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Every Precaution Is Taken

— by Shokolada —

Rebecca looked nervously around the basement. No one was around, but she still blushed at the thought of getting caught doing what she was about to do. Well, the blush was part excitement and part embarrassment, but still it would be much easier if no one else in the building found out about her little game.

In the basement corner squatted a nice big pile of stuffed shiny black trash bags – the building’s refuse for the last couple of days. Just looking at it made her heart race, made her squirm. She wanted nothing more than to be bound and stuffed in one of those soft shiny bags, to be left there for an indeterminate period to reflect on her position. For months she’d been thinking about it, and had some wonderful session masturbating to the mental pictures – now, on a cool Monday afternoon, it was time to do something about her fantasies!

Rebecca removed a carefully-refolded bag from her pocket and shook it out. She’d put some preparation into this; the bag was in fact two 55-gallon trash bags, one inside the other, with an additional modification or two for fantasy purposes. She climbed into the big pile of bags – an activity that in itself poked her arousal buttons a bit more – set the prepared bag down, and climbed into it.

This was the scariest part: she didn’t want someone to come down just now, when it would be easy to see what she was doing. Rebecca moved quickly, sliding off her t-shirt and jeans, revealing another plastic trash bag she’d been wearing under her clothes. She’d cut arm and neck holes in a soft, slick black bag and slipped it over her head before she taped it shut between her legs with a little duct tape. With every move on the way downstairs, the plastic had been teasing her nipples and crotch, which did not help her concentration a dang bit.

Rebecca had worn her trash bag underwear in public before – once, she’d been caught when the neck of her shirt revealed the black plastic beneath. She’d tried to pass it off as a weight loss fad; it was fun to hope that the woman might have bought the story, and was trying it at home even now! Today, though, her shiny sheath was there to give her an even stronger sense of being wrapped up and tossed away.

Her clothes and sandals went into a smaller white plastic bag tossed into the bottom of the one she now crouched down in. Rebecca crossed her legs and sat in the bottom of the doubled bag, gathering the top over her head. Another of her modifications was about to come into play; she had used a hole punch at regular intervals a couple inches below the rim of the doubled bags, and run kitchen twine through the holes making a perfect giant drawstring trash bag! She pulled the twine tight from the inside, and the plastic closed over her head into something like the ‘ponytail’ seen on the average tied bag. She knotted it, and even dabbed a little super glue on the knot for symbolism! Sure, she could tear her way out in moments – but it *felt* more as though she was helplessly trapped in her gloomy soft rustling prison, and her heart raced again with excitement.

Just a couple more things. She shoved the cut-off neck of a plastic soda bottle through matching gashes in the plastic layers, ensuring an air supply, but still looking perfectly normal from outside. Finally, she pulled soft, thick latex mittens over each hand – again, removable with some work, but contributing to her feeling of helplessness.

Rebecca lay back, her bag tipping and settling into the trash pile. She was fairly comfortable! Nothing poked her too badly from the bags beneath her, and there wasn’t much smell though her air hole – most of the kitchen trash went elsewhere in the building. She began to daydream that an angry boyfriend or girlfriend had sealed her up here and left her as punishment for misbehavior; or was it as reward? Or both – her fantasy kept slipping back and forth between helpless bondage and cocooned safety, and one mitten wandered up to slip back and forth over a plastic-covered nipple as the other slid down to her crotch.

Noise! The basement door opened loudly and she froze in place, not wanting to show a single wiggle or make a tiny sound. Her heart thudded against her ribs; the double layer of black plastic made it impossible to see more than an indistinct wobble of shadow. Was she about to be found? Was that as exciting as it was terrifying?

Rebecca heard a grunt from a throat of indeterminate gender, and almost cried out as a padded thump landed hard on her. Someone was tossing their trash onto the pile! Two more bags landed around her, one rolling against her before it stopped, before the door opened and closed again. Rebecca felt truly part of the pile now, and she liked it, sending a hand back to her crotch with a vengance. A quick stroke *there*… a thumb pushing her plastic sheath slightly into her *there*… so hot and sweaty in the trash… she was imprisoned, never to be let out… the rest of her days cocooned in soft and shiny… bad girl… good girl… bad girl… good girl… OH MY GOD!!!

—–

She woke with a literal jolt. Rebecca hadn’t even realized she’d passed out, and from the perspiration in her bag, it must have been for quite a while. At least nothing had blocked her air. But that jolt had been a real one. She heard the rumble of hard nylon wheels, and felt bumps and vibration underneath her; somehow without waking, she’d been loaded on a cart with several other of the bags in her pile, and someone was moving her! None of the trash was supposed to be moved today, was it? How could anyone have missed a warm 165-pound bag in that pile?

But if they hadn’t noticed yet, she wasn’t going to push matters. She could still strip the mittens off fairly fast, and the plastic would yield in moments to fingernails if necessary. There was still plenty of time to see if they left her somewhere quiet, secluded enough to slip back into street clothes and get away.

In the meantime, this too was kind of fun. Here she was in the middle of the pile, wrapped safely and warmly in her trash bag, no one to know where she was, being moved around like an inanimate object. Rebecca could tell she was getting turned on again, though rubbing herself would probably be a bad choice for stealth. She waited out the bumps and enjoyed herself.

The bumps and movement stopped. Rebecca heard a loud metal squeak, and suddenly tipped forward. She yelped, she couldn’t help it; her bag and the others piled with her slid foward and down, dropping a couple of feet into a soft, rustling pile of more bags. “What was that?” a woman’s voice said; Rebecca had landed face-down in the pile, with the plastic against her nose, but the last thing in the world she wanted was to give herself away even a bit more. She held her breath and held still as long as she could. Please leave… please leave… please leave…

“Huh,” said the voice, and the metal squeaked again and clanged. The thin light got a little darker, and Rebecca figured she’d been tossed in a dumpster. After a minute or so more of silence from outside, she rolled over and got her nose and air hole clear. It smelled a little bit worse in here than in the basement, but still not too bad. No movement or sound came from beyond the door, so she may have gotten away with her mini-yell. Then it struck her: she’d been tossed in a dumpster with the rest of the trash! And immediately her hands shot down to her crotch again. Only dirty, dirty girls get thrown in the trash… girls who just couldn’t behave, who liked being dirty… mmmhmmm… all sticky and sweaty and putting their hands in their naughty parts… ohhhhh…

And then, the new noise. It terrified her worse than anything else she’d heard or felt yet: a motor started. Metal squeaked again. All the bags around her shifted and moved; this wasn’t a dumpster, it was a compactor! Shit! Shitshitshit! She could feel the moving wall coming. Lighter bags of trash were pushed on top of hers, to tumble over her. The slow advance slid her bag inexorably toward the far compactor wall. She tried to get the mittens off, but her hands inside them were shaky and slick with sweat. She pushed and kicked at the bag around her, but there was too much trash surrounding her, and it did nothing to help. Her panic rose with the pressure. The wall almost engulfed her, Rebecca felt the pressure everywhere; she had to get out! She didn’t want to die!

And then, just before it got too tight to move or breathe, everything stopped. Rebecca heard a metallic clunk, and the motor noises died away. Reprieve: she was okay! It was all going to be fine. She still could get out, she could get the mittens off now with just a few minutes to work at them, then climb out and get dressed – who cared about being seen! She could just tear open her trash bag, so tight and confining and trapping under all the… all the…

Oh, fuck it. Back down went her hands.

Rebecca’s orgasm moments later was epic, certainly the most powerful high she’d ever had. She thrashed about, tried her best not to scream past teeth buried in her lower lip, jerked and grunted again and again and again. Finally, finally it stopped, and this time she wasn’t going to fall asleep, no matter how much she wanted to. She summoned her remaining strength, got the mittens off, and tore open her bag –

– to see a woman watching her intently. “Well. I’m relieved to see you were planning to climb out eventually,” said the voice she’d heard earlier.

“Oh god,” Rebecca said in a small voice.

“This didn’t seem like a suicide. Still, lucky for you that a) I heard you in there, and b) this thing has a stop limit, and wasn’t all that full. This is a sex thing, right?”

“Yes,” she answered just as meekly, terribly aware of the tight, sweaty sheath she still wore.

“Well then. In exchange for me not telling anyone about this, and me making sure you’d be safe in there, you’re buying me a hamburger and explaining just what gets you off about this.”

“What? Really?” Rebecca didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

“Though we might get you a shower first, since you don’t smell especially appetizing.”

“I mean, you really want me to talk about this?”

The stranger began to mirror Rebecca’s blush. “Yeah, well… I saw the way you got off in there. If that happens every time… hell, I might put you in again myself for the entertainment value!”

With that, Rebecca started to smile. Perhaps if she played her cards right, this whole escapade could lead to a great deal more fun.


This story was inspired by The Erotic Notebook’s “Wank Wednesday”. This week’s prompt is ‘Normal’. Read all the Wank Wednesday erotic stories for Normal on Ruby Kiddell’s blog.

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