 |
|||
|
|
Woolly Story part 6
This part comes hot on the heals of part 5 and my thanks to Speedy from Germany for his input into all the idea’s that has made this story transition from just wool bondage to a cornucopia of enforced cross dressing and now 21st century, electronic bondage. I hope you enjoy this transitional story.
The Transition:
Like the previous week, this week had been long, the chastity belt was so fucking annoying but yet it heightened my sense of belonging. The simple device that held my urge to cum was kept out of reach and in the complete control of my girlfriend, Jennifer. She didn’t own me but she did now control me, well the most important part of my being; my ability to orgasm and therefore my ability to satisfy the urges that I previously took for granted.
We had agreed some time ago that I would take next week off work and we would therefore spend the whole of next week together to explore our relationship and where else it might lead. I knew that around 6pm this evening (Friday) the chastity belt would unlock and I would be free once again to make my own choice whether or I should masturbate and enjoy that wonderful sense of freedom that had been taken away from me. It was around 5pm when the doorbell rang; the DHL deliveryman at the door with a reasonable sized box in his arms. “Good afternoon sir, a delivery for you,” he said as I took the heavy box from him and signed the electronic signature pad. We said our goodbyes and I headed upstairs in the knowledge that this would be another box from Jennifer and yet another strange change to my enforced belonging to the girl that I was now in love with. I opened the box and lifter out the first jiffy bag with a note stuck to the outside:
Dearest David, like your move to enforced chastity two weeks ago, please follow my instructions to the letter and we can enjoy the exploration that waits us both this weekend and into next week. First of all, I’ve requested this package to be delivered to you just before 5pm, an hour before your belt is due to unlock. Please do not open any of the other parcels but I beg you to follow each of my instructions and we can both enjoy what this weekend and all of next week will hold for us?
The note then went on to ask that I didn’t open the first parcel until the belt had unlocked and I had a bath or shower to completely clean myself. It was now 5:15 and I was going mad with anticipation on what Jennifer had in store for me during the next week.
Soon enough, I finished my e-mails and the phone rang around 5:55. It was Jennifer who was glad to hear I was still following her instructions and she reiterated how important it was for me to carry them out exactly. We were chatting for around five minutes when I heard that familiar bleep and the chastity belt unlocking. I asked Jennifer to hold on a minute or so while I quickly removed the plastic device that forced me to withhold my urges over the last five days. As soon as the chastity belt was off, I could hold my man-hood while talking to Jennifer on the phone and don’t worry, I told her that I was doing just that.
We then started to talk about Jennifer’s work. It was strange but we’d really not talked a lot about each other professional lives during the past few months that we had known each other. I knew that Jennifer was a senior director in a plastics firm and the she explained that the chastity belt had been one of their most successful inventions during the past two years and her company had decided to move more into the sex business as the profits were so high and business was now so easy using the World-Wide-Web. Jennifer then told me that the item in vthe first package was a new invention that was currently going through the final stages of R&D and I would love it. We then agreed that I would get off the phone and get to work doing whatever Jennifer requested in her instructions. We agreed to see each other later and I then headed for the en-suite and a long, luxurious shower with my now, completely naked body, free from the plastic chastity belt that had imprisoned my man-hood all week. As soon as I was dried, I headed back into my bedroom to open the first jiffy bag. I was surprised to find a lightweight body stocking made of very thin Lycra or maybe even Nylon material. It had a zip down the back, which would allow me to easily get into the suit and place my feet into the built in tights and place my arms into the arms with built in gloves. The suit had a built in hood with no eyes, nose or mouth. This didn’t surprise but what did was the material. It was very lightweight, maybe 10-denier so the need for eye or nose holes didn’t seem necessary. It was only strange because Jennifer was normally getting me to wear wool suits and this lightweight garment was far away from the normal.
The body stocking was easy to pull on! I slipped my legs and arms into the various sleeves and slid my head into the hood before pulling the rear zip closed at the back of my neck. The body stocking was tight but because of the thin material, it was very comfortable. Jennifer’s note then asked me to open the small box with a number-2 marked on it. I opened the box and lifted out a very thin plastic collar with a locking device on the back, not dissimilar to the locking device on the chastity belt, without the timer. Instead of the timer, the panel seemed to have what looked like a typical USB port on a PC. It also had a small red button. Again following Jennifer’s instruction, I placed the thin plastic collar around my neck, placed the end of the zipped into the locking panel and then closing it, “CLICK!” Jennifer’s note then explained that the collar couldn’t come off until she plugged her laptop into the panel but for the suit to start doing its real job, I had to push the red button on the back of the collar, which of course I did immediately. The BLEEP was then sounded.
Jennifer’s note then suggested I sit on the bed for ten minutes while the magic of the suit happened. What magic I thought so al I had to do was sit there and wait. She then explained that the collar could not be cut off, just like the chastity belt and the suit was made of a brand new, super nylon with Lycra mesh, which couldn’t be cut off either so not to even try it. I trusted Jennifer so I decided to lie on the bed and make good use of the time and play with myself through the thin nylon covering my body. As I rubbed my manhood I began to get warm very quickly. I also got hard very quickly but then the strangest thing started to happen. My legs started to get very stiff and I noticed the thin material trying to shrink around them. The same happened to my arms and torso but not only did the material begin to strangle my entire body but it started to bond with my skin. I began to panic but it as too late, I couldn’t move a muscle and then I started to find it impossible to breathe as the hood started to get tighter and tighter around my entire head, including my face. Panic then really started to set in! What was happening and could I actually die here on my own. Next I got very sleepy and it wasn’t long until I collapsed on the bed and fell fast asleep.
I had no idea when I woke up but it was dark outside so I scrambled to find the light switch on my bedside cabinet. What had happened to me but as soon as I switched on the light, the real horror of my situation sank in. The nylon suit had disappeared and I now seemed to be completely naked but when I examined my torso I realised that I was no longer a man for somehow I was wearing a female’s body. I jumped up and looked in the mirror and what was staring back was a girl. Yes it was me, I knew it was me. I had the same male feelings but the girl staring back at me looked to be in her early thirties, like me with long brown hair, in fact the same colour hair I had but now there was a mass of hair hanging down, just below my shoulders. I now had tits and a pussey where my prick once was. I couldn’t do anything but rub my hands over my new body and caress my new plaything, which immediately started to make me hot in a completely different way. I rushed to the box and opened the envelope marked three. It was a note from Jennifer:
Good evening darling, I bet you’re wondering what has happened to you; well you are now part of our latest product and the testing phase of it!
Don’t panic, I have the power to reverse the body changer as soon as I plug you into my laptop. You will notice the collar is part of your skin but the black panel on the back is still visible. Go-ahead, have a feel.
Sure enough it was there, the red button and the USB port, now welled in as part of my new body.
You’ll obviously have to cover it at all times with a high neck collar or a scarf but knowing our history, that shouldn’t be too difficult.
Anyway, now to the next package, number-4:
Package number four was a large box with female clothing in it but not the usual thick, heavy wool attire that I’d been wearing previously while playing Jennifer’s games. This time she had provided me with everyday woman’s wear. A pair of white silk knickers and a white bra. I put these too items on quickly and they fitted perfectly. Next I lifted out a pair of Lycra 10-Denier skin coloured tights, which were much lighter than the think black tights I had been used to wearing. Of course I had now got no hairs to hide behind thick opaque tights so I guess it wasn’t really a surprise. Next item was a pick short wool dress, which was made of the softest cashmere wool and fitted perfectly over my new slender body. It was a short dress with long sleeves. The hem line fell half way down my legs and while it had a collar, it was made of thin wool and no-where near as intrusive as the previous wool garments Jennifer had forced me to wear. It felt so nice and I could feel myself getting even hornier but now no prick to stand up and ruin the image that faced me in the mirror. Jennifer had supplied a silk scarf made of the softest, floral patterned material that I wrapped tightly around my neck, tying it at the back and hiding the black panel of the collar that was now embossed into my skin. Finally, I removed a pair of high healed shoes that again fitted so perfect over my now, much smaller feet. I walked around my bedroom, admiring myself and feeling so horny but then panic started to set in; what if something now happened to Jennifer; would I be stuck inside this female body forever? I was a man; I enjoyed being dressed as a woman so had this now gone too far? I then picked up the last envelop, which said:
By now David you are temporarily a woman, well as temporarily as I allow it! I have booked a table in Charmers Restaurant in town for ten tonight, so go-a-head, call a taxi and I’ll see you there. I’ve enclosed some false documents that will allow you to get around, a Credit card, driving license and Switch-card, all in the name or Sonya Smyth, not really too strange an English name.
I wondered if Jennifer or her company could not have set-up a more impressive name for me? Anyway it was now nine-thirty so I’ll called the village cab firm and booked a taxi for 21:55. I was then struck by the sound of my voice, it was so feminine and so not me! It was still quite chilly outside and Jennifer had provided me with a long brown leather coat. Not too heavy but came down, level with my knees so my pale Lycra covered legs. A black over-the-shoulder hand-bag was also left for me, I popped the purse with my new ID inside and noticed Jennifer had thought of everything. A small bottle of perfume and a spare pair of tights. I sprayed myself with the sweet scent and closed the handbag throwing it over my shoulder. The hoot of the car horn outside signalled that the taxi had arrived. I stepped out of the house, locked the front door and climbed into the back of the Ford Mondeo, “Chamer’s Restaurant please driver?”
It was only a 5-minute drive to the restaurant. The driver was chatting me up, I couldn’t believe it but then maybe I could because now I passed for a chick! We arrived at the restaurant at a minute or so after ten. I paid the driver the fare and few quid extra for a tip. I entered Charmers and approached the waitress standing at the bar. “I’m here to meet a friend, Jennifer Owens,” I explained. The waitress smiled and led me over to Jennifer who was already sitting at the table for two with a glass of white wine in her hand. “Hi Sonya, you look fantastic,” said Jennifer as she stood up and approached to kiss me on both cheeks. I nearly forgot as I was about to land her a kiss on the lips. That would now look really out of place in rural England. We sat down and Jennifer poured me a glass of white wine from the bottle of Bordeaux, chilled from the ice bucket on a stand beside our table.
Jennifer was grinning from ear to ear! She simply couldn’t believe how good her company’s invention was and told me that I would never require putting on make-up as the suit provided all the correct facial textures, pre-programmed, which could be changed at any time when plugged into her laptop. We ordered our meal and chatted, not noticing the time go by. She assured me that everything was completely reversible and it had been tried time and time again at her company’s lab in North London. She did admit that they had never tried a female suit on a male before I was therefore her experiment. I was a little worried by that statement but the wine was doing its job and I really didn’t care right now about anything. I asked about the ID and Jennifer explained that it was all linked back to her company and while I was Sonya, I had full access to the funds available on the credit card and switch card. It was time to pay the bill so Jennifer suggested that I use her company’s credit card. The waitress approached and I handed her the MasterCrad. I was a little concerned when the waitress didn’t return immediately. I told Jennifer I needed to use the bathroom and I would return in a few minutes to sign the coupon. It was very strange when I now had to use the Ladies! I must have only been in there about five minutes but when I re-entered the main restaurant, there was two policemen standing with the waitress, all looking at me as I headed back to Jennifer who was sitting at the table. “Ms. Smyth, could we have a few minutes of your time please,” requested one of the officers. Perplexed, I approached them both. The other, more senior sergeant then asked me if I was Sonya Smyth. I said YES and he explained that the credit card I had just tried to use was a fake and there was also a warrant out for my arrest. I was dumbstruck and turned to seek some help from Jennifer who had noticed my situation and had stood up to come over and see what was happening. “Jennifer, these police officers are telling me that my credit card is a fake!” I then showed the officers my ID but they explained that I had to go back to the police station with them and all could be investigated in good time. I started to panic as they read me my rights and the younger officer started to remove a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt. “Those will not be necessary officer,” I pleaded but they would have none of it as the sergeant held me. I lifted my hands to offer them to the young policeman but her shuck his head as the sergeant pushed me around, allowing my hands to be handcuffed behind my back.
British police handcuffs are not the most comfortable restraints but they are really effective. Embarrassed as I was, the two police officers told Jennifer that I would be taken the police station on the edge of the village where I would be questioned either later tonight or in the morning. They then led me out of the restaurant and pushed me into the back of a waiting police car. It was only a short, 10-minute drive to the new police station where we pulled into the rear car park and I was usurped out by the younger officer. This was weird as I had entered Jennifer’s old police station in handcuffs many times but now this was real and I was very scared.
We entered the custody suite where a police woman stood behind the counter. “That’ll mean a promotion for you Bob,” she explained. “I can’t believe it Barbara, she’s had an extradition order against her for some moths now and no-one has been able to find her but we have now!” Now I was in trouble and I desperately needed to talk to Jennifer but I was told I wouldn’t get my telephone call until the morning. I wasn’t pleased and struggled against he handcuffs. “Just put her into number five guys and leave her handcuffed, she’ll be safer that way!” The two police men then led me into a long corridor with closed cell on either side. I was then pushed into cell number five and the heavy iron door was closed behind me, locking just like Jennifer’s cells. I was now in real trouble and how was I going to get out this? I paced up and down the small modern cell with a bunk, toilet and sink. It smelled of disinfectant and there I was, effectively a man trapped in a woman’s body, dressed in a gorgeous black wool mini dress, with a silk scarf tied tightly around my neck with my hands cuffed behind my back. I then moved over to the bunk, sat down and tried to get comfortable. If you have ever had your hands cuffed behind your back using British standard police cuffs, they are rigid and very, very uncomfortable!
It was a very long night. I was left there until day break when another female officer entered the cell to check I was alright. I complained bitterly about getting no sleep and my wrists were killing me. She was shucked that I had been left handcuffed all night and asked me to stand-up and allow her to remove them. “You’ll need to take off your tights and scarf dear,” said the female custody officer. I understood the rule as a scarf or tights could easily be used to hang a person wishing to commit suicide in a police cell. I was petrified that the female officer would spot the panel on the back of my neck to I refused. “Very well then,” she said as she left the cell, slamming the iron door behind her, locking me up again and leaving my poor hands still cuffed tightly behind my back. I badly needed to take a piss but there was no way I could pull down my tights, pants and lift the dress to allow me to go to the toilet. I had to wait anther half hour before the cell door opened again.
The same female officer returned with Jennifer. She let Jennifer into the cell and closed the door locking us both inside. “What the hell is going on Jennifer,” I asked? “I’ve spoken to my company and they are very apologetic but they hadn’t authorised the credit card so that is why it got refused. The police would have released you last night but for some reason there is a warrant out for the arrest of Sonya Smith an American girl fitting your description,” Jennifer explained. “That couldn’t be right, they would just have to take my fingerprints and find out that I am not her,” I replied. Jennifer then explained that she had no idea why but the British police just wanted rid of Sonya Smith as soon as possible and I was going to be deported to Chicago later today. Panic really started to set, “What has Sonya done that is so bad,” I asked? Jennifer then told me the bad news that Sonya Smith had killed her millionaire husband in cold blood for his money. She was arrested two years ago but while being transferred to a maximum security prison for life, Sonya somehow had managed to over-come the guard, kill him and escape across the Mexican border. It was reported that she had gone to the UK and started a new life. The news got worse because once back in the USA Sonya would be out on trial for the murder of her guard and a guilty sentence would mean the death penalty. “Jennifer, you need to get me out of this, can you not reprogram me the collar and get me back to my previous self, I asked? Jennifer then explained that it wouldn’t be that easy as she couldn’t even get a PDA into the cell or she would reprogram the collar and release me from Sonya’s body. “The guards have suggested that I get you something more comfortable to travel in, it is going to be a long journey. They’re checking the cloths that I’ve brought you, which should be okay,” explained Jennifer. She then said that she would catch the next flight out to the Chicago where her company HQ was. The female officer then reappeared with bag in her hands. “I’m going to release your hands Sonya so you can get changed. I’m going to allow Jennifer to stay for an hour or so until Special Branch come to escort you to Heathrow airport.” She then approached and released my hands that had remained cuffed since I was arrested last night.
Jennifer then removed from the bag various assortments of female clothing. It wasn’t a surprise but most of the clothing was wool and a lot heavier than I was wearing at the moment. I guess Chicago was still going to be much colder than the UK? I first of all removed the silk scarf and then pulled the thin wool mini dress over me head. Jennifer had thought of everything as she even brought me a clean bra, panties and tights. These tights were more like the thick black opaque wool/Lycra tights I had been used to wearing over the passed few weeks. I give my body a wash using the water from the sink in the cell and then got dressed in the new cloths Jennifer had brought me. The bra and panties were made of the most beautiful black satin material. They felt wonderful against my bare skin. The wool tights had stretchy Lycra through them so pulling them on was a warming experience. Jennifer had brought me one of the thicker wool dresses, made of the softest cashmere wool. I slid my arms into the long sleeves and pulled the mass of wool over my body. The dress was longer than the mini dress I had been wearing since last night. The dress came down to just about my knees. I slipped on the low healed pumps I’d been wearing and I was now ready to go but to where I wasn’t quite sure. I have to say that I was very, very scared.
It wasn’t long until the cell door was unlocked and the female guard approached with two plain-clothed officers behind. Both were female and wore casual jeans and thick wool jumpers. I guess they knew that Chicago was going to be cold as well. Jennifer handed me a long wool scarf to wrap around my neck and hide the panel on the back of my neck. The scarf was bright red and I was able to wrap it around my neck once and loosely tie it to my front, leaving the wide loose knot dangling just ample chest. Jennifer then handed me the leather jacket I’d worn to the restaurant last night. I had left it there when I was arrested. The first female plain-clothed officer approached. “I’m Sylvia and this is Dorothy, I assume you are not going to give us any trouble today Sonya?” I shuck my head as she took a pair of British police handcuffs and locked them around my wrists in front of me. “We’re going to be nice to you Sonya as the journey is long but give us any problems and those cuffs will be used to lock your hands behind your back. Eight hours on a flight would be very uncomfortable in that position,” explained Dorothy! Sylvia then showed me her tazor, which she assured me, would be used the second I stepped out of line. I was then led out oft eh cell block, through the custody suite where a couple of ugly looking guys were being processed and both complained about police brutality and the fucking awful handcuffs that held their arms pinned to their backs. We then left the police station and Dorothy directed me into the back seat of a waiting Vauxhall Vectra. Dorothy sat to my right and Sylvia to my left. Jennifer and I said our goodbyes and she assured me that she would get out to the States within the next day or so. We then drove off towards the M1 and Heathrow airport.
The journey to the airport took about an hour and a half. The M1 was clear and so was the M25 until around the M40 junction, where it always slows down to a snails pace. We turned off the M4 and went through the airport tunnel. We then approached security where we had to stop and get out. Both Sylvia and Dorothy held on to each arm but as soon as we were out of the car, Dorothy produced another pair of handcuffs, locked one around her wrist and slipped the open cuff around the plastic between my locked wrists. I was then stuck to this girl until she unlocked me. We entered the security hut and we had to pass through the usual airport scanners while the car was been checked by British Transport police. Happy that everything was in order we got back into the car and another police car led the two car convoy air-side and towards Terminal 3. We stopped beside a United Airlines 767 and I was taken out of the car and escorted up the stairs to an empty jet-way; thank goodness I thought. It could have been very embarrassing being led on to the aeroplane in handcuffs. We entered the aircraft and while the two officers greeted the cabin crew, they glared at me as I was led, still handcuffed to last row at the back. We had three seats in the middle to ourselves. They did remove the cuffs for a minute to enable me to remove the leather coat. I asked that I keep the scarf on and they re-cuffed my hands in front and we took our seats.
The other passengers boarded the aircraft, completely unaware that they were in the company of a convicted murderer, who was handcuffed in the back row of the plane for the next eight hours. Nothing strange about take off. We taxied out to runway 27 right at London Heathrow and within a few minutes, we were airborne and on our way to Chicago. As we climbed out of the London area, the seat belt lights went out and then I started to panic as several people got up and headed to the toilets at the back of the aircraft. I only lifted my cuffed hands once to loosen the scarf that was tied around my neck. It was starting to get warm with the heavy cashmere wrapped around me! It was then time for our meal and I have to say that was going to be a little awkward. I begged the guards to unlock my wrists. In the end, we were stuck in a tin can at 35,000 feet over the north Atlantic so where was I going to go? Finally after about ten minutes of struggling with the plastic knives and forks, Dorothy felt sorry for me so she unlocked both my wrists. I was then free for the next twenty minutes until I finished the food. Dorothy was about to re-cuff my hands when I asked to go to the toilet so I couldn’t be cuffed. She got up and led me to the unoccupied toilet and stood outside the locked door, allowing me a few minutes privacy to do my business. Once back in my seat, she re-cuffed my hands in front. About six and a half hours into the flight, somewhere over Canada, I requested a trip to the toilets again. This time Sylvia unlocked the cuffs and escorted me the few feet to the toilets before handcuffing me again when we had returned to our seat. Other than that, the flight was uneventful and soon we were preparing for final approach into Chicago O’Hare International.
We taxied up to the new International Terminal and we sat in our seats while the other passengers got off. When the aircraft had emptied, we stood up; Dorothy pulled my leather cost from the over-head locker. She draped the leather over my shoulders, which meant she didn’t have to unlock the cuffs. She then attached herself to me in the same way when we boarded back in London. We then started the long walk down the isle and out on to the empty jet-way, passed the cabin crew that at least acknowledged me this time and even wished me good luck. We then entered the main terminal where we were met by two men in suits and two police-women in black uniforms. Sylvia and Dorothy introduced themselves to the American officers while the two uniformed woman approached me, “Welcome home Sonya!” I announced that I was not the Sonya they were looking for and if they took my fingerprints they would soon learn the truth. They just laughed and produced a large number of chains. First thing they did was lock my ankles into a set of ugly leg-irons, which were attached to a pair of empty handcuffs on a short chain. They locked my hands into the cuffs before unlocking the ridged British cuffs and handed them back to Dorothy who by now was removing a locked cuff from her wrist. Dorothy and Sylvia then said their good byes and headed for baggage reclaim while I was led off, very slowly by the four American officials. I had been locked into prison chains by Jennifer several times but I never had to walk very far in them; these were really uncomfortable and difficult to walk in. Now came the embossing part as I was matched through a busy immigration hall, packed with people staring at me, hobbling in the most intrusive manacle and shackle set.
Soon we were out of the terminal and I was ordered to get into the back of an unmarked prison van. I sat on the bench between the two women in uniform who said nothing to me except to order me to sit down and shut up! The journey took around two hours, I guess in traffic but I wasn’t really sure as the van had no windows. We finally came to a stop and the back doors were opened. I was ordered to stand and then man-handled out of the van and into what could only be described as the most oppressive prison yard I’d ever seen. Razor wire and barking dogs not to mention the concrete building that I stood in front of before being prodded to move forward in the direction of a doorway, cut off by a barred door. A loud buzzing noise meant the door was now opening and I was led inside to the reception area. I stood at the bench where two other guards approached me for processing. They asked me my name and I could only reply,” Sonya Smyth, with a Y.” They asked who I was kidding because my last name was spelt with an I, (SMITH). I then reminded them that they had the wrong Sonya and they all laughed as they led me by one arm and locked me in a holding cell that faced the reception bench. All that now separated me from the guards at in reception was a one inch thick door made of Perspex. I was obviously still handcuffed and chained by the ankles so I was going nowhere!
I guess it was about an hour when another guard approached, opening the Perspex door and ushering me out into reception. I was taken through another bared door and into a long corridor. I was taken into a small room with a shower and finally they unlocked my wrists and ankles. I was ordered to strip before being told to take a shower. I was done within a few minutes when the female officer ordered me to turn around as she locked my hands into a pair of handcuffs, behind my back. I felt very vulnerable, standing there naked, very naked and only my long hair hiding the control panel to my identity. I was then led out of the shower room and into another room where a male doctor stood right in front of me. Now I did feel naked! I was ordered to stand still while he examined me. It wasn’t long until he found the control panel and started questioning what it was. I quickly explained that it was a new type of pace-maker and then he told the guard that Sonya Smith had a perfect heart. The guard laughed and told him not to be stupid, I was Sonya Smith and I would soon be put in the chair for murdering the guard during my escape. Now I was even more scared and the whole experience was so real and maybe they could put me to death, an innocent person! As soon as my medical was complete I was led back to the shower room where my wrists were unlocked and I was told to dress in the standard prison uniform. A sweat bra and pants with the prison logo on them and an ugly orange jump suit made of the most horrible nylon material that I’m sure I would soon stick to even if it was a cold day outside. My hands were once again cuffed behind my back while I was taken to another room for my photograph and finger-prints, at last maybe they would soon realise I wasn’t Sonya Smith?
They had to unlock my hands again to take my photograph and fingerprints. I held up the usual identity card, I was prisoner 960504, State of Illinois Penitentiary. Happy all was complete, they ordered me to turn around again and my hands were once cuffed behind my back. Why bother I thought? I was then told I was being taken to see the governor so it meant a long walk through many remotely controlled doors that buzzed loudly as I was taken through each one. Finally I was led into a room where a really beautiful looking prison governor sat behind a solid oak table with a file on top and a PC to one side. She had long blonde hair and wore a very nice tight blue suit and had a fantastic floral print, silk scarf tied tightly around her neck. She then stood up and spoke in a very official voice:
Prisoner 960504, you’ve been returned to the Illinois State penitentiary where you will be incarcerated until your trial for murder of the guard during your prison escape of two years ago. You are already a convicted prisoner for murder and therefore you will be treated as such until your trial and subsequent sentence, which under the state of Illinois could mean death by lethal injection. Have you anything to say?
I could only look this beatify straight in the eye and plead my innocence:
“Please Governor Hunt; I am not the Sonya Smith you think I am. I am Sonya Smyth with a Y, I am English and if you only checked your finger print records, you would soon understand!”
She looked back at my with a glare
“Your records are in the hands of the Illinois state prosecutor and will not get back to the prison for a day or so. You will also stand trial for the escape of two years ago and as such you will only be permitted to leave your cell once a day and during that brief period, you will be handcuffed and most probably shackled, do you understand? “
I could only sob and nod as I was led out of the governor’s office, hands cuffed behind my back and into a long corridor with barred cells on one side and a concrete wall on the other with small hatch windows at the top. The last cell on the left was then mine. “Open number 12,” the female guard yelled and the cell door electrically slide open and I was told to step inside! She then again yelled, “Close number 12,” and the bars slammed closed, with a terrible, haunting sound, CLUNK! I was then ordered to turn around to enable the officer to remove my cuffs that locked my hands behind my back. She walked off and I was then able to explore the tiny cell that I would now spend 23 hours a day, locked inside. The cell was tiny, a bunk along one side, a toilet and wash hand bassoon along the back wall and that was it. Not even a TV like you see in American movies so what was I going to do; locked in here for 23 hours every day?
To be continued………
Have at a look at my Woolly Story Part Seven to see how and if David can escape this mess.
Ed Kilpatrick
|
|
|