SecureLok Transport System

Chapter 1

American Prisoner Transport

Like many government agencies, the Department of Corrections faced mounting pressure to cut costs. At the January budget oversight committee meeting, Section Chief Terry Manning identified six areas of overspending. One stood out: interstate prisoner transport. Gone were the days of white buses with barred windows ferrying inmates across state lines. The maintenance costs were unsustainable, and the security risks too high. Those buses had become prime targets for gangs or hired mercenaries looking to stage mass escapes. Even newer methods—like unmarked black SUVs—had their limits. Air travel was the biggest expense. The federal prisoner transfer hub in Oklahoma City still operated flights for high-risk inmates, but each Boeing 737 cost $25,000 per flight hour. With security restrictions limiting capacity to just 50 inmates per trip, a single coast-to-coast transport could cost upwards of $250,000. As a result, extraditions were delayed—sometimes indefinitely—until a plane could be filled to justify the cost.

Manning’s solution? Commercial travel. If prisoners could be discreetly secured for flights alongside everyday passengers, the savings would be enormous. Eventually, trains and commercial buses might also be viable. But security was paramount. An escape in midair would be catastrophic, and public backlash could kill the program before it even started. Early surveys confirmed what Manning had feared: the public had no interest in sharing a plane with violent criminals, even under guard. Any new transport system had to be airtight—both in security and in optics.

Enter SecureLok.

The Dallas-based company specialized in human restraints, from standard handcuffs to full-body immobilization. With Manning’s contract, SecureLok poured millions into research and development, designing a new line of high-security, inconspicuous transport systems. Eight months later, they were ready to unveil their solution. 

The demonstration hall was packed when SecureLok’s president, Amanda Jenkins, took the stage. At her side was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his forties, dressed in a well-tailored suit and collared shirt—no tie. His sharp jawline and dark sunglasses gave him an air of quiet confidence. He walked with a slow, deliberate pace, his hands tucked in front of him as if casually warming them.

Jenkins reached the podium and smiled. “Meet John Smith,” she announced, her voice carrying easily over the audience. “Federal inmate number 7353614.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“He’s standing here on his own power,” Jenkins continued, “but make no mistake—he is completely restrained. Powerless. Though he appears to be wearing ordinary dress clothes, beneath them, he is utterly helpless.” 

The room fell silent, captivated. “His hands? Bound and useless.” She gestured toward his torso. “A spinal brace keeps his back rigid, forcing perfect posture. He cannot bend, twist, or stoop. His legs are secured with knee braces that limit movement to no more than two and a half miles per hour—too slow to flee, too awkward to fight. And these—” she tapped the sunglasses on his face, “—are more than they appear. A concealed wire strap keeps them in place, and with the press of a button…” She lifted a small remote. Click. The lenses blacked out. “He is blind.”

A ripple of gasps swept through the audience.

“Sight is a privilege,” Jenkins said smoothly. “A powerful deterrent against any rogue activity. If he were to become noncompliant, all we would have to do is… turn off his world.”

A round of applause erupted. Some even cheered. Manning, watching from the front row, exhaled slowly. If this worked—if it truly was as secure as it seemed—it could change everything. And soon, it would be time to put it to the test.

Monday morning, at exactly 9:00 AM, Director Manning was seated in Audra Adams’ office to discuss the next steps. As the Senior Deputy of Federal Prisoner Transport, Audra had built her career on precision and control. In her late 30s, she carried herself with an air of authority—poised, disciplined, and meticulous in both appearance and execution.

Her path had been deliberate. A graduate of Tulane University with a degree in criminology and pre-law, she had once considered a career as an attorney. But a well-placed recommendation from her state senator landed her an internship with the Department of Corrections, and that changed everything. Within two years, she had conducted a groundbreaking study on humane prisoner detention and transport, solidifying her expertise in the history, techniques, and legal nuances of restraint and confinement.

For the past five years, she had overseen federal prisoner transport without a single escape. Not one. That record wasn’t luck; it was the result of an ironclad system she had personally designed. She was respected, feared, and—above all—trusted to ensure that when an inmate was in federal custody, they stayed in federal custody.

As she sat across from Manning, her expression was unreadable. She already knew why she was here. “Deputy Adams, I’m putting you in charge of transforming our federal prisoner transportation program,” Director Manning announced, his tone crisp and deliberate. “We’ve contracted with SecureLok to develop the necessary equipment to move prisoners humanely and efficiently. Your task is to draft new protocols covering every aspect of transport—local jail transfers, courthouse movements, and long-haul, transcontinental flights. Priority will be given to new technologies and cost-saving measures.”

Her words had the polished rhythm of a well-rehearsed directive. Audra pulled a pen from her portfolio and began taking notes, her handwriting swift and precise.

“You’ll need to create procedures for every conceivable scenario,” Manning continued. “That includes inmates of all ages, sizes, and physical conditions—young, elderly, underweight, obese, disabled, highly athletic. The system needs to work seamlessly across the board.”

Audra nodded, absorbing the weight of the assignment. “When do you want me to begin?” she asked.

“Immediately.” Manning didn’t hesitate. “I expect comprehensive policies and procedures on my desk in six weeks.”

Audra straightened, the gears already turning in her mind. “I can do it.” Her confidence was automatic, even as the sheer scope of the task loomed in front of her. “How many people will I have on my team?”

“Two.” Manning slid a folder across the desk. “One research and design assistant and one policy analyst to help you draft the procedures.”

Audra took a measured breath, already calculating how she would structure the workload. The challenge was immense, but the opportunity was undeniable. “I’m at your service,” she said, masking her uncertainty behind a polished veneer of professionalism.

Transportation Overhaul

Audra scheduled the first transportation overhaul team meeting in the conference room down the hall from her office. The space was ideal—large enough for collaboration and equipped with a high-definition monitor to showcase the current and proposed transport methods.

After brief introductions with Reagan and Evan, she launched into the history of prisoner transport in America. She had prepared a slideshow, complete with photos and videos, illustrating the evolution of restraint and movement techniques dating back to the early 1800s. The first slides depicted a stark reality—before vehicles, prisoners were bound with simple rope and forced to march behind mounted officers on horseback. Later, horse-drawn wagons with barred enclosures became the standard. By the 1930s, buses emerged as the primary mode of transport, a method that, surprisingly, remained in use nearly a century later.

Then, she transitioned to SecureLok’s revolutionary approach. The next slides showcased SecureLok Mobile 1, a state-of-the-art restraint and transport system designed for absolute control. Unlike traditional handcuffs and shackles, this technology rendered prisoners completely immobile, subject to officer commands with no means of resistance.

The system’s core design revolved around a prisoner mounting station integrated with ultra-powerful electromagnetic locks, each rated at an astonishing 800 pounds of force. 

A series of animated demonstration videos followed, breaking down the step-by-step immobilization process. The animated video demonstration began, detailing SecureLok’s step-by-step process for restraining a prisoner. A prisoner in full transport irons was led into a plain, unmarked room—stark, minimal, designed for efficiency. The process started with disrobing down to undergarments, ensuring there were no hidden weapons, contraband, or items that could interfere with the restraint system.

Step 1: Initial Setup - The prisoner, already in standard transport chains and cuffs, was led into the restraint chamber.

Step 2: Primary Restraint—The Posture Bar -- A reinforced metal spine bar served as the central anchor. Once in place, this forced an upright posture, eliminating any ability to slouch, twist, or bend forward. Two stainless steel bands secured the inmate in place:

• Neck Band: Locked securely at the top of the bar, ensuring the prisoner’s head remained upright.
• Torso Band: Wrapped just below the navel, forcing a fully erect posture, eliminating the possibility of slouching or bending forward.

Step 3: Wall Immobilization - Once in position, the prisoner was backed against a custom-designed restraint wall.

• Electromagnets engaged, clamping onto the spinal restraint bar, effectively pinning the subject flush against the wall. At this point, free movement was impossible—the prisoner could breathe, but not shift their body or struggle.

Step 4: Precision Restraints—Adaptive Cuffing System - New 6-inch-wide magnetic wrist cuffs were placed just above the standard transport cuffs. These cuffs used proprietary technology to mold their inner lining to the exact dimensions of the prisoner’s wrists, preventing any rotation or micro-movement. Similar adaptive cuffs were secured at the ankles, ensuring total lower-body control.

Step 5: Knee Braces—Pace and Mobility Restrictions - The prisoner was then fitted with high-tech knee braces equipped with automated tension regulators. These braces were programmed to restrict movement to a maximum speed of 2.5 mph, preventing any attempt at running. They could be locked at specific angles:

• 90 degrees: Immobilizing the subject in a seated position.
• 180 degrees: Preventing the subject from bending their knees, forcing them to remain standing.

Step 6: Transition to Civilian Clothing

• With the prisoner completely immobilized, the transport cuffs were removed.
•  Each arm was extended outward and locked in place via side-mounted electromagnets, holding the arms perfectly straight.
• A dress shirt was carefully placed over the prisoner, threaded around the immobilized limbs, and buttoned down the front.
• Dress pants were applied, completing the professional civilian appearance.

Step 7: The Concealed Hand Restraint System - At this stage, SecureLok’s most deceptive feature was introduced:

• A modular security tube was attached to the waist belt, threaded discreetly through a buttonhole in the lower portion of the shirt.
• One hand at a time, the prisoner’s wrists were slid into either end of the steel-reinforced interior chamber—a device that, from the outside, looked like a simple hand-warmer made of luxurious velvet lining.
• Once secured, the prisoner’s hands were permanently locked inside the tube, unable to be removed regardless of strength or force applied. The fingers, wrists, and forearms were completely useless, frozen in place and suspended at the front of the body.

To the untrained eye, the prisoner appeared simply relaxed, with hands casually tucked into a soft warmer—but in reality, they had zero capability to touch, grab, or resist in any way.

Step 8: Final Release and Mobility Controls - With all restraints in place, the electromagnetic locks were disengaged, releasing the prisoner from the wall mount.

• They could now stand freely, appearing untouched and unrestricted.
• However, they could not bend forward, move faster than a controlled walking pace, or use their arms in any way.

Step 9: Vision Control - To eliminate visual awareness and situational control, the final step was securing proprietary sunglasses, fitted with:

• A complete blackout feature, rendering the prisoner effectively blind at the press of a button.
• A blur mode, reducing all visibility to an indistinct haze—enough to allow movement under guidance but preventing recognition of surroundings, people, or escape routes.

Step 10: Modular Enhancements - Finally, SecureLok had developed a modular restraint toolkit, allowing officers to customize the level of restriction based on prisoner classification. Additional restraint modules could be deployed as needed, including:

• Full immobilization sleeves
• Vision-restricting blackout goggles
• Vocal dampening masks
• Electrical Shock Collar

Audra clicked to the final slide and turned to her team. “This,” she said, “is the future of prisoner transport.” She scanned the room, gauging their reactions. Evan’s eyes were wide, impressed. Reagan sat perfectly still, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her pen. Audra knew what they were both thinking. This was beyond traditional restraint. This was absolute control. As the video ended, the screen froze on the final image: a fully restrained prisoner standing calmly, dressed in civilian clothes, appearing completely ordinary—yet utterly helpless. Audra turned to her team. “This,” she said, “is how we make prisoner transport invisible.”

“Okay,” Audra said, pausing the video. She turned to her team. “We need to write the protocols for this new transport system. What do you guys think?”

Silence filled the room as both Reagan and Evan processed what they had just seen. The system was revolutionary—far beyond traditional prisoner restraints. Each tried to internally critique the details, searching for weak points. Finally, Reagan spoke first. “Has this gone through the ethics committee?”

“Yes,” Audra said immediately. “And they approved it with overwhelming support.”

Reagan gave a slow nod, still absorbing the implications. Overwhelming support. That was rare. Evan leaned forward, tapping his pen against the table. “How are the locks activated and released?”

Audra smiled slightly—a good question. “Great question, Evan.” She glanced at her notes before continuing. “The locking system is controlled by a remote interface for most of the components. The transport officer operates the remote, but access is restricted by biometric security. A guard must enter their fingerprint or retinal scan before any locks can be released.” She paused, letting that sink in. “Now, we also understand the risks. If someone unauthorized gained access, it could be catastrophic. That’s why the most critical restraints—the posture bar, neck collar, and waist belt—are secured with manual high-security locks.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Manual? Like… old-school locks?”

“Exactly. They use circular key locks that cannot be duplicated outside of SecureLok’s manufacturing facility. Same for the knee braces. The locks are titanium-reinforced, meaning they can’t be cut with bolt cutters or saws. The only way to remove them would be with a cutting torch.”

Reagan crossed her arms. “So who has access to the keys?”

“Only the sending and receiving detention centers,” Audra answered. “Once a prisoner is locked in, they cannot be released until they reach their final destination. There’s no room for error.”

Evan tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. “And if someone tries to tamper with the locks?”

Audra gave a satisfied nod. “Central Command is notified every time a lock is engaged or released. They get a full report—including which lock was accessed and whether it was done via remote or manual override. If anything suspicious happens, alarms go off immediately.”

Silence followed. Reagan exhaled. “Well… if this works the way they say it does, prisoner escapes just became impossible.”

Audra leaned back in her chair. “That’s the goal.”

“Some of these transports are cross-country,” Reagan pointed out, her tone firm. “They can take hours. How do prisoners use the bathroom? Or eat?”

“Great question, Reagan,” Audra said, nodding. She expected this concern. “The system is designed with controlled flexibility.”

She pulled up another slide, showing a close-up of the wrist and ankle restraints. “Each wrist and ankle lock is equipped with a compliance sensor. The wrist cuffs, for example, can be temporarily released from the ‘hand tube’ for up to five minutes at a time. But here’s the catch—if the prisoner doesn’t return their hands to the locked position within that window, the cuffs automatically tighten.”

Reagan and Evan exchanged a glance. “Tighten?” Evan asked.

Audra nodded. “Yes. The cuffs apply increasing pressure to the radial and ulnar nerves. It’s painful—not injurious, but enough to force compliance. Prisoners will return their hands to the encasement voluntarily.”

“And meals?” Reagan pressed.

“Every officer carries pre-packaged liquid meals. Prisoners will consume them through a straw. No hands necessary.”

A beat of silence. It was an elegantly ruthless solution. Audra clicked to another slide. “The system also includes modular attachments for unique circumstances.” The screen displayed a sleek, hard-shell case. Inside, several additional restraint tools were neatly stored.

• Four lengths of magnetic locking chains for alternative positioning if a standard hold wasn’t sufficient.
• Gag systems for prisoners who became verbally disruptive or attempted to bite.
• And the most controversial component—a shock collar attachment.

Reagan’s brows lifted slightly. “A shock collar?”

Audra’s voice remained steady. “Yes. It integrates with the restraint system and can be activated remotely. It delivers varying levels of electrical stimulation—enough to subdue a prisoner if they go rogue.”

Evan exhaled. “Oh my.”

“This kit travels with every officer during transport,” Audra continued, “ensuring that if an escalation occurs, additional levels of control can be deployed immediately.” The room fell into another heavy silence.

Reagan ran a hand through her hair, still absorbing it all. “So let me get this straight—we’re transporting prisoners in high-end business attire, looking like civilians, but they’re completely immobilized, can’t eat without permission, can’t speak if necessary, and if they resist… we shock them?”

Audra met her gaze evenly. “Yes.”

Reagan exhaled, shaking her head. “Damn.”

The next six weeks were consumed by policy development. Audra and Reagan ran through real-world scenarios, stress-testing the SecureLok system for weaknesses or vulnerabilities. They experimented with the restraints, analyzing every possible flaw. Meanwhile, Evan worked relentlessly, drafting policy after policy, refining the details to ensure the protocols were airtight.

Every type of transport required its own comprehensive procedure—

• Air travel: How would prisoners clear TSA security without drawing attention?
• Ground transport: What were the protocols for high-risk inmates in unmarked SUVs?
• Walking transfers: How would officers safely escort restrained prisoners through courthouses and jails?
• Emergency response: What were the procedures for attempted escapes, medical crises, or acts of violence mid-transport?

Every conceivable situation had to be accounted for, down to the smallest detail.

Two Levels of Transport

Early on, Evan identified a key issue—not all prisoners could be treated equally. While every transport was already considered maximum security, there had to be a distinction between standard high-risk inmates and the truly unstoppable threats.

SecureLok would handle:

• All federal prisoners, whether accused or convicted.
• Charges ranging from white-collar fraud to first-degree murder—everyone in the same system.
• Minimal differentiation between male and female inmates, apart from anatomical considerations.

But the worst of the worst—the Supermax inmates—needed a separate protocol.

These were the prisoners too dangerous for public exposure, the ones who couldn’t be trusted to walk through an airport, even in full SecureLok restraints. They weren’t just escape risks—they had followers, entire networks willing to stage an extraction. For these prisoners, a covert transport system was necessary, one that kept them out of common public areas entirely.

The solution? Two transport layers.

• SecureLok for all federal inmates—no exceptions except Supermax.
• A special operations protocol for Supermax-level inmates, with complete public invisibility.

By standardizing SecureLok’s procedures for the vast majority of prisoners, they ensured simplicity—reducing confusion, minimizing officer error, and keeping operations seamless. The policies had to be bulletproof. There was no room for mistakes. And after six grueling weeks, they were almost there. As the team neared completion of the policies, Evan leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the table. “How do we know this is going to work?”

Audra looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Are we going to test it?” Evan clarified. “Should we pick a low-risk prisoner and have one of our best guards transport them using different methods—plane, bus, taxi, walking? See how the system holds up in real-world conditions?”

Audra exhaled. “Great question, Evan. I’ve been thinking the same thing.” She set her pen down and leaned forward. “My biggest concern is that we cannot afford a public failure. If something goes wrong, if there’s an escape—” she paused, her tone sharpening, “we’re finished. Not just fired—charged. Aiding and abetting. I don’t even want to think about what that fallout would look like.”

The room fell silent for a beat. “I think we need to try SecureLok with someone we can trust.”

Before Audra could continue, Reagan sat up straight, her eyes flashing with excitement. “Let me do it.”

Audra and Evan turned to her.

“I’ll be the one to test the system,” Reagan insisted. “You pick the inmate, and I’ll handle the transport. We can even hire someone if we don’t want to risk a real prisoner.”

Audra studied her for a moment. It made sense. Reagan was one of the best officers they had—sharp, methodical, and unshakable under pressure. And she had been itching to get back into the field. After almost nine months of writing policy, she was ready for action.

Finally, Audra nodded. “Yes… yes, I think we’ll have you try the system.”

A slow smile spread across Reagan’s face. She could already picture it—standing in full uniform, taking control of a massive, muscled inmate, using nothing but SecureLok’s restraints and the touch of a button.

Audra snapped back into command mode. “Reagan, we’re arranging a long-distance transport. Gather the full case of modular restraints. We meet at the Jacksonville Detention Center next Wednesday at 8:00 AM sharp to begin the transfer.”

“Where are we going?” Reagan asked, already buzzing with anticipation.

“Seattle.”

Evan whistled. “That’s a two-day trip.”

Audra nodded. “One full day there, one full day back. And Reagan, listen carefully—you are in charge. I’m just there to take notes.”

Reagan’s pulse quickened, her adrenaline kicking in at the thought of leading the operation.

“Understood,” she said, suppressing a grin. “I won’t let you down.”

The Transport That Wasn’t

Audra and Reagan arrived at the Federal Detention Center in Jacksonville early Wednesday morning, the anticipation thick between them. The lobby was quiet, sterile, the kind of place where time seemed to move slower. The harsh fluorescent lights hummed above them, and the scent of disinfectant and stale coffee lingered in the air. Both women were dressed in professional transport attire—dark slacks, button-downs, and discreet security jackets that identified them as DOC officials.

Reagan checked her watch—7:30 AM sharp. They were scheduled to transport an inmate with the initials B.H.—a 57-year-old investment banker, convicted of money laundering, serving a two-year federal sentence. Everything was set—the paperwork, the itinerary, the SecureLok equipment, their plane tickets. But when they arrived at processing, a thin, tight-lipped administrative officer broke the news.

“B.H. isn’t going anywhere,” the woman said, barely looking up from her screen. “His attorneys filed a last-minute appeal to block the transfer.”

Audra’s stomach sank. “What?”

The officer sighed and leaned back in her chair. “They claim that relocating him to Seattle would ‘unduly hinder his access to legal counsel.’ His team is still in Florida. The judge approved a temporary hold while they review the appeal.”

Audra and Reagan exchanged a glance.

“Damn.” Audra pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. This was a problem.

Reagan’s tone was flat but laced with irritation. “So, what you’re telling me is that our inmate -- the only inmate scheduled for federal transport today—isn’t going anywhere?”

The woman shrugged. “That’s correct.”

Audra forced herself to stay calm. “Is there anyone else in line for transport? Anyone pending transfer?”

The facility director himself appeared then, shaking his head apologetically. “Sorry, Deputy Adams. No other transfers today.”

Reagan clenched her jaw, shifting her weight. They had been preparing for weeks for this test. Their tickets were booked. The SecureLok system was packed and ready. And now—nothing. Audra’s mind was racing. They couldn’t afford another delay—not with the policies due in a matter of weeks. She glanced at her phone, checking the time. They were still booked on an American Airlines flight to Seattle later that morning. And that’s when it hit her. It was a crazy idea. Maybe even reckless. But she saw no other option.

She swallowed hard and turned to Reagan. “What if you were the prisoner?”

Reagan blinked. “Excuse me?”

Audra hesitated, then pushed forward. “We still have our plane tickets. We need to test this system. What if… I transported you to Seattle as a mock inmate?”

Reagan just stared at her for a moment, processing. A slow smirk played on her lips. “So, let me get this straight—” she said, folding her arms. “You want to put me in full SecureLok restraints, march me through the airport, and fly me across the country… as a prisoner?”

Audra exhaled. “I know it’s unorthodox. But we don’t have time to wait for another real transfer. We need data. And you’re the only person I trust to go through it without pushing back or making this a disaster.”

Reagan tilted her head, considering it. There was a spark in her eyes now—one Audra recognized all too well. The thrill of a challenge.

“You realize what you’re asking, right?” Reagan said, her voice lower now. “You’d be in full control. I’d be completely restrained the entire trip. Whatever you say, I’d have to comply with.”

Audra felt her pulse pick up slightly. She knew exactly what it meant. SecureLok wasn’t just shackles. It was absolute restriction. Reagan wouldn’t be able to move, use her hands, or even dictate her own posture. Audra would control everything. 

And suddenly, the weight of responsibility settled over her. “I do,” Audra said, keeping her voice steady. “And I wouldn’t ask if I thought you couldn’t handle it.”

A slow exhale escaped Reagan’s lips. Then, her smirk widened. “Screw it. Let’s do it.”

Audra’s stomach fluttered with anxiety. But Reagan’s confidence was infectious. Audra straightened, her professionalism snapping back into place. “Alright. Let’s get to the SecureLok case and start suiting you up.”

Reagan grinned, stretching her arms like she was preparing for a workout. “Damn, I’ve missed being in the field.”

Audra just shook her head, exhaling. This was going to be one hell of a test run.

Processing the “Inmate”

Audra watched as Reagan disappeared behind the locked doors of the facility, escorted by two detention officers. The heavy steel door clanked shut, leaving Audra alone with the administrative staff. One of the officers turned to her with a smirk. “Deputy Adams—” he paused, then corrected himself with amusement, “excuse me, inmate R.A. will meet you in the processing room in about thirty minutes. You can transfer her to the SecureLok system at that time.”

Audra nodded, though she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Reagan had volunteered without hesitation, but now that things were in motion, the reality was setting in. This wasn’t just a simulation anymore. This was real policy execution. Reagan was about to go through the full experience of federal prisoner processing—stripped of control, outfitted in shackles, jumpsuit, and chains, and handed over to Audra for secure transport like any other high-security inmate.

Audra exhaled. This had to be done right. One of the officers gestured down the hall. “We’ll keep her occupied for a bit. Let’s grab some coffee while we wait.” Audra followed them toward the break room, but her mind was spinning.

She had been in dozens of facilities, observed hundreds of prisoner transfers, and yet this was different. There was something unsettling about knowing that the person on the other side of those locked doors wasn’t actually a criminal—but would be treated as one. Would Reagan handle it the way she expected? Would SecureLok function exactly as designed?

She tapped her fingers on the styrofoam cup of black coffee they handed her, staring at the prisoner processing room ahead. The door stood slightly ajar, revealing a sterile, windowless space—metal benches bolted to the floor, a restraint station, and a stack of documents waiting for final approval before transfer.

Audra checked her watch. Twenty-five minutes. Reagan, by now, was going through the full prisoner intake procedure—just like a real federal inmate.

Behind the Locked Doors—Reagan’s Processing

Reagan stood in the brightly lit processing room, arms crossed as two detention officers prepared the necessary restraints. The air was cold, clinical, and the walls were lined with surveillance cameras, watching her every move. She had never been on this side of the process before. Usually, she was the one giving orders, fitting cuffs, tightening chains. Now? She was the one being restrained.

One officer unceremoniously tossed a bright orange jumpsuit onto the bench beside her. “Strip down to undergarments. Jumpsuit and sandals go on next.”

Reagan arched an eyebrow. “No dinner first?” she quipped.

The officer just smirked. “Standard intake. You’ll be cuffed after.”

She wasn’t actually an inmate, but damn, it felt real. With a deep breath, she pulled off her transport officer uniform and folded it neatly, placing it on the bench. The jumpsuit was stiff and oversized, designed for function, not comfort. When she slipped it on, it hung loosely on her frame, the stark DOC lettering stamped across the back. One of the officers approached, pulling out a waist chain and lockbox.

Click. The first set of cuffs snapped closed around her wrists. Next, they were secured inside a reinforced lockbox—a small metal enclosure that completely covered the cuffs, ensuring she couldn’t manipulate the locks or chain. A waist chain followed, cinching snugly around her torso. The officers threaded the wrist chains through the front loops, further restricting her movement.

Reagan flexed her fingers, testing the range. Minimal. Deliberate. Controlled. Click. Click. Ankle cuffs were secured next—cool steel closing around her skin, the weight of the connecting chain forcing a slower gait. And finally—the connecting lead chain. It linked her wrists to her ankles, ensuring she could only take small, measured steps without tripping herself.

Reagan inhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. The restraint system was flawless. She had put shackles on hundreds of prisoners, but wearing them was different. Every movement was controlled. Every shift of her body was restricted.

The officer took a step back, examining her like a routine case file. “Alright. Inmate R.A., you’re ready for transfer.”

Reagan almost laughed at the absurdity of hearing that. She wasn’t a prisoner. But right now, she sure as hell looked like one. 

The officer gestured to the exit. “Let’s go. Deputy Adams is waiting for you.” Reagan straightened her posture as much as the chains would allow.

Reagan’s Arrival—The Transfer Begins

Audra heard the heavy door unlock before she saw her. Then—the sound of chains. A moment later, Reagan emerged into the processing room, fully shackled, moving in the slow, deliberate steps of a restrained prisoner.

Audra’s breath hitched for just a second. Reagan looked the part completely—the oversized DOC jumpsuit, the waist chains, the lockbox securing her hands, the shortened stride from the ankle cuffs. For a moment, she wasn’t Reagan. She was just an inmate being led in for transport.

The officer beside her handed Audra the official transfer paperwork. “Inmate R.A. is ready for SecureLok outfitting and long-distance transport.”

Reagan lifted her cuffed hands slightly, smirking despite the restraints. “So… what now, boss?”

Audra exhaled slowly. Now, the real test begins. She gestured toward the SecureLok case waiting on the bench. “Now we upgrade you.” Audra knelt beside the SecureLok hard case, unlatched the clasps, and lifted the lid with precision. Inside, the black foam lining cradled the posture bar and its modular locking components—polished, cold, and engineered for absolute control. She reached for the posture bar first, gripping the reinforced metal spine brace. It was designed to follow the natural curve of the back, preventing slouching while ensuring the prisoner remained upright and immobile.

Taking a steady breath, Audra stepped behind Reagan, who stood in shackles and waist chains, already restricted but far from fully secured. “Let’s begin,” Audra murmured, more to herself than to Reagan.

Reagan exhaled slowly, testing the limits of her current restraints, but she knew resistance was pointless. This wasn’t a game anymore.

Step 1: Securing the Posture Bar

Audra positioned the posture bar along Reagan’s spine, pressing it flush against her back.

• First, the neck collar. The rigid steel ring encircled Reagan’s throat—not tight enough to choke, but snug enough to hold her head in place. Audra locked it with a circular key, the mechanism clicking as the collar fused to the posture bar.
• Next, the torso band. The second ring wrapped just below Reagan’s navel, securing firmly over her jumpsuit. It locked with the same tamper-proof circular key, ensuring she couldn’t bend forward, twist, or slump in any way.

The moment the second lock engaged, Reagan felt the difference—her posture was now forced into absolute rigidity. Audra stepped back, inspecting her work. Reagan was still in her traditional shackles, but now, she was also bound to the posture bar, her spine held straight, her movements completely dictated by the structure pressing against her back.

“How’s that feel?” Audra asked, a professional edge to her voice.

Reagan tested her movement, barely able to shift. “Restrictive,” she admitted, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression.

Audra nodded. “Good. Now, let’s move you to the wall.”

Step 2: Immobilizing Against the Electromagnetic Wall

Audra gripped Reagan’s upper arm and guided her back toward the restraint wall. Reagan shuffled forward in measured, restricted steps, the chain between her ankles clinking with each movement. When they reached the electromagnetic locking station, Audra positioned Reagan directly against the smooth steel panel.

• With a soft press of a button, the electromagnets engaged, snapping onto the metal posture bar embedded along her spine.
• A quiet hum filled the air as the locks fused, securing Reagan completely upright against the wall.

Now, she was not only shackled but also affixed to the wall—unable to move forward, backward, or shift her weight in any way.

Step 3: Removing the Traditional Shackles

With Reagan now fully supported by the posture bar and wall restraints, it was time to transition her from standard shackles to SecureLok’s more advanced system. One by one, Audra began unlocking the traditional restraints.

• First, the connecting chain from her wrists to her waist. Audra unlatched the clip, removing the restriction tethering her hands to her torso.
• Next, the lockbox enclosing Reagan’s wrist cuffs. With a slow turn of the key, the heavy metal casing clicked open, revealing her cuffed wrists beneath.

For a brief moment, Reagan’s hands were unbound—but only for seconds.

Step 4: Securing the Arms in Outstretched Position

Audra took Reagan’s right wrist, lifting her arm out to her side.

• A magnetic anchor point was mounted at shoulder height along the wall.
• With a satisfying metallic snap, the cuff locked into place, holding her arm completely straight and immobile.
• Audra did the same to the left arm, leaving Reagan’s arms fully extended out to either side, locked at the wrists.

Now, Reagan was secured in the posture bar, locked upright against the wall, and her arms were stretched outward, held in position by high-strength magnetic restraints. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, but her wrists had zero rotation—locked completely in place.

Step 5: Removing the Jumpsuit Without Releasing Any Restraints

Audra exhaled slowly, knowing this next step had to be precise and methodical. She reached for the front buttons of the orange jumpsuit and began unfastening them one by one.

• The fabric loosened slightly, but Reagan couldn’t move an inch to help—her body trapped in rigid posture, arms locked straight out.
• Once the buttons were fully undone, Audra carefully peeled the top half of the jumpsuit down, exposing Reagan’s shoulders, collarbones, and upper arms beneath. Since her wrists were anchored to the wall, Audra had to slip the fabric down carefully, pulling each sleeve off around the extended arms without disturbing the magnetic restraints.
• The jumpsuit slid down her torso, pooling at her waist and hips.
• With controlled precision, Audra lowered the fabric further, past Reagan’s knees and down to her ankles.

The only restraints remaining from her original shackles were the ankle cuffs, so Audra bent down, unclasped them, and finally pulled the jumpsuit free. Now, Reagan stood against the wall, dressed only in the SecureLok system—posture bar, neck and torso locks, extended wrist restraints, and her undergarments.

Step 6: Preparing for the Next Restraint Phase

Audra stepped back, inspecting her work. Reagan was motionless—stuck in a perfectly upright position, her arms stretched outward like a cross. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Reagan let out a slow breath. “That was… thorough,” she murmured, testing her restraints, which of course, didn’t budge.

Audra allowed a small smirk before retrieving the next piece of equipment. “We’re not done yet.”

Reagan hadn’t fully prepared for the reality of playing a prisoner. She had agreed to the restraints, the transport, the protocol testing—but she hadn’t considered the details. Like the fact that she was now standing nearly naked, her arms locked out at her sides, completely exposed.

Audra hadn’t expected it either. The moment she removed the jumpsuit, she was confronted with Reagan’s full, unguarded figure—and, to her surprise, a very deliberate choice of undergarments.

A matching black lace bra and seamless panties—clearly Victoria’s Secret or something just as expensive. The bra was sturdy, supporting full, high-set breasts that sat firmly against her chest, accentuated by the delicate fabric. The panties were thin, no-line, barely covering what they needed to. For a fraction of a second, Audra hesitated. She hadn’t expected this.

Reagan, meanwhile, had no way to react. She was exposed and completely powerless, arms stretched out to either side, locked into place. Her instinct to cover herself surged—but SecureLok had eliminated that option entirely. The steel kept her rigid, her arms held apart at an unrelenting angle.

Audra quickly refocused, clearing her throat. “Let’s get the knee braces on.” She knelt in front of Reagan, retrieving the high-tech restraint braces from the SecureLok case. As she reached forward to fasten the first brace around Reagan’s toned thigh, she couldn’t help but notice that she was eye level with her underwear—a fact that had not escaped Reagan either.

From this angle, it was impossible not to see how well-groomed she was. The thin fabric left little to the imagination, hugging her figure just enough to conceal but not enough to hide. Audra worked quickly, securing the first brace snugly above Reagan’s knee and adjusting the settings. The brace locked into place with a quiet hiss, signaling that it had been engaged.

She moved to the other leg, tightening the second brace just as firmly as the first. Reagan, still staring straight ahead, felt her pulse quicken. She was used to control, to discipline, but standing like this—unable to move, unable to even react to the way Audra was handling her body—was something entirely different.

Audra fastened the final locks. “Knees are set,” she announced, checking the system. Now, Reagan could no longer run, no longer shift, no longer even take a full step without restriction. The braces were programmed to limit her movement to a slow, controlled pace—an added measure ensuring that once mobile, she could only move at the officer’s dictated speed.

Audra stood up and reached for the next step—the white button-down dress shirt and black slacks, standard protocol for SecureLok’s civilian disguise system. She moved to fit Reagan into the crisp white fabric, carefully threading each arm through the sleeves while keeping the wrist restraints in place. As she started buttoning the front, she quickly realized an issue. Reagan’s chest. The fabric barely stretched over her full bust, and as Audra fastened the top buttons, the tension became painfully obvious. The shirt pulled tightly across Reagan’s breasts, the fabric straining to close completely.

Audra had never noticed before—Reagan was usually a conservative dresser, her uniform and gear doing well to conceal her figure. But now, with the stark white fabric trying to contain her curves, it was impossible not to see just how well-endowed she really was. The black lace of her bra peeked through the small gaps between the buttons, subtle but undeniable to anyone who looked closely.

Audra tucked the hem neatly into the waistband of the black slacks, ensuring everything looked clean and professional—despite the clear strain of the top portion. Reagan remained silent, her face neutral, though Audra knew she felt every second of this.

Finally, Audra retrieved the SecureLok hand encasement tube, the final component of total control. This device, a rigid steel chamber, would be affixed to the front of the torso band, appearing externally as a simple, elegant hand-warmer—but in reality, it was an ironclad restraint that locked the wrists together, preventing all hand movement indefinitely. Audra secured it in place, threading the connection through the beltline of the black slacks.

Click. The final lock engaged, sealing Reagan’s wrists inside. She was now fully outfitted in the SecureLok system—standing tall, dressed, disguised, and completely immobilized.

Audra stepped back, letting the silence settle. Reagan, still helplessly restrained, finally exhaled a slow, steady breath. “Well,” she murmured, voice low and unreadable. “That was… thorough.”

Audra smirked slightly, checking the restraints one last time.

The Transfer Begins

With the final piece of SecureLok in place, Reagan stood fully outfitted, arms locked out, spine held rigid, hands immobilized in the sleek but inescapable encasement tube. She had no idea how much time had passed—only that she had been standing here, secured, silent, waiting.

Audra double-checked every restraint, methodically running her hands over the torso bar, wrist locks, knee braces, and finally, the magnetic anchors holding Reagan’s arms in place. Everything was engaged. Everything was unforgivingly tight. Reagan’s breathing remained steady, but she could feel the weight of every restraint now. Audra retrieved the SecureLok sunglasses.

The high-tech eyewear was more than just a disguise—they were a control tool. Designed to integrate with SecureLok’s modular restraint system, the sunglasses featured two primary settings:

• Blur Mode: Reducing visibility to a foggy haze—enough to allow movement, but eliminating depth perception and spatial awareness.
• Blackout Mode: Rendering the prisoner completely blind at the push of a button.

Audra unfolded them, stepping closer. Reagan could do nothing but stare ahead. “Eyes forward.”

Reagan’s jaw tensed slightly but complied. Audra slid the sunglasses onto her face, adjusting the fit over the bridge of her nose. The arms of the glasses extended back, threading subtly into the hairline, where a hidden locking strap held them in place. Once engaged, they could not be removed without access to the biometric controls. Audra checked the remote in her pocket—the sunglasses were already synced.

For now, she left them in Blur Mode. Reagan exhaled slowly. The world around her immediately faded into a soft, distorted blur. She could see vague outlines, but faces, objects, and fine details were gone. Now, the transfer was ready to begin.

Audra reached for the electromagnetic control unit attached to the wall. With a soft press of a button, the magnets released their grip on the posture bar. Reagan was freed from the wall—yet still completely restrained. Audra moved quickly, unlocking the wrist restraints from the side anchors. Reagan’s arms immediately dropped slightly—or they would have, if they weren’t still trapped in the SecureLok encasement tube.

She shifted instinctively, but the posture bar kept her back stiff, her shoulders squared, her head held high. For the first time, she was standing freely in SecureLok. Or at least, as free as she was allowed to be.

Audra placed a firm hand on Reagan’s upper arm, gripping just enough to guide her forward. “Time to move.”

Reagan took a hesitant step. Her legs responded, but not fully on her terms. The knee braces dictated her pace, ensuring she couldn’t walk any faster than the programmed 2.5 mph. Her blurred vision made it even harder. The hallway ahead was an indistinct smear of light and movement.

Audra led her through the facility, nodding to the few corrections officers watching the transfer. None of them spoke.

Reagan was completely convincing as an inmate—restrained, controlled, helpless. The walk felt longer than it was, each step measured, deliberate, dictated entirely by the restraints.

When they finally exited the building, Audra guided Reagan toward a black SUV idling in the private transport bay. That’s when the next problem became clear. Reagan stepped forward toward the open passenger-side door, but immediately stopped short. She couldn’t bend forward. She couldn’t twist to sit down normally. She stood stock still, unable to move, her body frozen upright because of the rigid steel running along her spine.

Audra exhaled. She should have anticipated this.

Reagan shifted slightly, frustrated. “Well, this is awkward.”

Audra muttered to herself, considering her options. She checked the modular restraint controls on her tablet, scrolling through the SecureLok settings. Audra tapped the command. “Hold still.”

With a soft hiss, the knee braces locked into a 90-degree position, forcing Reagan’s legs to bend at the knees. Reagan let out a sharp breath as she suddenly dropped into an involuntary seated position—without any control over it. Audra caught her before she lost balance, guiding her toward the open seat.

“There. Try now.”

Reagan carefully backed up, sinking into the SUV seat—her body still held rigidly upright from the posture bar. She couldn’t lean back, couldn’t adjust, couldn’t even slouch.

Audra pulled the seatbelt across her torso, clicking it into place. She double-checked the restraints one last time—everything locked, secured, controlled. Then she shut the door. With a deep breath, she walked around to the driver’s seat and slid in, adjusting the mirror.

Reagan sat beside her, restrained, upright, silent, her vision blurred, her hands completely useless in the SecureLok tube. Audra gripped the steering wheel, exhaled, and started the engine.

The black SUV pulled onto the highway, the hum of the tires blending with the quiet tension inside the vehicle. Audra and Reagan sat in the back seat together, while a contracted transport driver handled the wheel. Audra pulled the remote from her pocket, scrolling through the SecureLok settings. She tapped a command. Reagan’s glasses went black. Her entire world disappeared instantly. No light, no movement, no vague outlines—just pure darkness.

She stiffened slightly but didn’t resist. This was protocol.

Audra studied her for a moment. Dressed in business attire, restrained yet appearing deceptively normal, Reagan looked nothing like an inmate. Which is why it didn’t take long before the driver tried to make small talk.

“So, where are you two headed?” he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Reagan didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. The silence stretched. The driver glanced back again, confused.

Audra’s voice was calm but firm. “Focus on the road. This is an inmate transport.” The driver visibly stiffened, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to shock.

“Wait—she’s an inmate?” he asked, his gaze flicking to Reagan again.

Audra kept her tone authoritative. “Yes. She’s fully restrained. Just drive.”

The driver swallowed hard and nodded, suddenly a lot less interested in conversation. Reagan, blind and silent, sat motionless, hands encased, posture locked, listening to every word.

Chapter 2

Jacksonville International Airport

Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the designated drop-off zone at Jacksonville International Airport. Audra disabled the blackout mode on Reagan’s glasses, allowing blurred vision so she could at least navigate the terminal. Audra stepped out first, then helped Reagan out of the car, gripping her upper arm for stability as she adjusted to the movement.

Reagan still couldn’t bend or move freely, but she followed Audra’s lead, her pace dictated by the knee braces’ restricted walking speed. The bustling airport surrounded them. Travelers hurried past, rolling suitcases, juggling coffee cups and boarding passes. No one noticed them.

They walked toward the American Airlines ticket desk, where a young female agent greeted them with a polite smile. Audra presented her credentials and transport paperwork. The agent examined them, nodding—until she glanced at Reagan.

Her smile faded into confusion. She looked at Reagan, then back at Audra, then at Reagan again. “Uh… I’m sorry, what exactly is this?” she asked, lowering her voice.

Audra kept her tone steady. “This is a high-security prisoner transport. You don’t need to be concerned. She is fully restrained and completely compliant.”

The agent’s eyes flicked down to Reagan’s wrists—only to see them hidden in the elegant velvet-lined encasement. Reagan, unable to move her arms, could only look downward, visibly abashed. The agent swallowed. “She… doesn’t look restrained.”

“I assure you, she is,” Audra said smoothly. “She’s completely helpless.”

There was a beat of hesitation before the agent exhaled and nodded. She printed out a set of travel documents, sliding them across the counter. “Here’s your pre-clearance paperwork. You’ll need to present these to TSA for security processing.”

Audra accepted them with a nod. “Thank you. Let’s go, R.A.” Reagan, still silent, followed as Audra led her toward TSA security.

Security Screening – A Problem Arises

The security line was long, but Audra walked directly to the front, presenting her papers from the airline agent. The TSA officer on duty scanned them, his expression darkening slightly as he read the high-security notation. “Wait here,” he said before calling over a supervisor.

A balding, stocky man in his late fifties appeared, adjusting his ID badge as he approached. He took one look at Reagan and raised an eyebrow. “So, what exactly are we dealing with here?” he asked, flipping through the documents.

“Federal high-security transport,” Audra replied. “She is to remain fully restrained at all times per protocol. We need private screening clearance.”

The supervisor narrowed his eyes. “Fully restrained?” he repeated, eyeing Reagan again.

Audra remained professional. “Yes.”

The man scoffed, motioning at Reagan’s attire. “She doesn’t look very restrained.”

Audra stayed perfectly composed. “That’s the point. The system is designed to be discreet.”

The TSA supervisor crossed his arms. “Discreet or not, she’s in restraints, which means she’s getting a full search. You can accompany her, but I’m telling you now, we need access.”

Audra’s expression didn’t waver. “I will comply with the search, but she is not to be released from SecureLok at any time.”

The supervisor’s brow furrowed. “Not even for pat-down procedures?”

“No.” Audra’s voice was firm. “She is classified as high-security for a reason.”

The man let out a slow breath, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he motioned both of them forward. “Alright, fine. Private screening. Follow me.”

Audra placed a firm guiding hand on Reagan’s arm and followed. Reagan’s head remained slightly lowered, her breathing even, her pace controlled by the knee braces. As they passed through the security scanner and into the private room, the private screening room appeared sterile, windowless, and brightly lit. The walls were cold, industrial white, and the only furniture consisted of a metal table, a few chairs, and a single security camera mounted in the corner.

Audra and Reagan stepped inside, followed by three TSA agents—two male, one female. The supervisor, the stocky man who had questioned Audra earlier, shut the door behind them with a solid thud. Reagan already felt her stomach knotting. She had gone through hundreds of facility searches in her career—but never from this side of it. Never restrained. Never powerless. Never forced to comply.

The female agent stepped forward. “I’m going to need her outer garments removed,” she said.

Audra nodded, stepping behind Reagan. She reached for the buttons on Reagan’s white dress shirt, undoing them methodically, one by one. The room was silent except for the soft rustling of fabric. Reagan kept her chin lifted, eyes straight ahead, hands still locked inside the SecureLok tube. As the shirt slid from her shoulders, her black lace bra became fully visible to the group of officers standing in front of her.

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t react. Audra moved next to the waistband of the slacks, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them before lowering them down Reagan’s legs in slow, controlled movements. Now, she stood in just her black bra and matching panties, the thin lace fabric offering little coverage.

The female agent eyed Reagan’s restraints. “She’ll need to spread her legs for the full search.”

Reagan’s jaw clenched.

Audra reached for the SecureLok controls, tapping a command on the panel.

The knee braces unlocked, allowing movement—but before Reagan could shift, the female agent grabbed her by the hips and pushed her legs apart, widening her stance. The male supervisor watched silently. The position was humiliating. She could feel the cold air against her skin, the slight tremor in her legs as she was made to stand there, exposed.

“Open your mouth,” the female agent instructed.

Reagan hesitated for just a fraction of a second before obediently parting her lips.

The agent grabbed a small flashlight, tilting Reagan’s chin up as she peered inside, checking under her tongue, around her gums, even inside her cheeks. The metal detector wand clicked on, its quiet beeping filling the room.

The agent began waving it around Reagan’s body, starting at her arms, moving down her torso, over her hips. Then, lower. The wand passed over her inner thighs, stopping just above the lace of her panties. Reagan couldn’t help it—her entire body tensed. The beeping from the detector was louder now, and the agent ran the wand deliberately slowly over her lower abdomen, the waistband of her underwear, between her legs. It was clinical. Impersonal. But the belittlement seeped into her skin like heat.

She stared straight ahead, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Audra, sensing the moment, reached for her SecureLok remote and tapped a command. Reagan’s glasses blackened instantly. Her world went dark. The loss of vision only made her hyper-aware of every movement, every second that passed in silence, every shift of her exposed skin.

“She’s clear,” the agent finally said, switching off the wand.

The supervisor said nothing. He cleared his throat. “We’ll need to inspect the encasement tube.”

Audra’s grip on the remote tightened. “That won’t be possible. She remains fully secured per protocol.”

The man folded his arms. “That is a metal tube. We need to ensure she’s not concealing anything inside. You can maintain control, but we have to look.”

Audra hesitated. She didn’t like this. Reagan, still blindfolded, still unable to move, had no say in this. After a long pause, Audra exhaled sharply and nodded. “Fine. But only under traditional restraints.”

She retrieved a DOC-issued leather waist belt, wrapping it around Reagan’s torso. One at a time, the female agent removed Reagan's hands from the tube with Audra’s help and secured her hands in a set of Smith and Wesson handcuffs that Reagan was quite familiar. The cuffs were incorporated into the leather belt, locking Reagan's hands together and bound into the small of her back.

One of the female agents inspected the inside of the tube, running her hands along its interior, ensuring it was empty. Satisfied, he nodded. “Clear.”

Audra immediately reattached the tube, locking Reagan’s hands back inside. With the search complete, Audra moved quickly, pulling Reagan’s slacks back up her legs, fastening them around her waist. She grabbed the white button-down shirt, slipping her arms into the sleeves before securing each button—tight over her chest, the fabric straining just slightly at the top. The moment the last button was fastened, the search was over.

Reagan, still unable to see, still locked in every restraint, stood silent, motionless, compliant.

Audra turned to the TSA officers. “Are we done?”

The supervisor nodded. “She’s cleared for transport.”

Audra turned to Reagan, her voice low, even. “We’re leaving.” She tapped the glasses remote again—restoring Reagan’s blurred vision just enough for her to walk. Without another word, she took Reagan’s arm and guided her out of the room. They were one step closer to getting on that plane.

Audra led Reagan directly to the boarding gate, her grip firm but controlled as she maneuvered them through the terminal. The hour-long wait stretched ahead of them, heavy with silence.

Reagan felt the stares. Not from the general public—Audra had been careful to keep them in a more secluded seating area, away from the crowd—but from her own mind, replaying every moment in that TSA room. Those agents would be talking about her for weeks.

The girl in the posture bar. The one with the steel neck collar and waistband. The one who stood helpless, unable to move, dressed only in her underwear. A surge of hot embarrassment crawled up her spine. She hadn’t expected to be the inmate. She was supposed to be the officer on this trip, the one issuing orders, the one controlling the situation. Instead, she had stood exposed, silent, stripped, searched.

And now, here she was, sitting in an airport gate, still helpless, still immobile, still trapped inside the restraints meant for the very criminals she spent her career handling. She shouldn’t have worn that lingerie. If she had known—if she had even considered that she’d be in this position—she would have chosen something plain, practical, forgettable.

But now? Now, those TSA agents would never forget. The next time she came through an airport as an officer, leading an actual prisoner, what would they say? Would they recognize her? Would they laugh? Would they wonder if she enjoyed it? She forced the thoughts down, clenching her jaw as she stared blankly at the moving crowds ahead, the indistinct shapes of people filtered through SecureLok’s blurred vision mode.

She felt Audra shift beside her. Audra checked on Reagan, but not in a way that offered comfort. There was no sympathy, no quiet reassurance. Instead, Audra’s voice was sharp, clinical—strict. Prison-guard strict. “How’s the posture bar? Any issues with circulation?”

Reagan blinked, caught off guard. She had never heard Audra speak this way before. At work, Audra was professional, competent, respected. But this was different. This was commanding. Absolute. In control. Reagan exhaled slowly. She wanted that. She had joined law enforcement for power, for structure, for control. She loved the ability to command obedience, to dictate another person’s movement, to own their compliance. And now—now she was experiencing the other side of it. And it wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was infuriating.

Audra had taken control so effortlessly—stepping into the role of commanding officer, turning Reagan into nothing more than an object of compliance. And worst of all? Reagan had obeyed. She shifted in her seat—or tried to. The posture bar held her firm, the steel collar ensuring her head remained upright, the waist lock preventing any slouching or relief. She wanted to fight against it. Wanted to feel some level of agency. But there was none.

Audra glanced at her watch. Boarding would begin soon.Reagan remained silent, staring ahead. She didn’t know what she felt more—humiliated or jealous.

Boarding the Plane—An Unspoken Tension

The boarding agent’s voice echoed over the intercom, calling for passengers who required assistance or extra time to board.Audra stood, placing a firm grip on Reagan’s arm. The movement wasn’t rough—just authoritative, decisive. She was getting used to guiding Reagan now. With a tap of her SecureLok remote, Reagan’s glasses cleared just enough to allow her to navigate the boarding ramp. She followed Audra’s lead, her controlled pace dictated by the knee braces, her back held rigid, her arms still uselessly locked within the sleek restraint tube.

They moved toward the rear of the plane, where Audra had chosen a discreet window seat—far from the bulk of passengers. “Step in.” Audra gestured toward the seat. Reagan turned, maneuvering awkwardly—the posture bar making the small movements of sitting difficult, forcing her to lower herself carefully into the seat. Audra slid in beside her, taking the middle seat, adjusting her belt, checking Reagan’s restraints one last time. With a silent command from the remote, the knee braces locked at a 90-degree angle. Reagan was officially unable to stand. Then, with another tap of the remote—darkness. The blackout mode engaged, cutting Reagan off from the world completely.

Audra exhaled and settled in. And then she made the mistake of studying her. Reagan sat perfectly still, head held upright by the posture bar, body locked into total restriction. Audra’s eyes lingered—longer than necessary. The soft glow of the afternoon light from the window played across Reagan’s skin, highlighting the smooth curve of her neck, the delicate slope of her collarbone, the way the rigid posture bar forced her chest high and firm. Reagan was powerful. She had always carried herself with control, confidence. And yet—here she was, absolutely still, absolutely helpless. A model of complete submission. Audra shifted in her seat, a strange warmth curling in her stomach.

What was this? Pride? Yes, that had to be it. The system worked. She had designed this process, built this protocol, refined every detail until absolute security was achieved. And now, she was witnessing it in motion.

Reagan—the woman who had once walked through prisons issuing commands, the woman who had never been beneath anyone’s control—was now entirely at Audra’s mercy. Her breath caught slightly in her throat. She swallowed. She shouldn’t be looking at her like this. She shouldn’t be feeling this. And yet—she was. There was something about the contrast. Reagan, who was always so composed, so commanding, now reduced to obedience, restraint, stillness.

Audra’s gaze lowered slightly. The fabric of Reagan’s blouse was still pulled tight across her chest, the top button just barely holding. Audra quickly looked away. This was nothing. Just pride in her work. Just professional satisfaction. And yet—her pulse had quickened.

She shifted slightly, adjusting in her seat, forcing her expression back to neutral. The flight hadn’t even taken off yet. And Audra had already lost her balance. 

As the plane tilted upward, climbing into the sky, Audra felt the familiar weightless pull in her stomach. She turned her head slightly, glancing at Reagan, who remained utterly motionless, pinned into her seat by her own restraints. Cruising altitude: 36,000 feet.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re expecting smooth skies ahead. However, for your safety, we recommend that passengers remain seated as much as possible during the flight.” Audra choked back a chuckle. She glanced over at Reagan again, eyes trailing the perfect stillness of her body—the way the SecureLok posture bar ensured she sat upright, unable to lean forward or shift. Remain seated? Reagan wasn’t going anywhere.

About forty-five minutes into the flight, a flight attendant appeared in the aisle beside them—a young woman with neatly tied blonde hair and a bright professional smile. “Would you ladies like anything to drink?” she asked politely, reaching for the cart.

Audra opened her mouth to decline, but before she could, the attendant turned toward Reagan.

“Ma’am?” she prompted.

Silence. Reagan, still blind in SecureLok’s blackout mode, didn’t react.

The flight attendant hesitated, confused. “Miss?” she tried again, this time gently nudging Reagan’s arm.

Nothing.

Audra cleared her throat. “She won’t be needing anything.”

The attendant blinked, then frowned slightly, glancing back at Reagan. Her gaze flickered to the posture bar, to the way Reagan sat impossibly straight, unmoving.

Something about it must’ve unsettled her, because she took a small step back. “Oh… okay then.” She pushed the cart forward, throwing one last curious glance over her shoulder before moving on.

Audra exhaled, suppressing another chuckle. She could only imagine the questions running through that woman’s head.

Just as she settled back in, the pilot’s voice cut in again, but this time, it wasn’t routine. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing an unexpected mechanical issue. We’ll be diverting to Denver for a precautionary landing. Please remain seated and follow crew instructions.”

A murmur of concern rippled through the cabin. Audra stiffened. This was not ideal. She turned to Reagan, who remained completely still, unaware of what was happening. Audra tapped her SecureLok remote, lifting the blackout mode slightly. Reagan’s head tilted slightly, her blurred vision returning, though she still couldn’t make out details. “We’re diverting,” Audra murmured. “Mechanical issue. We’re landing in Denver.”

Reagan didn’t react, other than a slow, even breath. Not that she could do anything about it. The descent was smooth but slow, and as the plane touched down at Denver International Airport, an announcement followed: “We’ll be deplaning all passengers. Please remain seated until instructed.” The aisle filled as people gathered their belongings, stretching and adjusting after the unexpected landing.

Audra waited, keeping Reagan seated until the last passengers cleared the cabin. Finally, a flight attendant approached them—a different one this time, a man in his early forties with a concerned look. “Ladies, we’re deplaning now. Can I help you with anything?”

Audra sighed, knowing this was going to be tricky. “She needs assistance standing,” she said, gesturing toward Reagan. The attendant blinked, confused. “Uh… does she need a wheelchair?”

“No. Just… give me a moment.” Audra turned toward Reagan and unlocked the knee braces from their 90-degree lock.

Reagan inhaled sharply as her legs straightened involuntarily, regaining their rigid upright form. But the posture bar was still an issue. Reagan couldn’t lean forward to push herself up. Audra moved to her side, gripping under her arms as she applied gentle but firm pressure, pulling Reagan up to her feet. It was awkward, the angle unnatural, and Reagan let out a controlled breath through her nose as she was finally upright.

The flight attendant watched the interaction with barely concealed confusion. Then, as he tried to make eye contact with Reagan, he realized something was off. She didn’t react. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t even turn her head. “Uh… is she okay?” he asked hesitantly.

Audra kept her response flat and professional. “She can’t see you.”

The man’s brows furrowed. “Oh.” His eyes flicked over the posture bar, the locked wrists, the way Reagan stood perfectly still. For a second, it looked like he wanted to ask something. But then, wisely, he didn’t.

Audra nodded. “We’ll take it from here.” The attendant stepped aside, and Audra led Reagan carefully off the plane.

Once inside the terminal, Audra pulled up her phone and checked flights. Nothing. Everything for tonight was booked or canceled due to delays. She exhaled sharply. They needed a hotel. Reagan, standing motionless beside her, waited in silence. Audra glanced at her briefly, suppressing the growing tension in her stomach. 

A hotel. Overnight. 

Reagan, still fully restrained. Audra didn’t know why the thought made her breath catch slightly. But it did.

The Uber ride to The Crawford Hotel was quiet, tense, and thick with unspoken awkwardness. Reagan sat in the back seat, locked in SecureLok’s rigid posture bar, her hands still uselessly restrained inside the encasement tube. The driver stole multiple glances in the rearview mirror, clearly curious but too nervous to ask questions.

Audra simply kept her expression neutral, ignoring it. When they arrived at the hotel’s valet entrance, Audra got out first, rounding the car to Reagan’s side. There was a problem. Reagan couldn’t get out normally. The posture bar prevented her from bending forward. Her knee braces were still restricting her stride.

Audra sighed, tapping her SecureLok remote to unlock the knee braces, straightening them completely.

Reagan exhaled sharply as her legs locked into a fully extended standing position. Now she couldn’t move at all. The driver watched the whole thing unfold, wide-eyed. Audra shot him a look. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. Have a good night.” Audra took Reagan’s arm and started leading her into the hotel lobby.

The Crawford

The Crawford Hotel’s lobby was grand, elegant with warm lighting, polished marble floors, and high ceilings that echoed with soft conversation. Audra strode toward the front desk, pulling out her credit card and ID while keeping a firm grip on Reagan’s arm. The receptionist, a young man in a well-pressed suit, smiled professionally as they approached. “Welcome to The Crawford. How can I assist you?”

Audra didn’t hesitate. “I need a room for the night. Two double beds.”

The receptionist began typing, eyes flicking toward Reagan, who stood perfectly still, eerily rigid. He hesitated. “Uh… is everything alright with her?”

Audra kept her tone even. “She’s fine. Just… recovering from a medical procedure.”

Reagan remained silent, unable to do anything but stand there, locked in place. The receptionist’s expression wavered between confusion and concern, but he didn’t push. After a few moments, he slid a keycard across the counter. “You’ll be in Room 405. Elevators are just to your left.”

Audra nodded, grabbing the keycard before finally unlocking Reagan’s knee braces again, allowing her to move—slowly, stiffly, controlled.

Before heading to the room, Audra led Reagan to the hotel’s restaurant, guiding her to a table near the back, away from prying eyes. A waiter appeared, friendly, polite. “Good evening, ladies. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Audra ordered a glass of wine for herself before tapping at the SecureLok remote, adjusting Reagan’s glasses to remain in blur mode. Reagan blinked, shifting slightly in her seat. She could see vague shapes, colors, movement—but nothing clear. The waiter turned to her next. “And for you, miss?”

Reagan said nothing.

The waiter hesitated, looking between her and Audra. “She’s fine,” Audra answered smoothly. “She’ll just have a blended meal.”

The waiter’s brows lifted slightly, but he nodded and jotted down the order. When the food arrived, Audra inserted a straw into Reagan’s drinkable meal, guiding it toward her lips. Reagan hesitated before leaning forward slightly, taking slow, measured sips.

The waiter returned, clearly still curious about the strange dynamic at the table. “Is… everything alright with your friend?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Reagan turned toward his voice instinctively but couldn’t focus on his face. Audra simply smirked. “She’s fine. Just having a quiet night.” The waiter, still clearly unsure, finally backed off, leaving them alone. Audra took a sip of wine, studying Reagan for a moment. Something about this entire situation stirred something in her, but she couldn’t quite place it. Reagan was silent, obedient, restricted. And for some reason, Audra liked it.

Once they reached Room 405, Audra swiped the keycard, leading Reagan inside. The room was modern and cozy, featuring two double beds, warm ambient lighting, and a large window overlooking downtown Denver. Audra guided Reagan toward the edge of one bed, helping her sit down.

The posture bar kept her back perfectly straight, leaving her sitting in an awkwardly upright position, unable to relax. Audra glanced at her. “Comfortable?” Reagan exhaled. “Not really.” Audra smirked slightly before turning toward her suitcase, beginning to change. That’s when Reagan noticed. She couldn’t turn her head fully, but as Audra unbuttoned her blouse, revealing smooth, toned skin, Reagan couldn’t help but stare. Audra was fit—lean muscle visible in her arms, stomach taut, her curves accentuated by the soft lighting. But what surprised Reagan most was what Audra was wearing underneath. A waist cincher. Spanks. Shapewear. Reagan blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Audra looked incredible. Strong. Confident. Why would she need them?

Audra caught Reagan’s gaze and smirked slightly. “Something wrong?”

Reagan hesitated, then shook her head. “Just… didn’t expect you to wear those.”

Audra raised an eyebrow. “What, the cincher?” She scoffed, pulling it off and tossing it aside. “Gotta keep everything in place, right?”

Reagan was still processing. Audra didn’t need them. She looked good—better than good. She was at least seven years older than Reagan, but she had kept herself in incredible shape. And Reagan found herself noticing it more than she should. She quickly looked away. Audra smirked knowingly before grabbing a loose-fitting tank top and slipping it on.

The hotel room was silent, save for the occasional hum of traffic from the streets below. The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across the walls, stretching over the two beds as Audra moved methodically through the room. She turned back toward Reagan, who still sat upright, locked in SecureLok, perfectly still. Time to get her ready for the night. Audra stepped forward, reaching for Reagan’s dress shirt, unbuttoning it just as she had at the airport—slow, deliberate movements, peeling it away from her shoulders and arms without disturbing the restraints. The white fabric slid away, revealing the black lace bra beneath, the soft curves of Reagan’s chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.

Audra swallowed. This was procedure. Nothing more. She knelt next, working to unfasten Reagan’s slacks, sliding them down her toned legs, leaving her in nothing but her matching black panties and the posture bar.

Reagan said nothing. She had to know how vulnerable she looked—half-dressed, body rigid, hands locked away, unable to cover herself, unable to resist.

Audra tried to keep her thoughts clinical, but something about it… Something about the way Reagan breathed in carefully controlled rhythm, the way the lighting traced soft golden lines over her skin, the sheer contrast of her power against her restraint… Audra forced the thoughts away.

Reagan’s eyes tracked Audra carefully as she retrieved a few pillows from the bed, placing them strategically to support Reagan’s posture bar. The rigid spinal brace meant that Reagan wouldn’t be able to roll over—she would have to spend the entire night on her back, perfectly straight. Once the pillows were in place, Audra gently helped her lower onto the mattress, ensuring there was no unnecessary pressure against the bar. The moment Reagan was flat on the bed, she let out a slow, measured exhale.

Audra stood back, studying her work. Even lying down, Reagan still looked completely controlled. Protocol dictated that at least one limb must remain secured to the bed overnight. But Audra wasn’t taking any chances. She retrieved two SecureLok magnetic chains from the accessories case. Each chain had a high-strength magnetic clasp designed to attach to the ankle cuffs. Reagan watched her movements carefully, the tension in her body unmistakable. Audra retrieved the SecureLok magnetic chains next, gripping the first restraint and clicking it onto Reagan’s left ankle. The metal was cool against her skin, but Reagan barely felt it—she was too aware of the weight of Audra’s presence, the closeness of her body. Audra extended the chain outward, locking it to the left corner of the bed. Then she did the same on the right ankle. Reagan let out a slow, controlled breath as her legs were gently but firmly pulled apart, spread wide, secured to the bed. Her fingers twitched uselessly inside the encasement tube. The knee braces locked. She wasn’t just restrained—she was completely open. The sudden realization sent a wave of heat through her, pooling low in her stomach. Audra adjusted the SecureLok interface on her remote, clearing Reagan’s vision. 

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Reagan looked uncomfortable. Not just because of the restraints—but because she was watching Audra move around the room in nothing but a fitted tank top and lace underwear. Audra paused. For the first time all night, she felt truly aware of herself. Of the way Reagan was seeing her. The way she stood over her coworker, half-dressed, completely in control, making decisions that Reagan had no say in. Reagan was completely at her mercy. And it made something in Audra’s stomach tighten.

The moment stretched too long. Reagan’s breathing was controlled, but the tension in her body was obvious. Audra hesitated, then made a decision. She tapped the SecureLok remote. Reagan’s glasses went black. Now, she couldn’t see Audra at all. And Audra could look at her as long as she wanted.

Her eyes traced over Reagan’s form—the way her stomach rose and fell, the way her toned legs stretched under the soft hotel lighting, the way her dark lingerie contrasted against the stark white hotel sheets. She looked powerful. Strong. But also… completely controlled. Audra took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She needed to sleep. Because right now, something felt different. And Audra wasn’t ready to admit what it was. Audra felt it then—a heat curling in her chest, in her stomach, in places she had no business feeling it. She told herself it was just the power of the moment—the success of the restraint system, the perfection of the control she had designed. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She could make out the lines of Reagan’s body, the way the thin lace barely covered what was beneath. And she felt something darkly satisfying about the fact that Reagan couldn’t see her staring. She was watching, and Reagan would never know. That thought sent a shiver down Audra’s spine, a mix of guilt and something far more dangerous. Her coworker was lying helpless before her, completely exposed, completely vulnerable. She clenched her jaw. This was just protocol. She wasn’t attracted to Reagan. She wasn’t.

The hotel room was quiet—too quiet. The only sounds were the steady hum of the air conditioning and the faint muffled voices of guests walking the hallway outside. But inside, the space felt thick with something else, something unspoken, something neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Audra moved with methodical precision, keeping her breath even, her hands steady as she unbuttoned Reagan’s dress shirt, peeling it away from her shoulders with slow, controlled movements. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated Reagan’s skin, the curve of her collarbone, the rise and fall of her chest, barely concealed by the thin black lace of her bra. 

Reagan kept her expression neutral, but she was keenly aware of every touch, every shift of fabric, every second that passed in silence. Her legs were spread, arms useless, vision obscured, her toned body barely concealed by the delicate fabric of her bra and panties. Reagan could feel it. She could feel her body betraying her. The way her breath came slightly too fast, the way her skin felt too warm, the way the heat between her legs was building into something unbearable. She had been able to handle everything up to this point—the restraints, the commands, the power dynamic. But when Audra had secured her legs apart, locked her knees straight, forced her sex open to the air… That was when the ache started. She wanted to close her legs. She wanted to move. She bit down on the thought before it could fully form. She couldn’t even see Audra anymore. But she could hear her. She could hear the slow movements, the soft breathing. She wanted so badly to move her hands, to shove them between her own legs, to ease the throbbing heat building inside her. But she couldn’t. Her fingers were locked away, useless, leaving her trapped inside this unbearable tension.

Audra moved carefully, methodically, rummaging through the SecureLok accessories case until she found what she was looking for—the white noise earplugs and noise-canceling headphones. She turned toward Reagan, who was still lying perfectly still, blind, immobile, restrained, her chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. “One more step,” Audra murmured, mostly to herself. She lifted the small, high-tech earplugs, fitting them snugly into Reagan’s ears, one at a time. They expanded slightly, sealing off external sound, deadening all outside noise. Reagan shifted just slightly, the only movement she was capable of making. Audra could only imagine what she was feeling now. Then came the final piece—the noise-canceling headphones, placed gently over her ears, reinforcing the silence completely.

Now, Reagan couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. She was fully trapped inside her own body. Audra pulled the white hotel sheet over her, covering her up to the neck, as if tucking her in for sleep. And yet, the way Reagan’s muscles subtly contracted beneath the thin fabric… The way her abdomen tensed, then released, then tensed again… Something was happening.

Audra should have gone to bed. She should have looked away. But she stayed standing at the foot of the bed, breathing too shallowly, watching too long. Reagan was gorgeous in a way Audra had never noticed before. Or maybe she had, but she had never allowed herself to see it. Audra clenched the SecureLok remote in her fist. She could step away from this. She could leave Reagan in the dark. Or she could clear the glasses, let Reagan see her, let their eyes meet in the full weight of what this moment had become. But that would mean admitting something neither of them was ready for. So instead, Audra turned sharply, climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over herself, forcing her body to calm down, to shut down, to ignore the tension coursing through her. This was protocol. This was procedure. And yet, as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she was painfully aware of the woman beside her. Lying there. Helpless. And just as restless as she was.

Audra shook off the moment and turned toward the hotel desk, where Reagan’s phone sat neatly beside the SecureLok case. She had been in charge of Reagan’s phone since the beginning of this transfer. Reagan had given her the passcode and asked her to handle any messages or calls that came in. Technically, Reagan was still on duty. Though her duties tonight were… far different than usual. Audra picked up the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. Reagan’s entire world was in her hands right now. Her senses. Her freedom. Her privacy. Everything.

Audra swallowed, the weight of that realization settling deep. And across the room, Reagan lay in perfect silence, sightless and deaf, trapped in a world of nothing but sensation.

Audra sat at the hotel desk, Reagan’s phone resting in her palm, its soft glow casting a faint light over her fingers. She had been idly scrolling, considering whether to check her emails, when the message popped up. 

Charlie: Hey… how are you? Wanna get together… are you tied up tomorrow after work?

Audra snorted before she could stop herself. If only Charlie knew. She turned toward the bed, where Reagan lay motionless, blind, deaf, completely restrained—her body spread open, locked in place, and utterly helpless. Tied up, indeed.

For a moment, Audra hesitated. Was Charlie a man or a woman? She realized then that she knew nothing about Reagan’s romantic life. In fact, now that she thought about it, Reagan never spoke about relationships, about dating. She was married to the job. At least, that’s what Audra had assumed. But now… now she wasn’t so sure. She tapped the message thread, scrolling up.

The conversation was… unexpected.

Charlie: You’re impossible to reach sometimes, you know that?

Reagan: I told you. I get busy.

Charlie: I don’t mind. I know you like to be the one in control.

Audra raised an eyebrow. She scrolled further.

Charlie: I haven’t forgotten last time, by the way.

Reagan: Neither have I. You deserved that.

Charlie: I still have the bruises.

Audra blinked. She kept scrolling.

Charlie: Are you bringing the cuffs this time?

Reagan: Maybe. But I’m feeling more creative lately.

Charlie: Oh? Do I get a hint?

Reagan: You’ll find out when you’re on your knees.

Audra felt her stomach tighten strangely. What… the hell? She tapped back to the main messages screen. There were ten unread texts, plus over a dozen email notifications. She should stop. This was private. But Reagan had given her permission. Hadn’t she?

Audra hesitated… then clicked into the emails. Several messages were junk—ads, promotions, sales. But then she saw something that made her breath hitch. An order confirmation.

She opened it. And froze.

Order Confirmation - Delivered Tomorrow

• 1x Black Silicone Ball Gag w/ Adjustable Strap
• 1x Stainless Steel Yoke with Wrist & Neck Restraints
• 1x Latex Catsuit w/ Corsetlet and Buckle Detailing
• 1x Pair of Tall Black Stiletto Heels
• 3x Rolls of Heavy-Duty Bondage Tape

Audra stared at the screen, her fingers tightening around the phone. What the hell? Her pulse picked up slightly. Her mind raced. This was not a casual order. This wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment impulse buy. This was… deliberate. Planned.

She turned toward the bed again, eyes trailing over Reagan’s restrained body, the way her form was silhouetted beneath the white hotel sheet, her muscles still subtly contracting as if struggling against something internal.

Was Reagan into bondage? Was she the dominant? Audra glanced at the SecureLok restraints binding Reagan now—the posture bar, the locked wrists, the spread legs, the way she couldn’t move an inch. And suddenly, an odd realization washed over her.

Then this—this situation she was in now—was the complete opposite of what she usually experienced.

Audra swallowed. That meant Reagan wasn’t just restrained tonight. She was forced into submission. A strange, hot feeling curled in Audra’s stomach. She had never thought about this world before. Never dabbled in anything but vanilla relationships, safe, predictable, traditional. But now… now her mind wouldn’t stop racing.

What did this mean? Was Reagan enjoying this? Audra turned back toward the bed again, watching the faint rise and fall of Reagan’s breath. She had so many questions. And for the first time, she wanted to know the answers.

Morning Realizations – A Struggle Between Control and Submission

7:00 AM came early.

Audra stirred first, blinking against the morning light seeping through the hotel curtains. She sat up, stretched, and then immediately glanced toward the other bed—where Reagan still lay, completely motionless, perfectly restrained, exactly as she had left her the night before.

The sight struck something deep inside her. For a moment, she just watched—the slow, steady rise and fall of Reagan’s chest, the way her body remained perfectly aligned, locked into the SecureLok posture bar, her legs still loosely chained apart beneath the sheets.

Audra let out a slow exhale, forcing herself to focus. She had work to do. She showered quickly, letting the water wash away the strange, lingering tension from the night before. By the time she finished getting dressed—full business attire, crisp blouse, fitted slacks, hair pulled back in a neat bun—she felt grounded again. Professional.

She turned back toward Reagan, still helplessly restrained, still asleep. A slow smirk touched Audra’s lips. Time to wake her up.

Audra moved to the bed and reached for Reagan’s noise-canceling headphones. She gently removed them, then plucked the white noise earplugs from her ears, watching as Reagan stirred. Her breathing changed, her body tensed slightly as awareness returned. Audra tapped her SecureLok remote, clearing Reagan’s vision from blackout mode.

Reagan blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting to the light, and then—she saw Audra. Standing there, fully dressed, completely in control, gazing down at her with a commanding presence.

“Wake up, sunshine.” Audra smirked. “We have to get you to the Seattle Supermax.” She paused for effect, tilting her head with amusement. “I hope they don’t decide to keep you there.”

She laughed lightly, but Reagan felt the weight of her words. The power imbalance between them was still undeniable—Audra, standing tall, looking poised, confident, put together. And Reagan?

Audra moved efficiently, unlocking the chains from Reagan’s legs, allowing them to fall naturally back together before setting the knee braces to free-range mode. Then, she reached down, gripping Reagan’s arm and guiding her upright.

Reagan inhaled sharply as she shifted for the first time in hours, her body stiff, her fingers aching from being locked in the encasement tube all night. She tried to flex her fingers, but they barely moved. She wanted so badly to cover herself—to shield the embarrassment still burning inside her, not just for being exposed, but for the thoughts that had consumed her the night before. Heavy thoughts. Thoughts of control. Of being controlled.

Audra led her toward the bathroom, helping her brush her teeth—an intimate moment in itself, as Reagan stood helpless, unable to even lift a hand to her own mouth. Then came the final step—getting dressed. Audra unlocked Reagan’s arms just long enough to pull the white blouse over them, guiding them back into the sleeves of the crisp, professional fabric. Then—click. The encasement sealed back into place.

Reagan inhaled deeply, flexing her fingers inside the tube, aching to use them. To do something. To take control again. But she couldn’t. And worse, part of her didn’t want to. That was the problem. She wanted to hate the helplessness. She wanted to despise the submission. But deep in the pit of her stomach—where the feeling was heavy, warm, undeniable—she didn’t. She had spent her life chasing power. Becoming a cop, then an officer, then an elite-level guard—because she craved the authority, the dominance, the ability to control others.

And yet… Last night, when she had been bound to the bed, legs spread, utterly unable to move—she had wanted Audra to do something. She had wanted Audra’s hands all over her body. To touch her in progressively more erogenous places. Then to plunge her powerful hands into her sex with the power of a construction worker but the tenderness of a young nurse. To make her submit, whether she wanted to or not. But that wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t submissive. She didn’t want to be. She couldn’t be. She needed to finish this project. She needed to maintain professionalism. She needed to remind herself who she really was. And—most importantly—she needed to stop thinking about Audra like that. Because if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop.

Audra led Reagan out of the hotel room with absolute authority. Her grip was firm but not forceful, guiding her down the hallway, through the grand hotel lobby, and straight into the waiting Uber parked outside. Reagan’s glasses remained in blur mode, rendering the world a haze of colors, movement, and shifting figures, but no clarity. Audra handled the details—the ride, the check-in, the security protocols—all with the same precise efficiency as before. Everything was repeating exactly as before. Or so Reagan thought.

Denver International TSA

The moment they entered the private screening area, Reagan sensed the difference. The energy was different. And then she saw him. The TSA supervisor wasn’t the same man as before. He wasn’t overweight or balding. Instead, he was tall—easily over six feet—with a strong frame, broad shoulders that stretched his TSA uniform just enough to suggest solid muscle beneath. A thick black beard covered his jaw, perfectly groomed, matching the flowing locks that framed his face.He was authoritative but kind, his dark eyes scanning Reagan with an unreadable expression.

She couldn’t tell if she felt relief or unease. Maybe both. He gave a brief nod, speaking in a tone that was firm but not harsh. “Alright, let’s get her processed. Same procedures as before.”

A female TSA officer stepped forward, executing the strip search with mechanical precision—just like last time. But this time, Reagan felt different. She wasn’t just humiliated. She was uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite place. Was it exhaustion? The sheer repetition of being stripped, exposed, examined by strangers? Or was it him? Her mind spun wildly as she stood there, naked but restrained, arms locked in the encasement tube, posture held stiffly upright. She knew he was watching. Not in a predatory way. Not in a cruel way. But… in a way.

Would he be gentle, cautious, treating her with careful restraint? Or would he be strict, rigid, enforcing compliance with no softness at all? She found herself wondering—if it were him instead of Audra leading her, would he be different? Would he be firmer? Would he push her further into submission than she was willing to admit she liked? The thought hit her like a slow burn, curling in her stomach. And then—blackness. The world vanished.

Audra had cut the vision feed, plunging Reagan into sensory isolation. Now, she couldn’t see him anymore. She could only imagine. And that was somehow worse. In the darkness, her mind betrayed her, spinning dangerous fantasies she had no business thinking.

Strong hands. Firm commands. A body pressed against her back, breath near her ear. A voice telling her exactly what she was and wasn’t allowed to do. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe evenly. This isn’t real. She was just exhausted. Just overthinking. And yet, when her clothes were finally returned, when Audra buttoned her shirt back up, tucking her neatly back into her civilian disguise, the ache remained.

The heat in her stomach didn’t fully disappear. Neither did the lingering question of what it would feel like to be restrained by a man like him.

Seattle Bound—A Restless Flight

Audra led Reagan through the terminal, checked in at the gate, and secured their seats without hesitation. The plane took off, climbing into the sky, the world below fading away. Reagan sat in her window seat, completely still, glasses blacked out once again. Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to rest. She tried not to think about it. Tried not to replay the moment. Tried not to wonder about the kind but powerful TSA officer watching as she stood there naked, vulnerable, under his control. Tried not to think about how it had made her feel. But she failed. And by the time they touched down in Seattle, the tension hadn’t left her at all.

Seattle’s protocol was different—stricter, more structured, less concerned with appearances and more focused on raw security. The moment Audra and Reagan stepped off the plane, a Supermax Federal Security Agent was already waiting for them at the jet bridge. Audra nodded in greeting, presenting her credentials and transfer paperwork, but Reagan’s presence was barely acknowledged beyond a sharp once-over. They were in Supermax jurisdiction now. She wasn’t a civilian in disguise anymore. She was a prisoner, plain and simple.

Instead of leading them through the terminal, the guard escorted them beneath the airport, where a large transport cart was waiting. At first glance, it looked like a luggage cart. But Reagan quickly realized—this was no ordinary cart. It was a mobile containment unit, a cage on wheels, built for high-security transfers. The top and sides were made of reinforced steel bars, a solid metal base beneath her feet, with thick locks securing every entry point.

Before she could even register what was happening, a second officer gripped her arms, guiding her inside. Audra watched without intervening. This was Supermax’s protocol now. The heavy cage door slammed shut behind her with a loud metallic clank. For safety, Audra adjusted Reagan’s SecureLok glasses to clear mode, allowing her to see.

And what she saw sent a shudder through her. She was completely on display. They weren’t trying to disguise her anymore, weren’t concerned about keeping the transfer discreet. Anyone walking by would see her—restrained, locked in place, transported like an object rather than a person. She sat rigid in the cage, posture held upright by SecureLok, hands useless in the encasement tube, ankles still shackled together.

The cart jerked forward, pulled by a second transport vehicle, where Audra and the agent sat. From her vantage point, Reagan could do nothing but sit there, completely helpless, her breath shallow, the cool metal beneath her skin amplifying her exposure. She hated how it made her feel. Like a caged animal. Like something to be handled rather than someone to be respected. But….She felt it deep in her stomach—the smallest flicker of something dangerous, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. Because as much as she loathed being treated like this… something about it made her pulse quicken.

The Supermax Facility – An Unforgiving Transition

When they reached the transport office, Audra exchanged official paperwork with the federal officers, ensuring that Reagan’s custody was properly documented. Reagan remained silent, still, aware that any attempt to speak was pointless now. She wasn’t in control here. She wasn’t even in Audra’s control anymore. She belonged to the Supermax system now.

The federal guards wasted no time in leading her toward the next transfer vehicle—one that resembled a standard “paddy wagon” used for mass prisoner transport. But the moment they opened the door, Reagan realized—this was different. Instead of a large, open space with two benches along the sides, the interior was divided into individual containment cages. Each prisoner would be locked in isolation, restrained within their own designated space.

Reagan was lifted into the transport, her body maneuvered into a small metal bench inside one of the cages. Immediately, her ankles were locked into floor shackles, restricting any ability to shift or reposition herself. Then came the harness system. A thick restraint crossed over each of her shoulders, pressing her firmly against the back of the seat. Another belt stretched across her lap, holding her hips completely still. A third strap ran between her legs, up the center of her body, connecting all three harness points in the center of her torso, where a heavy-duty padlock was snapped into place.

The guard tugged at the straps, making sure they were secure—no slack, no room for movement. Reagan inhaled deeply, feeling every inch of the pressure. She was locked in place, unable to lean forward, unable to turn, unable to move her legs. She couldn’t escape if she tried. Audra stood nearby, observing the final restraints being set. Then, as if deciding Reagan had too much freedom, she reached for her SecureLok remote. Click. Reagan’s glasses blacked out completely. The world vanished. Then—another click. Her knees locked at 90 degrees. She wouldn’t be standing up. Not now. Not until someone decided to let her.

One of the federal guards turned to Audra. “She’s secured. You can’t ride with her in the transport, but you can follow behind to the facility.”

Audra nodded, calm, professional. “Understood.” She cast one last glance toward Reagan, who sat perfectly still inside the cage, bound in total submission. Then she stepped away, leaving Reagan locked in silence, alone with her thoughts. The transport doors slammed shut.

And Reagan, still blind, still trapped, still feeling the pressure of the five-point harness pressing between her legs, could only sit there, waiting for whatever happened next. And wondering, for the hundredth time, why part of her didn’t hate it as much as she should.

The Supermax gate loomed ahead, its steel reinforcements and razor wire glinting under the morning sun as the transport truck slowed for inspection. Armed guards moved with precise efficiency, circling the vehicle, checking locks, weapons ready, their expressions unreadable.

Reagan heard it all—the distant voices, the metallic clank of reinforced locks disengaging, the heavy creak of security gates shifting open. But she couldn’t see anything. Her SecureLok glasses remained in blackout mode, leaving her blind to everything happening around her. All she could do was sit there, still trapped in the five-point harness, her legs restrained, her wrists sealed inside the encasement tube, waiting. Waiting for someone to remove her from this nightmare. But then, something unexpected happened.

Audra’s SUV pulled up behind the transport, expecting to follow it straight into the facility. But the gate agent held up a hand, stepping forward. “Ma’am, you’ll have to enter through the visitor’s gate.”

Audra frowned, reaching for her badge. “I’m a federal agent. I have authorization—”

“Doesn’t matter,” the agent interrupted, stone-faced, unmoving. “This is protocol for all non-facility personnel.”

Audra bristled. Something felt off. “She’s not an inmate,” she tried again. “She’s a test subject for a federal transport study. This is an exception to protocol.”

The guard didn’t even flinch. “No exceptions.”

Audra’s stomach tightened. This was wrong. She wasn’t just being asked to wait. She was being separated from Reagan. From the only person in that transport truck who knew the truth. And now, that truck was already rolling forward, disappearing into the secure bay, the reinforced doors closing behind it with a dull, final-sounding clang. Reagan was inside. Alone. Audra wasn’t. And there was nothing she could do about it.

A Prisoner in Every Sense

Inside the transport truck, Reagan still couldn’t see. But she could hear. The familiar sound of engines idling, the doors of the bay shutting, voices exchanging clipped orders. And then… the sensation of movement. Something was lifting her. She didn’t know how or why, but suddenly, she felt the shift, the change in weight, the lurch of motion as her entire cage was hoisted from the truck. She tensed instinctively, but of course, she couldn’t react. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t protest. Could only sit there, still bound in the harness, as she was carried off like a piece of cargo.

The machine whirred underneath her, moving her through some unknown passageway, through doors she couldn’t see, past people she couldn’t register.

And then—stillness. She had been set down. Alone. Reagan didn’t know how long she sat in silence. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Time was meaningless in the void of sensory deprivation. All she knew was that no one had come for her. No one had explained anything. No one had unlocked her, released her, acknowledged that she wasn’t supposed to be here.

And that’s when the panic began to creep in. She had agreed to this. She had stepped into these restraints willingly. But now, she wasn’t in control anymore. She was at the mercy of an entire federal prison system that had no idea who she really was. She wasn’t a guard here. She wasn’t staff. She wasn’t even a person with special circumstances. She was just another inmate.

If she screamed, if she protested, if she started insisting that she was a federal agent—who would believe her? No one. They would think she was crazy. She was in the system now. And systems don’t stop for one misplaced prisoner. She Wanted Out—Desperately

She shifted in her restraints, her body aching, her muscles tight, her fingers still trapped inside the tube, useless. She wanted out. Now. She was done. This wasn’t fun anymore. This wasn’t some experiment, some policy test, some interesting scenario to analyze later. This was real. This was what it felt like to be completely and utterly powerless. And she hated it.

She wanted to move, to stand, to rub her wrists, to push her fingers between her legs and ground herself back into reality—into her own power. But she couldn’t. She could do nothing. And for the first time in her career—maybe the first time in her life—she truly understood what it meant to be imprisoned. And she had no idea when it would end.

 

Two hours went by. Reagan had sat in complete silence, trapped in the cold, steel cage, unable to see, unable to move, unable to communicate. Her thoughts had spiraled—anger, frustration, a desperate need for control—but none of it mattered. She was powerless. And then—voices. Footsteps. Sharp, quick, deliberate. And then, a voice she recognized instantly. Audra. She wasn’t just approaching—she was storming toward her, her voice tight with authority, sharp with irritation.

“…I don’t care what the protocol is. She is NOT an inmate. She should NEVER have been left here like this. I want her released NOW.”

The guard stammered, trying to explain, but Audra was not in the mood for excuses.

“I said now. Do not make me repeat myself.”

Reagan exhaled sharply, relief flooding through her as she heard keys jingle, locks being worked open. A clank. Then another. And suddenly, the cage door creaked open. A female guard climbed inside, reaching for the heavy padlock securing Reagan’s five-point harness. The straps released from her shoulders, her lap, her thighs. Then came the ankle shackles—cold metal slipping away from her skin. She was free. Or so she thought.

“Stand up,” the guard ordered.

Reagan tried. She couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move. She panicked for a split second, then realized—her knees were still locked in full extension. Before she could even ask, Audra was already there, quickly tapping her SecureLok remote. Reagan gasped softly as her legs suddenly bent at the knees again, blood rushing back into her muscles. At the same time, her glasses switched from blackout mode to clear. The world returned. She blinked, dizzy, disoriented, but Audra’s hands were already on her, steadying her.

“I got you,” Audra murmured. “Come on.” She gripped Reagan’s upper arm firmly, guiding her out of the cage, across the room, and into another secure area—

Reagan was backed up to the deactivation wall, the same as before. The electromagnets engaged, locking the posture bar and collar into place, keeping her perfectly upright.

Audra worked quickly.

• The shackles were first—her wrists and ankles freed.
• Her SecureLok glasses removed.

For the first time in nearly 24 hours, Reagan’s arms and legs were completely unrestrained. She inhaled deeply, flexing her hands, rolling her shoulders. It was the closest thing to freedom she’d felt in what seemed like an eternity. But the waist and neck restraints? Still locked. The knee braces? Still locked. A guard approached with a circular key, slipping it into the waist lock, turning it. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. Reagan’s stomach twisted.

Audra’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

The guard exhaled sharply. “It’s not working.”

Audra’s entire body stiffened. “Try again.”

The guard forced the key deeper, jiggled it, twisted it harder—no movement. Then he shook his head. “It’s not the right key.”

Silence.

Audra stared at him. “What do you mean, not the right key?”

Reagan’s pulse spiked. No. No. No, no, no. This was not happening.

Audra turned sharply, addressing the supervisor on duty. “Where’s the backup key?”

The man crossed his arms. “This is the only key SecureLok provided us.”

Audra was already pulling out her phone. The room felt smaller, tighter. Reagan tried to control her breathing. This wasn’t real. They weren’t seriously telling her she was stuck. Were they?

Audra’s voice was tight, clipped, professional—but beneath it, Reagan could hear a rare trace of actual concern. “…I don’t care what the issue is. I need the right key. Now.”

A voice on the other end stammered something.

Audra’s jaw clenched. Then—her expression shifted. Something in her face changed.

And Reagan knew. Knew before Audra even spoke. This wasn’t fixable tonight.

Audra exhaled, lowering the phone. She turned toward Reagan, her expression unreadable. “There was an error,” she said carefully. “Your restraints… were set with a different key than the one Seattle Supermax was provided.”

Reagan felt her stomach plummet. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

Audra pressed her lips together. Then, finally—she gave her the truth. “It means you’re not getting out tonight.” Reagan’s legs felt weak.

Audra continued, keeping her tone as steady as possible. “SecureLok’s Chief of Operations is bringing the correct key himself, but he won’t be able to get here until tomorrow morning.”

Reagan’s body tensed instinctively against the posture bar, the unyielding steel pressing into her back. She was stuck. She was actually stuck. “Are there any other ways to get it off?” Audra asked, directing her question to the SecureLok rep still on the line.

A long pause.

Then the voice on the phone answered, unequivocal. “No. The system was designed to be tamper-proof. There is no safe way to remove it without the correct key.”

Audra closed her eyes briefly, nodding. She ended the call. Then turned back to Reagan, resigned to her fate.

Reagan didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She felt Audra watching her. She wanted to be furious. She wanted to fight, to demand that they find another way, to insist that she was done with this whole scenario. But none of that mattered. Because she wasn’t getting out. Not tonight. Not until SecureLok decided she could.

Audra exhaled, shifting slightly. “I can at least get rid of the tube and cuffs.” Reagan nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. Audra stepped closer, reaching for the locking mechanisms, carefully removing the encasement tube, finally freeing Reagan’s hands.

Reagan exhaled sharply as she flexed her fingers, rolling her wrists. A small victory. But not freedom. She still couldn’t move. Still trapped in SecureLok’s steel embrace. Still at their mercy. She met Audra’s gaze. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to say. She was a prisoner for the night. And there was nothing either of them could do about it.

A Taste of Freedom—Sort Of

Reagan took her first real breath as they stepped out of Seattle Supermax, leaving the cold, oppressive facility behind them. She still wasn’t free. Not completely. The posture bar still kept her standing stiff and straight. Her knees still moved only at a controlled pace. She still felt the locked weight of the steel around her waist and neck. But—she could use her hands again. That alone made everything different.

Audra was already in motion. She didn’t ask. She just decided. The first sit-down restaurant they saw, they went in. Reagan slid into the booth carefully, feeling the way her body was still unnaturally rigid, still unable to slouch or lean forward. But she didn’t care. Because she could scratch her nose. Her ears. Run her fingers through her hair. It was a stupid, simple freedom—but after hours of total restraint, it was everything. 

Audra sat across from her, watching. Audra was already in analytical mode. She was processing, absorbing, taking mental notes.

The system worked. Everything had gone exactly as planned. Minus the locking mishap, it had been a success. And now, she needed to debrief with Reagan—to get her thoughts, her notes, her feedback.

But Reagan was not there yet. Audra could see it. The way she moved with slow, deliberate motions, relishing every bit of control she had regained. The way she dug into her food like she had been starved. The way her fingers fidgeted constantly—brushing over her own arms, adjusting her sleeves, as if she still couldn’t believe she had access to them again. Reagan needed a moment to just be.

So Audra let her have it.

And instead of pushing her for a breakdown of the experience, she just sat back, watching, letting the moment settle between them. Once dinner was over, Audra made an executive decision. She wasn’t going to stick them in just any hotel. Not tonight. She booked a high-end room in downtown Seattle, somewhere spacious, modern, luxurious.

After the last 24 hours of Reagan being caged, restrained, and stripped of her agency, Audra figured she deserved at least one night in a place that felt human.

But as they arrived at the hotel, as Reagan stepped carefully out of the car, moving slow and measured under SecureLok’s controls, Audra couldn’t shake one last lingering thought. The system worked. But did it work too well? Because if Reagan had been anyone else… If Audra hadn’t been there to advocate for her… Would she still be locked up in that cell, waiting for someone to realize their mistake? And why did that thought make her feel so uneasy?

Checking into the high-end hotel in downtown Seattle should have felt like a relief, but as soon as they walked into the suite, both Audra and Reagan realized the same thing at the same time. They had nothing. No fresh clothes. No toiletries. No essentials for an extended stay. They had only planned for a quick transport mission—not an overnight ordeal, much less multiple nights.

Audra sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Alright, let’s fix this.”

Reagan nodded. “Mall?”

“Mall.”

The mall was a massive, sleek, urban shopping center, teeming with business professionals, tourists, and stylish locals. For the first time since leaving Jacksonville, Reagan had the opportunity to move freely. Sort of. She could walk without shackles. She could see without blurred vision. She could use her hands. But her pace was still limited to 2.5 mph, and her posture remained unnaturally upright, forcing her to stand tall and poised, even when she wasn’t thinking about it. She should have felt normal. But she didn’t. Not when people kept glancing at her—noticing something was just a little off.

Audra, on the other hand, moved with absolute ease, drifting toward her preferred stores like she belonged there.

Audra made a beeline for the luxury essentials. Macy’s for a clean, professional outfit—something fitted and sharp. Sephora for high-end skincare and fresh makeup. Bath & Body Works for lotion, fragrance, and body wash—something subtle but intoxicating. She was effortless. Confident. Like this was just another work trip, another day in her polished life.

Meanwhile, Reagan’s choices were different. She walked straight into Victoria’s Secret, drawn to new lingerie—not for function, but for control. Something about the last 24 hours had left her feeling raw, exposed. She needed to reclaim something—her dominance, her sense of power. A matching set—delicate black lace with intricate strappy detailing. Feminine. But strong. Then, White House Black Market for a sleek new dress—something fitted, tailored, something that said she was in charge. And finally, Nordstrom’s—where she indulged in a new pair of heels. Not the practical kind. The kind that made a statement.

By the time they met back at the car, Audra arched a brow at Reagan’s shopping bags. “Victoria’s Secret?” Audra smirked. “Didn’t peg you for the lace type.”

Reagan gave a sly smirk of her own. “What can I say? I like to be in control of my wardrobe.”

Audra chuckled, tossing her own bags in the back. “Fair enough.” They both climbed into the car, the weight of the last day still lingering between them.

But now, they had what they needed. For whatever came next.

Chapter 3

Debrief Over Drinks – A Conversation That Changed Everything

By the time they arrived at the seafood restaurant on the wharf, Reagan felt exhausted, starving, and strangely restless all at once. The past 48 hours had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She was used to being in control. Used to commanding others. Used to being the one issuing the orders—not the one trapped inside them. And yet, here she was—walking stiffly into a high-end restaurant, posture still forced into unnatural perfection by the steel band locked around her waist and neck.

She had never been more grateful for small freedoms, yet… Why did she still feel off-balance? Why did she keep pulling at the collar, feeling its weight, its pressure, its quiet reminder that she wasn’t truly free?

The maître d’ informed them that dinner seating wouldn’t begin until 6:00 PM, but they were welcome to have a drink at the bar. Reagan didn’t hesitate. She needed one. Both women slid onto plush barstools, the upscale ambiance wrapping around them with the soft glow of golden lighting and the murmur of distant conversation.

Audra ordered a French 75.

Reagan ordered an Old Fashioned.

They sat in silence at first, sipping, unwinding—but Audra wasn’t just relaxing. She was studying Reagan. She noticed the way Reagan kept subtly pulling at the collar, trying to adjust it despite its locked position. She noticed the faint indentations on Reagan’s wrists, the lingering evidence of the cuffs that had held her. She noticed… everything. And finally, she broke the silence.

“Well?” Audra leaned back slightly, tilting her glass in Reagan’s direction. “What did you think? What was it like?”

Reagan inhaled deeply, exhaling through her nose as she traced her finger along the rim of her glass. Reagan wasn’t sure where to start. What was she supposed to say? That she hated it? That she never wanted to feel that helpless again? Or that she couldn’t stop thinking about it? That she missed the control—even as she despised it? That being locked down so completely, so mercilessly, had done something to her that she couldn’t quite name?

She took another sip of her drink, letting the burn of whiskey settle in her stomach. Then, finally, she spoke. “It was… intense.”

Audra smirked slightly. “That’s an understatement.”

Reagan huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”

She rolled her wrist absentmindedly, stretching her fingers again, still trying to rid herself of the ghost of restraint. Then she sighed. “It was frustrating, obviously. But… more than that.”

Audra raised an eyebrow. “More than that how?”

Reagan hesitated. Was she really going to say this out loud? “…It made me think.” Reagan swirled the ice in her glass, avoiding Audra’s gaze. “About control. About power. About…”

She stopped herself. She wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Not out loud.

But Audra’s eyes were sharp, reading between the lines. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. “And did you like it?”

Reagan’s stomach tightened. Her fingers gripped her glass just a little too tightly. Yes. No. I don’t know. She exhaled, tilting her head slightly, finally meeting Audra’s gaze head-on. “I don’t know what I liked,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “And that’s what’s bothering me.”

Audra studied her for a long moment. Then, she smirked. “You’ll figure it out.” And just like that, the bartender returned, asking if they were ready for dinner. Reagan wasn’t sure she was ready for anything. But one thing was certain. This wasn’t over. Not for her. Not for either of them.

Reagan took another sip of her Old Fashioned, the ice clinking softly against the glass as she leaned back—well, as much as she could. The posture bar kept her spine straight, her shoulders squared. She was beginning to realize just how often she naturally slouched—and now that she couldn’t, she was hyper-aware of it. “I’ll be honest,” she started, her voice steady but reflective. “When you looked to me to volunteer as the inmate… I almost said no.”

Audra tilted her head slightly. “But you didn’t.”

Reagan sighed. “No. Because I was too damn excited about the project. I knew it needed a real test run before we could sign off on it, and if we didn’t do this right, it would never get approval.” She tapped her fingers absently against the bar top. “But I underestimated the personal exposure it would put me through.”

She glanced at Audra, her expression more serious now.

“I’ve put handcuffs on thousands of people. I never gave it a second thought. But when you locked the posture collar on me, and I heard the snap—I knew it was real. That I was actually… giving up control.”

Audra studied her, fingers resting lightly around the stem of her cocktail glass. “Was it uncomfortable?” she asked.

Reagan thought for a moment. “Not the collar itself. But the position it forced me into?” She exhaled, shifting in her seat as much as the steel belt around her waist would allow. “I had no idea how often I must slouch in my daily life.”

Audra smirked slightly. “You? Miss Military-Posture?”

Reagan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously. The posture bar didn’t give an inch. The moment I even tried to slouch, I could feel it pressing on my throat.” She swallowed at the memory of it, the rigid steel holding her upright, offering no negotiation. “And that was the worst part.”

Audra frowned slightly. “The throat pressure?”

Reagan nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t painful, but it was… uncomfortable. Enough that I learned quickly to stop fighting it.”

Audra made a mental note, filing away the detail. Then, she asked the next question. “And the encasement tube? What was that like?”

Reagan let out a slow breath. “…That was the most hopeless I’ve ever felt in my life.” She flexed her hands instinctively, remembering the sensation. “I thought being cuffed was restrictive. But this? This was different.” She lifted her hands slightly, mimicking the feeling. “It was like my hands were welded together in front of me. There was no slack, no movement. Completely useless.” She rubbed her wrists absentmindedly, as if still feeling the weight of the encasement.

Audra could see the imprint of the cuffs still lingering on her skin. She could tell that Reagan was still processing it all, still sorting through what it had meant to be on the receiving end of the restraints she had so often placed on others. “And the knee braces?” Audra prompted.

Reagan let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Frustrating as hell.” She lifted her leg slightly under the bar, emphasizing the limited movement. “I mean, I get it. It worked. I couldn’t move faster than a slow walk. But having them locked at 90 degrees in the car? That was something else. It wasn’t just being restrained—it was being forced into whatever position someone else decided for me.”

Audra smirked. “Like a mannequin.”

Reagan gave her a pointed look. “Exactly like a mannequin.”

Audra took another slow sip of her drink. “…And the glasses?”

Reagan groaned. “The glasses were the worst.”

Audra grinned. “Worse than the tube?”

Reagan hesitated. “Okay, maybe not worse than that. But they were… maddening. When you took my sight away, I had nothing. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t resist, I couldn’t even prepare for what was coming next.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “And that’s when I really understood what SecureLok is capable of.”

Audra’s smirk faded slightly. Because that sentence held weight. Audra had designed this system to be perfect. And in many ways, it was. But Reagan had been a willing subject. She trusted Audra. She knew this was temporary. She knew she would eventually be freed. But what if she hadn’t? What if this wasn’t a test run, but an actual transport? What if Reagan hadn’t been released from the encasement? From the braces? From the collar? What if she hadn’t known when it would end? For the first time, Audra felt the weight of her own creation.

It worked. It worked too well. She cleared her throat, pushing the thought aside.

“So,” Audra said lightly, “if we had to do it again, would you sign up?”

Reagan arched an eyebrow. Then, slowly, she smirked. “…I don’t know. And that bothers me more than anything else.”

By the time they reached their second cocktail, the tension between them had softened—but in its place, something else lingered. Something charged. Something unspoken. Neither had eaten much, and with liquor warming their systems, their words came easier, their barriers lowering just slightly. Reagan swirled the melting ice in her Old Fashioned, staring at the way the amber liquid caught the light.

Then, finally, she started talking. “You know,” she began, voice more relaxed now, “being locked into SecureLok was… more restrictive than I expected.”

Audra leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her palm, her expression unreadable. “More restrictive how?”

Reagan hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “…The wall.” She let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so…” She searched for the word.

Audra watched her, intrigued. “So what?”

“…Final.” Reagan looked up at Audra then, and the meaning in her eyes was unmistakable. “The moment you locked me to that wall, it was over. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t even shift. And then my arms were stretched out, and the magnets locked me in”

She stopped herself, reaching for her drink instead, taking a slow sip as if trying to drown out the memory.

 

Audra didn’t push. But her fingers tapped against the rim of her glass, her thoughts turning.

Reagan was being honest. More honest than Audra had expected. And she wasn’t finished yet.

Reagan exhaled, setting her glass down with a quiet thunk. “And the clothes.”

Audra raised an eyebrow. “The clothes?”

Reagan nodded. “I knew I’d be restrained. I knew I’d be locked in. But I wasn’t expecting to be…” She hesitated again, fingers toying with the condensation on her glass. Then, finally, she said it. “I wasn’t expecting to feel that exposed.”

Audra’s stomach tightened slightly. She had been the one removing Reagan’s clothes. She had been the one standing over her, buttoning up that too-tight dress shirt, watching as Reagan had struggled not to react. And now, here was Reagan, admitting what it had done to her.

“When you stripped me down and locked my arms out…” Reagan trailed off, shaking her head, then let out a quiet laugh. “God, I felt ridiculous. Just… standing there. Fully exposed.

Audra smirked. “Not your usual position, huh?”

Reagan shot her a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Not even close.”

She took another sip, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass.

“…But I think the worst part,” Reagan continued, “was how often my legs were spread.”

Audra froze for just a second, gripping her glass a little tighter.

“How often?” she repeated, keeping her voice light, casual. 

Reagan nodded. “Between the SecureLok restraints, the TSA search, the transport truck, the hotel…” She let out another small laugh, shaking her head. “I spent a lot of this trip with my legs spread wide open.”

Audra felt something hot coil deep in her stomach. She didn’t react. Didn’t let her face betray anything. But she was thinking about it now. Remembering. Every moment. Every position Reagan had been forced into. How she looked—helpless, restrained, open, unable to stop any of it.

Reagan sighed dramatically. “If I’d known I was going to be strip-searched at an airport, I would’ve picked different underwear.”

Audra finally let out a low laugh. “Yeah, I remember.”

Reagan shot her a sharp look. “You remember?”

Audra just smirked, taking another slow sip of her drink. “You were wearing black lace, if I recall.”

Reagan’s cheeks darkened slightly, but she played it off with a slow, exaggerated sip of her whiskey. “I’ll be sure to pack more appropriately next time.”

Audra set her drink down, resting her elbow on the table, chin in her hand. “So, does that mean there will be a next time?”

Reagan didn’t answer. Not right away. She just looked at Audra—really looked at her. And for the first time, Audra didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answer.

The moment Audra shifted the conversation to the night in restraints, Reagan felt a flicker of unease. She had been comfortable enough discussing the mechanics of SecureLok—the logistics, the frustration, the ways it had controlled her movements. But this? This was something else. This was the part she hadn’t fully processed yet. The part that made her stomach tighten, that made her toes curl inside her heels, that made her pulse quicken just a little too much. And yet, she couldn’t avoid it. Not with Audra watching her so intently, waiting.

“What was it like,” Audra asked, leaning in slightly, voice calm but unreadable, “to spend the night restrained?”

Reagan’s breath caught for just a second. She gripped her glass a little tighter, staring at the whiskey swirling inside, the ice melting, watering it down. She knew how it felt. She had felt every second of it. But saying it out loud? That was something else entirely. “That was a new feeling for me.” Her voice came out quieter than she expected.

Audra arched a brow. “New how?”

Reagan let out a slow breath, forcing herself to meet Audra’s eyes.

And then, very deliberately, very carefully, she said: “I don’t generally find myself on the receiving end of any restraints.”

The words hung heavily between them. For a second, Audra didn’t respond. But her expression shifted—just slightly. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Wasn’t teasing. She was listening. So Reagan kept going. “Laying on that bed… fully restrained… was something else entirely.” She exhaled sharply, tapping her nails against her glass. “At first, it was just strange. It wasn’t like being in cuffs. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before.”

Audra tilted her head. “What was different?”

Reagan hesitated. Then she spoke, slowly, deliberately, giving Audra every single detail. “The first thing I noticed was the sound.” She swallowed, her tongue flicking over her bottom lip. “Everything was louder than normal—the chains, the buckles, even my own breathing.” She traced a finger over the condensation on her glass, watching the trail of water follow her touch. “When you locked my ankles apart… I could hear it. The soft clink of metal. The click of the magnetic clasps. And then the sound of the chain tightening, pulling me into place – my legs being pulled further and further apart. Exposed. Vulnerable.”

Audra didn’t blink. Didn’t interrupt. Reagan licked her lips, staring at her glass as she continued. “I could hear every time you moved. Every time you walked around the bed. Every shift of fabric. Every quiet breath.” She exhaled. “But the worst part was when you blacked out my vision.”

Audra’s fingers curled around her own drink.

“…Because then, the sound became everything.” Reagan let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t think the blackout glasses would affect me that much. But the second you turned them off… I lost all sense of time.” She flexed her fingers absently, as if still feeling the restraint of the encasement tube from the night before. “I couldn’t see you. But I knew you were there.”

She took another sip of her whiskey, the burn settling deep. “I could feel you moving. I could hear you breathing. I knew you were looking at me, and I had no way to stop you.” She finally glanced up, meeting Audra’s gaze head-on.

Audra’s expression was carefully neutral—but her grip on her glass had tightened. She was listening. Hanging onto every word.

So Reagan kept going. “…And then you chained my legs apart.” The words came out softer this time. She saw the way Audra shifted slightly in her seat. “That was the first time I felt… truly vulnerable.”

Audra’s lips parted slightly, as if she was going to speak. But she didn’t. She just… waited.

So Reagan forced herself to keep talking. “I remember thinking…” She paused, gripping her glass. “I remember wondering if my panties were covering me well enough.” She let out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I remember the exact moment I realized… it didn’t matter.”

Audra’s throat moved as she swallowed. Her eyes were locked onto Reagan’s. And Reagan felt the heat in her chest, the tension curling in her stomach, because she knew Audra was remembering too. Remembering the way she had stood over her. Remembering the way Reagan had looked—helpless, restrained, spread open. Remembering how she had blacked out Reagan’s vision… and then just stood there, looking at her, knowing Reagan would never know.

Reagan’s fingers tightened around her glass. She should stop. She shouldn’t say this next part. But the drinks were loosening her tongue, and she couldn’t stop herself. “…And then the worst thought hit me.”

Audra’s gaze sharpened. “What thought?”

Reagan exhaled. “That you could have done anything to me.”

The words landed between them like a live wire.

Audra froze.

Reagan licked her lips, heartbeat a little too fast now. “…That you could have touched me anywhere.” She took a deep breath. “…And I wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”

Audra set her drink down, exhaling slowly through her nose.

The air between them was thick now. Tension coiled in every glance, every breath, every inch of space between them.

Reagan clenched her jaw, looking away, trying to play it off. “That was the hardest part. Realizing that it wouldn’t have mattered what I wanted. That, for the first time in my life, I wasn’t in control of my own body.” She laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Hell, I couldn’t even close my legs if I wanted to.”

Audra finally exhaled, shaking her head slightly, her gaze unreadable. She picked up her drink, took a slow sip, and then—without breaking eye contact—said softly: “…But I didn’t touch you.”

The heat spiked in Reagan’s chest. She swallowed. “…No.”

A long, quiet pause. Then Audra smirked. “Maybe that’s why you can’t stop thinking about it.”

Reagan’s breath hitched.

Audra sat back, sipping her cocktail, looking far too satisfied.

And Reagan knew, with absolute certainty— This conversation was far from over.

Reagan watched Audra carefully, her eyes steady, deliberate—challenging. The question had fallen so easily from her lips, yet it landed like a live grenade between them. “What did you do while I was locked and chained to the bed?”

She left the question open-ended, her tone measured, calculated. She wanted to know. Needed to know. Audra froze. A slow heat crept up her neck, flushing the pale skin just above the collar of her blouse. She took a slow sip of her drink, but it did nothing to cool the sudden rush of warmth flooding through her.

Reagan was waiting. Watching. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Audra forced a casual shrug, trying to buy herself a moment. “…You know. The usual.” She kept her tone light, dismissive. “Getting ready for bed. Washing my face. Some light reading.”

She swirled the remaining ice in her glass, watching the way the amber liquid coated the edges. But Reagan didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. She wasn’t going to let Audra off that easily. Because they both knew that wasn’t the full answer. Not even close.

What had she done? Oh, she knew. She had stood over Reagan, looking down at her, drinking in every inch of her body. She had stared at the way Reagan’s bra cupped her perfectly, how high her breasts sat on her chest. She had studied the way Reagan’s panties stretched over her hips, how the fabric cut low enough to reveal smooth, clean-shaven skin. She had even wondered about it. Why? Why was Reagan shaved? Was it a habit? A preference? A choice for someone else? And then—God help her—she had noticed the crease. The way the thin fabric hugged Reagan’s sex, outlining its shape. And worse, she had seen it. The small, damp spot. Audra had stood there, staring, feeling something thick and unbearable coil in her stomach. Because she had wanted to touch her. She had wanted to run her hands down the smooth expanse of Reagan’s stomach, to slip her fingers beneath the delicate black lace, to feel what Reagan had been thinking about. Because she knew. Reagan had been helpless. Spread. Open. And she had been thinking about something. Thinking about something enough to leave evidence of it.

Audra had clenched her fists, forcing herself to step away, forcing herself to keep her hands to herself, forcing herself to stay professional. And now? Now Reagan was asking.

Audra swallowed, her throat dry despite the alcohol warming her veins. “…Nothing.”

Her voice was too soft. Too quiet. Too much of a lie.

Reagan smirked, her head tilting slightly, the challenge still in her eyes. “Nothing?” she repeated, her voice slow, deliberate.

Audra cleared her throat, forcing herself to look at Reagan directly. “Nothing inappropriate.”

The words were measured. Careful. Dangerous. Reagan held her gaze for a long, heavy moment. And then, she smiled. Slow. Knowing. And she leaned in slightly, her voice just above a whisper. “…That’s not what I asked.”

Audra’s breath caught. Reagan leaned back again, taking another slow sip of her whiskey, letting the silence stretch between them, thick with unspoken tension. She didn’t need to say anything else. She already knew the answer.

Audra’s throat was dry. She took another slow sip of her drink, but it did nothing—not to clear her thoughts, not to cool the heat creeping up her neck, not to silence the image burning in her mind. Because she knew what Reagan was asking. And she knew what she had done. She just couldn’t say it. Because how could she possibly admit— That she had put the noise-canceling earbuds and headphones on Reagan not just for protocol, but for herself? That she had climbed into bed afterward, turned off the lights, and reached for the small, discreet travel vibrator she always carried? That she had laid there, staring at Reagan’s helpless, restrained body, and imagined her own hands running down the smooth expanse of her stomach? That she had imagined pressing her fingers between Reagan’s thighs, feeling the warmth that she had already seen dampen the thin black lace of her panties? That she had imagined crawling over her, touching every inch of her—only to realize that wasn’t the fantasy at all? Because the real fantasy? The one that made her stomach tighten, made her toes curl in the sheets, made her press the vibrator deeper between her legs, muffling her own gasps into the hotel pillow? The real fantasy wasn’t Reagan tied down beneath her. It was Audra tied down beneath Reagan. It was Audra locked in the SecureLok system, her body helpless, bound, vulnerable. It was Audra in chains, with Reagan standing over her—smirking, commanding, towering above her in that black latex catsuit, holding a whip in her gloved hands. It was Audra being at Reagan’s mercy.

The thought had hit her so suddenly, so violently, that it had shattered something inside her. Because she had never thought of herself like that before. Never imagined wanting to give up control. Never imagined being the one restrained.

But when the orgasm had ripped through her, harder than anything she’d ever felt in her life, she had bitten her lip to keep from saying Reagan’s name.

And now? Now Reagan was staring at her, waiting. Waiting for an answer. Audra swallowed hard, forced a small, tight smile, and lifted her drink. “…Like I said.” She took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch. “Just the usual.”

Reagan smirked. She didn’t press. Didn’t push. She just took another slow sip of her whiskey, watching Audra over the rim of her glass.

Audra took a deep breath, shaking herself free from the moment. She could feel it—the tension tightening around them like an invisible coil. The last few minutes had been too raw, too honest, too dangerous. She needed to steer them back onto safer ground. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She smirked, leaned forward on her elbows, and asked casually— “Alright, tell me about the second time through TSA.”

Reagan’s head tilted slightly, eyes flickering with amusement. She knew exactly what Audra was doing. She didn’t call her out on it—but she let her know with just one slow sip of her whiskey. Still, she went with it. She leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms lazily before resting one hand against her hip.

“Ugh,” she groaned dramatically. “Are you seriously making me relive that humiliation?”

Audra grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Reagan rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. Then, with a playful smirk, she launched into the memory. “It was worse the second time,” Reagan admitted, twirling her straw idly in the remnants of her drink.

Audra lifted an eyebrow. “Worse how?”

Reagan sighed. “I thought the first strip search was bad enough. But this time?”

She shook her head, taking a long sip before continuing. “This time, the TSA officer was not some overweight, bald guy who smelled like stale coffee.”

Audra’s lips curled in amusement. “Oh? Who was he then?”

Reagan exhaled dramatically, leaning forward like she was about to share some deep, scandalous secret. “He was hot, Audra.”

Audra laughed. “How hot?”

Reagan held up a finger. “First of all, he was tall.”

“Good start.”

“Second of all—broad shoulders. That uniform was practically begging to be tested.”

Audra grinned, eyes lighting up. “Go on.”

Reagan set her drink down and waved her hands in the air. “And the beard? Full, dark, perfectly groomed. Just messy enough to make me think about what it would feel like between my thighs—”

Audra gasped, bursting into laughter. “Reagan!”

Reagan shrugged shamelessly, smirking. “You asked.”

The whiskey was flowing, and both of them were definitely feeling it. The conversation should have ended there. But it didn’t. Because Reagan sighed wistfully, twirling the base of her glass. “…You know, if anyone was going to be my handler through SecureLok, I kind of wish it was him.”

Audra’s eyes widened in mock scandal. “Reagan, do you have a prisoner kink?”

Reagan laughed. “I’m just saying… if I have to be restrained, I’d rather be restrained by someone who looks like him.”

Audra smirked, biting the inside of her cheek. “So… what? You wish he was the one stripping you down in the private room instead of that female officer?”

Reagan raised an eyebrow. And then she grinned. “…I mean.”

Audra choked on her drink, laughing. “Good heavens, Reagan.”

“What?” Reagan teased, tilting her head. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t have let him put his hands all over you?”

Audra hesitated for just a second too long. And Reagan caught it. Her smirk deepened. “…Oh my god. You would’ve let him search you, wouldn’t you?”

Audra felt her skin flush, but she held Reagan’s gaze. Then, ever so slowly, she raised her glass to her lips. “…I’m not saying no.”

Reagan threw her head back, laughing. “See? That’s what I’m saying! I was standing there, completely exposed, and I just kept thinking… damn, of all the people in the room, why can’t it be him?”

Audra chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Reagan smirked, finishing the last sip of her drink. “I know.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the conversation dipping into playful fantasy, the air thick with laughter and lingering tension.

But then—Audra’s mind drifted. And she realized something. Something dangerous. It wasn’t the TSA officer she was picturing. It was Reagan. Standing over her. Holding the whip. And for the first time in her life, she had no idea what that meant.

The drinks had loosened their tongues, the conversation had gone deeper and more unfiltered than either of them had probably intended, and yet—Audra wasn’t done. She let the moment settle for a beat, watching as Reagan swirled the last remnants of her whiskey in her glass. Then, quietly, she asked: “What about the paddy wagon?”

Reagan’s fingers paused over her drink. Her eyes flickered up, her expression more serious now.

“Was it scary?” Audra asked.

Reagan exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly as if she was replaying it all in her mind. Then she answered. “I wasn’t scared at first.” She set her glass down, pressing her fingertips against the polished wood of the bar. “I knew it was just a transfer. I knew I was secure. Hell, I knew the damn restraints worked because I helped write the protocols.”

“…But when they locked me into that five-point harness, and I felt the straps tighten over my shoulders, my lap, my thighs… when they pulled that last strap up between my legs and snapped that padlock into place?”

She swallowed. “That’s when I realized… I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Audra’s stomach tightened slightly.

Reagan tapped a single finger against her glass. “The worst part was when you left. When the guard told you that you had to follow in another car.”

Audra blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. “That bothered you?”

Reagan nodded. “Yeah.” She exhaled. “Because that’s when I stopped feeling like I was in control of this test run. That’s when I realized that, to everyone else in that facility, I wasn’t Reagan Wolf, Senior Transport Officer. I was just another inmate.”

She shifted in her seat, rolling her wrist as if the weight of the SecureLok encasement tube was still wrapped around it. “And when they blacked out my vision again? When I was just sitting there, completely restrained, completely blind, completely alone?”

Her voice dropped slightly. “That’s when I got scared.”

Audra studied her carefully. She had seen Reagan in high-risk situations before. Had seen her walk into rooms full of convicted felons without a flicker of fear.

And Audra wasn’t sure what to do with that. So instead, she took a slow breath, and asked the next question. “…And now?” Audra tilted her head slightly. “How does it feel to be free?”

Reagan let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this grateful to stretch my arms.” She lifted them slightly, rolling her shoulders, cracking her neck. Then, with a smirk—“And scratch my damn nose.”

Audra laughed, shaking her head. “Noted. Maybe SecureLok should add a nose-scratching feature.”

Reagan grinned, but then the amusement faded slightly. She leaned forward, resting her arms against the bar. “It’s weird, though.” Audra lifted a brow. “What is?” Reagan hesitated. Then, finally—“I thought I’d feel more relieved.”

Audra frowned. “You’re not?”

Reagan pursed her lips. “…I don’t know. Maybe I’m just still processing. Or maybe it’s because…” She paused, considering her words. Then, she gave a half-smirk, meeting Audra’s gaze. “Because we both know I have to do it again.”

 

Audra nodded, leaning back slightly in her seat. “We do.”

She took a sip of her drink, setting the glass down before continuing. “We still need to run a Supermax transfer test for high-risk violent offenders.”

Reagan let out a low groan. “That’s gonna be hell.”

Audra smirked. “Probably.” Then, more seriously— “And we still need to test SecureLok on a male subject.”

Reagan raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering?”

Audra chuckled, shaking her head. “I think we should either pick a male test subject or—” she hesitated, “—try the real prisoner transfer again.”

Reagan arched a brow. “You want to do it for real?”

Audra shrugged. “If we really want to test the system, we should test it with someone who actually wants to escape.”

Reagan exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…Damn.”

Audra smirked, finishing the last sip of her cocktail. “Welcome to the future of prisoner transport.”

The walk back to the hotel room felt light, easy—almost giddy from the cocktails and the lingering energy of their conversation. The tension from earlier? Still there. The weight of everything they had discussed? Still hanging between them. But now, it was less heavy, more electrified—like a current running just beneath the surface.

Once inside, they took turns showering, the steam from the bathroom curling into the cool air of the suite as they moved freely, relaxed from the drinks, the night, the openness.

Neither of them bothered with modesty.

Audra had changed into her new shapewear, the nude fabric hugging every inch of her frame, sculpting her already toned body with extra stitching in all the right places. She peeled it off slowly, revealing beneath it black silk panties that matched her bra, the soft fabric smooth against her skin.

She was full-chested, toned, well-kept—proud of the way she carried herself.

Across the room, Reagan had changed as well. This time, she was in red—a low-cut bra that framed her chest perfectly, satin panties that rested low on her hips.

 She was still wearing the SecureLok posture bar, the collar and torso bands giving her a rigid posture, making her movements look deliberate—almost calculated. The sleek metal gave her an air of restraint, but the lingerie beneath it was anything but. It almost resembled a medical device—at least, that’s what she told herself.

But when Audra glanced over at her, lingering just a second too long, the mix of soft fabric and cold steel did something to her thoughts that she wasn’t prepared for. Neither of them acknowledged it.

Instead, Reagan spoke first, her tone light, curious—as if she wasn’t fully aware of the effect she had standing there like that. “Hey—I didn’t know SecureLok made noise-canceling headphones.”

Audra blinked, shaking herself free from whatever had just passed through her mind. “Yeah, they do. Full sensory deprivation if necessary.”

Reagan smirked. “You say that like you’ve tested it.”

Audra didn’t answer. Instead, Reagan’s attention shifted to the black, hard-sided SecureLok transport case sitting at the edge of the bed.

She walked over to it, running her fingers along the reinforced edges, the industrial security latches. “What else is in here?” she asked.

Audra hesitated. “You really want to go through it?”

Reagan turned, her smirk deepening. “Why not? I never actually looked through all the gear.”

Audra let out a small laugh, crossing her arms. “Alright, let’s take inventory.”

Reagan unclasped the heavy-duty latches, lifting the lid with a satisfying click. Inside was a neatly organized arrangement of SecureLok’s most advanced transport tools. They sat down on the bed, pouring through the gear piece by piece. Reagan lifted the black canvas hood, feeling the weight of it. The inside was lined with extra padding, ensuring that once secured, the wearer would be completely blind and deaf.

Reagan ran her fingers over the material. “Damn. You really thought of everything.”

Audra smirked. “Of course. No distractions. No escapes.”

Reagan chuckled but set the hood down a little too carefully.

Four thick, reinforced chains with magnetic connectors on both ends. They could be attached anywhere—wrist cuffs to the waist, ankles to the floor, arms across the chest. Reagan picked one up, watching how it snapped into place on the provided wrist cuffs with a sharp metallic clink. She tested it, pulling slightly. It wouldn’t budge. “Effective,” she murmured.

Audra nodded. “Very.”

Reagan pulled out a strange silicone ball attached to a stainless steel spring-like frame. She turned it over in her hands, examining it. “And this?”

Audra glanced at it, then smirked. “That,” she said, “is a SecureLok ball gag.”

Reagan arched a brow. “A gag?”

“For prisoners who attempt to communicate with others during transport. It locks into the posture collar under the chin, and the ball is spring-loaded into the mouth.”

She leaned back on her hands, watching as Reagan examined it more closely.

“Every inch it goes in, it locks deeper. It can’t be expelled once it’s in place.” Reagan gave her a flat look. “SecureLok sent a demonstration video—didn’t you watch it?”

Reagan pursed her lips, setting the gag back in the case. “No… must’ve missed that one.”

Audra grinned but said nothing.

Reagan lifted a small, metal cage-like device. “What is this?”

Audra let out a short laugh, taking another sip of water before answering.

“That,” she said casually, “is a male chastity cage.”

Reagan froze for a second. “A… what?”

Audra chuckled. “It’s for prisoners who get erections in public. Or ones who try to… relieve themselves when they shouldn’t.”

Reagan’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “Well. That’s something.”

Audra shrugged. “No use for it this trip, though.”

Reagan laughed, shaking her head. “Good to know.”

Reagan picked one up, extending it slightly. “And these?”

Audra smirked. “Modular extension bars. They attach anywhere on the cuffs or posture bar.”

Reagan’s brows lifted slightly.

Audra continued, voice smooth. “For example, they can lock onto the collar and wrists—forcing the arms out to the sides.”

She took another sip of water before adding, “Or they can be placed between the ankles.”

She met Reagan’s gaze directly. “To hold the legs apart.”

A beat of silence.

Reagan set the bar down.

Then, with a slow smirk—“You know how much you hate that.”

Audra tilted her head, watching Reagan closely. “Do I?”

Reagan held her gaze. Something lingered between them. Something they weren’t saying.

The case was still open between them, full of restraints, control, pieces of a system they had designed. And yet—why did it suddenly feel like they weren’t just talking about SecureLok anymore? Reagan exhaled slowly, then leaned back onto her hands, a knowing look in her eyes.

“So,” she mused, voice teasing. “Do I get a demonstration?”

Audra just smiled.

And for the first time, she didn’t say no. The mood in the room had shifted. It was no longer just a casual exploration of SecureLok’s equipment. It was something else now—something charged, something neither of them were fully acknowledging but both were undeniably feeling.

Reagan had made a joking request for a demonstration. And now, she was standing there in nothing but her red lingerie, steel restraints pressing against her bare skin, and Audra was fastening the extension bars to her collar as if this was just another routine test.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. Reagan scoffed slightly, shifting her shoulders. “I doubt these bars are actually strong enough to restrain someone.”

Audra gave a small, knowing smirk. “You think so?”

She didn’t argue. She just took Reagan’s wrists, locking them back into the SecureLok cuffs, one at a time. Then, carefully, she attached each wrist to the opposite ends of the extension bars. A soft click. Then another. And then—she extended the bars.

Reagan’s arms were forced outward, past shoulder width. Her brows lifted slightly in surprise. She tried to move. She couldn’t. She twisted her shoulders, testing the strength of the bars, expecting them to give. They didn’t. They held firm. Stronger than she expected. Stronger than she liked.

“…Damn,” Reagan muttered under her breath, flexing her fingers against the cuffs. “These things are legit.”

Audra just watched her, an unreadable expression on her face. “Told you.”

Reagan pulled again. No give. “…Okay,” she admitted, “I’m impressed.”

Audra tilted her head, taking in the sight of Reagan standing there—arms outstretched, completely unable to resist, completely exposed.

Reagan’s breathing slowed. She was aware of every inch of herself now. Aware of the way her posture was held rigidly upright, the steel pressing into her spine. Aware of the way her arms were stuck out to the sides, leaving her torso completely bare, completely vulnerable. Aware of the way her red bra pushed her breasts up, full and high, framed perfectly by the steel running across her chest. And most of all—aware of Audra’s eyes. Watching her. Lingering. A little too long. Reagan caught it. Audra’s gaze had dropped. Right to her chest. Right to the way her curves pressed against the restraints, the way her breath moved her breasts slightly with each inhale.

Audra’s lips parted slightly, just for a second. She didn’t look away. Not at first. But when she finally did, when she realized Reagan had noticed—a flash of something crossed her face. Guilt. Or maybe something else. Something much, much more dangerous.

Reagan’s pulse quickened. She didn’t say anything. Not at first. Because she wasn’t sure what to say. She was used to commanding attention. She was used to being the one in control. But now? Now she was standing there, arms spread, barely clothed, locked into SecureLok’s restraints, and Audra was the one standing over her, looking at her like she was something to be studied. Like she was something to be wanted. And Reagan realized—maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate that. Not one bit. She licked her lips, tilting her head slightly. She could push this. If she wanted to. She could make Audra admit it. 

But instead, she just smirked.“…You gonna stare all night, Adams?”

Audra blinked sharply. The spell was broken. She cleared her throat, stepping back slightly, regaining her composure. “Just checking my work.” She moved, pretending to adjust one of the bars, but Reagan saw right through it. She saw the way Audra’s fingers trembled just slightly. She saw the way she wasn’t unaffected. Not at all. Reagan let her smirk linger. Let the silence stretch between them. Let Audra wonder what she was thinking. Because the truth was? Reagan wasn’t sure either. But she wanted to find out.

The Offer Audra Never Expected

Audra was already stepping back, already closing the transport case, already forcing herself to reset—to bring the night back to professionalism. She had lingered too long. Let her thoughts slip too far. Let her eyes wander where they shouldn’t have. But then—Reagan spoke. “Hey, we have to go back to Jacksonville tomorrow.”

Audra looked up.

Reagan was still locked into the SecureLok posture bar, her arms extended, her wrists firmly secured to the bars.

She looked powerful and vulnerable all at once. And yet—there was a glint in her eyes. A knowing, teasing look. “…Would you like to be the prisoner this time? To feel the restraints yourself?”

Audra’s heart stopped. For a second, the room felt too quiet. She didn’t know what to say. Her mind raced, her thoughts tangling together, her pulse betraying her. 

Audra’s first instinct was to decline. There was no real reason to do another test of the same thing. She had already seen the SecureLok system in action. It worked. She had studied the locking mechanisms, the tension points, the immobilization effects. She had just spent 48 hours analyzing every reaction Reagan had given, every movement, every frustration, every moment of helplessness. There was no professional need for another test. And yet—she couldn’t ignore what it did to her. What the idea of it did to her.

The mere suggestion of it sent a slow, hot thrill down her spine. She had been in control for as long as she could remember. Her entire career—hell, her entire life—was built on control. She ran things. She called the shots. She had never— Not once— Been on the other side of it. She had carried handcuffs on her hip for fifteen years, but they had never been on her own wrists. Not since that one time during officer training. Back then, it had been quick—just a formality, a technique lesson. Her partner had snapped the cuffs onto her wrists, demonstrated how to double-lock them, and then immediately released her. Less than a minute. And even then—she had hated it. Not because of the restraint itself. But because it had made her feel something she wasn’t ready to feel. Something that had sat buried inside her for years, untouched, unacknowledged.

Something that was now roaring back to life as she stood in this dimly lit hotel room, watching Reagan smirk at her like she already knew. 

Audra should have said no. She should have laughed it off, waved it away, kept her walls up. But the truth was—she wanted to know. She wanted to know what it felt like. To be locked in. To be stripped of control. To have someone else dictating her movements, deciding what she could and couldn’t do.

She wanted to know if she could handle it. Or if it would break her. Her fingers tightened at her sides. 

She exhaled, forcing herself to play it cool. Then—slowly, carefully—she nodded. “…Yeah.” Her voice was quieter than she meant it to be. “I think I should.”

Reagan’s smirk deepened.

Audra swallowed, shifting on her feet, feeling suddenly exposed. Then—before Reagan could respond—she spoke again. “I’ve never been out of control before.”

Reagan’s brows lifted slightly.

Audra let out a dry, almost nervous laugh. “I’ve carried cuffs on my hip for fifteen years. But I’ve never had them on my own wrists.”

Reagan tilted her head. “Never?”

Audra hesitated. “Only in training. And even then, it was less than a minute.” She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “I hated it.”

Reagan’s lips parted slightly, as if she was about to ask why. But she didn’t. She just watched. Waited. Audra clenched her jaw, her pulse still too fast. She needed to keep it together. Needed to make this about professionalism. About understanding the system. Not about whatever was burning in her chest, whatever was pulling at her deep inside.

So she forced a casual smirk. “Besides… you had your turn.” Her voice was steadier now. More controlled. More like herself. She tilted her head slightly, challenging. “Tomorrow, it’s mine.”

Reagan’s gaze flickered—just briefly. Then, she grinned. “…Can’t wait.”

Audra swallowed hard, ignoring the heat rushing through her veins. She had no idea what she had just agreed to. But she was about to find out.

Reagan’s Dilemma—Can She Handle Restraining Her Boss?

As soon as Audra agreed, Reagan felt a thrill rush through her. Not just excitement—something deeper, something more unsettling. Something she wasn’t ready to name. Because this wasn’t just another transport test. This was Audra. Her boss. Her leader. The woman who had always been in control, always called the shots, always held the authority in every room she walked into.

And now? Now Reagan was about to lock her in.

For a moment, Reagan hesitated. Could she actually restrain Audra the way she had been restrained? Could she be as firm, as authoritative, as strict as she needed to be? She had been trained her whole life to follow the chain of command, to respect leadership, to never challenge authority without cause. And yet, here she was—about to put her own superior in chains. It felt… wrong. But at the same time—so, so right. Because she wasn’t just following protocol now. She was in charge. For the first time in their working relationship, Audra would be the one following her orders. And that realization sent a hot, tight feeling through her stomach.

Reagan’s fingers itched slightly. Would Audra fight it? Would she pull at the restraints, test them like Reagan had? Would she hesitate when Reagan gave her a command? Or—and this was the thought that really unsettled her— would she just… submit?

Reagan tried to picture it. Tried to imagine Audra in the SecureLok system, her movements stiff, her posture locked upright, her arms encased, her sight blacked out. It was a surreal image. Because Audra was never helpless. Never vulnerable. Never at the mercy of anyone. And yet, tomorrow—she would be.

And Reagan would be the one holding the key. The idea made her heart pound harder than it should have. But there was another problem.

Could she actually be as strict with Audra as Audra had been with her? She had to. If she didn’t, the test would be useless. She needed to follow every protocol to the letter, no exceptions. No matter how much Audra tried to talk her way out of something. No matter how much it made Reagan uncomfortable to order her own boss around. No matter what it did to her inside to watch Audra lose control. Reagan clenched her jaw. She would do it. She would be firm. Unshakable. She would treat Audra exactly the way Audra had treated her—no softer, no gentler, no different. Because this was her job. She had to do it right. She just had to ignore the way it made her feel.cBecause tomorrow, Audra would be locked down, restrained, immobilized, completely under her command. And Reagan had to make sure she didn’t enjoy that too much.

The night had been long and restless. Both women had laid in their separate beds, staring at the ceiling, hot, bothered, restless with the weight of what had happened—and what was going to happen. By the time morning came, Audra was already up, pacing the room, burning off restless energy, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. She was excited. She was nervous. She was not in control. And she had no idea how to deal with that.

Chapter 4

Freedom—For Reagan, At Least

Reagan was up soon after, and the first priority was getting her out of that damn posture bar. They loaded into an Uber, heading straight for Seattle Supermax. The moment they stepped inside the facility, Tim Weber from SecureLok was waiting for them, holding the key that would finally unlock Reagan’s restraints.

With a few solid turns, the steel collar snapped open. Then the waistband. Then the knee braces. And suddenly—Reagan was free.

She let out a deep breath, stretching immediately, rolling her shoulders, bending forward, touching her toes just because she could. Then—without thinking—she jumped up, arms high in the air. “Yes!”

The room chuckled at her enthusiasm. Audra, despite herself, grinned. Reagan didn’t even care how ridiculous she looked. She had been locked in for two full days. She had spent hour after hour unable to move naturally, unable to bend, unable to even scratch her own damn nose.

And now? Now she was free. And it felt amazing. She turned to Audra, smirking. “Alright, your turn.” Audra’s stomach dropped.

The Moment of No Return

Reagan turned back to the guards, her voice smooth, professional—but laced with something else. “We need to prepare a test prisoner for SecureLok transport back to Jacksonville.”

The guards nodded.

Then Reagan gestured to Audra. “She’s the prisoner.”

Audra stood still. For the first time in years, she was on the receiving end of a transport order. She should have protested. She should have said something. But the words never came. Because she wanted this. Even if she couldn’t say why.

The guards didn’t hesitate. They took her by the arm, just as they had Reagan. And then—they led her into another room. The door closed behind her, sealing her fate. Audra stood there, heart pounding, waiting. Then—one of the guards held out an orange jumpsuit. “Strip down,” he ordered. “Put this on.”

Audra’s breath caught. She had given this order so many times. Now, she was on the other side of it. She hesitated for just a second too long.

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Need help?”

That snapped her out of it. “No.” She took the jumpsuit, turned her back, and began to undress. She felt every second of it. The way her shirt slid off her arms. The way her slacks pooled at her feet. The way the chill of the room hit her bare skin, making her hyper-aware of her vulnerability.

She had never felt this exposed before. Even with the jumpsuit covering her again, it didn’t feel like protection. It felt like a statement. A reminder that she was no longer in charge.

Then came the restraints. The guards moved efficiently, methodically—like this was just another day for them. And for them, it was. For Audra? It was the first time in her life she had ever felt steel close around her wrists. A heavy pair of transport handcuffs, locked in place. Then, a waist chain, cinched tightly, pulling her wrists against her abdomen. She flexed her fingers, testing the slack. There was none. Then—the leg irons. The cold metal closed around her ankles, the chain rattling as the lock clicked shut. And just like that—it was done.

Audra swallowed hard. She was restrained. She was helpless. She was a prisoner. And when the guards took her by the arms and escorted her back into the main room—where Reagan was standing, waiting—

She realized something she had never felt before. Something that sent a hot, dizzying feeling through her entire body. She wasn’t just restrained. She was owned. At least, for now. And Reagan was the one who owned her.

Reagan’s smirk was slow, controlled, full of amusement as she took in the sight of her boss—now standing in front of her in full transport chains. “How does it feel?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Audra clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. Because the truth? She had no idea how to describe what she was feeling. All she knew was that this was only the beginning.

A Lesson in Control—Reagan Takes Command

Audra was escorted into the room, her wrist cuffs clinking with every step, the reality of her restraint sinking in more with each passing second. She was ordered to sit on a bench near the wall.

The guards at Seattle Supermax had their own transport protocols, and before she could fully process what was happening, a female officer moved in, reaching between her legs, grabbing the central chain that ran between her ankle cuffs.

Audra inhaled sharply at the sudden movement.

The officer pulled the chain upward, securing it tightly to the master lock on her handcuffs, effectively pinning her hands to her lap.

Audra shifted slightly, testing the tension. There was no slack. She wasn’t just restrained now—she was fully immobilized. A true prisoner. 

And Reagan? Reagan was standing before her, fully in control. The officers at Seattle Supermax weren’t familiar with SecureLok’s system. And that gave Reagan the perfect opportunity to step up and do something she had never done before—train others on a transport protocol while her own superior sat in full restraints.

She cleared her throat, adjusting her stance. “Alright, listen up,” she started, addressing the room.

The guards all turned toward her, waiting.

Audra did, too.

And for the first time, Reagan saw it. The way Audra looked at her—not as an equal, not as her superior, but as an inmate.

It sent a hot, thrilling rush through Reagan’s chest, but she forced herself to stay composed. This was business. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Reagan walked over to the black SecureLok case, opening it smoothly, pulling out the necessary components. She placed the posture bar on the table, running her fingers over the built-in collar, waist ring, and attachment points. “Seattle’s standard shackles work fine for temporary holding,” she explained, motioning toward Audra, “but when it comes to long-range prisoner transport, SecureLok ensures total control with zero risk of escape.”

She turned to one of the guards, holding up the heavy-duty locking mechanisms. “The most important thing to remember,” she continued, “is that at no point should the inmate have full mobility. She let that statement linger, then walked slowly toward Audra, looking down at her restrained form. “At any given time, only one limb should be free. And that should only be for the seconds it takes to transfer that limb to the next secure locking point.” Audra shifted slightly. She could feel Reagan’s presence towering over her. Could feel the weight of the moment. Could feel the authority in Reagan’s voice. She liked it. Too much.

Reagan walked back to the SecureLok case, continuing the demonstration. She pulled out the black remote control, holding it up. “This controls the system,” she explained. “It also operates the built-in emergency response feature—the shock collar built into the posture bar’s neck ring.”

Several guards exchanged glances. One of them raised an eyebrow. “Shock collar?”

Reagan nodded, flipping the remote over to show the numbered settings.

“It has ten intensity levels, ranging from a simple deterrent pulse to a full incapacitating shock. It’s only used in emergencies, but its presence alone ensures compliance.”

She turned back to Audra, her gaze sharp, assessing.

Audra held her breath. She wasn’t sure if Reagan was just teaching—or if she was actually considering demonstrating it on her. The thought sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was fear… or anticipation.

Reagan moved back to the table, picking up the knee immobilizers. “These are locked in place after the posture bar is applied,” she explained, showing how the braces would control Audra’s movement, limiting her ability to even walk at a normal pace. She turned toward Audra, smirking slightly. “Not that I think she’s going anywhere.”

A few guards chuckled.

Audra just exhaled sharply through her nose, refusing to react. She was still processing the fact that Reagan had just referred to her as an inmate. And that it had felt right.

As Reagan continued the demonstration, Audra’s mind spun. She had never been in this position before. Never had to sit silently while someone else dictated what would happen to her. Never had to submit. And now? She was watching Reagan—her subordinate, her protégé—command a room full of officers while she sat, chained and compliant. She had never felt like this. Never let herself experience anything like this.

And yet, as Reagan continued speaking—explaining, demonstrating, showing off her knowledge— Audra couldn’t stop thinking one thing. That she was about to be at Reagan’s mercy. And for the first time in her life? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop it.

Audra stood still as the female guards approached her, unlocking the chain that had kept her seated. One of them took her arm. “Stand up.”

Audra obeyed without hesitation. She was a prisoner now. At least—for today. She was led to the center of the room, her transport chains clanking softly against her body with each step. Reagan watched from a few feet away, her arms folded, her expression unreadable.

Seattle had installed the SecureLok system two weeks earlier, but it had never been used in a real-life application. Until now. And Audra? She was about to be the first.

The guards worked efficiently, methodically—just as Reagan had instructed. The first step was the posture bar. It would keep Audra’s back straight and her body upright for the entirety of the transport. One guard held the metal frame in place against her spine. Another locked the collar around her neck. Click.

Audra felt it snap shut, the cool steel resting against her throat, reminding her exactly what she had agreed to. Next—the waist belt. It was secured tightly over her jumpsuit, locking her midsection firmly against the bar. Another click.

Audra closed her eyes for just a second. She was officially locked in. And this was only the beginning. A guard grabbed her by the shoulders, guiding her backward. Her posture bar hit the SecureLok wall. Then—the magnets activated. A sudden pull, a gentle but unshakable force, and—Audra was sealed in place. She exhaled sharply, testing the restraint just once. She couldn’t move. Not even an inch. Her shoulders, back, and spine were fully immobilized against the wall.

And Reagan? She looked pleased. Satisfied.

Audra could see it in her expression. In the way she watched every movement. Like she was soaking in every second of seeing her superior locked in. Next, the guards assembled her wrist and ankle shackles. They were reinforced versions of standard transport cuffs, designed to automatically tighten, preventing any chance of slipping or twisting. Click. Click. Click. Each restraint locked down, the steel pressing against her skin, confining her further. Audra felt her breath slow. She had ordered this process thousands of times. She had read the policy, written the guidelines, and enforced the procedure. But now? She was the one being restrained. She was the one losing control. She was the one being handled.

Audra was prepared for the restraints. She was not prepared for the next part. A guard stepped forward, unzipping her jumpsuit. Audra’s entire body tensed. Her right arm was released from the handcuffs, but only for a second. The jumpsuit was peeled down, her arm removed, her body still held rigid by the posture bar. Her right wrist was immediately transferred to the outstretched position—locked tightly against the wall at a full extension. She couldn’t pull it back in. Couldn’t cover herself. Couldn’t fight what was coming next. The left side followed. And suddenly, her jumpsuit fell to her waist, hanging loosely around her hips, exposing her upper body except for her bra.

The guards moved quickly, threading the jumpsuit through the waist belt. Then—they slid it down completely. Off her hips. Off her thighs. Off her ankles. Audra was now standing in nothing but her black full-cup bra and nude shapewear. She swallowed hard. Her arms were still pinned out to the sides. She was helpless. Exposed. And she could feel Reagan’s eyes on her. Watching. Studying. Audra’s face burned hot. And then—it got worse. One of the guards grabbed her shapewear by the waistband. Audra instinctively tensed. She wasn’t prepared for this. She had thought they would just leave it. But no. This was a full SecureLok transport. Every inch of her body had to be accounted for. The guard peeled the tight fabric down her hips, revealing what lay beneath.

Audra bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing every reaction. Because she knew. Knew what she was wearing underneath. Knew that it wasn’t prison-issued. Knew that Reagan could see it. The black silk panties—thin, delicate, luxurious. Nothing practical. Nothing standard. Nothing meant for a prisoner. 

For the first time, Reagan took a second look.

And Audra felt it. Felt the weight of that gaze. Felt her stomach twist in knots. She was a prisoner now. But she didn’t look like one. Not with the delicate silk clinging to her body, not with her curves framed perfectly by the posture bar, not with her arms spread wide and her legs parted against the wall. She felt exposed. She felt humiliated. She felt… Something she couldn’t name.

The guards pushed her ankles further apart until they clicked against the magnetic wall.

Audra let out a shaky breath. She had just been spread open. Helpless. Vulnerable. Controlled. The final restraints were applied—the knee immobilizers, locked securely in place. Then, the white blouse and black slacks, covering her again. Audra should have felt relief. She didn’t. Because it didn’t matter how much fabric they put on her. She was already stripped in every way that counted. 

Just when Audra thought the process was done, Reagan did one more thing. She reached into her pocket. Pulled out her phone. And started taking pictures. Audra’s stomach dropped. Her eyes went wide. Click. Click. Click.

The sound echoed through the room. Audra’s breath shallowed. Reagan didn’t even try to hide it. She documented everything. And when she was finished, she smirked. “The agency didn’t have any pictures for training purposes.”

Audra bit the inside of her cheek, hard. Reagan was enjoying this. And worse? So was she.

The SecureLok tube was placed in front of her. Her arms were transferred, one at a time, into the tube, locked into place. The click of the final lock sent a full-body shiver through her. She was done. Fully restrained. Fully at Reagan’s mercy. The last thing she saw was Reagan standing before her, smirking with satisfaction.

Then—the blackout glasses were secured over her eyes. The world went dark. Then—the ear buds were installed. And for the first time in her life, Audra was truly powerless.

And Reagan? She was the one in charge now.

Audra was ready for transport. No longer Deputy Adams. No longer the woman in charge. Now? She was just Inmate AA. And Reagan made sure she knew it. Her grip was firm on Audra’s bicep, her voice controlled, professional, distant. “Move forward.” Audra hesitated for half a second—then the grip on her arm tightened. “Now.”

She obeyed.

The knee immobilizers fought against her natural instincts, forcing her into a slow, measured pace—no faster than 2.5 mph. She tried to adjust, to shift her arms, to test her range of motion. Nothing. Her body was completely locked down, forced into a posture she couldn’t escape. And Reagan never let go.

The clink of the SecureLok tube echoed in the otherwise quiet corridor as Reagan led her through the utility exit of the Seattle Supermax facility. Waiting for them just outside the doors was the sleek, black SecureLok SUV.

Bound for the Airport—Total Sensory Control

Reagan helped Audra into the vehicle, guiding her carefully but firmly. She had to help position her, securing the seatbelt tightly across Audra’s lap, making sure her posture remained as dictated. Then—the final adjustments.

Reagan pressed the lock command for the knee immobilizers—Audra’s legs snapped to a 90-degree angle. She barely bit back a reaction. Then, without hesitation, Reagan activated the glasses—blurring Audra’s vision completely. Lastly—the earbuds. A tap on the remote, and the world around Audra went dark and silent. No sight. No sound. No control. For the first time in her life, Audra didn’t even know where she was going. Reagan sat beside her. Watching. Controlling. Enjoying.

Tickets to Jacksonville—With a Change of Plans

The SUV pulled up to the Seattle airport, and Reagan took full control of Audra’s movements once again. She helped her out of the vehicle, keeping a tight grip on her arm, guiding her toward the American Airlines ticket counter.

Audra’s head was held high by the posture bar, but she couldn’t see a thing. She was completely dependent on Reagan’s control. Reagan loved it. She felt a sense of power, of dominance, of something she wasn’t sure she should be enjoying as much as she was.

At the counter, Reagan requested a nonstop flight to Jacksonville. The agent frowned. “I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no nonstops available. You’ll need a connection.”

Reagan exhaled, nodding. “What’s available?”

“You can connect through LAX or Dallas.”

Reagan was just about to choose Los Angeles—until Audra’s phone rang. She froze. The screen lit up. 

Tim from SecureLok.

Reagan’s stomach tightened. If he was calling, something was wrong. She quickly picked up, her voice calm but firm. “Tim?”

Tim didn’t wait for an introduction. “Hey, ladies! Since you two are done in Seattle, what do you think about giving a demonstration at one of our sales meetings? We’re in Dallas for the weekend. Could you two stop by and talk about how the program worked for you?”

Reagan’s mind raced. She could explain. Could tell Tim that Audra was the prisoner now, not the transport officer. But then—a better idea formed. One that sent a thrill through her that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. She smirked to herself.

Why tell Tim? Why not just… bring Audra in as a fully restrained test subject? Let the SecureLok team see exactly how well their system worked—on one of the highest-ranking officials in prisoner transport?

Reagan didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. We’ll be there.” She hung up, turned back to the agent, and smiled. “Connect me through Dallas.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Reagan glanced at Audra, still standing tall, still blind, still deaf, still fully restrained. She leaned in slightly, her voice just above a whisper. “Change of plans, Inmate AA.”

Audra stayed silent. She had no idea where they were going. And that was the best part.

TSA—A Lesson in Submission

Audra had been through TSA security checkpoints more times than she could count. But never like this. Never as the prisoner. Never as the one being handled, stripped, examined. Never as the one with no authority, no say, no control.

Reagan kept a firm grip on her arm, guiding her through the priority lane reserved for high-security passengers—or in this case, high-security detainees.

Audra’s vision was still blurred by the SecureLok glasses. She could see vague shapes, movement, the bright overhead lights—but no detail. No faces. The voices around her were muffled, distant, almost surreal. She felt like she was floating through the terminal, aware of the bustle, aware of the people moving past her, aware that eyes were on her—but unable to react to any of it. She was helpless. Dependent. Led like cargo.

And worst of all? She didn’t even know where she was going. She had to trust Reagan. Had to follow Reagan’s lead. And that was a brand-new kind of torture.

When they reached the checkpoint, Reagan handed over the paperwork to a TSA agent. The woman scanned it, then called over a supervisor. Audra could hear murmuring between them, the sound of pages flipping.

Then—a firm voice. “She’ll need a private screening.”

The same words that had been spoken about Reagan. Only this time? It was Audra being referenced. She felt Reagan’s grip tighten slightly on her arm. “I’ll be accompanying her.” Reagan’s voice was professional, but there was a quiet authority there. A confidence Audra wasn’t used to hearing. “She’s to remain fully restrained.”

The TSA supervisor was unimpressed. “We’ll determine that.”

Audra exhaled sharply. She was being spoken about. Not spoken to. She was no longer in the conversation. She was just… a detainee. A subject. A thing to be processed. And it made her stomach tighten in ways she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

The Strip Search—A New Kind of Humiliation

She was led into a small, sterile room. It smelled like sanitizer and institutional coldness. The kind of place where procedure mattered more than people. She had been in rooms like this before. But she had always been the one standing over the prisoner.

Now? Now she was the one in the center of the room. Now she was the one being given orders.

“Face the wall.”

Audra hesitated.

The female agent’s voice sharpened. “Now.”

Audra felt Reagan release her arm, stepping back, letting the TSA agents take over. Audra slowly turned, her back now to the women in the room. Waiting. Knowing what was coming. The click of latex gloves. The sound of paperwork rustling. The shift of boots on tile. Then—hands on her. Firm. Unforgiving. They ran over her shoulders, down her back, over her waist. Checking for hidden contraband. She clenched her jaw as fingers pressed into her sides, over her hips.

The posture bar forced her to stand straight, leaving her no option to shrink away, no ability to flinch, no way to brace. She felt trapped. Exposed. Defenseless.

“Remove the blouse.”

Her breath hitched. This was protocol. She had ordered it herself. She had watched Reagan go through it. And yet—somehow, it was different when it was happening to her. She tried to tell herself it was fine. That it was nothing. She could feel eyes on her. She could hear Reagan shifting slightly behind her. Was she watching? Was she enjoying this?

The blouse fell open, sliding down her arms, exposing her full-cup black bra. The agent didn’t hesitate. She reached forward, fingers pressing between the fabric and Audra’s skin, running along the band of the bra, checking for anything hidden.

Audra’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t used to being touched. She wasn’t used to being handled. Not like this. Not without consent. Not with nothing she could do about it.

“Remove the slacks.”

Audra sucked in a breath. 

Her fingers moved automatically, unfastening them, letting them slide down her legs.

She was now standing there in just her undergarments—the thin silk panties that felt much more inappropriate in this context. And she knew Reagan could see them. She knew Reagan was watching. Her ears burned. She should have worn something else. Something plain, practical. Something that didn’t make her feel like she was on display. The TSA agent didn’t hesitate. She ran the handheld metal detector over Audra’s body—along her back, her stomach, down her legs, between her thighs. Audra had to spread her feet apart, her arms still locked in position, unable to cover herself, unable to do anything but stand there and endure.

The wand hovered just above the silk, just barely over the place where Audra suddenly felt heat pooling that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. What was happening to her?

Finally, the agents stepped back. One of them nodded to Reagan. “She’s clear.”

Reagan’s voice was smooth, professional. “I told you she was.”

She sounded so… in charge. Audra hated how much that affected her. Hated how much she liked it. Her clothes were returned to her, but that didn’t change what had happened. What had been taken from her. And what she now understood. Because now? Now she knew exactly what Reagan had felt. The exposure. The humiliation. The helplessness. And the dark, forbidden thrill hidden underneath it all.

Reagan helped her dress, smoothing down the blouse, fastening the belt. And then—the final step. The SecureLok tube was reattached, locking her hands away once more. The glasses blacked out her vision completely. The earbuds engulfed her in silence. And just like that—she was nothing again. Nothing but a prisoner. Nothing but Inmate AA.

And Reagan? Reagan was leading her through the airport with all the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how much control she had.

And Audra? Audra had never been so turned on in her life.

 

The journey had been silent. Audra had never experienced travel like this. Blacked-out vision. Muted hearing. Her entire world reduced to nothing but the occasional shifts in gravity as the plane took off, climbed, cruised, descended. She had no sense of time. No idea where they were. It was certainly the quietest flight she had ever been on. And the longest.

When her vision finally returned, it was blurred. She felt Reagan’s grip on her arm, guiding her forward, leading her off the plane. She could tell by the echoing acoustics and the air-conditioned chill that they were in an airport. But something felt off. The energy was different. She tried to reorient herself, to piece together where they might be but she couldn’t. Because she wasn’t in Jacksonville.

The Black SUV—SecureLok’s Special Transport

Audra could feel the difference in the air, the humidity, the unfamiliar sounds. This wasn’t Florida. She was led outside, Reagan’s grip firm, controlled, businesslike. And then—a vehicle door opened. The SUV vehicle had SecureLok branding. Audra’s stomach tightened. This wasn’t a U.S. Marshal transport vehicle. This was SecureLok’s own specialized transport system. And that meant—they weren’t done testing. Audra hesitated, her boots pausing just before stepping in.

Reagan’s grip tightened. “Inmate AA, step up.”

Audra’s stomach twisted. It was her own voice coming out of Reagan’s mouth—the same voice she had used on countless prisoners in her career. Now it was being used on her.

She obeyed. Or rather, her body obeyed before her mind even had time to fight it.

Reagan helped her inside, positioning her against the seat. At first, it looked like normal captains’ chairs. But the moment she settled into place—everything changed. A mechanical click. Then—a sudden, powerful magnetic pull. Her posture bar snapped back against the seat, pinning her upright. She couldn’t lean forward. Her ankles locked into place as the magnets in the floor engaged, holding her legs back against the seat.

Then—the final humiliation. Two curved steel wings slid out from the headrest, pressing firmly against each side of her skull. They held her head forward, preventing her from turning left or right. She was completely immobilized. Her entire body secured—back, legs, arms, even her head. She had never felt this restricted.

Reagan leaned in, adjusting her glasses, blacking out her vision completely. Then—a soft beep. The white noise engaged in her ears. Her world went dark again. And for the next forty minutes, she was nothing. Nothing but a bound, silent, sightless prisoner, sitting stiffly in the SecureLok transport vehicle, unable to move a single muscle.

When the vehicle finally stopped, Audra could feel Reagan moving next to her. The door opened. Her glasses cleared. Her hearing returned. And then she saw it. A conference center. Not a prison. Not a government facility. Not Jacksonville.

She turned her head sharply toward Reagan. “Where are we?”

Reagan’s grip on her arm didn’t loosen. Her expression was calm, almost amused. “Dallas.”

Audra’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to protest, but Reagan kept speaking. “Tim called. He asked if we’d stop by for a SecureLok demonstration.”

Audra’s pulse kicked up. A demonstration. That meant they weren’t just here for a meeting. That meant she wasn’t just a guest. That meant she was the subject. Her breath shallowed. She glanced at the massive logo on the side of the building, at the conference banners waving in the breeze.

Reagan leaned in, voice just above a whisper. “Looks like you’re the star of the show, Inmate AA.”

Audra’s stomach dropped. She had no idea what was about to happen next. And that was the worst part.

The Business of Restraint—Audra Becomes the Demonstration

Audra had spent her career commanding rooms. Giving orders. Taking control. Now? She was walking into a conference room full of powerful men—while fully restrained, immobilized, and unable to so much as shake their hands.

She had seen this room before. Not literally. But she had been in enough boardrooms to know the type. It was small, sleek, efficient. A polished mahogany table at the center, floor-to-ceiling windows with a sweeping view of the Dallas skyline, and a subtle SecureLok logo embossed on the wall. A room designed for power. And yet, Audra was the only one in the room without any.

As they stepped into the elevator with Tim, Audra finally spoke.

“Reagan,” she said, keeping her voice calm, composed. “How exactly do you expect me to participate in this meeting in my current state?”

Reagan barely looked at her. Her posture was relaxed, controlled. Her grip on Audra’s arm was still firm. “You’ll be just fine,” she said smoothly. “Your presence alone is participation enough.”

Audra’s stomach tightened. She hated how vague that sounded. She hated even more that she knew Reagan was right. Because whether she liked it or not—she was now a live demonstration. And there was nothing she could do about it.

The conference room was already occupied. Five men, all in well-tailored suits, expensive watches, and the sharp, analytical expressions of people who made high-level decisions for a living. They stood as Reagan and Audra entered.

Tim walked ahead, making introductions. “Gentlemen, this is Reagan Wolf—our DOC liaison leading the SecureLok integration.”

Reagan flashed a confident smile, extending her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Each of the men shook her hand, exchanging polite greetings. Then—without thinking—they turned to Audra. Instinctively, one of them extended a hand. And then—he hesitated. The realization hit. The small but undeniable detail that Audra wasn’t moving. That her hands were trapped in front of her in the sleek black SecureLok tube.

The man blinked. Then took a half-step back, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. The others followed. Their eyes lingered. Not inappropriately. Not yet. But in curiosity. Because for the first time, they were seeing SecureLok in action—not as a prototype, not in a training video, but on a real, living, breathing human being. One who didn’t look like a prisoner at all. One who looked polished, professional, composed. If it wasn’t for the rigid posture and the unnatural stillness of her hands, they might not have noticed at all.

One of them chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you sure don’t see many hand-warmers in Texas.”

The room laughed.

Audra felt her cheeks heat—but she kept her face neutral. Because this wasn’t a joke. She was on display now.

Reagan gestured toward the conference table. “Let’s sit.”

The men all took their seats. Reagan guided Audra into the chair next to her, placing her carefully before taking her own seat. Audra couldn’t adjust, shift or even fold her hands in her lap like a normal businesswoman. She had to sit stiffly, perfectly upright, with her arms locked in front of her, completely at the mercy of whatever came next.

And as the meeting began, as Reagan started speaking—explaining SecureLok’s advantages, detailing its seamless integration into DOC transport— Audra realized something. She was no longer just a participant in this meeting. She was the product. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The meeting had gone exactly as Reagan wanted. The executives were impressed. They were convinced. Audra, sitting silently beside her, had served as the perfect visual proof that SecureLok’s system worked—not just as a restraint, but as a psychological tool. A perfectly presentable woman, dressed like any other professional in the room, yet fully immobilized and completely powerless. It was the final piece of the pitch.

Near the conclusion, one of the executives turned back to Reagan. “This has been an incredibly informative demonstration. Before we wrap up, do you have any final thoughts?”

Reagan nodded, keeping her expression professional, controlled. “I think we’ve covered the most important elements.”

The executive then made a grave miscalculation. He turned to Audra. “What about you? Anything you’d like to add?”

Reagan’s voice was sharp, commanding—loud enough to make everyone in the room jump just slightly. “Inmate AA has nothing to add.”

The executive’s brows lifted in surprise. Reagan continued, locking eyes with him, unwavering. “She is a prisoner. She will be treated as such for the duration of this demonstration, and per SecureLok protocol, she is not permitted to participate in business discussions beyond her assigned role.” The weight of her authority filled the room.

For a moment, no one spoke. Audra’s face burned. It wasn’t just the embarrassment. It was how Reagan had stripped her of her voice—completely, absolutely, with no hesitation.

Audra felt it. She felt the weight of that control sinking deeper into her, pushing her further into the space she wasn’t ready to name. A space where submission wasn’t just something she was playing along with— It was something she was experiencing. Something she was learning to crave.

The Next Demonstration—A Bigger Audience

The tension in the room shifted slightly when Tim spoke. He gestured toward Reagan, smiling. “I have to say, this was an incredible introduction to SecureLok’s potential.”

Reagan nodded in acknowledgment, keeping her professional demeanor. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Which is why I’d love for you to stay a little longer.” Tim continued. “We have another group arriving after lunch—potential investors who are highly interested in SecureLok’s expansion into international transport. Would you be willing to demonstrate the system for them as well?”

Reagan tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, she turned back to Tim. “I’d have to reschedule our flights to Jacksonville.” 

“We can cover the costs.” Tim assured her. “Flight changes, hotel, meals—whatever you need.”

Reagan let the silence stretch just a little longer, keeping the room waiting. Then, she smiled. “In that case, we’d be happy to stay.”

Audra’s stomach tightened. Not just at Reagan’s smooth acceptance. But at the way she had said ‘we.’ Because Audra wasn’t being consulted. Audra wasn’t a decision-maker. Audra was just the demonstration. And she would remain a demonstration—helpless, restrained, and silent—for another full day. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Audra sat motionless, locked into her silent, sightless world. Reagan had ensured it. The moment they had entered the waiting room, Reagan had activated the SecureLok glasses and earbuds, plunging Audra into complete sensory deprivation. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she had locked her knees at 90 degrees, making it physically impossible for her to stand. Audra had no choice but to sit there, hands locked in the tube, unable to hear, unable to see, unable to move. She had no idea how long she had been like this. No idea what was happening around her. No idea that Reagan was checking her messages—on her own phone.

Audra felt her pulse quicken as she realized something she hadn’t before. Reagan was enjoying this. She was slipping into this role too easily. The soft-spoken, polite professional Reagan Wolf no longer existed. This was someone else.

 

Reagan was calm on the outside. But internally? She was nervous. She had handled big presentations before, but never like this. Never with 300 people watching. Never with her own superior locked in restraints, standing beside her as a live demonstration.

Tim’s words had confirmed it—this was bigger than she had expected. “Most of the audience will be men, but there will be a few women.”

She glanced at Audra. Still completely still. Silent. Helpless. She had no idea what she was about to walk into. And for the first time, Reagan felt a flicker of hesitation. Could she do this? Could she walk Audra onto a stage, in front of hundreds of people, and display her like this? Could she maintain control—not just over Audra, but over herself? Could she pretend this was all just business, when deep down, something about this felt so much more personal?

Reagan tapped the remote. Audra’s knees unlocked. Then—her vision blurred, returning only slightly. Just enough to disorient her. Just enough to keep her dependent.

Tim gave one last nod. “You’re on.”

The door to the auditorium opened. Bright stage lights spilled through. A wave of muffled conversation hit them—the unmistakable hum of an expectant audience. Reagan squared her shoulders, adjusted her grip on Audra’s arm, and stepped forward.

Audra had no idea what was about to happen to her. But Reagan did. And as she guided Audra onto that massive, well-lit stage, in front of hundreds of people, in front of men and women who would analyze her, admire her, critique her, test her, study her… Reagan realized something. She was in complete control. And she had never felt so powerful in her life.

Audra had never felt smaller. The moment her vision cleared, her hearing returned, and she took in the sheer number of people in the audience, her stomach twisted into knots. Hundreds of eyes. Watching. Studying. Judging.

Reagan led her with purpose, her grip firm and unyielding as they approached the SecureLok demonstration wall at the center of the stage.

Audra’s breath came faster, her body rigid. She knew what was coming. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Reagan’s voice was smooth, confident, perfectly controlled as she spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Inmate AA.”

Audra’s throat tightened at the way she said it. Like she wasn’t Audra Adams anymore. Like she wasn’t a Deputy Director. Like she wasn’t even a person. Just a product. A demonstration. A thing.

The audience murmured with interest as Reagan continued, explaining the SecureLok system. Then—she asked the fateful question. “Would you like a full demonstration of how the system works?”

The room erupted in applause. Audra felt lightheaded. She wanted to disappear. She wanted Reagan to black out her glasses, to silence her hearing, to make it stop. But Reagan didn’t. Instead—she took it further.

In the middle of the stage was a free-standing SecureLok Wall. Reagan single-handedly pushed Audra backward. The magnets engaged instantly. A loud clunk echoed through the room as Audra’s posture bar locked perfectly against the SecureLok wall. She couldn’t move. Then—Reagan began spreading her out. One wrist released from the SecureLok tube. Stretched wide to the side. Click. The wrist cuff locked to the wall. Then the other. Audra’s arms were now stretched out completely, palms open, body exposed. Next—her legs. Reagan pushed her ankles apart, guiding them toward the magnetic points at the base of the wall. Another set of clicks. And now—Audra was spread open. Completely. Absolutely. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. The stage lights were hot. Blinding. And then she saw it. The way the light made her white blouse slightly sheer. The audience could see the outline of her bra. The steel collar around her neck was fully visible. She wanted to cry. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She was too exposed already.

And then—the real fear hit. What if Reagan was going to remove her clothes? The thought shot an electric bolt of terror down Audra’s spine. No. No. No. She tried to steady her breathing. She tried to stay calm. Tears welled in her eyes—but the SecureLok glasses hid them. She wanted to beg Reagan to stop. She wanted to remind her that this was still just a test, that they were still colleagues, that this was going too far. But she couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Because she was an inmate. And inmates don’t get a say.

Reagan continued as if nothing was wrong. As if she hadn’t just restrained her boss in front of hundreds of people. As if she hadn’t just exposed her, spread her out, left her vulnerable. She was perfectly composed. A true professional.

The audience was eating it up. They asked questions. And Reagan answered—using Audra as her example. She lifted Audra’s pant leg to show the knee immobilizers. She raised the hem of her blouse slightly to demonstrate where the SecureLok tube attached to the waist belt.

Then—the worst moment of all. An audience member asked about the emergency shock collar. Reagan nodded approvingly. “Excellent question.”

Then—she leaned into Audra’s ear, voice smooth, intimate. “I’m going to have to demonstrate this.” Audra’s breath hitched. She felt her entire body go cold. Reagan’s voice dropped even lower. “I want you to be strong.”

Audra stiffened. Then—she heard the beep of the remote. Level two. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her neck tensed. Her jaw clenched. And then—fire. A sudden, searing bolt of electricity shot through the front of her neck, locking up every muscle in her body. Her lungs seized. Her fingers twitched violently in their restraints. Her legs tried to pull inward, but the SecureLok cuffs held them apart. It only lasted a second. But it felt like forever. Then—it was gone. She exhaled sharply, chest heaving, stomach twisting, mind racing.

The audience clapped.They were impressed. They were entertained.

And Audra? Audra had just been tortured in front of 300 people. And no one cared. No one saw her. They only saw the product.

When the demonstration finally ended, Reagan released Audra’s wrists and ankles, locking them back into the SecureLok tube. She escorted her off the stage, walking tall, proud, in total control. Audra could barely process what had happened. Her body still felt tight, overstimulated, sore from the shock. And then—the moment she had been waiting for. She opened her mouth to protest. To say something. Anything. To remind Reagan that this was going too far. That this wasn’t part of the test anymore. That she was losing herself in it. But before Audra could get a single word out, Reagan turned to her, expression sharp, voice clipped, unwavering. “You are an inmate. You are not permitted discussion.”

Audra’s stomach dropped. The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She closed her mouth. She lowered her gaze. She obeyed. And she realized something terrifying. She had started to believe it.

A Change of Scenery—The SecureLok Apartment

Tim’s words lingered in Reagan’s mind as they left the SecureLok facility. “Millions of dollars in contracts.” “Promise me you’ll come back and do it again. You can even bring Audra if she’s willing. We have an apartment you can stay in tonight. It is one of our SecureLok testing facilities but we put up guest speakers from time to time. I think you will find it fully accommodating. 

Willing. The word felt hollow after the last 24 hours. Audra hadn’t been given a choice once. Not about the TSA search. Not about the SecureLok restraints. Not about the demonstration. And certainly not about what was happening next.

The apartment. Reagan hadn’t even had to think about it. Tim’s offer was too good to refuse. Luxury accommodations, fully stocked kitchen, and SecureLok modifications built into the space. It was a golden opportunity. And one that would keep Audra in line for the night. So she accepted. And now—they were here.

The SUV ride was long. Forty-five minutes of stillness, silence, and submission. Audra had been loaded into the backseat just as before—her posture bar magnetically secured to the seatback, her ankle cuffs locked into place, the wings of the headrest pressing against the sides of her skull. Her vision was blackened. Her hearing was filled with white noise.

 

The building was upscale. The kind of place where business executives and oil tycoons lived. Not prisoners. Not women locked in transport restraints. But Audra was all of those things now. The driver helped Reagan unload her, and together they entered the sleek, modern lobby. The key card slid effortlessly into the elevator panel, granting them private access to the fourth floor. And when the elevator doors slid open, the apartment was right there.

 

Reagan stepped forward, using the key card again. The door clicked open. And they stepped inside.

Reagan’s first thought was that Tim hadn’t exaggerated. This place was incredible. Plush furnishings. A fully stocked bar. A view of the Dallas skyline that stretched for miles. This was a place meant to impress. But Reagan didn’t have time to admire the décor. She needed to survey the space. She needed to understand exactly what kind of power this apartment gave her over Audra. And she couldn’t do that with Audra trailing behind her. So—she stopped her. She turned toward her prisoner, gripping her remote, and tapped the command. Audra’s knees locked straight. Her body stiffened, posture locked into place. She was now frozen in the middle of the foyer. She couldn’t walk. Couldn’t shift her weight. She could only stand. Rigid. Silent. Still.

Reagan smirked. “Don’t go anywhere.” Then she turned, leaving Audra alone as she explored the space.

The SecureLok Adaptations—Designed for Control

The apartment wasn’t just luxury. It was designed for restraint. And Reagan realized that immediately. She found the bedroom first. The bed was custom-built with SecureLok modifications. A perfectly carved-out groove for the posture bar. A design that would allow Audra to lay down comfortably—but without compromising her restraint. That would have been nice for me, Reagan thought, remembering how she had struggled to sleep in Jacksonville.

Then—she noticed the walls. SecureLok walls. At least four of them. One in the main living area. One in the bedroom. One in the hallway. And—one in the shower. Reagan’s brows lifted slightly. That was… unexpected.

She stepped inside, running her fingers over the reinforced steel. It was magnetic, just like the others. She could restrain Audra right here. Lock her in place. Force her to shower standing up, spread out, completely immobile. The thought sent a slow, unfamiliar heat through Reagan’s stomach. She pushed it away. She needed to stay focused. She needed to figure out where Audra would be sleeping.

That answer came easily. The bedroom had a separate steel door. A heavy one. One that locked from the outside. Reagan could secure her inside for the night and know—without a shadow of a doubt—that Audra wasn’t going anywhere. She turned, grinning to herself. This apartment wasn’t just convenient. It was a fully functional, high-end detention center disguised as luxury housing. And tonight? Audra was going to learn exactly what that meant.

Reagan walked back into the foyer. Audra was still standing exactly where she left her. Reagan took a slow moment to study her and absorb the reality of the situation. She tapped the remote, unlocking Audra’s knees. Audra shifted slightly, adjusting her weight.

Then Reagan leaned in, voice soft, controlled. “You’ll be staying in the bedroom tonight.”

Audra blinked. Reagan’s smile didn’t falter. “Don’t worry—it locks from the outside.” Audra’s chest rose and fell just slightly faster.

Reagan tilted her head. “Unless you’d prefer I keep you in the living room—pinned to the SecureLok wall all night?” She let the question hang. She let Audra process the reality of her choices. There weren’t any. And they both knew it.

Reagan exhaled, gripping Audra’s arm, leading her further inside. “Come on, Inmate AA.” She smiled. “We’ve still got a long night ahead of us.”

Reagan had lived in Dallas before. And during those years, she had explored. She knew the city’s hidden corners, its underground scenes, its niche spaces. And tonight? She knew exactly where she wanted to go. There was a fetish boutique in Deep Ellum—not massive, but well-curated, with high-end leather goods, premium restraints, and handcrafted BDSM accessories. It had been one of her favorite places when she lived here. Now she had the perfect excuse to visit. The thought of walking through those aisles, running her fingers over the supple leather, testing the buckles, the chains, the cuffs—while Audra stood next to her, fully restrained, unaware of where she was, utterly helpless— It sent a shiver down Reagan’s spine.

She almost left Audra behind. She considered locking her in the bedroom, securing the steel door, and slipping off to shop alone. But after a moment, her conscience flickered. No. She wouldn’t leave her. She would bring her. Because that was so much better.

Reagan ordered the Uber. Before they left, she made the necessary adjustments. A tap on the remote—Audra’s glasses blacked out completely. Another tap—the SecureLok earbuds activated, filling her world with pure white noise. Total silence. Total blindness. Audra was now completely at Reagan’s mercy. Reagan gripped her firmly by the arm, guiding her out of the apartment and down to the waiting car.

The driver glanced at them curiously but said nothing. He had probably seen stranger things in Deep Ellum. The ride was short—just ten minutes. Audra sat perfectly still, unable to process where they were going, unable to react to anything. Reagan couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face. She was taking her boss—her former superior—to a fetish shop. And Audra had no idea.

When they arrived, Reagan led Audra inside, gripping her arm tightly, guiding her through the doorway. The moment they stepped in, all eyes turned toward them. This wasn’t a mainstream adult store. This was a specialized boutique. The kind of place where patrons knew exactly what they were looking for. And they recognized restraint when they saw it.

Audra’s SecureLok setup wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t overtly obvious to the average bystander, but here? Here, people noticed. They saw the way she moved—controlled, restricted. The perfectly straight posture. The deliberate, measured steps. The impossible stillness of her hands. But in this neighborhood? It wasn’t alarming. It was just… intriguing. And Reagan loved that.

Audra, meanwhile, was completely in the dark. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. But she could smell. The rich, deep scent of fresh leather hit her immediately. Her brows knitted slightly. She knew this smell. And somewhere, deep inside, she knew what it meant. But she had no way to confirm it. She was just standing there, in absolute helplessness, while Reagan shopped freely.

Reagan took her time. She let her fingers run along the leather cuffs, testing the stitching, the thickness, the durability. She examined the collars, the steel rings embedded in them, the quality of the locks. She tested different lengths of chain, different widths of straps. And then she found exactly what she was looking for. A single, perfect piece. It was a thing of beauty. Reagan took it to the register, along with a few other small selections—some fine silk rope, a set of discreet locking cuffs, and a leather lead. She wasn’t sure if she’d even use them. But it felt right to have them.

After the purchase, Reagan led Audra back into the night, keeping her close, keeping her unaware. She decided to stop for dinner before heading back. Something casual. A quiet bistro with private seating. She kept Audra’s world blacked out the entire time. Ordered her another protein smoothie—because that was all she could drink. Fed her slowly, deliberately, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And then—they left. Back to the apartment.

Once in the apartment, Reagan knew it was time to shower and prepare to get ready for bed. Thankful that the shower was equipped with a SecureLok wall, Reagan led Audra into the huge, cold, tile, walk-in shower. Reagan began by pressing Audra against the Securelok wall where the magnets snapped to her posture bar and held Audra in space. 

Audra had never felt so utterly exposed. She had spent her career in control. In meetings, in transport operations, in policy discussions—she was always the one in command. But now? Now, she was pinned to a cold metal wall, unable to move, unable to resist. It wasn’t just the physical restraint—it was the absolute vulnerability of it. She could see Reagan moving around her, calm, efficient, methodical. She took a slow breath, steadying herself as she moved toward Audra, gripping the hem of her blouse. Reagan unbuttoned her blouse, one button at a time. She didn’t rush. She didn’t tease. She simply worked with precision, controlled, professional—detached, or at least trying to be. Once the blouse was fully undone, she removed one wrist from the SecureLok tube just long enough to slip the sleeve down her arm before locking it back in place. Then she repeated the process on the other side. Audra’s hands were free for mere seconds—just long enough to remove the garment, but not long enough to regain control.

She could see Reagan standing over her, calm, methodical, fully clothed. In control. The stark contrast between them made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t fully understand. She wanted to look away, to shield herself, to preserve some semblance of dignity.

Reagan had always been a woman of discipline. She followed protocol. She followed rules. She followed structure. That’s why she was so good at her job. That’s why she had volunteered for this project in the first place. Now she was operating outside of any structured policy. Now she was the one setting the terms. Now she was in charge of something far greater than just a prisoner transport. She felt a strange, intoxicating pull in her chest—a high she had never felt before.

Next, Reagan removed her hands one at a time and stretched her arms out locking the wrist cuffs to the wall. Her back pressed against the cold SecureLok wall, her arms stretched out, wrists locked in place. Next came the waistband of her slacks. Reagan unfastened the button, sliding the zipper down slowly. She guided them down Audra’s legs, her fingertips brushing against the taut skin of her hips, her thighs, her calves. She crouched to lift each foot—one at a time—free from the pooled fabric, leaving Audra in only her black bra and silk panties. Every muscle in her body was taut, reacting to the vulnerability, the undeniable feeling of submission. She reached for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it smoothly. Reagan removed one arm from the SecureLok tube, guiding it free from the strap, locking it back into place. Then she repeated the same motion on the other side. Audra’s breasts were high, firm, barely shifting as she breathed. Reagan noted—without meaning to—that they were perfect. That they weren’t just natural, but sculpted, enhanced. And that realization sent a new kind of awareness through her. She pushed it down.

Finally—the last barrier. Reagan crouched again, gripping the waistband of Audra’s silk panties. Slowly, deliberately, she slid them down, past her hips, down her thighs, over her ankles, and off completely. Audra was now completely bare. Reagan gently guided her feet apart, much wider than other walls, letting the magnets at the base of the wall engage, securing her stance.

She stepped back, observing her work. Audra—Deputy Director, strong, capable, commanding—was now locked to a steel wall, naked, unable to move, unable to resist. She could barely lift her chin. She was completely at Reagan’s mercy.

And Reagan? She had never felt more powerful in her life. She turned to the shower controls, adjusting the temperature. The moment the water sprayed across Audra’s skin, she let out the smallest, almost imperceptible gasp. And Reagan knew—this wasn’t just about restraint anymore. This was about submission. And they were both feeling it.

The water was warm, but Audra felt cold. Not from temperature, but from something deeper, something she couldn’t name. She was locked in place, exposed, unable to move, unable to control what happened next. Reagan moved methodically, her motions controlled, deliberate. She wasn’t hesitant. She wasn’t uncertain. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And Audra? Audra had never felt this kind of powerlessness. Her body reacted before her mind could. A tightness in her stomach. A sharpness in her breath. The realization that she was completely dependent on Reagan. Reagan held the sprayer in one hand, a washcloth in the other. She started at Audra’s neck, tilting her head slightly with a firm grip on her jaw. The water ran down the length of her collarbone, over her shoulders, pooling briefly in the curve of her stomach before dripping lower. Audra’s breathing was too fast now, too shallow. Reagan was focused, detached—but something in her eyes was different. Something sharper. Audra couldn’t pinpoint it, but she felt it. Reagan lathered the washcloth, moving down Audra’s arms first, then over her chest. Her hands were precise, clinical. But Audra felt every touch. She felt how thorough Reagan was being. She felt how the washcloth dragged across her skin, how there was no way to pull back, to shift, to react in any way except to endure it. And the worst part? She didn’t want to pull away. That terrified her. Reagan’s movements remained steady, covering every inch of her skin with the same slow efficiency. Her stomach. Her hips. Her thighs. And then—she stopped. Just for a second. Just long enough for Audra to anticipate. Just long enough for Audra to hold her breath. But Reagan was still in control. She was always in control. And so—she moved on. She finished just as methodically as she had started, rinsing Audra clean, ensuring there was nothing left undone. Audra wanted to exhale in relief. But the truth was—it wasn’t relief she felt.

Reagan finally released Audra’s ankles, allowing her to step forward as she slid a fresh pair of panties up over her hips. But as Audra stood there, skin still damp, body still rigid, mind still spinning— She realized something. The most unsettling part of all of this wasn’t what had just happened. It was the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop.

Reagan returned Audra’s hands to the steel tube, locking them back into place. The familiar click of the mechanism sent a shiver down Audra’s spine. She was free from the SecureLok wall—but not from Reagan. Not from this night. Not from what came next. Reagan gripped her firmly by the arm, steadying her as they stepped out of the shower. The tile was cool beneath Audra’s feet, her skin still damp, her breath coming slow and deliberate as Reagan moved around her, taking control with the same quiet authority she had all night.

A fresh towel wrapped around her shoulders. The sensation of being dried, of Reagan’s hands moving over her body with methodical care, made Audra feel smaller, weaker.

Reagan guided Audra toward the sink, her touch firm but steady as she helped her brush her teeth. Audra wanted to ask for a shirt. The thought had been looming since the moment Reagan slid the fresh pair of panties over her hips. But she didn’t. Because asking for something wasn’t her place anymore. She had spent the entire day being told where to go, what to do, how to stand, how to sit, how to exist. She remained silent, standing in nothing but thin silk, watching Reagan move in the mirror.

Reagan, who was already dressed in casual nightwear. Reagan, who looked comfortable, relaxed, perfectly at ease with the power she held.

Audra wanted to cross her arms, to cover herself—to reclaim some sense of modesty. But she couldn’t. Her hands were locked. Her posture was fixed. She was as exposed as she had ever been. And Reagan didn’t seem to mind at all.

Reagan led her to the bed, positioning her carefully. She helped her lay back, aligning the posture bar with the carved-out groove in the mattress. The moment her body settled into place—she felt it. The unmistakable pull of a magnet engaging. The posture bar locked in place. Completely. There was no shifting, no adjustment, no way to move. She was pinned down, forced to remain in the same rigid position all night. Audra’s chest rose sharply, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She already knew what came next. She had been the one to declare it. She had insisted that transport protocol required inmates to be secured by at least one limb overnight. She had written these policies. And now, she was about to be bound by them. Reagan was already moving, opening the SecureLok travel case. Audra’s eyes followed her. She pulled out two lengths of chain. Not rope. Not cuffs. Chain. The implication was clear. There would be no bending, no slack, no room for movement.

Audra swallowed. Reagan began at her right ankle. The bedframe was equipped with a magnet, allowing Reagan to attach the chain with a quick, efficient motion. The chain snapped tight, pulling Audra’s leg toward the edge of the bed. Then—her left. The same mechanism, the same unyielding restraint.

Audra expected to feel confined—but she hadn’t anticipated how wide the bed was. Wider than the one in Denver. Wider than what Reagan had been secured in. Which meant—the chains were shorter. Which meant—Audra’s legs were pulled even further apart. Audra’s stomach clenched. She was helpless again, pinned, vulnerable and she can’t remember a time her legs were so spread wide. And no amount of effort could pull them back.

Reagan was standing at the end of the bed, looking down at her. Observing her. Studying her. Audra’s breath caught in her throat. She was entirely at Reagan’s mercy. Again. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend she didn’t want to be. Reagan finished her work, double-checking the restraints.

The posture bar was locked firmly in place, the chains at Audra’s ankles taut, ensuring there was no room for movement. Everything was secured exactly as it should be. This was protocol. This was by the book. So why did it feel so much heavier than that? Reagan exhaled slowly, pressing the final command into the remote. Audra’s world went dark. Her vision—gone. Her hearing—erased. She was now completely alone in her mind, cut off from everything but the sensation of her own confinement.

Reagan should have turned and left. But she didn’t. She lingered. Watching. Studying. Taking in every small detail of the woman beneath her. Audra—normally so commanding, so composed—was now stretched out, restrained, utterly vulnerable. Her breath came slow and steady, her body still beneath the firm grip of the restraints. She was motionless, silent—except for the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Reagan swallowed, her throat dry. Her fingers tightened around the remote. She crouched slightly, her gaze drifting over the curve of Audra’s abdomen, the way her collarbones framed her exposed skin. The posture bar kept her spine perfectly aligned, her shoulders slightly pulled back, her body completely presented. Reagan had been prepared for this. For the restraint. For the procedure. For the sheer authority she had over Audra in this moment. But she hadn’t been prepared for how much she liked it. The power. The control. The quiet, unspoken dominance she held in her hands. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stand back up. This was still protocol. This was still just another step in the process. That’s what she told herself. Even as she took one last look at Audra’s restrained body. Even as she felt a slow, unfamiliar heat coil in her stomach. Even as she finally, reluctantly, stepped away—knowing that she had just crossed a line in her own mind. And that she wasn’t sure she wanted to step back.

Chapter 5

A Moment of Truth—Reagan Pushes for Answers

Reagan stood at the foot of the bed, watching Audra’s still form, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, the small movements that signaled awareness even in restraint. Audra had been silenced—cut off from the world, lost in the quiet void Reagan had created for her.

Now, Reagan wanted to hear her. Wanted to see how she would react when the tables turned—when the one thing she had left, her silence, was taken from her. Reagan reached for the remote, disabling the white noise. Audra’s head shifted slightly. Not much—the posture bar didn’t allow for that. But Reagan saw it. Saw the way her breathing changed, how her fingers flexed instinctively inside the steel tube, how she was adjusting to the sudden return of sound. She was listening. And Reagan? Reagan was ready.

She inhaled, collected herself, steadied her voice. Then she spoke. “Audra, I want to ask you something.”

Audra’s head stilled, her body tensing ever so slightly.

Reagan let the pause stretch, making sure Audra understood that this wasn’t just casual conversation. This was an interrogation. And Audra was the one answering. “I was going through my phone,” Reagan continued, voice even, unreadable. “And I noticed something.”

Audra remained silent, waiting.

“I realized you may have responded to some messages on my behalf.”

A beat of hesitation.

Then—a small nod. It was so slight, so controlled, but Reagan caught it. She caught the way Audra’s lips parted like she was trying to find the right words, the way her shoulders rose just a fraction—like she wanted to defend herself but already knew she couldn’t.

Finally, Audra spoke, her voice soft, measured. “I did.”

Reagan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Audra exhaled slowly, as if weighing every word before releasing them. “It was just to facilitate the transfer. I didn’t want to create suspicions.”

Reagan studied her. She believed her—but that wasn’t the question she really cared about. Not yet.

Reagan let the silence stretch. Let Audra feel the weight of the unfinished conversation. Then—she pushed forward. “Did you look anywhere else on my phone?”

Audra hesitated. And that? That was the only answer Reagan needed.

Because Audra hesitating meant Audra was guilty.

Reagan tilted her head. “Well?”

Audra’s voice was quieter now, almost sheepish. “Yes.”

Reagan smiled—just slightly. Not because she found it amusing. But because she knew Audra wasn’t prepared for what came next. “Did you check my email?”

Another pause. Then—a reluctant confirmation. “Yes.”

Reagan let that hang in the air. Let Audra sit in the weight of it. Then—she leaned in, her voice quieter now, more pointed. “Did you look at what I ordered online?”

Audra’s breath hitched. She wanted to deny it. Reagan could see it. See the way her fingers tensed again, see the way her chest rose slightly faster, see the way she was struggling against something bigger than just the restraints.

But then—she answered. Soft. Almost imperceptible. “…Yes.”

Reagan’s stomach tightened. Not in anger. Not in embarrassment. But in something else entirely. Something she hadn’t been prepared to feel. She took a slow breath, steadying herself before delivering the final question. The one that really mattered. “And how did that make you feel?”

Audra didn’t answer right away. And that? That was the answer. Because for the first time since this had started, Audra wasn’t just fighting Reagan. She was fighting herself.

She had admitted to reading the emails, seeing the order confirmation, knowing what Reagan had purchased. She had seen the latex catsuit, the corset, the heels, the bondage tape. She had pictured it all in her mind, but none of it had made sense. Not on Reagan. Not on the woman she worked alongside, the woman who spent her days in crisp, professional suits and tactical gear.

So she told the truth. “I… I didn’t know that side of you.”

Reagan remained silent, watching. Waiting.

Audra swallowed. “I have a hard time imagining you dressed that way.”

Reagan tilted her head slightly. Her voice, when it came, was controlled. Intentional. “What way?”

Audra knew exactly what Reagan wanted. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the pressure building in her chest. Reagan wasn’t going to let this go.

Audra shifted slightly, but the restraints held her firm. There was no escaping the question. No dodging the answer. So she forced herself to say it. “…Like a dominatrix.”

She had barely whispered it, but the impact was instant. The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them. Not because they weren’t true. But because she wasn’t ready for what they meant. Reagan didn’t respond right away. She just… stood there. Watching. Considering. Letting the silence stretch until it was unbearable. Then—without a word—she turned and left. She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t even lock it. She just walked out, disappearing into the next room, leaving Audra alone.

Fear in Restraint—The Power of Uncertainty

The second Reagan was gone, Audra’s mind spiraled. What had she done? Had she offended her? Had she crossed a line? She would have given anything to be able to turn her head, to see Reagan’s expression, to understand what she was thinking. But she couldn’t. The posture bar held her spine straight, her head still. Her arms remained locked in front of her, her legs held wide. She couldn’t shift. She couldn’t search for answers. She was trapped in her own mind, running through every possible scenario. What if Reagan was angry? What if she had embarrassed her? What if she had shattered something between them that couldn’t be put back together?

Audra’s stomach tightened, her breath shallow as she played through the possibilities. The restraints had never felt as suffocating as they did now. Because this wasn’t just physical confinement. This was helplessness in its purest form. She wasn’t just restrained. She was powerless to fix whatever had just broken.

A moment later, Reagan came back into the room. She sent the lights to low and she turned Audra's glasses back to clear. Andre looked up and it took her a minute to make out what she saw. Reagan was towering over her and a black patent leather catsuit with a corset buckled over the midsection pushing her giant breasts further forward the course that had numerous D rings and Reagan was wearing a tall pair of black shiny boots. Her hair was pulled back. She had on black gloves that were fingerless, and she had a firm leather crop in her hand as Reagan towered over Audra. She looked down and asked her directly, “you mean like this?”

Audra was still lost in the weight of her own thoughts, still caught in the spiral of uncertainty, when she heard it. A click. Not of a lock. Not of a chain. But of heels against the floor. Her breath caught. But it wasn’t the Reagan Audra knew. It wasn’t the colleague, the officer, the enforcer of rules. This was someone else entirely. Her silhouette was long, severe, deliberate. The glint of black patent leather caught the light as she shifted, the structured corset at her waist cinched tight, the D-rings gleaming like polished steel. The tall boots added inches to her already commanding frame, making her presence feel even more imposing.

Reagan took a slow, deliberate step forward. Then another. Each movement measured, calculated, meant to be felt as much as seen.

Audra wanted to say something. Wanted to ask a question, to force an explanation, to break whatever spell had settled over the room.

This was Reagan showing her—without hesitation, without apology—exactly what she had forced her to admit. Audra had seen the emails. The purchases. The side of Reagan she hadn’t expected. And now? Now, Reagan was standing before her, fully embracing that truth, daring Audra to do the same.

Audra swallowed hard, the restraints suddenly feeling much heavier. Her world had been flipped, shifted, realigned.

For the first time in two days—perhaps for the first time in her life—Audra was certain. She was certain that she liked what she saw. Certain that the sight of Reagan standing over her, powerful and composed, sent something deep and undeniable coursing through her. Certain that the vulnerability she felt—the powerlessness she had fought against—wasn’t something to fear. She had always believed that control was the foundation of her identity. That her power, her authority, her command over every situation was what made her who she was. Now, she realized she had never truly understood herself at all. She had spent her life leading, structuring, enforcing. And yet—it wasn’t until now, locked in place, stripped of control, forced to yield—that she felt something real, something raw, something that had been buried deep inside her for years. Something that only surfaced when she had no choice but to surrender. The weight of the posture bar kept her spine straight, forced her chin level, prevented even the smallest retreat. But she didn’t want to retreat.

Audra wanted Reagan to hit her across the legs with that crop. She wanted to feel Reagan's hands grabbing her breasts and squeezing her nipples until it shot pain through her chest. She wanted Reagan to put her gloved hands over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. 

Then suddenly she let it out. Audra screamed out a begging plea. She begged Reagan to touch her. She begged Reagan to feel her body all over. She begs Reagan to touch her breasts and to run her hands along her sex. All the while Audra wanted to thrust her own hands in between her desperately spread legs. She wanted to touch her own sex. She wanted desperately for Reagan to bury her hands in her pussy. To feel her deeply and powerfully. One hand on her mouth. The other inside her, thrusting her fingers so deep and so strong. She wanted Reagan’s thumb to flick her clitoris as she powered over her. 

But she didn’t. Reagan simply slapped the crop in her hand and sneered at Audra in a desperate temptation. Then silence. 

Audra had fought against it—against herself—for hours, for days, maybe even for years without knowing it. But now? Now, there was no more fight left in her. Only need. Only surrender. “Reagan—” The name fell from her lips in a whisper first, breathless and broken, a plea she barely recognized as her own. But then—it came again. Louder. More desperate. Because Audra was breaking, unraveling beneath the weight of everything she had spent her entire life holding together. She had spent years in control. Decades dictating every outcome, ensuring every decision was hers to make. And yet—now she was here. Restrained. Vulnerable. Begging. She had never begged for anything. Never once allowed herself to need something—or someone—so badly that she would surrender all control to them. Now, she couldn’t stop herself. Her breath hitched, her fingers flexed uselessly inside the steel tube, her body tightening with an unbearable tension. She wanted something she couldn’t take. Something she had no power to demand. And that—that was the most terrifying and exhilarating part of it all. Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t the one in control. And she had never wanted anything more.

Reagan moved without hesitation, reaching into the SecureLok carrying case, retrieving the next inevitable piece of control. A ball gag. Not just any gag—but one designed specifically for compliance. A spring-loaded mechanism that ensured the prisoner had no say in whether or not they accepted it. Audra’s breath hitched the moment Reagan moved toward her. A final, instinctual reaction—as if she could still fight, still reclaim some fragment of control. She turned her head, tried to resist. But resistance was useless. Because the more she pulled back, the more the ball advanced. It chased her. Closing the distance she tried to create, pushing deeper until retreat was impossible. Her lips parted just slightly—and that was all it took. The ball slipped inside, pressing down against her tongue, silencing whatever words had been left on her lips. The mechanism clicked into place, locking seamlessly into the steel collar encircling her throat. She was silent now. The last piece of autonomy taken from her. Her mind raced—but her body? Her body settled. A strange, unfamiliar calm washed over her, as though now that she was truly powerless, the struggle was over. No more begging. No more words. Only silence. Only surrender.

Reagan stepped back, her gaze steady, unreadable. Reagan then produced a large phallic dildo and shoved it deep into Audra's vagina. With her vagina full of thick rubber cock, Reagan found Audra's portable vibrator and placed it directly on Audra's clitoris. She held it in place until Audra exploded and the largest orgasm of her life. Audra’s body shook. Her muscles fasciculated. She quivered in weakness. She wanted to speak. But she couldn’t. Even without the ballgag, it is unlikely she could find any words. 

Audra couldn’t move. Her body was locked into place, her breath uneven, her heart pounding against the constraints of her own silence. She had fought against this at first—the loss of control, the restraints, the sheer power Reagan held over her. Like this was what it had been waiting for all along. Because for the first time in her life, there was nothing to decide. Reagan stood before her, unwavering, studying her, taking in the weight of Audra’s restraint.

And as she lay there, restrained and silent beneath Reagan’s control, she knew— This was what she had been missing all along.

The Final Fall—A Surrender That Couldn’t Be Stopped

Audra had nowhere to go. No words left to fight with. No commands left to give. Everything that had ever defined her—her control, her structure, her authority—had been stripped away. And in its place? Something new. Something she hadn’t expected. Something she wasn’t ready to name. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t resisting. She was… waiting. Reagan stood over her, quiet, composed, completely at ease with the power she held in her hands. Audra had spent years commanding obedience—but now she was the one being commanded. The one who had no choice but to accept. Her breath was shallow, her body reacting before her mind could even process what was happening. Every nerve was awake, every sense heightened, every inch of her aware of how completely she had lost herself to this moment. Reagan didn’t rush. Didn’t hesitate. She made Audra feel every second, every choice taken from her, every shift in the balance of power. Audra wanted to reach for something—anything—to ground herself. But her arms were locked, useless. She wanted to turn away. But her posture was fixed, her spine straight, her head unable to bow. She could only take it. Only absorb the weight of everything Reagan gave her.

And in the end—when the tension built past the point of no return, when her body shattered under the weight of its own surrender— She realized something. She had spent her life fighting against submission. Against giving in. Against letting go. But now? Now, she knew the truth. She had never been more powerful… than in the moment she let herself break.

The Morning After—A Shift in the Air

Reagan was up early. Her movements were sharp, efficient—disciplined, just as they always were. But something about her posture today felt different. A little straighter. A little prouder. As she fastened the buttons on her crisp blouse and smoothed down her skirt, she caught her own reflection in the mirror. The bright red lipstick was a deliberate choice. Not just a statement—but a reminder. Last night had shifted something. Not just in Audra. But in her. Reagan wasn’t the type to dwell. She was used to being in control, used to power, used to issuing commands and having them followed. But last night? Last night had been different.

Because for the first time, Audra had been the one looking up at her, bound and waiting, completely at her mercy. And Reagan had liked it. Liked the weight of responsibility. Liked the silence of obedience. Liked the way Audra had stopped resisting, stopped fighting, stopped being the immovable force she had always been. Reagan had been expecting hesitation, resistance, maybe even regret. But Audra had only given her submission. Total, undeniable submission. Reagan let out a slow breath, pushing the thoughts aside.

Today was a new day. And there was still protocol to follow. Reagan moved with practiced precision, unlocking the chains at Audra’s ankles. The moment she did, Audra’s legs recoiled slightly—slowly, stiffly, like a coil unwinding after being held too tightly for too long. Reagan paused. She watched. She hadn’t expected to hesitate—but something about the movement sent a flicker of last night rushing back through her. A quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of everything that had happened. Everything she had felt.

She shook it off, pushing forward, guiding Audra to her feet. Audra swayed slightly at first—unsteady, adjusting, grounding herself back into reality. Reagan waited. Watched. And then—she cleared Audra’s vision and sound. Audra blinked, her senses flooding back all at once. She looked up instinctively, trying to make eye contact, searching for something—anything—written on Reagan’s face.

But Reagan was professional. Resolute. Unreadable. As if last night had never happened at all.

Reagan went through the motions, just as she had done before. She dressed Audra methodically, securing each lock, fastening each button. The home’s SecureLok walls made it easier—every movement done with structured, practiced efficiency. Reagan was clinical, precise. All business. And for most of the morning, Audra’s glasses remained blacked out. Which meant she had nothing but time. Time to think. Time to process. Time to accept what she already knew to be true.

She had spent her entire life giving orders. Holding control. Keeping herself—and everyone else—contained. But last night? Last night, she had been contained. And she had liked it. She had liked the feeling of powerlessness. Liked the stillness of having no choices, no responsibilities, no expectations. She had liked being forced into positions her mind would have never let her explore on her own. And the most shocking part of all? It hadn’t felt limiting. It had felt freeing. The restraint, the lack of control—it had given her something she didn’t know she needed. Relief. Stillness. A silence that wasn’t empty—but peaceful.

Now, she couldn’t help but wonder— Was last night an exception? Or was it just the beginning? Audra had never considered herself the kind of woman who gave up control. She had spent years mastering restraint—not just in her work, but in herself. She had always been the enforcer, the one who dictated the rules, the one who ensured order was maintained. And yet—here she was.

Standing motionless in the dark silence of her own mind, her body bound in the very system she had helped create, completely at Reagan’s mercy. And she was aroused. Not just curious. Not just intrigued. But deeply, undeniably aroused. She felt it low in her stomach, a heat that coiled and spread the longer she stood there, powerless to stop it. It was the restraint that did it. The certainty that she had no control. No choices. No ability to change what was happening to her. And instead of fear—there was relief. A relief so intense it left her breathless. For once, she didn’t have to lead. Didn’t have to make decisions, to plan ahead, to be responsible for every single outcome. All she had to do was accept. Accept what was given to her. Accept that Reagan had all the power now.

Because even now—knowing she was being dressed, knowing Reagan was securing her into the same unyielding system as before, knowing she would be locked back into submission She wanted it. She wanted to feel that powerlessness again. To be placed where she belonged—not as the enforcer, but as the one who was controlled. To let go and be taken instead. She had spent her entire life resisting the idea of submission. And now, it was all she could think about.

Audra’s breathing had deepened, her pulse thrumming beneath the surface of her skin, heat pooling low in her stomach. She wanted to deny it. To tell herself this was just a reaction to restraint, to the unusual circumstances. But that was a lie. Because she knew exactly what she wanted. If only she could touch herself. If only she could feel the evidence of what Reagan had done to her, of what submission had done to her. But she couldn’t. Her wrists were locked in the tube, her fingers useless, her arms trapped in front of her. She tried to shift, to flex her hands inside the confinement, but there was no relief. Nothing. Nothing but the unbearable, burning frustration. The need to ease the pressure building inside of her. The need to control her own pleasure—something that had never been denied to her before.

She squeezed her thighs together, searching for any kind of friction, any kind of relief.

But the posture bar held her straight, the knee braces ensuring that even this small defiance was impossible. She was completely, utterly trapped in her own body. Now, she had to endure it. To sit in this unbearable frustration, to feel the slow, maddening ache of her own body betraying her. She had never been more aroused. And she had never felt more powerless. The contradiction was maddening.

The Trip to the Airport—The Weight of Submission

Reagan was calm, composed—moving with the same professional efficiency as before. Audra, however, was unraveling. She had been re-secured for transport, her posture forced into strict alignment, her arms locked in the tube, her vision blurred, her hearing dulled. And she was still throbbing with frustration. Still aching for relief that would never come.

She was about to be paraded through a major airport, bound, helpless, and on full display. Reagan led her to the SUV, locking her posture bar into the magnetic clamps of the seat, securing her ankles, her knees locked at 90 degrees. Audra couldn’t turn her head, couldn’t shift, couldn’t even brace for what was coming. She was just a passenger in her own experience now. A passenger in her own body.

Reagan guided Audra through the bustling airport terminal like she was nothing more than cargo—just another piece of secured property being transported. Her blurred vision made the experience even worse.

The flight back to Jacksonville was similar to the others. Except this time, Audra had a whole new frame of mind. Her new-found romance with bondage. She was compliant. Reagan was in charge. 

As the SUV rolled through the gates of the Jacksonville Federal Detention Center, the weight of the last three days settled heavily on Audra’s shoulders. Her limbs were stiff from the long ride, her muscles aching from restraint—but more than anything, her mind was spinning.

Inside, the intake officers followed Reagan’s instructions with mechanical precision. They used the proper keys, disengaged the locks, and slowly peeled away the SecureLok restraints that had held Audra so tightly. The posture bar was released last. Audra exhaled sharply when it clicked free from her spine. Her body sagged just slightly, for the first time not being forced into perfect posture.

She stood. Unbound.

But not unburdened.

Her arms floated uselessly at her sides for a moment, almost uncertain they could move freely. She ran one hand over her forearm. It was her own touch—gentle, unrestricted—and somehow it felt foreign.

Reagan didn’t say anything. She just watched. A slow, professional nod. The kind an officer gives when something is complete, documented, closed.

“Thank you,” Audra said finally, her voice thinner than she intended. She didn’t mean thank you for the processing.

She meant: thank you for everything else.

Reagan only gave a small nod in return.

They walked together out to the parking lot. Quiet. The hot Florida air wrapped around them like a blanket. Cars shimmered in the sun. Somewhere nearby, a gate buzzed open and clanged shut again.

At Audra’s car, they stopped.

Audra turned to speak, but couldn’t. Not right away. Her eyes flicked up to meet Reagan’s—just for a second—but the weight of all that had happened in those eyes was too much. She looked away.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Audra admitted.

Reagan smiled faintly, but her expression was unreadable. Confident. In control. As always. “Then don’t say anything,” she said. “Not yet.”

A long pause hung between them.

Then Reagan added, softer, “But if you ever want to… talk. Or continue the field test. You know how to find me.”

Audra looked up again. This time, she held the gaze. “I do.”

Reagan stepped back. Gave a respectful nod. Then turned, her boots clicking softly on the pavement as she walked away.

Audra stood alone, keys dangling from her fingers, the echo of restraint still pulsing under her skin.

And though she was free—truly free—there was a new kind of ache inside her now. One that hadn’t existed before Reagan. One that wasn’t going away.

Not anytime soon.