I woke in my bedroom. In my soft, cosy bed. Wrapped in crisp clean white sheets, all warm and comfortable and sleepy. Sunlight trickled in through the curtains across my room. It was blissful. Maybe a bit too warm.
Mark lay next to me, facing away. I started a bit at that, but I reached out to touch him.
"Mark?" I said.
He turned his head a bit at my voice, and rolled over. Leena was in the middle of sucking his cock. I cried out, and they both just laughed, pointing at me. I backed away from them but they came closer and closer, throwing bedsheets around me. Wrapping me up with them. Round and round and round, until I couldn't move, or speak.
They grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. Rather than landing on it I disappeared into it, down and down until I hit the floor of a deep rectangular hole. I lay squirming, fighting against the sweaty sheets in a box and the bottom of a grave, so unbearably hot. I could see the bedroom above, sunny and clean and pristine in contrast to the dark hot filth around me. Mark and Leena appeared over the top of the hole with spades of dirt in their hands.
I tried to call out to them. I begged and screamed but my voice was muffled by the sheets. I kicked but it was no use. They simply looked down at me giggling as they dropped roses on me from above, the flowers of which turned into a vaginas gaping and pissing on me. When I cried up to Leena and Mark they simply waved, picked up some shovels and started to fill in the grave, pouring soil onto my face.
I woke screaming through a gag, which protruded deep into my mouth. Unable to see or move, I could hear and feel my screams rebound back to me from surfaces inches from me. I tried my best to kick, and wriggle but I was completely restrained inside my coffin, buried who knows where. I was living my nightmare. Fear and panic consumed me, whilst I cried dry tears, and screamed incomprehensibly into my gag, and wriggled pathetically against my restraints.
It was pitch black, and stuffy, and I was completely immobile. I'd been wrapped head to foot in some kind of plastic. Was it cling film? It was so hot, and sweaty, and bound me like a mummy, ankles together, arms by my side. I could feel rivulets of sweat pooling against my skin, in contrast to the unbearable dryness of my mouth. The only break in my wrapping was for my eyes and nose through which I could just about breathe the stuffy air within my box, and which too bounced back to me from a surface less than an inch from my face, tickling my nose. Otherwise I was completely wrapped tight.
I screamed, again and again and again, my head ringing with the sound. My gag was filling my mouth, keeping it wide, making me gag as it pushed into my throat, stifling my screams and forcing them out of my nose. The wrappings stretched over my mouth, over my forehead and ears, pulled tight over my whole head, like over the rest of my profusely hot and sweating body meant I couldn't even wriggle. Over the wrapping there seemed to be straps pinning me down - ankles, legs, hips, torso and head so that all I could possibly move were my toes.
I tried lifting my head, feeling the resistance of my wrappings tighten against my neck and shoulders, feeling the strap press against my forehead. My chin lifted millimeters, and my nose felt resistanced as it touched the ceiling of my container, right there in front of my face, though I couldn't see it. Hard and rigid. Unyielding. I stretched out my toes, feeling them too fight against the cling film first, then, no more than an inch away, the walls of my enclosure. I pushed at it with my toes, grunting with the effort. It was a feeble hope. The box was solid, and I was strapped tight. Trapped. No escape.
I breathed deeply to try to control my rising panic. I could feel the natural resistance of so much oppressive air passing through my nosrils so quickly. My lungs were fighting to take in breath after breath, unable to overcome the inadequacy of my nose for this one basic task. Just the act of breathing was an effort. The harder I breathed the more restricted my breathing felt, and the less air there seemed to be in my tiny little box. Was it running out? How much did I have left? The walls seemed closer and closer with each second. Unable to move. Unable to cry out for help. Desperately thirsty. Trapped. Unable to breathe. I screamed, and cried, and begged, and wiggled, and strained, and screamed some more. If I could have pissed or shit myself it would have happened now, but I was too starved, too dehydrated.
I fought, and struggled, and screamed for hours and hours, it felt like. I didn't know how long I had been here or how long I would be here. When would they come back for me? Would they come back for me? Would I just be left here to rot? No-one would know to look for me in here. I didn't even know where here was. I could be buried who knows where, Mark and Leena in another country, getting off on the thought of me screaming against 6 foot of dirt, alone in this coffin. Maybe they just wanted me to die like that, whilst they came and came. Oh god! No one was coming for me!
I don't know how long I was like that - out of my mind. I pleaded all kinds of things through my gag. I'd do whatever they wanted - fuck whatever they wanted - just to get out of here. Please let me out.
"I could wank off to your screaming all day long," came Leena's muffled voice from outside the box.
I screamed for her to let me out. I begged. I pleaded.
"Maybe we do have time for a little fun. Shall I get you out for a little bit?"
Again I screamed. Incomprehensibly, but I screamed. Even as the bars, and the locks and the chains were removed from the outside of the box, I screamed. The head of my box swung outward, whooshing in fresh, cool air against my small patch of exposed face, and light streamed into the box. Then my whole world swayed as the floor shifted, as I was slid out of my coffin.
Clean air filled my nose, and lungs. I pulled in breath after breath, sobbing. Crying for someone to help, crying to be let go, crying for my mom.
Leena peeled away the sweaty wrappings from my face, exposing my desperate, wild eyes. The cool air flushed over my cheeks and forehead. She pulled it away from my mouth but my gag remained in place. Bands were fixed around the back of my head keeping it firmly positioned to protrude
"I've been here for ages, working out, building up a sweat. But the more you screamed the more I just had to finger myself. And fuck, you've had me close a few times. I even started using some of your toys, building up a sweat of a different kind. I think you might need to finish me off. How'd you like to make your mistress cum, eh?"
I told her, yes! Yes! I'd do anything. Anything she'd like! But please don't put me back in that box. It came out as a garbled mumble.
"I can't understand a word your saying," said Leena, pulling a plug out my gag. The protrusion into my mouth was withdrawn leaving just a ring holding my mouth open.
"Eskkk, ikkrekkk!" I gasped, the gag still making it impossible for me to speak properly. But all the same nodding against my bonds.
"Yes? You want to make me cum?" Said Leena nodding. "Like I give a fuck what you want anyway."
Leena moved away from me. I could see I was still in the workshop. My robust little box was tiny and fit neatly under one of the shelves. When she'd pulled me out I'd slid like it was a giant draw. The padlocks and chains that had held it closed were robust. Once locked there was no way anyone was getting out.
Leena appeared above me in her sweaty gym clothes, dark patches between her breasts, up and down her ass crack. She hooked a thumb into her leggings and pulled them down to expose her sweaty cunt, rubbing at her clit with her other hand. Then, groaning, she pulled them down to her knees, and squatted over my face.