With no real drive to ever consider becoming ambitious, Laura sat at the boring sales desk, in her temporary agency role, doing nothing productive, other than filing her nails, and discussing via text, the dress code for Saturday’s girl’s night out.
On the morning of the weekend, Laura paid a visit to the kick boxing gym, where she worthlessly only held a membership, to gain the interest of a small-time unimpressionable drug peddler that she liked, but who’d never noticed her, mainly because he circled in leagues much higher.
When the evening arrived, seven girls, six of whom dressed in white bridal dresses, and the girl soon to be married wearing a black funeral gown, descended upon a popular tourist town in the north of England.
Young and wild, they enjoyed their own company, losing one single girl after another as the drunken men became more and more tempting.
Late into the night, Laura visited the ladies room for a sniff of a little pick-me-up she’d scored from her guy at the gymnasium that same morning.
Hiding the sound of her snorting with a flush, she opened the toilet door and headed straight towards the mirror, to check for traces of white powder under her nose.
Now on a high, she took pity on a bored looking girl standing next to her, and offered her a sample from the little white bag in her purse.
It didn’t register in Laura’s head, when the miserable woman introduced herself as police, and flashed an ID card that had words to that effect on it. The handcuffs being pulled from the police woman’s handbag however, shocked Laura and woke her from her personal bubble of everything being good.
“Put your hands behind your head,” the woman ordered.
Startled, Laura slowly raised her hands, one by one, and placed them on the back of her head, under the supervision of what she couldn’t believe to be a police officer.
Not wishing to take her eyes off the shiny cuffs, the police woman stepped behind Laura and turned her to face herself in the mirror. She watched in disbelief as the bracelet ratcheted closed before the experienced police woman adjusted her grip, to twist Laura’s arm down behind her back, and tighten the jaws further with her fingers and thumb.
Because of the requirement for concealment, the cuffs had a short chain between them, instead of the standard rigid speed cuffs she would use if she’d been in uniform.
Realising that she’d be in a lot of trouble if she didn’t react soon, and being the only two people in the toilets, Laura twisted her body around, bringing her arm to her front, as the clicks continued to tighten the metal’s grip during the struggle.
Sensing the makings of resisting arrest, the police woman attempted to call for backup, but before she could utter a word, Laura had a knee heading in her direction, at pace, landing in her solar-plexus, and removing the very breath from her body, that she needed to speak.
Hunching over, she let go of the free handcuff, giving Laura the chance to step back, and go in for a second hit.
Raising her knee and straightening her leg this time, she landed the laces of her trainers, slightly below the police woman’s ear, sending her head sideways where it collided with the porcelain of a sink basin, on her way down to the floor.
Loud music coming through the opening door warned her that she had less than seconds to get away from the scene, before whoever came around the corner next, associated Laura’s face with the sight of a passed out girl on the tiled floor.
Without hesitation, she ran for the exit, slowing to a more casual pace as she rounded the corner, hiding behind her back, the handcuffs attached to her left wrist.
Head down, she passed the two drunken girls, before making a tactful dash for the exit of the club, avoiding eye contact with anybody on the way.
Leaving her handbag proved to be her greatest regret, but too late to go back and retrieve it now, she headed for the cover of trees in an area of greenery, leading from the town centre to a more urban area of housing.
Aware of drawing attention to herself by looking like a ghost running through the darkness in her bridal gown, she knew she needed to hide, and find a change of clothes, or at least disguise the dress in some way.
Countryside ranger, Mike, crept quietly around his parents’ house, where he’d been staying for a few days, before having to return back to work early Sunday morning.
His outdoor gear resided in a storage shed at the end of his parents garden, which currently remained unlocked as he hadn’t yet finished packing everything into the back of his Wildlife Trust pickup truck.
Although the outside security light had timed out, from the upstairs window, he could see the figure of somebody prancing around the garden next door, in an unusual manner, especially for this time in the morning.
The sight of a feminine silver shadow rolling over his parent’s fence with the flipping of her legs in a rotating scissor kick, and retriggering the rear security light as she landed on his side, heightened his attention.
Clearly drunk, he watched the girl holding on to the fence with both hands, one clutching a bunch of clothes, but more noticeably, the other bearing a shiny bracelet, with a gleaming handcuff dangling from it, reflecting the light like a mirrored beacon.
Stumbling at first, the girl headed for the cover of the wooden shed, seeing that an unlocked padlock hung uselessly on the open staple and hasp of its door.
Forced into action, but conscious of not waking his parents, he crept slowly and quietly down the stairs, and out of the back door, into the brightly lit garden.
Nervous, he peered in through the window to see a semi naked woman wearing nothing but a pale yellow crop-top, stepping into a pair of shorts, aside the bundle of a bridal gown that she’d changed out of.
The handcuffs and wedding dress gave away that she’d been on a night out with friends, so being a jovial fellow, he played along with the obvious prank by cupping his hands to his mouth and speaking through the crack of the shed door.
“COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP, YOU’RE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED,” he joked, with his imitation American accent, reciting the lines of a cheesy police movie.
Frozen stiff, she paused before fastening the top button of her shorts, to not move a muscle, hoping that the person speaking would go away and leave the area deserted, like it had been when she’d arrived.
Seeing Mike enter through the door, she popped the button through its hole and stood on guard, ready to tackle what lay ahead.
“Hi," he introduced himself. “You hiding from your mates?”
“What?” She replied, confused at his calm demeanour.
“The wedding party, and the handcuffs," he said, pointing to her left arm that she so blatantly tried hiding behind her back.
Equally as nervous, he absorbed the sight of the girl before him, wearing trainers, with white socks, a short sleeve high cut top, and the tightest of denim shorts, which made her athletic thighs look chunkier than they actually were, confirming that she’d stolen the clothes from somebody, of a lesser size.
“Erm. Yes.” She nervously laughed.
“Do you need a taxi?” He suggested. “I could give you a lift, but we hardly know each other.”
“Erm, no," she stuttered, bringing her cuffed wrist up in front of her, in explanation of not being able to get a taxi. “Don’t suppose you could cut this off could you?”
“Sorry, no," he apologised, “Not till morning anyway, but I’m leaving for work soon, so no.”
“Well what should I do?" she asked, throwing her dilemma in his direction.
“Wrap that dress around your arm and get a taxi.” He pointed to the heap of white cloth on the floor.
“I can’t," she explained, becoming desperate with fear of him ejecting her from the safety of the wooden hut. “These aren’t from my friends, they're from the police.”
Calculating how true it could be for the beautiful wide eyes in front of him, to be in trouble with the police, he took in a deep breath.
“I was seen with a bit of gear and they tried to arrest me, but I ran," she confessed, playing down the situation, whilst hoping to gain a little sympathy. “That’s why I’ve borrowed these clothes off your neighbours washing line and I’m hiding in here. I just need to keep my head down for a while.”
“Drugs?”
“Only a bit," she excused herself, “I’m not a fucking dealer.”
“Well, do they know who you are? Or where you live?”
“They’ve got my purse. I lost it when I ran.”
“Bloody hell," he said, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his face up and down, like a man torn with decision. “You’ll get a year just for running.” He looked at her desperate eyes. “You should hand yourself in and take the caution for the drugs.”
“No," she snapped. “I can’t.” She approached Mike in the hope of building up a little trust. “I can’t face that.”
Keeping her eyes magnetically locked onto his, she positioned herself in front of him with her hands raised and gently touched his forearms. “Can you help me?”
Suckered in by the beauty before him, he took her side, but refused to make any special efforts by committing to anything out of his way. “I’m heading up north in a few hours, I could give you a lift somewhere if you want.”
“That would be great," she smiled, “Where are you going?”
“I’m not taking you with me," he replied, “I’m going up to Northumberland for a couple of weeks, somewhere near the Scottish border where I’m working.”
“Scotland might be a good option," she jumped at the chance.
“Scotland?” He shook his head, “I didn’t say I’d give you a lift to Scotland.”
“Please," she looked longingly into his eyes, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”
Mike huffed and looked at his watch. “We’ll have to go now if I’m to take you up there.”
Wrapping her arms around him, she bowed her head and pressed her ear into his chest.
“I’m Laura, by the way.”
“Hi Laura.”
Not feeling his arms around her, she took a step back.
“Mike," he replied, holding out his right hand for her to shake.
Excited, Laura looked him up and down, drunkenly lusting for the first time at the clean-shaven harmless look on his cute face.
“Why do you have to be so attractive?” he complimented her, almost sounding annoyed, but without concern for any inappropriate language.
“Thank you," she smiled back at him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” The finger of her cuffed wrist poked a muscular peck of his chest as she spoke.
“Can’t you hide that thing?" he asked, referring to the unoccupied cuff hanging down from its chain links.
“Can we go?” She pressured him, knowing that the police would be out everywhere, looking for her.
“Ok. Wait here while I get my bag.” Mike stepped out of the shed, only to be called back by Laura.
“Could you lock the door behind you, so that if the police come, they will see that I can’t possibly have got in here?”
“Jesus. You’re paranoid," he said, turning and lifting the padlock from where it hung. “You’ll have to break a window if you want to get out.” So, as requested, he closed and locked the door behind him.
Slowly comprehending what had just happened, he grabbed his belongings and finished packing his truck, before securing his parents’ house and going to collect Laura.
“Hi.” She beamed a smile of relief to her liberator as he opened the door.
“Shhh," he said quietly, taking hold of her hand and guiding her out onto the grass.
Before climbing into the passenger seat, she released her long main of dark hair from its coiled up bun, and re-used the elasticated hair tie to keep it neatly behind her head, in a single ponytail.
On their journey, the couple got to know each other with Laura explaining her boring job and Mike fascinating her with his caring tails of being a countryside ranger, working for the wildlife trust.
Away from the motorways, he drove towards the Scottish border, close to where he himself wanted to be, to make it easier for him after dropping her off.
The more they talked, the more Mike realised that this girl’s only choice in Scotland would be to sleep rough, so to save her from a downward spiral into homelessness, he offered her to stay in his lodge for a night.
Her thanks became interrupted by a telephone call to Mike from his mother.
“Everything ok mum?" he asked, concerned about the call coming in at 3am.
“I think so son, are you ok?”
“Fine. What’s wrong?”
“Well we’ve had the police knocking at the door, asking questions about reported suspicious activity on our estate. They said they’re looking for a person, a lady, who they believe might be hiding in this area, who has seriously assaulted a police woman, and who’s in hospital in a coma. They wouldn’t say anything else, they just asked me to pass on their details, for you to contact them and let them know if you saw or heard anything, because I said you were up and packing around that time.”
Mike scowled towards Laura, showing his disapproval at being forced to lie to his own mother.
“No mum, nothing. It might be worth checking that the shed is locked before you go back to bed though, I don’t want any violent fugitives breaking in while I’m away.”
“Ok son, but I’ll send you the details of the police for if you do remember anything.”
As soon as he hung up the phone, he began shouting at Laura.
“You put a fucking police woman in a fucking coma and then you fool me into helping you get away?”
The look on his face told her that this wouldn’t end well.
“I can’t be part of this," he said, slowing to a stop at a junction where he could turn around. “I’m taking you to the police station.”
In a panic, as soon as they stopped, she whipped her seatbelt off and jumped out of the truck.
Mike quickly did the same and chased her, forcing her to stop running when he rounded her up towards the curve of a hedgerow where the road cornered sharply.
At maximum stress, she swung her fist, and clocked him on his cheekbone, buying her valuable time to sprint back towards the open truck, with its engine still running, behind him.
Temporarily stunned, he gave chase once again, catching hold of her before she could get to the driver’s door.
By gripping his hands around her belly, he pinned her arms to her sides and gently lowered her wriggling body to the floor, where he carefully lay her face down, and placed his knee in her back.
“I think we can justify using these now," he said, grabbing hold of her free wrist and the empty handcuff.
She initially fought, but promptly gave in to his superior strength, screaming as a last resort of protest. “Get the fuck off me!”
But the cuff ratcheted closed with ease, tightening down to match the size of the other, already fitted to her opposite arm.
Breathing heavily, he dragged her to her feet, through the blazing headlight beams, and around to the passenger side of the pickup, where her door awaited wide open.
“Fierce little minx aren’t you?”
“I’ll tell them that you kidnapped me," she spat.
“What you talking about?”
“If you turn me in, I’ll tell them that you brought me up here against my will and that I was trying to go to the police myself.”
Slamming the door at her side, he ran around to climb back into the driver’s seat, and reached over to strap her in.
“Please Mike.”
Seatbelt in his hand, the remnants of her perfume and strength of alcohol occupying his nostrils, gave his eyes permission to lock onto her tits as he stretched his arm over her shoulder.
Looking into her drunken vulnerable stare gave him an overwhelming feeling of forgiveness, mixed with excitement, as he became mesmerised by even more beauty than he’d first realised.
“Please?” Her voice began to squeak, followed by waterworks and relentless sobbing.
“One night," he said, bowing to the upset that he’d brought on. “One night. Then we get those things off you and you can uncross my path, and stop leading me astray. OK?”
Her crying slowed to a snivel when the truck thankfully set off in the same direction as they’d been travelling before.
Standing alone, the cabin had been purposely built against an incline of a rock face to help protect it from the elements. Constructed on a split level, with the inside having three steps up, in the middle, and a banister spanning its whole width, separating the front lower half from the rear.
Groggy, dry mouthed and tired, Laura stopped at the entrance to her new safe haven, unable to guide herself or touch any of the woodwork, having her hands regrettably restrained behind her back.
“Nice," she opened the conversation.
“Not a bad place for a couple of weeks?” Mike commented, jumping up the three steps to slide his bags in the far left corner of the cabin, by the side of the bed. “Then it’s off to the lakes for a month.”
“I’ll be having the couch," he announced, walking back to meet his criminal guest, who moved towards him from the frame of the outside door.
“Cut the bullshit.” She smacked her lips against his mouth in a drunken move, throwing him off guard. “I saw you looking at me in the car, and we both know I can’t sleep on my own like this.”
Stuck for chat up lines, he responded with a ticking off, “As much as I’m glad that you’re being gorgeously troublesome, just remember, you are on borrowed ground here, so try not to abuse it!”
“I’ve seen that you can’t take your eyes off my chest," she confidently acknowledged, walking in and doing a full lap around the body of the cabin, holding his stare of amazement at her boldness and audacity. “And I can’t believe you fucking put these on me!”
Up close to him again, she turned sideways and jolted the chain of her cuffs in protest.
“You punched me in the face! What did you expect me to do? You’ve already hospitalised a copper!”
Standing still, she sighed and looked down at his feet. “Sorry.” Her head tilted back up to his height. “I panicked when you said you were going to hand me over to the police.”
“Well there’s nothing I can do about those things now.”
“There is," she replied, “I need to pee.”
Mike nodded his head and carried out the intimate task of pulling down her shorts and wiping her clean afterwards, all the time accepting each of his duties as a consequence of his own fuck up.
“OK. Bed," he insisted. “I’m supposed to be at work in a few hours.”
Laura kicked off her footwear and shuffled into the bed as best she could, laying on her side to prevent painful pressure from the cuffs on her wrists.
Mike stripped down to his boxer shorts and settled in facing away from her.
“You’re allowed to look at me you know.” Still under the influence, she invited him to turn over and join her. “I know I’ve fucked up, but right now I could do with a cuddle.”
As he turned over, so did she, giving him the opening to spoon her, with his daring hand cupping her lowermost breast that weighed down upon the mattress.
“Thank you," she whispered.
Two hours late for work, Mike woke to his exciting nightmare of a scenario.
Even more groggy and hungover, Laura woke to his movement, and questioned his rushing around.
“I’m late," he told her, throwing on his trousers.
“Well what about me?” You can’t seriously leave me like this.”
“We have no choice.”
“What if I need the toilet?”
“Stand up," he sighed, sitting himself down on the bed as she stood, with her back to him.
Reaching around her waist, he unfastened the over stressed shorts and struggled to pull them down to her ankles, along with her underwear, so she could step semi naked, onto the varnished wooden floor.
The sight of her bare cheeks immediately in front of his face proved too tempting to resist, so guided by his hands on her hips, he gently pecked the soft flesh of one side.
“That’s quite sweet," she thanked him.
“I’m not going to turn you in," he told her, “You can stay here for as long as you need.”
“Thank you. But what about these?” She rattled her handcuffs in front of his face.
“I’ll deal with them," he promised.
Standing up, with these extra thoughts and responsibilities, he left for work allowing Laura the run of the cabin, albeit for the restriction of her hands, locked behind her back.
Being Sunday, a search online directed him to a fishing and shooting shop in the town that seemed to stock boy’s toys, like combat knives and air guns, which looked promising enough to also sell handcuffs, or better still, handcuff keys. A different search for the status of the injured police woman, brought up nothing relevant, other than results from historic reports in different areas, which sent his sleep deprived mind into a frenzy of determination.
Copying, cropping and a lot of creativity became his addiction, not ending until he’d produced a convincing enough fake news article, indicating that the police woman in question had unfortunately died.
This simple, yet mighty power, available at his fingertips would be a better alternative to any physical restraint, if he were able to fool his cute little captive into staying in hiding with him, voluntarily.
The satisfaction of his clever achievement made him feel superior and untouchable from the reality of the life around him.
Entering the shop, Mike asked the assistant behind the counter if he sold handcuff keys. The man replied no, but pointed out that thumb cuffs, handcuffs and leg cuffs all use the same standard universal key, and so the cheapest option for him would be to buy a set of thumb cuffs, which would give him two keys.
Before he could commit to asking for them, a voice called over. “How you doing, Mike?”
A second shop assistant had recognised him from his working out in the field, and spooked him from this embarrassing predicament, into turning away from the glass display counter.
The two talked and the other assistant served a man buying fishing gear, allowing Mike the chance to distance himself from having anything to do with the talk of handcuff keys.
Eager to get back to the cabin, he cut short his day, promising himself that he would catch up on his work over the next week.
The lodge showed more signs of life than normal, having its windows open, but curtains unusually closed, to conceal its occupant.
Inside, he didn’t expect to see Laura dressed again, but in his absence, she’d managed to step over her cuffs, bringing them to the front and allowing her to pull her shorts on again with relative ease.
“Oh well done," he praised her, “I nearly got a key for those today, but someone recognised me and I had to abandon the idea.”
“What do you mean abandon the idea?” She replied, annoyed at the thought of spending another night in handcuffs. “Well what about cutting them off?”
“I’ll have another look tomorrow.”
Mike’s casual attitude to her, unnecessary discomfort, riled her anger, so much so that she held her hands up in front of his face and shook them in an intimidating way.
“Get these fucking things off me!”
Feeling threatened, and before she attacked him again, Mike turned away and grabbed hold of a climbing rope, coiled up, ready for use with a metal carabiner clip attached to one end.
Holding the spring loaded clip, he threw the coil of rope over the wooden roof beam above Laura’s head, distracting her long enough for him to snap the metal clip around the chain between her handcuffs, and lunge for the falling rope behind her.
“AAAHHH!” She shouted, more in dismay than of being in any pain, as her hands were hoisted high up above her head.
The metal climbing clip could be easily removed from the handcuff chain, if he were to allow her a little slack in the rope to unhook herself from its clasp. Mike knew this, and purposely tied off the end of the rope around the banister, ensuring her heels were off the floor, so she wouldn’t be able to raise up any further, to free herself.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed.
“You need to stop being so violent," he warned her.
The two entered a short stare off by looking into each other's eyes, before Mike dropped his gaze to check out his captive.
“Very nice.” He watched her dancing on the balls of her feet, unable to fall over with her hands suspended high above.
The pale yellow top of hers exposed her midriff, above the high waist of the shorts that squeezed her body into the shape they commanded, openly inviting his hand to touch the skin on display.
“If you kick out at me I’ll tie your feet," he warned her, trailing his hand around her waist as he walked behind.
Pulling her ponytail aside, he sniffed her neck, sending a tingling through her body, where she could do nothing about his hands moving up, to cup her breasts.
Having only her voice left to defend herself, she asked, “Is this going to be one of those kidnapping cases that you hear about on the news where you abuse me for your own sexual pleasure?”
Staying behind her, he slid his hands down her curvy form to fondle her firm rump, before taking a step back.
By design, the shorts she had stolen from the clothes line, fit around her stretched up tummy, sitting tightly above her pelvic structure, and enhancing her figure. The solidity of her plump firmness created much tension against the demands of the denim’s strength, brought on by the attractive, shapely body inside.
“I’m not going to abuse you, I’m trying to help you," he reassured her. “Although I have to admit, your backside does look irresistibly slap-able in these tight things," he said, swatting the exquisite denim cladding of her bottom, as he walked around in front of her.
Looking at her head, framed by her arms, he placed his hands on her cheeks and stroked her face with his thumbs.
“Beautiful, and helpless?” He whispered secretly, urging her body to submit. “Where do I start?”
Laura closed her eyes to not show any emotion, as her stomach did somersaults and her vaginal muscles twitched uncontrollably.
The ensuing kiss sent electricity through her body, creating a sensation she didn’t know possible. But his taste disappeared all too soon, leaving a noticeable drop of saliva on her chin.
“It should be me spitting in your face for hauling my wrists up here like this, not you leaving your dribble all down mine.”
“Well if you ask nicely, I might let them down.” He dared her to beg for release.
“Nope!” She replied, abruptly confirming her fate for the next few moments, “I’m not begging.”
His arms snaked around her ribs, settling up her back where she welcomed him crushing her against his chest and planting his lips on hers. One hand then dropped into the arch of her back, followed by the other hand which continued further to cup her bottom and pull her loins against his arousal.
She managed to twist away from his kiss long enough to say the words, “Take my shorts off.” Before silencing his replying by pressing her lips on him once more.
“Well if you ask nicely, I might let them down," he cleverly repeated, breaking the kiss off again to speak.
“Please?” She let out.
Mike obliged by unfastening her top button and lowering the zip, before tugging desperately on each side to inch them down her legs.
Stepping from her clothes, she stood naked from the waist down, in front of the attractive man who should have been her enemy.
“I get it.” Mike said, “Being unable to fight back, without the use of your arms, and having the knowledge that any words of desperation are going to simply fall on deaf ears, should be enough to arouse even my hidden passions for submission. Am I right?”
“I have no idea what’s happening, but hurry up and bury yourself inside me!” She urged him, conscious about the air of cool wetness being visible around her lower lips.
Mike ripped off his work clothes and lifted her up, to straddle his erection, impaling her lubricated muscular resistance with ease.
Grabbing hold of the bottom of the climbing clip that secured her handcuffs, she took most of her weight, leaving him to take full control of pleasuring her from below.
It wasn’t long before this unexplored fantasy had her screaming out in orgasm, the sound of which urging him to keep going in the hope that he could join her, disappointingly resulting in her becoming a limp dead weight around his cock, dangling from her handcuffs, with only her head showing signs of life, by rolling backwards.
Grabbing her chest, he lifted her up, and released the clip from between her wrists, allowing her arms to fall around his neck, so he could carry her over to the bed in the corner of the lodge.
“What the fuck did you just do to me?" she asked, laying on her back, refusing to let him go.
“Are you ok?” Mike said, “I think you just passed out.”
With that, he freed himself from her grip and left her alone, to retrieve his boxer shorts.
Although this had sealed their relationship as one of a sexual nature, Mike hadn’t yet orgasmed, but didn’t want to force anything at such an early stage, so lay next to her on the bed and stared lustfully into her eyes.
“Can we do that again?" he asked.
Looking up to the ceiling, Laura raised her hands above her head, and commented on there being nothing useful for attaching her wrists to. “Well if that’s how you intend on pleasuring me, then you’ll have to get a headboard.”
Mike knelt beside her, holding the chain between her cuffs in his hand, sinking it into the softness of the pillows above her head.
“Yes," he smirked, taking note of what she’d suggested, “I agree, a headboard would be a much more comfortable option.”
His free hand stroked the inside of her corresponding arm as she lay, immobile and motionless, relishing the feel of his strong soft touch.
Not wanting to give the wrong impression, he bent down to kiss her, before letting go of her cuff chain, and leaving her on the bed, alone.
The fake news article he’d created to trick her into staying, if she ever decided to reject him and leave, seemed no longer necessary now that their game had changed.
“I think we should eat.”
He stood to clear his mind, picking up her clothing from the floor and passing it to her, to dress herself. “You must be hungry?”
In the kitchen area, he knocked together a concoction of rations from tins and the freezer, which, although unhealthy, went down like a storm in Laura’s current state.
After eating, she helped clear up, and Mike finished off his unpacking, after the rushed arrival earlier that morning.
Exhausted, the couple slept together, with Laura respecting his early start, to make up his hours that she’d taken from him.
The next morning, as he kissed her on the cheek, she woke and asked him, “Can I borrow your phone today please?”
“Sorry, I need it, but I’ll be back at a reasonable time today.” Feeling guilty about refusing, he stroked the hair from her pretty little wanting face, whilst considering how he could get her a phone of her own.
Lunchtime found Mike stepping cautiously back into the hunting shop he’d been in the day before.
“Thumb cuffs.” The assistant from yesterday pointed at Mike.
Embarrassed, he watched the sales assistant bend and reappear, placing a small box on the glass of the counter. “You wanted the keys, didn’t you?" he asked, flipping the box to see the price. “Can’t be very urgent though, if you left without them.”
Paying quickly, he exited the shop and made a beeline for his truck.
Mid afternoon, he returned to the cabin, with the good news in his hand.
“Thumb. Cuffs?” She read out the contents of the box, confused as to what he’d given her.
“No.” He took the box back and opened it, removing the plastic bag keeping the miniature cuffs rust free. The keys were separate and fell into his hand. “These.” He jangled the two tiny trinkets of freedom in front of her delighted face, resting the thumb cuffs down on the worktop so he could reach around her back.
Within no time, and as promised, the keys did their job of removing the cuffs from around her wrists, earning Mike an all-forgiving hug, where he was able to lift her by her board, inviting hips, to squash the soft orbs of her perfectly formed bum, onto the work surface behind her.
“Am I a bitch to you?" she asked, with her hands touching the sides of his face.
“No, why?”
“Well you’ve been nothing but kind to me, and this afternoon I just thought to myself about how much I’m asking of you.”
“Not a problem. I’m liking having you around," he reassured her, “Especially after you letting me make love to you like that, yesterday.” He smiled, pulling her parted thighs wider open against him, from the counter top, and letting her feel his primed erection.
“We can certainly do that again," she said, desperately passing the message on to him through the urgency of a kiss.
“But only if you need punishing again," he joked, playing on the subject of the moment.
Feeling her passion increase, Mike felt he was losing the dominant hand when she crushed his shoulders surprisingly tight inside the circle of her arms.
Lifting the woman that he hoped he could turn into his new clingy girlfriend, from the kitchen counter, he carried her to the bedroom area of the lodge, and lay her down, breaking their kiss off as she rolled back onto the bed.
Hands sprawled freely above her head, she acknowledged his suggestion of punishment, with a smile. “You’ve no idea how much I need punishing.”
“I’ll set up the rope.”
Springing into life, he skipped over to the kitchen quarter of the cabin, to retrieve the handcuffs.
“A much safer punishment would be for you to drag one of those chairs over here with you, and pull the bed down, so we can wedge it in the gap, like a temporary headboard”. She ingeniously suggested.
With her hands steadily resting on her stomach, she watched him grab a chair from the kitchen table, and skid it across the floor, in an almost choreographed duo sweeping dance move, which spun the two of them around, to come to rest with the chair back bumping against the side of the bed.
Facing her, he sat the wrong way around on the chair, to partition the couple by using the decorative wooden rods of the backrest. “Give me your hands," he told her.
She rolled around towards him and willingly offered her hands through the chair back, struggling to contain herself as her quivering body longed for the slightest touch of metal restraint.
Looking around at the practicality of her desperate inspiration, by jamming a chair between the wall and the bed, made him think that she might be gaining an addiction to this newfound sensation of submitting and being fucked in shackles.
The creaking sound of Mike standing, made her open her eyes, and look up at him, to hurry things along. “What are you waiting for?”
Mike clambered onto the bed, and knelt between the legs of his forgiven fugitive, to idolise over her lust for surrendering to him.
“Tell me why I should punish you?”
“Because I masturbated today," she laughed.
Amused, he pulled her raised knees towards him, dragging her wrists clear of the freestanding, unsecured chair.
“I’m glad to hear it, but what drove you to that?" he asked, pleasantly turned on by the learning of her having an unsatisfied sex drive.
Lowering her hands to hold his, she shared the feel of the cold steel as she gave her confession. “I was bored and had a flick through those ancient DVD’s of yours. I found a shit one with a cheesy woman looking like she was about to be bitten by a vampire, but when I looked on the back, it showed a picture of her chained up in a dungeon with her clothes all torn.”
Looking over at the TV and DVD player, he recognised the DVD she’d left out.
“Into vampires are you?”
“No, but I had to fast-forward to the scene. It reminded me of us last night.” Her eyes now locked onto his and her voice slowed to a husky tone. “She had her nipples showing through her ripped dress, and they were really hard. She was moaning with excitement, trying to rub them against her elbows, but her arms were chained too high, like mine yesterday. I kept thinking of what you did to me, and how frustrating it must have been for that woman to not be able to touch herself.”
“She’s an actress. With a camera crew in front of her, but if it did it for you, then she must be good at her job.” He smiled, almost ridiculing the girl he was falling in love with, “But if you think that warrants punishment, then get on your feet.”
Cuffs in one hand, he held out his other to help her climb up off the bed.
Before moving, her loins spasmed slightly at the thought of being hoisted up to a roof truss again. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just want to use something a bit more secure than the back of this freestanding chair, that’s all.”
Their short journey took them down all three steps of the split level cabin, stopping at the bottom, where he turned her to face him.
Utilising a sly kiss as his excuse to press her back against the banister, he squeezed her body tightly, whilst his tongue pillaged her throat, fondling her buxom booty with his hands, in a final act of uncontrollable passion.
“Cuff yourself.” He held up the handcuffs in front of her face.
Shocked, yet expectant of such an outcome from him picking up the metal clasps, she toyed with him by refusing, “ You do it," she whispered, with a look of delight on her face.
Free and unhindered, she allowed him to pass both her arms around one of the spindles of the banister, where she held them for their inevitable cuffing.
Ratcheting the handcuffs open, he mumbled one final safety check before feeding the manacles through the gap in the balustrades, behind her. “You Ok?”
Silenced by desire, and with pupils the size of dinner plates, she found the security to nod her head only twice.
Resisting the urge to lunge her mouth towards his, she concentrated on helping in the search for the rigid sensation of captivity from the very metal curves that he promptly brought about her wrist with a quick succession of clicks. Seconds later, the equal ratcheting, confirmed her immobility, and full dependence on the man she so much wanted inside her.
“What are you going to do?” She quietly asked.
“Explode," he joked, as she watched him press his hand against his almost uncomfortably throbbing erection.
He struggled with his intention of teasing her by denial, the idea that came to him because of her confession about masturbating over a woman being unable to touch herself.
Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples, with his head in a stooped down position, to draw an admission from her, “Tell me that you love me, or I’ll let you go.”
“Ha ha ha ha," she laughed, “Not fair.”
Lowering his hand to grasp her tight bum cheek, he positioned himself by her side and brought his other hand down to brush against the centre of her shorts between her legs.
Being squeezed into their flattering, unforgiving denim mould, the generous fruits of her rear endured a happy discomfort, that successfully trained her body’s shape, until finding relief where her narrower thighs gave in to the stretch, and formed deep creases to form below each buttock.
At the resulting frontal inward curve, her bulging lower lips, parted by a strong stitched seam cutting through her middle, highlighted the folds of her lady flower, increasing the temptation of his difficult intention of sexual denial.
Tormenting her, he clawed his fingernail over the texture of the light blue, heavy-duty cloth, producing tiny vibrations over her lips that tingled so frustratingly against her pent up arousal.
“Not fair, is NOT being allowed to touch yourself.” Caught in her own trap of self-admission, she prayed that he wouldn’t just leave her like this.
“I don’t need to when I’m with you," she replied. “Come closer.” She beckoned him with a toss of her head, to bring his ear up to her lips. “You’re about to make me cum in my pants," she whispered, “And I think the same goes for you.”
The cheeky smile of her brilliant synopsis stood to make him look weak if he didn’t do something about it. On the one hand he could walk away and leave both their yearnings undealt with. On the other, he could give in to her irresistible attraction just this once, and deny her of any self-amusement, another time.
Moving his hands up from between her legs, he unfastened her shorts, and stood in front of her, ready to do the familiar dance against her hips, by pulling them down. Kneeling with his nose in her crotch, he could smell her readiness.
Pooling her clothes by her feet, he readied himself for the unpreventable outcome of the two experimenting lovers.
Bending his legs slightly, he held onto the banister behind her shoulders, matching the height of her on tiptoe, so he could enter the warm wetness that begged for his perfection.
The powerful sensation from her inability to stop him, created a moan of desperation for the up and coming ecstasy.
“You ok?” he checked.
“Yes. Please," she incoherently panted.
Her fingers fought to grab hold of the wooden spindle that took away her freedom, trying to match his rhythm as he encouraged her body up and down with the politeness, yet meaningfulness of each penetrating thrust.
Withholding her cries of ecstasy took toll on her face, where she screwed up her eyes and quivered her bottom jaw, advertising her approaching orgasm with involuntary muscular contractions around his overdue ejaculation.
Laura’s inevitable scream, gave way to releasing himself inside her, thrusting as far in as he could, and quivering his hips in time with her clenching bum cheeks as he pulsed his unstoppable seed into her womb.
Leaving her standing, he brought toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped up his mess before it dribbled everywhere.
“You won’t tell anybody about this, will you?" she asked, “I don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of deviant.”
“Definitely not!” He confirmed, “What would that make me if people found out?”
The couple shared a cheeky grin together, before her giddy excitement forced her to encourage him further, “So what are you going to do to me next?”
“Do you want out?”
“It’s up to you," she told him.
“Say please," he privately joked, hinting that this could become normal if they were to possibly have a future together.
Agreeing that they should probably take a breather, she conceded, passing the worthless single syllable through her lips, “Please.”
Turning around, she watched him retrieve the handcuff keys, then release both of her wrists.
“Can I use your phone?” Laura fought up her shorts as she asked, “I don’t think the agency will care that I didn’t turn up for work, probably have me replaced already. It’s just my parents I don't want worrying.”
“Sure you can.” He unlocked the screen and handed it over.
Standing outside for a better, uninterrupted signal, she had to search for her mum’s workplace to find the number before calling.
Their conversation proved interesting when she found out that her purse had been discovered, near to the club with her phone inside, but without any cash or bank cards, as though it had been stolen from the toilets where she left it.
Laura went along with the stolen purse theory, and apologised, telling her mum that she’d gone home with a dream guy she knew from the gym, and was safe with him.
When she hung up the call, she checked her bank account, to find that various withdrawals had happened in the early hours of that Sunday morning, up until the cards were stopped, due to incorrect pin activity.
“Fucking hell!” she said loudly to herself.
Hearing everything through the open window, Mike met her outside on the narrow veranda, to see if he could help.
“Dream guy?” he joked, accepting the handset back.
A safe, but cautious call to the police, confirming he’d received the message to contact them, from his mum, and that he was only ringing to say he didn’t see or hear anything, seemed a tactful way of enquiring about the wellbeing of the female police officer. The mention of the police woman in hospital, hit a dead end. She was never in a coma, and she’d been released on the Sunday morning, but couldn’t remember any details of how she got there.
Hanging up the phone, he sighed, deleting the fake news article he’d created, as he walked back into the cabin, eager to give Laura the good news.
“Looks like you’re in the clear," he announced, “That copper you hit, can’t remember a thing about it, and from what you’re saying, it sounds to me like the police never had your purse at all.”
Incredibly relieved, she hugged his chest for a short time before looking up at him and confirming her status.
“Does that mean I’m free to go?”
Pleased for her and for the fact that he was no longer harbouring a wanted criminal, he felt a sudden sense of rejection, like he was about to be jilted.
“You have always been free to go," he mumbled down to her, “I’ll give you a ride home whenever you want.”
His kiss through her hair felt so reassuring, and after her two days of worrying, meant she could squeeze him tighter, not wanting the moment to end.
“We should celebrate," she encouraged him.
The combination of steak and red wine, on top of his stress and early starts, had finished Mike off.
Literally, shagged out, he lay on the sofa between Laura’s homely legs, with his ear resting on the warmth of her crotch as she lay back against the cushioned arm, gently massaging his scalp with her fingernails.
At some stage of the evening, the enchanting handcuffs had somehow taken up residence on the coffee table in front of her, tempting the fear-tackling bad-girl, to have a proper feel and better acquaint herself, now that they weren’t being forced around her wrists.
Picking up the cool restraints and twiddling them around in her fingers, led to her clicking one of the jagged edged arms all the way closed, so that it swung back around, ready for another pass through the locking mechanism again.
Dead to the world, Mike slept through the noise, and Laura eventually drifted off, with the weight of the handcuffs warming themselves against her chest.
The alarm announcing six AM, soon silenced with the push of a side button in his pocket, and a groan of his head.
Turning to look down, he kissed the skin-tight denim, which guarded her precious honey pot, on top of which his head had spent the night keeping warm.
Climbing off her, he repeatedly kissed the soft skin of her inside leg, until he reached her knee, where he then stood, to get up.
The handcuffs had slipped off her chest in the night, and landed close to her flopped arms, looking like she’d attempted to put them on herself, but failed.
Hearing Laura wake with a sigh, he offered her breakfast.
“Do you mind if I have a shower first?” she asked.
Although she didn’t wash her hair, the delay once again made Mike late for work, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to be with her, rather than working on his own, out in the field repairing fences for the welfare of random wild and unappreciative animals.
“I’ll be back as quickly as I can tonight, and then we can hit the road," he promised her, confirming his offer of a lift home.
“Would you be in trouble if anyone found out I’d been here?” She smiled, confusingly, raising both hands to grab hold of his shoulders.
“No. I’m allowed guests. Especially very welcome guests like you," he pleased her, “You can stay as long as you want, and if you wish, we could continue exploring our equal desires.”
“Equal desires?” Biting the side of her lower lip, Laura smiled coyly, turning at the same time and walking over to the sofa to collect the shiny silver handcuffs. “You mean these equal desires?” She held the bracelets in front of him with huge pupils and a pounding heart, volunteering her body with a boost to his suggestion. “Fancy a quickie before you go to work?”
“That may get me into trouble," he smirked. “But I could be tempted if you’re going to put those things back on.”
He’d now called her bluff, giving her little choice other than going through with what she’d offered him, confident that he wouldn’t harm her if she did.
“Ok.” The novice submissive nodded, “I can do that.”
Preparing to stop her cuffing her hands in front, as soon as the first melody of clicks stopped, his voice pounced on her, “Don’t think so, honey!”
Being the consenting underdog who was putting herself out for his entertainment, she allowed no interruption, and quickly cuffed the second manacle around her wrist in front of her, before he had the chance to stipulate behind her back.
“Ok, have it your way," he agreed, reading how the huge smirk she wore told him this had been more than just a cleverly timed misunderstanding on her part.
“So how do you plan on enticing me to stay?”
“You are such a tease," he tried complimenting her.
Turning and stepping away, he picked up the bundled mess of climbing rope from under the kitchen table, and used scissors to cut off a short length of about two feet, then dump the rest on the floor.
More excited than nervous, neither he nor she spoke as he passed one end of the rope through the belt loops of her shorts, around her back, bringing the two ends to a close in front of her waist, where she could see him struggling with his fingers to tie the rope together.
As he attempted to pull the knot tight, she unnecessarily winced when the top of it touched painlessly against her stomach.
“Tell me to stop if it gets too much," he said, offering her the chance to back out of this simple piece of cord being wrapped around her waist, knowing she would be able to endure much more.
One eyebrow raised, she remained silent, showing her disbelief that he could accuse her of being such a prude.
As if planned, he reached for the thumb cuffs that had remained undisturbed on the kitchen worktop since they were unboxed, and constricted one of the metal clasps, tightly around the feeble excuse for a double knot he’d just fastened, satisfyingly rendering it impossible to untie.
“Ooooh. Be gentle," she joked, in tandem with the sound of the empty thumb cuff clamping closed around the centre chain of her handcuffs.
Lifting the cuffs up to demonstrate her new limits, he checked their security, by clamping both steel rings tighter around her wrists, so there could be no chance of slipping her hands through them.
“This rope will stop you removing your shorts and masturbating while I’m out, meaning that I’m enticing you to stay for some relief when I get home.”
“That’s not what I meant by enticing me to stay," she tried correcting him, “I meant what are you going to do to ensure I don’t just go home of my own free will?”
After a little thought Mike came back with another misunderstood reply, “I suppose a fencepost clamp around your ankle, attached to a chain might do the trick.”
“That’s a fair and practical suggestion, but why don’t you try thinking with your head, instead of your penis.”
Smiling in front of her, he kissed her lips hard, then pulled away quickly before it turned passionate.
“Hurry home," she breathed, “But first let me give you a clue. I would like you to give me something tonight," she bargained for some sort of romantic gesture.
“Ok. I’ll think of something," he nodded.
Alone and wearing the handcuffs again, felt different this time to how it had done the day before. No longer in trouble with the police, her emotions stirred up a strange feeling of apprehension and naughtiness inside her, given the knowledge that she had all day to entertain herself, until his return.
TV passed some of the time, but having her fingers held by the handcuffs, between her legs, would ultimately lead to only one thing.
Where the tight stitching of her shorts had become strained, showed off the original darker colour of the denim, enticing her curious fingers to stray down from where they were being held, and depress into the cloth’s tension. Her fingernails then began stroking the bulges of her lower lips, where the comforting tightness of her encased crotch, had enhanced their sensitivity, exaggerated further by the parting of this tough seam cutting through the middle.
She craved for a re-living of her moment from the previous day, where she’d fantasised about being the poor woman in the horror movie with her arms chained high above her head, rendering her unable to touch herself in any sexual way.
Laura’s hands worked skilfully against her torte denim chastity, whilst bucking her hips and scraping her nails over the sensitive lady parts inside her shorts, as she became more and more desperate to pleasure herself fully.
Working on the wire fencing, he looked at how impractical and uncomfortable one of the metal clamps that he fitted around each of the wooden fence posts would be. The sharp edges would cut into her skin within moments. Unless she wore boots, he thought. His mind then drifted to picturing her in thigh high heels, with a dog collar around her neck.
Crimping one of the stranded steel cables onto a post clamp, gave him the idea of lacing the boots with this difficult to cut metal wire, and joining her two legs together so she wouldn’t be able to run anywhere.
A search on his phone for ‘lace up leather’, gave pre-emptive results, before he could type in the word ‘boots’.
What about a corset? He thought, pressing on a picture of a lace up, black leather, waist-training image.
“That’s what I’ll give you my sweetheart," he satisfyingly mumbled to himself.
The rest of the morning seemed to be wasted ringing around women's clothing boutiques, explaining that he’d been given specific instructions by his wife on exactly what she wanted.
By midday, his truck arrived back at the cabin, with Mike excited to deliver the gift he’d bought for her.
Once again Laura stood in front of him with her hands cuffed, but with two different lengths of rope dangling from the thumb cuffs where she’d managed to cut the rope, using scissors, and escape its restriction.
When the couple kissed with her arms circled around his shoulders, he noticed, by the side of the television, the open case of the same DVD that she’d admitted had turned her on, to the point of masturbation, on the previous day.
Looking in the same direction as him, she smiled at being busted for pleasuring herself again.
“Sorry, I need to clean my teeth," she changed the subject, releasing him from her grip and holding her cuffed wrists in front of his face.
Taking the keys from his pocket, he un-cuffed her hands and allowed her to go use the bathroom alone, whilst he disappeared back out to his truck, to retrieve a coil of stranded fencing wire, and associated tools.
As she dried her mouth and hands, Mike approached her in the bathroom, to raise her top, so she would lift her arms and allow him to remove it.
A fresh minty kiss, ended with the offering of a white paper bag.
“Your present, my dearest.”
Excited, she opened the wrapping and held the laced up corset in front of her, inhaling a waft of its rich leather smell as she nodded in approval. “You’d like me to wear this?”
“I’d like to put it on you myself," he almost insisted, holding his hand out to take possession, once she’d finished admiring its quality.
Removing the standard cotton laces first, he wrapped the uncompromising garment around her waist, settling it low down below her chest, raising her pert breasts to present themselves before him.
Unable to see what he was doing, she turned her head, to catch a glimpse of a steel cable being unravelled from its small, plastic drum on the table behind her, and the unmistakable feel of it being threaded through the eyelets of her new, waist-training corset, behind her back.
“Can you lift your arms again for me please?”
Starting at the bottom holes, he pulled the two sides of the corset together, causing it to rise up above her hips, exposing a narrow strip of flesh around her midriff. The clinking of the handcuffs being woven onto the steel wire on the next two holes up, caused an excitable twitching between her legs.
“Oh God!” She said, making Mike smile and peep his head around to show her a look of delight.
“Don’t know what you mean," he joked, brushing off the obvious clanking of the metal in jest.
Pulling the wire tight after threading it through each hole, he stopped at the middle to wrap one loop of steel cable, all the way around her waist, then back through the next set of holes, before continuing the rest of the lacing up as normal, until he reached the top.
“Sorry, can you just step back a bit?" he asked, tugging lightly on the fastenings, to guide her closer to the table, where he reached for a metal crimp, and the crimping tool. A final draw on the wires at each side, ended with the jaws of the tool, sealing the security of the tension in the metal lacing, before he cut off the remainder of the unwanted ends.
“Holy shit," he swore, simply at what the corset had done to her figure, without commenting on its shining handcuff fashion accessories hanging down from behind.
Laura walked back into the bathroom to use the mirror and inspect the body modification that he’d given to her.
“Very nice," she initially approved, complementing the strained shape of her own slim hourglass curves.
The unexpected vision in the mirror was nothing but stunning. Her sculpted slender figure, forced into exaggeration by the tightness of the incorrectly sized shorts, led their way up to introducing the narrow waist of the leather corset, with her breasts hanging out over the top. Impressed by not having even the slightest of tummy folds, she looked higher to see her breasts heaving with each breath, because of the lower down constriction of her diaphragm.
The clothes she wore made her feel extra special, like she’d found a way of being tightly hugged and cared for by his on-looking from a distance, without any touching or exchanging of bodily fluids.
“Come here, Loverboy," she sang to him with a melody in her voice.
He tried rubbing his hands up and down her waist, but she planted her face on his with a soft ‘thankyou’ kiss, making it more convenient for him to put his arms around her instead.
“Put the cuffs on," she told him, now confident to breathe her clean breath in his face as she meaningfully spoke.
“What?" he asked.
“I’ll make it worth your while if you put the cuffs on and keep your arms locked around me like this for an extended lunch break.”
Mike smiled at her cute effort, and said nothing whilst contemplating, but finding no reason why he shouldn’t try out this suggestion of hers, that actually sounded like fun.
“Ok," he nodded, cuddling her from the front and ratcheting the cuffs comfortably closed one at a time around his own wrists.
“Where’s the key?" she asked.
“You had enough already?” he joked, “They’re in my pocket.”
Having her hands free, she searched him, and took out the two tiny keys, joined together using the flimsy keyring they’d been supplied with.
Stuffing the two little tickets to freedom, into the impossibly tight front pocket of her own shorts, she smiled and challenged him. “Can you reach them?”
“Erm, obviously not," he replied, making no effort to try.
“What about my bum cheeks?”
Pulling down hard against the cuffs and corset strings, his fingertips touched the rim of the tops of her back pockets.
“Not really.”
“How about my tits?”
Trying to spin the tight leather around her bare skin also proved to be out of the question.
“Nope," he confirmed, “Looks like you’re going to have to do all the work.”
“Does, doesn’t it?” She reached behind her head, removed her hair tie to release her ponytail, and let her long hair flow naturally down her back.
With the elasticated hair band tightly around her wrist, she unfastened Mike’s trousers and ordered him to step out of them. Next came his boxer shorts, leaving his socks on his feet, which wouldn’t matter for what the couple had in mind.
Looking down through what little gap having his arms locked around her, left between them, she stroked his erect cock, with her fingers, from the base, to the tip, then back down again, with the backs of her fingernails.
“Careful, it’s loaded," he joked.
“I can imagine,” she proudly complimented herself on being the sole reason for it being so hard in the first place.
Clenching the fingertips of her right hand, gently, with them evenly spread around the top of his scrotum, holding his balls in her palm, she quickly stretched the small, elastic band of a hair tie over her hand, to transfer ownership from her to him.
The shock of the snapping sound as it contracted around his ball sack and rolled up amongst his hairs, caused Mike to inhale a natural intake of breath.
Unable to hide his concern, he braved this painful act of what he thought must be her version of rough foreplay, by saying nothing.
Cupping his balls firmly in her right hand, where they could no longer retract back up inside him if things were to get too rough, she gently pulsed her fingers, enough to put the frighteners on him.
“We’re going to play a little game of truth or dare," she announced, “That’s where you’re going to tell me the truth, or I’m going to dare squeeze your balls.”
“You squeeze my balls and I’ll fucking hurt. . .”
“Aahh bub bub bub!” She pressed his moving lips closed with the fingers and thumbs of both hands, cutting short his irrelevant words of panic.
Once satisfied by his silence, she reached back down again and persuasively recaptured his most vulnerable parts in one hand.
“That brings me to my first question.”
Fortunately for his sanity, her eyes had a look of ecstasy rather than anything sinister, holding on to his trust, as well as holding on to his delicacy in her hand.
“Going forward. If we were to engage in a relationship, are you the sort of man who would ever harm a woman?”
“No. Of course not," he spluttered.
“Right answer.” She let go of his scrotum to continue her interrogation, “So in future, when we’re playing like this, do you agree that we won’t need to use safe words?”
“No. I mean yes. I agree. We should tell each other what we’re about to do before doing it, that way we won’t get disappointed if we’re being too adventurous.” The hint from his serious face of wanting to know her intentions, raised into a smile. “Although after doing this to me, you realise you are so unbelievably dead don’t you?”
“I’m looking forward to your method of discipline.” She grinned with a raised eyebrow.
“That means you’d better make this worthwhile," he almost dared her.
Touching his cock again, she noticed it wasn’t pulsing with as much enthusiasm as before, so reaching to the soap dispenser on the side of the bathroom sink, she pumped a squirt of lubrication into the palm of her hand.
“I think a little hand soap may be required for a little hand job.”
She committed to her offer by oiling up his shaft, and stroking along its length as Mike began breathing more comfortably, with his eyes now closed.
“Tell me how much trouble I’m in?” Her words of surrender requested no plea for leniency, even though she remained fully in charge, and in the strongest position to bargain a deal. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me when I release you?”
Using both hands, she slowed her action, circling around the tip of his cock with a dry finger and thumb, to ensure no soap entered down into him, the wrong way. “Or is it that you want me to stop?”
“NO!” His eyes opened, “Don’t stop.”
“Admit that you love me doing this," she teased him.
“Of course I love it," he exhaled, “But you’re still going to have to pay a price.”
Her hands continued sliding up and down his cock, as she questioned him further. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me first?”
“Don’t you concern yourself.” He brushed her off, not actually having a plan in mind. “Just expect to be disciplined.”
“How much discipline?” The thought of how many ways he could give her a ‘punishment fuck’, played havoc with her loins.
“Not saying.” Mike clearly didn’t want to talk, he just wanted her to finish him off.
“Well at least tell me for how long then?” Her endorphins sent her mind on a journey of imagining how long she could endure sex with him, before admitting defeat during her punishment.
“Until you have to leave later.” He looked into her eyes, showing his disappointment that this whirlwind relationship would have to end.
“Suppose I want to stay longer?” She hypnotically asked for an extension of their current affair.
“Then obviously your punishment will have to last longer.” His body being tipped over the edge by her offer of staying, could be heard in the unintentional pitch warble of his voice.
Noticeably close to ejaculation, she stopped for her final act of disobedience. “First, it’s your turn to tell me that you love me," she teased him, in revenge for doing exactly the same to her, when he had her cuffed to the banister, on the previous evening.
Caught in her trap with his trousers down, so to speak, he meaninglessly blurted out the words, “Of course I love you,” resulting in Laura returning a gratified smile, and him finally receiving a kind ending to her sexual torment.
Her experienced hands gently massaged his member, whilst purposely aiming it and stepping out of the way of her sexual achievement, watching in fun, at how far she could fire his semen train across the tiled floor.
Fishing one handed in the top of her front pocket, she took out the handcuff keys, at the same time as her recently rinsed, cold, wet hand cupped his hair-bobble-choked ball sack, for one final time.
“I hope I’ve earned enough de-merits to get what I deserve," she said, reaching up behind her back and handing over custody of the keys.
The cuffs came open with ease, releasing Mike’s wrists, and letting him close the unoccupied manacles one at a time behind her back, to keep them tidy before their next use.
“You’re probably going to be spending a bit of time in these, so you might want to consider going to the toilet for a while first. Save me having to wipe you clean later, if you see where I’m coming from.”
Convinced this meant anal sex would be part of her retribution, she removed her shorts with her underwear and walked over to the toilet, giving him the opportunity to observe how the sides of the corset were shaped down lower at the hips, complementally framing the upper curvature of her bare behind.
He couldn’t help imagining the vision of a red welt running horizontally across both cheeks, from the cruel swish of a garden cane, but as she turned to sit on the toilet, he shivered at the thought of ever harming those cute plump fruits of her fleshy globes, that he would soon be inheriting the responsibility of owning.
In the corner of the kitchen area, Mike removed the elasticated hair tie from around his scrotum, with a pair of scissors, and surgical precision, shaking his head and smiling at Laura when she appeared dressed again, in front of him.
“I’ll make lunch if you want," she offered, “But first, do you mind if I call my Mum, and tell her that I might be staying a bit longer?”
“Are you serious?” The look of delight, mirrored in each of their faces.
Laura shrugged in response, urging Mike, who remained naked from the waist down, to throw himself at her.
Overhearing her phone call, in which she mentioned looking for work up here, Mike warmed vegetable soup for the two of them to eat, welcoming her to sit down, when she’d hung up the call.
The liquid lunch convinced her paranoid mind that he wanted her anal passage to remain soft, for his ease of access, putting her off her food at the thought, and just wanting it to be over.
“Why am I still dressed?” She placed her spoon on the table at the side of her bowl, having had enough.
Considering the forbidden nature of what a gentleman shouldn’t be doing to a lady, Mike made the suggestion, “We should really make up some sort of consent before going any further.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He picked his phone off the table and turned it to video mode. “Say something into the camera like you consent to sex in these handcuffs unless one of us thinks there is a justified reason for their immediate removal, or make up whatever rules you want.”
“Hi, this is Laura.” She waved at the phone in his hand. “We are making a video to show my consent of wearing these; what can I say? Sex bracelets.”
She turned around to present the gleaming handcuffs just above the small of her back, swinging happily from the striking metal laces, holding her leather corset around her in a wasp-like figure. “And just to prove it, I’ll put them on, without duress.”
Standing with her back straight, she folded her arms behind her, looking like a submissive woman, who’d been brought up at a strict school that taught her how to stand properly to attention. Although impressive, this pose had come about only by coincidence.
Her hands fumbled blindly with the cuffs until they were both cranked open, and she could position her wrists comfortably enough to accept the manacles. Because of the height that the cuffs had been interwoven within the corset’s metal lacing, Laura found it easier to position her right wrist, on her left hand side, and her left wrist on her right side, crossing her arms behind her so that they rested parallel to one another.
Curious of how this would feel, she hurriedly clicked the first cuff closed, but had to push her elbows out a little and angle her arms up slightly, to cross her wrists, and close the second cuff successfully.
Pleased with this achievement, she turned to the camera, and asked, “Want to check them?”
Thinking she’d finished, Mike paused the recording, but held the lens facing her as she began mumbling a little more.
“Having my hands released will be at my request. Agreed?”
Still without recording, he turned the phone around to simulate filming his part in this arrangement. “Possibly a little late for that now.” He laughed. “But yes. Fully agreed.”
Raising her eyebrows and tossing her head over her shoulder, signalled to Mike for him to turn the camera back onto her, which he did, with an unseen slide of hand onto the record button again.
“However,” she continued with her terms, this time using a more seductive tone. “Because I intend on being totally irresistible to you, I’m willing to hand over any rights of demanding freedom, to your responsibility and judgement.”
Mike stood perfectly still, unable to believe the value of what he was documenting.
“But on one condition.”
Now this he had to hear. “Ok. Name it!”
“You have to commit to being mine.”
Stunned at what he’d just recorded, Mike stopped the camera filming.
“Wow.” He looked at the ground and shook his head in disbelief of her proposal. “You’re willing to hand over your freedom to me, in return for my devotion. Like being a married couple?”
“To have and to hold.” She smiled, shaking her shoulders with her hands locked behind her back. “I know we’ve only just met, but look how alike we are, and the secrets we’ve already accrued together.” Laura gave him a giddy twirl. “What do you say?”
She craned her neck to gauge his reaction, rattling her wrists cuffs before his eyes. “Seems like you’ve already captured all of me, so tell me how I can capture all of you?”
“I think I might be falling in love with a mad woman?” He shook his head with a smile, trying to drift away from the subject of marriage.
“I sincerely hope so," she initially accepted, “Not so much a mad woman, but a girl who can tell that you’re attracted to these dangerously trusting situations I’m prepared to put myself into, just to keep you interested.”
“You’re right.” His hands explored the narrowest part of her waist by forming a circle with his fingers and thumbs around it. “You are so stunning," he admitted, “And your submissive traits have definitely got me hooked.”
He knelt down on the floor in front of her.
“Not to mention how fucking sexy you look right now.”
His face stared directly at the bulges of her lady-lips, throwing his imagination into a frenzy of how tight her slit must be inside the compacting shorts, continually having her genitalia so obediently squeezed together by the constraints of the relentless cloth.
“I could unload in my pants right now," he began confessing his fantasy aloud, “Simply at the thought of how virgin things could feel in here.” His hands strayed onto her bum cheeks as he spoke into her crotch, “If only I could harness such a niche tightness for the next time we make love.”
“Really? I thought that’s what you were hinting at earlier when you told me to empty my back passage.” She smiled and walked her groin into his face, causing him to tighten his grip on her buttocks for support, so he didn’t fall over backwards. “You don’t have to ask me which hole you want to fuck, I just want our sex to be spontaneous, and wild.”
“Oh you’re wild alright," he enshrined her with lust, “There’s nothing right now you could do to stop me wanting you.”
“Well as you’re on your knees, why don’t you give me that proposal, so we can seal our arrangement?”
Not knowing how he should respond, he looked up from between her legs with a friendly, devilish smile.
“You’d have to be a more serious submissive to tempt me into anything like that.”
“Teach me then.” She stepped back so he could regain his balance on his knees again, “I want to learn all about your fantasies so I can become your only temptation.”
“I think I can commit to that," he stood up on his feet to challenge her, “If you can remain like this for the rest of your stay.”
Unable to find reason to decline giving this suggestion a try, she first threw back a minor safety concern.
“Suppose I need a temporary reprieve?”
“No problem," he happily agreed, “It’ll just cost you another twenty four hours.”
“Ha. Twenty four hours of extra time?” She chose to disguise her nerves with a chuckle, now unable to argue with him, for fear of being penalised.
“Ok, but only if during this extended period, we agree that you’re not allowed to touch me.” The look on her face showed that of one-upmanship, after ruling to deny him of any physical temptation.
Lacking the ability to shake hands, the couple kissed on their new arrangement, after which Laura extended her approval to this last minute amendment with a girly giggle.
Ecstatic, and with his hands on her shoulders, he locked his stare onto her timid smile. “And if we feel the same way after you teasing me for a week, then I’ll propose the question to my ‘One and only temptation’.”
“A week?” Laura smiled, “I’m pretty sure I can cope with a week of you slaving over me, and catering for my every need, especially if it ends with an outcome that I can’t possibly refuse.” She smiled. “By the way, I was only joking about you not being able to touch me.”
Bending his knees between her legs, he lifted her behind, inviting her to wrap her thighs around his hips, so he could carry her off to the bed and take advantage.
His manner of laying her down on the bed, accidently crushed the handcuffs beyond their limits with a muffled grunt of rapid clicks from within the bedding behind her back.
“AAH! FUCK!” she shouted, instinctively bending her knees, and planting her feet on the mattress to lift her pelvis off the bed.
This sudden upward thrusting of her crotch raised her pubic bone to become the highest part of her body, presenting her prominent mound in front of his face, with the enhancing cleft of stitching nestling its way through the crevice of her fanny lips.
“They’re too tight!” she cried, “Take them off!”
“Yes, they do seem pretty tight from where I’m looking," he sarcastically replied, reaching up to the button of her shorts.
“No! The fucking cuffs!”
“I know you mean the cuffs, I heard them tightening.”
Lowering his head with the premise of a kiss, his nose irresistibly sniffed air through the tight denim, curious to detect any hormonal shifts in her damp musk, brought about by this huge adrenaline rush.
Crouching back on his haunches, he edged his knees under her buttocks to support the weight of his panic-stricken captive, on his thighs.
Beginning with his fingers curled behind the narrowing of her waist, and his thumbs stroking the thin strip of exposed flesh near her naval, he slid his hands all the way up her ribcage, to bring her slumped breasts together from either side.
“But in my opinion, I think it’s far too soon to be considering any sort of reprieve.” He patronised her by staring only at her tits as he spoke, concluding his insult with a disrespectful burying of his face into her forced cleavage, before looking up for her approval of his abusive fun.
Interrupting this dominant pleasure with her annoyed daggers for eyes, she snapped his conscience back into a sense of responsibility.
Conceding, and more importantly, without hurting her leg, he carefully rolled the two of them over, so that he lay on his back, with her doughy breasts defenceless against squashing onto his chest.
Dutifully, he forced two fingers into each of the cuffs, to prove she’d been panicking about nothing.
“They feel fine to me.” He brushed off her valid complaint by moving both hands on to squeeze the firmness of her bum cheeks. Taking advantage, he slipped one hand forward from behind, between her legs, and smiled at her as a reminder that she could do nothing to stop him.
“You know I’m in the lakes in ten days time," he reminded her, “And now you’ve handed your, shall we call it, ‘waiver of release’ over to being at my discretion, I’m just wondering how many more days of extra time I can force on to you, so that you’ll have to come with me?”
“That’s not what we agreed.”
“Would you like me to play back the video recording?”
Content with his hand still touching her, she reluctantly accepted a kiss, which ended her disagreeing, but opened up the opportunity for her to focus on making her actions count, by pressing herself against his face and attempting to swallow his tongue.
Firm hands gripping her tighter gave the impression that her oral lovemaking seemed to be working, until he twisted away to shatter her hopes.
“You’d be wrong in thinking those irresistibly sweet tasting lips of yours are a good weapon of defence.” He confused her with his unusually complimentary comment. “When the reality is, they’ve just earned you a sentence of staying cuffed up as you are, until our business is finished in the lakes.”
“A month!” She pulled hard, multiple times against the overtightened cuffs about her wrists. “Are you fucking joking?”
“A month and ten days," he corrected her. “You’re going to love the isolated remoteness of where we’ll be staying.”