(story continues from Sheryl And The Straitjacket Incident 2)
Sheryl And The Straitjacket Incident - Part 3 by 3586088863 Sheryl And The Straitjacket Incident part 2by 3586088863
Chapter Eight At length Sheryl smiles and takes my hands lightly aside. “Come on now. Back to the task at hand. We want to stay on schedule.” As I’m getting up, she pauses to glance at her watch. With some delight, she exclaims, “Oh, honey, look!” Nodding, she now transfers our attention to the bedside clock. As we gaze on, it changes from 11:59PM to 12:00AM. “Happy Saturday!” Sheryl bestows a frivolous peck on my lips, and in response to my puzzled look, follows it with the cutest of shrugs. “Sorry! I guess I’m feeling a little off-the-wall right now.” Smugly I note that my performance during the last few minutes have evidently put her in a chipper mood. “Fine with me, silly girl. So do tell what happens in the next hour or so to this your unfortunate prisoner.” “With pul-easure!” She takes my right hand as if to shake it. Gracefully she turns under my right hand, holding on to it all the while, and winds up behind my back facing me. (Hey, that was cool. I knew that having a dancer girlfriend would be cool.) Bringing her free left hand around me, she strokes my chest lightly. Facing into the mirror with me, she continues. “Very well. Inspector, you will notice the five securely anchored fabric loops which adorn the circumference of the condemned man’s waist.” She grasps my shoulders and twists my torso from side to side so I can see all five in the mirror. “We shall now set the victim’s sleeves into these loops and secure them at his back. Do you give approval?” Sheryl has acquired a bit of an air for the role. I do my part to play along. “Madam, it is no less than necessary for the security of the State–the only possible recourse. Even now the prisoner is swearing that when he is released he shall take by force the first woman he sees!” “Then we have no choice. This man has forfeited to the State his freedom.” Sheryl reaches down to take, in turn, the two stiff black straps hanging from my balled fists. The strap issuing from the left swings slightly with the weight of the buckle. She first threads this strap through the front three loops: left, center, then right. The strap on the right side is threaded through these loops in reverse. At this point she pauses, holding the yet-unfastened straps. “Notice, sir, the way that this man’s right arm is passed over his left. In the protocol, this is the preferable method of restraint for the left-handed.” “Duly noted, madam warden, and very sharp of you. But I have seen people first pass the sleeves through all five loops. You will only use four for each?” Sheryl answers without a pause. “A most astute observation! Typical strait-waistcoats offer side loops primarily for assistance in transport. Not being designed to hold the arms, the loops force the arms in too forward-facing a position. As the sleeves must be brought yet around the front of the body, the position proves most uncomfortable for the restrained.” This consideration seems inconsistent to me. “But is it not precisely through unbearable restraint that we hope to punish the prisoner?” “In the end, Inspector, this configuration, specially designed with the middle two loops angled slightly, proves most secure, endurable, and humane. As for the punishment, good sir, we have much more effective means.” She winks. “But Inspector, you will want to excuse yourself for the sake of your peace of mind. While our restraint is humane, officials often find its application a little rougher than they prefer to know. It is best for you to leave me to the prisoner now.” “Very well. But on your own life, spare him no chance of escape.” Sheryl feeds the straps around my waist and through the remaining rear pair of loops until they meet behind me. Ensuring that my sleeves are passing properly through all their loops, she threads the strap the slightest way through the buckle. She leans into my ear. Aside from her confirmation there is no other sound in the room. “Are you prepared for your fate, prisoner?” “Do it! Do it, Sheryl, before I change my mind!” Following her firm, deliberate pull, the strap begins to sail past the spring-loaded teeth. Inch by inch the mechanism irreversibly eats up the slack. I let my arms follow the pull of the straps. My elbows come to a stop against the center loops. “Get on the bed. You can give me another two inches, at least!”
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