http://bitchyjones.wordpress.com/2007/05/16/i-love-my-handcuffs-more-than-you/

And handcuffs are *meant* to be cruel. That is the point of them. This is why I hate handcuffs covered in fluff (quite aside from what they represent). If I was going to cover my handcuffs in anything I would cover then in industrial grade sandpaper.

First time I put the cuffs on Pan he screamed and made me take them off because they hurt his wrist bones.

Joy!

Oh my beloved beautiful cuffs – like an extension of me.

Anyway, we got them on again – on right and I got to do that thing.

What thing? Let me tell you.

I kind of envy male doms, in that they have the advantage of sheer physicality to subdue the sub. In fact when I see women tied up in mandom porn I often think, the huh, because if that Mr Sir was me I would just use my superior physical strength alone, bitch! Because that is so fucking hot. Struggle and fight and *force*. Yes.

And can I just say *force* again.

I like a lot of flavours. But one of the ones I like bestest oftenest is *resistance*, forced compliance, physical overwhelmsion.

Except I – obviously - can’t do physical force alone. I would lose. I would lose ten million times over and have to eat dirt the dirt - especially as I like them so super butch with shaved heads and tattoos and huge, *huge* biceps.

So I’m jealous. I’m jealous even though I like that femdom spins that dynamic around. And I love images of a big man kneeling for a slight little woman and nothing says submission to me like a guy holding out his wrists for the cuffs when he has arms like tree trunks that could smash me through the wall if he wanted to.

But spin or not, edginess or not, baseline is if you are a het dom man (with a willing partner) you can do that thing where you just hold the other person down and forcibly use their over-powered *body* to make yourself fucking come. And I am so fucking jealous of that. That is so beautiful and pure and brutal. I hate paraphernalia and equipment and *stuff*. I want to be able to dom like that. Just with *force*. Force! So fucking hot.

Well, that is what is so good about the rigid handcuffs.

I got the angle right – somehow, god knows it sure as hell wasn’t skill – and I got my weight in the right place. I’m a big girl, I have some weight to play with. All my weight on those cuffs meant I could hold his wrists down above his head with one hand.

There are not enough keys of this keyboard to fully express how happy this made me.

And I kissed him and hurt him just like that – making out I was domming him with just my superior strength until our mouths and minds went inside out.

My new cuffs. My love. My heart.

They are my oh-so-lovely, unnecessarily cruel, you-really-shouldn’t-leave-those-on-*too*-long-Bitchy “failed basic” Jones, extra-hard, extra-cold, extra-vicious sadistic bitch cuffs.

My rapist cuffs.

(There are a lot of cool articles about women having rape fantasies and what that means and how we should all feel about that. Now, one of these days, I’m going to draw you all a little closer around my campfire and tell you all about my *rapist* fantasies. But not today.)

I took the cuffs off so he could fuck me.

And, hey, pay attention, I like *him* to get on top to fuck. There is some big lie going around that dom women like to be on top. No we don’t. That is the stupid way around. Being on top means doing all the work. Er, no - you can do all the work thanks. You can support your body weight on your crampy arms and piston your pelvis, motherfucker, and put the effort in. No I do not want to jump on top and use your penis as a dildo while you just lie there, because…

Hey! What the fuck is the fucking point of that?

You’re not a dildo. You’re a fucking fucking machine, baby.

Do your job.
That’s when I took them off. When I had to. When I wanted him to fuck me.

{omfg. I love her. Love. Her.}