I entered his home and was immediately struck by the vast array of photos and paintings covering every wall surface. It was stunning in its effect and I hoped to be able to wander and look at each artwork and photo to understand the soul of this man I had met on the internet just a few months ago. He saw me looking around, wide eyed and he smiled.

"I like to collect art" he said simply and I nervously nod, not sure where to take this conversation as we both knew I was here for sex; the sex we had written about, the sex that had become a constant day dream for me. He seemed to sense my buttons early and I found myself drawn to his words. His words caressed my mind and opened my legs, allowing my nectar to flow. Just his words. Magic words that spoke of my submittal, my pleasure, my skin worked skillfully under his guise. My husband had enjoyed many a night of hot sex worked by this man's words. Now, the time had come to allow him that pleasure.

He took my overnight bag and showed me to the kitchen. He had prepared tapas and two poured glasses of cabernet stood inviting on the table. He pulled back a chair for me; I sat and took a quick breath, feeling my heart beating a little faster in his presence. My mind was already tracing his words through my flesh and I felt myself heat. He handed me the glass closest to me and I reach for it, hold it. I note my hand is shaking ever so slightly and the reality of what I am about to do hits home. Cheating. I am cheating. Having an affair. He sees my hand shake and he whispers "careful" as he winds his hand around mine, steadying the wine, steadying me, claiming me.

I smile again and nervously lick my lips. I want to engage him in conversation but my sensibilities left me way before I rang the bell at the door. This wasn't me. I wasn't this kind of girl… but Bren… yes you are. You are here, aren't you? He releases my hand, clinks my glass with his and says "to this weekend" and I raise my glass to my lips and sip. The wine has a slightly acrid taste and I am surprised as his wine knowledge had vastly exceeded my own. His suggestions of vineyards and good buys had been exemplary and again, my husband was enjoying my connection to this man; but I note that the wine has a really smooth finish. His selection was better than that first taste indicated. I rest my glass against the table, too nervous to eat; but it feels rude to ignore such beautifully prepared food. I select a pita chip and smooth on what appears to be crab and artichoke dip. I chew slowly and savor each herb. Oh my, it is exquisite and I find myself going back for another chip. In between, I drink heartily from the wine and I feel a buzz growing.

He has been telling me he would like to start by giving me a massage and I agree that it would help ease me into his touch. I drink more and note that I am getting tipsy quickly. I giggle when I drop a pita chip and I apologize quickly for my clumsiness. He smiles and assures me that apologies are not in order. He is being too gracious and I find myself wishing to speed things up a bit. My body feels hot, pliable; my mind is glazing and I want his touch. I want what he spoke of… my submittal.

He seems to sense my change in demeanor and he walks over to me, leans in and kisses my mouth. HIs lips feel cool and I nibble on them and then allow his tongue to slide in, filling my void. We lock into each other for a moment and then he recedes from me, reaches to pull the chair back and I stand and note that I am drunk. I laugh again and he steadies me as we walk into his bedroom. My insides are quivering and I feel wetness streaming my folds. I am giddy with anticipation.

I see a massage table is set up with sheets on it. It looks inviting and he pats the table and I hop up, clothed. He moves to my front and kisses my mouth again and then his lips are on my neck, slowly sucking, licking, and devouring. I sigh in pleasure and wrap my arm around him. He nibbles my ear, his breath hot across the opening. He starts to unbutton my blouse and I allow it as I want him to touch my breasts earnestly. I want to feel his fingers roll my nipples, pinch them, torment them.

He has worked my blouse off and he unzips my skirt. I slide off the table and allow him to pull it down. He reaches behind me, undoes my bra clasp and I feel my breath quicken as my breast come into his view. I watch his eyes, hoping to see approval and desire. I do.

He guides me back on the massage table and I note that I still am wearing panties. He must wish to give me a proper massage and it feels good to rest into his care. My mind is number than I would like and the table allows me to free up my limited thoughts to experience the moment. He has everything prepared on a dresser near the table and as he dips his fingers into the oil, a delicious odor fills the room… orange and something bolder… eucalyptus maybe?

The aroma transcends time and I find myself dreaming of warm locales and exotic lands. It has a ceremonial aspect that loosens me further and as he rubs it onto my neck, I feel myself drifting into a pleasurable trance. I note incense burning as well and it compels me to look around the room. Candles flicker across the walls covered with art, and the bohemian bedspread looks divine. I note the arts and craft style furniture, the clean lines of the curtains. I scan the room as a way to know him… understand him. On the far wall, I note a bare section. It seems vacant, needy in comparison to the other walls. My inner designer cannot comprehend the void and I can't resist asking. I whisper dreamily "Why is that spot so empty?". My voice sounds floaty, but I feel safe under his oiled hands.

My voice catches him off guard; the first time I have seen him surprised since my arrival. He looks to the wall and then to me. "Oh, Bren, I am surprised you noticed… but you are an interior designer right?" I nod my head. "I am having an artwork commissioned for me. I suspect it will be ready soon. I am very excited."

"New artist?" I ask with interest. Art has always been a passion for me.

"No. Someone I know well. He had an idea and it really took over him… it will be perfect there. He is working on it now."

I smile dreamily picturing his friend working a large canvas with bold paint. I see him moving the brush in organic shapes, his bold vision firmly implanted. I relax again, close my eyes and take a deep breath as his hands move over my arms, down to my right palm. He works it expertly and places a small warm stone into it. The stone is smooth, oiled and he wraps my fingers around it, holds my hand gently closed and starts to wrap it with something. He whispers to me to relax, to hold the stone and feel its warmth. I follow his words and enjoy the feel of stretchy fabric being wound around my hand, the heat of the rock pulses in my palm. It feels heavenly.

He rests that hand back onto the table and moves to my left and repeats the procedure. My left palm readily accepts his touch, the warm rock and the gentle bandaging too. I imagine my skin softening with the oil and it reminds me of a spa treatment I had gotten years ago. He finishes with that hand as well and moves to my face. The warm oil caresses my features and I note he has good technique. He massages my brow, my cheek bones, my nose bridge, and my lips. I note that I hear music… was that there before? I can't recall. It is a Celtic chant and it further reduces my sense of reality. I feel his hands work my scalp and neck and I find myself dreaming of sacrifice… of stone tables and offerings of flesh to gods. The thought excites me and I feel my folds loosen further, wetting my panties. I feel him brush my crotch with his hand and I feel embarrassed to be so wet with so little touch. He laughs sweetly, and then returns to working the oil on my face. I am unduly relaxed and I feel sleepy even; but I don't want to miss a minute of this blissful touch.

He smoothes a cool cream across my eyelids and places a rectangular pillow over them. The weight feels nice and the darkness is inviting. I feel him lift my head and the same stretchy fabric is wrapped gently across my eyes, pressing the pillow tighter to me. It causes me no concern as he wraps my head further and I note that he stops at the nose. He returns my head to the table and I feel the oil moving across my nipples, around my breasts. I breathe deeply and sigh with pleasure.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks and I whisper throatily that I am. "Good. I am glad" he adds as he works my mounds and nips until they are hard and enlarged. I feel him applying something to them. He seems to be outlining the nipples in some kind of tape? Tape. The word catches in my mind and I instinctively try to raise myself, but my hands won't open and I note that they are tied to the table somehow.

"Drew… " I voice cautiously "what are you doing?" I know my voice carries that dreamy tone, but my mind is racing, panic starting to form.

"sssssshhhh. Bren. Relax" he coos and it works… almost. I feel my mind slipping again, the desire to allow very strong and I fear that the wine may have been altered and I am drugged. I breathe quick thinking about who knows where I am. Does anybody know I am here? No. Secrets are secrets… and are not told to family, friends, husbands. I tremble now and he stops his taping. He leans into me and kisses my mouth.

"Bren… you wanted to submit… didn't you? well, you have. Relax. Trust me. I promise not to hurt you." and for some reason that was beyond my comprehension, I relax and accept. I note that I am may be tranquilized, but I am calm and I may as well enjoy the sensation. His hands continue to work my nipples, winding tape around their contours, and I envision a soft serve ice cream cone with my hard nipple being the swirl at the top. The pressure of the tape excites me and I try to think about what he is playing at. He promised me when we set up this encounter that he would make my words come to life. That the experience would be as I scripted it. I think about all the words exchanged and then it hits me… I know what he is doing… what words he is acting on. My mind freezes and I succumb to an orgasm… hard, quick, and delicious. This surprises him. Me too. But this is a fantasy that I have dreamed about for so long. I moan softly upon the understanding… he is going to mummify me.

Oh, it had started as a lark comment on a social networking service and then my true obsession with the concept took root and I told him all about me. How I yearned to be taken against my will in this way, captured, wrapped, imprisoned… like the wives of the kings of old. Forced to be buried with their spouses. In darkness, alone. I cum again and he laughs "you have realized what I am doing?" he asks and I nod. Speech is beyond me right now. I am more terrified and more turned on then I have ever been in my life. My body quivers and my folds are saturated.

"How do you feel about it?" he asks as he finishes the taping of my left breast. I fight to speak, to talk… I want to tell him to please stop, but I know my mouth will only say continue. I resist the fight and allow my body to take control… my sex is my ruler now.

"Will you kill me?" I ask with a surreal relaxed voice.

"No." he is offended, surprised. "No, Bren. Just for this weekend. I promise to take excellent care of you… but you will be isolated… alone. Unable to defend yourself, speak for yourself, see, move… It will be incredibly intense. I want to do this. I have been dreaming about since you mentioned your fantasy. I want you to be mine… all mine."

"I want it. I do." I voice in a quiet hush and that is the last thing I will utter all weekend. He bends me at the waist and starts wrapping my upper body and I drift into an aroused, agitated state. Every touch feels electric and wonder how I will feel hours from now… a day from now. Will it be as exciting then? When I haven't had food or sight or sound for an extended time. My body pulses again and I feel the wetness flooding me again. It won't matter. I need to experience this and frankly, it was already out of my hands. He didn't say he would let me go, did he?

He has my torso wrapped and he eases me back down. I feel him release my right and left hand from the table and bring them over my stomach, parallel to each other. He wraps them together tightly and I begin to feel the web building, my life being taken by him… for him. I sigh again with anticipation. He pulls my body to the end of the table, my legs hanging off. He whispers that he wants to hear me cry with pleasure before he takes that right away. He gently spreads my legs and I feel his face in my wet folds. I feel his tongue lapping, his fingers probing. A second or two, and then he has the combination gelled and I feel my pleasure building. I gasp for air, moaning louder and louder until I am crying out unabashedly. He finishes me off, and I drift back to earth in my darkness, caressed tightly in elastic bandage. I note my predicament and feel a flood of liquid again. He is startled as it floods his hand still in me. It takes root in his nostrils and he dives into me again, bringing me higher this time and my cries are so loud that even I am stunned. He pushes me back to the original position and I feel straps wrap my legs and my upper body. One appears to line up perfectly with my exposed nipples and as he tightens them, he whispers "don't go anywhere".

I lay strapped, wrapped and blindfolded for an undeterminable amount of time. The music still plays and the aromas remain. I think through what is about to happen, but I can't keep my mind focused. I note that I must be drugged. I could scream… I could be saved; but I don't really want that, do I? No, I want what is to come and I am giving myself up freely. Maybe this is a test… for him… to know if I am really ready. I laugh to myself. I can never be ready… but have always been needy for it. To be reduced to something so helpless, useless, fragile… an object really- almost a burden. Ohhh. I feel my folds loosening again and I drift into mindless state of arousal.

He is back and I hear him dragging something into the room. I am curious, but without sight, I have no answers. I could ask, but I feel unable to voice any thought. No, I will stay mute.

He is by my face and he says "open your mouth" and I sense him feeling inside my mouth. Then I feel cloth being wedged in and a plastic sports mouth guard inserted. He asks me to close and I delay, but he pushes my jaw up. My mind fills with fear as my mouth is stuffed and the sports guard adds to the volume. He is wrapping my head quickly and tightly and I feel the terror that has been missing. I finally wish to open my mouth and scream and I try but he has wrapped under my chin and across my lips so tightly, again and again; and I can't. I can't move my tongue. I try to pull my head from his wrapping hands, but he holds tight and finishes with more over my eyes and ears. I feel a piece over my nose and then another. Breathing becomes more labored. I suspect my head is completely encased now. The vision leaves my quivering, breathless, and terrified. My moment has passed. I am now his victim… until he decrees it otherwise.

I feel a sharp pain on left nipple… forceps? Oh, god… and I scream. My voice sounds hollow, far away. Quiet. Too quiet. What have I done? I have no voice. He laughs in my ear, "I sense you will be adequately silent now" and he removes the forceps and I suck in air through my nostrils. I am panicked. Totally panicked and I squirm and writhe trying to free my arms, my hands. I sense him watching me, aroused and it only exacerbates my fear. I fear he will be ruthless.

He pushes my legs open and I feel his fingers rubbing my clit. I succumb to the pleasure and calm down, relax. My breathing is still quick, but now it is with desire. I cum again and relax my muscles, let my guard down. I breathe calmer, quieter; but I still understand my predicament and I chastise myself for allowing myself to be seduced.

I feel him undo the straps and he turns me easily onto my front and I feel him pressing into my anal opening. He had requested that I use an enema… twice… before coming and that I skip lunch as he was preparing a large dinner. I did as requested… I assumed he was a clean freak, but now I understand his plan. I am empty. I feel him press a very large butt plug into me and I resist and try to cry out again. He relents temporarily and then presses again and I feel it slip past and notch into place. It is large for me and I feel it filling me in an uncomfortable way. I squirm again and I feel him slap my ass. I stop wiggling, thinking that it was a message; but he is continuing and I writhe against his hand reddening my tender cheeks. I struggle for air as I try to cry and he hits me harder and harder. I want to be free. I want it. What have I done? And I feel tears, but the blindfold is too tight. I think it will never end, but it does and he turns me over quickly and pushes open my legs and makes me cum again. The pain and pleasure is confusing… and my mind is becoming duller by the minute.

He whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry love. This will sting, but it is necessary for tonight." and I feel the slow painful burn of a catheter being inserted. I try not to move… it is a needle after all; but I do understand the necessity. I will have waste… for now. I wonder how it will be to have no water or food and again I feel the desire to be free. Too late, girl. you are his. His. And I orgasm just as he moves his hand away. I feel him enter something small into my opening as well. Too small for a dildo. I have no idea what it could be. I feel him clipping my nipples as well. Then he is working oil over my legs, massaging them and I feel that earlier peace. I drift into a trance state again as he wraps each leg completely and them brings them together wrapping tightly up and over my sex, my ass, my stomach, my arms. He is cocooning me. Turning me into a chrysalis. The pressure of the bandages increase with each pass and I wonder when he will be satisfied. He finishes with a few more passes around my head. I feel safe, secure. The clips on my nipples are not too tight and the catheter can no longer be felt. I feel a needle jab me through the bandage and I wonder what will happen to me next. Is that another drug?

I think through my predicament and accept that I am no longer my captain. Everything about my body is being controlled. My mind, my bodily functions, my breathing, my swallowing… I am truly not my own. My mind is a prisoner in an empty shell with no way to communicate to the outside world let alone to its self. I orgasm again and suck in breath through the bandage. It has become tiring to breathe this way but I feel him lifting my head and slipping what feels like an oxygen mask over my nose. I breathe expectantly, but find it is even more difficult and that is when I feel the first shock.

My pussy clenches as the bulb within me pulses with electricity. I cry out, my voice muffled and useless. The next shock is my nipples and I try to gasp… again I can make no sound. I feel my mind becoming unglued, there is no air and the shocks are relentless. I feel myself slipping; asphyxiation likely and I struggle against my binds with all my might. The shocks come quicker and I feel an orgasm building… it is strengthened by the lack of air and I cum violently, writhing hard and straining to breathe. To live. I feel the mask pull up and my nostrils grab at air. My orgasm continues without end until the shocks diminish. I feel him smooth his hand over my face and I sense that he wants me to know that my reaction pleased him. That my predicament pleases him. I feel him strap me down again and this time the strap at my nipple catches the clips as it depresses and my mind fills with pain. He tightens them further and I note that when the shocks start, it will be agony.

And of course, they do restart, in rhythm, again and again, with the mask over my nose, air becoming a gift that I am denied. I cum harder and harder, over and over until I finally feel my mind blacken and unconsciousness take me.

I wake at some point with no time reference. I am still wrapped tight, helpless, strapped to the massage table. My mouth is dry and I want to stretch… move. I whimper as I realize what I have signed up for… two days. My god, what was I thinking? I note that my mind feels clear. I am no longer floaty and spacey; but hunger claws at my stomach. I wonder if he is near. If he is watching me.

I drift in and out of consciousness… never sure when I am awake or still asleep. I need to feel him near me and I think I do on occasion but my mind is limited in its rationality without sight and I realize that I have not heard a sound for a long time. I try to turn my head… and I know why. I have earphones on. Sound reducing earphones. I feel them now and I wonder if he hadn't considered that cruel. I am devoid of all senses except smell. I whimper again and feel his hand on my breast. He is unstrapping them and the relief is welcome. The clips are still on and have turned into a dull throb, but he would need to un-bandage me to get to those. I try not to think about the pain growing in my stagnant muscles.

I feel the other straps coming undone and then he is turning me over and I feel him pull me to the end of the table and bend me over it. He uses a knife to cut a hole in the bandages and I feel him fishing for the butt plug. He pulls it out and I feel him lubing himself. No. Please. But yes, he enters my ass with his hard cock and he grabs me around the waist with both arms and pulls my cocooned body into him harder. I try to gasp again… and hear my voice is even quieter. He rides my hole gently but enthusiastically and I feel an orgasm building… the ever present fear of my situation making orgasms so easily obtainable. I cum before he finishes and I simply endure as he continues; his muscles working faster until I feel his fluid fill me and his body soften. He pulls out of me and easily reinserts the butt plug into my now stretched ass. He repositions me on the table and I feel him cutting off the wraps. I am surprised, but then disappointed when he stops after my legs.

I feel the earphones come off and I hear music again. It is heavenly, so welcome. Then I hear his voice. "Good morning, my love. I would like to move you. Please walk with me. OK?" and I nod my head even though I have no idea if I can walk. He slides me off the table and holds me while I adjust to standing. He guides me to another table. Slightly different feeling, harder. In fact it is wood. He helps me onto it and lays me down. He removes the catheter with a pinch and the bulb from my pussy. He cuts the wraps on my torso and takes the clips off my nipples. It feels wonderful and I am amazed at how easy it is to please me now. My mouth is still ridiculously dry, but my stomach has quieted. I feel him cutting bandages from my face now too and I feel my mouth starting to be free. He stops and whispers "if you utter one word, I will rewrap your mouth and leave you gagged that tightly all weekend. I want you to not voice any word or complaint. Understand?" and I nod my head again. I am thrilled that my mouth may get relief too.

He unwraps my face, leaving the original blindfold wrapping in place. I want to complain… ask for sight too; but he warned me and an idea crept into my head that I may get a bit of water… No. I will stay silent. He opens my tired jaw and together we push out the sports mouth guard and the cloth. I try to work my mouth, but I have no saliva. He helps me to sit and he pushes a cup of water to my lips. He warns me to drink slow, to savor it. He tells me that he can't give me as much as he would like… that he would prefer to not need the catheter. He tells me that he will give me an intravenous drip later to keep me hydrated. I sip and swirl it on my mouth. It feels wonderful and I do savor it. I swallow it and my stomach wakes… empty and angry. Damn. I hadn't expected the urgency of its pain; but I remain silent and soon my Dixie cup of water is gone.

I sense he is sizing me up. Seeing how I handled that and what he has planned. A small spark had entered my mind that my ordeal was over, but I know that isn't true. I laid out a very detailed scenario a few weeks ago with him about mummification and he hadn't really touched on it. No. today would be harder, crueler and if he followed my plan… it would eventually end with my death. I shiver uncontrollably and he touches my bound arms to comfort me. He said he wasn't going to kill me… could he do what I asked and not?

He has me lay back down and I feel him strap my legs to this table… which I quickly realize is a frame. My body is supported by thin wood in the shape of an upside down 'V'. My legs are apart and my arms remain wrapped together over my chest. He cuts that now and pulls my arms apart and pushes them up to their perch. I quickly realize that this is a Saint Andrews Cross, laid horizontal. My arms are positioned and he straps them into place too. I feel empty, tired, worn and numb, but something about the dungeon cross is instilling a sense of arousal again.

I think back to what I wrote him. I told him that I had always wanted to be sacrificed for the 'greater good'. To be bound in a ceremonial way… against my will, held prisoner, tightly wrapped with no chance of saving, I wanted to be tortured, and then bound so completely as to be an object- with no free will. No senses. No hope. I wanted to feel that… hopelessness. To know that no one cares that you are alone suffering… I want to know that pain… that abandonment. I want to know what it feels like to have someone who you thought cared for you treat you so inhumanely and then ultimately… I shudder as I think on it again… have that person entomb you… condemn you to die helpless and unable to save yourself. Trapped within binds that enclose you completely… so not the slightest muscle can move. Silent, stone outside… panicked living soul trapped inside. Yes. I quiver again and orgasm. Can he achieve that… without killing me? I wasn't sure. Do I want to die? No. But if he offers me the chance to experience that end… could I say no? I wasn't sure I wanted to know my answer.

He has strapped my waist down too and he finishes removing all of yesterdays bandage with the exception of my eyes. I still had the taped breasts and they throbbed with the pressure; but it was wonderful to move my hands. I stretch them over and over as I wait for his next play. I feel him add more straps and then he is kissing my lips, my cheeks, my chin and my neck.

I feel him move to between my legs, my folds and he is gently rubbing ice on my swollen and deformed clit. The catheter had been done well and the pain was minimal. The ice felt nice, cool… a sensation; and I realize how starved I am to feel… anything. I feel him work fingers into me and the pleasure builds again as the ice melted slowly over my hot knob. I build slowly, savoring the feeling… the subtle feeling of simple pleasure. I eventually crest and my mouth opens and a low, breathy moan emerges. Hearing myself is a surprise and again, i realize how much I take for granted. That is… until it is taken from me.

I feel him leave me, but stay nearby. He is organizing, planning, I think. I note that today will be harder and maybe I should voice my concerns and learn what he has planned; but I know that will ruin it for me. I wonder why he has left me un-gagged for so long and I realize that he is looking for confirmation that he is truly not imprisoning me against my will. That disappoints me slightly… I wish he had left me no options; but to do this against a person's will? My god… how damaging would that be? Yes. He was right to be cautious. There were consequences for him as well.

He is near me again, and I hear rustling of something under me. Then he is next to me and I feel something sharp tracing my flesh and then each nipple. It is a knife blade. I shiver, but lay perfectly still. I do not want to be cut; but he has other ideas and I feel him kiss my lips as he makes a gash at the base of my neck towards my right shoulder. I gasp. Flinch and pull up. The straps hold me firmly in place and I can't offer resistance. There is no defense. I feel a cut on my shoulder and then another. I feel him licking the cuts and I am disturbed but aroused too. He kisses my lips with my blood and I feel loosened. I feel some primitive force throbbing through me. It feels ceremonial and he adds more straps to hold me still. I feel more jabs, cuts and I strain against the straps. He leaves my side and I smell incense… no white sage. it is a heavy scent and it captures my spirit. White sage is a purifier… a protector. I feel blood dripping from me and I hear it hit plastic. He has plastic under me. That concerns me. I hear him come back and music is playing again… a loud tribal drum. He presses a straw to my lips. "Drink this" he says and I sip the beverage. It tastes salty… thick and organic… like blood. There is a strong iron taste, but an alcohol taste too. I finish it and he pulls the straw from my mouth. He kisses my lips again and I feel something shifting in him. There is an animal element releasing in him and I sense it, fear it. The quiver in me increases and I orgasm again. Loudly. That seems to remind him that I am able to speak and he approaches my ear and says "don't be afraid." I will realize later that those words were his last to me for twenty eight hours.

He kisses me again and then pinches my cheeks hard until I open my mouth. I feel something form fitting being forced in. It fills my mouth but my teeth close in front of it. He closes my mouth by pushing up on my jaw and I smell duct tape. I hear the piece tear and feel it laid against my lips. I swallow with fear. It is about to begin and I am not ready. He seals my mouth and the taste of that weird liquid lingers. It feels like earth… like I drank dirt and it recalls stone tablets and sacrifice. Yes. I see it. I am being sacrificed.

I feel him touch a knife point to every artery part on my body and although he doesn't break the skin, the threat is real. He could kill me. I try to speak, I am overcome by a need to call this off. Uncle, I want to cry. This feels too real… he seems too dark… the cutting, the dripping of my own life fluids leaving me, splattering on a plastic tarp below. The beverage he gave me is messing with my head and I feel woozy, dizzy. I am unable to think. In my darkness, I try to find a way to my freedom, but no ideas present themselves. I feel him marking me further with tiny cuts and I writhe… try to pull free. The music is loud and the straps feel like they are tightening. My ass throbs with the earlier fucking and the large plug. My breasts ache as well. I whimper now, cry out as best possible and he reacts by wrapping something very tight around my lips, my eyes. I sense it… it is plastic bondage tape. I feel it wrap and wrap and I wonder if it will end. It does but then another round begins and I realize with panic that this time it is duct tape. It encircles my head tightly, loudly. I feel it over my eyes tightly and around my jaw. Over my forehead and down under my chin. I swallow again, afraid. The music sounds more distant through the tape and as it winds I feel it carve around my nostrils. I feel it threaten my opening for air.

I feel bondage tape on my neck and shoulders. It is wrapping to the frame somehow… under it. He pauses and I feel tight clamps on my nipples. I cry out but my voice is even softer than yesterday. He wraps bondage tape across my nipples, across my engorged breasts… tightly. Tightly. Tightly. I feel the duct tape there too and I cry out repeatedly as each turn is made over my clamped tits. They are crushed with the tape and he keeps wrapping. I struggle to breathe with the pressure on my ribs and as he moves further south with the bondage and duct tape combo, my waist compresses. He has removed the straps on my torso but I cannot move or bend. The tape is too tight, too thick, to hard board.

He gets to my lower half and unstraps my legs as well. He lifts them, exposing my ass. He removes the butt plug and enters something smaller into it. Cords hang from it. He enters something larger into my pussy, but cords hang from that as well. I feel him maneuver a bullet vibrator over my clit and I am stunned when I feel him tape it in place with duct tape. My surprise is only increased when he applies one long piece over my folds, closing me shut. He smoothes it down and I feel asexual, like I have been neutered. I don't understand what he is doing… or why. I try to voice my displeasure, but my head is too tight and a very muffled moan is all I can produce. This terrifies me as well and I thrash about now and catch him in the head with my leg.

He quickly straps one leg down and wraps bondage tape around my other. I feel the tape wrap and wrap around my leg and then to the cross. He repeats with the second leg. My legs are immobile now, taped tightly to the wood form, and I realize that I will be one with this cross. No. I don't want this and I scream again producing another pitiful whimper. He tapes my abdomen to the frame as well and then spends extra time taping my crotch, the pressure is incredible and the toys inside me feel like they are growing. The feeling is erotic, but I have real fear. This is not soft and cuddly like yesterday. This is immobilizing.

He returns to my head and works each arm with bondage tape and then duct tape. I remain still as I have no other options He finishes each hand into a flat paddle wrapped tightly with tape. I feel him reach for something and I feel a sharp sting on my right arm. I feel a needle enter and he tapes it in place. The IV. He wraps duct tape around the frame again in all directions. It seems excessive and each turn is adding pressure. I try to cry out again and I note that my voice is even quieter. I try to wiggle but find no leeway in the tape. My body is forming an X, my head the only variant. He tapes my head to the center of the wood frame and finally re-wraps my breasts with an exaggerated amount of force. My nipples scream, the engorged breasts pressed flat. It is excruciating, but deliciously so.

I feel something slip over my head and the music disappears. I strain again… I don't like the feeling of being so alone, but there really is no point. I am not going anywhere. Freedom is a dream that I can barely remember. He is gone for an extended time and I drift in and out of reality and consciousness never really sure which is which. Did I really allow someone to do this to me? No. This must be the dream and I simply will wake to find myself home in my bed, birds chirping, breasts without pain.

He is near me again and I wonder how long I will be in this painful prison. I feel him taping further… everywhere. It is slow and methodical. I don't know what he is doing and I don't see the point. I can't move at all. Nada. Nothing.

I feel nothing, and I am not sure where he is. I think about him falling down his stairs or abandoning me and I start to panic. I could never get free from this. Never. My mind wanders with the pain, the drink, the tightness. Then I feel a flogger or a whip attacking my body… it is a sensation and I welcome it initially. Something to feel. Something to wrap my mind around; but then it focuses on my breasts and the rhythm increases and the sting does to. I cry out, muffled for him to stop. The sound is unimpressive and he continues as I try to writhe, to free myself. The moment builds in me, the pain and the immobility and I orgasm, violently again. I feel the tape give the slightest amount and I know he saw me cum. I know he saw me quiver. He repeats his game and the same end result occurs.

The orgasms were nice, but my breasts are in agony. I have been alone for a while now and although I try to judge time, I cannot. I panic occasionally and breathe fast and quick, until I hyperventilate, pass out and start again. I try to remain calm, but time is endless and I am terrified in the darkness, the soundless dark. I don't know how long he has been gone, but when he returns, he removes the ear phones. I hear him drilling and hammering. It is un-nerving and the noise continues for an extended time. I feel things tighten around me… metal I surmise, but I'm not really sure. He has one placed at my forehead and I whimper. I want to feel comfort… but all I feel is trapped, imprisoned… with no hope.

I stop and sense my words. Oh god… he is giving me the experience. I orgasm hard and my body writhes against the tape. I barely make a ripple, but the pleasure is flowing through me.

I feel him tilting the board and then there is a disconcerting feeling of being lifted, but the lifting isn't smooth- it is a pumping… What on earth? I hear the drill again very close and I flinch in fear that it is for my flesh. It isn't, thankfully, and soon I feel him near me, using an electric screwdriver. I sense I am vertical… could I be? that made no sense.

I feel him leave again. I hear muffled sounds of things being moved. My body throbs and my mind is reeling. I need freedom, but how do I get it? how? there was no safe word. I try to speak and I hear my muffled voice making that pitiful sound. It seems so minimal… is that really all I can do? I orgasm again with the humiliation and frustration of being kept entombed. And then that word hits me as well. I am entombed. I am trapped alone in a painful prison. I cum again.

He is by me again, I feel hope; he appears to be doing something to the tape by my eyes. I sense he is cutting it… a rectangular slit. He does and he pulls the original rectangular pillow away from my eyes. I can't see initially, my eyes need to adjust. He has dropped away from me and I wonder how he is doing that. Then he moves a large wardrobe mirror before me and my eyes slowly focus and then widen in disbelief. My feet are two feet above the ground, and I am attached to the wall… the blank wall. I am the artwork!!!

I see the small slit in the otherwise complete armor of colorful duct tape. I see that he had spent time re-taping areas with color so I appear to be a child's yarn gods eye. Yes. I look like a folk project… colorful, rustic. There is a harmony to the colors that makes it compelling and I watch fascinated and horrified at my predicament. I try to move and cannot. I try to speak, to ask about this, but cannot. All I can do is see my reflection. I am art. Attached to a wall. My eyes are open so wide. I am stunned. I do have metal brackets around me and I realize that I am permanent. I have been installed… his quirky visions come to fruition. I note that the art is thrown off by my eyes showing. No, that should be covered… but what am I saying? That is all I have. No. I want to see.

How long can I stay like this? I am empty of food and beverage and being hydrated and potentially fed through an intravenous. Oh God. I could stay like this, living, entombed for a very, very long time. I panic again and watch in horror as all my pulling and twisting amounts to no movement in the mirror. I moan as loud as possible… and then scream as I note how helpless, defenseless I am.

I wonder what he is thinking as he sees my eyes, my expression, but I can't twist my head and he is remaining out of my vision on purpose. I expect he is enjoying my terror… knowing that he reduced me to a decoration for his wall. He is allowing me to see this only so I know. I realize with growing fear that he will recover my eyes… the art requires it. The words I sent him require it. Oh god. I cum again. thinking about the last words… betrayal by a loved one, left to suffer alone… no, die. Die was the word I had written. I thrash now as hard as I can. I feel I am thrashing for my life, but again no movement shows in the mirror. He has me taped so well that I am inanimate. Am I alive? Could I be only an object?… His object. His.

I see him move the step stool back to me and watch as he climbs up. If I can see his eyes I will know my fate, won't I? Can he bear to see my eyes… those eyes that he admired so long ago on EP… open with such fear and pain? Just my eyes… that is all that is left of me. A little slit of view into my soul. I wonder which would be an indication of my fate… that he can't look me in the eyes or that he can? Oh… I am guessing at a game with my life in balance. I feel him moving closer and I see that he has yellow duct tape… the color of my eye area. I make a last ditch effort to pour every emotion I have… all my fear, all my pain, all my love of living into one last glance. If this is my last view, I won't skimp. I look around the room. The colors, the textures, the art. I feel a tear forming denied the past few days by pressure and I see his eyes meet mine. He is smiling… not a giddy smile; but a satisfied smile. I implore him with my eyes and he leans in to kiss each lid before I feel the sticky residue on the tape bind them shut. I scream and make the pitiful mewing sound again. He either pretends not to hear… or maybe he can't hear. I feel him apply more and push it onto my eyes. I imagine the artwork now with my eyes covered. Yes, it is much better… but I am absorbed.

Art. I am art. No longer a person. And I can linger like this for weeks… One final flow of adrenaline pulses through me inducing savage terror. My breathing increases… fast and furious. I cry louder, horrified now… will he let me go as he had said? Wait… did he say he was going to? No. He said he wouldn't kill me. Then he said 'just for the weekend'. What did that mean? That he would kill me after the weekend…

I start to writhe furiously and that is when I feel the vibrators in my ass and pussy roar to life and inflate. I cum instantly and strain against my muscles taped to wood. He teases me with the speed, the size, and I cum again and again. I cum as I wonder if this is my end. I cum and cum until I finally pass out.

I have vague remembrances of being moved, pressure being relieved… my thoughts were not coherent and I sense he may have kept me tranquilized for the freeing. Making it easier on both of us…

21.08.10