Chained Convict For Life

Excerpt

We decided to live as we were for the next two weeks, then I moved in with him. More importantly, I became his full time ‘slave girl’. I continued to work at the aircraft company, but we decided at the end of the first month of living together that I would quit my job and take care of the house. At first, I would have my own room, my own bed and a place to store my clothes and other belongings, even though I’d probably spend most nights in his bed.

The situation evolved and I happily settled into my new role, but my life, as the lady of the house, was substantially different from that of most other women. Thomas and I had come to an agreement that I was to be his, in all respects, and I agreed to his conditions with a happy heart and soul. These lived up to what I thought I’d enjoy, and soon he began to spend freely to create the equipment and environment of my dreams. Within a month of my moving in, Michael, a close friend of Thomas, came to the house and constructed the first version of my ‘Dungeon’. This was actually quite a small area, having originally been a large basement bathroom. Michael equipped it with strongly-mounted restraint rings complete with dangling chains, then replaced the normal door with a tightly barred one, just like a true jail cell. Thomas and I wanted this little playroom to remain secret, and so Michael was at the same time commissioned to build a cement partition wall, complete with a heavy, steel-covered door, hidden behind a set of shelves that were apparently bolted firmly to the wall.

Michael is a man of many talents, and amongst them was the fact that he was a metal worker of extraordinary skill with all of the tools required to build the next pieces of equipment I hungered for. Thomas and I spent a lot of time discussing the kind of restraints we wanted to have created and I made it very clear that the ensemble I was to be locked into was to be an all-encompassing restraint harness, imprisoning not only my limbs, but also my head and body. The ensemble was, of course, to be utterly secure and inescapable once they’d been fitted to me and Thomas happily agreed with my desires, then added-in elements I’d not thought of. He demanded that I also be required to wear a chastity belt as a part of my bondage harness in addition to a thing he called a ‘chastity bra’. I wasn’t sure I wanted those additions, but he insisted, and so I reluctantly agreed to them. When he suggested that a gag and blindfold should also be incorporated as add-ons, I almost passed out with the desire to experience everything … right now!

We began to work on the actual design of the restraints and soon came up with one that met all of our requirements. It was a lot of fun making the patterns and we used much construction-type cardboard to create the designs that Michael would soon bring to reality. Naturally, Thomas wanted my restraints to be of the highest quality, so Michael would make them from a very tough grade of stainless steel, despite how difficult that material was to work with. Once we’d finalized our designs for my restraints, Michael did casts of my head, arms, and legs, telling me without doubt that Thomas was seriously intentioned about having the harness made.

It actually took some months to create the designs to his and Michael’s satisfaction, but during our wait, we continued to play with the handcuffs, and soon we’d added other chains to the ensemble. I was very happy with these changes, but while the weeks passed, I began to wonder when my other restraints would be ready. Thomas soon discovered how nimble my fingers were when I showed him the ease with which I picked the locks of the handcuffs and released myself, and so purchased some extremely high security ones from an American company and I quickly discovered, once wearing them that I couldn’t get them off.

We continued to go to the clubs and play our games, but now, he kept me under stricter control, for during the wait for my new restraints, he’d purchased a light, steel collar and a chastity belt. He now required that I wear them whenever we went out to clubs and it was fun for me to tease and flirt with other men, knowing I was safely contained. Thomas, though, was unhappy with my behaviour even though he held the keys. By nature he was a jealous man and he soon demanded that I wear the chastity belt and collar at all times when I was out of the house. On one hand, I rebelled at the idea that he considered me incapable of being faithful, but on the other, I was secretly thrilled at this deepening of his control. I agreed to this increase of my slavery with somewhat feigned reluctance, but wearing the collar and chastity belt didn’t stop me from doing the chores, and if I really wanted to get them off, I could pick the locks or cut them off.

One of the consequences of my new underwear was that now, I had to forgo wearing the tight trousers I’d so enjoyed, for they revealed the prominent lines of my chastity belt and so I took to wearing looser, skirts that quite effectively hid its presence. Even so, I was always conscious of the steel around my waist pressing firmly into my belly and the band cinched up tightly between my legs. When he was home, I was free of the chastity belt most of the time, but the wearing skirts or dresses at all times was another facet of Thomas’ desire to make me more and more his undeniably female slave. At first I rebelled against this dictate, and forcible reminder of my femaleness, but he was adamant and so I gave in and accepted that I must. My collar, however, never came off, and I soon got used to wearing it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If I left the house on an errand, I wore a scarf or a turtle neck sweater to hide its presence, but was always fearful that someone would see the steel band locked snugly around my throat, precisely as he intended I feel.

Sometimes, when we played, he’d take me down to the small dungeon and once there, I’d be leashed to the wall with a strong, short chain. During these adventures I was of course kept naked and restrained with the handcuffs, and most times I was also fitted with ankle cuffs joined by a short or long chain, depending on his mood. I very much enjoyed the love-making when this happened! But one night, when we’d finished, or so I thought, he closed and locked the cell door, leaving me inside with my hands still cuffed behind my back, ankles chained closely together, and still leashed to the wall by a chain just long enough for me to lay on the mat that served as my bed! At first, I was shocked when he didn’t release me to come back upstairs with him, but the seriousness of my situation struck me fully when he closed the heavy steel door and I heard its bolts slide closed. It was locked from the outside and I was alone, helplessly chained, and for the first time in my life, truly a prisoner! What a rush of sensation surged through my body! It was deathly quiet in the basement, and for long moments, I lay on my side, staring out between the tightly spaced steel bars of my little cell. I wanted to have sex with him again, immediately!

Over the next hours, I prayed he’d come back and ravish me, but he didn’t return that night, having already fallen into his bed and dropped immediately into a deep sleep. I, however, could not sleep and lay writhing against my bonds, trying to masturbate. Of course it was totally useless, fastened as I was, but I too eventually fell asleep, as restless as it turned out to be. Although the basement was warm and the mat comfortable within reason, I wanted some sort of sheet or covering, but there was nothing. I could use the toilet with little difficulty, but when I wanted a drink of water, it was very difficult to manage.

Nearly all homes in Germany are made completely of concrete; it being used for the floors and walls and so I knew no one would ever hear me if I tried to yell for help. I was his prisoner, held in an inescapable, little concrete prison, and knew without a doubt that it would be impossible for me to break out. Thomas’ house is located in the suburbs, separated from all of the neighbours by a large garden space and trees and in addition, there wasn’t a house directly across from it, so, in effect, it is isolated even more. Not only that, but the house is built into the side of a small hill with its front facing to the road some twenty-five metres away and my ‘cell’ is at its back, facing north. Even if I made a lot of noise, the chance of being heard beyond the walls of the cell was very small and the chance of anyone hearing my cries and screams beyond the walls of the house, to say nothing of beyond the property line (and it is a big lot), were non-existent.

At the end of the room, beyond my bathroom cell, there was a small window set high in the wall. Outside that is a three metre deep, narrow, concrete-walled air shaft that rises to a small window box against the foundation at the back of the house. Its top is fitted with a closely barred grill and this is locked securely so that only a small amount of sunlight can come down the narrow shaft. The window always beckons to me as being a possible means of escape from my ‘dungeon’, as I’d already begun to think of it.

At last morning came and I found myself standing before the barred door, straining against the chain leash that tethered the back ring of my collar to the wall, wanting now with more worry than arousal to see him. The hours dragged endlessly by, and still he did not come. When he finally returned I was overjoyed, even though he stood beyond the bars and made no move to free me. He smiled when I asked that he release me from my leash and cuffs.

“No, Sabrina.” he smiled happily. “You will remain precisely where you are, as you are now confined, for the next three days. This is your first lesson of imprisonment.”