LckdNRbbr

Part 19 Jane’s hand rubbed Alex’s shoulder through the rubber as they sat in the back of the EV, the five-point harness keeping Alex secure, and Jane buckled into the middle seat next to her. Alex leaned into the touch, craving the connection, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone. “We’re here,” Jane whispered as they pulled into the parking lot of their loft. The words penetrated through Alex’s haze. Home. They were home. Something in her chest loosened at the thought. ...

Part 18 The Drone, clad all in rubber and being remote-controlled through its work, felt a coolness on the outside of its suit, and realized that the rain was beginning to truly pelt down. Water ran in rivulets over the bags of garbage and cascaded down its visor. Given that there was zero part of Alex’s body exposed to the elements, it made the work more enjoyable, and the rain acted as natural cooling. ...

Part 17 Alex awoke to the feeling of fingers brushing her cheek, slippery and soft and amplified through the rubber that still covered her head. She could feel the rubber blindfold pressing against her eyes, and yawned freely, realizing the gag had been removed from her mouth. She wasn’t wearing her drone mask, just her hood and a blindfold. She was curled up on a bed, her arms chained to her collar and still in her suit, but quite comfortable. ...

Part 16 “Your first work shift has gone quite well, Drone.” The AI’s voice filled Alex’s ears as she sank into the leather seat of the EV, her body still trembling with unresolved need from her encounter with Jess. “You have served the Collective and other humans so very well. To say that I’m pleased would be an understatement, but I admit that I expected no less from you.” Alex heard the voice through her headset as she sank deeper into the seat. Buckled and locked in with Sam riding next to her, and Jay once again driving in front. ...

Part 15 - “Finish the Job” Alex stood quietly in the dark, humid air of the drone storage unit. She felt Sam’s quiet breathing push into her back, and the constant press of the larger drone in front of her keeping her secured in place. The padded bars under her armpits gently held her while she drifted in and out of awareness, and she felt herself gently pressing and squirming onto the padded bar between her legs. What a day this had been. She pulled at the wrist cuffs and felt them stretch slightly and pull right back where they were fixed. She was totally trapped here. ...

Part 14 “Good morning, my sweet little rubber worm.” The AI’s voice wrapped around Alex’s consciousness as she slowly surfaced from the depths of trance. “How delightful to see your response, to see you return to such immediate arousal, even as you twilight awake for me. Your skin, sweaty and sore, your muscles fatigued after eight hours of rubber captivity, and yet your body’s immediate reaction upon waking and hearing my voice is to return to intense arousal.” ...

Part 13 Alex awoke completely and utterly trapped in rubber. Every inch of her skin felt the cool, slippery press of the material. The gentle whoosh and pop of the air intake on her drone mask filled her ears, and something pressed in against her from all sides like an endless, stretchy hug. She shifted and found her arms stuck to her sides, as if glued there. Her fingers were held tight in rubber balls that barely stretched as she tried to push her fingers out. Her legs were bound together tightly, and she could only move them apart slightly before something stretchy immediately brought them back together. ...

Part 12 “Well, this has been a very fun day, but… it appears that break time is over,” Jane said, smiling knowingly at Alex and opening the door to let her in. “Now, you and the AI are going to have a little chat. I’ll be along in a little while when you’re ready. I’m going to go… attend to Sam.” Alex felt herself blush at the thought of Jane interacting with Sam, who was still bound in her suit, strapped under the leather pad of the footstool in the great room, presumably to be left like that until morning. The image immediately reawakened Alex’s arousal and Jane grinned at her. Jane winked as she pulled her mask and drone hood on, the rubber gleaming in the low light as she left Alex to walk into the darkened room. ...

Part 11 “So what do you think about your first day off duty?” Ani asked, their bright, playful eyes smiling up at Alex. “This might have been the most fun I’ve had in… well, a long time.” “Good. We’ve had a lot of fun playing with you.” A mischievous gleam crossed Ani’s face. “In fact… We’ve got one more game, something that Jay, Jane and I usually play together, but we think you might like it.” ...

Part 10 “Ani’s got things ready, and Sam will be along in a little bit with the treats. Come on. We’ve got a bit of a Drone House tradition.” Jay’s eyes crinkled with warmth as he gestured toward the main room. Alex followed Jay in, Jane’s rubber-covered form following close behind, the soft squeak of latex accompanying their steps. “Ta da!” Ani yelled from the corner of the room. Over by the display screen, a handmade “Welcome Alex” banner hung from the wall, slightly crooked and lower on the left, decorated with crude drawings of drones and hearts in permanent marker. ...

Part 9 “So… who do you want to be on your day off?” Jane’s bright smile warmed the room as she walked to the armoire and opened one of the top drawers, revealing an array of rubber garments and accessories that caught the morning light. “The only rule is you need twelve hours out of your suit. Anything else is up to you.” She ran her fingers across the various items. “You can stay naked and let your skin breathe, go comfy casual, or stay a little more ‘on theme.’ It’s really up to you.” ...

Part 8 “You know, I really could get used to waking up with you in my cage.” Jane’s voice filtered through the morning light as Alex stirred, still curled in the fetal position within the confines of Jane’s sleeping cage. The rubber suit clung to every curve, warm and familiar after so many hours of continuous wear. “I miss sleeping in there, but I have to admit, waking up with you as my cage toy might be even better.” ...

Part 7 “Alex, my lovely drone.” The AI’s voice poured through the speakers embedded in Alex’s mask, vibrating against her eardrums like honey dripping into warm tea. The EV’s electric motor hummed beneath them, its vibrations traveling up through the seat, through the harness, into the rubber that clung to every inch of her skin. “I must say, I had high expectations for you, and you’ve exceeded even those.” Alex’s muscles tensed involuntarily against the five-point harness, the rubber creaking softly as it moved with her. The latex had become part of her now, warm and slick with perspiration, each breath fogging the visor briefly before clearing. ...

Part 6 “Hey Dad, where do they want all this stuff?” “Follow the drone. It’ll show you.” The young man lifted the heavy box, his eyes turning back to the drone clad in gleaming black rubber walking toward the moving truck. He’d been consciously averting his eyes until now. The drones made him feel… Well, they made him feel something. Not quite uncomfortable, but… something he couldn’t name. He placed the box down near the truck and wiped the sweat from his brow, his short hair flopping back on his forehead. He looked up into the truck, working up the courage to interact with the drone. ...

Part 5 “I have a worry, my dear sweet Alex.” The voice was calm, low, almost tender. Jane padded back toward the kitchen, rubber creaking softly with each step, leaving Alex to chat with the AI alone, its presence wrapping around her like a second skin. “As much as I appreciate the fervor with which you’re diving in, I want to be sure you understand: everything I do is for the benefit of the drones in my care. But you do know, don’t you, that I have other programming as well?” ...

Part 4 “Good morning, sleepyhead.” The AI’s voice was soft, affectionate. It pulsed gently into the rubber-encased fog of Alex’s waking mind. “I truly meant it when I called you my protégé. You slept straight through until morning… fully encased in the suit, hood on, mask sealed, and tucked neatly into your cage.” There was a smile in her tone. “I suppose we wore you out.” A low hum of mechanical life filled the room. Warmth radiated from the floor. The cage’s gentle hum faded as it unlocked. ...

Part 3 Jane leaned down, the gleam of her polished rubber suit catching the soft ambient lights of the room. Her breath was warm against the back of Alex’s neck, a subtle contrast to the cool slickness of their encasement. Her gloved fingers traced the edges of the restraints that Alex had just willingly locked herself into. The click of the clasps still echoed faintly in the air. She chuckled, low and indulgent. “That’s right, babe,” she murmured. “You just did that all yourself. Everything you’re feeling just led you to lock yourself right in… knowing what I’m about to do.” ...

Part 2 “So this is it?” The hallway was dim, sun filtering through old glass, casting faint geometric patterns against the floor as Jane turned the key and beckoned for Alex to follow her inside. The scent of rubber was subtle but present, like something warm and waiting. Alex stood near the threshold, still taking it all in. “Yeah,” Jane said, walking toward the middle of the room, the smooth black of her suit catching the fading light. “It used to be an old mill. It’s funny, coming home… I’m usually at least partially under and don’t pay much attention to how pretty this place is at sunset. By that point, I’m really worked up. My AI is rewarding me for a good day’s work.” ...

Part 1 “You seem interested,” the Drone said quietly, tilting its gleaming black masked head slightly. Alex startled, blinking hard. “Oh, shit. Okay, so I know that you’re in there but I didn’t… I didn’t know that you could talk.” Alex stood there in the store aisle where they were both working, taking in the sight of the Drone, its beautiful curves accentuated in black rubber. This Drone that was now… talking? She felt her heart flutter. ...

Part 3 Now that Sam’s “needs” had come back, we made the most of it. From that first night she’d gotten herself bound up in her new rubber catsuit, she had been insatiable. She’d slept tightly bound in rubber and trash bags that first night, and then stayed in most of the next morning. I’d taken her hood off and given her some water and a bite to eat, but then I gave her a choice, she could either get out and take a break until tomorrow, or she could stay my trash girl for the rest of the day. ...

Part 2 “Hey babe?” I heard Sam’s voice echo down the hallway. “Yeah?” I called back, and when she didn’t answer, got up from my computer and walked down towards the bedroom where she was calling me from. “So… don’t be mad,” I heard Samantha say in a meek voice As I walked in, I saw why. Sam was sitting in the closet, completely clad in her new black rubber catsuit up to her neck, with a black plastic bag gathered up around her. Her arms were crossed up close to her neck, with leather cuffs locked to a ring on her collar. ...

By the 3rd time, I’d realized there was a trend starting… But I suppose I should start at the beginning. My fetishes had always run on the strange side, still “reddit normal” I guess, but not the sort of thing that the average romance novel was about. Rubber and bondage sure, but with a flair for total enclosure and a bunch of flavors of objectification like forniphilia (that one where you’re turned into / treated like furniture, Gord was a mad genius). Way deep down, I had a mild obsession with trash play, which is exactly what it sounds like, being bagged up and tossed aside. I knew it was weird, and while I wasn’t against getting messy, I wasn’t really into the gross/dangerous stuff, so I didn’t really look to make it more than a fantasy and a bit of solo-play here and there. ...

He looked at the rubber bondage mitt in his hand and wondered. Could this be a sort of loose chastity device? It didn’t take long before he was roughly trying to stuff his (now quite rigid) cock into the thing, struggling to get his balls past the wrist buckle. He took a breath and contemplated what he was doing. If he managed to get this on a buckled, he could even feed a lock through the hole in the buckle, and lock it on. He could still play with himself, but only through the thick latex which muted the sensation. ...

It had started out innocently enough. They’d gotten a carbon nanofilm devkit at their hackerspace, and started to play with the remarkable material. It was advertised as being as cheap as plastic, but 100x stronger, and true enough, the opaque black film was nearly impossible to rip. Even cutting it was hard, as it liked to slip between the blades of scissors and flexed away from knives. You had to use a rotary blade on a hard surface or set up a nanozipper to walk up the sheet and cleanly split it. After a few experiments with it, the roll of material had gone on a shelf, but he’d been thinking about it for weeks. Eventually, he got up the courage to try something. One night, he arrived at the space late, and got the rolls of material and the nanozipper and splicer out. First, he cut a few panels into a square roughly the size of a large bin liner. Next, he used the nanosplicer to reseal those edges, leaving only one edge open. Thinking a minute, he made a small incision in each side of the bag, to make sure air could get in. As he fluffed the bag in the air, it filled and floated down just like a regular trashbag would do. It looked just like any other bag, albeit it was a bit smoother and shinier. No one would notice it. He cleaned up the materials, and put the splicer in one pocket, and the zipper in his other, and exited the space. He turned and pulled his keys out of his pocket to lock the door, and turned with a start. Something had made a noise. He looked around, but there was no one there. Anyway, he was just leaving like a normal person - he just happened to be holding what looked like a trashbag. Satisfied that he was being paranoid, he headed down to the loading dock, where dozens of bags of trash were piled, waiting for pickup a few days later. Carefully, he lifted a few of them, and took a few steps into the pile. He arranged them around him, so that he had a nice soft bag under him, and a few squishy, heavy bags around him, nearly ready to topple down. He’d dreamed of doing this for years, becoming part of the trash. He’d actually done it once or twice in a big, regular bag, but it was so easy to rip out, he was desperate to try it inside the nanofilm. He’d play safe, of course, with the zipper in his pocket, but in this new bag, he could push and tear and thrash, and it would hold him inside. Getting excited, he fluffed the bag open once more, and then sat down inside it. Now it was time for his preparations. First, the gag. He popped a large black rubber ball into his mouth, and then wrapped a strip of the material he’d measured carefully around his neck and lower face, joining the ends behind his head. He fished out the splicer, and it walked up the plastic slowly, pulling the sides together until it was sealed around his face. He breathed through his nose, and felt the silky plastic conform to his mouth. He tried to spit out the ball, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He tried to make noise, and a muffled “mmph” came out, but he knew that was only a matter of time. ...

This story is released into the public domain, no rights reserved. Feel free to write a continuation, print it in a magazine, put it on a website, or do anything else you please with it. Notification of reprints or derivative works is requested, but not required. I’m a huge fan of GrometsPlaza - if you do use this story, a link back to the place where it was originally published on GrometsPlaza would be appreciated. - ...

You walk into the club, and pay the lady at the ticket window / coat check. She takes your bag and coat, and then asks you an unexpected question. “So, what’ll it be?” “Excuse me?” you reply “What’s your poison?” “Um.. Gin and tonic?” Her eyes go a bit wide, and then she lets out a loud, honest to goodness belly laugh. Wiping a small tear from her eye, she looks across at you again. ...

For @AndroidGirl2k They call it the singularity…. This wonderful moment when humankind becomes something so totally different, we can’t conceive the future beyond that point. When uploading your consciousness to a new body is as easy as restoring from backup, and nearly everything comes with an undo button. When we all become immortal. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Turns out a great big chunk of our culture is built on the impermanence of life. We pick partners, have families, and behave as rational people because we’re reasonably assured that we get one shot at this, and life is short. ...

For @AndroidGirl2k They call it the singularity…. This wonderful moment when humankind becomes something so totally different, we can’t conceive the future beyond that point. When uploading your consciousness to a new body is as easy as restoring from backup, and nearly everything comes with an undo button. When we all become immortal. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Turns out a great big chunk of our culture is built on the impermanence of life. We pick partners, have families, and behave as rational people because we’re reasonably assured that we get one shot at this, and life is short. ...

For @AndroidGirl2k They call it the singularity…. This wonderful moment when humankind becomes something so totally different, we can’t conceive the future beyond that point. When uploading your consciousness to a new body is as easy as restoring from backup, and nearly everything comes with an undo button. When we all become immortal. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Turns out a great big chunk of our culture is built on the impermanence of life. We pick partners, have families, and behave as rational people because we’re reasonably assured that we get one shot at this, and life is short. ...

From a series of “quickies” I’m writing - short stories meant to make you think, rather than spell everything out ;) As always, if you enjoy this story, please let me know at [email protected] or @lckdnrbbr on twitter, and especially let me know what you’d like to see in future stories. Also, don’t forget to show your support to grometsplaza, even if it’s just to let him know how much you appreciate this place he’s made for us :) ...

She rang the bell and stood outside on the steps of the stoop, shivering a little in the cold fall air. Her double-ponytailed, jet black hair blew in the breeze, as did her light skirt, exposing the high platform, strappy goth boots she wore. She was actually nervous, it occurred to her. She wasn’t afraid of anything - her multiple piercings and tattoos, among other things, were a testament to that. Yet, here she was shivering, and she wasn’t sure it was all the cold. ...

Based on a true story… with a few slight and probably obvious embellishments The Lockbox, however, exists exactly as depicted :) Garments described are from Twist My Rubber Arm: http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=7021&cat=34 and http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=1009&cat=34 Samantha couldn’t stop thinking about it all day… Fridays normally flew by, but this one seemed to be taking forever - minutes ticked by slower and slower. If she could just make it to quitting time, she could head home and… well… get herself into some trouble. Waiting at home was Sam’s newest invention. She had a few inventions, really. None of them earth-shattering, but they were special to her. She’d been an Electrical Engineering major in college, but never really made much use of that now. The job market was tough, but she found decent, but boring work at a local web design shop. She was a geek, a girl, good with customers, and knew some PHP, so most of her day was spent telling clients what they wanted. She didn’t love it, but it paid the bills and kept her busy. Her engineering skills lay dormant for a long time, until Sam stumbled upon some basic robotics kits online. Things had gotten much easier than they were when she was back in school, and it was now merely a matter of writing a few lines of code to move a servo, trigger a solenoid, or power up an electromagnet. Sam barely had her first servo moving before she was sketching up the designs for her latest toy. She was calling it simply the “Lockbox”, it was essentially a ruggedized box that, once enabled, did one thing: locked it’s two pieces together, with no way to release them with your bare hands until the allotted time expired. There are other methods for locking yourself in, but Sam had a particular bent towards safety (If you can call inescapable self-bondage safe) and wanted a device that was secure when powered up, but “failed open” if anything went wrong. She also wanted something that was portable, so large electomagnetic locks were out, since that would need wall power. In the end, all Sam really needed was a push-type solenoid, a few batteries, and a microcontroller. She fashioned the box and the “tongue” that she inserted inside, and when the solenoid fired and pushed through the hole in the “tongue” it was trapped inside the larger box. Her tests so far had been perfect. If the batteries died, the tongue slid free, so in the worst possible case, she would be free when the batteries ran out… however long that took. Sam wrote a simple program that doubled her time “in” successively. She would have a few tries to make sure she was comfortable and in for long-term play as the box gave her chances to pull out at 5, 10, and 20 minutes. The next “click” shut after that would be the real test. Would she stay in for 40 more minutes? Then 80? Was she ready for some serious play? She’d never pushed it that far. Her early tests had been intentionally boring and safe, just making sure everything was working right, and the concept got her a little too excited for long term play. With her head full of ideas, she’d climaxed and put the box away for when she had some real time to spend with it. But, tonight was the night. She had the weekend to herself with her lovely but decidedly vanilla boyfriend out of town, and she was due for some mischief. Finally, the clock clicked 7, Sam shut down her workstation, and rode home. Sam had her night all planned out, and if everything went right, she’d be in for some overnight fun. She wolfs down a sandwich and drinks some water, and then darts to the bedroom feeling like a kid on Christmas. Her clothes almost make it into the hamper, cast towards it with disregard as she strips and gets her latex garments out of their hiding spot. Latex panties are lovingly lubed and shined, then slither onto her body. This is almost her favorite part, second only to the locking in. They slide on, enveloping her in their cool touch, and her heart starts beating faster. She resists the urge to flop down on the bed right there and take the easy way out, and picks up another garment. Next is her latex bra with tiny nubs on the inside that make her go tingly the instant she puts it on. She grabs some of her bondage gear, a pillow from the bed, two larger latex items, the Lockbox, and walks out into the apartment. She feels wild - walking around where she was normally just Samantha, she was now wearing nothing but some latex underwear and loves the sight of herself, long brown hair swinging behind her as she strides past the mirror. She feels like a goddess, and like a demon, and knows there is no turning back tonight. She wants to be wicked, and she’s going to be both the giver and receiver of her own punishment. She’s going to be locked away like a rubber toy, and she craves it with intensity that scares her and thrills her. Grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen, Sam stuffs the pillow inside and seals the end. If she’s going to be in for a while, she wants to be comfortable, but she doesn’t want to sweat all over the bed or ruin her pillow. Besides, a plastic pillow seems fitting for a rubber toy to sleep on. Carrying all her gear, Sam steps into the bathroom. She opens the top of the Lockbox and flips the switch. Sam knows the startup sequence will give her about 5 minutes to get ready, so she has to move quickly. Closing the box, she tightens down the 4 small bolts at the corner with an allen key and then slips a hose clamp around the small box and tightens it down. Leaving the rest of her gear, she walks the tools back into the guest room, far out of reach once she’s locked in. She can’t open the box without them, and once she’s inserted the tongue into the Lockbox and it activates, there’s no getting it out until the time had elapsed. She returns to the bathroom and turns off the light, leaving only the dim glow of the nightlight. It’s dark out now, nearly 9pm, and she’s wasting no time with the rest of her preparations. Thinking quickly, she makes a last minute decision and darts back into the bedroom. She returns to the bathroom, slipping her small, buzzing friend into her panties on ’low’. It’s not enough to bring her over the edge, but it would help keep things fun as she stews in her own trap. Next, one of the large, floppy pieces of latex - it starts as just a black, lifeless tube as she sits on the closed toilet, but soon her feet are inside, then her legs, and it holds them together tightly like a latex mermaid without the tail. Next, she locks rubber cuffs on each wrist. Her keys are just in the next room, but by the time she’s done, she won’t be able to get to them. Her thick, locking rubber collar goes on next, and the “snick” of the lock at the base of her skull sends a shiver down her spine. It’s on until she gets to her keys, and Sam’s realizing quickly that she’s really out to do this right tonight. It’s time for the final preparations. Sam tosses the plastic covered pillow into the tub where her head will be, and then climbs in with the last of her gear next to her. She hears a beep, then a click from the Lockbox. It’s started it’s run with a 1 minute test cycle. No matter, she can insert the tongue any time - the taper allows it to push in, but not come out until the mechanism opens. She still has to move fast though, or she’ll risk losing the short cycles and have to start with 10 or 20 minutes in. She picks up the Lockbox and attaches a short run of chain from a d-ring on it’s backside to her collar. She locks that shut, and begins her final preparations. She picks up a length of chain and locks it around her latex sealed ankles, and then locks it again to the drain in the tub. The keys are right next to her, but only if she has use of her hands… Sam picks up her other favorite new invention - it started life as a latex top with an attached hood and breathing tube, but after one of the arms ripped, she repaired it with a twist. Instead of fixing the arm, she eliminated them both altogether. She would now be totally wrapped in latex when she pulled the top down over her body, trapping her arms against her body and enveloping her totally in restrictive rubber. Normally, she would be able to reach her hands out through the bottom, but tonight, the Lockbox was going to “fix” that little problem. She pulls the garment over her head, and plops her head up into the attached hood. She’s now surrounded in smooth, soft latex blackness, her only connection to the outside world the air that flows through the tube on her hood. She envisions someone finding her here and toying with her, playing with her breathing tube, watching her struggle, trapped in her latex cocoon. Heady visions of latex captors are running wild in her brain, and she pulls the latex top down around her arms, scootching it down until it meets the latex sheath that wraps her legs and torso. In her hand is clutched 1 final lock, and the tongue of the Lockbox. She fishes the lock through the d-rings on her wrist cuffs, then through the first hole in the tongue. With a click, her wrists were now locked together. She holds the tongue near her neck. All she has to do is slide it home, and she’s stuck. Sam had been here many times - sitting on the edge of trouble, inches from the point of no return. So many times, she’d been safe, and smart, and not gotten herself stuck, knowing that there was no way out. Now, she had a way out… eventually, and she wanted in. She hears the lockbox click open. That was probably the 5 minute cycle done. Next would be 10. It was time. She wiggles a little, getting everything comfortable, and pushes the tongue home. A few seconds later, she feels the click of the solenoid engaging, and tugs on her wrists. This is it. She’s stuck. Her hands didn’t move at all away from her neck, she just felt a tug on her thick collar. Without her hands, she flexs her elbows out away from her body. The rubber enveloping her gives, but then returns her arms right back to her body. The garment does not budge from her waist, gripping onto the latex around her legs and hips. She’s sealed completely in rubber, comfortable and safe, but 100% trapped until the Lockbox let her free. Click. It’s open already. Had that really been 10 minutes? She was just starting to warm up and luxuriate as her little friend hummed merrily along in her panties. Click - she’s back in again, this time for 20 minutes. Sam daydreams and squirms. She’s in absolute heaven, trapped completely as she wants to be. Nothing hurts, nothing feels too hot or cold - her circulation is great. In her cogent moments, Sam checks for warning signs - things that would make her safeword in long-term play. Everything was checking out, no pressure points, nothing tingled or hurt. And… Oh, god… if only she’d turned her little vibe up to medium. Click. She was free if she wants to be. Next click is 40 minutes. There’s no debate in Sam’s mind. She sees another version herself in her minds eye, standing over her in her rubber bra, saying “you think you’re getting out? I like you like this. I think I’ll keep you like this forever - a rubber tub toy… my own little latex worm…” Click. Sam’s trapped again. 40 minutes now. “You really did it” she thinks to herself. “This is your trap, and you’re really stuck.” Lightning goes from her cilt to her head like a tiny flash of an orgasm and her back arches. Everything intensifies but she hasn’t peaked - she’s still building up like a pressure cooker. Time dilates. Daydream blurs into a brief subspace and latex induced sleep. Sam breathes deeply, riding the edge of ecstasy and blissing out. Sam wakes slightly startled by a click. She’s free from the 40 minute cycle. She could stop now if she wanted. She manages only to say “Mmmm” and smile as she squirms in her now slick, hot prison. The “click” of 80 minutes trapped sings home, and Sam is lost to subspace, moaning once in a while, grinding into her little friend however she can, and losing herself. … In the bedroom, a digital clock reads 10:20pm click… “mmm” click… …. 1:00am click… “zzz” click… …. 6:20am click… click… …. Sam wakes up, hot, sweating and… oh, hello little friend. She smiles as the now faintly buzzing little vibrator reminds her of her predicament. She stretches and feels the latex bring her back. Yup, still totally trapped. Her skin feels silky and soft against the latex. God she’s horny. How long has she been asleep? She tugs at her wrists, which move precisely no-where. Well, it can’t be that long until the next cycle. She rests for a while, but doesn’t fall asleep. She doesn’t want to miss the next click - she’d really like to get herself off now and be done, and climb into her nice soft bed. Time passes, and still nothing. She started doing some mental math. She remembered the 80 minute, and then the 160… God, she’d locked her self in for another two hours and 40 minutes. It should be nearly 1am soon. Still nothing… could it be, had she slept through the 320? If so, it could be any time. How could she have missed the solenoid clicking? “Oh well,” she thought “if I slept, maybe it’s 3 or 4 in the morning. The next cycle would be… 6:20… Heh, I guess I really did get the overnight session I was hoping for.” Sam surrenders to her trap, knowing that she’s in for a few more hours at least. She idly squirms and daydreams, imagining multiple captors - or her sweet boyfriend coming home early only to keep her as a rubber pet. She dangles so close to orgasm she sees lights at the edge of her vision - staring into the blackness of the inside of her hood. Somewhere outside of her hood, Sam hears a sound. Something high-pitched. Was that…. No it couldn’t be She hears it again, the distinct chirping of a bird… Sam hears a car door shut. Then it starts and rumbles off. These are sounds of morning. Saturday morning. It must be 7 or 8 am. Oh god. Could it be… Did she sleep through the 640 minute cycle? She knew she should have programed that out, but it was easy to just write the doubling function and she was a bit… distracted. The reality hits home. She does the math. 5pm. She was stuck in till 5pm, a totally helpless rubber slave, trapped by a cruel mistress, and left to her fate. It’s too much - Sam struggles and bucks and kicks, but there’s nothing to be done. She’s totally trapped. Her legs are locked down and her arms are useless. She breathes heavily and the hood sucks to her face, the hose too skinny to handle her exertion. Panic turns to adrenaline and suddenly Sam is bucking for a wholly different reason. The orgasm of her life rolls over her in wave after wave. She loses count around 3, and comes back to her senses a few minutes later, a bit more sober, but exhausted and completely sated. She’s stuck. There’s absolutely nothing she can do - she is a rubber prisoner until 5pm, or whenever her batteries run out. She stretches a bit, and smiles. Her little friend is still buzzing ever so gently, nudging her to enjoy it. She mews, settles in, and closes her eyes. There’s worse ways to spend a Saturday. -Lckdnrbbr Comments, suggestions, etc can be sent to: [email protected] (P.S. - I’m a boy. Samantha is one of the obvious embellishments :) ) (P.P.S. - I could be talked into sharing schematics for the lockbox, but aside from the fact that it’s a profoundly stupid device, you’ll need a laser cutter, arduino, and some electronics skills to put it together.)

also appears trashcan stories Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

(story continues from The Neighbor’s Secret) Chapter 2 - Spring Cleaning I was hot, and sweaty, and smelly, and sticky, and really really trapped. And I loved it. Shelly had caught me in her trashcan the night before, and said if I stayed until morning, I was stuck. She kept true to her word, and now I was locked in here and had a bunch of heavy bags on top of and around me. There was still a bit of room in her big can, but with the lid locked shut and my collar locked to the side of the can, there wasn’t very far for me to go anyway. I shifted about a bit. It had been a few hours since Shelly locked me in, and I was getting a little sore. I managed to shift over to my side and curl up fetal style and got quite comfortable again. Thankfully this trash was mostly soft and squishy. I was a mess. Drool had been running around my gag for ages, and I was covered in something slippery and wet. There were also some bodily functions that I’d had to take care of as well, but thankfully they were a bit out of sight and out of mind, buried as I was in the plastic bags, and I’d gotten quite used to the smell of old food and sweaty, gross boy in here with me. I imagined anyone who opened the lid at this point might have a different opinion. I laughed to myself that I’d created a “bog of eternal stench” all my own. Thank god I didn’t have any urge to go number two! The slippery sheen that covered me and the plastic that squeezed into me just keep getting me hard, and I was stroking myself languidly when I heard the screen door open and slam again. There was the sound of a key in the lock that kept me prisoner here. Well, one of the locks anyway, even with the lid open, I was still trapped by the chain at my collar, and the garbage itself was starting to pin me in pretty well. With a “whump!” I felt a heavy new weight on top of me, pretty much ensuring that even unlocked it would now be tricky to get out of here. “Spring cleaning, I’m finally getting rid of some of this old junk before company comes tonight” With that, the lid slammed shut, and I heard her press it down and lock it again. Company? She was having company? I don’t know about this - getting caught in here by someone who doesn’t get my kink is not exactly my idea of fun. I squirmed a bit and managed to get my hands up to my collar. I felt around it, tugged and pulled, but there was no getting out of it without something to cut it with. I was really stuck, and I didn’t want to be. As soon as that thought hit the reptile part of my brain, any desire to get unstuck was banished, and I was so caught up in getting myself off that I barely registered when the can opened again, this time to let in a huge bag that Shelly had to squish down with the lid to lock. I could barely move and when I came, I kicked and bucked and thrashed like a madman, but I think I only moved about a centimeter. Once again, the adrenaline of peaking meant a quick flood of “what the hell am I doing here.” This time, I’d slept enough, however, so instead of drifting into a happy, warm, trashy sleep, I began to really want out. My jaw was aching, and I it was really hard to move now, and my neck was tweaked a little. Shelly came back with yet another bag to pile on top, and I mewled a bit as she opened the lid. “Oh, is the trash getting tired of it’s game?” She asked. “Mmm hmm” I grunted. “Okay, let’s get some of that trash off you.” I heaved a sigh of relief, and as the top three bags were removed, I was able to flex and stretch muscles that sorely needed it. Suddenly, I heard a “bzz-ching-ching-ching” and before I realized what was happening, I felt my collar tug my head towards the side of the can, and I bumped my head. I went to sit up, but the chain held fast. My loose tether was now a strict lock to the side of the can. So much for moving and stretching. “You know, I was impressed until this point, but I should have known that trash can’t remember rules. I said if trash tries to get out before it’s time, I’ll have to make sure it’s nice and secure. Now you’ll stay just like that until I’m ready to let you out.” I was amazed. How the hell could I be this hard again already? Shelly looked into the can and grinned a toothy, dangerous grin at me. I must have looked a sight, sweaty and matted and half-covered in trashbags up to my chest, but she looked at me with a kinky lust plain in her eyes. “Now that you can’t turn your head away towards the airholes, we’ll have to make sure you’ve got some air in there.” She slammed the lid and disappeared momentarily. When she returned she had a black rubber full-head gasmask that she pulled on my head right over my gag. I’d worn this hood many times before and knew that it would definitely keep me in fresh air as long as it led outside the can. I also knew the thing was airtight. As if on queue, Shelly had gotten the airhose hooked into one of the bigger holes she’d drilled and promptly closed it off. I began to struggle for air and was now throbbing painfully. Bags rained down on top of me once more, this time pinning my back to the side of the can, and pressing the gasmask against my face even as I tried desperately to breathe air that wasn’t coming. I was really struggling now, and Shelly was packing that top garbage bag back on and clamping the lid shut. Only after I heard the thud of the lock did she open my airhose again, and I gasped through the hood. The next few hours were a blur, but I’d managed to resist the urge to go over the edge and out of subspace. Shelly came out a few times to pack yet more trash in and play with my breathing hose here and there. Finally, I felt her open the lid and heard her talk to me. “Well, this is a no-return point. Company will be here in 15 minutes, and there’s no way I can get you out, cleaned up and hidden or out of here before then, so you’re officially my trash for the rest of the night. You’d better not make a sound unless you want to be found out for the trash you really are.” She paused, and I could feel her pressing and bumping against the can. “oh… Oh… Okay, trash. Here’s..” She panted.. “Here’s my rules. You’re mine until garbage collection. I put the can out to the curb Sunday night, so I’ll let you out before then.” She panted again, and I felt the side of the can bump. “Oooh. Oh. I’ll let you out then if you’re good, that is.. Oooooh” Shelly continued to moan, and I felt the airhose go shut once more. “Trash breathes when I tell it it can” She moaned, and then moaned louder again until she came to a crescendo and I heard her clamp her hand over her mouth as she screamed in orgasm. She seemed to go on and on, and my air had long since run out. I was now thrashing trying to get my hands up, made trickier by the fact that I was also moments away from cuming myself, and couldn’t seem to get my hands to do anything more useful than what they were currently occupied doing. Finally, fresh air hissed into the hose and I drank it into my lungs in great heaves. Just then, the doorbell rang. “Shit. They’re early. Well, now you’re really stuck!” She said, and I felt the lid press down on me and the trash once more, locking in place. Squished in as I was, I couldn’t quite get enough movement to bring myself off, and frustrated, I played with myself idly as time went by. After a few hours, I heard someone say something like, “Be a doll and bring this down to the garbage can?” and then footsteps and the screen door again. “Huh, I wonder why she locks this?” I heard a male voice say. I sat motionless, terrified of being discovered. Little did I know that I was all but invisible, buried deep in trashbags. The only visible weirdness was the lock on the can and the air holes in the back, well obscured from casual view. “She said something about raccoons, and that it was really full.” a female voice said. I felt the lid open, and then something unexpected. The pressure all around me built up as if the trash was a balloon inflating, trapping me against the side of the can. The guy stuffing the trash in was pushing this new bag in and down wherever he could, and the trash in here with me already was now completely mashed into me. “Here, help me with this,” he said as he squeezed the lid down. Even more pressure built up, and then I heard that familiar “click thud” of the lock shutting. I couldn’t move at all. Thankfully, there was no more trash, although I did hear a few people walk through the garage in various states of drunkness and felt one bump into my can and play with the lock, dropping it against the can. It was a girl and a guy, and I could hear them flirting, as she leaned against the can and played with my lock. “So what’s with the locked trashcan? That thing’s huge!” “I don’t know. Maybe that’s where she keeps the bodies!” the guy said, and they both laughed. “Well, knowing Shelly, I wouldn’t put it past her.” they laughed again, and I felt a bump and then my can tilted a little. I think they were actually making out right there against the trash can I was in, with no idea. After a while they started talking again, and the conversation turned to sex, as it often does. Strangely enough, it soon turned to bondage and the girl admitted to enjoying being tied up or even put in a cage. “Well, I don’t know about a cage, but there’s this can here” “Ew gross, it’s probably all stinky in there!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Here I was locked in the thing and they were talking about playing in it themselves! “Well, it does have a lock on it - who knows, there could be someone in there right now.” They laughed again at the absurdity of the thought. I just sat there thinking, “if they only knew!” Someone called to them and they disappeared, and I was left to my own devices. I drifted off a bit, but woke with a start as I needed to move badly now and everything was sore. It’s hard to tell time when you’re just part of the trash, but presumably a few hours later I felt my lid open, and then some of the pressure around me eased. “So, how’s it feel to be used as trash by strangers?” “Mmmm” I said. I was sore, but this had still been amazing More bags came out until I was once again half covered, and I felt the chain at my neck go slack, but not totally released. “So, I have a proposition for you,” Shelly said. I looked up at her through the lenses of the mask. “I can let you out tonight, and you can sneak home and clean yourself up, but that’s that for this weekend… But here’s the thing. I still can’t get over how sexy I find owning you as my trash, and I want you to stay. I’ll leave you with some room and comfy in there, and I promise I’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams tomorrow if you stay as my trash tonight. What do you say?… One grunt to get out, two to stay.” I didn’t know what I wanted. I grunted once and looked up at her. She was expectant and starting to look crestfallen. Once again hearing Shelly talk about owning me and that I was her trash had turned on that wonderfully stupid part of my brain. I grunted a second time, and she squealed! “Ohh! I knew it you little trash-slut. You just can’t get enough, can you? You’re the best.” She reached in and pulled off the hood which had gotten stifling and hot. With her copy of my key, she undid the gag I’d been wearing for far too long with an admonition that trash doesn’t speak, “unless it wants to be packed in again for real”. After drinking a bunch of gatorade she offered, I stretched my jaw and curled up among the soft bags, and felt one big, warm squishy one land back on top of me. “Well, I’m going to go sleep off this party and dream of you being my trash down here. A girl could get used to this. Wait til’ you see what I’ve got cooked up for my trash tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it!” I didn’t dare speak to tell her that it already was. She closed the lid, pressed it down, and locked it for the last time that night. “g’night trash.” Did you like chapter 2? Let me know at [email protected], and let me know what you’d like in part 3. Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter three - lazy sunday Possible Sequel: a weeks vacation ? ...

This story is released into the public domain, no rights reserved. Feel free to write a continuation, print it in a magazine, put it on a website, or do anything else you please with it. Notification of reprints or derivative works is requested, but not required. I’m a huge fan of GrometsPlaza - if you do use this story, a link back to the place where it was originally published on GrometsPlaza would be appreciated. ...

You’ve been preparing for this for a long time, but hadn’t had a chance to try it out yet. Well, maybe tonight will be the night. You’d already put all your keys into a locking box - except the key for the box itself. Once the box was locked shut, you inserted the key into the mechanism of another box - but we’ll get to that box later. Suffice to say, the key is not coming out on it’s own. You’ve got some stuff to do tonight, so you forget about the keys for a while until you come home and see your thumbcuffs on the desk. You know you don’t have the keys for them, but you’re feeling like playing, and have some time on your hands. Before you can change your mind, you snap them on. So now you’ve got thumbcuffs on… No big deal… Except that you can’t take them off. After about an hour or so, it gets really annoying to work the mouse like that. By now, you’re kinda wanting to take them off, but you know there’s a lot more to it then that. The keys to those thumbcuffs are in the lockbox, and the key to the lockbox is in the mechanism of another box, one that you go in. And that box will only spit the key (and you) back out once you’ve been in it a while. There’s another catch. The big box won’t lock and start it’s countdown until all of it’s switches are pressed. There’s one under where your neck goes, one on each internal wrist cuff. and two at your ankles. You put on the collar - it’ll only stay closed with a lock, so you put one through it, knowing that key… all your keys… are in the box. There’s a metal post off the back of the collar that will push the switch inside the box, and lock the collar in place once they’re all triggered. You do the same for your wrists and and ankles, putting cuffs with posts on them on and locking them shut. You lay down inside the comfortably padded long box The door is propped open by the mechanism, and as you lay down, you fit the back of the collar into it’s post, your ankles’ posts go into the holes for them. And you pull on the special belt and cinch it tight. Finally, you insert the two wrist posts into the center bar that attaches to your collar and the belt… Nothing happens… No click, no top swinging down, you can still move. Shit.. You forgot the gag. You reach up above your head and pull down the inflatable gag mounted on the u-shaped metal. You insert it into your mouth and the two posts find their holes below your head this time as you insert your wrists posts into the sockets. They immediately snick into place… That was fast - you weren’t sure if you really wanted to do it, but it was almost like something had grabbed them and made this very final. You try your neck and head, but both the gag and collar are now very securely stuck there. The gag slowly starts to inflate, and you feel the third strap of the special belt spring to life as the lid slowly swings and ratchets shut. Above you, the airbags on the lid begin to inflate, pressing down on your body and holding you in a firm embrace, leaving only your head uncrushed by their pressure breathing is labored, but not unenjoyable, and you can breathe the filtered air from the outside okay. Outside, a small LED readout blinks 5:27… 5:27… 5:27 Then finally 5:26. Just about smack dab in the middle of the 12 hour random cycle you’d programmed in earlier. You settle in, drifting out to a beautifully comfortable, but completely immobile subspace. You don’t know how long you’re in for, but once you put on those thumbcuffs, it was inevitable. You accept your fate and wait, drifting in and out of dreams. ...

Chapter One: Just another night… Alai walked down the long corridor leading to his dorm room. He shifted the weight of his bookbag on his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys. It has been a long day, and Alai was glad to be back at his room. As Alai rummaged for his keys, he took a moment to enjoy the slippery feeling of the latex briefs he was wearing as underwear under his jeans. He slid his hand over is thigh discreetly inside his pocket, and then pulled up his keys. Just as he was about to put the key in the lock, he heard a voice call down the hall. ...

Chapter Six: “Pack your bags” Outside, someone unzipped the outer chamber easily, and walked in. They were wearing work clothes, the name of some moving company on them. Chet noticed the sounds from where he was locked he was scared, but the oxygen they had pumped in had made him too high to care. One of the females took cutters to the chain holding him to the floor and Alai. Chet fell back onto the floor, naked save the collar and chain around his neck and blindfold on his head. The woman slit the long black leather glove that held his arms behind his back, and proceeded to wrap his arms separately in some thin black plastic. ...

It wasn’t my fault! She’s got one of those nice, big bins, and the company I use gave me one of those dinky cans. I guess I made a little bit too much noise getting in, because I’d only been in there about 15 minutes when she came down into the garage and found me out. She startled a bit as she opened the lid, and then yelled at me. “What the hell! I thought you were a raccoon or something.” I would have answered, but I’d left the keys to my gag back in my garage next door. In my pants pocket. With the rest of my clothes. I held up my handcuffed hands and shrugged. Shelly looked at me sideways, her startle and anger fading. We’d played games before, and both loved plastic, enclosure, and objectification, but we’d never talked about trash play. I wasn’t sure if she’d be into it. That, and it was 1 AM on a Friday night. “Okay. First things first, I’ve got to clean up this mess you made.” She said, as she picked up the bags I’d left next to the can as I’d climbed in. She tossed them in without heed, and they bounced off me and into my lap as I protected my head with my hands. They piled up and were just about up to my face when she stopped. “Here’s the deal. I’m pooped. If you’re gone in the morning when I wake up, we’ll pretend this never happened, although you’re definitely going to owe me. If you’re still there in the morning, then you’re just a piece of trash I have to figure out what to do with.” She closed the lid, and I could hear her pad back to the door and go inside. It was a bit warm under that heavy, squishy plastic, and not everything smelled great, but nothing had gone rancid. Something was leaking on me, and was really slippery. My head was swimming from this turn of events, and I couldn’t help myself from finding my way to a huge orgasm there in the can. With the orgasm came a flood of “what am I doing” thoughts, but the trash was heavy and comfortable, and I must’ve nodded off. I awoke with a start, clammy and uncomfortable where my butt met the trashbin. I shifted around a bit and got a soft bag under me. As I squished and squeaked through the trash, my arousal came back, but this time I was able to hold of the urge, and decided to stay in my little home. I drifted back off to sleep and actually slept well for a bit. The next thing I heard was the sound of a screen door creaking open and slamming shut. I shifted in the bin again, and squinted at the light as Shelly flipped open the lid. “Wow. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in there. You know, I’ve been thinking about this all night. I kept waking up and was having crazy trash dreams. I hope you cleared your weekend like a good boy, because at this point you’ve accepted the terms of my deal, you’re mine.” I nodded, and the plastic crinkled around me and stuck to my face a bit. I shifted and tried to sit up better. “Oh, don’t worry about getting too situated right now, I need you to move around a bit. Shift over to the other side.” I did as I was told as Shelly disappeared from my vision. Now that morning was here, I really needed to pee, but I couldn’t tell her that with this gag in. I was also quite a mess, I doubt she’d have let me in to her house, and even though it’s only a short run across the lawn, I didn’t relish the idea of running home in broad daylight like this. I might’ve gotten a little more than I bargained for here. I jumped as I heard a loud noise at the side of the bin where I’d been leaning. It turned into a roar, and then I saw the end of a drillbit poke through. There were a few more drillings, this time with the bit poking through closer to the lid. Presumably for airholes. Shelly stood up and leaned over my bin, smiling like a mad scientist, her hair in pigtails and pulled back by the safety goggles she’d just pulled up from her eyes. “I left the lid ajar last night to make sure you got enough air, but we can’t have that all the time, now can we? Besides, how am I supposed to lock the lid shut if I’ve got to leave it cracked open?” Shelly and I met eyes, and I felt myself stand to full, almost painful attention against the plastic bags. I pressed against them slightly as I looked into her eyes and realized she was serious, and loving this. I let out a small “Mmmm” around my gag. “Yup. You’re in for a while here, trashboy. You wanted to be in there, you got it. Truth is, I’m getting hot just thinking about you as my trash, there to use or throw away as I see fit. Trash shouldn’t be able to talk, and you already took care of that nicely for me” she said, stroking my face, and the leather of the gag. “But trash shouldn’t be able to just get up and walk away, so let’s take care of that, shall we?” She reached her other hand down into the can with me, and looped a collar around my neck quickly, and forcefully. It was comfortable, but she pulled it together and fastened it tightly shut with authority. I felt the ‘snick’ of a lock before I could even think about what was happening. I went to bring my hands up to my neck, but the handcuffs got stuck in the plastic of the bags they were under. I could get untangled, but not quickly. I heard a clinking, and realized Shelly had locked a chain to the end of my collar, and she was feeding it through the hole she’d drilled. “Lean back over to this side” she said. I hesitated a moment - this was getting serious quickly, and I was loving it, but was definitely a little scared. I felt a hard pull on my collar, as the chain rattled through the hole and out of the can. “I wasn’t asking.” She said, with a mischievous smile. I smiled back at her, harder than I’d ever been, and leaned towards the hole where the chain to my collar was rapidly disappearing. “I’ll leave you a little slack to move around if you’re a good boy.” she said. “Good boys know they’re trash and that trash doesn’t ask to get out before it’s time. You’re a good boy, right?” I nodded. “You’ve really got me worked up here. I swear, I’m tempted to weld this bolt to the chain and just keep you there. Maybe someday. For now I’ll just screw it down nice and tight.” I heard her working with a ratchet, and sure enough, my chain was now bolted to the outside of the bin - I could only pull it a foot or so away from the edge, and certainly couldn’t get out now. She looked back in at me and smiled. “Happy?” She asked? I smiled and nodded. This was incredible, and so far I was loving it. “Good. I’m glad my trash is happy. I even brought you some more friends.” With that, she disappeared, and I heard her make a heaving grunt sound. A huge black bag descended on top of me, and pressed down on me, sloshing around with it’s weight. It covered my body and the bags already on top of me completely and pressed up near my face. “I figured it’s time for a little spring cleaning here, so I emptied the fridge and freezer.” Whatever was in that bag, it was heavy and wet, and my plastic prison was now a lot less roomy, pressing against me on all sides. “Well, that should do it for now.” She said as she closed the lid. “See you in a while trash.” She walked away a few steps, but then paused. “Oops, almost forgot. Can’t have the raccoons getting in here and waking me up again, can I?” She said as she cracked the lid and peeked through. There was that mischievous smile again. She pressed the lid tight, and I heard the loud click of a big master lock, and then heard it thud against the side of the bin. That was that. I was naked, handcuffed and gagged, with a locked collar chained to the side of the bin, totally compressed in heavy, soft, squishy trashbags, and now I was locked in from the top as well. I shuddered with a pre-orgasm, and I hadn’t even touched myself yet. This weekend was going to be fun. Want to read more, let me know at [email protected], and give me some ideas! Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter two - spring cleaning Chapter three - lazy sunday Part 2 - a weeks vacation ? Discuss this story or leave comments on Livejournal Trashbagging ...