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Message-ID: <39052asstr$1036127402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Medea F.K." <medeafk@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Frustration (MF, bdsm)
Date: Fri,  1 Nov 2002 00:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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	Damn you, Paul.  If you hadn't suggested this, I'd be at work today, same 
as always.  Instead, I'm spending the day in bed, dressed in my office 
blazer and slacks, but going nowhere because I accidently chained myself in 
place.  I just wanted to check that everything was ready, before I left for 
work.  I thought it would be a nice surprise, if after we went out for 
dinner tonight, we came back and the cuffs were already there.  Then you 
could strap me to the bed, the way you described it last week when we were 
sitting around after all the guests went home, too tired to clean up, 
drinking leftover wine.

	We were on the couch, leaning back in opposite corners, my legs stretched 
across your lap.  You were flipping channels, checking out the late-night 
infomercials and televangelists, while I relayed bits of gossip I'd picked 
up earlier in the evening.  Most of it wasn't all that interesting, just 
vacations and promotions and a persistent rumor which Natalie, one of our 
single friends, always denies, about how she's having an affair with someone 
from work.
	"Oh, wait, I nearly forgot to tell you about this one," I said.   "Mary 
pulled me aside, while her husband was helping you with the grill in the 
backyard.  She wanted to know if I had any tips on buying bondage gear."
	"Huh, I wouldn't have thought John was into that sort of thing.  Or Mary, 
for that matter."
	"You didn't know Mary in college.  She used to experiment with all sorts of 
things.  I'm actually a little surprised she needed to ask me for advice."
	"So what did you tell her?"
	"To avoid handcuffs and get a set of solid leather cuffs, and then check 
out the hardware store for things like rope and metal connectors."
	"Did you tell her about the quick release straps you can get at REI?"
	"No, I forgot.  We don't use them that often, really."
	"Whatever happened to your cuffs, anyhow?"
	"They were pretty badly damaged during our beach.  I think the combination 
of salt water and being left out in the sun was too much.  I tossed them 
because the leather started to crack."
	"And you didn't buy new ones?"
	"No, never got around to it.  You've been so eager to practice your 
ropework, it didn't seem urgent."
	"That's too bad," you said, stroking my leg, "because if I weren't so tired 
right now, I'd chain you to the bed and do all sorts of terrible things."

	Today, I went to set it up, hurrying because there's not even a full half 
hour between the time your carpool arrives and the time I need to leave.  I 
was checking that the new cuffs would fit me and were properly secured to 
the chains that hang from our bed frame, when I accidently locked the left 
one in place.  It's almost as stupid as when I stopped to play with a pair 
of handcuffs while cleaning out the toybox, pushing the part that swings 
open through the locks so it clicked loudly, and absent-mindedly closed it 
with my wrist inside.  But at least then you were there to unlock it and 
laugh at me.  I wasn't worried at first this time, either, since the phone 
is right here, within reach, but I can't get ahold of you at work.  Your 
secretary says you're in a meeting until 11.
	I called my office next, and told them I'm not coming in today.  I'm sure 
they think I'm just skipping out because it's a sunny Friday, and it's not 
going to hurt my record, but dammit, this wasn't my plan.  We were going to 
come home from work, change, go out to dinner, and when we got home again 
I'd pull out the cuffs from where they were hiding, cleverly covered by 
pillows.
	When I connected the cuffs to the bed, I used the kind of chain connector 
you tighten down with a wrench, because part of the fun is knowing that 
nothing I do will free me before you allow it.  The chains and the bed are 
solid, letting me yank on them without anything breaking, but of course now 
that's working against me.  I already put the wrench away in the utility 
closet, where it sits beside the bolt cutters and any other useful tools, 
frustratingly inaccessible.
	I want to call your secretary back, tell her to yank you out of that 
meeting, but you'd be angry that I did so over something like this.  I can't 
imagine trying to explain to her why it's so urgent, anyhow.  When I left a 
message half an hour ago, I told her that you need to call me at home, which 
should imply that something is wrong.  I hope.  Call soon, please?  It's 
only 9:30, but maybe the meeting will end early.  Otherwise this is going to 
be a very long Friday.

--
Medea
medeafk@hotmail.com		http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/medea/www




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