THE SECTIONING OF C
                      Abrank
                  Copyright 2002

Chapter 19:  One Night With Jim

I hurried home to get supper ready for Jim.  He did not
like to be kept waiting, so I became quite stressed as I
stood in the long line at the Japanese takeout.  When I
arrived home I was relieved to find that Jim had not yet
arrived, so I quickly set the table, laid out the sushi,
and put the rest in the oven to keep warm.  Then I
changed out of my work clothes into some that I thought
would please Jim.  He never said what he liked me to
wear, but by experimenting I had found that he wanted me
to look like a whore.  Since I was feeling sexy, I very
much wanted to please him tonight so I put on my French
maid outfit, which had proven successful in the past.
This consisted of a padded cleavage bra with a low scoop
top, a short black skirt over crotchless panties, and
high-heeled shoes.  I applied red lipstick and mascara,
and brushed my hair.  I examined myself critically in the
mirror and decided that this was the best I could do in
the short time I had allowed myself.

I went downstairs and waited with growing impatience
for Jim to come home.  This part of my day was often
frustrating.  He never told me when to expect him, but
he was usually in by 7 pm.  Jim liked me to be already
bound when he arrived home.  Sometimes he would take me
immediately and have sex on the floor, but only when I
was bound.  Normally I liked to wait till I heard the
garage door before putting on the handcuffs, but since
it was late, and I was feeling very sexy, I persuaded
myself, quite irrationally, that putting them on would
hasten his return.  So I locked my hands behind my back.
I was now truly his prisoner.  He had the only key, which
he kept in his pocket.

Time passed, and Jim did not return.  I feared the food
would dry out so I turned the oven off.  Although I was
hungry, I dared not start eating before he arrived, that
would make him angry.  

The hours ticked by.  I was feeling hungry and
frustrated.  I thought about the presentation I was
scheduled to give at work the next day, but it was
difficult to concentrate.  Finally at 11 pm I decided to
go to bed.  I put the sushi in the refrigerator, a task
requiring great care when in handcuffs and high heels,
and walked carefully upstairs.  Despite the crotchless
panties, I couldn’t make pee; Jim would get upset if he
found my skirt or panties wet.  So I laid down on his
side of the bed and tried to get to sleep.

I was awakened by the sound of Jim stumbling into the
room.  The light was off, but enough filtered in from the
hall to see him.  He took off his clothes and climbed
onto the bed.  He felt me there as I had intended.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he remarked rather obviously.
He smelled of smoke, and booze and perfume.  He rolled
me onto my back with one hand, spread my legs with the
other, and then mounted me.  I was already wet with
anticipation.  His big penis was hard and he thrust it
into me.  My first thought was that he hadn’t scored with
his perfumed lady friend that night, and for that I was
grateful.  He grabbed my shoulders and pressed me down
while he started to pump into me with more vigor.  ‘At
least he needs me for sex,’ I thought.  Further thoughts,
together with the pain from the handcuffs digging into
my back, were swept away as my body responded to his
actions.  I loved this man.  Soon he reached climax and
pumped even more energetically into me, his lower body
jerking and the whole bed jumping up and down.  I
responded as best as I could in my bound state and
reached orgasm too.  He stopped, withdrew his penis,
rolled me wordlessly over to my side of the bed, turned
his back to me, and appeared to go to sleep.  It was
always like that after we had sex.

I lay still for a while, then turned on my side towards
him.  I felt like I truly belonged to this man, my lover,
my master.  I had already forgiven him for being late.
I reached forward and kissed his hairy back.  No
response.  I snuggled up closer to him so that my
nipples, which had become exposed, caressed his back,
then kissed him again.  “Geroff,” he mumbled thickly
and jabbed an elbow back to push me away.

I thought I knew what he would like.  I would suck his
penis clean.  With that in mind I rolled quietly off the
bed, stood up, and walked around to his side of the bed.
He seemed to be asleep.  I stood looking at him with my
heart filled with love.  I could feel our love juices
trickling unimpeded down my leg.  I lay down near the
bottom of the bed so that my head was close to his penis.
I wriggled forward and I buried my face in his crotch
seeking his penis with my mouth.  

In response his knee jerked up hitting me in the chest.
“Leave me alone bitch,” he shouted in an angry tone.
“I’m trying to get some sleep.”  With that he pushed me
off the bed.  I fell to the floor on my shoulder, being
unable to save myself with my pinioned hands.

Not content with that rejection, he got up and took a
length of rope from the dresser.  “I’ll teach you to keep
bothering me,” he muttered angrily.  I felt a flash of
fear, was he going to whip me?  Instead he rolled me onto
my front, wound the rope around my ankles several times,
and then knotted it.  He wound a few more turns around
the rope between my ankles, cinched it tight then tied it
off.  I lay still without making a sound.  I did not dare
offend him.  He worked quickly; I was always amazed at
how fast he was.  He then took the loose end of the rope
and pulled my ankles up to my hands.  He threaded the
rope over the handcuffs and back down to my ankles.
I think he then wrapped another turn or two around the
ankle rope before pulling everything tight, and tying it
off.  “That’ll learn you, you whore,” he said in a voice
that sounded angry.  He then kicked me hard in the side
with the back of his heel, and stepped on me to climb
back into bed.  I didn’t make a sound or say a word.
I had learned that this would be very unwise.

I felt pain from his kick.  I must have annoyed him a
lot.  At least he didn’t kick me in the face, he was
considerate that way.  I would probably have a bruise for
a few days, but it didn’t matter since it would be under
my clothes.  I tested my bonds.  They seemed quite
secure.  In this hogtie position, I felt a delicious
pressure in my thighs, and a more severe strain on my
shoulders.  But it would probably be excruciating by the
morning.  I rolled onto my side to relieve the stress,
and tried to go to sleep.

I spent a very uncomfortable night.  I couldn’t get onto
the bed, in fact I couldn’t move much at all.  I dared
not wake Jim.  My wrists hurt from the strain of the
cuffs.  If I lay on my front my shoulders and thighs
hurt, and if I lay on my side my arm went to sleep.  My
knees hurt from being bent, and I longed to straighten
my legs.  The carpet seemed to get harder as the night
progressed.  I think I managed to doze once or twice,
but that was all.

Finally the alarm went off, and Jim rolled out of bed
and disappeared into the bathroom.  He showed no sign of
releasing me.  I began to get worried since I had a major
presentation to make at work that day.  ‘My wrists are
going to be bad, but there’s nothing I can do about it
now,’ I thought.  As he was dressing I finally broke down
and pleaded with him to release me, “Jim, love, could you
undo the handcuffs now?”

“In a minute, bitch,” he replied testily and went
downstairs.  I dared not ask him again, that would make
him very angry, and he might leave me locked up all day.
I was getting frantic with anxiety.  Finally he came back
upstairs.  Without a word he leaned down, kissed me, then
unlocked the handcuffs.  He went quickly back downstairs,
and I heard him leave.

Somehow the kiss made up for all the pain.  It showed he
still loved me.  I opened the left cuff and slipped my
wrist out.  But my right wrist remained captive and I
couldn’t seem to get it free.  I rolled onto my left side
so that I could bring my right arm to the side.  The
handcuff was still locked!  The bastard only undid one
cuff!  I started crying in frustration, I couldn’t go to
work like that and I would miss my presentation.

I undid the ropes with my free hand and removed my shoes.
I slowly got up, and limped to the toilet to take care of
my most urgent needs.  I examined the cuff locked around
my right wrist.  It required some kind of screw key, and
I had no idea how to pick the lock.  There were no files
or hacksaws in the house, Jim wasn’t a handyman, and
perhaps would have kept them locked up if he were.  The
cuff wasn’t particularly tight, and though I had never
been able to escape in the past, in desperation I decided
to try again.  I had read that one can make hands smaller
by immersing them in cold water, or by holding them above
ones head to let the blood flow out.  I decided to try
both methods to give myself the best chance of escape.
I held my right hand in ice water for ten minutes, not
a pleasant experience, and made less so by watching the
precious minutes tick away.  I then held my numbed hand
above my head for another minute, dried it and rubbed
some cooking oil into it to lubricate the skin.  Grasping
the cuff with my left hand I pulled very hard.  The cuff
slid up my hand, and though I felt it crushing my bones,
I could not work my thumb joint past its unyielding
embrace.  In frustration I began to cry and tug even
harder on the cuff.  After a few minutes I realized I
would never succeed, and with some difficulty pushed
the cuff back onto my wrist.  I had succeeded only in
scraping my skin and bruising my hand.  I cried some more
in an attempt to relieve my feelings, then dried my tears
and resigned myself to my fate.

Doing my morning toilet was clumsy with the open cuff
dangling from my wrist.  I didn’t want to lock the
dangling handcuff over my right wrist, Jim wouldn’t like
that, so I took a bandage to secure it over the wrist
without actually locking it.  ‘Tonight I can lock it
back onto my left wrist to be ready for him,’ I thought.
I got dressed then called my work.  I dialed my boss’s
extension and heard the recorded message of his answering
machine.  Making my voice as thick and ill sounding as I
could, I recorded.  “Hi Mike, C here.  I’m feeling quite
ill this morning so I don’t think I’m going to be able
to make it in to work today.  I’m really sorry about
the Sheldon meeting.  Is there any way it can be
rescheduled?” Then I left my number.  I felt sick to
my stomach, though not in the way I had just indicated.
I had worked so hard on the Sheldon project, and now
that bastard had spoiled it.  I begin to cry again.
I couldn’t even leave the house since Mike might call,
he was like that, and would expect to find me dying in
bed.

Later in the day I rationalized Jim’s behavior.  Perhaps
he’d tried to open both cuffs but opened the left one
twice by mistake.  I felt better, and began to consider
what I might make for supper.

END of Chapter 19