I arrive home to find my roommate, Mia, lounging casually on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone as she doom scrolls through endless feeds. Her fingers swipe lazily across the screen, her expression a mix of boredom and mild interest. I ask Mia if she's managed to tackle any household chores, like the laundry or the dishes, or if she's spent the entire day nestled in the cushions. Dressed in a faded t-shirt, snug leggings, and pantyhose, Mia barely looks up from her screen, dismissively assuring me that she's been busy all day and will get around to the chores eventually.

Frustration bubbles up inside me; I'm tired of shouldering all the responsibility around the house. Determined to teach Mia a lesson, I stride to my room, retrieve a length of sturdy rope, and return to the living room. Mia is still absorbed in her phone, oblivious to my intentions. With swift and decisive movements, I overpower her, securing the rope around her wrists and arms with practiced ease, then binding her knees and ankles tightly together. Mia's eyes widen in surprise as she realizes her predicament, but before she can voice her protest, I tie a cleave gag snugly into her mouth, muffling any objections.

Leaving Mia to wriggle and squirm, I set about completing the chores she neglected. As I wash the dishes and fold the laundry, there's a certain satisfaction in knowing that Mia is left to grapple with her helplessness and embarrassment. Despite her determined efforts, the ropes hold firm, and she remains firmly in place, unable to go anywhere until I decide to release her—a task that sits comfortably low on my priority list.