Pictures from asiancuffs
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
The wagon hit the highway again, and after that short “social contact” with jailmate, he was not that defensive as before. We started to chat a little bit by asking about each other’s cases. He asked why I was arrested and I just made up something about corruption and he told me that he is involved of forgery of documents, which I already knew from the officers. It was his first time being arrested and he says he was so shameful when police went into his office to arrest him. He was handcuffed with hands behind in front of workmates. Not much more to talk about during the journey only telling him that I will be transported to precinct A, which may be different than where he will be transported. It was also pre-arranged with the officers that I will be leaving the wagon before they return to their station with jailmate.
The wagon is entering G again and heading for the neighbourhood where I will be “released.” The wagon stopped and an officer opens the back door and unlocks the connecting handcuffs restricting my shackles. I was surprised that when I was about to step down the wagon, jailmate reached out his cuffed hands and want to shake my hands. I offer my hand with the rattling of chains, we shake our hands and say good luck to you. One officer took me around the corner to stay away from the sight of jailmate to release me from my restraints, and he gave my phone back to me before he returned to the vehicle. I peeked out from the block and saw the wagon leaving with one real prisoner inside.
We have a nice dinner that evening after the officers were off duty. I thanked them for such a wonderful experience and also asked them about some points that I was not clear about the routine. I asked when we were at the detention center to pick up jailmate, should the officers there know the passenger load of the transport? Their answer made me have a smile on my face, as they say the detention officers’ task is to hand the prisoner to them and who cares if there is any other passenger on board? They also say that there is even a longer transport such as 36 to 48 hours using trains, the railway security wants to stay out of the picture as much as possible, once you show them the necessary documents, they will assign a cabin to you, then you will be on your own to deal with your prisoner. That’s the mentality of civil servants in this country.
The dinner ended with an “invitation” from them: Do you want to ride along in a train with us?
Shall I?
The end
Metal would like to thank the author, asiancuffs, for this true story!
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
The wagon left the detention center and drove through the city roads heading to the highway entrance, again a few vehicles passed us and the passengers or drivers looked at the “prisoners.” After we were on the highway, there was nothing else interesting on the road except fast passing vehicles. I start looking at the jailmate, he is a guy in his mid-20s, dressed in shirt without tie, suit and black dress shoes. He looked a lot more decent than me in a T-shirt, shorts and sneakers. He sat quietly looking down, at most times looking at his cuffed hands as he moves his hands. He also checked his shackles and moved as the extent of the chains allowed. I look at him all the time and once we have eye contact, he turns his face around to avoid a direct look at me.
After half an hour on the highway, it was planned that I request a washroom stop so I speak out loud enough that the officers heard my request. The officers replied that there will be a service area and we can use the washroom later. Then I asked jailmate if he wants to pee or not and he says he does not have the need. I tried to open the dialogue with him by asking questions like why are you arrested, have you been arrested before and similar questions. The replies I got from him were just single-word answers, “Yes,” “No.” The rest of the ride he just lowered his head, playing with the connecting chains.
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
I sat on the prisoner bench with my hands cuffed and feet shackled to the steel bar. The only thing I can do is to watch though the bar windows of vehicles passing us. In about an hour, the wagon gets off the highway and starts entering F. The city traffic is not that bad as compared to G, and in 10 minutes on the busy road we reach a building with a pair of solid metal gates. I looked out of the window, there is a sign saying “City F Dentention Center.” The wagon is pointed directly at the gate, so that the CCTV can scan and check its license plate. In a minute, the gate opens automatically and the wagon enters the detention center. I heard some mechanical sound and saw the gate closed behind the wagon. The vehicle parked in a designated parking spot and the engine stopped.
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
After about 30 minutes drive on the highway (I can keep track of the time as there is a digital clock above the rear-view mirror in the driver’s compartment), the wagon pulled into the service area. They parked the vehicle at one end and I noticed that the washroom is at the other end of the area, about 300 feet away. The reason why they did not park closer to the washroom is what we pre-arranged to have as much public explosure as possible. If this is a real operation, they will take the most direct, closest and most efficient steps on every move. We can have this arrangement of marching through the shops as they know I am a 100 percent “safe” prisoner.
After they parked the wagon, they both get out from the driver’s seat and unlocked the back door, followed by the sliding gate. One of them jumped onto the prisoner compartment and unlocked the handcuffs that connect my shackle chain to the steel seat bar. He lifted me up by my armpit, and both of them helped me to get down to the ground from the wagon as the shackle chain is not long enough for me to reach the ground. They locked back the rear door and with one on each side holding me by my armpit, they marched me to the washroom. Uniform police, in an escort formation, holding one guy in the middle, clanking of chains, all these immediately draw attention from the people in the rest area. I tried to act and walk like a prisoner by lowering my head, but in fact my sight was always observing other people’s reaction.
When there are people walking toward us, most of them hold their step and move to the side a bit to give way for us to pass them before they continue their walk. With three of us standing alongside, we almost occupied two-thirds of the pathway, so people have to give way to us. When we walked past these people, most of them looked at this prisoner, some even chatting in low voice with their company about this prisoner. Finally we reached the washroom and after we walked inside, there are a few people inside already, some pissing, some washing hands. They all have a shocked expression when they see us coming in. The officers pointed one urinal to me and I start unzipping my pants while they turn around with their back facing me for me to do my job. Actually I don’t need to piss but tried to squeeze a few drops out. After I finished, I was instructed to walk to the wash basin to wash my hands. Then they escorted me out in the same manner, walking back to the wagon. When we walked by a convenience shop, one officer went inside to get some bottled water and I was given one bottle.
When we reached the wagon, they helped me climb up again and the handcuffs were attached back to the shackle chain. I was back to the same transport positon except I have a bottle of water in my hand now. They started the engine and we drove back onto the highway heading to city F.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank the author, asiancuffs, for this true story!
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
The sound of the wagon’s engine starting brought me back to real life from my imagined prison life. The vehicle started moving from a side street to the busy streets of G. The sitting benches in the prisoner compartment were set sideways as compared to the driver’s seat. When I looked up at the window on the opposite side, I saw a blured reflected image of me on the opposite glass window. I raised my hands a bit and felt the tension of the connecting chains through my handcuffs. I stretched my legs, and I felt them restricted by the shackles. Everything is real, so real. I looked to the front, the two cops focused on driving, and as agreed with my friends they will treat me like a prisoner for the whole trip, there will be no dialogue between us except the official instructions given by them.
The vehicle hit the main roads, and traffic was really slow moving. I started to look out of the window and saw other vehicles moving slowly alongside. It is very normal that when one sees a prison wagon on the road with one guy sitting in the prisoner compartment, one will always check that out for more details. I have eye contacts with a few people in the passing by vehicles. Then I decide to take one step further. I put my cuffed hands onto the rail bar protecting the window, and in this position people in other vehicles can see I am in handcuffs. After a few observations of my “Handcuff Show,” I noticed that most people are curious to know a person in custody. If the vehicle has only the driver, he will take a few looks and then focus back onto the road. If there are other passengers, they will tell the driver or any other passenger in the vehicle about a handcuffed convict sitting in the wagon beside their vehicle. A few even use their mobile phone to take pictures of this handcuffed man. (I really want those pictures if I can find the photographers!)
After about 20 minutes in the city traffic, we finally reached the highway entrance and are heading to city F. The journey on the highway will take slightly more than an hour. I sat calmly in the prisoner compartment looking at my reflected inmage on the window. The trip is supposed to be simple and straightforward, but we have arranged a stop at the “service station” which is similar to a “rest area” in the US Interstate except other than the washroom, the service area also has gas station, fast food shops and convenience store. There will be a washroom break (which I don’t really need). I will be marched through the service facilities in handcuffs and shackles escorted by two uniformed police officers, where I will be just a few feet away from other people in the service area.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank the author, asiancuffs, for this true story!
By asiancuffs
15 Aug 2017
After lots of efforts, I finally can convinced two of my police friends (non-fetish) to ride along with them for a prisoner transfer assignment with me as a PRISONER. Below is an account of the short five-hour trip, and I try to make it short and brief. I am including some pictures to go along with the script, some of which were taken by me and some are just for illustration only.
I am not an “official” passenger on this ride, so we need to do some extra arrangements to put me in the picture. They are stationed in a big city “G” with population of 14 million. The assignment is to pick up an arrested person from city “F” to G. The person was arrested because of a civil case and needed to be transfered to G to testify. If he is involved in a criminal case, the escort level will be higher and we will not be able to do this. Although the distance between the two cities is only 140 km, each way may take more than two hours as the city traffic is always busy before the vehicle can get onto the highway.
On a hot sunny morning in August, I arrive G in the morning and checked in hotel. I left my backpack in the hotel and went out with only some cash and my mobile phone to the police station, where they are on duty. We met for lunch around noon, and I was excited already when I saw them come into the restaurant in uniform. After lunch we walked back to the station and they pointed a vehicle to me, a prisoner transport wagon and told me that we will be using this later. They then gave me instructions to wait for them half an hour later at a designated location, which is 10 minutes away by foot. Then they went back into the station to get ready for their assignment. I walked around the wagon and took a few pictures of it. Prisoner will be sat at the rear with a steel sliding gate securing the back door. The prisoner compartment is separated from the drivers with steel bars.
During the walk to the meeting point, I was very excited already just to think about sitting in the back of the vehicle. I stood there and wait and when the time came, I saw the vehicle approaching with the two cops sitting in the front. They pulled the vehicle beside me and one came out with a set of prisoner transport restraints, which is a pair of handcuffs connected to leg shackles with a chain. He told me to give them my phone and start putting the restraints on me. There are some people walked by and they just looked at us and kept walking.
The reason why they need to do this away from the station is that I am not an “official” passenger. After my hands are cuffed and feet shackled, I have to climb into the wagon from the back door. The chains of the shackles are not long enough for me to climb up in one step even I lifted the chain to the extent. He then helped me by giving me a lift and finally I am inside the prisoner compartment. He sat me on the bench seat and took out a pair of handcuffs to cuff my shackle chain onto the steel bar underneath the seat bench. Now I am totally secured and ready for transport. He slides the gate closed and after the click of the gate is locked, I feel I am 100 percent prisoner.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank the author, asiancuffs, for this true story!
By asiancuffs
Part 7 – The Men who break a thousand chains
My sleep was sweet and deep for the night and was waken up when they give us our breakfast. Shortly after we finished, 2 police came and escorted us away. Our cellmates see us led away in dangling chains and did not say a word. We were taken into the storage room and they were ready to break our shackles. Our collar and lead chains were removed and after hitting with the hammer, my ankles and wrists were free. I watched the shackle set that have been attached to my limbs for the dropped to the floor with a loud clanking sound. I don’t know why but I feel a bit sad at this moment. Then Chuck had his restraints removed also and we were a ‘free man’ now. The first thing I want to do is to take a shower and change all my clothing. My personal belongings were packed in a bag and was on the table. I took the bag with me and rushed to the shower room with Chuck. After a nice hot shower, I dressed myself up in nice, clean and soft T-shirt, pants, jocks and socks. My boots smells and the clothes that I have been wearing for the last few days were hard like rock with the dirt. Chuck threw his clothes away but I kept them in a plastic bag as a memorable souvenir for this adventure. I looked at the mirror and a nice T-shirt shape on my body was sun tan free. The worst was on my wrists there was a 2 inches wide un-tanned shackle marks. This will be hard for me to explain to my friends when I return home. Chuck told me that I can tell them that I put on elastic wrists supporters to play tennis under the sun and that’s why the marks were there. I put on my cowboy boots again and walked to the chief’s room with light and bouncy steps.