Never Volunteer

By straitjacketkwf2

I had to continually remind myself that I had volunteered for this adventure.  Whatever doubts I had could not reverse the fact that once the scenario started I would be unable to stop it.

Having worked for the ___ News for only two weeks, I was surprised that the editor wanted to see me for a story assignment.  As a cub reporter, I had expected to be assigned the grunt work in the news office for several months.

I headed towards the editor’s office that fateful morning, elated that I would be offered a story.  I stopped by the restroom to check my appearance.  At twenty-two, fresh out of journalism school, I was still in good physical condition through swimming and weight training.  I wore a short sleeve white business shirt and 501 jeans worn low and snug on the hip.  I thought I was presentable.

I knocked on the door and waited for the gruff “come” command.  I opened the door and was surprised to see a deputy from the county sheriff’s office, standing tall and straight, talking with the editor

The editor of the paper, Mark Winters, introduced me to Deputy Clarke and we shook hands.  Mr. Winters explained that the city was about to open its new modern jail next week and this weekend the sheriff’s department was using community volunteers to act as inmates.  He decided that it would be a good story to cover and he was giving me the assignment.  He said that for the next four days reporter Steve Patterson would be one of those inmates.

At that point the deputy barked at me to turn around and put my hands on the tope of my head.

I heard the rattle of metal as the officer grabbed my left wrist, forced my arm behind my back and pressed the handcuff closed.  He did the same with my right wrist and in seconds I was restrained, palms facing out as he double locked the cuffs.  The flash of light and the sound of a shutter told me I had just been photographed, the first of many pictures of my incarceration.

Without saying a word, the deputy grabbed by left arm and marched me out of the editor’s office, through the newsroom and out a side door to his cruiser.  I could sense the surprise of my fellow reporters as I was forced into the back seat cage of the car.

The seat was of molded plastic with a place for my rear cuffed arms to slide into.  Two shoulder belts were pulled crisscross over my upper arms and down my chest to the opposite side.  A seat belt was pulled snugly over my lower hips and a fourth belt was pulled across my lower legs.

The deputy closed the rear door and got into the driver’s seat.  He looked at me in the mirror, shock showing on m face and then, with his emergency lights flashing, accelerated quickly out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

On the short drive to the jail Deputy Clarke gave me a short explanation of what was to happen.  When we arrive at the jail I would be taken before a magistrate where I would be remanded to the custody of the sheriff’s department for the next four days.  I would then be taken to booking, there the contents of my pockets would be cataloged, I would be fingerprinted and photographed, strip-searched, issued a jail uniform and placed in a one man cell.  During the time of my incarceration I would experience the daily routine for an inmate.  As this story was for the paper a deputy would photograph various aspects of my incarceration.  If I wanted, I would be placed into an isolation cell for part of my stay.  Once a day I would be able to dictate my story to the editor in a phone call.

We arrived at the new jail and drove down a ramp with a steel gate blocking the entrance into the garage.  The deputy used his radio to open the gate and the police car drove into a brightly lit space.  As the gate closed behind us, Deputy Clarke told me that the area was under video surveillance.  The car stopped, a steel door opened out into the garage space and two deputies came out and approached the rear door where I was seated.  One deputy opened the door and the other took a photo of me strapped in the rear cage.

After I was released from the seat restraints I was assisted out of the seat and, with one hand around my left arm I was forcefully escorted through the door into a reception area.

I was taken down a hallway to a small room where a judge, wearing his black robes, sat behind a small desk with a computer terminal.  The judge asked if I was willing to continue as there would not be another chance to back out, I would be regarded as a real prisoner.  As I wanted to keep my job, I said yes.  The judge thanked me and without pausing remanded me to the custody of the sheriff for the next four days, the time starting at midnight that night.  As it was about nine in the morning I would actually be spending almost five days in jail.

Two deputies now escorted me back down the hallway to the booking area.  The contents of my pockets were removed from my shirt and pants as a clerk recorded the items on a manila envelope I was frisked and the handcuffs were then removed.

The envelope with my property inside was sealed and I had to put my signature on the flap.  I was quickly moved to the finger print station and then escorted to a very brightly lit room with two doors.

In the room I was instructed to stand in a circle and turn right 45 degrees so I was facing a desk with a plastic storage tub on the top.  With an officer behind me, one on each side of me and one in front of me behind the desk I had an idea what was coming.

Strip search. That is what it is called and I was not prepared for this.  The deputy with the camera was there which only added to my stress.

It started with an order to remove my right shoe and hand it to the officer on my right.  As he was inspecting the shoe I was ordered to remove my left shoe and give it to the officer on my left.  As the officer on the right handed my shoe to the officer behind the desk it was placed in the container.  And so the search progressed.  The shirt went to the officer on the left, the pants to the officer on the right, the socks to the officer on the left and finally my bright red low rise briefs to the deputy on the right.  I was nude before four dressed men and I felt so small, so vulnerable, so defenseless.

The officer behind the desk explained that a body cavity search would be performed to be sure I was not carrying any contraband on my body and ordered me to run my fingers though my hair, backwards, then forward.  The officer on my right told me to look at him and open my mouth wide, lift my tongue and then stretch each cheek so he could be sure I did not have anything hidden inside.  The officer behind the desk directed me to raise my arms above my head and then to twist my hands to show the palms and top of my hands with my fingers spread wide.

The officer behind me told me to lift my left leg and then my right leg so he could check the soles of my feet.  Next, the officer behind the desk told me to lift my penis and balls.  He looked and then let me put my arms at my sides.

I heard the sound of rubber gloves being stretched and then the snap as they found home.  From behind came the order to bend at my waist and stretch my butt cheeks wide.  While I could not see what was happening I know that my rear end was being examined. Without warning I felt ice cold lubricant cream being inserted around and then into my rear.  With the most uncomfortable pain I felt the finger twisted inside my anus, first left then right  It seemed forever but the finger was eventually removed and I was allowed to stand up.

The plastic tub with my clothes was sealed with duck tape and my last name was written on the lid.

Without warning the two officers on either side of me grabbed my arms at the biceps, turned me 45 degrees to my left and moved me through the second door.  In front of me was a stall shower without a curtain.  As my arms were released I was told I had three minutes.  The shower was turned on and I was pushed forward into the spray.

Thankfully the water was warm and I quickly washed my hair and body under the watchful eye of both officers, removing the remaining cream in my ass.  The shower spray was turned off and I was handed a rough white towel to dry myself.  A bath mat was placed just outside the shower pan and I stepped on it to dry my feet.  The towel was taken from me and I was handed a pair of orange pull on pants to put on.  On the right leg, in big black letters were the words “jail inmate.”  Being told to hurry up, an orange pull over shirt was thrown at me.  I pulled it on, seeing stenciled on the back in three inch high letters “jail inmate.”  The uniform looked like the scrubs doctors wear.  A pair of orange canvas slippers were shoved into my hands.  I only had seconds to put them on my feet before my arms were pulled behind my back and handcuffs were locked on my wrists.

Once again my arms were grabbed and I was walked into a hallway.  I was placed in front of a blue colored wall and mug shots were taken, face forward and then face right and left.

Within a few minutes an inmate ID badge was clipped to the only pocket on my shirt.

Once again I was escorted down the hall.  Two steel and reinforced glass doors separated the jail from the booking and processing area.  The first electronic operated door opened, the officers moved me forward and stopped before the second door.  Before that door was opened the door behind me closed.

I was moved forward and the deputy on my right used his shoulder mounted radio asking control which cell I was to be placed in.

“Cell five” was the reply.  A few steps down the corridor was another steel and glass door with a six inch high five stenciled on the door.  The deputy on my left unlocked the door and pulled it outward into the hall.  I was pushed forward into the cell and the door was closed behind me.  I heard the lock turn with a loud click.

Through an intercom speaker I was directed to back up to the door and place my cuffed hands through a trap door.

My hands were gripped tightly and the cuffs were unlocked, first the right hand then the left hand.  My hands were free and I rubbed my wrists to relieve the pain from the cuffs.

The trap door was closed and over the intercom one of the deputies directed my attention to the steel desk directly in front of me.  On the desk was a small pamphlet with the rules and regulations an inmate must follow.  I was told I had half an hour to read and learn the rules of the jail.


Part two


I turned around towards the door and watched through the narrow vertical window as the deputies left.

I looked at my surroundings.  The cell was about nine feel long and six feet wide with the walls constructed of cinderblock painted white.  On my right was a steel bunk with the four legs bolted to the floor.  On it was a mattress, six-inch deep, two and a half feet wide, six feet long and covered in green vinyl.  A pillow of similar material was on the mattress, against the wall where the door was. At the opposite end of the bunk was a three-foot cinderblock wall that separated the bunk from the combination steel toilet and washbasin. A steel desk and attached seat, about eighteen inches square. was mounted on the wall opposite the toilet.

This was to be my new home for the next four plus days.

On the desk was a single page set of rules and regulations. At the top of the page was a note thanking the reader for volunteering to be an inmate in the new jail so that the guards (corrections officers) would have the opportunity to test the mechanics of the new facility. The rules followed with this warning: Failure to follow these rules will result in punishment as may be determined by the lead CO.

1. All COs shall be addressed as “Sir”

2. The inmate shall follow all directions of the CO.

3. When a CO comes to your cell you shall immediately face the back wall with nose and toes touching the wall and wait for directions from the CO.

4. An inmate must be in restraints whenever he is outside his cell.

Simple, explicit and to the point but harsh. The rules seemed to have been written by a military man (I was to learn later that, indeed, the lead CO was a former marine.

I reread the page several times, mostly out of boredom. I laid down on the bunk, looking at the cement ceiling and drifted off to sleep. Hearing a crackling noise, I woke up with a start. It was a CO at my cell door. I immediately jumped up from the rack, turned and faced the rear wall.

Over the intercom the officer ordered me to back up to the cell door and place my hands through the trap door and handcuffs were clicked on and double locked. I was then told to get on my knees on the bunk.

As I was doing so I heard the cell door open and the CO entered the cell. He placed leg irons on my ankles and told me to sit on the mattress facing him.

He had a quizzical expression on his face and told me I was being taken to the lead CO’s office. The CO pulled me to a standing position and escorted me from the cell down several corridors to the offices of the jail.

It was awkward walking in leg cuffs with my hands locked behind my back. Adjusting my stride to the limits of the 16-inch chain (40.46 cm). As we walked, the CO had a bemused expression as I struggled to keep up with his pace. Thankfully he slowed his pace as he held onto my left arm during the several minutes it took to arrive at the lead CO’s office.

The CO knocked on the door and waited for a quickly spoken “enter” before he opened the door.

I was pulled into the office to face the desk of a 40 something man in great physical shape with a correct military haircut. On his orderly, neat desk was the name Rogers Matthews, Col. (Ret)

He finished writing before looking up. Directing the CO to leave, he waited for the door to close before Col. Matthews stood and instructed me to turn away from him, he removed my handcuffs and asked me to sit on his leather, over-stuffed sofa.

He grabbed a folder from his desk and sat opposite me in a Stressless leather chair.

Calling me Inmate Patterson, as he looked down at the folder to find my name, he asked how I found my experience being in jail for the first time.

I replied, using “Sir” to address him, that it was an interesting experience I would not want to repeat.

Col. Matthews smiled, first I think for using “Sir” and next for my dislike for what was happening to me.

He closed the folder, leaned back in his chair as he explained several important facts to me.

Except for Deputy Clarke and himself, none of his staff knew that I was a reporter. He wanted to keep it that way and stated as a matter of fact, not to be questioned, that I would not have access to a computer. He would send for me once a day to dictate my story to my editor over his private line phone. The story would not run until I had been released.

Understanding what he wanted, I nodded my head in agreement.

Col. Matthews provided me with background information on the new jail. It was a state-of-the-art facility with monitor cameras in all locations, especially in the isolation and safety cells.

He saw the questioning look on my face and explained that a safety cell was a modern name for a padded cell. He asked if I would be willing to spend time in a safety cell, cautioning me that the experience would be unpleasant, humiliating, and long, somewhere between four to twenty-four hours. Col. Matthews then went into a vivid description of what happens to an inmate who is placed into the safety cell as a punishment for disobeying the rules. I will get into the details when I describe my being taken to the “hole.”

Col. Matthews continued that several of the COs were new, having just finished their education as detention officers and they needed the experience of an uncooperative inmate. He cited my young age and good conditioning as a factor in asking me if I would be willing to go through with being taken to the safety cell. Col Matthews said he would be present to supervise the COs but that the experience would be real. I thought about my answer for a few moments but finally said I would.

In retrospect, I am not sure if I would have volunteered for this adventure, but being inquisitive is an overriding force in being a reporter.

Col. Matthews said our time was almost up as he did not want to raise the suspicions of his COs. He handed me the phone and I called my editor and explained the new rules. He then asked to speak with Col. Matthews and they chatted for a few moments before I was handed back the phone. I dictated the first day’s events, the story being written in my mind as I spoke. Editor Winters liked the article and, after I was released and I returned to the newsroom, I found he had not changed a word.

As soon as I hung up the phone Col. Matthews ordered me to place my hands behind my back and he replaced the handcuffs around my wrists. Hitting the intercom button he told the deputy CO to come and take custody of inmate Patterson.

As the CO entered the office Col. Matthews spoke to him saying I had been uncooperative, rude and insolent, that I had violated several rules and directives and that I should be punished. He instructed to CO to take me directly to seclusion. As an after thought he told the CO to bring me back to his office in 24 hours.

With an evil grin, the deputy repeated the orders and then dragged me into the hallway. I had not expected this turn of events. As the door closed I caught a bemused expression on Col. Matthews face.

After less than three hours as an inmate I was being take to segregation. The events of the day so far had been an eye opening experience but what was about to happen turned out to be mind-blowing.

As the CO roughly pulled me down the corridor, tripping several times on my leg restraints, he used his radio to call ahead and ordered a jacket kit, muzzle and medical leg cuffs.

My concept of “the hole” was a dark, dungeon like place with lighting coming from bare light bulbs in wire cages. When we arrived at the segregation unit I was surprised to find floors covered in industrial carpeting, white painted cinderblock walls, and recessed florescent lights in a hanging ceiling of white, sound absorbing, tiles. The unit itself was separated from the main jail by a set of double steel doors.

Inside was a room with walls about 20 feet long. Each wall had three steel cell doors. On the back wall was a security desk with a row of 11 TV monitors and a restraint chair. The back of the chair had a place where a prisoner’s cuffed hands would slip into a channel.

The guard moved me to the chair and forced me into the seat that sloped downwards towards the back. Seated in the chair, an inmate would have to lean forward to get up from the chair. My rear cuffed arms slipped into the back channel and were trapped there. As soon as I was in the chair the guards moved quickly to secure the restraint belts: a seat belt across the lap and hips, two belts crossed over my chest starting on the sides of my upper arms diagonally down to the opposite sides clicked into place with a seat belt style buckles. The belts were adjustable and with a pull upwards on the restraint handles I was pulled back into the chair. Within moments my upper body was held immobile. My ankles were placed in padded cuffs that were riveted to the front of the chair.

As soon as I was strapped down, the leg irons were removed and stored on a peg secured to the wall behind the chair. A face muzzle was strapped on next. A leather padded face cover was shoved into place. My mouth and cheeks from ear to ear were behind the muzzle and the cover continued under the chin. Two straps from each side were pulled into place and locked behind my head. A strap attached to the chin cup went around my throat was secured behind my neck. The third strap with a hole for my nose went over the top of my head and secured to the straps on the back of my head. One final strap went from the chin cup to the top of my head. I could not move my jaw down and was effectively silenced.

After checking the security of all straps, the guards stood up with a satisfied look on their faces and started to chat about the new facility and it’s improvements over the old jail.

Col. Matthews entered the room, acknowledged the officers present and, stepping out of character for just a moment, he looked at me and thanked me for volunteering to be the one inmate who would be held in segregation. Matthews then looked at the CO who was in charge of the unit and asked about the medic. Before he could answer the security door was buzzed open and the medic entered carrying a steel tray.

He set the tray on the desk of the command center and picked up a syringe already loaded with a liquid. He looked at me and explained that he would administer an injection of a mild sedative that would relax my muscles and make me drowsy but would not put me to sleep. He took a cotton pad from a sealed package, swabbed my upper arm with alcohol and pushed the needle into my biceps muscle. The plunger was pushed down and the drug entered my body. I felt a warmth in the muscle as the medication entered the muscle. The syringe was withdrawn and moments later the drug hit my brain and I lost muscle tone and slumped into the restraints. My head rested on my chest, I felt tired and could barely keep a coherent thought.

As soon as the injection took effect, I was unstrapped from the chair and the handcuffs were removed. I had to be carried/dragged to the segregation cell I was to occupy for the next 12 plus hours. The door to the cell opened outward into the main room. The inside of the door, floor and walls were coved in a vinyl material and underneath a padding three to five inches deep.

Two officers supported me as the third officer removed the orange canvas slippers and two piece jail uniform. I was aware that I was nude, but I had no control over my major muscles and could not cover myself. The third officer taped a disposable adult sized diaper on me. What a strange feeling, soft padding caressing my groin and backside, while on the outside a waterproof plastic covering smooth to the touch. Elastic bands at the waist and the legs sealed the diaper tight against my body.

A fourth officer entered the cell with a bundle of off-white canvas. He unfolded the bundle and there were straps, buckles and long sleeves. I had seen a straitjacket before and never expected to placed into one.

While the two COs on either side of me supported me, they grabbed by arms and held them out in front of me. The other two COs inserted my hands and arms into the long sleeves. The two holding me then pulled the jacket up and around my shoulders. Officers three and four moved to hold me upright while one and two started to fasten the back straps.

I felt the straitjacket tighten around my torso as each of the four back straps, starting at the top with the neck strap, then the shoulder, middle back and lower back, was pulled through the buckle with great force. The jacket was now skin tight against my torso.

Someone reached under my groin and pulled the crotch strap between my legs and down the center of my ass crack. This strap was pulled snug but not too tight. (I later learned that this was to allow the diaper to do its job unhindered.)

One at a time my canvas covered arms were pulled down to remove any slack and then were guided through the strap loop on the front of the jacket and then through additional strap loops on the side of the jacket.

I felt the long strap on the right arm being pulled through the buckle on the left arm and suddenly my arms were hugging my waist. One more pull and the arm strap was fed through the holder of the buckle.

One of the officers commented that it was more work and not as much fun applying the straitjacket to a non combative inmate and the others agreed.

I felt padded leather cuffs being placed around my ankles and locked close. The orange jail trousers were placed on the floor and I was guided to step into the legs of the pants. They were pulled up to my waist, held there by an elastic band.

My ankle cuffs were then connected together by a short strap and I was guided to my knees and then to my left side on the jail green vinyl mattress with matching pillow and a padded wall supporting my back.

The officers left the cell and Col Matthews entered the cell and kneeled next to me. He explained that I would be under constant video observation and that a CO would check my condition every few hours. The diaper would be changed as needed and I would be given water and a protein drink periodically. I could expect the medication to wear off in about four hours and that I should try to sleep.

Matthews got up and left the cell and the door closed almost silently. I heard the muffled click of the lock and the lights dimmed.

I looked around the small cell. It was, I guess, about the same size as the jail cell I had been in so briefly. The mattress was at the back of the cell and I could see the outline of the padded door with a small window about 15 inches square. There was nothing else in the cell except for the video camera placed at ceiling height directly above the door.

I was very sleepy at this point and closed my eyes. Sleep came almost instantly.

I must have been deeply asleep as I was awakened my a CO shaking my upper torso and calling my name. To say that I woke up is perhaps a misstatement. First came awareness. I was still in blackness but I heard sounds that brought me forward. I opened my eyes and kneeling beside me was a CO. I tried to move but the straitjacket, leg cuff and muzzle were still in place.

The CO told me I had been asleep for five hours and it was time for a protein drink and water. He warned me not to speak while the muzzle was removed or the muzzle would be quickly strapped back on and I would forgo the protein drink and water. Without the liquids the medic would be forced start an IV in my leg to administer saline solution to maintain proper hydration.

I nodded my head in agreement. I was assisted in moving to a seated position with my legs in front of me. It was then that I noticed a wetness around my groin; the diaper was wet. I looked down at the diaper and felt deep shame and humiliation for having wet myself.

The CO noticed my facial expression and body language. He told me not to worry about having used the diaper. The muscle relaxant sedation they had given me often cause incontinence and that the diaper would be changed after I had been administered liquids.

Officer Williams (at least they wore name tags) started to removed the muzzle. unbuckling the straps starting with the top of the head and moving downwards. The neck strap was not removed and the muzzle rested on my chest. I knew that I was not done with being silenced.

I took a few deep breaths, yawned and moved my jaws around but I did not utter a sound; I was very thirsty.

Officer Williams moved the drink with straw to my mouth and I started to drink in gulps. He told me to drink slowly and I stopped for a moment and then proceeded to sip the strawberry flavored protein drink. I finished the can and a second one was offered. I drank it slowly and started to feel comfortable again.

The water was ice cold and I drank with a great feeling of relief. I consumed about twelve ounces and paused. Williams withdrew the straw and told me I would receive another twelve ounces before the muzzle was replaced.

He helped me move so that he could access the crotch strap of the straitjacket and then I was placed on my back. He placed a terry cloth pad under my buttocks and proceeded to put on rubber gloves.

I was painfully aware of what was about to happen; I was having my diaper changed. I must have turned several shades of red as Williams looked at me and smiled. He told me that he understood my feelings; in training he had the same reaction as I.

He then proceeded to remove the tabs holding the diaper in place, pulled the diaper down exposing my dick and balls and asked me to lift my hips so he could slide the diaper out from under me. I complied and he folded the wet diaper and placed it in a plastic bag which was then sealed.  From the tray next to him he picked up some baby powder and sprinkled it around my groin and, much to my horror, he rubbed the powder around and under my penis and balls.

It was then that I looked at Officer Williams. He had a handsome face, clean shaven, and a great build from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. As he started to unfold the new disposable diaper my dick started to thicken. This could not be happening. Williams looked down and told me not to worry, that this happened to other inmates under the same circumstances. He told me to lift my hips and he positioned the diaper under me. Thankfully, he quickly tapped the diaper in place.

I was then positioned so that the crotch strap could be secured again and then moved to a seated position. Once again I was offered water and consumed the entire twelve ounces. My mind must have still been foggy during the past twenty minutes (I guess) as I realized I just had over 36 ounces of liquid. I had set myself up for having to use the diaper in the next few hours and this time I would be awake.

Officer Williams re-secured the muzzle and once again I was in forced silence. I looked at his face and eyes as he assisted me back to laying on my back. He seemed bemused but said nothing as he gathered the empty water containers and diaper supplies and placed them back on a tray.

He stood up, picked up the tray and left the padded cell. As he left, Col. Mathhwes came into the cell and sat beside me.

Addressing me as inmate Patterson, he informed me that I had been confined for about five hours and the time was about 9 p.m. Matthews said the officers felt that as I had slept through much of my confinement they believed I needed to spend additional time in seclusion.

I looked up at Matthews and moaned into my muzzle. I had been drugged, placed in very tight restraints rendering me helpless. Worst of all, I had been diapered and gone through the humiliating process of having an officer change the diaper. Not able to communicate my thoughts, I shook my head no; I wanted out.

Matthews smiled at me, (I think he knew how I felt) and told me I would be held in the padded cell for a few more hours and then taken back to a regular jail cell. I felt relief knowing I would be released in a few hours. He called officer Williams back into the cell and told him that I should be released and taken back to population at midnight. What Col Matthews said next made my heart sink.

He instructed officer Williams that for the remainder of my time I should be made immobile. Nodding his head in agreement, Williams left the cell and returned less than five minutes later with a down filled nylon sleeping bag and several leather belts.

Matthews and Williams, working like a team who had rehearsed the encasement of a prisoner, removed the leather ankle cuffs. As one held my legs up, the other started to slide my lower body into the mummy style bag. Once my legs were covered they lifted my upper straitjacket encased upper body. The sleeping bag was zipped up to my neck and the hood of the bag was placed under my muzzled head.

The leather straps were placed around my body, starting at the ankles, under my knees, above my knees, over the upper thighs, under my crossed arms, over my chest and just below the shoulders, and each was pulled extremely tight.

Two wider belts made of canvas that locked closed with velcro, went under the jail mattress and around my body at the lower legs and at the just under my crossed arms.

My body was held to the mattress and I could only move my head.

Next, my head was lifted off the pillow and that was removed.  The hood of the sleeping bag went around my head and was pulled snug leaving only a small hole to allow me to breath through my nose. A vinyl coved padded helmet, that was open only at the front, was placed under my head. Two nylon straps that closed with velcro, one under the chin and one over the forehead locked my head inside the helmet. A strap on the left side of the helmet went under the mattress and was secured to the right side of the helmet . My head was held motionless.

The heat inside the sleeping bag rose quickly and I started to sweat profusely. The canvas of the straitjacket became damp, clammy and stiff as it adhered itself to my skin .

Time seemed to pass slowly. I wondered how much longer I would be confined in this torture system of restraint.

Just when I thought I could not go longer I felt the straps being loosed and then removed. It seemed to take an eternity to remove the restraints, but slowly the various layers were removed. The muzzle was removed, but I was too weak to speak. I was given water and slowly the straitjacket was unstrapped and taken off.

I was exhausted and Williams used terry cloth towels to soak up the copious amount of sweat. Two officers lifted me to a standing position with only the diaper covering my body.

I was assisted out of the cell and taken to a shower. Removing the diaper, the officers leaned me against a wall and turned on the shower. The water was warm and the gentle spray quickly revived me. I was given a towel to dry myself. I was issued a fresh orange uniform of pull on pants and pull over shirt. I pulled on the orange canvas shoes.

I was reminded that inmates must be in restraints while being moved in the jail. My hands were cuffed behind my back and I was escorted back to the pod where the other volunteer inmates were housed. Cell number five was opened, I went in, the door was locked behind me, I backed up, put my hands through the trap door in the cell and the handcuffs were removed.

The lights were dimmed, I laid on the bare mattress and pillow and fell asleep almost instantly.



Metal would like to thank straitjacketkwf2 for this story.

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4 thoughts on “Never Volunteer”

  1. Well, straitjacketkwf2 has told us that it’s “The end”, so he’s done his bit and I guess he now expects us to use our imagination!

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