Mark was so upset that he'd like to kick himself. Not that he could.
Why did he ever read that story about Houdini? That's how this all started.
Sure, he'd been careful. He'd done all that research on the internet, learning how such escapes can be done. Since he had a limited budget, he'd concentrated on things like handcuffs and shackles. He'd purchased a good set of ones made from steel, and started to practice.
At first, he just worked with the proper key to the cuffs, carefully freeing himself when his hands were cuffed in front of his body. Then came the trickier part of doing the same with his hands cuffed in the small of his back. It had to be done blindly, by feel and visualization.
The first few times, he couldn't do it. Luckily, he was flexible enough to lower his hands down past his ass, along his legs, and finally 'step through' so that the cuffs ended up in front again. But gradually he improved, until opening them with the key while his wrists were cuffed behind him became easy.
However, he didn't think freeing himself using the key was going to impress people very much. It would be difficult to secrete the key on his person, for one thing. And opening a lock with a key, well, that's the key's purpose. So Mark learned how to unlock handcuffs using only a paperclip. It turned out to be not very difficult, if you knew what you're doing. More practice, and again, he could free himself whether cuffed in front or behind. And the leg shackles ultimately yielded to a paperclip, also. He started to feel he might be ready to perform before a live audience.
But he needed a gimmick.
After much pondering, he got the brilliant idea of performing naked, for three reasons. First, he was proud of his body, and he didn't mind displaying it. He'd been naked before groups before, modeling for live figure drawing art classes. He wasn't muscle bound, by any stretch of the imagination. Cross-training had given him a defined musculature, and good endurance. The art classes appreciated the musculature, and he'd needed the endurance for holding poses for long periods of time. He especially liked it when the females in those classes smiled broadly at him as he displayed his torso, although they often seemed to focus their attention very low on that torso.
That led to his second reason for deciding to do his act in the nude. He planned to perform for bachelorette parties, women's clubs, etc. The thought of displaying his body for those appreciative women was exciting. Of course he'd have to undress before them, and perhaps have a couple of lovely audience members help him get shackled and cuffed. And they'd have to check him for a concealed key. He could imagine slim fingers entering his mouth, checking. And feminine hands parting his ass cheeks, searching him. Perhaps if they were feeling naughty, they'd lift his penis, and move his scrotum around, searching that area, with their perfume clouding the air around him in a heavenly fashion.
Sometimes that vision gave him a straining erection, with his dick streaming with precum. He imagined the female onlookers going wild, seeing that. Maybe they'd take advantage of his helplessness, and toy with him, and even make him ejaculate, while the rest cheered. Come to think of it, maybe this should be his third reason for being naked, now given him a total of four.
So, the fourth reason would be that, being naked, it would be obvious he wasn't concealing a handcuff key for his escape. Of course, no one would think to look for a tiny paper clip, hidden between his toes. Especially with the rest of his body to distract them. That was part of the trick - distraction.
So, dreaming of his well-received performances, and perhaps some lewd interactions with his appreciative onlookers, he'd practiced and practiced. And all went well - until today.
Today, he'd practiced walking into his bedroom clothed, and stripping down. Naked, carrying his cuffs and shackles, he walked around the room, as if showing them to the audience, and having the audience verify that they were strong steel devices, perfectly intact. He had to walk around naked to make sure that he could keep that paperclip between his toes, and not drop it while moving. So far, so good.
He had no one to help him with his shackles, so he had to do that himself. He decided it would be impressive to be shackled to something solid, so he passed their chain around his radiator pipe. This was safe, because it was seasonably warm, and the radiator wasn't generating any heat. He had no idea if he could secure himself to something as solid at the various venues - he'd have to look into that.
Next, he knelt down, which he felt would make him look even more vulnerable to the audience, given such a submissive display. This also allowed him to loop the handcuff chain through the shackle chain, securing his hands low behind his back. Of course, his real reason for kneeling was to get his fingers near the paperclip between his toes. During his act, he'd planned to have some volunteer hold up a small curtain, concealing his next actions from the crowd.
His heart always accelerated when he closed and locked the handcuffs at this point. In an act of showmanship, he even leaned forward and tossed the key from behind his back, making it arc far across the room. If he couldn't do that on stage, he'd ask an audience member to take it from his hands. Maybe he'd suggest that she secure the key inside her bra, getting her to promise that if he managed to get free, he had her permission to fish it out from inside there. If he was very fortunate, she'd place it low, beneath her breast, so his hand would have to work its way down over her nipple, searching for the key. It might be good for the act for him to pretend he was having trouble finding it, giving him enough time to fondle her until her eyes rolled back in their sockets from the pleasurable sensations. His cock always engorged whenever he imagined this scene.
The way he'd always visualized his stage performance, secured and shackled, he'd toss the key far from himself as the people watched, if he couldn't find a female to tuck it away. Imagining a curtain being pulled up to conceal him, he'd then go to work. He'd have to act like this was difficult, so he'd yank on his wrists and his ankles, making the chains jingle loudly. He could imagine the audience hearing this, focused, spellbound, wondering what he was doing. After a few minutes of making such noises, his fingers would easily find the paperclip, and with practiced ease, he'd shape it by touch. The first thing he had to do was spring the lock on one cuff. Then he could bring his wrists in front of himself, and open the second. After his hands were free, he could look over his shoulders and pick the locks on his ankles.
After that, he'd rise up from behind the curtain, triumphant, holding the handcuffs and shackles in his hands, displaying them to the audience. He planned to chat with his mostly or entirely female audience, remaining nonchalantly naked. Maybe some bolder women would touch him. Maybe they'd feel his manhood. He shivered with delight, each time he imagined that happening.
Lest he forget, he'd also have to retrieve his key from the bra of that willing participant. Letting his imagination run wild, he thought she might bare her breast after that, drawing his head forward to make him lick and suckle her nipple. "Why not go all out in this fantasy?" he thought. "Perhaps audience members would secretly pass me their phone numbers. My life could be amazing!"
That was the plan.
But on this fateful day of practice, things didn't go nearly as Mark had planned. Shackled to the radiator and cuffed, he'd tossed his key far across the room, as planned. He did his fake yanking and tugging on cuffs and shackles, making sufficient noise. He retrieved the paper clip, and shaped it. He started in on the lock of the cuff on his left wrist. To his dismay, there was a subtle 'snap' sensation - both in sound and vibration! His fingers blindly examined the paperclip. It had broken! It must've been faulty. And what remained of it was too short to be bent to the proper lock-picking shape! He was trapped!
The actual key was out of sight, past his bed, and way, way out of reach. The radiator pipes were very sturdy, and he had no idea what might occur if he managed to break them, anyway. Probably his room would be flooded. He got busy mentally, trying to think of something to do. His eyes darted around the nearby parts of the room, searching for anything that might help. Nothing. Not a thing nearby. He cursed himself for not having a spare paperclip nearby as a fail-safe. Swallowing hard, he tried to keep from panicking. He called for help several times, but no one was near enough to hear his voice escape from the insulated walls of his house.
A person cannot stay panicked forever. Hours passed, and Mark drifted into a light doze, leaning against the radiator. He was awakened by a sound, which his befuddled brain didn't process well enough. He licked his dry lips and waited. The sound occurred again - the sound of his doorbell. He tried calling for help, but his voice was weak from his earlier yelling, and his throat was dry.
Finally, he thought he heard a metallic sound. A key turning his front door lock. "Dude, it's me, Emil," Mark heard. "Are you OK? Your car is in the driveway, all your lights have been on all night and it's four in the morning." Emil! His friend from across the street! They each had a key to the other one's house, for plant watering or house watching when one was on vacation.
"Emil... I'm up here, in my bedroom," Mark rasped out. But his voice wasn't carrying very far. Desperately, Mark banged the edge of his handcuffs on the metal bar of the radiator, trying to catch Emil's attention. He was making enough noise that he couldn't hear Emil climbing his stairs to investigate. But a minute or two later, his bedroom door opened a smidgen, and Emil peered cautiously around its edge, wondering if there was trouble brewing.
As Mark came into view, Emil's eyebrows shot up so high that they disappeared into his hairline. "What the fuck is going on, dude?" Emil blurted out.
"Help me," Mark said, feebly. "I'm so thirsty."
