My SM Memories

One summer weekend, I went out to run some errands. Since I had some time to spare afterward, I decided to buy a few things to take home. Passing a small market, my eyes lit up as I walked past a toy stall. Among the many toys, a bright, shiny toy stood out. Excited, I quickly went over.

It turned out to be a metal toy. I picked it up and examined it. While it couldn't compare to the real thing, its function wasn't too different. It looked quite sturdy; once fastened, it was generally difficult to open. In terms of sturdiness, it might not be enough to restrain a man, but it would be sufficient for my petite, delicate beauty to cuff her slender wrists. I quickly bought two.

A few steps later, I noticed a pet stall nearby displaying chains and leather collars of varying lengths. I picked out two long and two short chains and bought them, along with a suitable collar. Then I went to a lock stall and bought a few locks. I had a great haul today, and I walked home with a heart full of joy.

Once home, I prepared dinner while thinking about how to do something new tonight. My child had been with his grandmother for the past few days, so it would just be my wife and me at home this weekend; I wanted to make the most of this opportunity.

Dinner was ready quickly, and I checked the time—my wife would be home from work soon. I quickly took out all the gadgets I'd bought today and started fiddling with them, familiarizing myself with how to use them, even turning one set into leg irons.

I went to the balcony and looked down to see if my wife was home. A little while later, I saw her drive her little red car into the complex and park downstairs. The car door opened, first revealing a head of flowing hair, then her delicate feet in beautiful white high heels. My wife, wearing a white sleeveless dress, stepped out of the car, turned around, picked up her small handbag, closed the door, and walked into the building.

I quickly went back into the room, grabbed a pair of leg irons, and hid them behind the door.

The sound of light footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by the sound of a door opening. She probably hadn't expected me to return; as if nothing was amiss, she casually hung her small handbag on the coat hook while preparing to take off her high heels and put on slippers. I loved it when she wore high heels; they made her look graceful and elegant, so I couldn't let her take them off. I quickly stepped forward and gently hugged her from behind.

She was startled and exclaimed, "Oh!" Turning around, she saw it was me and couldn't help but

scold me playfully, "Why are you hiding behind the door like a thief?" I smiled at her, took her hands, and gently twisted them behind her back, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. She was used to my controlling gestures and returned the kiss with her hands behind her back. Then, I held her wrists with one hand and reached into my pocket with the other. When the cold touch of my handcuffs warmed her delicate skin, she stared at me in surprise with her beautiful eyes and said, "What are you doing now?" I didn't answer, but quickly reached for her wrists. Because I was facing her, it was difficult to cuff her hands behind her back. Just as I cuffed one of her hands, her other hand broke free. She twisted her body, and when she saw the cuffs on her hands, she said, "You've leveled up again," and tried to pull her hand out with her other hand.

I grabbed her struggling arm and twisted it behind her back, while simultaneously fastening the other cuff to her wrist. With a few clicks, both her hands were now cuffed. She stopped struggling. I lifted her cuffed hands and carefully checked them, confirming that they were secure and her wrists were unharmed before I felt relieved.

I casually circled her, saying, "My beautiful little prisoner, how are you feeling?" I then playfully poked her under her armpit. She struggled fiercely behind her back, bending over. Because the handcuffs were tight, they dig into her wrists as she struggled, causing her to cry out in pain. "Stop it, stop it! Uncuff me! I haven't even washed my hands since I got home!" True to form, being a doctor, her germaphobia kicked in again. "

No need," I said, "I've already prepared the food. I'll feed you in a bit. I'll wash my hands for you. I'm going to take good care of you today." With that, I led her to the living room and had her sit on the sofa, placing a newspaper on her desk.

When I set the food on the table and called her to eat, she was struggling to turn the pages of the newspaper with her mouth. When I called her, she remained on the sofa, refusing to get up until I uncuffed the handcuffs for her. Seeing her reluctant expression, I had no choice but to coax her, pulling her into my arms and stroking her gently before half-dragging, half-carrying her to the dining table.

I said to her, "I'll feed you today, you can rest."

She said, "No, no, it's too awkward, and I don't enjoy eating. I won't eat." Seeing that persuasion was useless, I simply ignored her and used a spoon to scoop some food and bring it to her mouth. At first, she closed her mouth and tried to avoid it, but seeing that she couldn't avoid it any longer, she had no choice but to open her mouth and eat the food in the spoon.

"Is it good?" I asked her. "No, it's just not good," she shouted at me.

I then scooped up another spoonful of rice and brought it to her, and she had no choice but to eat it, but as soon as she swallowed it, she spat it out. "There's hair! My hair!"

I then realized that I had put a few strands of hair floating near her face into her mouth. Now she was really upset, insisting that I remove them or she wouldn't eat anymore. Unable to reach a compromise, I suggested a compromise: she could be in front, but she would have to wear shackles (modified, with a small chain added in the middle).

After obtaining her consent, I unlocked the handcuffs behind her back, placed her hands in front, and put the shackles back on. Then I stepped back a few paces to carefully observe my "little prisoner." I watched as she raised her handcuffed hands to tidy her drooping hair, then stood up and walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. However, she encountered trouble when she tried to step onto the bathroom steps; the chain wasn't long enough, and she couldn't manage it after several attempts, almost falling. I had to go over, pick her up, and place her on the bathroom floor.

After she finished, she washed her hands thoroughly, and then I carried her out of the bathroom. Only then did she slowly walk back to the dining table, sit down, and continue eating with her handcuffed hands.

My SM Memories, Part Ten:

My wife finally finished her meal. I said to her, "I'll clear the table and wash the dishes. You can rest, but you'll have to endure a little hardship."

"Whatever you want, but please don't hurt me too much, okay?" she pleaded. I picked up a chain I'd bought and locked one end to the chain on the wall and the other end to the chain on her leg irons, trying to shorten the distance between the top and bottom so that the length was just enough for her to stand upright. This pulled her arms very low, making walking even more difficult.

I then put a neck brace around her neck and slowly pulled her into the living room by the chain on top, letting her sit on the sofa and locking the chain to the legs of the coffee table in front of her. I handed her the TV remote and watched her struggle to select a channel before going to the dining room.

When I finished washing the dishes and returned to the living room, she was watching a TV drama with great interest. I picked up the remote and switched to the sports channel to watch football. She was enjoying the view and got annoyed. She tried to reach the remote but couldn't, and her neck was chained to the coffee table, so she just sat there sulking. Seeing her pitiful state, I felt a surge of pity. I removed her collar, pulled her into my arms, and slipped my hand inside her collar to gently caress her nipples. Gradually, she felt a slight pleasure, and unconsciously rose in my arms, pressing herself against me. Looking at the beautiful little prisoner in my arms, shackled, a sudden surge of excitement overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but kiss her passionately. She was

also panting heavily, wriggling in my arms, but her hands and feet were shackled, preventing her from fully expressing her emotions. She raised her head and suggested, "These shackles are hurting my wrists and ankles so much. Why don't you tie me up with rope? It'll make me feel better."

I was delighted; this was exactly what I wanted. I said, "You said it yourself, so you can tie me up however you want. You can't go back on your word."

“As long as it’s not metal, it’s fine. You look like a wolf today, so do whatever you want. But you have to let me take a shower first, and you should take a shower too.”

“No problem!” I said, then removed her shackles.

Seeing her take her change of clothes into the bathroom, another plan formed in my mind. After she took off her clothes and sat in the bathtub, I walked in with a grin: “It’s a deal, I’ll take care of everything for you today. Let me give you a bath.” As I spoke, I grabbed her hands.

She struggled in the bathtub, saying, “No, no.” But the bathtub was too slippery, and she couldn’t get any leverage. I quickly pinned her behind her back, splashing water all over me in the struggle. Looking at my little prey in the bathtub, I picked up a bath towel and lathered it with soap. I first lathered her face with soap, the soap suds forcing her to close her eyes tightly. Then, using a bath towel, I wiped her neck, breasts, armpits, genitals, and down to the soles of her feet, one by one. Every time I touched a sensitive spot, she laughed and cried out, shaking her head vigorously, which I found incredibly arousing. Finally, I rinsed the soap off her face and body, placed her hands on the faucet at one end of the tub, and had her half-reclined in the tub. I gently stroked her breasts and genitals, bringing her immense pleasure.

After the bath, she very considerately asked if I was wearing the new evening gown I had bought, and I nodded. It was a purplish-red evening gown in the style of a cheongsam, sleeveless, exposing half of her back, with a very low neckline and a long hem, making her look very elegant. She then took out a pair of very beautiful black strappy high-heeled shoes that she rarely wore, with heels at least ten centimeters high and exquisitely crafted.

Next, she began to dress up. She tied her long hair high at the back of her head into a large bun, revealing her snow-white, slender neck and soft, tender breasts. She then applied a light layer of evening makeup to her beautiful face, highlighting her red lips, large eyes, long eyelashes, and delicate eyebrows, her fair complexion tinged with a hint of rosy pink.

Once everything was ready, she stood up and walked to me. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and pursed her beautiful little lips. This outfit made her appear so dignified, elegant, and radiant; her noble bearing deeply captivated me. I embraced her, gently kissed her pursed lips, and deliberately said, "You forgot a prop, and your pose is wrong."

She opened her eyes, winked playfully at me, then smiled faintly, turned around, and picked up a ball of white cotton rope that I had already placed on the bed: "Here you go, your darling rope!" I took the rope, and at that moment, she consciously turned around and placed her hands behind her back.

I began by binding her in the most classic Chinese style. First, I draped the rope around her neck, then passed the rope hanging in front of her chest under her armpits, splitting it into two strands and wrapping each strand twice around her upper arms before folding them in the middle and tying a knot. Next, I wrapped her forearms parallel to her wrists, several times around them, and tied a knot. The remaining rope was then passed up through the rope across her neck and tied to another rope, while simultaneously pulling her wrists upwards as much as possible. Because my wife is slender and has a very petite and flexible frame, it didn't take much effort to tie her hands high behind her back.

After binding her, I took out shackles and put them on her ankles, then gestured for her to go into the living room. Wearing 10cm high heels and shackles, she carefully and unsteadily took her first steps, nearly falling several times and letting out screams, but I caught her each time. Once

in the living room, looking at this masterpiece before me, as fellow enthusiasts would surely guess, I, completely mesmerized, was now standing quite high. A beautiful, elegant girl, tightly bound by ropes, stood gracefully before me, her hands tied high behind her back. Even a god couldn't resist her allure.

I reclined on the sofa, letting her sit on my lap with her back to me. My hands caressed her nipples, while I passionately kissed her delicate, white hands and arms, bound behind her back, then her neck and back. With gentle caresses and passionate kisses, she felt waves of pleasure wash over her.

I asked, "Is it good?" She remained silent at first, but after my persistent questioning, she whispered, "It's good, but it's too tight."

I then revealed myself, gently inserting it into my wife's intimate area, which was already overflowing with juices. I held her and gently thrust, and she gradually reached climax. Her bound hands clenched into fists, then spread open, emitting soft moans.

[The End]

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