Bondage hood stories

Author's Note: This is my first story here. Please be gentle. Has it been hours? She couldn't tell Like the face of an unfinished mannequin, the Thing seemingly owns no eyes or ears or nose. Whoever she was, and whatever her features are, they are lost behind the heavy black bondage hood that completely envelops her head. The hood is smooth and seamless and without any indication as to how it had been first used or how it might be removed, and seems to be pulled so tight that, even behind the thick leather, one might imagine seeing the faint ridges of the woman's brow, her ears, her nose.
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‘bondage hood’ stories

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The BDSM Hood Story - ariaspa.ru

I struggled against the straitjacket but it felt like my struggles just made it tighter. The rubber was unforgiving, I could strain against it all I liked but it just pulled me back into my helpless position. I tried to yell for help, surely someone would hear me and come to my aid but the formidable gag that had been strapped onto me would not allow much sound to escape from my throat. All I could do was wait and think about how stupid I had been to have placed myself in this situation……. He was absolutely beautiful! I wandered into the bar that night purely by chance, and there he was sitting up the back. Blonde hair and the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen.
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The Punishment Chair 6: Heavy Bondage

With no pretense to be able to reach the same quality, I imagined a sequel to that exceptional story. Please understand that English is not the tongue I use every day. Suggestions, editing and corrections are welcomed in the forum. Laura was modeling a striking outfit, all dressed in a long, high necked Victorian dress with long sleeves: the contrast was born from the latex gloves and hood the girl was wearing: her face was completely obscured by the garment, except for eyes and mouth holes. Laura, having decided in a mood swing to participate in a fetish photo contest, was searching for an image, or several images, that would be unexpected without resorting to anything too vulgar or to nudity.
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He slipped the hood over my head and smoothed it down over my face. My heart was hammering. I was sure he could hear it beating from where he stood, his hands on my arms, as I fumbled with the fit to insure the breathing holes were directly under my nostrils. The leather smell was strong and I tasted it too, after the gag was seated between my tongue and the roof of my suddenly dry mouth. Not even a sliver of light showed beneath the blindfold which was held tautly in place by two strong snaps at my temples.
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