Bondage Mischief - Nicolette Sticky Fingers

The greenbacks had been vanishing from my restaurant, like a thief emptying out a piggy bank. to catch the culprit, i installed a small, discreet camera, blinking like a black cyclops eye in the corner. the grainy footage revealed my waitress, nicolette brandy, her fingers dancing over the cash register, helping herself to my hard-earned money. i tailed her home from the restaurant, still in her uniform, the scent of grease and desperation clinging to her like a second skin. as she entered her dimly lit house, i struck, grabbing her from behind. cash fluttered through the air like a scene from a cheap heist movie, fluttering and scattering across the worn carpeted floor. i had come prepared, a length of rope coiled like a serpent in my hand. nicolette, despite her struggles, was quickly secured, her elbows lashed together along with her wrists, knees, and ankles. a bandana, rolled and tied as a cleave gag, silenced her protests. to drive the lesson home, i popped open her blouse, buttons flying like tiny plastic coins, revealing her ample breasts, heaving with each furious breath. humiliation would be her punishment, a harsh reminder every time she remembered the neighbors finding her like this. nicolette thrashed on the floor like a rodeo calf, her cowgirl boots scuffing against the faded linoleum. she was a sight, bound and gagged, breasts heaving, eyes wild. i took a moment to enjoy the scene, her furious struggles serving only to emphasize her helplessness. soon, i would collect my money, stuffing the scattered bills back into my pockets, and leave nicolette alone to contemplate her misdeeds.