A Second Childhood bondage story | keys, bed, ball gag

For a reason I never discovered the bus driver slammed on his brakes and swerved - never a wise combination. With a hip jammed against the back of the rearmost cross-seat, I survived easily but the young girl next to me started a headlong dive for the window. It was one occasion when my quick reflexes could have landed me in deep trouble; my left hand shot out. With one hundred and seventy pounds against her probable one hundred, my powerful arm stopped her involuntary flight but I found myself with a handful of delightfully squishy breast.

"Do stay with us please," I smiled and set her back on her feet and quickly put my hand in a safer place. She smiled her thanks without any sign of embarrassment and I have often wondered if perhaps she had enjoyed it as much as did I?

Thirty-five years on, I have a delightful memory that never fails to raise a smile but it is all that I have as I approach my third period. Third? Didn't you know that men go through three distinct periods?

In the first any presentable young man may touch provided he goes about it in a right and proper manner. In the second period, such as the time of that near accident, he may look - provided he goes about it in a right and proper manner - but to touch is definitely out. A second-period man may be lucky and just earn a scream and likely a smack in the face but he is just as likely to be confronted by a policeman.

As the third period approaches he will find it all too easy to earn the epithet of D.O.M. but later, as an "old darling", he may be allowed once more to touch provided he goes about it in a right and proper manner.

Does this explain why, at 75, I hesitated long over that request? Age after all will not keep a man out of prison. Of course you don't understand - in my garrulous way I have yet to tell you anything that could possibly carry understanding.

I was living alone in what is called a Town House but which used to be called a maisonette; choose which name you like, they are equally whimsical. This is a single two-storey building which is divided both vertically and horizontally to provide four separate dwellings. To left and right, in each side of the building, there are two adjacent doorways; one gives access to the lower chicken coop while the other gives directly on to a flight of stairs that lead to the upper.

As a senile citizen I qualified for the lower storey but my next-door overhead neighbour was a very fetching young lady. In perhaps her early twenties the most striking thing about her appearance (for me at any rate) was the long honey-coloured hair which hung in a plaited rope down to her trim waist. I love the sight of women who wear their hair long and I often debated with myself whether, if she held her head well back, she might in fact sit on it? D.O.M. indeed!

I met her first on the day that I took possession. My nephew had already supervised the installation of my furniture and satisfied himself that my computer worked as well as computers can be expected to work. I had hardly taken off my coat and set the kettle to boil when the doorbell rang; she introduced herself as Madeleine - Maddy to her friends - and had come to enquire if all was well or if there was anyway in which she could help.

Now that was a real friendly thing to do and I expressed my feelings accordingly; in return she accepted my invitation to a cup of tea. She was not only good to look at; she was also very good company, talked well without talking down, did not patronise me, washed up the crockery and left me with that feeling that, if only I could shed forty or fifty years...? She informed me that she was a nurse and that should I at any time require help - she wrote down her phone number so that I would not even have to go outside. For the only time in my life a young woman, after whom I might well lust, had volunteered me her phone number; Life can offer such vile taunts. But I should have guessed that she was a nurse.

We lived amicably as neighbours for two years or more and became good friends. She visited me often, offered me return visits on several occasions and generally kept good watch over me which not only engendered feelings of gratitude but afforded me a great deal of pleasure. As I have already said, she was good to look upon and memories and dreams were all I had.

That request I mentioned arose one evening in late Autumn; it was getting dark, television offered only the usual rubbish plus the reams of dissection analysis and prognostication which masquerade as news and so I settled in front of the computer. The mad box of tricks was still booting up when the telephone rang. I've never got around to extending the damned thing to the computer and so I had to get up and go to it. There appeared to be nobody on the other end of the line and so I put it back in its cradle.

No sooner had I sat down again than it repeated its insistent shrill call but, once again there appeared to be nobody there. When it rang a third time, I started to get ratty but this time I thought I could hear some muffled sounds - someone was holding a hand over the microphone and giggling at my discomfiture? "Next time," I barked, "you can ring until the devil comes in for a fry," and slammed it back into its cradle.

I had about fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes of peace when it occurred to me that I could use the return-call facility. Back at the phone I dialled 1471 and the tinny computer voice quoted me a number that sounded distinctly familiar. I punched up the address book on my computer and there it was - Maddy's number! Realising that there must be something amiss I started for the door just as the doorbell rang. I yanked the door open only to be bowled over completely as a body flew at me. It wasn't a large body and so I wasn't hurt but, as I climbed angrily to my feet, I was more than a bit surprised to see that my attacker remained on the floor and was struggling with nobody in particular.

I may be seventy-five but a free mass of long honey-coloured woman's hair is guaranteed to catch my attention ... this was Maddy. And she wasn't struggling with any one at all but seemed to be trying to sit up. I had only low-level lighting in the hall and so I opened the sitting-room door and switched on that light. The sight that Maddy presented surely proved that there is life in the old dog yet!

The first thing I saw was that she had what looked like a ball jammed in her mouth. A thin steel chain ran from it around the back of her head; I followed it round to discover that it ended in a small padlock. She wasn't going to tell me what had happened. She was holding her hands behind her and so I leaned her forward to see what was wrong in that department. Not only were they held behind by handcuffs but those cuffs were locked to her waist by a fine but still effective chain. Two seconds later I knew that her ankles were also clamped together by another set of cuffs. Only then did I notice that she was stark naked. I told you I was getting old?

I turned to pick up the phone but a frenzy of moans and grunts pulled me back to Maddy; she was shaking her head frantically. "Are you trying to tell me not to call for help?"

She nodded vigorously. "Then how the devil am I to get you out of this clobber? If those cuffs are real it will take all night to cut them off you. I can probably break that gag chain if you like?" Again she shook her head and ummphed around her ball.

Well, as I said, I am a senile citizen and so I have become slow but the penny dropped eventually. "You did this to yourself," I accused her. "You have the key?"

Again she nodded vigorously in what today is always called the affirmative. "Do you have it with you?" She shook in the negative. Think about it; that was a damn silly question. "Will I find it in your higher abode?" She nodded. "In the living room?" More negative. "That means I have to invade your bedroom?" This time she nodded yes but I thought there was some kind of undertone to the gesture. But there was no way she could explain unless I took a saw to her gag-strap and so I stepped out of the still open door. But then I thought that it was hardly sporting to leave her chained up like that on my hall floor with the door wide open and stepped back in.

I hesitated to pick her up - coward with such a chance offering - and dragged her inside the sitting room. I went to the kitchen to collect my door key, which I jangled at her as I returned past the sitting-room door. Her front door was standing wide open and all I had to do was enter. How on earth had she got down that flight of stairs chained like that without breaking her neck? And by what witchery had she contrived to open the door?

Upstairs I saw nothing that appeared to be out of place and that might have suggested perhaps an attack. Onward to the bedroom and the big shock of the evening. On the bed there lay another young woman, naked and exceptionally nubile, spread-eagled and bound down with cuffs and chains galore. A brunette this one who also took pride in her head of long and heavy flowing hair. She too sported a large ball-gag, a different colour but also secured in place with a tiny padlock.

Now I understood that certain air about Maddy when she had indicated that the key to her irons was in the bedroom. "You're a fine couple," I said sternly. "Lucky for you - and unlucky for me - that I'm not a few years younger."

I'll swear that, behind that gag and its accompanying drool, she grinned at me; without doubt she nodded her head in the affirmative while her eyebrows rose to greet her hairline. "Where do I look for the keys?" I asked. To the left?"

Negative. "To the right?" Negative again.

She was shaking her head to her right. "Down? On the floor?"

This time a got a definite affirmative and I creaked my way to the floor. I found them right under the bed. I could conclude only that they had been placed under the pillow perhaps and had dropped from the centre of the bed. I crawled out and held them aloft in triumph. "Afraid there's no handcuff key here," I said conversationally. "The only thing here that might help you... possibly the key to that gag."

The key was little more than a piece of thin metal plate and it was considerably bent and twisted. After several tries and a lot of fiddling I was rewarded with a faint click; I pulled and the lock opened. Gently I pulled-out the wretched gob-stopper; her jaw was practically paralysed and drool poured from her mouth. There was a washbasin in the corner of the room and I fetched a towel and cleaned her up as best I could.

After working her mouth for a few minutes, she tried to talk: "Hey. Thanks Pop. That was getting to be a bit of a bastard."

"Not so much of the Pop. How long have you been like this?"

"Yesterday afternoon. We didn't mean to..." She choked off and I fetched a glass of water but, even with my holding her up, she lost most of it over herself.

"Are you two nuts? Thirty hours of this might well kill you. Where are the keys to the cuffs and chains?"

"No idea. That's Maddy's department."

"Then you'll have to stay there while I go back to Maddy. I suppose these are the keys to release her?"

"Christ, I hope so."

DOM or not I fail to see how any man can be alive and fail to look at that sight set before me. A fine and very fit female body, totally helpless but constantly shifting with discomfort from her long confinement. I have read somewhere that eastern potentates of old put high value on young female slaves because it was believed that they increased an old man's life expectation? True or not I could not help a feeling of covetousness. Had I a desert stronghold, I have to confess she would have been in serious danger at that moment.

"Hey, Pop. Pop! Up Pop! Naughty, naughty. Are you sure you could stand the strain?"

I don't know how long I must have spent staring at her but her bantering voice brought me out of it. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't scared of me but was putting me on. As I was to confirm later she was one of those women who just couldn't resist the chance to flirt or kid with anybody at all.

"Young lady," I said, "too much Pop could be very bad for your health. You aren't in any sexual danger from me but don't forget... " I jangled the bunch of keys in her face: "Don't forget that I am in charge here. You're mine. So don't be cheeky."

"Pop. I'll scream the house down. What will the cops make of an old faggot standing over a young and soooo beautiful woman helplessly chained to a bed that's not even his?"

"This place is fitted with double-glazed windows throughout - just about sound proof. But in any case... " Without actually intending it I picked up the ball and shoved it back into her mouth. She was too surprised to resist and I had it fastened before either she or myself had time to think about it.

"I'll go see about those keys. Meantime, don't go away. As they're so fond of saying in the movies... " I patted her tummy gently: " ... Try to get some sleep."

I left her thrashing about on the bed but, as I checked her from the doorway, I had a suspicion that she wasn't in any way disturbed at her inability to escape. And she couldn't claim it as a new experience?

Back chez moi, I found Maddy exactly where and as I had left her but that was not a surprise either. I was puzzled a little by the lack of a handcuff key but I set to work with the tiddly bent one on my bunch and soon had the ball gag off.

I gave her a few moments to ease her jaw muscles and then demanded: "What in hell are you two trying to do?" And then with a grin: "You might have warned me that your pal in there is starkers. I found these keys but the only one that worked was for the gag." "Get me a drink," she whispered hoarsely. "Water."

While she recovered, I sorted through the keys until I found one that released the waist chain but, of course, that still left her cuffed hand and foot. "Well," I said. "Do you have keys or do you ultimately rely on dynamite?"

She wasn't hurt or injured and the water quickly restored her voice. "Been wondering," she said, "If you often open your door like that. Next time I'll take care not to lean against it." "Next time? Is this a regular prank?"

"Oh yes. Laura and I both like the feeling of helplessness. You'd think that nurses would be more sensible."

"Are nurses different to any others?"

She laughed: "Bless you Jimmie. The trouble with self-bondage is that you never are really helpless. The need for an eventual escape means that you're always ultimately in charge. We devised this scheme as the nearest we could get to the real thing."

"I suppose," I said with a hint of sarcasm; "that nearness is a matter of definition?"

"No. But then ... I suppose I have to say yes. We worked up to it carefully and the first time we did it for real it worked perfectly; it took us nearly three hours to get free but you can't imagine the feelings that go with the long frustration. You want to give up and admit defeat but, of course, you simply can't. And I won't tell you what it does to your sex urges."

"Just as well. What went wrong this time?"

She leaned back against me and I began to kid myself about second childhood. After all, that's not so difficult when you ARE in your second childhood.

"We dropped the keys."

"Last time ... the first time ... Laura chained me to the bed and did a real job on me. Then she gave me the keys to her chains and cuffed herself much as you found me. The handcuff keys we put in a place where they would only be accessible once the loose one was freed from the chains. When we decided enough was enough she came and sat on the bed and it was my job to use the keys I held to free her. Then she collected the cuff keys and finally freed us both.

"This time I chained her to the bed but, when I went to her, she fumbled the keys and dropped them. We spent half an hour - perhaps more - trying to recover but eventually they slipped down between the bed and the headboard. Spent a hell of a long time trying to get them out again but with my hands cuffed like that ... and both gagged... "

She started to squirm and I patted her face. "Wakey, wakey."

"Sorry. Don't know how long before I accepted we were hopelessly trapped. The only solution I could think up was you. Have you ever tried dialling a phone with your hands locked in the small of your back? It wasn't until you answered that I remembered I was gagged - and a ball gag is pretty efficient. Ringing you again wasn't so difficult once I located the redial button but I could have screamed when you made your final threat. "There was only one thing left and I was thankful that our front doors are not only adjacent but pretty well hidden from view."

"Not that you had much choice," I commented drily. "But, unless you intend to spend the rest of your life cuffed on my living-room floor, you'd better tell me where those keys are."

Back in Maddy's flat I found Laura just as I had left her - again not a matter for any real surprise. I took out the gag: "Going to be good now?"

"Damn you, Jim, or whatever your name is. Just get me out of these things and I'll screw you into a heart attack."

"Don't think I can afford the risk. Besides I could be your grandfather."

"My grandfather wouldn't have treated me in this wasteful way," and she looked at me with eyes that positively sparkled. She was hot all right and I think I was glad that she was restrained.

"No doubt about it; you do have a feisty temper. Maddy tells me that you wanted to be restrained for real. Well, now's your chance." I rammed the ball in yet again and hooked the lock through its ends without closing it. Then I picked up one of the pillows lying on the floor, removed the cover and pulled it over her head. I guess being nuts is catching but then ... it surely was one of those evenings? For Laura, again throwing herself about on the bed, it most certainly was.

Back at the ranch once more I used the new bunch of keys to unlock Maddy and wrapped her in the coat I had brought from her place. "A cup of coffee? " I offered.

"What about Laura? Did you find her keys?"

"To tell the truth I decided that Laura was in a dangerous condition and I left her securely bound. Her proposals for my future would never bear scrutiny."

Maddy laughed heartily. "I can guess," she said. "I vote we leave her to cook while we drink your coffee."

"Well... " I hesitated.

"Tell you what. You get the coffee and I'll go bring her here. I guarantee your safety."

I nodded agreement and went off to the kitchen. When I returned, Maddy was sitting in one of my big armchairs - not the one she knew I used - and Laura was sitting on the sofa. But, and it was one hell of a but, she still had her hands cuffed behind her and she was still wearing my pillowcase - not a stitch else. "You do take this business seriously," I said, "but she can't drink coffee like that."

"Well, it will present certain difficulties but I doubt not we can work out a solution."

The rest of that evening was memorable, probably the most memorable of my life. And that was before they made me their request - or did it qualify as a proposition? As Maddy had already explained bondage was not really bondage when you yourself held the keys and made the decision to escape. They wanted me to become their regular jailer. They wanted me to hold them prisoner perhaps in a free evening, or over a free weekend and, if I would consider it at their expense, over a holiday period. Singly or together.

They are a pair of lovely girls, fun loving, fun to be with and often very funny. But I was scared. For me they represented brilliant life at a time when things were getting into a twilight zone and they provided a highly skilled and genuinely loving carer-service such as I could never hire - even if could I afford it.

To them I meant a badly needed safety net when in pursuit of their game. They felt they could trust me; indeed we genuinely liked each other. But there was an unbridgeable age gap that, to me, seemed to make the thing unwholesome. And so I hesitated and they without pressure waited.

But then, human nature being what human nature is...?