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Message-ID: <37674asstr$1028502602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: felix.dartmouth@archw.com (Felix Dartmouth)
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Subject: {ASSM} ASSM: Bondage-"Locksmith" repost (from 1985)
Date: Sun,  4 Aug 2002 19:10:02 -0400
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The Locksmith

original text by Felix Dartmouth
(C) 1995  Distribute Electronically with this tag intact
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felix.dartmouth@archw.com


    I had just made it home after a rough day at my 
locksmith shop on a Friday night when my beeper went 
off.  It was a cold and rainy winter night.  
    Resignedly, I dialed the number. 
    A breathless woman's voice sounded from other end.  
"Are you the locksmith? Oh! Thank God!  My friend has 
been handcuffed, and we don't have the key.  Can you 
help us? 
    I rolled my eyes.  How many times had this happened 
before!  Even had it happen once at a wedding.  The 
bride was in tears!  But that's another story. 
    "I'll sure try," I said, "but sometimes they are 
specially keyed.  Is she in any kind of danger, or is 
she handcuffed to any object? 
    "No, her wrists are just handcuffed together.  We 
are at my boyfriend's house.  He's a policeman, but he 
is out of town.  We were just playing around, and I 
locked her wrists behind her, thinking that the key was 
on the dresser, but it was gone!" 
    "Now, don't worry.  Tell me where you are." 
    "On 2713 Grey Street." 
    "Well, OK, that's not too far.  I have to go to my 
shop to get some special tools, but I can be there in 
about an hour.  Can your friend hold out that long?" 
    "I guess she'll have to, as long as she knows you're 
coming." 
    "OK, see you then.  Tell her just to relax, and I'll 
be there soon." 
    I hung up the phone and pondered the situation.  
Well, there were worse jobs to be called out on. 
    It over an hour before I arrived at the house.  A 
pretty blonde answered the door.  It looked like she was 
dressed to go out.  She had on a bright floral print 
dress and black high-heels. 
    Behind her was a stunning beauty.  Her brown hair 
hung in big loose curls over her shoulders.  Her short 
skirt was of tight and shiny black leather. She wore a 
creamy white blouse with sheer sleeves and a lacy 
standup collar.  Like her attractive friend, she also 
wore black high heels. 
    Her hands were behind her back.  She had a sheepish 
and somewhat ashamed pout in her full lower lip.  Her 
huge eyes were deep brown. 
    "Hi, my name is Florence," the blonde said, 
extending her hand to me.  I took her hand to shake it.  
Her grip was firm. 
    Since her friend had extended her hand to me, I 
moved to the brownette to shake her hand, extending 
mine.  She laughed and turned halfway to me.  Despite 
the handcuffs on here wrists, we awkwardly shook hands.  
"My name is Laura," she said. 
    I smiled and tried to make her feel at ease.  "Well, 
Laura, usually I just get calls at this time of night to 
open locked car doors." 
    She smiled just a bit.  "Can you get these off of 
me?  I've had these locked on be for almost 2 hours 
now!" 
    "Let's take a look," I said, and I took her by the 
sleeve, and turned her around.  I pulled up on her arms, 
and she had to bend over.  She stumbled a bit due to her 
heels, but did not seem to mind. 
    I examined the cuffs.  It was bad news.  Her 
handcuffs were Smith & Wesson Maximum Security 
handcuffs.  They had a rotary lock, like a Coke machine, 
and the links between the two cuffs were titanium 
hardened steel.  Even my hacksaw could not get through 
them.  I wondered how I was going to break it to her. 
    "Well, it doesn't look too good," I said.  "This is 
a lock that cannot be picked.  We can order a key, but 
not until tomorrow.  They can send it overnight, so it 
will be here on Thursday." 
    "You've got to be kidding!" she said, her face 
flushing with alarm.  "Can't you just cut the links 
between the two cuffs?" 
    "No, those aren't links, they are like bicycle 
chain.  They can be cut, however, with the diamond saw 
back at my shop." 
    "Couldn't you have brought it with you?  I need to 
go to this party, and now here I am in these handcuffs!" 
    It seemed to me that the lady in 'cuffs was getting 
a little concerned about her situation. 
    "Here's what we'll do.  We'll go back to my shop, 
and get these little devils sawed off.  I won't be real 
easy, but in about an hour's time, you'll be as free as 
a bird." 
    "Great, let's go 
    Her friend spoke up.  
    "You know, Laura, I have to go off to this party.  
It's business.  Why don't you take a cab from the shop 
to the party." 
    Laura, in her handcuffs suddenly looked deserted and 
a little desperate, and a lot steamed.  "Hey, I don't 
really appreciate your getting me all cuffed up like 
this, and the trotting off to this party without me.  I 
know that it's important for you, but it's important for 
me, too. 
    I quickly spoke up.  "Laura, I'd be happy to drive 
you to the party once these 'cuffs are off." 
    Laura looked up at me.  She stood up straight, and 
brought her wrists up to the small of her back.  It was 
like she was at attention, with her chest out.  I could 
tell that she was sizing me up.  She turned around and 
took a couple of steps away from me, thinking.  Her 
sheer sleeves had twisted a bit because of the grip that 
the handcuffs had on the cuffs.  She turned and eyed me 
squarely, hiding her cuffed wrists from my sight. 
    "Well, I don't know, I really don't know you, and 
these handcuffs put me in a compromising position." 
    I smiled.  "I've been in this business a long time.  
You are perfectly safe with me, and you will soon be 
free." 
    "Great," said Florence.  "Then I'll see you at the 
party!  Here, let me cut you a check, since this whole 
mess was my fault," she said to me. 
    "You can say that again" muttered Laura, rattling 
her handcuffs behind her back. 
    The business was taken care of and we were preparing 
to leave, but then I considered the cold, rainy weather. 
    "Do you have a raincoat I could drape over her 
shoulders," I asked Florence. 
    "No, but I do have a plastic garment bag that would 
keep her dry." 
    Laura, now noticing that she was being referred to 
in the third person, reacted, "Are you sure that you 
don't have a raincoat?" 
    "No," said Florence, but I have a garment bag from 
an evening gown that would probably go down to your 
knees." 
    "Let's use two, taped together," I suggested. 
    Instantly, Florence produced a full-length garment 
bag and a shirt-length bag, both clear plastic, and a 
roll of silver duct tape. 
    "Well, I guess it's better than getting wet," said 
Laura.  "I put in lot of work on my hair and makeup, but 
what's that tape for." 
    "We don't want that wind blowing rain in on you," 
her friend replied, and sacked the smaller sack over 
Laura's shiny curls.  Then she took the tape, and 
wrapped it around Laura's shoulders above her breasts.  
She pulled it very tightly.  No, that plastic bag would 
not be coming off. 
    There were hole along the top, gave Laura plenty of 
air, but I could still see the plastic move in and out 
as she breathed.  Florence folded over the plastic and 
taped it in the center, which would still allow air, but 
prevent rain from touching Laura's hair. 
    The plastic extended to Laura's hips, leaving her 
leather mini-skirt exposed.  The formal bag took care of 
that, and it was taped just under her throat.  Another 
very tight strip of tape followed at the small of her 
waist, and less tight band above her knees.  The strip 
about her waist tightly pulled her sheer sleeves to the 
small of her back.  The plastic extended down to Laura's 
black stiletto pumps. 
    "Hey," said Laura, "why so tight?" 
    "Well, it looks like you won't get wet to me," I 
volunteered.  Florence had done such a great job, that 
my assistance would not have been necessary.  "Ok, let's 
go," I said. 
    I took Laura by the arm, and maintaining a firm grip 
escorted her out to my truck.  I was pretty soaked after 
I helped her into the truck, and buckled her in. 
    When we were going, she looked over at me. 
    "I really appreciate your taking this extra 
trouble," she said. 
    "No problem," I smiled. 
    We drove in silence, the only sound being the 
plastic that was taped around her. 
    When we got to the shop, I left her in the waiting 
room while I quickly changed to a dry shirt, then I 
carefully cut off her plastic bags.  It worked!  She was 
dry as a bone and looked great! 
    "Well, at least it worked," she said. 
    "Let's get these cuffs off you."  I took her by the 
arm, and bent her over, placing her wrists in a vice on 
the table-top.  In no time, I had sawed through the 
bands, and she was free. 
    "Oh, God! What a relief!" she said.  "Now, can you 
take me to that party?" 
    She was jubilant and vivacious as we drove to the 
party.  I pulled up to the valet parking, and the 
attendant opened the door for her.  Saying thanks, she 
started to get out.  Then, looking over at me, she 
quickly kissed me on the cheek, and was out of the 
truck. 
    As I pulled away, I turned my mind to a beer and the 
Friday night programming on television.   Then, my 
beeper went off. 

Felix Dartmouth

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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