JANET'S HOME PRISON SENTENCE

BY DREAMCHASER

Part 2

On the fourth morning, they both came for me. Mother unlocked my
ankle shackle with me still on my bed and told me to go to the
bathroom where we went through the by now familiar procedure with
my wrist cuffs. Having finished with the toilet, I was led back
to the bedroom where my father was collecting up the chain. "We
are now going to move you to your new quarters which will
effectively be your cell for the next year. The main garage has
been converted for your use at the back of the house. There you
will be secluded, and nobody will have any idea of you presence.
What friends we have seen have been told that you have been
returned to an institution for a year, so no one will miss you.
Rest assured, you are a prisoner and as in any punishment regime,
resistance and non-compliance will result in harsher punishments,
heavier restriction and even extension of you sentence. You may
nod if you understand this." I nodded meekly. "Today you will be
fitted with various items that will facilitate your training.
From time to time these will change, often for a more severe form
as your body adjusts to its newly found abilities. Do not think
that for one minute that any of this will be easy. It will be
strenuous, tedious and often most painful. Learn well and quickly
and the pain will be lessened." Finishing his sentence, he
grabbed me by one arm and my mother grabbed the other. I was then
marched through the house and out to the massive garage complex
which when built was big enough to hold about six cars.

The place had been totally stripped of all the tools and garden
equipment that had been previously stored here. I could see that
the floor had been swept, and there was green matting laid all
around the outside of the room along the walls to a width of
about five foot, but for the most part, there was only the grey
concrete which felt cold under my bare feet. In the middle of the
room was a bed, normal in all respects except for the fact that
it was much shorter than usual, I estimated it to be only about
four feet long. The headboard and footboard both had holes of
different sizes cut in them, with a large one in the middle and
then two smaller ones on either side. Suddenly I had a very bad
feeling of what was to come.

"Welcome to your new home", my father said as he pulled me
through the door. "I'm sure that you will become familiar with
the more unique features of this dwelling as time goes on, but
for now, I will introduce you to the more basic facilities. He
led me over to a large circular post reaching from floor to
ceiling that had been installed next to the bed. I was stood
between two upright pillars, which came to just over waist
height. Behind me was another pillar with a wheel in top driven
by a handle. I felt my arms being released from my cuffs, only
for them to be reattached in front. A chain which was hanging
down on the post was connected to the, and with a rattling
reminiscent of a medieval dungeon scene, my arms were drawn way
above my head until only the tips of my toes remained on the
ground. Gently I swayed from side to side. "This will be your
basic introduction to some of the aspects of your training,
Janet. We will start with corset training and waist reduction. A
lot of your training will revolve around modification of your
body, to create the perfect vision of yourself in the eyes of any
suitor that might come along once you are released. The first
weeks will involve getting your body accustomed to being in
unnatural restriction and stretching the muscles that you will
need for your walking and deportment classes."

I felt a leather sheath being wrapped around my body, trying to
look down at what they were doing to it. It appeared to be a long
body corset, which went from above my breasts all the way down to
my hips. The front was secured by about ten clasps; my growing
breasts were accommodated in two large holes, so that the leather
surrounded the base of each, the nipples becoming harder all the
time. While he was doing the front up, I could feel my mother
arranging the laces at the back. She was threading each side
through the pulleys and to the handle. Once everything was
threaded properly, she started turning the handle, drawing the
slack out of the laces, while at the same time making sure that
they were drawing through the eye-lets of the corset. Soon there
was no slack left, and the edges of the corset began to draw
together, first in the middle, which took my breath away. I tried
to scream that it was too tight, but the effective gag muffled my
every word. Ever so slowly, the resistance to the laces at the
top and bottom of the corset were overcome, creating an every
increasing pressure on my chest. Looking down. I noticed that my
breasts were also enlarging, being forced at the base through the
strategically placed holes. At last, the pulling stopped as the
edges finally met. All mother had to do to release the laces was
to pull the handle out, catching the now loose excess lacing as
it fell through the pulley. She then knotted the ends very
tightly before tucking away the excess in little pouches on each
hip. "This is your first corset, Janet, which has been made to a
size four inches less than your waist size. Get used to it,
because for now you will spend night and day in it, until more
suitable clothing for nightwear can be made for you. Now turn
around again to face me after I have unlocked your gag. Your will
not say a word on penalty of spending the day hanging by your
wrists as you are now. The choice is yours.

With my wrists already aching, I felt obliged to comply as the
gag fell away from my mouth. I span round on my tiptoes to face
him. In his had he had what appeared to be a piece of plastic
made up of several layers of different sizes, with a couple of
pins sticking out at ninety degrees at one end and an odd shaped
slot cut in the middle. It looked like a squared out letter 'J'
with a slightly larger hole at the top of the letter. The piece
was flat at the end with the pins and but the remainder was
curved. "Time for your permanent gag to be installed," he
explained to me. "This will remain in your mouth for the duration
of your punishment. You will learn to eat and drink with it in
place, and as it will not be an impediment to your breathing or
oral hygiene, there is no reason whatsoever to remove it. Now
open your mouth and put your tongue out as far as possible.
Obeying his command, I put out my tongue. I felt him toying with
the barbell that filled the piercing that had instigated all of
this trouble for me. I could feel the end on the bottom of my
tongue being pushed upwards by his finger so that the top of the
barbell was above my tongue. He fed the plate into my mouth so
that it lay flat against the top of my tongue, then as he moved
it around, the barbell engaged in the slot in the plate. Slowly
he pushed the plate back, causing the barbell to move further
forward in the slot, and the two pins to start pushing at the
skin at the back of my lips. Suddenly, the whole thing moved
sideways and then back slightly, forcing the barbell to engage in
a slot against the natural direction that the tongue would move
it.

Try as I may, there was no way I could detach my tongue from that
plate, it was solid and held flat. I knew that without the
flexibility of my tongue coherent speak would be almost
impossible but worse was to come. When I closed my mouth, I
realised that my teeth would no longer come together. The middle
layer of the plate was wide enough to cover my bottom set of
teeth. It meant that in order to move my tongue, I would have to
physically open my mouth but that was made impossible by the next
step. The two other piercing that had been done along with my
tongue now become useful to him. Attaching a minute jewellery
clip, most likely from a necklace chain, to ring in my lip, he
connected my lower lip to my nose ring. There was now no way that
I could open my mouth, so of course no means of moving my tongue.
I was as good as mute and likely to stay that way for a very long
time.

He stopped to examine his handiwork for a minute then told me to
attempt to speak. All I could manage was a couple of squeaks and
mumbles before breaking into a gagging fit, which took time to
control. "Very effective isn't it?" he gloated. "Isn't it ironic
that the very things that got you into this mess are going to
prove so useful in creating the remedy. I think now that it is
time to introduce you to part of your sleeping arrangements while
we get a few more items sorted out."

With another clatter of chain, he released my hands, and led me
over to the bed, beckoning me to sit up straight on the edge,
which was something that came naturally with the constriction
that I was feeling on my waist. While I sat waiting, my father
undid some bolts on the headboard and the footboard. The top
parts of both lifted up and I knew with some dread that my
earlier guess had been right. Parts of my body were intended for
the holes. He made me lie down with my neck in the larger hole of
the headboard, and my wrists in the closest of the smaller holes.
As soon as I was in an approximate position, he replaced the
upper board trapping my neck and hands in place. I experimented
to see just how much movement the boards would allow me, which
was not very much at all. The lack of support behind my head
became a concern, but after putting the bolts back in to secure
the two parts together, he raised a shelf under my head and
positioned it so that the back of my head rested on a padded
section. My ankles rested over the footboard, at what seemed to
be the correct length for the simple task of imprisoning my
ankles as well. Strangely, the holes for my feet were not
circular, but were tear shaped. At first I couldn't figure out
why, and it was not until later that I discovered the horrible
reason.

With both parts of what he called "the stocks" in place I was
rendered unable to move, except to wriggle my hips slightly. Some
of that movement was then removed when two very long straps were
passed over and around my body and the bed. Positioning them
above and below my breasts he cinched them down as hard as he
could, pinning my chest and making it difficult for me to breath.

Standing over me, he looked into my terrified and distressed
eyes. "Now Janet," since you seem to enjoy getting yourself
pierced, I've decided that it would be appropriate and useful to
add a few more. I'll be back in a minute and then I'm going to
pierce your nipples and put rings in them". My eyes bulged at the
prospect and I tried desperately to wriggle free of my bonds, but
to no available Screaming did not do any good either, because it
only ended up in my having another gagging fit. He came back
shortly carrying a tray with a number of items on it, which he
placed next to my head. I tried to turn slightly to see what was
on their but to no avail. He started to give me a running
commentary on what he was doing, which made this even worse. "OK
Janet" he started, "I've been reliably informed that this does
not hurt at all. Your mother had this done many years ago, but
you didn't know that did you?" I shook my head briefly, trying to
imagine my mother with pierced nipples. "What I'm going to do
first is apply some anaesthetic and antiseptic to the area
surrounding your nipples." I felt his fingers rubbing an ice cold
substance on them, cold enough that I could almost feel them
going numb. He waited for a couple of minutes to allow the gel to
take effect. In his hand, I could make out what appeared to be
miniature paper clamp with rubber tipped ends. A great pressure
on my left breast built up as he applied it to the area
immediately behind the nipple, to stop the flow of blood, he
explained. In his right hand he now had what looked like a gun,
which he pressed onto the side of my nipple. I closed my eyes
tightly, trying not to imagine the ultra sharp needle being shot
straight through the skin and out of the other side, but it was
not good. The incredible pain made the vision all too real. Tears
streamed from my eyes as a second larger needle was inserted by
hand to open up the wound wide enough to take the small ring that
was intended to find a home there. He left the clamp in place as
he threaded the nipple ring through the hole, before adding a
small length of chain to the ring and mating the two ends
together. Then, to add to the misery, he swiftly soldered the
gap, meaning that I could only be removed by cutting it off. The
all to painful process was repeated with the other nipple, the
fact that I had been through it once making it none the less
distressing.

"I'm going to leave those to heal slightly for tonight, before I
attach the chain, but I will explain now what they are for. All
of the corsets that are made for you will leave your breasts
uncovered in the same way that this one does. The chains will be
attached to small clips that have been sown in above you breasts.
When attached, they will physically lift your breasts by the
nipples, which will no doubt provide a considerable amount of
discomfort to you in the early days, particularly when you are
exercising. The amount of tension can, of course, be adjusted in
the event of any minor infractions. As of tomorrow, your breast
training commences. Now, we'll deal with your feet, since a major
part of your deportment training will involve teaching you how to
walk, balance and hold yourself in the most extreme of footwear."
Stood now at the end of the bed, he released the ankle stock
slightly and pulled my foot towards him. Although I could not see
what was going on, again he gave me a running commentary. "The
cuffs that I am now attaching to your ankles will stay on you
until necessary. They will ensure that you will always retain
your shoes on your feet, whatever happens." As he passed the
strap around my ankle, I felt another strap going under the arch
of my foot. From the feel of it, it had two pieces of metal
attached, one straight across the arch, and another longer piece
lying up the middle of my foot. "What you can feel under your
foot is a retaining strap for a two inch long bolt which is now
protruding from the base of your foot. I would advise you that if
you ever do have to stand barefoot, which will be a rarity, do
not attempt to put your foot flat on the floor as this could have
very painful consequences. At all times your feet will either be
in high heels, or in an arched position. The purpose of this is
to ensure that your calf muscles cannot relax and lose their
tension as this could lead to pulled muscles. It will not stop
your training, but it will be very painful, particularly in the
latter stages when your heels will be excessively high.
Incidentally, in order that you maintain a ladylike step at all
times, there is a connecting hobble chain between your ankles
that will only allow a maximum twelve inch step."

"We're going to start your off with a reasonable heel height,
just so that you can become accustomed over the first few days to
walking on the balls of your feet, something that you have never
had to do before. This is the shoe that I am going to be fitting
you with for the rest of the day." He lifted it up to that I
could see it over the top of the stock. As you can see, it is
only a 4" heel of the stiletto variety. All of your shoes from
now on will have the same type of heel. The maximum width at the
tip will not be more than five millimetres, which will
undoubtedly cause you problems at first in keeping your balance
but I know that when you find out what happens when you lose your
balance, you will quickly adapt."

I looked at the shoe that he was holding up, and immediately
dreaded having to walk in them. Even though he said they were
moderate, the fact that I only wore a size four shoe made the
arch look mountainous. They appeared only to be a sole and a
heel. The only means of support for the foot was a toe strap that
was buckled across the instep. At the moment it was undone, the
strap flapping about as the shoe was being held up. I felt the
right shoe being applied to the sole of my foot, and realised
that the projection under my foot was going to have to pass
through the sole of the shoe. I later discovered, when I got a
chance to look at them, that once on, a large nut was used to
secure the shoe to the sole of my foot. Without the appropriate
tool, there was no way that it could be removed, even with the
strap undone. He then did the toe strap up, which I suppose was
only there to prevent the shoe from twisting sideways on my foot
since it served no purpose in actually hold the shoe on my foot.
The left shoe quickly followed. The feel of the arch of my foot
was an unfamiliar and not too comfortable one. At the time I was
worried that I was going to have to sleep in these things as
well, but later wished that this were the case as night-time
would prove to be far worse.

With my feet finished, he released the stock on my neck slightly,
enough that I could withdraw my hands but not my neck for now.
Evidently, it was now the turn of my hands to be prepared and I
imagined that I would have to wear wrist cuffs of some
description. He returned carrying what looked like to leather
tubes, so narrow that is was difficult to see what they could be
used for. Instructing me to keep my fingers straight and my thumb
tucked in to the palm of my hand; the left hand got forced into
one of the tubes that I noticed ended in a cone shaped point.
Once in the tube the space for my fingers got narrower and
narrower. Then my fingers hit something metal in the lining as
well, which was where the cone began. As my fingers went deeper
and deeper into the cone, they become more compressed until the
middle finger reached the end of the cone. The top of the tube
was now reaching the joint of my elbow, covering my entire lower
arms in a tight kid leather sheath. He didn't need straps on my
wrists at all. The tubes were so tight that I could not have
removed without the use of another pair of hands. All that was
left of my hands was a couple of points, shaped deliberately so
that even with both hands, grasping something would be difficult.

It must have been about two o'clock in the afternoon by the time
all the preparations were finished. My hands were put both in the
stocks and I was left for an hour to acclimatise to my new
surroundings, not that I could see much from my position. Hunger
pangs had returned as well, reminding me that I had not had any
food in the past three days. I just had to lie there feeling more
and more sorry for myself. I cried again, desperate for my
situation, and frightened of what lay ahead and was still sobbing
when my father returned about an hour later.

Releasing me from the wooden panels that held me, he stood me
upright, and I felt the effects of the high heels for the very
first time. My foot was being forced into what I thought was an
impossible arch and there was an instant feeling of pressure on
my toes and the ball of my foot. My left hand was pulled far
behind me, and I felt it being strapped above my right hip.
Evidently, there must have been straps built into the corset to
hold them there. He repeated the procedure with my right hand so
that the arms crossed at the elbows. Fortunately, being so young,
I was supple enough to cope with this but even so, the strain on
my shoulders was incredible. I had to arch my back to cope with
the pain, which was added to when another strap was passed around
my elbows, locking them to my body as well.

Now that you're out of bed, I might as well give a taste of the
exerciser that I've prepared for you, to assist with your walking
lessons. With his hand in my back, he pushed me gently towards
the wall. I wasn't prepared for that or the effect that having a
chain on my ankles was going to have on how far a step I good
take and I almost fell forward until my father grabbed me and
pulled me back. The heels didn't help either, as my balance was
immediately thrown forward when I stumbled. Clearly, walking was
not going to be the automatic process that it had always been
under the conditions. Taking hold of my arm to offer me some
support in during my first faltering steps, he led me to a box,
mounted on the wall. For the first time I noticed two thin chains
attached to a thin cable reaching from the ceiling. Looking up to
where it came from, I saw the rail which, when I followed it's
course, led right around the walls directly above the green
matting and back to where I stood.

"This is how you will learn about walking like a lady. As this is
the first time, you will only be given a short and slow
demonstration, but from tomorrow, your training starts properly.
The chain in front of you is attached to a small, motorised
tractor unit, which is hanging from the track above you. You in
turn will be connected to the chain, which will dictate the pace
at which you move and for how long. Normally, these chains will
be connected directly to your nipple chains, so that any
hesitation on your part will result in your nipple rings being
pulled away from your body. There is a safety feature should you
fall so that you don't tear your nipple rings out and permanently
disfigure yourself. The junction between the cable and the chain
is also an electrical connection; one where the amount of
pressure needed to break the connection is adjustable from almost
nothing to twenty pounds. For the early days of your training, it
will be set very low, as you are likely to fall quite a lot, but
as your training increases or you show no improvement in your
abilities to handle higher and different heels, the pressure will
be increased. I suspect that by then end, your normal sessions
will have it set at about ten pounds. Not a lot you may think,
but then think of five bags of sugar dangling from your nipples
and you will realise that you will be in great pain if you fall.
The amount of time that you spend on the exercising will be
dictated by the setting on this timer. As you can see, it goes up
to eight hours. You will be able to see this as you pass on each
circuit. If the electrical circuit is broken in the connection,
the timer will stop and a message will be sent to a pager that we
both your mother and I will carry. One of us will come and
reconnect it for you. Only when we start the tractor again does
the timer recommence counting. The speed is also fully adjustable
from a very slow walk to running, which you will be expected to
achieve in due course. You will also be expected to cope with
various obstacles that you encounter in every day life, such as
stairs, slopes and uneven surfaces such as stones."

Having given the sales pitch, he connected the chains.
Mercifully, he used the coupling on my corset above my breasts,
which my nipple chains were intended to be connected to,
explaining that as I had only had my nipples pierced that
afternoon, he would let the heal slightly first. "I've set the
tractor for thirty minutes, which will probably take you an hour
to complete with the number of times you are likely to fall. Once
you have completed that, your mother will give you some food, as
you must now be extremely hungry. After that, I wish to make a
cast of your feet and you will then be put to bed for the night."
With that he hit the button which started me on my way. At first,
I thought it hadn't started, but slowly the slack was taken out
of the chains and I felt the inexorable pull on my corset. I took
my first step, watching the chain to make sure that it stayed
slack. This time I was more conscious of the chain on my ankle
and tried to experiment with the best way to walk. I found that
because of the length of the hobble, I could manage only to put
the heel of one foot about four inches in front of the other toe.
However, by keeping my feet in a straight line, rather than
walking with feet side to side, it gave me another inch or so in
every step. I managed to achieve about 10 steps the first time,
before I stumbled in the unfamiliar shoes that I wore.
Immediately I started to fall, the cable tightened and I heard
the click as the chain separated at the connection. I went
crashing down on the matting; not able to save myself with my
arms clamped so useless behind me. I lay there, wondering if I
had done any damage to myself and thankful that I had fallen on
the matting and not on the cold, hard surface of the concrete
floor. A soft beeping sound came from the direction that my
father stood, watching me but not making any move. He took the
pager off his belt, silencing the alarm and then walked over to
where I lay and assisted me to my feet. After plugging the chain
back into the socket, he went back to the timer box and hit the
button again to start me on my way, satisfied at least that the
system that he had put together was working.

It took me about twenty minutes to complete the first circuit, in
which I fell four times, each time being picked up by my watching
father and started on my way. Gradually, I got used to the pace
of the machine and was able to time my steps so that I kept the
cable at about the same tension. The hobble chain took more
getting used to, since every so often the need to take controlled
steps was overtaken by the natural urge to take a normal step.
Almost invariably, that cause me to stumbled and it took a great
amount of concentration to recover, especially when the tractor
continued to move forward pulling me along while all I wanted to
do was stop and regain my footing properly. I glanced at the
timer as I completed that first circuit. Although it had taken me
nearly twenty minutes, it had only counted down eight minutes in
total and it hit me just how long the process of walking for half
an hour could take at this rate. Already the balls of my feet
were aching, from being held in what I had always considered to
be such an unnatural position, and I could feel my toes beginning
to cramp caused by the angle between them and my foot. But, there
was no stopping the machine as it carried on relentlessly,
ignoring my discomfort completely.

The second circuit took slightly less time, due mainly to my only
falling down twice. It was not until the fourth circuit that I
managed to make a complete circle of the garage without falling
over, something that did my confidence a lot of good. I managed
to complete two more circuits before I heard the "ping" of the
timer, and the sound of father's pager going off again. By now,
the balls of my feet were screaming out in pain, and all I wanted
to do was to be able to take my weight of them. I was unhooked
from the walker and led back to the bed. My father quickly
removed the stock boards again, and instructed me to lie on my
stomach with my neck and feet in position. Quickly I obeyed him,
if only to be able to rest my feet. Once I was again pinned down
on my bed, my leather sheathed arms still locked, securely and
painfully behind me, my father made to leave, saying that my
mother would be done shortly with some food for me. He went on to
warn me, that he would be watching on closed circuit camera.
Although my lips would be released so that I could open my mouth,
I was warned not to make any attempt to speak or communicate in
any way. If I did so, the food would be taken away and none would
be provided for another twenty-four hours. After going four days
with only water, the prospect of another day without food
frightened me and I nodded my agreement as he left.
I was allowed to lie there, staring at the floor and
contemplating my changed circumstances for about half an hour
before I heard my mother's footsteps coming down the stairs which
led for the main part of the house. She carried a small tray with
a plate of food and a drink, which she put down on the shelf that
had earlier supported my head. I fully expected to be allowed to
sit up and for my hands to be released so that I could at least
eat with dignity but it was not to be. She took a few moments to
unclip the clasp that held my lower lip to my nose ring allowing
me at least to open my mouth and gain some movement of my tongue
which had been clamped by my teeth for some hours. Remembering
the threat of no food, I made not a sound as my mother laid a
napkin under my chin, and I released with horror that I was going
to be fed in this position.

Trying to eat, with your tongue made of plastic which fills your
entire mouth is not the easiest proposition, I quickly found out.
The meal was pasta, which didn't need to be chewed, a function
that I would have to gradually need to relearn. My mother put a
small spoonful into my open mouth and let it fall onto my
"tongue". I have to shut my mouth quickly to stop it from falling
back out with my head facing towards the floor. I tried
manipulating my mouth; to draw the food to the back so that it
could be swallowed all. It took me about thirty seconds to manage
to figure out a way to do it and the food finally slid down my
throat. After four days without any food, it should have tasted
like the best food ever, but it struck me, I couldn't taste
anything. With my tongue completely covered by the gag, all the
taste receptors in my mouth got to encounter was the taste of
plastic.

Despite my hunger, what was only a small meal filled me
completely, and I wandered whether the fact that my corset was
pressing on my stomach had anything to do with this. It still
took about twenty minutes to eat the small plate, struggling with
one mouthful after another as I came to grips with basic skills
like swallowing, having to be re-learned. Once the plate was
cleaned, and I had finished off the last of my soft drink,
extracted through a straw, my mother cleaned up my mouth, where I
had dribbled a fair amount of food, reconnected my lip ring to my
nose ring and then left. Once again, I was left alone, mute and
totally restrained.

About an hour later, my father returned, carrying with him two
metal boxes with no lid and various other bits of metal attached.
I gave a sigh of relief as I felt my wrists being released form
their imprisonment behind my back. My shoulders had gone numb a
long time ago with the pressure, and quickly began to sear as the
circulation got going again. But at least I could move them.
Lifting the stocks on my neck and legs to allow me to turn over
and sit up, put the bottom stock back in place, then pulled my
legs down until my knees were over the edge of the stocks, with
my legs dangling down. My neck was well below the headboard now,
but to make sure I didn't try to go anywhere, my hands got locked
in place above my head. One foot at a time, he undid the bolts
that held my shoes to my feet, allowing me to finally hold my
foot in a position where it wasn't arched. I took time out while
he was undoing the second on to get some feeling back into my
toes by wriggling them. Once free of the shoes, he started
wrapping what looked like plastic food wrap around my legs, from
my calves right the way down to my toes, but he left them partly
uncovered. He then put a loop of string, around each toe in turn,
just on the first joint and tightened them so that when pulled
the loop could not slip off my toes. I then felt a heavy weight
being clamped around each leg, just above the calf muscle.

Although I could not see what he was doing, the touch of my toes
on metal suggested that the boxes where now hanging around my
feet. I felt a pull on my toes and my foot started to get pulled
downwards, unable to resist with the fear of making the loops of
string any tighter on the joints. The string had been passed
through the bottom of the box, and now my toes were held almost
pointing directly towards the floor. Even though I could move my
legs, whatever angle they were held at, my foot still pointed
towards the bottom of the box. He explained that he was going to
make a cast of my feet and that I was to hold till while he
poured a quick drying compound into the boxes. It would take
about 20 minutes for the mixture to go off, and then he would
release my feet and I could be made ready for bed. The weight of
the box increased dramatically as he commenced poring the mix
into the metal boxes, the clamps around my calf muscles digging
in as the while contraption tried to slide down my legs but was
unable to do so. I tried raising my legs to relieve some of the
pressure being caused by the headboard being behind my knees, but
the pull on them was now too much. Again, I was left for half an
hour while the mix went off properly. The clamps on my calves
were finally removed and the boxes fell the short distance to the
floor with a thump. Resting the boxes on the bed, my father undid
some catches on the side and they split into two equal halves,
along with the mouldings. He held in his hand was a perfect mould
of my foot. What puzzled me was that with my foot in the position
that he had put it in before poring, I could not figure out how
much use it would be to him. After removing the loops of string
from my feet, he quickly reattached my shoes, making sure that I
was still not able to rest my feet for more than a few seconds.

While he was clearing up, my mother came back down from the
house, and after a quick discussion, they decided that it was
time for me to be put to bed for the night. Releasing my arms, I
was allowed to walk by myself to the newly installed bathroom,
taking my time on my heels, although walking was a lot easier
when you had the use of your arms, even if your hands were
totally useless. I thought that they would take the mittens off
me, but my mother did not even consider it. I was allowed to use
the chemical toilet that had been provided, my mother cleaning me
up afterwards and then she washed what parts of me she felt she
needed too. After drying me off, she undid unclipped my lips so
that I could open my mouth, and used an electric toothbrush to
clean my teeth for me, which was disgusting since most of the
toothpaste ran into the back of my throat and I had to swallow
it. I had to rinse my mouth with an antiseptic mouthwash, which
she said would kill any germs on the gag. My mouth was then
sealed again, and I was led back to my bed where I noticed that
something had been added while I was away.

I lay on the bed and positioned my neck and wrists properly since
I figured that I might as well make myself as comfortable as
possible. The shelf was raised to a height that I could rest my
head on without straining my neck. The addition to the bed was
another wooden board positioned just below my knees. It must have
been connected underneath the bed. When the straps that were
connected to it were buckled around my legs, I was unable to lift
my knees even though my feet were not secured until a few seconds
later when the footboard was slid into place, trapping my ankles
securely in place. I saw my father pick up some strange looking
frames, which he slotted into place over my feet, evidently
hanging off the footboard. Even though I still had my shoes on, I
could feel around the strap a plate of curved metal resting above
my foot, just where the toe strap was secured. After undoing the
straps on my shoes, he swiftly removed the retaining bolts again,
and I breathed a sigh of relief as I allowed my feet to return to
as close to their natural position as the curved plate on top of
my toes allowed. The sigh turned quickly to a gargled scream
though. With a strange clicking of a ratchet, my father pressed
down on a couple of levers on the sides of the cages and the
metal plate began to force my feet into a shape where my ankles
were dead in line, my feet pointing out at right-angles to the
footboard. The pain in my legs was excruciating, but try as I
might, the knee straps prevented me from releasing any of the
tension in the muscles of my ankle, which were so badly
stretched. I now realised why the holes for my ankles were tear
shaped. It was so that my Achilles tendons would have somewhere
to expand on the backs of my ankles.

With tears yet again streaming down my face, both my parents
walked away and left me, switching out the light and plunging me
into darkness. I lay there, unable to move and in constant pain
for the next four hours or so, until exhaustion finally took over
and I fell into a fitful, disturbed sleep.