The Craftsmen — The Final Chapter

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).

I still couldn’t believe that he had set this entire thing up for himself.  From the design and manufacturing of the suit, the conditions of his continual imprisonment, to his desire to suffer this way.  Oh well, he had paid more than handsomely for the privilege, and who was I to disappoint?

During that time my second in command, Tom, had approached me with his offer to complete his buyout.  We were in the transition process to his eventual ownership, but he had decided that he would like to gain full ownership within 6 months or so.  He noticed that I was really starting to look forward to retiring and he was hoping that we could work out a financing deal to make up the small shortage of funds he needed to buy me out.

After I thought about it for a while, I decided that he was right.  I was ready to retire now.  Over the years we both had made more than enough money to be very comfortable for a long time.  His final buyout would just be icing on the cake for me.  So I agreed.  Honestly, the financing thing wasn’t necessary, but he insisted that he pay me the agreed upon price in full.

Our little endeavor was run “off the books” – how exactly would you explain running a private prison for perverts to the IRS anyway?  The deal was done and we would complete the transition in a few months’ time.  I knew that Tom would continue to run a top-notch operation.

Even though we hadn’t become partners right away, Tom and I went way back.  We went through basic training together, suffered under the same sadistic drill sergeant, and decide to become MPs.  After training we were lucky enough to serve in the same unit and we became fast friends.  We had joined up right after high school, so we were pretty young, but looked forward to serving.

We were also lucky to be stationed at a state-side military prison.  It had two sections to accommodate the kids that just screwed up a little and would be in there only a year or so and the maximum security section for the real hard-asses.  Tom and I both earned our stripes and were working in the lower security section.

I had the opportunity to take additional classes and spent nights and weekends learning about the newest technology.  Tom started to specialize in helping the punks get back on the straight and narrow and he was damn good at it – he was a big, tough, and intimidating guy.  I eventually moved into the office and administrative area.  Over a few beers one night we hatched a plan to have some fun and maybe help some of these kids make it in life.

There was an unused section of the prison that was fading into disrepair.  It was still fully functional, but was past its prime, to say the least.  Rusted, worn paint, dark and no one from the staff ever went near it.  We decided to let some of these kids chose a different type of imprisonment in return for a reduced sentence.  Tom looked at it as a type of “scared straight” program for privates who just couldn’t stay out of trouble and ended up in prison.

At first, we were very selective and tentative in our choices.  I was able to “tweak” the records, since I had full access to the system – and no one ever knew that they weren’t housed in the main detention areas.  I was also able to scan their files ahead of time to look for likely candidates.

We wanted the ones that were repeat offenders and considered themselves to be pretty tough guys.  One they came in for processing we would segregate and make them wait for hours in a small holding cell – always alone.  After the administrative staff had left for the day, we would scare the shit out of them and then offer up a chance at a shorter sentence and a clear record.  Very few passed up that chance.

We kept them locked up in the dingy cells.  They were almost always manacles, were exercised mercilessly, and punished with hard stints in solitary for even the slightest infraction.  I’m not sure where he found the stuff, but Tom built up quite a collection of gear to keep them bound.  If they lipped off, he had gags that locked on.  If they struggled against us, he had straitjackets for them.  He had heavy, dungeon type manacles and shackles and we used them frequently.

It usually didn’t take long for the punks to break.  We usually knew that once that happened they would think twice before doing something stupid again.  I always reminded them that I had access to the army’s entire record system – if they showed up in there with any type of discipline problem I would have them transferred back here.  Tom made it clear that the second time would be far worse than anything they had already experienced.

We were, in effect, running our own little private prison.  One day he brought me a local rag sheet style paper.  Inside he showed me a series of personal ads for guys who were into bondage and looking to be locked up – I never asked him where he got it or how he knew about out – because his idea to capitalize on those ads was a good one.

We would offer them the opportunity really be locked up in a prison.  He suggested that we treat them the same as the punks that were in here for real.  I was hesitant at first, but he ran an ad and we had three responses in the first week.  We worked out a pricing scheme to cover the few costs that we would have – and to get a little spending money.  It would be hard for just the two of us to manage more than one or two guys – and we usually had that many “real” prisoners – so we “drafted” a few, trusted, MPs that liked the whole concept.  It seems that a sadistic streak was part of the genetics of an MP.

We arranged pick-ups for the guys – fake arrests and kidnappings really.  They were transported in shackles and black hoods to the prison where we inducted them just as if they were real prisoners.  They were kept in the cells away from the real screw-ups and treated as roughly as they had told us they wanted.  Most of them were really masochistic and wanted to be firmly chained, gagged, manhandled, or locked in solitary for days.  Punishments for failure to follow orders were liberally meted out – all of the MP’s were very creative in that regard.

The guys were never truly harmed or beaten.  They were kept scared and psychologically they quickly became real prisoners.  Their fantasies were fulfilled and they were released as happy men.  Word of mouth became our advertising and we really had to be careful not to draw any attention our endeavor.  Soon we stopped working with the real army prisoners and focused solely on the perverts.  We were all surprised at how much money these guys were willing to pay for the pleasure of suffering at our hands.

As I watched those guys get locked up, chained, gagged, and straitjacketed or whatever – something in me stirred.  When no one was around I would try on some of the heavier manacles, put my arms into the strait-jackets to see what it felt like.  Once, when I was alone on night duty, I even locked myself in a cell for a few hours – even though I had the key in my hand, it was still a rush.  I’m glad that it was pre-video camera days, so there was no one who saw me locking myself in that cell.

I think spending so much time around all of these prisoners and bondage gear was starting to make me realize that maybe I needed to be locked-up like them.  I put that notion out of my head and discussed a potential future plan with Tom.  We could make this into a business once we were out of the service.  We could easily build a small mock prison and staff it with some ex-MPs – it was obvious that the guys who wanted to be treated like this were willing to pay a pretty penny for it.

In time that idea become the prison complex that Tom would soon be taking over from me.  He had stayed in the army a lot longer than me, but he had been on the “payroll” from the beginning.  He was our recruiter for guards and many of the guys from our old unit were now working here part time to pad their retirement.  It had worked out far better than we had expected.

There were a few very wealthy clients who were willing to pay a lot for very specific desires.  Longer term confinement, specialized restraints, and numerous hard labor fantasies.  We were able to satisfy them and they, in turn, recommended us to others.

Then there is Roger.  He was the ultimate.  He had been locked up here with so many fantasies that I couldn’t begin to recall them all.  But the icing on the cake and, in a way, the pinnacle of my oversight here, was his custom bondage suit.  It was an awesome piece of gear – a truly devious way to be perfectly imprisoned.


Part 2


Although I had to be extremely cautious, when I travelled on vacations I occasionally availed myself of other facilities that were similar to ours – not nearly as sophisticated or impressive, but they served their purpose.  I found that I enjoyed the release of spending a few days imprisoned in a cell and being treated as a prisoner.  I was able to relax and let the fantasy overtake me.  In that way, I think I understood the guys who were our clients a lot better.  I also noticed that it made me a little more sadistic to them – especially when I had just returned from being locked up myself.  Probably a case of “me thinks thou dost protest too much!” or something.  I never took the time to analyze it that closely.

I had taken a few risks lately.  Roger’s suit intrigued me.  When he was enjoying his “freedom” out of that suit; I had made a habit of going into the room where we kept it and just looked at it, felt it, smelled the leather and his sweat.  Recently, though, I wanted more.  He was smaller than I am, so I knew the suit wouldn’t fit.  But I was able to get it up over my hips and enjoy the softness of the leather on my lower body.  I did this a few times and jerked off each time.  I had to be so careful not to be seen or there would no end to the razzing and I was, in serious violation of our rules.  I might have been the boss, but I was setting a terrible example.  We did not cross the line and enjoy the facilities ourselves.  We needed to make sure the guards remained the guards and the prisoners remained the prisoners for the fantasies to play out for our guests – if we softened too much the reality was lessened for them.

One thing that did fit well, however, was the helmet from Roger’s suit.  When I pulled that on it was amazing how confining it was.  It cut the outside world of almost completely.  I was thinking about having one made for myself after I retired and then I would be able to jack off to my heart’s content. 

Speaking of Roger, very soon I would have to say goodbye to the guy.  I assumed that he would be a little anxious at this hand-off of the oversight of his imprisonment, but what choice did he have?


The days or weeks just ran together.  I really had no idea how long I had been locked up in the suit this time, or how long it had been since the craftsmen had left.  I was thankful that the owner of this place allowed me out of the suit for brief breaks.  My fantasy had been to remain locked up in it indefinitely but that was not really practical if I wanted to remain healthy and somewhat sane.

I no longer struggled when it was time to be locked back up in the suit.  Each time it was pulled back on it felt so comfortable and welcoming.  The soft, pliable leather and the complete isolation were indescribable.  The reality of that far exceeded my fantasy.  After being locked in the suit for a period of time, even the electro-shocks that occurred randomly – or when my dick tried to get erect – were a welcome distraction.  I had hated them at first.  My initial experience was extraordinarily painful, but I soon realized that he had used that to scare me.  Now they were tolerable, but certainly noticeable.

I never saw the owner after the craftsmen left.  He did, however, torment me from time to time through the built-in speakers in the helmet.  I came to hate his voice and the callousness of his taunts.  I did, however, realize, that he was fulfilling what he thought was his part of the bargain.  I thought that he was a little too overzealous, but I no longer had any say in the matter.

I stumbled around the padded cell for a while before settling down on the padded leather floor.  I had just been locked back in the suit after a longer than usual respite, so I was assuming that I was going to be locked-up for quite a while.  I was waiting for his taunts, but they didn’t come.


It was a nice gift from the guys.  They had pitched in and bought me a rather large certificate from one of the best tailors in the country.  They thought that I should have some top-notch clothes for all of my upcoming retirement travels.  They knew that I was a little obsessed with clothes and looking my best, so it was a good retirement gift – certainly better than a gold watch!

I had been in for three measurement and sample fittings so the suits and hand-made dress shirts would fit impeccably.  As I tried everything on for the last time the tailors made sure I was completely satisfied.  I had no complaints and they were pleased.  Everything would be delivered to my home in a few days.  It was a great way to be treated and I knew that I would be able to get used to being spoiled like this.

As I walked into the control room I realized that Roger had already been placed back in his suit.  I asked the guard on duty how long and he told me they had locked him up yesterday.  I laughed to myself as I wondered if roger had been waiting for my “words of wisdom” and was somehow disappointed that I hadn’t taunted him.

I walked over to the monitoring console and changed the program for the electro stimulation.  It had been a long time since he had felt any real pain, and I was feeling the need to say goodbye in a way that he would always remember.  For some reason I was felling cruel – maybe I was going to miss this place more than I wanted to admit.  Or maybe I just wanted to get one last “punch” in before walking out of here for the last time.

I picked up the mic and let Roger know that I was watching him.  I told him that I wanted him to stand up and stay standing until I told him otherwise.  I then gave him a harsh zap to his balls so that he knew what was in store if he chose not to obey.  He jumped at the pain, but forced himself to stand.  On the monitor I could see that his heart rate was accelerating – good, I had his attention.

I let him stand there for over an hour before zapping him again.  This time I hit him pretty hard so he doubled over and lost his balance and fell to the floor.  I ordered him to get up and hit him again.  He struggled to stand and eventually was able to do so.  I laughed in the mic and told him that I thought that he had it too easy for too long.  We repeated this little exercise for over an hour.  I’m sure that he was exhausted.  I just let him stand there not knowing if I would zap him again.

Tomorrow I would tell him that I was handing him over to his new warden and that his life would be in someone else’s hands from then on.  I had to think of a way to make it sound far more ominous than it was; Tom would be a great “warden,” but he didn’t have the same cruel streak that I did.


The bastard startled me awake with his order to stand up.  The zap that hit my balls was a surprise and it hurt like hell.  I struggled to obey his command and stood there for what seemed like days before he zapped me again.  This one dropped me to the ground.  He ordered me to get back up as he zapped me yet again.  I was in a lot of pain and it took me quite a while to get back on my feet.

I stood there dreading the next shock.  Each one seemed more painful than the last and he was laughing as I struggled to get back on my feet.  If I didn’t stand up fast enough, he zapped me again.  “I had it too easy for too long,” was repeated frequently.

I don’t know how long I had been standing since the last shock, but it had to be several hours.  I didn’t care if he was going to zap me again or not, I dropped to the floor and curled up on my side.  I was sweaty and exhausted – I needed to rest.  I cringed in anticipation of getting hit with another electro-shock, but one never came.  I drifted back to sleep wondering if this was going to become the norm.

When I woke up I was still lying on my side.  I struggled to my knees and crawled over to the area of the cell that had the feeding tube.  I was hungry and shaky as I plugged the tube into the suit.  The protein drink was bland, but nourishing.  I had learned to use the tube in the helmet so that none of it dribbled out of my mouth into the helmet itself.  Living with the damp and gross smell as it “fermented” in the helmet was something that I no longer wanted to have to do.

I gingerly moved around the cell – stretching and hoping that he was going to leave me alone.  I wanted to figure out how long it had been since the craftsmen had delivered this suit – but as I thought about it I realized that there was no way I would be able to find that answer.  There was no day or night when I was in this suit.  There was no sound or sight – only complete silence (except when he was taunting me) and utter darkness.

The softness of the leather of the suit itself limited the sense of touch, the gloves and boots added to that.  The padded leather of the cell I was in completed the sensory isolation.

The inability to get an erection or experience sexual pleasure was also complete.  The electro-shocks that resulted in any attempted erection quickly stifled that pleasure.

Yes, the suit was just as I had intended it to be.  The craftsmen were able to take my ideas and design and turn it into something that far exceeded my dreams.  The owner’s little additions along the way were, when I stepped back, actually quite clever and added to the suit’s intensity.

As I relaxed and just let the suit hold me, I was rewarded by a zap as my dick tried to get hard.  That was the only proof that I needed that the suit was exactly what I wanted it to be.

I was startled by the grip of the guards as the pulled me to my feet and started to drag me out of the cell.  I was going to be allowed out of the suit already?


Part 3


The delivery truck had just left and I was admiring the new suits and shirts when my phone chirped.  It was Tom, he told me that everyone was ready and they were all eager to get the party started.

I made my way over to the barn and took the slow elevator ride down to the entrance.  There I was buzzed in to the antechamber and then into the intake area. I was satisfied that I had always provided the best in service to the perverts that wanted nothing more than to be locked up and tormented like real prisoners.  The fact that there were so many willing to pay so much for that privileged had allowed me to lead a good life and would be funding a great retirement. 

I walked up to the control room first to say my final goodbye to Roger.  The guard on duty pointed to the monitors which showed an empty padded cell.  “Sorry boss, the guy’s heart went crazy and we were worried so we pulled him out an hour or so ago.  Just a little too agitated or something.  The doc wants to check on him again before we lock the guy up again.”

That was a bit of a disappointment for me, but the guy’s health might be at stake, so what can you do?  I probably would go see him in his cell later, maybe say a nice goodbye.  Or maybe torment him.

The reception room was pretty full.  Although against policy, drinks were handed around and a few toasts were made.  It must have been getting to me as I was getting lightheaded and had to sit down.


I really couldn’t believe that they were pulling me out of the suit so soon.  Or maybe it had been longer than I realized?  As usual, the guards were silent as they took everything off but soon Tom, the owner’s second in command, came into the room.

He asked me how I was feeling and I said fine.  He nodded at the guards to leave after they were done and I was left standing there naked in front of him.  “It’s time.” He said. “Take a shower.  There’s a uniform for you in the stall.  Call the guards when you’re done and they’ll take you.”  Then he left.

I was surprised, but somewhat relieved.  I walked into the shower room and relaxed as the warm water washed over me.  It felt damn good.


We drank for a while, laughed, and shared “war” stories about our times in the service and from here at the prison. We had all become good friends and enjoyed our time together and we were all laughing as Tom cleared his throat theatrically to make an announcement.

“Aside from the suits – very expensive suits, I might add – we all decided to get you something really more appropriate for your retirement.  Something that we think you will really appreciate and put to days and days of use.”  He motioned most of the other guys out of the room.

After they left a large crate was rolled into my field of vision and opened wide.  Hanging inside was Roger’s suit.  Just as I was about to ask why he had ordered a replacement suit Tom said, “Yes, this one was made just for you.  The craftsmen were able to get every measurement they needed from that high-priced tailor.”

“I thought that you might like something like this – to spend a little time away from the cares of the world, so to speak.  Give it a few minutes of thought.  If you are interested it would be best to try it on now.  Once you leave you might lose your interest.”

The craftsmen had been unpacking the suit and were disassembling it as Tom spoke.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.  My heart started to race as I realized that soon I could be locked-up in that thing.  How did he know that I might like that?  I wondered if he had seen me sneak in and out of the storage room or had I let something slip?  Either way, this was my chance to fulfill my own fantasy.

Tom must have been reading my expression.  “Well, if you want to wear it.  Give me the go ahead.  We’ll lock you up for a while so that you can experience it fully.”

Before I thought too deeply about it, I said yes.  Tom smiled and the craftsmen motioned for me to undress.  After years in the army, being naked in front of a bunch of guys didn’t faze me so I dropped trou and stepped towards them.

The first thing that they started to put on was the chastity device.  Although I knew that something like that would be part of the suit it still surprised me a little as they shoved my flaccid cock into the tube and my balls into the chamber before snapping it shut.  The lock snicked shut and I had a serious bout of second thoughts, but there was nothing that I could do to stop them now.

They lifted my legs and pulled the leather suit on.  The leather was smooth and tight and they had to work to get it pulled up my legs and over my hips.  Already the feel of the soft, padded leather was turning me on and I felt my dick start to get hard and was embarrassed, but it soon was thwarted by the chastity device that was now permanently locked on.  They pulled the suit up and placed my arms in the sleeves.  Again, the soft leather hugged me and it felt great.  I couldn’t explain the sensation to anyone if I tried, but I loved it.  I was enveloped in the leather and the smell was intoxicating.

They zipped up the suit, sealed the locking mechanism on the zipper, and slowly started to snap all of the buckles that pulled the suit tight to my body.  Each buckle locked as it was engaged and there were a lot of them on both legs and arms.  After they were locked there wasn’t an inch of my body that wasn’t touching the leather – it fit like a second skin.

Padded gloves were pulled on and locked to the sleeves and then boots were pulled on and locked in place.  They melded seamlessly to the suit and were made to envelop my feet and hands in the same smooth, padded leather as the rest of the suit.  All in all it felt far better than I would ever have expected and I cringed in pain as my dick fought against the chastity device.

“Good fit, guys!” Tom said to the craftsmen who smiled in acknowledgement.  The exoskeleton was next.  As with Roger’s suit, it closed round my chest in a clamshell fashion and was locked in place.  The electronics were engaged and I soon felt a painful zap hit my balls.  I grunted in pain, but didn’t complain.  This was something that I had been expecting from the moment that they put the device on – Roger had been made to suffer from shocks like these at my hands, so I guess I should expect nothing less.

They let me sit and I marveled at how well the suit moved with me.  It was truly a second skin.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that I was enjoying the way it felt way too much.  Again the zap to my balls as my dick betrayed my excitement.  I cried out this time.

“Oh, don’t worry; the device is only set for some minor jolts.  We wanted you to get the full feeling of the suit, but since you have never experienced anything like this before it’ll go easy.”

At that moment the door opened and Roger walked in.  He smiled broadly as he looked me up and down.  “Damn.  I was hoping to be here for the fitting!  Oh, well.  This is fine.  That looks great on you!  These guys do such great work it is just amazing!

I was surprised to see him – what was he doing here?  I was, however, distracted by the craftsmen as they pulled a helmet out of the crate and approached me with it in hand.  I thought about struggling, telling everyone that this was enough, that I wanted out – but deep down I knew that wasn’t true.  As soon as I felt the leather of the suit, I knew I wanted to experience it fully.

I saw Roger smiling as they locked the helmet on my head and I was plunged into darkness, I realized that my fate was now literally sealed.  The helmet conformed to my head quite well and I was stunned at how I was now disconnected from the outside world.  I was now in Tom’s hands – I knew that I could trust him.  This was going to be a good experience for me.

I felt them lock the helmet onto the suit and then they pulled me to my feet.  They guided me through the halls and it wasn’t long before I felt the padded leather floor of the cell under my feet.  I felt the slight pressure change in the room as the cell door was closed and locked.

I was now locked away from the world.  There was no way for me to escape.  I was completely isolated.  The silence was complete as was the darkness.  As my dick struggled to get hard I was jolted by a severe shock and fell to the floor in pain.  Tom had lied; I was going to experience pain.

Soon after I was able to pull myself into a sitting position on the floor I heard Tom’s voice inside my head, or it seemed that way as the speakers in the helmet were so close to my ears.  “Well, welcome to your fantasy.  You already realized that I fibbed a little about the electro-shocks; if I were you I would really try not to get hard.  It will hurt, to say the least!”

“At this point, I just want to remind you that you agreed to be locked-up.  It was a verbal agreement, but it has been recorded, so it will hold up in court.  You specified no timeframe for your imprisonment, so I’ll decide that for you.  Since this whole thing – the first prisoners way back when we were still in the army, this place, everything had been my idea from the beginning, I was a little jealous of the amount of money that you would be taking with you as you retired.  I think that I will keep a lot more of it for myself.”

“A year or so ago Roger approached me about maybe going into business together.  He thought owning this place would be a great hobby for him, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with your management style.  Let’s say you were a little too aggressive for his tastes; something that you proved over the past few months.”

Roger’s voice took up the narrative.  “Don’t get me wrong, I really did enjoy being locked in my suit and suffering your torments.  But my needs have been satisfied and I no longer need to fantasize about what it would be like.  I do need to thank you for satisfying my fantasies, but you did so with a little too much fervor.  Tom and I decided that we could continue to meet the needs of the folks who use this facility’s services – but in a manner that was more satisfying to the clients and less of a reward for you.”

There was a pause before my heart sank in my chest.  “You will be in that suit from now on.  It will be your life.”  Then there was only silence …




Metal would like to thank Marknorth for this story.


One thought on “The Craftsmen — The Final Chapter”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.