The Handcuffs

by R G Bargy

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2007 - R G Bargy - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; D/s; bond; toys; enslave; reluct/cons; XX

Entry from the SAX Leather, Grometsplaza & UtopiaStories Bondage Story competition 2005

“Even Houdini would have trouble.” Claimed the Sax Leather website. I decided they were probably right. The hand cuffs were beautifully crafted with a triple hinge instead of the usual short chain. I was sure that even if the wearer held the key they would not be able to manipulate it into the lock let alone turn it with their fingers. I could not wait to try them out on Maxine.

Maxine is head strong. She likes her own way. She is already climbing the corporate ladder and should reach senior management by thirty. Like many successful women she enjoys being dominated at home although her natural instincts tend to make this difficult. We had settled on bondage as a means to give me the upper hand. It’s not that I am weak, but without restraint she tends to lash out wildly and one of us gets hurt. She submits willingly to being bound, but once I have finished she struggles hard. The net result is she ends up black and blue.

Maxine breezed in the front door and took off her coat. I greeted her warmly and before she knew what was happening I snapped the cuff on her right wrist, The surprise was enough for me to catch her left and complete the task. Her hands were in front of her so she could see what I’d done.

“What’s this?” Her voice was both puzzled and slightly aggrieved.

“A new toy,” I told her, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a bit early for such chinanegins, take them off at once!”

“Do it yourself,” I said casually and threw her the key.

Within seconds she knew there was something wrong. I had caved in too easily. She followed me into the lounge where there was more light and raised her wrists to look at the handcuffs. The keyholes were facing inwards away from her hands. There is no twisting movement possible between the wrists and no matter what contortion she tried the holes were out of reach. I watched quietly. Her face was a mixture of anger, puzzlement and frustration. I wondered how long it would be before she decided to use her mouth.

Sure enough she put the key in her mouth, that was easy enough, but try as she might there was no way to manoeuvre the back of the cuffs within reach of the key. Her arms were just too long and her elbows could not bend the right way. I’ll give her her due, she tried, but it was hopeless. Reluctantly she took the key back out of her mouth.

“I give up,” she said defeatedly, “now release me.”

“No,” I said quietly.

She looked aghast and started squirming her wrists as if she could free herself.

“Be careful,” I warned her, “You might rub your skin raw.”

There followed a rather unladylike torrent of abuse. I must say her accusations about my parents was completely untrue. Eventually I tired and produced my second purchase from Sax Leather. Maxine tried to fight me off but once I got behind her it was only a matter of time. She knows my methods but that does not help. The gag was soon in place and buckled behind her head. Once again those lovely handcuffs made it impossible for her to release herself. She could not twist her wrist enough to reach the buckle. The frustration in her eyes was tremendous. If looks could kill I would now be six feet under.  

“I will take it off when you calm down,” I told her, “otherwise you will have to do without dinner,” I added menacingly.

It was fascinating to watch. I think her face went scarlet, but then it dawned on her how helpless she actually was. Her eyes looked at the handcuffs, looked at me and then seemed to shrink. Her whole demeanour changed. I watched her gather her self control and slowly calm down. She then looked at me dolefully. I was in no rush. She sat down on the edge of the settee, her hands in her lap, her head slightly bowed down. When I did not immediately move she shut her eyes and waited. I relented of course. I love my wife, but they do say you have to be cruel to be kind! Her humiliation had only just begun.

She had to ask me to cut up her dinner. The frustration was obvious but she was very calm and supplicant. I attended to her every request. She was not here to suffer unduly, just to let go of her pride and self reliance.

She went to the bathroom and although she managed to clean herself she was unable to replace her knickers. There was no way to reach behind her back to pull them up, so she left them on the floor.

I unbuttoned her blouse and she discovered that she could not do it up again. I then pulled her bra down, exposing her breasts. Once again she could not reach the bra to pull it up.

I did not attempt to limit her mobility. She could leave the room, find a book, even get a drink, but she could not cover herself up from my gaze or prevent my occasional amorous advances.

Her skirt was removed. She did not argue. I let her hair down and brushed it out. She seemed to like that. She became more and more submissive, looking for attention.  I was pleased.

When I said it was time for bed she jumped up. If she thought I would release her she was wrong. With her breasts still bunched by her bra and her blouse hanging wide and dishevelled I  led her upstairs and made her lie down on her back. One loop around her handcuffs and she was secured, hands above her head, helpless to my touch. She did not even kick out, just lay there defeated.

I took no chances, securing her ankles to the corners of the bed making the classic upturned Y. I then ravished her.

It was like never before. With all her fight gone she accepted my touch, even wanted it. I kissed, fondled and caressed her forcing an orgasm that made the bed shake. I then entered her and released my own climax which set her going again. I  encouraged her further with our trusty vibrator and she bucked her way through several more orgasms before calling for a halt.

“So what do you think of my new toy?” I asked whimsically.

“Very effective,” she responded, “are you going to let me out now or do I have to sleep in my blouse and bra?”

“I could always cut them off,” I said helpfully.

She could not tell if I was joking or not.

I did of course free her, locking the handcuffs into my desk drawer in case she had any ideas of payback. I am no escape artist. The key to my desk is well hidden. The next time I think I will put her hands behind her back..........

Handcuffs - Part II

Maxine had not asked for another domination which was unusual. She was highly motivated and said she needed these sessions to unwind. I was not aware of her job getting easier so there must be some other reason. I suspected that the handcuffs had something to do with it, but could not be certain. I decided to wait and see. Eventually, after several weeks she came out with it.

“Have you still got those handcuffs?” She asked suddenly,

“Of course,” I replied, “they were quite expensive, it would be a shame to use them only once.”

“I see,” she said flatly, her voice betraying little emotion. “You want to use them now?”

I thought I detected a quiver in her voice. She held out her wrists.

“First take off your clothes.”

She hesitated only for a moment before disrobing provocatively.

“Wait there,” I told her. I returned brandishing the cuffs, plus our bag of goodies. Unknown to her I had removed the gag and placed it in my pocket. I threw the bag down and approached her. She put her hands out and I cuffed one of her wrists, there was a visible shiver. She now knew that once cuffed there was no escape until I released her. She closed her eyes. I took the opportunity to twirl her round and before she knew what was happening I had cuffed her hands behind her, not in front.

“No! Nnngffffm” The gag silenced her complaint. She took several steps away from me and turned. I am sure it was fear I saw in her wide eyes. There was nothing she could do. Her hands were locked behind her, her arms pulled back by  the closeness of the hinged joint. It was as if I had bound her elbows as well. Her breasts jutted out from the forced posture. She was not struggling, that would fruitless knowing the handcuffs as she did, but her instincts were telling her to run. She was poised on the ball of her right foot, but there was nowhere to run, and besides I was not chasing her. I stood my ground calmly. I did not want to escalate things with a show of anger or even disapproval. I just stood and watched her. Her breathing was laboured trying to inhale through her mouth as well as her nose. I hoped she would not hyperventilate, it might complicate things. Eventually she relaxed her stance.

“Come here,” I said quietly. I stood patiently. “You will submit to me.”

Our relationship was based on power. She was used to getting her way at work. I always stood my ground with her. We were equals in all things except when we played out these sexual games. Her submission to me was always reluctant, although she claimed she wanted to, her natural dominance prevented her from going through. It was a battle of wills, but not mine and hers, just her own private battle. This time I was going to insist.

“You know I will win,” I said my voice still low and soft, “You cannot escape and there is nowhere for you to run to. I am not going to chase you. You will come to me. Come on,” I encouraged, “you do not know what I have in mind.”

I watched her digest all the information. She really had no choice, but it was hard for her. Eventually she came before me. I tweaked a nipple. She gasped silently but did not pull away. I opened the bag and pulled several lengths of rope out. Her eyes followed me.

Maxine has never understood why I tie her breasts. Once her hands are held she seems to think that is enough. Today was a perfect example. With her hands in front of her she had been severely disabled, with them behind she was totally helpless, so any extra rope was not necessary, or so she thought. Nevertheless she stood meekly while I fussed about bunching her breasts. I then put a rope around her waist catching her cuffed wrists preventing even the smallest movement. I also made a firm crupper with suitable knots for stimulation. She could not complain and I felt her body tensing and relaxing as she fought with herself as much as the ropes that now hugged her. I made her kneel before rolling her onto her chest. Her movements were punctuated by muffled grunts.

Having got her on the floor I proceeded to tie each leg to it’s thigh. Once secure I lifted her back onto her knees. She squirmed uncomfortably as I crossed her ankles forcing her knees apart. She was now virtually immobile, only her head could move freely.

Maxine is fit. She works out at a gymn 3 times a week and swims on the other two mornings. Her muscles are strong and her capacity to bend or stretch is formidable. The position she was in was not easy. Her shoulders were forced back and her elbows were almost but not quite touching, I had supported them with rope, even though the handcuffs had forced them there anyway. I played with her for a bit, rubbing her nipples and exploring between her legs. I found her reassuringly damp. She moaned behind her gag. I stopped without allowing her the pleasure of release. Her disappointment was obvious. I saw her try and manipulate the crupper by pulling her hands, but there was no room for manoeuvre. There was a whimper of frustration. I waited for her to realise fully how she was positioned.

Maxine dislikes oral sex intently. She claims it is demeaning, which I suppose it is. It is also very pleasurable for me, when done properly. Maxine’s solution has been to not do it properly. I have tried various ways of encouraging her, all to no avail. She will not swallow, and she will not give me a smooth ride, either gripping too hard or opening too wide. This time I was going to be satisfied.

The gag I had purchased has interchangeable accessories. At present  Maxine’s mouth was filled with a penis like rubber filling, an indication of what was to come, if she thought about it. What she may not have noticed was that the rim of the penis was a covered metal O that kept her mouth open even when the penis was removed, leaving her vulnerable to oral abuse. The other attachments included a breather gag allowing for long term use, and an inflatable one for severe punishment.

“Have you worked out what I want?” I asked patiently.

Her response was a combination of nods and shakes. She knew of course, but was going to refuse. She did not realise that there would be no choice.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” I told her. Her head shaking was more vigorous. I decided that I had had enough head shaking for one day and attached a short rope from the back of the gag to the rope around her breasts, now even her head was held, though not completely. She could tilt her head back, but sideways or down was now difficult. There was anger in her eyes and a defiance that I recognised.

“Perhaps I should leave you to reconsider?” I suggested.

The defiance was still there. I unclipped the penis and withdrew it. Her mouth stayed open and no force she could make would close it. I stood back in her eyesight and let her understand fully her predicament.

“If I take you now, you will have no choice, but it would be like fucking a milk bottle.” I pointed out. There was no reaction from her, except perhaps a slight look of concern. I decided to spell it out.

“If I have to use the gag I will replace the rubber penis until I am ready to try again. If you still refuse I will fuck you again, this time I will replace the penis with this” I brandished the inflatable gag. She did not seem to comprehend until I gave it a few puffs to start inflation. “And so it will continue until you submit.” I told her.

I am not an extraordinary man. My recovery rate is average, say twenty minutes for the first one, then thirty, then maybe nearer the hour. If she decided to resist she could be stuck for several hours with no hope of release. I let her digest fully the consequences.

“Once I have had a decent blow job I will release you from this position and we will see where we go from there. Of course if I am too tired we will have to leave you handcuffed all night.” I saw her eyes open wide. “I can also tease the hell out of you while I am waiting for the next try,” I said wickedly. “How do you fancy nipple torture?” She could not move her head, and despite having nothing inside her mouth her words were still unintelligible.

“Let me demonstrate,” I said pulling out a clothes peg.

Her nipples were swollen due to the pressure of the ropes around them. Maxine suddenly realised the significance of breast bondage. Her shriek was a little disconcerting. I did not leave the peg in place for long.

“So what’s it to be?”

Her answer was still unintelligible to I made it easy for her.

“Will you submit? Blink once for No and twice for yes.”

I watched her intently. She blinked once, then her eyes closed slowly.

“You refuse?”

A single blink

“You agree?”

This time the double blink was more pronounced.

“If I am not satisfied, you will do it again,” I told her.

She shivered involuntarily. I removed the gag completely allowing, not only full speech but full head movement as well.

“You bastard.” She said quietly.

I smiled disarmingly. “I will allow you that one. Any more dissent and the gag goes back anyway.

I was going to just unzip my flies but decide she could wait a little longer. My disrobing was functional, and complete. I presented her with my semi erect penis. Her reluctance was obvious but her mouth was soft yet firm. She still had very limited movement so I moved my hips to encourage the stimulation. It was not going to take long. As I climaxed I rammed hard into her causing her to gag but my juices were inside her mouth. She might have dribbled a bit but I did see her swallow. She even tried to clean me up.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” I encouraged, my prick having shrivelled rather dramatically. She did not look convinced, her face showing distinct signs of distaste. I fetched her a glass of water which she accepted.

“Now what to do?” I mused. She could have said something but discretion is the better part of valour.

“It seems a shame to waste all my hard work, so....”

She looked at me quizzically. I rummaged in our bag and produced the bullet vibrator. “Your not....”

“Oh yes I am,” I replied, pushing it past the crupper. I untied her ankles and rolled her onto the floor again, retying them side by side and then tying her thighs together as well. She was now bunched up with the bullet deep inside her but her breasts were still accessible. She had earned a reprieve from the pegs but that did not stop me fingering her still swollen nipples.

Maxine had never encountered multiple orgasms before she met me. Her dominance had meant that once she climaxed she pushed her partner away. With bondage she had no way to stop me stimulating her further. The first time she had been surprised, pleasantly so, but continued stimulation eventually became a trial. She was capable of over a dozen orgasms in quick succession being unable to stop while the stimulation lasted.  Her pride and bravado prevented her from calling a halt. She had never yet used the safe word. Today she would have to admit defeat, I decided.

Vibrators were less effective than human touch but with her legs locked tightly together, the added pressure of the crupper and my attention on her nipples the result was inevitable. I continued rubbing her nipples as the first convulsions came, making her surpress a shriek of indignation. As her climaxes became more frequent her self control was severely tested.

“The word is ‘Enough’” I reminded her. I pinched her left nipple and held it. It was cruel I know but I was determined.

“No!” She strained, “No.........” The agony of admission “Enough!”

Even with the bullet turned off she was still shaking as I released the ropes. The key to the handcuffs was still in my pocket. I fished through my discarded clothes and retrieved it. As I unlocked the first cuff I did not register the tension in her arms, or if I did I took it as her wanting to be free, but no sooner was her hand released then she pulled away and scuttled off. I assumed she needed the toilet. I busied myself getting decent. It was still early in the evening and I am not one for lounging around in a dressing gown, or naked for that matter.

Maxine returned sporting a very short skirt and a ‘slinky’ top that left nothing to the imagination. She trotted over to me and knelt with her wrists in front of her the handcuff dangling invitingly.

“I want to serve you, “she said solemnly.

You could have knocked me down with a feather. She did not look up at me just waited with her arms raised, wrists together inviting me to cuff her again. How could I refuse such an offer.

“What would sir like?” She said in her best maid’s voice, “Tea, Coffee, something stronger perhaps?”

“A beer will do nicely,” I answered still a little taken aback.

“Certainly, but first....” She got up quickly and retrieved the gag that was still lying on the floor. She returned to her knees and presented it to me. “I am yours to command, “she said simply.

My head was now spinning. Never before had she shown such tendencies. What had I done? I looked at her submissively waiting. Her mouth opened eagerly to accept the penis gag.

“Go on then,” I chivied, “and mind you don’t spill it.”

There followed a very pleasant if surprising evening with Maxine attending me, kneeling or standing, attentive yet not intrusive. She made the perfect slave, yet there was one more surprise for me.

As I declared it was time for bed she came in front of me and knelt down blocking my exit. She started to undo my trousers, the first unforced provocative action of the evening. As my penis was freed she gave it a couple of strokes to encourage it then raised her head and put her hands to her gag, touching it. I immediately realised what she wanted. Her head rested on my groin as I removed the strap. She then gently pushed my chest back and proceeded to give me the best blow job I have ever had. I was flabbergasted.

As my composure returned I looked down to see her still kneeling between my legs and smiling. I put my hand to my pocket.

“Wait,” she said softly. “I have found this evening exhilarating. Not having to think, not having any control. I want it to go on.” She paused, “I want to be your slave.”

“I would wear these all the time I am at home, except, I could not cook or even care for myself properly. Perhaps you could find something a little less restricting? But it must be inescapable. I need that sense of helplessness. It’s intoxicating. Please?”

“How far are you prepared to go?”

“As far as I can.”

“How will I know if it goes too far?”

She thought a moment. “How about a special word, one that means that I  really have had enough?”

“Such as?”

She considered for a few moments,

“Wilberforce,” she stated.

It seemed poetic to nominate the name of the person instrumental in banishing slavery from this country as the name to finish her bondage, because bondage it would be.

“What do you think?” She purred, “do you think you could tame me?”

I was still luxuriating from my recent orgasm. The thought of having Maxine at my beck and call, with no more argument or power struggle was very appealing.

“Go to bed,” I told her. “I need to look for a few things on the net.”.

She scurried off without a word. I hadn’t even unlocked her hands. Perhaps she wanted to keep them on all night?

Part III - Maxine's Enslavement

It may seem strange to voluntarilty give up your personal freedom but that’s what I have done. My name is Maxine. I have been married for less than a year to the man I now call Master. At home and in his presence I am his slave, but that is where it finishes. At work I wield a great deal of authority with people under me. I am a high executive. I know how to command. I am only learning how to serve.

For the events leading up to my enslavement you must read the Handcuff stories. I discovered that when I had no escape, no choice, then all my cares were taken away as well. I did what I was told, after a day of stress and decision making this was now what I wanted. There were a few days between my first decision and the arrival of my new restraints, during this time we were able to finalise the arrangement.

The first stage was to draw up a contract. Slavery is about bondage and contracts are binding. We arranged with a local solicitor to have the contact witnessed. They did not need to know the contents, just witness and store it. The basics of the contract gave  Patrick, my husband and master, complete control of my actions and clothing while in his presence or within our house. Within the authority of the contract is the use of any sort of restraint that does not endanger my life but no form of beating or whipping. Strictly speaking if Patrick came to me at work I could not refuse him; I trust him not to avail himself of this right.

I was intruiged to know what Patrick had bought this time. The handcuffs were very effective at restraining me but reduced my dexterity too much for even the simplest of tasks. They were inescapable, even with the key in my possession. Despite the contract I knew that I would attempt to gain or increase freedom of movement  from any restraint if possible so he would have to come up with equally secure means to hold me. Patirck’s solution was both secure and ellegant: leather cuffs with a stainless steel sleeve. The each cuff locks with a small padlock which are virtually impossible to unlock  with one hand. To the onlooker the cuffs appear  to be ornamental metal bracelets. Closer inspection reveals a D ring on the inside wrists. When I get home I have to bathe and put the cuffs on myself, then present myself naked before my master. He will then decide what, if anything I am to wear and if I am to be restrained.

Patrick likes to see me naked, or as good as. He will sometimes allow me a short skirt, especially if I am doing housework. I have a full length pinny for cooking or when using certain cleaning fluids. I have also a pair of rubber gloves. I am always restrained in one way or another, even during the night while sleeping. The usual beginning is a collar, similar in appearance to the cuffs, with a D ring at the front and back. Through the back ring is threaded a chain which is attached one end to each cuff. The length is such that to reach my bottom I have to put one hand high up my back in a hammerlock position, reaching my pussy is impossible. He will often insert some sort of torment into my vagina, either love balls,  a bullet vibrator, or just some type of crupper, knowing I cannot remove or effect them. He has various pre-made items for my groin or chest made from leather or chain. He is also quite skillfull in ropework.  He has ankle and thigh chains that can allow partial movemnt or none at all. I cannot complain, even if I am permitted speach. I have got quite used to wearing a gag, including a ‘breather’ version with a tube that prevents accidental suffocation for prolonged use, usally overnight.

Until recently I did not understand why Patrick liked to bind my upper body especially my breasts. Now that I am in some sort of bondage most of the time I have come to appreciate, if that is the right word, some of the sublties of prolonged pressure to parts of my body. I have had my nipples pierced with permanent barrel studs. These make it easier for my master to attach string or chains to my nipples. I can be kept in a permanent state of arousal and frustration with no means of release until my Master wishes. It seems that my master wishes this most of the time. Patrick has always wanted more sexual activity than me, but now I do not have a choice, I have to accept it. I must admit that the combination of frustration and uncontrollled (by me at least) stimulation has produced orgasms of a magnitude that I had never known before. I have also learnt how to please my Master properly without thought of reward or recompense. If my master wishes me to orgasm I cannot prevent it, if he wishes me frustration then that will happen too.

I do not mind when I have no movement at all. Once I have established in my my that I am inobile I sort of switch off. There is no point in fighting the ineveitable so while I wait to see what is going to happen I let my mind wander. It is these times that I can often come up with great ideas for my work. I must say that since my enslavement I have become even more focussed at work making me more successful than ever. However when my bondage is light I try and make myself as comfortable as possible, or I fiddle with my bonds, even though there is no escape. I get frustated, even angry with what is being done to me and need to use all my mental abilities to calm myself down and accept the situation. If I am given a task I can concentrate on that, but if I am just waiting then it is very difficult. Punishment is further restriction or added discomfort. Any vocal complaint and I am gagged. The result is that my self control has increased along with my tolerance. These skills too have assisted my career.

Bondage is not restricted to the house. I have gone shopping with my hands manacled in some way, attached together or to a belt. I have had my thighs hobbbled which is totally invisible beneath even the shortest skirt. On one winter’s morning I wore a scarf to cover the fact that I was actually gagged! I have also been transported naked and bound in the boot of the car. I find these excursions very exciting, especially the risk of discovery, yet we are completely ignored.

One scenario I had not anticpated was being used as a sex tox for Patrick’s mates. I had no warning. I was tied up for sex. This was not particularly unsual. Since my enslavement my master uses me as he wishes for sexual gratification. Before I used to refuse him when I was not in the mood, especially first thing in the morning, now of course I have no choice. Nevertheless I am often bound to prevent resistance or to allow easier access to one of my orfices. I had never experienced anal sex before and was surprise when first it occurred. I cannot say that I find it pleasant but I have had some unusal sensations that produce different orgasmic reponses. So here I was tied bent over the piano stool. My hands were locked to my back both imovably and mechanically. I asure you I could not move or free them. My ankles were attatched to a spreader bar holding them apart and presenting my behind for entry to either passage. I was gagged with the infernal multipurpose gag. I hate that thing. Within seconds it can be transformed from the mouthfilling silencer to a O ringed mouthfucker and I have no means of preventing it. I was silenced. I heard the doorbell and squirmed uncomfortably As far as I knew our arrangement was a private affair, vistors were not expected, at least by me. Patrick did not seemed surprised. I could hear him welcome whoever was at the door and invite them in. I was now getting agitated.

“Here she is, ready and waiting.”

I was mortified. I was also completely unable to move or change the situation. I had always asumed that Patrick would not want to share me with anyone else, but I was wrong there as well. During the evening I was shagged, prodded and sexually abused by men who I hardly knew. The final insult was to stuff a vibrator into me and force me to multi-orgasm in front of his guests. It is to my shame that I experienced the biggest orgasms of my life.

When the evening was finished and the guests had departed I was able to query what had happened.

“You are mine to do with as I wish,” he told me bluntly, “the contract gives me complete control over you while in the house or my presence.”

I was about to argue when he pointed out

“Who are you going to complain to? You had better get used to the idea because they enjoyed it so much we are going to do it on a regular basis.”

During the next few days I brooded. I had to admit that I had secretly enjoyed the experience, even though it went against everything I had been brought up to believe. All I had to do was accept that having sex was not cheating if my partner was in full favour of it. He was not only in favour: he was encouraging it! No, he was demanding it!  I eventually decided that if it was going to happen I might as well join in willingly. I suggested the next time I be allowed to serve them in otherways like I would him. I suppose I thought he might change his mind if he believed I was enjoying it. On the contrary he thought this an excellent idea!

The next time I behaved as the perfect servant supplying food, drinks and other services. Like I said I am in charge at work so the idea of being at other people's beck and call was something I had to work at. It had been a long time since I had been in such a situation in public.  I enjoyed the attention but I would not have had sex with some of his friends by choice, of course I had none. I was there to serve not to choose. I was fucked several times and not allowed any rewarding pleasures although several people took great pleasure in getting me excited then denying  my climax. The hardest part was to accept sex without being tied down and to stop myself masturbating when I thought no one was looking.

Later on Patrick was very appreciative of my efforts giving me pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. I was hooked. I wanted more.

He then enrolled me in a belly dancing class and instructed me to research all forms of erotic dancing. This was something new. I cannot confess to being a profficient dancer, at least I didn’t used to be. I have had to work hard to pursuade my body to move as required. To complicate things I am still restrained in some way which makes dancing more difficult.

The parties, as he now calls them, have grown, so much so that he now hires a private room in the local pub. I am no longer the only woman, neither am I the only one in chains. There are several slaves, some male, some female. We dance, serve drinks and perform sexual services for anyone who requests it. I am sometimes tied up, and sometimes allowed to use my hands. I have now learnt how to pleasure women as well as men. My slavery is now fully public. My business success means that we can attend fetish and S&M gatherings around the world where Patrick finds new toys to use on me and I exchange experiences with other slaves. It has opened up a completley new life for both of us. My slavery has paradoxically given me a new freedom.  I do not regret a thing.