Saying Hello

Nikki didn't get much post. Aside from the usual drab of bills and underwhelming adverts, the only real reason for the postman to walk up the slightly overgrown pathway through her gravelled front garden and knock on her off-white front door was to deliver packages that Nikki herself had ordered.

You can imagine her surprise, therefore, when she was awoken just before 10.30am on this unusually warm Saturday morning by three taps on the door. She continued to lay in her metal-framed bed for a few seconds, looking up at the unusual screen-like feature in the headboard (three months she'd lived in this flat and she still hadn't worked out what it was for or how to turn it on, if it even does turn on), trying to remember if she'd ordered anything online recently. She hadn't, and besides the pleasant temperature, there was nothing special about this particular Saturday morning, certainly not special enough to warrant the receipt of any kind of gift.

"Morning luv, got a box for ya." Postmen in London aren't usually this friendly, heck, people in London aren't usually this friendly, and that put a still half-asleep Nikki even more on the back foot. A barely-audible "cheers" came half-heartedly out of her mouth, and she took a relatively small box off his hands.

She wanted to open the package there and then, but her hangover was trying to convince her to leave it on the sofa and get straight back into bed. In the end, curiosity prevailed, and, still in nothing but her dressing gown, she sat on her brown leather sofa and started picking at the ends of the tape that held the box together.

Eventually, after giving in and fetching the scissors from the kitchen draw, she had the box open. What was inside did nothing to abate her confusion - four rings, no, bracelets? They were the right size for bracelets, metallic, silver coloured, plain, and with an accompanying note.

When she read the note, the confusion and curiosity heightened, only this time, they were joined by wonder, disbelief, and more than a hint of fear.

PUT THEM ON.

That was it. Three words, no explanation, no way of telling who had sent them or why. Naturally, a thousand questions immediately filled her mind. She had no partners, nobody she was seeing in even a casual manner, and didn't know anyone who she thought was capable of orchestrating such a cryptic episode.

She sat there for several minutes, trying to figure out who would have done this, and whether or not she should listen to them. What will happen if she does? By the looks of it there was nothing special about them, they were just four metallic bands, around an inch wide, only a couple of millimetres thick, and their only distinguishing features were two letters engraved on the inside of each one: LW, RW, LA, RA.

Nikki was a practical girl, capable of taking emotion out of a situation, looking at it objectively, and deciding on the most effective course of action. It's an approach that has helped her numerous times both professionally and personally, but as she returned to her bed and lay on her back, trying to make sense of what she'd just received, all she could think about was how much she'd wished she'd listened to her hangover, and left this until later in the day when she could think clearer.

There didn't appear to be anything sinister about the bracelets, but what does she have to gain by putting them on? There's obviously a reason why whoever is doing this, is doing this, and with no current idea what that is, can she trust the situation and the person behind it?

Eventually, after much self-debate and several failed attempts at curing her hangover with more sleep, she decided to get out of bed and try putting the bracelets on. The self-preservation part of her brain was screaming at her that she has more to lose than to gain, but the objective part of it was convincing her that they were just bracelets, and that if she didn't like them, she could just take them off again. Then there was that other part of her brain, the part that enjoys the fear of the unknown, the lack of control even if she doesn't know what she's losing control of. The thought of wearing something because an anonymous letter said so excited her, perhaps that was the part that cast the deciding vote, perhaps it was simply sheer curiosity, whatever it was, she was back on the sofa, bracelets in her slightly shaking hands.

Nikki had long since figured out what the engravings meant, and even though she was sure it wouldn't fit over her hand, she tried to slide the LW bracelet onto her left wrist. She was right, it was too small, but just as that realisation crossed her mind, the bracelet popped open, and she was able to fix it around her wrist. She snapped it shut again, the fit over her wrist was almost perfect, just slightly loose enough that it wasn't digging into her skin uncomfortably, but tight enough that she could always feel it. She tried to open it again, just to make sure she could, and sure enough, without a huge amount of effort, the bracelet popped open again. There was no sign of any clasping or other mechanism on the bracelet, so, figuring it was magnetism that held it in place, Nikki set about putting on the other three bracelets, one on her right wrist, and one on each ankle.

That was it, she had put them on, just like the note had asked, no, told her to. They felt good, and she felt a wave of horn envelop her as she realised she had no idea what was going to happen next, just that it must surely be something.

Nikki decided to take advantage of the horn, grabbing her favourite vibrator and lying on the bed as she let it go to work on her recently shaved cunt. She was constantly aware of the bracelets touching the skin on her wrists and ankles, and as she brought herself to orgasm, she grabbed the headboard tightly with her free hand and flexed her calves so she could feel the bracelets dig slightly deeper into her skin.

What did she want to happen next? She had no idea, and most of the thoughts that crossed her mind were fantasies that were safe only in the confines of one's imagination, but she was stuck with that question until someone else answered it for her.

It was a question that continued to haunt her for the coming few days. With every step she walked, she could feel the ankle bracelets. With every movement of her arms, she could feel the ones on her wrist, and with every one of those constant reminders, the question persisted, growing ever more prevalent in her mind.

A week came and went, and the only notable event was the postman once again knocking on the door in the morning. This time, Nikki rushed out of bed and to the front door so quickly, she very nearly forgot to put any clothes on - the sight of her F-cup breasts swinging as she jogged past the hallway mirror being her only reminder. Her curiosity had clearly become an obsession, but the postman was only delivering a parcel for the neighbours who weren't in, and that question still wasn't getting answered.

Eventually, Nikki had had enough. It was starting to dawn on her that this might be it, there might be nothing else that happens, and that, for whatever reason, someone had sent her bracelets to wear for no apparent reason. Maybe they sent them to the wrong address? Maybe whatever their plan was, they'd changed it, or cancelled it altogether? Regardless, Nikki saw little point in continuing to wear the bracelets, and so, when she returned home from work on Friday evening, she decided to take them off.

A quick pull was enough to release the magnets and remove the bracelets, only it was enough when she tried them last week, having just put them on. This time, however, the magnets weren't giving. She pulled and she pulled at the bracelet on her left wrist, but it wasn't budging, and it certainly wasn't big enough to fit over her hand. Becoming slightly panicked, she tried desperately to pull off the other bracelets, hoping it was just the left wrist that had just become faulty or stuck. No matter how hard she tried, none of them would pop open, she couldn't take them off.

Fear set in, but it quickly subsided thanks to her ability to remain calm and objective in high-stress situations. She told herself it was okay, she had a friend who owned a metal workshop, he would have a cutter or some sort of tool that would be able to remove the bracelets. She would call him in the morning and arrange to go and see him. With that marginally comforting thought, Nikki slowly drifted off to sleep, still wondering whatever this whole episode was about.

Once again, the postman knocked on the door on Saturday morning. Once again Nikki's curiosity reached fever pitch, perhaps this was finally the next step? Perhaps this was a way of removing the bracelets? But as soon as Nikki woke, she realised something was wrong. She was laying on her back on her bed like she normally does, but this time she was spread-eagled. Protruding from each corner of the bed was what looked like some sort of metal arm, and each arm had connected itself to one of her bracelets, presumably with more magnets. She couldn't move, the unforgiving metal barely allowing her to wiggle. Panicked, she went to cry for help, but another metal arm had extended itself from the headboard behind her, with a rectangular metal plate at its end, just big enough to cover her mouth shut as it pressed down upon it.

Suddenly, the questions she'd been asking herself all week had changed. Why is this happening to her? She'd noticed the unusual metal rods under the bed frame when she viewed the flat, and thought it was simply part of the frame's design, but clearly that wasn't the case. Who was controlling this? Was anyone controlling this? How does she get out? The panic gripped her tighter than the bracelets ever had, and intensified as the postman left a note through her letterbox and walked back down the slightly overgrown pathway through her gravelled front garden. She was alone.

Some time passed, it was impossible to tell how much but it seemed like hours, and nothing had changed. The metal arms still held the bracelets, and the bracelets still held Nikki's arms and legs in place, the metal plate clasped firmly over her mouth. She was grateful that the blinds were drawn, or anyone walking past the house would have seen her naked, helpless body, or was she? Maybe a passer-by could have helped, as embarrassing as that was, at least she would have got out, somehow, maybe.

It was Saturday morning, she had no plans all weekend, the first opportunity anyone would have to suspect that she might be missing or in danger was when she didn't turn up to work on Monday morning. Tears started streaming down Nikki's face as she continued to struggle against her strict bonds, every attempted wrench and thrash of one of her limbs resulting in the bracelet digging into the same spot on her skin, making it more sore and sensitive.

Nikki tried to scream again, she knew it wouldn't work, but she might as well anyway. Her pathetic wail was lost amongst the sturdy metal gag keeping her mouth quiet, and then, the screen in her headboard slowly started to rotate.

Nikki didn't know whether to be relieved that something was finally happening, or terrified of what was about to happen next, but she had no choice in the matter. The screen continued to rotate for a few seconds until it was facing her tear-soaked eyes, and then it flickered on.

A cursor appeared, blinking in solitude briefly before it typed a two-word message. Nikki stared at it in terror, none of her questions were being answered, instead losing themselves in the mire of even more questions. But there it was, the message that she would come to realise symbolised the beginning of her new future.

"Hello Nikki."