Mummified.net Mummification Stories
Cast Party
by Jo
jzami@hotmail.com
© Copyright 2011 - Jo - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/ff; capture; bond; cuffs; bandages; plaster; casting; bdsm; piercing; reluct/cons; XX
nl it
Cast Party Jo M/ff; capture; bond; cuffs; bandages; plaster; casting; bdsm; piercing; reluct/cons; XX
 

A movement caught his eye. He picked up the binoculars, focused.

The curvy girl was leaving the pool, tits swaying as she climbed the ladder. She turned and walked away from him. The sight of her ass jiggling made him hard.

The blonde was thin, almost boyish with slim hips and a small, round ass that didn't jiggle when she walked. Had a nice rack, though. Curvy girl settled on the lounge next to hers. Blondie was absorbed in her Kindle and didn't look up.

He set the binoculars aside and pulled the mirror forward. A stranger gazed back at him - blonde hair that came over his ears, moustache, tinted aviator glasses. He got up and pulled on the pants that were three sizes too large. The fat suit did that, made him look thirty pounds overweight. He buttoned the shirt. Over the breast pocket was a red and white stitched patch that said, "Phil." His name wasn't Phil.

He picked up the clipboard, one of those metal box things. He opened it, took out the pistol, broke it, checked the cartridges, snapped it shut, put it back in the box.

He glanced out the window. The girls were standing, gathering their things.

Show time.

He ran downstairs, climbed into the van, and drove it around the mail box kiosk over to building 7. The girls passed behind. He watched them in the mirror. They walked up the path, into the breezeway. Curvy girl had a towel around her waist that both hid and enhanced that spectacular ass. They entered the apartment at the back " 7104. But he knew that.

He snapped the ID to his pocket, grabbed the clipbox, checked the gun one more time.

"Hi. My name is Phil. I'm with Tri-State Electric. The apartment complex has hired us to check the dishwashers. There's been a service bulletin on the dishwasher and I have to check it, see if it's on the list, won't take a minute."

Blondie didn't hesitate, didn't check his ID, just said, "Sure." and opened the door. He followed her into the apartment.

Curvy girl was on the couch, she had changed into a t-shirt and shorts. A quick glance told him she wore no bra.

He made a show of opening the dishwasher, rifling through some papers on the clipboard.

"Nope. You're fine. Sorry to bother you."

"No, that's okay. Thanks."

She turned, walked out of the kitchen. She took a step backwards so he could walk by. He threw his shoulder into her chest, sent her sprawling on top of curvy girl. He pulled out the pistol.

"Okay, here's the deal. You do what I say, nobody gets hurt, you come out of this none the worse for wear." He waved the gun. "And in case one of you is thinking heroic thoughts, don't."

He pointed the gun at blondie. "You screw around," he gestured at curvy girl, "she gets hurt and vice versa. One of you fucks up, the other pays. Understand?"

Neither girl spoke, the moment drew long.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He unzipped the fanny pack, pulled out two sets of handcuffs, tossed them on the couch.

"Ankles."

Both girls hesitated, but curvy girl moved first, snicked the cuffs in place. Blondie watched her, curvy girl ignored her, gazed solemnly at the floor. After another moment's hesitation she followed suit.

"Tighten the left one a bit. Not too tight, though."

He tossed two more sets onto the couch.

"Wrists behind your back."

There was no hesitation from either girl and they were soon cuffed hand and foot. He put the gun back in the clipbox, set it on a shelf.

He pulled a black ball gag from the pack and stepped over to curvy girl.

"Open."

She opened and he pushed the ball into her mouth, wedged it behind her teeth, fastened the strap behind her neck, buckled the chin strap.

"Your turn."

Blondie parted her lips, but just a bit. She fought him as he tried to push the ball into her mouth. He reached over and grabbed a handful of curvy girl's hair, twisted, hard. Curvy girl squealed behind her gag. When he proffered the gag again, blondie passively opened her mouth wide.

He pulled the cell phone from its belt clip and took a couple of pictures.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

There were two cells on the shelf, he dropped them into the clipbox and left.

When he returned they were as he'd left them, cuffed, gagged, side by side on the couch. He set the large box down, stepped into the kitchen and filled the bucket half full of water, came back and set it next to the box. He slit it open, pulled out a roll of plaster-infused gauze and spent the next few minutes cutting it into strips. He did the same with two more rolls before stepping over to the couch and grabbing curvy girl's arm.

He hauled her to her feet. She made little, shuffling steps as he dragged her to the middle of the living room. Her tits bounced, kept bouncing for a second after she'd stopped moving. Nice.

He tugged her shorts down to her ankles, his face at bush level. She had a nice bush, full, but neatly trimmed. He slid his hand between her thighs. The skin was cool, but her pussy was warm - and wet. And baby smooth. He'd have liked to spent some time exploring, but he had work to do. He started with her shins.

He dipped a strip into the bucket, wrung it out, and pressed it to her leg, wrapped it around, smoothed it out. He followed with another strip and another, working his way up her legs, overlapping the strips, covering her thighs, right up to her butt cheeks. The sensation of slick plaster on warm girl flesh made him rock hard and he had to stand and squat several times to adjust things, not that it did any good.

He worked his way back down her legs, then back up again. He smeared vertical strips up her thighs, up to her hips and ran strips of tape across her front, covered her bush and lower belly.

He unlocked the cuffs and pulled the T over her head. She had great tits. Big enough to sag just a bit, way more than a handful, but she was young and they were firm.

He positioned her hands at her sides. The next strip went just above the crack of her ass over her hands, across her belly. He worked at sealing her hands, then worked his way upward until he reached her tits. Again he applied vertical strips, connected them across her back until he was just at the top of her cleavage. He worked his way across her chest and shoulders and around her neck. Two more trips down and back and her upper body was sealed as was the lower.

He kneaded the tape on her legs. It was setting up, getting firm. It would set in ten to fifteen minutes, harden in an hour, but it would be several hours before it would be fully cured and rock hard. There was time.

He spent several minutes making adjustments, framing her tits and ass just so.

He popped the ball from her mouth, popped the pill in, and gave her a sip of water. There was no resistance. He sealed her lips with a strip of tape. He applied two more in an x shape up onto her cheeks and under her chin. Two more strips rendered her blind, joined at a spot on her forehead, coming down onto her cheeks. He added more strips horizontally, vertically, up and down and around her head until it was totally encased except for her nostrils.

There was vodka in the freezer and glasses on the shelf and he settled on the couch with his drink.

Blondie was next to him, rigid, breathing small, shallow breaths.

"What do you think? Looks good, doesn't she?

She said nothing.

"Here. Let's get you more comfortable."

He set the drink down and piled pillows in the corner of the couch. He hefted her over to them, settled her in. Frowned.

"Probably not all that comfortable laying on the cuffs, hey?"

He eased her up, reached behind, and undid one of the cuffs. He pulled the cuffed wrist and locked it to her ankle. He undid one of the ankle cuffs and clipped it to her free hand.

"Better?"

She didn't respond.

"Open your legs."

She didn't move.

"Open I said."

She spread her legs, but just a bit. He grabbed her knees, pushed them wide.

"Just because the rule is you screw up she gets hurt doesn't mean I don't have ways to make you cooperative."

He fanned his face.

"Gee. Is it hot in here or is it me?"

She went rigid as he reached behind her back and undid the bikini string. He undid the one at her neck, followed by the two at her hips. He pulled the strings free without disturbing the cloth - what there was of it.

"Better? Hm? Comfy now? I think it'd be a good idea to just lay back and relax. Don't move. Because, well, I mean, if you want to show me your tits and pussy, that's okay. But for some reason I don't think you do."

He traced his finger along the edge of the bra, down her cleavage.

"If I can see it I can touch it. Isn't that the rule?"

He ran his finger down across her belly, across the top of the triangle between her legs. It started to slip and he tugged it back into place.

"Last thing we need is a wardrobe malfunction, hey?"

When he'd finished his drink he stepped over to curvy girl. The plaster had set. He eased her down onto the floor and propped a pillow under her legs. He undid the cuffs and pulled off her shorts.

She had great feet. He wasn't into feet, but hers were just about perfect. They were delicate, compact, all the toes short, their nails painted a shade of red that complemented her tan. It was a shame to cover them, but cover them he did. He worked his was down from her shins, going half way to her knees, then wrapped her down to her ankles. He circled her heels, arches and insteps until only her toes were visible. They, too, soon disappeared under a layer of white.

He fixed another drink and checked the time. It had been a bit over two hours. The inner layers would be approaching rock hardness by now.

Blondie was as he'd left her - cuffed, gagged, legs spread, the thin stuff of her suit showing a decent camel toe. She studiously avoided his gaze. He sipped his drink, watched the clock make its slow way around.

He checked curvy girl's feet. They'd set up nicely. He removed the pillow and rolled her onto her front.

The wand slipped over the hook at the top of the blinds. It had a nice whippy feel. He lashed curvy girl's ass, laying thirteen strokes from top to bottom. The welts popped up, immediate and intense. Curvy girl squealed behind her gag.

Though he'd tried to strike her cheeks evenly one was getting the brunt of the welts. He changed sides.

Thirteen more lashes, thirteen more welts, thirteen more squeals. He returned the wand to the window, stepped back over to her, rolled her onto her back.

The big box was empty except for the smaller box. He pulled it out, set it down, opened it. He pulled on the latex gloves. The needle and hardware were in a small vial filled with antiseptic. He dumped it into the lid. He squirted antiseptic on the forceps, swabbed some more on curvy girl's nipples. They hardened nicely.

He tugged one nipple, pulling it this way and that, finally deciding on the exact spot he wanted. He touched a felt tip pen to both sides of her nipple. Still pulling on her nipple he positioned the forceps, centering the dots in the circular tips. He squeezed. Curvy girl grunted. He repeated the process with the other.

Curvy girl squealed as the needle went through. Though, truth be told, not very loud. It's hard to squeal and breath through only one's nose.

With the barbell in place, he put a dot of glue on the threads and screwed on the bead. The other nipple got the same treatment, he removed the forceps, and with a final swap of antiseptic he was done. He nodded. With the forceps on there was a good bit of shaft showing, but now her nipples filled the gap nicely.

He tidied up, set his things by the door. He hefted curvy girl and propped her in the corner.

He didn't want a third vodka, but there was beer in the fridge. He cracked one and settled on the couch.

He drained the can, crushed it, went into the kitchen and dropped it into the recycle bin. He grabbed a glass.

Back in the living room Denise was worrying her nipple through her t-shirt. He slapped her hand away.

"Stop that! Does it hurt?"

"Unh uh. It's just there, I mean, now that you mention it it does throb a bit."

Her hand went unconsciously up to her chest.

He opened the coffee table draw, pulled out a bit of rope, tied her wrists. He topped off her margarita and handed it to her.

"There. That'll keep your hands occupied. Rachelle?"

"Sure."

He added a dollop to hers, then filled his own glass.

"What's the matter?"

Rachelle didn't say thing, just shook her head.

"Come on girlfriend. Talk to me."

Rachelle frowned, shrugged and said, "I don't know."

Denise set her glass down, fumbled the top off the tequila bottle, and poured a shot. She handed it to Rachelle.

"In tequila veritas. Drink."

Rachelle took the glass and tossed back the drink. They were quiet. Time stretched.

"Not quite what you expected, huh?"

Rachelle just shook her head. More silence.

"Well, I just ... just wasn't expecting that. When you said he'd have a birthday surprise I thought he was going to buy you a new kinky outfit and take you to that bondage club."

"That may still be in the cards. Everything comes in threes and I'm due a third gift. I've had my birthday spanks, but that doesn't count as a gift, and now I have some new jewelry."

"Birthday spanks? He BEAT you!"

Rachelle's face flushed. She shot a glance at Arn.

"Caned me. Technically he caned me. Twenty-six years, twenty-six swats. You should have been here last year. I got, what, forty?"

"Something like that, a bit more actually."

"Uh, maybe I shouldn't tell you this. It might creep you out."

Rachelle shrugged. "Oh hell. In for a penny in for a pound."

Denise took a sip of her drink.

"He took me to a club for a special birthday party. Twenty-five years. A special year."

"Anyway, I was naked, well almost. They have a rule: no genitals, and no nipples on girls. So I had this little thong on and a bit of tape on my nips. Arn had me fixed between two columns in a private room. There were about a dozen people there. He brought out the birthday cake, but the candles weren't lit, which kind of confused me. Then the doctor arrived. He's not a real doctor, but he has access to needles. He's like the resident expert when it comes to needle play. So he opens a container, takes out a needle, pops the safety cap off, plucks a candle from the cake, and sets it into the needle."

She took another sip for dramatic effect no doubt.

"And he sticks the needle in my boob."

"What!"

"Yeah, well, I'm uh ... I'm kind of into needle play. Remember I explained subspace to you, a bit of pain a surge of endorphins, more pain, more juice, well on the trip to subspace needles are my vehicle of choice."

Arn topped off their drinks.

"Is this bothering you? Should I go on?"

"Does it get worse?"

"Well maybe just a little, not much."

Rachelle made a face, but nodded.

"Well, Doc proceeds to turn my boobs into pin cushions. And he does a good job, knows how to position them for different amounts of pain. The closer they are the more it hurts, especially when he crosses them under the skin. But he didn't do that this time, just stuck them in nice and straight. But, still, I got a hell of a rush."

"When he was done Arn lit the candles and everybody sang. And I was going to blow them out, although I have no idea how I would have done that, them being on my boobs and all, when he says to leave them."

"Amanda steps behind me. She's the one seriously into body art and I start feeling these pains in my back. I can't see her, but I know what she's doing, watched her do it to another girl once. She's piercing me with fish hooks, two rows down my back. Then I feel her tugging on them and after a while everybody applauds and she kisses me and says happy birthday. Someone takes a picture and shows me and I've got this lacing, pink ribbons through the eyes of the hooks, my back is all laced up. It was very cool. Then came the spanks."

"Arn came up with the charity idea, five bucks a whack. We raised, what, two hundred dollars?"

"Something like that."

"So that would be forty whacks, like I said, give or take. Of course by that time, between the needles and fish hooks, well, Denise had left the building. Oh, and the wax. All those candles burned down and my tits were covered with wax. I didn't come down, all the way down, for about three days."

It got quiet again.

She turned to him.

"Sorry it took so long. EMT shears can't cut through plaster."

When he had left, Denise had been encased for about three hours and they didn't show up at his place for another four.

"Lucky her uncle's a doctor. She used to work for him summers, kind of a gofer. She still has the key. So she went to the office and got the thingamajig. What do you call it?"

Rachelle just shrugged.

"Well anyway, it's this vibrating thing. It can't hurt you. You can press it against your skin. But it sliced right through the plaster cast."

She turned to Rachelle.

"How was it for you? I wish I could have seen you, your first time in bondage and all."

Again the silence stretched.

"Confusing."

"Oh? How so?"

She shot another glance at Arn.

"Well, what happened to that whole sex thing? I thought he tied you up and did sex stuff."

"Well, there's sex and there's sex and then there's sex."

She took another sip.

"There's sex. Just what you think it is. I'm in some kind of bondage and Arn does nice things to me. A lot of times it's like that."

"Then there's sex, that whole pleasure/pain thing. Once he tied me to the bed and he made me come. And the first half dozen orgasms were nice, the next okay, the next six or so were getting distinctly uncomfortable. But by that time my clit had become so sensitized that I couldn't stop. And then it just flat out hurt, pain like you wouldn't believe - and still I kept coming. So when does pleasure become pain?"

"When does food become garbage?"

She blinked at him and laughed.

"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, then there's sex. Sexual torment, not torture, torment. You were laying there, your bikini half off, legs open, cuffed and gagged. Don't tell me the effect was lost on you. The helplessness, the vulnerability."

Rachelle flushed.

"Someone once said that bondage was unbearable torment, indefinitely prolonged. Usually that's the kind of sex we do. This thing, today with the role playing, we don't do that too often. You on the couch is a lot closer to what we usually do. Stimulation, arousal, denial and, yes, eventually sex."

"But what if he had ..."

"What of it? That's the whole point. Will he or won't he?"

"And if he did? I mean, that's where it leads ... eventually."

"Red's Realm! That's where I saw it."

Rachelle gave her a quizzical look.

"A bondage Web site, that bondage is torment thing."

Denise took a last sip, held up her glass.

"You've had enough. Time to start thinking about dinner."

She nodded.

He hadn't collared her yet, but they were close. She was reasonably well trained and very obedient. Maybe for Christmas. A few more months and she'd be ready.

"Listen, you're my bff and Arn is my master." She barked out a laugh. "Oops! Probably shouldn't have said that."

She turned to him, wagged the empty glass.

"You're right, food is definitely in order." She waved her hand. "But sex is part of it, most definitely. And not just sex with him."

A moment, then the light dawned.

"I'm not into girls."

"You had your lesbian semester in college, right? You've been there, done that. I never have."

"Listen, if you want to spend quality time with us it's going to involve sex. And  not just sex with Arn, but with me. And as uncomfortable as the idea of sex with him may be, my having sex with you has got to be worse. But in a way, in a serious way, it's a turn on."

More silence.

Arn reached under the couch and brought out a box. He set it on Denise's knees and took the glass from her hands.

"Rachelle, here's the deal. You're welcome to play with us. And some of the things you experience will be, er, intense. But I'll always respect your limits. I'm the master, she's the slave. I'm in control, not only in control of the scene, but in control of me. We'll take all the standard precautions. You'll have a safe word. Nothing happens unless you agree to it. But unless you use the safe word, I'm assuming consent. Understand."

Rachelle nodded.

With that nod he assumed consent. He pulled a second box from under the couch and handed it to her.

Denise tore the wrapping off her box, popped the lid, and squealed.

"Happy birthday to me!"

 

 

 

27.11.11

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