Even a nagual gets caught. What you do with him now is the only question left.
Almost seven minutes of a masked wrestler restrained and gagged. The Nagual enters hooded in black spandex, a pink thong and a silicone gag, flexing in and out of black and white, then is bound to a chair in a leather vest and ball gag as faint luchador phantoms move over him. No narration — breath, struggle, the whispered nahualli. Bondage, gag, hood, muscle worship, spandex. The mask does not come off.
