Gromet's Plaza Trashcan Stories
Recycled
by Carnaj
carnaj_99@yahoo.com | forum feedback
© Copyright 2007 - Carnaj - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM/m; bond; bagged; dumped; cons/reluct; XX
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.
Recycled 2 by Carnaj FM/m; bond; bagged; dumped; cons/reluct; XX
 

Recycled: Part 2

I spent a long and restless night bound and gagged and triple wrapped in plastic garbage bags set roughly on the cold, hard floor of the hallway…

How had I come to this you might ask?  Hell, I was asking that myself, over and over.  It had been my idea, truly, though it had not taken much convincing on my part.  The bondage part was nothing new of course.  My girlfriend, Lisa and I had been playing bondage games for a few years now, ever since we finally discovered that we shared the common desire and fetish.  Most generally I was the recipient of her ‘tender’ mercies as I was the one who was more submissive while she often showed that she had crueler, wicked tendencies, at least in our games.  Nothing severe mind; Lisa loved having me under her control and power on occasion, and for my part I reciprocated.  I loved being tied and got off on the humiliation and embarrassment of being bound and gagged to her whim, then held, sometimes for hours at a time while she walked about our apartment, flaunting her freedom.

What was new to our fun escapades was the inclusion of the trash bags into the mix.  It was a new fetish – to me at any rate – that I had discovered on the Internet while surfing some of the Links to the Sites that I frequented.  I had read some of the stories, saw the images and was soon fantasizing over myself being bagged and dumped with the trash, as garbage.  Apparently a lot of people out there shared in the passion as well, which always helped my courage and self esteem when wanting to try something new with the woman that I loved.

I had approached Lisa with the idea, and though she gave me an odd look, she also grinned and I could see the wheels spinning behind her dazzling blue eyes.  When I saw her smile widen, her tongue darting out to lick her full lips I knew that she was not only intrigued, but hooked, and probably getting hot and damp at the prospect of having me at her mercy again.  We had our spontaneous moments of course, but as just a tiny bit of preparation was needed we decided to give it a shot the coming Friday night as I would be off from work the next few days after.

Getting the huge industrial strength and size black trash bags was not a problem as most hardware stores carry them.  I added to that however, the huge, semi-clear recycling bags that grocery stores use in the recycling machines when crushing cans and plastic bottles.  Luckily Lisa and I both worked at a supermarket – that was where we first met in fact, where I became infatuated with her feet and in love, if not first lust, with her.  Grabbing a few of the clear bags was not a problem, and as we had plenty of duct tape, ropes and even some hand-cuffs and other purchased bondage toys, come Friday I was ready.

In hindsight, it might have been better to delay the game for a day or so however as Lisa came home from the job fuming that evening.  She was a cashier at the store, and her till had been short by a few dollars, which was a common enough mistake.  Store policy though meant a one-day’s suspension at least – it being the weekend, and her day off on Monday, meant three, which under normal circumstances would have been a good thing.  Lisa however was almost a perfectionist, and she never made mistakes in handling the money at her job, so she took it more personal than she should have, I thought.  Foolishly, I tried to explain that to her, which was undoubtedly a mistake on my part.

After a bit, we got on to our game, and it was easily evident that Lisa was going to let off some steam at my expense.  After a bit of foreplay, it was time to get down to business and Lisa had me strip before tying me into a tight little hog-tied bundle with my arms bound behind me, and my wrists lashed to my ankles.  With my elbows and knees tied together I could barely move as she put more than a little effort into the tightness of the bind and the knots as well.  She finished me off by stuffing a pair of her dirty socks into my waiting mouth, balling up the foul smelling things that smelled as though they had been worn for a week at least and were dry and crusty in spots at the ball and toes.  Satisfied, she wrapped my face in way too much duct tape I thought, before the recycle bags were finally produced.

Now I mentioned that Lisa was in a foul mood from work, and that she had a wicked streak in her that came out in our little bondage games, but I knew that she loved me and I trusted her with my life.  I was certain that she would know to punch some air holes in the bags, but after she zip-tied the pony tail top, she kept me waiting…

And waiting…

I was hard as a rock of course, excited by my position there, bound and gagged at her feet on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor.  More so in the fact that I could just barely make out her blurry image just a couple feet away as she leaned against the counter and enjoyed a cigarette.  She was watching me struggle to get free, both for my satisfaction and her amusement, and I knew that my squirming was getting her as hot as I already was.  Soon however I could taste the air getting thin and stale within my plastic prison.  Just as I was starting to worry and tiny gray flecks began to dance through my vision, Lisa put her lit cigarette to the plastic and burned holes for me to breathe, ripping them wide after a moment.

She left me just like that for quite awhile, letting me savor my predicament while she fixed herself some dinner and watched television.  I don’t know just how long I was in bondage, but it got dark enough in the kitchen to turn on the lights, and Lisa passed through several times, totally ignoring me for the most part as she washed her dishes, got sodas or water from the fridge or went into the bathroom.

Finally she approached me and my bags, but what I thought was going to be release turned into more confinement as Lisa produced the black garbage bags and proceeded to enclose me in those as well.  I struggled mightily – and uselessly through out, as she zipped the final bag closed and poked new holes in that final layer.  I could smell cigarette smoke again, and knew that she was hot and horny as she rubbed my bound, enclosed body.  I grunted into my gag for release, but her final response was to start dragging me across the floor and out into the hall.

She left me there slumped against the wall outside the door of our apartment, whispering that she hoped I was enjoying myself and too that she would try to get up in time to rescue me before the Super came around and took me down to the trash room for pick-up on Monday.  She laughed as she left me there, listening to my muffled cries and shut and locked the door.

It’s been hours now, I’m sure.  Hours of moaning into my gag while I squirmed and writhed in my bonds.  It had been exciting as hell, at least for awhile, and I’m not ashamed to say that I shot my load more than once, which only added to my discomfort in a sticky, slimy mess that had nowhere to go but beneath me.  It was thrilling to hear Lisa’s evil laugh as she shut the door, locking me out in the hallway, but before too long – when she did not return as I thought she would – I started to worry.

As New York apartment buildings go, ours was fairly typical.  It was not huge, four stories with a bicycle shop store front on street level.  Lisa and I lived on the second floor in the only apartment, and there were two each on the two floors above ours, all occupied by Yuppie couples in the gentrified neighborhood, a stop over as they climbed whatever corporate ladder they were ascending.  There was also a basement apartment where the Super and his family lived.  That opened into the back court yard that had a supply shed and the trash room that was little more than a covered and enclosed cage with access to the street down a tight stone corridor and thin stairway.  It was generally quiet, as was the street outside and the neighborhood for the most part.  A nice, comfortable place to live in all, where we all lived that New York life of not really knowing your neighbors beyond a casual greeting.

As I sat there squirming in my bags I thought of my neighbors, wondering what they might say or do if they found me tied up and helpless in my trash bags.  They were all roughly the same age bracket as Lisa and I, and I could only imagine that they would probably all be amused at my stupidity.  Would they help me though?  Would they call the police on us, or take advantage of me in my helplessness?  The thoughts and images that ran through my brain soon got me raging again and I felt the uncomfortable swelling between my legs as my member became trapped as it grew.  It did not take much convincing, or movement on my part to explode once again, my third in how many hours?

The whole ordeal was taking a toll on me though, both mentally and physically.  My arms and shoulders were definitely starting to hurt from being pulled back for so long and so severely.  My knees and ankles likewise were aching, and it was becoming increasingly hard to get just the tiniest bit of comfort in any position.  Slumped up against the wall, my butt was asleep and my arm was growing numb, and I kept shifting, finally sliding completely onto my ass and side from my kneeling position.

I was totally done then.  What little movement I had before was gone with half my body pinned by my own weight.  Luckily I had not tumbled over onto my air holes, and I could still breathe though it was labored now in my new position.  The air was definitely stale from lack of circulation, and it was starting to reek as I was starting to sweat.  Worse was the smell of sex adding to the fragrance as I sloshed around in my own excretions and ejaculations.  My hair was damp now and plastered down, and the salty bite of perspiration was stinging my eyes.

After awhile I learned that I had to rest more and more.  My struggles made me tired, and only able to breathe through my nose of the rank air, I soon became winded and weak.  I simply had to lie there and recover, wishing that the night would hurry by, or that Lisa would eventually take pity on me and rescue me…

I woke in pain, jerking in my bonds and totally disoriented.  I thrashed about, simply making things worse and swiftly running short of breath before finally realizing that I was still trapped in my trash bag prison.  I blinked in the thick, smelly darkness trying to catch my breath, easing my aching muscles and joints and trying to figure out what was happening.  My eyes went wide as I heard laughter and footsteps coming closer, pounding noisily on the stairs.

It was the front door slamming that had startled me awake, and panic was racing through me now as the voices and footfalls came closer and closer.  The voices were definitely female, and at least one of the two women was wearing high heels as I heard that distinctive ‘clack’ on every step.  I heard the familiar ‘creak’ and moan of the old wooden steps at their weight followed by the sound of their shoes scraping as they stepped to the landing.

“Jerry looked soooo hot tonight,” one of the women said as they approached along the hall.  I recognized the voice, high-pitched and slurred as it was from alcohol I imagined.  I didn’t know the woman’s name, but she lived on the top floor with presumably the other woman that she was coming in with.  I had not spoken to either beyond a simple greeting when we met in the hall, though Lisa had been up to their apartment a time or two.  They were both pretty and just a year or so younger than us, Wall Street Traders Lisa had said.

“Umm,” the other cooed in agreement, the clacking of heels now right at my head, passing.  “That he was.  He gonna call?”

“God, I hope so.”

I felt a tug on the bag at the floor as one of the two stepped on the edge of the plastic.  That was followed by a swift, unexpected kick, the pointy toe of the high-heeled shoe slamming into my shoulder.  I almost grunted from the sharp pain but managed to stifle the yelp into a muffled gasp that I prayed neither woman had heard.

“I wish people would leave their shit inside till they take it down.  Damn hall’s tight enough.”

“Yeah,” the other agreed, her voice a ways away as she paused at the next set of stairs, waiting for her friend.  “Probably Lisa’s boyfriend.  He’s so stuck up.  Prick.”

“Kind ’a cute though,” the other giggled as she clicked along the hall, the two then heading on upstairs.  They kept talking, ignorant of the volume of their drunken voices, finally slamming their door shut with a loud bang that echoed down through the stairwell.

I realized only then that I had been holding my breath and exhaled long and hard.  I took long deep breaths as I tried to will the stabbing pain of the kick from my shoulder, almost panting soon as I realized just how close I had come to discovery.  What if the woman had actually tripped and fallen over me, or ON me?  God, that would have been it.  Trapped and tied as I was, were they both drunk and horny enough to drag my bundled and bagged ass up the two flights of stairs?  Were they kinky enough to kidnap me, or close enough to Lisa as friends to join in on our game?

I was humping the floor in seconds, with visions of being at the mercy of all three women.  I liked the Femdom angle to bondage, and Lisa and I had done the Slave/Mistress thing all too often as she enjoyed it too, with me waiting on her every whim and spending hours on the floor licking her shoes and feet clean.  We were neither one into anything serious or long term like you see on the Web.  It was not a lifestyle thing, but a fun diversion for the both of us to get our rocks off so to speak.  A couple times a month, on long weekends was more than enough and never anything too severe.  We both DID have lives after all, and neither of us could have supported a full time slave thing anyway.  There were bills to pay.

And the uncomfortable night dragged on and on…

I woke sporadically; too exhausted from my ordeals to stay awake and in too much discomfort to get any real sleep.  I don’t know if Lisa had thought that part of it out, but it was a miraculous torture and left me both miserable and in a strange way, content and satisfied.  Being bound and bagged had been more of a thrill than I could have expected, and I was so looking forward to Lisa’s releasing me that the anticipation was killing me.

I had no way of knowing how much time had passed though.  There was a constant light filtering through my air holes, the dull glare of the bare bulb that illuminated the landing and stairwell.  I don’t know how long I slept in my fitful spurts, or how long I managed to remain awake as I writhed about in my tight, stifling bondage, moaning into my gag and trying to find a new position that was at least less uncomfortable than the last.

At one point I realized that my cum had dried for the most part, and my sweating had dwindled so I figured that I had managed to sleep for a goodly amount of time.  What had awakened me however was a fierce need to relieve myself.  I had been in bondage for hours by then, and in all that time I had not peed, but suddenly was, long and with a passion.  I moaned as my bladder emptied, and quickly discovered a new and acrid odor that turned my stomach as I sloshed about in my waste.  When my urge finally dwindled and died I was lying in a fairly deep puddle that had nowhere to go but be sopped up by my skin as best as possible.

Breathing became a disgusting ordeal until I wiggled about and pressed my nose right into and through the air hole.  I risked discovery of course, with my nose poking out of the trash in case anyone decided to come through the hall, but I had to breathe.  Hopefully I could stay awake and pull back before anyone found me.  Hopefully Lisa would save me by then…

I was lost somewhere in that dead gray zone between dozing and waking when I heard the front door slam again.  The dull echo died away as I forced myself attentive and awake, shifting about as my muscles screamed again.  I heard a thumping from downstairs; a dragging of things being moved about and then the heavy tread of boots on the stairs.

I tried to subdue my breathing as the heavy footfalls came closer, ascending towards where I lay trapped.  I tucked my head and pulled my nose back into the confines of the bags, trying not to gag on the foul and growing stench within my prison.  That familiar groan on the stairs came all too soon and the thick, booted tread stomped up to me then paused.  I held my breath.

My eyes went wide and I stifled a gasp as I first heard then felt the bag rustling.  Someone gathered the ponytail at the bag’s opening and heaved, grunting at the unexpected weight of the trash bag – me.

“Jesus,” a deep and decidedly male voice said in confusion.  “What the fu-“

I heard the clack of locks sliding open, then the whine of hinges that was so familiar as the door to my apartment opened.

“Felix!” I was never so happy and relieved to hear the sound of Lisa’s voice.  If there were angelic choirs in heaven, they paled at the sound.  “Good morning,” she continued, stepping into the hall and up beside my bag.  I felt the press of her leg through the triple-layered plastic, her foot resting on the corner as she spoke to the building’s Super, Felix.

“Good morning,” Felix replied.  He had a thick, Latino accent, as I believe he was born and raised in Puerto Rico.  A good guy, older than either of us but Lisa had commented many times on his dark and swarthy good Caribbean looks and bulging muscles.  “I was just about to take this down for you,” he continued, easing his grip on my bag.  “What’s in here?  It’s heavy.”

“Sorry about that,” Lisa said, leaning so that her knee was pressing into my arm.  “It’s a dead plant,” she lied, “wet dirt and all.  I wasn’t sure how to get rid of it, so I just bundled it up in trash bags.  Kirk was gonna take it down later.”

“I’ll do it,” Felix offered, and I felt the pressure on the bag again as he gathered the zipped up tail.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Lisa said, her voice remarkably calm and casual.  What an actress!

“Not a problem, really.”  I could hear the smile in the Super’s voice, and I almost started to scream as he hefted me off the ground with little effort.  I could picture him in his stained blue jeans and tight white shirt, his muscles bulging as he flexed in front of my girlfriend.  Worse, I could imagine her dressed in her long tee shirt nightgown and slippers looking sexy as hell with her hair ruffled and gushing at his display.  I waited for Lisa to decline –

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble?  It would be a BIG help.”

My eyes went wide and I DID gasp at that.  What the hell was she doing?  She had just given the Super permission to take me down to the garbage room!  And Jesus, by the sultry sound of her voice it sounded like she was almost flirting with him.

“Not a problem,” Felix said again.  I held stiff and still as he heaved me across the floor towards the stairs.  I almost panicked, and could feel the top most step as I thumped against the far wall, finally rolling to a stop.  My urine was sloshing about, and I was now thoroughly coated, but again luck rolled the dice for me in my favor and my air holes were on top.  “Part of my job.”

“Okay,” Lisa said, and I could hear the amusement in her voice.  She knew that I was probably scared spitless, and probably had a story concocted should Felix find me out; something to make me look the fool and her totally innocent.  “It looks like it’s leaking though,” she continued.  “Want me to get another bag?”

“I need to mop the halls today,” Felix assured.  “Not a problem.”  Felix was starting to annoy me.

“Would you like some coffee?” I heard Lisa offer.  What was she up to?  “I just made a pot.  Least I can do, for your help.”

“That might be nice,” I heard Felix, his voice soft.  “Your boyfriend home?”

“No,” Lisa said, her own voice low and breathless, almost seductive.  “He’s at work.  Won’t be back until this afternoon.  C’mon in.”

“Okay then,” Felix accepted and I heard the soft shuffle of Lisa’s slippers on the hallway floor as she held the door open.  “Just for a bit.”

The door closed after Felix entered, his heavy footfalls muffled after the slam and click of the locks.  I heard laughter and murmurs of speech, but that all drifted away as – I assumed – they moved into the living area of the apartment.  I could not believe it.

I strained to hear as I wiggled and writhed, struggling at my bonds with a renewed effort.  I wondered what was happening as I strained, almost crying as the knots would not budge and my muscles simply ached all the more for my efforts.  I was panting wildly, my heart hammering as I imagined Lisa seducing the Super, the two of them making out on the couch, he sweeping her up in his arms and they making love in our bed.  I could imagine Lisa’s laughter as she told him that I was bound and gagged and totally helpless in the trash bag in the hall, the two of them making me their slave and cuckolding me.  I screamed into my gag as I writhed about, finally gasping for air, exhausted…

I heard the locks again after just a few minutes, and the door opened.  The heavy thump of Felix’s feet in the hall again, followed by his voice –

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, stepping up and hoisting me up into the air with little effort.  I sagged into the bottom of the bag, sitting in urine and cum as Lisa gave her final permission to take me away.

“Any time, Felix.  You’re always welcome and coffee’s little thanks for all you do around here.”  I heard him chuckle.

“Part of the job,” he said again, then, “Well, back to work.”

“Okay,” Lisa answered with a giggle.  “Thanks again.”

I heard the door slam shut and lock as Felix hefted me higher, then started down the stairs.  He paid little attention as I swung from side to side, bouncing between the banister and the wall.  I tried to hold motionless, holding my breath as well and hoping that he did not just heave me down the stairs.

He finally got to the bottom and casually dumped me off to the side.  I hit hard, trying not to moan as both my ass and head took the brunt of the impact.  I lay there in my bag in an odd fetal position, trying not to moan or whimper as I heard the Super start back upstairs.

He made several trips, up and down, and it took him quite awhile to do whatever he was doing.  Each time he came down to my spot in the front hallway he dumped what I assumed to be more garbage bags from the other apartments in the building.  First there were two rolling to a stop up against my prison, then a third that fell on the heap that we all had become, a pile of bags ready for disposal.

At one point I heard the clatter of heels on the stairs again, the loud noise drifting down in staccato rhythm; thump-thump-thump-clack-clack-clack- thump-thump-thump-clack-clack-clack- thump-thump-thump-clack-clack-clack…

Someone finally hit the bottom floor and rushed past me, ignoring me thankfully.  I heard the front door open, the slightest glow from outside illuminating the hall and piercing the air holes of my bag.  I heard the blare of a car horn beyond, then the door slammed shut.  I sagged, sighing…

I heard the faint sound of sweeping coming from above, the whisk of a corn stalk broom scraping the old, worn tiled floor.  Felix again I figured, recalling that he said something about mopping.  He was still on one of the upper floors by the sounds of his boots and sweeping.  Never the less I lay there as still as possible, my only movement the slow rise and fall of my chest as I took long, shallow breaths.  I was more or less on my side, my other arm growing numb as the minutes ticked slowly by.  My head was on the floor, right up against the baseboard, and the garbage bag atop the pile had shifted to pin it there.  It was not heavy, mind, but I had to stay in that position, not wanting it to tumble or fear that Felix might see me move.  Worse, I could smell something rancid and spoiled in that bag, a far fouler odor than I was emitting, like rotten, sour fruit.

I was almost gagging before long, but tried to hold my stomach in check as the Super finally got to the main floor.  I hoped that he would move me – even down to the trash room – before he started mopping.  He kept me waiting though, shifting stuff about in the hallway, opening and closing a door that I thought was probably the utility closet.  I heard the squeal of wheels as he dragged the mop bucket out into the hall.

I sagged again as I felt the bag on top of me lifted off, as well as one of those flanking mine.  There was a twin pair of thumps after his footsteps, then I heard another door open with a loud ‘creak’.  Felix soon came back and dragged mine and the final bag towards the door at the back of the hall, behind the stairs.

I knew that there was a tight stairwell beyond that led to the small area where his apartment was and to the corridor that led up and out as well as the courtyard.  God, he WAS taking me to the trash room.

He dragged me down the stairs with his second descent, paying little attention to how my body/bag thumped on each step.  I was gritting my teeth trying not to moan as he continued, dragging me along the concrete walkway then.  It was a short trip, and all too soon I was heaved up against the thick metal fence of the trash room.  I heard the ‘clang’ as he slammed the wire gate and slid the thick bolt home before stomping off again.

I was alone again and wiggled about as best I could, trying to draw a deep breath.  I smelled the thick sour odors of the trash room instantly and my gag reflex started in again.  I remembered the room was always filthy, the concrete floor stained and usually puddled with some juice or oil or other run off drippings.  Trash was picked up on Mondays and Fridays, so the room had little by the way of garbage at that moment, but lord knows when the last time it had been hosed out, and the steamy warm spring and summer months had developed an almost overwhelming, ripe stench.

As I lay there panting, I of course struggled at my bonds again.  It was a constant part of the game, though admittedly it was starting to feel far more real than a game by now, Of course I made no progress, other than to seemingly tighten the binding cord at my wrists.  I shifted about as best as possible, trying once again to gain some form of comfort, amazed that the concrete floor could be so much harder than the tiles of the building’s floors.  Finally as done as I figured that I could be, I settled in to wait.

Surely Lisa would be down soon to set me free…

I woke in a foggy daze, my eyelids fluttering in the blackness of my prison.  I squirmed, feeling an intense itch and tingling sensation like a chill running the course of my bound body.  I shifted a bit, grunting into my gag as I rocked back and forth, then abruptly froze.

I felt then heard a scrabbling sound, the daintiest touch as something skittered up and across my plastic bag.  I shivered, realizing that it was probably a mouse and feeling that inborn repugnance.  The little creature was scampering freely and casually over my tied body, probably trying to get at that sour smelling garbage in the other bag lying next to me.  I hoped that whatever odors seeping out of my own were not as appealing.

And just as abruptly the mouse darted off lightning quick as the outer door to the stairs opened with a dragging whine.  I heard Felix again, and again the clang of the wire gate as he hefted it open and heaved three more bags onto my pile.  They were not too heavy, but something in one – a can I think – thunked off my head and sent stars flashing in my mind’s eye.  The gate then slammed shut and locked before Felix shambled off again…

I woke to the dull throb of music, the thump of bass reverberating but muffled and realized that the Super’s daughter was probably playing music in her room.  I had been sleeping though, and was annoyed to be awakened as I felt just the tiniest bit rested and not so aching from my bumps, bruises and enduring torture.  It was annoying too that I could not really hear the song, but just the seemingly never-ending thump of the bass.  I hate that.

And apparently so did someone else as I heard a loud banging, as though someone were pounding on a wall or door.  The volume of the music lowered and I heard the muffled Spanish of probably the Super’s wife berating the daughter.  Another, higher-pitched answer followed, but the music stayed low, lulling me to restless sleep once more…

“Kirk?”

“Mmmmn…”

“Kirk?”

I woke slowly, mumbling to my mother that I was sick and did not want to go to school but the words were garbled.  Then my eyes popped open to darkness as I heard Lisa call my name again.  I thrashed about as best as I could, trying to get her attention.  Thank god…

I heard the bolt on the cage grind back, and the squeal of rusty hinges followed by the rustling of plastic bags.  I felt relief as the couple bags that Felix had thrown on top of me shifted off and Lisa’s feet slid right up next to my bag.  I heard her grunt as my plastic prison stretched, finally shifting as with a mighty effort and gentle probing, found my head and righted me somewhat.

I felt a scratch from her nails as she dug right into the bags through the air holes and easily pried the opening wider.  I blinked as the dull light of the bare bulb in the hallway beyond hit my sensitive eyes.  I felt Lisa’s soft hands as they continued maneuvering the plastic, finally pulling it down about the hole that she had created far enough that my head popped free.

“Phee-eww…” she said, stepping away a step and as I blinked, trying to focus in the dim I saw her waving at the air in front of her face.

I moaned as she came into clarity, somewhat, the glow radiating behind casting her beauty into a shadowy silhouette with a dazzling corona outlining her slim, trim body.  She was still waving at the air, but I saw now she seemed amused as the whiteness of her smile, the sparkle of her eyes cut through the dark.  She was wearing a tight red V-neck shirt and an old and tattered pair of blue jeans with the knees ripped out, and I knew threadbare spots stretched over her butt cheeks.  She had her shoulder length blonde hair tied back in a tail revealing the large silver hoops at her ears that sparkled as she moved, caught by the light.  My eyes finally rested on her feet however as I saw that she had her denims tucked into those knee-high strapped and buckled leather biker boots that had first hypnotized me into falling totally in love with her.  I don’t know if she dressed for the occasion, remembering for me, or if it was simply chance, but I was in love all over again.  The pain and humiliation of the last several hours just oozed off of me, melting away as I felt myself stiffen in her dominating presence.

Her smile widened as she cocked her head to the side, letting an earring dangle and spin.  “I don’t remember throwing out any rotten bananas,” she almost whispered, her voice low and amused.  I glanced down immediately and saw the bulge between my legs pressing into the plastic that had tightened about my front in shifting.  “You certainly smell like rotten fruit, and…

“God, did you piss yourself?”

I nodded once before hanging my head.  My face burned with embarrassment as she snickered.  “I guess you didn’t think of everything, hunh?”  No, but in my defense I had not expected to be a prisoner for so long, either.

“Thirsty too, I bet.”  I looked up again and saw Lisa playfully dangling a half-empty bottle of Poland Spring water just out of reach.  In the growing warmth of the basement I could see little beads of condensation dripping down the sides of the cool bottle.  That made me realize just how parched I really was.  My mouth was like a desert, Lisa’s dirty socks that I had been sucking clean for hours soaking up every bit of my spit.  Not to mention all the sweating that I had done within the enclosed humidity of the bags.  I nodded sheepishly, pleading with wide eyes.  Hell yes I was thirsty.

“Well, first things first then,” she said stepping to my side again.  I must have blinked, or maybe I was near delirious because I saw that she had a pair of scissors in her free hand.  She leaned in, mocking menace as she snipped empty air by my face, then smiled as she slipped a blade quickly up and underneath the duct tape stuck to my cheek.  The metal was cool, but I did not move as she snipped the tape and peeled it away from my mouth allowing me to open wide.  She deftly plucked her socks free, then stood upright as I moaned and breathed my first real breaths in hours.  It was heaven.

I licked at my chaffing lips, my mouth arid before I looked up at her expectantly.  She stood there with a hip jutting, almost posing for me as she made a show of pulling the stopper from the sports bottle.  She leaned in again then, one hand going behind my head as she eased the bottle to my lips.

“Not too fast,” she chided as I quickly started guzzling and sucking at the bottle like it was a tit or a baby’s milk bottle.  “Drink it all though,” she cooed, her voice soothing.  “Make mama proud.”  Apparently the imagery was not lost on her either.  We did think alike at times.  All too soon I was sucking air however, with enough pressure to make the plastic bottle indent and crumple in her hand.  She laughed, pulling it away from my grasping lips.

“Good boy,” she cooed as she tossed the bottle into the heap of bags.  Lisa then lovingly caressed my cheek, the soft, smooth skin of her hand and delicate touch making me tingle and grow all the harder.  Her hand drifted to my hair before she quickly pulled away, her lips and nose twisting in disgust.

“Yuck,” she said, her hand drifting towards her jeans to wipe away the grime, then thinking better, rubbed it over the bag, along my arm.  I squirmed at her indifferent touch, no longer loving.  “You are a mess, sweetie,” she chided shaking her head.  “Still having fun though?”

I wanted to say ‘no’, and in a way I wasn’t.  It was too much, and far longer than any time that she had tied me before.  It was almost unendurable, and I had been close to crying with pain and loneliness for her many times through the ordeal.  But I had endured, though I would be aching for days I imagined.  Plus, I knew that if I said ‘no’ that we would never get this extreme again, and odds were that even some simple bondage would be a long time off.  She would be worried if I complained.  I knew that she loved me and was concerned over my safety, the daring risks that she had taken with me aside.  “Yes…” I lied, “but – “

“Good.”

Before I knew it Lisa had produced her socks again and as I gasped and tried to talk she stuffed them into my mouth, poking them deeply in with her index finger.  She giggled as I gagged, trying to shake my head away, but she held me fast.  I tried to force the wad out of my mouth with my tongue as she withdrew her finger, but before I could manage I heard the distinctive sound of the duct tape ripping.  Lisa slapped the tail of the tape to that still stuck to my face and quickly wrapped the roll round and round, sealing my mouth shut once again before ripping off the end.

“Nnnnn…” I moaned as her hand smoothed down the tail, then gave me a playful pat on the cheek.

“You are so hot like this, sweetie.  God, I could eat you up.”

She was beaming as she stood upright, sliding the tape over her slim hand and onto her wrist like a bracelet and slipping the scissors into her back pocket.  She turned then, sauntering a few steps back out of the cage, jiggling her ass for my benefit I’m sure, then swiftly returning with a shopping bag from our store in hand.  I could see that it contained the night’s accumulated refuse through the thin plastic as she stepped right up on me again, towering almost.

“I was thinking though,” she mused, “that if you want to be trashed so much, that maybe I could help you get into the role a little better.  The least I could do, hunh?  Help my baby fulfill his little fantasy?”

With that Lisa reached forward and tugged at the opening of my bags before upending the contents of the smaller bag down into the confines of my prison.  I grimaced to feel the cool, soggy coffee grinds from her morning pot that she had shared with Felix.  I then felt what must have been egg shells still dripping with slimy yolk, sodden tissues and paper towels, dried bread crusts that she would never eat, and other things less identifiable.  Finally there was something stiff and smeared with a reddish pink that stuck to my sweaty skin and damp chest hairs.  It took me a moment to realize that it was a used Kotex and I started gagging again.

Lisa laughed as she pulled up the collar of my bags, snuggling the opening about my neck.  Satisfied she then patted at the bag, patting my chest as well, really grinding the garbage against my skin so that I could get the full effect.  A nasty smell rose from the opening as she laughed and stepped back again, admiring her handiwork and captive alike.

“There, now you really are garbage,” she said, her voice drawling as she did a poor impression of Walter Matthau from the ‘Odd Couple’.  “Hope you like it,” she continued, and I squealed to suddenly feel the sole of her boot pressing down on my erection.  “Show me you like it…”

I squirmed at her suddenly cruel touch, whimpering as she slid the sole of her booted foot up and down the smooth plastic over my hard on.  The pressure was intense, but I was already raging and quickly bucked against her, much to her delight.  She laughed, actually leaning in until I sagged, tired and spent again.  Finally she pulled her foot away and I moaned with relief, shutting my eyes and hanging my head.

I felt the other bags moving about, and when I looked again I saw that Lisa was in the process of piling the rest of the trash in the room about me in a tighter heap.  I was kneeling now, and again my knees were starting to ache but as she shifted things about I quickly realized that I was going to be pinned in position.  God, with my knees grinding into the concrete I would be in agony before too long.  I moaned and shook my head but she simply ignored me, intent on her work, slamming the bags up against me and actually pressing and kicking them into a tight formation.

As she cleared the bags we both noticed too that there were boxes beneath the bulk, and she grinned all the wider as she dragged three of the heavy things up and against me.  I tried to wriggle about, but in my bonds I was already helpless, and now I was thoroughly trapped.  Lisa began stacking the smaller trash bags up on the box tops then, wedging them about my head and face.

Finally she ran out of bags and stepped away again.  She planted her hands on her hips and considered her efforts with a growing smile of satisfaction.  She nodded, “That’ll do I think.  Comfy?”

“Nnnnn…” I said again, or tried to.  She just chuckled.  I had thought that she had come to free me, but now it seemed that she was packing me in for an even longer haul.  I stared at her, my eyes tearing and pleading, begging for release.  It was too much.

“Oh, stop over acting,” she scolded merrily, scooping up the shopping bag that she had just emptied.  She moved forward and pulled it down over my head as I squirmed, trying uselessly to prevent her.

“I am worried about the air down here though.  It stinks, so I won’t seal you in again.  I suggest you stay really, really still though, if anyone comes down.  I don’t want you scaring the neighbors.”

I could just barely see her blurry silhouette through the thin plastic over my head.  I watched as she stepped out of the cage and I actually jumped as the door clanged shut.  The locking bolt slid home with a finality that filled me with dread.

“Bye-bye…”

I moaned into my gag, calling after Lisa as her footfalls receded down the stone corridor.  She ignored me, stomping up the stairs and slamming the outer door at the top of the steps.

Alone again…

Hard again…

I still started to cry.

 

Story © Carnaj 2006

 

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25.12.06

story continues in part three

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