John removed the handcuffs and she slipped off her blouse.

She noticed the deep lines on her wrists from the hard steel, and she started to rub them.

"Give me your hands, I have a cure for that." What he actually had were leather wrist cuffs. They were fairly wide, about three inches, and held closed by two big silver buckles. There was a large ring hanging from a D-ring attached to them, and it was pretty obvious to her what it was for. Compared to the cuffs, these were actually comfortable. They fit tightly, exactly against her skin, but they conformed to the shape of her wrists. Then he produced a pair of ankle cuffs that were exactly the same, only heavier.

"This is getting interesting. You're turning me into quite the proper slave girl, aren't you?" She held up one hand and rocked it back and forth. The rings jangled together. "And you don't even need bells..." She put her hand on his thigh and then slid it higher. She felt his hardness return. "Take me...Mas- ter." This role was easy to slip into, and it made a very interesting game.

"You take me," he said, leaning back on the bed. Angie took her cue instantly, getting down on her knees and taking the shoes from his feet that were hanging over the edge of the bed. She peeled off his socks, which were still fresh (He must have taken a shower just before the party, she thought) and massaged his feet. She looked up at him, and met his eyes, and without break- ing her gaze away from his, began kissing his toes.   read the rest now...

  Angie was beginning to get worried, while she had lost all sense of time, she did know that it had been an awfully long time since the last time John had done anything to her.

It had all started innocently enough, at a party of course. John had pulled out a pair of handcuffs and put them on her, as a way of getting her attention.

Well, it had worked, she splashed her drink in his face and demanded that he take them off. He ran off shouting something about his eyes, leaving her screaming at him at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately she lost track of him in the crowd and sat down demurely on the couch, not enjoying at all the attention she had attracted to herself. As long as she was just sitting there, the handcuffs seemed to not get in the way very much. It was when she tried to do anything that they really bothered her. She ended up spilling the entire contents of her purse trying to find something she could try to pick them with. There was nothing but make-up, ATM receipts, gum wrappers, and other useless junk. Eventually she gave up and piled everything back into her purse. Three other people sat down on the couch and started passing around a joint.

Naturally she joined in. They all thought it was funny to watch her take a drag using both hands and she started making a show of it. She hardly noticed when the joint was gone, along with most of the people in the party, she sat there with the bottle of beer that seemed to appear out of nowhere and waited for that bastard to come back. It was sitting there with her hands on her lap and the various chemicals wafting through her brain that Angie realized that she was getting very horny for some reason. Either that or she had to pee real bad and couldn't tell. No...she was definitely horny. She held the beer bottle tightly between her thighs and squeezed, pushing it against the tight crotch of her jeans. With her arms she squeezed her breasts in on the sides. Quickly she looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. She looked right into the eyes of John, a little bloodshot, since Vodka wasn't very kind to them. She froze. Did he know?

"I thought you would have left hours ago."

"What, with these on my wrists?"

"Everybody's got keys to these. These are those cheapies that they made those belts out of a few years ago."

"Well I don't, so I'd appreciate it if you'd get your key and get these off of me."

"I've got it in my room." Surprisingly, this wasn't fol- lowed by some sort of sly wink, which caught her off guard be- cause she was expecting one.

"On second thought, I'd better not let you out of my sight again."

"Right this way."

It was a huge house, built of large stones in the 19th century. If there had been a college nearby the place would have been converted into a fraternity house ages ago. Fate had been kinder in that the place was merely shared by a group of grad students.

"I didn't know you lived in this house," Angie said as she climbed the stairs.

"In the attic. I fixed it up myself."

They got up to his room and Angie ooohed with pleasure. "This is really incredible."

"Like it? Here, have a seat and I'll get the key."

She sat on the edge of the bed. While John shuffled through a drawer, she stroked the light brown wool blanket that covered the bed. Curiously, she found that the contrast between the blanket, her lightly tanned wrists, and the nickle-plated hand- cuffs with the light from the track lighting reflecting off of it was esthetically pleasing. What an odd thought.

"Found it."

He knelt down and picked up her hands to take off the cuffs. She held his hands and looked into his eyes. "I'm really sorry I threw my drink in your face."

"I've suffered worse."

Angie actually began to feel guilty for hating him. He had, after all, only been playing around and she built it up into this whole big deal in her mind.

Looking at him, Angie realized he was quite handsome, and his hands felt so strong and firm, yet gentle as they held hers. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He didn't move, and momentarily Angie feared that she had made a horrible mistake. Actually she had, but not the one she was thinking of, as she found out later.

He pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her, kissing her with a passion that only fanned the flames growing in her loins. She wanted to hold him close, press her body harder against him, but her hands were still chained. Indeed, he had hooked the chain of the handcuffs with his left thumb and was holding her arms above her head.

He leaned to one side and with his free hand, began unbut- toning her blouse. She was panting too hard to voice the slight- est protest, she was too aroused.

With her arms pinioned above her, and her body helpless under his weight, she could feel his hardness against her mound. She felt exposed, and helpless, and as he began to caress her breasts, she could swear she was about to come. She struggled and squirmed, but only ended up rubbing herself against him harder.

Then he began to use his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue. She couldn't resist any longer. Hooking her legs around behind his, she ground herself against his cock. She wanted it inside her so badly that she was determined to push it through the two intervening layers of denim. She strained her arms against the cuffs, her chest was heaving when he bit down on her nipple. Her scream echoed throughout the attic room. It was one of combined ecstasy and pain, frustration and release. Angie came hard, and it left her weak and panting.

"Oh god...John...Please...fuck me."

"I guess you don't hate me anymore then?"

"Oh please, don't punish me this way."

"How shall I punish you then?"

Angie had no idea what John had in mind, but she would do anything now that she was worked up to this peak. "Anything, just do it."

She didn't quite catch the comment he made about Pandora's Box, she was too busy trying to catch her breath. While he was messing around with something in the closet, she reached down with her chained hands and unzipped her jeans.

She slid them off and onto the floor, along with her soaked panties. She wriggled her way onto the center of the bed with her head on the pillow. Lying there in just an unbuttoned blouse and a pair of handcuffs, she began to play with herself. "Come on, John."

Then she heard the jingling sound. She propped herself up on one elbow to see what it was. It took her a moment to figure out what it was, and she wished she hadn't. The jingling was coming from the rings and buckles hanging from this mass of black leather and straps. Then she re-considered. Part of what had turned her on so much was the feeling of helplessness, kind of like being the damsel in distress. She recalled how much she enjoyed it when the boys in her neighborhood played Cowboys and Indians and she got to play the Indian princess who got captured and tied up by the Cowboys, or the Cowgirl who got captured and tied up by the Indians. She had heard about people who were into bondage, but had never even considered what she would do if she actually met one. She even began to wonder if she was one her- self. She began to look towards this encounter with curiosity and anticipation. If she didn't like it she could just ride it out, but if she did, and she certainly was in a receptive mood, she would be in for an incredible experience. Anyway, she couldn't run screaming from the house in her current state of affairs.

She put on a sultry look. "What are you gonna do with all the hardware, big boy?" It wasn't Mae West, but she tried.

"That is for me to know, and you to find out."

"I'm not entirely sure I want to find out." Actually she did, but she couldn't give in that easily. "What's that all for?"

"I'll tell you as I go along. But first, I'll have to take those off." He was referring to both the handcuffs and the blouse.

"Hey, that's no fair, you're still dressed."

"You're in no position to complain my dear, Nya ha ha ha," he said, twirling the end of an imaginary mustache. Angie couldn't help but laugh. She kissed him. "Okay, I'll try."   read the rest now...