This reminds me of someone who can probably come up with a significantly better caption for this than I.
The vitals monitor on your wrist indicates that you are frightened, and I can think of a number of reasons why that might be. You are here increasingly against your will but cannot effect any articulate protest: that might be one. You don’t even know where “here” is, for that matter. You have been stripped and strapped down, only able to move your hips and thighs when I adjust these stirrups. Oh, and you’ve just felt the speculum slide inside you to open you up for my inspection.
Cold, isn’t it? Poor thing. Let’s apply a little clit stim to distract you.
There. Now, as I was saying: those things really shouldn’t be at the top of your list of concerns. (Sensitive there, aren’t you? Interesting.) What should concern you is the blindfold–not the fact that you can’t see, but the fact that those two patches each fit perfectly over one of your eyes. The fact that this collar is sized just so to the length of your neck. The ball gag, and the way it fits into your mouth with no gap.
These straps were made just for you, girl. You’ve been watched. Stalked. Measured. Certainly, they can tighten–but that’s for control, not fit. This bondage is bespoke. And now, with you wide open and helpless on my table, I’m going to take one final measurement for my records.
Don’t worry. I promise, it won’t hurt a bit.