“So, how long have you lived here?” she asked, looking around after she sat down on the couch.
“It’s been about five years now. It’s a small house but there’s a finished basement, more room that you might think just seeing it from the street. Can I get you anything, munchies, something to drink?” He stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
They had first met at work. He was in the Engineering department; she worked in Purchasing. Procurement meetings often brought them together when planning rollouts of new products. Co-workers warned him she rarely went out with anyone from the company. Eventually he asked her anyway, and to his surprise she accepted.
The first date had been a movie followed by a late dinner. Over plates of enchiladas the topic came up of relationships and compatibility. She had mentioned a new website with a compatibility test processed entirely by an artificial intelligence program. It asked all the usual questions and a few surprisingly politically incorrect ones, but promised the answers were kept in strict confidence to encourage honesty. The site had a lengthy explanation on how the profiles were never read by a real person. To test compatibility two people could exchange profile IDs and get back a percentage rating.
The concept was intriguing. More out of curiosity than anything else they had decided to try it out. His profile was accurate to a degree where he’d never risk answering if the responses were made public. For that reason he hadn’t expected much in the way of results. He was astonished when the AI gave her a “93% compatible” rating. Even more surprising was her result, which showed him as “near perfect”. Both of them agreed to a second date to discuss the results over dinner.
He sat down in a chair facing her. She was attractive in the ways he preferred. The AI had certainly hit one hundred percent in that respect. She was dressed for an evening out, although in a more conservative way than what he usually encountered. Looking at her he was struck by one more way she seemed to be different. He hadn’t noticed before how she always sat with her legs together, never crossed, and both feet on the floor at all times. That was one of the quirks he had listed in his profile.
The dinner had gone well, or at least he thought so. The conversation had been non-stop, none of those awkward pauses where no one knows quite what to say. She didn’t appear to be reticent about talking about herself either, no short answers, and seemed to be just as interested in what he had to say. Still, it wasn’t obvious to either of them why the AI would consider them a near perfect match. Still puzzled by the result she had actually asked to see his place, even though it was only their second time out together.
“No thanks, I’m good,” she replied. “I have no idea why the computer rated us so highly, there has to be something more. So how about a trade? Tell me a secret about yourself, something no one else knows, and then I’ll reveal one about myself.” She leaned back on the couch, one arm extended along the top.
He sat down, folded his arms and studied her, pondering her offer. “In engineering we have what’s called fault mode effects analysis, what are the consequences of some particular design choice when it fails or doesn’t work as expected? The end result is a prediction about the risks when you realize, after the fact, you made a serious mistake. That begs the question, what’s the risk here if I open my Pandora’s Box of secrets and let you peek in? If I accept the offer, let you have a look at my personality flaws, do you think you can keep an open mind before you decide to run out the door, screaming for help?” He did have a secret, a big one, and it was definitely something that might very well scare her off.
She sat up, intrigued by his answer. She had expected some minor insight into what kind of person he was, on the order of a secret fear of black cats or an intense dislike for fried okra. Instead he seemed to be willing to reveal something major. “As long as you’re not some kind of serial killer or wanted for war crimes on three continents, I promise I’ll stay calm. Beyond that, well, it depends on you.”
He laughed. “No, nothing quite that drastic, no outstanding warrants.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, fair enough, it’s a deal. Rather than explain, it’ll be easier to show you. I have a collection of items in the basement, nothing gruesome, but not the sort of thing most people indulge in as a hobby. If you find it disturbing just say so. I’ll take you home right away. I ask only that you treat it as private, just between the two of us.”
He rose from his chair. “One other condition, your secret has to be on par with mine. No getting out of the trade by telling me you secretly loathe crushed nuts on ice cream cones.”
What could it be, she wondered? Like him she had found the idea of a completely anonymous compatibility test intriguing. Trusting in the promises the site made she had filled out her profile with highly personal information, details she’d never disclose to anyone in person.
Up to now she had a good feeling about the man sitting across from her. Considering what she’d put in her profile she had to wonder why the AI would pick this particular one to be such a close match, according to the little information provided to her. That was the catch with the website: it reported a compatibility index but offered no explanation as to how the number was calculated.
He was certainly charming. He was attentive, considerate, yet assertive in subtle ways that appealed to her. From the wide ranging topics over dinner he was obviously educated and expressed himself well, another surprise considering he was an engineer. If pressed she couldn’t explain why, but her intuition said to trust him.
She stood up. “Okay, even trade. If I stay I promise I’ll match you secret for secret. And for your information I like nuts on a cone. It’s that hard chocolate coating I hate.”
She followed him down the stairs to the basement. It was finished, as he had mentioned, with painted wall board, ceiling tiles and a carpet on the floor, overall a nice job of adding space to a small house. The room at the bottom of the stairwell was fitted out as a casual living room, with a large screen TV, some chairs and a somewhat worn but clean sofa. A closed door led to the rest of the basement.
“I keep the collection in here,” he explained, opening the door.
She hesitated just a moment before following him into the next room. When he turned on the lights what she saw was totally unexpected, but it did explain his caution. The walls were lined with pegboards, and on them were hanging all sorts of handcuffs, leg chains and other types of restraints. Underneath each item was a small card. She walked up to one and started reading. The cards were neatly printed labels, listing the model, company, country of origin and date of manufacture. Definitely an engineering type, she told herself, he’s careful about the little details.
He backed up to the far end of the room. She didn’t miss that. He was deliberately not blocking the door, trying to not be seen as a threat. “Okay, open mind,” she began. “Obvious question, why collect,” she swept her arm around the room, “all this?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t come to mind immediately, but there’s a real mechanical design challenge here. How do you assert physical control over someone, usually by force, in such a way as to minimize injury while preventing escape? Potential prisoners come in all shapes and degrees of hostility. Any solution has to cover a wide spectrum, yet be economical and relatively easy to use, with little or no training. I’m fascinated by the whole idea, and the solutions that have evolved over the years.”
She turned back to the wall display, slowly walking past his exhibits. “All these are the real thing? They actually work? You have the keys?” She needed some time to take in what she was seeing.
“There are some reproductions, when the originals are rare or one-of-a-kind museum pieces. Yes, they are all real, they work reliably, and I have two keys to everything hanging on the wall.”
She stopped in front of one particular item that caught her interest. “Tell me about this one,” she asked, pointing to one of the restraints. “How was it used?” How could the AI site have matched me to a man like this? She turned to look at him, carefully waiting a short distance away.
He came over to stand next to her. “Those are what’re known as transport chains. When a high risk or violent prisoner had to be moved to another facility the guards will use them to closely restrict hands and feet, to keep the prisoner subdued. They’re still in use today.”
“They look scary.” She turned her head to look up at him. She asked herself silently, should I do it? Taking a deep breath, she plunged into unknown territory. “Show me how they work! Pretend I’m a violent, psychotic criminal. I’ve just been convicted on multiple sensational and particularly grisly murder charges, now you have to take me to prison.”
He stared at her, taken back by her unexpected request. “These aren’t kids’ toys, you know. This is the real deal. That particular model is used by federal marshals and maximum security prisons. They lock on; you can’t get them off without the key. Unless your secret is you moonlight as an escape artist?”
She looked directly at him, eye to eye. “I understand, I trust you. And no, no outside job as a magician. Go ahead; I want to know what it’s like. I’ve never been arrested. I’ve never even seen handcuffs before, except on TV.” She turned her back to him, placing her hands behind her back. “I’m ready. And don’t hold back. Treat me like I’m the real deal too.”
He hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea. He reached up and took the restraints off the pegs. “These can be used with your hands in front…” he began.
“On TV it’s always hands behind the back,” she interrupted him. “Don’t take too long. I’m liable to lose my nerve.” That part was true. It was all she could do to hold still and not start shaking. I can’t be saying this, she thought. It felt like she was driving down a steep, twisty mountain road late at night, through a thick fog.
“Okay, if you insist. First thing, we have to secure your hands.” She heard the clicks when he pushed open the bows on the handcuffs. Taking hold of her left hand he closed the cuff around her wrist, followed by the other cuff around her right wrist. “The keyholes face away from your hands. In theory it’s supposed to make it harder for you to open them if you get hold of a key. I don’t think it really matters, but that’s the procedure.”
She tried to pull her wrists apart. The cuffs held them close together. She tried to slip the cuffs over her wrists, like regular bracelets, but they fit too close to go past her hands. “I can’t get them off. You definitely have my attention.” She was still heading down that twisty road, but to make it interesting her brakes had just failed. I’m past the point of no return now. Once she was committed all the anxiety seemed to fade away. It might still be a dangerous road, but she wasn’t the driver any longer.
“Doing okay, not too tight?” He checked the fit, slipping a finger between her wrist and the cuff to make sure there was some room. Satisfied, he used the key to double lock them. “That click was the double lock, so they won’t tighten further and cut off circulation.”
With one hand he took hold of her arm and turned her to face him. “This is where the extra security comes into play.” He reached around behind her and took hold of the loose ends of the waist chain. With one end in each hand he pulled it tight against her waist, slipping one end through a ring on the other. “It takes some work but a lot of people can slip their hands down and step through the cuffs if they aren’t secured in place. This waist chain makes it more difficult to escape.” Reaching for a padlock on the wall he clicked it shut on the waist chain in the front, well beyond her now restricted reach. “With the chain on the idea is that your hands will stay in place behind your back, where they are the least likely to cause some mischief.”
She tried to shift her hands left and right, and then up and down. Bending over, she tried to reach out, without success. She tilted her head to look up at him. “You’re right about not having much freedom of movement. What about that other thing hanging on the wall?”
Behind her back, hidden from his sight she ran the fingers of her right hand over the cuff on her left wrist. It had a more substantial feel to it compared to a regular bracelet, heavy and sturdy. If these could subdue a man twice her size there certainly wasn’t any way she could break free.
“The handcuffs keep you from fighting back, but you can still run away. You’d find it awkward running with your hands cuffed behind your back though. It throws off your balance. To make sure you don’t try to escape we have to restrain your legs too.” He turned her around to face the wall again.
She looked up at him over her shoulder. “I suppose that makes sense. Those things,” she nodded toward the leg irons on the wall, “go around my feet?”
After reaching over her head to take them off the wall he knelt down and began fastening the leg irons on her ankles, above the straps on her shoes. When they were in place he checked the fit, and then double locked those cuffs as well. “That’s right,” he explained as he stood up. “The connecting chain is long enough for you to walk, though it will slow you down. The length is too short to run, even if you weren’t wearing heels.”
She leaned over to better see what he’d done. There was a larger handcuff locked around each ankle, with a longer connecting chain between them. “Be careful when you try to walk. These leg irons are a special version, modified with a shorter connecting chain.”
While he held onto her arm she took a tentative step forward. Her ankle jerked to a stop when the chain pulled tight. She tried again, with the other foot. Carefully she stopped before the chain halted her. She could walk, but not very fast or very far. She thought of the stairs down to the basement. Those might be something of a challenge to climb. He was right; she certainly wasn’t going to run away now.
While standing behind her he reached over to the wall and took down one more special set of cuffs, slipping them into his back pocket. “At this point I’d be escorting you out to the bus that’ll take you to prison. How about we go sit down for a few minutes? You do still owe me a secret, remember?” At her side he took hold of her arm, above the elbow. “C’mon, you can reveal all.”
Collecting a Debt
Her first step towards the door brought her up short when the leg irons grabbed hold of her ankles. She stumbled and almost fell. Fortunately his grip on her arm kept her upright. “Steady, take it slow,” he warned her. “You have to take shorter steps. Work with your limits. Don’t try to fight the chains.”
“I see what you mean. It’s sort of like wearing a really tight skirt and way too high heels.” She tried again, this time deliberately taking a short step that didn’t pull tight the leg chain. “Okay, that was better. Not very likely I’m going to overpower you and make a run for it, is it? I’m not sure I could even make it up the stairs.”
“I’ll have to take your word on the tight skirt. Yeah, that’s why they’re called restraints. Most machines are designed to make a difficult task easier. These do the opposite, make something as simple as walking a slow and complicated effort. You’re doing fine, take your time.” Still holding onto her arm he led her through the open doorway into the small living room area. “Here, you sit down on the sofa. I’ll help you.”
While he kept her steady she sat down. He watched her closely, still puzzled as to why she hadn’t asked him to release her right away. He pulled over a chair and sat down facing her. She sat up straight, legs close together and feet on the floor. He noticed for the first time, with the leg irons on she couldn’t cross her legs.
“There is one more part to this I didn’t mention before. See, if you really were a high risk, and in a bus seat, I’d use a pair of these,” he held up the set of cuffs he’d taken from the wall, “to keep you from causing any trouble.”
What she saw dangling from his hand was another pair of oversize cuffs, like the ones around her ankles, but instead of a chain these were joined together with a large hinge. Their purpose was obvious. Locked on her ankles she couldn’t walk at all. Leaning forward to keep her balance she stretched out her legs toward him. “Since I’m in this far I suppose I might as well go all the way. Well then, officer, better make sure I behave.”
He looked at her again, not quite sure what to make of her last remark. Reaching down he closed the oversized hinged cuffs around her ankles, immobilizing her. Like the others he used a key to double lock them. When he finished she drew her legs back, planting both feet firmly on the floor. “It seems I won’t be going for a stroll anytime soon.”
She struggled a bit more, more to prove to herself she was securely imprisoned by the restraints that actually trying to break free. “I have to admit these chains do a good job. I’ve never felt more helpless than right now.” She looked up at him. “I don’t have a clue as to how I can make a daring escape trussed up like this. What happens next?”
He leaned forward in his chair, facing her. He was so close their feet were almost touching. Tilting his head to one side he studied the woman in front of him. “That is the question, isn’t it?” He took his time before continuing. “I suppose if this was your unlucky day, I would, as the saying goes, have my way with you.”
She froze, afraid to speak. Was he serious? And if so, what could she do? That brought up a more complicated question, what did she want him to do? Finally she asked, “Is that what you planned?”
He smiled. “Still have an open mind? A sudden turn, isn’t it? For just a moment there, you felt what a real prisoner feels: fear, helplessness, trapped and no escape. Is it what you expected?”
Frowning she snapped back, “Do you always answer a question with another question?”
Just as quickly he replied, “And do you always change the subject when asked a difficult question? You can relax. No, I’m not going to attack you. I’ll share one more secret. To be completely honest, you are extremely attractive wearing those, umm, accessories. You are quite the temptation. I find it’s very difficult keeping my hands off you. But don’t worry, you’re safe.”
Behind her back she explored the cuff on her left wrist, using the fingers of her right hand. Slipping two fingers under the bow she tried to pull the cuff open, but it didn’t budge. She wasn’t going to get out of them on her own. “If I ask, will you unlock these things and let me go?”
He stood up but didn’t answer right away. Towering over her she had to lean back to look up at him. “The easiest way to answer that is for you to actually ask me. Remember though, you wanted me to show you how those cuffs work. You’re halfway there now, but there’s more than just being bound hand and foot. To really understand what being restrained is like you have to experience that moment when you are trapped, a prisoner with no way to get them off. You ask to be released, I refuse. At that point the world shifts around you. Suddenly you’ve lost that last little bit of control.”
That was when the realization struck as to how extremely vulnerable she was. He was twice her size, far stronger, and she couldn’t make a move to defend herself. Trying not to shake she lowered her head. Barely whispering she said, “What…What are you going to do to me?”
He sat back down. “Do?” He folded his arms and leaned back. “That’s up to you. Right now I’m waiting for you to keep your end of our bargain. I revealed my secret, what’s yours?”
He still didn’t understand what was going on in her head. Once again she didn’t speak those few, simple words, a request for him to let her go. His veiled threat was just a bluff. If she did ask he’d take the cuffs off immediately. Yet there she sat, wrapped up in a nice bundle, unwilling to test if she was really his captive.
When she looked up at him again their eyes locked. She couldn’t turn away from his penetrating stare. His eyes narrowed. “Go ahead, tell me. Equal trade, remember?” He spoke in a low but determined voice.
That’s when her resistance collapsed and fell away. She had been trying to come up with something innocuous, but compulsion to tell him the truth overpowered her.
“I’ve never, ever admitted this to anyone,” she began, trying to stall for time. He didn’t respond, nor did he look away. At that moment he became her sole focus. She forgot about the chains imprisoning her, where she was, everything except his last words. Unable to hold back her secret spilled out.
“Since I was a teenager I’ve had this desire to be told what to do. Not asked, ordered, by a man with the will behind it to force me if I refuse. I dreamed of someone who would lead me, to make the decisions for me, to run my life. I need someone to point me in the right direction, to teach me the proper way to behave, to be strict, to punish me if I stray. It has to be someone with confidence, an unshakeable certainty, someone I can’t sway.” She paused, looking directly at him. “It has to be someone like you.”
She didn’t continue after her confession. Whatever happened next was up to him. It was all she could do to hold still and not start shaking from reaction. Under other circumstances she’d be tempted to run out of the room in embarrassment but that particular option was out of the question given her current state.
Once more she pulled at the handcuffs in the vain hope they would suddenly spring open. It didn’t happen, which left her at his mercy. All I have to do is ask him, she told herself, but those few, simple words were stuck in her throat.
His lack of an immediate answer, and the silence that followed, was sending her anxiety level skyrocketing. Had she just made a fool of herself, or worst of all become a gift-wrapped present for a psychopath?
He finally reacted to her admission. “It appears we have some rather complicated matters to discuss. You caught me by surprise. I imagine you’re waiting to hear what I think of your, uhh, shall we call it an offer?”
She started to say something but stopped when he held up his hand. “To ease your worries, I do take you seriously.” He stood up and started pacing back and forth, in front of her. “I have to compliment you on your presentation, if it was intentional. You pressed all the right buttons in my head.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” she replied. “Tonight all I expected was to spend some time together, the usual date, hopefully learn more about you. That thing about trading secrets, I didn’t expect it to get so serious so quickly. Then I saw these,” she turned to the side, waving her bound hands at him, “and something clicked in my head. I wanted, no, I needed you to put them on me. All those years hoping, dreaming I’d find a man who understood me. The moment I saw the prison chains hanging on the wall I had a good idea of what to expect. Even if it was for just a moment, I’d be so powerless. A man would own me, be in control, and I had no way to stop him. Then you ordered me to tell you my secret. Your voice got into my head. All I could think of was obeying you. I couldn’t hold back.”
All the pieces fell into place. Now he understood why she didn’t ask him to release her. It had to be his choice, not hers. And it fitted in neatly with the high percentage match from the AI website. He said nothing but he did watch her, looking for any sign of insincerity. If she meant what she said the evening was about to take a quite sudden turn in a new direction.
He stopped behind his chair. Putting his hands on the back he leaned forward. “Do you really think I can run your life, dictate everything you do, be your conscience, deciding what’s right and what’s wrong?”
“Yes I do. The fact that you’d even ask the question convinces me you’re the right man for the job.”
“I’m not quite as perfect as you imagine. I can be very selfish.”
“Nothing’s free in this world,” she shot back. “I expect you to make use of me in any way that you might enjoy. I’m willing to take the chance it won’t injure me. I think I’ll still come out ahead on the deal.”
He drummed his fingers on the chair. She seemed to have an answer to any objection he could raise. “What if I make mistakes? You’re the one who’d suffer for it.” He walked around the chair and sat down again.
“If you get it wrong you make it right. I don’t know how to do that, but you do. You’re the engineer, use that fault mode thing you mentioned. You will have the power to fix the mistakes in my life, whether they’re mine or something you did. All you have to do is tell me what you want from me.” She could sense he wanted all she had to offer. He wasn’t really trying to talk her out of it; he was trying to convince himself he was up to the task. All he needed was a little push…
She started to lean forward, holding out her hands behind her back. “Will you take these things off me…” she began.
He interrupted her by holding up a hand. “No. What I want is for you to stay exactly where you are now. You want me to be in charge? Then do as I say.” He leaned forward and pushed her back with one hand. “Sit up straight, head high.” He glanced down at her feet. “Keep your legs together, feet on the floor. I don’t want to see them move.”
Without the slightest hesitation she obeyed him. He had counted on some resistance if he acted in a domineering manner, barking out orders. From the way she responded that wasn’t going to discourage her either. Far from resisting him she was encouraging more of the same.
She wasn’t fooled by his sudden change. He was testing her, trying to find out if this was only acting out some fantasy in her mind. I’ve waited for this moment for such a long time. I will live up to what I believe, she promised herself.
She did her best to sit up straight. The flow of power to him was so strong it overwhelmed her. It might have been a dream at one time, but right this very moment it was all too real. The man sitting across from her represented everything she had hoped for.
“Yes…sir,” she acknowledged his command. The Internet was a wonderful tool for research. She’d found the articles explain BDSM, dominance, submission, kink, all the terms in use to describe what she felt. She learned she was no masochist; those activities didn’t interest her. Submission though, that fit her all too well. The accounts of women living that lifestyle fascinated her. She wanted the same. So she studied what seemed to work, and this was one of the tools that showed up as a common theme. Maybe he wouldn’t care for being addressed with a show of deference. What she did recognize is the way it affected her.
“Sir?” he asked. “Why the formality?”
“It’s not used that way, sir. You are in charge. I use that term to respect your authority and demonstrate I accept my place. You command, I submit. It’s something I want to do for you, if you approve.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I’ll stop, sir. I’ll be disappointed but it’s entirely up to you.” She’d read the articles and blogs arguing for and against. Both sides had good arguments, but in the end the emotional won out over the rational. It felt right.
“Alright, you can continue for now. I’ll reserve final judgement until I’ve thought out the implications.”
“Yes, sir.” I’m asking for his permission, and he isn’t backing away. He hadn’t actually agreed but that wasn’t stopping him. A thrill went through her every time she heard his commanding voice. More than ever she was positive this was the man who deserved her submission.
“I get the impression you’re trying to seduce me. Not just for a night in bed, you’re after much more, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I am.” She had to be honest in answering his question. “My body belongs to you as much as my mind. That’s a given, whatever you desire, I want to please you. I admit I’m doing my best to convince you I mean what I said. If you will have me, sir, own me, treat me as your property, I swear I’ll obey you no matter what happens. Set rules for me, tell me how to dress, when do I go to bed, when must I get up in the morning. Create tasks for me so I can prove myself to you. Teach me how I should behave, with you, on my own, anytime, anywhere. Show me what I can do to convince you.” She could hear the pleading tone in her answer. The begging was obvious, though so much was at stake she couldn’t stop.
He stared at her, sitting like a statue on the couch. I have to be very careful about this, he realized. She’s already started, before I’ve given her an answer. He rose from his chair and went to sit beside her.
“I’d like for you to give me a moment to think this through. Are you okay? Lean forward so I can check your hands.”
She nodded once to let him know she was fine for now. He pushed her forward with a hand on her shoulder. He examined whether her hands showed any sign of circulation being cut off. Her skin color looked normal, confirmation she wasn’t hiding problems with the cuffs. He reached down with his other hand to feel where her wrists were bound.
“You were very insistent about putting on these things.” He ran a finger around the steel bracelet on her right wrist. “I expected you to ask to be released immediately after I finished, but you said nothing. Was that something in your head too, stopping you?”
“Mostly, sir. When I saw your collection I was fascinated. I did recognize what I have on now, from pictures on the Internet. I’m not sure why but it caught my attention when I saw the picture. I’d imagine myself being hauled off to some prison, bound up like I am now, helpless, vulnerable, at the mercy of my guards. That’s why I asked you to put them on me. I told myself it’d only be for a few minutes, but once they were on I was your prisoner, sir. It has to be your choice when I should be let go. Until then you must force me to stay this way, not that it takes much effort since I don’t have a key.”
He laughed. “That’s true. You like being tied up, don’t you?”
She shook her head. “No sir, not with rope. It leaves lots of marks, it causes swelling, I don’t like the idea of being tied up at all. Handcuffs though, that’s different. They don’t have to be tight to work. There’s something about the feel of metal on my skin. Rope can be cut off with a knife. It takes a lot more work to cut off handcuffs. Steel is so, well, I guess it’s the sense of being tough, durable, unyielding, and so strong I can never free myself. It’s not being tied up, sir, it’s being restrained against my will. That’s what I like.”
“So I’m forcing you right now, holding you captive against your will? You can send me to jail for that.”
She shook her head. “No sir, I could never do that. If you want me to wear these chains it’s my responsibility to complete my task, in this case to sit here. I’d love to stand up and stretch. That doesn’t matter. You set a task, for me to sit up straight, keep my feet on the floor, and to wear your chains. You know, that’s something I can do for you, sir. Wouldn’t you like to try out your collection on me?”
She lowered her gaze, staring into her lap. In a low voice she continued, “If you wish, you can see how well your cuffs work on me with or without my clothes. You have the right to order me to strip.”
“Wait, you’re telling me you want to strip down for me, right now?”
She leaned forward again, yanking on the waist chain holding her hands behind her back. “Not at the moment, sir. You would have to instruct me on how to fulfill an order to take off my clothes while hooked up like this. But if you give me permission and a way to accomplish it then yes, sir, I will. You have the right to choose how I dress, control my appearance, even forbid clothes whenever you wish.”
No woman had ever spoken to him in that way before. He had some difficulty accepting she was serious but he had to admit he liked what he heard. If she truly meant it there was one way to find out. “Here’s what’s going to happen next. First, you will remain locked in those cuffs, with your clothes in place. I will remain in possession of the keys at all times. Don’t ask me to release you. From now on we do it my way, regardless of what you prefer.” She still didn’t react, other than stare at him. Technically he’d crossed the legal line now. If she thought he’d gone too far then it was false imprisonment to start, maybe as far along as kidnapping.
“Second, there will be no negotiations, no conditions. I get complete and unrestricted control over your life, for as long as I wish. If I choose I will not explain my actions; you’ll accept them as is. You’ll have to trust me. I warn you, I promise you, I will use that power to extend my hold on you, to the point where it will be impossible for you to break it. There will come a time when whatever you do, anything you say, even how you think, will be an extension of what I think is best for you. You will be a willing participant, eager to prove how loyal and obedient you are to me.”
He paused to let her consider his intentions. He saw excitement, eagerness, and something more in her face. Far from scaring her he was surprised to discover he had brought on sexual arousal. If he took her now, by force, there would be no resistance at all. It was tempting, but he sensed this wasn’t the right moment. Instead he took hold of her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. He knew what she expected next. Instead he put his arms around her, held her tight, and delivered a long and passionate kiss.
“And third, I’m not going to ask if you agree to all this. Understand, I don’t bargain. Whether you like it or not you belong to me now, and you know it, in here. Until I give you permission you are forbidden to speak. ” He tapped the side of her head. “It was very clever to have me lock those chains on you. You’ll find it extremely easy to put them on, but far more difficult to get them off.”
He took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of her. “See this? In a very literal sense this is your freedom, in my hands.” He bent his knees, put one arm around her waist and the other around her knees. Rising up he slung her over his shoulder, her head down behind his back.
Caught by surprise she started to struggle, but bound as she was there was little she could accomplish. Annoyed, he slapped her backside once, hard. “That’s enough,” he warned her in a stern tone of voice. She stopped immediately. Ordered to silence she had no way to ask him to put her down.
Below her dress her legs were still bent from her attempt to resist him. Letting go of her knees he ran his free hand up and down one leg. He felt her tense, but she didn’t try to fight back. Most promising, she still hadn’t spoken since he’d ordered her to silence. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He lingered at her ankles, exploring how the cuffs held them in a steel grip. “I’m sure you’re scared right now. Just remember, you’re safe as long as you do as I tell you.”