"Next prisoner" I called down the intercom on the wall. My day had been fairly standard so far. I'd dealt with the usual vitriol from the prisoners I'd been put in charge of, but the cooperated in the end, as they always do. They were now restrained in their respective cells, in varying degrees of restraint and nakedness decided by exactly how much of a fuss they'd kicked up. Okay, that last bit may require some explanation; the place where I work is a fairly new prison facility designed to test some rather...extreme ideas on criminal rehabilitation. With prisons overcrowded and public funds limited, the government was under more pressure than ever to permanently reform repeat offenders. And so they built this place. A prison which employed tactics which would be deemed too extreme in normal circumstances. Tactics that included rope restraint and prisoners being kept partially or completely unclothed. It's one of two such facilities, the other holds repeated male offenders, and this one is for women. I'm in charge of processing the new inmates as they arrive. When I first got the job I couldn't believe my luck. I've always been a little kinky so a job in which I'd be paid to strip and restrain rebellious women seemed to be the best thing that had ever happened to me. But two problems soon became evident. Firstly there was the warden. He was aware of my kink, viewed it as unprofessional and did every opportunity to stop me from indulging it. Whenever I procured a new restraint he restricted the circumstances under which I could use it. Last week I got a steel web, designed to net its victims and trap them like flies. I Showed it to the warden and he gave me a look that seemed to say "are you fucking serious?" before telling me I could only use it on a prisoner if they specifically request it (and you can guess how many times that's happened).The second problem is well...I don't really enjoy restraining women who don't want to be restrained...and these women REALLY don't want to be restrained, as the often expressed to me using a very colourful vocabulary, and accusations of questionable parentage.
Anyway back to the matter at hand: the facility currently had 83 prisoners and was about to receive number 84. The door opened in the processing room and she walked in. I was taken aback. The first thing that seriously differentiated her from most women here was that she was pretty. Beautiful in fact. She had red hair and a matching red dress. Long legs and a shapely figure but it was her eyes that got my attention there was an air of mischief deviation and...Maybe excitement about them. After a moment she coughed politely and I realised 10 seconds had gone by and I'd just stared into eyes and at her legs. I cursed myself for my idiocy and took her file from the desk in front of me. No surname was given, the removal of identity was of the rehabilitation methods being tested here, and prisoners were simply referred to by their first name accompanied by their number. "You are Amber Prisoner Registration 84, correct?" I asked.
"Yes." She replied, in what I think was a Czech accent. "And these are my legs." She introduced. "Left and right, since you seem so interested in them." I gulped. This conversion with a woman would be awkward at the best of times but when my relationship to said woman was that of a captor to a prisoner..."it’s okay" She said, before I could stammer an apology. "You can look." Not sure how to respond to that, I decided to move on with the processing.
"Follow me then" I instructed, attaching a short chain-lead to the handcuffs behind her back. The chain went between her legs, and I used it to lead her down the corridor with cells on both sides. As we walked I plucked up the courage to talk to her.
"So" I asked "what'd you do to end up here?"
"I didn't pay a parking ticket." she answered.
I raised an eyebrow. "That usually isn't enough to get someone sent here."
"Usually not" She agreed "but I specifically asked to be sent here."
That caught my attention. I'd have pressed the issue further but at that moment we arrived at her cell. I opened the cell door and removed her handcuffs, she sighed when they were taken off, with what I thought at the time was relief but I now suspect was exasperation.
I recited the speech given to all inmates at this point; "Please strip down miss, to your underwear or completely naked, it's up to you. Drop your cloths down that chute over there then get into the cell. I'll be right back with the ropes to tie you up." Her response was rare;
"Can I have shackles instead?"
Now that was not at all normal. Most of the girls here had nothing to say at this point other than four letter words, and accusation of promiscuity by my mother. If they did request metal restraints over ropes it was purely to avoid burns. Amber asked with...enthusiasm...arousal? I recovered from the surprise quickly "You may." I answered. "Now, will you be stripping completely or just to your underwear?" I enquired, trying not to sound too excited by the prospect.
"I will ask your advice for the more suitable choice" She said with a grin.
"Very well. I advise you to strip completely." I answered. Then, a moment later when I realised what a pervert that made me sound like, I added "The guards might treat you a little better." She smiled knowingly, as if to tell me I wasn't fooling anybody. Knowingly but...not disapprovingly. "Drop your cloths down that chute over there and I'll shackle you." I ordered, enjoying the sense of control.
"Perfect!" said Amber, and started to disrobe. I opened my bag and took out some metal restraints. I was just finishing untangling them when Amber dropped her bra and panties down the chute, and an orange glow indicated the incinerator had done its work. She then walked into the cell and, for a moment, just stood there, her hands by her side, making no attempt to cover herself. Since she didn't seem to object I stared for a moment. Her breasts were nice. Not that big but perky and firm looking. I'd been staring for about 10 seconds when she asked "Would you like me to turn around? Give you a nice view of my arse?" The overtness of the question threw me (though at this point it really shouldn't have) and all I could do was gulp and nod my head. She turned around. Her bottom was very nice, pert and inviting. After another 10 seconds of staring I started to restrain her.
I started by shackling her right wrist to her right ankle and her left wrist to her left ankle. I then fitted heavy steal collar around her neck and chained it to the wall. I attached a spreader bar to her legs forcing them apart. With each new restraint, the grin on her face grew wider. Remember that problem I mentioned earlier? About not being able to enjoy restraining women who don't want to be restrained? Since that wasn't a problem here I found myself REALLY enjoying it.
"Right," I said, considerably more confident than before, "the ball-gag is next so if there's anything else you'd like to request, now's the time."
"Yes," was her immediate answer "add more shackles, and a web of steel to lock imprison me like a fly! Okay, now you can gag me."
Y'know, with the luck I was having today, I think it's a shame I didn't buy a lottery ticket. "Ha I actually have a web of steel but the warden tells me I can't lock a prisoner into it unless they request it, and you're he first one who has!" I explained, pulling some more restraints out of the bag. I shackled her thighs to her calves, then shackled each ankle and connects them with a heavy chain. Then I put 6 shackles on each arm and connected them to their corresponding walls. "I'll be right back" I said leaving the cell. I wasn't worried about leaving the door open, she couldn't leave if she wanted to...and I'm fairly certain she didn't want to. I returned about a minute later with the web of steel. After locking her into it I stepped back to examine my work. She looked fantastic, and very happy. "There. You look beautiful." I said in awe. She blushed at the compliment. "Now the final touch." I said, placing a ball-gag in her mouth. I then stepped out of the cell, closed and locked the door. "I'll be back later to feed you." I told her, then, almost as an afterthought, "Oh and if the warden comes by and asks if I had permission to do this to you, nod your head okay?" I leaned against the bars and whispered affectionately "Goodbye my new favourite prisoner."
"mmmmmpf!" was her response, which I took to mean "Yes! Thank you!"
As I turned to leave, I decided that my job had just become a LOT more enjoyable.