Chained Convict For Life

Chapter Six-1

Chapter Six

The First Time

He returned to the pile of glittering steel equipment on the top of the puppy cage and picked out the chastity belt part of my harness.

This device was distinctly different from the one I’d worn until now, being of far more substantial construction and, of course, made of the very tough and considerably thicker stainless steel. I stared at it while he prepared to place the wide cinch around my middle, and he looked up at me.

“You’ll have to suck in your belly when I fit the waist cinch. It’s going to be very tight.”

“Y-yes, Master.” I acknowledged with a quavering voice.

The cinch was twelve cm smaller than my natural waist, being five mm thick and ten cm wide! He clasped it around my middle then forced the edges close together, compressing and imprisoning my body unmercifully until the holes in the flanges at the front lined up. The bolts were already in place, so he stuck the hexagonal-headed key into the top one and began screwing it into the other flange. Once the bolt’s threads engaged those in the hole, he started with the bottom one, then pulled the dungeon suit’s material out of the away so it wasn’t pinched, and tightened both of the bolts fully.

“Spread your legs apart widely!”

I obeyed wordlessly and he reached between them then drew the wide crotch covering shield forward. This one was also different from the normally smooth inner surface of my previous chastity belt’s crotch shield for there was a wide, formed wedge mounted on it and this just touched my labia ... at first. When he pulled the shield further up, the wedge slipped between them, penetrating my s*x for about five cm! I gasped with shock then writhed my body trying to make it more comfortable, feeling it sink deeper and spreading me; at the same time, shuddering from its light pressure on my c******s. He paid my unvoiced protest no attention but pulled it higher and more uncomfortably against my lower belly. The slot at its top end slipped over the flange on the front of my uncomfortably wide cinch, until it lay flat against the waistband. He took a heavy, tamper proof lock from his pocket and closed it through a hole of the flange and I couldn’t stop the shudder of arousal that passed through me when I experienced the sensation of being securely bound and locked away from myself once more. As well, the knowledge that this was only the beginning of incarceration in my personalized steel restraints made me shudder anew. Despite the tightness of the waist cinch and the pressure of the shield on and through my crotch, I continued to writhe my lower body, trying to find some way of easing the discomfort of the wedge, but could discover no way to ease the sensation of its distressing penetration. Each time I moved, its upper portion brushed and caressed my c******s, making me automatically shiver and move even more, continuing my arousal!

Behind, he pulled out one of the chains from the wall ring to the central rear ring of the waistband and somehow affixed it. I discovered later that all of the chains I wore were fastened with heavy, stainless steel, marine type shackles, and when he’d finished applying them fully, the only way they could be removed was with a heavy, compound-jawed bolt cutter!

“Step into the thigh bands, Sabrina.”

I dutifully did as commanded and he drew them up my legs and over my knees to the midpoints of my thighs. These two cm wide, five mm thick cuffs were joined together with five cm of chain and served to prevent me from spreading my upper legs apart to avoid the constant pressing of the rounded edges of the shield against the sensitive flesh at the tops of my inner thighs.

“Stand still while I fit your chastity bra.” he ordered, going back to the pile of equipment.

This device consisted of two, large, bullet-headed hemispheres joined together with a ten cm wide, five mm thick band. It was hinged on the sides under each of my arms then curved around my ribs to where its flanges clamped together over my spine at the back. At the front, a triple set of chains hung from the middle of the cup-dividing busk and a doubled set came from loops welded to the band at the outer side of each cup. At the back, two more doubled chain sets hung loosely, while at the sides, one under each of my arms were other short lengths of chain.

He took some minutes adjusting the fit of the heavy piece, then screwed the bolts into the flange, making it clamp snugly around my chest, sinking slightly into the rubber suit beneath. It was quite tight and, with each breath, I felt the wide band stop my chest from expanding! The steel domes prevented me from touching my breasts in any way and I moaned from the sensation of feeling my now captive and swollen, sensitised flesh bouncing freely inside them, still untouchably snared! The cups of the bra were not designed with the idea of supporting my pendant flesh though, only of imprisoning it and preventing me from touching myself.

Wordlessly, he held up my wrist cuffs and their separator bar. Each cuff was five cm wide and five mm thick; oval-shaped to prevent me from twisting my wrists inside them once they’d been closed. The cuffs were separated by a, forty cm long one and a half cm diameter steel bar, welded to loops on each, and would act to prevent me from touching one gloved hand to the other. I would soon grow to hate having to wear this awful thing for it was extremely restrictive ... far, far more so than I’d ever imagined it could be!

“Put you right wrist into the opened cuff, Sabrina!” he commanded firmly.

I was a little frightened of having to wear this portion of my harness, even though I’d specified it as a required, permanent part, but nevertheless, I tentatively placed my right wrist in the opened portion of the cuff, and he swung the other half closed. The wide metal band didn’t shut completely at first because of the thickness of the suit’s rubber, but when he screwed in the bolts and tightened them, the flanges met, clamping firmly around my wrist, sinking slightly into the rubber. Being as tight and shaped as they were, I could not now shift or twist my arm within it, as intended. Feeling this restriction, I wasn’t sure that I wished to continue and have my other hand and arm made captive, but Thomas was determined.

“Give me you other hand and arm.”

Without waiting for me to obey, he grasped my left hand and I reluctantly allowed him to place it in the opened cuff. A minute later, it too was held captive. I stared down mournfully, moving my arms a little against their restriction, able only to rotate my whole arm because of the eyes on the ends of the bar passing through similar ones on the cuffs.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked conversationally, picking up the cuffs for my upper arms. “Raise your arms!”

I dutifully held them up out to my front as far as I could while he clasped the five cm wide, five mm thick bands just above my elbows, then screwed their flanges together until I could feel their tight restriction. Once he was done, I allowed my arms to drop so he could connect the 10 cm long chains from the sides of the bra chest band to their rings then held them to the length of the chains while he screwed the shackles closed. From the above-the-elbow cuffs, the chain continued down to be fastened to the wrist ones, then another length was left to dangle freely ... for the moment. Another shiver of delicious apprehension swept through my body while I felt myself becoming ever more fully a captive, but he spoke little, other than his commands to make me more accessible for my binding. When he’d finished with my arms, he began to fasten the chains between my cinch and the bra’s chest band. One from each outer side of my breast cups was dropped to my chastity belt and these were quickly shackled to rings on the top edge of the belt, immediately below. Next, he took the two outer chains from the dividing strap between the cups and connected these to the same rings then their shackles were also screwed tight. He went behind me and drew the chains from the chest band on each side of my spine, down to their rings on the upper edge of the cinch, requiring me to straighten my body and bend slightly backward for them to be fastened.

I closed my eyes and began to pant and gasp, feeling myself becoming more and more deeply enmeshed in my incredible steel and chain restraint system. I clenched my tightly gloved hands, feeling how they, and the tightly clasped wristbands, restricted my fingers but when I unconsciously tried to bring them together, the separator bar completely stopped the attempt before it even began. I stared down stupidly at this restriction, and another shivering fit passed through my body when I realized that I was soon going to be utterly helpless. A wordless moan hissed from between my lips and I writhed fitfully.

“OK! Sit on the stool while I fit you with the Spanish Trapezoid.”

I’d tried on the proto-type of this device when Michael was making it and hadn’t liked the feeling very much at all, but when I told Thomas it wasn’t very comfortable, he then insisted that it was to be a part of my ensemble, like it or not, and so it had been built. Now, I was going to be fastened into it for real! I sat, but found immediately that wearing my new chastity belt, even over the dungeon suit, it was quite uncomfortable with the crotch shield clamped tightly against my body and between my legs. When my weight came on the crotch plate fully, it pressed even more deeply into my lower belly and, at the same time, forced the waistband higher on my stomach. I wished then, and have countless times since, that the stool had a padded seat, but even that small comfort has never been granted. Sitting down also drove the wedge deeper into my s*x when my weight settled onto the crotch piece, and I moaned from the increase of the sensation. Yes, it was arousing, but there was no possible way for me to gain access to my s*x!

The Spanish Trapezoid is a hellish device. It consists of two sets of wide steel cuffs and joining bars with each of its cuffs being five cm wide and five mm thick.

“Spread your legs!” he commanded firmly.

I obeyed with reluctance then felt the top pair fitted just below my knees, into the hollow below each, above the bulges of my calf muscles. These cuffs are formed like a flattened tear drop so that they tightly conform to the shape of the shin bone and are separated by a twenty-five cm long, one and a half cm diameter steel bar; this being fastened to them in such a manner that the cuffs can move freely at the bar’s ends. In a couple of moments, their flanges had been bolted together and I felt how tight they had become. I automatically attempted to bring my legs close together, but nothing happened! My legs remained held apart! It was time for the ankle cuffs to be fitted and they, like the wrist cuffs, are oval shaped and designed to fit so tightly that they sink into the suit’s neoprene.

“Spread your lower legs wider!” he ordered, holding onto the bar that separated the ankle cuffs.

I moved them as far apart as the bar between the below the knee cuffs permitted and Thomas wasted no time. He grabbed my rubber-sheathed left ankle and pulled my leg out to the side then flipped the ankle cuff closed. I stared at the top of his head, unable to bend forward very much because of the tight chains between the chastity belt’s cinch and my bra chest band at the back, silently watching him work. Unresisting, I allowed him to pull my right leg out until its ankle cuff could also be fastened, and when he’d finished, my legs were splayed even further apart! The lower spreader bar was even longer than the upper one, some forty cm in length, fastened to my ankle cuffs in the same way. The two sets of cuffs are kept vertically separated by slightly thinner steel bars on the inner side of each of my lower legs and so once the cuffs had been affixed, they could not be moved, and no matter whether I lay down, sat, stood, or tried any other way, I would never be able to get my legs closer together or further apart!