© Copyright 2015 - silentDee - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM+; FMM/f; game; challenge; strip; bond; tape; gag; buttplug; insert; bagged; trash; messy; trashcan; encase; breathplay; kerbside; denial; cons/reluct; X
They’d polished off 2 bottles of wine with dinner and a blunt of primo for dessert, the four friends now sat around the patio table talking rather loudly about their sexual exploits.
Lyla spun the empty and it pointed at Dee, “Ohhh truth or dare!”
Dee rolled her eyes and answered, “Truth.”
“Some sexual fantasy you’ve not told anyone here about before,” Lyla smirked.
“Fuck you,” Dee felt the trap closing. Lyla knew most everything she’d done with Charlie. Charlie was here next to her, so she couldn’t say something he knew about. It had to be something she felt ashamed to admit to. “Dare, then.”
“Let Charlie give us a show of the kinkiest thing you’ve told him about.”
“God, just fuck off. Fine, truth: I... wanna be bagged up and kept in a garbage can.”
There was silence then. Lyla was smiling and Charlie looked contemplative. Tim spun the bottle this time. It landed on Charlie.
“Dare,” he said without prompting.
Tim grinned big and said, “Dare you to help me and Lyla bag up you girlfriend and toss her in that big can over there.”
Charlie just nodded and they both stood to get some things from inside.
“What? No! Hey, stop joking around guys!” Dee yelled at them but Lyla was soon by her side, pulling her to her feet and yanking off her clothes.
“Come on, you don’t want to get all that stuff messy, do you?”
Dee was shocked, and Lyla got her shirt up and off with a tug, hands instantly at Dee’s button fly and soon shorts around her ankles. “No! You guys please, you’re not serious!”
But Lyla just spun her around and undid the clasp to her bra, tossing it with the other clothes. Then she smacked Dee’s ass, because she knew Dee loved a good spanking.
“Oh god, Lyla! Stop!”
One after another they followed, the cotton panties providing no cover. When Dee tried to run, Charlie caught her, and she squealed when Tim took painters tape to her ankles, since the panties and shorts fell off when she tried to kick Charlie.
“Be still, or we’ll leave you for the garbage men!” Tim warned and together with Charlie, carried her to the table.
Once she was sat on it, Charlie gripped her forearms and pressed them together behind her back. Dee couldn’t speak, she sputtered in astonishment as her wrists were bound with tape. They laid her back on her arms and Charlie and Lyla forced her heels up to her ass and Tim started as close in her thighs as he could get, wrapping outward to her knees, so her upper and lower legs were almost welded together.
Charlie spanked her pussy when it was done. When she opened her mouth to yell, Lyla and Tim forced a ring gag into her mouth, padlocking it closed with a snap that was drowned out by another slap to her pussy. Her lips began to burn under the onslaught, and in the moment she closed her eyes something else was shoved into the gag. She squealed through the pvc pipe, it was a soon joined by an angled corner that pressed against the tip of her nose. The tube pressed her tongue down and muffled her frantic pleading.
This was too far already, and she was suddenly terrified how far they would take it. Charlie was relentless and his hand soon made more of a wet impact than the sound of a slap as she gushed despite her fear.
“Hey, can she really cum from that?” Lyla asks, and their hands playing with her breasts, tweaking and twisting her nipples.
“Yeah, if I keep at it,” Charlie replied honestly and paused. Dee let out a frustrated whine and her hips began humping the air.
“Well, no more, she didn’t say anything about orgasming!” Lyla said and Dee cried out, shaking her head, but Tim and Charlie found it hilarious so they decided Lyla was right.
She was soon flipped over and slid forward on the table, someone holding her head so her tits dangled below her. Tim was there to wrap each mound with more tape, until they stuck out like torpedos even when they straightened her up.
Dee sat red face and seething in front of them, set up on the table like a piece of art on display. She could just see them where they stood in front of her, the pvc pipe taking up quite a bit of the middle of her line of sight. They moved away, discussing Dee and what to do next and she trembled in lust and anxiety in equal measures.
Flipping her onto her tits, Charlie and Tim held Dee down as Lyla put in a butt plug and pulled a diaper fillied with pantie liners, up her two tape wrapped stubs of legs. There was more tape wound around the waist of it, then she was sat roughly on the plug, her ass and feet blow her. Charlie and Tim crushed her legs to her tits and Lyla wrapped her round and round with tape. Dee had become a ball of tape showing flashes of flesh and diaper, with a pipe at the top.
She gasped for air, shallow breaths, becoming more difficult as they put another length of pvc pipe into the upright of the corner join, ending far above her head. The plug was large, even tho she loves anal play, and her pussy ached as it clenched around nothing. Dee’s tits were sore and squashed against her tape bound thighs. Her pussy rubbed wetly against the diaper and she whimpered pitifully.
Lyla pulled her hair up into a bun as Charlie fluffed open a huge construction size black bag. Dee trembled and Lyla laughed, “Damn, she really want this. You think she’ll cum just from being left in the trash?”
Dee moaned shockingly loud and they all laughed. She clenched her eyes shut and was picked up. Placed on a thin padding, the bag was drawn up around her in an instant and when she opened her eyes all she saw was black surrounding her. Then she was laid on her side, and slid into their large can, the one with wheels they put by the road for pick up. Once tucked in the bottom, they righted the can and she again sat upright, bag folded down around the lip of the can.
When she looked up as much as she could, trash rained down on her. She squealed as the leftovers and trash from the night settled around her. Someone shook the bag out and more was dumped onto her, this from the trash can on the porch.
Dee whimpered, humiliation and frustration burning thru her, clit swollen and thumping with her heartbeat, it felt. Just as she began to wonder if she’d been left, the bag rustled and this time cold food fell upon her.
With a squeak, she realized they had dumped old things from the fridge into a bucket. It soon covered her feet, dripping down her back and shins, clumps of things mixed with sludge and slime, she was actually grateful they hadn’t gotten it on her face. Next came the kitchen trash, and a bag that had been in the can they were going to put her in. It was all quickly shaken out and pressed down, compacted around her. They recycled as well, so nothing poked or cut her, but soon she was packed, surrounded by kitchen trash up to her chin, shoulders and knees long gone.
The pipe was pulled backwards, forcing her to look up. They all three stood around the can, a good foot left above her head. Lyla explained with too much obvious excitement for Dee’s liking, “We’re going to fill this up now. We’re going to press the rest of the trash down hard on top of you, so we can compact trash down on you each time it fills, until we can’t get anymore in. You’ll be a brick of trash in a can. They come for pick up in three nights. Maybe we’ll get you out, or maybe we’ll wheel you down to the curb. Either way, we’ll give you water a few times a day, keep you alive until we decide. Okay? Have fun!”
Dee screamed, but someone blocked her pipe and trash soon covered her thrashing head. She sucked in and out as much as the length of pipe allowed but she soon needed air and the pipe was still blocked. She thrashed in panic but it wasn’t released until the can was full.
She felt the weight of them pressing onto her after a bit of tugging on the pipe, forcing her head into the middle of the can. Now the pressure increased, but she was too busy gasping and heaving in the fresh air.
The process was repeated again and again; air gone, trash add, pressing, air back, tightening everywhere. Dee was dizzy and exhausted by the time they finished with it and tied the bag shut around her pipe. The lid was put on, pressed against the top of the pipe, but they had punched holes in that area, so she had access to air.
She regained a bit of thought as the can began to roll. They took her the long way around the house to the area by the garage where they left their cans until pick up. With a thump to her can, they left her.
Dee knew this spot was on the far side of the house, and she trembled as she was abandoned, nipples aching hard where they were squashed. She couldn’t even manage a twitch of her hips, she simply throbbed in frustration, diaper soaking up her pussy juice as she nearly vibrated with need.
Her mind was in turmoil, completely devastated but insanely aroused. They had done it, bagged her up with trash and thrown her out in the can. She couldn’t concentrate on a thing, nearly in a panic. Had they been serious? Would they keep her here that long? Surely letting her be dumped was just a bluff. Right?
She went from manic highs of sexual frustration where all she wanted was to cum, to morbid lows of humiliation and shame. She had asked for this, she deserved it, they were giving her what she wanted. Which would turn her on again and the cycle fed itself until she realized there was a bit of light seeping in through all the trash.
It just wasn’t as dark as it had been, and the cold that had been eating at her was fading. The sun must be up, warming the day. Birds began chirping, it was sort of wilderness here on their property. She suddenly lost control, screaming and thrashing as loud and hard as she could. The can never even shook. She was stuck and heaving for breath when she heard foot steps.
“Hey babe, hope you slept well. I wonder if you can hear me in there,” Charlie’s voice filtered thru to her. “Well, I hope so. I’m gonna pour some water down the pipe before I head home. Don’t worry, Tim and Lyla will take care of you until trash day. Hold your breath.”
Liquid filled her mouth and she swallowed quickly, completely parched.
“There, that’s all of it. They were asleep, but I’m sure someone will come give you some more tonight. Goodbye, Dee.”
And he walked away, never even needing to open the lid. She began to cry then, despair and exhaustion overwhelming her. She noted he had said goodbye, and not once said anything about her being released. Her anxiety reached a peak that sent her into a daze.
At some point she must have fallen asleep. She woke up sweaty and sore, aching all over, pussy throbbing and still wet. Her bladder was ready to burst and with a shudder she let go. Sweat rolled down her as the day continued and dusk finally fell. She was so tired and thirsty, the assaulting smells her left her queasy.
She was jerked from the the distant state her mind and body had drifted off to by a kick to the side of her can. Dee let out a scream as she was suddenly tipped sideways, greeted by a laugh from Tim. “Good, you’re still alive. Hang in there, do we have plans for you,” he said and poured another bottle of fluid down into her tube without warning. She spluttered and quickly swallowed, discovering it was some sort of gatorade, stomach aching and sloshing when he tipped her straight again.
With a loud pounding to the lid, hand lingering over the holes long enough to have her sucking and blowing, he finally left her with another laugh. Dee trembled in her prison, just a piece of trash, packed away and left for pick up. Instead of sending her into another panic, she rocked with all her might in frustration. Nothing budged. Her body gave up with a last heave and she fell into sleep. Or didn’t. Maybe she was dreaming of being in the can. Then she would wake to being in the can. and start to writhe again.
This took her through the night, the cycle of falling into exhausted sleep to dream of her predicament, only to wake and it be a reality her body would either find terrifying or arousing. Each time her energy lasted less and less. Finally she fell into a true shutdown, body long past numb, pain and lust the same thing.
Dee woke light headed and hungry, in need of a shit and pissing herself. Something was blocking her air! It took her a long moment to remember where she was and process that panic again before she heard the can beside hers being opened. The rustle of plastic indicated someone putting bags in. Screaming with her last bit of air, she lost consciousness.
Gasping and grunting she came too, head and heart throbbing from the abuse. Her limbs twitched and pins and needles cascaded through her muscles. Dee began to cry as something fell to her tongue. Water was dripping down her tube.
The lid was placed back on the other can and water continued to fill her mouth in a constant dribble. She hadn’t heard them walk up, but she had been asleep. The water continued for so long and her straining ears heard no footsteps, that she started to fear it wouldn’t stop and she’d drown. After what felt like forever it slowed to a drip and eventually stopped, stomach more than bloated even though she’d pissed again during the process.
Still she strained to hear, needing to know if someone was taking care of her on purpose or if somehow it has been some accident that had given her sustenance. Dee never heard a sound but her own rapid heartbeat before her body shut down again.
The night was a terror of exhausted cramping. She needed to shit bad but the toy held her full. Her body had gone numb except for the cramps, her pussy itching from the wet diaper and her slick juices. Dee slept in between the cramps. In the morning, Tim watered her again, playing with her air more this time and tipping her can up and down like it’s a big game.
She was jerking awake from passing out because of Tim to discover the can being rolled down the driveway. Oh god, trash day. It must be early morning. She couldn't make a sound, throat parched and mouth so dry. She had no energy to fight her confinement, she slumped in despair, sobbing silently.
The can finally stopped after being dragged off the pavement, probably beside the road now. Dee strained to hear but at that moment Tim’s truck started up, revving loudly before it rumbled past her can and turned onto the road. Tim was off to work. Minutes later, Dee heard Lyla’s car as well, and once it left the driveway, silence rung in Dee’s ears.
Her breathing became erratic, pulse pounding in her temple as the heat rose each minute inside her can and bag. Occasionally cramps wracked her gut, more than ready to shit but plugged up tight. She had to concentrate, slow down her breathing, but the heat was sweltering and sweat was soon cascading down her skin, making it slippery inside the trash packed around her.
Hours of waiting and Dee was parched, praying someone would come home and at least move her into some shade. Yet it was hours later still when she heard an odd sound. Not the occasional car, but a rumbling deeper sound that came and went. As she strained to listen Dee realized what it was. The garbage truck was coming.
Dee thrashed with the last burst of energy the adrenaline gave her but it was no use. Her voice was gone and the truck rolled ever closer getting louder.
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