Martin's story

Postby lasse672000 » Thu Jun 28, 2012 6:30 am

I’m Martin, I’m 13 years old, and this is my story:
I was going to stay with my uncle and his family for the weekend. My mother had always talked about how downright peculiar her brother and sister-in-law were, and now I was about to find out, just how peculiar they were.

It all began a couple of weeks earlier, when my mother, very thoroughly, measured my ankles, waist, wrists, chest and neck. I thought nothing of it, until the day he picked me up. I was told to sit in the back seat of his brand new, orange SAAB station-wagon, and off we went.
When we stopped, my uncle opened the door for me, as the handle on the inside of to the door was broken (or so he said, anyway). I got out, but before I had the chance to take another step, he stopped me.

“This house,” he said,” is full of very precious and rare objects. So while you’re here, I want you to wear these. Is that understood?” From a duffel-bag he had hidden behind his back, he took something out. He told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. When I did, I felt something metallic being put on them. I tried to bring them back in front of me, but found I couldn’t.
“What have you done?” I asked in a trembling voice.
“I’ve started putting you in cuffs, of course!” he said, with obvious satisfaction. Saying that, he bent down and put cuffs on my ankles. He put a cuff around my waist, tightening it so much it hurt a bit. He attached the cuffs around my wrists to it. As a finishing touch, he put a cuff around my neck, and attached a chain to it. Using the chain, he then led me into the house.

When I came in, one of the first things I saw, apart from the antiques, which seemed to be scattered randomly all over the place, was a girl about my age. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a white t-shirt, so tight it left little, if anything, to the imagination. She wore a pair of light blue, woolly pantyhose.
The most remarkable thing about her, however, wasn’t that she was lying on the floor, but that her wrists were cuffed to her ankles by short chains, behind her back. I noticed, however, that her cuffs were made of soft leather, not solid metal, as mine were.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” she said, looking up at me with a smile on her face. “I’m Sandra. Who are you?”
I blushed when she called me ‘gorgeous’, but as polite as I was brought up to be, I answered “Hello yourself. I’m Martin. Excuse me for asking, but why are you cuffed like that?”
Before Sandra had the chance to answer, my uncle said: “She always has her hands cuffed around the house; day-time, behind her back, and night-time, in front of her. The same goes for her friends, when they come over. We only cuff her like this, before starting to prepare meals and just before she goes to bed.”
“Speaking of meals; I’m hungry, so let’s eat!” He recuffed his daughter, so her wrists were separated from her ankles. When he had helped her to her feet, she hobbled in front of us to the table.

Bedtime came, and I changed into a one-piece pyjama, which had a zipper in the back, and was taken to my bedroom. It was a fairly big room with a desk, and a chair by the window, and a chest of drawers by a large bed, which was standing in the middle of the floor. It was a fairly normal bed, except it had some straps attached to it. I lay down in it, on my back, and my uncle started by strapping my ankles down. He then took two more straps and fastened my hips to the bed. Two more straps on my arms below the elbows made sure, I couldn’t get free. With all these straps attached to my body, I would be forced to lie on my back the whole night, and not move. Before he left, he gave all of them a final tug, especially those holding my hips down, which made me wince.

The next morning, I was freed from the bed, allowed to get dressed and then all the cuffs I had worn the previous day were reapplied. I followed Sandra’s schedule, and was “hog-cuffed” when she was, the rest of the time, my handcuffs were attached to the belt.
That night, when I had returned home, I found the same restraining system in my bed, as was used on me the previous night. My mum said that her brother had told her, I seemed to enjoy being strapped down.
“Yes, I did, actually,” I replied. “I kind of liked the whole visit, as a matter of fact, even though it, quite possibly, was the strangest one in my life! I even liked being handcuffed!”
Whazzzz up!.

Re: Martin's story

Postby Suestruggles » Thu Jun 28, 2012 7:48 am

Fanastic. Is there a part 2
Sue

Fit to be tied, wants to struggle.

Re: Martin's story

Postby xtc » Thu Jun 28, 2012 8:24 am

Sorry I've not been replying recently, RL getting very much in the way.
Nevertheless I have enjoyed your frequent posts including this one. Thank you.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: Martin's story

Postby lasse672000 » Thu Jun 28, 2012 11:46 am

Suestruggles wrote:Fanastic. Is there a part 2

I haven't decided yet, I'm afraid.
Whazzzz up!.

Re: Martin's story

Postby viking » Thu Jun 28, 2012 12:09 pm

creative story, i do hope you can continue this one.
Once a scout, always a perverted pyromaniac with a fetish for knives and duct tape

Re: Martin's story

Postby nyloncaptive87 » Thu Jun 28, 2012 2:22 pm

Hi Lasse ^^
I've been reading your stories for a long while, and enjoyed them very much! There is one in particular that I'd love to speak with you about because it was so very,very good. I'm not yet allowed to send PM's, and so this is my attempt to contact you. I also added you as a friend, though if you reject the add, I will understand.^^ Thanks!