Archer was in his kitchen when his doorbell dinged.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Always some damn salesman or Jehovah’s Witness just when you’re getting ready to eat, damn.”
He put his plate of sandwiches in the refrigerator hoping to be rid of whoever it was in a matter of seconds. Archer didn’t cook, unless it was to grill a steak or a hamburger and it was too cold and wet out to fire up the grill. It was still March and the weather in March in Omaha was rarely sunny and warm. At least not at the same time.
He plodded through the living room to the door, mumbling curses as he went, and peeped through the eye-hole. He saw Kevin, the teenage son of his next-door neighbor standing on his porch. He was a good-looking kid, athletic though Archer didn’t know what sport Kevin might be into. He was wearing one of those neon yellow t-shirts and black Levi jeans, white socks and sneakers that looked like they probably cost more than a hundred dollars.
Archer opened the door. “Hey, kid. Why aren’t you in school?”
“Hi, Mr. Archer. I’m nineteen. I graduated and I haven’t decided if I’m going to college, yet.
“Well, you should go to college. Can’t get enough learning.”
“Yeah, my dad says that, too, Kevin answered.”
“Somebody said once, ‘All learning is knowledge and therefore good’ don’t know who it was, though.”
“Whoever, sounds like he was a very smart person.”
“Yeh, probably. So, what can I do for ya?”
“Er, um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I want to ask if you’d do something for me,” Kevin face flushes pink.
“Ah, okay, why don’t you come on in. You don’t mind if we talk while I eat my lunch, do ya?”
Archer leads Kevin through the house to the kitchen. He points Kevin to one of the chairs at the kitchenette table and goes to the refrigerator to retrieve his sandwiches. “You want a soda? Pepsi is all I’ve got,” he asks Kevin, then before Kevin can ask, he adds, “and, no you can’t have one of my beers. You have to be twenty-one in this state before you can drink.”
“I thought it was okay to drink if I’m with an adult,” he says.
“Only in your own home and with a parent or guardian; this isn’t and I ain’t. I’m a cop, you know, did you think I wouldn’t know the law?”
“Umm…” Kevin’s blush deepens, then admits, “I didn’t read the rules, one of my friends told me that.”
“Maybe you should straighten you friend out before he gets himself, or some well-meaning adult, in trouble,”
“I’ll take a Pepsi, please.”
Archer gets two cans and sets one the table in front of Kevin, popping the tab on his own. He sits across from him and picks up his sandwich and takes a huge bite. It’s one of his favorites; deli sliced turkey breast, shredded iceberg lettuce, American cheese, Mayo on white bread.
“Thanks,” Kevin watches him chew and nervously fidgets in the chair, crossing and uncrossing his arms, folding his hands in his lap, rubbing his palms along the tops of his thighs probably because they are sweaty.
Archer swallows and takes a slug of Pepsi. “So, what’s this favor you wanted to ask?” He can tell the boy is embarrassed but it doesn’t cross his mind to cut the boy some slack and help him out by showing a bit of compassion.
“Umm, you see, since you’re a police officer and well… crap, this is going to sound so stupid.”
“Just out with it. You know, ripping off the Band-Aid fast so the hurt is over quicker.”
“Okay, but will you promise not to laugh or think I’m an idiot?”
“I won’t laugh,” Archer replies, trying hard not to smile. “But I can’t promise not to think you’re an idiot. What if you are being an idiot? My not thinking it, won’t change that fact.”
“Uuggh, okay but if you think I’m an idiot can you at least keep it to yourself and not tell me?”
Archer chuckles, “Okay, I can do that. So, lay it on me.”
Kevin leans forward in his chair and rests his arms on the table lacing his fingers together in a double fist. “I’m not sure I can explain to you why but I want you to use your handcuffs on me. Handcuff me like a criminal you’ve arrested and keep me cuffed for as long as you want.”
Archer doesn’t laugh, too surprised and trying to process this strange request from a teenage boy. First, he doesn’t think Kevin is an idiot, then he wants to ask why but Kevin as already said he can’t explain why. He puts his sandwich back on the plate and leans back in his chair. He studies the boy’s face and realizes he is really embarrassed but yet is very serious about his request.
“Okay, kid, I know you said you can’t explain why but this has to come from somewhere,” Archer says, looking at Kevin and conveying with his tone of voice that he is taking Kevin seriously. “Do you have family or friends that have been arrested or are in prison?”
“No, nobody I know. All I know right know is I have this desire to be restrained. I’ve experimented at home with a couple leather belts but it doesn’t work because I can get out so easy.”
“Have you talked to anyone else about this desire?”
“Um, well, my mom caught me the other day playing with my belts. She didn’t really understand but she was sympathetic and at least didn’t think I was a weird-o freak-a-zoid. She actually suggested I come to you.”
“Oh, yeah? Your Mom told you to come ask me to handcuff you?” Archer was a bit gob smacked by that idea.
“Err… not it those words, I guess but she did say I might talk to you about my… whatever.”
“What about your dad? Can’t you talk to him?” Archer asks.
“Mom and Dad are separated. He moved to Kansas City for his work. I only talk to him on the phone and only see him every couple of months. Besides, I don’t think he’d be understanding about this. He’s pretty strait-laced, you should here what he says about gays.”
Archer leaned forward and picked up his sandwich and took another huge bite. He watched Kevin while he chewed the sandwich and chewed some ideas in his head. What are the options? He could say no and send the kid home to his mom; probably the best option. Or, he could turn the kid over to someone he knew but they would probably give the kid a lot more than he bargained for. Finally, he could fetch his spare set of cuffs and chains and fulfill Kevin’s wish.
“Alright, Kevin, I have questions to ask before I can decide whether this goes any further. And you must be truthful. If you’re not, there can be legal problems; not to mention that someone could be seriously hurt, physically and mentally.”
“I won’t lie to you Mr. Archer,” Kevin said in almost a whisper.
“Okay then. First question. Are you gay?”
“Ah, no, I like girls. I’m not a virgin and I’m dating a great girl now and we have fantastic sex.”
“Safe sex, I hope,” Archer chided.
“Oh, yes sir. She’s on the pill and I use a condom for STDs. But there’s no way I could ever ask her to tie me up or anything like that. I know she’d freak out if I did.”
“Okay, how would you feel if she did agree to tie you up?” Archer asked.
“I’d really like that. I’d be in heaven and I’d let her do whatever she wanted with me. But I really like her a lot and don’t want to blow it with her.”
“So, is this desire to be tied up a sexual feeling?”
“Well…” Kevin tilted his head and thought, “I do get some feelings when I think about being tied up. And if I think about my girlfriend tying me up I… well… you know.” Kevin made a fist with his right hand and pumped it in the air.
“Yeah, I know. So, do you think you will have sexual feelings if I tie you up?”
“Hmm, well, if I do, it won’t be because I’m thinking about you,” the kid replies, not thinking that he might be insulting Archer.
“Well, I’m grateful for that, Kid. If I handcuff you, chain you up and lock you in my basement closet and go off to the PD and leave you till I get done with my shift, will you go freaky on me? Can you say you won’t panic and have a heart attack?”
“Mr. Archer, I don’t know. I’ve fantasized about being chained up and keep a prisoner for days or weeks, but I know that is just a fantasy. I’m pretty sure I would be fine with several hours.”
“We’ll have to get your mom’s approval for this. And she’ll have to know that you’re here and how to release you. I won’t do anything unless she knows. Are you good with that?”
“I guess I’ll have to be, won’t I?”
After finishing his sandwich and Kevin drank the rest of his Pepsi, Archer went with Kevin to talk to his mom. She didn’t have a clue why Kevin wanted to be handcuffed by a policeman but she was willing to let him go have it done. Maybe she thought if he did it once that would be the end of it.
Archer explained to her, while Kevin was in the bathroom, that Kevin would be in his basement for the session and while Kevin was there, he would leave the back door unlocked and the stairway to the basement. Kevin would be in the closet under the stairs and she should check on him every couple of hours, at least.
Archer’s basement consisted of one room with the house’s furnace, water heater, plumbing distribution system, electrical circuit breaker box, and the telephone and cable TV wiring panels. Another room held the washing machine, the clothes dryer, and a small food freezer.
There were two finished rooms. One was a bedroom that Archer had furnished with a used queen-size bed, one chest-of-drawers and an old rocking chair. The other furnished room was the largest and you could call it a den or family room. It had padded carpet, wall to wall, a brown leather three-cushion sofa, a matching reclining chair and a second recliner of gray cloth upholstery. Archer had a sixty-inch HDTV on an inexpensive stand that held the cable box and DVD player.
As soon as they were inside Archer’s front door, he ordered Kevin to take off his t-shirt and then handcuffed him, behind his back in proper police procedure. He left Kevin standing in the foyer while he fetched a canvas tote back from his bedroom closet.
“Kevin,” Archer faced the boy as he held the bag, “when you come here for your detention, there will be rules. First, when you enter, you will stay here in the foyer until I have chained, tied, bound, or restrained however I think is appropriate. You will not speak in this house unless you are ordered to do so. If you are asked a question you will respond with nods and shakes of your head unless ordered to reply verbally. When you come into this house, you are here to be my prisoner for however long I want.
“Now, because you are doing this voluntarily, you will have a safe word or signal. If, or when, you say the word or give the signal you will be released. But you must understand that there will be times, maybe for hours at a time, that there will not be anyone around to hear you say the safe word or give the signal. We will use the word ‘uncle’ and you must say it three time, all in a row. If you are unable to make intelligible speech, shake your head rapidly while making the ‘uncle’ sound as best you can. The safe word and signal are for emergencies. Using them simply for early release will result in punishment.
“You are not here as a slave. You will not have tasks or duties; you will simply be a restrained prisoner. Whether you wear any clothes during the sessions, is entirely up to me. If you are naked for any of the sessions, it does not mean there will be any sexual contact; it is simply part of being a prisoner. And, in fact, there will not be any sexual contact between us.
“No one will know about why you are here, except you, your mother, and me. If, for some odd reason, you decide you want to tell someone, you must get the okay from your mother and from me. This is any absolute, hard and fast rule. Do not tell ANYONE unless we talk about it first and all three of us agree.
“Do you understand these rules?
Kevin nods
“Are you’re willing to obey these rules until such time as you decide not to be a prisoner here?”
Kevin nods.
Archer puts the canvas bag over Kevin’s head and pulls it down to his shoulders. He slides the draw string fastener cinching the opening of the bag snug around his neck. “Follow me,” he commands and using the dangling cords of the draw string, he leads Kevin down to the basement.
Archer’s staircase to his basement goes down from the landing that is the rear entrance door to the house. The den area is under the kitchen and living room and is almost the length of the depth of the upper house. Six feet from the bottom step of the stairs, a hallway on the left goes to the laundry, furnace room and the extra bedroom.
The staircase is finished and enclosed and underneath can be used as a closet or a storage space. Archer doesn’t have anything to store there and doesn’t use it for clothes and stuff, so, it is empty.
Archer guides his prisoner into the den and sits him on the low coffee table in front of the sofa. He takes off the teenager’s shoes and socks. In jails and prisons the cons usually get soft canvas slip-on shoes but Archer decides to keep Kevin barefoot. He collects the socks and stuffs them inside the shoes.
“Do not move from the table. I will return in a couple of minutes,” Archer tells the kid.
He takes the shoes and socks with him back upstairs. He puts them on the tiles of the foyer floor by the front door. In his bedroom, he opens the drawer that hold all of his police stuff and digs out a set of leg chains. Basically, they are handcuffs, just a little bit bigger to fit ankles, connected together with an eighteen-inch chain. There is a belly chain that can be locked around the prisoner’s waist. It has a large steel ring that handcuffs can be passed through and the extra tail of chain is long enough to be locked to the chain of the leg cuffs. Archer decides, at least for this time, to forego the belly chain.
Back in the basement, Kevin has not moved and Archer grabs up one leg after another and locks the leg cuffs on his ankles. He pulls him back to his feet using the draw cord, again. “Alright, unless I hear the safe word now, I’m putting you into a cell. I have to finish my shift at the PD, so you’ll have no choice but to spent the entire time cuffed, chained and lock in the cell.”
Archer stands quietly, holding the dangling draw cord, waiting for the kid’s decision. He counts to thirty. Kevin doesn’t make a sound. Archer unbuckles Kevin’s belt and zips it from the loops of his jeans and then drags him by the cords to the closet door, opens it and shoves him inside, closing the door and sliding the latches into their slots. There is no way for the door to be opened from the inside.
There is just enough room for the boy to stand in an area about three feet by three feet, the size of the landing at the top of the stairs. To the left of the door is the concrete wall of the basement. On the right side is the underneath of the stair steps sloping down and lowering the height of the space.
Kevin flails his head around but the tote bag’s draw cord is snug around his throat and will not come off. He pulls and shakes his hands rattling the three links of chain between his locked wrists. The chain of the leg cuffs scraps on the cold concrete floor as he shuffles in a tiny circle. Now, he doesn’t even know which way the door is. He feels the concrete of the wall with his fingertips and turns till he feels the wood of the door and slides down to sit on the floor. He tries to get comfortable but it’s hard to lean against the door with his arms behind his back. He tries to put his feet up on his thighs to get them off the cold floor but he can only get one foot up because the chain pulls the other down.
Is this really what he wants? He thinks Shelly. He imagines her ordering him to strip off his shirt, shoes, and socks. He imagines her putting the bag over his head. He imagines her squeezing the handcuffs and hearing the ratcheting sound of them closing tight on his wrists. He imagines her dragging him into his cell by the draw cords around his neck. He imagines her standing outside of the locked door of his cell, maybe with her head tilted back, eyes closed, one hand fondling her own breasts, her sex wet and hot aroused by sight his chained imprisonment.
His cock is hard and throbbing in the confinement of his briefs and jeans. He strains to bring his hands around hoping to touch and rub himself to climax but he can’t reach far enough. He moans and groans in frustration but he's glad he can’t reach because that would ruin it. He knows he must be cuffed and chained. It keeps him from masturbating and releasing the sexual tension and he wants the tension; he must have the tension. With the climax the tension he had come to need so desperately would be gone.