Informal Introduction | cuffs and belt bondage story

It depends mostly on the generation of trick-cyclists to whom you talk; some would call it instinct, some would call it body-language; others call it women's intuition while to others again it comes under the heading of common sense or experience. Whatever your preferred flavour, I just know that there are some people whom you trust at first sight and some you positively shrink from. But with most you need time to make up your mind and, with those, you can never be absolutely sure.

It is of course foolish of me to walk alone in the forest but then I have always done it since I was a spotty and freckled teenager. I always take precautions - I'm not stupid - I always leave notice of where I am going and when I expect to be back; I always keep my car doors locked especially at night; I never get out of the car until I am sure that I have not been followed or am not being watched.

But out there, miles from anywhere and in places that I know are seldom frequented by a generation loathe to proceed anywhere on their legs, I thought a girl was fairly safe from molestation. Fairly safe? Well, how safe are we when crossing a road, riding in a car or falling from a fairground ride? Life is going to be very dull indeed if we try to live entirely without risk.

I was carrying only a light pack; some food and a small quantity of drink, a slicker just in case and only the absolute minimum of safety equipment - it was the height of summer. At peace with my world I was following a track that must have been kept open only by wildlife; every kind of creeping, clinging and prickly plant-life was trying to reclaim it. I burst my way through a particularly stubborn patch and was stopped in my tracks face to face with this strange man.

Which of us was the most startled it is impossible to say. I thought that I was the only specimen of homo sapiens within at least four miles; he was immersed in the study of his map although what good he expected to come out of that with the field of view not much more than twenty yards, I still fail to understand.

"Oh. Er... er... afternoon," he stammered. It was only later - much later - that I realised that he hadn't in any way scared me. "Hi," was all that I could conjure up.

"Do... er... er... umm... have you any idea where we are? Have to say I've got myself lost."

"Well, I can't tell the exact spot but I can show you the approximate location on a map. Been walking here for several years."

"Oh, thank heavens. I was beginning to think I might have to go native."

He spread out his map on the ground, I shucked my pack and we both knelt. I gave him all the information that I had about the neighbourhood so that, if he had any outdoor skills at all, he would be OK.

He did it so quickly that I was caught completely off guard. He slipped his right hand around my waist, caught hold of my right wrist and pulled it back. He then took hold of my other arm and, before I had any idea of what he was about, I was wearing handcuffs behind my back.

Strangely I was mad but not frightened. "What the hell are you doing? Take these off me."

He sat beside me on the ground: "Didn't really mean to do that. It just... um... it's...er... it's something I've always wanted to do".

"And you carry handcuffs just in case ?"

"No. I carry them because they've always fascinated me. Put them on myself... sometimes. But it's not the same as putting them on someone else. And you were in just the right place and in just the right position..."

Now he tells me... Can we perhaps suppose that you just want to take them off again?"

"Yeah. No reason why not?" He fished in his pocket and came out with a key. I turned my hands toward him but nothing happened. When I looked round he was in the act of flipping the key and, as he caught it again, he slid it back into the pocket. "Reckon I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb," and he began to take off the leather belt that secured his jeans.

I was still kneeling and he placed the belt across my ankles, wrapped it around and began to thread the buckle. "Hey. You're going to get into a lot of trouble. Let me out . NOW." But he continued to draw the belt tightly leaving me kneeling more or less helpless.

I tried to keep it cool. I was by then getting somewhat apprehensive but, if he was a kook, I had nothing to gain by stirring him up.

"More or less as I always imagined it," he mused eyeing me as though I was an objet d'art. "Except perhaps that I'd expect someone in your situation to put up something of a fight?"

"You can't do much fighting with your hands cuffed behind."

"Yeah. That's true of course. In fact it's the whole point of cuffs? Oh hell, for what it's worth, might as well play it out to the end." So saying he hauled me to my feet, wrapped his arm around my buttocks and slung me over his shoulder as though I were but a sack of corn.

It must have been his matter of fact attitude. He hadn't molested me in any way; indeed he had treated me with great respect except that it was perhaps unusual for fellahs to treat strange girls in this way on a first encounter in the woods?

I'm not sure how long or how far he packed me because I was prey to some very odd feelings. The going was rough and his shoulder was rubbing me in the very pleasantest of places and this, coupled with the fact of my hands being locked behind me... I'm sure it's not necessary to explain it all?

When he stopped he turned and then put me down carefully beside one of those little blow-up one-man tents. I rolled on to my side to take the weight off my arms while he dropped my pack and crawled inside the tent. He emerged almost at once with a coil of rope. Very soon I was hanging upside down from a tree branch. He was good with rope because I suffered no particular discomfort except that emulating a bat was not my accustomed mode of hanging around.

Without doubt he was well pleased with his handiwork. "Now that is exactly as I imagined it would be."

"Well, take a good look Buster. It's got to last a long time while behind bars."

"Aye," he said cheerfully: "I've been a naughty boy I admit but it's worth the price. Don't go away now, will you?"

"That one had whiskers on it when Noah was practising his knots."

I still wasn't particularly scared but I was wondering where it would all lead. In truth I had begun to enjoy it but... ?

He left the camp carrying a small canvas bucket but any ideas I might have entertained about escaping were frustrated by my own weight even could I have pulled off the impossible and slipped those cuffs. I just had to hang in there and dream about things such as bears and cougars!

He came back with the bucket full of water, set it down and started to resurrect his fire. But as I swung gently to and fro and pirouetted on my rope I noticed that he frequently - very frequently - looked up at me. For no real reason I decided to give him a show, reared up and bucked hard against the cuffs. He was beside me instantly and took my weight with an arm around my shoulders: "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing really. Wondered if you had forgotten me."

"You have to be joking. But enough is enough" and he lowered me to the ground. He did not untie me but proceeded to prepare a most delicious smelling meal of bacon, beans, carrots, coffee and finally cookies from a tin out of the tent. He rolled me over: "Dinner is served," and I felt the handcuffs relax about my wrists.

"You're a strange one," I said. "But before you answer that, I need to go into the bushes." He unwrapped my feet and continued setting out the food.

Toward the end he made a second pot of coffee and it was surely the most perfect, the most enjoyable, meal I had ever eaten outdoors. "What now?"

"I leave that up to you. If you want to make a complaint, I shan't oppose you. And you ought to have cuff marks to prove it. That was great fun for me - although I own I should have asked your permission first. But then... you see... it wouldn't have been quite the same... would it? Really?"

I look hard at him but found that I couldn't resent him in any way whatever. As I have already said he had treated me courteously if rather unusually. And I felt sure that he would keep his word and take the medicine that was to follow. I picked up the cuffs from where he had dropped them on the ground and carefully recuffed myself in front. "I'll forgive you completely," I said, "on condition you can make love to me like no other fellah ever could or will. You turned me on, damn you."

For a long moment I thought I had offended him. Then he rose and began, slowly, to undress me. That was when I learned my first lesson about him. He removed every stitch leaving me in only my birthday suit and he did it without damaging the clothes and without releasing the cuffs. Then he dragged me into that little tent.

We've been visiting those same woods now for two years and it gets better all the time. Sadly however the little tent will have to go; it won't be big enough!