He stood, holding the chain at my wrists, and pulled me to my feet.He stood, holding the chain at my wrists, and pulled me to my feet. He led me into the bedroom, leaving the shower running, and locked my handcuffs to a chain attached to one of those overhead rings. My hands hung loosely just above my head. He turned off the shower and began to dry me with a hair dryer, pausing to kiss, caress, and otherwise tease me with his fingers. Under the hair dryer, my hair frizzed into an total mess, while I continued to squirm, trying to masturbate myself with my thighs. It doesn't work, no matter how motivated you are. I was motivated. He reached into the trunk and pulled out the boots I had tried on in San Francisco. They came up to my knees, and were the tight black leather ones with zippers on the sides and four inch stiletto heels. I remember they were enormously expensive, but then we're not starving graduate students anymore, so why not indulge? He put them on me, pausing between boots to caress me again, keeping me at the edge. After he zipped the boots, under each instep he passed a small chrome chain, crossing it over the top of my foot and pulling it behind my ankle, where he yanked it snug and padlocked it. Those boots weren't coming off without the key. He freed my wrists from the overhead chain, leaving the cuffs on, and put my hands behind my head. With my arms in this position, elbows bent as much as they would, he passed electrician's black plastic tape around and around my bent arms, binding my wrists to my upper arms so I couldn't straighten my elbows at all. He took off the cuffs then, but I could touch only the lower part of my face and head and my breasts. He pushed me back onto the bed and, one at a time, he did the same thing to my ankles, bundling them against my upper thighs so my heels were held tight against my buttocks. |