George was angry with me the other week. I'd over-spent my allowance and
used some of the housekeeping money to get another pair of shoes. I know
I've got seventeen pairs, but I really wanted these. They were just what I
needed to go with the dress he bought me last month. I know they were a bit
expensive. . .

I should tell you first, that before we were married, I had been employed
at an architect's office. I'd been doing quite well, but when the recession in
the building industry set in, I got a notice from my employers to say that
the office in our town was closing and I was being made redundant. That was
three months after we'd come back from our honeymoon. I don't think George
minded at all. We lived in a fairly well-to-do part of town and very few of
the wives in the area went out to work. George was in a good position and I
think he thought that he ought to support me.

He had never accepted any of the cash I earned. He had a separate bank
account and said I should spend my money on whatever I wanted. He gave me
the regular housekeeping money for all the things we needed to keep our
home running. He kept an account on the computer of everything that was spent,
though, down to the last detail. Anyway, when I was made redundant, he made
me invest my redundancy money in some sort of an account that allowed me a
regular monthly sum, but I couldn't get at the capital until I reached my
30th birthday, which was eight years away. He made me sit down and have a
talk with him. Well, to listen to him, really. He gave me another allowance
for myself, separate from the housekeeping money, paid straight into my own
bank account. He said he didn't care what I spent my allowance on, not at
all. I could do anything I liked with that, but he told me that he'd been
meaning to speak to me about some other things that had concerned him.  He
said he would give me three rules that he expected me to keep:

1. I mustn't overspend on the housekeeping money
2. I must tell him if I intended to be out when he came home from work,
where I was and when I'd be back - and
 3. He said he hated to see women in trousers and that I should get rid  of
all the pairs of slacks that I had and wear skirts in future.

Well, one day, he came home earlier than I'd expected him. I'd been working
in the garden and was wearing an old pair of jeans that I kept for that
purpose. He was annoyed and said I should get rid of them immediately. I
answered him that I wouldn't and it got him mad. He took off his belt and
gave me a slash with it over the jeans. He's awfully strong! I felt the
place for several hours afterwards. That was last Spring. I'd had to burn
the jeans in the central heating boiler while he watched.

This time, though, he was checking the accounts after dinner and wanted me
to account for the missing cash from the housekeeping account.  I confessed
and he went white! He sat still and said nothing until he had recovered;
then he said, "You were away when I got home tonight and I wondered where
you were. Now you tell me you have used the housekeeping money for an
unauthorised purpose. I'm really annoyed with you, Sylvia. I intend to
punish you, but not whilst I'm angry. Go into the bedroom and take off your
clothes. Leave your shoes on and put these on."

He went to his desk and took out a small, heavy wooden box.  He threw me it
over to me. In the bedroom, I opened it after I'd undressed. Inside was a
pair of polished steel handcuffs!  I'd never seen a pair before, except on
TV. I opened them, seeing how they swung through to open, but not back
again.  I sat down on the bed, looking at them. I tried one over my left
wrist. It clicked and wouldn't come off again, of course. I put my hands
behind me, like I'd seen on the TV and put the other cuff on.

I sat there for a minute of two, beginning to feel very - I don't know,
sort of afraid, sort of excited and very aware that I was at George's mercy.
There weren't any keys to the handcuffs. I was trapped until George let me
go. I stood up and hesitantly went back into the lounge. George was reading
the evening paper when I got in.

He said, "Wait there!" I started to sit down, but he said, sharply, "No,
stand there!" and went back to reading the paper. After a minute or two,  I
said, "George,"

He said, "Quiet. I'm reading."

After another minute or two. I said, "George, I'm sorry, I should have told
you I was going to be late back. I left the portable phone at home  when I
went out . . ."

He interrupted, "O.K., but what about the housekeeping money?"

I said again, "I'm sorry. I ought to have waited till the month end,  but I
so wanted those shoes . . ."

"Well now you're going to be punished. Go into the garage! The door's
open."
He carried on reading.

I said, "But . ."

He just said, "Go!"

It was cold and dark in there. There was something hanging from the
ceiling.
The door swung to with a click as I brushed past it as I went in. There was
no way for me to get back in the house until George took pity on me. I
stood there, waiting.

I saw the door move and thought he was going to let me back in, but
instead,
he took hold of me by the hair on the back of the neck, moved me to the
centre of the room and fumbled with the handcuffs, tightening them and
doing something else to them. He said, "Part your legs. No . . . , wider than
that!"

I felt my wrists being pulled up and I had to bend over to stop them being
pulled out of their sockets!

"This is to remind you that I expect you to obey those rules", he said. "I
will punish you later for mis-using housekeeping money."

He walked to one side of me and raised his arm. I'd never felt such pain!
The left leg felt as if it was on fire. He walked behind me and round to
the other side. My right leg was burning just as bad. I howled! he did it again
three times each side.I couldn't think about anything but the pain of it. I
almost fainted.

Then he loosened my hands from whatever it was, so I could stand up
straight again. He put his arms round me and kissed me and as soon as I could see
through my misty eyes, I saw his eyes were full, too. He lifted me up and
carried me back to the bedroom laid me down on my side.

I thought, 'I never want to feel that again.' I'd heard of people who
thought pain and pleasure were related, but I certainly felt no pleasure at
all! 'No, Never, never, do I want that again!' After leaving me there for a
while, he kissed me again and undid the handcuffs. I had a bath in hot
water, which relieved me a bit, but I didn't want to sit down for the rest
of the evening. I was still sore in the morning. I did the shopping, hoping
nobody would notice the way I was walking.

George was perfectly nice that next evening. He might never have been
angry.
He said, "You'll just have to put the cash back from your account when you
get next month's payment in." I agreed and nothing more was said about it.
we had our usual meal, watched the usual programmes on TV, went to bed,
kissed and fooled about as we did lots of nights and slept soundly. The
next day was just the same - and the next. We went out on the Saturday and
stopped in, gardening on the Sunday, I thought my disobedience had been
forgotten. Everything was quite normal until Monday morning.

I woke up, feeling my hands being grabbed and fitted into the handcuffs.

George said, "Get up! It's time for breakfast." I had to go to the kitchen
nude, just as I was. George made me stand behind his chair and wouldn't
talk to me whilst he ate his breakfast which I'd prepared for him. That hadn't
been made any easier by the handcuffs locked in front of me. There were
some tiny red spots on my front, the result of frying bacon with no clothes on.

He told me, as he got ready to go to work, "When I have gone, you will find
the other handcuff key in the shower." He unlocked the cuffs and fastened
them again behind me.

"Oh, by the way, the hot water for the shower isn't working. The cold's
O.K., though. There is an note for you in the garage."

He kissed me goodbye as he always did and left. I went to look in the
shower. There, hanging by a chain, hung a big block of ice. I could see the
key, frozen into it. I could either wait for the ice to melt, or turn on
the water and hurry things up. I decided to do that. My! That water was cold
when it splashed on me! I went to the garage and found an envelope stuck to
the windscreen of my car. It was cold in there and I was glad that I'd
remembered to wedge the door so it wouldn't swing to and leave me locked in
there all day. I brought the letter into the lounge to read it.

Then I thought I'd better go and look to see how the key was doing. After a
while, a long while, the ice began to melt. I daren't leave it then,
because I didn't know where the key might land - it might fall down the plug hole
and then where would I be?

I was frozen stiff myself when the big ice-block fell off the chain. It
smashed in the basin at the bottom and I grabbed up the biggest piece with
the key still in it and thawed it by pouring boiling water on it from the
kettle. I used the rest of the boiling water to add to some cold in the
bowl, so as to get my fingers warm enough to work. It was very difficult to
get those handcuffs off. The key kept slipping out of my fingers so I had
to sit on the kitchen floor to pick it up again (our kitchen has a tiled
floor, nice but cold!) and I kept trying to find the key-hole, but eventually,
after losing my temper twice, I did it!

I left the handcuffs on the floor and rushed to the bedroom to get some
clothes. The bedroom door was locked! I knew it wasn't when I first went
down, so I knew George must have locked it himself, on purpose. I went back
down to the kitchen to have something to eat. Then I remembered the note.

I read:
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
.

"My Dearest Sylvia, This part of your punishment is for spending money that
I allocated for something else. No doubt you remember the strap in the
garage. It is hanging on the wall in there, freshly oiled. If you fail to
carry out every single one of these instructions to the letter, you will
feel it again tonight. I demand TOTAL obedience today.

1. Shower yourself thoroughly. I know the water is cold.

2. Dress in the clothes in the spare room. Wear everything there and
NOTHING
ELSE.

3. Get your hair done at Marilyn's. Get there by eleven o'clock. She will
give you further instructions.

4. Bring home your car and lock up carefully, Don't forget to set the
alarm.
Put your keys through the letter box. You will not need them again today.

Be assured of my love for you. I have not given you this punishment
lightly,
without a great deal of thought. I love you, xxxxx George."

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
.

Well, I didn't like the first part of this note one bit! I could still
feel, every now and again, a tingling in my bottom, even though the dark blue
bruises had gone. I didn't like the tone of it, even the very last line. It
was just orders and the last bit looked as if it had been written by a
teacher or a lawyer, not my dear, bossy husband! I went to look in the
spare room, feeling rebellious, but apprehensive at what George might do if I
didn't do every bit of what he had written.

There was an outfit waiting there for me, much more daring than anything I
would want to wear.  I don't know where, or how, George had got it.There
was a tiny black miniskirt, white elbow-length leather gloves, shiny white
tights, a thin white woollen jumper and a very wide black belt with a big,
fancy metal buckle on it and a little ring fastened half-way along it with
a little tie-on label with "This goes to the back" on it.  Apart from a pair
of my ordinary black court shoes, the rest of the outfit was only a black
G-string, barely big enough to cover me. There was no bra.

I had the shower, not perhaps quite as thoroughly as George had specified,
but enough to make me shiver until I had got dry in front of the electric
heater, turned on full. I started putting on the things in the back room.

I hadn't really realised what these these clothes would be like until I was
nearly dressed. The jumper was tight, hardly long enough to reach my waist,
and the skirt was really, really short. In the mirror, I saw myself and
could almost see the tops of my legs, right up to the creases where my
bottom starts. 'If the wind blows, everyone will be able to see a lot
more,' I thought.

I put on the belt. It was tight and pulled me in quite a lot, making my
nice slim waist even thinner, but it also made that skirt flare outwards a bit.
As I fastened the belt, it clicked and I tried to see how it fastened. I
couldn't see how it could be undone. I looked at the gloves. There was a
label attached: "Do not put these on until after you have come back from
Marilyn's", in George's handwriting. At the back of each of them, there was
a thin white leather  strap and a fancy buckle, with the end loosely stuck
into it. The strap had to be pulled to remove the slack and I saw that once
it was tightened, it would not move back again.

It was lucky I hadn't put them on yet, because the fingers were stiff and I
wouldn't have been able to drive with them on. I kept them with me, to put
on when I went to Marilyn's. I tucked them into the belt and I noticed that
there was a little pocket at the left-hand side of it. There was a
ten-pound note in it with another little tag reading,  "For severe emergencies only.
Love, George."

It was a quarter of an hour's drive to Marilyn's and the time was getting
on, so I switched everything off, locked up and went to the hairdressers.
She knew how I liked it done, but she said, "Mr. Acheson has ordered some
changes for today, Mrs. Acheson. I hope you approve."

After it had been trimmed, washed and set, she had got the girl to put it
in a plait. It's long enough to reach down to my waist and usually I have it
up, but today I would have a waist-length, chestnut-coloured plait all down
my back. I'd felt conspicuous enough before in that dress, but now I felt
even more noticeable. What made it worse was that as I was leaving, Marilyn
herself came to me, bringing a little pill-box white hat, with white
veiling.

"Mr. Acheson said you were to wear this hat and to go to Jones's Shoes
next.
He has ordered some shoes for you." I tried to give her the ten pounds but
she said," No. Everything is paid for."

On to Jones's I went. The manager met me as I went in.  "Come this way,
Madam and take a seat! Mr. Acheson has given me certain instructions." He
called over a young man assistant. "The special order!" he said.  There
were three pairs of shoes that all looked the same.  They were nice, a bit
higher-heeled than I'm used to. Stiletto-style and with a thin ankle strap,
and a broad strap over my foot, showing  my toes at the ends.

"Mr. Acheson said to make sure they are comfortable, because you will be
standing in them for a long time today." One pair was a good, but rather
tight fit, so I chose a pair that was a bit bigger, 'cos I knew George
didn't ever waste words. I said they would do and the manager said,  "This is an
unusual order, but Mr Acheson has paid for an additional service. Please
let me examine the fit."

I sat down again and he brought out of his neatly tailored jacket pocket,
two long, thin strips of leather. He passed one of these under my heel,
crossed it over the front of my foot, then pulled it through a metal loop
behind my ankle and fixed it there with a tiny padlock. He did the same to
the other foot and said, "I hope you find them comfortable, Madam!
Everything is paid for. Thank you. Good afternoon." He came to the door
with me and handed me another envelope with a note in it. He opened the door for
me, smiling in an oily way.

That manager had spent much more time holding my foot and attaching those
straps than he needed to and although I couldn't see his face whilst he was
doing it, I reckon his eyes were not looking at the straps all the time. I
was glad to get out of there - that is, until I got out into full view of
the Great British Public. I felt as if I was carrying a notice that said
"LOOK AT ME!"  I wanted to hurry to the car, but those heels were too high
for me to make proper strides. The metal tips of the stilettos made lots of
noise on the pavement and the little padlocks behind my ankles tapped on me
at every step, so I kept thinking about them and they made me think
everyone was looking at them. The jumper, too, was tight and just asked for men's
eyes to be glued on me.  Walking in such high heels makes you jerk a bit as
your foot touches the ground and each step made me wobble under that tight
jumper. The wind hadn't got up yet, so my skirt didn't blow about, but it
felt so light that I thought the slightest breeze would have it up round my
waist. So far, though, I had managed to keep a bit of decency.

The note read: "Go home. Put your car in your garage. Lock up and set the
burglar alarm. Put your keys through the letter-box. You won't need them
any more today. Go to Olive's. She has her instructions. Don't forget, I do
love you! Love, xxxxxxx George."

I was beginning to doubt that! I felt cross and embarrassed all the time. I
knew Olive Brearton. She was once one of George's many girl friends. She
was married now and had four awful kids, rude, dirty and generally
objectionable. I was very glad they would all be at school. Olive herself
wasn't so bad, but she just wasn't much of a mother. They weren't too well
off, I knew.

I took a few minutes to freshen up a bit before I left our house and then I
locked up as George had said and then I put the gloves on. Those fingers
are really stiff. When George makes me wear them, I can only just get hold of
the leather tabs to pull them tight enough so that the straps don't dangle,
but that is all. I even fumbled at the simple task of putting the keys
through the letter box.

I set off, grumbling to myself, tottering along with my little steps to
Olive's. She was waiting for me at the door. "Come in, dear" she said.

I hate that - it sounds as if I'm about ten!

"You're a bit late. I was expecting you ten minutes ago."

I said I'd been delayed and she asked me in again, "Come in, dear! Now,
just wait a minute. Stand there, love, while I get the things."

I stood in the hall, looking out of the open door, wishing I were somewhere
else! I didn't hear her behind me, but I felt her pulling my hands back and
the feeling of something being put round my wrists. I knew that feeling
now.
I was handcuffed again!  I felt cold metal going round my neck and I was
wearing a collar as well. After that she showed me a pair of very small
handcuffs with only one link between them.

"Your fellow, George, said these thumb-cuffs were hard to get. I tried them
on last night and they are even harder to get out of," and she laughed. "He
told me to put them on you after the other things. Then I was to make you
stand outside until the taxi comes. Come outside, I can't see what I'm
doing in here."

Well, there was nothing else to do. I followed her out and she bent and
fitted the cuffs on my thumbs.

"Ow, not so tight!" I cried.

"Sorry dear, George took those keys back with him last night after he'd
tried them on me. Sorry! he told me to hang both the handcuff keys on your
collar, but he didn't give me the thumb ones."

I wondered a bit how long George had been there if she'd been playing
around with hand- and thumb- cuffs! I felt her tightening the straps on the
gloves, saying, "There that's better, looks a bit neater like that. Done now." and
then I heard her add, "Oh, no, we've not quite finished. There are these as
well!" and she put another pair of cuffs on me, above my elbows, not tight.
The chain between them hung down my back. Finally, I felt her lifting my
handcuffed hands up to the small of my back and fastening them to the back
of the belt.

Then she said, " And I'd better put this in your pocket." She opened the
little pocket in the waist-belt and put something like a ball with straps
fastened through it, in there.
 

"I don't think you'll be needing that, but George said I was to make sure
you took it with you. Right oh! You're ready now. Goodbye!" she said and
shut her front door, leaving me standing, waiting for a taxi to take me
somewhere.

In the distance I saw Margery, one of our community group. She waved and I
was glad she was going the other way, so she didn't come over close to me
for a chat. I don't know how much of me she could see, but I'm sure my name
will come up over coffee after the meeting. I don't know what I'll be able
to tell them - I haven't been to any of the meetings for the last few
times.

Anyway, the taxi turned up after I'd been waiting there for about ten
minutes. It seemed like hours!

The taxi man said, "Mrs. Acheson?"

I said,"Yes, Where are you going to take me?"

He said, "Your mother's name was Christine Hardcastle?"

I said ,"That's right. Why?"

"Mr. Acheson, George Acheson, told me to tell you that so's you'd know I'm
from him. Now get in, please. I've got to drive you to Stockport."

He helped me into the cab, seeing my cuffed hands and arms, but he didn't
say anything about them. I suppose George had said something to him. He
drove me all the way to Stockport without asking me about them once.

Now, I don't know if you know the new B&Q store in Stockport. It's high up,
over a junction with the M60 motorway, right out in the open, with a great
big car park. He helped me out of his cab there and said, "The message Mr.
Acheson gave me to give you, when he paid me, was that you have to go to
Murchison's the jewellers. It's at the other end of the shopping mall." I
started to protest, "But, b . . ." but before I'd got the next word out of
my mouth, he had driven off down the ramp back to the motorway.

It must be at least half a mile from there to the other end of the shopping
complex. For the first part of the walk, It's very steep and there's no
separate path. It's not very nice in high-heeled shoes, especially when you
can't save yourself if you trip. I was very careful as I went down that
road and so I couldn't go quickly.

Cars and vans passed me all the time. Some of the drivers whistled or blew
their horns and made rude comments as they went past. No-one reached over
and pulled me in, though, as I was afraid might happen. It was even worse
when I got down to Mersey Square. The place was heaving.

It was the sunshine, I suppose. Mothers were out with their babies and
little children:

- "Mummy, why has that lady wearing those?"

- and older boys who ought to be at school - " Hey, get a load of that,
 Joe!"

- and older ladies -- "Disgusting, ought to be arrested!".

I was getting real fed up with it.

Then I saw Murchison's. It was a big window, full of trays of jewellery. I
went in. There was a young woman behind a counter.

I said "Good afternoon, Is Mr. Murchison available?"

"No, he is with a client." she said, a bit abruptly.

I said, "I'd better wait then"

She indicated a chair. "Sit there!" she said.

I don't think she liked how I looked very much. Mr.Murchison came out of a
back office with a stout lady.  I heard him tell her, "I'll have it ready
for you by Tuesday."

She left and he turned to me, "Ah!" he said, "you've arrived then. Over
here!"
There was a pipe going through the floor and up to the ceiling. He took a
thing like a double hook and clipped it to my collar, then to a bit of
chain hanging by the pipe.

He told the girl, "This is our new display device, Stella. Clip a few of
our
best items on her, anywhere you think will show them up the best.

I said, "Hey, I didn't know I was going to be a dummy."

"Perhaps not, but that's what you are, this afternoon. No more talk. Get on
with it, Stella!"

He turned away and went back in his office. The girl fixed bits of
jewellery, bracelets, brooches, earrings and so on, on me. I had to stand
very still so she didn't prick me with the brooch pins and I had to keep
straight, so's the collar wouldn't choke me.

Murchison had closed his door and the girl said, quietly to me, "My name is
Stella. Yours is a funny job. Have you been doing it long?"

"It seems like ages", I said," but actually it's not really a job.  My
husband has made me do this, just for today, after we had an argument.  It
was pretty nasty, walking through all those people dressed like this and
with these cuffs and things on me."

"It doesn't look very nice," she said," What does it feel like, being
handcuffed?"

"I can't really say, It doesn't hurt, of course, but it's kind of strange,
I
can't explain. You know it's no good fighting the chains and cuffs, but you
want to. You are in someone else's power and you have to do what someone
else wants. You're not responsible for what happens, it's someone else
controlling you. No, I can't explain, you have to try it yourself to know."

She asked me, "What's that key for?"

I told her it was for the handcuffs.

She said, "If it's for the cuffs, can I take them off you and try them?"

I said, "O.K., but don't let anyone know. My husband would be awfully mad
at me."

She said, "I wouldn't." and took the key off the collar. She unlocked the
cuffs and said," Where is the one for the ones on your thumbs? "

"I haven't got it." I said.

She asked me. "Should I fasten them in front or behind?"

I said, "Behind. You won't feel much if they're in front. When they are
behind you, you can't do anything at all, except wait till they are
unfastened."

She cuffed herself behind with them and then, after a few moments, said,
"Ooh, Suppose a customer came in! Or Mr. Acheson!"

At that moment, Acheson came out of his office. Stella dropped the key in a
panic.

"What's this?", he said.

 We tried to explain.

"No. I don't want to hear you." he said." Playing around in my time is
simply not on. Give me the key!"

"I dropped it" said Stella.

"Well, pick it up again, and give it to me, then! " he ordered.

"And you . . . I wonder what Mr Acheson will say when I tell him you've had
the cuffs off today."

"You wouldn't . . .. would you?", I stuttered.

"Well, it depends. let me think . . . Ah, yes! I know: unless you agree to
work for me for the rest of the week, dressed like that or in a more
revealing outfit, I will. I'll see him tonight and I'll tell him what you
have been up to."

"That's blackmail!" I cried.

"I know," he said and he grinned horribly.

"But George will know, if I'm not at home when he arrives." I protested.

"Too bad!" he said. But if you don't want George to know, I will let you
leave at four o'clock each night."

"All right." I had to agree.

"Now, Stella, " he said, "Go to the Private Shop along the block. I'll
order some stuff by phone and you can bring it back here."

She said, "What about these handcuffs?" He replied, "Well, you wanted to
wear them, you can go to the shop wearing them. Go . . . ! Now!"

He held the door open. She went out, blushing.

Murchison went into his office, leaving the door open. I could hear the
telephone, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Stella came back, all
red-faced,holding a bag behind her. It clinked as she carried it. Murchison
bent down behind the counter where she had been standing, doing something
which looked as if it was taking some effort. He reached into the bag and
brought out a metal collar, which he attached to a long chain.

"This will keep you to your work!" he said and told Stella to go at once to
the toilet. "You won't be able to for the next two hours, so you'd better
go now." he said. When she returned, he fastened the collar round her neck and
unlocked my handcuffs from her.

"There," he said,"That will keep your mind on your work, won't it?"

"I SAID, WON'T IT? he bellowed.

Stella just nodded.

He put the cuffs back on me, turning them so that the backs of my hands
were together. It was uncomfortable, because the thumb-cuffs strained them in
the other direction.

I complained and he went back in his office, bringing a piece of curved
metal with him.

"Open wide!" he ordered me.

I refused and he said, "All right, George gets to know everything tonight."

I opened up. He slipped the thing between my teeth and when he let go, it
sprang open, forcing my mouth wide open and making speech impossible,
although I could still shout and scream, if I needed to. I thought I'd
better not. Murchison could still tell George, whatever I did.

That was an awful device. I dribbled and drooled all down that jumper. It
soon started to look and feel terrible. Murchison stopped that by filling
my mouth with a rag and covering it with a leather strap, so I couldn't spit
it out. Then he rubbed my front with a big towel to dry it off. I didn't enjoy
an oldish fellow rubbing over me like that, If it had been George, now - or
one of the young men peering into the window . . . He was enjoying it,
though. He carried on long after there was no need and I was quite dry!

At four o'clock, he released me from the pipe and took all the stuff out of
my mouth and said, You are to go now, to the 'Feathers', the pub on the A6,
about half a mile up the hill."

That was another embarrassing walk, through lots of people, but this time
including teenagers out from school. They were pretty rude with their
remarks! I didn't enjoy that walk one bit! It was awful!

Twice, I had my behind patted by a cheeky kid and once I was pinched, by an
Italian-looking lout.

I got to the 'Feathers' eventually and was more than delighted to see
George standing in the lobby, instead of meeting a stranger with another note. He
gave me a kiss and took me inside.

He said, "I see Murchison has been looking after you." when he saw the way
my hands were fastened.

He told me, " I tell you what; I really like the way you look. We'll have
to go out together sometimes with you in this outfit. But come on and get
changed. I've booked a room upstairs."

He took me through the pub. through a crowd of interested drinkers. Someone
shouted as I climbed the stairs (I'm sure George went in front of me on
purpose),"Hey, mate, after you, O.K.?"

I was furious! I stamped and almost fainted, I was so mad. I said to him
rather loudly, "George! Fancy bringing me through that lot. You . .!" He
put his hand over my mouth. I was shaking with rage. George afterwards called
it 'in a temper'.

He held me without saying anything, until I subsided. He put his hand in
his pocket and showed me a leather strap with a tongue-piece fastened inside
it.
I recognised it as a gag and cooled down. I nodded my head and he put it
away and let me stand on my own. George had the upper hand and he could
keep me there and do anything he liked to me, for as long as he wanted.

He said, ignoring my outburst, "I've got something here for you to change
into, Stand still while I undo you."

The room we were in was scruffy and dusty. He showed me a dress-box on an
old wooden chair. He undid the handcuffs and all the other things.

I said, "I can't undress in here. It's filthy!"

He replied," You don't have to. The room I hired is here." and he opened a
door. The room he showed me, in contrast to the lobby where we were, was
perfect! There was a bed, a couple of chairs and an en-suite toilet.
Everything was beautifully clean.

He told me, "Now, get yourself cleaned up. I'll meet you in an hour. Your
punishment is over. - for tonight. ." He paused ". . so I'll meet you in
the bar. You can go down the back stairs if you like - through that other
door." and he pointed. He left, locking the door we'd come through.

I ached all over. My shoulders, my calves, the ends of my toes, my wrists
and thumbs, they were all either hurting or aching. The sight of a bath in
the toilet was pure heaven! The water was hot, there was perfumed bath oil
there, fine soap and the matching towels were clean, soft and dry. After a
little soaking, most of the soreness had faded away and I was able to look
at what was in the box.

It was a complete outfit, including an evening dress in green velvet with
entirely suitable underwear and stockings. He'd even thought to bring my
make-up bag and my watch. When I saw the time, I knew I'd have to hurry. If
there's one thing that gets George mad, it's having to wait for me. I
dressed, luxuriating in the feeling of physical freedom and taking pleasure
in the fine fabrics. Looking in the mirror, I was pleased to see that there
were no marks on me where things had pressed or controlled, apart from red
rings on each of my thumbs.

I got down to the bar before George started to get impatient. He took me
for a magnificent meal in a very good restaurant, then after a few drinks, we
went to a club where there was dancing and a cabaret. George is a great
dancer!

As we were returning to our table, to my horror, I saw Murchison coming
towards us. He greeted George like an old friend. I didn't know he knew him
at all.

He said to me, "All right for tomorrow?" My hand went to my mouth.

Both he and George laughed.

"Why, you're surely not going to hold me to that promise you forced out of
me?" I said.

He replied, "I certainly am. Listen to this, George!"

He held up a miniature tape recorder.

I heard his voice - 'I'll tell him what you've been up to' - and mine -
'but George will know' - then him, 'he needn't know. . come here until four
o'clock - and me, 'All right.'

George smiled.

"You've doctored that tape!" I cried.

"I wouldn't do a thing like that, would I, George?"

"No, I'm sure you wouldn't. So, I'm to lose the services of my wife for
another day, am I?" he said, smiling again.

"Surely not, George, he has altered what I said!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you promised, so you ought to stand by it," he replied, I can't have
my wife breaking her word. It would be bad for my reputation. I hope what
she actually promised was perfectly respectable, Norman?"

"Rely on me, George," he replied.

I started to protest, but George stopped me. " Well, actually I arranged
everything after consulting Norman. He's not really expecting you to go
there tomorrow. I knew all about the tape recording this afternoon. Now,
let's enjoy the rest of the evening."

Well, we did, until quite late and too well!

I woke with a raging headache. Not only that, but I was wearing handcuffs
again, at the front, and George was threatening to throw me out of bed
unless I got up at once and make his breakfast. He wouldn't let me put any
clothes on, so my front had lots of tiny red spots on it again where the
bacon fat spurted. And Oh! the noise of the bacon frying and George banging
about happily! He must have a head like oak!

It was worse when he patted me on the back and said," Come On! Stand here
until I've finished. I'll get you ready after you've eaten."

I had to stand, watching him eat his breakfast, with the cuffs fastened
behind me. Then he fed me with bread cubes and scrambled eggs. He knows I
don't really like eggs at breakfast-time and especially not when they're
scrambled. My day didn't improve much as time went on.

Before he left for work, he told me, "I don't want you to go out today.
Your shoes are in the garage. The key to those handcuffs is hidden somewhere in
the kitchen for you to find. Give me a ring when you've found it. Now, I
must be off. Goodbye, love, till tonight!"  He kissed me and left. I saw he
was smiling to himself as he went out. I could hardly stand at the door to
wave to him, as I did normally, but then, normally I would not be standing,
totally nude with my hands locked behind my back!

I went upstairs, intending to struggle into a skirt, but our bedroom door
was locked. So was the guest room, but the box room was open and on the bed
there, was just the tiny G-string I'd worn the day before. Our house isn't
cold, so I wouldn't suffer being frozen, but George was making very sure
I'd be in when he came home tonight!

Getting that tiny garment on was  going to be awfully hard with my hands
locked behind me, so I lay on the bed and after a lot of struggling,
managed to get my bare feet through my arms and my hands, still locked together, to the front. Now, I could reach the door handle to the garage and get my
shoes. As I half expected, the shoes were the high-heeled ones I'd worn at
Murchison's, not a pair of comfortable flat ones. I never found the
handcuff key. I had to spend the whole day nearly nude and locked in the handcuffs.

George showed me where the key was when he came home. It was tucked into
the top of the curtain in the kitchen. I wouldn't have been able to reach it,
even if I'd have found it. He  took the handcuffs off before we had dinner,
but kept me undressed all evening and just before bed-time, he put them on
again and made me sit down and told me, "That is the end of your
punishment.
I hope you will remember the rules in future. Now, let's get more
comfortable." and he sat me on his knee.

"You looked marvellous coming down the ramp from the B&Q car park." he
said.

"Why, how do you know?" I asked him.

"Well you don't think I'd leave you by yourself, handcuffed and dressed
like that, do you? I was watching you from the moment you left the house, till I
met you in the 'Feathers'".

"You fiend!" I screamed at him. It was as well that he had put the
handcuffs on again, or I don't know what I might have done. As it was, all I could do was give him a kiss, and the night improved as time went on.

It was a cup of tea the next morning, instead of handcuffs and an order to
make breakfast. I think I'll remember the rules in future, especially as
there is a pair of handcuffs locked round the oven door handle, to remind
me of the last couple of days!

As for the shoes that got me in so much trouble, well, when I tried them on
last week, they didn't fit and I gave them to Oxfam!
--