My college friends used the phrase “a little sketchy” to describe Josh, but it was widely known that he had the best weed at the school. This was back when weed was hard to get, and good weed was even rarer.
The first time I met him, it was all business. I went to his dorm room, with its request tapestry hanging on the wall and silk covered lamp casting a purple hue about the space. I sat on his desk chair While he rummaged for “the goods” and after some minimal small talk the transaction was made. I didn’t immediately detect anything about Josh that might have warranted his reputation of being sketchy, except of course that he was selling drugs.
I’m taller than average, maybe 6’2 with shoes on but Josh was a full head taller than me and stocky. Maybe even a little pudgy but overall he came across as just a “big dude.” His manner was calm and pleasant, all smiles under a light mustache. He had just the faintest glint in his blue eyes that believed his grin and hinted atsomething volatile.
The second time I bought from him, he made a little more conversation. He asked about my friends, what my major was, whether I had a girlfriend. When I told him I didn’t, he cocked his head and asked, “Why not, a smart kid like you? Are ya gay or something?”
Momentarily took aback, I replied “Oh, no. Just… looking for the right girl, you Know.” That was the extent of our conversation and I went on my way.
Over the next few months I would come by periodically and buy more weed. Each time we chatted for a few minutes and started to build a rapport. I wouldn’t say we were ever friends and though I occasionally saw him elsewhere around campus, we didn’t otherwise interact.
On a warm day in the Spring, I went to make a purchase from Josh after finishing a tennis match. Josh was sitting in his desk chair, and he motioned for me to sit on his bed. I always feel uncomfortable sitting on another person’s bed, like it was a further invasion of theirPrivate space, but it was the only place I could sit in his room other than the floor.
Tentatively sitting on the edge of his bed in my nylon tennis shorts and t-shirt, I was subject to the usual small talk as he rummaged through his backpack for just the right ziplock bag. What did I think of Professor So-And-So? Wasn’t the food at the dining hall terrible? Had I was to any of the frat parties last weekend?
As we chatted and Josh rummaged through his backpack, something metal fell out of the backpack and hit the floor with a clank. After staring at it for a moment, I realized it was a pair of handscuffs. I was no expert, but they looked like they were real, not the toy kind some people mess around with.
Josh paused his rummaging and stared down at the handscuffs on the floor at his feet. “Well damn,” he said after a moment. “I forget those were in there.”
An awkward silence passed as we both regard the handscuffs on the floor. Eventually Josh reached down andpicked them up, the metal closing as the chain between the cuffs passed through his fingers.
I was transfixed, my eyes locked on the metal cuffs. They were so incongruous with the rest of the situation. What does he need those in his backpack for? I found myself wondering.
Josh noticed me staring, and after a moment he remarked with a sarcastic smile, “What, never seen handcuffs before?”
“No,” I said quickly, then “I mean yeah, just not this close before.” I couldn’t figure out what was happening exactly, but I was strangely fixed on the glaming metal cuffs.
“Huh,” Josh said thoughtfully. He was holding the pair of cuffs in one hand, sliding the metal back and forth between his fingers. After another awkward moment, he continued slowly, “Want to try one on?
He held up one cuff, letting the other dangle from the short chain. I was so flustered by the question, I immediately blurted out, “No. No, I don’t think so.”
We sat for another silentmoment, me perched uncomfortable on the edge of Josh’s bed wondering how to extract myself gracefully from this strange situation; Josh leaning forward in his chair, staring intently into my eyes.
That mischievous gleam was in his gaze again as he said quietly, “You don’t think so… but maybe… you’re curious what it feels like? Have you ever been arrested?”
“No never,” I said earnestly. Then, “But I really have to get going.”
But I didn’t move. Something in my brain was keeping me from bolting for the door, some deep part of me that was just a little curious what a handcuff might feel like.
I stared at the floor, and after yet another long moment of silence, Josh said again, “So, want to try one on? Just one.”
I said nothing, but slowly nodded my head. Josh scooted his chair towards me so that our knees were almost touching, then reached slowly forward as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. I felt the cool metal touch my wrist, and as he pushed thecuff against my skin, I felt it snap around my wrist.
“There,” he said soothingly. “No,” I admitted. I looked down to see the steel cuff wrapped around my wrist, the other cuff still in Josh’s hand. The cuff on my wrist felt strange; not uncomfortable but completely foreign. I twisted my wrist around, finding that the metal pushed into my skin at certain angles.
“Too tight?” he asked, and I shook my head quickly. “Too… loose?” He added with a grin.
“No,” I said, feeling slightly more comfortable, “I don’t think I could slide it over my hand if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s the general idea,” Josh said, then added “Well, that’s one. How about we do the other one? You wanna know what it’s really like, right?”
I thought about it for a moment, then thew caution to the wind and said, “I guess. You have the key, right?” Dumb question, but it felt important to ask.
“Of course,” Josh said confidently. I was hoping he would produce the key and show it to me, but he didn’t. Instead he reached forward again and pushed the loose cuff against my other wrist. With a series of clicks it locked in place, and just like that I found myself sitting on Josh’s bed, fully handcuffed with my hands on my knees.
“Well, now you’re handcuffed,” Josh said with a grin, looking me slowly up and down. Then he added, “You’re pretty trusting to let me do this. I could really do just about anything to you right now.”
I could tell from his expression that he was joking, but it struck me as an odd thing to say. I laughed nervously, and said “I guess so.”
Then I realized with a start that somehow, inexplicably, I was getting hard. I groaned inwardly and fought to control it, but to no avail. I hoped that my hands and arms leaning over my body were enough to hide the growing bulge in my tennis shorts.
I searched Josh’s expression desperately to see if he had noticed my prediction, but he showed no sign other thanMaybe just the hint of a knowing smile.
“Welp, I should get going,” I said trying unsuccessfully to force a casual tone. Josh’s eyes raised at the quaver in my voice.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, with what might have been geneuine concern but also could easily have been a gently mocking tone.
“I…” I started, “Uh, nothing. Just figured… ok, now I know what it’s like to be handcuffed.”
“And you like it,” Josh said, deadpan. A flat statement, not a question. His eyes darted down to my crotch, then back. “I like it too.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. Finally I said tenatively, “You like… what?”
“I like that I have you handcuffed in my room, sitting on my bed. You’re kind of my captive now. Sure, you could get up and walk out, but you’d be wearing my handscuffs around campus.”
That statement rolled through my mind, and the image of Josh parading me around campus handcuffed with a raging boss in my shorts flashed through my imagination. It was totally ridiculous, and it somehow made my cock even harder.
Unsure of what might happen next, I looked at Josh, who seemed to be contemplating the same thing. His expression got more serious as he said, “For you to really know what it’s like to be handcuffed, I’d have to put your hands behind your back.”
I noted the way he spoken that, seeming to take my free will out of the discussion.
“So about that key…” he said with mock uncertainty. He made a show of searching around the room as I watched, finally producing a small key from his desk drawer.
Holding up the key, Josh said “I’m going to unlock your left hand. When I do, be a good boy and put your hands behind your back. I’ll do the rest.” I nodded in agreement, feeling like I didn’t have Much choice, and still grappling with my arousal at the whole situation.
Josh quickly slide the key into the cuff on my left hand, and it released with a click. I slowly brought my hands around behind my back,the cuffs still attached to my right hand. Josh climbed on the bed behind me and swiftly brought my hands together against the small of my back, reattaching the left cuff with a series of clicks. His hand lingered for a long moment on top of the cuffs on my wrists before he slip back around me and took his seat again on the desk chair, facing me.
“There it is, just like being arrested. Except you do not have the right to remain silent,” Josh said with a chuckle. “Tell me how you feel.”
I paused to take stock and come up with an honest answer. “Pretty vulnerable,” I said finally. With my wrists held behind my back, I felt like my chest was jutting out unnaturally. And without my arms to hide my crotch, I was sure Josh could plainly see the bulge in my shorts. I crossed my legs in a lame last grasp at modesty.
“And…?” Josh prompted, making no effort to hide his amusement at my disappoint.
“I guess being helpless like this is… um, making me…” I couldn’t finishsh the sentence.
“Hard,” Josh said bluntly. “It’s ok, you can admit it.” I just nodded.
“Perfectly normal,” Josh continued. “Happens to a lot of guys.”
Catching me completely by surprise, he casually reached out a hand and rested it on the bulge in my shorts. I drew in a sharp breath, squirming and quickly saying “Oh, no no.”
“Shh,” he scolded gently. “We have to take care of this, or you’ll always wonder.”
Holy shit I thought as his hand began to rub gently, what the hell is happening?
I found myself in total shock but completely unable to move as Josh’s hand rubbed the head of my cock ever so slowly through the fabric of my tennis shorts. It feel so wrong, and so good.
Josh scooted his chair closer, and with a gentle push on my shoulder, said “Lay down. On your side.” I hung my head in shame, and slowly compiled, laying sideways down the length of his bed.
“Good boy, doing what you’re told,” Josh said approvingly, moving his chair up to the edge of the bed. He ran a hand down the length of my chest before uncertainly pulling my shorts down around my thighs, allowing my rigid cock to spring out into the open air. I gasped quietly but said nothing.
“Might as well do this right,” Josh said to himself, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and pulling it swiftly out.
This is it, I thought with dread, I’m about to get fucked..
Josh stood, but instead of removing his pants, he stepped to the food of the bed, and wrapped the brown leather belt around my ankles. Finding no notch to secure the buckle, he tied the belt in a crude knot.
“You could probably wiggle out of that eventually, but it’ll hold you for now.”
Standing over me, Josh put his hand on my cock and began to rub. I saw involuntarily, feeling the welcome friction against my cock combined with the helplessness of my cuffed hands and bound ankles.
Josh worked my cock expertly, and as I felt the involuntary pleasure start to build, he leaned down over my head and whispered, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll put you in my girlfriend’s panties and handcuff you in the library. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
That odd comment pushed me over the edge, and I groaned as orgasm overtook my shuddering body. Josh’s hand clamped over my mouth, adding to the helplessness I already feel. My body jerked and compromised as I grunted into Josh’s hand.
As the waves of pleasure wound down and the continued friction started to ebb towards pain, Josh pulled his hands away from my cock and mouth. There was a long silence broken only by my heaving breathing. I looked up to see Josh staring down at me with that knowing grin on his face again.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” He asked.
“Fuck,” I breathed. “Sorry I came on your sheets.”
Josh laughed. “That’s it?” He said. “What else?”
I paused for a moment, then asked the question that had just popped into my brain. “Girlfriend?”
Josh laughed again. “Yep, and you’re probably wondering why you don’t have my dick in your mouth right now. I only fuck girls, I just really enjoy popping a bondage cherry every once in a while.”
He paused for a moment, then continued. “Then again, you got me going a bit strolling in here with your short shorts and twink bod. If you come back for more, I might have to go harder on you.” He punctuated this statement with a loud slap on my exposed ass cheek.
After that it was all small talk again as Josh released me from the handscuffs. His cryptic comment about coming back left me both curious and worried about what might happen if I did return.
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