Linger to enjoy the scene

Rather than wait in the living room, you decide to hang around and enjoy the sight for a bit longer, watching Polly wrestle with the dilemma of which portions of herself to expose to your ravenous attention the longest as she works. The soft patter of her muffled resistance only adds to your satisfaction. Yet suddenly a sharp pain explodes at the back of your head. Darkness crashes over you in an instant.

…

When you come to, your vision is blurry, the taste of leather pressed against your tongue. As the haze lifts, you become aware of your predicament: your ankles are bound tightly together, your arms pinned behind your back. You’re naked head to toe, lying facedown on the floor. Furthermore, the ballgag you'd so gleefully strapped onto Polly has now been **** into your own mouth, and a twisted thought flickers through your mind: ”So this is what it feels like.”

Hovering above you is a darkly-dressed figure: She is clad in leathers, replete with rows of buckles and belt, some of which hold sheaths of daggers in place. Your eyes climb their way up along her body. She’s an elvish woman, her hair crowned with silver-blonde hair that reaches down to just above her shoulders. She towers over you with an air of superiority, her eyes sharp and disdainful and her lip curling into a haughty sneer. ”So… “, she says, her voice laced with venom, ”… you enjoy humiliating your servants, do you? Considering this an appropriate lesson, pig.”

You glance to the side, finding Polly slumped in a corner of the kitchen, her hands and legs also tied, though the ballgag has been replaced with a strip of cloth. The maid’s wide eyes meet yours, her cheeks flushed with equal parts embarrassment and fear. Polly is still naked as a nymph: Despite her lecturing you, the elf assassin didn’t see fit to offer Polly anything to wear.

The elf continues: ”This is what your kind deserves, to be taught some humility!”

Before she can finish her speech, you’ve had enough. With a surge of defiance, you clench your fists and stop time. The world goes utterly still. The assassin's sneer freezes on her lips, the fluttering kitchen drapes hang suspended in the air. You’re free to act—at least mentally. Physically, however, you’re as bound as ever.

Grunting through the gag, you manage to roll yourself onto your knees. From there, you clumsily rise to your feet, wobbling and hopping unsteadily as your ankles are pressed together. That damned elf did a good job on those knots, you can’t deny her that. You hop awkwardly around the mansion, the sound of your naked feet slapping on the floor in the disquieting stillness, as your member flops about obscenely. You bounce into rooms, searching frantically for something—anything—to cut your bonds, but every drawer and surface is frustratingly barren of easily accessible sharp objects!!