© Copyright 2005 - Jenny Bonici - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; steel; wristcuffs; anklecuffs; harness-gag; spreaderbars; ice-release; padlocks; stuck; cons; X
Don had to go to Hong Kong to see a client, so early that morning I had driven him to the airport to catch his plane. As so often happens there was a delay and we had to hang about the terminal until after lunch. As a result it was the middle of the afternoon before I got home. I still had the bed to make, house to tidy, the ironing to do and generally to get organised for starting another week’s work in the morning. Oh how I hate Mondays!
When I got all those tasks out of the way I sat down to see what was on TV. I flicked through the channels and nothing much grabbed my attention. My next thought was to get stuck into a good book – but, alas, I couldn’t find a book or even a magazine that I fancied. But I did find the latest present that Don had bought for me - some bracelets, or that is what he had written on the box. In fact they were a pair of 2-inch wide stainless steel, felt-lined, lockable wrist cuffs plus a matching pair of ankle cuffs. He had made a couple of 6-inch long spreader bars to go with them out of a length of stainless steel rod. The cuffs were so smooth and polished and as I ran my fingers over them I started to feel hot and sexy. 'Why not', I thought, as I’ve nothing else to do I’ll put them on for a while.
I went into our bedroom and found the padlocks and keys. While I was rummaging through our toy box I also found our harness gag. I popped the fat ball into my mouth, smoothed the leather shield over my mouth and then buckled the straps at the back of my neck and under my chin – finally pulling the other Y-shaped straps up over my head and buckling them to the gag strap. I slipped couple of padlocks though the holes in the buckles and clicked them shut.
I decided that melting ice in the toe of a stocking was the simplest and most reliable timing method. So it was off to the kitchen for some ice to go in the toe of the stocking. Three cubes should be enough for an hour or two of fun I thought as I stood on the kitchen bench and pushed the end of the stocking through the hole in the plant hanger on the wall. I attached the key ring and checked that it was in a position to fall when the ice melted. Now for the cuffs.
I sat on the settee and put on the ankle cuffs, slipping the padlock through the hasp and then through the hole in one end of the short spreader bar before clicking the padlock closed. I soon had the other cuff locked on my other ankle. I stood up and tried walking but the short spreader bar restricted me to a slow shuffle. I sat back on the settee and repeated the procedure with the wrist cuffs. As I had locked my wrists behind my back I found it a little difficult to reach the second padlock and snap it shut – I hoped that after the keys fell I’d be able to get the key into the keyhole to release myself. But that was for later; now all I could do was to sit back and wait for the ice to melt. I thought that it would have made the evening more enjoyable if I had locked a short length of chain between my wrist and ankle cuffs so that I was hogtied. It was too late for that now – maybe I’ll try that after work tomorrow.
The time always seems to pass far slower than you think when you are tied up and helpless – either that or the clock slows down! After a while I was sure that the ice would have melted so I shuffled off with short mincing steps into the kitchen. There was a small puddle on the floor underneath the plant hanger but there was still plenty of ice in the toe of the stocking. There was no way that I could reach the keys or hurry up the process. Sitting in the kitchen watching the ice slowly melt seemed to draw out the process even more. So it was back to the settee to try and find something on TV worth watching.
At long last I heard the clink of the keys hitting the kitchen floor. In my haste to get into the kitchen I nearly fell over – I quickly decided that shuffling along at a slow and steady pace would get me there a lot sooner. I squatted down and reaching behind me picked up the bunch of keys. Now to find the ones that fitted the locks – there must have been twenty or more keys on the ring to try. I slowly worked my way through all the keys, trying each one in turn in all four padlocks, but none of them seemed to fit. I tried them all again two or three times with the same lack of success.
Maybe the keys for these locks were still in our toy box. So it was off again on a slow shuffle to the bedroom. It was a bit difficult to search through the box with my wrists cuffed behind me, so I sat on the bed and struggled to work them past my bum so I could get my hands in front of me. It’s at times like these that a girl wonders why her bum is so big! With my hands in front of me searching for the keys was a lot easier but I still could not find the keys. I even tipped the box upside down and spread its contents across the floor, but still no keys. By midnight I had almost turned the house upside down searching for those damned keys but they were nowhere to be found. Don would probably know where they were but, as he was out of touch in a plane on his way to Hong Kong, he was of little help at the present time.
It was time for a drink and a sit down to work out what I was going to do next. But before I could do that I had to get the harness off my head and the gag out of my mouth. So it was shuffle, shuffle, shuffle back to the kitchen to try the bunch of keys once again. This time I was in luck. About the fifteenth key the second time around slipped into the one of the padlocks and it sprung open. I didn’t need to find the key for the second lock, as I was able to get the harness off and the fat wet ball out of my mouth with the other padlock still in place.
As I sat in the kitchen sipping my coffee I looked down at the shiny steel encircling my wrists and ankles and wondered what the hell I was going to do. If they had been leather cuffs I could have cut them off, but being made of steel they needed a hacksaw and we did not have one of those in the house. Even with a hacksaw there was no way that I could have sawed through the bar between my wrists. If we were still living back in Edmonton I could have given one of our friends who was into bondage a call to come over to release me. But we were new in this town and I didn’t know anyone I could trust to call for help. To call the police or fire brigade would be too embarrassing and I could see the story of my ‘rescue’ being splashed across the papers in the morning. I decided that I would go to bed and give Don a call on his mobile in the morning to see if her knew where the keys were and, if he didn’t, ask him what he thought I should do. I could imagine him rolling about with laughter when I told him of my predicament. I also would have to call work in the morning and make some excuse for my absence.
I shuffled back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. It was then that I realised that with these steel cuffs on my wrists and ankles I couldn’t get my clothes off – anyway, not without cutting them off. With normal handcuffs I could have got my top and my bra off by working one sleeve down my arm and pushing it between the cuff and my wrist and then pulling it back without my arm in it. I probably could have done the same with my jeans and panties. But there was no way I could do this with these 2-inch wide close-fitting steel ‘bracelets’.
It was about 3am before I finally dropped off to sleep and, even though I was dead tired, I woke at 6 just as the sun was peeping over the horizon. I tried to call Don on his mobile but either it was switched off or out or range. I got myself some breakfast – at least even with these cuffs on I could still get around the house (slowly), cook and feed myself and go to the bathroom. Then I set out on another search for the missing keys but again with no luck.
As soon as it was nine o’clock I called the office and told them that I had to go back to Edmonton for a few days as Don was overseas and I needed to sort out some problems that had come up about transferring his business (I was very proud of little me thinking up that excuse).
It was mid-afternoon before I got hold of Don and, as I had predicted, he was beside himself with laughter at my situation. He suggested a few places to look for the keys but I had already searched most of them several times. He even checked to make sure that they weren’t in his briefcase or on his key ring. The best suggestion that he could offer was that I should be a good girl and stay at home, in fact I should show a little restraint until he came back at the weekend. He said that he’d get a taxi from the airport so I need not worry about driving in and picking him up (more laughter!).
So began a week at home, a week that went by very slowly, a week vainly spent hunting for elusive keys, a week that I spent wearing the same clothes and seven lonely days when I hoped my boss believed my story and that nobody would come knocking at the door.
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