Gromet's PlazaPackaged, Encasement & Objectification Stories

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

by Margaret B

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© Copyright 2005 - Margaret B - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/f; D/s; prepare; cath; enema; insert; crate; shipped; torment; bdsm; susp; cons; XX

Packaged Story Contest 2005 Entrant

I looked up into the eyes of my old master.  He reached down and gave my naked breast a gentle squeeze with a final smile.  I could feel the Styrofoam peanut packing material shifting under my bare body.  Another servant placed the latex hood over my head and pulled it into the correct position covering my eyes and face with only three small holes.  Two holes were for my nostrils where the short tubes from the oxygen line allowed me to breath.  The other hole accepted the larger tube for water combined with nutrients.  I took a large gulp from the water tube. Yuk!  The liquid protein and vitamins made the warm mineral water taste horrible.  My hands were cuffed to the sides of the crate, which measured four feet by four feet by eight.  There was an oxygen tank providing breathable air for the next 24 hours that should give me enough time to get where I was going.

You have to plan ahead for trips like these.  I had air and water, but what about peeing.  I could hold it, yeah right!  I could piss into the packing material, which did not sound very hygienic.  The other option, the one I chose, was the use of a collection bag and a catheter.  The sterile tube was inserted by master’s nurse just minutes before I lay down.  All my piss drained out into the toilet before the bag was hooked on.  This was the last bit of prep before being lead to the crate.  The prep started with a series of enemas, a douche, and finally three tampons.  One in the usual place with the other two going deep in my ass.  This was followed by a twelve-inch flexible butt plug pushed passed my rectum and into my bowel.  There was nothing coming out that hole!

After the mask and tubes were in place and I was blind and more or less deaf, the servant “adjusted” my catheter. This minute of groping was surely to feel my wet pussy since there was no reason to touch anything down there.  I expect to return the “favor” some day. Then the packing material was shoveled over my body and the heavy wooden lid slammed with a loud bang and vibration sealing me inside. 

I could hear the pounding of the nails, sixteen along each side and four at the top and bottom, as secure as a coffin.  The trip to the airport would take about an hour, add two hours waiting, eight hours in the air, and two hours to be picked up, plus one to two hours for delivery, I was expecting to be opened in sixteen to twenty hours.  That should leave a safe margin of oxygen, my only real concern, of four to eight hours. I wiggled around a little bit to see how tight things were.  I was not able to move more than an inch in any direction. Wonderful!

I lay there breathing the metered out oxygen, unable to touch my body, not wanting to drink any more fluid completely bored stiff.  I had presumed that on my flight to my new and temporary owner that I would sleep most of the way.  I was awake right now with only sexually arousing thoughts and the foreboding of what was to happen on my arrival.  I did not know that along with the mineral water and nutrients I was drinking sugar and caffeine.  I was also ignorant of the fine powder on the packing material designed to make me itch.  It became activated by moisture.  How diabolical! 

I lay wide-awake for what seemed like an eternity, but was really nearly four hours.  I tried thinking of a few favorite things to pass the time, but my thoughts kept returning to the expected things, sex, when the hell am I going to move, and will the oxygen run out! 

In my boredom, I nearly drifted off to sleep when someone or something lifted a corner of the crate and let it crash to the floor.  I had not noticed the lifting and the surprise of the drop sent me into a panic attack. I began to scream only to find that the mask held my jaw tightly closed preventing more sound than a gag.  I found the attempt at making noise drew the vile fluid into my mouth and unable to spit I swallowed.  The worst of it was I could barely hear my scream proving I had no release.

A few minutes passed before the crate was lifted up and moved on to a truck bed.  I was dropped with a shocking blow then tipped up on to my head and lowered gently with what seemed to by less of a bang on to the truck bed with my face and boobs toward the ground. The front of my naked body faced the floor in a kind of suspension on the packing material as the truck drove to the airport. 

At the airport, the crate was unloaded and turned end over end bringing a dizzy, fearful disorientation, but I was lucky to land in a standing position.  I stood there for over three hours with my mind changing back and forth between boredom and the fear that the crate with me in it would be dropped forward on my face without any one to catch the fall.  With nothing else to do, I sucked the vile fluid.  Finely, I was picked up and loaded in the cargo hole of the plane lying on my back in a reasonably comfortable position.  The plane taxied for a few minutes and then began to gain speed for departure.

The next pain that over took me to the point that I thought I would die and nearly passed out was in my groin. The urine collected in the bag returned through the tube into my bladder.  My feet and the stored piss were towards the nose of the plane and the high angle at take off brought the flow of urine by my stretched out and useless sphincter back to the source.  Just as I was about to pass out the plane began to level off and I fought with all my might to handle the agony in my belly.  I didn’t actually feel the flow of urine from my bladder, but I was relieved as the pain ebbed out and I came back to normal or at least as normal as one could expect from such conditions.

You might think that the flight itself was uneventful, but that would be an error.  Tubulents were sudden, surprising, and frightful causing shifts in the cargo and concern, sometimes terror, about what might happen any moment.  That was the fun part!  The really bad part was the boredom!  Sometime into the flight I got so fucking horny I spent a good hour or more trying my best to bring on an orgasm by humping those stupid Styrofoam peanuts.  This left me exhausted and frustrated, aren’t you fucking glad!  With the unknown additive of sugar and caffeine, I did not get any real sleep.  I only got a few minutes of sleep from utter exhaustion.

On a kinder note, I suppose this is the best time to explain what this is really about.  Though called slave Marie and referring to master, I am really his legal wife.   We have never had sex in the usual fashion; he can’t (excuse the pun) get it up. So, I have sex with other partners as he watches.  I want you to know that I consent to these arrangements and take much joy from them and I truly believe he enjoys them as well.  He was seventy-four when we were married two years ago.  I understand that many men into their eighties enjoy erections and ejaculation, but my master is not one of those.  I have been even on our wedding night and before and after been having sex in wild and fun ways with others as he watches.  It is as much his idea and desire as mine, if that helps you accept it.  I try to make sure that he enjoys the activity as much as I do, but I am in my sexual prime at thirty-three and have needs, of course.

The purpose of my trip was to be used and abused by master’s previous wife.  For agreeing to the nightmare that was coming, the prenup would be removed and I would get one hundred million dollars.  I believed whatever torture she could imagine would be worth the agony and humiliation for that amount of money.  I was to be returned on a Monday morning flight packed in the same crate.  I hoped I could ask for no fluids, in or out, but dehydration would be a concern.

After about seven hours in the air, we began to land. I breathed a sigh of relieve.  I was very cold from the unheated cargo area and was looking forward to being opened.  The landing was a little rough, but we were all in one piece.  We taxied around for a while and eventually stopped. The plane sat there for what seemed like forever, then to my horror began to taxi away.  We were taking off again!

I knew about the urine collected in the bag at my feet and feared the worst.  The surprise was the cold that flowed into my pelvic.  I am sure I passed out from the agony and the freezing cold.  When I came to my senses, the plane was starting to land again.  I don’t know if the flight was ten minutes or two hours, but I was shivering from the cold and terrified I was going to die.

On the ground, I was moved from the plane to some holding area dropped hard on some other crates then others were dropped on me.  I was beginning to worry about the oxygen running out.  I could breathe around the tubes, but the crate was lined with heavy plastic so only the air inside was available. It seemed like hours passed before the other crates were shifted and I was moved to a truck.  I was stacked toward the front, standing on my head.  The truck began to pull away just as the oxygen ran out.  I had 20 maybe thirty minutes to live.

The crate was opened with me lying down and the mask removed just as I drew my last breath.  I was alive and getting fresh air.  Before my eyes could adjust to the blinding light after not seeing anything for 24 hours, my hands were released from their cuffs only to be cuffed together. An overhead crane lifted me out of the crate and into the air.  I was dragged along on an overhead rail system into another room where torment and torture were ready to practice on my body, mind, and soul.  It is amazing what you can do with money!

I hung about a foot off the floor looking at my helpless body in a wall of mirror.  Madeline walked in slapped my ass with a riding crop and made an intimate inspection of her plaything.  Then I said the wrong thing.

“Madeline, I will do anything you want and you can treat me like shit, only please let me have a shower.  I stink and itch.  My skin is crawling.  Please let me take a ten minute shower and I will come back here and you can torture me!”

She laughed.

“Don’t be silly dear.  That powder on your packing material is designed to make you itch.  I’m glad its working.  You will be packed in the same material when you leave, which maybe Monday or Friday, this week or next.  It depends on when I am finished putting your body, mind, and soul through a living hell.”

She ran her fingers through my hair saying, “I think I’ll use a dull rusty straight edge razor on your head. According to the rules I can cut, pull out, and burn any thing that is expected to grow back.  You have such a lovely pedicure.  We are going to have a lot of fun!”

One of her servants walked in wearing stockings, garter belt, and high heels.  His makeup and wig made him look like a slut.  He was slowly stroking his very big hard black cock and looking at me with a grin.

“Stop that Charles!  You can fuck every hole as often as you and Celais are able later.”

Charles quickly released his penis and stepped over to a table covered with all kinds of toys to pick up a six-foot black leather single tail whip.  There were clamps, blindfolds, gags, dildos, whips, floggers, candles, and a sponge resting in a dish of alcohol with a dozen or more long pins with red and blue balls on top.  Beside the bowl was a small paddle.  Seeing this and knowing it was to torment my nipples, maybe even my clit, I would have given up all the money.  Quitting was not an option; I was there to be tortured for her amusement.  There was no safe word, negotiation, way out.  I was to be tormented and raped for at least two days. I would leave in that same crate.  Flying home, if alive.  Dumped in a hole somewhere if not.

Madeline sat in a very comfortable chair wearing a leather bra and panties.  She untied the strings from the panties and opening them in full view of everyone began to play with herself.

“Charles, begin the whipping!”

Please send and E-mail to MARGARET B and tell me what you think.  I love hearing from readers and writers.

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