THE SECTIONING OF C
Abrank
Copyright 2002
Chapter 6: The Awakening of E
I first saw the handcuffs lying closed in the middle of
the flea market table. The sight awakened, as I now
realize, E, my erotic persona. My throat went dry and
I was filled with an absolutely uncontrollable desire
to possess them. This desire swept away my natural
feelings of reserve and I lifted my gaze to the unshaven
face of the man sitting behind the table. Seeing that
he was watching me, I indicated the handcuffs and said,
in a voice thick with emotion, “How much for – the
handcuffs?” I could barely get the last word out.
“Five dollars,” he replied. I would have given all the
money I possessed for those handcuffs, so I fumbled
nervously through my pocket book for a $5 note. As I
handed it to him he said, looking me in the eye, “And
25 cents for the tax.” I found a quarter and gave it
to him. He dropped the handcuffs into a wrinkled brown
paper bag and handed it to me. “Be careful,” he said as
I left.
I walked back to my car filled with an indescribable joy
of ownership, and of overpowering eagerness to touch
them. I opened the car door, sat down and reached into
the bag to touch the metal. The feel was electric.
I closed the car door, drew out the handcuffs and held
them in my hand. My vagina had become very wet and I
felt like I might have an orgasm right there just
holding them.
R, my rational mind, took control for a second and I
checked to see if the keys were in the bag. They were.
I experimented with the cuffs. They were the American
type, and the cuff tightened with a wonderful clicking
sound. When fully tight the cuff would swing right
through ready for use again.
I put one on my right wrist and clicked it shut. My
heart started racing with excitement. I clicked it
close about my wrist and felt the wonderful embrace
of steel, far more sensual than any gold bracelet. I
wondered if I could put the other cuff on and still be
able to release myself. I carefully placed the open
cuff around my left wrist with the keyhole pointing
towards my fingers. Bending my right wrist, I persuaded
myself that I would be able to unlock them, so I closed
the left cuff with my right hand, and clicked it tight.
My feelings exploded. I had an instant and major
orgasm. As I tried to pull my hands apart, my whole
being gave into the sexual rush. The strong embrace
of the handcuffs, the feeling that I was a helpless
prisoner, and the deep thought that I might not be able
to release myself, all combined into what had become the
emotional climax of my life.
I calmed down. Experimentally I tried to get the
handcuffs off without unlocking them. There was no way.
This failure excited me again, and I almost had another
orgasm.
I decided it was time to leave. Someone might have seen
me playing. I reached down with both hands for the
paper bag, which had fallen to the floor. Even this
excited me, the realization that I could not reach down
with one hand but was forced to use both. I found one
of the keys and managed to insert it into the keyhole
without much difficulty. But turning it produced no
effect; no click like a normal lock. I was trapped! I
felt helpless and began to panic. The feeling of panic
triggered another orgasm; almost as intense as the first
one. When the waves had subsided and I had calmed down
a little, I tried the key again. This time the cuff
seemed to move. The key, I realized, merely undid
the lock; I had to move my wrist to actually open it.
I removed my left wrist then opened the right cuff.
I removed the cuffs then closed them both, eager to hear
the clicking sound again. I sat and fondled the closed
cuffs in awe of their power and their potential for
complete control over me. After a few minutes I
reverently put them and the key back into the paper bag.
The handcuffs lived in that brown wrinkled bag for about
a year, until it finally disintegrated with age and use.
Years later I realized that the man who had given it to
me had also given me the best advice I ever received.
It was well worth that extra quarter.
END CHAPTER 6