Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories


by Carnaj

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© Copyright 2008 - Carnaj - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; sex; climax; bond; rope; gag; collar; bagged; tease; shock; messy; cart; dumped; street; collected; cons/reuct; X

It was hotter than he had expected.

Granted, it was October and the weather outside had taken on a definite fall chill in the air so the radiator inside the apartment was steaming full blast, but he had not thought that it would be so warm and actually humid bundled as he was in the two huge, zip-tied trash bags. He was sweating bullets, and starting to reek from his own body odor in the close confines, never mind the rancid smelling garbage that Judy had dumped into the bags and over him before going to bed - how long ago?

It felt like hours, and probably was. He had no way of knowing aside from the growing ache in his bones and muscles and the increasing pressure on his bladder. God, he needed to pee.

He tried to move a bit, just to ease some of the strain on his legs and knees. The position that she had left him in was not comfortable at all, and the nylon cord lashed about his ankles and above his knees was starting to cut into his flesh. But not too much he reminded himself. Judy had poked holes into the inner bag at the onset of their little game, and then did the same when she had wrapped the second bag about him and tied it off, but the holes were not necessarily lined up, and the wrong move might cut off his air supply altogether. The thought of that had done more than anything to keep him still in his bondage for the duration. Unfortunately that same thought had made him rock hard and horny as hell.

God he wanted Judy so badly, he could almost taste it.

He could picture her there, just a room away on the other side of the wall at his back sleeping blissfully. Her long, blond hair would be splayed across the pillows, the silken strands like a spider’s web. Was she naked? In the heat of the tiny one bedroom apartment, she just might be, or at most wearing her thin, over-sized Rangers jersey that showed off her thick, sexy legs to perfection. He could see the contented smile probably playing on her full lips as she dreamed of him, trapped and at her mercy, waiting for release.

He let out a little whimper as he shifted his weight, a muscle slipping over the bone in his thigh as he eased over on his ass. It hurt, and the ropes bit a little bit deeper. His feet were already growing numb, and his hands. He hoped to heaven that he was not doing any permanent damage to himself.

He took a deep breath through his nose and wrinkled it as the stench overwhelmed him. He wished that he could breathe through his mouth, but Judy had made that an impossibility. She had stuffed her sweaty and soiled, day old panties deeply into his mouth before sealing off his lips with silver duct tape wrapped round and around his entire head by at least five layers. He had pleaded with his huge, sad blue eyes, but she had simply smiled all the wider, ignoring him with an almost evil glee.

She had been giddy with delight as she gagged him, and bound him after they had had a fierce night of sex. He recalled that he had never remembered her being so enthusiastic, or at least not in a long, long time. They had met at the Peppermint Lounge, a dance club long since closed, dancing to almost every song almost every weekend. After a couple months they had actually met for a pseudo date outside the club and in the semi-real world. He remembered that it had been raining that night, and he met up with Judith (Judy) Tate outside of a card store on McDougal in the Village. She had looked so hot that night, dressed in a long black trenchcoat over a tight tee shirt and faded, raggedy blue jeans tucked into a pair of zebra striped rubber rain boots that were all the current fad. Her hair had been shorter then, but still long enough to be tied back with a butterfly clip, and back then she was still wearing a pair of thin wire-rimmed glasses.

Hot, hot, hot…

They had gone to a bar and talked for hours. The Scrap Bar it was called, and like the Pep, it was long since gone. Their first date and it went well- fantastic! They had clicked outside the club and inside too. After that they had hung out after dancing, gone to movies, went for walks, all the things that couples did and romance had actually bloomed. A couple months later, they had made love for the first time.

Not had sex. Not fucked. They had made wild and passionate love all night long and well into the next day. Judy was vocal to say the least, talking throughout, hissing and cursing, eventually screaming. And she was forceful. She was a biter, and after that first romp, he had woken to see little love bites all over his body. His nipples had been sore he recalled from the biting and pinching and twisting as she knelt above him, riding him hard. He had lost count that first time, as to how many times he had orgasmed, and she said that she had too.

And it was like that so many times after.

It was almost a year before they decided to live together. They pooled their money and found a tiny one bedroom that they could afford on their combined salaries on the edge of Chelsea in Manhattan. It was cramped and old but in decent shape, and they figured not to be there too long. Their first stop on the road of their lives. And for the longest time, every day was a new day.

That had been five years ago, and a few months and weeks and days…

Somewhere along the line, things had changed. The raging fire of their love and relationship had dwindled to a low flame. Maybe it was work; she was an office manager at NYU, he a floor manager at a Brooklyn supermarket. Their hours were always at odds, their pay never seemed to be quite enough, and they both always seemed tired. Perhaps it was simply living together for five years. Whatever, they had become stagnant. There was still love, but were they still in love? The spark seemed to be gone.

Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine ever cheating on Judy, but he had been talking with the women at work. Flirting really, he supposed, going to lunch on occasion, even talking to one or two on AIM at night on the computer. Had Judy figured it out? Found out? God, he hoped not. And it made no sense if she had anyway.

He had come home from work, tired as hell as usual only to find that Judy had beaten him home. He had hung up his coat and wandered into the small living room where she sat curled up on the couch with her legs folded beneath her looking way hot in her ratty worn jeans and tight tee shirt. She had her honey-blond hair pulled back in a tail and he could smell the scent of nail polish lingering in the air. She was watching the evening news, with the volume way up to drown out the harsh rattle and hiss of the radiator.

“Hey lover,” she had said flashing a wide smile. Her dark blue eyes had sparkled in the light of the flickering television. “Rough day?”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he had said, flopping on the couch next to her with a weary sigh.

“Not too beat I hope,” she had said, her hand drifting between his legs, her fingers immediately working open the fly of his own jeans and slipping within. His eyes had gone wide when she struck flesh, and his body had surrendered as she worked her magicks on him like she had not for half a decade.

They had made love right there on the sofa.

Then they moved to the floor.

Then he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom where they did it again.

And again…

And again…

She had been sitting on his stomach, her fingers playing with his nipples as she smiled down at him. He was exhausted, and she seemed ready to explode with energy. But the simple weight, the touch of her hot flesh on his kept him hard, raging for more. He could not imagine that he had anything left within, but she did not seem to care.

“That all you got?” she asked, pinching his left nipple hard and twisting for all she was worth. He whined, bucking under her weight as she laughed. “Poor baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Jesus,” he had said, reaching up and grabbing her breasts, trying to rub them lovingly. “You’re killin’ me. I gotta rest.”

Judy frowned, her lip twisting as she stared down. She twisted his nipple harder, until he actually screamed. “I’m not done with you yet,” she repeated.

She bent over, bringing her face to within an inch of his. She slipped her tongue between her lips and flicked his nose. “I want you, bitch. I wanna have fun. I wanna play.”

He had no idea what she wanted as she climbed off of him and strolled to the dresser. He watched her walk, poetry in motion, her body short and a little overweight, but sexy as hell to him. She was fantastic, as the dim moonlight filtering through the window blinds made her sweat-slicked skin seem to glow. He watched as she opened the top drawer and dug about, then turned and dangled the coils of rope that they used in their bondage games.

“I want to tie you up,” she had said, not waiting for an answer. Judy had scrambled back onto the bed and flipped him over, then proceeded to tie his wrists behind his back with a long strand of tough white nylon cord. He winced as she wound the rope and cinched the knots tighter and tighter. Then she climbed off of him and stood beside the bed.

“What now?” he had asked expectantly, but she had simply smiled and bent low, only to stand up and dangle her discarded panties before him.

“Gag time,” she had said, and dropped back onto his belly, easily gagging him with the soiled panties and duct tape. She was far from done however, as she gathered more of the rope and bound his ankles and knees swiftly and efficiently. In a matter of minutes he knew that he would not escape, and just as swiftly realized that she was not done yet.

Judy had returned to the dresser and fumbled about in the dim light a bit. Then she had returned with a canvas strip in hand. It had a plastic pinch lock, and a small metallic box affixed to the strip. As she climbed atop him again and began to lock the canvas about his throat he realized what it must be. He grunted into his gag.

Judy patted his face and stood back on the floor beside the bed, watching him writhe. She was grinning as she produced what looked like a television remote, her thumb poised over the buttons.

“Worried puppy?” she asked, cocking her hip and placing a hand on it as she pointed the remote at him. “You should be.”

He writhed in agony as electricity shot through the electronic shock collar used for training dogs- and errant lovers apparently. He bucked and thrashed as she held down the button. He had no idea what she had it set for, what level of agony, but it hurt like hell. When she finally released the stud he was breathing heavily, panting through his nose. She laughed and pressed it again.

He was wild when she finally decided that she had made her point. She set the remote aside and leaned over him, his agonized, whimpering form bound and gagged on the bed. “How was that, baby?” she cooed, leaning in and pinching his nipple again. “You liked?”

He had moaned into his gag, then moaned all the louder when she strolled away, gathering her discarded clothes. “I’m gonna wash up,” she said, heading towards the bathroom. “You enjoy. I’ll be back soon. I’m not done with you yet.”

He had struggled of course. All that he had managed however was to tighten the knots and work up a greater sweat, and to get tired. He heard the bathroom radio start up as he struggled, playing an old Clash song, and then he heard the shower. It was almost a half-hour before Judy had returned, clean and refreshed and dressed in her denims and tee shirt once more. He wondered if she had grabbed a new pair of panties.

He watched as she strolled about the bedroom, getting hard as she flaunted her freedom. She sat at her vanity and brushed out her hair, then applied the slightest bit of make-up; a bit of eye shadow and lip-gloss. She put on a few bangles and her huge silver earrings, a wide bracelet that he had given her last Christmas. Finally she sat on the edge of the bed, donning socks and slipping her feet into her worn, white leather Avias. She stood and clipped her cell phone to her belt clip, then turned to him again.

“Liked that?” she asked, grinning. “I know you like the simple things.” Judy moved beside the bed and got a grip on the shock collar. She started to pull. ”C’mon, puppy. Time to put you away.”

She dragged him up, then patiently hopped him into the kitchen. He saw that there was a wad of clear plastic in the middle of the kitchen’s floor. He mewed into his gag, wondering what was coming next. She led him right over the plastic, then ordered him to stand straight as she squatted down and gathered the edges of the plastic that he recognized as a bag.

It was clear, and he assumed one of the heavy-duty 55-gallon bags used in recycling machines. He wondered briefly where she had got one, as they were for industrial use and not available for the public, and then he recalled that she had visited his job a couple weeks ago. He squirmed and writhed as she inched the clear plastic up his legs, then placed a hand on his shoulder to force him down.

“Sit puppy,” she had said, applying pressure to his shoulder until he was kneeling amidst the clear plastic. Judy tugged and twisted, working the mouth of the bag up until it was at his shoulders, then his neck, and then she was yanking it tight and twisting the top closed in a tight ponytail. He stared, watching the blurry image as she tied the zip tie tightly over his head.

He had started to sweat immediately, more so than he had been. The air quickly became stagnant and he realized that he would be dead in minutes if she left him thus, bound, gagged and bagged. He yelped into his gag as her sharp fingernail dug through the plastic, creating an air hole, actually poking him in the shoulder. Then another, opposite, and one more just below his chin. She had giggled, giving him a quick light scratch before her finger had slipped away. He took a long deep breath as she walked away.

He saw her shapely, bleary form as she grabbed her long, woolen coat from the hook on the wall by the door and sloughed into it. She buttoned the front, then scooped her purse from stage left and shouldered it, digging out her keys.

“I’m hungry,” she had said, flipping the ring of keys in hand. “Chinese I think, or maybe Tex-Mex. You want anything?” He whined, thrashing about in his bondage. “Well, maybe I’ll surprise you.”

He saw the light from the hallway as she opened the door, then heard the door slam and lock behind her. He listened intently as her footfalls receded down the stairs, then shivered to hear the street door slam shut as she left. He was alone.

Bound, gagged, bagged, he was on his own until she returned and he was rock hard, craving more. He realized that she had been listening, remembering his little fantasies. She knew that he had been wanting to be bagged like garbage and abused while bound and gagged, kidnapped really. And now he was, and he was terrified.

She had been cruel throughout. Abusive almost. And what was up with the shock collar? He had no idea. It terrified him, but at the same time it excited him. He could not explain it. And to be bound and gagged and trapped within a garbage bag like trash. God…

It was a bizarre fantasy, but he knew that there were others that shared it. When he had first mentioned it he had felt like shit, two inches tall with the queer look that Judy had given him in response. He had never mentioned it again, but now, here he was, bound and gagged and trapped in a plastic bag, waiting on her return and horny as hell. She was not gone long…

Judy returned after about thirty minutes, dropping her bag and keys on the kitchen counter above him. She had said nothing, simply strolling into the living area and turning on the TV, then returning and digging in the refrigerator for a minute. He suspected that she took a bottle of water as she withdrew to the other room again, and he realized just how dehydrated he was then for the first time.

After a few minutes he started to smell the Chinese Take-in; garlic mainly, and oils. It was a sour smell and made his stomach rumble with hunger. Judy ignored him for some time, eating he imagined and watching television. He did not know how long it had been when she finally returned to the kitchen and focused her attention on him once more. He screamed into his gag as she hit the shock collar again.

“How we doin’, puppy?” she asked, a giggle in her voice as he squirmed at the shock of electricity. She depressed the stud on the remote again, actually laughing as he screamed and writhed at her feet.

Finally she stopped. He was on his side, breathing heavily when he felt her foot press onto his side, on his buttocks. He looked up and back and saw the queer distorted image of her sexy body twisted and distorted in the clear plastic as she towered over him.

“You like this baby?” she asked, grinding the heel of her shoe into his side. “This all you thought it would be?” He screamed as she activated the collar again. “I’m lovin’ it, I gotta tell you.” She stepped away and he heard the water rush into the kitchen sink.

“Wonder if Anne or Sharon would find this fun?”

Oh shit.

“You think?”

Judy strolled back then and stood before him, and the bag that contained him. He felt a rustling at the top, and after a moment he was suddenly blessed with wonderful, fresh air. The feeling did not last long…

He was barraged with the remainder of her Chinese take-in; broccoli and pork, white rice and pea pods all soaked in garlic laced oil. It smelled and was still slightly warm as she slapped the metal tin container upside his head, then shoved that too into the bag. “Fuck recycling,” she said, rubbing the outside of the clear plastic bag before reattaching the zip tie to seal in the odors, and him. He started to retch and gag even as his stomach moaned and rumbled in hunger.

Judy slapped the top of his head, and he saw her walk away through the blurry plastic, her ass swaying. She quickly faded from sight, but seconds later he heard the television volume rise. He whimpered, struggling at his bonds, simply trying to breathe.

She had left him there for awhile, how long he did not know. He could hear the television, but his senses were slowly being overwhelmed by the rancid smell of the discarded Chinese food, the blur of imagery through the translucent plastic bag, the tight bondage torturing his limbs. Even his taste was being corrupted as his mouth turned dry, sucking on the panties that she had stuffed within. It was like sensory depravation in reverse. Sensory overload!

After some time he heard the soft footfalls as Judy returned to the kitchen. He had lost track of the time, not knowing if minutes or hours had passed. He saw the shade of her blurry silhouette pass within inches, actually heard as the material of her jeans brushed her inner thighs –

He had writhed in agony as a zillion jolts of electricity shot into his neck. He heard the silvery peals of her laughter as he thumped against the mottled tiles of the kitchen floor, a new pain stabbing into his shoulder. His breath hissed through his nose as he tried desperately to breathe around the discarded food juices sloshing against his cheek.

Judy fumbled at the opening of the bag and he heard the zip tie being undone again. A moment later and he was breathing sweet, fresh air. It was a brief respite. He glanced up as the contents of the amber-colored glass ashtray spewed into his face. His eyes started to burn and tear as ash stung. He could feel the thick coating sticking to his grease slicked skin, the spent, crumpled butts bouncing off of his face. But Judy was not done yet.

He was coughing and gagging, trying to breathe when he felt a new slew of garbage raining down on him. Judy had grabbed the day’s garbage gathered in a white kitchen bag and was upending that into his own; egg shells, bacon fat, bread crusts, papers and wrappings collected over the day. Something slimy attached to his shoulder and egg yoke slowly drooled a trail through the ashy grime caked on his cheek. But still she was not done…

She had walked away for a few moments, then returned, padding across the kitchen tiles. He looked up to see her grinning down at him before unloading the trash from the bathroom’s garbage into his prison; snotty tissues and toilet paper that clung to his sticky, slimy skin, more cigarette butts and ash, used tampons and Kotex. A long strand of dental floss draped over his arm, tickling and annoying. Judy laughed as she tapped the bottom of the small bathroom trashcan to get the last of the debris to fall.

He heard the thump of metal on tile as she set the can down, then placed her hands on her hips, standing over him. Her smile was huge as he looked up at her helplessly.

“You enjoying this, puppy?” she asked, her voice mocking. “I am. It's everything you thought it would be? Gotta tell you, I thought you were over the edge when you told me about this, but it IS so hot to see you like this; tied and gagged and bagged up for tomorrow’s trash pick-up. You stink, but I am soooo hot right now.”

Judy’s hand drifted into her jeans and he watched with amazement as she started to finger her clit. She just kept staring at him, her smile growing as her eyelids became droopy. He saw her other hand come up, holding the remote, her thumb poised over the shock button –

He screamed and writhed as she depressed the stud, her own moans rising with his agony. They were both breathing hard when she released the button, both sweating, but he could only imagine that she had enjoyed the sensation more than he had.

“Time… “ she gasped, withdrawing her hand from the front of her pants and bringing it to her face. She sniffed, then licked her fingertips, shuddered then collected herself. “Time for bed, puppy.”

Thank god, he had thought. He was starting to ache, and the smell was getting to be too much to bear. But his eyes had snapped wide when he saw Judy walk to the cabinet below the sink and then return, fluffing out a huge black trash bag. She stepped right up beside him, and without a care had started to work the new thick plastic bag up about his feet and legs. She grunted and struggled a bit as she wormed the plastic under him, easing it past his hips then righting him to a sitting position and tugging it up to his shoulders, neck, then past his face and head. He stared up as she smiled down at him, evil incarnate.

Her little button nose wrinkled at the growing stench as she leaned over and grabbed the top of the clear bag, twisting it closed. He heard the sound of the zip tie locking in place again, and then he saw the edges of the black bag starting to gather overhead like storm clouds closing in.

“Your dreams come true, hunh?” she giggled as she started to twist the black plastic closed. He immediately felt the closure, the tightness and foul air dwindling as she applied another zip tie to the outer black trash bag, cinching it tight. He squirmed and begged, his voice whining into the muffled thickness of the panties that were absorbing his spit. He felt her knee in his ribs as she leaned in, drawing the zip as tight as she could.

A second later and he felt his plastic prison sliding along the floor tiles. Judy was dragging the bags, shoving with her foot to eventually thump him up against the wall by the door, under the kitchen counter. He felt her sock-clad foot on his thigh as she gave him a final shove, then her hand pressing his head against the wall.

“Don’t move.”

Her finger stabbed through the plastic, right beside his nose and then withdrew. He sniffed fresh air, then felt her finger slash another gash in the plastic prison. Then a third, and a final forth just below the ties, over his head. He heard the floor creak as she stepped back again.

“Can’t have my puppy suffocatin’,” she mused, and again lightning flashed through his throat. He whimpered, slumping against the cool paneling of the kitchen’s wall.

“I’ve got a lot more planned for you, you trashy thang,” she had drawled in her best Southern accent. “But ahm tard now, boy, so you jus’ gots ta play with yerself.”

He barely heard the soft ‘sish’ of her stockinged feet as she slipped away. Seconds after he sensed the absence of light in the kitchen, and movement somewhere beyond. Before long, even that vanished amidst the radiator’s hiss and rattle and clank…


He woke to a dim radiance, a lessening in the utter black of the confines of the bag. He moaned as he started to move, his cognoscense returning slowly with his consciousness, barely holding himself in check as the cramped muscles of his legs and arms started to scream in protest.

He heard the filp-flop of rubber sandals, footfalls stomping about the kitchen and something eventually slamming down beside him with a metallic clank. He was sweaty and smelling, heady with lack of oxygen but straining to fathom what was happening beyond the bags of his prison.

“Still with me, baby?”

He moaned, rustling in the twin bags as much as he dared. He could barely draw breath, and he was so sore and tired after the long cramped hours of bondage.

“Mmmmmnnnn!” he screamed into his gag as the shock collar sparked to life again. He heard laughter as he breathed deeply when the agony passed, felt something hard and metal slam up against his hip. Then he was being dragged and shoved, kicked until he was sitting awkwardly on some sort of square metal grill. He felt something tight being stretched across his midsection and chest, pinning him to yet another metal frame against his back.

Oh God…

Judy was securing him to a collapsible pull cart. She was tying him on with bungee cords so that he would not fall off. She was going to move him… Where? He started to struggle, to thrash about but soon became winded and weak.

Her hand slammed upside his head. “You done?” she asked, but did not wait for an answer. He felt his world tilt, and suddenly he was trundling along across the kitchen floor, only to lurch to a sudden stop.

He heard the doors' locks being undone, and then he was tilted and moving again. He tried to get his bearings as he moved out into the hallway, his captor heading away from the stairs and towards the elevator. All the while he could hear Judy grunting and huffing with the exertion. She was short and a bit plump, not too strong and he could imagine the effort of dragging around his near two hundred pounds of dead weight, trussed up as he was.

He was set upright for a moment, then heard a door slam shut, and locks clacking into place. That flip-flop sound again, receding before then coming back up the hall again after.

He heard the elevator’s telltale hum as its motors, gears and pulleys churned to cranky life.

“Told the Super I had some heavy trash to toss,” Judy said casually as the elevator rumbled to a stop. He heard the inner door slide open, then the familiar creak of rusty hinges as she brushed against him and opened the outer door. He was moved roughly, bouncing over the gap in the floor; the inner door’s tracks, and he sensed the light beyond brighten.

The outer door thumped shut and the elevator rumbled and lurched again and started heading down.

“Gave him twenty bucks to ignore any noise and movement from said ‘trash’.” He felt Judy’s foot stab him in the hip, prodding him. A short ride and he heard the inner door jostle open, to Judy’s breathy exclamation, “shit.” Then the outer door whined. Then movement…

“Judy. Hi,” said a male voice that sounded vaguely familiar. He rocked on the pushcart as Judy apparently jerked it aside to make room for whoever had gotten into the tiny elevator car. He heard the doors start to close again.

“Hello, John,” Judy said in greeting, and he noted the almost sultry lilt that suddenly laced her voice. John, he recalled was a neighbor from the fourth floor that they had both met several times; coming or going, down in the laundry room, etc. He wondered why the man was catching the elevator on the first floor to go down. It was early yet, had to be. “I’m going down,” Judy continued, again nudging the bag with her foot.

“Me too,” John said. “Just got in from Kennedy and need to pick up my mail and spare keys from the Super. Lost mine, wouldn’t you know?”

“Drag,” Judy agreed as the elevator settled at the basement. “Hope he’s up.”

“He should be,” John said, “and if not he’ll just have to get up.” They laughed.

The doors opened and he was again jostled and tilted, bumping out into the stone hallway in the basement. “Thanks,” he heard Judy say as she maneuvered the cart to the left, towards the laundry room and…

The garbage area!

“You need help with that?” John asked, being the good neighbor. “Looks heavy.”

“No thanks,” his girlfriend replied as the cart bounced along the rough stone floor. Again he lurched to a stop, the bungee cords biting into his chest. A moment later he felt the pressure ease as Judy unfastened the bindings.

Immediately he could smell the stench of the garbage area, where he assumed Judy had brought him. If it was trash day that meant that it was Tuesday morning, and the last pick up had been the Saturday before. There was three days of accumulated garbage mounted up in the tiny area, and with the sudden cold snap he imagined that the windows on the far wall were probably closed. The sour, bitter smells of rancid, rotting food, probably used and soiled diapers and whatever was in the nearby recycling cans all merged and mixed together to create a truly unique and overpowering aroma. Worse, Judy had probably positioned his trash bag prison right in the midst of it, all the better that he might enjoy his little fantasy.

He was already starting to gag at the horrible odor when the cart tilted and he tumbled off. He rolled onto his side with a painful thud, his head slamming the concrete beneath him. He blinked, seeing a galaxy of stars going nova in his mind’s eye for a few nauseating seconds. He squirmed, trying to find a better position to ease the pain in his head and body and to keep drawing his weak, shallow breaths.

He heard the telltale clank of metal as Judy folded up the pushcart and set it aside. He strained to hear what she was doing, imagining that she was taking in his total helplessness and savoring her revenge. He wished that he had never mentioned his sick fantasies to her. Wished even harder that he had not strayed, even if it was only Internet chatting. He knew that Judy would never believe that.

He heard voices far away, dim and muffled by the two layers of plastic clinging to his sweaty skin. Male voices; probably John and the Super.

“Sounds like Felix is up already,” Judy said in a hushed tone. Her voice was close, like she was leaning in right next to his ear. He felt Judy’s hand on his shoulder and he shivered. Tears welled in his eyes and he started mewling into his gag, begging her for forgiveness. He knew that his pleas were nothing but muffled, mumbled grunts and moans and he felt nauseous knowing what was coming. He started sniffling as snot began to fill his nose with his whining.


“Won’t be long now, puppy” she hissed, her voice light and whimsical. “Couple hours max down here, then maybe a couple more out on the curb with the rest of the trash.” She giggled, and he felt her hand rubbing the plastic almost tenderly. God, she was trying to get him hard.


“I’ll be watching,” she giggled, her hand pressing against the plastic, against his raging member. “I’ll be waiting for that big white NYDS truck with its burly buff garbage man come to heave you into its back end. I’ll have my hand in my pants watchin’ when the compressor starts, and I’ll be listening while you scream. While the compressor flattens your cheatin’ ass into a pancake, bitch!”

He screamed, twitching as his throat exploded with new levels of pain as Judy grabbed hold and activated the shock collar again. Before had been nothing, she must have upped the setting. He writhed, or tried to, but bound as he was and lying in a heap in the garbage there was very little that he could do. He was gasping again when Judy finally released the stud on her remote. He was crying and snuffling snot, gagging and gasping for breath when he sensed her stand up again and step away.

He squirmed, struggling at his bonds, oblivious and unthinking, uncaring as he shifted in the plastic. A jolt of electricity ripped into his throat again and he lay still, panting through his nose…

“Sit, puppy,” she said with a giggle. “Better stay still, otherwise someone might get curious and rip open your bags to see what’s inside. I don’t think you want your little fantasy exposed to the whole building, do you? And especially not to Felix.”

No he did not, and she was right. Definitely not Felix. He was Hispanic and muscular and gay through and through. He had made that clear enough with hitting comments the very first month that he and Judy had moved into the building. But if the alternative was to be ground up in a garbage truck, he would live with the humiliation. Judy wanted him dead, and he saw no other way out. As soon as she left he would try all the harder to get free, but if he needed help, he would take it. He and Judy were done. He had no trouble moving.

“I’m lovin’ this, baby,” she said close by again, her voice a whisper in his ear. “I am so hot for you right now. I don’t know if I can wait for later.”

What? He felt her hands on him again, caressing him. Had he heard right? Was she still just playing out his fantasy for him?

“Judy?” John’s voice from down the hall interrupted his train of thought. “Goin’ up?”

“Yeah,” Judy’s voice, loud in response, then in a whisper again, “Later, lover.” A final pat on the head and he heard her flip-flops slapping the stone floor as she jogged down the hall towards the elevator. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” John replied. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked as the pushcart rattled into the elevator.

“Around,” she replied with a barely suppressed giggle. “Little tied up at the moment. But how’re you doing?”

He heard the door thump closed and a moment later the elevator ground to life again. It stopped shortly on two, but did not continue. He waited, listening intently. His mind started to whirl…

God, had she invited John into the apartment? He knew that she found him attractive, as he had caught her barely concealed glances more than once. And the man was single last he recalled. Was she just teasing, still playing their game, or was she actually using the time that she knew he was unable to interfere to hit on John?


He struggled, tugging on the bonds binding his wrists, but the nylon cord was just too strong to break. The knots that Judy had made were way too tight and secure and placed well out of reach of his fingers. For all his efforts, all that he managed to accomplish was to slump into a new, uncomfortable position and to make himself all the sweatier. He was breathing hard through his snot-encrusted nose with gray spots dancing through his vision. Barely conscious, winded and weak from his ordeal he finally lay still.

And the waiting began…


He had been sleeping. Perhaps better termed, he had passed out. Whatever, he jerked awake when he heard a thump somewhere in the distance, beyond the confines of his impenetrable plastic bag prison. Immediately his body shouted out in protest. A numbness had crept into his hands and feet, but his sudden jerky movement sent a thousand icy needles prickling through his bound appendages. His knees ached, and his shoulder and head from his falls. His muscles were sore from the strict bondage, being folded and pulled back, unused for so long. At least he could breathe again, sort of, as the mucous in his nose had dried and or expelled while he had been unconscious.

He blinked in the darkness, remembering Judy’s words about being discovered. He tried to be still, tried to take deep, shallow breaths in order to remain calm, silent and unmoving. And he listened intently, straining to hear.

He heard the soft, quick pad of feet on the stone floor. The footfalls were coming closer, and suddenly something landed on top of him. Despite his efforts he grunted as something hard impacted his shoulder and he felt what was probably another large trash bag roll off of him and crumple to the floor beside him. He heard the feet receding, faster this time and moments later the elevator started up again.

“Jesus,” he mumbled into his gag, releasing the breath that he had not even realized he had been holding. His heart was racing now at the prospect that he might have been discovered. Too, there was a thought spinning in the back of his head that it might have been Judy come to release him. Or torment him some more.

Even before that thought had settled he heard the elevator start up again. He was glad for the sound, oddly, as his only connection to the real world. He imagined that it was like being in a Sensory Depravation Tank, only receiving input allowed by some scientist that was studying him for reaction. No sight to speak of, or movement and touch confined to the damp slick plastic. His sense of smell was all but obliterated and overwhelmed by the stench of the garbage surrounding him. The taste of Judy’s panties had long since faded and he was left with the dull wadded blot of cloth clogging his mouth. All that was left was his ability to hear, and even that was muffled. Still he clung to that, trying to hold onto his sanity and hope.

His reveries shattered as the elevator door opened and again he heard footsteps. This time by the sound, it was definitely a woman with the unmistakable sound of high heels clacking on the cold stone. The click-clack grew louder, and he heard the rattle of plastic as the pile surrounding him shifted again. Then the steady click receding down the hall; thump, rumble, whir as the elevator rose again into the building.

Then silence.

And so it went. He wondered at the time, and hearing the almost constant sound of the elevator figured that it must be seven-ish or so. People were heading out to work, a few making the trek to the basement to dump their garbage. He tensed every time he heard the elevator grinding to life and froze whenever he heard the door open. He lost count of the visitations; his neighbors dropping garbage around and on top of him. A couple times he heard people heading away, down the hall and around the corner to the Super’s apartment. There was always faint conversation after that, and then the sound of doors slamming and again, the elevator.

Someone went into the laundry room at some point and started their wash, returning later to start the dryers. More noise to focus on, with the dread of discovery in the back of his mind.

Again, and again, and again…

He heard a door open and close and knew immediately that it was the Super’s. The sound of heavy foot falls, a man in work boots coming closer, and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard the masculine voice tinged with the Spanish accent.

“Fuckin’ Yuppy ass-holes,” Felix said with a nasty whistle. He froze as he heard the Super start digging through the trash, moving bags about and dragging them down the hall. His heart started pounding again as he knew that he would be moved as well. It was time, and Judy had abandoned him. He was going out with the trash…


It took awhile, but eventually he felt his prison grabbed and jerked. He heard the Super grunt.

“Oh, yeah,” the man said. “Miss Judy.”

He did not like the way that Felix rolled his girlfriend’s name off his tongue, but of course there was nothing that he could do. He felt the bag shift again, and then he was being dragged away from the garbage area and down the hall. He both hoped and worried that the bags would rip, but they were apparently industrial strength, and did not tear in the slightest as he was dragged along the bumpy stone floor. They rounded corners, and eventually the stone turned to cement, and then he was bumping up a set of hard, stone stairs.

He felt the chill of outside, and a freshness in the air seeping through the holes in his bags. He heard the sound of cars passing down the street, the roar of engines and a siren somewhere far off. He was dragged across the sidewalk, and with a final heave came to rest again.

He heard Felix grumbling, walking away and back down the stairs that led to the basement from the metal barred door on the street. The short trip had done nothing to loosen his bonds, but still he tried to free himself again. He knew that he had little time left, and Judy had not come to save him yet. Would she? He was starting to doubt again.

He had visions of her and John up in their apartment and having sex. Judy had said that she was hot with excitement, and he could only imagine that she might jump on their neighbor to quench her desire. He could picture them both, arm in arm watching as he was thrown into the garbage truck and squashed dead, laughing all the while.


He heard the steady stream of traffic passing on both sides of him. Just a couple three yards away, cars continually drove past with the occasional honking of horns or squeal of tires and brakes. He heard music booming, a loud, thunderous bass. He heard laughter and shouting, singing and cursing. And behind he heard a steady flow of people walking by, uncaring and lost in their own little lives. There was a constant clack of heels on the pavement, the occasional sound of music seeping from earphones connected to Walkmen and I-Pods. No one noticed, or if they did, no one cared. It was New York.

And Felix kept coming back, over and over. The garbage bags started to mount up, piling higher every few minutes. He was soon worried that his air would get cut off, so when he could he shifted, straining to keep a hole free. On and on, and another bag, then another landed on him or beside him until he was soon lost in the pile once more.

And then it stopped. He heard the finality of the metal gate clanging shut, its bolt sliding into place. Felix was apparently done lugging the building’s load out and onto the sidewalk. He was alone again, trapped in his bags amidst a city teeming with millions, people passing by within inches, oblivious.

He writhed as electricity shot through his neck once again. He slammed his head down, trying not to cry out, trying to control the need to get away from the pain. He felt the garbage bags shift about him as he struggled, but if anyone saw, they dismissed it.

He was whimpering again and breathing hard when the jolt had passed. He knew instantly that Judy was simply letting him know that she was watching as promised. Knew too that she was probably true to her word, fingering herself while he suffered, waiting for the end. And as if on cue he heard the sounds of the garbage truck…

It was an unmistakable sound in the city, like a police siren or the annoying, repetitious muzak of a Mister Softy truck in the heat of summer. The roar of abused engines, the grinding of the compactor accompanied by the sounds of car horns of people wanting to pass.

He felt the sweat on his body increase by buckets as the sounds grew closer. He heard the whir and grind as the compactor crushed something nearby; the cracking of wood and wrenching of metal. He felt a warmth and dampness between his legs and knew that he had wet himself, terrified of what was to come. His life was almost over – just a matter of minutes now…

And the truck was beside him now. The sounds of its motor and gears blotted out all but the shouted words of the garbage man as he started hefting the bags and boxes into the compressor. The stench was a thousand times worse than in the basement, making him gag as he struggled to get a breath. He felt the weight of the rest of the bags lessening and suddenly felt his own bag shift and move.

“Jesus!” a gruff voice said as the movement stopped. “What the fuck’s in here?”

“What’s up?” another voice shouted, coming closer.

“Feels like a side a’ beef in this one.” A swift, sharp kick to his ribs and he moaned. “Gimme a hand, hunh?”


He sensed hands grabbing the ponytail tie at the top of his bag, while others groped him from the bottom. He heard grunts and curses as he was lifted, then heaved roughly into the back of the truck. The rank smell was too much at that point, and he vomited as garbage juice seeped into his prison through the air holes. Gagging, coughing, he moaned into his gag, trying to swallow back the bile that filled his mouth –


His eyes snapped wide as he suddenly came alert again. Fighting back the nausea he tried to focus beyond the sounds of the truck. He had heard a voice- knew that voice…


Thank God!

She had come to rescue him. The game was over and she was going to save him, God bless her. She had waited till the last possible second, and probably knew that he was pissing his pants thinking that he was going to die. Jesus he was hard just thinking how close he had come. And damn if he wouldn’t get some kind of payback. But first they would fuck, long and hard for the rest of the day and well into the night. He was miserable, but he had never been so excited in his life. He –

“You guys got room for another bag?”

Story © Carnaj 2008

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