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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