I am not even sure how long had passed since you placed me in the thick latex hood. It has blocked all light and most of the sound. My long braid protrudes from a hole at the top. My mouth is dry since I am forced to breath through my mouth. The mouth opening is the only exposed part of my head. I am grateful that the o-ring gag is not currently in place. You removed it so that I could eat and drink.
A thick leather collar and leather wrist and ankle cuffs round out my attire. The rest of me is uncovered, well let’s say unrestrained. I am technically covered in red welts and purple angry bruises from the days of beatings. I, of course, cannot see them, but I know them to be so.
I feel you clip the leash to my collar and you give it a tug. I immediately get on all fours. You tug me once again and I follow the leash. I am disoriented and not sure what part of the house we are in. The cold tile floor turns to cold, smooth concrete. We are in the playroom.