Lauren’s Handcuff Adventure

Lauren’s Handcuff Adventure

by Harley K. Grant

I was coming out of the store and was halfway across the parking lot when I heard her say, “no, not that high, by the wrist.”

I looked around and saw an interesting picture.  A young man was trying to put handcuffs on a young woman and making a bad job of it.  Normally, that might sound like a weird situation, but I had heard her try to give him advice, so it must be consensual.

I watched him stumble around with the cuffs while she tried to instruct him.  First he tried to put the cuff on backwards with the chain on the wrong side of the wrist.  Then he got the cuff locked with no wrist in it.  Now he could have pushed the ratchet through to get the cuff unlocked again, but he obviously didn’t know that and began to fish around for the key.

I couldn’t stand it.  “Hey, son, you want me to show you how to do that?”  I’d walked over and put on my friendly guy look.  They both looked a little startled at me.  “Hey, I can tell you guys are just fooling around.  No problem.  But, ah, I’ve got some experience.  Want me to show you?”

He didn’t really agree, but as I approached he seemed to back off and I smoothly moved in, got the cuffs open, applied them just so.  Double locked them with my own handcuff key which I always kept on my key chain, also.

She was cute, looked like a college girl, 5’6” or so, nice auburn hair, decent figure.   Anyway I could see she had a pretty flat stomach and average sized breasts and a nice smile when I smiled at her.

We’d reached an ending to the conversation. I said goodbye and left.

About four hours later my cell phone rang.  It was her.  “That was pretty cute of you to push a card in my pocket when my boyfriend wasn’t looking.  Nice photos of handcuffed girls you have on that website.” 

“Hello, what’s your name?  And did how did an experienced handcuff girl like you get a clueless boyfriend like him?”

“Oh sigh.  My name’s Lauren.  I already know yours.  And he’s sort of my ex-boyfriend or maybe my sort-of boyfriend.  It’s nothing serious.”

“How much handcuff experience do you have?”

“A bit.  My father was a police officer and he showed me how they worked.  It was a joke he did once, but I remembered.  I liked the feeling and I got my own pair.  Why am I telling you this?  You some kind of pervert?”

“If you thought that, you’d have never called me.”

“Well, OK, but I just called to say thanks.”

Yea, right, sure you did honey.  Now how do I get you to admit you want to be cuffed again?

“You like being cuffed.” A statement, not a question.

“Yea, I do, kind of funny.  You think that makes me a pervert?”

“It can be a restful feeling.”

“That’s right.  Or exciting.”

Yes, exciting, if you’re not wearing any clothes when we do it.

“What’s the longest you’ve had a pair on?”

“Well three hours with my hands in front.  Maybe only an hour with my hands behind.”

“You do have experience.”

“Yes.”

“If you’d like to come to that parking lot again tomorrow, I can give you some more experience.”

There was a little pause and I thought I might have gone too fast.

“Oh, I can put the cuffs on myself.”

“Yes, but it’s more fun when you don’t have the key, isn’t it.”

A tiny pause.  “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

“The parking lot is safe and you’ll have a safe word that gets the cuffs off right away.”

“OK.”

So we made plans.  Now, I gave it 50-50 that she’d show up.  But she knew exactly how long she’d ever been in cuffs, so she was no virgin at this, even if she had to pretend she was.

I was in my newly washed and vacuumed car at the lot at the appointed time.  I was dressed all neat and tidy and I’d cleaned up.  And she was just five minutes later than the appointed time.

She came over to my car and without preliminaries, I said, “I’ve got four different cuffs here, thought you might like to pick out something you haven’t seen before.”  And I showed her the four which included a standard issue police set.

She pointed at a special one.  “Ah this, nice thick metal, rigid connection between the wrist cuffs means you can’t rotate and the wrists are held very close together.  You couldn’t put this one on yourself.  Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

She did, and I gently locked them on, securing them fairly tightly around each of her lovely wrists.  She walked around a few steps, trying them out.

“These are cool, they hold my arms against my back, it feels like.”  She wriggled, feeling the compression.

“You in college?”  I asked.

“Sophomore at the U.  Majoring in psychology.”

“I bet you’ve not written a paper about this.”

“No,” she laughed.  “So I say red and these come off?”  She looked a little defiant.

“Yes.  But you don’t want them off, do you?”

She blushed.  “I want to try that other pair.”  She nodded at a special set.  I motioned her over and she turned her back on me.

I fooled her by putting the other set on before I took off the first pair.  That was a little tricky as the one she liked was a single cuff.  Two arched strips of metal curved around a central straight piece.  Hinged at one end, the basically held the two wrists almost touching with the straight bar in between.  They locked with a normal padlock.  A padlock I had secured a short chain to.

I held onto the chain as she quickly found out.  “I’m your prisoner.”

“Yes, but it would be more intense if we were inside.”

“At your place, I suppose.  We go there and I’m totally at your mercy.”

I let the chain go, it dangled down the curve of her jean-covered ass.  She turned and looked at me.

“It excites you,” I said, looking into her eyes.

She looked down quickly.  “I want to drive my car over there, follow you.”

“Of course.”  I got the key and let her go.  But I took the normal police pair and locked both cuffs over one wrist.  I did it slowly and gently, looking searchingly to see if she offered any protest.  She did not.  We drove over to my place and she parked in the driveway as I put my car into the garage.  She met me at the front door as I had told her to do.

Once inside, I released handcuff bracelet.  “You know,” she said, “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Yes you do,” I said.

A moment of silence hung between us. 

“Ask for what you want,” I said.

“Cuff me, please,” she said in a small voice.  “Really cuff me.”

“Why don’t you strip down to your underwear, it’s so much nicer, the chain against the skin.”

She pulled her top over her head, revealing a plum colored, lacy bra.  That wasn’t for every day, she had prepared for this.  She dropped her jeans revealing matching panties.  I took in the full package, young, ripe girl at the beginning of womanhood.  Full of life, eager.

I ran my hand lightly over her shoulder as I moved behind her.  Her arms went behind her back without asking.  I put the police standard set on, snugged up nice and tight and double locked them. 

She pranced about the room trying them out – and checking out my place.  Did I mention she had on a pair of low heels?  Yea, she had thought about this.

“Nice shoes,” I said, just to call her attention to things.

She came walking back to me, her eyes bold.  “Is this all you’ve got?”

Oh, ho, a challenge.  “No dear, it’s not.”

I slipped a chain around her waist, and locked the cuffs to the waist chain.  I had a pair of leg irons, real ones, not the kind that hurt regardless of what you do.  I put them on her slim ankles, just above those nice low heels.

“That’s the next step.”

“I’m really your prisoner now,” she said, eyes wide.

“Yes you are, why I could take you downstairs to the prison.”

“You’ve got something in your basement.”

“I’ve got so much chain and metal, it hardly fits on just one girl.”

“Well, I’m just one girl.”  She did a pirouette. 

“I noticed.  Nice bra and panties.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Do you prefer being chained up in them or while nude?”

“Oh my, that’s quite a choice. What if I don’t want to be chained up?”

“But you do.”

She dropped her head, her answer was just a breath.  “Yes, I do.”

“It excites you.”

“Yes.”

“But, you don’t want to ask for more in case you might look like a slut.”

She smiled, she stretched, rubbing the steel against her skin.  “Maybe,” she put her nose in the air, “a gentleman would know what I want.”

“So, you have your safe word.  I’m going to take you downstairs and chain you up fully.  I’m sure it will be more weight on you than you’ve ever had.  And I’ll strip you also.”

Her eyes got wide.

“As I say, you have your safe word.”

She nodded, a tiny nod. 

I took her by the elbow and walked her through the house, opened the door to the basement and walked downstairs, mindful of her feet to keep her from falling.

There is nothing very fancy about my basement.  We went to a large room that was partially finished.  A linoleum floor was covered with mats. A very large pile of chain was arraigned near the middle.

I guided her to the exact middle.  I slowly undid her bra and slid it down her arms.  I locked a second pair of cuffs above the bra, undid the lower cuffs and slid the bra off.  I’m not going to let her go, that just isn’t fun.

Topless now, I could admire her breasts, high and firm as they are on the young.  I wouldn’t touch them just yet.  Standing behind her, I slowly slid her panties down to her ankles and then I did the same trick with leg irons to remove the panties to leave her totally nude.

However, the new leg irons were different.  They looked like they were carved out of a solid block of steel.  They held her ankles rigid.  It’s a bit precarious standing with them on, especially in heels, so I held her at the elbow, but of course, I wanted her to feel precarious.

Eventually I had her sit down, legs in front of her, knees up towards her chin.

“I’ve never been in one of those.”  I smiled at her.  A gentle smile.  She was giving me a great gift, trusting me totally, and I loved that.  I stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes, letting her know she was valued.

Time for the steel.

I began with a heavy iron collar, one with several attachment points.  A chain went down her back and was locked to the waist chain.  That allowed me to take another chain and clip it to the middle of her back chain.  That went around her elbows and was snugged up.  She pulled in a breath when I did that, she’d probably not had chain around her elbows like that.  Now her arms were secured fully.

Once that was attended to, I locked a short chain to the leg stocks, as I call them, and attached the other end to her waist chain.  This held her ankles close to her ass, her legs folded, knees up near her chin.

She looked at me, a mixture of fear and excitement.  She wanted some reassurance, but I wasn’t going to cut the sexual tension by giving her any.

There was one more tie to attend to.  I put a short spreader bar between her knees.  Each end of the bar was a semi-circle of steel.  The inside of each knee nestled into these.  A short chain went around the outside of each knee and held them against the steel of the bar. 

She was probably expecting a chain from the loop to her neck, but I pulled out a short rod instead.  It gives more control to have a rigid connection to the knee spreader.  The rod was locked to the spreader and to the neck collar. 

I fished out a light chain, a chain with two small hooks at one end.  I dangled it in front of her.  “Do you know how this gets used.”

I hadn’t gagged her, but she just shook her head. 

I let the light chain drift over her face, she shuddered.  I took the hooks and put them into her nostrils and now she knew what it was for.  The chain went up over her head and got secured to the collar.  I had adjusted the length to put a bit of tension on her nose.

So, she was really chained up now.  Ankles, knees, elbows, wrists, waist and neck.  But she wasn’t attached to anything yet.  I went over to the side and pulled back something that made her eyes widen.  I had two bowling balls, each on a chain.  Actually, these were larger than a bowling ball and weighed about 25 pounds each.  One of these got chained to an ankle, the other to a wrist.

Now, if she was going to try to scoot anyplace, she’d have to haul both of the heavy balls along with her.

I stood up and back up a step to admire my work.  Her delicate light skin was wrapped in the cold steel.  She was breathing quicker now.

“Excited?”

She could only try to nod, the nose hooks putting some pressure on her.  She could speak, but she was into it now, feeling the bondage, the control.  She’d say nothing unless I commanded her to do so.

I could gag her, but that would interfere with the next phase of this adventure.

“I’ll let you contemplate your situation for a while.  Then I’ll come back and take advantage of your nude situation.”

She gulped.  But she had her safe word.

May 6th.  Lauren handcuff video clip on youtube