By Scribe

This story was inspired by the description of the Santa Marta dungeon in “Papillon” by Henri Charriere.

I recently tried to book a cell in Discipline Technologies’ Long Term Confinement Prison. I wanted an extended stay in solitary confinement. Unfortunately, I was told that all the cells were occupied and that an opening was not expected for some time. However, the DT representative said that due to the high demand, a new prison had just been built and cells were immediately available there. The experience would be different, but long-term isolation was assured.

I booked an indefinite stay. I paid one month up front and opened a Venmo account that DT could charge monthly for my incarceration. I deposited some money into the account, and I told my Sir and several bondage club buddies that they could add money to the account whenever they wished to extend my confinement.

I was told to wear my favorite long term chastity cage and bring all the keys with me. I chose a tight-fitting metal cage that attaches to my PA. I knew it couldn’t fall off or be pulled off or cut off. It could only be removed by using a unique key.

I flew to a west coast city where a DT prison guard met me. The guard was incredibly hot, his muscles bulging under his tight-fitting leathers. After driving to a secluded spot, I was handcuffed and fitted with a rubber isolation hood. A large penis gag was shoved into my mouth and tightly strapped to the hood. Another strap was stretched under my chin around the top of the hood, clamping my jaw against the gag. I was pushed into a steel box in the back of the van with only enough room to sit with my head bent and knees pushed up against the box wall.

We drove a couple of hours. While I was in a cramped, hot, uncomfortable position, my cock struggled in its cage as I enjoyed the bondage, the smell of the rubber hood and the anticipation of my prison stay. The van stopped and I was released from the box and my hood removed. My wrists remained handcuffed behind my back.

After my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, I saw we were in front of a small building perched on the top of a cliff above a secluded ocean inlet. There was nothing else around. The block building had no windows and only one solid steel door, which was locked and chained closed. The guard unlocked the chain and door and pushed me forward into the building. All I could see was a hallway with steel doors lining both sides. The doors on the cliff side had no openings except for two small round covers on the floor in front of each door. The doors on the other side had a small covered and bolted opening at eye level.

The guard marched me down to the last door facing the cliff and unlocked it. He grabbed a flashlight from his belt and pointed it downwards. The cell consisted of a shaft running all the way down the cliff to the ocean floor. At the bottom was a narrow grate on the ocean side of the cell. Light from the beach showed through the small opening. The shaft and floor were stainless steel. Along the inside wall, two tubes ran from the round openings in front of the cell door to about four feet from the bottom of the shaft. The guard explained that one tube would be filled with water and the other tube filled with a nutritional drink. The bottom of the tubes had a drinking spout pointed outwards.

I asked if there were other prisoners in the pits behind the other doors. The guard told me it was none of my business and if I tried to communicate with another inmate, the sound of the surf would make it impossible.

I had requested that I wear a straightjacket and hood while confined. The guard opened a closet door at the end of the hall and removed a heavy canvas straightjacket and hood. My handcuffs were removed and the guard told me to strip naked except for my chastity cage. I had the keys to my metal cock cage in my jeans pocket and gave them to the guard. He said, “I don’t need these and neither will you. You won’t be touching your dick for a long, long time.” He then opened a different cell door and threw the keys away. I heard them clatter on the metal floor below. I wondered how I would ever get out of my cage without a key. I should have kept an extra one back home.

The guard proceeded to guide my arms into the jacket. He then tightened the back straps, arm straps and crotch straps as much as he could. I found this incredibly exciting, and my cock was straining in its cage. He then pulled the hood over my head and used a strap to attach it to the jacket. The back of the hood was laced tightly. I was plunged into darkness since the hood had no eye openings. A strap was run from the top of the hood to the bottom of my jaw and buckled tightly. The only opening in the hood was a small hole at the mouth. After finishing, the guard went back and managed to pull all the straps even tighter.

I then heard the guard fiddle with some rope and pulleys. He guided me into a leather swing and then began to lower me into the pit. The swing was designed to lean backwards so that I couldn’t fall out easily. When I reached the bottom, he shook the swing and I fell onto the floor. It wasn’t easy to stand without the use of my arms, but I scooted to a wall and worked my back and legs up until I was standing. The straightjacket and smooth steel cell walls made any attempt to climb out of the pit impossible. I walked around the cell finding the water and food tubes. I figured the cell was about 6 by 8 feet. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and rocks was deafening at the bottom of the pit. The steel walls echoed and amplified the sound.

Although my hood had no eye openings, I could see some faint light through the mouth hole. This gradually faded and everything was pitch black. I figured night had begun. I then started to feel water on my bare feet on the cell floor. The water kept rising, coming through the grate at the floor. It was cold and I shivered as it crept up my legs. I wondered how high the water would get. I couldn’t climb the wall to get above it. I started to panic. The level seemed to stop about waist high. My straightjacket and hood were beginning to itch, so I took advantage of the “bath” and ducked my body under the water. It was cold but it seemed to loosen the canvas and make the sj and hood less tight. The water permeated the canvas, allowing some washing of my skin. The sea water wasn’t clear, however. Besides seaweed and other plant life, there were jellyfish, swimming bugs, and small fish that could squeeze between the bars of the grate. The jellyfish would sting me at times. Because of the hood, I couldn’t see any of the hazards in the water. Without the use of my arms, I couldn’t push anything away. I could only kick my legs at any intruder.

After a couple of hours, the water receded. I could understand the sadistic genius behind the cell’s construction. The small ocean inlet hid the prison from the shoreline. The tides made plumbing unnecessary. The water would wash the prisoner and carry his waste away. The only thing the guards would have to do is fill the water and food tubes every few days. I wouldn’t call the tide water exactly cleansing, however. When the water retreated, mud, seaweed and dead fish and jellyfish covered the steel floor. The smell was awful. I tried to sweep the floor toward the grate with my feet.

After a long night, I could see the faint light of dawn. The pit became warmer and then hot from the sun beating on the stainless-steel walls. I found my hood and straightjacket had a cruel twist. As the canvas dried it started to shrink, becoming tighter and tighter. The straps and laces were also made of canvas and pulled tighter as they shrank. The hood and jacket became painfully snug. I had to concentrate on pushing my chest out and taking deep breaths. I shouted out to the guard to give me some relief, but no one responded.

My life became tied to the tides. High tide would cover me up to my waist in smelly water approximately once a day and once a night. Every once in a while, a higher tide would reach my chest and I would panic, worrying about drowning. I couldn’t see what was in the water ready to bite or sting me. The cycles of cold water and hot, tight jacket and hood continued without end. Between high tides, I would lie on the floor to rest. But I always worried that I wouldn’t be able to get up fast enough when the water started coming in. The food and water tubes seemed to be filled infrequently and at random. Sometimes there was nothing in the tube and I would have to wait thirsty and hungry. I couldn’t even tell when the tubes were filled, since the guard didn’t have to open the door to the pit. Absolute isolation was always maintained. From time to time, I would shout to see if a fellow prisoner would answer, but no one ever did. I kept hoping the money in the Venmo account would run out and I would have to be released.

The day finally came that the guard opened the door to my pit. The leather swing chair was lowered, and I climbed in rejoicing that my imprisonment was finally over. When I reached the top, two guards grabbed me and removed my hood and straightjacket. I started crying and thanking them for my release. But they turned around and opened one of the cell doors on the land side. Inside was a steel closet no larger than 24 inches wide by 18 inches deep and six feet tall. I was shoved against the back wall and steel bands were bolted around my wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. I couldn’t move from the wall. A four-inch gag was strapped to my mouth. I had to fight my gag reflex. A padded blindfold covered my eyes, blocking the sight I had just regained. The guard said, “I guess you wonder why the change in your confinement. We received a forecast that there is a tropical storm headed this way. You would drown in the pit with a storm surge. These closet cells were built to keep you safe on top of the cliff until the storm passes. We apologize for the small space, but we only use these cells occasionally when a storm threatens. The gag is necessary since you are in close proximity to other inmates. Our contract guaranteeing solitary confinement and total isolation requires us to prevent any communication with another prisoner.” A thick foam rubber pad was then pushed against each ear further preventing any movement of my head and preventing any sound from reaching my ears. The only movement I could do was to wiggle my fingers and toes.

I was devastated. Instead of gaining the freedom I thought was mine, I was now in an even more restricted cell. At least the severe bondage should last only days until the storm passed. As I struggled against the restraints, however, I did find myself getting excited. If only I could jack off, it had been so long. I remembered the guard throwing the cage’s keys away and I wondered if my dick would ever be free.

The time passed slowly in the closet cell. It was hard to get any meaningful sleep. My back and legs ached from standing and being unable to move. The small door near my mouth opened from time to time and the guard would remove the gag and shove a straw in my mouth for water or liquid nourishment. The guard warned that if I tried to talk while the gag was removed, it would be immediately reinserted and I would go hungry and thirsty.

I could hear faint noise of wind and rain through the head vise covering my ears. I figured the storm was passing and I would be released soon. I later faintly heard cell doors opening and I figured the prisoners were being lowered back into their pits. After no one came to release me, I started screaming into my gag. Finally, the small door opened and the guard said, “your straightjacket and hood were damaged from the seawater and your constant struggling. We ran out of new straightjackets and are waiting to be resupplied. You will be punished for damaging your jacket. You will remain in this closet cell. Your food and water will be reduced to half rations. I know you would like the gag and fetters removed, but we cannot allow the chance someone would hear you screaming.” He then opened the main door and attached tit clamps and weights and slammed both doors shut. The clamps hurt like hell. I couldn’t believe I would have to spend days or weeks in this tiny cell, bolted to the wall, gagged and blindfolded. Surprisingly, my dick was straining in my cock cage at the thought.

After several agonizing weeks, the cell door finally opened. I was thirsty and hungry. It seemed the guard never gave me enough food or water. The metal bands holding me to the wall were released and my gag, blindfold and clamps were removed. I fell to the floor and two guards helped me back up. I worked to get my mouth and throat moving again and weakly asked when my prison term would be over. The guard sneered, “I don’t know and even if I did, I’m not allowed to tell you.”

A new straightjacket and hood were fitted. The guard explained that they ordered the new high security model. “This one you won’t be able to damage.” The jacket seemed heavier than the old one. All the straps were wider. A high, stiff collar and strap kept my neck rigid and upright. Additional straps on the sides and front of the jacket and smaller, more rigid mitts prevented me from moving my arms and hands.  Stiff strips of material at the front, sides and back of the jacket made it more difficult to bend my back. Instead of the two traditional crotch straps, there was one wide belt. There was no hole for my cock cage and balls, crushing them against my thighs and taint.  There was an opening for my asshole. After putting me in the jacket, the guard made me lie on the floor. He then braced his foot against my back and pulled the straps as tight as he could including the crotch belt.

The hood was also heavier. It had padding over the eyes and ears. There were added straps around the eyes and mouth in addition to the chin strap and back laces. A hole in the mouth strap lined up with the hole in the hood so that I could still use the drinking tubes. A security flap covered the hood’s laces and buckles. It locked to the collar, preventing any unauthorized loosening or removal of the hood. Another security flap was locked over the buckles on the back of the jacket, guaranteeing the straightjacket could not be loosened or prematurely removed.  The guard laughed and said, “These locks will probably rust in the seawater and we’ll never get them open. I’ll go ahead and throw away the keys since they’ll be useless anyway.”

I was lowered into the pit and the cell door slammed shut and locked. I had no idea how long I had been in this prison or when I would get out. I hoped the money in the Venmo account would run out soon. I couldn’t believe there was still enough in the account to keep me confined this long. Then I remembered that I gave my Sir access to my investment and savings accounts in case he needed to pay some bills on my behalf. If he tapped that money, I could be in this prison for a very long time.

I think I was back on regular rations, but the drinks tasted foul. I believe the guard was pissing into my food tubes. The new hood and jacket seemed to shrink even tighter than the old ones. The crotch strap kept my cage and balls tightly bound. I think the high security “improvements” just made the jacket and hood more miserable for the victim inside. The water began rising again as another day ended and pitch darkness returned. I screamed into the crashing surf, but no one answered.

The end