Busman’s Holiday – Part 01

By lthr_jock

Clark walked down the cell block, glaring at the inmates who were still out of the cells his presence usually enough to send then scurrying out of his way. He could best be described as a bull of a man – 6-foot-4, barrel chested and with thick arms and legs from repeated workouts. Although he was in his 40s he was still in remarkably good condition with hardly any fat on his body. He kept his hair neatly trimmed though not shaved like some of his colleagues did. The inmates new better than to cross him – he knew where all of the security cameras were and he was able to inflict pain swiftly and violently when he decided to.

Clark was definitely an old school prison guard. He didn’t believe in all the modern crap about rehabilitation – as far as Clark was concerned, prison should be true punishment. If it was up to him, inmates would be in distinctive prison garb, doing hard labour and be in shackles all the time. His mind drifted to the collection of iron restraints he had in his cellar at home – if only he was allowed to use those on the inmates, he would have a much easier time!

He chuckled to himself and glared at an inmate who looked up at him quizzically. The man quickly retreated into the cell and Clark slammed the door behind him. He checked his watch and headed down to the end of the block. It was nearly his end of shift and he wanted to make sure the most difficult inmates were secured before he left.

As the inmates shuffled past, his eyes were drawn to Morrison. Morrison was a similar size to Clark, though even more musclebound. He had ripped the sleeves off of his shirt to display his bulging biceps. He had tried causing trouble when he arrived and Clark had brought him sharply in line. Morrison had hated the guard ever since. Tonight, as he approached, he grinned. “Have a good evening, Clark.” Clark didn’t reply, just stared at Morrison until the gorilla shambled into his cell.

Once the inmates were inside, Clark hurried down to the Guards Quarters. He quickly changed into jeans, T-shirt and an MA-1 jacket and headed outside to his jeep. He exchanged a few mumbled greetings with his colleagues, but kept them short as he had an appointment. Usually, Clark would be heading down to the gym, but tonight he had to drive to the other end of town.

Three days ago, he had received an email on a private message board that he was a member of. The board was for people who had an interest in replica shackles and restraints. Some of the people on the site were into the actual use of the items, but Clark just liked collecting them. For some time, he had been trying to get hold of an item called a Scavengers Daughter, but he had no luck. Then, out of the blue, he was contacted by someone in his town who had a modern replica for sale. He had immediately arranged to view it and was on his way there tonight.

Half an hour later he pulled up outside the address. It was in a fairly run down area of town and seemed to be a maisonette. He walked up and pressed the doorbell. The door was answered quickly by a younger man – about 25 years old. He was a similar height to Clark and well built though not as muscled. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but Clark couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Hi. Are you Arcturus35? I’m here about the Scavengers Daughter.”

The man grinned. “Yes, mate, come on inside. I’ve brought it into the front room.”

He led Clark into a small but neat living room dominated by a big screen television. In the corner was a computer on a small desk. In the centre of the room, lying against a sofa was the Scavengers Daughter. It was clearly a modern replica, as the metal it was made of was bright and shining. Clark could also see that it had points for padlocks on it. The item was a triangular frame. The apex of the triangle was circular and would fit around the neck of the prisoner. Halfway down each side were metal semi-circles that would lock around the prisoner’s wrists. On the base were two large semi-circles for the prisoner’s ankles. The prisoner locked into the Scavengers Daughter would find himself locked into a position of helplessness which would slowly turn into discomfort and later on, pain.

Clark eagerly examined it, testing to see that it worked. Sure enough, the hinges that opened the frame worked and he checked each one ensuring that a prisoner’s neck, wrists and ankles could be successfully locked in place.

He looked around to see his host grinning at him. “Judging by your reaction, I’d say you’re happy with it.”

Clark nodded. “Yes, yes I am. If I can use your computer, I’ll send the money by PayPal.”

“Sure.” The man opened up a PayPal window for Clark. “While you’re doing that, would you fancy a beer?”

Clark nodded and started entering his details. The man came back and put an open bottle of beer on the computer desk. Clark swigged at it and waited for the acknowledgement to come back. When it did he stood and clinked his beer bottle with the other man. “Cheers.” He took another gulp. “Good to do business with you. Where did you get it from?”

“I made it myself.” The man explained that he had his downstairs converted into a workshop and he used it to make bespoke items. The two men then started to talk about their mutual interest in restraints. As they spoke, Clark became even more convinced that he had met the man before.

Finally he drained his beer. “Sorry, but have we met before?”

The other man chuckled and nodded. “Yes, we have. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“So where was it? Did we play rugby together?”

The man laughed again. “No – it’ll come back to you.”

Clark stood up from the computer desk and went back to the Scavengers Daughter. “It certainly looks authentic. And I’m guessing inescapable.”

“Want to test it?”

Clark looked up, startled. “What? No, I’m not into… no.”

“Go on, at least you would know it worked.” Clark looked at it, intrigued. He’d never thought about getting locked up himself – but it would be good to know it worked.

“I could find that out by putting you in it.”

The other man chuckled. “No offence, but I’m not going to get secured in something like that in my own home – not with someone who can’t remember who I am.”

Clark nodded. “That makes sense. Go on then – let’s give it a go.”

The man grinned, downed his beer and put the bottle down. “OK then. Get your shoes off, then sit down on the floor, hands in front of you and knees bent.”

Clark unlaced his boots and took them off and then sat on the floor. The man opened up the metal frame and manoevred it over Clark’s head until his neck sat in the hole at the top of the frame. He placed Clark’s hands in the wrist shackles and then pushed the frame closed. Clark immediately felt the sense of constriction as the collar tightened around his neck. He tried to pull his hands free and realised that they were trapped. While he tugged at the restraints, the other man pushed his ankles into place and locked them as well.

He stood back and looked down at Clark. “See? All working.”

Clark struggled experimentally and soon found that his muscles were useless. To his surprise, he felt his cock swelling.

“Oh, by the way. I’ll put you out of your misery. My name is Vickers – also known as inmate M8789A. You were one of the wardens on my block.”

As Clark looked up in shock, Vickers slid padlocks through the five locking points and snapped them in place.

“Bit of a turnaround, eh, Mr Clark?”


Click for next part


Metal would like to thank lthr_jock for this story!

Metal restraints are available from Mr S:


3 thoughts on “Busman’s Holiday – Part 01”

  1. Would love to of been Clark in the story. Well at least with this part keep up the good work. Can’t wait to see what part two offers. Just wondering if after that I would still want to take Clark’s place

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