By Harve,  Sep 2004
 
 
1.          "Heading Home, In Hurtful Heels ...."
 
             It was 2 pm Friday, and time for me to leave Acme Insurance's London Head Office in High Holborn and head for home in Camden Town.   I'd been on shift since 7 am, answering the usual innumerable vexing telephone enquiries, and I was totally rung out.    It had been a worse week than normal (if that's possible!), because there had been a violent thunderstorm the previous week.    A lot of insurance claims had been submitted, so we were now getting the inevitable "what the hell's going on" type of telephone enquiry.    Acme Insurance insists on total politeness when dealing with customers, no matter how rude and irate they are, so you can imagine just how an Enquiry Assistance Officer like me often ends up feeling at the end of the working day.     Worse, even though I often spend an entire such day just sitting at my desk answering phone calls, there is an occasional need to help out with personal customers enquiries at the main counter on the ground floor.     So, Acme issues all its female staff with a two-piece navy tailored jacket and skirt with the company logo on the jacket pocket, which we are required to match with dark blue hose and navy court shoes.   It's an image thing, I guess.   Most would say that it's quite a smart outfit to see all the female staff in at Acme HQ, but it's not the most comfortable outfit to have to wear all day, five days a week, believe me!    Even shoes with just two-inch heels can start to become uncomfortable, after several hours.    Most of Acme's Enquiry Officer staff were female, but there were a few guys too and they just wore navy men's suits.
 
              So, at just after 2 pm that Friday, I - Penny Richards, aged 27 - signed the attendance register as leaving, and took the lift down to the Ground Floor.   There were a couple of guys in the lift from Accounts on the top floor, and I couldn't help but hear them discussing a sudden strike by Underground train drivers that had been called just an hour before.    One of these guys (Ray)  I knew slightly, so I asked him about this terrible news - just the sort of thing that you don't want to hear on a Friday afternoon in London. "Oh, shit", I thought to myself, "now what do I do?"     I usually take the Underground to get home to my bedsit flat in Camden Town, so clearly that was out of the question.   By the time I walked out of the front doors of the office building, it was already clear that the sudden strike had had its usual effect on London traffic - ie, instead of moving at the normal snail's pace, now it was total gridlock.    Still, looking on the bright side of things, it was a lovely, mild Friday afternoon, with the sun trying to break through the clouds for a change, so I thought to myself "Penny, my girl, so you've got some walking to do - at least enjoy it.   The weekend waits, so think positive!"
 
                 It's about a 5 mile journey from Acme HQ to my flat in Camden, not a great distance maybe - however trying to walk such a  distance in a tailored skirt and 2-inch heels is not the easiest thing in the world to do, but I had no other clothes to change into.    So, off I headed on foot, thinking that at least I could do some window shopping on the way, and who knows, maybe make a few purchases here and there.    There are some very interesting shops in that part of London, of course, and not just the usual fashionable clothes boutiques,  expensive shoe shops, or whatever.     So, I'd been walking for over half-an-hour and my feet and ankles were beginning to develop that tell-tale ache that women get to know so well, from wearing and especially walking in heels for extended periods.
 
2.          "Having My Fingernails Done - And Finally A Sit Down"
 
             I started to look closer at the shops I was walking past for an excuse to sit down and rest my feet, and then I noticed a beauty salon advertising acrylic nails for only 8 Pounds, with no appointment necessary.    "Why not?" I thought, seeing as I hadn't had my nails glammed up for a while.   I mean, it's the sort of thing we girls normally only have done for that special date or party, but right there and then with my feet starting to ache, it seemed just the ideal non-occasion!     So, in I went, and some 25 minutes later had a very glamourous set of long finger-nails in a sexy deep ruby shade.   Susan the nail technician had asked me if I wanted my toenails done as well, and it seemed a good idea - not to mention an excuse to remain seated for a bit longer!    She'd  asked if I'd like to go into their small changing cubicle to remove my panty-hose, but I gave her a smile and said "No need, my dear - I'm an old-fashioned girl when it comes to hose, and I still wear traditional stockings and a girdle with suspenders!"     So, I just lifted my tailored navy skirt above my knees and unhooked the stockings in a matter of seconds, then peeled them off my legs and feet.   Nobody could see what I was doing, other than she and me, of course.    "My, you're a one" said the nail girl, "I don't think I've ever seen anybody under 50 still wearing that sort of underwear - but what a great idea, and so quick to remove your stockings too.   I'll have to get myself a similar girdle and stockings!".    Well, of course, wearing these traditional stockings and a girdle is only a practical proposition in a conservative length skirt, otherwise you'd be forever embarrassed by inadvertently showing your stocking tops and suspenders everytime you sat down or got up.   Getting in or out of a car is a particular problem!     However, the Acme Insurance outfit I wore was certainly conservative, with the skirt hem at least 3 inches below my knees.   Susan was maybe 21-ish, and clearly was accustomed to wearing short skirts and dresses, so I didn't think it would be such a good idea in her case.     Of course, I didn't tell her that, I just gave her a big smile and nod of agreement.    I mean, who can tell anybody 21 or under,  anything these days?
 
              I have to admit to an obsession with all classic 50s fashions, and to wear a traditional style open girdle with stockings under my outer work clothes,  is just an expression of my interest in that most elegant period.   I'm quite trim around the waist and derriere, so I don't really need a firm girdle for its slimming effect.   However, clearly I need to wear something to hook my stockings up to, and there's nothing like a traditional girdle to give a girl a sleek appearance, especially when wearing a tailored skirt.   Good ol' Marks and Sparks still have them in their undies departments, so you don't have to have the embarrassment of going into one of those awfully old-fashioned "corsetry salons" and encounter some Hyacinth Bouquet clone saleslady.   I can still remember the one and only time I picked up enough courage to enter such a place, and got the most embarrassing barrage of questions from a typical wizened Old Bag In Black.    "And does Madame prefer 4 or 6 suspenders?    Lace-up or zip, with hook and eye closure?    In traditional white or  more modern beige, perhaps?     Does Madame prefer a boned waist or elastic item of intimate apparel?"   God, by the time I'd finished with the Spanish Girdle Inquisition, I was soooo glad to just get out the place!    Like I said before, thank God for Marks and Sparks, and self-service.    I also like to wear 50s retro shoes when I can find them, and I have several bouffant wigs reminiscent of those glamourous days too.    Most of these items come from lucky one-off purchases at charity shops, because the chance of finding new stuff for sale in the average High Street store is generally zilch.   However, there is still a small "Retro Scene" in London niche interest about those great days of the 50s, not just for women but for guys too.    I guess that although I often detest my job with Acme, to wear such a traditional design 2-piece outfit as part of my duties is something of a buzz.    Now, if only the job itself could be a bit more exciting .....
 
               The nail technician only took another ten minutes to paint my toenails in the same dark ruby shade as my new acrylic nails, and to let the polish dry.   It then took barely a couple more minutes to put my stockings back on again, quickly followed by my navy court shoes.    I paid Susan and thanked her for her excellent job on my nails, giving her a couple of pounds extra as a tip.    So, out I headed to continue my walk home through the crowded streets of North London, with my feet and ankles feeling a lot better for the sit down at the nail salon.    I even started to sing softly to myself that old Doris Day tune "I Adore Being A Girl", as I walked along,  glancing frequently at my newly done glamourous nails.    "Shame, though about my toe-nails" I thought, "what a pity I'm not wearing shoes with open toes so I can flaunt my matching polished toes too ...."     Of course, the traffic jam was still so bad, that whatever song I sang to myself was lost in the cacophony of horns from the gridlocked cars and buses.    I walked on.
 
                My feeling of euphoria from escaping the clutches of Acme Insurance for the weekend, despite the long walk to Camden Town in my most unsuitable get-up, was still there.    I even stopped and had a cup of coffee and a bun in a cafe, some 20 minutes after leaving the nail salon.    The weather was still behaving itself, the traffic was still locked up, and I was now over halfway home to my flat.    I sat right next to a window and absent- mindedly  checked out the shops across the road, as I enjoyed my latte and bun.    It was now about 4.15, and the traffic gridlock seemed to have got even worse.   One shop looked especially interesting.   It was amost directly across the road from the cafe and was a fashion boutique called "Retro Renaissance".   Like I've said, I'm a real sucker for anything fashionable from the 50s.    So, I paid for my coffee and bun, and headed across the road between the stationary cars,  to have a look at this shop.
 
3.         "Reliving Retro Memories, A La Dorothy Lamour, Courtesey Of My Credit Card"
 
            So, there I was, looking in the window of "Retro Renaissance", and feeling absolutely gob-smacked about the range of classic fashion stuff they had displayed there.     The left side of the window was taken up with classic dresses and outfits, and the right side with some really fantastic shoes.   Gosh, it was just like going back in time to 1954, with the "New Look" in clothes for the fashionable, plus those oh-so-sexy shoes.    In I went, and a mature lady of perhaps 40 came up to greet me.    "Can I be of any assistance, Madame?" she said.    She had a name tag identifying her as "Dorothy", and was dressed in a classic 2-piece tailored suit with nipped-in waist and a pencil skirt that went halfway down her legs.    It really looked so classy, and when she turned around I couldn't help noticing she was wearing 50s-style seamed stockings and closed in court shoes with thickish high heels, not stilettos.   Gosh, what could I say, being surrounded in just the sort of classic fashions from the 50s that I admire so much?
 
              Anyway, I've always been a fan of the open-toed slingback shoe with a thick heel, beloved of the Hollywood Heroines of the late 40s and early 50s, so that's what I told Dorothy that I was interested in.    "No problem, madam" she says, "what colour would you like it in?    We have several in this classic design.  However, I first need to measure your feet".   So, I removed my court shoes and allowed her to measure my stockinged feet in her special shoe Thingy-Meter.   It didn't take long - apparently I took a 7 wide.   (I could have told her that, but any excuse by that time of the afternoon for sitting down was fine by me.)   "No problem, madam", said she,  "we have several shoes in different shades in that size".    God, I was absolutely amazed - this shop not only had my special favourite design in shoes, but also in a range of colours!       I asked her if I could try them on in plain black kid, and also in tan.    The elegant Dorothy brought both colour shoes in my size, for me to try on.   I put them on and I couldn't believe it - they were so comfortable despite having 3" heels, ie higher than the ones I'd been wearing to work all day.   The slingback heel strap needed to be adjusted for my size feet, but that was all.    They were really a very nice fit.    Moreover, the soles had a half-inch platform, so the higher 3" heel height wasn't really that noticeable, compared to the lower heeled cout shoes I'd been wearing all day.   What really sold me on both pairs, was that the toes were open - and I could finally see my ruby-painted toenails quite clearly , despite wearing my nylons and their  reinforced toe section.    So, I bought both pairs of these old classic style pumps in both navy and black in size 7C.   They were a bit pricey, but what the hell I thought - at 45 quid a pair, so what?    Does a girl like to look glamourous occasionally, and if so, why not?
 
               As I was handing over my credit card, which was beginning to take a battering that Friday afternoon, I couldn't help but compliment Dorothy on her really smart classic appearance, and especially her stockings and shoes.    "Why, thank you, dear",  she said with a smile "it's very sweet of you to notice!    By the way, all my clothes have come from this shop - even my seamed stockings.    Would you like to have a look at our range of classic hosiery, perhaps?    We have recently started selling these seamed stockings as well as the seamfree ones with reinforced toes and heels, all made in traditional non-stretch nylon just like the original 50s hosiery".
 
                Well, I've managed to buy a few pairs of these traditional types of stockings from charity shops and the like over the years,  and they've always been the genuine vintage article.     However,  to try and get lucky with a pair of these sort of non-stretch nylons in my exact foot size and leg length, plus the shade I want, has proved to be very difficult.   Now, right before my eyes, was a shop selling these stockings in every sort of size, shade and leg length imaginable!     Apparently, a small company in Manchester had started making these traditional stocking styles recently, and the "Retro Renaissance" Boutique was doing some great business selling them.
 
              The seamfree stockings weren't cheap at 6 Pounds a pair, with the seamed ones even dearer at 9 Pounds, but it was some sort of miracle to find such a wide shade and size range in both types.    After trying on a demonstration pair of seamfree RHT stockings, I ended up buying 4 pairs of their seamed nylons plus 4 pairs of the RHT seamfree ones, to cut a long story short.    The nylons were a dream to wear, being so gossamer sheer yet with the clearly defined darker reinforced toes and heels typical of 50s hosiery.   Dorothy was a real angel in helping me with which to buy, and she even recommended that maybe  I should consider wearing a pair of the RHT ones in a dark tan shade, to go along with the black kid shoes I'd also bought?     She was quite correct, of course, because my " Acme Approved" dark blue stockings weren't a great match with my new  black peep-toe pumps.    There were no other customers in the part of the boutique we were in, so it didn't take long to lift my skirt and unhook my 30 denier blue stockings and replace them with a pair of the sheer 15 denier dark tan RHT ones.    Dorothy was quite amused that I clearly wore a traditional girdle with suspenders, commenting that she also was an old-fashioned "girdle gal" herself!    I slipped the black peep-toe pumps back on, and stood up for a quick catwalk round the store.   They had several mirrors, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that my legs looked a Million Dollars in my new sheer nylons and peep-toe pumps.    Close-up, the effect of the reinforced toes which still revealed my newly painted toenails in ruby red,  plus the square reinforced heels, was really glamourous.    Any of you girls out there who haven't experienced the wearing of 50s RHT stockings and heels are really missing something!
 
               Dorothy handed me back my now severely-dented Mastercard with a smile, and said she hoped I'd be happy with my purchases.   I couldn't help but comment that I was so amazed that her shop existed at all, because up till then I really didn't think there was that much interest in 50s fashion styles.    "Oh, yes, you'd be surprised" said Dorothy.    "Actually, this is a great part of North London for anything different in the fashion line, plus anything else - er, "unusual" too.    For example, there's a shop just down the sideroad from here, that sells all sorts of steel and leather bondage gear.    It's mainly for gay guys,  from what I've been told.     There's also a very unusual shop further down the side road that stocks all sorts of magic stuff, and even further down there's a place selling all sorts of toy trains.  We've got everything here in Euston!".   I thanked her for her information - she really was a treasure.
 
                 Hmmm, I thought, as I headed for the door, this is really interesting - bondage gear, magic stuff, and toy trains?    What else?   Well , stuff the toy trains of course, but the others were definately worth some further investigation.    Dorothy even smiled and made  a "wolf-whistle" as I walked out of her  shop.    I guess I must have looked a far more glamourous figure in my higher peeptoe sling back heels and tan RHT nylons as I exited, compared to those I wore when I'd left Acme HQ  a few hours earlier.
 
4.             "Fetters, Chains, Manacles  -  and Pizza ???"
 
                I have to be honest here and admit that athough I have already mentioned my strong interest in vintage clothing, and especially underwear and shoes, I also have an interest in another form of so-called "fetish gear".   I don't like to advertise it amongst my friends, but I have long had a deep fascination with the Art of Escapology.     I regularly surf the Net for anything on Harry Houdini plus I have several books on him, the Master Escapologist par excellence!   I have other related stuff too, such as videos like the "Linguini Incident" and that awful so-called lifestory movie with Tony Curtis, the less said of which the better.    There is also a lot of fascinating material on Harry's other interests, such as Spiritualism.   He was truly an amazing man, and it was tragic that he died so relatively young in such a silly way, from a "dare" punch to the stomach which he wasn't prepared for.
 
                My previous live-in partner Frank also had such an interest in Escapology, and in fact that's how we'd met - via an Internet Chat Group.    I'd really fell quickly for Frank in a big way, and not long after we'd met,  I moved in with him.    We stayed together for almost two years.   Frank was an amazing guy, witty, intelligent, and not bad-looking too.    However, his apparent interest in the Arts Of Escapology would periodically widen to something a lot deeper and more sinister, especially when he'd been at the Scotch.   In contrast my interests remained purely in the form of the technical challenges of escaping from handcuffs,  leg irons and straightjackets, although I didn't mind a bit of slap and tickle now and again..   However,  especially after a few drinks Frank just seemed to want to keep me in such inescapable restraints, and to hell with any thought of my escape.   I'd pleaded with him to consider my feelings about this, and for a while we seemed to be back on track together.
 
                 It all came to a head 3 months back, when I got home from the late shift at Acme HQ around 7 pm.    It had been another of those awful days in the insurance business, when everybody phoning in seems to be either a lunatic, stupid or just plain vitriolic.  I was totally exhausted, and in no fit mood to do any cooking so I phoned Frank ahead that I was bringing a pizza home with me.  "Hey, great, darling!" he'd said, "and guess what - I have something to show you too!"
 
                I got home with the take-away pizza.    Frank met me at the door, with a large smile on his face and a glass of sherry in his hand.    "Come on in and relax", he said, pecking me on the cheek.    "Can I massage your feet, maybe?"   God, I couldn't think of anything better that I needed, right there and then.   My feet felt soooo tense.   So, I sat down, with the glass of sherry that Frank had poured for me.   I  removed my shoes, naturally.    It was such an experience, sipping on sherry while my toes and feet were being gently massaged.   Frank could be such an amazingly understanding sort of guy in many ways, but then again he could also be such an unfeeling arsehole. especially after a few scotches.    Later I recalled one night he'd been surfing the Web while I watched TV.     He'd come and sat down next to me after he'd switched off the PC, with a smug grin all over his face.     "OK, darling", I'd said, "tell me the Good News?"    "Well",  said Frank "you'll never believe it, Penny my darling, but I've found a new escapology website that also sells trick handcuffs.    We've got a package of some interesting stuff coming in a couple of days!"     I was more interested in the TV programme to be honest, and didn't pay all that much attention.
 
                  So, a couple of days later when I got home around 7 pm from the late shift at Acme, carrying the pizza, he was sitting there at the kitchen table with a large cardboard box in front of him.    We kissed, and I could feel he was quite excited about something.     "Guess what, darling" he said.     "The trick cuffs and leg irons I told you about have arrived from the Escapology place, and they're absolutely genuine-looking copies of the old Hiatt's Darby type cuffs that gave Houdini such a problem in escaping from.    Come and have a look!"
 
5.             "Oh,  Sir Jaspar!    Do Not Bind Me ..... "
 
 
              I had to admit that allthough I was quite tired after my long day at Acme, I am always interested in anything to do with the Great Harry.   So I got up and went over to examine these heavy shackles as I sipped a glass of sherry that Frank had poured for me, knowing I'd had a long day at the office.     They were actually a type of transport restraints, with a relatively short chain linking both the handcuffs to the leg irons, something that I'd seen pictures of the Great Houdini wearing.     "Well", said Frank "what do you think, Penny, could you work out how to escape from these tricked shackles?"    Maybe the effects of the sherry had already taken their hold on me, but I found myself following a familiar routine we sometimes used where I play the Damsel In Distress and Frank pretends to be a sort of Wicked Sir Jaspar villain.
 
                 "Oh, Sir Jaspar!" I cried, "you're not going to force me down onto the floor and shackle me with those awful things, are you?    Have mercy, Sir!"    Frank likes these little scenarios too, and putting on his best Victorian Villain Voice hissed at me to get down on the floor right now, facing downwards, with my hands behind my back and my ankles together in a raised position.    I followed his orders, even though I was still wearing my Acme 2-piece jacket and skirt hence my progress down onto to the floor was a bit difficult.    Still, I went along with our little game, even crying "Oh, no , Sir!" as I felt the steel of the cuffs snapping around my wrists, quickly followed by a similar snapping of steel around my ankles.    To be fair, if I had a choice of any of the 101 manufacturers' cuffs to be restrained in, I'd choose the Hiatt's Darbies any time.
 
                 Right then, it occurred to me that Frank might have laddered my navy stockings while fitting the leg irons around my ankles, and I said in my normal voice "Hey, Frank, I hope you've not ruined my stockings while you were shackling my legs, OK?"   There was no answer, because Frank had apparently gone back over to the table to the large box.    As he walked back towards me, I repeated in my normal voice about my stockings being laddered by the shackles.    "Now, don't you worry about that, you Bitch" he suddenly said in a totally different sort of voice,  "and shut the fuck up right now!"    I felt him straddling me over my linked arms, and managed to get out "Frank, what the hell are you playing at - mmmmmpppphhhh".   I felt a coarse black leather hood being fastened over my head, with a thick penis gag rammed into my mouth.   I couldn't even manage any more words, just a sort of gargled "mmmph" as the horrible thing was tightened around my head, mouth and neck.    There seemed to be several straps being tightened progressively and each one meant less movement and sensations for me.    The gag was firmly wedged between my teeth, two padded sections were firmly against my eyes preventing me from seeing, and there was a sort of thick collar thing around my neck that prevented me from lifting or turning my head or neck.   With the cuffs and leg irons effectively hog-tying me, plus the hood around my head,  I was totally imprisoned.    Thee was no point in trying to scream at Frank for his trickery, because nothing came out of my mouth that made any sense.    I still had my wits though, and I hadn't yet made any efforts to get out of the tricked cuffs and shackles.    So, now I concentrated on escape with all my might, but without any success.    The usual little special gizmos that "tricked" cuffs have to enable an escapologist to get out of them, just didn't seem to be there.   I was a total prisoner of Frank's kinky whims.
 
                 Although I couldn't see anything at all, I could at least still hear.    There was the sound of Frank opening the fridge door and pouring some ice into a glass.    God, I thought, don't tell me Frank is hitting the scotch!    Frank gets totally uninhibited after a couple of whiskies, and with me lying there on the floor hooded and shackled, I wasn't in any situation to defend myself if he decided to get frisky.   I could hear him walking up closer to me again as I still vainly tried to find some means of escape from the cuffs.    His voice came from close to my ear "Sorry, Penny, old girl - did I forget to tell you that your nice old bracelets were actually true copies of the genuine thing, not tricked escapologist ones?    Oh, and did I forget to mention the leather bondage hood I bought as well?   How forgetful of me!     Still, please do keep rattling your chains, as I get myself another scotch.    You know just how much that rattling noise turns me on."    All I could do was let out another frustrated "mmmph" in reply.    I heard him get up and head over to the fridge again, and more ice hit his glass.    There didn't seem to be any more point in trying to find any trick escaping features on either my cuffs or leg shackles,so I just lay there and pondered what Frank was going to do next.
 
                My bewilderment didn't need to last long, because I heard Frank returning and kneeling down close to me.    "God, I love you, Penny, when you're hogtied and helpless",  he whispered in my ear.    He then grabbed me around both shoulders and turned me over onto my back.    It was even more uncomfortable than being face down, because I was now lying on my cuffed hands and arms with my knees raised because of the short length of chain joining the handcuffs and leg irons.     The effects of the two scotches on Frank's libido soon became clear, because I felt my skirt being lifted above my waist and my girdle,  panties and stockings being pulled down.    Then, he unbuttoned my jacket and blouse and unhooked my bra off my breasts.    You can imagine what happened next, and I won't go into much detail except to say that he mounted me there on the carpet four times that night.    I remained cuffed, shackled and hooded the whole time.    It was the most humiliating and demeaning experience of my life, and all this from the man I thought I loved.    We'd made love many times before during our relationship, but never in such a manner with me so totally restrained and incapable of any resistance.
 
                 In the morning, he eventually released me, and had the goddam cheek to ask me if I'd enjoyed playing the Damsel In Distress From Acme Insurance!!    I slapped him around the face, packed my bags, and walked out.   At first he was most apologetic, saying he didn't realise that I genuinely didn't want to be screwed while restrained like that, but then he clearly began to realise he was on dangerous ground if I went to the Police and made a complaint of rape.    As I finally walked out of the door and out of our relationship, he sneered that if I was thinking of going to the Police, just remember that I had voluntarily got down on the floor to be cuffed and shackled - and that the rest of the night's activities were just his word against mine.
 
                 I walked around to an old girlfriend's place which wasn't too far away, and asked her if I could stay with her for a couple of days until I found a place of my own.    Janice was a divorcee, and had been through a very traumatic break-up with her husband a year before, so I guess she knew the signs I was putting out, even though I didn't actually go into details.    She also noticed the marks on my wrists and ankles from the cuffs and shackles,  when I'd got out of the shower that evening.    However, Jan is a really understanding lady and didn't push the point.   She just said that no doubt, I'd tell her more about things when I was ready to.    Her own former husband had apparently been in the habit of whipping her when he came home drunk, so I was appreciative of her lack of nosiness about my recent troubles with Frank.    Anyway, within a couple of days I found a nice, cosy bedsit in Camden Town for a relatively reasonable rent, and I moved in a few days later.    Penny Richards, aged 27, was a Single White Female again.
 
                  All that had been barely 3 months ago.    However, despite my still vivid memories of being shackled,  hooded and mounted by Frank that night, I still had my own special interests in Escapology and especially of Harry Houdini.    Somehow, I mentally separated the different worlds of forced bondage and escapology.    Perhaps I also wanted to improve my skills in escaping , in case the same situation ever transpired again?    I don't know.   Sometimes I felt I should go and talk to a shrink about just why I still had this fascination with escapology, despite that awful last night with Frank.   I never had the courage though.
 
6.              "Learning All About Hinged Handcuffs, From Handsome Henry"
 
                 So, around the corner of the road I went, to check out the window of the Bondage Gear shop that Dorothy had told me about.    It wasn't all that far, as she had said.   There wasn't all that much in the way of a display either, but there was a couple of interesting signs about "Full Range Of Steel And Leather Restraints Available".    So, nothing ventured, nothing gained, I thought to myself - and so, I opened the door and went in.
 
                The interior of the Bondage shop was quite dark, but my eyes quickly adjusted to the strange array of lights.   I could see what Dorothy meant about it catering mainly for gay guys.    There were a lot of male mannequins wearing black leather stuff, and a counter display of plaster head displays with all sorts of evil-looking hoods, helmets and head restraints.   No prizes for guessing that I could have sworn one of them was exactly the same as the one that Frank had fastened around my neck and head, on that awful night that led to our break-up.   I quickly looked away, and on to a big display of chains and fetters, which I walked over to have a closer look at.    Hmm, they had all sorts of interesting police-type handcuffs and leg irons too, but were they the real thing or the "trick" ones I was interested in?    Right on cue, a tall, slim  good-looking sales guy wearing a name-badge with "Henry" on it,  came up and asked me if he could be of any help.    The way he lisped as he spoke, gave a positive indication of which team he played for!    Well, I wasn't surprised, seeing as Dorothy in the Retro boutique had already warned me what to expect.   "Yes", I said, "I'm really very interested in escapology.    Are all these handcuffs and manacles the real thing, or do you have any of the "trick" ones that can be escaped from?"     Henry gave me a really nice smile and said "Well, sweetie, I'm sorry to have to tell you that the only way you can escape from any of these cuffs is with the correct key.   They're all absolutely genuine articles, with not a trick piece anywhere.   That's not to say that somebody who has studied and rehearsed escapology techniques couldn't escape from some of them.   However, with some of the new high-security hinged handcuffs, you'd have a deal of trouble escaping even if you had the correct key!     Would you like me to show you a pair, to demonstrate what I mean?"     He definately had me interested, so I said "yes, please, Henry", trying to sound only vaguely interested.
 
                  He got out a pair of the most sinister-looking black hinged cuffs from the lower display cabinet, and handed me them.    "These are the latest from Hiatt's and are exactly as used by the police on high-security prisoners.    They're a bit pricey at 75 Pounds, but as you can see, they're of excellent quality and well - they're the Real Thing,  dear,  aren't they?"    I carefully examined them and was still trying to work out just how the "inescapable" aspect worked, because the cuffs had the usual keyhole and seemed to use the same sort of key that the usual chain-link cuffs utilized.    Handsome Henry could see I was a bit bemused about them, and he smiled and said "Are you perhaps wondering how the "virtually inescapable" part fits in, dear?    It'd be easier if I fitted them on your wrists rather than just try to explain - believe me!   Can I demonstrate what I mean, please?"    "Yes, please do" I said, offering my wrists to him, "however, are you sure they will close tightly enough on my small wrists?    "No problem, sweetie", he said, these have so many variable positions on the locking ratchet that they can even fit around the legs of a really big guy, or closed up to cover lovely little wrists like yours!"     So, he carefully locked the cuffs around my wrist, and I noticed that he was careful to fit them with the keyholes downwards, not upwards.    "Not too tight, sweetie, are they?" he asked me with some concern, adding "by the way, love your nails!    What's that gorgeous shade of ruby polish you're using?"    I couldn't help feeling appreciative of his compliments, and I smiled and said "Well, thank you for the nice comments, but I had my nails done just this afternon at a salon, and I haven't a clue what sort of polish they used - sorry!".    In spite of his effeminate mannerisms, Henry was a really nice, helpful guy.    I couldn't help but think that if anybody was going to cuff me, Henry was #1 on my list.
 
              I could feel that these hinged cuffs gave very little chance for wrist movement, compared to the standard chin-link cuffs I was used to.   Henry held one of the keys and said "Now's your chance to find out just why they're called High Security cuffs.    Just try and unlock yourself.    Howeve, firstly I should double-lock them so they can't tighten themselves around your pretty little wrists, dear".    So, that's what he did, double-locking the cuffs with the reverse end of the handcuff key, and then handing me the key to try and release myself.    I very quickly worked out just why he'd locked the cuffs on my wrists with the keyholes facing downwards - you can't reach the keyholes when locked in a pair of hinged cuffs, no matter how flexible your wrists and fingers are!    In fact, because I have such small hands, it was totally out of the question for me.   "Perhaps a guy with really long fingers and very flexible wrists might just be able to reach far enough to fit the key in the lower keyhole"?    I asked Henry.    "Well, dear" he said, I have to be honest and admit that I haven't actually locked these cuffs on your pretty little wrists in the "official" manner" they're supposed to be applied in, according to the Police Instructions."   "Why?" I asked him.    "Well, because if you think these hinged cuffs are uncomfortable already, with your hands facing inwards, just imagine how more uncomfortable they'd be, when locked in the proper way."    Henry could see I wasn't convinced, so he sighed and said "Sweetie, I can see I'm going to have to re-fit these properly, so you get my drift about how it doesn't really matter about length of fingers, size of hands, and so on.    Are you daring enough to be cuffed properly?"    "Sure, Henry", I replied "let's do this the correct way - remember I'm a budding escapologist, so no short cuts please.     Do your duty, Officer!"
 
             "OK", said Henry, taking the key back off me, "can you lift your wrists up so I can get to the keyholes, please?"    This I did, and he quickly unlocked me.   "Now the official bit", he said.    "Can you turn around, with your wrists together, but with your palms facing outwards?"     Hmmm, I thought, this is just like those arrest scenes from the US TV shows - is he going to go through my Miranda Rights as well?     No, of course he wasn't, but he very quickly locked the cuffs around my now outwards-facing wrists and quite tightly this time.   Once again, he went through the double-locking procedure, althought this time I could only surmise what was going on behind my back from the various "clicks" and "clunks".     The feeling of total restraint of my wrists was really awesome - I could not turn, swivel or move them.    They were locked in a firm embrace of steel.    Then, he put the key down on the counter in front of me, gave me a sweet smile and said "Look, sweetie, I've got to go to the little boy's room for a pee.    Here's the key - now the rest is up to you!    I'll be back in a couple of minutes, OK?"     So, off he went, leaving Poor Penny with her hands cuffed behind her back, wondering what to do.    I turned round and managed to locate the key on the counter, maybe thanks to my new 3" heels giving me a bit of extra height, so I could reach further backwards.    However, it quickly became apparent just what Henry had meant about the "official locking manner" making escape virtually impossible.   Despite having the key in the fingers of my right hand, my wrist was held firm by the cuff in an outwards position.  There was just no way I could flex my fingers and/or wrist around to get the key into the keyhole.   I tried every way to twist my slim wrist around in its restraining cuff, but to no avail.    The damn thing seemed to have been made in a slightly oval shape, following the exact outlines of my wrist.  As Henry had fitted it tightly, there was no way I could turn my wrist around inside the confines of those damned cuffs!.
 
                 However, I did have a couple of ideas in the way of escaping from these challenging hinged handcuffs, but neither were practical to carry out in the environment of a Gay Bondage Gear shop.    The first was that I would have to try and work my cuffed wrists down around my hips and bottom, then over past my feet, so I'd end up with my cuffed wrists in front of me.     I'd managed to do that before while practicing with escaping from chain-link cuffs.   I sure couldn't see why the fact that these high-security cuffs had hinges rather than links joining them, should prevent me from trying the same escape procedure.   Once I had my wrists in front of me, even though my wrists would still be facing outwards, I was positive that if I could get a handcuff key firmly between my teeth, I would be able to lift my cuffed wrists close enough to my teeth to get the key into the key hole and carry out the necessary turning of the key to escape.    The problem there and then was, that wearing a tailored skirt, stockings and so on, there was no way I was going to get down on the floor of that Gay Bondage Store and squirm around trying to carry out my escape procedure.    Even though my skirt was of a conservative length, my efforts to get my wrists down over my bottom and feet would eventually cause my skirt to ride up.    I've already mentioned that I wear traditional foundations in the form of an open bottom girdle and stockings, and to have all my frillies on full display while I was carrying out my escape routine was definately a "no-no".    You might make the obvious assumption that I would be perfectly safe from any similar molestation such as Frank had carried out on me while I was restrained, in a Gay Bondage Shop.    Still , a girl has her modesty to protect, and trying to escape from hinged handcuffs in my Acme 2-piece outfit writhing on the floor of that shop, was definately not on!
 
              Anyway, Handsome Henry was now returning from his visit to the little boy's room, and he was clearly amused to see me still securely cuffed with my hands behind me.    "Oh, sweetie", he said, "you didn't manage it then?  Never mind, I'll release you now, if you'll just turn around, please."    "Thanks, Henry", I said.    Once the cuffs were off my wrists, he asked me if I still wanted to take them."    "Of course", I replied.    "I have quite a few ideas on how to escape from them - but definately not while wearing a skirt, stockings and heels!"    "Oh, yes, sweetie", said Henry, " I know just how you feel - why just last week Jason and I - but no, that's another story ....."     I was glad Henry didnt go into the details of just how he and/or Jason had been trying to escape from hinged cuffs while wearing a skirt, etc - some things are better left untouched!     Anyway, as he was wrapping my pair of Hiatt's black high-security hinged hand-cuffs, he suddenly had a thought about the "matching accessories" they made.    "Sweetie", he said, "do you know that those wonderful guys at Hiatt's actually make matching accessories for these handcuffs?   Let me show you a pair of them, please."    He went down and rummaged behind the counter, and then came up with a pair of really gorgeous leg irons in the same black finish as the hinged cuffs I'd bought.    However,  they were connected with a length of chain, not riveted together,  but the effect of a plain stark black finish was really - well, interesting.     "Would you like to just try them on for a minute or so, sweetie?" said Henry.   "I can assure you they'll come down to fit your lovely little ankles without snagging those gorgeous tan stockings of yours!"    Well, what could I say, other than "oh, yes please Henry, but be careful with my nylons - they've just cost me 6 quid from over the road!"
 
               Well, Henry was around the counter in a moment, and leaning down to clasp the Hiatt's black leg irons around my ankles.    "Gosh" he simpered as he tightened them,  "are those real RHT nylons you're wearing, sweetie?    I can see the reinforced heels and toes, and they look absolutely fabulous against these dark black chains on your legs".    I couldn't help but feel Henry was exaggerating things more than a little, so I tried to lean backwards to observe the effect.    "No", said Henry, "take a sort walk across the shop floor and have a look at yourself in the big mirror at the other end".    So, that's just what I did, but of course trying to walk in a new pair of 3" slingbacks with leg irons around your ankles, isn't the easiest thing in the world to attempt.    My steps were clearly of the short variety - to be honest, more like in a mincing hobbled gate.    However, I got to the mirror, and turned around to check out the rear view especially.    Henry was quite right - the effect of my dark tan nylons contrasted against the dark black of the leg iron chains, was really something.    There were a couple of quite clearly gay customers at that end of the shop, and they were watching my performance walking across to the mirror and then pirouetting, with great interest.    As I headed back to the other end of the store, both of them started applauding me.    "Go, sister!" one shouted.    I couldn't help but twitch my bottom as I walked!     Well, when in Rome .......
 
                 I paid for my new purchases, the black hinged handcuffs and matching black leg irons, with my trusty credit card.   It had sure taken a battering today, on my 5-mile odyssey home to Camden Town.    As I signed the debit authorization form, Henry mentioned that he'd noticed I had been looking at the display of head harnesses and hoods, and would I perhaps like to take a closer look at them also?     I gave him my sweetest smile and said 'thanks, but no thanks".    My carry bag was getting heavier too, with my other pair of new slingbacks, my original navy court shoes, the stockings I'd bought, plus of course now the handcuffs and leg irons.     Henry handed me back my credit card, and said "sweetie, you're a real treasure - thank you so much for calling in and making our day complete.   By the way, I seem to recall you originally asked about "tricked" handcuffs and such.    I asked one of the other sales guys, Leslie, and he has recommended that you walk a bit further down this road for maybe a hundred yards, or so   On the other side of the road, there's a really amazing shop called "Hermione Houdini's House Of Horrors".    They sell all sorts of magic stuff, but they also apparently sell a lot of "tricked" cuffs and such, that you were asking about.    He then embraced me, and thanked me again for my business, as he led me to the door and opened it.    "Bye, sweetie, do call again" he said, and even gave me a peck on the cheek as I headed off down the road to check out this Hermione's place.    It had been a great day so far, despite the slug to my credit card account - could my good fortune continue, I mused as I crossed the road?    The new 3" heels were so comfortable that I hardly noticed them, and you can't ask anything more of a pair of shoes than that.     I carried on walking, and there it suddenly was..
 
7.          "And Finally, The Magic Shop - And Hermione Houdini Herself"
 
             My new heels clicked and clacked as I headed down the sidestreet, but finally there I was, looking into the window of this so-strangely titled shop.    The display window was quite small, but there were lots of intriguing items there.    The best part was the shop sign across the top of the window, which was a real work of art.    It had the shop's name of "Hermione Houdini's House Of Horrors" emblazoned in mainly black, but with colourful images of weird side attractions such as crows, bats, rabbits, pillories and stocks, mixed in.    Whoever had painted it, was very talented - I was impressed!
 
              You had to go down a few steep steps to enter the shop, because this side road was angled downhill.     It wasn't a problem for me in my new heels, though, because I had quickly got used to them.    I opened the door, and as I pushed it open and headed into the shop, a screeching bat came flying at me!    I instinctively ducked, but the thing flew over my head.    I quickly realised that it was just an imitation bat, flying along a guide cable attached to the ceiling of the shop.    Still, it had got me quite scared!    Then, as I walked further into the confines of the darkly lit place, suddenly a tall lady dressed as a witch in traditional black came forward, out of the gloom.     Well, that's to say, she had the pointy hat and the black long dress, but she had a big smile and said "Hello, I'm Hermione, do come on in!".    She extended her hand in welcome, and we shook hands.   I noticed that she had really long nails in black, and I guess she must have noticed mine in ruby red courtesy of my stop at the nail salon a few hours before.     "You've got lovely hands, dear", she said.   Gosh, three different compliments about my hands all in one day, I couldn't believe it.
 
               "Hello, Hermione", I replied, "I've heard so much about your wonderful shop.   Now, tell me first, are you perhaps related to the Great One Of Escapology, Harry Houdini?"    Hermione gave me a quizzical smile, and replied "Oh, if only I were, dear!   No, I'm not related in any way, but I'm such a disciple of everything that Houdini did, that I decided to take his name when I opened this shop.   Now, you know my secret name-wise, so tell me, what's yours?"   I told her my name was Penny, and she said "Well, come on in Penny, and take a look at what we have here.    There's all sorts of magic stuff, from disappearing rabbits in the hat, trick card games, Tarot cards, skeletons - we have it all.    My assistant Fantasia here can demonstrate anything in the way of magic that you want to see!     This "Fantasia" was a really tall, slim girl of maybe 18 or so, dressed in the sort of Classic Bimbo getup that magicians always seem to have their assistants in - ie, with top hat, a very short version of a man's dress jacket, fishnet tights and high heel shoes.    God, I thought, does she have to dress like that all day here in this shop?    "To be honest, Hermione" I said, "I've just been up the road buying a few things at the shops there.    Magic stuff is obviously interesting for me, but they also said you do a range of items for Houdini admirers and budding escapologists    I'm honestly not so much a fan of magic, but rather the Great Harry himself and anything to do with Escapology".
 
               Well, I'd come right out with it, there and then, so there was no messing about with protocol and diplomacy and tact, and all that sort of stuff.    I had told Hermione what I was there for - the rest was up to her.    Her reaction was actually quite a mild one.    She just smiled at me, and said "Well, Penny, that's very honest of you.    We do indeed split our range of products between the Magical, and the Houdini Escapist stuff.    However, it's proved convenient to have the magic gear at this level and the other stuff upstairs, seeing as most of our customers either want to see our range of one or the other, but not both.    Well, I can go along with that - they are separate areas of interest, after all.   Meanwhile, can Fantasia get you a cup of tea or coffee, perhaps?   I'm going to have a cup, so why not join me?    We had both sat down by then alongside the counter of the "Magic" part of her emporium, and it wasn't long before Fantasia brought two cups of coffee for us.   I have to admit that although my new slingback heels were very comfortable, the combined effect of the heels plus the distance I'd already walked, were taking their toll.    Another sitdown with a cup of coffee was again very welcome!
 
               So, we sat there together, in a strangely incongruous setting really - her wearing the witch's outfit,  and me with my Acme Insurance 2-piece one.    As we sipped our coffee, Hermione asked me about my interest in the Great Harry and escapology in general.    I steered well clear of my problems with Frank that had lead to our bust-up, but I did mention that I had some experience of escaping from "tricked" handcuffs both old and new, and that I had researched several Houdini-related books, plus the videos that I had on escapology-related issues.    She in turn, gave me some very interesting background on Harry Houdini that I didn't know.   By the time we had finished our coffees, we were yacking away like old school chums!   She also told me that her shop had only been trading for barely a year, but was doing very well thanks to the great interest in magic since the Harry Potter books and films.    I didn't state the obvious, but it was clear where the "Hermione" part of Hermione Houdini came from .....
 
               So, as Fantasia came to collect our empty cups, Hermione said that we really ought to make the "Great Climb".    "Sorry?" I said, "what's that?"     They both laughed and Harriette said,  "It's a bit of local joke, Penny.    All our Houdini escapology stuff is upstairs on the first floor, so we call it the "Great Climb"    Look it's really not that far upstairs, and I don't think you're going to have all that much trouble with the stairs, even in those heels you're wearing, dear!     Fantasia wears really high stilletto heels all day, yet she gets up and down those stairs without any problem in the world.    Mind you, she is a lot younger than we are, the Bitch!"    It was all said in a very light-hearted manner, so when Hermione got up and headed towards a black curtain, smilingly indicating that I should follow, that's what I did.    She pulled the curtain aside, revealing a narrow staircase upwards, and so that's where I headed, followed by Hermione.    Despite my new 3" heels, it wasn't a problem getting up those stairs, to be honest.    I got to the top of the stairs and I have to admit I was absolutely gobsmacked at the range and variety of escapology items on display there.    It was truly fantastic!
 
                I looked around in awe - I couldn't believe it.   It was more like a Harry Houdini museum than just a mere shop.    They had the most amazing display of the restraints that Harry had escaped from, plus wall posters, memorabilia - you name it, they had it!   Hermione was clearly pleased that I was so excited with the range of their Houdini-related products, and gave me another one of her enigmatic smiles.    "Come on, Penny", she said, "take a look at some of the replica restraint stuff we have over here."      So, I followed her over to the corner display, and she was quite right - they had every sort of handcuff, shackle and restraint that you could think of there.    One of the items was the same Hiatts Darby cuffs that my former partner Frank had used on me,  tricking me that they were specially modified for escape when they weren't.     Hermione observed my interest in the old-style handcuffs, and asked me if I'd like to examine a pair of them close up.   "Why, yes, thank you, Hermione" I replied, "I would indeed."
 
               She brought out the replica Hiatts "Darby" cuffs for me to have a closer look at, and I could immediately detect where the secret escape points were.   God, I thought, if only I'd known then what I know now, thinking of that awful long night when Frank had kept me cuffed and ankle-shackled in a combination pair of those genuine-copy replica   "Darbies".    I must have let out a sort of chuckle while I was examining them, because Hermione gave me a big smile and said "Does that chuckle mean you admit you're baffled with these, Penny?"    "Oh, no", I replied, "I think I've got these ones worked out, Hermione".     "Well" she said with a smile, "there's only one way of finding out, isn't there, my dear?    Can I fit them around those pretty little wrists of yours, and we'll see how you go, OK?"     So, that's what I did, offering my wrists to her to have the replica Darbies clamped around them.    "You know, Penny" said Hermione as she clicked first the left and then the right shackle around my wrists, "you're lucky that we have the full range of sizes in these old Darby cuffs.   You have really slim wrists, so if I tried to use the usual standard sized police cuffs, you wouldn't even need to know how to use your escapologist techniques to escape - you'd just be able to slip you those slim wrists of yours out of the shackles without any problem!     However, we have these in ladies and men's sizes, so let's see how you go, Penny, in escaping from them."
 
               I have to admit I felt it was all too easy, right there and then.   I just turned around, away from Hermione, pressed the concealed escape points, and sure enough, off they came.   I then turned around and handed the Darbys back to Hermione, with maybe a bit of a smirk.   OK, I'm a bit of a show-off, but who isn't?     Hermione seemed to be quite impressed with my quick escape from the Darbys, and asked me if I'd had any experience with the more modern ratchet cuffs.   "Try me", I said, smiling at her.    "OK" she replied, "but how would you get on if I cuffed you with your hands behind you, hmmm?"      "Try me" I repeated, turning around with my wrists behind me.    She took up the challenge and cuffed me again, now with the more modern style ratchet cuffs.    "Can I double-lock them?", she asked?    "Yes, of course", I replied, as I turned around and once again felt the concealed release points on them, slipping them off first my lfet wrist and then my right one, then turning around to hand them back to Hermione.
 
                 "Gosh", said Hermione, "you know, Penny, you're really good at this Escapology thing.    I don't know if we've got anything left to make any sort of challenge for you, you're so good".     Then, Fantasia laughingly suggested to Hermione that maybe I might like to try out the Harry Houdini Special Escape Shackles, perhaps?     I didn't know  what she was referring to, so I asked her what she meant.     "Oh, no" she said, "you don't want to know, honestly.    These are copies of the original items that even gave Harry himself a lot of trouble."    "Oh, come on, Hermione",  I pleaded, "You've got me quite fascinated now.   Just what are these Special Shackles?"
 
               "Well", said Hermione, "OK, I'll explain.   They're a combination of a solid steel hinged waistbelt with separate wrist shackles attached, plus leg irons joined by a very short chain.    The waistbelt is linked to the legirons with a link chain.    They were apparently based on the restraints used on Condemned Prisoners in some States of the USA back in the early 20th Century.     A prisoner has very little wrist movement because the wrist shackles are separated and attached to the waistchain with just a couple of chain links.    Similary, walking is restricted to a mere shuffled gait because the chain joining the ankle shackles is only some 10 inches wide.    Look, Penny, the easiest way would be for me to show you our Display Mannequin, over in the corner, which is fitted with a set of these Special Escape Shackles."    So, I followed her over to the corner, where there was a black curtain.    Give her her due, Hermione had a definate sense of theatre, because she stood alongside the curtain, facing me, and pulled on the curtain cord.    "Voila!"   she said, "What do you think of this for a display, Penny?"
 
               Wow!    I was so impressed, words failed me, for a few moments!    As the curtain pulled aside, there was a life-size mannequin figure, looking not unlike Harry Houdini himself in his younger days.    The description Hermione had given of the Special Escape Shackles was accurate to a "T".    A hinged steel belt was fitted tightly around the manneqin's waist, with the wrists confined in separate shackles attached by short chains to the steel belt at either side of the waist.    The ankles were also restrained in shackles joined by a barely 10 inch wide chain, and another chain was attached to the centre of this 10 inch chain.   It lead up to the attachment point of the steel waist belt, where an unusually large traditional "figure 8" padlock was fitted, clearly locking both the belt and the chain from the leg shackles.     "Well, what do you think of this set of restraints, Penny dear?    Don't you admit the big, heavy padlock would be a real problem escaping from?"
 
                I knew what she was referring to, of course, but I didn't let on - well, we escape artistes have to have our secrets, right?    The unusually large padlock  that Harry featured in  for a lot of his escapes, was actually not a proper padlock at all, but a receptacle for keys and other means of escape.   When he was chained, he would turn away from his audience apparently squirming against his cuffs, but was actually just hiding from them the fact that he was opening the fake padlock's secret receptacle to get at its hidden keys.    He would then unlock his cuffs, return the keys inside the trick padlock, and suddenly turn around to the audience and stand up - amazingly released!     I had read about this in several books about him and was surprised that Hermione and Fantasia didn't know also.    Still, one of the Magician's and Escape Artiste's first principles, is never to reveal a secret technique, and if they were so stupid as not to find out what had been really being going on, well .......  more fool them!
 
                So, secretly feeling quite confident about escaping from these "Harry Houdini Special Escape Shackles", I did my best to appear non-committal, and jokingly said that I doubted they'd have a waist-belt to fit a woman's waist,  wrists and ankles anyway.    After all, it would be no sort of a challenge if the restraints were just too big, and I could pull my wrists and ankles out of them without even needing to perform any "escapology" routines.    "Hmmm, what do you think, Fantasia?" asked Hermione of her assistant.   "Do you think we have any slim-sized versions of the Houdini Shackles?"     Fantasia seemed to ponder for a while, and then said "Well, we used to have them in "petite" size for ladies, but I'm not sure if we have any left in stock now.    I remember them well, because they were lined with black velvet on the inside of the waist-belt, wrist and ankle shackles, so as not to leave any marks or ladder the lady's stockings especially, with regard to the ankle restraints".    This was a bit of a disappointment, because I was on a high after escaping with ease from the handcuffs they'd so far tried me out out with.    I would have liked to show them that I could indeed match any escape challenge they might throw at me.     Then, Fantasia suddenly recalled that they had one set of slim-sized Specials in the store-room, if she could only remember just where!     "Well", said Hermione, "be a darling and go and have a look for it, dear, while I show Penny some more of our Houdini Display."
 
                So, off went Fantasia to the store-room, while Hermione led me on a conducted tour around other areas of the Houdini Display.    There was the one featuring his interest in Spiritualism, and it was really quite fascinating.    There were pictures, brochures, magazines and even theatre posters displaying his interests in that area.    Harriette and I were in deep discussion about our knowledge of this, when Fantasia suddenly appeared carring a large cardboard box marked "Houdini - Special Escape Shackles (Small)".     "Hermione" , she said, I think I might have found what you're looking for - the Petite size version of the Houdini Shackles!   They were there in the far corner of the store-room, under those old posters."    "Well done, my girl" said Hermione, "now let's all have a look at them, eh?"
 
8.            "Beware Of Ladies in Black Pointed Hats Bearing Boxes"
 
               So, the contents of the old box were unloaded onto the small counter, and indeed everything seemed to be there as they should.    Hermione brought the items out one by one for me to examine,   the steel hinged waistbelt with attached wrist shackles, the pair of  leg shackles with the linking chain to join the waistbelt, and finally the unusually large oval padlock that held the whole set together.    (Except, of course, I knew differently!).    "Gosh", I said,  "Hermione, these look fantastic!    You're right, they're indeed works of art, beautifully crafted and with such a nice delicate touch of the velvet lining inside the wrist and ankle shackles.    That's a specially nice touch for me, seeing as I've just paid out 6 quid for these nylons from Retro Renaissance just up the road!"     Hermione smiled and said that she knew the shop I was referring to, having bought a few items there herself.
 
               "Well, Penny" she said, "can I feel assured that you're no longer concerned that your gorgeous retro nylons won't be safe from laddering?"     "Oh, yes, Hermione" I replied, "why, the shackles look really comfortable in fact!"     "Hmmm", said Hermione, "we aim to please, you know, even with an setup like this that normally retails for 95 Pounds.    However, I'm so confident that we've have got you beaten with this one, that I'll let you have it for free if you manage to escape within 5 minutes.    How's that - is it a bet?"     I laughed, thinking to myself what a fool she was to think that I, a student of escapology and especially of Houdini, wouldn't have learnt about the oversized padlock and its contents.     "Fine, Hermione",    I said with a laugh, "you've got yourself a bet!"
 
              I lifted my arms high above my head as Hermione fitted the hinged waistbelt snugly around my waist, and joined the two open hinged ends ready for the padlock.   "Hmmm, it certainly seems to be a perfect fit on you, Penny" she commented.   Meanwhile, her assistant Fantasia was locking the shackles around my ankles.    "Don't worry, Penny", she said, "I'll take care I don't ladder those lovely stockings of yours".      Meanwhile, Hermione now asked me to bring my arms down so she could attach the wrist shackles.    I obliged, and Hermione did the necessary to confine my wrists.    The shackles weren't the usual modern ratchet kind of cuffs, but more like medieval style ones .   That's to say, Hermione had to secure them around my wrists with an unfamiliar style of recessed head bolt, using a special angled key to tighten them.   It took her several turns, and I could see by the effort that she put in at the end, that they were indeed secured as tightly as possible in the threads.   Looking down, I could see that Fantasia was using the same method to secure my ankle shackles.    So, I thought, that means the same key inside the padlock's secret compartment, will open both my wrist and ankle shackles - easy!!     Finally, with a flourish, Hermione brought the large "padlock" over and as Fantasia brought the top end of the long linking chain from the centre of the ankle shackles short one, she locked the padlock over it and through the two holes in the hinged ends of my waistbelt.    The padlock made a quite audible "clunk" as she turned the key, and then removed it.    I couldn't help but think how well rehearsed they were carrying out my fitting of the Special Shackles.    I think it couldn't have taken them more than a minute to complete the whole operation.
 
               "Now, Penny, dear" said Hermione, sounding quite concerned that I was as comfortable as possible, "we won't start your 5 minutes Escape Timing yet, because it would be only fair to let you walk around a bit to get the feel of your restraints.    So, would you like to walk slowly over to the chair over in the corner, and remember to take very short steps - we don't want you tripping up in those ankle shackles now, do we?"    Of course, I'd often done the "Prisoner Shuffle" in leg irons before, although I had to admit these Houdini Specials had a shorter linking chain than usual.   Still, it just meant taking even shorter steps, so that's what I did.   As I shuffled slowly across to the chair, I tested out what movement my wrist shackles gave me.    Although there wasn't very much, the important thing was that I could reach the padlock with the fingertips of both my hands.    I reached the chair, turned around, and sat down on the chair.
 
9.            "I'm Sure She Didn't Mention Anything About A Blindfold ......"
 
              Hermione looked down at me, and said in an unfamiliar rasping voice "Oh, I think I must have forgotten to mention that you're blindfolded during the 5 minutes, Penny.   Still, you're a student of Houdini, so you'd know that was the original procedure he used during this escape, now wouldn't you?    So, here's another item from the Box, a nice black hood that I'll just drop over your head and give these strings a little tighten so you can't shake it off - now, there we are, dear, and your 5 minutes starts NOW!!!     Fantasia and I are going downstairs, but we'll be back right on cue to see how you've got on.    Bye, bye ...."      Well, with my wrists in their shackles attached with such short chains to the waistbelt, there was no way I could reach the black hood over my head.    I was totally in the dark, and would have to do everything purely by feel.    Still, Hermione was right, Houdini could do it that way so would I - or try to, anyway!
 
               I heard them heading downstairs and immediately began to feel the outline of the large padlock with the tips of my fingers.    No, where just was the concealed compartment with the key for my escape?    I pulled, pushed, twisted, turned, pried, but all to no avail.    The damn padlock just seemed to be that, and that alone - a large old-fashioned padlock.    Maybe it was something to do with the locking arm, which often "gives" against pressure on tricked locks like these.    No, it was as firm as the Bank Of England.    What else could there be, I thought?     Remember, I was working totally from memory and feel here, because of the hood over my head.    I even tried to shake it loose, but Hermione had been too smart for me, by tightening the neck strings enough to stop it coming off.    So, back to the damn padlock again.    I'd also tried my wrist shackles out, but although they were indeed quite comfortable thanks to the velvet lining, they were also a close fit.    The recessed locking bolt was on the outside of my wrists, so I couldn't even stretch my fingers down to feel if there was anything there that might assist my escape.    The close fit of the wrist shackle also stopped me from twisting my wrist around in it, to let me get my fingers at the connecting bolt.    So, it was back to the padlock again, and its mysterious release feature.    I hadn't yet tried one thing, and that was to give the lip around the keyhole a twist.    Maybe that was the secret?    I held the padlock as firmly as I could with my left hand, and the raised lip with my right fingers, and gave it the heftiest tweak I could, both clock-wise and anti-clockwise.    Nothing, not a slightest sign of any movement.    I was totally defeated, and just as if on cue, I heard voices and footsteps as Hermione and Fantasia came back up the stairs.
 
10.            "Playing Poker With Marked Cards ......."
 
               I could hear Hermione laughing as she approached me,  and I didn't like what I heard.     Her voice had changed totally from the slightly whimsical, almost theatrical one that she'd been using previously, to a much harsher monotone.     "OK, Penny, looks like you didn't manage it this time, darling, eh?    That big padlock is more difficult than it seems, isn't it?   Let me get this nasty hood off your head, anyway."    I could feel her fingers untying the strings around the base of the hood, and a very welcome sensation it was too as she pulled the hood upwards and off my head.    However!!    I got the shock of my life immediately afterwards, because the hood had barely left my head when a leather harness contraption was applied in its place.    Oh God, I thought, not Frank's bondage hood again ....      This one had a similar hard rubber penis gag in the front that was rammed into my mouth and secured behind my head, so I had barely the chance to scream "what the hell ...?"   before the gag did its job.    There was a strange sequence of straps going across my head too, holding a leather centre piece over my forehead and eyes, but strangely I could still see, because there were oval holes over my eyes.    However, the effect of the combined straps was similar to the one that Frank had used on me before, on that awful night.    I could not move my head or neck at all, now, or obviously talk, but at least I could still see.     What I could see was not very encouraging, because it was Hermione coming towards me with another shiny steel item, rather like a smaller version of the waistchain I was wearing.    Oh, God, I thought, it's a steel collar!      "Oh, Penny, darling" said Hermione in her "new" rasping monotone, "have I also forgotten to tell you about this last item from your Box Of Tricks?   Yes, it's a nice little collar for that pretty neck of yours, and of course it's also lined with lovely velvet, just like your shackles.     We can't have your wrists and ankles getting marked, or of course your neck, or we might just not get as much when we sell you at the Slave Auctions.   Oh, naughty me, did I forget to mention something else too?    My memory is really getting shocking, these days - must be the weight of this stupid black hat I have to wear, just to entice fools like you to come into my little Shop Of Horrors.    Well, you recall our Bet, don't you?    You get the Houdini Shackle Set for free, if you escape within 5 minutes.    My side of the Bet was that if you don't escape, I get you for the Rest Of Your Life, you stupid little bitch!     Did you really think that the large padlock held the keys for your escape, by the way?    Ha, ha!!     It's just a plain, ordinary, big padlock, you silly woman, and now you're locked up perfectly for our little White Slavery Company to take you Boldly Where No White Woman Has Gone Before, apart from the previous one or twenty, or the two other ones you're going to meet shortly.    Well, we wouldn't like you to feel lonely on your forthcoming trip to far-off shores, now, would we?
 
              What could I say?    I mean, apart from the obvious that I couldn't say anything thanks to the thick rubber dick that was wedged firmly in mouth, I was just so taken aback at the way events had changed in the last few minutes.    Even if I didn't have my mouth gagged the way it was, I honestly don't think I could have said a word.   I was totally dumbstruck, physically and mentally.    One minute I'm facing a light-hearted challenge about my modest talents in escapology, but barely minutes later I realise I'm a prisoner in the hands of  Hellish Hermione and her Fellow Fiend Fantasia.     God, just how bad can things turn on a nice Friday afternoon?      A strike on the Underground, a 5-mile walk, and then a life as a slave in some far-off country in chains?
 
11.            "If The Collar Fits, Wear It .......   Then, Off To The Waiting Room From Hell"
 
                Hermione fitted the hinged steel collar around my neck, and locked it with the same angled hex key that she'd used before on my wrist shackles.    She then produced something just like a dog lead, and snapped it around my collar.    "OK, walkies time, Penny darling, and remember to take small steps."    She gave the dog lead a hell of tweak that almost gave me whiplash, so I got up off the seat as quickly as I could..   In ankle shackles, with my wrists shackled to my waistbelt plus the head harness preventing me from moving my head in any way but directly ahead, this wasn't as easy as it might sound.   However, I did manage to get up somehow, and I followed Hermione as she lead me by the dog lead attached to my collar,  across to another area of the store.    It was marked "Private - Staff Only" on the door.    Fantasia had gone ahead and opened the door, seeing as I was making the sort of walking speed that anybody in 3" heels with ankle shackles joined by a short chain can make - ie, very slow.    Even though that Assistant Bitch Fantasia was wearing quite high heels as part of her magician's assistant outfit, she could walk a great deal more quickly than I could in my ankle shackles.     Hermione kept on tugging me through the door by my collar, and onwards to another door marked "No Entry".    Fantasia opened this door, and I could not believe what I saw inside.    It was a very small room, with barely space for 3 people to sit down.   However, there was something unusual about the walls and ceilings, that took me a couple of seconds to register.   Then, I realised just what it was - sound-proofing!!   Clearly, in spite of my being gagged, these people weren't taking any chances about any noises reaching the ears of passers by.   There was another unusual fact about this Waiting Room.    It was that there were 2 people sitting down already, and they were young women wearing the identical Harry Houdini Special Escape Shackles that I was also wearing.   I couldn't make out their faces, because their heads were caged in a similar leather bondage-type hood to mine.    However, their eyes were blindfolded, and the steel collars they wore were hitched via a short length of chain to the wall behind them.    Their ankle chains were also hitched to a securing point directly in front of both of them.     Small as this room was, it was clear that there was enough room between them for another unfortunate captive, and no prizes for guessing who that was going to be.    Hermione turned me around, told me to sit down between the other two, removed the dog lead from my collar, and stood back in smug silence as Fantasia hitched my ankle chains to the securing point on the floor and the back of my collar to the wall by the short length of chain hanging from it.     There was only one thing left to do to secure me, going by what these bastard bitches had done already to the other two ladies.    Sure enough, Hermione produced a leather blindfold just like the others were wearing, and clipped it around my face via various press-studs, going by the "click - click - click" sounds that followed.    When she'd finished, I couldn't see a thing.   "Now, how's that, sweetie?" she said in her "new" raspy voice.    "Do you like our Waiting Room?    Of course, you can't admire the decor, but then again, you're not going to be here all that long.    Now just be Good Girls, and sit tight for now.    Your transport will be here in a couple of hours - byeeee!!".     I heard the door close, and that was it.    Absolutely nothing for two hours, except muffled groans from the other two, and shortly, from me too.   I was now totally demoralised.    The three of us made an Unholy Trio Chorus with our muffled wailings, but even that was strangely encouraging for me.    OK, why?    Well, to suffer in silence is one thing, but to suffer collectively is another.    At least the other two were in just the same boat as I was, and so I could take some small positive that they were along with me in my moments of need.
 
12.             "Off At Last, But To Where?     Plus A Last Farewell Note Of Encouragement From Hermione The Hag ..."
 
                 How can you count time, with your eyes, mouth, head, neck, wrists, ankles, in fact just about everything that normally moves or gives some kind of sensory assistance, out of action or so severely restricted?    The answer is that you can't, so you begin to panic.   That "couple of hours" that Hermione had mentioned, seemed more like 48 hours eventually.    Finally, our combined groanings and moanings courtesy of our penis gags, came to an end, and Hermione, Fantasia and a new face for me, a swarthy-looking guy who Hermione addressed as "Abdul", appeared.    Well, that's to say, they appeared only because the three of us had our blindfolds removed at last, and our sight was restored.    Mine had been on for a couple of hours, but I had been in no fit condition to converse with the other two ladies about just how long they'd been wearing their blindfolds, nor they with me.     Clearly the removal of our blindfolds was not some act of charity, it was just that we were on the move at last.     Hermone herself removed my blindfold by undoing the press-studs securing it to my face harness, and then yanked me upright.    Fantasia did the same with the lady on my left, and the new player (Abdul) with the lady to my right.    Our collar connecting chains were unhooked, as were our ankle chain linkages to the floor.   Clearly, we were on the move at last, but we were still gagged, manacled and leg shackled so it was not a time for rejoicing - een if anybody could hear our muffled "mmmmmuuummmppphhhhsssssss", which was unlikely.    Any euphoric feelings about being released at last from the wall and floor chains, were quickly let down.    Abdul produced a couple of lengths of chain from a bag, complete with small padlocks, and hooked the three of us up together with those lengths of chain by our neck collars.    We were now a traditional Arab Slave Coffle, except one in the middle of North London, on a Friday evening,  after a Tube Strike    I had the misfortune to be the "meat in the sandwich, ie attached to the unknown lady who'd been sat on my left by a chain from the back of her steel collar to the front on mine.    I couldn't see her thanks to the inflexible leather bondage harness around my head and neck that prevented any movement, but I could feel that the 3rd lady was chained to the rear of my neck collar by a similar length of chain.    The occasional tugs to the back of my collar could only mean that she was having difficult keeping  up with us, probably because of her leg shackles.
 
            As we headed towards the door, walking in our hobbled steps, the three of us chained together at the neck via our collars, something came back to me.    Wouldn't our friends or acquantancies mention collectively the connection with Euston Station, following our disappearance?    For that matter, what about visiting Hermione Houdini's Magic Shop, wouldn't that show up as a common theme in the mysterious exit of the three of us?     The London Police aren't stupid, they can put 2 and 2 together to make 4, surely?    It would have been so nice if I could believe that sort of optimism, but life has taught me otherwise.   However, when I thought back to my first conversation with that Hermione harridan, I recalled that she'd asked how I'd got to hear of her shop.   I'd told her that I'd only found out about it from Dorothy in Retro Renaissance and again from Henry in the Bondage Store, just that afternoon.    Clearly I'd sealed my own fate with that admission, plus presumably the same applied to the other two ladies I was chained to.    If I'd had the sense to say that I'd been told about it by a friend at work, and said I'd call there on the way home this afternoon, I'd have no doubt been home by now in Camden Town.    Instead, I was shuffling along in my chains, coffled to the other two unfortunates.
 
               As we headed slowly down towards the stairs, moving as carefully as a group of three women in heels, cuffs and shackles can - ie very slowly - one last thing happened that will stick in my mind for ever.    Hermione was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as the three of us shuffled closer.   I was of course the middle one in the chained coffle, being the last one to have been confined in that Waiting Room From Hell.    As I shuffled towards the bottom of the stairs, Hermione lifted her hand up indicating I should stop.    She moved closer to me as I stopped shuffling, and whispered into my left ear some words that I have never forgotten in the life of Arab Slavery that we were heading off into:
 
 
           "AREN'T YOU A BIT TOO OLD,  PENNY, TO STILL BELIEVE IN MAGIC?"
 
 
 c.     "Harve"    2004