Never Trust A Man With Handcuffs

You, dear reader, can see this young woman’s mistake long before she does:

I kissed her, long, soft, and felt her melt a little. Best Italian restaurant in town and a few martinis afterward and she was just about as horny as I was. But still, the little matter of getting it all started, getting the ball rolling, getting the boat away from port. The handcuffs.

I dangled the pair in front of her eyes again and felt her body stiffen. Yeah, she was turned on, but the cold gleam and harsh reality of steel was maybe not what she thought would do the trick. I knew she considered herself a little experimental, but in her mind, a blow-job in a backseat of the bar parking lot was the limit. This would be pushing the envelope.

“I don’t know…” Her face scrunched up and I knew it was for my benefit. She was trying to divert to something more familiar. Something safe. Oh, she definitely was curious. But the cuffs scared her. As well they should. In the hands of the wrong person, such instruments could very well be a huge set-back to personal freedom. They spoke so much, those little circlets of steel. Once the final ratchet clicked they weren’t coming off without the key.

I grinned. “I’ll even give you the key.” I showed her the little key chain and the bronze colored key that dangled from it. As I clicked the cuffs shut and worked the key in the little slot on one of them, she watched with doe eyed fascination.

With a quick twist, I popped the cuff open and she shuddered. Whether that was for me or real I couldn’t tell. It sure was pretty fucking sexy. “See, nothing to it. I’ll give you the keys and if you get a little frightened you can just take them off yourself.”

She tentatively reached out and took the handcuffs. I could see her eyes widen even more when she held the full weight of the bracelets. Oh yes, these were the real thing – not the plastic toys they sold at Spencers. She moved one of the folding circles back and forth and finally clicked it home. Using the key she opened it back up.

“I don’t know,” she murmured and, God, I almost lost it with those three words. So innocent. So uncertain. So sexy.

I kissed her full lips again until she returned it. Pulling away, I whispered, “It’s all about trust, Teri. You trust me, don’t you?”

She hesitated just a moment and I could see she was weighing the month or so that we’d shared sitting next to each other on barstools, crying our souls out about how unfair the world was and how shitty our ex-lovers had been to us against getting locked up and helpless. But this was our first real date and I could tell she wanted to show me that she was appreciative of me being there for her in her hour of need. Yeah, to some extent
she thought she could trust me.

“Ok,” she bit her lip. “But just for five minutes. I’ve never had anything like this on me before.” She delicately slipped her left wrist between the circles of steel and gently clicked the band shut.

God, what a sight. Nothing beats a girl with a set of handcuffs dangling from her wrist. She began to slip the other in and I grabber her hand gently.

“No, no, dear. Behind your back.” She stiffened immediately and I knew it would take another kiss. I leaned in and gave her the thousand dollar sell. When I pulled away, we were both breathing pretty hard and there was a hungry little gleam in her eye.

“Five minutes,” she murmured. I helped her find the cuff behind her back, directing her wrist to the waiting ringlet. She fumbled a little, but I wanted to make sure that she was the one that clicked her fate shut. Click. Now both her hands were locked behind her. She still held the little key in the palm of her hand and I could see she fought the urge to immediately try to get it in the slot.

I turned her around so she faced me and gave her a quick up and down. She looked gorgeous with her hands locked behind her. I gave her a long, deep kiss, pulling her into me and feeling her breasts against my chest got me moving. I only had five minutes after all.

I pulled away and reached down under the sofa. She was too busy experimenting with the feel of having her hands taken away from her to notice the coil of rope I brought out.

“This isn’t so bad,” she started to say, as I turned her back to me, then sucked in her breath sharply as I pulled her elbows together and quickly looped the rope around her upper arms. She let out an adorable little squeak as her arms were pulled tightly back and cinched tightly together by the rope. By the time she got any more words out of her mouth, her arms were lost to her completely.

“What the fuck-” I pushed her down on the sofa face-first and crawled on top of her immediately. Straddling her ass, I reached down under the sofa again and pulled out the fat rubber ball-gag. I could feel her fingers going to town with the key, trying to get it into the slot and I grinned. Pulling her head back by her shoulder length auburn hair, I slid the ball-gag in between those full, sexy lips and buckled the strap tight.

She was still fumbling with the little handcuff key and now shrieking, and I avoided her eyes as I rolled her over. To look into her eyes now would be like falling into a well. I would not be able to finish her.

I swung my legs around so now I sat on her tight little belly and, taking still more rope from under the sofa – it was a damn good thing she hadn’t looked under there before we got started – I caught her flailing legs. Two coils went around her knees, good and tight, and more around her ankles, so tight I would have to check her circulation later. I was a sucker for tight ropes. Actually, just about everything had to be tight with me. If it didn’t cut into the flesh, why bother.

Now I could step back and get my first real look at her. Teri, my date. Ball-gag crammed deep into her mouth making her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk. Arms tightly tied behind her forcing her breasts to jut out lewdly behind her sweater. Legs lashed together oh so tightly.

I reached down and pulled her to her feet by her shoulders. She tried to struggle but short of falling down on her face, a few ineffective twists of her torso was all she could muster. She was shrieking, of course, and her soft doe eyes had turned to raging, scared coals of fire. I turned her around and took the handcuff key from her fingers. This brought a wail from behind the gag.

“Now, now, dear, I said five minutes and I’m a man of my word.” I slid the key into the lock and popped one band off her wrist. Immediately she started flailing her free arm around, as best she could with her elbows tightly tied they way they were. It took a little work to get the other cuff off, but when it finally popped free, I dodged her little fists as I made one last trip under the sofa. She began to cry as I caught first one wrist then the other and quickly, methodically tied them together.