By Mister-X / Spartan

(Warning – reading this story might give you nightmares!)

I love straitjackets. The feeling of being confined, unable to move my upper body, being under someone else’s control, gets me excited. Any time I see a movie or TV program that shows a guy confined in one in a mental institution, or being taken to one, my cock gets erect.

Those leather straitjackets are nice and comfy, but there’s nothing like the canvas ones. I like the authenticity of them, since those are always the ones shown being used in mental institutions.0

I own a canvas straitjacket, but couldn’t find anyone who would be willing to strap me into it and keep me confined. It’s not something that you can ask your friends to do. Nor can you exactly go around asking others. I have kept this love I have for straitjackets a secret from my friends, family and co-workers. I decided to try the internet, and for several days had no success. But then I found someone.

This guy lived not too far away, and was interested in trying to find someone who would be willing to be kept in a straitjacket for a weekend. He had a padded cell that he wanted to try a person out in for that long, but needed someone who could provide their own canvas straitjacket. It sounded perfect. My only concern was that someone else had responded to him before I could.

After I sent the e-mail I nervously awaited a response. I had found his search on a Friday night, and I was on pins and needles waiting. But there was no response Friday night. Nor was there all day Saturday. By Sunday afternoon I figured that I had been too late and he wouldn’t bother to respond. After trying for so long, finding the perfect person, and not hearing from him, I was understandably depressed. Then finally Sunday night I got a response back from him. I nervously read it.

He said that he’d been away for the weekend and had just gotten my response. He was interested, and wanted to meet. Since we both worked during the day and it was already Sunday night, he figured we’d have to set up a time after work during the week. I quickly responded, and we both were anxious to set something up for a weekend as soon as we could.

We scheduled a meeting for Tuesday night after work at a restaurant halfway between our locations. We both knew the place, since it was pretty well known. We told each other what kind and color of car we were driving, as well as what kind and color of clothes we would be wearing.

When I drove up I immediately spotted his car and him. He was standing next to it waiting for me. As I entered the lot he immediately realized that it was me, and flashed a big smile. He was a lot handsomer than I had expected him to be. This was already off to a good start.

We shook hands and went in to get dinner. The place was busy and we had to enter our names on the waiting list. It took about 15 minutes to get a table. Over dinner we started getting to know each other better. We had both grown up in that area, though about 50 miles apart. We were both in our early 40s and had a few acquaintances that we both knew in common. We exchanged where we had been when certain events had occurred, storms, floods, traffic accidents, job availability, the local sports teams and so on. He had no memories of events about 15 to 20 years ago, but when I asked him about that he said that he was in the military at that time. By the end of dinner we were good friends, completely ignoring what brought us together.

Finally we got down to the reason for our meeting. We talked about what turned us on. We both had a love of straitjackets, and both preferred the canvas kind, the authentic kind. I liked the idea of being restrained in one, he liked the idea of restraining someone in one. It was a perfect match. I also told him I was turned on by the sight of a well-built guy dressed in leathers. Then he came up with the reason I met up with him.

“I assume you’d like to spend time restrained in a straitjacket in a padded cell?” he asked.

“Of course! That’s the perfect place to be when you’re in a canvas straitjacket.”

“Good. As I mentioned in the ad I’ve got a padded cell. Let’s aim for Friday night. Drive out to my place. Bring your canvas straitjacket, and I’ll keep you in it and in my padded cell for the weekend, letting you out Sunday night.”

“You’re on. Let me know where to go and when you need me to be there.”

He gave me directions for how to get to his place. We shook hands, then hugged as we parted. I realized with his hug how strong he was. It was just what I’d wanted for years. I was on cloud nine.

I had a difficult time getting through the rest of the workweek. I constantly thought about that weekend. All my adult life I’d wanted to be in a canvas straitjacket in a padded cell, and at last it was going to be a reality. I’d even thought about acting like a mental case until I found out that such straitjackets are no longer in use, that the mental institutions now use drugs to subdue their patients. That had been so disappointing to hear. But it’s just as well that I hadn’t gone through with my plans, because I now was going to get the experience without the stigma of having been in a mental institution. I had mentioned this in the conversation I had with the guy, and he agreed that being in a real mental institution would not have been a positive experience for me.

Finally Friday night arrived, and I quickly grabbed a bite to eat and rushed out to drive to his place. I hadn’t even changed clothes from the suit I wore during the day. I had no trouble following his directions and arrived at his place about 20 minutes early. I didn’t know whether to wait until the designated time or enter early. I was parked at the street curb outside his house when he opened the door and waved me in.

Still dressed in my suit, I walked into his place carrying a suitcase that contained my straitjacket. As much as I was in a hurry to get there, I had fortunately had the foresight to put it into the car that morning, lest I would forget it. As it was, I forgot my razor, toothbrush and toothpaste. But then I wouldn’t be able to use them anyway.

Just inside the door was a little foyer with another door into the house. When he closed the front door behind me, he reached out for the suitcase and said one word. “Strip.”

As he went into the house through the other door carrying my suitcase, he closed it behind him and I could hear the sound of a lock clicking. That told me that I was to strip naked there at the foyer. He obviously had assumed a dominant role in our relationship at this meeting. I was okay with that, since he was the one restraining me.

After I had stripped, he returned to the foyer carrying my straitjacket, arms out. I was literally shaking as I was guided into the jacket. With the arms in, he quickly brought the straps around the back and started buckling them. I wasn’t getting out of it now. One after another he pulled and buckled the straps closed. After the chest straps were done, he pulled the straps under the crotch and buckled those. The last strap to be done in the back was the one around the neck.

When these were done, somewhat loosely, he brought the long parts that had my arms in through the loop in the front and pulled the extensions around to the back to tie. Then he started tightening each of the straps. He tightened them in the same order he had initially buckled them. He put some muscle into tightening them. I realized again how strong he was. My cock was getting hard as he was doing this. My mind was starting to drift, I was so enjoying this. Then he yanked the crotch straps hard on each side of my cock and balls. That brought me back to reality, and I let out a gasp.

“Quiet!” he shouted. “The next sound you make I will gag you.”

He continued tightening the straps. I was surprised when he yanked the neck strap as tight as he did. I let out another gasp from that one. He immediately stopped and stormed out of the room. Soon he was back with a rubber ball gag and some duct tape with an angry look on his face.

A couple of inches from my ear he yelled, “I told you to keep quiet!”

“I’ll keep quiet n…” He used my open mouth to force the ball in and quickly pulled the strap around the back of my head as tight as he could get it to buckle. I’d had a rubber ball gag in my mouth before, but not a ball that was this big. He then started wrapping duct tape tightly around and around my head. After several wrappings I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to get any air through my mouth. He kept wrapping until he was finally satisfied and had gotten the anger out of his system. He must have wrapped my head 15 times, all quite tightly done. Then he went back to tightening the straps. Next was to pull my arms tighter.

After he’d finished his tightening he went back and tried tightening the straps even more. He was able to get some tightened further on this next go-round, but he couldn’t tighten any of them any further on the fourth try. Only then was he satisfied. I was well and truly trapped in that straitjacket. He stopped and looked at me for a minute, almost mesmerized, before shaking his head as if to get his thinking straight again.

He left the foyer and returned with something I wasn’t expecting. He brought some metal ankle cuffs with a foot long chain between. He proceeded to ratchet those on my ankles. They were the thin kind, and he ratcheted them as tight as he could get them so that they were cutting painfully into my ankles. I tried to complain, but no sound came out. He also had brought a chastity device and an ice cube. He put the ice cube on my erect cock, which caused me to jump and gasp again, and after it had subsided he put my cock and balls in chastity. I hadn’t planned on that.

When these were finished, he led me through the door out of the foyer. We walked through what must have been the living room and out to the garage. His house had been on the small side, and I kept looking for where the padded cell would be, not finding it. There were two vehicles in the garage. One was the car he had used for our meeting. The other was a van. The back of this was totally enclosed, having no windows.

He led me to the back and unlocked the back doors. There were steps that had been placed which led up to the back, and he obviously wanted me to climb them. I climbed them and got in after bending down. He had me lie down. He attached a chain to the back of the collar on my straitjacket and attached it to a loop at the back of the van. Then he went up to the front of the back part of the van with another chain which he put on the chain connecting my ankle cuffs. He yanked me up with that before attaching it to the back of the front seat. I was stretched out taut in the back of the van lying on my back, the ankle cuffs starting to dig more into my ankles.

I wondered where we were going and when, since he left me lying there and went back inside. But after a few minutes I heard him come into the garage, deposit some things in the passenger seat of the van, and heard the garage door open. Soon we were moving, and I heard the garage door close. There wasn’t much I could feel of the car movement with my legs, butt and canvas covered back, but when we would go around a curve I would notice that.

I had no idea where we were going or how long it would take to get there. Nor did I know what was going to happen to me when we got there. All I knew was that I was helpless tightly enclosed in this canvas straitjacket attached to the van with chains. I realized that he could do with me whatever he wanted, but this was the guy who was going to give me what I’d wanted all my life, and in fact had already given me a lot by putting me into this straitjacket, so I was willing to trust him. I was just frustrated that my cock was in chastity so I couldn’t properly enjoy it.

Finally the van stopped. I had noticed that it had been going slower for several minutes. We had apparently arrived at where he was going, but I still had no idea where it was. It was a while after we’d stopped before the back door was opened. When the guy started pulling me out, I noticed that he was dressed all in black leather, including wearing leather gloves. He was well built, and I thought that his was a nice accommodation to my turn-ons. He again had a step-stool at the back of the van. After he undid the chains keeping me attached, he helped me out.

Completely out of the van, he guided me into the cabin. It wasn’t easy because my ankles had lost their feel with the tight ankle cuffs. I noticed the smell of pine and figured that we were up in the hills. I looked around and saw only one light, the one inside this cabin. I figured we were isolated from others here. Inside the cabin he continued leading me up to another door. This he opened with a key. Inside was a full sized padded cell. He helped me inside and led me into the middle of it. There was a hanging chain there, which he attached to the back of my straitjacket collar. He went over to the door and reached under the padding. He pushed a button that caused the chain to pull up. When he stopped the chain from rising further, I was standing, but wasn’t pulled up completely. If I fell asleep in this position I wouldn’t be falling over. With that he turned off the light in the room, closed the door, and locked it.

I’d gotten my wish. I was in a canvas straitjacket in a padded cell. But I didn’t have the run of the cell, being chained to one spot. After a couple of hours of lying down in the van, it initially felt good to be standing upright on my feet. But pretty soon it got to be annoying, since it was bedtime and I’d never slept standing up before. I got virtually no sleep that night.

The next morning I heard the door open and the guy come in. He was again dressed all in leathers and he was carrying something in his hand. He came up to me and started pulling each of the straps to see if he could tighten any of them any further. He was actually able to tighten some around my stomach, probably because it had shrunk from lack of food.

After he was satisfied that the straitjacket was as tight as possible, he went over to that button and pushed it. The chain was lowered which allowed me some movement. He said, “I want you to start walking around to get some exercise. Walk as far as you can in one direction to test how far you can go before the chain tightens so much that you can’t continue walking. Then continue walking around the cell at that level of tightness.”

That’s the most words the guy had spoken to me this weekend. I did as ordered, which wasn’t easy with my numb ankles, finally getting to where I couldn’t walk any further with keeping my feet on the floor. I then veered off to the side and started walking around the cell. It was a strange sensation, walking on padding. It wasn’t easy to do. The overhead chain pulled taut helped keep me from falling over.

The guy had fallen in behind me when I was walking. We both kept it up for about 15 minutes before I started tiring, in part due to lack of sleep and in part due to lack of food. I finally stopped. That’s when I found out what it was that the guy was holding in his hand. It was a zapper, and after I’d stopped he zapped me. I took that to mean that he wanted me to continue walking, which I did. I kept it up for another few minutes until I was about to faint. When I stopped, he zapped me again. I started mumbling into my gag, trying to explain to him that I was too tired, but no sound came out and he just kept zapping me. I finally started walking again.

“This zapper is used to keep unwilling mental patients in line. You are a mental patient while you are here in my cabin and will be treated accordingly. If you continue being unwilling there are more severe punishments I can use.”

I didn’t think I wanted to find out what those more severe punishments were. But at the same time I was already pushed to the limit of my energy. I was almost sleepwalking by now. He kept this up for a full hour, zapping me whenever I would stop. Finally he was satisfied that I’d gotten enough walking in, and he allowed me to stop. He went over to the button and pushed it, allowing the chain to drop down far enough for him to detach it from my collar. After he did this, he pushed me down onto the padded floor and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Finally I had a chance to lie down and get some sleep. It didn’t take long for me to drop off. When the guy came back it seemed like I had only been asleep for a couple of minutes, but it was probably longer than that. He had brought along a leather strap and he started beating me on the legs with it. He was like a man possessed. I didn’t know what it was he wanted me to do. I quickly started trying to back away from him, but he just as quickly followed me and continued beating me. It was a lot harder for me to move in that padded cell than it was for him to move, since I was in the straitjacket with cuffs on my ankles, so I couldn’t get away from him. Periodically I would bump into a wall. But with the wall being padded, it didn’t matter. Finally he tired of beating me, and just before he left he said, “This is another form of punishment that we used to use in mental institutions to deal with unwilling patients.”

That was the first clue I’d gotten that he used to work in a mental institution. He had given no clue to that before in our previous conversation. I realized then that I was given an authentic treatment of what life would have been like if I had been in one back when he was working there. I started having a better feeling about this experience.

I lay down again to try to get some shut-eye, but as before, I was soon awakened by his entry. This time he lowered that chain again. He connected the end of it to my ankle chain and hoisted me up by my ankles. Up and up they went until my body started moving along the padding to where the chain was lifting me up. Finally my chest got lifted up as well, and last my head, which was now in the air. He pushed the button to stop the chain and said, before leaving, “This is another punishment that was used. This one was for a minimum of 24 hours. You will be kept like this for that length of time.”

I’d never been suspended upside down in the air before, and I noticed that blood was starting to rush to my head. I didn’t seem to suffer any ill effects from this, but it was not a very comfortable position to be in, let alone for 24 hours. Even from in that padded cell I could hear the sound of his car starting up and leaving. So I was to be kept here like this alone. I didn’t like to know that, either.

I was starting to get a little sick from being suspended upside down after a few hours. It’s not a position to be in for very long, and to be in it for 24 hours is not a comfortable thought. Again, I was erect rather than prone, and I wasn’t able to get any sleep. I heard the car return, so at least I knew that there would be another person in the cabin, not that this mattered much, since I was well gagged.

Time dragged. Finally the door opened and the guy entered. He had brought the paddle again and started hitting me with it. Being suspended like that, I started swaying back and forth. As soon as I would swing back he would hit me again. This seemed like a pretty strong punishment for unwilling mental patients, but I guess there weren’t a whole lot of protections on such people even 20 years ago. When he finished hitting me, most of which were on the part of my body, which was covered by the straitjacket, he said, “This was a regular part of dealing with someone who was suspended for 24 hours.” He left the room after saying this.

Time continued to drag on. I had thought that the guy would feed me while I was there, but he didn’t. He didn’t even allow me to piss or shit. I had been holding it in, but I finally let go with a stream of piss when suspended upside down. It stunk up the cell.

When the guy returned, he immediately smelled what I had done. He was angry that I had soiled his padded cell. He first found out where the spot was. Then he lowered me down and had me go to that spot, forcing my face down onto it. I was gagging from the smell, since by then without any water my piss had gotten pretty strong. He buried my nose in that stuff and sat on me to make sure that I couldn’t move from it. While he was sitting there he said, “This is what we would do to any patient who pissed on the padded cell they were in. It was pretty effective in getting them to not do that anymore.” I wanted to tell him that it was his own negligence that had cause me to do this, but I couldn’t, being gagged.

After sitting on me there for about a half hour, he finally got off me and left me to wander freely in the padded cell. I noticed the spot I had made with my piss. But I also noticed several other spots. Apparently other people had been here before me. He finally came back in and said that it was time for me to get some walking done again. He hit me with the zapper to let me know that he was going to be behind me. I took off walking. I guess I had gotten enough sleep in to be able to keep it up because I walked for that half hour that he wanted. My ankles were still numb, but I’d gotten used to walking on them that way on this padded floor. He didn’t have to zap me anymore.

When I was finished walking, he helped guide me out of the padded cell and out to the van again. He said that it was time to drive back to his place so that I could get dressed and return home. That meant getting back into the van lying down chained at both ends.

When we got back to his place, he kept me in that van for some time. I heard his other car start up and leave. Only after it returned did he come to help me get out of the van. As he was guiding me into the foyer of his house he was saying that he wanted to do it again the next weekend, and that he’d taken the liberty of making a copy of my house key, which I’d labeled, as well as noting the address of where I lived. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go through this experience again, even though being in the straitjacket was something I’d always wanted to do.

After he’d removed the gag and was starting to remove the straitjacket, he asked me how I liked the experience. I told him that I enjoyed being in the straitjacket, but was surprised by the ankle cuffs and the punishments. I also said that I appreciated the authenticity of the experience since he alluded to having once worked at a mental institution, but if I did it again I wanted to have more time to experience just sitting alone for hours in the straitjacket in a padded cell. I also said that I would like to be fed and be able to be emptied out.

He thought a bit, and said, “I figured that sitting alone would get boring, so I wanted to keep you active. Apparently I did wrong. And I wanted you to experience some of the things that were done to mental patients who were strapped in one. But you said ‘if’ you do it again. If I promise to make the next experience as you want it to be, would you do this again next weekend?”

I thought for a minute, and finally said, “Yes, in that case I would be willing to do this again. I’ve always wanted this, and I appreciated you accommodating me this weekend. I look forward to doing it again, with modifications, next weekend.”

“Good. Then I’ll be by your house with the van to pick you up next Friday night. But I’ve been bothered by another guy who wants me to put him in my cell like I’ve been doing to you, someone from your area that I’ve met but didn’t like, so please do me a favor and don’t tell anyone else about our little arrangement. If that guy were to find out…” I interrupted and said I understood and wouldn’t tell anyone.

I drove back home. I was a little concerned about this guy having access to my home with the key he had made, but was happy to have him come to pick me up at my place instead of me going to his. In the next three days I concentrated on my work and domestic chores since I had been gone for the whole of the last weekend, but as the week went by I had these nagging concerns about this guy. He didn’t quite ring true. There wasn’t anything I could put my finger on, but my subconscious wasn’t comfortable. That part of me has helped me in the past and I’ve learned to listen to it.

I finally decided late Thursday night to start checking current and former mental institutions in the area to see whether they had employed this guy and whether he had been fired for any reason. I couldn’t find any record of such a person having been employed at one. I found this to be a bit odd, since he had told me that he had spent his whole life in this area and had talked about what the punishments were to patients. I wondered if he worked at one that has since been closed. Before going to bed that night I decided to ask him about that before I would allow him to put me in the straitjacket.

Friday after I got home from work, while I was waiting for him to show up, straitjacket at the ready, I suddenly got another idea and decided to do an internet search to see if it was true. I checked to see if he had been a patient at one of the nearby mental institutions, and found that he had been, having been released as cured about 15 years ago. There were three doctors who had examined him, two saying he should be released and the other saying that he could be a danger and should be monitored. They did monitor him, but after five years he had not shown any symptoms of his previous irrational behavior and he was free to be back in society.

I was frantically checking to see what irrational behavior he had exhibited to require being admitted. I finally found a newspaper article. It said that he had put another man into a straitjacket and kept him isolated in a padded cell for a month before the guy died after being tortured. The guy who had been killed had had a BDSM encounter with my guy’s older brother, and my guy blamed that guy for his brother’s death by torture, which he apparently had every right to blame him for. My guy had waited for his opportunity to get his revenge, and his memories of his brother’s death and what he did to this guy were all triggered by the canvas straitjacket each had been in.

When he was brought to trial for the death he was ruled to be insane due to his fixation with canvas straitjackets. There had been evidence entered detailing the tortures, and it was hinted at that this played a factor in his being considered to be mentally insane. It was fascinating reading, and while I was reading it I heard his key in the door, but I kept on reading. As the guy came in the door he said that he had gotten plenty of food this time, protein shakes that could be drunk with a straw through the gag, and was ready to put the straitjacket on me. I ignored him as he was walking toward me and continued reading. The article said that the third doctor had thought that this guy must be kept away from canvas straitjackets, that the sight of one would eat at him, bringing back the memories, eventually causing him to assume the role of a mental institution attendant wanting to re-enact on an innocent person what he had done to his brother’s killer, which was roughly what had been done to his brother, transferring his belief that this innocent person was his brother’s killer.

As I turned around and looked at him with a look of fear, I saw that he was dressed in white pants, white shoes, white t-shirt, white gloves, was wearing a white coat, and was staring at my canvas straitjacket. He then looked me straight in the eye and said in a soothing monotone. “To make sure that you go with me I brought a cloth soaked with chloroform. You know that you’ve got to come with me. You know you belong in a mental institution after what you did to my brother. Now just make it easy for both of us by stripping off your clothes and let me put you into that nice straitjacket that is setting there just for you. You know that you belong in it. You know you are sick and need to be removed from society until you do your penance for what you did.”

He was saying this as he was standing right next to me, blocking my escape, since my computer desk and tables covered the other three sides of me. I was shocked into inaction, mesmerized by his unblinking eyes staring at me as he was talking, mesmerized by his words, struck by the irony that they applied more to him and not me, amazed that such a handsome guy could have such a diseased mind. Only when he grabbed my wrist did I finally try to resist him. But by then it was too late. He was too strong for me. He put the chloroformed cloth over my mouth and soothingly told me to relax and breathe in, and kept soothingly talking to me in that monotone. I tried to avoid breathing in, tried to get the cloth away from my mouth and nose as I held my breath, but in the end I couldn’t remove it and had no choice but to inhale.

When I regained consciousness I was tightly enclosed in my canvas straitjacket riding in the back of his van resting on my stomach, this time with a canvas hood with a mouth hole only strapped on tight, gagged with a big leather penis gag strapped tightly underneath the hood, though with a small hole punched which a straw would fit through which I was breathing through, ankles this time cuffed together with no chain between them, a chain pulling them up my back connecting them to the middle of my arms which were pulled around to the back of the straitjacket with the extensions put through the loop and tied at the front. My arms were pulled so tight that my wrists were at my sides past my elbows, though covered in canvas. There was something tightly around my neck above the straitjacket, something that was pulling my chest back off the floor and was also connected to my arms. It was further restricting my breathing. My cock was back in chastity, though it felt like I also had a diaper on. I was again chained to both the front and back ends of the van. It took me a while to get my thoughts back, and I recalled with horror what I had read on the internet.

Then I remembered his last words told in a soothing monotone while I was trying to avoid succumbing to the chloroform, chilling words that were engrained in my mind. “I tried avoiding all the things you did to my brother on your last visit so you wouldn’t suspect anything. This time it won’t be just for a weekend. This time you will be there for a long, long stay, just as you kept my brother restrained, torturing him for months. You know you’ve been a bad boy. You know you need to be restrained and punished because of what you’ve done. Just remember I’m here to help you get through this, so you can realize that what you’ve done was wrong and that you must pay penance for it by putting you through the same. You must endure what you forced my brother to endure.

I’ve started you in the position you had my brother in when you started torturing him, buckled tightly in your canvas straitjacket and put into a hogtie with a leather belt buckled tightly around your neck which is also pulled back tight to attach to your arms behind your back. Each month I will bring it another notch closer to your arms, just as you did to my brother. I will start doing the torturing after you are in the padded cell just as you did to him, keeping him in one. You’ll be experiencing a little each day, giving you time to think about what you’ve done, drawing out your punishment over the same number of months that you drew his out over. If you are able to survive that then you can finally start to heal and eventually be able to return to society. But it’s going to be very tough for you, just as what you did to my brother was tough. He was strong, but wasn’t able to withstand what you did to him, and you are also a strong man so let’s see if you can endure it. You are handsome, and I can see why my brother was attracted to you, not knowing what you were like.

The straitjacket will be your security, just as it was my brother’s, and it will always be on you as it was on him, until you either survive it and are finally released, or you succumb. My brother didn’t survive after all those months of being tortured, but you might. We’ll see. You must have some remorse for what you did, wanting me to put you into that straitjacket, giving yourself up to me to begin your penance.”

There was more of the same, a classic case of transference. Hearing his soothing voice reminded me of that crazy guy in that movie, Psycho, though that guy was restrained in a straitjacket when he was talking whereas this nut was free while I was the sane one who was restrained in the straitjacket. But realizing all this came too late. I started thinking about what this nut was going to do to me. The internet description also stated what some of those tortures were. The newspaper article detailed a few, but said that most were too graphic to publish. I was starting to sweat profusely as I remembered them and thought of what the others must have been. And as I remembered them, my cock was desperately trying to get hard, but couldn’t in its chastity. I started trying frantically to get loose, but the restraints were much too strong to allow that. Plus my efforts were starting to cause me further distress in the restrained position I was in. I started thinking about how someone could track me down, what clues had been left for my whereabouts.

He heard me thrashing around in the back and started talking in that monotone again as if reading my thoughts. “I brought your computer with me after terminating your membership in the site used for you to communicate with me, so there will be no record of your having contacted me. I also had found some license plates on an old abandoned car and replaced the ones on this van with those while I was parked at your place. I wore gloves while I was in your house. There should be no record of us being together other than the people at that restaurant, but we were two of thousands that by now have gone through that busy place in the last ten days, so they won’t remember us. Our bill was paid in cash.

I bought this cabin nine years ago because it was remote, miles from the nearest neighbor, and no one bothers checking my coming and going here. From all indications you will have just disappeared, never to be seen again. The authorities are overwhelmed with all the people who simply disappear that they won’t bother checking much since they have no evidence to go on. In that respect you will be treated just like anyone who gets sent to a mental institution, people who simply disappear from society. Your only hope of leaving is to endure everything I do to you, everything you did to my brother.”

That’s when I remembered that this guy had been sent to a mental institution and probably holds some resentment for that experience. When his words sunk in, it really struck me what a bad position I was in. I didn’t see any way that someone could find me. I knew that gag wasn’t ever going to be coming out, so I couldn’t talk to him. I knew that he had gone over the edge and was convinced I was his brother’s killer. I knew for the newspaper article some of the intense tortures he was going to do to me, at least the less intense ones. I didn’t know whether I could even survive those.

Then I remembered the other urine stains I’d noticed and that he said he’d bought this cabin nine years ago, a year after the monitoring of him ended. So I wasn’t even the first innocent victim he’d brought to his cabin in a straitjacket to be tortured. If any of them had been released after being tortured by him, I’m sure they would have notified the authorities about this nut, so I figured they were dead. I started getting very worried. I finally realized that my love of straitjackets looked like it would be the death of me. I started getting fatalistic at this point, since we were all going to die eventually. At least I would go while enjoying my most favorite piece of clothing, something I’d spent my life wanting to enjoy.