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From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
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Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - Hoakie Oldie (Cougars)(Bondage) 1/1
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Hoakie Oldie (Cougars)(Bondage)
From: felix.dartmouth@arch.com (Felix Dartmouth)
Date: Wed, 12 Jun 1996 11:19:16 GMT


Felix Dartmouth
Archives BBS WWW Site
http://www.archw.com/
(C)  October 7, 1987

Cynthia flushed.  Her heart leapt, and she found herself short of
breath.

She had just finished getting ready for church.  This was the first
time that she had gone to church with Jeff, and she had been a little
surprised when he had asked her.  They had not been 
going steady very long, but there Jeff stood at her door, dangling a
pair of shiny nickel handcuffs from his finger teasingly. 

"Jeff, I know that I lost the bet, but now?" she pleaded. 

Jeff walked into her apartment.  He took her by both shoulders, and
gave her a light kiss on the lips.  "Now, you knew the stakes when you
made the bet.  The Cougars lost, and the bet was 
that the loser spends the day as a prisoner, and today is your day.
My, you sure look nice!"  Jeff stood back to admire his girlfriend. 

"Thank you," she stammered, but she was unable to take her eyes off
the handcuffs. 

She did look nice.  Her long brown hair was carefully curled, and her
makeup nicely set off her light blue eyes.  She had chosen to wear a
light orange chiffon blouse with sheer sleeves, and 
a slim black leather skirt that came to mid calf length with a slit up
past her knees.  Her hose was seamed, and carefully centered along the
back of her shapely calves, and she wore patent high heeled pumps.

An extra sexy touch was the velvet black ribbon that she had tied
about her slender throat.

Since they were both students, Jeff usually saw Cynthia in jeans,
although she did almost always wear a very feminine blouse and heels.
The semester had just begun just over two weeks ago, and 
the two of them had met the first day of classes.

Jeff had swept her off her feet.  He was a senior who transferred in
from another school to be in the business program.  They met in the
registration lines.  Things between them progressed 
rather quickly, and they were quite close after only having known each
other a short time.

At lunch, a few days before, they were talking about college football,
which they both followed closely, and Cynthia remarked that she was
certain that the Cougars would defeat the Bears (Jeff's home school
team) by a sound margin.  Jeff, sensing he had a fish on the line,
carefully reeled her in. 

"Oh come on, now," he teased.  "The Cougars don't have a chance!"

"A chance?  They're going to win!" replied Cynthia.  "How much do you
want to bet?"

"I don't like to bet money with friends, Cynthia," said Jeff.  "I tell
you what.  Since we are going to church this Sunday, and we are
planning to spend the afternoon together anyway, I'll bet you my
freedom for the day that the Bears will win."

Cynthia was intrigued.  "What do you mean, your freedom?" 

"Simple," said Jeff.  "If the Cougars win, I will be your prisoner for
the whole day.  I'll do whatever you want.  I'll clean your apartment,
do errands for you, whatever.  You can even hogtie me on the floor for
the whole day, if you want."

Cynthia smiled.  "Hogtying you sounds fun.  And if your Bears win?"

"I thought you were so sure that they wouldn't have a chance."

"But if they do?"

"The same thing.  You will be my prisoner for the day." 

Cynthia thought for a minute.  "I'm not sure that I want to be trussed
up, but it seems a fair bet."  She held her hand out across the table.
"You're on!"  They shook on it.

On Saturday afternoon, Jeff had a study group session, and he was
unable to watch the game.  It was about four o'clock when he came out
of the library, and went back to his apartment.  He picked up the
phone and dialed Cynthia.  They were going to a film that night.

After a bit of small talk, Jeff said, "Good, then I'll be by at 7:30
to pick you up."

"See you then," said Cynthia, almost too quickly.

"Wait a minute," Jeff said.  "Do you know who won the game?"

"See you at 7:30," stalled Cynthia.

"Hey, now, I do detect a bit of reluctance to come out with the facts,
here.  Now who won the game?"

"The Bears won, 21 to 17," said Cynthia reluctantly.

"I knew it!"  said Jeff.  "Well, it looks like I won the bet.  Well,
don't worry, even though you will be my prisoner, I'll try to see that
it's not all bad for you.  Tell me, do you prefer 
ropes or chains?" 

"Ropes or chains!"  exclaimed Cynthia.  "You're not going to keep me
tied up are you?  I'll clean your apartment, anything!" 

"The bet was that you would be my prisoner.  And besides, you said
that you would keep me hogtied.  I thought that a prisoner was
supposed to be tied up by definition."

"OK, smarty, well, I hope that my sentence will be suspended for
tonight, at least."

"Prisoner at the bar, I hereby declare that your sentence is for the
night only suspended and that you will be remanded into custody there
to be taken into restraint come the morrow's sun.  
Tell me, what type of gag do you prefer?" asked Jeff.

"Very funny, Jeff," laughed Cynthia.  "See you soon."

"Bye, lover, pick you up at 7:30." 

. . . . . . . . . 

"Well, if you must lock those silly things on me, go ahead," said
Cynthia reluctantly, proffering her wrists before her.  "I just trust
that you will remove them before the service?"

Jeff took one of her wrists, and clasped the bright metal around her
blouse cuffs between the bottom third and fourth buttons.  He did not
fasten them overly tightly, but assured himself that there was not too
much play between her wrists and the handcuffs.  She coulld not escape
and she could not even succeed in moving the handcuff clasp over her
blouse button.  With one of wrists thus clasped, and its mate dangling
in the air, he took her into his arms and hugged her warmly. 

"Be careful," she admonished, "you might get makeup on your jacket." 

He held her firmly at arm's length, looked at her and said, "You're so
beautiful."

"You didn't answer my question," she said.  "Are you going to take
these 'cuffs off me before we go into the Church?" 

He kissed her firmly and deeply on the mouth.  Cynthia hesitated a
bit, then responded to him.  Her jaw relaxed.   Her breathing became
short and quick.  After over a minute, they came up 
for air, and he said, "Let's go."

"I have to fix my lipstick, and you need to get the pink lipstick off
your lips."

She went to the mirror, and redid her lips as the handcuff dangled
from her wrist.  She seemed slightly annoyed by the dangling metal,
but quickly redid herself as Jeff took Kleenex and removed her
lipstick from his lips.

As soon as Cynthia put the lipstick back into her purse, she began to
examine the clasps at her wrist.  The free end was closed, and she
asked Jeff, "Are you going to unlock this part, or do I just wear
these like this?"

"No need to unlock them," he said.  "They just ratchet through."  He
demonstrated.  The clicking sound opened the clasp, and made them
available for her wrists.  Again, she proffered her wrists in front of
her.  He took both of them in a firm grip, gave her a light kiss, and
then twisted her wrists behind her back, with his arms around her.

"Are you going to lock up my wrists behind me?  That's the way they
carry criminals around."

"Well, you are my prisoner, and this is only the beginning of your
restraint today.  In fact, just handcuffs are hardly sufficient to
transport you to church."  He clasped her free wrist 
into the metal shackle.  She was now handcuffed.

Cynthia stepped away.  She tried to look at the metal bands that held
her wrists behind her.  With her arms locked up behind her back, her
lacy slip and bra were visible through the sheer orange material of
her blouse.  Twisting her wrists in the cuffs brought her neither
relief nor freedom.  She relaxed her efforts, allowing her wrists to
drop, and they fell with a clatter to the small of her back.

A wisp of her brown curls fell in her face, and she instinctively
reached up to remove it.  When her motion was stopped by her opposite
arm's inability to twist further, she gave her lover 
a dependent, exasperated look.  "Please?" she asked.

Instead of brushing the brown locks aside, Jeff took her in his arms.
Her body, convex due to the handcuff's locking of her wrists behind
her molded against his.  She raised her lips to his to receive a kiss.
Instead of kissing her, however, he brushed the hair from her eyes
with his lips.  He heard the single link of chain that joined her
cuffs rattle behind her.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jeff pulled out a set of leg irons.
Before Cynthia even had a chance to comment, he stooped down and
swiftly clasped them about her ankles.

"Now I feel like a hobbled harem girl!" said Cynthia.  "Jeff, you
know, this is kind of sexy."

"It sure is, just the thing for a Sunday morning before church.  It
will give us something to look forward to afterwards.  Oh, there's one
more thing."

"What is it now, or dare I ask?" 

Jeff pulled out a leather strap that ran through a bright red rubber
ball.  "What on earth is that for?" exclaimed Cynthia.

Jeff had taken all her generous head of hair in his grip, forming a
ponytail, and raised the ball up to her mouth.  She opened, and Jeff
set the ball on her bottom teeth and twisted down and back.  There was
a bit of pressure required, but the ball slipped under her white upper
teeth and seated itself firmly in the cavity of her mouth.  

Her eyes immediately widened, and Jeff paused for a moment to enjoy
her reaction to this new higher level of bondage before tightening the
strap tightly at the soft nape of her neck.  As the roller buckle was
pulled, the gag bisected her jaws, and the ball was pulled further
back into her mouth, and her lips stretched around it, forming a
perfect seal.  Jeff took a small lock from his pocket and ran it
through the hole closest to the buckle, making it impossible to
unbuckle without his key. 

Cynthia tried to talk, and all that would emit from her mouth was
feeble moans.  She clearly was not pleased with this latest
restriction imposed upon her, but Jeff took her keys from her 
purse, left it on the table, took her by the arm around the soft
georgette fabric of her blouse and lead her out her apartment door,
locking it behind him. 

. . . . . . . . . 

Cynthia sat quietly in the car on the way back from Church.  Her
wrists were locked in hard steel in front of her, and run through the
seatbelt, and the leg irons had been reaffixed to her 
ankles.  The service was quite enjoyable.  The music was beautiful,
and the sermon inspiring.  The rector had greeted them warmly as they
left.

She was trying to deal with the almost overpowering desire she felt
for Jeff's touch throughout the service.  He had driven her, chained
up and ball-gagged to the Church, and when they had 
arrived slightly early, he had removed her gag and kissed her deeply.
She wanted him to take her right then, but said nothing, knowing that
this would have been impossible.

Back in the car after Church, he kissed her again, and smiled.  "Are
you going to put me back in the handcuffs and the gag?" she asked.
She was almost hoping for the ball-gag to keep her 
from saying something that he might find too desirous or silly.

"Handcuffs only, and this time in front of you.  And leg irons, of
course."

After her seatbelt was fastened, the handcuffs were removed from his
jacket pocket and clasped about her wrists, and the leg irons, stored
beneath the car seat were taken out and locked about 
her ankles.  He kissed her again, and placed his hand on her breast.
"Do you want to go to lunch, or would you like to go back to my
apartment?"

"Take me back to your apartment," was her reply. 

Jeff's apartment was perfectly neat.  Cynthia thought this unusual for
a man.  Several of the pieces of furniture were antiques.  Cynthia was
left standing in the living room in her chains as Jeff went into his
bedroom to get her something "more appropriate".

In several moments, her emerged with a complex set of black leather
straps, and a ball-gag wrapped in Saran Wrap.  Throwing these on the
couch, he unlocked her handcuffs from one wrist, but not the other.
He put his arms around her, and she returned his warm hug.  "Jeff,"
she said.  "I want to feel you inside me." 

"You will," he assured her.  "But it may be a while."  He kissed her
and pressed himself against her.  Her desire was all the more
inflamed.  Jeff began to unbutton her blouse down her back, and then
on her wrists, and removed it.  He left her to stand as he went to
hang it up in the closet.  He then removed her bra.  Her skirt was
next, and he was pleased to see that she wore no panties, and she wore
a garter belt with her stocking rather than pantyhose.

"My compliments, beautiful lady," he said, taking her into his arms
and kissing her once more.

With the handcuffs still locked about her one wrist, he turned her
about and began to strap the leather shoulder harness around her
shoulders and buckled it, making sure that her shoulders 
were properly drawn back.  Then, he twisted her wrists behind her, and
carefully strapped them together.  This strap was run through the
D-ring at the nape of her neck, forming an anchor by which her wrists
could be drawn up to the small of her back.  The ball-gag was strapped
about her throat, but as yet was not inserted into her mouth.

"Where did you get this harness?" she asked. 

"In New York City, when I visited there last summer," he said.  "I've
been wanting to try it out ever since." 

Cynthia stood back and tested it, trying to take it off her shoulders.
Her bare breasts stood out at attention as she manipulated the black
leather straps that were strapped about her 
shoulders, holding her arms suspended.  As if it would help in some
way, she bent forward, and wrestled with her bindings, and her brown
curls fell over her head into her face as she stood.  The handcuffs
dangling ineffective and redundant from her pinioned wrist flashed in
the lamplight and rattled. 

As it became obvious that her harness could not be simply pulled off
by her, she resorted to brute force, straining by pulling downward
with her wrists, but these had been drawn up so far behind her back
that it was difficult at best for her to get any leverage, and
besides, these leather straps were so thick that they would have held
a horse.  Certainly a young girl could make no headway. 

Defeated, she looked up at Jeff, who, holding a pair of leg irons, was
watching her with high interest.  Cynthia was short of breath from her
exertions against her constraints, and was becoming ever more
frustrated by the desire that welling up inside her.  "You are going
to hobble me as well, I presume?"  she asked, and proffered her ankle
for his attentions.  This done, he took her in his arms, gave her a
deep kiss.   He stroked her nipples gently.

"Jeff, please take me to bed," she moaned in his ear.  He responded by
kissing her again.  He looked at his watch, then looked up at her.

"It's almost 2:00, time for the football game," he said as he
unstrapped the gag from around her throat, and made it ready for
insertion.  "Let's make another bet.  Tell me, do you favor the 
Oilers or the Saints?" 

"I'll take the Oilers," she said. 

"Well," Jeff said, "It looks like this is not the only afternoon you
will spend like this." 

She parted her lips for her gag, knowing it would be a long afternoon.


Felix Dartmouth
Archives BBS WWW Site
http://www.archw.com/
(C)  October 7, 1987

Anakha.
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