My ankles once more were bound to each leg of the chair with zip ties while rope again secured me to the chair, passing above and below my boobs. The cuffs were switched to the front but that was little comfort since my arms and hands were stiffened by last nights bonds. As I watched him work up what looked like a large breakfast, my thoughts wondered back to the day before. He had seen me defecate and helped me tape up my diaper. He had made me dress down to only my bra and well diapers. Then he taped up a new diaper on me, thanks to that lose diaper and the fact I didn’t obey him. Yes, so he touched me, he molest me. He’s a creep. But wait, so far he’s fed me, not physically assaulted me, and while he did touch my pussy, he didn’t do so for sexual advances. So is he really a captor?

“Here you are, pancakes and bacon and syrup. There’s not enough butter in your fridge.” Of course not, but coincidentally, I don’t like a lot of butter on my pancakes, how nice. He gingerly removed the gag and boy did I really want it out. It was like sucking on a tube–no not a pacifer. As he cut up the pancakes, I tried to form a pleading look and drawing up my confidence, I asked, “Please, sir, can I have my hands free to eat?”

His masked face turned and stared at me for a few seconds before he reached over and undid one cuff, linking it to the arm rest. “One hand only.” It had to be more than enough. “Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t push it Freyja,” he grumbled, then lifted his mask started eating.

“I…I won’t,” I added, not wanting to get anymore torturous bindings like yesterday. “I don’t want to be forced changed.”

He stopped. “What? You disobeyed me yesteday. In any case, you like to wear right? I was just helping you.”

“But…”

“But you should learn something. Captive 101, obey your captor at all costs. Besides, I used to change diapers.” Used to? I tried to press on that point but he clammed up and told me to eat up. I was even allowed a short drink of coffee this time. Parting my skirt, he checked on my diaper. “Good,” he commented on the dryness. “Please,” I tried again, “can I have a different gag?”

“What did I say about about a captive?” I sighed and accepted back the panel gag which really muted out any sounds. The cuffs came back behind my back and the rope were readjusted in a firm but to too tight fashion around my arms and boobs. Positioned on the nearby sofa, he bound my knees and ankles with zip ties then whisphered, “Look, I won’t blindfold you today but only if you promise to turn towards the seat and stay there. Ok?” It had to be How much more will this continue?