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THE RELUCTANT DOPPELGANGER by HARVE The weight of the chains clanking along the gravel between my shackled ankles kept me to a shuffling pace, which was still too slow for the butch-looking Amazonian guard, so she gave me another whack with her stick. Luckily for me, it was again on my padded derriere, so the pain wasn't as bad as when she'd whacked me across my bare legs earlier on. I was doing my best to keep up the speed of the rest of the prisoners, but they had become accustomed to the correct method of shuffling along in their ankle chains, whereas I was still getting used to it. I was also having a lot of trouble with the leather punishment mask I had been fitted with, which kept my tongue depressed and also kept my head rigid in front. Only one other prisoner was wearing such a device, and I wondered what she'd done to warrant wearing the hideous thing. I knew why I, or more correctly Barbara Schneider, had "won" herself 24 hours in it, because she'd boasted how clever she'd been by calling the giant guard "Madame Frankenstein" while traveling down on the prison truck. That 24 hours meant nobody could see my face nor hear my male voice until she was well clear of the island and out of their reaches. The six of us were chained together by iron collars round our necks, in my case joined to the third prisoner in front of me and with the fifth joined to the back of my collar. We were just like a line of slaves being driven to some slave auction in history, but this was 2007 not 1707. I desperately wanted to scratch my chin where the leather mask was rubbing it, but with my wrists manacled to the thick leather belt around the waist of the coarse cotton prison dress I wore, there was no way I could reach it. The hood was so rigid it prevented me from lowering my head to any degree, to try and get my chin closer to my hands. God, I thought to myself, what sort of situation have you got yourself into, Frank D'Souza? You're not just a guy dressed as female convict #2749 on the hell-hole women's prison island of Santa Cruz, but you've been totally set-up as the patsy in an elaborate escape attempt to spring Barbara Schneider out of jail. Our chained line reached the prison truck waiting to take us back to the main prison, and we stopped while the guards got the ramp ready for us to shuffle our way up. I managed to turn around to my left and saw the agonizing sight of the prison ferry heading off, with that bitch Deborah Sutton who'd masterminded the whole thing and the escapee Barbara Schneider, both waving at me. I clenched my fists in rage but that's all I could do, with my wrists manacled to the tight belt round my waist. Then I felt a tug from the chain attached to my collar, as the prisoner in front of me reached the top of the ramp. I also got another painful whack on my legs from the big female guard, as I was holding up the line of other prisoners from getting into the truck. So I shuffled up the ramp and sat down on the hard wood bench seat alongside the first three women, and once we were all sat down the guards added some additional security by locking our ankle chains to ring bolts in the floor. I had noticed several short lengths of chain hanging down from the truck's roof above us, and these were attached to our neck collars one by one. If ever there was a case of security overkill, this was it. We were already manacled and shackled and chained together, with no chance of escape whatsoever, but the prison authorities chose to further humiliate us with the overkill of additional restraining. The truck started up and moved off slowly. I now had a chance to consider my fate, and just how a 19-year-old legal clerk from Los Angeles called Frank D'Souza had ended up masquerading as Barbara Schneider, the imprisoned heiress serving 20 years for dope smuggling. I cursed myself for how easily I'd been duped all along by Deborah Sutton, ever since that Christmas party three months ago where we'd first met. I had met her at a social get-together just before Christmas, mainly attended by people from the legal scene in LA. Working for a large corporate legal company like Levinson Associates paid well but the work was excruciatingly boring, just preparing, checking, re-checking and re- re-checking commercial contracts. The opportunity to have a few drinks and meet some new friends would be most welcome, with maybe the chance of doing some checking around for a change of career path. The legal fraternity often uses these social functions to sound out who's available for what, rather than go the more usual way of advertising vacancies. We'd been introduced by Susan Nixon, my immediate boss at Levinson's. "Say, Frank -- come and meet Deborah, will you? She's a baseball fan just like you!" So I shook hands with an attractive blonde 40-something year- old called Deborah, and we got talking immediately about baseball, but the conversation quickly moved to travel and Mediterranean cuisine of all things. It seemed she was mad about Portuguese cooking, so when I let it slip that I was part-Portuguese and knew quite a bit about it too, as well as speaking the language reasonably well, we were on common ground and the conversation flowed. She bought me a couple of drinks and we asked each other diplomatic questions about our jobs. Mine didn't take long to describe, and she quickly worked out that I was not over-happy doing what I did correcting damn contracts all day. Then she started to tell me about her job as a lawyer, specializing in dealing with overseas governments and police authorities on behalf of American citizens either jailed or faced with the prospect of being jailed, usually for drug offences. She then steered the conversation back to me, and my hobbies and interests. "Well, I've done a bit of acting -- purely in an amateur way, while I was still at college." "What sort of parts did you play, then?" she'd asked. I gave a laugh and said, "Well, my last part was in a comedy, playing a guy who had to play a woman to try and fool his girl-friend's short- sighted father. The worst part was learning to walk in high heels, but after a bit of practice I got quite good at it!" She laughed, and said that she hoped I wouldn't be offended if I she said she thought I'd make a very attractive-looking woman, with my fine features and slim build. I wasn't offended by what she said, because I'm quite short hence getting the role in that play. She looked at me quite closely and then said that in fact, I reminded her of somebody she knew but couldn't recall their name at the moment. I would later learn to my cost, that it was no less than Barbara Schneider who I reminded her of... Our discussions then turned back to travel, and she kind of sighed and said it wasn't necessarily so romantic, living out of a suitcase and seeing so many airport lounges and hotel rooms round the world. "Do you know, Frank," she said, "my Personal Assistant Dianna is leaving at Christmas to have twins and she's going to become a full-time mum. I've interviewed several otherwise ideal candidates to replace her, but the prospect of having to travel at very short notice has put them off. Seems not everybody wants to go to exotic destinations, especially at the drop of a hat. A couple of people I interviewed did like the idea of the frequent travel, but they were a bit wary about the idea of visiting jails and prisons." She then seemed to have a brainwave and gave me a big smile, saying, "How about YOU, Frank? You like travel, you speak at least one foreign language, you have a legal background. You'd be perfect as my PA. I'll pay you more than you're getting at Levinson's, so what do you say?" I really didn't need to think for more than ten seconds to weigh things up and decide to accept her offer. We shook hands, and had another drink to seal the deal. I gave my notice into Levinson's the following morning, and started working for Deborah immediately after the Christmas/New Year break when she got back from a visit to see a friend in Texas. Deborah had warned me that more of her work was in doing deals with government and police officials to achieve early releases for her clients, or even quashing convictions. Sometimes that entailed cash "donations" in used greenbacks to a chosen charity of an official's choice, but the bottom line was that an American citizen might just get home again as a result. She'd told me it was an unfortunate fact of life in some overseas countries to grease a few palms to achieve a desired result. I had no qualms with that, after seeing some of the unsavory aspect of corporate legal contracts at Levinson's. She also warned me about the awful conditions prisoners had to put up with, especially in South-East Asia and South America. A jail sentence of at least a year can be a death sentence in some places, because of poor food and disease. I could see her point, that if we didn't expect prisoners in our US jails to have to put up with those conditions, a little bending of the rules to achieve someone's release earlier than expected could hardly be condemned. For my first few weeks as Deborah's PA, there was no drop-everything rushing to LA Airport to catch a plane to somewhere exotic. So, I got the chance to learn the ropes by making a lot of phone calls, running errands, and even shopping for her. I got to know that she wore really expensive brunette wigs rather than lose time at hairdressing salons, because in the long run it saved her money and the wigs were tax- deductable! I also found out that she had very expensive tastes in shoes, favoring Italian hand-made leather pumps with medium heels. I even tried a pair on one time, just to see if I had retained my skills at walking in heels from the comedy play, and found she had exactly the same size feet as I. Her heels were actually much more comfortable than the stilettos I had to wear for that play, but then again Deborah had to wear them for hours on end, not just an hour on a small stage, like I had done playing that Gertrude role. Then we had our first overseas trip come up suddenly. It was to Singapore, to try and do whatever could be done to accelerate early release of a silly guy from New York, who'd got caught at their airport with some marihuana joints hidden in his backpack. She wasn't optimistic about achieving anything, because the Singaporean authorities were notoriously inflexible about such matters. We met with several officials in their judiciary and had two appointments with Jason Greene, the guy caught with the joints. Despite his rich father having offered to pay "whatever it damn well cost" to try and get Jason out, all we achieved was an undertaking to have him on a list of prospective exchange prisoners if a suitable transfer deal came up. That would mean finding a similarly-sentenced Singaporean prisoner in a US jail, an unlikely scenario. At the airport while we were waiting for our plane back to LA, Deborah had shrugged her shoulders and admitted that she hadn't expected anything conclusive to come out of this visit. "Sometimes we win, and sometimes we don't," she'd said. Then we flew down to Brazil, where I had a chance to use my rusty Portuguese again. This time we had greater success, with two "donations" of $10,000 doing the trick to get a 20-year old from San Diego released on a technicality from her impending trial for drug possession. The cocaine packet that was to be the Prosecution's main evidence had mysteriously disappeared, so the case was dropped. We had two weeks back in LA at her office, catching up on paperwork and answering lots of phone calls from parents of young people caught up in overseas drug busts and the like. Then suddenly we were on our way to South America again, this time to try and do what we could to shorten the stay of the 18-year old heiress Barbara Schneider from the infamous Women's Prison Island of Santa Cruz. She'd been there for several months already, having been sentenced to 20 years penal servitude for the usual drug possession reasons. Deborah had explained that the Schneider family had already tried unsuccessfully to use some of their political clout to get Barbara either released or her sentence reduced, but the worsening relationship between Washington and the local authorities meant no dice for Barbara. It was to be plain old- fashioned local bribery or nothing. Deborah had the name of two local officials, who might just be willing to do something for the right price. One was a local politician with contacts in the judiciary, and the other was a minor official at the Prison Island itself. We arrived at the nearby International Airport mid- afternoon, and took a long taxi trip to the mainland town adjacent to the Prison Island of Santa Cruz. There was only one decent hotel there, and that was where we were booked. By the time we'd checked in and got to our adjoining rooms and freshened up, it was almost 6 pm. My Portuguese again came in handy with talking to taxi drivers and hotel staff. Deborah needed to contact her local politician friend in person, and explained that it would be better if I stayed in her hotel room to answer any phone calls, seeing as her friend was notoriously secretive about who he talked to regarding "donations". Deborah got back around 8 pm, having dined with her "friend". I meantime had dinner in her room, and an excellent one it was too of the local seafood. She looked more than a bit worried on her return, and I asked her if there had been any problems "donation-wise". "No," she'd replied, "everything's fine in that area. The problem is YOU, Frank! We've got permits to visit the Prison Island tomorrow at 2 pm, and have a 60-minute meeting with Miss Barbara Schneider, who'll be accompanied by a certain Prison official who just happens to be my other contact." "So, how am I the problem, then?" I asked her. "Well, it's just that you're a guy, and I didn't realize that this Santa Cruz Women's Prison Island has a strict females-only rule. Not only are the prisoners all women, but the guards, officials, and even the visitors must be women. Frank, you did well in Brazil and here at the airport and hotel check in with your command of Portuguese. I really need you with me tomorrow for the trip to Santa Cruz. How about, for a bonus this week of $500 on top of your salary, you do a repeat performance of that role in your comedy play again? What was her name, 'Gloria' or something?" "Er, well, it was actually 'Gertrude'," I corrected her. "So you want me to dress up as a woman for the trip to the Island and back, is that it?" "Yes, sweetie, please be a darling and say you will. We're about the same size and I've got a spare jacket, skirt and blouse plus shoes and panty- hose you can wear. I've also got a corselet that will help shape you in the right places. You must know I wear wigs, and I always keep a spare one when I travel. You've done it before in that play, can't you just see it as another starring role for a couple of hours?" I had to admit that I was secretly fascinated with the idea of dressing up as a second Deborah, but I didn't want to show too willing. I knew her shoes would fit me just fine, having tried them on already, but I didn't mention that. The $500 bonus would be just what I needed, because my car back in LA needed some urgent repairs. So, I made a bit of a scene about this and that possible problem which Deborah overcame in turn. The only problem we had was with the wig, which was really a tight fit when I tried it on. Everything else seemed to be just fine, including the shoes of course. Then Deborah had the inspiration that sealed the deal for me. She offered me another $250 on top of the $500, if I would agree to having my hair shaved off to allow the wig to fit better. As it happened, I had been thinking about trying out as a Yul Brynner look-alike for a few months, so I agreed. I used an electric shaver all the time, so I stripped down to my waist and Deborah cut off my hair with her scissors and then finished the job with my electric shaver. I thought I looked quite good minus hair when I checked myself in the mirror, and then Deborah pulled her brunette wig over my head again and this time it was a perfect fit. She produced some sort of depilatory cream in a tube and told me rub it all over my legs, armpits, face and legs before showering tomorrow morning, so that any bodily hair would be gone. I'm not a very hairy sort of guy anyway, but I could see her point. No reason not to try and make things as real as possible, and I'd used the same sort of stuff when playing "Gertrude" in that play. So, it was around 10 pm when we'd finished all these preparations and plans. I was about to head off to my adjoining bedroom when Deborah suddenly remembered her shoes. Would I like to try them on, just in case? I could hardly admit that I had indeed already done just that, so I took off my socks and slipped her designer heels on. They were slightly tight, no doubt because I wasn't wearing stockings or panty-hose, but I walked around in them and Deborah was most impressed with my girlish gait. "Wow, Frankie," she said, "you haven't forgotten how to wiggle your butt either!" We both had a laugh at that. She said just before I left for my room, that she could do my make-up last thing tomorrow just before we left at noon by taxi for the ferry point to the Island. It was reasonably hot there for Spring, so she didn't want my make-up running. She also wanted to do my nails with her own bright crimson nail polish, so that would be another 30 minutes or so tomorrow morning. The following morning I applied the hair-removal cream as agreed, then showered. It was a strange feeling having absolutely bare flesh all over, but it was in a good cause as I kept telling myself -- ie, getting my Honda Accord repaired. I'd had my breakfast served in my room, then went and knocked on Deborah's door just before 9 am. "Come in, if you're good- looking," was the answer. I went on in. Deborah was already dressed and had all my gear laid out on her bed, ready for me to put on. She'd somehow found, God knows where from, but she was a most efficient organizer, a pair of padded control briefs to "give me some girly curves" as she put it. I went into the bathroom to put them on, plus the corselet which took some heaving and grunting but finally I got the long zipper done up. Then it occurred to me -- what about my fake boobs? I headed out off the bathroom looking quite feminine apart from being flat-chested, and there was Deborah holding a pair of silicone breast forms out to me. "Here we go, sweetie," she said. "We can't have you looking like Twiggy now, can we?" So I put the breast forms inside the corselet bra cups and suddenly, I had a really nice figure again -- just like "Gertrude" from the play. Then it was on with a pair of panty-hose, and finally her pumps. "Do a bit of walking around, dear," she said. "You need to get used to them, don't you?" So I walked around until she was satisfied, and then she did my fingernails with her nail polish. It was almost 10 am now, so we still had plenty of time for my make-up. She passed me the blouse and underslip, and I had the same problem with the blouse buttons as I'd had playing Gertrude, with them being on the other side. However, Deborah did them up for me, and even gave my "new" breasts a tweak when she finished. "My, you're a big girl, aren't you?" she laughed. Finally it was the skirt and jacket, which fitted really well thanks to the corselet shaping me appropriately. "No point in putting the wig on yet," she said. "We know it fits you just fine, right, and we really need to get your make-up done first. Just walk around for a bit to get used to the skirt. It's a tailored one, and you might need to shorten your stride a bit." She was quite right, because "Gertrude" had worn a flowing summer dress in the play. This skirt was a totally different matter, although the heels were much easier than Gertrude's stilettos had been. After some walking around and doing turns for several minutes, Deborah declared herself satisfied. "That's excellent, Frankie," she said. "Oh, we'd better make you 'Francesca' now, don't you think?" She had a point, of course. Finally it was time for my make-up, and that took all of 45 minutes before she declared herself happy. Then it was the brunette wig and voila -- "Francesca" was born. "Have a look at yourself in the mirror, Francesca dear," she called with a laugh. I sashayed over and "wow" -what a sight I looked. I really did look just like what I was supposed to be, the young power-dressed legal eagle. "Hmm, we need some ear-rings and how about some sunglasses," she mused. Somehow she found a pair of small clip-on earrings out of her suitcase, and a spare pair of light-shade sunglasses. I have to admit, I did look just fantastic with those last two additions. "OK, dear," she said. "Now it's your test time on your own. While I get my legal stuff ready and finish off, you go up and down the hallway. If you meet anybody, don't be surprised if you get a wolf-whistle or two!" I didn't meet anybody other than a hotel maid in the hallway as it happened, but she did say, "Good Morning, Senorita," to me which made my day. The heels were really comfortable, hardly being noticeable as I walked up and down. The corselet was a bit uncomfortable, especially around the waist but it was necessary to keep me pulled in properly. I knocked again on Deborah's door and she came out carrying her briefcase and one for me. "All set, Francesca?" she asked me in a serious voice. "Yes, Miss Sutton," I replied in my best female legal assistant voice. "Right, then let's get the show on the road," she said as we headed for the lift. Our car was waiting for us, but it wasn't a taxi this time. Apparently Deborah's politician friend had made a few calls on friends in the Police, and we had an unmarked air-conditioned police car with a tall uniformed female sergeant driving. She spoke some English and introduced herself as Maria, as we drove off for the ferry point. We were running a bit ahead of schedule, so Deborah suggested that Maria take the long route so we could have the luxury of air-conditioning as long as possible before we reached the ferry point and had to wait there. As things turned out, she was quite right. The single waiting room at the ferry point didn't even have a fan, but we were only there for a few minutes before the ferry appeared around the river bend that obscured the island of Santa Cruz. There were some people getting off the ferry, including a prisoner wearing a striped rough cotton dress who was shackled and manacled. A truck was there to collect her and her guard, who carried a stick and gave her prisoner several whacks with it for no apparent reason. They got into the truck and it slowly headed away, while we walked down the gangway onto the ferry. In my heels, I took things very carefully along that gangway. The ferry had some reasonably comfortable padded seats but no fans, so we were glad when its engines started and we headed off. Maria the police sergeant was with us, carrying an official-looking small suitcase. Deborah was glad about seeing her with us as her politician "friend" had recommended her as being a useful person when dealing with the Island authorities. Deborah whispered to me, "How's everything going, Frankie -- are you OK? You're walking just fine, by the way!" I whispered back that apart from the corselet being a bit tight around the waist, I was OK. The heels weren't any problem and I had got used to the tightness of the tailored skirt. After some 25 minutes we reached the Prison Island of Santa Cruz. A couple of "trusty" prisoners in the same striped cotton frocks as the shackled prisoner had worn, secured the ferry. We walked down the gangway and Sergeant Maria spoke to the Prison Officer Sergeant in Portuguese. I could make out that she was asking where our interview room was, and how long it would be before our client Barbara Schneider would arrive. The Prison Officer replied that out interview room was at the far end of the main building we faced, and that she would take us there now. Barbara would be arriving along with five other prisoners in about ten minutes, she added. I thought it best not to speak in Portuguese yet, nor to appear that I understood what they were saying. We followed the Prison Officer along the building right to the far end, where she opened the door with a big key and turned the lights on. The interview room was a typically sterile place, but at least it had two overhead fans to stir the air up. There was also a barbaric looking wooden chair bolted to the floor, with leather straps attached both to the armrests and lower down closer to the floor. Clearly some prisoners were considered to be "trouble", so this chair would be to ensure they didn't try anything on by way of escape during an interview. There was also a wooden table, with a chair at each side. Deborah and I put our briefcases down on the table, and sat down on a chair. Maria the Police Sergeant stayed on her feet looking out of the single barred window. "No sign of those prisoners yet," she said in her correct but stilted English. Deborah took several documents out of her case, and also her small digital camera which she passed to me. "Here, take a picture of me, Francesca," she said. So I stood up and stepped back to take a couple of pictures. "I'll take one of you now," she said. "How about in the interrogation chair, just for a laugh?" So I sat down tentatively in that horrible wooden device while she took a couple of pictures. I didn't notice that Maria the sergeant had crept up behind me, but suddenly a pair of strong arms had grabbed me around the throat. "Whaaaat ..." I tried to scream out, but Deborah was quickly there too, fastening my arms with the leather straps and then my hosed legs to the chair frame. Maria kept her vice-like grip round my throat while Deborah got something else out of her briefcase that I hadn't noticed before. It was a small circular plastic case, and she took a hypodermic syringe out of it and came over to me. "Sorry, Frankie, but you were just the right-looking guy in the wrong place, I'm afraid. This will paralyze your vocal chords for 24 hours, so you won't be singing any songs while we make our escape." She stuck the syringe into my neck and I felt an awful warm sensation in my throat. Maria then loosened her grip and I tried to scream for help, but nothing would come other than a muted squeak. Deborah then went back to her briefcase and got another similar circular case out, and headed towards me. This time I got a syringe full in my left arm. She stared down at me with a pitying look and said quietly, "Sorry, Frankie, but this one is a sedative will make you lose your ability to move for the next 30 minutes, while we carry out certain tasks with you. I'll give you the antidote when we're ready." I was already feeling the room starting to gently spin around and my eyes had difficulty in focusing. I was just barely aware that my shoes were being removed, as was my wig, earrings and sunglasses. Dorothy came over with her make-up case and started to wipe the make-up from my face, including my lip-stick. Then she started removing the nail-polish from my nails, which with my arms strapped down plus the effects of the sedative, I was unable to do anything about. She started closely into my eyes and said to Maria "Yes, his pupils are dilated now -- we can undo the straps safely. He won't be able to resist." Maria then unstrapped the four leather binders and lifted me up from that awful chair, while Deborah undid my skirt, jacket, blouse, slip and panty-hose. I was left just wearing the corselet, as they strapped me back into the chair. I could see Maria going over to the window out of my blurred vision, and heard her say as if from the far end of a distant corridor, "Here's the truck arriving -- it won't be long now." I heard the rumble of a truck motor in the distance, and the screech of its brakes, followed by some shouting. Then there was a loud bang as something wooden hit the ground, followed by more shouting. Maria and Deborah were both at the window watching, while I just sat there strapped in the chair, stupefied still. There was then more shouting and the clanking of chains being dragged along the gravel. It stopped outside our door and there was a loud knock, so Maria opened the door and a Prison Officer pushed a prisoner inside and closed the door. The prisoner was manacled and shackled just like the one that had got off the ferry, but she also had a strange leather mask around her head with slits for her eyes. She had a metal collar round her neck with a length of chain attached, which the Prison Officer removed with a special key. I could see all this happening in front of me, but could do nothing. Then the mask was unstrapped from her head, and suddenly I recognized Barbara Schneider even though her head was shaved. She coughed for several minutes, clearly glad to have the mask removed. She looked towards me and said, "So, this is the Patsy you've set up -- wow, what a good match he is! He looks just like the twin brother I never had!" I was beginning to dislike Miss Barbara Schneider intensely, although with my larynx immobilized and the sedative still making me drowsy, there was nothing I could do but watch what was going on. The Prison Officer and Maria then unbolted the leg shackles from the bitch's ankles and removed the rough brown leather boots she was wearing, followed by the leather handcuff belt from round her waist once the manacles had been unlocked from her wrists. She flexed her wrists, glad to be able to move them again, while I stayed with mine still strapped to the chair arms. The she took off her striped prison dress, which was sweaty and dirty. She only had a pair of panties on, with no bra, but her breasts were firm, so it looked like she didn't need one. The three of them converged on me and bit by bit I was fitted with all her restraints, after being released again from the straps and lifted up while her sweaty striped dress was pulled over my head. Maria fitted the leather handcuff belt round my waist really firmly, followed by locking the manacles round my wrists. Then I was sat down in the chair again while the boots were fitted to my feet, followed inevitably by the shackles being bolted shut round my ankles. Then it was the metal collar being fastened round my neck, and finally that horrible leather mask strapped round my face. I hadn't realized there was an additional feature of a leather insert which went into my mouth, to stop my tongue from moving. That bitch Barbara saw Dorothy's camera still on the table, and said, "Hey, I gotta have a picture of this poor bastard being got up as me -- what a hoot for the guys back home, eh?" My loathing of her reached an all-time high at that moment, but what to do -- manacled, shackled, collared, with a punishment mask round my head plus the sedative dimming my senses still. I was in no position to help myself. All I could do was watch them take a couple of pictures of me in my predicament. Dorothy then said to Barbara, "Hurry up now -- we have to get you dressed and made up to look like my assistant, remember?" She sat down and Dorothy cleaned her face and began to do her make-up, while Maria did her finger-nails. That took quite a while but then it was done and she quickly put on the blouse, slip, panty-hose, jacket and skirt that I had been wearing so recently. Then it was the heels and wig, with the earrings and sunglasses, and she was finally done. She came over to me and said with a sneer, "I hope you have a good time with that guard I called Madame Frankenstein earlier on. That's why I got to wear the punishment mask for 24 hours. You'll no doubt be getting some extra whacks from her stick as well. Have fun!" Dorothy said, "That's enough, Barbara. He's going to have a very uncomfortable next 24 hours like that, while we make our getaway. Don't rub it in his face." Dorothy herself came right up to me and whispered in my ear, "I'm very sorry about this, Frankie. You were just too good a match. The Schneiders have promised me $500,000 if I can pull this swap off and get Barbara back to the States. We'll be back in LA before your 24 hours is up and your mask is removed, plus your vocal chords recover. Best of luck trying to explain to the authorities here about what went on. If you do get back to LA, drop by the office and there'll be a letter for you with how to get $50,000 for your part in this masquerade. I won't be there though, as I'm taking a long permanent overseas holiday somewhere to spend all that money." Maria called over from the window, "The guards are coming now to start rounding up the prisoners. Hadn't we better give him his antidote for the sedative?" Dorothy rushed for her briefcase and took out a third plastic tube, removed the inevitable syringe and came over to stick it into my left arm again. It worked quickly, because suddenly I found my legs and arms starting to regain their feeling. However the manacles and shackles meant I had very little movement. Maria lifted me up and began to pull me around the room by the chain attached to my collar. "He needs some practice walking in the shackles, or the guards will be suspicious when they collect him," she explained. I did my best not to be pulled by her, but when your legs are shackled and your arms manacled it's not easy to resist being tugged along by a chain attached to your neck. She'd been pulling me round the room for several minutes when there was a loud knock at the door. Maria tugged me over to the door and opened it. A tall butch-looking guard took the chain from her, and pulled me out of the room. She was carrying a big stick and I got a sharp whack across my bottom, which thanks to the corselet and padded panties I was wearing didn't hurt too much. We reached the other prisoners who were already chained together by their neck collars in line, and I was chained to the last one. Then the last prisoners joined us, and were chained to my collar at the rear. We then shuffled along towards the truck, with me barely able to keep up not being as accustomed to the weight of the leg irons as the others. I got myself another whack from "Madame Frankenstein", but this time on the back of my legs, which really did hurt. So that's my story. The rest you already know, about seeing Dorothy and Barbara waving from the ferry boat as I was forced up the ramp into the prison truck, to be chained by the neck and feet. The truck slowly pulled away and I thought what a damn fool I'd been, to have allowed myself to be conned all the way by Dorothy. In hindsight, there were so many clues that I was being set up, but I'd not heeded any of them. I would now have almost 24 hours of this humiliation wearing the punishment mask, and then hopefully I could talk in Portuguese to somebody in authority and explain what had happened to me. Wish me luck ... THE END (© JAN 2008 by Harve)