I like being locked up. Face it - we all do. Halloween just happens to be the best time to show it. Most of my friends don't know about my secret BDSM obsessions. Or the fact that I have a nice cache of material, including ropes, handcuffs, collars, blindfolds and chains stashed under my bed. No, nobody does.

I was a 19 girl with dark brown hair, green eyes and a pretty nice body. I'd been trying to tie myself up properly for years. When I lived with my parents, they never had any 'goods'. They were very, very strict on regulations, always wanting to know where I was going, who I was with, what I was doing. My Mom worked at home, and she frequently checked my mail. I could never really purchase BDSM crap for years. Halloween changed all that.

My friend was having a Halloween party and everybody was dressing up. I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to try out a new idea. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend, so I'd be going alone. I decided not to tell my parents unless absolutely necessary.

My costume was that of a sexy inmate. I'd got the courage and money to go into one of the stores and get what I wanted. It was pretty good. The costume itself had a black-and-white striped skirt and matching tight shirt. On the back was written PROPERTY OF STATE PRISON.

The idea of being owned turned me on. It also had one of those cute little hats. Of course, I needed accessories. I bought a pair of tight, double-locking classic steel handcuffs for twenty dollars. A complete rip-off, but the owner promised that I couldn't get out of them. Finally, I bought one of those heavy balls that lock to your leg. It was a solid, forty-pound piece of raw metal, so I had trouble carrying it home.

Fortunately, my house was empty when I arrived home, so I didn't have to explain the dead weight in my backpack. I took out my costume and stuffed the clothes and cuffs under my mattress. I took the ball and hid it in an old plastic box in the back of my closet. Nobody goes in there.

A few days later was the night of the party. Since I had to take the subway there, I couldn't put my costume on. I actually had not put everything on all together, so I was about to explode. I had told my parents where I was going. When asked what my costume was I told them I was going as a cowgirl. No other questions.

I arrived at my friend Jen's house, and Jen greeted me. She was wearing one of those sexy French Maid costumes with lingerie stockings, tight skirt and locking collar. She smiled, but gave me an odd look.

"Where's your costume?" she asked. I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder.

"In here," I replied. "I just have to get changed." I walked through the living room, staring at the costumes. There was a cheerleader, a gladiator, a Jedi and a mummy. There were a bunch of guys dressed as football jocks, and bunch more people in just plain costumes. I figured mine would be the best.

I ducked into the bathroom and stripped down to my skin. I reached into my backpack and began what I'd been fantasizing for years. I pulled out a black bra and put it around my back, making it nice and tight. I then took out my g-string thong, which left little to the imagination. Both were black and tight.

I pulled out my black tights next. They were indeed made of lingerie, one of the few things I'd managed to get through my parents. They felt amazing on my skin, and in my mind I was going crazy.

Next was the top. That was no fun, as I just slid it over my head. Then the skirt. I tucked my top into the skirt. I was amazed that the skirt was way shorter than I had expected, though that wasn't a bad thing. I finally pulled out a pair of black stiletto heels and strapped myself in.

Now for the fun part. I pulled out a black collar that my older sister, who my parents didn't bother, had used for a French Maid costume a few years back. I slid it across and around my neck. I took out the small key that went with the collar and locked it. The keyhole was right in front of my face.

Next was the dead weight. I'm sure there is a better word for it, but I didn't know it. There were three chains and two shackles. I locked my feet in nice and tight. I ended up making a nice triangle with the chain. I tried a quick walk and almost fell over. The heels and shackles were almost too much.

I'd have to walk very slowly. Finally were the handcuffs. Classic, double-locking steel. I put the cuffs behind my back and tightened them. I didn't have anybody to put my palms together, but they were so tight it didn't matter. I could barely slide the key in to remove the safety feature.

I walked outside, and was 'bumped' into by one of the football players.

"Well, well, a sexy convict you are," he said.

"Thanks," I said. I tried to turn away, realizing that he's the kind of moron I didn't want to hang out with. I realized a flaw in my plan - I couldn't get away from people I didn't like.

"You look like the kind of girl who likes to be tied up," he said. I noticed he was holding a beer in one hand. "Let me take you to one of my friends." He put his beer down, and swept me off my feet. I was too shocked and bound to do anything.

He dragged me into the living room, where people were staring at me in a sexy fashion. The deadweight was pulling my feet down and it hurt a bit. The jock dropped me off in front of a guy dressed up in a smashingly detailed police outfit - complete with sunglasses and a pair of handcuffs.

"I brought you an escort," said the football player. I blushed, and turned away, revealing my locking black collar.

"Well, well, well, look who I have here. Looks like you need to be restrained for attempted escape." This guy was a jerk. Then again, I did ask for it. Dressing up in a sexy costume is just asking for a BDSM session. Of course, I always wanted one.

I blushed again. He grabbed me by my cuffs and led me to the ground. He took out his own pair of handcuffs and locked the chain between my handcuffs to my shackles. It was a tight hogtie - very restrictive.

By now, most people were watching.

"Where's all your keys?" he asked.

"In my bag in the bathroom," I replied.

He went to get them, and returned a few seconds later. He undid my dead weight and handcuffs.

"That ball is too restrictive. You need to be usable for proper transportation."

After re-cuffing my legs, he stood me up and locked the ball around my neck. I had three locks around my neck, and it forced me to bow my head. I realized that I was in a very seductive position. My head was down but my hands were in the air, handcuffed. My skirt was short enough so everybody could see my butt.

Someone came with a rope and looped the rope through the cuffs to a small hole in the ceiling. Strappado style. I couldn't move down or up. Somebody else pulled a dark cloth over my eyes.

I felt my skirt being pulled down, gently. Then, without warning, there was the harsh SMACK of someone spanking me. I had no idea what hit me. I let out a short scream of pain.

"Somebody gag her," the cop yelled, I identified him by his voice. Sure enough, somebody stuffed a wet cloth on my mouth and then cleave-gagged me so I couldn't spit it out. The rag tasted like alcohol.

The spanking went on for quite awhile, or at least it felt like that. Some people hit harder than others, that's for sure. Some people played with my butt, while another pulled my g-string off.

After about one hundred spanks (I counted), the mob got tired. People stopped hitting me, and I could hear conversations starting up again, lots of laughing.

"Back to your cell," says the cop. The rope was cut free, and I nearly died from relief. Then I nearly fell over from my ball. He unlocked by neck chain, and slowly led me into a closet. He attached my neck chain to a bar overhead, and my ball to the manacles which were in turned cuffed to some hook.

He closed the door, leaving me there for hours. The pain in my arms was amazing, but the orgasms were better. That had been the greatest sexual experience of my life. Amazingly, I fell asleep.

I was awaken by my friend Jen. Her costume had been reduced to nothing more than a black bra and thong. She undid my restraints with my keys, and helped me get my groove back. I'd been locked up for over eight hours!

"Sorry about the guys. I couldn't risk letting you out while they were still here." We made some small talk, and I said I didn't care too much.

This is how Jen found out about my BDSM obsession. Later, she became my Mistress for a few months, and has helped me in bondage scenarios since. I, in turn, found out she liked being tied up so tightly she could barely breathe.