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Restraint Academy—I'm Going to Be Late!
The morning light was warm, a gentle breeze stirring the air. The once-boisterous Restraint Academy now felt peculiarly serene. A languid stretch, a slow unfurling of limbs—such idleness would normally lift one’s spirits and soothe the soul. Alas, today was not the weekend, and her timetable glared back at her with an 8 AM lecture.
“I’m going to be late! I’m going to be late! Why didn’t my alarm go off?!”
The sensation of ease vanished in an instant, replaced by the frantic wish to spring straight from bed into the classroom. The stillness outside seemed to mock her, questioning her very soul: “Guess what time it is now~?” Meanwhile, her roommate watched helplessly, having witnessed this oddball partner disable three alarms one after another by sheer muscle memory, and now whirl around the dorm like a little tornado. Wash her face, comb her hair, make the bed—Restraint Academy might not be notoriously strict, but if your dorm looked like a pigsty, the wardens wouldn’t hesitate to send you packing off to a few hours of “make-do penance.” That thought only spurred the girl on: she hurried through her morning rituals, tied her hairband on in two swift motions, and shrugged off the slightly titillating sleepwear in exchange for the Academy’s mandated one-piece bodysuit. Lastly, she clipped on her custom heart-shaped nipple ring—only then was she truly ready.
In the mirror stood a girl with one conspicuous ahoge twitching beneath her plush ears, her silvery-gray locks drifting in gentle disorder despite the hairband’s hold, lending her an irresistible air of playfulness. Her cheeks were dusted with a rosy blush, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and a mere quirk of her lips suffused her features with an infectious vitality. Below her chin, a gleaming metal collar accented her throat before the eye was drawn to the Academy’s prescribed bodysuit: from collarbone to toes, the satin fabric clung seamlessly to every curve and hollow, its breathable comfort contouring her slender waist and rounded soles to perfection. Fitted with a state-of-the-art temperature-control system—warm in winter, cool in summer—it earned universal praise among the students.
Its sole flaw lay in its original design: no material had been allocated to cover the intimate parts. Both her breasts and pubic mound remained completely exposed, and once enrolled, students were forbidden to wear anything else in public. It was enough to make one blush beyond reason. Thankfully, everyone was in the same predicament, and she’d grown accustomed to the ensemble. Yet every time she caught sight of her own willowy figure in the mirror, a surge of excitement welled up inside her—a sudden, inexplicable urge to pin this defenseless little cat to the ground, bind her with ropes that would never be undone, and ignore her pleading whimpers as she was tied into an eternal knot…
At the thought, her restraint bracelet tugged her arms behind her back, guiding her into the most fitting pose for bondage. The collar flashed, and a bundle of crimson cord—already woven into the rough shape of a rope harness—materialized around her, straddling the line between virtual and reality. It tightened, cinched, and secured her supple flesh, its grip as commanding as a giant’s hands. Her arms were wrenched together until the cords bit into her wrists, rendering them motionless. A feigned struggle only prompted the ropes to ratchet tighter, as though warning her not to interrupt their work.
Then the cords slithered like slender serpents, adjusting themselves to her body. A strand slipped from her shoulder and traced along her delicate collarbone in a neat pattern, linking with the red ropes framing her breasts and accentuating their fullness. In mere breaths, she was bound solidly—thanks, once again, to Restraint Academy’s black-tech marvels.
Her face flushed a deeper pink, her half-averted eyes shimmering like rippling water, and her pert nipples, framed by the heart-shaped clamps, trembled ever so slightly with each breath—an irresistible invitation, daring anyone to resist their allure.
“I’M GOING TO BE LATE!!! Stop admiring yourself and hurry up!”
“Coming, coming!”
Time was slipping away, and she had no mind to admire her own reflection any longer. Snatching up the jam-topped bread her roommate had left by the door, she dashed to the entryway, using her collar to swipe open the automatic door and dart toward the classroom.
But fate was not on her side. In the split second the door readied itself to part, her hairband came loose and floated to the floor. Even this hybrid beastgirl’s reflexes couldn’t muster a hand, so she bent her foot at the arch to catch it, only to find herself utterly unable to move any further. Desperate, she glanced to her roommate standing outside.
“Don’t worry about the hairband! This is Old Hag’s class—you don’t want to volunteer as her test subject, do you?!”
“Eh?!”
At the mention of “Old Hag,” she dared not dally. With a wistful glance at her hairband, she bolted for the classroom. As for her now-disheveled hair? She could only pray it wouldn’t earn her another kick in the gradebook…
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OC byuser/37634612 »
Text byuser/31438504 »
Thanks to the patron for commissioning the Restraint Academy series