Taking Jenny
  • Author - Toran
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 2750 of 2955
  • Story Codes - M-f, non-consensual, bondage, drugs, extreme, kidnapping, mummification, packaging
  • Post Date - 5/2/2005

PROLOG: Tell me a story

Jenny lay back against the bed’s wooden footboard. I’d decided to keep the leather body harness on her – while technically unbound, the straps were tight and were easily embedded in her soft skin. I reached over and poured her another brandy, but I could tell by her eyes that she was close to stepping into sleepy land. We’d been fucking each other for going on six hours straight, me on top slapping her wonderful ass with the leather flogger, her tightening ropes that held me spread-eagled to the bed. This girl could think up the most horrid things to do to the male body whether she really followed through or not – in Jenny’s world, when you’re tied you’re just a product to be dealt with.

I nudged her bare breast with a toe and she slapped my hand away with a glare. “Tell me a story.” She’d been challenging me to come up with a horrible story, something that I could or would never do to her in real life. I smirked, my toes finding a nipple. She didn’t bother to knock my foot away this time, preferring to look at me from over the glass of brandy. I leaned in and gently took off her glasses, laying them on the nightstand.

“OK. But I want to tie you up again.”

She flared. “This would make, what, the fourth time in the last two hours?”

I was already reaching under the bed for the wrist and elbow cinchers. “Hey, girl, I need something to work with. I’ll give you drinks of brandy as I go along.”

Her glare turned to a sour smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Last time we tried that I had brandy all down my chest.”

Smiling like the bastard I was, I took her glass and worked her wrists behind her. She fought a bit, playfully, and by the time I had her properly restrained, I was sporting another scratch mark on my arm – ever try to give a kitten a bath?

She leaned back against the bed frame, squirming in the leather. “So where’s the story, Toran?” I could have gone at her again, but decided that I would be nice this time. Even though she had just officially become a product, I honored the mood and began my story…

PART ONE: Their First Date

…She has no idea what hits her. The blur of just him and her in the bowels of the hospital – her a polite smile as he brushes past her, him pushing the gurney with her strapped, drugged, and unable to do anything but slide into his world of pain and punishment and torture. Being a paramedic, he knows what it takes to get her ‘agreeable’ to being tied up, and she’s familiar with him, having seen him in and out of the hospital all the time.

Jenny’s a nurse and her reputation precedes her. Very few know her dark secrets here in the hospital where she works, save the Bondage Doctor with the wonderful ideas about how to keep a woman confined, and her lover-companion nurse. No one else knows that she’s a goddess of BDSM fiction in the dark and seedy world of the net. But he knows. And now she’s his.

The cloth is coated with just the right amount of chloro so that she’s awake to see what he’s doing to her but unable to resist much. That’s important. Seeing her eyes as she suddenly becomes aware of her captivity would have been fun, had he completely knocked her out. But this is better – she has to watch and comprehend that he’s slowly and methodically wrapping her up like a bug in a spider web.

The supply room is a great place to do this. Jenny lacked the seniority to get onto the first shift so here she is at 2 in the morning – the graveyard shift – deep in the maintenance area. You have to answer when you’re paged and she’s definitely answered. All she knows is that a fellow nurse is having trouble finding the supplies for a stitch and wrap. He’s turned the lights off and as she fumbles with the switch just inside the door, he pushes her hard from behind sending her into the room off-balance. She’s down on her knees and smelling chloro in no time.

Door gets locked, bondage bag comes out from the hiding place he’d found earlier and Jenny gets some new duds. She has smallish breasts but those long nipples will be a blast to hurt. Lying on her side, her nurse whites scattered all around her, her naked flesh chills to the cold concrete and while he ties her ankles and knees with rope, her nipples have come all the way out. She grunts as he pulls the ropes as tight as he can. He likes the sound and wishes the gag wouldn’t be necessary. But there’s never a sound from inside a body bag and that’s where she’s going.

She’s rolled onto her tummy and he wraps miles of rope around her arms, from wrists to elbows and then further up as far as he can get her arms to come together behind her back without pulling them out of their sockets. He goes to work re-enforcing her legs until they too are just one continuous coil of white rope up to her unshaved crotch.

Now for the tough part. He runs a rope around her chest then up through an opening of the supply shelf that houses the heavy equipment. Jenny doesn’t weigh much – a lot less than the stuff piled on the shelves behind her, and with just a little elbow grease, he’s got her upright. Standing isn’t the right word, more like slumping and groaning. Now he has access to her torso and he gets to work with the rope. Before he covers her breasts, flattening her flesh tightly against her, he clips two tight clamps to her nipples. This draws a moan from deep in her throat and he rolls her head so her drugged and sluggish eyes look into his. He smiles as he rolls the clamps back and forth, watching her try to scream but unable to do more than croak through slack lips.

He finishes up by drawing her bound arms tightly against her wrapped body. He’s just added maybe forty pounds to her slight frame – the better to keep her from moving a muscle. She’s covered from foot to neck in rope. He likes the look – no flesh showing, she’s just a mass of white. But he’s not done.

He gets the med-wrap out. Starting with her feet, He begins the process of tightly covering the rope. Even through the new layer of wrapping he can see the distinct cording of the bindings underneath. She’d have to concentrate on her breathing, as by the time he’s gotten up to her neck she’s so tightly wrapped that she isn’t slumping much anymore. Her entire body is now a shiny white, mummy-like. Well, that’s what the lady likes, isn’t it? But he’s not done.

He reaches for the black electrical tape, the 2-inch wide stuff, and begins the entire process once more. Pulling and tugging, trying to get the wrap as tight as possible, he wonders what it must feel like to get this treatment. Just the ropes alone would cause a little circulation loss, but the inches of wrapping that was going around her now smooth and taut frame had to feel like a tight second skin. He pauses while wrapping the now slight bump of her breasts to wipe away the long line of spittle running down from her mouth. Hell, he kisses her long and hard, loving the way her tongue just lays there, letting him run it from side to side. He stops at her lips and, looking into her eyes, bites hard. Her blood tastes very nice and the tiny squeal from deep in her throat almost makes him want to bite her lip again. But time is short and this little distraction will have to be continued later.

She’s now wrapped as much as he likes her to be. Now for her face. He rolls up the frilly wad of panties lying on the floor and stuffs it firmly between her teeth, taking care to keep her tongue forward and on the floor of her mouth. The panties are followed by her nylons, each leg balled up and stuffed in until her mouth can’t hold any more. Tight bands of rope, wound around and around her jaw keep the packing in. He smiles at the puffed chipmunk look that all that rope gives her cheeks. Out come the gauze strips and he wraps her entire head so she’s nothing but a black taped body and a white afterthought. But there’s the med wrap layer next. He inserts breathing tubes into her nostrils and then covers her head in the white tape. This is followed with the electrical tape.

He runs fingers over the smooth, taut surface of what, buried under all that tape, is Jenny’s face. He wonders if she’s scared and the thought makes him feel giddy inside. But that’s for later. Reluctantly he steps back and looks at the black form in front of him. She’s beautiful. He savors the moment, their first real time together. All too soon it will be into the body bag and onto the gurney and out to his waiting ambulance then the ride to her new home. He gets a feeling that she’ll eventually like her new life with him. If not, who gives a fuck?


I slid up alongside her and kissed her brandy soaked lips. She was wide awake now and when I snaked a hand down between her legs, over her smooth shaved mound to her pussy, she didn’t push me away. Rather, her hips bucked against my fingers and I felt her heat ripple through my arm.

“Oh, who is going to save me?” she whispered, eyes glazed and big. I held the brandy glass to her lips and she drank, long and slow, eyes never leaving mine.

I chuckled, my free hand cupping a breast, finding the nipple and rolling just a bit. She closed her eyes and I watched her chest shudder. “I don’t think you want to be saved very badly, Jenny.”

“No,” she whispered…

PART TWO: Down the Well

It’s a bumpy hard ride out of London into the English countryside. But he’s taken care of that. As if the girl in the body bag isn’t wrapped up tighter than a ball of yarn, he’s taken the liberty of strapping her tightly to the ambulance fold-out. Even though he’s an accomplished driver as all ambulance hacks have to be, his headlights find every rutted and worn out dirt road in the county, making sure she’s feeling every bump.

He’s smart enough to know that an ambulance out in the country in the middle of the night may be remembered, and figures that’s an unavoidable risk. His place is buried deep in the woods, with a secluded path through the bogs that is hard to find in broad daylight. He smiles – they’ll never find her.

But there’s one stop he has to make first. A drop off point. Nothing out of the ordinary should be recorded by anyone and an extended absence of his ambulance would be noted. Pulling around behind an abandoned cottage on the edge of a deserted glade, he kills the engine. She won’t be able to move and shouldn’t be able to get more than a low hum out from under all the wrappings, but he still wants to hear her, to see if she’s going to scream. He’s not worried he’ll be found. Quite the contrary, he’s just wanting to savor the sound.

She doesn’t stir. As the motor ticks down, he slides in back and runs his hands along the strapped down body bag. She can’t even twitch from his touch. He’s left only the breathing tube clear of the zipper and, smiling, he reaches over and clamps the tube. At first there’s nothing and his smile begins to fade. Then from deep inside the bag, under two layers of tape, gauze, rope, through nylons and wadded panties, Jenny is trying to scream with the last of her breath.

He closes his eyes with a smile and listens. Finally, the low hum fades - the only thing to make it out of the body bag and it now winds down. He unclamps the tubes and the soft whistle as frantic air sucks through the little openings makes his smile wider. This is going to be great, he thinks, beginning to un-strap his captive Jenny.

The winch sits dead-center over the dried-up well on two rusted iron legs. He imagines that at one time a wooden bucket swung from the rusted and creaking chains, supplying water to the summer cottage. Now, a black mummy hangs over the dark hole, new heavy chains wrapped around the subtly female body trapped inside. It would be no use to try to talk to her, maybe fill her mind with more of the terror he’s sure she’s feeling – the wrappings around her head is too thick. He contents himself instead with a quick whipping with a branch from the nearby birch tree. She’s going to feel some of that, he figures.

Then the time comes. Slowly, he cranks the winch, not knowing for sure if it will hold the weight suspended without breaking. A test with an approximate weight would have told him whether it is sufficient, but he thinks that this adds more to the suspense. If it breaks now, Jenny plummets the length of the well. Even if she survives the fall, she’s helpless to even scream for help. And he would just, simply, drive his ambulance away without a look back.

But it holds. Slowly, the chained black wrapped mummy slides out of his view and into the ink blackness of the well. He lets the crank go for another ten feet or so, then locks the ratchet tight. He takes one last look back at the well then hops into the ambulance. Within moments he’s gone, leaving her alone, a lone shaft of moonlight filtering down the dark hole.


“How awful,” Jenny said with a husky voice. During the telling, I gently slid her down onto the bed, so now she lay on her back, legs crossing and uncrossing while I gently messaged her breasts and nipples. “What an awful bastard, this guy is.”

I laughed. “Awful, yes, dearest. But I think you like it.” I crawled over her so that my hips were pressed against hers. She knew what to do as she wrapped her legs around my torso. But I wasn’t done with my story just yet and I didn’t want any diversions – at least to me.

I looked down at her glistening pussy lips, so lovely and red and totally engorged from the images in her head. Oh, how I wanted just a taste. “Why don’t you continue. Tell me what Jenny is thinking right now.”

Her eyes were closed and I detected a subtle, rhythmic movement of her hips which only made those pussy lips quiver just a bit more. “Right now Jenny wants you to fuck her. Hard.”

I brushed a hand across her pussy, my forefinger grazing the hood of her clit and she moaned, low and long. “No, dear. You continue with the story. What does Jenny feel wrapped tightly like a mummy, dangling from a chain in a well out in the middle of nowhere and the middle of the night, with no one to know she’s even gone?”

She opens her eyes when I slide off her. “No. I want you to fuck me now. Right now.”

I shrugged glancing at the lips that were so close and now so far. Reaching under the bed I pulled out two straps, and within moments had her legs firmly strapped together.

She glared and I put a hand up to stop the inevitable blue streak that was coming. “Protection. To see that the story gets told.”

PART THREE: What Was She Thinking?

Rounds are hectic, as always, with the typical assortment of drunks and traffic accidents and partiers too idiotic to avoid getting hurt. When she answers the page for help down in the supply room she smiles to herself and feels it’s a perfect time to get away from the mess that was Casualty. The quiet of the lower halls doesn’t disturb her and when she brushes past the handsome ambulance driver – what was his name, Keith or Ken or something like that? - a part of her mind thinks that he must be lost and he shouldn’t be down here.

She opens the door to Supply and fumbles for the light. Then she’s on the floor, knees hitting the tile hard. The push is so sudden that for a moment she looses the wind in her lungs. As she croaks, panic from no air mixed with confusion over what is happening, a wet cloth is pushed under her nose. Her first gasp, after she’s finally gotten her lungs to work again, fills her with a smell that registers in her mind as chloro.

She tries to stop her breath, to keep the chemical out, but her lungs, now trying to make up the lost time, continue to suck in great amounts of the chloro. Immediately she feels her arms and legs getting heavy and even her hand, flailing out to stop her from hitting her head on the floor seems misguided. It’s his hands, one still holding the chloro to her nose, the other roughly grabbing her chest, that keep her from smacking her head.

Her body isn’t her own anymore. She has no control over her limbs. And a fog creeps into her head. Dimly, she feels him slicing her nurses uniform off with speed and precision and a part of her mind tries to scream. This isn’t the fantasy she dreams about, late at night, a hand between her legs. She hasn’t allowed herself to be tied up and played with. This is real. He’s really taking her clothes off. He’s really going to rape her – maybe worse. And that realization bothers her horribly. For even as he starts winding rope tightly around her legs, methodically rendering her totally helpless, a fire starts deep inside her, a beast of such size that all her fantasies quiver in its shadow. Dark and dangerous, this beast starts her body along the well-worn path of arousal but at a frightening pace.

She feels the ropes biting tightly into her arms, almost creating a single sheath behind her back to her elbows, then the same to her legs, then all the way up her body. Her breath is short and a thought from deep inside, from the beast, screams at her that she needs to be touched, now, and roughly.

But he’s not content to wrap her in rope. She realizes that in her haze of fear and dark arousal he’s hoisted her upright by two ropes that bite into her chest. He’s clamped her nipples and she almost orgasms as he stares her in the face and tortures the little nubs. It’s his eyes. Cold and ungentle and driven by darkness.

The med-wrap is applied and she feels the blood begin to pulse harshly at joints and along her chest. He’s entombing her! She’s lost in fear and confusion and lust. More tape and more tape and then her mouth is packed, the taste of her own pussy stuck deeply down her throat with her panties and roped in. Then she looses her jaw to rope and tape and she thinks she’ll never be able to speak again.

This is happening too fast. Only moments before she’s walking carefree down a hospital corridor and now, white gauze is layered over rope, to be followed by med wrap that he applies with such force that she wonders if her head is actually being compressed. She looses her sight and most sounds to the med-wrap, but she feels a second layer of tape being tugged and tightened around her head until all she hears is the urgent rattle of air through the tiny hose he’s stuck in her nose.

She can’t move. Her body is frozen. Before, when she’s allowed herself to be mummified by Sue or Len, she’s been able to fight the panic. But not this time. This time, as she feels him lifting her onto a bed or gurney or something and then feels something being cinched and zipped up around her, then more movement, she’s lost in panic. And that panic fuels the beast. It whispers in her ear that he’s doing this because he now controls her, her body, her life. She shudders as she realizes that there will be no safeword, no ending it if it gets too tough, no…


…Jenny laughed. “Nope, you got that all wrong.”

I peered up at her, slightly startled that she’d been taken out of the mood so quickly. I continued to play with her pussy with my fingers but her mocking smile took all the fun out of it. “What do you mean?”

She laughed again and squirmed a bit, which got my fingers going again. “Have you ever been mummified? Do you know what it feels like? Do you have ANY idea what you’re talking about?”

I flushed and rolled off the bed. Fuck her, I thought. “No, but I’m sure that you’ll see to it that I get that treatment.” I walked over to the bondage bag and took out my meanest clamps, the ones with the little teeth in them.

She eyed the clamps, eyes narrowing. “Typical male. I suppose you’re going to try to hurt me know that I’ve identified a weakness. Bastard.”

I crawled on top of her, relishing the power I had over her, right then at that moment. She was right, of course. That made it better. She was right and I was going to punish her for it. Heh-heh. “Never allow yourself to be stripped and tied – “ I clamped one of her nipples and grinned at her grunt of pain. “Without realizing you’re just a product to be dealt with.” I clipped the other nipple.

“Now where was I?” I reached for the glass of brandy.

“Oh, just forget about what she’s thinking and get on with it,” she glared.

I flicked a clamped nipple and gave her a quick kiss. Then resumed.


Two eyes peer out from the dark recess of one of the cottage’s gaping windows. They follow the strange scene from ambulance arrival, through the chaining and suspending and lowering the black thing down the well, to the ambulance’s departure. After a few moments of absolute silence, save the drone of night crickets, the eyes pull back and a dark form looms in the battered doorway of the cottage. The pale moonlight catches his ragged coat and torn pants, and had the moon a nose, it would have caught the smell of filth, too.

He shuffles out into what once was a beautiful country courtyard to the well, all the while glancing back up the road in the direction of the ambulance’s departure. When he reaches the well, he peers over nervously, half expecting whatever the hell was just dropped down inside to come flying up and attack him.

All he sees is the rusty chain descending into darkness. Hesitating a moment, he pushes the chain, causing it to swing sluggishly back and forth. Whatever was on the end of it is still there. Using muscles that had once provided him both work and food at the local foundry, he slowly pulls the chain up, ignoring the winch altogether. The top of what looks like a black sheathed head appears in the moonlight, followed by a shiny black sheathed body, two white tubes sticking out of where a nose would be. Grunting only a bit, he hauls the thing out and lays it on the ground.

Then he’s grinning. It’s female. Like a big wrapped dolly. And if he looks hard enough, he can see her chest rising and falling. The bugger from the ambulance has run a fair amount of chain around her but he finds the point where they all come together and tie into the rusty winch chain and unhooks her. Looking around, as if he’s just stolen from the king, he scoops up the sleek bundle and staggers into the cottage.

He takes Jenny into what once was the kitchen area and immediately finds the door to the staircase leading to the basement. He’s not very familiar with the cottage, having been rousted from his normal stomp a few miles away by the constable. But he knows this type of house and knows that the basement is as good a place as any to unwrap his present.

She moves only slightly in his arms, the shiny black tape that so conforms to her body even over the bumps of rope bindings keeping her still. He listens to the rustle of air from the nose tubes and thinks of all the things he’s going to do to her. It’s been years since he’s had a woman and to have one practically handed to him, free and unable to resist, is a Christmas he’s only dreamed about.

There’s a lantern just inside the basement doorframe and he uses one of his last matches to light the little bit of kerosene in its pot. Down into the dark and damp basement he takes her, past a wine cellar long ago destroyed by teens looking for a place to fuck, and into a back area that may have once been a root cellar. He raises the lantern, like an old miner scouting uncharted caverns. Dusty and rotted barrels are stacked almost neatly in one corner and the floor seems to be too well traveled for an abandoned cottage. Piles of padding and plastic lay neatly against a far wall. And in the center of the room, supported by two wooden horses, is a coffin looking box of freshly nailed plywood. This unnerves him – his road senses scream for him to dump the doll and get the hell out. Someone is obviously using the cellar for something else, something fucked and he doesn’t want any part of it. It’s at that exact moment that Jenny, almost numb all over from her wrappings, feebly stirs.

He grins and sets the lantern down in the center of the floor. None too gently he dumps the wrapped dolly on the coffin-box. He’s not looking inside that coffin Just a little fun with the dolly, until he’s sure the coast is clear, then he’ll find someplace to store her until after sunrise, when he’ll be able to move her to a better place – away from the ambulance guy.

Grinning, he pulls out his trusty pocketknife. She’s still got a bit of chain around her legs and torso and he runs his finger over the smooth shiny surface of the tape, feeling the ridges of rope covering her body. She stirs again and he suddenly can’t wait any longer – he’s going to fuck her now and fuck her hard. Starting at her taped toes he tries to find a seam in the black tape. The ambulance guy has done his job – it’s almost a second skin. Using the tip of the knife he manages to cut away a bit of the black tape, only to find white med-wrap underneath, it too clinging to his dolly like a second skin.

“Bloody hell”, he mutters as he works a wormhole into the white tape, only to find a thick layer of rope. Wiping a line of sweat from his brow he looks at the sightless head. “You sure must’ve pissed that guy off, dolly.”

He runs a finger from the small holes he’s cut in the tape to her knees, feeling no break in the rope underneath the two layers of tape. He doesn’t know how long it will take to saw through all that. And he hasn’t got all night. “Maybe I’ll get a blow, at least,” he says, shaking his head. His fingers follow the chains up her torso until he’s right where her mouth would be. There’s a tight band under the tape and a little bit of bulge. Again he goes to work and it’s many minutes before he’s cleared the tape away and exposed the rope keeping the packing in her mouth.

As the cool air hits her face, Jenny squirms, a low hum coming from deep in her throat. She feels the coldness of steel against her cheek and stills, heart stopping in her chest - seconds later the rope digging into the corners of her mouth is pulled away. She tries to push the packing out and gets help as two fingers dig deep and pull the soaking wad free. “Help me,” she croaks.

Before she can take three full breaths, the first since the tubes went into her nose, she feels a warm fleshy object at her lips. Then heavy pressure on her chest. The bastard’s climbed on top of me and has his dick at my mouth, she thinks, panic and anger and confusion rising at once. And as he rams his filthy dick deep into her mouth, the first thrust of what would be many, she wonders just how much worse it would get if she just bit down as hard as she could.


“Do you have any idea how rotten a filthy dick is?” Jenny’s mind had left the pain in her nipples when I had gotten to the blowjob part.

“No. All dicks are clean and wonderful smelling.”

She snickered and got a clamp tweaking in return. “You bastard! You’ll find out just how much fun these bloody clamps are soon enough!” I could tell by the fire in her eyes that this was pretty much fact. I also knew that I couldn’t keep her tied up for the rest of her stay with me. So I let up a bit.

“Should I skip the rest of the blowjob part then?”

She rolled her eyes and I took that to mean ‘yes’.

PART FIVE: Rescue?

She blacks out. After having her mouth filled for god-knew how long, she can’t deal with more than the first two explosions of cum. Unable to see, she goes into a foggy state of sensation, not exactly sub space. She’s turned on with a force that scares her – to be used and abused and not in control with total lunatics is something that, if she makes it out in one piece, she knows will be in her dreams for some time. But she can’t see, can only hear sounds as if they are down a water filled corridor, and has lost feeling in her arms and legs. And this guy is fucking her mouth into tomorrow.

She’s not sure when the utter blackness begins to gray. Groggily, she realizes that the suffocating pressure of all that tape tightly wrapped around her head is gone. Slowly she opens her eyes and sees a medium build man, back to her, doing something to her numb legs. Light streams through the windows of a basement – a run-down house basement, it seems. Christ, she thinks, when is this going to be over with?

It’s then that she realizes that her mouth, filled first with her own panties and then with a filthy snake of a dick, is empty. Her voice is little more than a croak. “Will you please just let me go?”

The man straightens. He’s wearing a tailored suit jacket and expensive corduroy pants – very stately. Keeping his back to her, he again works on her legs. “I see you’re finally done moaning. And why would I wish to release you?”

She stops the flow of swear words that instantly rise to her lips. It’s his voice – she knows his voice! It’s…”John?”

The man turns and looks back at her over horn-rimmed glasses, smile touching his eyes. “You managed to find my little workshop. Now be still while I check to see how badly your circulation has been cut off.”

John. She lays back grinning. John the Bondage Doctor. Of all the people to rescue her it was the one guy who delighted in analytically tying her up – well, sometimes it involved getting crammed into a box or three. “John, I was kidnapped.”

“I know. Ambulance driver. That’s all I could get out of the bum that had his dick crammed in your mouth when I got here. Couldn’t sleep and the wife was being a real pisser so I came out to work on our next little project. Now, I’ll have to find another secret workshop, as you’ve already busted this one.”

Jenny feels sharp pain in the sole of her left foot and her scream echoes off the dirt walls. Having little time to prepare for a similar pain in her other foot, her second scream lacks enough air for staying power and dies early. “I loosened up the ropes at your ankles and knees enough to get the blood back down there. You’ll be feeling some pins and needles presently.”

She closes her eyes as her feet feel as if they’re on fire. Gritting her teeth she glares down at him. “John. Unwrap me.” Then a thought hits her, filling her again with that giddy feeling of arousal. She can’t get enough anger in her voice as she says, “I’m too tired to try one or your ‘experiments’.”

John turns around and grins an evil grin. “I’ve got a crate of expanding foam. I had worried about what it would do to your skin on contact, as it has some pretty nasty chemicals in it. I thought about latex, but that would be ruined when I chiseled you out.” He looks up and down her tightly taped body. “But you’ve seemed to solve my problem for me.”

She closes her eyes, heart beating a mile a minute. It isn’t over. “John. Please. I’m tired – all I want to do is curl up with a nice brandy – “

John gently lifts her off the coffin-box and lays her on the concrete floor. Turning, he opens the box and takes out a clear plastic bag. “This will protect your face. You’ll need a mouth tube for breathing of course.” She still has little bend in her as he lifts her and gently places her in the plywood box.

“Now, dear, don’t give me that look,” he slips the clear bag over her head. She opens her mouth to accept the snorkel bit and he threads it through a hole in the bag, tying it off snugly around her neck. “You’ve presented yourself to me all bound up and now you’re just a product to be dealt with.

The last thing Jenny hears is the hissing sound of can after can of expanding foam and the gentle but firm embrace as it swallows her roped, taped, chained body. By the time the lid of the crate goes on, sealing her in, she’s again lost in deafening darkness, unable to move a muscle.


“That’s it?” Jenny curled her legs underneath her, propping herself up against the base of the bed frame. “I thought this was going to be a dark story. One with blood.” She flushed a little. “I liked the blood part.”

I crawled up to her, past the leather straps that snugged her body. “You want blood,” I whispered.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

I kissed her, rough, finding her lips between my teeth and bit. She squirmed a little so I bit harder. Her coppery taste filled my mouth and I looked down at her – she shuddered once and then her orgasm rippled through her body.

We fucked the rest of the night – hard, unrelenting. But that’s a story for another time. Or not.

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