The Half Dollar
“This place was last used as a County Sheriff’s substation back in the 1960s. When the factory shut down just about everyone on this end of the valley left for greener pastures. Most of the old buildings around here were torn down in the 80’s when there was a big environmental push to return the land to original prairie. There isn’t enough water for farms, so all that’s left are a few houses and this place. When I bought it at auction it was in rough shape but over the years I’ve been able to restore the building to as near authentic as I can, from old pictures.”
Roy was proud of his efforts and delighted in showing them off. Not many dates were willing to come out to this end of the valley, yet Dale seemed to be genuinely interested when he offered to show her around his little corner of local history.
“The place had its beginnings somewhere in the mid 1800’s. No one is quite sure of the exact year, though I’ve found references where it was used as a fort against raiders in the Civil War. After that it was a school, a bank, an Army guard post when the war production plant was built, and finally a sheriff’s substation. There’s a lot of history inside these walls. Best of all there was quite a bit of old stuff left in the basement that no one ever bothered to clear out.”
Roy laid a hand on the ornately painted, refrigerator-sized safe. “This is one of the treasures I found down here. I dug it out and had it restored to like new condition. I’m sure a skilled safecracker could open it in minutes. Anyone else I figure they’ll give it a pass. It does look daunting, though it’s nearly a hundred years old.” Roy swung open the safe door.
“This is what I wanted to show you. It’s an American silver half dollar from 1833, what’s called a capped bust. Nearly two hundred years old but the condition is very fine, which means little wear or corrosion. It’s the oldest, most prized coin in my modest collection.” Roy held up a plastic slab with a large coin inside. “Coins like this, I wonder who first handled it? Did Jim Bowie use it in a card game? Did a new Congressman named Abraham Lincoln use it to pay for dinner at one of Washington’s finer restaurants? No way to know, but it’s fun to speculate.”
When he handed the coin to Dale she looked it over. It was a bit of history but she didn’t share his enthusiasm for coin collecting. She did recognize the old style cap on the woman’s head, very fashionable in the late 1700s. Like Roy she did have an interest in history, though she was more intrigued with the romanticized lifestyle of the period and how very different it was from today. She handed it back.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just a hunk of silver and copper. That’s okay, not everyone shares a passion for real money. In those days no one trusted paper; it had to be silver or gold.” He placed it back on the shelf in the open safe.
Standing behind him Dale ran her eyes over the box labels on the shelves inside the safe, in the hope she might see something interesting they could share. Her gaze came to an abrupt halt when she noticed a blue box at the end of one shelf. The label didn’t fit for a coin collection: Smith & Wesson Model 94 Handcuffs.
“That seems to be out of place,” she mentioned, pointing toward the blue box. What was it doing in there, and were the cuffs real?
“Ahh, the handcuffs? Yeah, I got them as part of an estate sale for a collection of odds and ends that included some hard to find coins. It was sort of a ‘take everything or nothing’ type offer. Those originally belonged to a retired federal marshal. The price was right so I wound up with what I later found out is a relatively rare pair of handcuffs. I’ve seen bids on Ebay for more than $150, and that was for just the cuffs, no box. Those are at least fifty years old, though from what I can tell they were never used, since the finish isn’t scratched or tarnished. Anyway, I decided to keep them to see if the value goes up. Want to take a look?”
He took the box out and placed it on the table next to the safe. “They’re in near perfect condition, with both keys, even to the original factory wrapping paper and box. Here, let me clean the oil off before you handle them.” Roy opened the box, took out the cuffs and wiped them down with a soft cloth.
The sight of the cuffs dangling from his hand took her breath away. There it was, her secret fantasy, one she had never revealed to anyone. She sensed this was a chance to turn the dream into reality, if she was careful and didn’t scare him off. “They have a heavy duty look. You said they were rare, so I assume they weren’t standard police issue?”
He nodded. “That’s right, this was the ‘high security’ model, unique because it uses what’s called an Ace key, the circular kind used on vending machines. Regular handcuff keys, the kind police use and crooks conceal, won’t work with them.” He held the cuffs out to Dale. “Here, you can see for yourself. They don’t bite…long as you’re careful putting them on.”
She didn’t take them from his outstretched hand. “You know, I’ve never been handcuffed. I watch the cops, or actors, do it on TV shows and in movies, but I wonder if those are staged with fake props.” Dale hesitated, took a deep breath and took the plunge. “Can you show me how they work? I’m curious as to what it’s like, being arrested and hauled off to the police station.”
Come Along Quietly
He laughed. “Well, if you want to be arrested there’s no better place than here, even if the substation was closed in the last century. What’s the charge? Hmm, how about loitering without visible means of support?”
It was Dale’s turn to laugh. “That sounds suspiciously like soliciting while standing on a street corner! Honestly officer, I was only waiting for the street car.”
Roy shook his head. “You’ll have to do better than that. The street car rails were torn up in 1942 for the scrap metal. Come along quietly.” He pushed open one side of the handcuffs with his thumb, the sound of the ratchet loud in the room. “Hold out your hands.”
She shook her head and took a step back. “Oh no! On TV the cops always slap on the cuffs with the culprit’s hands behind their back. You’re not doing it right. I might be a dangerous fugitive for all you know, half of a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.”
Roy lowered his hand, with the cuffs still hanging down, one end open. There was an odd expression on his face, as if he was having some kind of internal debate. “Okay, if it’s realism you want, here we go. Remember, you asked for it.”
He suddenly took hold of her upper arm with his free hand and pulled her over to the wall, past the table. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, use it. Face the wall, place your hands behind your back.” There was a distinct shift in the tone of his voice. It became somehow more intense, commanding, issuing terse instructions that were meant to be obeyed.
To his surprise her reaction was one of immediate compliance rather than offended protest. There she was, face to the wall, not moving, hands held close together in the small of her back. Something out of the ordinary was happening here and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. After a moment’s consideration he concluded the slow, deliberate approach would be best. It was better to be cautious when exploring uncharted territory.
He leaned in, almost whispering in her ear. “Relax and let me do all the work. Don’t resist, you might injure yourself. I’ll be right here, explaining each step as we go. To start, I’m going to place the open cuff around your left wrist. I’ll slowly close it until it’s a snug fit, so it won’t slip off. Be sure to tell me if it feels too tight.”
Roy slowly closed the open cuff around her left wrist, counting the clicks of the ratchet as the steel bracelet tightened. When it looked right he checked by slipping a finger under the cuff. Satisfied it wasn’t going to cut off circulation he took hold of the connecting chain.
“Next, I’m going to place the other side on your right wrist. You’re doing fine. When I finish your hands will be fastened together behind your back.” He pushed open the other cuff and set it on her right wrist. Once again he carefully counted the clicks while he closed it. When he reached the same number as the left side he repeated the test, slipping a finger between her skin and the cuff.
“Okay, I still have to double lock the cuffs. That prevents them from tightening any further. Hold still for one more minute. This is important, to protect your wrists.” He used the key to turn the lock to the double lock position on each side. Once more he examined his work to ensure she was safe.
“That’s it, you are now officially handcuffed. You’re in my custody, so I’m responsible for you. Don’t forget your hands are effectively tied behind your back. If you trip and start to fall you can’t catch yourself. For your own safety don’t try walking around on your own. I’ll keep a hand on your arm to steady you.”
When he spun her around her eyes were open wide in an expression of...what? If he had to guess, the closest word to describe it would be anticipation. She didn’t say a word, which puzzled him until he remembered how he had ordered her to be quiet. She wants this, the handcuffs, being told what to do, it’s having an effect on her. He had stumbled into something far more complicated that what he expected for the evening.
Now what do I do? This was way off the map for a date. These days there was always a fine line between simple dating and assault of some form or another. In a very literal way he had just taken a woman prisoner. It had been with her consent, but that was a tenuous argument if the evening went poorly. On the other hand…
As long as she didn’t object he was content to leave the cuffs in place. Like his treasured half dollar the sight of her brought on all kinds of speculation, though not of a historical nature. Several possibilities would definitely result in a prison sentence. Or maybe not, depending on what was going on in her head. The best way forward appeared to be learning more about her. Meanwhile, how far could he go now the handcuffs were having their effect?
The Interrogation
“Was that real enough? I was improvising, by the way. I’m no expert on police matters except from what I found while researching the history behind this place. Be sure to tell me if those things begin to hurt or cut off circulation.” Roy deliberately left out anything about unlocking the handcuffs. Maybe it wasn’t right but he was reluctant to free her until she asked to be released.
With her hands locked together Dale tried to reach around her back, first from the left, and then from the right. He watched while she explored how well handcuffs work. “It looks like I’ll have to keep my hands where they are. I see why the police use these things.” She tried to slip the cuffs off but wasn’t successful. “I give up. I’m stuck; I can’t find a way to get loose.”
Roy had to smile at her conclusion. “Well, they are designed to work that way. There wouldn’t be much point in making handcuffs if they were easy to take off.”
He didn’t miss the subtle nuance behind where she stopped. Dale specifically did not ask him to release the cuffs. How would she react if he continued to leave them on? There was one way to find out.
“If you are still curious, we aren’t finished. We can skip the booking stage, the mugshot and fingerprints.” His eyes swept up and down the clothes she wore. “I think we can safely ignore the search too. I don’t see how you can conceal a weapon.”
Dale didn’t miss the way he looked her over. If he did search her it wouldn’t take long before her secret was revealed. It was obvious he didn’t have contraband on his mind. “There’s more? Sure you don’t want to frisk me? I might be carrying an assault rifle…”
Roy started laughing while shaking his head. “If you can fit an AK-47 under that outfit then you are a world class magician. No, no body search is required.” Instinct warned him if he started feeling her up this soon under some silly pretext not only would he ruin the evening but any future chance to see her again. Much as he was tempted it was premature, though her comment almost sounded like an invitation.
“The next step is the interrogation, followed by placing you in a holding cell while I verify your story. You know, like on TV: check for priors; run your prints on the database; check for known associates; and whatever else script writers come up with to fill an hour long show. But before that there’s the drama with the good cop, bad cop interrogation. I’m short on partners so I’ll have to find a way around the usual routine.”
Just the Facts
Roy took hold of her arm and led her to an old, straight back chair beside a desk. “The desk and chairs are authentic, by the way. They’ve been refinished but near as I can tell the set dates back to the war plant years. In the old movies the cops always grilled the suspect under hot lights, usually in the squad room, maybe in this very chair. No hot lights anymore,” he pointed to the ceiling, “I replaced everything with LED light bulbs. This was the squad room though, while it was a substation. You sit down here and we’ll get started.”
Dale decided to play along. His improvised roleplaying as a police officer was right in line with her own fantasy. The way he spoke with that tone of certainty and authority did something to her head. It was almost as if her brain had a short circuit and shut down, compelling her to obey him. It should have scared her, yet for some unexplainable reason she wasn’t afraid. She held her arms out so she could slip her hands over the back of the chair when she sat down.
“Okay?” he asked, showing genuine concern. Dale didn’t miss his anxiety over the possibility she might hurt herself. It helped to convince her to go through with her intention to put him to the test, to find out how well he performed when he had to look out for her.
“I’m fine, go ahead. You’re in charge, what do you want to know? Honest, I was just standing there…” This might be fun, a game of 21 questions, she thought. Whatever he asked, she was determined to reply with as much honesty as possible, even if it became awkward or embarrassing.
Roy sat down behind the desk, facing her. He raised a hand to interrupt. “Just the facts, ma’am,” a classic line from TV, delivered in a passable imitation of the deadpan Joe Friday character from Dragnet. It was all Dale could do to hold back and not burst out giggling. The big grin on his face told her he was deliberately keeping the mood light. She had to admire his sense of humor, and his quick wit in picking the perfect starter for his questioning.
Roy paused for a moment, to study the woman sitting across from him. She sat up straight in the old chair, with legs together and both feet firmly on the floor. She’d chosen a skirt that wasn’t too short or tight, but was still flattering. The blouse was sleeveless, showing off very feminine bare shoulders but otherwise not so revealing. It was a conservative choice for a date but did meet with his approval. So why did he get the impression she was in the early stage of trying to seduce him?
“My first question should be obvious. Do your dates usually involve handcuffs?” Roy was convinced her picking out that box wasn’t spontaneous. Nor was her sudden wish to try them on.
“If you mean being busted by the police after a wild night, no, that’s never happened to me. If you’re referring to the, umm, other purpose associated with using handcuffs in bed, that’s also a no. I was telling the truth when I said I’d never been placed in cuffs before now.”
Roy leaned back, folding his arms, head tilted slightly to one side. Her explanation came across as believable, though she had dodged a crucial point. “I believe you, but you left out what I’m after. What’s different about tonight? I can understand trying them on for a minute or two, but you didn’t stop. I want to know the reason why.”
He’s getting close, Dale realized from the way he was blocking her attempt to deflect the question. The smart plan would be to make something up and put an end to the night’s adventure. Except that wasn’t possible; she didn’t want to stop or deceive him with some half-truth. This evening was certain to become complicated very quickly.
“Fair enough, you’re right, there is a difference. I like to think I’m a good judge of character. You, well, I sense you’re a man I can trust, even though still an unknown quantity for the most part. Tonight is a leap of faith for me. When I saw that box, what happened next wasn’t planned; you should know that part.
“It looks like it’s time to get serious and share a secret. You might have figured it out already. I’m not going to ask you to take these handcuffs off. Don’t laugh; the fact is I can’t speak the words. See, I have this weakness for authority figures. You put them on me; only you can choose when to take them off. I suppose I took advantage of you, though I hope you don’t think less of me for it. If you leave me in this state all night you’ll hear no complaint from me. It’s entirely up to you. My view, I’d prefer you don’t use that key for a while longer. Keep going, officer, what else do you want to know about me?”
I’m In Charge Here
I’m an authority figure? It did make sense, in the way she responded to his verbal orders, and why she actually wanted him to leave the cuffs on, which made it all the more confusing for Roy. This wasn’t how a guy was supposed to behave when dating. Don’t be aggressive, don’t be overbearing, be inclusive, respectful, build a rapport; that was supposed to be the acceptable attitude. Do unto others as they expect to be treated, the politically incorrect version of the Golden Rule, popped up in Roy’s mind.
“Let me get this straight. You have this, umm, let’s call it a quirk, where you like being told what to do. Just how far does that go? And you think I’m the sort who can fulfill your, ahh, requirements?” He had to proceed very carefully now.
“The reason why is simple. You passed the test, when I suggested you arrest me. In the blink of an eye you were ordering me to face the wall. You didn’t hesitate to take control, once we got past all the legal disclaimers. You moved quickly to take away my freedom; I like that.” She smiled while holding out her bound wrists.
“How far? I have no idea; that’s entirely up to you. Now, if you pull out a chainsaw I may raise some objections, assuming it would do me any good. Short of avoiding the role of the unfortunate star of a slasher movie I have no answer for you. You will have to set your own limits. And you aren’t quite right. It isn’t that I like being told what to do. It’s being forced, overpowered, and helpless; that’s what turns me on.”
How deep was the rabbit hole he’d plunged into head first? Maybe she really was exactly what she claimed, a woman who craved a strong, domineering presence in her life. More puzzling was the fact she believed he fit the personality type. And to compound his headaches, Roy found her offer appealed to him. What if I do come over to the dark side, if only for one night? He decided it wouldn’t be so bad if he explored his options.
“This is how it will be from now on,” he began, again shifting to that matter of fact tone. “I’m in charge here, and I’m going to assume that meets with your approval. I’m not going to cross the line into what’s criminal, no chainsaws, so it will be upon you to say ‘no more.’ If you say nothing then I’m going to ignore the legal issues.”
Roy knew he was taking a chance with what he had in mind. Kidnapping, false imprisonment, who knew what else a crusading prosecutor might produce to make an example of him. But there are always risks in life; the more time he spent with Dale the more the potential hazards he could tolerate.
He stood up, towering over her. I might as well play the part, starting with being intimidating. She had to tilt her head backwards to keep her eyes on him. “Here are the ground rules for the rest of the night. To start, you will do as I say. I don’t want to hear arguments or excuses. I’m not unreasonable, but I do insist on obedience. To point out the obvious, you are in no position to argue the matter with me.”
Dale started to reply but was interrupted by Roy. “No, wait until I give you permission to speak. Right now you listen while I do all the talking. You have a weakness for those in authority? Well, as far as you’re concerned that’s me and no one else. From now on I’m not asking you for your consent. I want to be very clear on this. I’m seizing control over you because I can, because you won’t, you can’t stop me.”
He crouched down, meeting her eye to eye. “Do I have the right? The question is irrelevant. If I’m making a mistake then the fault is mine. I’m confident I’m the one, and you are too. That’s why you are going to sit in that chair, back straight, head up, feet on the ground, hands behind your back, for as long as I wish. It pleases me to see you like this, and that’s all you need to know.”
She had a wide eyed, astonished expression, like a deer caught in headlights. Roy stood up and went back to the desk. When he sat down he noticed the slight movement when she straightened up and pulled back her shoulders. The silence spoke louder than any words. For the second time tonight he’d given her the opportunity to back out. Once might be from uncertainty, when he handcuffed her. The second time he’d been explicit in his intentions, yet she was still there in front of him. From now on it would be up to her to put a stop to the evening.
Ground Rules
Roy knew about control freaks, people who had to be in charge of everything. There were a few occasions when it had been hinted at work he might fall into that category during some of the design team meetings. But what about the opposite, someone who wasn’t happy without clear directions, someone who sought out a strong leader and eagerly followed regardless of consequences? Had he stumbled across a woman with that peculiar type of personality, a sort of “discipline junkie”?
At the moment Dale was uncomfortably close to one of those matches for a control freak, based on what he’d seen. Dominant and submissive, the terms popped into his head. He’d always associated the concepts with kinky sex practices, yet this didn’t seem to fit his preconception.
She likes to be dominated, and not just in bed? If that was the case he was willing to let loose some of his own inhibitions. This was the time to audition for the part.
“Your ‘weakness’, as you describe it, for authority? I don’t want to hear it called that again. It’s inaccurate, because it isn’t a weakness. From now on you will phrase it as ‘respect for authority’. I will not tolerate you acting as if you’re ashamed of what is actually one of the attractive strengths in your character.”
How did he read me so well, so quickly? Dale wondered silently. She wanted to look away in embarrassment, but couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. Don’t fidget, I have to hold as still as possible. It made no sense, yet whatever he demanded suddenly became the focus of all her attention. She studied Roy, looking for any clues as to the inner man, the beast she had roused within him.
“Respect is a tool to reinforce the division between us. From now on you will address me as ‘sir’, to demonstrate your acknowledging my power over you. Remember, this isn’t a polite request. You will follow my restrictions solely because that’s what I demand from you. I will not discuss or further explain this rule. You will not question it.”
He’s acting like the south end of a north bound donkey. So why do I hope he keeps going in the same direction? By rights Dale should be telling Roy to stuff his rules, along with where he can go and how to get there, all in the most graphic terms. She’d never been on a date where a nice guy suddenly transformed into what could charitably be called overbearing in a matter of minutes. Anyone listening to him dictating his instructions might come to the conclusion he actually believed he owned her.
Yeah, like he owns me, she thought, like he owns me. That was the dilemma she faced, and the reason she didn’t jump up out of the chair and start telling him off. He had discovered her innermost desire and was ruthlessly exploiting it. Or he was, in an odd sort of way, being extra nice to her by providing the behavior she sought. Which is it? What made it so difficult is she wanted more.
He needs to know the rest, but how can I explain when he won’t let me speak? From the corner of her eye she could see her purse on the floor, next to the safe. What’s in there is important, to me and especially to Roy. Was it worth interrupting him?
“Umm, sir? May I…” Dale began when he paused.
“No, you may not! Quiet, until I give permission. Whatever it is can wait until I finish.” Maybe he was going too far but he didn’t care now. He was in it with a hundred percent effort, or not at all. That included firm control to enforce his orders.
That ended her attempt; so much for her effort to be completely honest with him. Whatever magic power he held over her was in full force. The inner need, the compulsion to obey him was too strong to overcome. He had made his wishes clear; she was to sit quietly.
“We can discuss, we can disagree, but in the end I always have the last word. Keep that rule in mind. We are not going to argue. Whether I’m right or wrong it will be my way. You might persuade me, in fact I expect you often will, I’m actually a pushover.” He smiled at that quip. “If you can’t persuade me to see your side then you will accept my decision, be it good, bad, indifferent or just plain idiotic.”
Roy could see she had something to say, but she was held back by his order to remain silent. Since he had established the ground rules, and she accepted them, he could be lenient and allow her to talk. “Go ahead, what is it you want to share?”
Skirting the Issue
“Sir?” She tried to remember to start with his new title. “If you would pick up my purse? There’s something in there you must have, right away. Look for a coin purse; it’s in there.” Part of her secret was in the purse, the rest he’d have to see for himself.
Roy picked up her purse from the floor. He had marked it as off limits for tonight. He felt it best to tread lightly when intruding on the most private part of her life. At her nod he opened it, found the small coin purse and took it out. He placed her bag back on the floor.
“Look inside, sir. You’ll see a key in there. One of those Ace type keys, like the handcuffs.” She hadn’t mentioned the fact she recognized the type of key when he opened the handcuff box.
The key inside was larger, with a keychain attached. “Okay,” Roy said, “what am I looking at? What does it fit?”
“I’ll have to show you, sir. It’s too complicated to explain. May I stand up?” Considering what was coming she felt it was necessary to reinforce his sense of authority. He was about to be confronted with a situation that made the handcuffs pale in comparison.
Roy took hold of her arm to help her out of the chair. He still held the keychain in one hand. “I admit I’m puzzled. What’s going on?”
Here I go, Dale thought as she took a deep breath. She turned to one side. “Sir, will you unzip my skirt and pull it down? I know what this must sound like, but please trust me; you will understand when you see why. I’d do it myself but the cuffs make it difficult.”
He didn’t react at first. Dale turned her head to see what was wrong.
There was a frown on his face. “We are not at the stage where clothes are being tossed aside in a passionate frenzy. I’m not comfortable with pulling down your skirt.”
“It’s not what you think…sir. Please, the reason will be obvious.”
To Roy it felt like he was suddenly losing control of the night. Part of him was ready to unwrap the present before him, especially since she was so encouraging. Trust me, those words helped push him into agreement. Considering how much faith she had already placed in him it was only right to return the favor.
Reluctantly he reached out, found the zipper and pulled it down. With his hands on her waist he tugged on the skirt, pulling it over her hips. It fell to the floor, at her feet.
“What the…?” He couldn’t believe what his eyes revealed to him. This wasn’t the fifteenth century, yet there was only one explanation for what was wrapped around her waist and nestled between her legs. He kept looking back and forth, first at the key in his hand, and then the round keyway in the belt where it obviously fit. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked, still doubting it could be real.
Dale had turned back to face Roy. “It is, sir. I’ve worn this chastity belt for about a year now, mostly at home or on weekends. There are two keys. One is in your hand, the other in my desk at work, where I can’t get to it until Monday. For the rest of the weekend, as long as you have that key, you own me in a most intimate way…sir.”
Roy fell back onto his chair, still in a daze. “How….how does it work? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Dale slowly turned back and forth. “When the waistband is locked it’s a close fit. It won’t slip over my hips. The only way to get it off is with the key, or using some kind of tool to cut it. The middle section is attached in the back. It swings forward, as you can see, between my legs. Once it’s fastened in place there’s no sexual access. The small, vertical slot in front is for the toilet. It’s a custom fit, quite snug and very effective.”
Roy shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. Why would you wear something like that? I would expect it’d drive you crazy after a few hours. You can wear it for a full day?”
“The longest I’ve gone is a full week, while I was on vacation from work. I stayed home, no traveling. I even wore it going out to eat or shopping. I know, it’s risky but the thrill is indescribable. When I go out I leave the key at home. If I’d ever been in a car accident I don’t think I’d survive the embarrassment in the hospital.”
Dale stood up very straight and set her feet wide apart. “Why, sir? It’s to train myself, in preparation for the day when I would face the man who deserved to hold the key. That includes both keys, sir. If you wish, Monday evening I’ll hand over the other key.”
Roy had a hard time accepting what she was offering. Both keys to the chastity belt would mean she had no way to remove it without his permission.
“I’ll consider your offer. Turn around, back to me.” He dropped her belt key in his shirt pocket before taking out the handcuff key.
He released her left wrist and closed the empty cuff. He didn’t unlock the other side. “Put your skirt back on. When you are done I want your hands behind your back. We’re not done yet. You’ll have to spend some time in holding while I consider your story.”
Room Without a View
“A holding cell, sir? You’re kidding me. You actually have a jail in here?” Dale did her best to hide her excitement while zipping up her skirt. Was it true, would he put her in a cage?
“This was a substation. When I bought it there were two cells, complete with bars but no door locks. I had to track down replacement locks, and it took some time to refurbish the rooms. They are authentic, at least as much as I could reconstruct from old newspaper pictures.” When she turned her back to him her hands were once again in position. He locked the open cuff back onto her wrist.
Most of the time, he used the cells as storerooms. Fitting them out for guest bedrooms never occurred to him; it sent the wrong message. At the moment one was full of old papers and other junk. The other was empty.
“You don’t often come across people with their own private jail. Can I see?” She held her bound hands out to one side. “After all, I am under arrest, sir. Go ahead, lock me up and throw away the key.”
For one brief moment Roy was tempted to do exactly that. Lock her up and not let her go. He wouldn’t throw the key away though. The cell bars were not intended to protect her from his attention.
As fast as it came the temptation faded away. He took hold of her arm. “It’s this way.” He gestured towards a plain wooden door. “By the way, remind me to show you what this part of the building looked like when I bought it. I put in a lot of effort to duplicate the historical, umm, let’s say décor.”
Past the wooden door there was a short corridor along one wall, providing access to two jail cells. Roy escorted Dale past the first one, filled with cardboard boxes, to the second cell. “Sorry about that. I’m a little short on storage space. This one is unoccupied and ready for a visitor.” He kept one hand wrapped around her upper arm.
The corridor ended with a small table and a chair, out of reach of anyone in the cell. Roy picked up a ring with two keys on it from the table drawer. Selecting one he unlocked the cell door.
“In you go. Sorry, there’s no TV, no mini bar, no phone, no windows, no wi-fi, not much of any of the usual hotel room amenities.” The cell was small, composed of concrete walls on three sides and the traditional crosshatch of steel bars in front. There was a wooden bench along the back wall.
“This wasn’t intended for long term use. Anyone brought in was kept here for an hour or so, until a car from the city came to pick them up. Why don’t you have a seat and take a look around. Take in the ambiance of the room. Think about the poor souls who’ve been through here all those years ago.”
With his help Dale sat down on the bench. She couldn’t lean against the wall with her hands cuffed together but she managed to find a comfortable position. She turned her head to look up at Roy, standing next to her. “The atmosphere? I’d rate this as early government cheap, as in don’t spend a penny more than necessary.” She nodded toward the cell door. “I noticed you used a key to open that door. Is it authentic, too?”
Roy held up the ring with the old style keys on it. “I got these, and the door locks, from a collector. They date from the 1950s, not the exact same lock plates as the originals first used here, but as close as possible. Yes, they do work. The collector took the mechanisms apart, cleaned and rebuilt them to like new condition for me.”
Dale pointedly looked at the keys in his hand. “So, if I’m going to be held in here, shouldn’t you lock the door, from the other side? I might overpower you and make my escape, you know, to continue my crime spree. You need to take some precautions, sir.”
Roy was twice the size of the woman sitting next to him. For her to knock him down, while she was handcuffed, would require some very impressive martial arts skills. As bizarre as it sounded, she was asking him to confine her inside the holding cell, and leave the cuffs on at the same time. “You sure about this?” He waved a hand around, emphasizing the small cell dimensions. “Everything here is real, not a movie prop. I lock that door; you’re in a cage until I let you go.”
Dale nodded in agreement. “Go ahead. There’s nothing like experiencing a slice of history first hand. I don’t plan on ever repeating this in real life. It’s interesting but not worth an actual trip to prison. I know this may sound weird to you, but I’m having a good time this evening, unlike anything I’m ever likely to encounter again.”
Roy had to admit he was also enjoying whatever it was that was happening between them. He certainly wouldn’t trade places with her, but that wasn’t an issue. If this was what she wanted, he was more than willing to oblige. Without another word he turned around, went out to the corridor, pulled the cell door shut and used the key to secure it. The keyring went back into the table drawer, out of her reach.
Her eyes tracked his every move, though she remained quiet. Standing in front of the bars he folded his arms and studied Dale, all the while debating the wisdom of what he was doing. Kidnapping, now false imprisonment, the list kept growing thanks to her encouragement.
One-Sided Conversation
Grabbing the chair by the table Roy dropped it in front of the bars. He sat down, facing Dale while leaning forward, all the while thinking furiously about what his next step should be. The fact she offered no resistance, voiced no demand to be released, left him in a quandary.
Common sense dictated she should be demanding he open the cell door, unlock the cuffs and drive her home. Instead he was confronted with the opposite, in that she was obviously encouraging him to take whatever liberties he wished. There was an explanation, although he had a hard time accepting it was both real and unfolding in front of him. When all else fails, Roy told himself, the best policy is to be blunt.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed our date seems to have gone off the conventional rails?”
“I…” she began.
“No!” Roy cut her off abruptly. Here goes, he thought, let’s see if the authority figure role shows some results. “Once again I talk, you listen. Don’t interrupt me again. When I finish you’ll have an opportunity to respond to what I say. Until then I will have your undivided attention.” If he was right then he had to maintain his dominance before she began to question his resolve. To accomplish that there had to be direct, unambiguous and specific edicts on how he expected her to behave.
There was a startled expression on her face. Otherwise there were no objections, no acts of defiance from Dale. How much further could he go with her? If this was some kind of game there would be a point she would call a halt. Better I find out now.
“Back straight, keep your head up!” Dale immediately sat up, all the while staring at him with that same odd expression, almost like a deer caught in headlights. He kept going. “Legs together, both feet on the ground!” Again she did exactly as he ordered, uncrossing her ankles. At that moment he realized there might not be any limits on what she would do for him. Convinced he was right he began his speech.
“This is what I think is happening tonight. People fall into roughly two categories: leaders and followers, to borrow from Ayn Rand. Neither is superior; society needs both to work. Leaders are skilled at coordination, organizing and directing efforts. But without followers who accept the leader’s guidance nothing would ever get done. The concept extends from countries down to individual relationships.”
Dale continued to stare at him. What was going on in her head? Would she answer if he asked? Maybe not, if he’d triggered something she had been suppressing up to now. The better approach was to explain his thoughts and see if she agreed.
“Right now, this minute, there is an exchange in progress between us. You, by your actions, are asking me to become the leader, to take over, to control you. In return, if I accept, I have a certain obligation, not only to look after you but also to live up to whatever it is you expect from me. Those handcuffs, isn’t it true the real reason you have them on is to surrender your freedom to me? So easy to put on, so difficult to remove, they are a symbol of that secret drive, to give yourself to another without reservation; all in, no way to back out.
“You have permission to speak, answer me, and don’t hold back,” Roy leaned forward, to emphasize his order. “Am I right?”
Deep End of the Pool
Dale didn’t answer immediately. Roy could see she was going through some inner struggle in the way she was shifting around on the bench. This would have to be handled in a different way.
“Stop that!” he snapped. Her reaction was immediate and telling. She stopped, eyes wide, as if she was as surprised as Roy at her immediate obedience.
“I’m sorry, I…I don’t know how to answer you, sir.”
It confirmed what he suspected. “I’m going to change the question. Think of it this way. If I’m right, you will remain seated. Listen carefully to me. You will sit up straight, head up, and do not look away. You don’t have to say anything; I’ll have my answer from how you behave.”
Again he leaned forward. “But if I’m wrong this is what will happen. You will stand up, turn around and hold out your hands. You will demand, not ask, that I open this cell door and release you. After that I’ll return the key to that chastity belt, take you home, and we’ll never mention tonight again.”
He held up the key to the handcuffs. “This is the only way to free your hands. You have one chance to regain control, by asserting yourself. If you hesitate, ask politely, plead, beg, say anything but forcefully demand, I may not let you go, despite your wishes. Why? Because I like seeing you there, hands bound behind your back, submissively displaying yourself solely for my pleasure. You’ve already figured out I want to keep you in a cage. Why? I’m not going to explain.”
Roy dropped the key in his shirt pocket. “Go ahead, the choice is yours. Be sure of what you decide though; there won’t be another chance.” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, carefully studying the woman in front of him.
What will she do? That was the single question of the moment. If she did stand up he was prepared to end the evening as promised, though it would be a disappointment. He watched Dale intently for some indication of what direction she was choosing. She must be weighing her choices, yet she said nothing. Nor did she try to stand up. She was an enigma to Roy, sitting across from him, apparently calm and collected, though her thoughts must be churning inside her head.
“There are many forms of freedom,” Dale began, in answer to his question. She leaned forward, so that she could hold her hands out to one side. “This is what I choose. Use the key as you think best.” She straightened up, hands again behind her back. “I willingly give myself to your care. I trust you will act wisely. If my place is sitting on the bench in this cell, I have faith you know best.”
A very formal speech, Roy thought. It felt like he’d just jumped into the deep end of the pool without learning how to swim first. Act wisely, and what did that mean? He started to ask but abruptly halted with the realization she might not be able to explain.
Each of us gets what they want. She hands herself over to me, but in return I assume accountability for her happiness. It was an exchange of power, though who comes out ahead is debatable.
“Listen carefully. I’m going to ask you some questions. You will answer with either ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ and that’s all. No maybes, no evasions, no attempts to deflect the question, you will answer honestly even if it touches on some deeply held secret. Are my instructions clear?”
“Yes, sir,” came the immediate reply. She seemed to be compliant, almost as if she were eager to continue this experience, keen to cooperate with him.
“Are you worried I might harm you?” She was helpless and no one knew she was at his home, a situation that left her extremely vulnerable.
“No, sir,” she answered without any hesitation. There were no signs of her being afraid of him, but he needed to verify she wasn’t acting out of fear.
He held up both keys. “Without these you can’t take off the handcuffs or that belt. I warned you, they are the real thing, not cheap fakes. You will continue to wear those cuffs until I decide to take them off. If you ask, I won't let you go. In legal terms, I’m breaking the law by restraining you against your will. Is that a problem?” A positive answer here meant he’d crossed the legal boundary into kidnapping.
Their eyes met. “No, sir” she answered, slow and deliberate. Roy recognized what that meant. She knew exactly what she was doing, and in her own way giving him a green light to keep going.
The Spiderman Syndrome
“With great power comes great responsibility.” Those were Stan Lee’s immortal words at the close of the debut issue of Spiderman, way back in 1962. Ironic it was only a comic book instead of some profound philosophical treatise, yet it eloquently summed up Roy’s moral dilemma. Dale was an attractive woman, completely within his physical control, and he was now certain she was more than willing to go along with whatever he wanted from her.
“If I were to drag you over to this table, bend you over backward, still with your hands bound, pull up your dress and have what could only be described as rough sex, would you willingly participate?” He held up the key to her chastity belt as a reminder there was nothing to stop him from carrying out his words.
He caught the sudden flinch, the barely concealed struggling with the cuffs, and most significant of all the way she suddenly halted. He could tell she was processing his question, and wondering if it was hypothetical or if it was about to become reality. After a long pause she whispered “yes, sir” in a voice so low he could barely make it out.
That was the great power part of the dilemma. There was nothing to stop him from fulfilling one of his own, dark fantasies. Did she share some version of the same scenario in her own sexual desires?
Whether she did or not, it didn’t matter. His sense of right and wrong, his internal moral code, would not allow him to take advantage of her in that way, at least for tonight. Some other time, well, the future held infinite possibilities. Meanwhile great responsibility came to the fore, balancing great power. Move over, Spiderman, you’ve got some company.
“It’s not going to happen. I admit to being tempted, but this is not the right time. Instead you will sit there while I delve into this new chemistry between us.” He switched to his command voice. “You will not interrupt. While I’m talking you will sit properly, the way I instructed. I will not tolerate any deviation on your part.”
Great power can be used judiciously, or so Roy told himself. No question a certain amount of strict adherence to his commands showed every sign of feeding some type of need for discipline and structure in Dale. The way she sat up, head high, there was an unmistakable hint of pride in how well she fulfilled his instructions.
“You might like to know I’m impressed by your behavior during my little speech. Actions really do speak louder than words. That’s what I’m going to discuss next.” It wasn’t empty praise. She was smart enough to see through insincerity. If he demanded honesty then she deserved the same courtesy.
“To start, this was supposed to be a simple date: spend some time together, get to know each other, test compatibility, all the early dating protocol we know so well. Instead I find we’ve suddenly been transported to a Twilight Zone where nothing can be taken for granted.” Roy paused to drink in the sight of Dale, picture perfect in every way. After his order her feet remained planted in one spot, shoes meticulously lined up, legs held close together under the hem of her skirt.
It wasn’t a one way exchange either; she was carefully scrutinizing every nuance of his body language, the expression on his face, the way he leaned forward to emphasize a point. He was attracted to her, and not just in a sexual way. Dale craved that attention and was determined to hold onto it. For the moment nothing was more important to her than delivering that ideal picture to please him.
“You,” he pointed at her, “don’t have a goal in life. By that I mean something specific, an accomplishment you can point to and say ‘that represents the reason I’m alive, on this planet, living in this society.’ You have some idea of how to find that goal, though up to now it’s been elusive, constantly slipping through your fingers. Tonight you took that extra step to prevent opportunity from passing you by again. Maybe it wasn’t even a conscious decision to point to that box on the shelf. And why did you choose me?”
Carefully concealing her movement Dale tugged on the handcuff chain. Two short links, almost insignificant, yet tonight that short length held her in an inescapable bond. Not only physical restraint, but mental as well. He was right; it had actually been her subconscious at work; in some mysterious way it recognized a chance to take a small but potentially dramatic leap from another disappointment to a very special moment.
“You will never find that goal on your own, because of its nature. You can’t see it, but it’s all too obvious to me your sense of accomplishment must be defined from without, not within. Imagine you are seeing yourself in a mirror, on that bench, in this cell. What does it say about you?
“I can answer, even if you can’t. You’ve found what you are seeking: control and discipline, boundaries imposed on you from without, not within. It starts with surrendering the key to your chastity belt, along with the handcuffs and these bars, to exert physical control; and from there it grows into mental control, my discipline which defines and regulates your behavior by imposing restrictions and a well-defined structure. Right now, this very second, you can point to yourself and proudly proclaim ‘this is who I am,’ a woman not ashamed to admit her place is at the side of her man, happily submitting to his authority.”
Tears began running down her cheeks, yet by willpower alone she held to her assigned position. He had delved deep into her soul, in places she couldn’t reach on her own. It was an emotional moment, but nothing could sway her from obedience to his wishes. She had to sit a certain way, and only that way was acceptable. Dale didn’t need a reason; he knew what was best for her.
She sat on the bench, rigid as a statue, while he stood up. Roy returned his chair to the table, opened the drawer and took out the key ring, and then spun around to face her through the bars.
“I can guess what you’re thinking about. What happens next? What is he going to do?” Roy spun the keyring around his finger. “I’m open to suggestions…”