Games Boys Play Read Online Free PDF

social-media manager—to drop by unexpectedly, wanting to take a picture of a guitar or some shit for the band’s Instagram feed. At this point, he was no longer assuming someone with a key wouldn’t just let themselves in.
    He hadn’t planned for this, so he didn’t have a block of ice ready. That was fine; it didn’t need to last for hours. He stuffed a few ice cubes in the sock, hung the key ring over it, and tied the sock to the ceiling fan in his bedroom. The spare keys he left, as usual, on the kitchen counter.
    He gathered his rope, wrist cuffs, and handcuffs, then sat on the bedroom floor. Legs were always the easy part. He bent his right knee and pulled it as close to his body as he could, roping his ankle to his thigh. He tied it off and pushed the short ends that remained between his thigh and calf so they wouldn’t hang free.
    Rolling backward, he was able to rope his left ankle to his left thigh in the same fashion, again tucking the ends of rope out of the way.
    He felt around on the floor for the handcuffs, dragged them close, and forced one of the bracelets through the rope at each of his ankles. When he locked it, the clicks of the ratchet quickening his heartbeat, the cuff forced his ankles close together. He gave it a few tugs. It felt secure, and yanking on it didn’t cause the ropes around his legs to cinch tight. First step: done.
    He maneuvered onto his knees so that he was sitting with his butt on his heels, and fastened the leather cuffs around his wrists. The locks rattled against the buckles as he reached for another length of rope.
    Today he wanted his elbows pulled together behind him. He wanted to feel the ropes binding his arms as he struggled helplessly on the floor.
    He doubled the rope over and fed the ends through the bight so he had a sliding loop with two long ends coming out of it. Behind his back, he slipped his wrists through the loop and worked it up above his elbows, the ends of the rope hanging between his arms. These he pulled to tighten the loop. Holding the ends in one fist to keep the loops from slipping loose, he flexed his arms against the ropes. Oh yeah—this was good.
    He separated the ends and, leaning forward and back to pass the ends back and forth, wrapped the rope around his arms and chest until he had just short ends left in front of him. He tied them at his sternum. Step two: done.
    He picked up the other end of the handcuffs.
    His cock strained in his jeans. In a minute, there’d be nothing he could do about that.
    He hooked the D ring on his left cuff onto the handcuff bracelet, then slipped the right cuff’s D ring onto it as well.
    He sat there, breathing slowly, one finger covering the slot in the cuff’s shackle to keep it from swinging shut.
    His cock throbbed. The slightest shift of his muscles pushed it tighter against his jeans, sending little ripples of pleasure through the center of him.
    With his eyes closed, he went over everything: Was anything too tight? Was anything going to cut off his circulation? He felt with his thumb to make sure the handcuff’s keyhole was facing toward his body; otherwise it would be a royal bitch to get the key in later. He looked up at the ice hanging above his head, making sure he hadn’t done something stupid like tie the keys to the sock.
    Everything was good.
    All he had to do was move his finger off the slot and push the end of the handcuff bracelet down into it, and he’d be stuck for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Back in the saddle. Putting the whole Dylan debacle behind him.
    He drew in a deep breath while, behind his back, just about as far down as his wrists could reach, he pushed the end of the bracelet into the slot.
    Click.
    Click-click-click.
    Click.
    He let out his breath. Step three: done.
    He relaxed his shoulders and let his hands hang free. He was stuck now. Helpless. Nothing he could do about it until time and gravity dropped the keys to the floor.
    He relaxed a little more.
    And the rope