We knew each other from online. Only, I just didn’t know her name. Well…not her real
name, anyway. The only way I knew how to refer to her was by the
screen name she used…and that screen name, of course, was the infamous
“Ms. Handcuffs.” Her logic in taking this approach was supposedly to
afford us both the maximum amount of anonymity. She didn’t know my real
name, and I didn’t know hers. She didn’t know my phone number or home
address, and I didn’t know her phone number of where she lived either.
All I knew was that we essentially both lived in the same metropolitan
area and that I was excited --to say the least-- that she’d finally
agreed to meet me in person.
In fact, I could barely contain my excitement as I meticulously followed the instructions that Ms. Handcuffs had sent me in an e-mail from earlier. I was supposed to reserve a room for us an exclusive local hotel and then leave a key at the front desk for her, so that she could let herself into the room whenever she got there. In the meantime, I was supposed to arrive first --before she did-- check into the hotel, go up to the room and then remove my clothes.
Once I disrobed, I wasn’t supposed to be wearing anything other than the shiny silver Lorie's chastity device that only she had the key to and that she also insisted I wear at all times, the most secure on the market. And trust me, at times, it was exceedingly frustrating. For one thing, I no longer had control over when I could have an orgasm or, for that matter, when I could achieve an erection. She quite literally had me “by the balls,” and we both knew it. At any rate, aside from the uncomfortable Lorie chastity device that she insisted I wear, I was also supposed to fasten a black leather slave collar around my neck and then attach independent, thick black leather shackles to each of my wrists and my ankles as well. I was supposed to securely fasten them to my wrists and ankles, but not connect them together. Well…at least not yet, anyway.
Once I was properly outfitted, according to the instructions she had sent me earlier, I was then supposed to kneel meekly at the foot of the bed, facing the door, with my head bowed out of respect. The next thing I knew, the door to the hotel room was opening and in walked a shiny, new pair of stylish black leather boots. The reason they looked so familiar to me, I suppose, was because I was also the one that had paid for them. Earlier. As an online tribute to her while we were chatting about the possibility of actually meeting each other in person.
She positioned her right boot in front of my face and without even being told, I enthusiastically started covering the surface of her shiny black boots with submissive kisses. She seemed genuinely pleased that I was so grateful to her for the opportunity to serve in person, but she still pushed me away with her boot once she was satisfied with my submissive spit-shine. She then told me to back up just slightly and lie face-down on the dirty, carpeted floor of the hotel room. She reached into the pocket of the buttery-soft black leather jacket she was wearing at that point and produced a sporty pair of supple black leather driving gloves. The gloves and jacket also looked familiar to me, of course, because I had paid for them earlier as well.
While she stretched the black leather gloves onto her hands, Ms. Handcuffs slowly sauntered around behind me and squatted down so that I could no longer see what she was doing. The next thing I knew, she roughly pulled my arms behind my back and fastened the shackles around my wrists together. At that point, she quickly connected the shackles around my ankles to each other and then she also attached both my wrists and ankles together, effectively hog-tying me.
My submissive mind was now starting to wander and I wondered what would happen to me next. I had no idea what to expect and, for that matter, no way of doing anything to prevent it. It was official, I was now completely at the mercy of Ms. Handcuffs.
She chuckled softly at my confused reaction before strolling back around in front of me again. She then squatted back down right beside my head and gently slid her gloved hand underneath my chin, lifting it up just barely to meet her intense, smoldering gaze. She looked excited and sadistic at the same time. She smiled at me…and it was evil grin…
“Open wide,” she teased as I reluctantly opened on my mouth…only to have her roughly shove one of my own socks into my mouth before securely duct taping it shut. She had not only hog-tied me on the floor of my hotel room, but now, she had even gagged me with one of my own dirty sweat socks! I was seriously starting to feel more and more foolish about the situation that I now found myself in, but being so expertly bound and gagged, could do nothing about it…but watch in frustration --that is-- as my Mistress, the mysterious Ms. Handcuffs, strutted arrogantly over to where I had left my wallet on the dresser of our hotel room. She rifled through it quickly, efficiently discarding anything that didn’t interest her and keeping everything that did, including all of my cash and credit cards.
I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I mean, honestly…I was being robbed in my own hotel room. Literally!
Laughing at my frustration as she looked back over her shoulder at me, Ms. Handcuffs then strolled over to where I was still hog-tied on the floor and squatted back down beside my head again. The creaking leather of her skintight pants made an unmistakably sexy sound. Then again, “they should,” I thought to myself as she reached her gloved hand out and slid it underneath my chin again, “after all, I paid for them, too…and they cost almost $500!”
I didn’t know what to expect at that point, but Ms. Handcuffs didn’t keep me in suspense very long. Still laughing at the strained expression on face, she held my driver’s license up in front of me so that I could see what it was she was holding.
“Hmmm,” she mused thoughtfully as she glanced at first my driver’s license and then back at me, “so that’s your real name, is it? I had no idea…but now I do! Now I know your name, your age, your birthday, your address, where you live…everything!”
“And thanks to this,” she smirked sarcastically me as she held my BlackBerry up with her other hand, “I know your phone number, too. Not to mention the phone numbers and e-mail addresses of all your friends and family! This was just waaaaay too easy, you stupid loser!”
“I mean just look at you,” Ms. Handcuffs continued cruelly as I struggled against my bonds. “I bet you feel like a total dumbass right now, don’t you? I love it!”
She then laughed again as she took a few pictures of my predicment and stood back up and put both my driver’s license and my BlackBerry into the pocket of her black leather jacket. She just couldn’t resist telling me what was about to happen next. Not that I could do anything about it, of course, but just so I would know…she was about to leave…and go down to the bar that was in the lobby of the hotel where we were. Maybe she would come back later and let me go, and maybe she wouldn’t. That would all just depend, she said, on whether the live band at the bar was any good…or if she found someone else more interesting to play with while she was there.
“But don’t worry, though, loser,” she further explained to me, “if I don’t come back and let you go later, I’m sure the hotel maid will find you in the morning at check-out time and let you go then! In that case have a nice frustrated life”
Still laughing at not only my gullibility, but also my current predicament, she then sashayed over toward the hotel room’s door, apparently about to leave. But she didn’t leave right away. Instead, she turned back around --with one hand on the hip of her insanely sexy, tight black leather pants and her other arm held up just slightly, so she could see what time it was-- and exclaimed, “Wow! Ten minutes?! That must be a new record!”
And then, the last thing I remember was the mesmerizing sight of her shapely, leather-clad ass walking out the door…and the sound of sarcastic laughter accompanied by the clicking of high heels in the hallway as Ms. Handcuffs left.
In fact, I could barely contain my excitement as I meticulously followed the instructions that Ms. Handcuffs had sent me in an e-mail from earlier. I was supposed to reserve a room for us an exclusive local hotel and then leave a key at the front desk for her, so that she could let herself into the room whenever she got there. In the meantime, I was supposed to arrive first --before she did-- check into the hotel, go up to the room and then remove my clothes.
Once I disrobed, I wasn’t supposed to be wearing anything other than the shiny silver Lorie's chastity device that only she had the key to and that she also insisted I wear at all times, the most secure on the market. And trust me, at times, it was exceedingly frustrating. For one thing, I no longer had control over when I could have an orgasm or, for that matter, when I could achieve an erection. She quite literally had me “by the balls,” and we both knew it. At any rate, aside from the uncomfortable Lorie chastity device that she insisted I wear, I was also supposed to fasten a black leather slave collar around my neck and then attach independent, thick black leather shackles to each of my wrists and my ankles as well. I was supposed to securely fasten them to my wrists and ankles, but not connect them together. Well…at least not yet, anyway.
Once I was properly outfitted, according to the instructions she had sent me earlier, I was then supposed to kneel meekly at the foot of the bed, facing the door, with my head bowed out of respect. The next thing I knew, the door to the hotel room was opening and in walked a shiny, new pair of stylish black leather boots. The reason they looked so familiar to me, I suppose, was because I was also the one that had paid for them. Earlier. As an online tribute to her while we were chatting about the possibility of actually meeting each other in person.
She positioned her right boot in front of my face and without even being told, I enthusiastically started covering the surface of her shiny black boots with submissive kisses. She seemed genuinely pleased that I was so grateful to her for the opportunity to serve in person, but she still pushed me away with her boot once she was satisfied with my submissive spit-shine. She then told me to back up just slightly and lie face-down on the dirty, carpeted floor of the hotel room. She reached into the pocket of the buttery-soft black leather jacket she was wearing at that point and produced a sporty pair of supple black leather driving gloves. The gloves and jacket also looked familiar to me, of course, because I had paid for them earlier as well.
While she stretched the black leather gloves onto her hands, Ms. Handcuffs slowly sauntered around behind me and squatted down so that I could no longer see what she was doing. The next thing I knew, she roughly pulled my arms behind my back and fastened the shackles around my wrists together. At that point, she quickly connected the shackles around my ankles to each other and then she also attached both my wrists and ankles together, effectively hog-tying me.
My submissive mind was now starting to wander and I wondered what would happen to me next. I had no idea what to expect and, for that matter, no way of doing anything to prevent it. It was official, I was now completely at the mercy of Ms. Handcuffs.
She chuckled softly at my confused reaction before strolling back around in front of me again. She then squatted back down right beside my head and gently slid her gloved hand underneath my chin, lifting it up just barely to meet her intense, smoldering gaze. She looked excited and sadistic at the same time. She smiled at me…and it was evil grin…
“Open wide,” she teased as I reluctantly opened on my mouth…only to have her roughly shove one of my own socks into my mouth before securely duct taping it shut. She had not only hog-tied me on the floor of my hotel room, but now, she had even gagged me with one of my own dirty sweat socks! I was seriously starting to feel more and more foolish about the situation that I now found myself in, but being so expertly bound and gagged, could do nothing about it…but watch in frustration --that is-- as my Mistress, the mysterious Ms. Handcuffs, strutted arrogantly over to where I had left my wallet on the dresser of our hotel room. She rifled through it quickly, efficiently discarding anything that didn’t interest her and keeping everything that did, including all of my cash and credit cards.
I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I mean, honestly…I was being robbed in my own hotel room. Literally!
Laughing at my frustration as she looked back over her shoulder at me, Ms. Handcuffs then strolled over to where I was still hog-tied on the floor and squatted back down beside my head again. The creaking leather of her skintight pants made an unmistakably sexy sound. Then again, “they should,” I thought to myself as she reached her gloved hand out and slid it underneath my chin again, “after all, I paid for them, too…and they cost almost $500!”
I didn’t know what to expect at that point, but Ms. Handcuffs didn’t keep me in suspense very long. Still laughing at the strained expression on face, she held my driver’s license up in front of me so that I could see what it was she was holding.
“Hmmm,” she mused thoughtfully as she glanced at first my driver’s license and then back at me, “so that’s your real name, is it? I had no idea…but now I do! Now I know your name, your age, your birthday, your address, where you live…everything!”
“And thanks to this,” she smirked sarcastically me as she held my BlackBerry up with her other hand, “I know your phone number, too. Not to mention the phone numbers and e-mail addresses of all your friends and family! This was just waaaaay too easy, you stupid loser!”
“I mean just look at you,” Ms. Handcuffs continued cruelly as I struggled against my bonds. “I bet you feel like a total dumbass right now, don’t you? I love it!”
She then laughed again as she took a few pictures of my predicment and stood back up and put both my driver’s license and my BlackBerry into the pocket of her black leather jacket. She just couldn’t resist telling me what was about to happen next. Not that I could do anything about it, of course, but just so I would know…she was about to leave…and go down to the bar that was in the lobby of the hotel where we were. Maybe she would come back later and let me go, and maybe she wouldn’t. That would all just depend, she said, on whether the live band at the bar was any good…or if she found someone else more interesting to play with while she was there.
“But don’t worry, though, loser,” she further explained to me, “if I don’t come back and let you go later, I’m sure the hotel maid will find you in the morning at check-out time and let you go then! In that case have a nice frustrated life”
Still laughing at not only my gullibility, but also my current predicament, she then sashayed over toward the hotel room’s door, apparently about to leave. But she didn’t leave right away. Instead, she turned back around --with one hand on the hip of her insanely sexy, tight black leather pants and her other arm held up just slightly, so she could see what time it was-- and exclaimed, “Wow! Ten minutes?! That must be a new record!”
And then, the last thing I remember was the mesmerizing sight of her shapely, leather-clad ass walking out the door…and the sound of sarcastic laughter accompanied by the clicking of high heels in the hallway as Ms. Handcuffs left.
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