This story is inspired by aielen.
Crime in my town is a rear occurrence, and I’ll tell why, by telling you what happened to me a while back.
I was caught doing some serious shoplifting, sent to court and sentenced. The sentence was: for a period of no less than thirty days and no more than ninety, whenever I had to go outside, I had to have my hands and knees tied together. Being put in cuffs or chains would also do. That included, for someone my age, going to and from school. Handcuffs are not compulsory inside the schoolhouse, however ankle-cuffs are. You also have to wear clothes without pockets. Bags or purses of any kind are forbidden. That goes without saying.
This is, for us, a standard sentence, and there’s no appeal. My sentence already started as I left the courtroom. A bailiff took away my purse and gave it to my mother, grabbed my hands, not too gently pulling them behind my back and putting handcuffs on them. Then he bent down and put my ankles in cuffs. With them on, I found I could only take strides half as long as usual, if that. Having done his duty, he gave her all the keys for safe keeping. He also told her, that he could provide us with an additional chain to go around my waist. By having that, I would have an even lesser range of movement. It could also act as a kind of tow-device, if my parents thought I wasn’t moving quickly enough. She gladly accepted, and the chain was put on. He also offered us a ball-gag. My mother took it, put in my mouth, and buckled it in place. After the sentence was over, they had a choice. Either return the stuff, or keep it, with no extra charge. Thus equipped I left the court-house, in mortal shame.
This was a Saturday, and as my family loves being outdoors, I feared the worst. To my dismay, my fears came overwhelmingly true, already as we came out. The rest of my family, my father and two brothers, one older and one younger than me, stood waiting outside. Without any comments from anyone, we walked around town for a couple of hours, them stopping and talking to just about everyone they met, me having no choice but to stand there being stared at. And they stared, all right!
When we eventually came home, I was told I had to stay in cuffs the whole time. Excluding visits to the bathroom, getting ready for bed at night, and when I did my morning routine, it would be 24/7 for the next three weeks. My father even rigged a device to my bed, so they could chain my hands and feet to it at night. It worked like this: my hands were to be cuffed in front of me, and then fastened to the headboard. My feet were to be cuffed too, and fastened to the lower end of the bed, in such a way it let me move around more or less freely in bed, but not get out of it.
The following day, my mother called my head-teacher, explaining the situation. He promised to talk to the rest of my teachers. The only good thing about that was I was excused from all PE-classes. “There’s nothing so bad, it can’t eventually turn into something good,†I think the saying goes.
Monday morning came along, and I got ready for school. As part of our school-uniform consists of a pocket-less skirt and tights, that part of the â€no pocketâ€-rule was impossible to break. As for the pockets in the jacket and blouse, mum just sew them shut, and, from then on, a classmate had to follow me home every day to let me in. As I was about to leave, mum told me to wait a minute more. She went into the bathroom, and came out with a diaper, which she put on me. I had a quick look in the mirror and it looked absolutely huge on me, even though it was a standard-sized one. I was told to come home during lunch-break, and she’d change it for me. The bulkiness of it made it hard for me to walk at first, but I soon got used to it.
As I went into the classroom, I was expecting to have at least my hands freed, but, to my astonishment, they weren’t. Instead, my teacher just cuffed them in front of me, and used the chain around my waist, to anchor me firmly to the chair. Then she told me, she expected me, no she demanded of me, to do as good a work as ever, and if I needed any help, I’d just had to ask one of my classmates.
Those three weeks went by surprisingly quickly. As a final task, I had to put my punishment down on paper, and now I have. But it’s actually not quite over yet, in fact. I got so used to being cuffed and diapered; I still am when I’m at home or when I go somewhere, other that school. Sometimes in school too, in fact.