By Straitjacketed
Constable Jim Johnstone put down his book and sighed inwardly. He was bored: bored with the rain drumming on the tin roof of the tiny two-man watch hut, bored with the task he’d been allotted – sitting night guard on one of the more remote Royal Canadian Mounted Police supply warehouses, which had been broken into in recent months – and, most of all, bored with having to play nursemaid to Hank.
By Marknorth
Almost 7 months had passed since Roger was locked up in his suit. The longest that I had kept him in it was about 12 days. Then the suit was removed and he was allowed to shower, get all of his hair removed, “relax” in his solitary cell for a few days – then he was locked back up. I varied the duration that he was in the suit and the time he was out to keep him off balance. After a few of these cycles he had become very compliant and did not struggle against my guards when it was time to be locked back in. While he was locked in the suit I enjoyed taunting him from time to time. I never knew exactly what I was going to say when I picked up the mic from the monitoring console, but something always came to me. These mind games were an important part of his imprisonment (for me anyway).
By PrisonCub
I was guided into a concrete block room with a cubicle made of the same metal as the toilet in my cell. A black phone receiver was connected to a metal cord that fed into the wall. A shelf stretched across the cubicle and in the middle of the shelf was a metal ring that was bolted to it. On the floor directly under the shelf was another metal ring except this one was bolted to the concrete floor.
By PrisonCub
If sitting in the little cage was part of a plan to scare the living shit out of me, it was working. The room had ten of these fucking little cages. No windows that I could see. Florescent lights mounted to the ceiling and of course one was failing so the thing was flickering and humming. I just sat there in stiff prison denim and restraints.
By Dr Mad Max
General Notice to Readers of Dr. Mad Max’s Procedures:
The Revised Dr. Mad Max Stories may include variations in images and story line from the original.
Dr. Mad Max is written as an entertainment to Bondagezine readers. Understand that the Dr. Mad Max stories allow a flow of bondage ideas that are captured in photos of real situations. However, the reader must understand that the story line depicts activity that is based on both fantasy and fiction.
By PrisonCub
How in the hell had I gotten here?
I was walking down a long, drab, institutional green hallway with a Sheriff’s Deputy holding each bicep with leather-gloved hand. The Deputies were dressed in two shades of gray; light gray shirts and dark gray pants. The patches on their arms indicated the County Sheriff’s Office where I lived.
By Marknorth
The guards pushed me forward and I fell, unable to keep my balance on the spongy floor. I barely heard a noise that I assumed to be the cell door closing. As if I needed that extra security to keep me here — being locked within this suit was prison enough.
By Marknorth
I didn’t care for the plaster encapsulation of my head at all. Breathing through straws stuck in my nostrils as the plaster cured didn’t do it for me a tall. In addition to the straws, the plaster shrunk as it dried and kept getting warmer and warmer. I’m not claustrophobic by any means – I’ve been locked in a shitload of bondage hoods, sometimes for days – but that plaster really got to me.