"So - wearing a ballgag turns you on?"

You decide to drop the charade and get right to the point.

"So - wearing a ballgag turns you on, am I right?"

She's standing in front of you, hear hands folded into each other, her fingers locked, her body tense. She agreed to answer your question, and she seems to be the person who feels bound by a promise.

"Yes", she says softly.

"So... you collect them, and you carry them around with you, because...?"

"Because I sometimes allow my housemates to come inside here and borrow stuff", she answers, whispering.

"The wardrobe doesn't have a key, and I don't want a suspiciously locked chest that would draw questions, so I always keep them close to me. That's the safest way. Nobody is allowed to touch my backpack."

"So it was very stupid of you to forget it."
She nods.

"What is it that turns you on?", you ask her.

She shrugs, her body still tense, her hands in front of her belly, as if she wants to protect herself.

"I don't know", she squeaks.
"I think you do."

She looks at you, silently, with pleading eyes, but you are not in the mood to fall for big, pleading eyes. You're here for prey.

"Well, you promised to answer my questions. So, if there's no answer, I guess I go down and pin those fotos to the bulletin board..."

"No!", she exclaims. "I - I... Its - It's arousing for me that I can't say anything. I can't protest, I can't say no. I am a very decent girl, and I would always decline any frivolous offer, but if I can't talk, I don't have a choice. And that's... that makes me tingle. Also, the fact how I am somehow turned into some kind of animal. Without speech. I feel - reduced. Helpless. Suddenly my words mean nothing. They are gibberish. I am powerless. Out of control. I can relinquish control. I am person who needs to have control about everything, I am very well organized and well-mannered and very much in control. So take that away and it's -" She closes her eyes. "It frees me, somehow."

Wow, you think.

This is more than you ever imagined.