1. The Jail Bunny Ch. 01


    Date: 8/8/2024, Categories: Fetish, Author: byHandcuffedAngie 

    ... Jeff," I said.

"You could quit," he said. "And look, that's not me saying a woman shouldn't work. I'm just putting the option out there. I'd be happy to take care of you."

I blushed again. He was offering to take care of me financially so I could quit my job and live out a titillating fantasy for myself.

"Look, I know this might come across as a bit creepy, even," he said. "Me asking to lock you up. And if it's something you're not comfortable with..."

"No, Jeff, I'm completely comfortable with it. I...I trust you, completely. I just...it's all so surprising is all."

"Do you want some time to think about it?"

I thought for a moment. Jeff and I had been inseparable since we started dating nine months ago and he'd been very open about seeing a long-term future with me. We had so much in common, both in life and in the bedroom and he seemed determined to make me happy in both places. I didn't want to take advantage of his money or what he was willing to do for me, but he never seemed to think for a second that that is something I had in mind.

"No," I said. "I...I'd love it. Thank you. Can you...can you let me have two weeks so I can put in notice at work?"

"I don't think prisoners get to set their schedule like that," he said with a grin.

I laughed, knowing he was joking.

"Two weeks, then," he said. "It will allow me some time to prepare the place and get a couple of other things ready for you."

***

Fifteen days later, on a Monday morning, ...
    ... making the experience as real as possible for me, Jeff handcuffed me behind my back and put me in the backseat of his car and once again drove me out to the village where my new home was waiting. I sat in the back of the car, my heart racing, smiling to myself, a warm tingling feeling between my legs. I was dressed in jeans, a dark t-shirt, my blonde hair falling to my shoulders. To help play into my fantasy, Jeff had even dressed up in a police officer costume. But the handcuffs were far from costume props: they were police grade steel handcuffs, double-locked and tight around my wrists.

We'd agreed, tentatively, that we would start my "sentence" at six months. I would spend that time locked up at the jail. If at any time I grew weary of it, I had a safe-word I could use to tell him I wanted to get released, but, absent that word, any protest I gave would be considered part of a long-term roleplay between us.

Jeff pulled the car into the parking lot and stopped the engine. He got out of the car and opened my door for me and took me by the arm and helped me out. He walked me up to the entrance and unlocked the front door and led me inside. He took me to an area we hadn't explored when we first same here two weeks before: an booking area.

"Alright, Kellie," he said in as serious a voice as he could muster. "I'm going to remove these cuffs. I want you to place your hands flat on the wall over your head. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, trying hard not to giggle, to ...
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