A Risky Return to Sin City

I am left on the flat-cross for a short while, then my straps are released, I am pulled off and supported as my still weakened body struggles to support itself. Watery semen running down my bare leg. My hands are cuffed behind my back while I am told that the others will all be arriving within the next hour and the group is going to enjoy a light brunch before coming in to play with me again. In the meantime, while they dined and socialized, I was to be detained via wall irons in the dungeon’s cell.  

The back corner of the dungeon was made into a replica of a medieval prison cell with the back and side wall being floor to ceiling stone masonry. It then had bars of flat iron on the remaining two sides to create a twelve-by-five-foot cell. The bars were of a grid design and were finished to give the impression of being hand-hammer when made. The cell was about twelve feet tall and had the top enclosed with the same type of bar grid. The cell had a locking door with similar design and materials. Fixed into the rear wall’s stone mortar were two full sets of irons so that two captives could be secured to the wall by the neck, wrists, waist, and ankles by heavy steel cuffs/bands and short chains. Intimidating. I know just how intimidating as I was secured and abused here on my last visit.

I am now imprisoned. The shackles are cold black steel, at least an inch and a half wide and a quarter inch thick. They feel heavy because they are. They have pin style hinges and are locked closed with screw down omega loops. Each ring is fastened to the stone wall with thick black steel chains. First to be placed was the neck collar, followed by the wrists, legs and finally the waist. These were punishing, unyielding and for some reason made me become more aware of my nakedness. The chains allowed for some although limited movement. I was upright and would not be able to change that position. The sound of the cell door being closed and locked is ominous just like last time. 

I stood there, using the rough stone wall to help support my still recovering body. In time even using the wall as support would become tiring and uncomfortable. I was left alone with my thoughts and unlike last time, I was alone in the dungeon. There was nothing to watch, even the video screens were dark and silent.

Time moved slowly. The position was certainly bearable, but still unpleasant. I wonder just how long it would take to mentally destroy someone in medieval times when they were left like this for days, weeks, maybe years. I am sure I’ve been here well less than an hour and it is already wearing on me. I even yearn for some punishment as a diversion, though I dread the thought of what was done to me last time, the chemical assault on my scrotum with Atomic Balm that burned and burned. Today I would be left to entertain myself through contemplation of my weekend foolishness. Toward the end my legs would tire to the point where my neck and arm irons would be holding much of my weight. As I said, it was unpleasant.

Not sure if the guests were running late or if it was a leisurely lunch, or what, but my anticipated wall time of an hour ran much longer.