A day at the museum. M/F

Postby lasse672000 » Fri Apr 30, 2010 8:10 am

One day, my father suggested I’d come along and visit him at his work, as it soon was ‘visit-parent-at-work’ day at my school. All I knew about his work was that he worked as a guard at some dusty old museum, of some kind. I hadn’t bothered finding out what kind of museum it was.
“OK” I said, more to please him than anything else.
“Good! We leave in five minutes”
I sat in disinterested the backseat on the way over there, thinking that all the others in my class would have a great day at their parents’ work and I would be stuck in that museum! I mean, a museum, for crying out loud!
When we got there, my father said: “I didn’t want to tell you this in front of your mother, but we sometimes have real, live people in the exhibitions. I was wondering, if you might wasn’t to participate today? There will be some other people in there as well, so you wouldn’t be alone. And I’ll be around, too. If you get into trouble, I mean.”
“Sure, why not.” I said, as disinterested as before.
“Good, Well, why don’t I show you around first, and then we’ll settle you in?”
“OK,” I sighed. All I could think of at that moment was what a crappy day this would turn out to be.
When we got there, I saw that the place was a big, dark building, with rusty bars on the windows. It was still closed, but my father took me in by the back door. He went into the changing room and put on his guard-uniform. I waited outside with the back against the wall. He came out some minutes later. I was startled, because he looked like a prison-guard from the 18th or 19th century! He looked at me and said: “Let’s go then, shall we? “
As we went through the aisles, I became more and more interested, for what the museum showed were old prison-paraphernalia, like cuffs and chains and even torture instruments.
When we had gone through the place he asked me: “Are you still interested in becoming a live showcase? You’d be locked in to one of the exhibits, you know.” By now, my interest had been awakened though, and I said I still was.
“Well then,” he said. “Let’s get you into some proper clothes and put these on you and let’s get you settled in.” With these words, he took out a dress (if that’s what you’d want to call it) that looked like it was made from an old sack, with holes cut for the head and arms. You wouldn’t believe the smell of that thing! “Put this on and come back as soon as possible. You can leave your socks and shoes on, for the time being. ” he said.
When I came back out, he took out a pair of old-style, heavy handcuffs, linked together with a short, but heavy chain. He put them on me, so I had my hands behind the back and the bent down and put wrist-cuffs on as well. Last but not least, he took a piece of rope and tied it around my waist, as kind of a belt. Thus equipped, we went up to the first floor room. By now, the museum had opened and people had begun walking through the rooms. They looked at us with some interest, and I could even hear some people whisper something. He took me to a display-case that looked like a prison-cell, told me to get in and sit against the back wall. I did as he told me, and he unlocked my handcuffs and the relocked them in front of me and then locked them to a chain hanging from the wall, so I had my arms stretched up in the air and my feet stretched out in front of me. He then took my shoes and socks off. Before he left he said: “I’ll be back in an hour to see how you’re doing. OK? Then we’ll go on to the next station on the tour.”
The minutes crept by and then it was time for my release. He unlocked my handcuffs from the chain on the wall, and led me to another display. In it was a rack and he told me to lie on it. When I was lying there, he unlocked the cuffs around my hands and feet, but instead locked them into the cuffs of the rack. He took in the slack, so I was lying with my arms and legs straight and I couldn’t move them. It was tight, but not uncomfortably so. Again, he left me lying there for about an hour.
After that, it was time for lunch. If I had thought it would be a normal lunch, I had to think again. My father put me back in the leg- and handcuffs and we went to the staff-canteen. Just imagine, trying to eat with your hands cuffed together! After lunch, my father took me for a bathroom brake still not taking my hand- or leg cuffs off. I did my business in there as best I could and then we were off to the next exhibit. “How are you holding out?” he asked me. “Good,” I said.
“OK then, off to the next part of the tour!” he said with a smile.
That afternoon I was put in the stocks, tied to a pole and generally displayed as an era-prisoner.
On our way back, my father asked me if I had enjoyed my visit at his work.
“I never thought that it was this exciting!” I said with gleaming eyes. “When can I come back? I want to do it all again! Please, say I can!”
He just looked at me with a smile and said:”You’re strange. You know that?”
My report on my visit to my father’s work was the only one, that got an A+. I never told my mum about what I had done that day.
:quirk:
Whazzzz up!.

Re: A day at the museum. M/F

Postby ducttapeboy001 » Sat May 01, 2010 8:23 am

well nyc story, different than others, would have been better if it was not your father and it was your boyfriend or just a friend.
it makes me GLaD, Im not you
And believe me Im still alive
Im doing TUGs and Im still alive.
I feel fantastic and Im stilll alive

You'd be EVIL if you're GLaD