Michelle: The Willing Prisoner
Michelle was lying on the bed, making sure not to break free of the half-ass bondage that was supposed to be keeping her hands tied to the headboard. David had bound her wrists with neckties and was giving her some short, quick strokes with his tiny dick. She couldn't wait for it to end.
They had met on a dating site a week before, under the premise that they were both lovers of bondage. David was good looking enough, a little short, and seemed to know what he was talking about regarding BDSM. Michelle learned the hard way that he did not...
The mainstream bondage revolution of the early 2010's had captured the imagination of the thirty-three year old blond woman, but she had found it difficult to find a partner who shared her passion for bondage and discipline. She had run through several men who honestly viewed themselves as bondage enthusiasts, and most of them tried really hard. The fact was that Michelle got infinitely more satisfaction and thrills via the self-bondage that she had become a pro at putting herself into: Keys to her cuffs and shackles frozen in ice cubes; intricate slip knots to secure a self-hogtie that would keep her helpless for ten minutes or so; expensive time-activated restraints. She had run the gamut over the past fifteen years and, sure, these methods would eventually bring her to orgasm, but what she really craved was a man who knew his shit: a true lover of bondage to put her through the paces.
That summer she was at the lake partying with a large group of friends, friends of friends, friends of friends' friends... Plenty of booze and debauchery to go around and everyone was having a great time, until the State Game Warden showed up. Liquor was not allowed on the lake and it provided a great opportunity for the local government to collect some easy money in fines from the partygoers.
Officer Jack Riley was the first on the scene, and immediately radioed for backup when he realized how large the gathering was. Within minutes, five more wardens descended upon the throng, two on ATVs, and three on foot. A few minutes later, two police boats were bobbing in the shallow water just off of the sandy shore, just to make sure no one tried to make a swim for it. All of the officers soon had their ticket books and pens in action, writing up citations. This was a weekly ritual in the summer, and they had it down to a science.
Officer Riley was the one who approached Michelle, who seemed unfazed by the invasion and continued to suck down a White Claw.
"ID please, ma'am," he said to her.
"What for?" the tanned and toned Michelle asked.
The tall and devastatingly handsome officer raised the brim of his hat with his pen and then tapped the aluminum can she was holding. "No liquor on the lake," he said and smiled.
"I'm not on the lake," she informed him and took another swig. She could now see that the officer had dirty blond hair and pretty blue eyes.
Michelle was extremely cute, so he humored her: "No alcohol in the parking lot, on any of the beaches, on a boat, a jet ski, in your hand while you are bobbing around with water wing floaties on. Nowhere," he said.
"You gonna cuff me up, officer?" She asked, smiling.
"I don't think that's necessary. Just do me a favor and dump the rest out, please."
She took another drink and batted her long eyelashes at the park ranger. "It will be gone soon," she said.
"Look, ma'am," Riley was a little irritated now, "just go get me your ID and we will be done here in a few minutes. It's that, or the cuffs," he warned, tapping the handcuffs attached to his belt.
Michelle knew what the wise move was, but her excitement about potentially being put into real police handcuffs by a hot officer was clouding her judgement; that, and the several shots of tequila and hard seltzers she had guzzled down already. "I don't even think you're a real cop and I doubt you can arrest me," she said, finishing what was left in the can before tossing it at the officer's feet.
"You asked for it, ma'am," Riley said. "Put your hands behind your back."
The woman's heart jumped. What had she just done? She was a statue, too shocked to move. The officer gently, but with authority, spun the woman around and then grasped both of her slender wrists in his left hand while he slapped on a pair of hinged handcuffs. He carefully double-locked them and then grabbed his new prisoner by her upper arm.
Immediately Michelle could feel the weight of the cuffs: much heavier than any of the ones she had dabbled with, previously. Also, the hinge connecting the cuffs was much more restrictive than a chain. The new feeling of helplessness gave her a twinge of excitement and her nipples hardened.
"Where is your stuff?" Riley asked, looking down at her. He was a good foot taller than she was.
"Over there," she said and tried her best to point in the direction of her backpack. "The black and white one."
The officer scooped up the bag and then began to lead his new prisoner towards a sandy embankment that led up to the parking lot. Had the woman not tossed the can at him he would have made a better effort at finding her shoes, but instead she would be going to jail in her bare feet.
Michelle was led by her arm through the crowd of friends and acquaintances and she was now the center of attention, which brought on mixed emotions. Being hauled off in cuffs in a bikini was certainly humiliating, but it was also oddly arousing. Humiliation was not a fetish that she would have put at the top of her list, but the way she was feeling then made her rethink this particular kink.
They got past the crowd of drunks and then to the sandy incline that led up to the parking lot. The handcuffs were already starting to dig into her wrists and her excitement increased. The initial shock of being arrested had worn off and now she knew there was no turning back, even if she wanted to. No, she decided that she was going to make the most of this unique situation and see how far she could push the handsome officer.
Up the incline and onto the blacktop parking lot they went, and stopped at an old police cruiser that was parked in the shade of a large tree. Michelle noticed that the other police vehicles in the lot were newer pickup trucks and she inquired as to why the officer had such a lame car and not a truck. "This little thing would get stuck in a pothole," she said. She was now facing the car, standing inches away from the back, passenger door.
"I'm the youngest ranger on the force," he explained. "Spread your feet," he told her and nudged her ankles apart with his boot.
Michelle moved her feet a bit wider and got two more nudges from Officer Riley before he was satisfied. This significantly compromised her balance and she had to smash her impressive tits up against the cruiser to brace herself. "Not sure that was necessary," she said.
"Can never be too careful," he replied and then gave her a quick frisking.
Michelle was disappointed that the officer's search was not more thorough, or at the very least more aggressive. The best she got was when Riley lifted up her right foot so that he could remove a toe ring and a gold anklet she was wearing. He quietly placed the items into a tiny manila envelope and went about his business.
Her tiny swimsuit did a poor job of covering up her bronze skin, and a cursory rub with the back of his hand over her boobs, crotch and ass was all she got. "Not a very good search, officer," she said, straining her neck to look back at him.
Without replying, Riley put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her back from the car, and then told her not to run after he released his grasp. "Trying to run while handcuffed is not easy and you will get a far worse charge added when I catch you," he warned.
"You might want to shackle my feet then, officer," she antagonized. She leaned back up against the car door and watched for his reaction.
