Content Warning: CNC (consensual nonconsent)
**This story is purely a fantasy. In reality, the acts demonstrated should only be practiced with informed consent. All characters over 21.**
The sun is beaming down on me as I set up the decorations for the party. I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow as I finish draping the spider web over the entrance. Stepping off the chair I was balancing on, I double check to make sure the decor is secure and aesthetically pleasing.
The club I work at is having its annual Halloween party tonight and I'm definitely in the spirit. There's always a good DJ, specialty cocktails, and plenty of room to dance or chat with your friends. As a bartender, I can drink as much as I want for free (as long as I'm still coherent enough to serve customers). I originally volunteered to help with the decorations because I needed the hours but I'm actually having fun. I love making everything look spooky.
"Caroline! That looks great." My boss Dahlia squints up at the decor hanging from the awning.
"Thanks! I'm excited to see the inside."
Every year Dahlia adds something different to her party to up the ante. Last Halloween, she hired pole dancers to perform a chilling and sensual strip routine. A previous year there was a costume contest where the winner received free drinks and access to the DJ booth.
Dahlia grabs my hand excitedly. "Yes, I'm dying to show you the VIP room!"
I follow her inside to the most exclusive area that only the highest paying guests have the pleasure of seeing. My mouth drops open in awe. Dahlia and the team she hired really outdid themselves.
The room is dim but several light fixtures create a cozy yet haunting atmosphere. There are large lanterns placed next to the couches, black candelabras jutting out from the walls, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The seating areas are flooded with deep shades of red and purple. There are sofas, armchairs, and even a fainting couch-all upholstered with velvet. There are Espresso stained tables scattered throughout to place drinks on. I spot a a long black box in the corner and step closer to investigate.
"Is that a...."
Dahlia's eyes light up. "A coffin? Yes! I found it in that little vintage consignment store across town."
The tapered box looks bigger than the average coffin. I bet you could fit two people side by side. The outside is matte black with red handles and embellishments adorning the sides. There's a floating shelve hanging above it with supplies. Lube, condoms, and sex toys are arranged artfully.
I glance at Dahlia. "You expect people to have sex in there?"
"Well, look at how big it is! The guy at the shop seemed kinda pervy too so maybe he's already had sex in it." Dahlia's phone buzzes in her back pocket but she ignores it. "Plus Halloween makes people horny and Mickey is sick of couples hooking up in the bathroom!"
That checks out. Mickey is our head security guy. Last Halloween, he spent his whole night dragging scantily clad people out of the handicap stall.
"You want to climb in and check it out? The crew already dusted and sanitized it so I promise it's clean." She is so earnest it's endearing.
"Sure, I'll be the first-"
Dahlia's ringtone erupts and she rolls her eyes.
"I gotta take this but feel free to hang in here before your official shift. Just make sure you're at the main bar when doors open at 8." She rushes out of the room before I can get in another word.
I smile at her antics as I take in the rest of the theming. In the opposite corner, a life-sized skeleton is pushing a bar cart. The cart is shrouded in the same spider web material I used outside but with purple fairy lights strewn throughout. The main part holds top-shelf liquor with themed shot glasses while the bottom holds a deck of tarot cards and a ouijja board. I pour myself a double shot of the Grey Goose and knock it back.
I turn back to the coffin and bite my lip. For some reason the object is intimidating. I've never had the desire to crawl into a coffin but I do love spooky things. I don't love the possibility that people had sex in here but I believe Dahlia if she says it's sanitary. I continue to stall as the alcohol eases my nerves. Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me and I lift the lid.
It's relatively light as the top swings open and rests on its hinges. The high pitched creak suggests it hasn't been opened in a while. Maybe I should get some WD-40 for it before the party starts.
The inside looks even bigger than it did from the outside. I could probably fit Dahlia, Mickey, and me across its width. It's deep too-probably four feet. I will definitely look silly climbing back out but at least there's no one here to witness it.
The inside is lined with blood-red silk. There's a black circle cushion on the far end to lay your head. This honestly wouldn't be a bad place for a mid-shift nap.
There's three cushioned stairs leading to the bottom. I slip off my shoes; not wanting to get dirt on the fancy fabric. I take a measured step and sigh. It's like stepping on a cloud.
When I reach the last step I lay down to get into a comfortable resting position. I roll back and forth for a couple seconds; enjoying the luxurious material. I definitely need to invest in some silk sheets.
I'm not sure if it's coming from the upholstery or the wood of the coffin but there's also a pleasant aroma. An intoxicating combination of leather, rose, and vanilla. Finally, I settle on my back and place my head on the designated cushion. My fingers rest delicately at my sides as I let my eyes flutter close. A pre-work nap wouldn't be so wrong plus Dahlia suggested I hang out here.
I hear a grinding noise and my eyes shoot back open. By the time I process what's happening the stairs have already retracted halfway into the coffin's side. I sit up to lunge for the steps; trying to get a grip on a stair. Silky soft material wraps around my left ankle.
I look down and it appears that a rope, made out of the same upholstered material, has sprung up and trapped my ankle. It's pulling tautly toward the end of the coffin and I desperately attempt to untie it. I manage to get a finger between the silk and my ankle when another rope shoots out of nowhere. This one winds around my right wrist and pulls it sharply above my head.
"What the fuck?!?!" Is this some sort of prank?
I feel my right ankle being yanked down and I panic. I scream frantically for Dahlia-for anyone-to help. At this point the stairs have completely flattened into the side of the coffin. Rope snaps out from the left and traps my remaining wrist. Before I can get another syllable out, the coffin lid slams close. I'm so fucked.
I'm thrust into complete and total darkness. I yell and yell at the top of my lungs but something tells me this thing is soundproof. I try to move my hands to bang on the side of the coffin but I have hardly any wiggle room.
Tears of frustration and fear stream down my face as I continue to fight my restraints. A warm glow fills the coffin and I see that the lid is now lined with the big light bulbs. The kind you see in vanities and dressing rooms. The surface of the lid has transformed into a mirror and I can see my horrified expression reflected in the glass.
A sharp instrument emerges from the side of the coffin and stills near the bottom of my feet. Is this thing gonna kill me? I squeeze my eyes shut in terror but no pain comes.
I hear a ripping sound and peek down to see the tool moving upward. It's tearing the seam of each jean leg. Almost in a clinical manner, my pants are cut off and the scraps are piled neatly near my feet. I'm frozen in shock as the instrument rids me of the rest of my clothes. It's efficient but takes care not to nick my skin.
My bra, panties, jeans, and shirt are destroyed. If I ever get out of this bizarre bondage I won't even be able to wear my clothes. I stared open-mouthed at my reflection.
My skin is flushed from my face to my toes. But I'm not red and sweaty, instead my skin glows. I examine my breasts. They are heaving up and down with the force of my breath. My rosy nipples are pebbled. Am I turned on by this?
My thoughts are interrupted as the ropes attached to my ankles start tugging. They are slowly but surely spreading my legs out. I strain my quads, keeping them stuck together so that they can't be pulled. My whole body is tense with the effort to prevent my exposure. The coffin seems to have a problem with this and two new restraints appear.
"Wait. No!"
The silk wraps around each thigh and pulls outward. I watch helplessly as my legs open up involuntarily. In the mirror, my body looks like an upside down "Y."
My pussy is fully exposed and I can see it glistening below the neat triangle of hair. My face blushes even harder as I fight to arrange my legs in a more modest position. What if there's a camera in here and someone is watching my humiliation? Did that guy from the shop create a trap?
I close my eyes and slow my breathing. Panicking certainly won't get me out of this stupid coffin. Maybe this thing is set on a timer and I can wait it out.
Something soft brushes across my nipple and I jerk in my bonds. What the fuck? I open my eyes and look at the offending instrument. It's a feather. White and long and impossibly delicate. But also currently torturing me.
All I can do is gasp and moan as the feather taps one nipple then the other. It switches to long drags back and forth across my chest with the white plume grazing my areolas each time. I shiver while the pattern changes again.
A second feather emerges so that both nipples are teased at the same time. The tortuous tools begin to tightly circle my sensitized peaks and I groan. The tickling sensation is unbearable and I don't know how long I can take this for.
Perhaps sensing my anguish, the two feathers withdraw and I breathe a sigh of relief. But all too soon a third feather descends right over my pussy.
