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DiP_137 - Sticky Fingers: The Lunch Money Debt - 4K UHD Upscaled
The atmosphere in the bedroom was stifling. Leigh, the brunette, stood over the bed, her face a mask of cold fury. She had checked her purse and found it light. The culprit was sitting right there: Morgan, her blonde flatmate, dressed in a matching red satin top. Morgan tried to laugh it off, claiming she had just "borrowed" the cash for lunch and would pay it back later. But Leigh wasn't interested in an I.O.U. She was interested in justice. "You have sticky fingers," Leigh accused, "so let's make sure they stay where I can see them."
Morgan didn't have time to process the threat before Leigh lunged. She shoved the blonde backward onto the bed, the soft mattress absorbing her fall but offering no escape. Morgan kicked and protested, but Leigh was fueled by righteous anger. She produced a roll of loud, crinkling clear packing tape.
Leigh went to work with ruthless efficiency. She wrenched Morgan's wrists together, wrapping layer after layer of the plastic tape around them until they were fused into a single, shiny mass. Morgan's protests turned to panic as Leigh moved to her ankles. The tape sang its screeching song as it bound her feet together, the clear plastic gleaming against her black leggings.
But the lesson wasn't over. Leigh grabbed the taped ankles and hauled them upward, bending Morgan’s knees and arching her back. She ran the tape continuously from the ankles to the wrists, locking the blonde in a tight, stressful hogtie. Morgan was left writhing on the bed, a trussed-up package of red satin and regret, realizing that the lunch she stole was going to be the most expensive meal she ever ate. Leigh gave the tape one final pat, satisfied that the debt had been paid in full.
The atmosphere in the bedroom was stifling. Leigh, the brunette, stood over the bed, her face a mask of cold fury. She had checked her purse and found it light. The culprit was sitting right there: Morgan, her blonde flatmate, dressed in a matching red satin top. Morgan tried to laugh it off, claiming she had just "borrowed" the cash for lunch and would pay it back later. But Leigh wasn't interested in an I.O.U. She was interested in justice. "You have sticky fingers," Leigh accused, "so let's make sure they stay where I can see them."
Morgan didn't have time to process the threat before Leigh lunged. She shoved the blonde backward onto the bed, the soft mattress absorbing her fall but offering no escape. Morgan kicked and protested, but Leigh was fueled by righteous anger. She produced a roll of loud, crinkling clear packing tape.
Leigh went to work with ruthless efficiency. She wrenched Morgan's wrists together, wrapping layer after layer of the plastic tape around them until they were fused into a single, shiny mass. Morgan's protests turned to panic as Leigh moved to her ankles. The tape sang its screeching song as it bound her feet together, the clear plastic gleaming against her black leggings.
But the lesson wasn't over. Leigh grabbed the taped ankles and hauled them upward, bending Morgan’s knees and arching her back. She ran the tape continuously from the ankles to the wrists, locking the blonde in a tight, stressful hogtie. Morgan was left writhing on the bed, a trussed-up package of red satin and regret, realizing that the lunch she stole was going to be the most expensive meal she ever ate. Leigh gave the tape one final pat, satisfied that the debt had been paid in full.
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