Before I heard of her story I met Anna on a regular dating web site pre-Covid. I spotted her online, read her profile, and then tried to pen the wittiest email I could come up with. It wasn't easy catching her attention with all her admirers, but I managed to initiate a conversation that moved quickly from a few sentences of flirtation to regular and in-depth exchanges. After a couple of weeks I decided to make the trip to her flat in Germany for the all important face-to-face meeting. We hadn't discussed TUGs or anything like that, but I suspected there was something lurking in her past based on her answers to my questions when I vaguely brought up the subject. Definitely nothing concrete, so I decided to leave 'stuff' behind, thinking over the course of a brief weekend I'd be happy enough with a kiss. Maybe TUGs might feature in another sequel.
The Saturday morning arrived and I took my seat on the low-cost flight to Hamburg. I wasn't nervous as I settled into the airline seat and fixed the belt, but I had been on enough Internet dates before to be apprehensive. What if her flat was full of cats? Or ferrets?! What if an ex had yet to move out and she hadn't mentioned that little detail; some trucker named 'Bruno' snoring on the sofa. I could just imagine the scene. 'Oh do not mind him, he won't bother us,' she'd say. 'He sleeps all day.'
The plane landed. I walked straight out into the concourse with my luggage and spotted Anna right away: tall, medium-length wavy brown hair, blue eyes, grey woollen jumper, black skirt and knee-high boots. As I strode up she smiled, recognising me.
“How was the flight?” she asked. Her German accent was barely detectable; just a very slight 'z' on the 'th'. She looked fabulous.
“Great,” was all I could reply. In real-life Anna outshone her online photos. As we walked together to the car-park I had to ask.
“So...er..any pets at home? Ex-boyfriends?”
“Hahaha, no to both,” she replied, lighting up that million-euro smile again. “Are you allergic to cats?”
“Not cats,” I said laughing too.
I had arranged accommodation in town, so we drove there in her small car there to check in and leave my meagre luggage. Then to her flat for lunch. One thing I remember as we drove through the narrow city streets was how her boots squeaked when she pushed down the clutch to change gears. Funny how the little things stick with you.
Hers was a two bedroom flat on the 8th floor of an apartment block. We entered: she unzipped her boots and I took off my shoes. A nice place, tastefully decorated with plants and even a few orchids. I took in a deep breath: foliage and earth, soap, a hint of perfume, the aroma of luncheon waiting for us in the kitchen. It was nice of her to prepare a meal; we could've just gone to a café or restaurant, but she said she was grateful I had come so far. Waving my hand over the spread she had prepared I told her I would fly over the North Sea every day for a lunch like this. That made her laugh.
After lunch we sat together on her sofa, in stockings and socks, drinking tea. I had cried out and just managed to stop her putting a wedge of lemon in mine, and she watched equally horrified as I poured in milk instead. This minor cultural difference aside, we soon started to relax in each other's company. It was just like our online relationship but even better.
The afternoon wound away and as our conversation became more intimate we moved closer together on that sofa. Anna shook off her jumper, revealing a black top underneath. We started talking about holidays we've had and compared traveller's tales. I was interested in the one where she broke up with her boyfriend and how she toured the Americas for weeks solo.
“Isn't that dangerous?” I asked. “You hear no end of horror stories from that part of the world.”
“Yes. And I found out how dangerous,” she replied. The mood had suddenly changed.
I was naturally curious but I didn't want to press her too far, so I gave her space. After a pause she resumed.
“It's something I haven't told anyone about. Something that happened to me in Guatemala. But... I feel I can tell you about it.”
So she told me her story, only under the condition we sit together lengthwise together on the sofa, me hugging her from behind, which was fine with me. She began nervously at first, bringing up memories she hadn't touched since that tropical night, and slowly grew more confident in the telling.
When she finished, we both sat quietly. She was the first to break the silence.
“I'm not sure why it disturbed me so much. I got away free after all. Released next morning. Nothing bad happened.”
“Well, you had your freedom taken away,” I said. “Even only for the space of only one night that's bound to affect you.”
She twisted around so she could see me.
“Right, it should be a horrible experience that I either seek counselling for, or put behind me, but I haven't done either. Instead I...”
She paused for a second, and then, as if making up her mind, got up from the sofa and vanished into the spare room. I heard the sound of rummaging in a wardrobe or closet. She returned with a small square-shaped postal package, unopened; her own name and address clearly written on the outside. She gave it to me.
“How do you explain this then?” she said.
I tore open the package and was genuinely surprised. A pair of handcuffs. With two keys. Not a named brand but not a fuzzy sex-toy either; metal. The real deal.
The cuffs were still wrapped in some kind of plastic-like fabric that had a faint smell of oil about it. The keys were linked together. Anna turned right around on the sofa now, and faced me, watching as I finished unwrapped the parcel. Fascinated. Like a mouse watching a cat.
I opened and closed the handcuffs and Anna blinked in surprise at how much noise they made in the quiet room; they hadn't been so loud in the jungle rain. I showed her how they worked. How the key opened them. How they could be double locked for extra security and to avoid the detainee inadvertently tightening them.
“Without the key you can't escape, right?” she was thinking aloud and of her own night when she encountered them.
“Could you?” I replied. “When they put them on you, on that night in Guatemala.”
“No, and I tried. They were too strong. I've never felt that helpless before,” Anna said. “And then they took me and locked me in their jail.”
I was worried that it was too much for her so I started to rewrap them.
“No. No don't do that,” she said.
“Do you want to hold them?”
She shook her head. Warring emotions flashed across her pretty face.
“Do you want to try them on?” I asked, greatly daring.
She looked at me as if I had said something truly shocking. But nodded her head twice quickly.
“I think I do.”
“Give me your hand,” I said.
She began raising her left hand to me, then paused.
“You aren't going to hurt me are you? Once you've arrested me.”
“Of course not,” I replied. And on impulse dreamed up an even better answer. “It's not an arrest but 'Protective Custody'. Like the police do with important witnesses.”
I wasn't completely sure about the actual facts on that but Anna seemed satisfied.
“You'll look after me?” she said nervously, her face flushing.
It was my turn to nod, and she raised her hand again. I opened the cuff and carefully locked it around her left wrist. Snug but not too tight. Best to take this slowly I thought to myself. One at a time. Anna used her free hand to touch the metal surface, the ratchet, the chain. She also ran her fingers around her trapped wrist.
“I'm taking a photo so we remember this,” I said. “Just your wrist,” I added when she started to protest. I got out my phone and took the shot.
“Now I have to finish the job,” I said, guiding her free hand alongside her cuffed one. I cuffed her right wrist, and sat back to enjoy the spectacle of a beautiful woman exploring her new captivity.
“Hold up your hands,” I commanded. Anna obeyed, and I took a second photo.
“What happens now?” she asked, once she was satisfied she couldn't wriggle, twist or break free. She was rather breathless.
In answer I reached over and took the chain that connected her hands in mine, and pulled her towards me. She was surprised but didn't resist. Holding her hands in mine, feeling her cuffed wrists, I kissed her then. A long, long kiss.
********************************************
Much later on I finally noticed the passing of time. I checked the clock on the mantelpiece; it was late! As much as I was enjoying myself we had dinner reservations. I had to go to my hotel to change, and there was something else I had to do before we went out.
“Can you get changed? I'm taking you out tonight,” I said, getting my things together.
“Not in these,” she held out her hands, chain jangling.
I unlocked her and put the cuffs in my pocket, along with the keys. Anna went to put on her evening wear; luckily she had showered earlier. She just put on a new dress and made some adjustments to her face; I had messed up her make-up. I joined her in the bathroom.
“I'm going to go to my hotel to change too. No, it's fine I'll walk. Its only a few blocks away. And by the way, is there a good department store nearby?”
“There's one on your way,” she said pencilling an eyebrow, putting on lipstick and brushing her hair. “Do you need something? And where are you taking me tonight?”
“You'll see,” I said, secretly pleased she hadn't said; 'Where are we going tonight?'
I cuffed her wrists again in front of her.
“Hey, not fair. I can't go out like this,” she cried. She looked genuinely distressed at the thought of being seen in public in restraints.
“It's just for now, while I'm away. I can't risk you escaping so I'm keeping you under lock and key. Where are your house keys? I'm locking you in too.”
She nodded. She understood. I deadlocked the door behind me, took the lift downstairs and stepped onto the street. The store was easy to find, but what I wanted might not be so easy to source, especially with my limited German. But I was lucky, I found the items I needed without having to consult my phrase book or wave my hands around a lot, although they were in different parts of the store. As I left my phone chimed and I found this:
The text caption said simply; 'Waiting for my Keeper'. I remembered that was the term she gave the guard who was in charge of her cell in Guatemala. It was a fabulous photo, taken in Anna's bathroom where I had left her. A mirror selfie.
With that photo to spur me on, I quickly went back to my hotel and changed. On leaving I decided to take most of my luggage with me: next day's clothes, my toothbrush and shaving gear, then walked back to Anna's flat.
She was waiting for me, sitting on the sofa, naturally still handcuffed. I unlocked her, and then switched the cuffs on her wrists with the first of my purchases from the department store. They weren't ideal; silver would've been better, but it was the best I and the store could do at short notice.
“What are these?” she said, running the two sets of black bangles up and down her arms curiously.
“They are to remind you of the handcuffs you should be wearing in public.”
“I'm not allowed to take them off. Like cuffs?” She caught on fast.
“Yes. They stay on night and day,” I answered. “Think of them as if they were locked on just as securely as the cuffs. And only I have the key. They'll remind you each time you move your hands and arms; the noise they make will jog your memory of what you are.”
“Your captive?”
“My prisoner.”
“That's a scary word,” she said.
We left the flat and went downstairs to walk to the restaurant I had booked which wasn't far. On the way I took Anna's hand to cross the road.
“Making sure I can't make a break for it?” she asked.
“For your safety. And that,” I replied, skipping up her hand with with my fingers and taking hold of her bangles on that wrist. I gave them a little tug. She turned away, watching for traffic, but even in profile I could still see the smile on her face.
We arrived at the restaurant. 'Modern German Cuisine' seemed a safe enough bet when I was searching for a place to eat. Anna didn't pick up a menu which I took as a clue that I would order for her. It seemed appropriate. Providing food for someone under 'Protective Custody' was probably part of the deal.
I watched her hands. I was pleased with my purchase; it had the desired effect of keeping Anna in restraints in her mind just with the symbolic feel of bangles on her wrists. I noticed her playing with them as we ate and talked.
“You can't seem to leave them alone,” I said, pointing at them with my fork.
“I know!” she answered, a little too loudly. She looked around embarrassed, then continued in a lower tone. “I do like them, but they're strange. It's partly due to the fact that I never wear jewellery really, but mostly due to... you know. What they mean...” she tailed off.
I was about to say something when she jumped back in.
“I don't get it. They're just made of plastic and it should be easy to slip them off anytime....but I can't. I can get them to here...” she slid the bangles on one arm down to halfway along her wrist, “...and I can't go any further. I just don't get it.” She raised her arm vertically and gravity slid them back up her arm again, finishing with a clunk. She did that movement unconsciously, and I loved it.
“I did tell you that you weren't allowed to take them off,” I pointed out.
“Yes there's that,” she mused. “And that's important. But there's something else too. Something more than just a command. Even though I won't , I can still imagine disobeying what you said. But I can't actually imagine completing the next step of physically taking them off. Yet it should be such a simple thing to do.” She shook her hands in frustration, making quite a racket. A large woman at another table glanced over.
I watched Anna. Here was an early thirties, beautiful and professionally successful woman struggling with the fact she had deep and suppressed fantasies about being captured.
The waiter came over with the dessert menu. Anna didn't even glance at it.
“Can you take me home?” she said quietly to me.
I paid the bill and we left. I could tell there was something building up in Anna; it was like the day before Mt St. Helens made the newspapers. I led her home, opened the door for her, deadlocked it behind us. The sound of the lock tumbling into place echoed in the quiet room. I took Anna by the arm and turned her around to face away. She didn't resist, it was like she was hypnotised. I placed her hands on the door and pushed her legs apart with my own.
“Oh,” was all she said, breaking the silence.
I took off her jacket and searched her thoroughly, running my hands over the lovely curves of her waist, her thighs and her breasts. I didn't leave a centimetre unexamined; if I was a blind man I would've had a mental map of Anna's body preserved in my mind for the rest of my life. As a sighted one, I still have a good contour outline in my memory to this day.
“Are you arresting me?” she said, in a low voice.
"Yes."
I took her left hand in mine and led it firmly behind her back. Her bangles clashed as they fell to her wrist. I cuffed her then. Anna was breathing rapidly. Then the same with her right wrist, chaining it to it's partner with that metallic clicking sound so unique to handcuffs. I watched her fight the cuffs, twisting and straining her hands, just like in Guatemala.
“Tighter... please. I want to feel them,” she said huskily.
I did so.
I turned her around and was startled by her physical transformation. Her lips were red and swollen, breathing in great gulps of air between them. Her were pupils dilated, sweat glistened on her forehead. Her breasts seemed larger now, partly due to arms being pinned behind her, but partly due to arousal: her nipples pointed at me accusingly.
I couldn't hold out any more; I crushed her lips to mine and took her struggling body in my arms.
*****************************************
I collapsed next to Anna; no idea of the time. 1 am? I opened my salt-stinging eyes and in the dim light cast by her bedside lamp I watched her naked body slowly gaining control over it's breathing. She lay on her back, hands above her head and cuffed to the headboard bars. I wondered to myself when she bought that bed all those months ago, if she realised at the time how perfect it was for securing a girl to. Silly, of course not, I told myself. Only you have a mind for these things!
“Happy?” I asked.
“Happy” she answered. She was glowing.
She didn't seem particularly interested in being unlocked as she lay there, apparently enjoying the experience. I marvelled at how far she had come in less than a day; from being the terrified girl, ashamed of her memories and feelings and of the handcuffs she had purchased and locked away in a secret drawer, to the woman now lying naked and exposed on a bed, fully restrained.
I was a bit concerned though at the state of her wrists. She had fought me after I had 'arrested' her and even more when I stripped her and locked her to her own bed. Luckily I had a back up plan. I hopped off the bed and padded over to my bag. Taking out my second purchase from the department store, I looped the heavy silver chain around Anna's ankle, padlocked it in place, and finding a strong fixture at the foot of her bed, locked the other end there. I released the handcuffs and we rubbed the marks on her wrists together.
“This is new,” she said, holding up her chained foot and turning it this way and that, admiringly.
“As much as I have confidence in these,” I said tapping her bangles, still on her wrists, “When I'm asleep I like to be sure my captive stays with me all night.”
“Don't you mean, 'prisoner',” she asked coyly.
“I thought that was a scary word,” I said.
“Not any more,” she said. “It best describes my condition.”
I turned off the bedside lamp. In the darkness I could hear the chain rattle as Anna explored her condition. Her limits. When she was satisfied she was securely restrained, she snuggled into my arms.
***********************************************
Late next afternoon I was in my plane, taxiing on the runway, about to take off for London, tired but satisfied. Despite only a few hours sleep Anna had awoken in the early hours of that morning to find herself chained up and turned on. Some time later while I fed Anna her breakfast I told her I was leaving her chain and she was to lock herself by the ankle to the bed each night. She would have to wait for me to give her permission to unlock each morning. The cuffs would go into her bedside drawer for easy access.
Now we were messaging each other quickly before phones had to be turned off. It was like each had to have the last word. A glare from a flight attendant and I turned my phone to flight mode, bidding Anna goodbye for the duration of the flight.
I arrived back at my flat that evening. As I dumped my gear on the floor a ping told me I had a new message from Anna. A photo. She was kneeling.
The caption was: 'Please hurry back my Keeper. Your prisoner.'
