Plastic Handcuffs

A bored nine year old, home alone on a hot summer day. Two sisters, slightly older than he, living in the house down the street. Everyone else is away at camp. Add into this mix a pair of handcuffs and a life changing experience is about to occur.

They weren't even real handcuffs. They were the gray plastic handcuffs that came with the gray plastic whistle and the gray plastic badge. But they closed. And they were new. And they had to be used.

I don't remember exactly how or why the three of us wound up in the woods that day. But I will never forget how the day ended. As it started to get dark, I found those handcuffs in my back pocket. I somehow talked the older of the two girls into letting me try them out on her. She quickly agreed, while her younger sister just stared at us.

I explained how boring it is to lock someone's hands in front of them. And how cuffing someone's hands behind them was almost as dull. But against a tree, or lamppost, or... as the streetlight at the end of the street flickered to life.

It was a perfect fit.

Her arms barely made it around the pole. There was just enough room to get her wrists comfortably in the toy when she stretched her shoulders back. I can still feel our excitement as I pressed slightly against her to reach behind and close the handcuffs. We were too young for it to be sexual, but it was far from innocent. Our eyes met. I stroked her arm. I lightly tickled her ribcage. I stepped back.

I can still see those beautiful dark eyes looking back at me. They were slightly larger than usual. I could see her curiosity, and happiness, and unease and maybe even a little fear.

“OK, let me go now.” was all she said.

So I walked behind the pole and fumbled with the plastic. The handcuffs didn't really lock, of course, but they closed and would stay closed until something pulled them open. I fumbled with them some, peering over her shoulder to see her bra tearing at her shirt. It was all very exciting.

“Let me go. I need to go home.”

“I'm trying. I think they are stuck,” I said.

Her little sister screamed, for no apparent reason, and ran towards her home.

Still bound to the pole, she slid down it to get more comfortable. Arms still secured behind her, her tight jeans now seemed to be too tight. She was squatting there at the base of the lamppost, watching me watch her.

She looked up at me with a different look in her eyes. I realize now that it was a look of complete submission. I could do anything I wanted with her like this. She would let me do anything. She could do nothing to stop me. She was free to do and be and feel anything she wanted. She was helplessly bound, which gave her complete freedom. Everything was my responsibility now; I was in complete control.

It then occurred to me that if I opened the button on the waistband of her pants she would be more comfortable. A smile crossed her face as I stepped towards her and reached down. I smiled too. And then I heard the voices.

“Right down here, Mom, under the streetlight.”

I stepped behind the pole again. When I got behind her, I ran my fingers through her hair. I had wanted to do that since the day we met. I removed the handcuffs. I stepped back around and stood over her. I just stood there, with a pair of plastic handcuffs in my back pocket, smiling. She sat on the ground, smiling back at me, and rubbed her wrists.

Her mother and sister stepped out of the darkness and into our light.