The Banking Bondage Babes
A tale of humiliation, banking and scarf bondage
by silklover

    Darren Day, or 'Darren the Demon Dealer' as he liked to be known at the Sumitomo Bank, was extremely angry and extremely uncomfortable. He was extremely angry because he had fallen for their charm and womanly guile and allowed himself to be kidnapped by the babes he had been drinking with earlier that evening. It severely hurt his ego to realize that whilst he thought he had succeeded in pulling five of the most beautiful women in the bar, he had in reality been royally set up by them. Whatever it was they had put in his drink towards the end of the evening had completely zonked him. Whilst still able to understand what was going on, he had lost the power of independent action and had no choice but to allow himself to be walked to their car, placed in the boot of their blacked out Range Rover while handcuffs were placed on his wrists and ankles and a silk hood was pulled over his head and tied at the neck, and driven to their hideout. What made it worse was that they had told him he was being kidnapped and yet he could do nothing about it other than grin inanely, a by product he assumed of the drug they had slipped into his drink.
    He was extremely uncomfortable for a reason that would have been instantly apparent had he been standing where the babes now were, watching him from the other side of the large designer furnished loft apartment. Darren was naked. He was crouched on top of what looked to be an upturned wooden table, except that it had three stout legs at one end and no legs at the other. His ankles were bound tightly to the two outside legs with brightly coloured silk scarves, the loops cinched tightly so that no movement was possible. His arms were tied together behind his back. More silk scarves cinched his elbows together so that they almost touched and his wrists were bound in a reverse praying position, the thick silk scarf wound tightly between the loops to ensure security. A long blue scarf ran from the wrist bindings back to the centre leg where it had clearly been pulled tight before being tied off to the wooden leg. Had this been the extent of his bondage, it would have been very uncomfortable indeed, as the crouched position was not a natural one, and exerted great strain on his arms. The piece de resistance however was the white, double thickness close fitting silk hood which had been pulled down tightly over his head. A black leather collar secured the hood in place around his neck and a short 6" length of chain dropped from the collar to a ring bolt set in the base of the piece of furniture. He was thus forced forwards and downwards, his head held unnaturally close to the floor of the table by the chain whilst the scarf attached to his wrist bindings tried to force him backwards. That the position was unpleasant was borne out by the angry but pained sounds coming from beneath the hood. Whilst clearly a mixture of pain and anger, the volume was reduced to a quiet mewling noise. The thick bandage, clearly visible beneath the tight fitting silk of the hood, bound two large Hermes silk squares in place deep in his mouth, blocking out all but the faintest noise and ensuring a thorough gagging.
    Hidden beneath him, but just visible to the women standing in front of him was the end of a thin sky blue silk scarf protruding from between his legs. The remaining 6 foot length of the designer silk scarf was wrapped exceedingly tightly around his cock and balls, ensuring that even the slightest erection would be very painful indeed. It was therefore hardly surprising that Darren could not work out whether he was more angry or more uncomfortable.
    The ladies who listened to his pathetic attempt at anger from beneath the multiple layers of tightly bound silk were all members of the Banking Bondage Babes, a small but very effective group of ladies who worked in the Square Mile of the City of London and had become disillusioned with the arrogance and male chauvinism of the male brokers and dealers that made up the financial powerhouse of the UK. Continually bumping their heads on the imaginary glass ceiling while less able male colleagues gained promotion, the ladies had decided to exact their revenge on the male species by targeting the worst offenders and reducing them to mild subservience through a gradually evolved programme of prolonged bondage, humiliation and slave training. Rumours of their existence had swept the City but no-one had ever owned up to being kidnapped by them and no-one really knew whether the stories about the treatment they meted out was the truth or whether it was the product of overactive male imaginations and fantasy. Darren would of course find out that much of the rumour was indeed true but it would not be as enjoyable as it often was in the imagination of the sex obsessed male dealers.
    The ladies had all stripped off the business clothes they had been wearing when they took Darren and were now dressed only in skimpy white silk briefs and black high heeled shoes. All wore expensive designer silk scarves at their necks and several had even donned silk headscarves, tied Grace Kelly style. They were ready for the next phase of Darren's initiation.