Jasmine stood outside the front of Weavers Psychiatric Hospital, one of the nation’s leaders in psychiatric care and psychotherapy. Her boss had dispatched her to the hospital to write a piece on the recent changes that had brought Weavers to the forefront of the world in terms of their progress in various fields and the praise that came upon the hospital for their methods and success. Privately, Jasmine was also hoping that she could get a look into the inner workings of the hospital, as with all the good things you hear about something, there is always something lurking in the shadows.

Dressed in high heeled brown ankle boots, stockings, black patterned pencil skirt, and turtleneck sweater, she checked her hair in the car window before making sure she had her notebook and pen before marching towards the hospital doors. Inside the doors was a lobby and a secretary managing the desk, who looked up as jasmine walked up to the desk. “Ms. Iorio?” She asked.

Jasmine nodded. “That is me.”

The secretary stood and walked around the desk. “Follow me please, Dr. Munzer is waiting to see you.”

Jasmine was led through a couple sets of doors into the main area of the hospital and a nursing station. A bespectacled man in a long white doctor’s coat was talking to an orderly as they stared at a clipboard as the two women walked up to him. “Dr. Munzer, Ms. Iorio is here to see you.”

He was a thin wiry man and his eyes glittered with intelligence. He shook her hand and greeted her warmly. “Glad to have you here Ms. Iorio.” He said.

“Please, call me Jasmine.” She waved away the formality as she fell into step beside him. “So I do have some questions for you today.”

“Of course, of course. All in due time, allow me to give you a tour of the facilities.”

He began the tour through various stations and rooms, pointing out various processes, patients, progress that had been made recently, she half paid attention as she looked around at the security measures in the building and as they walked down the row of rooms, Jasmin did notice that many of the patients were restrained down to their beds with straps and medical cuffs. Some were unconscious, some were very awake and shouting behind the soundproof glass. It unnerved her a fair bit, but she followed after the doctor as he continued the tour. He took her through multiple floors to show her the facilities and the new brain research wing that had recently opened in the hospital before leading her back towards the elevator bank and into one of the side rooms. She noticed it was full of restraints, full sets of medical restraints and some straitjackets were along one of the walls. She gave everything a nervous look but the doctor seemed very at ease in the room.

“Would you like to try one?” He asked, noticing her glances at the straitjackets. “We can take you down to the isolation block afterwards to see some of the more violent patients and the methods we use there.”

Jasmine had her doubts. Putting herself into a helpless position was not a smart move by a journalist who was wanting to investigate the potential dark side of this hospital, but they also didn’t know that yet. “It’ll be quite the experience to write about.” He added with a glint in his eye.

She decided to cave, as she was also quite curious as to what it felt like. “Ok, let’s try it.”

One of the orderlies was called over to assist and a white canvas straitjacket was taken off the hangar and brought up in front of her. Setting her notebook and things on the table, she held her arms out, allowing them to slide the thick material along her arms. The sleeves were sealed shut, forcing her to ball her hands up at the end as the jacket was drawn around her over her clothes and the straps were done up. Her arms were crossed in front of her, with a strap on the front of the jacket trapping her forearms against her stomach, and straps at the end of the sleeves were pulled behind her back and buckled tightly. She let out a grunt as they were yanked tight, compressing her torso and pinning her arms in place in an enforced self-hug. The last strap was the crotch strap. “To prevent wearers from pulling it off over their head.” The orderly explained before it was threaded under her crotch and yanked up.

Jasmine gave an undignified squeak as it dug into her sensitive regions, pulling her skirt up as well as the strap was buckled tightly in place to lock her fully inside the jacket. With the final strap, the orderly stepped back and allowed Jasmine to test out the new restraint. The enforced self hug was a very strange feeling, keeping her hands helplessly at her side and her squirming did cause the crotch strap to rub distractedly against her panties. She tried to hide the fact that the rubbing strap was causing her to blush. “So straitjackets are reserved for isolation patients?” She asked, trying to maintain some of her dignity.

“Correct.” Dr. Munzer said as he led her out of the room. “They are considered a little barbaric for patients by the general public, hence the medical restraints you saw used on the main floor. Isolation patients are often a danger to themselves and others, so straitjackets and isolation cells we deem necessary evils to help these people.”

Jasmine nodded her head, still distracted by the crotch strap that rubbed with each step as they reached the elevator bank. The isolation wing was two floors underground so they entered the elevator and Dr. Munzer swiped his security badge to allow access. “We keep them separated from all the other patients.” He explained.

It was a comfortable silence as the elevator descended and opened up to a nursing station. Hallways extended out in all directions to create a maze of rooms that were sealed shut with no windows and doors with control panels beside them. “We have a very technologically advanced isolation wing.” Dr. Munzer continued. “All patients are monitored 24/7 from our control room, but they are all isolated in padded rooms throughout the wing. We have anywhere between ten to thirty patients down here at a time.

They stopped at the bank of monitors which showed an overhead camera view into most of the cells. Looking around, Jasmine noticed that the staff down here seemed rather skeleton, seeing only a couple of nurses and orderlies compared to the numbers upstairs. Then her analytical mind began to notice something odd. All of the patients down in the isolation wing were young and female. “Are male patients kept in a separate wing?” She asked.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard but he recovered quickly. “Yes, this is the female wing.” He answered. “I’ll take you to see one of the lower risk patients, she’s due to be moved back upstairs later today.”

None of the staff gave her an extra glance in her straitjacket as she followed Dr. Munzer down the hall. She noticed how each control panel showed the vital signs of the occupant with a variety of blinking lights, noting the technology being used and nodding her head in satisfaction. Down a couple of hallways, the doctor stopped in front of a panel and punched in a code, before opening the door and entering the cell. “This here is Helena Wilkinson, she’s here for...oh.”

Jasmine followed him inside, careful to step over the raised ledge before turning to face the patient and freezing in shock. The slurping noises that she wasn’t fully aware of before entering the room were due to the blonde woman on her knees in the corner giving a blowjob to an orderly who was standing against the wall. Helena was tightly restrained in a modified straitjacket as Jasmine could see the chest parts had cutouts to expose her considerable breasts and straps kept her legs bound in a frogtie. “W-what the hell is this?!” She exclaimed, failing to see another orderly entering the cell behind her.

“Well Jasmine.” The doctor turned towards her as the orderly and Helena carried on, seemingly oblivious to the others in the room. “You see, there is a reason the isolation block is all young women.”

She took a step backwards and bumped into something, turning her head she realized it was a towering mass of a man and her breath hitched. “The reason is that we sell them off as sex slaves. We train and condition them here before they are auctioned off.”

Jasmine’s eyes went wide. “You bastard! You-MMMMPH!”

A huge palm covered her mouth, muffling her cries as she kicked the best she could with her boots but was unable to contact anything. Doctor Munzer waved a hand dismissively. “Take her to cell three and get her set up. I’ll be along shortly.”

Giving muffled screams and curses, Jasmine was hauled up off her feet and carried out of the cell with ease. The straitjacket kept her helpless as she was hauled down the line of cells to one with an open door and tossed inside. She landed with a thump, immediately rolling over and trying to get to her feet but with her arms bound, it was not as easy as she thought. The time it took her to try and sit back up was all the time the orderly needed to cross the room and pin her down to the floor. Straddling her chest, he pulled out a rubber ball on a strap from behind him, causing Jasmine’s eyes to go wide.

Pinned down to the floor, she could only twist her head back and forth to try and dodge the ballgag destined for her mouth. She held out for about twenty seconds before the sphere was forced between her teeth and strapped under her hair. Satisfied that his victim was now reduced to muffled whimpers, the orderly rotated on her body and grabbed her kicking feet, pulling off her boots and using hospital shears to cut off her stockings and parts of her skirt. Leather straps soon frogtied her legs and large leather cuffs encircled her ankles and were padlocked for extra insurance.

His job complete, the mountain of a man departed the cell and closed the door, sealing Jasmine inside as she looked around the black padded walls that seemed very unforgiving. She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Allowing herself to be strapped up, lured to the basement, not seeing the signs. Now it was too late. She screamed into her gag, wondering how she was going to get out of this one.

Jasmine spent the next ten minutes struggling against the straitjacket and straps, but the room gave her no purchase to work with and the straitjacket proved why it had been in use for mentally insane patients for decades. Grunting in frustration, she rolled herself back into a kneeling position as the door hissed open and Dr. Munzer entered the room. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed in you Jasmine.” He said as the door closed. “We dropped a lot of hints along the way, would’ve thought that someone as smart as you would have picked up on it. Your boss sure emphasized your capabilities when he made the deal to send you here.”

Her eyes widened at his words. “Oh yes.” He sneered. “Your boss was very eager to get rid of you. So we dropped a few rumours that you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, had him assign you to visit, and planned out the trap.”

He stroked her cheek and she flinched away. “Now you’ll get a full investigation of our secret side business. Research isn’t cheap, but it definitely is easier when you can sell off some beautiful girls that have been committed and turned into sex slaves.” He laughed and stood up.

“Well Jasmine.” Dr. Munzer said as he began unbuckling his pants, causing her to scream into her gag. “Your training starts now…”