Handcuffs

I once got handcuffed for three or four hours at once, and behind my back too. It was a boyfriend and I trusted him and I like being cuffed, but he was kind of a dick about it, to be honest.

I think some kind of power game for him. Like not letting me go when I asked.

I like that. I mean, I desperately want to have rough biting, slapping, spitting sex without safewords so it’s real. And he knew that, and not letting me go when I asked him to make it real, and that was very hot.

He was kind of a dick, though.

He put the key up on a high shelf so I could see it, but couldn’t get it with my hands behind my back. That was kind of assholey.

So we had sex, and he went down on me, which was nice. And he pulled my around by my hair, which was kind of hot.

And also, he watched me try and do stuff while I was handcuffed and laughed at me. So assholey again.

But I learned some useful stuff.

I learned you can pee with your hands behind your back. Obviously. Um, carefully, so you don’t kind of slip backwards and fall. You can pee, but you can’t wipe or flush very easily. I left the flush bit for him to deal with, so whatever.

You can drink out a kitchen tap, but you can’t turn it on.

You can open doors, if you back up to them.

You could probably manage to put some clothes on, but only by trying really hard, and not all clothes.

You absolutely can’t really stop people grabbing you and pulling you over and fucking you how they want, when they want. Which is sort of the point.

Also, my arms hurt a lot afterwards. From being stuck at the same angle, in the same place, I assume. So that’s a medical warning I guess and I suppose and that’s kind of useful too.