(No "action" in this one, FYI)
"Muscle tone. Oh yeah. Gotta pack in the carbs, too many pounds gonna go away. Lean and mean... "
I don't know that voice.
This isn't my room, either. What the hell -
"Wha? Hey! He's up. Alright! "
I'm seein'... gloves. White gloves. I don't -
Wait. How are they doin' that? These aren't... bein' worn by anybody. Gloves, flyin' around in the air. Sure.
"Let's go, pardner. Let's do it. "
Just hangin' around. Shiny, smooth - what? Why am I wearing 'em? How are those other ones -
More of 'em. How many... "Wha- what are -"
"Naaaw no no. Shuddup. Listen now. Save your breath. Gonna need it. Hee hee. "
"Wha - who th-"
Whoa! A glove zooming into my face, like it's gonna bash me.
No way. I start sitting up, swinging toward the edge of the table... or whatever it is. "I'm outa here."
A big laugh. "In your dreams."
I don't like the sound of that. Almost upright, got my leg hangin' over the side -
And more gloves show up from underneath, carrying -
Big ol' straps.
"Here in the real world..."
I jump off the table. There's pressure around my legs, and arms, and I try to shake it off. Other hands drift up with rolls of... gauze, or something.
"Got some cuffs here, with yer name on 'em." They start unwinding the padding. There's nothing in these gloves, that's plain as anything, but they're strong and I can't shake the fuckin' things off me. Then the bottom of my t-shirt is pulled up over my face...
And held there, I guess. Trying to wrestle these things without seeing 'em, and they've already got iron grips on my arms - pulling 'em over my head, pouncing on my legs. Down, they're pinning -
"Wide open! Forearms too, alright. Hey, are you hiding more artwork... down below?" And with a cackle, the buttons on my jeans are being undone. I buck violently, and fingers grab hold of one shoe, then the other. The gauze-stuff is being wrapped around my right wrist...
"You like leather, huh? Boots, jacket. Real tough guy, struttin' around. Shady character. Slippery. Not so tough underneath, though. Are ya?"
They've wrapped my other wrist, and are tightening down something thicker. This is bad -
"You slippery fuckers get the leather, since you like it so much. Cowboys get a good sturdy rope, or rawhide. Nylon or canvas for the jocks. Your workin' dogs, construction rats, ironworkers and so on, they need cables, maybe chain. But it's definitely chrome for the real badasses, cuffs and leg-irons. Hobble 'em in riot chains, make 'em take a lot of short little steps across the holding cell. To the bed an-""Naaawwww!" I yell. They're wrapping my ankles, caught tight and I don't know where my boots went -
"Shaddup. To the bed, or a pad. Their bunk. Now there's where the action is. Lockdown... like a padded cell for one, just that tight. Lights out in the infirmary, huh?"
They're winning. I'm throwin' everything I got, and it isn't enough, they've got my legs and my arms caught...
"Just take it easy, ol' buddy. We want you to be real comfortable. No pain from the cuffs, hell no. You're gonna concentrate on the gloves. Satin. Stayin' slick, playin' and fuckin' with your feet, real experts, never gettin' tired. Keepin' you apeshit, wild, crazy with the urge to laugh hard, harder, fuck! For an hour. One solid hour, you won't believe how long. Until the next hour, right on into it. And the next... The cuffs holdin' ya right here and it's only midnight!
"All while they're strokin', there's another pair haulin' ass on your left side, and a pair on your right side... Each armpit, and each thigh, your neck, knees, tits. And of course, your belly. All ridin', watchin' your cuffs. Hour. After. Hour. Covered, howling -"
They pull my shirt down again. More than a dozen gloves overhead, ready to pounce.
No. "Noooooooo!"
"...That's you."
I rassle around, yelling without words.
"Therrrrrre ya go." A couple of the gloves drop closer, now less than a foot away. I can't bel-
In my mind, I had an idea of what it would be like to be tied up. It always involved a gorgeous, enthusiastic babe. But this... It's entirely different...
Easy as pie. Cuff me down without any hesitation at all, no uncertainty. Like a machine, all precise. Snug. Lots of practice? I can't fuckin' wiggle.
"Enough." I actually quit moving, and gulped, watching the gloves. "Listen real hard, now. The next word you say, it's gonna cost you... oh, eight more hours of gettin' worked over. Your second word'll bump it up to sixteen... with four more feisty hands added to the team, here.
"But you won't be able to help yourself. One minute, just sixty little seconds, and you'll be beggin' yer head off. Can't help it. And boom, two extra nights. With all these fingers on ya."
I bit off a wail.
"See? Hoo-ooooo. Couple more things, and then it's your time to howl. Like a wolf... and whoop. Matter of fact, it'll take about five minutes to getcha whoopin' like you've been dyin' to all yer life."
The fingers drop lower!
"Gotcha right where..." The voice trails off.
Where...? Where it wants me. Where they want me, I dunno, doesn't matter, just as bad either way - and I'm tryin' like crazy to slip out of one of these cuffs, with the gloves coming nearer and nearer.
"Not a fuckin' thing you can do about it. Poor slob. Almost feel sorry for you, it's gonna get so much worse than you know. Pitiful -"
They're down. Widening the contact, squeezing gently. Ready to go.
"Still... wouldn't skip this for the world."
07jul98