textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/cougars.txt

Archive-name: Bondage/cougars.txt
Archive-author: Felix
Archive-title: Cougars, The


       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 could 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 bend 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 opened her mouth for her gag, knowing it would 
be a long afternoon. 

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