Short Series

Handcuffs for Beginners Part 2

Anne takes control

Anne and David’s neighbour has lent the couple a pair of handcuffs. Anne has disabused David of his notion that she might want to wear them. Click the link if you missed part one of the story… Otherwise, read on:

“So,” she said to David, “your fantasy starts with the person who is going to be handcuffed kneeling in the bedroom, naked except for a pair of stockings, waiting for the other to come in and lock the handcuffs on? Well, those shiny black holdups I bought last week are a bit too big for me. They’ll fit you perfectly.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair, pulled his head to one side, bent lower, and bit his neck, quite hard. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Off you go and get changed, Baby. I’ll join you when I’m ready. No, you don’t have a choice.”

Silence!

Anne felt her heart pounding. Had she overstepped the mark? Would he do as she wanted? She slowly relaxed her grip on his hair, and gave his shoulders a gentle push. He stood, walked to the door, turned and faced her, his face uncertain, pleading, his voice a quiet stammer:

“You mean…”

Somehow, she managed a tone of confident authority. “It’s quite straightforward, David. The stockings are in the top right-hand drawer. I want you to take your clothes off, put the stockings on, kneel in the middle of the bedroom floor, and wait for me. If you’re a Good Boy, we get to play with these.” She held the handcuffs aloft, causing him another paroxysm of fearful desire.

She kept his gaze, and waited, until he slowly turned and headed for the stairs. She exhaled, having not dared to breathe for the previous 30 seconds. Having no idea what a dominatrix should do at such moments, she poured herself another cup of tea.

She pondered. Her knowledge was not quite zero. She’d listened, fascinated, as Jane had shared stories of what she did with Patrick. Envied their special secret relationship, and had fantasised about Jane doing things to Patrick, but strangely the thought of dominating her big, strong husband had never crossed her mind, despite Jane’s broad hints that she should try it and see.

Meanwhile, David was naked, in front of her chest of drawers, holding a pair of stockings, shaking with fear, not sure if he could do this. Just an item of clothing, he told himself. Unconvinced by his own logic, he sat on the bed. Think of them as long socks, David. Distracted by the mechanics of putting them on, he carefully pulled up one, and then the other, just completing the task before the deliciously sensuous, silky slipperiness against his thighs wrecked his concentration. He stood, looked in the mirror, and with shaking fingers straightened their tops. He looked again. His legs were amazing. A woman’s legs, perfectly proportioned, but longer and slimmer than most. He was a man without a trace of narcissism, but for a split second, his own legs did it for him. He tore his eyes away, too late — seven inches of rock hard erection bobbed around above his stocking tops.

Downstairs, Anne finished her tea, and took a deep breath. She smiled at the memory of her many conversations with Jane. “Restraining a man for the first time may take some persuasion, but after doing it once he’ll love it.” Her wicked friend had been preparing her for this. She stood and crept upstairs, her heart racing, not sure if her greater fear was that he would, or would not, have done as she had told him.

She peered through the slightly open door. He was kneeling, bare back towards her, hands clasped behind his back, neat buttocks, tops of thighs, black lace; her involuntary intake of breath made him shudder as he heard her. His muscles tensed, his emotions paradoxically similar to hers: a fear she would, a fear she wouldn’t.

She watched him for a few seconds, shaking. His apprehension being worse than hers gave her a sudden sense of confidence. She walked towards him, took his right wrist, and clicked the handcuff closed. He panicked, and tried to pull away, but she held his left wrist with a strength that surprised him, and with a second click he was secured.

“Good Boy! Is that nice? Hey, Relax! You’ll hurt your wrists”.

Her coincidental use of the same words Jane had used earlier sent a shot to his heart. He stopped struggling, relaxed, and looked up at his gorgeous wife, who was now standing in front of him. His lifelong habit of being in charge, of taking responsibility, of making decisions, melted away. The overwhelming sense of giving all that stuff to someone else was a delicious thing, a whole chunk of his mind no longer preoccupied, his only responsibility to enjoy whatever she had in store for him.

Anne watched, fascinated, as the expressions on his face changed. Fear, horror, resignation, then a look she didn’t have a word for; my mind is suddenly a blank canvas for you to paint your pictures, Darling. Over her cup of tea she had imagined a hundred ways to use his body, but suddenly she knew what this was about. She wanted to possess his mind.

Her thirty seconds of lofty thought were rudely interrupted by something warm, hard, throbbing, jamming itself against her left calf. She looked down, her eyes widening with surprise at the size of it. She bit her lip, regained her composure, sat on the small bedroom settee, and pointed at the floor in front of her. He got the idea, and shuffled over, still kneeling.

“Did I say you could have an erection?” She crossed her legs, allowing her pointed heel to graze his thigh en route to her pointed toe pressing itself uncomfortably against his scrotum. He looked up, showing another new facial expression — genuine fear. With a slightly harder press of her toe, his erection softened. She giggled, a sudden burst of compassion getting the better of her. She patted the seat next to her, held his arm as he got up (not wanting him to fall on to his nose), and pushed a cushion between his cuffed wrists and small of his back so he could sit comfortably.

She sat next to him, snuggled, and chatted. Did he like his stockings? Was having a stocking covered thigh fondled by another as nice as your hand fondling another’s thigh? (F*** Yes it was). Exactly how hard did he like his nipples to be squeezed? Could this French Kiss go on forever? (Almost). Did he mind that she had fondled every single body part but one?

“Arrgghh!” His exclamation drew her attention to his need. It had been nearly an hour of chat and gentle contact. She looked down and exclaimed:

“Wow! Does that require my pointy shoe to make it go soft again?” He looked at her, tears in his eyes, desperate for her, wriggling his pelvis, pumping thin air, with no relief whatsoever. She stood, looked him up and down, giving herself time to take in the picture of desperate manhood, and savouring the notion that she could keep him waiting for just a minute longer.

Brazenly, wantonly, she lifted her skirt, giving him his first view of her stocking tops and no knickers. She straddled his lap, taking him inside her in one easy movement. She squeezed him hard, her whole being overcome with the delicious sense that he was entirely hers, at her mercy, for as long as she wanted him. Then, she orgasmed. It was long, hard, deep, satisfying. She wriggled her pelvis and moved up and down, prolonging it deliciously. Distantly aware of his shouts of ecstasy, for the moment this was about her. Exhausted, her body flopped, limp on top of him, her voice still purring with each delicious after shock. She held him. They laid silent and motionless for several minutes, until a cramp in her leg prompted her to roll off him. She stared in to his eyes, and watched him shudder as the cooling air got to his naked body. He shifted in his chair, hands still locked behind him.

“I suppose you’ll want to be unlocked at some point. I’ve no idea where I put the key.” She giggled.

“It’s in your bra”.

Laughing out loud, she found the key, and went to insert it but then hesitated:

“Just one thing”.

“Yes”

“Next time, I shall expect you to let me put the cuffs on without that silly little struggle we had at the beginning. Promise?”

He thought for a second, then nodded his assent. She turned the key to unlock him, then leaned over and kissed him deeply.

The Story Continues here:

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