“Get a move on, will you!” 14 year old Samantha dressed in a yellow and blue striped, ankle-long wool dress, a beige sheep-skin jacket, knitted mittens, a scarf in the same colours as her dress wound several times around her neck, and a hat, was freezing despite also wearing woolly pantyhose, Long-johns and knee-high leather boots, and being wrapped up in a wool blanket.
She sat in the back of a horse-drawn sled, waiting for her boyfriend Stan who, at the moment, was busy trying to get their luggage onto the sled.
“Yes, dear; although I am working as fast as I can!” he grunted, trying to lift a particularly heavy bag and put it safely in the back. “What is in those bags anyway; a ton of rocks?”
“Now; don’t you get cocky with me, young man!” she retaliated with a smile.”You know very well it is all the things we are likely to need, for the next few days!”
He looked at the four big, and two small bags he had managed to get into the sled.
“U-hum?” The question-mark in his voice was apparent. “Tell me again, why you get those big bags for your things, and I only get small ones for my?”
She gave him one of those smiles she knew would make him weak at the knees.
“It’s only because I’m a girl!” she said, in a sugary-sweet voice, continuing in her normal voice. “Now, come here and finish settling me in, and let’s go already!”
“Yes, dear!” he once again sighed, took a pair of hand-cuffs from his pocket, and put them on her outstretched wrists. After that, he climbed onto the coach box, took the reins, and smacked at the horse.
“Come on; let’s go!” he hollered.
They got to their destination, a red timber-framed two-story house with white corners, after a two hour trip in temperatures well below zero C.
Nice though the trip had been, with the sound from the slay-bells, the thuds from the horses’ hooves, and the white, glistening, creaking snow, it was now just as nice to come inside and warm up.
“I’m guessing,” their host Mr. Longbottom, an ancient-looking man said, “you’d like to inspect your accommodations, Samantha? In fact, they are ready and waiting for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, lifted up her skirt, and carefully walked upstairs, leaving poor Stan to carry their luggage upstairs and unpack.
When he was finished, he walked over to a high-backed, wooden chair and told her to sit down in it. “I’m going to have a little lie-down, and I don’t want you to wander around this house, without me as your escort.
Remember what happened the last time? You spent an hour locked in the basement because you had your hands tied behind your back, and couldn’t get the door opened. It was sheer luck Mr. Longbottom heard your screams!
So I’m going to tie you to this chair, until such time as I see fit to let you go; O.K?”
That last question wasn’t really a question at all, but as close to a command as Stan was ever likely to get.
Samantha realized there was no point in her getting into an argument with him, so she quietly sat down, and let him cuff her wrists behind the chair instead, and tie her ankles and waist to it, too.
He filled her mouth with a big handkerchief, and wound her scarf around her head a couple of times, tying it off behind her head.
“Right!” he said. “I’ll get you out of that in, let’s say, two hours. That’ll give me time to convince my back I’m not mad at it anymore!” He kissed her on the nose, went over to the huge four-poster bed, and within a couple of minutes, he was snoring.
As she watched him lie there, she wondered if he realized how much she loved, yet at the same time, used him to get her needs satisfied. “But I’m sure he uses me to satisfy his needs. In short, we’re satisfying each others’ needs.”
She looked around the room as best she could. She had loved it, ever since she first saw it as a little girl.
“I wonder,” she thought, “who came up with the idea I had to have at least my hands tied all the time I was here, that I was only allowed to wear dresses, and when it happened? I’ll have to ask Mr. Longbottom about it tonight.”
Even though she had been a frequent guest in the house since her early childhood, she had never, ever, dared call him anything but Mr. Longbottom. At first, she had been too scared of him, and later on it sort of hadn’t felt appropriate, him being so much older than her. She gladly did whatever he wanted her to do, and wore whatever clothes he wanted her to wear; always had, always would, within the boundaries set up by the two of them.
However, she genuinely loved it; the feeling of being semi-helpless; and yet, still be able to do most things.
It had started one day when she, as a seven-year old girl, by accident found a set of cuffs and keys, lying in one of the drawers in the dresser in her room. When she asked him about it, he at first gave her the usual excuses, saying he didn’t know what they were, much less what they were used for; and where did she find those, anyway?
”In my room,” she gravely said. “And I also found this picture.” She showed him a drawing made in pencil of a woman, wearing a long skirt and having her hands cuffed together in front of her,” and became a bit curious. Could you put them on me? Please, sir? I really want to find out what it feels like.”
He looked deep into her eyes, at first thinking he’d be firm and say ‘no, I will most certainly not!’, but when he saw the look of expectation in her eyes, he instead did as she asked, but only for a couple of minutes.
When he had released her she turned around, beaming with joy.
“Please, sir; can you do it again? It was real fun, and I enjoyed it immensely!”
He looked at her standing there, dressed in an ankle-long, grey plush dress.
“O.K, but on one condition; the next time you come and visit, you will be dressed in an ankle-long dress. It doesn’t matter what colour or material, as long as it is ankle-long; will you promise me that?”
She did, and that was the start of something that, for her, was a truly life-changing experience.
She was a bit worried, when she met Stan last year; that she had to stop seeing Mr. Longbottom, but he was very understanding. He even suggested he’d buy her some shackles, so she could wear them whenever she wanted to; a suggestion she gladly accepted. Her parents on the other hand were a bit more sceptical. They of course knew Mr. Longbottom was cuffing their daughter when they went there for a visit, and had even made some changes to a bed, so she could stay the night, if she wanted to, and still be cuffed.
It took some convincing (something she had always been the master of) but they finally agreed to let her move in with Stan, who lived just down the street. As soon as she had, she made him go and buy wrist- and ankle-cuffs, so she could be cuffed whenever she wanted to.
At first, she feared she’d grow tired of it, now that she could be cuffed whenever she wanted to, but she soon found that being cuffed by the older man was still something special and dear to her. And now she was here, in the old man’s vacation house (or whatever you want to call it), tied to a chair, waiting for Stan to wake up, so they could go exploring the house and the surrounding acreages together.
Two hours later Stan got out of bed, and released her from the chair. By that time she had warmed up, and now the clothes almost made her too warm, not that she would even think of complaining; and if she did, no one would take any notice. It was an integral part of the agreement between her, Mr. Longbottom, and Stan. She was to be their prisoner, and as such subjected to their whims, barred anything “inappropriate”, for the next week or so.