Mummification

The Boxes By J storycodes: Sbf; M/f; latex; bodybag; boxed; cons; XX As you come walking into the house you see a note and 4 boxes The note says: Dearest slave, You see before you the boxes of your plight tonight and what you will be wearing is in those 4 boxes. But first you must shave your body clean, and give yourself a series of enemas to make sure you are good and cleaned out, you will be in the contents of the boxes for the weekend. Now go and do as I say. There will be other notes in the boxes detailing what to do next. ...

PETFUN Mummy Quick sheet (developed with and approved by a qualified veterinarian) Name: Mummy (human) Average size: Varies Life Span: When properly cared for, up to 50 years, depending on age of mummy when purchased. Signs of a healthy Mummy: * Does not flinch or struggle to get away when you touch or stroke him. * Tries to get close to you when you get close to it. * Does not cry, moan, scream, or weep. * Shows interest, either in eye movement (if unwrapped) or in trying to listen to what’s going on around it. ...

Author's Note: It’s my first time writing a story involving bondage of any kind, please tell me if anything is wrong. Also openned to suggestions for the following part It was the beginning of summer, and Ilia was watching through her window, anxiously waiting for her package to arrive. It had all started about 6 months ago, You see, Ilia had a Bondage fetish, she loved everything about being wrapped up in leather, latex or even just bound by ropes, sadly she had yet to find someone that shared her enthusiasm for it, so she lived alone on the house her parents left to her before they passed away. It was a nice house in the suburbs, the neighbors were really quiet and never actually made contact with her, she thought maybe they had something against her, since she worked as a ’entertainer’ at a club downtown, since she looked amazing,(having blonde hair and DD cups, accompanied by a very well endowed ass) and the people in the suburbs don’t really find those acts very…elegant. ...

Part I *She struggled because there was nothing else to do but it wasn’t to get free, she already knew that was impossible, it was to prevent her muscles from atrophying and her mind from screaming even if, physically, she was currently incapable of doing anything of the kind. Mentally she was alert enough. She could still remember the jab of the needle in her upper left thigh and the hands that had held her tightly as it was emptied into her but right now everything else, apart from the fact that she was held rigidly to a chair, bound tightly and blindfolded and gagged, was just a blank….* ...

Rhonda Moore checked her make up in the rear view mirror and was excited at her first day of her new promotion. Center Chemical’s new chief of R&D Rhoda Jacobson. She was happy to be in this position and had done everything to earn it. That everything meant everything! She was stuck on a problem and she had spied someone else working on a similar problem but from the different end. She stole the note off of that persons desk and made the very incredible breakthrough. ...

Author's Note: Okay, I’m willing to admit right up front that this story is FAR from flawless. I wrote it when I was about 18-19 and my writing skills at the time were questionable at best. But, I still have a soft spot for it since this was the first story I ever wrote from start to finish without losing interest. So I hope that you can all read with open minds. ...

“Some fantasies are just that…” When he had asked for a shot to take away the pain, he had expected it to make him drowsy, maybe even send him to sleep for a while. He hadn’t expected it to give him a cock so hard that it felt like he could drill clean through to Australia with it. The pain had gradually subsided but his erection hadn’t. He was mildly drowsy. He lay back in his bed, propped up on pillows, watching the world go by, or rather, watching the visitors come in and go out. It was August, it was hot, even inside the hospital, and it was visiting time. ...

Author's Note: It’s the classic story; boy meets girl, boy gets imprisoned by a fantastical empire, both get framed, and the two of them are punished by being used as guardians in a tomb. Such is the life of the adventurer. It hung in the air, its supporting base invisible in the soft light. It was a globe, as though filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net of frosted stars; its hundreds of facets each shone individually. The temple’s dust had not marred it, the sand and sun’s only effect the reflection of more and more light onto its sparkling frame. ...

I would have screamed if it had not been for the metal head enclosure I was sealed into, cold and unyielding and holding my mouth firmly shut. Not that I could have opened it anyways, I had been injected so full of muscle relaxant that I was essentially paralysed, nothing moved, nothing… From a couple of plastic windows I had been left for the eyes I could see in front of me, my gaze affixed upon the table, holding my fate and my life from my unmoving eyes, eyes that would never again see my pretty reflection, my Monroe smile or my petite size ten figure. All that was left of me was my mind and with no port for expression I was lost into a world of my loneliness. The table still had tools and metal parts awaiting their fate upon my skin, and I would have shivered had I been able to at the touch of the icy cold I felt as they were attached one by one, locking and sealing me away from the world. As I saw the last sealing screw picked up off of the table I knew this was forever, no escape, no future, no life. ...

Author's Note: Another story in the on-going “Foundation Chronicles” stories. A young senator tries to gather political momentum to do something about all the women going missing. The Foundation is forced to take action against this potential threat. Anne watched as ten, collared, and recently trained, slaves lined up for inspection. They stood straight at the shoulders, but with eyes downcast, as they were taught. They were naked, except for the metal collar that slaves of all ranks wore, even trustees like herself. Their bodies still bore the bruises and welts of her intense training program. A program, that chief of staff to the Prime Dom herself intended to scrutinize. ...