a specific maneuver – connecting the ropes at her wrists to her waist, forming a tether behind her back that extended from her wrists to her waist. This would fix her hands in a raised position, unable to naturally hang down. And this additional rope would directly press against the most sensitive part of her waist. This was her pre-designed setup: the straight-arm bind plus the waist tether, which would increase the restraint on her upper body while also preparing her posture for the upcoming perineal tie. "Next is reinforcement," Lin Xiao's voice shifted from steady to softer, slower, with slightly longer pauses between words. "After securing my wrists, I need you to add another connecting rope, lifting my hands a bit higher and securing them to my waist." "How do we secure it?" "After the elbows are fixed, the excess rope between my hands can be used. Take a new rope from the knot at my wrists, thread it down through my waist, wrap it around twice, and tighten it – this will fix my hands at a slightly upward angle, preventing them from hanging down naturally. Then, pull the remaining rope upwards and tie it back at my wrists, forming a loop. Can you do that?" "Yes." "First, thread the new rope through the gap in the knot at the center of my wrists, then pull it down." She leaned forward slightly, making it easier for him to maneuver. Chen Yu followed her instructions. She felt the slight vibration as the rope head passed through the wrist knot, followed by a new tension pulling from her wrists downwards. Chen Yu wrapped the rope around her waist, tightening it precisely at her narrowest point. The thin qipao fabric offered no barrier to this pressure – she could clearly feel the rough, unyielding sensation of the hemp rope against the silk. The moment the rope loop tightened around her waist, her hands were pulled slightly upwards, settling at the back of her waist, near the middle of her spine. This angle forced her shoulders to remain pulled back, her chest naturally lifted, and her waist appeared even more slender due to the constricting rope. "Is that tight enough?" Chen Yu asked. "A little tighter." Lin Xiao felt the rope loop tighten again. The hemp rope, pressing through the silk fabric, cinched her waist, the pressure emanating from her sides like a solid binding. Now, not only were her hands fixed behind her back, but they were also pulled tightly towards her waist by a rope, creating a slight arch in her entire upper body – this rendered her incapable of exerting any force even if she wanted to struggle, because any movement of her arms would directly pull on the waist rope, creating a self-restraining effect. "Okay," she exhaled softly. "Now, for the perineal tie." As she spoke these words, her voice was steady, but her heart rate suddenly accelerated. "Perineal tie," Chen Yu repeated the word, as if confirming he hadn't misheard. "Is that the kind mentioned in the materials you sent me? The rope that goes through the crotch?" He had seen the materials she sent. Of course, they contained explanations about perineal ties, written in academic terms like "pelvic restraint" and "body's center of gravity perception." Lin Xiao didn't know if Chen Yu had gleaned anything beyond those cold descriptions. "Yes. This rope is important for understanding the dynamic balance of the body under restraint." She continued to cloak it in academic language. "Just do as I say." "Alright," Chen Yu replied, then walked towards the wooden chest. Lin Xiao knelt on the yoga mat, listening to the sound of him searching for ropes behind her. Her arms were bound behind her, her palms slightly sweaty, her fingertips unconsciously curling. Every subtle sound in the air was amplified – the friction of the hemp rope being picked up, his footsteps, even the sound of her own heartbeat. "Can I use this one?" Chen Yu's voice came from behind her. Lin Xiao turned her head and saw Chen Yu holding a bundle of deep red cotton rope. Unlike the rough texture of hemp, the cotton rope was softer, but equally resilient. She had specifically prepared this one for the perineal tie – because cotton rope felt gentler on sensitive areas, yet its tightening effect was undiminished. "Yes. Wipe it with an alcohol wipe first." The rope reached the space between her shoulder blades. "Hold it there," Chen Yu instructed, threading the hoist rope through the crossbeam of the upper arm loop and tightening it to the junction of the shoulder reinforcement system, forming a closed loop. Her hands were now locked in a position that allowed no vertical movement – neither back to her waist nor higher. Her palms pressed against the middle of her back, fingers pointing upwards, wrists firmly secured by knots, upper arms horizontally locked by three rope loops, and shoulders vertically pulled by the reinforcement system. She strained with all her might to break free – her shoulders shifted less than an inch back and forth, her arms wriggled a few centimeters within the loops, but her wrists and elbows remained immobile. The rope's counterforce transformed every struggle into a tighter restraint. The binding force of a "back high hands" tie was at least three times that of a "back straight arms" tie – because with the arms raised, the angle of force was limited, weakening the muscles' leverage. Any attempt to escape would be futile due to the shortened lever arm. "Take the picture," Lin Xiao said, looking towards the camera. "Back high hands complete." Chen Yu pressed the shutter. The *click* echoed in the quiet studio, capturing her pose: clad in a wine-red cheongsam, her arms bound high behind her back, shoulders pulled back, chest thrust forward, waist arched, kneeling upright on the yoga mat. Her legs, encased in flesh-toned stockings, were pressed tightly together, the heels of her high heels pointing towards the ceiling. "Now the legs," Lin Xiao said, feeling something loosen in her voice. The upper body restraint had put her in the zone, but without the leg binding, the entire restraint system felt incomplete. She felt her legs protesting silently beneath the stockings – they needed rope, to be tightened, to be secured. This disparity in physical sensation made her almost anxious. "Last time, only the upper body was bound; the legs were free. But a complete restraint experiment must include leg binding," she said, trying to maintain an analytical tone. "The legs are one of the body's most flexible parts. Without restriction, the entire restraint system is incomplete. Today's leg binding will use a multi-point fixation method – short ropes to secure the thighs, just above the knees, just below the knees, and the ankles, forming a complete binding chain from the crotch to the ankles." Chen Yu walked to the wooden chest and took out six pre-prepared short ropes – each about two meters long, thinner than the main rope but sufficiently strong. Short ropes were easier to handle than long ones, suitable for limb fixation. He crouched down and picked up the first short rope. As per her request, he started from the base of the thighs. He stood to the side of her kneeling body, folded the rope in half, and looped it around her thighs. Her legs were naturally pressed together when kneeling, with her inner thighs touching closely, only a slight gap at the knees. After looping the rope around her thighs, he tightened it. This time, he didn't ask if it was tight enough. He first tightened it to a basic fit, then observed the depth of the indentation the rope made on the stockings. When the hemp rope pressed about a millimeter deep into the stocking surface, he stopped tightening. "This tightness is good. Continue." He wrapped it three times, each loop evenly spaced, with about a finger's width between them, finishing with a square knot. Once the thigh loop was in place, he could see the visual effect of the rope embedding into the stocking-covered muscle – the rough texture of the hemp rope contrasting with the smooth texture of the stockings, the indentation created by the loop making her thigh lines appear fuller. The second rope was tied just above the knees. This area is one of the most sensitive parts of the leg, with dense bone and tendon distribution, and the rope's tightening would create a stronger sense of pressure. Chen Yu's technique was noticeably more delicate this time. As he tightened the loop, he used his other hand to grasp her kneecap, feeling the position of the bone to ensure the rope went around the knee rather than directly pressing on the kneecap. Lin Xiao hadn't taught him this detail; he had learned it himself by researching. Joints should avoid direct pressure; the rope should be tied to the muscle groups above or below the joint to avoid affecting blood circulation and nerve conduction. "You researched joint pressure avoidance," Lin Xiao said, a hint of surprise in her tone. "I did," Chen Yu replied, continuing his work without looking up. He then picked up the third rope and tied it just below the knees, also with three wraps and a square knot. Then came the fourth rope – the ankles. The ankle binding was the finishing touch of the leg binding and one of the most crucial steps. The ankle is the thinnest part of the leg, with a complex bone structure. A well-tied rope could secure the entire leg binding system at its lowest point. When his fingers, through the stockings, touched the lace edge of her thigh-high stockings at the ankle, his movements paused noticeably – he felt the edge of the ultra-thin thigh-high stocking. The lace trim peeked out from the edge of the cheongsam skirt as the rope pulled it, slightly damp with perspiration from her skin, glistening under the light. He said nothing, but Lin Xiao noticed his pause. She lowered her eyes to her bound legs. The lace at her ankles was slightly rolled up by the rope loop, and the stocking's sheen reflected light at her ankle bones. She knew what he had seen. "That's the top of the thigh-highs," Lin Xiao stated, her voice as calm as if describing fabric. "Today I'm wearing thigh-highs, not pantyhose. This leaves more room for operation in the crotch area, and the crotch rope doesn't need to go through the pantyhose." This was the truth. Thigh-highs were more suitable for her plan today – the crotch rope could directly contact the underwear, making the knot's stimulation more direct and precise. Last time, through the pantyhose crotch, some sensation was filtered out. But admitting this truth required a degree of frankness, as it meant she had anticipated the crotch rope's contact method when dressing. Chen Yu glanced up at her, then nodded, continuing his work. He said nothing, proceeding to wrap the ankles – precisely avoiding the ankle bones, the rope forming a tight binding loop at the thinnest part of her ankle. The remaining end of the fourth rope was threaded through the heel of the high heel, forming a securing loop beneath the rhinestone strap, locking the shoe firmly to her foot – so it wouldn't come off even if she struggled. This was a purely technical detail, but also a decision he made proactively. As the rope passed through the heel, his fingers inevitably brushed against the arch of her foot, covered by the stocking. The touch was soft and warm, and through the stocking, he could feel the delicate skin of her sole. His fingertips lingered on the shoe buckle for a second before moving away. This brief touch made Lin Xiao's heart skip a beat. The fifth rope was placed above the ankle as an auxiliary fixation. The sixth rope reinforced the heel, ensuring the high heels would not loosen during subsequent struggles. "You—" His voice was unusually deep, a single word that seemed to struggle for control. Lin Xiao knelt there, her thighs spasming so violently she could barely maintain the position. She could feel the dampness growing more pronounced on the two lowest knots of the rope – it wasn't sweat. The crotch of her stockings was soaked through, liquid seeping from the T-seam and creeping up the cotton fibers. The deep crimson rope was darkening as it absorbed moisture in the most intimate area of her body. The first deliberate provocation after the tightening of the crotch rope began now. Lin Xiao maintained her kneeling posture but deliberately shifted back a few centimeters. She created a small space between her hips and Chen Yu's hands, and then – she moved. Not a struggle, not an adjustment, but a deliberate, tiny, yet absolutely noticeable bodily motion. With her hands bound behind her back, she attempted to touch something. The straight-arm bind secured her wrists at her waist, but her fingers still had some range of motion – this was the true reason she insisted on the straight-arm bind rather than a high bind. She needed her fingers to be mobile. Her fingers searched behind her waist, finding the end of the crotch rope. It was the excess length Chen Yu had left after securing it to the pulley system, hanging from the wall anchor point and resting by her feet. Her fingers couldn't reach the knot itself – her range of motion was limited by the bind – but her fingertips could slip into the gap between the rope and her body, through the sheer stockings. With the tip of her middle finger, she gently nudged one section of the crotch rope. Then, her fingertip slowly traced back and forth along the rope's path. The motion created a slight friction – a back-and-forth grinding pressure between the inner side of the rope and her body. The middle knot, under the pressure of her fingertip, pushed inward by a few millimeters before springing back. The effect of that moment was entirely unexpected. Her intention was a small gesture, to test if Chen Yu would notice. But the stimulation from the knot's movement far exceeded her expectations – as she deliberately pushed inward, the knot embedded in her most sensitive spot directly ground against the densest cluster of nerve endings. Within a hundredth of a second, her body reacted physiologically with explosive intensity: her abdominal muscles contracted violently, her thighs clamped shut, and her stockinged crotch erupted with a surge of fluid. "Mmmph—!" The sound was almost a shout. Her body convulsed violently from the stimulus, her bound hands behind her clenching and unclenching, fingers spasming as they clawed at the air, her knees sliding back a few centimeters on the yoga mat. Her head was bowed, her loose hair obscuring half her face, revealing only her lips, stained a glossy berry hue, parted slightly as she gasped for air. She was in a state of extreme arousal, desperately trying to maintain a sliver of control – every inch of her skin burned, every nerve ending screamed, and she could feel the two knots on the crotch rope thoroughly soaked. The cotton, having absorbed moisture, had transformed from rough to slick, carrying the warmth of her own bodily fluids against her most private skin. And Chen Yu – she didn't know how much he could see. He couldn't see beneath her skirt, but he could see her reaction, her sudden violent tremors, and hear her increasingly unrestrained moans. Suddenly, she was no longer afraid of exposing her reaction. In fact, she felt she needed to face her body's responses more openly, because the more real the reaction, the more she could gauge his next move. She lifted her head, looking at Chen Yu behind her through her scattered bangs. Her eyes were veiled with a sheen of excitement and tears, her lips slightly parted from panting, the berry lip gloss glistening wetly in the light. "See," she said to him in a tone bordering on provocation, her voice trembling from the physiological response, "you finally seem to know what I need." Chen Yu remained silent. He looked at her eyes, exceptionally bright with tears and arousal, at her wet lips, at her chest heaving before him. His Adam's apple bobbed, once, twice. His fingers clenched at his sides, released, then clenched again. "The crotch rope stays down today," she added, her voice lowered, her lips curving slightly. "Let it stay." This was provocation. Naked, unadorned provocation. Her eyes told him: I know what you want, and I know what I want, but I won't say it outright – I want you to decide the next step yourself. With that, she straightened her body again. The straight-arm bind allowed her more mobility than a high bind – her hips could shift, her thighs could adjust their angle slightly, her fingers could make certain movements. She utilized all this extra mobility, shifting her weight from her left knee to her right, and back again. With each shift, the crotch rope would move slightly due to the subtle tilt of her body, the knots slowly grinding against the crotch of her stockings. She deliberately sustained this rhythm – giving Chen Yu behind her ample time and opportunity to observe her body's reactions. She wanted him to see her trembling, hear her gasps, notice her suppressed moans with every shift of weight. A moment later, she broke the silence. Her tone was light, with a hint of laughter. "Next, the gag. Go get it, the black horse-bit one. Nothing else." Chen Yu walked to the wooden chest and retrieved the black horse-bit gag. Black leather straps, a rigid plastic ball, three straps – a head strap, a chin strap, and a nose strap. The metal buckles glinted coldly under the light. He brought the gag before her. She didn't wait for him to operate it. She opened her mouth voluntarily and took the ball of the gag into her mouth. The rigid plastic pushed her lips apart, the surface pressing against her tongue, filling her mouth. Then she tilted her head back, presenting the bun of her hair behind her head, waiting for him to fasten the straps. She let out a soft "Mmmph," indicating she had the gag in her mouth. Chen Yu's fingers picked up the leather straps. He pulled them to the back of her head and began to tighten them. The head strap was fastened. The chin strap was fastened. The nose strap was fastened. All to the last notch. "Mmmph—" she let out a muffled whimper, and then began to drool. Saliva seeped from the gag's air holes and the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin. The horse-bit gag was extremely well-sealed; liquid couldn't drain smoothly and could only accumulate in her mouth before slowly, uncontrollably, overflowing. Clear saliva stained a dark patch on the front of her white mini-dress, spreading from the neckline and forming an irregular shadow on the soft satin fabric. The wet white satin became semi-transparent, faintly revealing the outline of her collarbones. She lowered her head, letting the saliva drip. It fell from her chin onto her dress, her thighs, her stockings. The front of her white mini-dress quickly became a large wet patch, clinging to her chest and revealing the color of her skin. Her stockings on her thighs were marked with dark water spots, the liquid slowly spreading along the texture of the fabric, glistening wetly in the light. But her tears hadn't fallen yet. She hadn't broken today. The last time she wore the horse-bit gag, the drool and tears had come together. But her body's reaction had changed today – she no longer cried from shame and acceptance, but from physical arousal and longing. She hadn't reached that critical point yet. Chen Yu tightened the hoist rope, her arms pulled upward, wrists secured high above. Yet her feet remained firmly on the ground, high heels pressing into the mat, knees unbent. The rope was just long enough to keep her arms fully extended without bearing her weight. "Pull higher, lift my heels off the ground." Chen Yu continued to pull the hoist rope. The pulley system emitted a faint metallic friction sound as her body was slowly drawn upward. The heels of her shoes began to lift off the yoga mat, first by millimeters, then by centimeters. When her heels were about five centimeters off the ground, she called out to stop. Her posture was now: arms stretched straight overhead, wrists secured to a hoist hook above her head, her entire body's weight distributed between her tiptoes and wrists. Her body was stretched to its limit, spine straight, chest slightly expanded, waist appearing thinner due to the stretch, the outline of her hip bones clearly visible beneath the dark green satin. Her thighs were forced together to maintain balance, the stockings emitting a faint pearlescent sheen under the light. This was a posture of complete surrender. All her vulnerable areas—her armpits, sides of her ribs, lower abdomen, inner thighs—were exposed before him. And she had chosen this posture. "Now the legs," Lin Xiao's voice remained steady, but her breathing had deepened due to the body's stretch. "Same as last time, six ropes. From the top of the thighs to the ankles. But this time, the tightness should be one level tighter than last time—last time was 'snug,' today is 'digging in'." Chen Yu picked up the short ropes, starting from the top of her thighs. The rope loops were placed around her thighs and tightened—this time, he tightened them deeper than before. The hemp rope pressed an indentation nearly two millimeters deep into the stockings, the pearlescent granules of the stockings becoming more densely packed at the edges of the rope loops, forming a faint halo. The muscles of her thighs bulged slightly under the pressure of the ropes, like a bundle of soft ribbons cinched tight. Above the knees. Below the knees. Ankles. Above the ankles. Heel reinforcement. Six rope loops extended from the top of her thighs to her high heels, evenly spaced, with precise intervals. Each loop was wound three times, finished with a figure-eight knot, each loop embedded at least two millimeters into the skin covered by the stockings. Her legs were held tightly together, with no gap between her inner thighs. The stockings were stretched even tighter between her legs due to the pressure, and the front slit of the skirt was divided into segments by the rope loops. Her restraint system was now as follows: hands secured high above her head to the hoist hook, her entire body lightly suspended, only her tiptoes touching the ground. Her legs were firmly held together by six rope loops, unable to separate from the top of her thighs to her ankles. The dark green satin skirt hung between the rope loops, and the hidden slit in the front opened and closed with the slight sway of her body, repeatedly revealing her inner thighs wrapped in stockings. Then Chen Yu picked up the deep red cotton rope. The crotch rope. He didn't need her to say anything. An alcohol swab was used, the rope folded, wrapped once around her waist, the fold at the front. Then he crouched down, holding two strands of the cotton rope, and threaded them between her legs from the front. This time, the action of passing the rope through her crotch was slower than the previous two times—because her legs were held tightly together, the space between the rope and the stockings was minimal. His fingers had to brush against her inner thighs, guiding the rope through one by one. His fingertips touched the skin of her inner thighs through the stockings, one of her most sensitive areas, each touch causing her abdominal muscles to twitch slightly. Seven knots. The first five were two finger-widths apart, the last two were at the same interval. The first knot, aligned with the sensitive point at the front. The second, two finger-widths behind. The third, aligned with the very center—Chen Yu's fingers lingered noticeably longer when tying the third knot. He adjusted the angle of the knot so that it pressed not horizontally against her body's surface, but at a slight angle, making the edge of the knot sharper to stimulate that most sensitive core. This angle was never recorded in his notes; it was when he tightened the third knot that she slightly adjusted her position, actively allowing the knot to lodge at a more sensitive angle—then he let out a soft "mm," indicating he had noticed. The fourth knot. The fifth knot. The sixth knot, the seventh knot. The two newly added knots were on the inner sides of her buttocks, slightly larger than the previous five, which would provide a more intense pressure when she sat down or was suspended. "All in place. Now tighten." Chen Yu stood up, picked up the end of the crotch rope, and threaded it through the ceiling hook. He pulled the rope. The first knot pressed in. Her tiptoes slid slightly on the yoga mat, and her body lifted a little—the pulling force of the crotch rope and the hoist rope created an opposing action, stretching her body tighter between them. The second knot. Her breath hitched for half a second. The third knot—aligned with the most sensitive spot, the knot whose angle she had actively adjusted—was pressed into her body. "Mmmph—!" Lin Xiao let out a longer moan than the previous week. Not because she couldn't control it, but because she had decided not to. The seven knots of the crotch rope, under the effect of the pulley system, were pulled into her body, precisely acting on her most sensitive core through the T-shaped seam of the stocking gusset. Her thighs, bound by the ropes, could not separate and could only uselessly press together, allowing the knots to embed deeper. Her body began to heat up from the continuous pressure, and she could feel the stocking gusset gradually becoming damp with secreted fluid. That warmth spread outward from her core, like ripples from a stone dropped into a lake. Chen Yu continued to pull until the crotch rope was completely taut. Her heels lifted further off the ground, and her body's weight was now shared by the wrist hoist rope and the crotch rope. The crotch rope bore about one-third of her body weight, and the seven knots were pressed even more tightly into her body under this pressure.