|The Steel Collar|
|© Copyright 2009 - Arceye - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: MF/m; F/m; collar; permanent; cons/nc; X|
|The Steel Collar Arceye MF/m; F/m; collar; permanent; cons/nc; X|
Part of this story is true. Part of it is doable. Part of it is fantasy. The exercise, Dear Reader, is for you to work out where one stops and the others continue.....
Hello and let me introduce myself. My name is Mike, I'm 50 years old, and I'm a BDSM switch from the good ol' UK. I like to dress fairly outlandishly, 'Ageing Punk' was one fairly apposite description, and I wear something that is unique, and I have no choice whether I wear it or no.
I wear a massively heavy spiked stainless steel collar that I can never take off. If any attempt were made to remove it, it would kill me.
I had made the basic design for somebody else- I'm a bit of an inventor, I've made human cages, and manacles, and electric bike conversions. Then a couple of years ago I hit on a method of making collars and bracelets in stainless steel whereby the size and width of the collar could be altered with simple hand tools. Make the collar out of segments.
Then I worked out other fastening methods. I found a small padlock worked fine, then I realised that it was possible to fasten it so that it would have to be cut off. The fastening nuts are very close together, no room to get a spanner on properly. So, if the nuts are all held with Loctite to stop them undoing, and spun onto the studs by hand leaving just a little slack to let the segments pivot... and the final fastening around the neck is done the same way, then voila! You have a permanent collar.
I did just that, and wore it for a year, it was comfortable and different, and I received complements. I tried making the collars for sale and got lots of interest, but no sales- inevitably being made of stainless steel they were expensive. Then I got an email from a guy in New York.
'Let's define meanings here' he wrote. 'Your collars are described as 'permanent' on your website, which means they can be made so they have to be cut off. I want one which is 'unremoveable' by which I mean it is booby trapped some way so it cannot be cut. I'd value your ideas......'
I had recently become friendly with an electronics whizz who was also kinky- he had all sorts of ideas for remote control of chastity belts and shocking devices. So I put the idea to him - how would you make a collar that can never be removed or cut?
He hummed and ahhed and chewed his pencil. ' The problem is simple enough' he opined, 'You have a one way mechanical catch at both sides of a two piece collar. The collar contains a trembler device which detects vibration - like that of a saw or grinder. The trembler is linked to a small explosive charge - I can do that. There is a problem however. The trembler has to be powered by a battery, and batteries of course do not hold their charge forever. And they do not recharge forever either - they die eventually. And we are talking about something that has to last for someone's life.....' he sketched furiously.
'Goes like this, trembler here, explosive charge here, battery here... and here. Two batteries, one of which always has to be in circuit. You can take one out to replace it, but the trembler has to have power or the trigger for the explosive charge will fire and your customer loses his head.'
'Not really, Mike. The problem is identifying potential sources of failure - you don't want the customer complaining about a circuit failure with his head tucked underneath his arm'.
'Like what happens if he knocks or jars the collar in an accident and breaks a connection?'
'Yes. I think the whole setup would have to be encased in resin to prevent movement. I'll get back to you with a proper design in a couple days'.
I had at this point fallen in love with an Australian girl - I loved her independent character, her sense of fun, I found her Tasmanian accent pleasing. And we were both bisexual and kinky, and to be honest we were having a whale of a time. And Kat made things. She, in her own way, was a mad inventor - she'd had a go at model engineering, and she mended clocks, and she could weld - and she liked my collar designs.
When she heard of the American guy's questions regarding an unremovable collar she put in her twopennyworth. 'It has to be a passive system' she said. 'It has to be able to just sit there for a lifetime without risk of accidental failure of electronics'. She asked for a sketch pad.
'This should work' she sketched. 'The collar is hollow and has a tube inside, full of something like concentrated Nitric acid, or, better, Hydrofluoric-' I shuddered. Kat had done some glass etching at some point and still had a small bottle of this utterly evil acid. A few drops of that on the skin and you're in trouble.
'Tube stoppered so' - she sketched. 'The inner layer of the collar is just like what you are making now. Except...' she paused. 'You need a way to prevent the fastening nuts being cut off'.
'My turn. You can mill recesses into the top and bottom layers of links so that the bottom bit of the nuts is sunk into the collar'
'Neat' she smiled evilly. 'Then you need an outer layer over the tube, same construction, and the two layers connected top and bottom, maybe ring plates, or separate links?'
'Mmm. So your tube is what 10mm diameter, two layers of 10mm thick links, your collar comes out at about 30mm thick by 30 deep. Weights going to be around one and a half kilo'.
'I think we have a workable design' smiled Kat. 'Get in touch with your New Yorker'.
I did and got a prompt reply. 'How much?'
I started to type 'One thousand Dollars US' when Kat bit me playfully on the neck. I yelped. 'Two thousand, love. Two thousand. People pay more for a watch'.
He asked for details, I refused - gave him just the outline - he might have tried to get somebody else to make it cheaper, and besides if he didn't know how it worked it would make it the less likely he would try to get it off. Plus, of course he'd have to come over to Sheffield to have it fitted.
He agreed, I wrote that we could start basic construction right away, but we'd need him here to finish it - say in two weeks? We exchanged phone numbers, and I watched Kat grinning to herself. She was enjoying this, but I was not getting all the joke, clearly. My clever girl was up to something.
Kat agreed to order the parts we would need from the laser cutters while she was in the area, I set to making the fastening studs. We worked on this project together, Kat could also drive a milling machine so I left her to it while I ground and polished the links.
We had the parts ready except for the top and bottom layers by the time Rob flew in. We met him at the airport, he was a good looking guy with designer stubble and expensive jewellery, he said he was self employed and gave no further details in that direction. He made the mistake of thinking Kat's accent was South African, but she said she'd had that before, the Tasmanian accent was often hard to place.
'OK Rob, regarding accomodation, I have a spare bed, but we get a bit noisy sometimes' - Kat squeezed my hand - 'or there's Bed and Breakfast just up the road, or a motel couple miles away'.
Rob chose the motel. We took him to the workshop for measurements that afternoon, he seemed fascinated by the machinery- 'You guys are clever with your hands and your brains, and Katrina'- he bowed to Kat- 'May I salute you on being such a handy person. I don't know any women who work with metal'.
'Maybe it's an Australian thing, I've always been inventive and rebellious', and she smiled what I'd got to call her spidersmile, it made my blood run cold. She didn't like Rob.
We asked Rob if he wanted individual links between the layers of the collar, or solid rings, and showed him the different arrangements on a CAD design a friend had cooked up. He chose the rings, so the collar would be solid. Well his choice, I thought the links were better. So we gave the laser cutters drawings for four semicircular pieces, 5mm thick, to his measurements and told Rob we had to wait for them - maybe five days. He spent a night with us socially, he was a heavy drinker, then he said he had family near Newcastle that he's never met, so we pointed him in the direction of a car hire company and reminded him we drive on the left.
The last job on the collar was to position the tube, Kat did this then said, 'Hey, Mike, we're missing something here'. I just mmmed?. 'We have a tube that will be full of some of my nasty acid.... or will it? How will anyone know what is in the tube once the collar is assembled?'
I thought for a second. 'Brilliant, nice touch, there's nothing in the tube but he doesn't know that... cruel.'
'Oh maybe some weak acid.... then if the collar leaks, he'll think he's going to die when it starts stinging'.
We need to demonstrate to him the consequences of getting the HF on skin tho'. That should frighten him. You don't like Rob, do you, Kat?'
She shrugged. 'He's an arsehole. He thinks women are an inferior species. Someone who drinks that heavy needs to learn to button his tongue'.
And I let that rest. I had not heard all of what had been said that first night, and he was my customer. But if he'd been disrespecting Kat she wouldn't need me to help her plot revenge.
Rob returned from Newcastle the following day with predictable tales of how strange driving was over here. We got him in the workshop, sat him down and I said, 'Now Rob we've arranged a little demonstration for you. You know how there is a nasty chemical in the collar, we want you to see what will happen if you try to cut the collar off and the nasty leaks.'
Kat took her cue, and theatrically extracted a small plastic bottle and eye dropper out of a doctor's bag, with rubber gloves and facemask. 'Don't come too close, right around there is OK' she said, donning the mask. 'You don't fuck with this stuff.'
Taking a piece of meat out of another bag, she placed the meat on a metal table, and carefully extracted four drops of the acid into the eyedropper.
'Pay close attention, Rob' she said, 'this could be your neck'. She squeezed the dropper onto the meat, which after a few seconds became sort of burned and dead looking. Rob stared, then gulped. 'I'm serious about this gig', he said, 'And I trust you, I've seen what you can do. But jeezus. What is that stuff?'
'Hydrofluoric acid. It kills people'.
'OK' I said, 'We are ready to fill and fit your collar, or do you want to sleep on it?'
'Guys, get on with it. I've wanted something like this for a long time. I don't need to think on it any more'.
Kat filled the tube. I'd meant to ask her exactly what she put in, but in Rob's presence I let him assume it was the strong acid. It was, tho' I say so myself, a lovely and dramatic bit of kit. Rob seemed perfectly calm as I assembled the collar around his neck, then dropped the fastening stud into place.
'You sure you're going to be allowed back into the States with this around your neck?' I asked.
'If need be I have ways' he said.
'That's your department' I replied. 'Once this nut is screwed into place I do not know of any way out of this collar without risking your life. Do you agree to me doing this?'
He was sweating. 'Do it.'
I had made quite sure that the final fastening stud and nuts were free running. But once in place they would not undo. The loctite compound I was using is an oddly earthy smelling liquid which acts very quickly to gum up a thread so that a nut will undo with pressure on a spanner, but will not undo by hand. And the way these nuts were recessed and modified, there was no way to undo them without risking damaging that tube.
Job done. 'That's it, Rob. You're in.' Rob naturally felt around the collar, pulling and tugging, but it was not going to undo.
'You're not going to be able to hide it that easily' I continued. 'And no more collared shirts'.
'I didn't have it made to hide it'.
'Fine', said Kat. 'Rob, a word. This is personal, Mike doesn't know about this. The stopper in the tube. It's not what it appears to be. In a few years it will begin to dissolve. And there isn't a thing you can do about it. You'd just die sooner'.
Rob looked shocked. 'I trusted you. You've killed me?'
I was expecting some kind of explanation from Kat, but she just smiled her spidersmile at him and walked out, I followed.
Kat became serious. 'Mike, he's OK. It's weak acid in there and the stopper is fine. He got what he paid for, and I'm going back in to tell him. But he needed a shock, and he got it'.
Rob left the following day without saying a further word to us. He'd got what he'd asked for, but Kat's little trick had thrown him.
'He won't tell a soul' said Kat. 'I'm only a woman'. Ouch.
We went out that night to a Goth night club and got wasted on Absinthe. It was a pity it was served in little plastic containers like medicine. but it was still Absinthe. I told Kat that I had to go away for a couple days, visit my Mother, Kat asked if it was OK to carry on using the workshop, she had a clock to take to bits. I think that's what she said, it was a damn good thing I was not driving home.
Mum was quite pleasant company, which had made a change from Christmas when, at the height of a mental illness, she had done her best to spoil Christmas for the two of us. I told her about Katrina, and what a clever creative lady she was, and Mum wished us the best, but burst out, 'Oh Michael why didn't you court an English girl?' With hindsight, she was right (sigh) Mums usually are.
When I returned to Sheffield and the workshop, Kat had the workbench strewn with gears from an old clock, she said somebody had asked her to make a clockwork lizard sculpture thingy. She'd made a frame out of brass and steel, and sketched a mechanism for making the jaws move. I said it looked rather wonderful, and meant it. I frequently pinched myself when in Kat's company, thinking 'I've found the woman of my dreams, when do I wake up?'
We had a meal together that night at my place. Kat had not yet moved in with me, but I felt it to be only a matter of time. I soon felt pretty sleepy and put it down to the busy last few days. I went to sleep on the big couch, I remember Kat covering me with a blanket, then zzzzzzz.
When I woke it was late in the morning and my head buzzed. There was a strange feeling on my neck and a sleepy exploring hand came away having bashed metal. 'What?-'.
Katrina sat opposite me on a reversed dining chair, watching me.' Ah good you're awake at long last'. She held up a mirror. 'I hope you like it' She grinned.
It was a collar my hand had bumped. A big collar. Basically the same construction as Rob's, but with lots of very sharp 25mm long spikes.
'OK Kat a joke's a joke now please get this thing off me'.
'This is no joke and it won't undo. It's like Rob's but with a few extra features. It's a bit wider to include two tubes of acid, with the joints set opposite each other so there's no chance of cutting through at one joint. Another is the spikes, which are hollow and also full of the acid. And no fakery for you my man'- the last words spoken with a sense of irony, hatred possibly?
'There's 60cc's of Hydrofluoric in your collar'.
'Kat! For fuck sake's why oww!' my hand caught one of the fiendish spikes which were 20mm wide at the base but incredibly sharp, and covered all the collar.
'Why? Because you-' she poked a finger at me '-Are already going round calling me 'My woman' or even 'My girl', and you need to know I'm nobody's woman but my own. OK? Call your collar an aide to memory, you'll never forget me.'
'Hell's Teeth Kat, I never figured you as a man hater.'
'I've never met a man who measured up' She said simply. 'But one thing I have learned is that revenge is sweet and calorie free. And I just could not resist using my design on you. Not your design that collar after all, was it? But I heard you saying it was your idea to a friend. You use people, you pick their brains and keep the money'.
I stopped trying to struggle with the collar. It was useless, it was also painful. 'Hey Kat this collar feels really uncomfortable, like it's got....oh no you haven't....'
'Yes! It's got spikes on the inside too! Only little ones, just barely long enough to pierce the skin. It'll not kill you, but you'll wish it would before long.'
'Kat! I love you! How can you do this?'
'I can, I have, and for you it's tough, for me well I keep looking for a man or a woman that floats my boat. You my little man, are like a cork float to my Titanic. And I would not have sailed her into an iceberg' she said, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek. 'Oh and of course the parts for your collar are on your account with the laser cutting company. I've done you a couple of tee shirts and sweat shirts with Velcro fastenings on the shoulders, you'll have to do some more yourself. You might well have to cut this shirt off.'
'Why thank you Kat, very thoughtful of you.'
'Don't mention it. Now look I have to fly, I'm going home to Tas for a while, I've finally found a Taswegian who might be my sort of fella. I hope he
I do actually wear a collar of my own design, made of ground and polished stainless steel segments, it is 40 mm wide by 10mm thick, and will have to be cut off. I have a pact with a friend who is highly skilled with an angle grinder, that he will not cut this collar off except in circumstances where he judges it needs removing. The notion of a lining with acid is theoretical, but doable.
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