By felon

The Noose Tightens Further – Paranoia Has Set In…

Many thanks for all the comments from kinky readers.

I am still open to meet men of all ages and sizes for prison sessions.

So I was told to make sure I was available Wednesday from 10 am to 8 pm.

I have had very little conversation with this man — more by e mail than in person. He is imposing, a large, mature top — probably ex-military, and in some kind of parole or prison occupation. He is also very up to date in technology and lets technology do much of his work.

I still have the device locked on my ankle, so he knows every move I make. I still try to carry on a normal life-work, which is permitted, and then come directly home unless I have a need to shop, do laundry etc., by request, most of which is granted. He is keeping a tally of infractions, and as he stated punishment sessions will be this week.

So as I leave work I get a message on my cell phone: “Changes of plans – make yourself available Wednesday, Thursday and Friday – NO EXCUSES! Check your calendar for more information.”

I start shaking on my way to the car. For now I ignore the message and drive home at warp speed. When I get home, I check my email and calendar — sure enough there is a message from him. The calendar has been changed from all day meeting on Wednesday to extended meeting thru Friday.

First Message: Meet at same garage promptly at 10 am!

So I decide to try to get some some rest – as to be alert for the Wednesday meeting. Up early Wednesday, I shower, shave and lay out the orange prison jump suit, and remove shoelaces from my tennis shoes. I also dig out an old black raincoat to wear to my car, as I have to get it out of the building parking garage. When I reach my car there is a plastic bag tied to the driver’s door handle. I grab the bag and get in the car – another message … How did he get into the garage? This is getting serious … In the bag, another message: Don’t forget be there at 10 AM and a blue wristband – one of those semi perm bands you wear at an amusement park. The notation on the band: “Wythe County DOC” with the last four digits of my social security number. Another note with a plastic bag – place car keys, wallet, id, money and eyeglasses inside bag and leave in car at the garage – Further instructions will be at garage when you arrive.

As I pull out of the garage a beat-up pickup truck with dark tinted windows and West VA license plates is parked near my garage door —Am I being watched? Or just being paranoid?

On the way to the garage I look to see if I am being followed, but nothing looks out place.

The garage is not far from my apartment – in an industrial part of town, I drive by and the door is closed. I am early and proceed to drive around the block.

The second trip around the block the door is open. I pull in and park in the same space as before. No one seems around, I am the only car there. I see a manila envelope taped to the post I was restrained to before. My name is written on the envelope in bold letters.

A note inside said: “You have made it this far so don’t fuck up!” In the envelope is a set of Smith and Wesson handcuffs. “Cuff your hands around this post and wait.” Should I take the next step? After I cuff myself around the post of course I have second thoughts – The post was just out of view from the street so I was committed at this point. It wasn’t long perhaps 10 minutes when a black Dodge van with tinted windows pulled into the garage. Another large, mature man in his 50s with paratrooper boots gets out of the van and walks over to my car where he removed the envelope with my id car keys etc and walks over to his van. Then he removes a dirty, beat-up leather face gag – secure restraint version, probably used hundreds of times and forces it in my mouth, buckles it behind my head and adds a small padlock. I have never seen this man before. Then he goes back to the van and returns with a set of prison body chains waist legs arms. The van has West Virginia plates – he takes off one cuff and then padlocks my cuff to the body chains. So far no words exchanged – he leads me to the van and practically lifts me into the side door of the van. To my surprise, there was another man in the van, younger, in his early 40s, skinhead, cuffed and restrained – but not gagged.

He is chained to the hook in the floor just like I am being chained. Who is this guy? Where are we going? He too has a blue wristlet on his right arm, and he is being very vocal.

WTF? Who is this punk and why is he gagged? The guard answers since he is sitting behind me I don’t want him spitting on me while driving – that is why he is gagged. He starts the van and pulls out of the garage. I notice the pick-up truck parked outside when we pull out. The door goes down and we take off. Where are we going? I assume some place in West Virginia. The other prisoner obviously seems to know where, and I assume had been picked up at the county jail, which is near the garage we just left.

There are two manila folders in holders on the back of the front seats ‑ one with my name and one with his name. The other prisoner just glared to me – face and arms covered with black, prison-style tats. As we leave the county we head onto Interstate 79 – which is a direct route to all of West Virginia.

The cell phone of the guard rings…

More to come.