Protective Custody on Campus 1 (M/F)

Postby Snidley » Thu Dec 27, 2012 12:07 am

This anecdote is from a few years back when I was in the last year of University, living on a rural campus outside of Sydney. We undergraduates lived in a special residential accommodation, and although I started the year so domiciled, by Easter I had moved a few kilometres away, renting an old dairyman's cottage with three friends. The events and dialogue are as best as I can remember.

It was mid year break in winter, and many of the students (including my house mates) had returned to their family homes for the two week holiday. Those of us who remained decided to amuse ourselves by playing a 'Murder Game', that had been popular at the main city campus at the time (this is before the days of regular mass shootings in the USA). Each person signs up and pays a $30 fee, and is given a small tile with another person's name on it. The goal is to 'assassinate' that target (with a water pistol), and then to take the target's tile and move onto the next person. However a person had to be absolutely alone for the 'kill' to be allowed – there was safety in crowds. The last man or woman standing would take the entire pot, and as 30 people had signed up, the $900 prize was an enormous and tempting reward for us impoverished students. It was also a game of paranoia, as no-one knew who was in turn 'stalking' them, and that person could change at any time if they were themselves 'hit'. It could be anyone: your best friend, a girlfriend, or even a seemingly friendly lecturer (some staff had even signed up).

I had survived up to the Friday before the final weekend, and from my contacts (I had cultivated a few informants among the 'dead'- who despite being out of the game were the best informed) I estimated there were only five or six of us 'living' remaining. I had been quite successful, and owed my continued survival to my off-campus residence which made it hard for potential 'assassins' to reach me without giving themselves away; with a long driveway I had heard them coming well beforehand and simply climbed up the wooded hill behind the house, returning only when they became frustrated and left. And by a stroke of luck I had learned the identity of my current would-be assailant, a girl named Margaret who had been over-chatty with her friends over dinner the day before: one of which was also one of my spies.

I had dated Margaret a few years back. She was pretty with a mop of black hair. She was very much the athlete, cycling in particular, and didn't spend much time on her appearance. However the first time she innocently cycled by her fellow students in her Lycra gear she almost caused a riot among her disbelieving male colleagues. She had some new boyfriend now, someone from the city whom she didn't talk about much. When we dated we had kept things pretty vanilla. Now that I had matured over a few years I wished I had been more adventurous in the past. Now this opportunity and the lure of all those tax-free dollars made me think furiously.

So I lay in ambush in her room that evening, having got in through a skylight (the use of a borrowed ladder and earned me many simple 'kills'). I had to be careful, as the last thing I wanted to do was to be alone with her in the same room as a loaded water pistol. As she entered the darkened room I quickly disarmed her (no sane 'player' went about without a water pistol in their back-pocket), and once she realised I was in fact not her own 'assassin', she relaxed; but I could tell from the look on her face she dearly wanted her pistol back to finish me off, alone and vulnerable.

I told her my deal: if she turned it down I would leave, but now that I knew her identity, she had next to zero chance of catching me alone again because of her indiscretion. Over the weekend the person stalking her would eventually catch up and eliminate her from the game. The deal was we would go into partnership, with a 50:50 split of the prize. I handed her typed page.

She read down the page, and her eyes narrowed. “What is 'Protective Custody'?”
“For your safety and mine,” I replied. “The temptation might be too great to target me while over the weekend I complete my 'kills' and thus end with the final three players; then I can target the person after you.”
“....necessary restraints? What is that??”
I produced a pair of handcuffs from my pocket. They were newly purchased, and in those days could only be obtained by actually being a cop, or by attending a weekend private 'Security Guard' course. Handcuffs were (and probably still are) illegal in Australia unless owned by Law Enforcement Officers. I had just done the course purely for the access to the equipment and was eager to try out my tools on a pretty girl- this was the perfect opportunity. I could tell from her look she instantly dismissed them as fakes from a Toy Shop. It was a reasonable reaction, as the real McCoys were virtually unheard of in private hands in those days.

She was tempted, I could tell from her face. She was thinking hard, and finally made a decision.
“Ok, I trust you,” she said. “I don't have anything to do this weekend and $450 would pay off most of my credit card.” (she had just purchased new cycling gear beyond her means). “And I'm a sitting duck in this college residence, as you have shown. I've had some close calls already.”
“Very well, sign here and date please,” I said. She complied.

I told her to make up a small weekend bag, I was taking her back to my place for protection and where no one would think to look for her.
“What now?” she said, dropping her canvas sack at her feet.
“Hold out your hands,” I replied. She was a bit reluctant to do so, but there were 450 reasons to accept a bit of humiliation. She pulled up her sleeves.
“Click, click, click.” I locked her hands in front of her, first one wrist then the other, chained together.
“Hang on,” she cried alarmed. “You can't parade me to the car-park like this.” And the way she was twisting her hands suggested the true nature of the Smith & Wesson Police Issue cuffs was becoming clear. “Hey, these are tight.”
I rolled down her sleeves to cover the cuffs. “See? No one will see if you keep your hands together.”
Consternation on her face. “Are these real?”
“They'll do the job.” Not letting her think any more about her situation, I picked up her bag from the floor and herded her out the door.

There weren't many students out that evening. Most of the remaining 'players' were with their friends for safety, or on the prowl on their own missions, hoping their quarry would slip up and go solo to the bathroom or for a snack. I held Margaret's arm just like in the cop shows; an officer escorting his prisoner. She didn't like it one bit and tried to shake me off, but her cuffed hands made even that difficult. Her face was flushed and she dreaded meeting anyone, and we walked unusually fast to the carpark. Just one friend across the way waved to her, and just before she instinctively waved back I checked her with my hand and murmured.
“You're about to give the game away,” I nodded to her cuffed hands and waved myself instead. “Remember your new status. Protective Custody.”

She nodded but didn't look happy as I buckled her into the front passenger seat of my car, the seat belt crossing over body, pinning her to the seat. She gave another experimental twist and ran her fingers over the handcuffs, as if not really believing they were on and not coming off.

TBC
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Last edited by Snidley on Thu Dec 27, 2012 4:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Protective Custody on Campus 1 (M/F)

Postby Kkonii1 » Fri Dec 28, 2012 7:55 am

Wonderful opening. I can't wait to see how it plays out.
Kkonii Blade=Bdsm Forever

Re: Protective Custody on Campus 1 (M/F)

Postby randomentity » Fri Dec 28, 2012 8:20 am

Sounds like a huge lot of fun!! :P