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The Blacksmith
by Longterm
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© Copyright 2011 - Longterm - Used by permission
Storycodes: M+/m; M+/mf+; cuffs; chains; leg irons, prisoner; cell; hum; chast; reluct/nc; XX
jpn
The Blacksmith Longterm M+/m; M+/mf+; cuffs; chains; leg irons, prisoner; cell; hum; chast; reluct/nc; XX
 

The divorce had been final for almost a year. Maria and the business were long gone, it was her concept and hard work anyway. I kept the 2 acres in Connecticut and the beach house in Laguna, both already paid for, and more than enough money to enjoy them both. I wanted out and she wanted more. We were both very different people now, I had taught Maria business, and she taught me the intimacy of sex. She showed me ways to enjoy sex my rigid Connecticut upbringing never dreamed of or thought of as indecent.

We loved to have sex in unusual, varied locations, sometimes potentially hugely embarrassing locations, like shopping malls, historic buildings and the like. The company had flourished and we played rich people games. We were both still only 40 but she needed the limelight and I had come to hate it. The sex was just the last thing in a dying marriage. And now that was gone.

I was going to California for the winter and was closing the house, checking the basement around the back, which we had used as an office; there was only the one entrance from the outside down three steps and down a small hallway. There are no windows, only some natural light provided by solar-tubes, or electricity. Otherwise it was a large dungeon, The walls were stripped bare down to the cinder block after fixing the mold problem and the stone floor was cracked. It was now completely empty except for the 50 cases of that damn health bar left over from the sale of a failed subsidiary stacked outside of the small bathroom. I hated those things, nutritious as they were, but taste failures. No one liked the flavor.

It was Thursday and I had to check the heater in the basement corner I was leaving Saturday. We had always kept the house heated to 40 degrees in the winter to prevent all the plumbing from freezing. It was state of the art heat and working fine. The last item was to see if the blacksmith was done at the well. I loved the original antique well but it was a high maintenance item. Igor, a huge middle European who spoke efficient but heavily accented English. I was never sure if he always under stood me, but he was a good blacksmith. He was at his truck and loved it when I paid him in cash.

Inside the truck I could see several sets of leg irons and handcuffs. Maria and I had done a tie me up night once. I had really not gotten a thrill off it. I thought I was more open minded now, but the chains in his truck were hand forged by Igor in some 18th century style and were way out of my range. Hand forged iron fetters. I picked up the cuffs and thinking he was back at the well, I tried them on. The cuffs were part of a set with an iron collar and leg irons.

Igor stepped from the other side of the truck and saw my embarrassment. “No, no. Is okay. Igor understand. I make for friends, we have fun. We play prison games, many people like. Is okay, you want to try on all?” Maybe it was the causal way he talked about it or just a sudden overwhelming curiosity, but there we were fitting me for a handmade set of irons.

“My family 10 generation blacksmiths. In old days prisons provided much work, prison have many bars, many heavy doors, prisoners wear many chains, blacksmith very important. These days few prisons. Only wells, horses, gates, games. But we remember the old ways.” It was as if he really longed for the old days.

“How long did prisoners wear these chains?” I now was standing in the full set of irons.

“Sometimes short punishment. Sometimes for sentence.”

“My wife and I played games. Strict games, for a long time. I was a prisoner. We called it a marriage. My sentence was twelve years.” I was just making a divorce joke, we never really did anything. Barely bondage at all, and these irons were beyond my concept of what bondage was about.

“Twelve years long sentence. Even for game.”

“You have that right Igor. It’s a game.” Finally some 21st century talk, divorce.

I tried on the set, too small but solid, maybe too solid. “You want set, me make, no problem. These for gay men anyway. Igor no care, gay men and women, regular men and women, Igor no care. We all play.” Igor was very proud of his work. He grabbed my wrist and bent over to grab my ankle. “Chains heavy, I give you plenty of room. Where you want, house, room? bedroom? But maybe damage to furniture and wall. Cellar better good, you have cellar.” He certainly seemed to know his bondage games.

By now my impulse buy was making me feel funny. Talking to a blacksmith about chaining myself up was certainly a curious twist on the day. “Maybe they are too heavy. Maybe I will just start with handcuffs."

“Prisoner never ask what kind if chain he like. He prisoner.” I asked a price. I was getting tired of this. Through his accent I could barely understand I thought I heard a garbled $250 and I had the cash on me so I gave it to him just to get out of the conversation. He seemed very serious “We do good job, 10 generations, make good prison guard, Igor make good chains for you. You have safe fun say so. You play game prisoner. I see you like. I come back one week and make sure all is ok. 10 generations, no problems.” I signed another receipt for him.

I wanted sex at the moment more than I had in months. I wanted to get rid of Igor, get into a shower and have a massive ejaculation. I might not make it that far.

"Thanks Igor, but deliver the chains to the basement, I will not be here. This prisoner is escaping to the warm beaches California on Saturday. Understand. I am going on vacation.” I kept trying to drop the subject, sorry I even saw the chains in the first place.

"Basement, escape. I understand.” I did not want to tell him I didn’t care when he delivered them. I probably would never use them anyway. He checked around back and went to the basement, returning in a minute. “Basement good. Very good.”

He drove off and I went into the house, dropped my pants, grabbed my dick, and set a distance record for my cum. I sank to my knees, almost gasping for air. After a couple of drinks, a joint and more fun in the shower, Igor was a memory. The best sex, sadly, I had in a year. In two days I would be on the beach, time to see people again.

It about 8 pm on Friday when I saw lights coming up the driveway. I walked outside to check and Igor and another guy were sitting in his truck. Igor had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, almost empty and there was no doubt where the rest had gone. He took a deep snort and gave it to his friend. They started getting out. Unsure what to do I approached the truck.

“ Prisoner. You no escape, you pay “

“What are you saying Igor. I can’t understand." A drunken serbian blacksmith was not easily understood. “Just leave everything in the basement; I will be in the house.”

“Prisoner no escape, go solitary. Get prisoner chained.” He pointed to his friend.

“No Igor, just leave the stuff, that’s fine.” I was backing towards the house, but they were already out of the truck. And the other guy was much faster. “You say safe or prisoner?” I had no idea what he was doing.

“No prisoner games Igor, I am leaving tomorrow, remember?”

“Prisoner silence. Grab him, gag, no listen to prisoner anymore.”

The young one tackled me, put a cloth in my mouth as a gag and a sack on my head so I could not see, and they cuffed my hands behind my back. I was dragged to the basement and the hall light went on. The young one pinned me to the ground with a choke hold. I could hear Igor with the chains. After one more trip to his truck he started with the commands.

“Prisoner give left leg, no move or I accident break your ankle.” With the gag in my mouth my screams went nowhere. They both had knees in my back. I could feel the left foot being cuffed and the heard the sound of a hammer striking a small anvil. He was actually riveting the damn chains on me. By now I was almost choking on the gag.

They un-cuffed my hands rolled me over, and started riveting on the handcuffs. Igor’s knee in my chest kept me pinned. “Putting on collar, no move or my hammer miss.” It only took two or three swings to drive the rivet home.

A minute later he was finished hammering. The young guy had his boot on my collar. "Igor good, we do good job, you no escape Igor’s chains. Escape attempt add three months solitary to sentence. You have food, you have bathroom and chain long enough. But not too long.” At this they both started to laugh. “You strong, maybe you break chain.” Again they both laughed. “You have be good prisoner, no more escape. You be here until guards release. This good prison cell, only you and chain.” With that they laughed again, turned off the light, and shut the door.

I pulled off the hood, removed the gag and stated screaming for them to get back. But they just laughed and walked off. I got up and started stumbling towards the door. The chains must have weighed 30 pounds. Ten feet from the door I tripped. In the darkness I pulled on the leg irons but a heavy chain went to the iron support column. I crawled over to the bathroom for light, but Igor removed the bulb and the hall light was too far away. It was totally dark. I pulled on each cuff, but they were firmly riveted in place. These were made for me. Not so small as to be tight but no chance of slipping out either.

I tried to calm myself. I had enough chain to get to the bathroom and water. Igor pointed all this out. He knew I had food and water. He was playing a game. He said it twice that he would be back in a week. But my only chance of release was a pair of alcohol filled blacksmith bondage freaks. I started pulling frantically on the chains. No one knew I was here and no neighbors anywhere close by. It was only 8:30 and would not be light for another ten hours.

I felt over by the iron pole again to find out how he chained me to the pole but all I could feel was the cold dark iron. I was tempted to scream for help again, I kept pulling on the chains trying to get away but it was pointless.

In the dark I examined every inch of Igor’s creation and it was made to keep me confined. The collar had a chain that ran down and was attached to my leg irons. When I was standing straight up my neck chain touched the ground. A three foot chain connected my hand cuffs and was attached to my neck chain just above waist level. I was about the same from ankle cuff to ankle cuff, enough for short steps. I had to pick up my neck chain to walk without dragging the leg irons. Each cuff and the collar were at an inch a half wide and half an inch thick. The iron rivets were on one side of the cuff, with a welded loop holding the first link of the chain on the other side. A chain was attached to the middle of my leg chains and went to the iron pole. Absolutely first class work, there was no way to get them off without a file or a drill. None.

I tried to think of how I ended up like this. A seemingly simple conversation about handcuffs and now I was heavily chained in my basement for three months. Surely he was joking. I had read about bondage clubs where people spent the weekend getting spanked. But he really could not mean three months. The chains kept rattling as I tried to find some way to be comfortable. The stone floor was cold and I was lightly dressed. I dragged some cases of nutrition bars over to lie on. Walking and maneuvering took some getting used to. Each cuff and chain must have weighed five pounds and it seemed one of my chains was always in the way.

After several hours I fell asleep. I would figure it out in the morning when there was light. There had to be a way. He probably left a wrench or a file, something to release me. He would be back to check.

I woke up several times, the collar and the cuffs were chafing my skin. Finally I woke to the light. It did not take long to remember my situation. My whole body ached. After pulling on the chain one more time I started looking for escape. Igor had put an iron ring around the iron support column and bolted a heavy chain to the ring. It was the same with the rest of the chains, made of iron and riveted shut. I could stand up and walk well enough, as far as the chain let me, around ten feet. Six full paces one way and six full paces back. The chain always reminded me if I tried to go too far. Or stretch my arms too far. The fact was, Igor’s chains were in control of my body. What I could eat or drink, what I could see, who I could talk to, everything controlled by a ten foot length of chain. It was in control of my life.

When it was light enough I would look at my collar and chain in the bathroom mirror. A dark iron band encircled it with a thick chain draping down my chest. Like me as a teenager looking at his new and much hated braces in the mirror. Denial that the metal you were looking at was yours. Each time I looked the iron collar was there. It hung painfully on my collar bones. In less than 12 hours my collarbones hurt, wrist and ankles were chaffed by the cuffs. Their weight was always there.

I reasoned I just had to survive the weekend. I had the cardboard boxes for my bed. I could use more boxes for blankets and pillows. I was warm, dry, had plenty of water and those disgusting bars to last years. I would be fine, if not bored waiting for Igor to come back. That helped keep the panic away.

Good old trusty Igor, drunken crazed Igor. I kept pulling on the chains until my wrist were bleeding. I would hear a noise and start calling for help, but I knew it was fruitless. Then I would inspect my bonds again looking for the magic release button that did not exist. It was only 2pm on Saturday. My flight had just taken off without me. I had been chained up less than a day and was already out of things to do. I just lay on the boxes and tried to figure out Igor’s game. What did he mean three months? I could not do this for three days. I was having problems now.

There was nothing to do but pace, lie down, or yank on my chains again. By Sunday I had counted every link on every chain. Again and again. Anything to break up the boredom. I was alternately confident Igor would come back and panicked that he had already forgotten. I kept trying to turn on the lights but could not reach the switch. It was even worse in the long, cold hours of darkness.

I tried getting my fingers under my collar and prying it off. Another stupid attempt at the impossible. Frustration and fear make you do stupid things. By now I had enough cardboard layers to keep me as comfortable as cardboard can. The bars were scattered over the floor. I used then to make patterns on the floor. I read the labels for fun. I checked my chain.

After several days I was just lying there. Sometimes I had a bar and more water. But all I wanted was to be free of the chains. By Friday I was so scared I could not sit. Again I remembered back to the day I got my braces off as a teenager. The expectation after almost four years was unbearable. There was a party the next night and I made a point of telling everyone that I would be a brace face no more. My orthodontist broke his hip skiing and I had them six more weeks. A shudder went down my spine. What If Igor got hurt? No, there was the other guy, they would come, and it was only a little while longer.

8pm...8:15...8:30...9...10...12am. I was near tears in a panic pulling on the chains. He forgot. I sat on my bed just screaming for help, crying myself to sleep. Early the next morning he showed up, drunk. “Prisoner in solitary alive. Check one month.” He turned and left. He meant it; I had to spend three months in these miserable chains.

I tried exercising, getting in shape for the beach. Sit ups, pushups, anything that was not staring at the walls. I tried recalling everyone I ever went to school with. I thought of threatening Igor with police and real prison. Whatever he thought I was being kidnapped. He would be the prisoner. I had $100,000 in cash hidden in the house, I could bribe him, then have him arrested. I came up with all of these scenarios.

“Prisoner in solitary alive, check one month.” I was ready for him, He has stepped too close. I threw my wrist cuffs around his neck and pulled him down.

“Prisoner has $10,000 in hidden upstairs to get out of solitary.” He stopped and listened. I decided to play his bondage game. “I give you the money and you unchain me and I get out of here. You can have it all.” A huge elbow hit me in the stomach. Igor rolled over and had me pinned.

“10 generation we never lose prisoner, never take bribe.” He actually seemed mad. “Escape attempt, double sentence for solitary. Sentence 7 months remaining. Check one month.”

“Seven months remaining.” I could not bribe him, I couldn’t beat him up, and I could not escape my chains without him. “Wait, how could I escape if I did not have an original sentence? I was at my house, not a prison. Where did I escape from? What happens when my solitary sentence is over? $50,000 to get me out of here, serve my sentence with people, like real prison. Serve solitary there. $100,000. You can have it all” I was rambling on trying to get him to think about the money.

“$100,000 get real prison for sentence. Tell next month, end of first sentence.”

The money at least had some influence. Even if he tried to steal the money I could tempt him with more, 10 generations or not.”

It was a month later at night. He turned on the hall light and looked at me. “Prisoner, transfer prisoner or safe here?”

“Prisoner wants transfer, not here, for sentence.”

“Where is money.”

“Unchain me and I will show you.”

Which he did with two swipes of a hammer and chisel, I was free from the support column. I walked as best I could and was happy to be out of the cellar for the first time in three months. Remember, no more solitary here. I had tools in the garage to escape the chains. I would give him the money, call the police and get the chains off.

Igor took the money and it was the moment of truth. He gave it to his friend, they shook hands. “Igor like being your guard, you play hard game. 10 generations my family blacksmiths for prisons. Keep many prisoners. Igor not strong for game, like work, like putting people in chains for game. Now you go to real prison. Cousin guard there. He says strong good prison. Strict for you. Guards don’t beat you much, food ok.”

“What, I paid you to let me go, no more solitary. What prison are you talking about, I’m out of prison.”

“You pay for transfer to prison for sentence. First day you say “sentenced to twelve years”. Money covers cost. Now you get real prison, twelve years, with Igor’s chains. Two escape attempts, attack guard, bribe. They probably add more time. But you say prisoner, not safe. This is what you want.”

“Igor I want safe, no more prisoner, I want safe.” I was on my knees, frantic, grabbing his vest. Please take these chains off.”

“Igor sorry, but too late. Not your guard any more, no can help. Say safe next time. Be nice to warden, maybe he not nice to you. You be okay, it good prison. This your new guard. You keep chains.”

With that I felt a stiff boot in the middle of my back. “Prisoner will be silent. The truck is ready. Go.”

“I am not going…” A cattle prod stunned me. One guard put a knee in my back. The second guard leaned over, put some gadget on my ears and stapled a numbered tag to my earlobe. He scanned it with a beep. Two more guards entered and dragged me down to a semi-trailer in my driveway. The rear door slid up. About half way back there was a steel wall with a door in the middle. The guard unbolted the door and I could see two other men sitting on cots in the back. I was dragged to the back. A padlock was put through my chain, and I was locked to the wall of the van. A small cot was folded down from the wall.

“Get comfortable, it will take at least 2 days to get to Harper. Any problems and I will gag you. There is the water and there is your bucket. Spill the bucket and it”s your problem.” The door was shut and the prisoners were alone.

“What the hell is this? Where are they taking me?” The room was clean, artificially lit and cooled, and sound-proofed.

One guy just kept sleeping, the other, Rich, was very talkative. His right hand had a regular handcuff on a stainless steel chain attached to the wall. We were going to a private prison, very private, designed to incarcerate or punish outside of the normal legal circles. Entrance was voluntary, in a sense. Families or institutions with problems or situations they don’t want made public, pedophiles, drug addicts, rapist, blackmailers, thieving uncles, greedy accountants and any other criminal or moral indiscretion that the society did not need to know about.

“They will put me in the psych ward. Mr. Thomas here will be in special security. Very prison down there. Most are just teenagers who go to the dormitories or open wards in the other building and never see us. Fix their bothersome fetishes and habits, reprogram them and send them on their way. They know all violations will be punished and they behave. They don’t even know we exist. Special security has the hard and unusual cases. Since it is a private prison, they can design treatment and punishment to suit the individual need. ”

Rich explained he loved his younger brother, who was only 12 now, 6 when Rich started. The family sent him to Harper, for five years. He was 21 at the time, treated for 5 years, and sent home. He was caught again and now “my sentence has been deservedly extended. And once they found about my little cousin, they decided they did not want to see me again. They are sending me to the therapeutic division. That means I will only be released when they say I am cured. I can’t trust myself or be trusted by you. No one has ever been cured. So my family is having me locked away to avoid the shame. At least I can have as much sex as I want again, I couldn’t even have a tug in my pants without setting off alarms lately.”

“You do not look violent? Do you think 18th century prison retro is a coming style? Did you overdress for the Halloween party in the dungeon?” He was sarcastic at every turn. “There are others he has chained for one reason or another, not too many of your kindred spirits, certainly none as well presented as you.”

“No, this is nuts. I just want to go home and end this nightmare.” Pulling on my ear, which was still throbbing, “what the hell is this thing?”

“Your tracking tag, they are very organized at Harper. I wouldn’t try to remove it; it will hurt worse and rip half your ear off. It is a violation and violations will be punished.” I grew to hate that line.

“I haven’t done anything. I met this blacksmith who was into bondage and thought he was playing a game. He locked me in my basement for three months and now I am in some prison truck going to a private prison. This is insane.”

“As am I, on both counts, that is why they can do it. I have met some of your bondage aficionado’s; you are treated like everyone else. Is contract bondage of this sort the ultimate in bondage for you? Giving up control to the whims of strangers who you paid to keep you imprisoned. You really have no clue what you are in for, do you? I will be locked on a ward where I will be the young darling. I will be dated by many and sexed by all who ask. You might well be chained to your bed at night, your table for meals, and your work station during the day. Maybe even with a partner.”

“Shut up, just shut up. I am not into bondage, or little boys. Or prison. This is a mistake. They have to listen. I have my constitutional rights. Someone will have to listen to me, I have rights.”

“Well said, well, well said. Your rights disappeared when they put that tag on your ear. You are, by definition, in heavy bondage, and shortly you will be in real prison, with cells and bars and mean guards and everything. Once they tagged you and took your money, you were the same as me, with no appeals. Your chances of talking your way out of this are worse than poor. I guess your bondage scenario is a little too perfect this time and your chains a little too strong.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is serious; I have to get out of here.” I gave the chain a good pull. If I could have reached him I would have started punching him. I was trying hard not to lose it.

“So do I, but here we sit, in a prison truck. So how long is your sentence?”

“I have never been sentenced. I made one joke about my marriage being a 12 year sentence and the guards just keep repeating that. They have no right to hold me. I will sue them to hell.”

The other man awoke. He was also wearing a wrist cuff attached to the truck, and standard police leg irons through a ring on the floor.

“Sue. They don’t care. You don’t even know where you are, or where the prison is. Or who runs it. No prisoner does. If you get released, they drug you and send you back to sender. Who would listen to your story? Who is going to listen to some faggot bondage freak who likes to wear chains for excitement. Or this faggot that likes little boys. Maybe it is all a big mistake, maybe you are stupid enough to accidentally get yourself in this mess. Doesn’t matter. You have an ear tag, notice I don’t. I have an ace in the hole. I might not even spend the night.”

I did not learn much more from Rich and the other guy only said one thing, pointing at me, “chained like that, I bet they marry you right off.” He and Rich laughed.

The back door opened. “You’re home.”

I had no idea where we were. It was overcast and not much to see except a one story gray cement building behind two fences, topped with ribbon wire. There was a rail line running nearby, but no other anything that looked like civilization.

As we walked past a steel door, a line of guards was waiting, one was obviously in charge.

“My name is Mr. Fletcher. Remember it, use it very carefully. No one in this institution is here because they have been convicted of a crime. No one has an outstanding warrant, or is being sought by law enforcement. Everyone is here because they have agreed or been convinced to come. Some by family or friends, some by other interest, some on their accord. Notice I said not convicted of a crime, you are all guilty of a crime or crimes at a criminal or moral level, and once the contract was signed, you became subject to the rules of this institution and this institution is a prison. Not a clinic, or a camp, or a a jail. This prison is for the long term confinement of those who have accepted the conditions and you have surrendered your rights to me”.

“In some respects you are better off here than the traditional justice system. It is clean, safe and all your basic need well be well tended to and families are not scandalized further. Do not take this the wrong way, we are much more strict than regular prisons, we are not hampered by lawyers or courts. You or your representative has agreed to abide by all of our rules and methods”.

”You are prisoners. You are in my prison and the rules are posted. Memorize them, if you make a mistake you will be punished. If you miss your mommy, or your lawyer, too bad. Cry all you want. I have read your records and you all have at least 20 years with us. Deal with it. I only care that everything runs smoothly. We have plenty of empty isolation cells. First solitary last three months, the second six more months. After that it is a year, then two. Help yourself, it is all added on your time. Escape is impossible. First attempt is 5 years added on, second attempt adds 10 more to your sentence. Touch the guards and add five years. It is in your interest to behave. All violations will be punished.”

“Three such interesting cases today. The beauty here is so many here have special conditions attached to their confinement, we can punish the crime that occurs, using our own, unique methods. And for the first time this year, we need our blacksmith.”

“Thomas, Devlin. Special Security. Sent here before you could get out of town. Should have gone faster Mr. Thomas.”

“Doesn’t matter chief. Might want to put me up in the dormitories with those cute little lesbian cheerleaders you try to fix. Once my partner opens the envelope I got out of the safe, my family will welcome me back. You might want to be nice to me.”

“I think not.” Fletcher raised his hand and the guards brought in another prisoner. Devlin paled. “Is this your partner? In return for keeping all of his body parts your family allowed him to confess and return the envelope, as long as he talked about you, and agreed to stay with us until all the money is recovered, plus five years. He was very chatty.”

“You asshole, what did you get me into, I’m gonna kill you.” The man looked very upset.

Devlin told him to shut up. “Where’s the letter?”

“Your uncle has it.”

Devlin stood there almost speechless. “Look, we can work this out…” A stun gun hit him.

“Embezzlement, ten years. Blackmail, 15 years. Strip them. Marry them”.

Devlin erupted. “You can’t do this. My father will…”

Fletcher cut him off. “Your father paid extra to have you two married.” He raised his hand and a man with an anvil showed up. “Your father, as he expressed it to me wanted you two so close you have to fuck each other every to get out of bed. We can do that for a good client like your family”. Guards stripped off their clothes. ”Here is your new wardrobe”. The prison suits were gray, made of a course fabric; those for chained prisoners had velcro up and down both sides of the jumpsuit. The Velcro allowed for uniforms going over irons.

Guards put both men on the ground as they struggled. Igor’s cousin went about riveting an ankle cuff on each man with only a two link chain connecting them. “Kneel up. Now cuff their hands the same way. I could just use padlocks, but rivets seem so permanent, don’t they boys? Every month you are good, I will add a link. Every time you are bad I will remove two. Your uncle had a cell renovated for you. Yours will be a 5 by 7 cell, designed for one prisoner, or a happy couple like you. We gave you a 3 ½ by 6 ½ foot bed in the middle of the cell. One pillow, one blanket, one toothbrush, no clothing in the cell. Be nice or I will take away the blanket. Enjoy your time with us.”

“You mother fuckers can’t do this to me I’m Devlin Thomas, not some….” A stun put him down. A guard reached over and stapled a tag in his ear.

“I warned you to speak carefully. And Mr. Lipton, the sooner all the money is back, the sooner you can start serving your five years and get your release. Until then, you will stay a close couple. All our newlyweds get a three day honeymoon in their cell. You both seem to be solidly heterosexual, relax and get comfortable. You can get dressed now.”

It was almost amusing watching these two try to use the same arm at the same time. A guard had to finish dressing them. They were arguing with each other as they were led out.

“Williams, Richard. Therapeutic Diversion Program. Raped your brother and cousin and your family sent you here until you are cured. Hope you beat off on the truck, because your sex life is over. Do we have his belt ready?” For the first time Rich looked timid. “You were warned last time Richard. You should have listened. Strip him. Tag him.”

“No, not that, no belt, it”s not right. No kids here, I’ll be good, but I, I can’t wear that. It is my only release, I need to do it several times every day. I have too. You can’t do that to me.” He was mocking Fletcher.

“Typically amusing Richard. You should have stayed with masturbation instead of relatives. Your family has disowned you will never see them again. Or your dick for that matter. This was at your mother”s request, no more sex. Ever. This model was built just for you, a perfect fit. The blacksmith, gently I might add, made several adjustments, and then riveted the belt shut. Notice the anal shield, no rear entry, remember to wipe. We had your old orthodontist make a bite plate for you to have installed. It will only be mildly inconvenient for you, but those prongs on top will be near lethal on someone’s dick. Finally we have some special lockable mesh gloves for you. Confortable on the inside, easy to keep your hands clean, but really scratchy and uncomfortable feeling on the outside. No more hand jobs either way, no more blow jobs either way, and no anal sex either way. As your mother requested, no more sex. Ever. Just you and your unquenchable desires. Keep him on 23 hour lockdown. Good luck Richard”.

”Roberts, John. Self-committed. Non-revocable self-imposed twelve year sentence, in chains. Pre-wrapped for us I see. Alexei, check his chains please.” The blacksmith checked every cuff, nodded and walked away. ”I was told we would get bondage cases like you. I never believed it, but you are the sixth so far this year, none so secure. My first bondage prisoner wanted a life sentence because he was evil and did not belong in society. He said he needed the strict discipline of prisons small cells. His ultra-conservative family agreed when they kept finding him locked in a dog cage in his room. That need lasted exactly one month when he got here. He is still here 8 years later and writes a letter home every day trying to get himself the hell out of here. They are all returned. Too bad, he is only 24.”

“Another came here in leg irons. He was into contract bondage or something and bet his friend he could easily do five years here in irons. Violations started piling, hit a guard and ran for the elevator. Instead of having 4 years left, he had 14. He argued that after 5 years his contract was up. He did not understand the rule, contract time is one thing, added time is another. Until he serves time added, his contact will never go down. He is very unhappy with his arrangement. By the way, he is still wearing the leg irons he walked in with”.

“I married him to an another self-committed, who thought it was like some weekend bondage time share. Really, he did. Walk around naked with ball gags on spanking each other. He paid for ten years. After his first weekend he said he was disappointed and did not think he would be back and can we call him a cab. He cries himself to sleep every night. And will for the next 8 years.”

“I marry couples that I think will benefit everyone, especially me. Get two prisoners that fight, chain them close together in solitary for three months and you have two compliant inmates. With your bondage buddies I married them because one needed a buddy and one needed more misery.”

“So I was curious when I saw your folder. No history of note, excellent credit. Once divorce. Not even a traffic ticket. Yet it turns out there is a dark side. I”m curious. Obviously it is about sexual excitement. Do you expect to be just as excited in 12 years about being draped in chains and in prison? Or will you shoot a 12 year load tonight and ask politely to go home, then suffer here like the rest.”

“This is a huge mistake sir. I don’t belong here. Twelve years was a joke, that’s how long my marriage lasted. I don’t know how it got this far. We were just playing some sort of game. I wasn’t expecting it and they came over my house and chained me up like this in my basement for three months and somehow I got sent here. I wanted these chains off from the first second. I cannot live like this. I did nothing deserving prison. You have to let me go, please sir, unchain me and let me go home.” I was almost crying.

“You did not know this was going to happen, that this game was going to be played.”

“No sir, not at all. I don’t understand any of this.”

“And you struggled against the chains to free yourself to no avail. Then my jailers showed up and dragged you off to my prison. No one knows you are here or how to start looking for you. How touching. The way I see it you are new to bondage, got in way over your head and ended up chained hand and foot, sent up here to be with us for the next twelve years. A world class case of buyer”s remorse. You bondage freaks sure don’t do your research.”

“You did pay a $100k prison transfer fee to get here, correct. In cash, correct.”

“Yes but not to get here. I was trying to get out of the basement. I agree with your first thought, no rational person would voluntarily come here. Certainly not like this. This is so wrong. It was the only way. I knew once I got out of solitary someone would listen to me.”

“Do you own the chains you have on?”

“Well, yes, they were just a sex toy.”

“Mr. Roberts, chains you can take off are toys. You are wearing a professionally made set of riveted heavy 5 point irons. They are prison restraint devices. Bondage did not invent your chains, prisons did. The chains just came home, and you were in them”.

“Normally, I would have them removed, thinking you enjoyed them. You, ironically, seem to hate the punishment you paid me to make sure you served every day of, no matter how hard you beg. Those chains and this prison are your worst nightmare. It”s a funny world sometimes Mr. Roberts.”

“You paid to be chained; you paid to be sent here and stay chained. Success. You are here and here you will stay. A perfect fantasy for you.”

“Keep the money, I can get more. We can write a new contract.”

“Mr. Roberts, your fee is already mine, and I never take bribes from prisoners, bad business. But you amuse me; I actually think you are telling the truth. You must be terrified.”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“Good, I want you to get the full bondage feel, you paid for it. This is a prison Mr. Roberts, not a game, and true to your fetish’s deepest fears, I am the evil warden. By your own request, you have an irrevocable sentence of twelve years in chains. Sadly you also have two escape attempts” One sentence completed, the second attempt gets you 10 years added on. Assault on a guard 5 years added on. Disrespectful behavior Alexei, give him a 20 pound ball. He is dragging a chain, marry him.”

”That brings your total time to 27 years, you will be 67 when you get out, your next violation is life. It will be fun watching you grow old. Enjoy yourself. “

“What does it take to convince you, I am just a regular guy, this is not me, I am not into bondage or games. You have to let me go. I paid for this, I order you to let me go.”

“I love it when they say that. We promised you an absolutely secure prison, you will have it. I will keep to the contract. You will keep your chains, you will be married shortly. You both will work hard every day and return to your cell every night. And if you are good, in only 27 more years you will be free. I have been very lenient so far, screw with me and you will never leave. Understand?”

“No, no, you…” A jolt hit my ass. Two guards cut off the clothes I had been wearing for the last three months. As I was standing there naked they led in a middle aged woman, about 35. She was about five foot eight, wide hips, big below the waist. She was not particularly attractive, made even worse with the scowl on her face. She was already dressed in a gray suit. Her left hand was holding a five foot chain with a 20 pound ball attached to leg irons.

“Mr. John Roberts, this is Ms. Sally Turcot. Ms. Turcot, please meet Mr. Roberts. Forgive him his wardrobe has not arrived yet. So to make this ceremony equal, strip her. Alexei.” The blacksmith moved the chain from the middle of my leg irons to my right cuff. Then it was connected to her left cuff. ”Ms. Turcot is not always so polite. Giving her something to hold has mellowed her out. She has been quite uncooperative and does not make friends easily.”

A guard had pulled down her jumpsuit. She was naked except for a chastity belt. “At age 12 they had arranged her marriage to a newborn boy, from the old country, a lot of property and inheritance on the line. She needed to be a virgin at marriage and was placed in a chastity belt until he was 21. On his 21st birthday, a virgin at 33, she found him sleeping with her sister. Two days later her sister was married, and got the entire inheritance. She tried to poison the wedding party. To avoid scandal, she has joined us for life instead of 50 counts of attempted murder. She has had that on for over 20 years. Sally is somewhat bitter, especially towards men. I am hoping married life mellows her out. Sadly for her the family has not allowed me to remove her chastity belt. More irony, she has to get married first. And not by a blacksmith.”

“You evil son of a …” Another jolt across my back.

Alexei had finished adding the ball and chain. I had close to sixty pounds of chains on. A prisoner in a gray jumpsuit handed me my jumpsuit. It was not easy to put on over the chains, then Velcro it shut. “ The jumpsuit is a special design just for your needs. You will notice that Special Security intermingles men and women. If you are shy, too bad. We have not had a problem, that would be a violation. Consensual sex is permitted. Privacy is not. Assault is never permitted. As you can see, you and Ms. Turcot will not be having traditional sex. Prison brings the homosexual out in men, and I think you are gay anyway. Just remember Ms. Turcot is only 10 feet away at all times.”

“Clothing is a clean jumpsuit and gray slip-on shoes. No undies, no socks or bras, just your jumpsuit. A dirty jumpsuit is a violation. That is the only clothing you get. A clean one will be provided as needed. Contraband is a violation.”

As I shifted weight to start walking she bent down, picked up our connecting chain and pulled it hard. “Come on Bondage Boy, I”m tired.” The guards erupted in laughter.

“Did your scenario have a dom in it Bondage Boy. Time for your honeymoon. Enjoy your weekend. Put them on delivery first thing Monday morning. Give everyone a chance to see what Bondage Boy is all about, I always forget about the humiliation. Doubt if you will get many request for your tailor, Bondage Boy.” All the guards were laughing.

We were led in through a large sliding steel door. I was walking with the connecting chain in one hand and the ball and chain in another. The cells were arranged on a single level. There were four pods in the special security section. Our cell was at the far end of one row. Sally was not the only female on the pod, but it did not seem to matter. The cells were staggered so from inside a cell all you could see was cement wall. From outside you could see everything in a cell. There was almost no privacy from the guards.

There was a group of guards in front of the first visible cell. It had two walls of bars on a corner cell. Inside, Thomas and Lipton were just beginning to understand how close together and uncomfortable they would be spending the next five years. Naked except for their chains and a blanket they were struggling to find a comfortable position on their small bunk. Lying down on their sides they had to hold on to each other to stay on the bed, naked bodies touching close, or face each other, also very close. Sitting up they looked like lovers playing under a small blanket, with their naked bodied touching. A guard approached and yanked the blanket off their now naked bodies. Lipton was crying and trying to cover his body with the pillow, his movement contorted by the cramped space in the cell and his attachment to his partner. Thomas grabbed the bars and was pleading loudly to get out of the cell. “Call my uncle, he can have everything, house, gold, everything we have, just get us out of here.”

“Don’t worry boys, in a couple of years and a couple of kids I am sure it will feel just like home.” It was not hard to make the guards laugh.

“Denial. I hate new prisoners, they’re loud.” Sally said, she just stared straight ahead. Not one bit of care for the two men. I was overwhelmed. Chained to a strange woman in a prison they ran by personal vendetta. Two minutes later we were in our cell. “In. Close 20.” The door slid shut with a clang and another clang. I had never been in a jail cell before. And it must have been obvious. I turned and grabbed the door and started pulling. It was like the first night in the dark with the chains. This was real. No basement with a local blacksmith, I was locked in a cell, my new home. My chains on the bars were drowning out Thomas’s moaning.

“The cell door is locked Bondage Boy. It will happen every night for the rest of your life, Bondage Boy. We are locked inside, Bondage Boy. We will be here for the next three days, Bondage Boy. Now that you know that will you sit down and shut up. If you are going to masturbate do it quietly tonight, and try to do it in the shower from now on. Much cleaner. Or do I have to see a crying scene like your boyfriends out front Bondage Boy?”

“This must be the big time for you, your first night in a real prison cell, on a real prison bunk, wearing real prison chains. Like Christmas, your birthday and the super bowl all in one for you, huh Bondage Boy.” I sat on a bunk and put the mass of iron chain down, the sound echoed through the pod. I could not form a rational thought. I was somehow supposed to live the next 27 years in this nightmare. Other than a small sink/toilet in a tiny alcove, the cell consisted of two covered bunks, two blankets, two towels, two pillows, two soap, two tooth brushes, two tubes of tooth paste, two spare jumpsuits and two strangers. I could still hear Thomas in the distance.

I looked over at Sally. She had straight brown hair which was kept pulled tightly back. Her skin was clear, straight, white teeth and brown eyes. She had a very short temper and a fierce expression. “What are you looking at Bondage Boy? Fletcher must think he’s a riot, marrying me to some homosexual bondage freak. Maybe you do want to be with your boyfriends in the other cell. They looked comfortable.”

“My name is John, not Bondage Boy. I am not into bondage and I am not gay. And I don’t belong here.”

“Then you have a problem then, don’t you. I think I had it right first, you are just a sissy boy and you are loving this all. Every bondage prisoner here is gay. And you are the poster boy for bondage. Look at you. Not into bondage my ass. It took four guards and that troll Alexei to put chains me, you probably tipped the guy. You should be wearing this belt, not me. You’re gonna be the bitch here. Or does that thought excite you too.”

“Look, think what you want. When do we get to make a phone call.”

“Phone call. You just don’t get it, do you stupid. We are locked away from the world, for good. Never, no phones for prisoners. No letters unless they are pre-read and approved. No computer access. No TV. No radio. No outsides. Lights out at 8pm. Wake up is at 4am for delivery. We eat breakfast at 5, lunch at 11 and dinner at 4:30. By 5 we will be back in this cell. If we are not working, or eating we are in this cell. We get a shower on Monday and Thursday. Exercise Tuesday and Thursday. Simple enough. Otherwise you will be sitting there and I will be sitting here 12 hours a day, Bondage Boy.”

“Please stop with the Bondage Boy shit. Those are big words from someone who has been wearing a chastity belt for 20 years.” She didn’t say another word.

I sat there, staring straight ahead for hours. I could not move. A delivery cart with our wedding dinner was at the door. Chicken, rice vegetable. Plastic knife, fork, spoon. Some sort of juice. Edible at best. I did not eat. I did not even talk for two days. Neither did she. We would politely look away as the other used the toilet. Neither of us could move far without the clinking of chains echoing in the cell block. Nothing was secret, no move undetected.

At 4am a guard opens our cell. “Honeymoons over, get moving”, 4:15 we report for delivery. 4:45 Open dining hall, 5 am eat 5:15 start rounds, 6:30… Every hour of the day planned and every day the same as the last. Other pods had diversions like TV, books, papers, and a community room. But special security was different. All we had was routine. Within a day I was just called Bondage Boy. On my best day I made a racket on the cement floor and metal fixtures and they knew it was us. We had a cart that we could put our balls and chains. She was not nice to anyone and I was ridiculed as nothing more than her eunuch.

Each new pod we entered got the same reaction, muted laughter followed by complete disrespect when she called me Bondage Boy. No amount of pleading would get her to stop. She was determined to make me miserable.

Fletcher enjoyed walking the pod when we were locked in. He and Markson, the pod chief, never missed a chance to spread the humiliation. They would lead new prisoners over to Thomas and Lipton’s cell as a warning, and our cell to show how unhappy a bad coupling could be. He would find the vulnerable and destroy them to control the rest.

Any attempt I made to emotionally connect with Sally were shut down. No job talk, no small talk, she was in her own world and only emerged long enough to snarl or humiliate me again. We just walked through the day and slept through the night, mostly in silence. Chained as we were we had learned to do all sorts of difficult maneuvers, dodging each other in close contact, avoiding tangled chains in our bondage ballet.

Delivery consisted of rolling our cart through all of the pods, delivering backup supplies, food, coffee for the guards. Whatever they wanted, I was the errand boy for everyone. .

After a year of this I was awoken with a hand over my mouth. It was Igor. Igor. “Roberts be quiet. Igor no like this. You chained to unmarried woman. Men chained for sex. This not good prison. Alexei tell. They not respect Alexei. Igor should have known you not know game. Me know better. Me fix, take many months, but Alexei and me fix, no problem.”

It had to be hallucination. “How did you get here?”

“Ten generations jailers and blacksmith. We know old ways. No problem. Always have way out. Shhh. Alexei visit, we fix. You still have Igor’s chains. Good chains. You wait. Must go.”

The cell door opened and shut more silently than possible. I was dreaming. Had to be. I looked over at Sally who was still sleeping.

As the months went by, I convinced myself it was a dream. I had fallen into a comfort zone just fading into the background. Sally and I continued in our routine with few interruptions.

It was Sunday, our day off. We got out for meals, but most of the day we were on our bunks. “What would you do if you got out of here?”

“Asking me on a date Bondage Boy?”

I had long ago given up listening to her responses. I could tell by her motions what her mood was and I could sense what her next move was. “I would go to the beach and get some sun. I haven’t felt the sun in months. I want some sun.” That seemed to catch her off guard.

“I have never seen the ocean. I would like that.” For just a moment, she was human. Then the venom. “But you forget your expensive chains, Bondage Boy; you forget the prison you paid to be in. We are locked in here and safe. That is all we ever get Bondage Boy.”

“Is that what it is? Passing off constant misery as safety? Fear of the real world. You would rather stay locked up in here, chained to a man you despise, than go to a beach. I have been to the beach, lady it is in every way better than being in here. Being with real people who don’t wear chastity belts or chains, where we get to decide what and when we eat. We could eat in tiny little restaurants as we strolled through town, we could have cocktails and watch the sun set. Then we could go home make love like a normal couple. Not two people separated by the same chain, letting our misery make Fletcher stronger. We deserve better.” Our conversation was loud and animated.

I said something I had never thought of, but it was true. I had started lying on the bunk to watch her move. And I could feel her moving in bed, even from four feet away. I looked at her, she was crying. She was trying hard not to, but soon she was sobbing. I tried to touch her but she pulled back. “Stop it, stop it, we can’t leave, there are no beaches and I am not afraid. This belt wasn’t to keep me pure; my mother was protecting me so my father couldn’t fuck me anymore. I want the whole damn world to just leave me alone. My father sold me to that rich brat for status. Everyone has a plan for me. I want these fucking chains off, I want this fucking belt off and I want to be fucking alone.” She was crying frantically, a full melt down.

“And you, self-sentenced to be here with your polite manners. Walking through all the abuse you get without fighting back. You have no backbone you gutless wonder. All that bullshit of getting chained up by mistake. You didn’t have the balls to deal with people so you did this bondage thing. You deserve to be here.” Our screaming drew a crowd. There were no secrets.

“Well, well, well, so the iron maiden cracks.” It was Fletcher. ”Can’t be my love birds are actually falling in love, can it?”

“Shut up.” She screamed as she lunged towards the bars. Fletcher stepped back laughing.

“I think she wants some sex Bondage Boy. And I think she wants you. Too bad about that belt. Would you do that for her Roberts, would you fuck her? I can see by that look you would. You really are straight, and you are so desperate you would even fuck her. Ah, but that belt. She needs to marry and needs her family”s approval. And only I can get it for her. But I have a one-time deal for you. Suppose I put a belt on you for a year and remove hers. Then she could have sex, find out if she even likes men, and decide if she wants you. If not, we take the belt off you and put hers back on. Would you let some other guy fuck her Bondage Boy.” “Oh wait, what”s in it for you. Nothing but the chance to let her take it out on someone other than you. Would you trade your desire for her, for her happiness?” Now I lunged at the bars.

“You have done us a great favor Roberts. Since we married you two, she has been much nicer to everyone else. All that hate has you as a target now. She insults and humiliates you in front of everyone. But you still want her, don’t you Bondage Boy. She is so close; you see her undress and bathe. You watch her sleep so close by. Get Alexei to take five feet of their chain away, let them stay so close, they have to smell each other. You are in love with her, literally chained to her and you will never have her. And you Sally, will die a virgin.”

Lights went out at he walked away. “See what you did. You just fed him, gave him just what he wanted. He wins. Just leave me alone.” I was sure she was still crying.

Alexei was sitting on my bunk as he cut the chain. In a low whisper, “Shhh, Igor send, we almost ready, we get you gone.”

“How?”

“10 generations blacksmiths. We build jails, no problem. Problem get Fletcher here. Trade you and him.”

“Why?” I could hear Sally breathing, she was awake, but not moving.

“Jail guard code, very old for prisons. Guard lose prisoner, guard become prisoner. Fletcher no respect Alexei, he not like be prisoner, but he be prisoner, just like the game. You see, no problem he married to mean woman.”

“She has to come too, she cannot stay.”

“Very difficult take mean woman, easy take you. You come, you free. Igor happy, all happy. Mean woman never happy. You come.”

“I want her to come with us or I cannot go.” Now I knew I had gone insane. They had a way out and I did not jump on it.

“OK, me try fix, Alexei get Markson for mean woman. It ok, we all go. You wait.”

Alexei left and closed the cell door with a clang.

The connecting chain was now draped between our bunks, pulling on our feet.

“Was he right?” I did not think she could clearly hear Alexei.

“Who?”

“Fletcher, was he right?”

“About what?”

“Is that why you have been looking at me then looking away. Is that it, do you want me?”

“I don’t know you. After a year Fletcher has told me more about you than you.”

She said nothing, but I heard a lonely gasp escape.

“But I love to watch you move. When you sleep you are calm and peaceful. Where ever you go in your dreams is a happy place. Your rythym some days, walking down the hall as if you had no irons on at all. I could watch you shower all day as you seem to stretch the cares of the world away. Then the shower ends and I don’t know how such a shrill demeanor could be trapped in such a graceful figure. I want to shower and sleep with her. But I don’t know where to find her.”

She stared away at the wall.

“By the way, the chastity belt adds ten pounds to the figure.”

She started laughing. “Fuck you Bondage Boy. Get over it, Fletcher hates you and hates me; he will never let us be happy.” She was right.

It was a week later when Fletcher came back. “I thought carefully about this, and I don’t like your attitudes. They do not amuse me anymore. Get Alexei, we are divorcing these two tonight.” We both jumped. “That’s better. I hit a nerve.

“He is off property tonight Sir.”

“Well I want them split tomorrow. Put her with the school teacher that likes her students. Marry him to the new bondage slave that just arrived. You will like him Roberts, he saw you chained and got very excited. I promised him a set just like yours. Give them opposite schedules, like they are in separate prisons. I would stay but I am sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

For the second time I heard her crying. “Sally?” I moved towards her but she froze.

“Don’t touch me. All I get from men is pain. Every time. Just get away from me. Soon you will have a new Bondage Boy to play with. Leave me alone.” Her head was buried in the blanket and pillow. I fell on my bunk in despair. It was two hours later when heard Igor. Sally had fallen asleep.

“We go now, move quick but quiet. You wake mean lady, Igor be right back.”

For the first time in two years I walked over and sat on her bunk. “Sally, wake up.”

“Get away from me.”

I put my hand over her mouth. She did not resist. “Forget Fletcher, forget this prison. Right now, tonight before anything else happens, would you really like to see the ocean? Would you?”

She nodded. “Dreams will not make it happen.”

A large form walked up to our cell door and slid it open. Walked over to the wall outside, pushed and a large opening appeared. He disappeared inside.

“Who was that?’

“That was Igor. A tenth generation blacksmith. And he is here to free us.”

“How the hell is he going to do that.”

“I don’t know, but he got in, didn’t he?”

“We both got in stupid? And look what it got us.”

It did not take long to find out. Igor returned. “Tonight good. We go. Very quiet, Igor cut chains. Fletcher look good in Igor’s chains. Yes,”

“Yes.”

“Prefer chisel, this will do.” A small electric saw cut the rivets in seconds. The chains fell off. I looked out of the cell. There was a doorway where there was none hours ago. More exactly, a section of the wall was missing. Igor was carrying in an unconscious Fletcher, Alexei had Markson. It did not take long for the two blacksmiths chain the men. “Rivets not great with pliers but they work. Hurry, they wake soon.”

“Tag hurt.” He put a rag in my mouth and I muffled a scream as he removed the tag. Sally didn’t even flinch. He walked into the cell for the last time and stapled their ears.”

“Hard part over, we go. No like men, they better as prisoners. Tomorrow they cry, you watch.”

We walked through the wall and Igor carefully replaced the section and braced it with some 2x4”s from behind. We were now in a maze of tunnels within the walls of the complex. “We wait here until next night, wait for fun, No worry, we safe. All prisons have behind walls, 10th generation blacksmiths, we know. Fun happen soon, you listen, be quiet.”

My respect for Igor kept growing. At 4:15 the alarm hit, and all lights went on. We could hear the confusion on the other side of the wall. “Sir, it is procedure, violations would be punished. The head guard is on his way, I cannot open your cell sir, procedure.”

10 minutes later the head guard on duty arrived. “Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Markson, where are the prisoners.”

“How the hell do we know, open this door.”

“Procedure sir, we have two escaped prisoners, and two guards who possibly aided in the escape.”

“Aided in their escape! How, by taking their place? That’s insane, open the door to this cell and get Alexei.”

“You are guards locked inside the cell of escaped prisoners. You are wearing their restraints. You have their tags. This certainly this implicates you in their escape. As part of your contract you agreed to be responsible for the sentence of any prisoner or prisoners you allow, through direct or indirect action, to escape. I have a call into the Directors, we will have a decision soon.”

Igor was sitting there, smiling. Sally and I sat holding each other, our fear not letting Igor’s calm take over. Alexei”s voice could be heard from the other side of the wall. “Chains good, rivets good. Door strong. Alexei not understand, ask prisoners.”

“Get that out of your head, we are not prisoners.”

“Wear chains like prisoners, in cell like prisoners, married like prisoners.”

“You will be wearing chains if you say that again.” Fletcher had a tone in his voice that betrayed any confidence.

“My name is Mr. Grissom. Remember it, use it very carefully. You are prisoners. You are in my prison and the rules are posted. Memorize them, if you make a mistake you will be punished. Open the cell, strip the prisoners.” Fletcher was finding out how difficult it was managing Igors chain”s. They cut their clothes off.

“Fletcher, Robert. Complicity in Escape of Roberts, John. Remaining sentence, 31 years in chains. Third escape attempt sentence is life in prison, no parole, in chains.”

“Markson, Stephen, Complicity in the Escape of Turcot, Sally. Remaining sentence, life in chains. Attempted escape, out of uniform, illegal contraband. Further restraints added, 5 point irons. Alexei.”

The guards had to hold Markson down as he was chained. “Prisoners remain married. New honeymoon.”

“Grissom you power hungry idiot. We will have them picked up and returned. They have to be close by, we can catch them. Call the police and report them. Now, or you will regret this.”

“I think not. Mr. Roberts has committed no crime and we did not deliver on his contract. We have no criminal grounds to have him arrested, but the Directors reason he will never be heard from again any way. He was the client and you let him go, your reasons are your own. For your complicity you will serve his sentence.”

“The Turcot family has been advised and will handle her if need be. Tempers have calmed within the family. But we reason she will not contact the family. We believe Mr. Roberts will return to his life, his money and go to the beach. She will go with him. You should be happy, they are in love. Maybe the chain will work its magic on you and Bondage Boy Markson here. It does not matter they are no longer our concern.”

“For your insolence you will be moved to the corner cell. One pillow, one blanket, one toothbrush, no clothing in the cell. Be nice or I will take away the blanket. Enjoy your time with us.”

Igor had moved us down the tunnel. “Two hours, dark. We go. No problem, almost home. Me borrow your car Roberts, you no mind, blacksmith truck no good for escape. Lexus much better.”

“Igor, you can have the Lexus.”

Igor had us in Connecticut by the next night. It had been 14 months since I first saw Igor’s chains. None of it had ever seemed real, and now it was over, except for the scars from the irons and Sally.

“Me forget mean woman, me Minister in church, you can trust, Igor only work, you want chastity belt off mean lady?”

As she stared at me, “I do.”

12.05.11

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