Training OfficerA BDSM Story by Harley
Grant [ Back to Chapter 1 ] Chapter 2: Under control The next morning I was awakened by the lights coming on. She gave me breakfast through the bars, then hog tied me again for another cell inspection. Then it was back to the bar for another cavity search. She asked me if I was ready for something a bit more extreme. “It’s not really part of the curriculum.” “Not even a punishment or control position.” “Not exactly. But I suspect you will enjoy it.” “Let’s do it.” She took me, hands still cuffed behind the back, over to a small metal cage. The door was opened, and I sat down and backed into it. It was a very small cage, with metal bars on all sides. Just big enough for me to sit in it with my legs drawn up in front of me. The door was shut and padlocked. She went around behind me and released one of the handcuffs from my left wrist. Taking the end she pulled to the right and then secured my right wrist to one of the bars at the back of the cage. Undoing the right end of the other handcuff she pulled my left arm out to the left and also secured the loose end to a bar. “I like this position. The hands are separated so they cannot work together to obtain contraband or unlock the other. The separate position is more comfortable for long term restraint.” I had to agree. But she was just getting started. She brought out a big bicycle lock, one of the rigid U-shaped ones. I saw this one was modified to have a series of holes along either arm of the lock. She fitted it around my neck and pulled my head back against the bars. She secured the cross piece and I could see that the holes gave her flexibility to pull out any slack. With this, my neck and wrists were secured to the bars behind me. There was more. A chain was thrown across the cell and she worked it around so it could go around my waist and be secured to the back bars as well, preventing me from scooting forward in the cell. Well, what about my legs? More chains secured each ankle to the side wall and another pair of chains pulled my knees out to the side as well. I thought this just about did it. Legs pulled wide, arms down and at my side, neck secured, waist secured. The horizontal bars that secured the vertical rods kept me from moving any restraint much up and down either. Couldn’t move much. I looked at her. “This is very secure.” “Yes,” she agreed. “It was discussed as a tie to allow the guards access to conduct needed medical interventions, such as delivering a shot or conducting a health inspection of the genitals.” “I suspect it was planned for a larger cage.” She smiled. “That was my own contribution.” “I can see that I am in the hands of a skilled expert.” She blushed with pleasure. “I have one more thing that was not in any book.” “I can hardly wait.” She got a set of smaller chains and smaller locks. Opening the cage door she thrust her head and shoulders into the cage between my legs. Hence the need for securing my legs so carefully. Her hair brushed my thigh and I could feel her arms against my legs. Taking the little chains, she proceeded to wrap the base of my cock, lock it tight and then lock that chain around one of the floor bars. The floor, I should say, was largely a flat piece of metal, or at least was so around the edges. But down the middle was a strip of bars and cross pieces like the walls and ceiling. To this area she first secured the base of my cock, and then the middle and then the tip. She backed out and relocked the cage door. “I think this is very symbolic of control.” “I agree, I am quite helpless here and I would think this would be very upsetting to a macho male inmate.” “You, on the other hand, are quite aroused.” She was right. “And so am I” she said. What followed was not in any training manual. She hurriedly stripped off her boots and pants and panties and began masturbating, rubbing herself with her nightstick, her flashlight, and a spare set of cuffs. She stuck the bottom end of a can of mace half up her pussy as well before going back to her hand. She bucked and rolled, let out a couple of non-regulation screams and came in a sweat. She got dressed and smoothed her clothes. “That was a loss of control.” “On the contrary,” I said, “you were demonstrating your total control over me. I cannot respond as I might or even relieve my own needs. Besides, haven’t you wanted to sexually abuse your prisoner? That’s a part of the prison experience isn’t it?” “Not in a well run prison. Such things lead to dishonor and breaches of trust.” “But this is a different prison, and very well run. I should lick your boots. Or,” and now I’d be the one trusting, “lick that pussy for you.” “Well, we’ll see. Perhaps if it were done in a structure of reward and punishment, regulated, and documented in the log.” “I think you are correct.” She walked out of the prison abruptly and left me there. She wanted to calm down. Shortly she returned and I was left in my totally secured position for a while. She released my hands and served me a simple lunch through the bars. At the bottom of the front of the cage there was an opening, a foot or so wide and a few inches high, designed for passing food trays. I could barely reach it with my neck secured and I had to eat carefully and slowly. I was cuffed in the conventional manner and released back into my cell. But only for a moment. “I have decided that while you may have provided helpful input to the design of this training session, you still spoke out of turn and initiated a sexually charged conversation with a guard. That has earned you time in the punishment cell. Oh, goody. Hands cuffed, she escorted me down a short hallway. On one side was a wooden box, several feet on a side, about three feet high. It was constructed of heavy timbers and had a metal grate in the top. She opened the grate. Coming around she changed my restraints. A very heavy metal waist chain was secured around me and my hands released from the conventional cuffs and placed in front of me in heavy dungeon cuffs. These were secured to the waist chain. I was told to climb up on top of the box, but not get in. She had me cross my legs at the ankles. She took out a rigid set of leg irons. These were fixed at a ninety degree angle to each other so to get them on, my legs had to cross at the ankles at that angle. Once secured, I could not adjust my legs. She had me swing my legs over the opening and slowly, painfully, I dropped into the cell. It was not tall enough to really sit up, I had to hunch over, my neck bent and my head pressing against the unyielding roof. She dropped the grating back in place. More than a set of bars, it was like a very heavy grating that blocked out most of the light, making it very dark. I heard the lock being secured. “You have earned ten demerits with your conduct. You can work off one demerit an hour in this cell, which is punishment number one or four an hour with the chains. There is a punishment two that works out eight demerits per hour, but we will save that for serious misconduct. You have two and a half hours here. Do this without complaining and I will offer a small reward this evening.” And I heard her footsteps walking away. [ On to Chapter 3 ] |