I know that handcuffs is one of the first items that people in general think of when BDSM is mentioned. Why? I’m not sure. I can only relate to my own personal experience with handcuffs. Which is not positive. Looking back it was so long ago, it seems almost difficult to remember. It is not as painful to remember anymore.
My father a very macho authoritative man, who I compared to the movie characters of “Police Inspector Harry Callahan” and “Paul Kersey” and “Oscar Madison.” I don’t know why these characters remind me of my father, but they do. Perhaps the sarcastic sense of humor, the rebellion, just the way the men are assholes in their own way.
When my father first joined the department he’s ego was something else. He would strut around in that uniform. The smell of leather filled my nostrils. A part of me felt a form of comfort, another part felt a sense of fear. I loved to hear the leather crackle when he moved. Then there were the handcuffs. They were bright & shiny, held in their own leather pouch. I heard the sound of the snap of the pouch. I knew that they were either going in or coming out.
There was a time when I was so out of control when I was little. My father being a single parent, living at home with his parents trying to be independent would lose his patience with me. Looking back, I don’t blame him. Not for his actions, he didn’t know any better. We were a loving dysfunctional completely fucked up family. The good intentions were there.
At times, he would get so upset with me. Because of pushing and pushing the limits of every thing and every one. I would hear the snap of the handcuff pouch and he would grab my wrist. Clamp. Then he would clamp the other end to the doorknob of closet door. He would yell at me for being out of control. It only took me two times to know that I didn’t like the feeling of handcuffs on my wrist.
Afterwards he would explain to me about relaxing the body so that it wouldn’t feel so tight against my skin. Not to struggle. He also taught me how to get my arms in front of me when handcuffed with my arms behind me. I’m not that flexible anymore. He would give me the cuffs to play with (for a while). They felt heavy in my hands, cold metal feeling. The sound they made when I would closed the circle and push it back through, that grinding type of sound. Now I have a small collection of handcuffs. Earrings. Thumb cuffs. Play handcuffs. Handcuff belt. I need a necklace and bracelet. Hint, hint.
Handcuffs have never been part of my sex life. I can’t even remember if any man ever even suggested using them. If they did, I’m sure my answer was no. I have no desire to use them. However, I’m sure that if my sadistic/dominant side was allowed to be released (without consequences). I could easily use them – on YOU.
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