Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

Into the Car Compactor

by fancysox

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© Copyright 2011 - fancysox - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/m; D/s; bond; gag; captive; transport; junkyard; compactor; cons/reluct; X

She was bored again, tired of her latest slave boyfriend. But she knew how to entertain herself with him one last time, and she would include her friends in the game. She thought about how this slave liked to dress like a real dandy, right down to the most expensive fancy long dress socks. She had even told him once, when he was sporting one of his more outrageous pairs, "I could kill you for wearing those crazy socks!"

So one evening he found himself surrounded by his mistress and three of her friends, all of them dressed in stylish lace-up knee boots with lug soles, their tight jeans tucked into the boot tops. Meanwhile, he was still wearing his pinstripe suit and flashy tie after coming in from the office. He thought it was another one of her rough games, so he didn't fight back that much as they forced him to the floor and tied and gagged him. While they were binding his ankles, his mistress pulled up one of his pants legs to reveal a bright blue and yellow striped over-the-calf sock. "Yes, just as I expected. Well, at least you'll be going in style!" she said menacingly.

They hauled him out the back door and into the waiting minivan. Leaving her house like this was not routine, because they usually played in her dungeon, so he wondered what was up. He couldn't ask any questions with the gag in his mouth, but they could tell he was beginning to worry and taunted him as they drove the van down the dark streets.

"We've got a special treat for you," his mistress said, "Soon I'll be rid of you and your fancy socks."

The van finally came to a stop, and the four of them wrestled him out into the middle of what appeared to be a junkyard. As he lay on the ground, he could see rusting old cars lined up on one side, and over on the other side were stacks of what looked like flattened scrap metal. Then he saw the compactor. The women snickered and giggled maliciously when they saw his expression as he stared at the huge machine with its black and yellow striped press raised above its platform.

"Oh, look!" one of them said. "Your socks almost match your coffin!" Things sank in quickly and he knew he was doomed.

Meanwhile a couple of them had been looking around at the inventory of waiting cars. "These are the next to go tomorrow morning," one of them pointed at a row near the compactor. He tried to struggle and scream through his gag as they dragged him across the ground toward one of the cars, a white sedan that looked pretty whole but was bent up badly and missing wheels. They liked that it still had its windows intact. One of his black dress shoes came off while they pulled him closer to this car, and they laughed at the sight of his crazy striped socked foot. He stared mournfully at his receding shoe.

They pulled open a back door and pushed him headfirst across the length of the seat. "I like his socks!" he heard one of his mistress's friends giggle as a fingernail swiped mischievously across the sole. She yanked his other shoe off without unlacing it and tossed it in the direction of its mate.

"Nice!" his mistress cooed. "You won't need those shoes any more, and I'm going to enjoy thinking about you squirming in those lovely socks, so defenceless as things close in on you."

He looked at her pleadingly as his eyes teared up and he strained against his gag.

"Oh, poor baby! Aren't you going to have fun waiting here in the dark all night until they arrive and turn on the machinery?" She tickled his blue and yellow striped soles and then backed away from the car. "Right, let's make sure they don't miss this one when they get here. I think we can get that forklift running and move it into the compactor now."

He was near shock as he listened to the forklift's engine and felt his compartment lifting off the ground. He groaned as metal scraped and the car was jostled onto the compactor platform. Then things were suddenly still and there was some silence. Then he heard lug-soled boots walking across the ground and the car door suddenly swung open. Again, she ran her fingernails all over his soles as he grimaced and struggled under the cruel tickling. "We're going to give you a fighting chance," she said. "Lucky you, your crazy socks just might save you tomorrow." Then she rolled up his pants legs to his knees, completely showing off his long socks. "Your ankles will stay bound, but you should be able to raise your legs and wave them around. Use your socks like a signal! If you're lucky, the compactor operator will see you before it's too late."

The door slammed shut again, and the boots walked away. He heard the minivan start up and slip out of the junkyard. He gave up struggling, his bonds were so expertly done. His unshod feet rubbed against each other in their socks, and he looked down at his striped legs. Maybe it would work, he thought. After hours of lying there and as the light increased, he heard activity in the junkyard.

The operator moved towards the compactor's control panel, but he wondered who had loaded a car in the day before without processing it. Then he heard a bumping noise and looked around. He did a double take as he spotted a pair of legs in brightly striped socks banging against the glass from inside the car...

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