Justine

totally exposed herself.

She continued:" He began to spank me, slowly at first, then harder and harder. My butt throbbed and smarted. This went on for what seemed a long time; I would have been screaming, but the gag limited

me to a few pitiful bleats. Finally he whipped me, really whipped me--four strokes with a thin bamboo cane. I can't describe the pain! I still have the marks, the welts----and I'm not going to show them to you----but they are still there. "

She paused one last time, breathing deeply almost as if she was reliving her punishment. "Im almost finished. He freed my ankles and let me stand upright. My rump was burning, throbbing with pain. But somehow he knew that I had other unfinished business with myself. He tied a rope cinch around my middle. Coarse scratchy hemp, Amy. Maybe your uncle and this guy watch the same on line torture channels, I don't know. He pulled the rope; beween my thighs, of course, tied it in back to my wrist ropes, pulling it taut, I felt like I was being sawed in half; you know where!" Amy gave a little gasp. "And made me lie down on the floor--cold bare boards---- tied my thighs and ankles, then, and hog tied my flexed ankles and wrists together There I was, a miserable package of pain and total submission."

You could have heard a pin drop. Every class member had a vivid

mental picture of their proud Justine,--Ms. Jeusse-- naked, delectable, utterly helpless, hog tied, squirming on that cold floor.

*

"Finally he directs me towards a full length mirror on one wall. He suggest that I crawl, or wiggle over to it. 'Take a good long look at yourself, professor!, your cruelly bound voluptuous body, your rosy welted, whipped ass!' He says. 'Not quite your normal campus demeanor, I suspect. You have about fifteen minutes; you might inch towards that mirror and reflect----no pun intended----on what this has meant to you. Let's leave the gag in place. Perhaps we'll meet again.

"And I spent the next twenty minutes crawling to the mirror and looking at myself. And--and this is the hardest part to say: I was really turned on! The freedom of that helplesssness, just as you said, Vicki, and----and a little vicious voice in my head cackled:'you deserve this, you slut! This degradation, this pain."

*

"And I answered myself :'Maybe you're right' What was that all about? what? And my head has been messed up ever since, like I don't know why I wore this dress, this sexy underwear today. or if I want to see that guy again , Or----I'm so confused!' i didn't mean for this to happen. but my bondage trip has-is -been very heavy. Watch out for this stuff, class. it's very powerful. I-- I kind of need to do it again Her voice broke for a second., her eyes were bright with tears, She swallowed, tried a shaky little smile and finished.

"So that's my story, my bondage adventure or nightmare, probaby both. I bit off way more than I could chew. And I'm still chewing. My professional conclusion: this bondage stuff is really poweful, really dangerous! Maybe this experiment was a mistake--for all of us. But maybe, just maybe, we all learned something. That's what education is for!" Another brave smile.

The students were absolutely still for a full minute. Then Vicki started to clap; they all joined; applause, cheers, whistles. Justine teared

up again, then tried to regain her classroom composure.

"Thank you. Thank you more than I can say. Any questions, class? Oh, before I forget, this is what a ball gag looks like; I'll pass it around" . She rummaged in her briefcase, brought out the gag and handed it to the class. Vicki shrank back, Martin examined, almost fondled it before he passed it to Zach.

Finally, Amy spoke, carefully, in her soft voice. "It seems to me, " she said. "that Ms. Jousse is the bravest, the most open teacher that anyone of us will ever have." There were unanimous murmers of assent.

"I also think" she continued," that this whole bondage thing is just the top layer of our struggle to find ourselves, you know, powerful or powerless; like, controller or victim. Vicki and Martin and Ms. Jousse, and me, too, I guess-our sharing our conflicting moods and feelings----that was so great, I can't begin to thank you enough".

Jamal spoke up. He had been quiet during this love fest. "Teacher, that was beyond awesome. I truly salute you! One thing, though, I got cut short yesterday by you, Zach----but that don't mean I don't have feelings about these issues. The stuff my uncle has, that I mentioned yesterday? I brought it along today. If our teacher can pass around a ball gag, I guess I get to show some of these old time slave irons." He glared around the room, expecially at Zach, as if expecting some sort of rejection.

Justine, her long confession over, basking in the good vibes from the class and a sense of relief, very mellow and perhaps off her guard, said: "Of course, Jamal! Show us what you've got."

From his back pack he brought out a set of ancient, heavy, rusty iron manacles. He held them up before the class. "See, these handcuffs used on slaves only; too tough and brutal for the white man. Anybody want to try them on?' Justine, perversely fascinated, swallowed, strightened her back and stepped forward, reaching for the cuffs.

"These are a real artifact, Jamal; probably worth a lot." she said.

"Your uncle, does he know the history of these--actually, they are manacles---- handcuffs?" She weighed the heavy cuffs in her hands.

"I don't know. And he don't know----been in the family a long time----they gotta be, oh, about a hundred and fifty years old."

Justine was fascinated with the crude rusty heirlooms, Watch out! her inner voice warned; the voice she never listened to in time. He wrists still smarted from her long cuffed ordeal just last night..Still..."This cuff is--tiny, isn't it?" she said, gazing up at Jamal, now standing quite close to her.

"Probably for a woman, or even a child. I bet it would fit you."

"Well. Jamal----let's see!" She slipped the hinged cuff around her left wrist; then, bemused, strangely excited again, joined the twln circlets; the tongue of the one half, a toothed ratchet, moved a notch at a time into the other, creaking like the ancient device it was, into the other half circle. It ground and rasped into place with a final 'Clank'.

Justine inspected the rusty old manacle, now firmly aroud her wrist. Heavy; crude, somehow---- menacing, but strangely exciting. Jamal interrupted her reverie as he swiftly seized her wrist, cuff dangling, twisted her arm behind her back, and with his other hand, grobbed her free wrist. In seconds he had closed the other cuff. 'Clank!' again, an ominous, final sound . She was caught off guard; wrists linked tightly, crossed in the small of her back.

*

"Hey! Jamal! What are you?...' She staggered, twisted.

In one fluid motion, Jamal had made her a captive. "Oh shit! I've done it again!" she told herself. These were not modern handcuffs; the manacles were connected with a hinge; when both cuffs were closed, as they were now, there was almost no play, no motion between the two cuffs; they worked as a unit, a very unforgiving and punishing one, as Justine was learning .

Justine's arms were pinioned behind her, elbows back. Her breasts thrust forward, straining against her short black dress.. This had all happened so fast that the other students were just starting to react.

"Heavy move, my man!" This was Zach, of course. The two girls were uneasy. Justine, their teacher and role model, was sudddenly in bondage again, brought low by Jamal. It was just a harmless demonstration, but still...Martin was fascinated; he got up and stood close behind her, fingering the cuffs while Justine struggled; her fingers writhing ineffectualy, her wrists almost unable to move.The old rusty cuffs grated against her wrists as she struggled. These cuffs were so heavy, so tight--much more punishnig fetters than she had worn last night, But now Martin was there, fondling her cuffs and her bent back elbows and upper arms' The cuffs were so tight! She cringed. He'd made his point , but just turn me loose!' she thought, But the class was grinning, they thought it was Jamahl's stunt. Best to be a good sport.

"Hey, Jamal, my weird girl friend would dig these. Got any more?." said Martin, now standing behind Justine, really against her, nudging her silk clad butt as he pretended to study the cuffs.

Jamal flashed his smile. "No more handcuffs, but I got more slave stuff here." He rummaged in his back pack, knelt in front of Justine., grinned up at her, her short hemline and half exposed thighs. "Lets do the whole nine yards, OK? Let's pretend you're a slave on the way to market, Ms. Jousse. OK? use your imagination! These are ankle shackles, keep the brothers and sisters from running away. 0K?" She was too stunnned to protest; what was happening here? "You go, bro! Zach crowed;"Slave tiime!"

Jamahl beamed his big smile up at Justine. She didn't respond at first; as he shackled her; the heavy iron handcuffs were already too restricting and painful--and scary.. Her inner demons were whispering to her:' Bound again! You idiot!" Well, hand cuffed. But---- so soon! Jamal's just doing his thing, it will be over in a moment, I'll try to be a good sport.' she thought. He clamped shut the heavy ankle chains. Ouch!~ She managed a wan smile.

"Sure, Jamal. I'll try to get into the spirit of your little demonstration. I'm a slave, right? Heading for market, prime property!"

She swayed her hips, traipsing in front of the class,wriggling

sensuously. swaying in the ankle shackles; all three male students

stirred, grinning." This was no time to be a tease., she realized--too late.

"That ain't all, slave lady! ----and you're a fine lookin' slave lady! Martin, Zach, would you bid on her? " Jamal dangled the shackles before her eyes, mockingly. The two ankle cuffs, equally rusty, equally heavy, were linked with about six inches of heavy chain. She could move, but only with tiny mincing steps, she found. This was getting out of hand. She teetered in her high heels and chains. She gulped:

"Jamal; you've made your point, I think. Our treatment of slaves was a form of bondage. Severe bondage, which I'm experiencing right now. Now, take off these cuffs; these ankle things, too; they're really uncomfortable!" Zach and Martin were still grinning, enjoying the show.

A bad feeling tickled Justine's mind; she was losing control of the class; they were all enjoying the slave lady bit way too much, even Vicki and Amy were grinning as Jamahl steered his slave around the room, gently slapping her silk clad ass. Justine stumbled with tiny steps, teetering precariously on her high heels; the hobbles forced her into an enticing, hip swaying stumbling prance; the manacles----elbows way

back----forced her her chest out, emphasizing, her jiggling breasts.Justine was pitiable in her heavy irons, but at the same time sexy, provocative in her delicious sudden helpless state.

Jamal smiled at her; was his grin now sinister, triumphant, a bit crazy? She hoped not. He reached into his back pack for the last time. "Classmates, students, this is the full matched set!" A little jewelry for our beautiful slave lady!" He held in his hands a metal collar about two inches wide, from which a six foot length of light chain dangled . Like the other manacles, this circlet of iron closed with a simple ratchet lock. Justine resisted this time as he clamped the iron collar around her neck,

grinning broadly at the class, playing the fool. The collar was wide and tight enough to force her chin up.

"Jamal; l ----! that's enough! I repeat: You've made your point. Unlock me, please."

"Right you are, teach! But just let me demonstrate how my folks got treated, for lots longer than a few minutes. You'll be my slave lady for a few more seconds, won't you?"---- that big smile---- " Wham! Magic time! Black is white and white is black! And we be goin' to market, luscious white slave, where they goin' to strip you naked so them fat black bucks can finger your ripe white bootie!."

He held the neck chain and gently tugged. "Get along, honkie, Hustle your gorgeous white ass! " As he pulled Justine she tried to follow, shuffling in the tight ankle shackles, stumbling, almost falling, feeling the insistent tug at her neck. This was no joke anymore; the class grew tense.

"C'mon, Jamal! Enough's enough'! Enough of this racist shit! Unchain her!' Quit fooling around!" they all cried out. Jamal, caught up in his own rhetoric for a second, paused, relaxed. He smiled widely to the class, then at Justine, who stood flustered in her chains.

"Sorry, folks, got a little carrried away. I'll unlock those cuffs right now; I apologize if I played the fool a little too much, and chained you up in that old rusty iron and all, Ms. Jousse, but you be a bodacious slave!

Lone key fits all them locks!." He rummaged in his back pack, casually at

first, then with a little more urgency. He searched the zipped side pockets, then stood and went through his own pockets; pants and jacket.

When he finally stood up, Jamal's grin was gone, "Damn! Damn! I---- ain't got the key! Sorry, Ms. Jousse. I must have lost it!" His consternation seemed genuine, but Justine was getting that bad 'oh oh!' feeling again. She swayed, tottered a bit in the heavy iron shackles. She thought: this can't be happening! Not after last night! and then: the key! It's always the goddamn key!

Jamal said guiltily: "I'm going to retrace my steps, every where I been today. If I need to, maybe my uncle has another key, but he lives way down in Fremont, he don't even have a phone."

"Good going, Jamal, you really fucked up this time!" said Zach."We'll figure some way to get her loose while you're gone!" Jamal mumbled an

apology to Justine once more, eyes down, and slunk out. The students

were crowded around Justine now, quickly learning that there was no short cut to release her from the collar, the anklets and the punishing handcuffs.

*

"These old mothers are solid, man!" Zach muttered as he knelt

down tugging at the ankle shackles, sneaking a few peeks upward at her dark gartered hose, her lush thighs. Martin suggested some sort of lock pick; they tried ball point pens,which snapped off in the ancient keyholes. They tried a bent wire coat hanger, no luck. Zach went down to a nearby hardware store, explained the problem to the Iranian clerk and returned in a few minutes with several skeleton keys, an Allen wrench and a thin rattail file; the rusty antique locks refused to budge.

Twenty five minutes later, Vicki announced:" I'm calling the police, they know about handcuffs." She used her cell phone. After her conversation she faced Justine sheepishly. "They said, it didn't sound like an emergency, just some college kids fooling around. They'll come check it out, but it might take--I'm sorry----five or six hours."

Justine lost it. "Five or six hours?" She screeched. "I'm going to be

locked in this fucking rusty iron for five or six fucking hours?" The students retreated a bit; this was not the warm, vulnerable mentor of a few minutes ago! Well, maybe still vulnerable. Very vulnerable, it was turning out. And very angry and a little bit afraid. She was starting to trip out again, into her weird scary but thrilling bondage mode. But the anger

was new, directed at her own foolishness, but mainly at Jamal. She

wondered if there really was a key, if he had been setting her up all along. Suddenly, she was afraid, desperate. She struggled once more in her handcuffs and shackles, futily, she knew.

The students were trying to help, but struck out; the hardware hadn't helped, the keyhole was corroded and narrowed by years of rust,

and the cops were on the way. And they had other classes; life goes on. One by one they skulked out of the classroom, murmering sheepish'

'Gotta leave----good luck'--type goodbyes. On the third floor of the Wheeler building at the end of the hall there was little chance of any visitors.

Martin had tried the hardest with the lock picking attempts, and was the most apologetic as he left. She smiled weakly at him and thanked him for his efforts. She was angry at Jamal and the tardy cops;

but her mounting rage didn't improve her plight: the wide, rough edged collar now abrading her neck, the ankle shackles and especially the iron cuffs that chafed and restricted her so. As she continued her useless

struggles, her wrists were as implacably imprisoned behind her back as

they had been two, now three hours ago since Jamal had locked them in place.

Amy had stayed with her the longest. They had shared their bondage journeys, strangely alike in so many details----the hemp rope between their legs!-- But, especially, the weird sense of surrender, even as the pain and humiliation was continuing.

"Was this a woman thing?" Justine asked Amy." Vicki wanted to be the victim. Am I? are you? Are we really saying that this proud feminist manifesto is really a lot of bullshit? Do we want to be enslaved? As I am now." Justine stirred ruefully, angrily in her iron restraints. Neither she nor Amy had pat answers to her questions.

Amy's cell phone rang. Her eyes widened as she listened."Hai. Hai", she said, and turned to Justine. "My father.They've taken him to the hospital, maybe a heart attack. I've got to go. I"m sure the police will be here soon; you'll be fine." She hugged Justine briefly, but intensely; Justine said softly, "Your uncle. Do you have his number? Maybe, probably not, but, just maybe---- I might want to---- talk to him. To help me understand all this; what happened to us both.."

Amy's eyes narrowed; she nodded, gravely: "I think he is a bad man, not for you. Bad idea, Ms. Jousse; forget it. I have to go now. good luck" Then she was gone.

FIVE

NIGHTMARE

Justine was alone; another two hours had passed; she couldn't see her wrist watch, but the sun was starting to set over the bay. She had to pee again. The first time, she had shuffled over to the wastebasket, squatted on the rim, and urinated, unable to pull down her panties, of course. The infinite, tiny humilations of shackled helplessness.

Her practical, sometimes scolding voice was fully in charge now:' 'How could you let him handcuff you like that! He' s not coming back, you know it. He lost the key, that's all. or maybe he never had it in the first place! That winning smile, that confusion when he couldn't find the key, play acting?" Justine didn't want to hear these suspicions, but as time passed, and her manacles become even more uncomfotable, (she thought her wrists were bleeding now, from the rough edged cuffs.) her mood grew darker and darker. There was no way to escape her lousy predicament, but she tried to fantasize: maybe a gorgeous captive in a prince's dungeon, still in these fucking chains, of course. She closed her eyes and tried to fantasize; it didn't work too well. The cruel chains in her worst imagination were no more painful than her real punishing shackles.

*

Time passed so slowly! Then she heard footsteps down the hall in

the almost empty building, Finally! the police!. The door opened. A black

man entered. A very large black man, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and baggy droopy pants over his expensive sneakers. He looks like a very sullen, very evil Shaquille ONeal, she thought. Undercover, he's got to be an undercover cop, but why not a uniformed officer?

He surveyed her predicament and smiled lazily. "Whoo-hoo! What has we got here? A white bitch in slave irons? Jamal mentioned you and

your little problem, and where you was after I whopped him a few times,

let's say. I'm not his uncle, but a friend of a friend of his uncle."

As he approached her, Justine screamed, as loud she could; there was nothing else to do. But after her first piercing scream, he was on top of her, his big hand over her mouth. "No more fucking noise, bitch." He took a dirty handkerchief out of his pocket and laughed out loud, showing two missing teeth and one gold one.' ID details after he rapes me?' --just another distracted thought. He crooked his thick forefubger and lazily tore open her black short dress, Her breasts flopped free as she strained,uselessly against the restraining cuffs.. She thrashed her head around and fought as he tried to gag her. The easiest way was the best; he pinched her nostrils together, and when she finally had to breathe, pushed the cloth into her gasping mouth behind her teeth and secured it, grinning. Then he spotted the ball gag.