YOURS, ALWAYS IN YOUR MIND M/M

[Htdgagfreak85]

"The chains of the body may break, but the chains of the mind? They linger, tightening with every thought."
— A Captor's Reflection

Disclaimer

It started so innocently.
You were at home, safe in the routine of your day, the quiet hum of life lulling you into a sense of control. You thought nothing could disrupt that. You thought you were untouchable.
But now, as my words seep into your mind, you feel the shift. You feel it, don’t you? The way the air seems heavier, the way your thoughts slow as if caught in a web. My web.
You brought this on yourself.
You’re the one who clicked. You’re the one who opened the door and let me in. And now I’m here, coiling myself around you, binding you tighter with every word.
You can stop, can’t you? You can close this and walk away.
But you won’t.
Because deep down, this is what you crave. You want to lose control. You want to be helpless. You want to be mine.
Strip down to your underwear
Feel the vulnerability creeping in, the air brushing against your skin.
This is your first act of submission. You’ve given yourself to me. Now I’ll take everything.
You’re mine now.

And now, it begins

“Sit,” I command, gesturing to the wooden chair before you.
You hesitate, your body tense, but the look in my eyes leaves no room for defiance.
Slowly, you lower yourself into the seat, the hard wood pressing against your thighs.
“Hands behind the chair,” I say, stepping closer.
The first rope slides through my gloved fingers, its thick fibers slightly rough as I let it coil into my palm. I guide your wrist behind the chair, looping the rope around it snugly. Each pass pulls tighter, pressing firmly into your skin, the tension undeniable.
Your other wrist follows, bound with equal precision. The knots are deliberate, unyielding, leaving no slack for you to move.
Another rope wraps around your upper arms, pulling them tightly against the backrest. The pressure forces your chest forward, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.
I crouch in front of you, taking your ankle in my hand. The rope coils around it, binding it securely to the chair leg. Your other ankle follows, leaving your legs completely immobilized. Finally, I run a rope across your thighs, cinching them down to the seat.
“Try to move,” I say, standing back to admire my work.
You twist and pull, your body jerking against the restraints, but the ropes hold fast.
“Good,” I murmur. “That’s exactly how I want you.”
I hold up the ball gag next, its black surface gleaming faintly in the light.
“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Don’t—”
“Oh, we’re well past ‘please,’” I say, chuckling softly. “Open.”
Your lips part reluctantly, and I press the ball into your mouth. It stretches your jaw wide, filling it completely. The strap wraps around your head, and I pull it tight, fastening it securely.
Drool begins to pool at the corners of your mouth almost immediately, dripping down your chin and onto your chest.
“There it is,” I say, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Just like I knew it would happen.”
But the drool doesn’t stop.
It drips steadily, pooling on the seat beneath you, a wet spot forming on the wood.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Look at you,” I say mockingly. “Drooling all over yourself. Making a mess like a pathetic little thing.”
You squirm in the chair, your face flushing with humiliation as your muffled protests grow louder:
“Mmmph! Hhhhnngh! Nnnnnf!”
“Oh, what’s that? Trying to beg again?” I taunt. “Beg for what, huh? For me to stop? Or for me to keep going?”
Your eyes meet mine, wide and pleading. I see the question there, unspoken but impossible to miss
How long are you going to keep me like this?
I smirk, leaning in close. “You want to know how long this will last?” I murmur. “For as long as I want. Until I see fit. Not a second sooner.”
I trail a gloved hand down your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple sharply.
“Hhhhnff! Mmmphhh!”
“Adorable,” I say, straightening. “Keep moaning for me. It’s not going to change anything.”

After what feels like an eternity in the chair, I begin to untie you.
But the momentary relief is fleeting.
“On your stomach,” I command, guiding you to the floor.
The cool surface presses against your skin as you lower yourself down, your body trembling with anticipation.
Your hands move instinctively behind your back, as though you already know what’s coming.
The first rope binds your wrists tightly, each loop pulling snug, pressing into your skin with unrelenting force. The knot I tie is firm, impossible to undo.
Your ankles are next, bound together just as tightly. The rope coils around them, cinching them into place, leaving no room for movement.
But I’m far from done.
A third rope connects your wrists to your ankles, pulling your body into a strict hogtie.
The tension arches your back slightly, leaving you completely immobilized.
“Look at you,” I murmur, crouching beside you. “Helpless. Completely at my mercy.”
You moan through the gag, your cries desperate
“Mmmphh! Hhhhnngh! Nnnghhh!”
But I don’t stop there. Another rope wraps around your knees, pulling them tightly together. The added restriction forces you into an even more uncomfortable position, your body trembling with the strain.
I add another length of rope across your chest, cinching it under your arms.
The pressure forces your torso into an even stiffer arch, the discomfort evident in the way your body jerks against the restraints.
“Every rope makes it worse, doesn’t it?” I taunt, running my gloved fingers down your side. “But you brought this on yourself. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Your muffled cries grow louder
“Hhhhfff! Nnnnghh!”
I grab one of my worn socks, damp and pungent, and press it against your nose.
“Breathe it in,” I say, holding it firmly in place. “That’s all you’re getting.”
Your protests are frantic, your body twisting as much as the ropes allow. But it’s futile. The hogtie holds firm, unyielding.
I toss the sock aside, my hand trailing down your back. The touch is soft, almost tender, before I slap your thigh sharply.
“Mmmphhh! Hhhhfff!”
“Keep struggling,” I say, laughing softly. “It’s adorable. But it won’t get you anywhere.”
I catch your eyes again, wide and pleading.
The question is there, unmistakable
How long?
I smirk, shaking my head. “You think you have a say in this? You’ll stay like this until I decide you’ve had enough.”

After what feels like hours in the hogtie, I release you slowly, savoring the faint marks the ropes have left on your skin.
The relief of being untied is short-lived. Your body is trembling, your muscles aching from the strain of being so tightly bound for so long. You think this might be the end, that I’ll finally let you go—but we both know better.
“On the bed,” I command, my voice sharp and unyielding.
You hesitate, trying to catch your breath, but my gloved hand grips your arm, guiding you to the mattress. It feels soft beneath you, a stark contrast to the hard floor, but there’s no comfort in it.
“Lie down. Stretch out,” I order, circling the bed.
Your arms and legs obey instinctively, moving toward the corners. Your body knows there’s no point in resisting anymore, no escape from what’s coming.
The first cuff wraps around your wrist, thick and padded, but snug enough to bite into your skin as I tighten it. The buckle clicks with a sound that makes your heart sink. One arm down. The other follows, leaving your arms stretched taut above your head, fully immobilized.
I move to your feet, securing each ankle in turn. The leather straps cinch tight, the weight of the cuffs pressing into your flesh. I give each one a tug, ensuring they’re unyielding.
When I step back, your body is stretched into a perfect X, completely exposed.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my eyes roaming over you. “So vulnerable. So helpless.”

You test the restraints instinctively, your body jerking against the cuffs, but they hold fast. The pull against your arms and legs only serves to remind you how completely immobilized you are.
“Go ahead,” I taunt, leaning down so my face is inches from yours. “Struggle. Fight. It’s adorable.”
Your muffled protests rise from behind the gag: “Mmmph! Hhhhnngh!”
“Oh, what’s that?” I mock, tilting my head. “Trying to beg again? For what? For freedom? For me to stop? Or maybe…” I pause, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Maybe you’re begging me to keep going once more.”
Your face flushes, and you turn your head, unable to meet my gaze.
“No, no,” I say, gripping your chin firmly and forcing you to look at me. “No turning away. You wanted this, didn’t you? You brought this on yourself. And now, you’re mine.”
I release your chin, my gloved hand trailing down your chest, my fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is teasing, almost tender, as if I’m savoring your helplessness.

I grab a rope, looping it around your waist. The coarse fibers scrape against your skin as I pull it tight, pinning your lower back to the mattress.
“Comfortable?” I ask, the mockery in my voice unmistakable.
You squirm against the additional restraint, your muffled moans growing louder
“Hhhhfff! Nnnnghhh!”
“Adorable,” I murmur, shaking my head. “But let’s make this a little more interesting.”
I pick up one of my socks, damp and pungent from wear, and hold it just above your face.
Your muffled cries become frantic, desperate
“Hhhhnngh! Nnnfff! Plfffhh!”
“Don’t like the smell?” I ask, feigning concern. “Too bad. This is all you’re getting.”
I press the sock against your nose, holding it there as you twist your head, trying to escape the stench. But the cuffs hold you firmly in place, and my grip on your chin keeps you from turning away.
“Breathe it in,” I command, my tone firm and unrelenting. “That’s right. Nice and deep.”
I hold it there for a moment longer, savoring the way your body writhes beneath me, before tossing it aside.

My hand returns to your chest, my fingers trailing slowly over your skin. The touch is soft, almost comforting—until I pinch your nipple sharply.
“Hhhfff! Nnnnghhh!”
Your body jerks against the restraints, the cuffs biting into your wrists and ankles as you struggle.
“Aww, does that hurt?” I ask, my tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Good.”
I pinch the other nipple, twisting it slightly, drawing another muffled cry from you.
“Mmmphhh! Hhhhfff!”
“There it is,” I say, smiling. “That’s the sound I wanted.”
I let my hand wander lower, brushing lightly over your stomach, my touch teasing. You’re bracing yourself, your body tensing in anticipation of what’s coming next.
I slap your thigh sharply, the sound echoing through the room.
“Mmmphhh! Hhhhfff!”
“Keep making those sounds for me,” I murmur, rubbing the spot I just slapped. “It’s music to my ears.”

Minutes feel like hours as I continue to toy with you. My hands alternate between soft, feather-light touches and sharp, stinging slaps. Each pinch, each strike draws muffled protests from you, your body trembling against the restraints.
Your eyes meet mine again, wide and pleading. I can see again the question there, unspoken but undeniable
How long are you going to keep me like this?
I smirk, leaning down so my face is inches from yours.
“How long?” I whisper. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ll stay like this until I decide you’ve had enough. Not a second sooner.”
I straighten, watching as you twist and pull against the cuffs, your muffled cries growing more desperate. The bed creaks faintly beneath you, the sound mingling with your protests.
“Pathetic,” I say, shaking my head. “But cute.”

The room feels heavy with silence, broken only by the sound of your breathing, your muffled cries, and the occasional creak of the bed as you struggle.
Every movement reminds you of your predicament—the way the cuffs dig into your skin, the way your body is stretched taut, completely exposed.
I step back, crossing my arms as I watch you.
I trail a finger down your chest one last time, stopping to pinch your nipple sharply before slapping your thigh again, eliciting another muffled moan.
“Every inch of you belongs to me,” I murmur. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

The weight of your helplessness settles over you like a blanket, pressing down with an unrelenting force. Time has no meaning anymore; all you know is the strain of your body, the sting of your skin, and the constant presence of my control.
You’ll stay like this until I decide it’s over. And even then, you’ll never truly be free.

When it’s over, the restraints are undone slowly, deliberately, but the weight of what just happened lingers.
The marks on your skin, the ache in your muscles—they feel too real to dismiss.
I step back, watching you sit there, your body trembling with exhaustion and something else you can’t quite name.
“You’re free now,” I say softly, almost casually, as if the words are meaningless.
But we both know the truth.
You’ll leave, but you’ll never truly escape me.
I’ll still be there, a whisper in the back of your mind, a weight you’ll carry with you no matter where you go.
You’ll try to resist. You’ll tell yourself it’s over. But the need will return, stronger than before. You’ll think about the ropes, the gags, the taunts. You’ll remember how it felt to be helpless, controlled, mine.
And then, you’ll come back.
Because you can’t help yourself.
“See you soon, my dear,” I murmur, a smirk tugging at my lips. “You’ll always be mine.”

"Freedom is an illusion when the mind remains bound. You’ll always return to where you truly belong—mine."
— The Voice Within

[60Cancer]

Fascinating story.

[squirrel]

Amazing story! And those descriptions... absolutely fantastic!

[Socksbound]

Wow that was amazing!!

I’m completely lost for words on just how enjoyable this was

[MaxRoper]

This is so very good! The descriptions of the bondage positions and the torments/teasings were well done, leaving just the right amount to the reader's imagination. Many second person tales don't work, but when done well it's an excellent style, and this one is definitely done well.

Thanks for all the work you put into this gem, and for sharing it!