prisoner012

[prisoner012]

Corporate Condemnation: Tatto and Iron

My error was grave—but the penalty inflicted upon me was a hundred times worse.

I awoke in a cold prison cell where silence were my only company. Now they call me “受刑者” – “the condemned.” Scalp and body shaved smooth, skin transformed into a canvas of black ink—each character a scar, each scar a verdict.

When I first joined this Japanese firm, I believed I had secured a promising career and the trust of the higher ranks. I never imagined that employment here meant surrendering my very self—body and soul—to corporate dominion. In their eyes, a mistake is no mere misstep but a crime worthy of ruthless retribution. And so, for my transgression, they erased my hair forever, encased me in sticky, striped rubber garb that clings to my skin like a second sentence, and branded me with tat­tooed i­erog­lyphs.

No one hears my cries. No one sees the tears. Only the cold steel on my throat, the permanent seals upon my flesh, and the endless shadow of this corporate prison. My mistake may have been serious—but this punishment is immeasurable, a sentence of ink and iron that binds me for eternity.

[prisoner012]

Blue rubber romper

[prisoner012]

Shackled in Desolation

I once woke to the tender whisper of mirrors in a sunlit penthouse. My name rang proudly through conference halls, my voice confidently guiding hundreds of eager listeners. Every morning I donned sleek suits and high heels, adorned myself with glittering jewelry, and felt the world open before me like an endless road of opportunity.

Now I sit in a cold, gray cell, the walls closing in with every heartbeat. A rubber gown stamped “PSYCHIATRIC WARD” clings to my skin; steel collars and handcuffs bite into my flesh. Each breath echoes with the clang of chains. I who once commanded respect now obey the silent march of unseen wardens. My posture—once regal and unshakable—is bowed beneath the weight of absolute powerlessness.

Still, somewhere beneath this rubber and steel, a small flame of memory flickers. But hope is a distant star I can barely glimpse. Here, in utter despair, I have nothing left but the ache of my own name—and the cruel knowledge that even that has been stolen away.

[prisoner012]

Caged Heat II: Stripped of Freedom (Rubber)

Amid the camp’s scorching dust, the heavy rubber dresses bake against their searing skin; every movement cuts, and even a moment’s rest becomes an unbearable ordeal.

Inspired by the 1994 women-in-prison exploitation film Caged Heat II: Stripped of Freedom.

[prisoner012]

Psychiatric ward - orange

[prisoner012]

Blue PVC. Another fetish fantasy: am I a resident… or an exhibit in the zoo? 😏

[prisoner012]

European and Asian

[prisoner012]

A few more of my fantasies about being held in a psychiatric hospital

[prisoner012]

I hear the heavy latch click from outside the door—a sound I’ve dreamed of and dreaded in equal measure. My heart hammers as a tall silhouette slips into the dim light. It’s him: my husband, the one who signed the papers that landed me here.

He stops just beyond my reach, framed by the narrow doorway. His face is half-shadowed, but I can make out the tight line of his jaw and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He doesn’t speak at first; instead, he takes a slow step forward, the soles of his shoes barely making a sound on the padded floor. My bound arms ache to reach out, but the linen straps hold me prisoner.

“You look… different,” he whispers, voice hushed as though afraid to disturb the hush around us. I shift on my knees, feeling the full weight of the diaper beneath the thin rubber bloomers—its warmth reminding me of my own helplessness. He crouches just in front of me, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the antiseptic air.

His hand hovers over my shoulder for a moment before he touches me—lightly, almost regretfully—tracing the quilted padding beside me.

He straightens and steps back, glancing at the restraints that bind me. “You’re safe here,” he says, voice low but firm. “I’ll come every day. I’ll make sure they keep you—and these walls—just as soft as you need.” Even as relief blooms in my chest, I feel the thrill of utter surrender wash over me: he is both jailer and caretaker, and in this twisted sanctuary, I am completely his.

Husband’s Visit

[prisoner012]

Padded Cell

I close my eyes and feel myself slipping into that padded cell. The moment my back meets the quilted wall, its muted ivory squares cradle me like a womb—soft, yielding, utterly inescapable. My hair fans around my face, damp with imagined sweat.

My arms are already pinned in the brown rude straitjacket, the coarse seams brushing my skin as each strap clicks shut behind me. I taste the faint dust of the room—old fibers and antiseptic—and inhale deeply, letting the sterile scent ground me in this fantasy of total surrender.

Below the waist, heavy rubber bloomers encase me in their thick, clinging embrace. I can feel the rubber’s smooth resistance as it rubs against my thighs when I shift. Beneath them, the diaper is full—warm, weighty, impossibly bulky. Every subtle movement sends a gentle, squishy reminder of how dependent I am on these restraints.

Sound is a distant echo here: my own ragged breaths and the faint rustle of padding as I adjust my knees. My heart thumps, but even that pulse is muffled, muted by the foam that surrounds me. In this hush, every small sensation feels magnified—my heartbeat, the gentle friction of cloth, the whisper of air moving through the foam.

I drift further into the fantasy: no choices to make, no words to speak, only the comforting certainty of immobility. And in that perfect confinement, I find a curious peace: a place where vulnerability is safety, and helplessness becomes the ultimate refuge.

[prisoner012]

Cuffed

[prisoner012]

Put the handcuffs on me, please

[prisoner012]

Behind bars and shackles

[prisoner012]

Once a celebrated scientist, I willingly chose the life of a submissive slave branded “012,” clad in a snug rubber romper and heavy steel shackles—now I ask you to lock those cuffs upon me.

[prisoner012]

Source: Fancy Steel

[prisoner012]

I stumbled upon my artwork

[prisoner012]