Cynthia flushed. Her heart leapt and she found herself
short of breath. She had just finished getting ready for
church. This was the first time that she had gone to
church with Jeff and she had been a little surprised
when he had asked her. They had not been going steady
very long, but there Jeff stood at her door, dangling a
pair of shiny nickel handcuffs from his finger
teasingly.
“Jeff, I know that I lost the bet, but now?” she
pleaded.
Jeff walked into her apartment. He took her by both
shoulders, and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “Now,
you knew the stakes when you made the bet. The Cougars
lost, and the bet was that the loser spends the day as a
prisoner, and today is your day. My, you sure look
nice!” Jeff stood back to admire his girlfriend.
“Thank you,” she stammered, but she was unable to take
her eyes off the handcuffs.
She did look nice. Her long brown hair was carefully
curled, and her makeup nicely set off her light blue
eyes. She had chosen to wear a light orange chiffon
blouse with sheer sleeves, and a slim black leather
skirt that came to mid calf length with a slit up past
her knees. Her hose was seamed, and carefully centered
along the back of her shapely calves, and she wore
patent high heeled pumps.
An extra sexy touch was the velvet black ribbon that she
had tied about her slender throat.
Since they were both students, Jeff usually saw Cynthia
in jeans, although she did almost always wear a very
feminine blouse and heels. The semester had just begun
just over two weeks ago, and the two of them had met the
first day of classes.
Jeff had swept her off her feet. He was a senior who
transferred in from another school to be in the business
program. They met in the registration lines. Things
between them progressed rather quickly, and they were
quite close after only having known each other a short
time.
At lunch, a few days before, they were talking about
college football, which they both followed closely, and
Cynthia remarked that she was certain that the Cougars
would defeat the Bears (Jeff’s home school team) by a
sound margin. Jeff, sensing he had a fish on the line,
carefully reeled her in.
“Oh come on, now,” he teased. “The Cougars don’t have a
chance!”
“A chance? They’re going to win!” replied Cynthia. “How
much do you want to bet?”
“I don’t like to bet money with friends, Cynthia,” said
Jeff. “I tell you what. Since we are going to church
this Sunday, and we are planning to spend the afternoon
together anyway, I’ll bet you my freedom for the day
that the Bears will win.”
Cynthia was intrigued. “What do you mean, your freedom?”
“Simple,” said Jeff. “If the Cougars win, I will be your
prisoner for the whole day. I’ll do whatever you want.
I’ll clean your apartment, do errands for you, whatever.
You can even hogtie me on the floor for the whole day,
if you want.”
Cynthia smiled. “Hogtying you sounds fun. And if your
Bears win?”
“I thought you were so sure that they wouldn’t have a
chance.”
“But if they do?”
“The same thing. You will be my prisoner for the day.”
Cynthia thought for a minute. “I’m not sure that I want
to be trussed up, but it seems a fair bet.” She held her
hand out across the table. “You’re on!” They shook on
it.
On Saturday afternoon, Jeff had a study group session,
and he was unable to watch the game. It was about four
o’clock when he came out of the library, and went back
to his apartment. He picked up the phone and dialed
Cynthia. They were going to a film that night.
After a bit of small talk, Jeff said, “Good, then I’ll
be by at 7:30 to pick you up.”
“See you then,” said Cynthia, almost too quickly.
“Wait a minute,” Jeff said. “Do you know who won the
game?”
“See you at 7:30,” stalled Cynthia.
“Hey, now, I do detect a bit of reluctance to come out
with the facts, here. Now who won the game?”
“The Bears won, 21 to 17,” said Cynthia reluctantly.
“I knew it!” said Jeff. “Well, it looks like I won the
bet. Well, don’t worry, even though you will be my
prisoner, I’ll try to see that it’s not all bad for you.
Tell me, do you prefer ropes or chains?”
“Ropes or chains!” exclaimed Cynthia. “You’re not going
to keep me tied up are you? I’ll clean your apartment,
anything!”
“The bet was that you would be my prisoner. And besides,
you said that you would keep me hogtied. I thought that
a prisoner was supposed to be tied up by definition.”
“OK, smarty, well, I hope that my sentence will be
suspended for tonight, at least.”
“Prisoner at the bar, I hereby declare that your
sentence is for the night only suspended and that you
will be remanded into custody there to be taken into
restraint come the morrow’s sun. Tell me, what type of
gag do you prefer?” asked Jeff.
“Very funny, Jeff,” laughed Cynthia. “See you soon.”
“Bye, lover, pick you up at 7:30.”
. . . . . . . . .
“Well, if you must lock those silly things on me, go
ahead,” said Cynthia reluctantly, proffering her wrists
before her. “I just trust that you will remove them
before the service?”
Jeff took one of her wrists, and clasped the bright
metal around her blouse cuffs between the bottom third
and fourth buttons. He did not fasten them overly
tightly, but assured himself that there was not too much
play between her wrists and the handcuffs. She could not
escape and she could not even succeed in moving the
handcuff clasp over her blouse button. With one of
wrists thus clasped, and its mate dangling in the air,
he took her into his arms and hugged her warmly.
“Be careful,” she admonished, “you might get makeup on
your jacket.”
He held her firmly at arm’s length, looked at her and
said, “You’re so beautiful.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Are you
going to take these ‘cuffs off me before we go into the
Church?”
He kissed her firmly and deeply on the mouth. Cynthia
hesitated a bit, then responded to him. Her jaw relaxed.
Her breathing became short and quick. After over a
minute, they came up for air, and he said, “Let’s go.”
“I have to fix my lipstick, and you need to get the pink
lipstick off your lips.”
She went to the mirror, and redid her lips as the
handcuff dangled from her wrist. She seemed slightly
annoyed by the dangling metal, but quickly redid herself
as Jeff took Kleenex and removed her lipstick from his
lips.
As soon as Cynthia put the lipstick back into her purse,
she began to examine the clasps at her wrist. The free
end was closed, and she asked Jeff, “Are you going to
unlock this part, or do I just wear these like this?”
“No need to unlock them,” he said. “They just ratchet
through.” He demonstrated. The clicking sound opened the
clasp, and made them available for her wrists. Again,
she proffered her wrists in front of her. He took both
of them in a firm grip, gave her a light kiss, and then
twisted her wrists behind her back, with his arms around
her.
“Are you going to lock up my wrists behind me? That’s
the way they carry criminals around.”
“Well, you are my prisoner, and this is only the
beginning of your restraint today. In fact, just
handcuffs are hardly sufficient to transport you to
church.” He clasped her free wrist into the metal
shackle. She was now handcuffed.
Cynthia stepped away. She tried to look at the metal
bands that held her wrists behind her. With her arms
locked up behind her back, her lacy slip and bra were
visible through the sheer orange material of her blouse.
Twisting her wrists in the cuffs brought her neither
relief nor freedom. She relaxed her efforts, allowing
her wrists to drop, and they fell with a clatter to the
small of her back.
A wisp of her brown curls fell in her face, and she
instinctively reached up to remove it. When her motion
was stopped by her opposite arm’s inability to twist
further, she gave her lover a dependent, exasperated
look. “Please?” she asked.
Instead of brushing the brown locks aside, Jeff took her
in his arms. Her body, convex due to the handcuff’s
locking of her wrists behind her molded against his. She
raised her lips to his to receive a kiss. Instead of
kissing her, however, he brushed the hair from her eyes
with his lips. He heard the single link of chain that
joined her cuffs rattle behind her.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jeff pulled out a set
of leg irons. Before Cynthia even had a chance to
comment, he stooped down and swiftly clasped them about
her ankles.
“Now I feel like a hobbled harem girl!” said Cynthia.
“Jeff, you know, this is kind of sexy.”
“It sure is, just the thing for a Sunday morning before
church. It will give us something to look forward to
afterwards. Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“What is it now, or dare I ask?”
Jeff pulled out a leather strap that ran through a
bright red rubber ball. “What on earth is that for?”
exclaimed Cynthia. Jeff had taken all her generous head
of hair in his grip, forming a ponytail, and raised the
ball up to her mouth. She opened, and Jeff set the ball
on her bottom teeth and twisted down and back. There was
a bit of pressure required, but the ball slipped under
her white upper teeth and seated itself firmly in the
cavity of her mouth.
Her eyes immediately widened, and Jeff paused for a
moment to enjoy her reaction to this new higher level of
bondage before tightening the strap tightly at the soft
nape of her neck. As the roller buckle was pulled, the
gag bisected her jaws, and the ball was pulled further
back into her mouth, and her lips stretched around it,
forming a perfect seal. Jeff took a small lock from his
pocket and ran it through the hole closest to the
buckle, making it impossible to unbuckle without his
key.
Cynthia tried to talk, and all that would emit from her
mouth was feeble moans. She clearly was not pleased with
this latest restriction imposed upon her, but Jeff took
her keys from her purse, left it on the table, took her
by the arm around the soft georgette fabric of her
blouse and lead her out her apartment door, locking it
behind him.
. . . . . . . . .
Cynthia sat quietly in the car on the way back from
Church. Her wrists were locked in hard steel in front of
her, and run through the seatbelt, and the leg irons had
been reaffixed to her ankles. The service was quite
enjoyable. The music was beautiful, and the sermon
inspiring. The rector had greeted them warmly as they
left.
She was trying to deal with the almost overpowering
desire she felt for Jeff’s touch throughout the service.
He had driven her, chained up and ball-gagged to the
Church, and when they had arrived slightly early, he had
removed her gag and kissed her deeply. She wanted him to
take her right then, but said nothing, knowing that this
would have been impossible.
Back in the car after Church, he kissed her again, and
smiled. “Are you going to put me back in the handcuffs
and the gag?” she asked. She was almost hoping for the
ball-gag to keep her from saying something that he might
find too desirous or silly.
“Handcuffs only, and this time in front of you. And leg
irons, of course.”
After her seatbelt was fastened, the handcuffs were
removed from his jacket pocket and clasped about her
wrists, and the leg irons, stored beneath the car seat
were taken out and locked about her ankles. He kissed
her again, and placed his hand on her breast. “Do you
want to go to lunch, or would you like to go back to my
apartment?”
“Take me back to your apartment,” was her reply.
Jeff’s apartment was perfectly neat. Cynthia thought
this unusual for a man. Several of the pieces of
furniture were antiques. Cynthia was left standing in
the living room in her chains as Jeff went into his
bedroom to get her something “more appropriate”.
In several moments, her emerged with a complex set of
black leather straps, and a ball-gag wrapped in Saran
Wrap. Throwing these on the couch, he unlocked her
handcuffs from one wrist, but not the other. He put his
arms around her, and she returned his warm hug. “Jeff,”
she said. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“You will,” he assured her. “But it may be a while.” He
kissed her and pressed himself against her. Her desire
was all the more inflamed. Jeff began to unbutton her
blouse down her back, and then on her wrists, and
removed it. He left her to stand as he went to hang it
up in the closet. He then removed her bra. Her skirt was
next, and he was pleased to see that she wore no
panties, and she wore a garter belt with her stocking
rather than pantyhose.
“My compliments, beautiful lady,” he said, taking her
into his arms and kissing her once more.
With the handcuffs still locked about her one wrist, he
turned her about and began to strap the leather shoulder
harness around her shoulders and buckled it, making sure
that her shoulders were properly drawn back. Then, he
twisted her wrists behind her, and carefully strapped
them together. This strap was run through the D-ring at
the nape of her neck, forming an anchor by which her
wrists could be drawn up to the small of her back. The
ball-gag was strapped about her throat, but as yet was
not inserted into her mouth.
“Where did you get this harness?” she asked.
“In New York City, when I visited there last summer,” he
said. “I’ve been wanting to try it out ever since.”
Cynthia stood back and tested it, trying to take it off
her shoulders. Her bare breasts stood out at attention
as she manipulated the black leather straps that were
strapped about her shoulders, holding her arms
suspended. As if it would help in some way, she bend
forward, and wrestled with her bindings, and her brown
curls fell over her head into her face as she stood. The
handcuffs dangling ineffective and redundant from her
pinioned wrist flashed in the lamplight and rattled.
As it became obvious that her harness could not be
simply pulled off by her, she resorted to brute force,
straining by pulling downward with her wrists, but these
had been drawn up so far behind her back that it was
difficult at best for her to get any leverage, and
besides, these leather straps were so thick that they
would have held a horse. Certainly a young girl could
make no headway.
Defeated, she looked up at Jeff, who, holding a pair of
leg irons, was watching her with high interest. Cynthia
was short of breath from her exertions against her
constraints, and was becoming ever more frustrated by
the desire that welling up inside her. “You are going to
hobble me as well, I presume?” she asked, and proffered
her ankle for his attentions. This done, he took her in
his arms, gave her a deep kiss. He stroked her nipples
gently.
“Jeff, please take me to bed,” she moaned in his ear. He
responded by kissing her again. He looked at his watch,
then looked up at her.
“It’s almost 2:00, time for the football game,” he said
as he unstrapped the gag from around her throat, and
made it ready for insertion. “Let’s make another bet.
Tell me, do you favor the Oilers or the Saints?”
“I’ll take the Oilers,” she said.
“Well,” Jeff said, “It looks like this is not the only
afternoon you will spend like this.”
She opened her mouth for her gag, knowing it would be a
long afternoon.