As the thick nylon sack was pulled down over her head, Ziva's eyes widened in terror. The tight, form-fitting material hugged her face, making it difficult for her to open her eyes. The see-through material offered her a distorted view of her surroundings, but it was enough to see her captor's gloating face as he worked to secure the leather straps around her body.
The straps were pulled tight, biting into her skin as they constricted her movements. Ziva was trapped, unable to move or escape. The addition of this hellish covering on top of the elaborate ropes already binding her at every possible joint made even the thought of escape impossible. The ballgag in her mouth made it difficult for her to cry out or plead for mercy. All she could do was thrash and squirm, her body straining against the restraints. Ziva felt like a sausage, encased in a tight, unyielding shell. Her captor seemed to take great pleasure in her struggles, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he worked to secure her.
Once the straps were in place, her captor stepped back to admire his handiwork. Ziva was a helpless, immobile bundle, unable to move or escape. Her eyes were covered with her hair which was compressed inside her hood, her face twisted in a mixture of fear and rage. The ballgag in her mouth was a cruel reminder of her powerlessness.
The nylon sack seemed to cling to her body, accentuating her curves and contours. The see-through material made her feel exposed and vulnerable, as if she was on display for her captor's twisted amusement. Her satin bikini and gloves shined through, as well as the bright ropes hindering her every move. Ziva's mind raced with thoughts of escape, but she knew it was impossible. She was trapped, a prisoner of her own body, bound and gagged and helpless.
As the minutes ticked by, Ziva's struggles grew weaker. She was exhausted, her body straining against the restraints until she was spent. The tight sack was wearing her out quick, the constant resistance zapping her endurance. Her captor seemed to sense her weakness, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he leaned in close.
"You're not going anywhere, Ziva," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "You're mine now, and you'll stay mine until I'm done with you."
Ziva's eyes flashed with defiance, but it was a futile gesture. She was trapped, and she knew it. All she could do was wait, helpless and bound, for whatever fate her captor had in store for her.
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