Subject: Submission?

Hey helpless,

I love your web site about self bondage.  It has been both an education
and a source of fun for me, and I hope you keep up the good work.

I started keeping a bondage diary a few months ago, when I really got
into it.  Here is the first entry, which you are more than welcome to
use if you wish.  If you do prefer to use it, I would like to remain
anonymous.  I do receive email correspondance at this address regularly,
and I am the sole author of this.

Thanks!

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        I don’t know why, but my decision to buy my first real pair of
handcuffs was not something I spent a lot of time thinking about.  I
had the toy ‘cuffs for a few years - and had a lot of fun with them,
but there was always the knowledge that one good tug would break the
swivel.

	Looking at the handcuffs in the army surplus brought quite a
rush of excitement to my head.  I could immediately see the differences
between the real thing and the $5 imitations.  The Smith and Wesson
M-100 were my ‘cuffs of choice; lovingly crafted in white carbon steel
with two keys, and presented in a lightly oiled paper to keep them from
rusting.  I picked them up and immedaitely noticed a difference in
weight.  These cuffs were the real thing; every square millimetre exuded
strength and purpose.  The edges had a rounded feel to them, and I
imagined they would be more comfortable than the toys I was used to.
Fifty nine dollars later, I left the army surplus with the cuffs in a
brown paper bag.

	I played with the cuffs for about an hour, acquanting myself
with the keys, keyholes, double lock mechanism, and general feel of the
cuffs.  They were heavier than the toys, and they were also quite a bit
thicker.  But the rounded edges and overall quality of construction made
them feel more comfortable.  The ratchet mechanism was also a lot finer
than I used used to, with increments for tightening that made it a lot
easier to fit the cuffs securely and comfortably.

	Being without a trusting partnet whom I could have lock me up
for a trial run, I decided the best way to give my cuffs an inaugural
run was to wear them for a period of time, in some manner that would
prevent me from simply unlocking them for a period of time.  Self
bondage, in other words.  I didn’t have any keys frozen in ice, and I
didn’t want the hassle of elaborate time release mechanisms - yet - so
I decided the best thing to do would be to wear them publicly.
Privately, rather, but in a semi-public place where I couldn’t unlock
myself without revealing my bound situation.
	
        For some reason, the thought of being bound at the wrists with
institutional devices is an aphrodesiac for me.  I have always thought
it would be neat to be locked in a jail cell, wearing only my underwear
and a pair of handcuffs.  Tonight would play out one small part of that
- being led in my street clothes to the place of incarceration.

	My Calvin Klein underwear is about the closest thing I have to
sexy, so I put them on, and a pair of inconspicuous Levi’s jeans.  Up
top, a plain white T-shirt and a loose sports jacket finished my
ensemble.  My plan was to sling the jacket over my shoulders, with my
hands tucked inside.  I often wear a jacket like this when I’m in a
hurry and too impatient to put my arms in the sleeves.

	I waited until 11:30 pm on a Sunday night.  I live about a
kilometre from a park which is usually poorly lit at night, and decided
this would give me time to think about my actions, consider any possible
altercations, and chicken out.  I placed one handcuff key on my front
porch (next to a post, almost impossible to see if you weren’t looking
for it), and one in my wallet on my dresser just in case.  I put the
cuffs in one back pocket, and a house key in the other.

	Walking to the park with handcuffs - real police handcuffs -
made me feel dangerous.  What if a cop stopped me on my walk, and
decided to pat me down?  How would I explain a pair of keyless
handcuffs?  One thing that made me feel comfortable was the relative
quietness of these cuffs.  Every mechanical surface on these cuffs were
machined to a fine tolerance, and the only sound they made was the soft
clinging of the two chain links between the swivels.  Or what if I fell,
and was hurt badly enough to require attention?  How would I explain my
handcuffed state?  Woudl they take me to the local prison, thinking I
was an escaped convict?

	The park was dark, and I reached into my pocket with a
quickening heartbeat.  The cuffs reflected the light perfectly; this
allowed me to make sure that I put them on with the keyholes facing my
hands.  I hadn’t tried removing them with the keyholes facing my
elbows, and I wasn’t about to experiment now.  I locked the first cuff
on my left wrist, and felt my heart beating even faster.  I made sure
my jacket was adjusted correctly, and brought the second cuff to my
right wrist.

	My wrists were now connected by a chain that wouldn’t allow
them more than an inch of separation, which brought a feeling of self
consciousness I hadn’t anticipated before.  It is one thing to lock
yourself up in your bedroom; it’s another thing to do it in a public
park where you risk all sorts of unanticipated accidents.  I walked a
bit faster now, and inadvertantly tugged at my bound wrists - partly
with excitement, and partly with the regret of not being able to turn
back.

	The street I planned on walking back on was dark - very dark -
and I knew I could relax a bit more.  I let my hands dangle outside my
jacket for a bit, while I looked down at the steel handcuffs which had
me mercilessly bound.  I slowed my pace to a more natural speed and
continued down the street.

	Now I know how a prisoner feels, walking towards their ultimate
destination without any choice in the matter.  The key to these cuffs
was at home, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do with them on.  I
had them tight enough that there wasn’t a hope I could get them off
without the key - and the lock mechanism looked far too good for any
sort of picking.  My only mobile limbs were my legs, carrying me without
question to my ultimate destination.  Now, if only there was a way to
get leg irons on without anyone knowing ...

	... I had a hard time finding a position for my hands that was
comfortable.  The chain on these 'cuffs held my wrists closer than the
toys.  With my hands in front, the only comfortable position I could
hold for any period of time was simply to cross my wrists - making me
look quite unnatural.  In fact, I thought at one point that I must look
like a handcuffed criminal with a jacket slung over.

	It didn't take me all that long to get home; I wasn't running,
but I wasn't keeping a leisurely pace, either.  The key was sitting out
front where I had left it.  Taking the cuffs off was not as easy as
before; the keyhole on my new cuffs was much smaller than the cheapies,
and my wrists were a bit sweaty (and swollen) by this point.  I decided
I would wear my cuffs one notch looser next time.

	I wasn't in the door five minutes before I was putting ice cube trays
full of frozen string in the freezer, preparing for something a little
more long term ...