© Copyright 2010 - Riptieron - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; wrap; plaster; encase; stuck; caught; F/m; hum; torment; climax; cons/reluct; X
I noticed that the windows started to glow, as the morning light slowly began to show. First the light was a pale blue glow, and then turned to a melancholy teal, giving way to the familiar peach color so recognizable in the sunrise. I found this as both a relief, and an omen, for I had gone the whole night and dosed only twice. The daytime would certainly bring many hours of boredom, but the only good news is, I will be able to cum again.
I pushed against my shell; it seemed tighter, and now more restrictive. This was exciting. I found that I could push all that I wanted to, but my shell was not going to break. There was just too much hard plaster. I moved conservatively, I didn’t want to get too worked up, I needed to save energy. Everything I did, anything I did, was met by hard walls formed to my body. I got a boner just thinking of that. My cock got hard and started to rub and feel the walls of its prison. I was thinking about how helpless I am to try and stop the inevitable. Once my cock is this hard, it will touch the sides of its cast, and relate that feeling to me. I am turned on by it, and am trapped by this loop of pleasure feedback. My cock throbs against the cast, and I breath deeply, trying to stave off the feeling, but its no use. I try to pull away from it, but that too, is pointless and silly. This takes an absurd and almost ridiculously short amount of time to occur. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I start to go over the edge within minutes of getting hard. I struggle to stop it in vain; I know that I have no way to control this effect that the cast has over me. I cannot get control, and I fear that anytime that I become horny, I will cum. It will just be an effect, no coaxing is necessary.
My feelings start to change about my situation, I feel as if the frame, and plaster encasement is my humiliation. It was the lure, but beyond that, it also became my downfall. I constructed this trap for myself, and that alone is something that I can be embarrassed about. I think that I secretly knew that I would get stuck beyond escape, but ignored the little voices of reason inside my head. It’s a disgrace. I write many things about plaster, and the dangers of plaster on the internet, in many different forums, but this would certainly make a laughable tale. This would be a hysterical irony. This would affect the way I approached things in the forums. I sometime feel that plaster and mummification is my only area of complete control in life, as vain and wrong as it may sound, I enjoy knowing and sharing my experience on the internet. Imagine the surprise of anyone who knows me, when they realize that I got stuck beyond escape, without a backup plan. I will be the laugh of the day. What could I do?
This was my fate; it isn’t anything that I can avoid. I am trapped- they will find out. Eventually, my helpless body and rigid block would be found. This worried me, and not a moment went by that I did try to think of a way to explain away my helpless predicament. Even as a tried, I knew that what anyone who came into the garage looking for me would certainly see the truth in the matter. It wasn’t really the embarrassment of being careless that bothered me that much; it was the fact that I would be caught by someone who isn’t a supporter of bondage, someone who is an ‘outsider’ to the fetish. This shame stems from the knowledge that I had rushed into this ignoring some very important details. Having a safe person is one of the key things I overlooked.
The space heater was set to oscillate, so every five seconds a warm breeze of air moved over my face. The air current was directed at my frame from the steps, located next to where the frame lay. I knew that the block of plaster was fully dry on the top; it had turned bright white now. Guessing at the thickness, and by the arid nature of the room, I would say that the block of plaster was at least 50% dry throughout the entirety of the block. The block had indeed gone into firm set by now. I would be in this block for many hours even after someone found me.
I wanted to cry, I was getting hungry, but more than that I was very thirsty. All that I wanted was a drink of water. I knew that my toes and fingers were pickled beyond recognition at this point; I had never stayed locked up inside of a bodysuit for this amount of time before. My tomb was changing temperature again; I noticed that the heat was now even, and that the walls were cold. My plastic lining provided me with a good amount of insulation from the cold nature of the block. The space heater kept the top side of the block warm. Beyond Caring
The sun was streaming into the window now; it must be about 10:00 or 11:00 am by now. I could judge the time based on the direction of the sunlight thru the windows. I wasn’t 100% sure of the time, I still hadn’t gotten used to the new angle of the sun. Watching the light play on the walls, there was very little to see staring at the same view the whole time. I sighed hard as I realized that I had at the very least eight more hours of this to go. I prayed for my roommate to come home early and get me out. I didn’t care who found me now, I just wanted out.
I have laid here for another three to four hours, and the only thing that has changed is the light. My presence in the garage is rivaled by the useless and dormant tools that are hung on the walls. The small space heater, slowly turning as it warms my frame has more purpose in this place than me. I feel like a part of the garage now, abandoned, helpless, and forgotten. I see how the light inside the refrigerator might offer mysterious questions that would pertain to that of something that has freedom. I have no such questions at the moment, I have no freedoms. Like that question about the tree in the woods, ‘if it falls and nobody is there to see it fall, does it still make a sound?’ this question only has mystery if you have never been the tree. I am that tree in a way, metaphorically, I have fallen, and now I know that it doesn’t make a sound. Sound has no purpose without ears to make use of it, and assign meaning to it. For me, it is all about meaning. I hold meaning but cannot convey it. I am a time capsule waiting to be discovered.
Drifting around inside my own head, there are memories that begin to fill my thoughts, like one of an enormous tree that I would play on. One day I came out to the woods where it stood, and found it had fallen down, sometime in the past few days. I was saddened at the loss of the playmate that I had grown up with, and sat on top of it in the new patch of sunlight that was made in its absence. I remembered the tree, not because of my memory what I saw, but for the sound it made as it crashed to the floor of the forest. I heard the great wind blowing it from the north, as the strained roots snapped and popped violently. I hear the creaking sounds of long veins in the ground striping out, dirt flying into the air, and the silence of the tree once its limbs began their journey to meet the earth for the first time. A almost horrific high pitched snapping of green limbs followed by a thunder of heartwood colliding into the soft soil of the rich forest floor, crushing the bright green ferns that nestle at its base, so trustingly protected by the shade that it provided. Never again would this tree stand.
All of this happened, but I never thought of it until now. I never would know what it sounded like unless I took my own fall, like a tree in the woods, with nobody around. I wondered did the tree arrange its own demise as well?
Tiring of looking at the same things on the walls, and the light seemingly stopped on the walls; hunger set into my gut. Grumbles and gases moved around inside. If I were not trapped, I would probably be having a mid-afternoon snack by now, which followed the big breakfast consisting of eggs, pop tarts, coffee and orange juice that I tirelessly enjoy fixing for myself every morning without fail. There is no joy in hunger. Hunger seems to expand on the time that is slowly passing in the first place.
“CLICK, VAROOOOOM!!!!” goes the timer, starting the blow dryers to life. I would have jumped a mile had the plaster not been there. I was totally taken by surprise by this event. The timer is a once a day timer, the kind that is set by the little stop pegs that trip the circuit to life. Everyday at this time the timer would turn on the blow dryers without fail. I have been in the plaster for a full twenty-four hours now. I feel like an installation, a very immobile, inanimate object, resting inside of someone else’s garage. I could not possible be worth anything now. I don’t even have feeling for myself anymore. Why, the timer at least has power to control the blow dryers…
The blow dryers… they will soon turn this block into a dry block of plaster… that will be something, I think. When the plaster turns totally dry, it will be as hard as it will ever get. I will be something that is very hard to free. The frame is so well constructed, that it will have to be taken apart for the plaster to be broken off of my body. There is no place to get any leverage otherwise. The whole block will have to be lifted up and the plywood unscrewed form the back of the frame. The box will be very hard to lift under my weight and the weight of the plaster. Somehow I am not really worried about that.
The evening sun hits my eyes, and I again fall asleep. I awoke in the pale yellow green glow of the fluorescent light above the workbench far across the garage. My eyes are getting crusty now, I haven’t been able to rub them, or touch them for over 24 hours. I really could use a nice rinsing. Again, I have no idea as to what time it is. But this night would be longer than the first. My back began to ache from being in the same position for so long. Tensing the muscles around my body, I could help to move the blood around and keep from getting so stiff.
The cast had a perfect grip on my form. I pushed and pushed, but my every effort was met only by unyielding rigidity. I got very turned on by this, and felt my cock grow once again. Throbbing as the blood pulsed into my shaft; it began to fill the space at the cavity which had been made for it. Sticking straight out of the pool of plaster, the six inches that showed above the plaster would soon be filled up by my cock. I looked at the outside of the shell, and knew that this would be over in short order; my body would start to react to the environment that I constructed for myself. I shuddered and squirmed as the feeling of pressure and unavoidable stimulation grew. I started to breathe faster, constricted by the encasement. I loved the feeling that it gave me, and I like the control it has over me. I panted, not being able to take a full breath, and my dick pulsed for the last time before the undulation, spitting out fresh semen, and my body again tensed up as I came, helpless to do anything else.
Not being able to stop an orgasm is not so bad, not being able to leave the scene after an orgasm is. I wanted a hot shower. I slowly felt my eyes closing, and I rested once again.
My body was resting in a bag full of 24 hour old sweat, marinating in my own fluids. Not a pretty thought, but a very unromantic truth inside of the fetish. I have always wondered why most of the stories that I have read never mention this part of plasticwrap bondage. Its something that happens as the bondage goes on, the longer your body is wrapped up, the more water fills the inside of the plastic. This image is stark I know, and I apologize for the graphic nature of my account, but I feel this tale has merit outside of the gritty facts surrounding the grotesque reality of my bondage.
I will take the time to explain some of this during the time that I lay sleeping, and fill in some of the tiny things that I thought of as I had nothing else better to do. Like for instance the lessons that can be learned from my having suffered in this way, almost as a warning to others. As I contemplated my fate, I wanted to write things down, but had not the means, and I lingered on the idea making an essay about the dangers of ‘over indulgences’ such as mine. My humiliation might yet redeem me to a state of martyrdom, in the very least. (A very morbid thought I know) determining that my tale would be a generally positive one; I kept optimistic about my eventual rescue. This was a hard conclusion to make, given the dire nature of my bondage.
Sometimes my thoughts drifted to what might eventually happen if my girlfriend finds me first. I immediately thought of her denying any involvement with me, and calling the fire department out to deal with me. A very bad thought to be sure, but then I thought of another possibility. What if she saw something about this situation that she liked? What if she teased me? Or better still what if she tore off the cast around my dick and began to fuck me? A short time later, I came for the second time in response to this one thought. (I thought it worth mentioning) Even in the midst of acting out a fantasy, my imagination steers me into other desires.
How would she react, if she did like the situation? Would she be mad, mad that I had done this and not ever trusted her with my secrets? Mad that it was dangerous? Would she punish me? She could dump another bucket or two of plaster onto me- there was plenty left over. My mind whirled with all matters of fantasies relating to making my plaster encasement perfect. I have lust for it, obsessed by a need to act out something that may not be entirely healthy. I came to the ultimate conclusion that nothing that anyone desires is healthy in a state of overindulgence.
In the morning light I awoke, it must be 10:00am. I was excited to know this; it would only be several hours before Heather knocked at my door. I knew that she would expect me to be here, I talked with her on Thursday night. My car still in the drive way, and a spare key in her hands, she would think I might still be I the shower, getting ready. I knew she would let herself in. question is… would she find me?
At 12:30 Heather pulled up in my driveway. She knocked and peeked in the window, then opened the back door with the key.
“John?” she called, cautiously entering the den. “John?” she was puzzled when she realized that the shower was not running. She crept back to the bedroom, and looked in the study, but I was not to be found. Having a sudden inspiration, she stopped and took out her cell phone, and dialed my number. Listening for the first ring, then the second, then my phone rang in the kitchen. It was still in the charger! Whirling around the corner to stare at my phone ringing out, she couldn’t understand why I left my phone here.
“John wouldn’t leave his phone, even if he got a ride somewhere…” she said to herself. There was one place left to look, she stared at the big white door leading from the kitchen to the garage. She was almost scared of what might be there, not knowing what lay beyond.
She put her hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it, pulling the door open. She glanced around and saw nothing unusual at first, just the normal clutter of John’s garage, she never knew what to expect out of his projects that he often secluded inside his ‘cave’ as she liked to call it. as she took the first step, looking down she saw the plastic drop cloth on the floor, “That’s strange...” she said, then followed the cloth to the frame, and saw the plaster, and the toes… and Johns eyes and nose sting out of the head of the frame. She gasped at the sight, John staring back, unable to make a sound. Heather forced herself to breathe, and nearly fainted. She could not believe it! A wide and uncontrollable smile came across her face. She stared out of shear disbelief at the sight of the frame filled with plaster, the pole with hung blow dryers, and the space heater sitting on the steps, all pointed to one thing, John had done this to himself.
She turned away, placing her hand on her head, and tried to get a grip on herself. I was red, and near fainting from the lack of food, but I managed to worry about her feelings for me at the same time. What would she do? This was the moment of truth. With her back to me, she was staring at the empty bags of plaster, and the bucket of water that still sat on the garage floor opposite the frame. She surveyed the components and tried to put all of the steps together.
She turned back to face the frame, not necessarily me, but the frame in general. She seemed very impressed by the ingenuity of my feat. She knelt beside the frame and knocked on the hard plaster. I could feel the vibrations penetrating the entire block.
“Well John, you didn’t fill it all the way up…” she finally said, “why not?” she finished, with an air of irritation. She knew I couldn’t speak but she didn’t really want an answer. She got up and trotted over to the bags of plaster, shaking them to see how much was left over. Out of my sight I didn’t know what she was doing. A short time later she came back and began to dump a bucket of wet plaster on top of my chest, the plaster ran up to my face, and surrounded the shoulders, adding another layer on top of my prison. I gasped at the sight of her doing this, and began to get horny almost immediately.
“Is this what you want John?” Heather said in a soft sexy voice. She was kneeling beside the frame, working the plaster around and piling it up in the areas nearest my head. I struggled to breathe as I lost control over my raging hard on, and felt my cock go supernova.
“I know that it is John, just accept it, John…” she seemed to know just what to say, and she was laying it on thick too, “go ahead, cum for me I know you want to…” all of my strength could not hold back the orgasm that built up inside me, what made her think I was trying to stop it? I came just as fast as the other times, moaning and panting thru my nose, squeaking out little whimpers of helplessness. This show amused her, and she watched me as I began to regain my awareness of her.
“That was very good John…” she said, “but I am afraid that it won't be enough to get you out of this encasement.” Joking about how she was now in control. I stared back.
“No, I think it is time for you to begin your service for Me.” she said confidently.
I feel a chill start throughout my body, not really knowing what my girlfriend is really about anymore. I never told her anything about my secret desires, so where is this coming from?
She began to pour another batch of wet plaster onto my stomach and hips. I will be solid brick of plaster soon. The plaster must be about 4 inches thick over my chest and torso area now. This shell would never allow me to leave. All I could do is peer out at her from behind the small opening that I had left for my nose and eyes, in the cast. She was busy again mixing yet another batch of plaster up. Now I have been wrapped up totally in plastic wrap and tape bondage to the point of no escape before, but, this is totally different. The tape gives and has tension that works against you as you struggle, plaster, when dry, is like cement, it is a hard rigid and not bending substance. I have no play inside this encasement outside of the wrappings that keep me separate form the plaster.
Heather returned with the next bucket and dumped it onto me, again smoothing it out to fill the rest of the unleveled areas out with in the frame.
“You’re not thinking of getting out are you?” she mocked me, smiling. “It wouldn’t be nice to let you get away because of a weak spot, would it?”
She stood up and started to survey her work, then knelt down again beside of me. She got really close to my face, and asked, “How long have you been in this?”
I could just barely mumble through the wrap, and plaster. She lowered her ear to my mouth, and listened carefully as I tried to speak as clearly as I could, “Wyday!” was all I could get out.
“Friday?” she exclaimed, sitting up fast, “Friday!” her voice was angry. “Oh, you’re not impressing me mister, your just pushing my buttons!” she got up and left into the kitchen, returning with a knife. She began to cut open my cast around my mouth area. “If you EVER do this again I will personally kill you!” she grunted, “you should know better than to get all bound up with no way to get out…” evidently she has had some dealings with this before, or knows a little about bondage… “You could have been stuck here and the house burnt down around you!” she was clearly upset, and I tried to not provoke her by thinking clean thoughts, she did have a knife… “You left a space heater on while encased in plaster? Oh My God!” she exclaimed. She did bring up valid points about my lack of judgment regarding this scene, I guess I have just gotten comfortable about the things that I have been doing while alone. I could only wonder what might have occurred had something disastrous happened.
She finished rounding out the opening around the mouth with scissors and I could speak clearly now, “Thank-you” was all I had to say. She brought back a bottle of water from the kitchen, one with a drinking tip, and turned the bottle up and shoved it into my mouth, “Drink!” she commanded. She didn’t take the bottle away till I had finished it. I felt the water entering my stomach and new pressure built in my chest. The added water was making it harder to get a breath.
She then brought crackers, which she fed to me as I explained how I had constructed the frame and began my scene, dunking my body into the plaster, and then how I fell asleep, awaking to find out that I was trapped beyond escape. I must have made the plaster just a little too thick, and it hardened faster than usual, stronger than usual. She listened while I talked, seemingly interested in what her new ‘pet’ had to say.
She took a deep breath and then looked at me squarely, “What am I going to do with you?” she seemed genuine, as if she had never thought about having control over anyone before. She looked me over with a gleam in her eye, as a child who just found the candy shop unattended.
“I have always thought about having someone in this situation, but I never expected it to be quite like this.” She said to me. “…I think that you have not fully thought this thru, have you?”
I just looked back at her, and then said, “I would be grateful if you would get me out.” None of my strength could help me in this situation.
“Not just yet, I think…” she was thumbing her nose, and pondering my situation with great thought. I began to sweat inside my encasement, not knowing what she was thinking. “It would be such a shame to abandon all of your hard work in so little time, so soon after I have discovered you…” I heard her say these words and felt my shaft responding to what it meant, and my cock began to grow slowly. She looked around the garage, finding the bags of left over plaster sitting by the garage door. Out of my sight, she worked to mix up a batch of fresh plaster, and then brought it over to me, and sat down next to me.
“I want you to know what its like to be buried inside of plaster,” she said with a sly sexy voice, “I want you to struggle as I pour this on you, so I can watch you helplessly cum. I know you want it too…” I found my cock starting to throb, and pulse against the wall of the cast. She picked up the bucket of plaster, and poured it slowly into the frames shallowest parts. I gasped as she did it, and my raging hard on pulsed even greater. Now I would be totally encased beyond any hope. The mere idea of it turned me on to no end.
“No…” I meekly pleaded, but she was smiling, and ignoring me altogether. “Please, I won’t be able to get out!” I said.
“I know!” she laughed. “That is what I want!” her voice was maniacal, and I found it disturbing. The bucket was very full, and had almost five gallons of plaster in it, more than enough to make the encasement into an exercise in overkill. Now the frame was nearly full, and I was beginning to feel the growth of my erection reach the tip of the cast around it, pushing back on my shaft. I could not move at all, and the idea that the cast could be even more rigid spawned new excitement.
“Help me!” I cried, knowing that she would just laugh at me, without anyone here to hear my cries. She busied herself mixing another bucket of plaster! I could not imagine how she would get me out if she dumped even more onto me. “No, no… I won’t get out!” I pleaded, as she brought the second batch of plaster over, pouring it evenly over the frame, until the level of the new plaster rose up to meet my chin. Now the plaster was level with the frame’s top, making the encasement complete. I struggled with no results, and my cries went unanswered, she was going to make a solid block out of me. There was but one thing rising out of the plaster, and that was my cock, still cast in the mesh tape and I could only hope that I would be freed in time. My engorged cock now pulsed as I struggled.
“Do you like what I have decided to do to you?” She asked, toying with me, “Are you going to cum soon?” she asked, as I gasped as deeply as I could, my eyes fixed in a trance like gaze, concentrating on the feeling surrounding my cock. “This is what I want to see, I want to see how long it takes for you to cum, with you in your most vulnerable spot.” Heather said, staring at me, unable to look away.
I began breathing faster, and the feeling intensified, any move that I made was countered by the cast, and I knew Heather was watching my face give away the struggle I was going thru. “That’s it, just cum for me, its ok, you know you can’t fight it…”she chided me. I gasped as the last bit of fight sank below me, and a reversal in feeling ran throughout my body, and I locked up in expression of “OH” Heather smiled and giggled at me, as I came inside the encasement, helpless to stop it. She got up from my side and started up the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning…” and she shut the door to the garage.
The garage was cool and dark now; my timers went off and started the blow dryers again, this time drying off new plaster, plaster that would insure my staying put, for as long as she wanted me here.