Gryphonsuit

It started so simply, with a slim leather collar picked up on a whim. That sensation of supple luxury around your neck revealed its restrictive nature every time you swallowed. That delicious constraint became an addiction. You traded up soon for a much heavier collar jingling with D-rings. This one you wouldn't wear in public...but everything about it from the way it limited your movement to the delicious metallic ring just seemed to push your mind into a velvety dimension. The rich leather smell didn't help either, imprinting itself on your senses more deeply all the time.

As you did more reading and browsed more sites, your collection grew. Some cuffs here, a spreader-bar there. Some things you bought intending to use them on a future kinky partner, but deep down you craved someone that would use them on you. Binding yourself was one thing but to imagine another holding your reins never failed to turn your skin to goosebumped braille, only ever shouting two words: I'm yours.

Word began spreading on kink forums about something new. It was on the rubber side of the tracks, and that normally wasn't your cup of tea. But the reviews of this system coming in were phenomenal, enough to pry you out of your leathery rut. This wasn't a pupsuit, or a ponysuit. This...was a gryphonsuit. The pictures looked way too good to be true. No matter what your body type was, the same one-size fits-all suit made you look amazing. You had to try one out, and there was a kink-fair the following week...

The vendor was more than happy to demo you, and led you into a mirrored dressing room.  He pulled the costume from an expensive hard-case, smoothly parting a seam from throat to crotch. The seam worked more like a ziplock seal than a zipper, promising a join much tougher to detect.

There were more surprises in store as you stepped into its legs and let the vendor help tug everything into place. The suit didn't actually feel all that rubbery, despite the glossy look of its 'skin.' More like spandex on the inside, gliding and stretching, molding with a soft elastic grasp over every curve and angle of you. Your arms slid into pockets within vast wings of ink-slick black, the overhead light picking out details of beautifully-imprinted feathers in the material. It wasn't all black either, but an iridescence sparkled within that darkness like drowned nebulae.

When the vendor pulled the beaked hood over your face, gel-pads deforming against your features for the perfect fit, you couldn't hold back a shiver. The visibility inside was wonderful through eye-domes large enough to let in plenty of light. In the mirror the domes were an opaque gold, sparkling and inscrutable. When you opened your mouth the beak parted, though just a fraction. The vendor finished sealing you into the suit, and sculpted muscle gave you the body of a toned predator.

As you strutted around in front of the mirrors, fanned tail bumping the backs of your thighs, some mental magic was happening. Seeing those muscles, feeling their weight on you sent a thrill of power through you. Instant confidence. When the vendor suggested taking you for a walk through the fair, you agreed in an instant.

You were barely out on the floor for sixty seconds before a statuesque woman in a blood-red corset halted you with a palm to your chest. She held out her free hand, and in your peripheral vision you saw the vendor place something in it. Your vision blacked out as she fitted the blinders, the faint scent of leather drifting in through your beak. Your wings flapped, bumping her, yielding nothing but a squeak against the crimson PVC.

You opened your beak wider to protest and a bit slid inside, pushing a corresponding lump of pliant gel-material into your mouth. Silenced, blinded, you relied on sensation alone to tell you when a collar was snapped around your neck. The instant that pressure formed around your throat, all desire to resist drained out of you.

She had a new toy, the vendor had made another sale, and you would forever be a caged bird...a dream come true.