Gromet's Plaza Trashcan Stories
Dirty Filthy Sex
by S M Ackerman
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© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; naked; outdoors; trash; boxed; dump; messy; caught; blackmail; cons; X
WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life will result in injury or death.
Dirty Filthy Sex by S M Ackerman Sbf; naked; outdoors; trash; boxed; dump; messy; caught; blackmail; cons; X

S M Ackerman is the diarist for (The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane) she is a professional dominatrix and the owner of an established house that caters for the fetishistic desires of selected clients, all names have been altered for her clients privacy. The story is available from both Pegusus Publishers and Amazon. This tale is not included in, or an exert from, the above diary and is made available free of charge to all genuine readers over the age of 18 in the UK or as is applicable else where please. Enjoy if you will. S.M.

 

I woke up in bed, hot sticky and horny as hell, with a fire burning in my loins! My fingers soon put out the fire, but not the desire that caused it to rage through my soft female sex.

I can only put down my arousal to a story I read on the internet last night. It was quite simple in concept; the story took a woman and a dustbin and put the two together in a dirty messy kind of way. Now why this should affect me in such a way I can’t tell you, but it most certainly did!

Self-bondage and wheelie-bins, black plastic sacks filled with societies throw a ways. Dirt, grease and cooking waste, all smearing over a naked female body! My naked female body! My arousal is returning the more deeply I think about becoming a part of that rubbish. My sex lips are already swollen my nipples outstanding, prominent and oh so sensitive.

An orgasm follows swiftly, but my desire does not fade! I need something, I want something, and the only thing that seems to offer me hope of satisfaction is becoming a part of the rubbish that is dumped daily.

I need dirty filthy sex, and with that thought now out in the open, and my fantasies raging I set about acquiring my needs.

There is an old quarry not far from here, in it is a cave, and within the cave is a place that people dump all sorts of rubbish. We at the local Council call it fly-tipping, I at the moment call it perfect!

The idea flows naturally and soon I am gathering the things together that I need, I already have my bondage gear packed in a carry all case so no problem. I have a go at sealing myself inside of a plastic sack but with little success, and besides I intend to spend a complete day in the cave, so I need to make sure that I can do so. With this in mind I elect to use a heavy duty cardboard box, in which my friend had a TV delivered. The TV is huge, so you can imagine how big the box is! I deliver it up to the cave and having crawled over and around a lot of junk I find a suitable and vaguely clear place to put it, quite near to the back of the cave and deep in the darkest of the shadows. With the box ready for me to move into when I want I set to planning out my adventure.

I decide that I am going to have to get to, and back from the tip without using my car, as my car will undoubtedly attract attention if I leave it parked up close for the day. Now, going there is quite easy, I catch a bus just down the road, and then cut across two fields (hiding my shackle key at the start, or as it will be, the end of my excursions route) and then I walk across the twin field and I am there, at the cave. Getting back is going to be a lot more challenging for me (hence the shackle key to make walking that much easier with what I intend to put myself through), as I intend be filthy and naked and still bound, as you can see I have decided to indulge another of my fantasies at the same time, public self-bondage!

I am going to strip and lock my clothes in the carry all bag, and having left the remainder of my keys at home I will not be able to get at anything. I am also (just to make the trip home more enjoyable) going to still be in some degree of bondage. This means that I have to travel at night if I am going to do so without getting caught, or worse raped!

Sunday seems to be the best time to start my fun, as there will be less people about for my return trip that night, I hope. So Sunday morning I set out carrying my bag, heading to the cave and my waiting box. Getting there as I expected is straightforward. There are three people emptying a trailer out and looking very suspicious, as well they might! I remain hidden watching until they leave.

At last I make it into the cave and over to my box. I strip and stand in the box. First I fit chains with leather ankle cuffs to my ankles (where else would I fit them). Next I put a loop of chain around my thighs, so as I walk, it jangles! This chain has a long length which goes up my back and attaches to my posture collar. Thus it (the chain) can’t fall down and trip me on my way home. Now I fit the gag, it is a simple ball gag made of blue rubber, and once fitted in place and padlocked it can’t be removed, not without the key anyway (and that key is at home on my kitchen counter waiting for my return).

Now I kneel down into the box and pull the flaps over my head. I have a roll of tape to seal the flaps in place and a small hole in the side which if I scrunch myself up small I can see out through.

With the box taped shut I put on my handcuffs and click them shut. I have a ring attached to the chain going up my back which fits with my last lock to the cuffs chain, so I have little movement of my arms without pulling against my collar.

I am ready, alone and securely bound, and now as I have no clothes to put on, they are locked in the bag, which I have thrown deep into the cave, I am stuck until night-falls, which is seven long hours away!

Getting comfortable is both not easy or really expected, but I do my best to. Soon my mind starts to wander, I am a captive princess locked away by an evil king, no, I am a slave girl stripped and caged, No, I am a helpless virgin awaiting deflowering! Any and all of these flitter through my thoughts, but in truth, I am a slut waiting for night-fall, in the hope of obtaining my freedom once it finally arrives.

The morning passes with little to stimulate my imagination. People are too busy to be out illegally dumping their waste. What with Sunday dinner, and families gathering, I am alone for the morning in my box, all snug and secure, and more importantly safe. That all changes with the arrival of the afternoon!

The afternoon starts by warming up in more ways than one! The temperature climbs and the smell from the waste deposited inside of the cave also climbs. Methane gas explodes in my mind! Waste products subjected to heat create methane gas. I know this because I work in a waste related industry.

Fear of suffocation enters my thoughts, I struggle against my bonds and even consider calling the whole thing off! That idea went down the wishing-well as a van reversed up to the cave entrance. Three lads stepped around the vehicle; I have squidged down so that I can see out through my viewing hole. I watch them as they roll the shutter back of the van up, revealing a full load of black plastic bags. Two of them climb on board the vans back and hastily begin to throw the waste out, some of it lands near to my box! The third watches for anyone that might signify trouble.

As for me I stay as still as I can and hope that they don’t realise that there is a naked bound female nearby! My sex steps up its arousal entering into overload, I damn near orgasm as a black bag thrown by one of the tippers hits my box.

If I hadn’t got the gag filling my mouth I would have squealed and the game would be up, as I would have been discovered and who knows what will happen to me then! As it is I do have the gag and can’t squeal so I remain concealed from them, and so avoid becoming a rape victim. Though with the liquid state of my pussy I am not sure how much of a rape it would be!

They continue throwing bags out of their van building a low wall between them and me, so my view hole becomes obsolete quite quickly, I very slowly (so as not to move the box) return to a more comfortable seated position. My legs have started to feel as though they are cramping up and threaten to explode in agony if I do not move right now! I move, the box moves, and I hold my breath and listen, with fear becoming my main emotion.

Another bag hits my box, then another but nothing else happens!

“Hey Pete give us a lift with this!”

“I can’t I’m watching out!”

“Don’t be such a jerk mate!”

I listen and soon hear the sound of people moving about, they sound near to my box! Then there is a metal twanging noise and suddenly the lid of my box is pushed in and compressing me. They have thrown something and it has landed across my box. I wait, there being nothing else I can do. The van starts and I hear gears being crunched as it leaves. They are gone but I am trapped, I push against the box lid with my head trying to ascertain exactly how trapped I am?

Time drags as I think, I could push up with my head again, and with luck get free, but it must still be hours until dark, so there is no benefit in escaping yet. I decide to wait; I will just have to suffer through this unexpected and extra form of bondage. Once it is dark then it will be another story.

The temperature drops and the light through my hole vanishes, night has finally arrived and it can’t come quickly enough for me now. I push up again (straining my neck) but nothing happens! I try again, but still nothing happens! I panic a little, but soon get control of myself. ‘There has to be a way out, a simple way out, one that I can do even bound as I am?’

What an idiot I am, I twist in my box getting my fingers to my viewing hole and begin to tear at it, enlarging the hole, making myself an escape route. It takes quite a while but eventually I can wriggle out of my box through the side and on to freedom. As I wriggle I look up, there is a rusty metal bed frame above me. It creates a tunnel through which I am crawling. It is the object that has sealed my box lid shut, but I have escaped. I feel quite elated and pleased with myself as I squirm my way to freedom. Already my heels feel abraded with pushing my body along the ground; ground which I might point out is neither smooth nor clean!

As I push forward to my freedom I am creating a bow wave of disgusting waste, of rotting veg and dirty tins, of yuk piled upon yuk, and all of it is coating my head and shoulders and my back. It is lucky I am face up lying on my back, or my face would be in it all, I realise. Thank God for small mercies!

Moving like this across the rough ground creates friction and friction makes for burns and to add to my mounting misery I am collecting cuts and grazes as well. I am glad all my inoculations are up to date!

* * * * *

I have escaped from the cave, got to my feet by using the rock wall, regained my breath as best my gag will allow, and departed into the first field on my way home. Walking is slow because of the chains restriction, but I only have to cross this field and the next to get to my hidden key, and be able to remove my ankle shackles. I concentrate on obtaining this one goal, get my legs free so I can move much more quickly if I need to. At the moment I could not out run a tortoise if I had to!

I plod through the maze listening for the slightest sound that might warn me that there are people about. I can drop into the stalks and become invisible, but getting up again would be far from easy if I have to. I eventually reach the far side of the first field and my next test.

There is a style, a wooden contraption over which walkers climb to continue on the track through this part of the country. The words climb and over and continue echo through my thoughts as I study the best way to mount and cross this obstacle.

There is no easy way to get over it that is clear, so I lay myself over the wooden barrier and forward roll, I cross it yes, but my landing is far from gentle and the wind is knocked from me. I also, just to add to my fast growing misery, have landed in a large growth of stinging nettles! They sting me everywhere, including my inner thighs! How the hell I got stung deep in there I can’t say, but the burning of the sting can’t be disputed.

I get up slowly by backing against the style and soon I am on my way across field number two, closing in on my key at last. I can see the far side of the field as beyond it are street lights. Four miles beyond those lights in a quiet suburb is my home, and in that friendly place are my keys and a hot bath.

I walk on until the ground before me shakes, and a bird (grouse I think) shoots up in front of me. I am not sure which of us is the more startled, the novelty is beginning to wear off. I am fast getting to the point of exhaustion, and could desperately do with a drink (something I have not thought about), ‘only four miles or so to go girl’ I tell myself, trying to encourage a positive attitude, and set an achievable goal. Though I have to accept that it is only achievable because I have no other choice, unless I want to try to explain my predicament to a stranger, or worse the police!

Half an hour of mincing across a rough field, continually pushing my way through a maze crop and I finally arrive at the gate post, near to which I have secreted my first key. The relief of finding the key exactly where I have left it, is indescribable as is the feeling of freedom once I have removed the leg shackles at last.

All the way across the fields I have been preying that my key will be where I left it, I have no idea what I would have done had it somehow have vanished. Thankfully it hasn’t, and I can now walk normally, well except for the slight restriction caused by the loop of chain around my thighs, but that is no more restrictive than a fairly tight skirt. Now though the jangling sounds much more pronounced, as I stride now, rather than mince my way towards the street lights, and the road they light.

The highlight of my trip home is throwing myself off the road, into a ditch, to avoid an oncoming car, which annoyingly I think did not see me anyway. I landed on my side half submerged in thick muck, with dirty water flowing around my face and wondering if I am going to drown. Standing up is not an option, as when I try my feet slip out from under me. Thick bottom mud swirls all around me and then the stink arrives, as bubbles burst to the surface, and my face is right in the middle of them all.

I have to shuffle forward, driving like the worm I am through the water. Using my feet and my hands where I can and hopefully leaving the worst of the stench behind me. The water is flowing in the opposite direction to where I need to go, which is good for me at least.

Five hundred yards of moving slowly like this is killing me, but then I find a bank with a gentle slope back up to the road, and so I start crawling towards it. The problem with a bank-side like this is that everything from wildlife to farm vehicles uses it, as either a drinking spot or a ford. So the mud is both wet and also churned up, and in this case very sticky.

I crawl into the mire and slowly up the bank, edging my way forward, feeling slime and mud sticking to every part of me. I must look like a giant turd, I certainly feel like one as the stench is clinging to me. Getting leverage to move is hard because my feet are now caked in stick mud, as is the rest of me.

I see a tree and head for it, hoping that by some miracle it will firstly shield me from sight, and also help me regain my feet, it does. After scraping my shoes as clean as I can I proceed, only three miles to go!

I cross the large park without problem by sticking to the hedges and keeping a sharp eye out. Rather than walking around the boating pond I wade through it (its only three feet deep). From there it’s back to following more hedges. Now comes the tricky part, I am on the edge of my housing estate, there are many passageways through the housing and normally I avoid using most of them, but not tonight.

They offer a series of tunnels which will carry me onwards; I just have to pray that they are vacant of people. The first two are but the third has a group of boys and girls, well teenagers, gathered and talking, so I wait them out as I have to go through there or walk very publicly around them, which I am not going to do.

Finally they disperse and I get through the passage, I can hear the odd car above me, but can see no one around. Nearly home, nearly safe.

I rush down the side-alley of my home heading for the back, and then its only along and hopefully into my back garden then my trial will be nearly complete. So far I have survived and also remained undetected I believe.

I get to the bins and damn it, the far gate opens, that’s Mr Graham’s house and he and I do not get on that well, as I like having parties and he does not like me having them! I literally dive for cover and the only place available is the bin locker, I duck beneath the sloped roof and seek out a place by squeezing between the bins it contains.

The floor is filthy I realise, thinking that I must bring out a brush and clean it up. Mr Graham approaches and enters the lean-to in which I am hiding. He lifts a bin-lid, mine I realise, and puts a small bag of rubbish into it. Now I know why I always seem to produce more waste than I expect, the bastard.

Not I realise, that I am in any position to confront him right now! He closes my bin and departs, I can hear his flat footed stomp all the way down the alley and then the creak of his gate and the clash as it closes.

Home I am home I just have to nudged the latch of my back-gate up and enter, I do exactly that and finally I am home.

My keys are exactly where I left them and in short order I am finally out of my self-imposed bondage. A quick glance at myself in the hall mirror reveals that I do indeed look like a turd, and a sniff confirms that I stink like one as well! It’s a bath, well probably a few baths for me, before I turn my attention to my fast rising libido and its demands for personal attention of the fingering variety.

When I finally got to sleep the remainder of the night flew by and in the morning, feeling rough, I prepared to go to my office to ostensibly work!

* * * * *

My name is Jenny Bee, and I work in the Waste Management Department of a local Council. Processing data and dealing with certain specific types of investigations. I am the Chief Video Editor and provide evidence in council led court-cases.

I am now sitting behind my desk waiting to see the results of my latest editorial production. My boss the indomitable Ms King has just arrived, looking every part the Office Manager, in her super smart suit, and carrying her obligatory lap-top. She nods at the office and vanishes into her own little world. I can’t help a smile as I look through the glass surrounding her office, glass that is designed primarily to allow her to watch us, I am using it now for my own pleasure and benefit by covertly watching her.

I switch on my lap-top and place the DVD rom into the loading tray. It activates and an image of a dark black screen is revealed. This swiftly clears and I realise that I am looking at security camera footage, the black fades to reveal piles of rubbish, which as the editing cuts to another camera reveals a lone cardboard box, a very familiar card board box!

The screen blanks again, then when it returns there is a picture, clearly framed, perfectly focused, of me removing my clothes! I gasp in surprise and fear and glance around; no one seems to be paying me particular attention. I watch my naked self secure my ankles and climb inside of the box, and shut the lid above me. Next cut and I see the metal bedstead fly into view and land atop of the box I am inside of. The next and final cut shows me exiting the box, stark naked and bound and gagged.

I very helpfully look right into the camera lens, without knowing it of course, thus providing the perfect image of my face. A voice overlays the now frozen image of my face. A female voice, a nice sounding voice, and a voice I recognise instantly.

“You will remain after work so that we can discuss your future, is that understood, just nod your head if you decide to comply.”

Oh shit I am in trouble!

I look out of my office window, seeing Jenny looking at me and smiling, I slowly, so there can be no mistake, nod my head.

I have her, I have the boss-lady under my power, my little film certainly got her attention and now I have got her, this is going to be a lot of fun for me at least, and I hope, eventually, once she learns to trust me, for her as well, given what I now know she is in to.

The film was recorded by Council Covert Teams investigating fly-tipping.

The End.

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15.04.10

The Diary of Miss Whippy Cane is available at both:
Pegusus Publishers and Amazon

If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
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