Chapter 5

Still looking upon my former girlfriend, I slowly push myself up from the chair. In the quiet of the room, I am acutely aware of my frenzied heartbeat and trembling breath. The chain of women has now come around me, hemming me in against the desk. Unseen hands whisk my chair away from behind me.

I glance to find two graceful women at my sides, both wearing a long ponytail and the slightest of smiles. On their mutual signal they move swiftly toward me. But just as their hands touch my arms, I twist to the right and dive behind me in the direction of the door. For a split second I sail toward a forest of gleaming calves before a sudden impact pins me against the padded floor. In the distance I can see the other group of agents, still impassively guarding the exit to the room.

As I fight to get up, I feel my ankles being grasped and separated. In spite of my kicking, I am pivoted and dragged backwards by my spread legs toward the center of the room. Clawing futilely at the retreating floor, I can see a smiling Serena seated behind the desk.

Reaching the center of the room, the women pause, still holding my ankles. My arms are firmly folded behind me; with several zips they are fixed securely in place. The operation has proceeded soundlessly to this point. Now Serena gets up from her chair and walks towards us, raising her voice only slightly in order to be heard across the distance. "A commendable effort to both the prisoner and the restraint team. What was that, number four in the playbook?"

A sweet voice rings out from above me. "Yes, ma'am, basically a number four."

"Again, well done." Serena bends down to pat me lightly on the head. "Don't feel bad. Remember, they've been doing this for a long time. Even to each other, when they're bored." She straightens up. "Now bring in the restraint."

Behind me I hear the swishing of steps. I follow the sound around to my left, where an agent now appears in my view. She presents Serena with a dark gray bundle. Though it has been folded neatly, I see a number of straps poking out from the thick square.

Serena takes one fold in her hand, and in one dramatic gesture she unfurls a fearsome looking suit covered in straps. "One straitjacket suit: male cut, high security."

She examines it before handing it to the agent I had previously seen at my side. "Very good. You are free to begin."

Still face down on the floor with my arms secured behind me, I can hardly fight as the restraint team begins to slip my legs into the thick rubber suit. But even without my fighting, it still takes some amount of work to stretch the tough material fully and evenly over my already suited legs. As the straitsuit settles into place up to my waist, I feel its firm compression throughout my lower body.

A pair of agents fastens thickly padded leather cuffs over the ankles of the suit. After locking my ankles together through their thick metal rings, they hoist me by my underarms back to my feet. Secured at the arms and legs, and tightly gripped by the suit, I can only stand unsteadily while the team continues its well-practiced choreography.

As the two agents hold me firmly at each side of my waist, a multitude of new black, gleaming hands take hold of my pinioned arms. Meanwhile, the front of the suit, previously hanging from my waist, is now drawn up into place against my chest.

With a sudden release of pressure, my arms are cut free. But despite my new struggling, half of the hands keep my right arm securely wrenched behind my back. The other half deliver my left arm inexorably into the straitsuit's waiting sleeve. As the tight, thick mitt at the end of the sleeve finally tugs into place around my hand, a strap is fastened around my wrist. Now trapped within the sleeve, my left arm is firmly replaced behind my back. The thick unbuckled strap at the end of the sleeve is passed to the right as the agents there prepare for their turn.

Though I am able to resist a little more on the right side, soon that arm is also fed into its sleeve, imprisoned, and once more wrested behind me. From the small of my back, a sturdy zipper is slowly tugged upwards, closing the suit tightly over my whole body as it goes. The slider continues upward between my pinned arms, finally arriving at the narrow collar and locking in place with a small click. Soft hands smooth the tight material over my chest.