Achim with the therapist Part 2

Only now did Achim notice that the room had no windows and the door had no handle, only a lock. Apparently an additional symbol of inescapability. Actually superfluous, he thought, because once someone was restrained to this bed, they wouldn't be able to free themselves...

There was a brief, claustrophobic moment when all this sank in. Then he took a few deep breaths to compose himself before removing his shirt and pants and picking up the so-called tail restraint.

Nervousness and excitement dampened his excitement to a minimum, so he finally put the toy aside. Simply lying there and letting anything happen to him wasn't his thing at all. He, too, wanted to be conquered – preferably with tender, ticklish foreplay.

The straitjacket hanging on the hook, however, held a magical attraction for him. Fascinated, he examined it closely. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he saw the long sleeves with thick straps. He had always dreamed of being helplessly wrapped in such a thing, writhing beneath a woman's skillful hands. Could this dream even come true today?

As he reached up to take the straitjacket off the hook, he was suddenly grabbed from behind. Two surprisingly powerful hands dug deep into his ticklish ribs and sides, causing him to fall forward with a laugh. But the tickling didn't stop—in fact, it intensified, throwing him completely off track.

Martina had quietly crept in and surprised him with targeted touches on his sensitive sides. He literally fell to his knees with laughter and tickling.

"You naughty boy! Didn't I tell you to lie down and wait for me? What do you think you're doing snooping around here? Just wait, I'll have to bring you to your senses..." she scolded in a mock, stern tone. She tickled him so skillfully that he finally writhed on the ground, laughing breathlessly.

He was actually considerably stronger than Martina. But she hit his most sensitive spots so precisely that he became increasingly defenseless. Finally, he barely knew what was happening to him when she grabbed the straitjacket and, with just a few quick movements, strapped him into it. Admittedly, he didn't really resist—in fact, he even helped a little. Soon, his arms were wrapped tightly around his body, and he couldn't move them anymore.

Martina helped him to his feet and led him to the bed. There, he obediently lay on his back. He noticed that his penis had awakened in joyful anticipation, creating a noticeable bulge in the skimpy fabric of his thong.

Martina tied his ankles to the bottom of the bedposts with leather cuffs, wide apart. She then gently kissed him on the nose and blindfolded him with a cloth.

“Ready for my very special therapy for particularly unruly patients?” An amused laugh resonated in her voice, and Achim nodded silently, full of anticipation.

As Achim lay there, he tried to explore his remaining range of motion. His arms were tightly tucked against his body, there was no escape. But he could probably still sit up—the immobilization of his feet would have actually helped.

His feet, however, splayed bare and defenseless from the cuffs. He listened intently to Andrea's breathing, trying to determine where she was. Would she strategically position herself at the foot of the bed?

That didn't seem to be the case.Instead, he heard her say next to him: “Well, you seem to be feeling very comfortable here!”

A flash of intense excitement shot through him as she touched the bulge in his thong for a split second. What would happen next?

The answer didn't take long to arrive...

sequel follows

- Ligoteur

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