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Message-ID: <39023asstr$1036030202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Felix Dartmouth <felix.dartmouth@archw.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Costume Party - (Happy Halloween (repost)
Date: Wed, 30 Oct 2002 21:10:02 -0500
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C) Felix Dartmouth
August 3, 2002
Archives BBS WWW Site
http://www.archw.com/

The Costume Party


The phone rang.  

"Hi lover, wait 'till you see the costume I got for you!" 

When my new boyfriend asked me to his firm's costume party, I 
was kind of surprised.  He seemed real insistent on his 
getting the costumes. 

We had dated a few times, but things did not seem to be 
progressing real well between us, in fact we hadn't even slept 
together. 

It seem to me that he overdid the "gentleman" bit, and on our 
last date, he took me up to a fever pitch making out on the 
couch before quickly saying goodbye.  I felt like I was in 
high school again! 

I knew he was really working hard at his law firm, like all the 
associates in their 20's.  I had met him at an accounting/lawyer 
get-together, and we talked almost the whole party. 

I thought he would never ask for my phone number, but he finally 
did, and called the next day.  Since this was our third date, I 
was starting to feel comfortable around him, and was really 
looking forward to it.

"Well, what are we going to the party as?" I asked.

"I thought it would be fun if we went as a cop and a prisoner.  I 
went to the costume store and they had a great prisoner outfit for 
you, really sexy, and a real authentic looking policeman's outfit 
for me." 

"That sounds fun - but how come I am going as the prisoner?"

"Because I got the costumes, that's why!

"Well, OK, but I warn you, turn-about's fair play."

"Always, love - but I have to go - see you at 6:30 that'll give us 
plenty of time to get dressed, and get you done up. Bye-bye"

Quickly, he was off the phone, and I was left wondering what he 
meant by "done up".

I took the afternoon to relax and get ready.  I took a dreamy 
warm bath, and washed and curled my long brown hair.  I wore 
white lace bra and panties, and a dark silk garter and 
stockings. 
 
I had just finished my makeup and purfume when the doorbell rang.  
Quickly slinging on a short silk robe and putting on my black 
patent pumps, I went to answer the door.

My heart lept to my throat when I saw him.  His costume was great!  
He wore a dark blue policeman's uniform.  It was perfectly 
pressed, and was fitted exactly to him.

I have never been the type to go for a man in a uniform, but 
seeing him in the authoratative outfit did have a powerful effect 
on me.

He was holding a box in one hand, and a small briefcase in the 
other.  "Here is your costume," he said, "and here are some 
accessories."

I took the costume, and said, "I'll go put it on.  Make yourself 
at home."

I closed the door to my room, and opened the box.  The costume was 
a sexy version of a prisoner's outfit.  It had wide black and 
white stripes, but was a short dress, and sheer long sleeves.  
Unusual were the heavy leather cuffs and collar.  Also, there was 
a thick belt at the waist.  These leather fastenings did not 
buckle, but there were hasps that rings fit through.  I closed 
them as best that I could, but I could see that locks were 
supposed to be placed through them.

Most surprising was a leather strap that I found that was 
dangling down the back on the skirt.  It took me a while to 
figure out where the other end went, but it appeared that it 
fit through my crotch and up to the back of the thick leather 
belt about my waist! 

It took me a while to get everything on, and to get all the 
metal D-rings into the slots provided for them in the leather.  
The crotch strap was pretty tight, and it pulled down the belt 
at my waist in a way that exaggerated my cleavage.  I checked 
myself out in the mirror. 

I presented quite a sight!  My long curly brown hair hung down 
about my shoulders, but the thick cowhide collar about my throat 
with the metal link under my chin was plainly visible.  The push-
up-bra was doing its work, and by breasts fairly strained to 
escape the tight black & white striped material of the costume.

The sheer sleeves, and puffy shoulders of the prisoner's top 
seemed ridiculously feminine, and the tight mini-skirt was 
inches above what was decent. 

Invisible, but very much on my mind, was the tight strap 
bisecting my puss and sending shivers up my spine almost with 
every step that I took. 

I chose my highest black heels, with a thick ankle-strap, and 
carefully stepped out, knowing that I would make quite an 
impression. 

I was greeted with a warm hug and a kiss.  "You look beautiful," 
he said.  "Lets get you into the rest of your costume."

"The rest?" I asked, and looked over at the table, where there was 
a practical mound of metal chains, locks, and restraints.

"Since you are my prisoner, you have to properly chained up, 
and I got this stuff from a friend who works at the police 
station.  He lets start out with these handcuffs, behind you 
back."

Before I really had a chance to object, my wrists were tightly 
clasped in implacable nickel shackes, with my palms facing out 
in opposite directions.

"There, that's a good start,"

With my arms pulled behind my back, my breasts fairly spilled 
over my low-cut bodice.  I made a few tentative tugs on the 
handcuffs.  If I didn't pull, they didn't hurt at all, but it 
was quite painful if I did pull on them.

He began untangling a set of chains as I took a few steps to 
and fro testing the restraint on my wrists.

It seemed that the bondage of handcuffs was all-encompassing.  
There is really not much that you can do in handcuffs, 
particularly when they are locked behind your back.  It sort 
of puts you into a different state of mind. 

I became more aware of the leather strap that ran through my 
crotch, and at the same time became aware that now, with my 
wrists pinioned as they were, I would be unable to adjust it. 

"Just how authentic are we going to be here?," I laughed as he 
approached me with a set of leg irons.

"Very authentic," he said.  "We might win the prize for the 
best couple costume."

"Really, what do we get if we win?" I asked.

"First prize is $250," he said.

"Wow!  I've never heard of a $250 prize for a costume party!"

"Well, the boss really likes to have a good time, and this is 
one of the biggest company parties of the year.  I think in 
the total budget, the prize is just a small percentage and it 
tends to bring out some great costumes,"  he explained as he 
carefully locked the leg-irons over my strap-on patent high-
heels. 

"So, do we split the prize if we win?" I asked, knowing I'd 
better make a deal up front.

"Sure, but the competition is going to be pretty tough!," he 
laughed.

"I think WE are the tough competition.  Are those leg irons on 
tight enough?" she asked. 

-_-_-_-_-_

After we walked to the car, it was apparent that it would be 
impossible for me to get in in my chains, so I was helped in 
and tightly seat-belted.

He came around and got in the driver's seat, and gave me a 
quick kiss.  This quite quickly inflamed to passionate making 
out as I struggled in my bondage to hold him.  His hands were 
like fire on my breasts and belly.

If I pulled too hard on my handcuffs, which were locked behind 
my back, it hurt my wrists, and I knew it would be a long 
night.

He stopped kissing me, leaving me breathless, and with my 
heart pounding.

-_-_-_-_-_

All eyes were on us as we entered the party.  All the costumes 
were great.  There was a Mummy, a Frankenstein, a formless 
monster that looked a bit like an ameoba, various harem girls 
(none of whom were chained), the usual Devils, and Angels, but 
I was the only Woman in Chains.

In keeping with our respective roles, my date held my arm 
either on my wrist above my locked handcuffs, or just above my 
elbow as we circulated and talked with the other guests.  I 
think that he liked the feel of my sheer sleeves against my 
skin.

I got a jealous reaction from all the women, as though I had 
used a cheap trick, appearing in chains.  From the men, I got 
longing stares. 

My leg irons were really not too much of a bother, and I 
rapidly learned how to walk in them and my strappy heels.

We circulated around the party, and my date got me a drink.  
With my wrists handcuffed behind me, I could hardly drink it 
myself, so he held the glass to my lips.

Soon, one of his friends came over, and he asked me if I 
wanted help with my drink.  My date had someone to see, so he 
went off and left me with his friend, who was giving me a sip 
of wine every so often.  For a while, we talked, and it seemed 
as if I really didn't have handcuffs on as we talked about 
work, and our families and other things.

My date came back and asked if I wanted to dance.  I said 
"Sure," and we took to the floor.

My date held me with one hand at the small of my back, and the 
other at the nape of my neck.  We did a type of waltz.  The 
way he pressed me against him, I could tell that he was having 
a good time!

My hands were right next to his, handcuffed behind me.  He 
even squeezed them, once in a while.  There were a lot of 
people on the floor, but I could feel that most of the men's 
eyes were on me as we danced around the floor with me in 
handcuffs.

Later, we went and got something to eat.  He had to feed me, 
of course, and then we went over and sat down on the couch 
next to a couple who were is friends.  The guy was dressed 
like Clint Eastwood from the "Few Dollars More" films.  His 
date was dressed as a French Maid.  I'd seen French Maid 
outfits before, but never any that were made of rubber!

"I just love your outfit!", she said.  "And those handcuffs, 
they are the perfect touch!" 

"Thanks", I said, sheepishly.  "I like your outfit, too."

"Yessiree, those handcuffs really do the trick," said her 
date.

"You know," said my date.  "I have an extra pair, but they are 
in the car."

"You have them in the car?" she said.  "Will you get them."

The man in the Clint Eastwood outfit said, "Yeah, let's slap 
her in 'cuffs."

He and my date went out to his car to get the handcuffs, and I 
was left talking to the pretty brunette in the French Maid 
outfit.

She held out her hand.  "I'm Janine," she said.  "Oh, I see 
you can't shake right now."

I leaned back, and relaxed my wrists against the back of the 
couch.  "Not right now."

"Does he ever take you out of those?" she asked. 

"Well, it doesn't look like he's going to tonight."

"It will be fun to wear them.  I hope I get 'cuffed behind my 
back, like yours." 

"I think that they're a little tight."  Just as I said that, 
them men came back.  I remembered all the chains and straps 
that he had at my apartment, and he brought them all.

But first, they seemed intent on handcuffing Janine.  She 
stood up in her high heels, her rubber French Maid outfit, and 
her seemless stockings.

Her rich black hair cascaded over the white frill that 
bordered the bodice of her low-cut outfit.

"Ohhh," she said.  "What are you going to do?"

"Cuff you up," said the Clint Eastwood guy. He took her 
wrists, and twisted them behind her back.  She stumbled 
forward slightly, but caught herself.  Her other wrists was 
taken behind her, and the ratchets slung shut about her 
wrists.  He carefully examined the way they were situated 
about her wrists, then tightened them. 

"They are so tight!", she gasped.

He pulled out the key, and double-locked them, pushing in the 
small cylinder to prevent them from tightening further.

I was next.  He helped me to stand, and placed a wide leather 
belt about my waist and buckled it rightly so that it was 
almost like a corset.

There was a chain that came from the belt at my belly.  He 
took that down through my crotch, and attached it to the link 
of my handcuffs.

Next, he took two straps and wrapped them about my elbows, and 
buckled them tightly together.  Then he re-tightened the chain 
that bisected my crotch. 

"Let's go back to the floor," he said, inviting me to dance. 

Shuffling in my bondage, I gasped, "I can't dance like this!"

Taking me by the hair, he gently pulled me to the dance floor, 
and pressed his hips against mine with his right hand, and the 
nape of by neck with his left. 

He lead strongly, and we danced for two dances.

"And now,"  broke in an announcer on the stage. "It's time for 
the "best costume" contest!"

"We have four finalists!  As they are called, will they please 
come forward to the stage."

He called two couples up to the stage.

The first couple wore harem and sheik outfits, the next was 
the amoeba costume with his date, the Mummy.

My date and I were called next.  We received a scattered 
applause as we went out on the podium.  Next Janine and here 
date were called.  She still was in handcuffs as well as her 
French Maid outfit. 

We won!  We got the $250.  I was so excited that I practically 
screamed.

Hes boss came over and gave us the check.  He gave me a big 
kiss on the mouth for winning.  There wasn't s a whole lot I 
could do about that. 

Well, since we won, I didn't see any reason why I needed to be 
handcuffed and leg-ironed any more.  The party was still going 
on, and I knew that I looked good, but Hey!  Crotch-chain and 
everything?

I brought that up to my date, and before I knew it, a red 
ball-gag was twisted between my teeth and tightly buckled and 
locked under my shiny brown curls. 

We stayed another couple of hours, and I stayed in bondage.

He took me out to the car, and took me home, unstrapped the 
ball-gag, and gave me a good-night kiss.  You know, I could 
have thought of a different ending for that date, but I really 
am looking forward to the next one. 

He says he has another idea for a costume.  I know it's 
probably a year until the next costume party, but why not try 
it out? 

(C) Felix Dartmouth
August 3, 2002
Archives BBS WWW Site
http://www.archw.com/

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