Handcuffs Near Me Novels & Stories

They kept a small display in the shop, an assortment from their nearby warehouse. "Now what were you looking for today?" Blake surveyed the racks of crops, floggers, and other impact tools. There was also a display of bondage gear like cuffs, collars, and rope of various kinds. Leather apparel hung on racks across the back wall. "A couple of things, really. I was thinking about a set of soft cuffs." "Soft. So not steel handcuffs, then?" Eve opened a deep drawer and started shifting the contents. "I was thinking soft leather. In pink, maybe."

He put some similar hooks/bracelets around my ankle cuffs as well. "These are a special addition to the cuffs," he stated. "They have a unique wire hook clasp on each so that, say, if I wanted to clasp your hands behind your back or to a special ring, I can do it and weave the clasp into the ring or another clasp, and it's next to impossible for the wearer to unclasp it unless they can see what they are doing. Since the clasp is often high overhead or behind their back, it's not easily done. It makes it easier for me to undo it and move you into different positions faster. It's so much better than fumbling with a padlock and keys."

After exchanging bows, the Chief of the Police Force, Dalloway, continued to brief them, “So, he’s been in Oleander Cuffs since you brought him here, your Grace. He hasn’t said a word since his captivity. He did try to mind-link someone twice when he first woke up. Never again after that.” Oleander Cuffs are made specifically for Lycan criminals. It is the only type of cuffs capable of suppressing a Lycan’s abilities. When these are on, they can’t heal, speed or even mind-link, and their strength is equal to that of a human. The little extra of these cuffs is that a detection chip is embedded in them to monitor whether a prisoner tries to mind-link someone, and if so, whom? The downside is t

"I need backup at cell 15. The cell of Hector Menard. Suspect in custody, possible accomplice to murder." The receiver crackled. "On our way." With backup on the way, the guard's focus shifted to securing Amity I stepped away from the situation and let the guard do his job. With a swift motion, he reached for the handcuffs strapped to his belt, his movements precise and practiced as he got to work. "Hands behind your back," he commanded, his voice firm as he stepped closer to the criminal. "You're under arrest for suspicion of accessory to murder. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

Mr. Sullivan was about to have his men haul Dad and the others out when police sirens suddenly wailed outside. He glared at me and snarled, "You actually called the police? Your phone was smashed earlier! How did you manage to call them?" I shrugged and gestured toward Jean's pocket. "You see, my wife still has her phone on her. I had her call the police before you even entered, and the call has stayed connected ever since. In other words, the police heard every single thing you said about extortion, illegal confinement, and plotted murder."

“You’re going to come on my tongue first. Then I’m going to cuff you and fuck you until you forget every name but mine.” I reached under the desk on pure instinct, fingers searching the shadowed space beneath the wood. My hand closed around cold metal. A set of heavy iron cuffs, the kind used for more than just decoration in this house. I pulled them free, the chain rattling softly, and held them up between us with a shaky, wicked smile.

Edward teased as he walked over to a cupboard. I watched him silently until he returned to stand face to face with me again. “The handicap is that you won’t be allowed to use your hands during this game. You will wear this handcuff, don’t worry it’s made of rubbery plastic so it won’t hurt your wrists, but it will restrain you so that you can’t use your hands,” Edward explained casually as if this was totally normal. He grabbed my hands and gently put the handcuff on me so that my hands were bounded from behind.

"I knew what you were going to fucking say, Myla. Now, just fucking drop it." He pulls the car to the side of the road and parks in front of some dark, neon-lit bar, and shuts the car off. He twists in his seat and pulls his cuffs out of the center console, smiling as he dangles them in front of my face by his finger. "Come on, you're not gonna cuff me to the steering wheel, are you?" He chuckles, and it's the first time all fucking night I've seen him break into a smile. "You watch too many fucking movies, Myla."

I stumble for a moment. Oh, it's one of 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 stores. I contemplate dragging Winter into it but decide that it's not a good idea at the moment. I wouldn't mind buying some restraints. Extremely skimpy lingerie covers a few mannequins in the display. Crotchless panties and all. Fuzzy handcuffs, whips, restraints and I could swear I see a dildo in there somewhere. There's no fucking way 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 in the display window.

He survived in filth and shadows. One day, while moving smuggled goods at the docks, he was caught by a patrol team that had been lying in wait. The "mysterious informant" who reported him didn't just have ironclad evidence. They also included new leads on his company's tax evasion from three years ago, enough to send him back behind high walls. As he was shoved into the police car, face caked with mud and despair, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Wolfwoman Professional Development Foundation—which I had founded—taking questions from the mainstream media.