The High Priestess's Binding Play Gone Wrong

A crude but sturdy carriage stood in the middle of the forest path, a simple cage made of iron bars erected atop its bed. Inside, however, was not the haphazard binding she had imagined. Five women were secured to wooden frames in an extremely professional manner. Most striking was the rear-hand bondage. All five women's hands were bound behind their backs, wrists tightly wrapped with coarse hemp rope several times before being pulled up to the shoulder blades. This forced their chests to protrude forward. The ropes extended from their wrists to their upper arms, then looped under their armpits, crossing and tightening at their chests to form a variation of the classic Kote-gaeshi. The crucial part was the coils around their chests— The hemp rope dug deeply into their full breasts, constricting the already ample bosoms into even more prominent, distorted shapes. The cleavage was squeezed to the point of near overflow. On some women, with fairer skin, the rope marks had already left faint red impressions; on others, from struggling, their breasts had turned slightly purplish from the tightness of the ropes. Their lower bodies were also thoroughly dealt with. The ropes separated their thighs, securing them to the sides of the wooden frame. Their calves were bent backward and tied to their thighs, forcing them into a kneeling position. Between their legs, ropes could be faintly seen passing through the perineum, connecting to the main rope at their waists, gently chafing with each breath. Their mouths were all stuffed with simple cloth wads, then secured with rope to form gags, allowing only muffled whimpers. Their eyes were covered with black cloth, yet the tear tracks and flushed redness on their cheeks were clearly visible. Selene's face instantly flushed crimson. She instinctively averted her gaze, yet couldn't help but steal glances at the rope-distorted chests. Having never been in a relationship, she had never witnessed such a scene. Normally, in the temple, she would avoid everyone even when changing her clothes, yet now she was forced to watch strangers bound so shamefully. The curve of the rope digging into their chests, the slight tremor of their breasts with each breath, and the marks left by the rope sinking into soft flesh—all made her heart inexplicably race. "So... so professional the binding..." she murmured inwardly, her earlobes already tinged with a faint red. "This is absolutely not the work of ordinary bandits..." Outside the carriage, four men in leather armor stood around the vehicle, smoking and chatting. One of them casually kicked the cage with the tip of his boot, grumbling, "Behave yourselves. You'll get what's coming to you at Blackrock Stronghold. If you struggle again, we'll tighten the ropes on your chests another two turns." Selene leaned against a tree, forcing herself to calm down. She observed the four men carefully—judging by their auras, they were merely common low-level soldiers, with no magical fluctuations about them. With her abilities, a direct confrontation would be over in a few breaths. But the women in the cage... Selene's gaze returned to the professional restraints. This technique, these tools, were certainly not something a few petty bandits could acquire. There had to be a larger organization behind this, more professional "artisans." "If I just rescue these few people, I'll alert them, and the organization behind it will quickly move elsewhere to continue their crimes..." A daring thought took shape in her mind. Selene looked down at herself. Her pure white priestess robes, while not as revealing as the women's simple tunics, still accentuated her slender waist with the sash, the lines of her collarbones visible at the neckline, and her legs subtly hinted at beneath the robe, clad in stockings... She bit her lip and made her decision. "You," she looked at the kidnapper, her voice calm, "want to live?" The kidnapper froze for a moment, then nodded quickly, "Yes, yes!" "Good," a slight smile touched Celeste's lips, "I won't kill you. On the contrary, I need you to do me a favor." "Wh-what favor?" "I want you to tie me up," Celeste pointed to the iron cage on the carriage, "like them, and take me to your Blackrock stronghold." The kidnapper's eyes widened, thinking he had misheard, "Wh-what are you saying?" "I said, tie me up and take me to your leader," Celeste repeated, a flash of confidence in her eyes, "Of course, I'll cooperate. In exchange, I'll spare your life, and give you a generous reward when it's done." "Are-are you crazy? You're from the temple—" "He won't know," Celeste interrupted him, "As long as you don't say anything, and I don't say anything, who will know I'm a priestess? I'm just an unlucky noble lady who ran into you during an outing, right?" Hesitation and greed flickered in the kidnapper's eyes. "You have no choice," Celeste's voice turned cold, a trace of golden magic gathering at her fingertips, "Either cooperate with me, or I'll purify you right now." "Al-alright..." The kidnapper swallowed, stood up with a tremble, and limped towards the carriage, dragging out a leather case from the bottom of the iron cage. "Th-this is the equipment we use to tie up 'cargo'... they say it's specifically for prey that might resist..." Celeste opened the leather case, her gaze falling on the set of restraints. Rough dark brown hemp ropes, a black leather gag, a silk blindfold, metal handcuffs and shackles... She picked them up one by one, examining them. She rubbed them between her fingers, sniffed them with her nose, and even probed them with her magic. The hemp ropes were just ordinary hemp ropes, with no magical aura. The gag was just ordinary leather, with nothing unusual about it. The blindfold was just ordinary silk, with no hypnotic effect. The handcuffs and shackles also had no hidden magical traps. "Is that all?" she asked. "Th-there's also this..." The kidnapper produced a small vial, "A potion to make the prey more obedient..." Celeste opened it and sniffed, frowning, "Just a common sleeping draught. It won't work on me." She tossed the bottle back into the case, stood up, and clapped her hands. Then, she looked at the kidnapper, her back to him, and voluntarily placed her hands behind her back. The early summer sun filtered through the leaves, dancing on her light golden hair. Her pure white priestess robes outlined her slender yet upright figure, her waist cinched perfectly by the sash. She turned her head slightly, her amber eyes filled with confidence and composure. "Alright, begin," her voice was clear and calm, as if what she was about to undergo was not a restraint, but an ordinary ritual, "Use these tools and tie me up." The kidnapper's hands were trembling. He held the bundle of dark brown hemp rope, the coarse fibers rubbing against his calloused palms, emitting a faint rustling sound. His gaze involuntarily fell upon the back of the woman before him – a pristine white priestess's robe, pale golden hair, and a slender wrist exposed from the cuff, looking as if it could snap with a single touch. "Hurry," Seres said without turning her head, a hint of impatience in her voice, "We need to reach the stronghold before sunset, remember?" "Y-yes... yes..." The kidnapper swallowed, cautiously approaching. He first walked around Seres, as if confirming something. Seres could feel his gaze roaming over her, from her hair to her waist, and then to her stocking-clad calves revealed beneath the hem of her robe. This feeling of being scrutinized made her frown slightly, but she didn't stop him. "Are you done looking?" she asked coldly. "Y-yes, done looking..." The kidnapper quickly lowered his head, bringing one end of the hemp rope near the wrists Seres had placed behind her back. "Th-that... should I tie the wrists first?" "Wrists first," Seres instructed, her tone like that of teaching a clumsy apprentice, "Tie them crossed, securely but without injuring the joints. You're a professional, aren't you? Don't tell me you don't even know this." "I-I do..." The moment the hemp rope touched Seres's wrists, she trembled slightly. The coarse fibers rubbed against her delicate skin, bringing a strange and novel sensation. As a priestess, her skin was constantly moisturized by holy water, making it much more refined than that of ordinary people. The contact with the rough hemp rope now caused a faint stinging sensation. The kidnapper's technique was indeed professional. He first brought Seres's wrists together and wrapped the hemp rope around them several times. Each loop was tightened just right, neither too tight to affect blood circulation nor loose enough to be escaped. The knot was tied on the inside of her wrists, making it impossible for her to untie it herself. "Tighter," Seres commanded, "Too loose and it will be obvious." The kidnapper swallowed and tightened the rope. The hemp rope dug into Seres's skin, leaving faint red marks on her fair wrists. Her arms were gradually pulled behind her, forming the starting position for a standard rear-naked choke. This binding method inevitably caused her chest to push forward, stretching the neckline of her robe slightly open, revealing more of her collarbone. "Next, the elbows," Seres continued to instruct, her voice a little softer than before, "Extend the rope from the wrists upwards, tie the elbows, and fix the position of the arms." The kidnapper trembled as he complied. The hemp rope started from Seres's wrists, wound up her forearms, circled her elbows a few times, and then was pulled tight, connecting to the binding at her wrists. Seres gave a slight tug, confirming the security of the restraint. It was indeed tied professionally. Her arms were completely fixed behind her, forming an 'X' shape. Her hands couldn't touch anything, including the holy emblem on her chest. But it didn't matter; her magic came from within, and she could cast spells without gestures. "Continue," she commanded, "The chest binding." The kidnapper's movements visibly stiffened. "Th-this kind of binding requires wrapping around the chest a few times to secure the arms..." he explained, his voice trembling slightly, "B-but your robe..." Seres fell silent for a moment. She looked down at her chest, then recalled the deformed breasts of the women in cages, their flesh squeezed by ropes. Her cheeks flushed again. Having never been in love, she had never had her body scrutinized so closely by any man, let alone have ropes wrapped around her in such a place. But she was a priestess, a powerful sorceress, a warrior who could sacrifice everything for justice. What was this small humiliation compared to that? "...Tie it," she said. She struggled slightly, feeling the tautness of the ropes across her chest. They were indeed tied securely, rendering her arms completely immobile, and the constriction around her breasts made even deep breaths difficult. The friction between the ropes and her robe created a peculiar sensation, inexplicably quickening her heartbeat. "...Tighter," she finally said, her voice a little hoarse, "Make it look like I can't possibly break free." The captor swallowed, pulling the last loop taut. The ropes dug deeply into Celeste's chest, leaving distinct red marks on her fair skin. The neckline of her robe stretched and warped, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the delicate skin beneath her collarbone. Her breasts were contorted by the ropes, the cleavage forced into sharp relief, trembling slightly with each breath. "O-okay... " the captor stammered, stepping back, his voice trembling, "Arms and chest are tied..." Celeste lowered her head, her cheeks burning. She could feel her breasts held in an intensely shameful way by the ropes, each breath causing them to rub against her sensitive flesh. The sensation... was strange, humiliating, yet inexplicably... arousing. But she maintained her composure. These were just ordinary hemp ropes, devoid of any magical resonance. Her own magic was still abundant; she could shatter them at any moment if she willed it. "Continue," she commanded, striving to keep her voice steady, "Ankles." The captor had her sit on the edge of the carriage and bent down to tie her ankles. Celeste watched as her feet were brought together, the hem of her robe lifted slightly, revealing a stretch of her calf encased in thin, pale silk stockings. The captor's rough fingers brushed against her ankle, and the unfamiliar touch made her instinctively flinch. "Don't touch me," she said coldly, "Just tie them." "Y-yes..." The hemp ropes coiled around her ankles in the same manner, binding her legs together. The ropes pressed into the thin fabric of the stockings, leaving circular red marks on her slender ankles. Then came the gag. The captor produced a black leather gag from his satchel, dangling it before Celeste. It was oval-shaped, with fine ventilation holes on the surface, a soft lining inside, and a leather strap with a metal buckle for fastening. "D-do you want this too?" he asked. Celeste looked at the oval leather object, a flicker of hesitation crossing her mind. A gag meant she would be unable to speak, unable to chant spells. While her magic could be activated by thought alone, what if something unexpected happened... She glanced at the women on the carriage, their mouths hanging open with saliva, their eyes filled with helplessness. This sight solidified Celeste's resolve. "...Put it in," she said. Her voice was soft, but firm. The captor cautiously approached, bringing the gag to Celeste's lips. Celeste took a deep breath and slowly opened her mouth. She had never done anything like this before – actively opening her mouth to allow a stranger to insert an object. Her lips trembled slightly, her tongue instinctively pressing behind her teeth, as if resisting something. The gag touched her lips, its cold leather sending a shiver through her. "Please... open wider..." the captor stammered. Celeste closed her eyes and relaxed her mouth. The gag was slowly inserted, filling the space in her mouth. The leathery scent mingled with a hint of metal, filling her nostrils. The curve of the gag pressed against the root of her tongue, leaving it unable to do anything but rest limply against the ball. The captor wrapped the strap around the back of her head, buckled it, and adjusted it to a position where she couldn't spit it out but wasn't in excessive discomfort. "Mmmph..." Celeste let out a muffled whimper, saliva already beginning to pool uncontrollably around the gag. She tried to move her tongue, finding that the gag completely filled her mouth, pressing down on her tongue root, allowing only indistinct nasal sounds. Her mouth, never before so occupied, was now filled with an foreign object, the sensation of fullness bringing a wave of inexplicable shame. Saliva spilled over the edges of the gag, leaving a glistening trail on her fair chin. "E-eye mask..." the captor's voice trembled. Celeste nodded and closed her eyes. Black silk covered her eyes, plunging the world into darkness. She could feel the soft padding of the eye mask against her eye sockets, the strap tied securely at the back of her head, pressing down slightly on her hair. Finally, the handcuffs and shackles. Celes curled in the corner of the iron cage, each second in the darkness stretching into an eternity. The blindfold stripped the world down to pure black, leaving only the creaking of wheels on gravel, the occasional whinny of horses, and the suppressed whimpers of the other women beside her. Her jaw was already beginning to ache. The gag forced her mouth open to its limit, the leather sphere pressing her tongue root firmly against the roof of her mouth, rendering it immobile. Saliva pooled uncontrollably, spilling from the corners of her lips and leaving sticky trails on her pale cheeks. She tried to swallow, but found the muscles of her throat constricted by the gag, only managing a faint "gurgle." *Just a little longer,* she told herself, *once we reach the stronghold and find that 'Black Raven,' I'll be free.* The carriage jolted suddenly, pitching her forward. Her breasts slammed hard against her knees. "Mmph!" Celes let out a muffled groan. The grooves the ropes had carved into her chest were squeezed even deeper, flesh spilling slightly from the gaps in the bindings, sending a sharp sting through her. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, leaving her unable to brace herself. She could only sway with the carriage's motion. She tried to move her wrists. The rough hemp scraped against her tender skin with a faint rustling sound. The restraints were still secure, but hadn't tightened. Celes breathed a small sigh of relief—they seemed to be ordinary ropes. Her magic was still potent, ready to be unleashed at any moment. Wait. She frowned, concentrating in the darkness. Magic... felt a little less? It wasn't the emptiness after using it, but rather... a slow siphoning. As if someone were using a fine thread to draw her power out, bit by bit. Celes's internal alarm bells blared. She attempted to channel her magic, preparing to cast the simplest "Rope Break" spell—one of her most basic enchantments, capable of instantly snapping ordinary ropes. Magic flowed through her meridians, gathering at her fingertips. Then... it vanished. Like a drop of water in a desert, silent, traceless. "Mmph?!" Celes's eyes snapped open wide—though the darkness remained absolute. She tried to channel her magic again, this time with more force, more desperation. Golden light flared within her meridians, then... was consumed. She felt the hemp rope around her wrists tighten another fraction. No, not tighten. It was constricting. The dark brown fibers seemed to gain a life of their own, slowly, inexorably shrinking, biting into her skin. The red marks on her wrists deepened, shifting from light red to a dark crimson, with a hint of purple beginning to bloom. Celes's heart began to race. She tried to struggle, to wrench her arms free. The hemp scraped against her skin with a sickening sound. But this time, the restraints didn't loosen—they only grew tighter. "Mmph! Mmph-mmph!" She let out a distressed whimper, her body twisting within the iron cage. Her breasts heaved violently with her struggles, the ropes digging deeper into her flesh, bringing a wave of shameful pain. Her legs were bound together, preventing her from kicking, leaving her to writhe uselessly like a beached fish. Celes lay in the darkness, her heart pounding like a drum. She could feel someone approaching, their gaze sweeping over her, from her breasts contorted by the ropes, to her lips stretched open by the gag, to her legs bound tightly together. "A priestess who delivers herself," the voice whispered in her ear, warm breath fanning her earlobe, "Celes Dawnlight, the kingdom's youngest High Priestess, the pride of the Temple of Dawn..." Celes's body stiffened. He knew. He knew who she was. "H-how..." she tried to speak, but the gag turned her words into a muffled whimper. "How do I know?" the voice chuckled, "Because your magic is being devoured, bit by bit, by the 'Demon-Devouring Ropes' I wove with my own hands. Each rope, each knot, is a trap specifically designed for your magic. A single rope has no effect, but when they are bound together in a specific way..." A finger lightly traced the hemp rope on her wrist. "It forms a perfect anti-magic circuit. The more you struggle, the more you try to channel your magic, the more the ropes absorb, and the tighter they become." Celes felt the ropes on her wrists tighten again. "Let's see," the voice said mockingly, "How does the confident priestess feel now?" The blindfold was removed. The harsh light made Celes squint, tears welling up uncontrollably. She blinked, her eyes gradually adjusting to the light, and then she saw the man standing before her. He wore a black robe, his hood obscuring most of his face, revealing only his chin and pale lips. A playful smile played on his lips, as if admiring a work of art. "You..." Celes tried to speak, but the gag turned her voice into a pathetic whimper. "Me what?" the man leaned down, his fingers pinching her chin, forcing her head up, "You want to say you were careless? Overconfident? You thought these were just ordinary ropes, so you inspected them yourself, and then confidently let me bind you?" His finger traced her lips, stretched open by the gag, picking up a trace of saliva. "How... adorable." Celes's cheeks flushed crimson. She wanted to struggle, but as soon as her body moved, she felt the ropes tighten again. Her chest was squeezed even more, and breathing became more difficult. She tried to channel her magic, but this time, she clearly felt the process of her magic being drained – golden light flared in her meridians, only to be greedily devoured by the ropes, transforming into the force that tightened them. "Mmmph! Mmmph mmmph!" She let out a desperate whimper, her body writhing on the platform. But this struggle only made things worse – the ropes tightened further, the skin on her wrists already turning purple, the ropes on her chest digging deep into her flesh, bringing waves of shameful pain. "Stop struggling," the man said softly, his finger slowly tracing the ropes on her chest, "The more you struggle, the tighter it will become. Until..." His finger stopped at a certain knot on the rope and pressed down gently. Pushed aside. "What's that smell..." a woman's voice sounded, followed by a light laugh, "Oh dear, our priestess has wet the bed." Celes's cheeks burned, wanting to hide but having nowhere to go. Footsteps approached, and then the blindfold was untied. The harsh light made her squint, tears blurring her vision. She saw a woman in a maid's uniform standing by the bed, looking down at her pathetic state—arms bound straight, legs spread wide, white stockings soaked with urine, stained a shameful dark color, and a large wet patch on the sheets. "No... don't look..." her voice was muffled by her underwear, turning into a choked whimper. "Lord Black Raven commanded," the maid's voice was laced with mockery, "that I should clean you. After all, a dirty maid cannot serve His Lordship." She gestured to the two kidnappers behind her. "Untie her and take her to the bathroom. But re-bind her, we can't let her escape." The kidnappers untied the leather straps on Celes's legs but did not release her straight-arm binding. She was dragged from the bed, her legs weak, barely able to stand, and was instead propped up and dragged to the adjacent bathroom. Steam filled the bathroom, and in the center was a large wooden tub filled with warm water. "Undress her," the maid commanded, "but keep the straight-arm binding. I will re-bind her myself." The kidnappers roughly tore off Celes's maid outfit, ripping the lace apron and unlacing her corset, leaving her with only the urine-soaked white stockings and a close-fitting bodice. Her body was exposed to the air, her skin flushing pink with shame, the black magic circle on her chest clearly visible. "Tsk tsk," the maid circled her, "not a bad figure, just too pathetic." She picked up a bundle of new ropes, made of absorbent cotton, specifically for binding during bathing. "Straight-arm binding, rear-tie," she ordered, "I want her on her stomach by the tub, unable to move an inch." The kidnappers untied the straight-arm binding in front of Celes, but immediately pulled her arms behind her back and re-bound them. The cotton rope began to wrap around her wrists, digging deeply into her fair skin, circling several times before being tied in a secure knot. "Mmmph..." Celes let out a pained cry. The rope continued upwards, wrapping around her forearms, passing her elbows, and continuing to coil around her upper arms. This position forced her arms to remain completely straight, her shoulders pulled back, and her chest pushed forward. "Tighter," the maid commanded, "she knows magic, even if it's sealed now, we can't be too careful." The rope was tightened, and Celes felt her arms completely immobilized behind her, like folded sticks bound together. The cotton rope, having absorbed moisture from the air, became softer but heavier, the sensation of it digging into her skin more pronounced. Then, her legs. Her ankles were bound with rope and pulled behind her, connecting to the wrists behind her back. This position forced her body to arch, like a captured shrimp, kneeling by the tub with her upper body resting on the rim. "Crotch rope," the maid said, "we can't skip this." A rope passed from her lower back, then down, over her buttocks, and forward, threading between her legs. "Ah..." Celes let out a sharp moan. The rough rope chafed her most sensitive areas, which were already more sensitive and shameful from her previous accident. The rope was pulled taut, connecting to the binding on her wrists, creating a perfect leverage—any slight movement backward would tighten the wrist bindings further; any lean forward would cause the crotch rope to chafe more intensely.