Chaining Jewel

Tricked by a man she thought a friend into stepping into his basement dungeon, Jewel was left alone on bread and water until she agreed to remove and hand over her clothes. Eventually she did. And then the chains came out:

He carried something in one hand. Something that shone.

“Remember taking your measurements, Sweetheart?”

I recalled my curiosity as to why he wanted them. Now I knew. Vivian was dangling for my inspection a set of silver fetters. It was easy to guess they had been fashioned just for me. They looked expensively beautiful, but implacably final. Instinctively, I put my hands behind my back.

“Perfect, poppet. Now back up against the bars.”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you put those things on me, do you!”

“Made just for you, Pet. You’ll adore them.”

“I won’t! They’re horrid. Take them away!”

Vivian sighed and turned to leave.

“No. Stop! Don’t go, darling. I’m sorry!” In this fresh distress I’d forgotten about being naked. All I wanted was not to be left alone.

“Come along then. Back up.” His voice was very gentle.

“But, Viv’. What d’you want to chain me for?”

“Never mind. You’ll find out. Over here, Jewel.”

“I don’t want to be chained!”

Another gorgeous sigh. “What you want no longer matters, darling. Takes a bit of getting used to, but you’ll come round.”

From Jewel (HIT 120) by F. E. Campbell (1978).

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