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“Life in Prison,” the Judge said to me. My hedonistic lifestyle caught up with my life of excess and pleasures. I killed my husband simply for money to fuel the bottomless pit of my carnal desires. “Life in Prison,” when those words were said to me, they had no effect. After all, I was a rebellious girl. I was still filled with the life of a free woman. To do as I please, to use my body, mind and spirit as I want to. Despite this judgment place down on me, I would continue to fight the system that denies me what I crave. However, this was no ordinary judgment they would place on me. This judgment was cold, and unforgiving. This judgment was latched onto me, constantly, making its presence known every time I walked, every time I sat down, every time I went to bed. I could never be released from this judgment as it was locked onto me. This judgment has taken control if my mind, spirit, and most of all, my body quite literally.
Months have past since I was sent to Chastity Prison to live the rest of my days. Months have past since I was processed into the prison and was immediately locked into this dreaded chastity belt I am forced to wear. Months have past since I had relief, the orgasm I crave. They say your desires go away after about a month or two when you are locked in chastity. But not in this hell. The evil administration inside this prison of horror know just how to keep a woman in heat and reminding them of the predicament locked around their waists. They keep us denied, which leaves us to try and escape our metallic prisons, which leads to more punishments. This is the sick game this prison plays, and I will be a unfortunate player in it for the rest of my life.
I was being driven to an unmarked sight, a forced labor camp, as punishment for, yet again, trying to escape the metal panties that were strapped on me. The guards made sure I was nice and shackled, as I and another prisoner named Scarlett were loaded into a van to spend a week laboring in the baking sun. The drive was quite, we dare not say a word or appear defiant in anyway. I peeked at Scarlett, a pretty girl who was caught in a prostitution sting, or that was the rumor. I was sure she was belted and feeling the same carnal desires I was feeling. Prisoners in chastity prison rarely, if ever, talk to each other, so I was not sure what she is in for. Perhaps she was innocent? It didn’t matter. The difference between her and me was that she would have access to herself in a couple of years, while I will be denied my womanly pleasures for the rest of my life.
We arrived at the sight in the middle of nowhere. The van stopped inside a decrepit barn. Scarlett and myself were quickly exited out of the van, and lined up. There, we meet a strange man who was obviously in charge of this camp. We were to address him as sir and told us the rules of the camp. What was his relationship to the prison? I did not know or care. All I knew was that these guards enjoyed my predicament and were about to make my life more of a hell than it already is.
They then told us to strip our bright orange prison garbs as we will be wearing something more “appropriate” for our tasks. Hesitant as always, I asked for privacy at the very least. That too, was denied from me, just like my freedom, just like my womanhood. We both slowly undressed. I was seething inside and humiliated as I stripped off the clothing, revealing the chastity belt I am forced to wear for life. It wasn’t so much my naked body I was defiant to show, after all, I have shown many men my body as I was cheating on my husband. No, it was this damn belt that keeps me from so many wonderful pleasures. The chastity belt was more than a device to make sure I behave inside this prison system, it was a symbol. A powerful symbol that they own me, they own my pussy and I am at their absolute mercy.
Scarlett also hesitantly took off her garbs after the guards threaten her, she too was wearing a belt just like mine. The bar code with her prison number etched in it.
The leader of these guards then showed us the new outfits we would be wearing. Very old-school, green striped prison garbs. Putting them on, they were heavy, itchy, and was unforgivably warm. These garbs that were designed to make us more miserable than we already are was the least of my worries. After all, I already was wearing a prison-issued piece of lockable metal-clothing that was trying to take all my attention to what it was guarding.
We were taken outside, shackled, and our punishment began as we plowed the hard, dry dirt. The sun was scorching down on us. Our bodies covered with sweat. Plowing and laboring on nearly barren land. I don’t believe any fruits will be harbored by our predicament. The only fruits being harvest is our misery, bondage and the endless sexual frustration endured by our metal panties. I could feel the sweat and wetness down there. I craved touching it one more time. A bead of sweat ran down my womanhood and I shivered at the cruel tease my body didn’t mean to give me. I often daydream about freedom. All the pleasures I could experience. Instead, I am fulfilling the sick pleasures and fantasies of this prison system that has sentence me to a life of unforgiving bondage.
The guards called us up and dragged us to some unknown destination. On our way, we saw another woman wearing the same garbs as us. It was another inmate! She was handcuffed behind her back, a strange device, almost like a bridle, was strapped on her head. “What are you doing to her?” I asked. The guard grabbed a handful of my hair and told me this is what happens to those who don’t conform and are disobedient. It was sick and barbaric! I couldn’t believe they were doing this!
My mind quickly shifted to my own predicament as me and my prison mate were split up. I was dragged back to the leader of this cruel establishment in front of stocks. “You will be taught humility,” he said to me. They obviously caught wind of my rebellious attitude. “You will be spending the night in stocks.” I was emotionless and defiant, but inside I was enraged. I was going to spend a night in bondage as I did many nights in Chastity Prison. This time, it will be in the elements. As I was strapped and locked in I tested the might of the contraption only to be beaten as it held its grip on me. Despite being centuries-old devices, they have never lost their effectiveness in binding it’s captive. I was at the mercy of the baking heat and poring sunlight on my chastised body. How will I ever get out of this predicament? How long will I have to suffer in these hellish conditions placed on me?
Hours go by, and now instead of the unrelenting heat, I am at the mercy of the creeping cold of darkness about to wrap my already sweat-drenched body. I am tired and beaten. It almost feels like I am about to pass out…..
I hear footsteps! I shake in my bondage as I see in the corner of my eye a beautiful girl with short hair. “Oh my God are you ok?” she says meekly. I could see she had a collar around her neck, was she a slave as well? Was she a prisoner of Chastity Prison? There were many questions running through my head, but that didn’t matter to me now, All that mattered was escaping this place. “No, that maniac put me in here,” I say to the mysterious girl. She then had what looked like a key in her hand, trying to pick the lock. “Hurry” was all my mind can say as she juggled the key into the lock. “I hear footsteps!” she exclaimed, failing to free me from the contraption. “Quick, just give me the key,” I say to her. As she gave me the key she apologized and ran away. I gripped the key hard in my hand as it was my only hope now of escape as I passed out in the bindings…
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Caprice Hunter was convicted of murdering her husband in what was called a “crime of passion.” What made this case disturbingly special was the level of Caprice’s hedonism and motive for going through with the murder. According to character witnesses, Caprice was considered a very coy “gold digger” or a female who is dating a man just for money. Caprice would be given allowances of cash to full a rampant lifestyle of drugs, alcohol, sex and other worldly pleasures. It is no wonder that when Caprice could sense that her relationship would soon be over, that she would go to drastic measures to make sure her lifestyle would be interact. Now we will go to drastic measures to make sure Caprice will be “rehabilitated” and punished accordingly.
The judge sentenced me to serve my term at “Chastity Prison.” I had no idea what it was, and thought it might be a cozy rehabilitation clinic. I was only half right. It is indeed, a twisted rehabilitation clinic, but there is nothing cozy about it’s methods. I can still remember hearing the click of the lock of my chastity belt and realizing why they call it Chastity Prison. The device around my waste prevents me from touching myself, one of the few things that makes my prison life bearable. Everyday I wake up, my fingers curl to my aching pussy, and each day, I am reminded of my very long fate.
Chastity Prison 