Swiss Bondage Boy

"Alright, punk, you are just being detained for my safety for now. You are not under arrest, you understand?"

He jingles his chains, flexes his hands, and tugs at the chain around his waist. "Sure feels like I am already a prisoner."

"That is your own fault. I am one officer, no backup, I have a report of a guy flashing a gun around, and then I find you and you keep disobeying instructions. I have to lock up your body until a figure out what is going on."

I grab his elbow and start leading him into the apartment. Past the meager kitchen and into the living room. He shuffles along behind me, his leg irons scarping on the ground. His pants hung precariously on his thighs, sagging and dangerously close to falling down, made walking even harder as he tried to keep them from completely collapsing.

"So, you want to tell me more about what stupid stuff you were doing earlier?" I ask, as I guide him into a seat at his table. His pants sagging so low under his blue American Eagle boxers they barely catch on the edge of the seat.

"It was just having a bit of fun, man. It is Halloween, we are supposed to dress up, act out."

"So, where is the gun now?"

I can see him debating internally if wants to lie to me or not. "What gun?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not, man. I don't know what you are talking about." I pleads, tugging at his chains as he tries to innocently gesture with his hands.

"Look, I already have enough to search this entire apartment until I find it. Or you can just tell me where you put it."

"Please, man!" He begs, continuing to hold his hands out and now trying to stand again.

"Every lie you tell me, just digs yourself deeper, son."

"I am not lying man. I don't know what you are talking about." His eyes plead with me.

"I don't have time for this stupidity. Kneel down."

"W-why?"

I put my hand on his shoulder and force the college kid to his knees. I step behind him, grab the chain of his leg irons, and padlock it to his belly chain, forcing him to sit back, his boxer-covered butt resting on his heels.

"I am going to hogtie you so I can search your apartment safely. It is just me, and you have been nothing but disobedient."

I take my time going through his apartment, as he sits quietly hogtied in the living room. It does not take me long to find a gun sitting on his dresser in his bedroom. It is plastic, with an orange tip, but otherwise is a realistic replica of a Glock. I seal the gun in a plastic evidence bag.

As I am about to continue searching his room, I hear a dull thud from the living room. I walk back out there to find that he has managed to lay down on his side.

"Can you not sit still for 5 minutes? Alright. You know what, I am just going to take you in."

"Wait. What. You said you were just detaining me."

"Yeah, I was. But I found this gun," I say, holding up the plastic bag. "This is more than enough, combined with the witness statements I have, to charge you with mugging."

"No, please. It was just a stupid joke. Please don't arrest me." He pleads, looking up at me from the floor, his hands and feet shaking in his chains.

"I am going to frisk you. Do you have anything on you that is going to poke me, stick me, stab me?"

"No, sir." He whispers quietly, his voice quavering.

I kneel down next to him, and start frisking him as he lays on his side hogtied. He is shirtless, so I can skip his torso, and just start below the waist, frisking his boxers, feeling his ass and semi-hard dick. I spread his knees and feel his taint, before moving on to his shorts. I find his phone in his right pocket, and his wallet in his back pocket. I pull out his ID, to finally get his name. I frisk his toned legs, down to his socks. I take off his shoes, feeling both of his feet and check the inside of his shoes before returning them to his feet.

"Alright, Jordan. You are under arrest for menacing with a weapon. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

He silently nods his head, and then lays it down on the floor.

I unlock the padlock hogtying him, and pull his elbow to stand him up. I grab all of my stuff, and walk him to the door. I grab his keys as we walk by the kitchen counter. He shuffles along next to me, still figuring out how to walk in his shackles, his sagging pants still somewhat impeding his motion.

I walk him out the door, and hold him, facing down the outside walkway, as I lock his apartment behind us. We walk slowly down the walkway, down the stairs, and onto the grass. Several people take notice, and stop to watch the spectacle. I am careful to give them the best view possible as I perp-walk him to the car.

Several people pull out their phones and seem to be recording or photographing the scene. I hold the plastic gun with the orange tip next to him, visible in the mostly clear evidence bag, as we walk.

"You see all of this." I say into his ear. "This is part of why I arrested you. To send a message that being stupid has consequences."

He looks up, sees the people watching and filming, and blushes brightly before tucking his head down as low as he can.

We stop at the edge of the street to wait for some cars to pass. The drivers and passengers take note of the shirtless punk, in his boxers and shorts, completely shackled and being frog-marched to a cruiser.

Eventually we make it across the street. I put him up against the trunk bent over, and proceed to give him another thorough frisk. He is completely silent, resigned to being humiliated in front of his classmates.

Finally satisfied, I open the driver's side rear door, and have him take a seat. I reach over him, and strap the seat belt across his chest and waist, trapping his shackled hands into his lap. I step back, to give the onlookers one last glimpse of my prisoner restrained in the back seat, then slam the door shut.