Many men often ask me where they can go and get locked up in a jail cell for a few days.
There actually IS a place where you can go and get locked up. For real. Seriously! It’s called the Franklin County Historic Jail, and it’s located in Iowa of all places. My friend Pisslurper has already been there. You can read about Pisslurper’s experience by clicking to read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 of his adventure. Mark from Serious Male Bondage has also been to this place. You can read Mark’s account by clicking here.
Bind, the proprietor of the jail, recently sent in even more information, via Mark from Serious Male Bondage — who also passed along the many pictures accompanying this post, thank you very much!
The jail is only open for prisoners during the summer, so if you want to go there yourself and get locked up (highlyrecommended!) then you must visit the HamptonJail.com website now and make a reservation. Accommodations are on a first-come, first served basis and require a $100 deposit.
Meanwhile, you can see and read below to learn even more:
The Franklin County Historic Jail
There seems to be a general fascination with jails, prisons and confinement. The No. 1 tourist destination in San Francisco is the famous Alcatraz Prison. There are many old jails and prisons across the globe that have been converted into museums that attract curious visitors. Visitors flock to these institutions of incarceration for various reasons.
These visitors come for perhaps the three main reasons.
The first group is those who are interested in the famous criminals who were inmates. These people are interested mostly in the historical aspects of the institutions
The second group of people is those who are looking for the thrill of seeing dungeon-like spaces that are frightening. Often these individuals are in search of haunting.
The third group is those who are interested in jails because they fantasize about what it would be like to lose freedom and become prisoners themselves.
It is this third group who would be very interested to find out about a jail in Iowa where they can. Franklin County Historic Jail in Iowa allows visitors to volunteer to be a prisoner without committing a crime.
The jail was built in 1880 and operated for 108 years until it closed in 1988. The Franklin County Historic Jail was the last “mom and pop” type of operation in Iowa to close. It could no longer meet the state regulations for jails.
The front of the building is a stately, Victorian-style, two-story brick home. This was the residence for the Sheriff and his family. In the back of the structure was a one-story jail. Strangely, the jail had a women’s cell upstairs in the house portion of the building. In the main jail area was an intake area and a segregation cell. The largest section of the building was the men’s jail. It was constructed as a large, all-metal room. In the middle of the room was a large cage that consisted of a cellblock and three cells with narrow doors that opened into it. In the 1920s plumbing was brought into the building. A toilet and sink was added to the cellblock. Later, a shower and second toilet was added outside of the cellblock in the “no man’s land” hallways that surround it.
The men’s jail, unlike more recent cells that use vertical iron bars, is built in a crisscross pattern of strap iron that is a quarter inch thick and three inches wide. Hand-driven rivets were placed at every junction of the straps. The straps are so close together on the cell doors that a man cannot get his hands through them. The walls and ceilings of each cell are made of solid, thick iron. The heavy sheet metal is reinforced on the outside with three-inch-wide strips of iron that were riveted on only four inches apart. The only light going into the cells comes through the doors and a small back window. The tight crisscross pattern reduces light transmission making the cells dark and oppressive for the prisoner. Dark shadows in the shape of the bars change slowly throughout the day in the dungeon-like spaces.
The most oppressive cell is No. 3. It has no back window. The cell is located at the end of the cellblock in a dark corner. The only light that cell gets is through the door. Because it was used as the punishment cell, the electric light is kept off inside that cell.
The jail has a scary and intimidating look to it. When you are locked in the jail, you are locked behind multiple layers of security to keep it to a maximum. A lever lock, two slide bolts with padlocks, and five locking doors keep a prisoner away from any hope of escape. The brass keys that are used in three of the solid heavy doors in the jail are enormous. The sounds of the doors slamming and bolts locking are startling and ominous at the same time. With stark walls of iron and thick concrete floors, the sounds of locks and bolts reverberate through the cells. The cells are small and cramped. There are concrete slabs on each side that form the beds for the inmates. Thin jail mattress pads covered in vinyl are placed on top of them to make sleep bearable.
When you get locked inside one of the cells, there are several emotional and physical feelings that can be almost overwhelming. Initially, when you hear that heavy door slam behind you, it is frightening. Then as you hear the lever lock being thrown, the various bolts being slid into place and then the padlocks being locked, you realize that you are really imprisoned. The first door that slams shut is a loud clang of metal against metal. Each succeeding door slams shut, but they become more distant. As the final door is shut and locked, it is difficult to hear it through all of the other closed doors that keep you confined.
A feeling of distance from the world sets in, and reality envelops you. You can look out of the cell door to see the cellblock. Strap iron surrounds it. Past the strap iron is an obstructed view of the exterior windows of the jail. They have expended steel mesh covering them, and beyond that, jail bars that are embedded deep into the thick brick exterior walls. The world is out there. But it is distant. You can hear the sounds of the cars outside. Every hour you hear the old bell chime on the courthouse. You can hear a faint sound of people in the bar across the alley at night. But it is a different world. Your reality is now this: Grey iron, and concrete. Your world is now a tiny cage. You cannot get past the door. You lean and push. You bang and try to get past it, but it is solid and does not move. The world outside is not your world anymore. Your world is now this tiny, stark cage.
You are now locked into a space where many inmates were incarcerated. You wonder about the inmates that were there in 1880. The cell you stand in housed prisoners from before the industrial revolution up through the space age. You wonder what these prisoners were like. Were they kept in shackles and chained to the wall as you are now? You think about the prisoners who were held during the prohibition and gangster days of the 1920s. You wonder about what the prisoners were like during the depression and the two world wars. They came and were locked up in this harsh environment that you now find yourself in. Even in the late 1980s, there were inmates here.
You begin to feel a connection to these inmates; these felons of every kind who passed this way. A part of them still seems to remain here. You feel a heavy feeling. You are experiencing the feelings of the many inmates that came and suffered in this dreadful place. The jail is drawing you in. It has captured you. As the cold shackles dig into your skin, you feel a kinship with the inmates who were here. The feeling completely overpowers you. It feels like the inmates are still here. They want to keep you locked up with them to share in their misery. You cannot escape the feeling. You crave the feeling. You want to be one of them. The jail has taken over and your only choice is to submit to the incarceration. You are now a prisoner. This is now your reality.
After you are released from this jail, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Something will always draw you back. This is the experience at the Franklin County Historic Jail in Iowa.
Metal would like to thank Bind for this information! And a huge thanks to Mark from Serious Male Bondage as well, for facilitating this article and for providing the many professionally shot photographs of the facility itself.
Remember, the jail is only open during the summer, and reservations are on a first-come first-served basis and require a $100 deposit. Go to HamptonJail.com for more information.
Wow this is cool! Mark — who runs SeriousMaleBondage.com — is also a practitioner of serious male bondage. He’s the real deal. Mark recently visited the private jail facility run by Bind, and he’s got some great pictures and information to share. Check him out:
This is me in a private jail facility owned by my friend Bind. I was trying out my new steel bondage belt and rubber mitts. The belt was made by DungeonDelights.com and the mitts were from BlackStyle.com. The mitts you see are actually a pair of large size mitts pulled over a pair of medium size mitts, creating a much more intense sense of helplessness. No dexterity and complete helplessness.
I was chained to the wall like this on five different occasions during my stay, two of the sessions were overnight. The leather muzzle had an attached rubber penis gag, and my ankles were locked together with a pair of DungeonDelights.com steel cuffs. I loved every minute of my experience and can’t wait to do it again. I was on a natural high. In one scene I watched the sun go down and the cell become pitch black, and in another scene I watched the sun come up and the cell get light. All my thoughts were silent, and all my cares went away. I was just there. I have fantasized about being chained up in a jail cell since I was a kid and at various times in my life.
The cool thing about this jail cell is that it was built before round vertical bars were used. As you can see, the old-fashioned strap steel bars are far more scary and oppressive, which adds to my feeling of helplessness and being overpowered. This scene took place a few days before Thanksgiving 2016, and strangely enough, while I was looking through the strap bars to the outside window, I fantasized about being locked up like this over Christmas, knowing that my family was gathering for a meal and opening their presents. While they are sitting around the fireplace and watching the game on TV, I am in heavy bondage, chained to the wall in a small oppressive and scary jail cell, helpless and completely alone. This fantasy is very fulfilling and extremely exciting to me. The truth of the matter is I would like to be chained up like this every night, and I don’t mean to be insulting, but this feels more satisfying to me than being in a relationship and sleeping with a partner. I’m sure that shrinks would have a field day with that, but it doesn’t matter. I have sought bondage experiences like this since I was a kid, and although they have sometimes come close, this experience in the jail cell was the absolute best.
A special thanks to my friend Bind for allowing me to have this fantasy come true with my own gear. Check out his profile on Recon, FetLife, his bondage website MenInChains.com, and his jail facility at HamptonJail.com.
Thanks, Mark, for the pictures and information!
After two days, I had pretty much settled into jail routine. The mornings were nice; I’d wake up to the soft light at dawn, and drowsily drift in and out sleep with the sounds of the town waking up in the distance. The light would gradually bring the details of the cell into focus — the giant rivets, the steel walls, the steel L-brackets welded to the side walls, the glimpse of the cellblock through the steel bars of my cell doors. I’d become more aware of the smells of steel and concrete, and eventually I’d get up and piss a stream into the bucket.
When I was in the end cell, the jailor had to be in the cellblock to see into the cell through the bars of the cell door, and I could hear when he was entering the cellblock because unlocking the cellblock door made a loud racket. In the middle cell, the jailor could more or less sneak up from the jail portion behind the shower and look into my cell through the bars in the back wall of the cell. I wasn’t certain if I liked being more exposed or more secluded.
Since there wasn’t a table in the middle cell, and now I was supposedly a “medium security” risk, the jailor fed me my meals at the table in the cellblock area. He unlocked the padlock on the door of cell, exited the cellblock, slammed shut the cellblock door, padlocked the two huge sliding bolts on the cellblock door, then unlocked the sliding bar locking mechanism that locked and unlocked all three cell doors simultaneously. Then he told me that I could push open my cell door and enter the secure cellblock area. He pushed my cereal and banana through the handcuff slot, and I sat at the small table to eat my breakfast. I would’ve given my left nut for a cup of strong black coffee, but I knew better than to ask.
The rules of the jail were strict, but simple and expected. I was supposed to call the jailor “Officer” and “Sir.” I was to keep my blanket folded neatly whenever I wasn’t using it. I was supposed to back away from the cell door and go nose to the wall with my hands clasped behind my head whenever instructed to do so or whenever the jailor was about to come into my cell. I was supposed to be in uniform (top and bottoms) whenever I was out of my cell.
For some reason, calling the jailor “Sir” or “Officer” just rankled me, and I resisted doing so. I guess I also gave him some attitude, although I was nicer when he had something I wanted, like a meal.
Once or twice a day he would conduct a cell inspection, looking for contraband I guess. He went through the whole unlocking the cellblock and cell routine, had me nose to the wall, and he cuffed my hands behind my back. Then he turned me around and locked the handcuffs to the metal L bracket that was fastened to cell wall. So now I am shackled, chained to the wall with my feet, and my handcuffed wrists are slightly elevated behind my back and locked to the wall. I couldn’t move much at all. The jailor then inspected the cell, looking under and checking the seams of the mattress and pillow, unfolding the blanket, and examining the entire cell.
I gave him some attitude during the first inspection, and when he uncuffed me, he shortened the chain to my shackles so that I could only move a few feet. Then he repeated the lock down process, and after the series of banging and clanking, I was again left alone in the dim cell, only know a little more severely restricted. I could still move a bit, but no more pacing the length of the cell. I could lie down since the foot of the bed was close to the point where the chain was attached to the wall, and I could stand to piss in my bucket if I needed. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, because, like I said earlier, time seemed pass both slowly and quickly.
In Hampton, Iowa, of all places …
“Spend an hour … or a day … or a week in a real jail,” the site says.
Official website here.