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It's the look in his eyes that sends a shiver down her spine. The intensity. She stands naked before him, the cool and dank air of the burial chamber he's made just for her drawing gooseflesh on her skin. Dawn and Teri, Toran's two loyal servants, barely notice her as they scurry around her making final preparations for her burial. Sent to Egypt last winter to undergo intensive training in the rituals and procedures required to completely and authentically mummify her and bury her in her custom made sarcophagus, both girls seem to assume the focus and aloofness of the high priestesses they now represent.

Jenny folds her arms across her chest and rubs her elbows to generate heat. All around her, in the bowels of the stone pyramid Toran has built for her nestled deep in the recesses of his sprawling Midwestern ranch compound, the native Midwestern sandstone walls of the burial chamber permeates a wet chill. She looks up into the darkness above her, into the shadows that not even the torches ringing the chamber can penetrate.

He loves her. It's there in everything he does. Behind the massive expense of creating this authentic pyramid - the burial chamber and the sarcophagus alone has set him back almost a quarter million dollars – it's his understanding that this is her dream, her most sacred fantasy. She closes her eyes remembering…

…a white blanket of snow covered the sprawling world that was Toran's ranch, now a pale silver in the cold light of the midnight moon. Toran rolled over and fetched the carafe of Jenny's favorite brandy. He seemed not to notice the candles about the bedroom had sunk further into their pots over the last few hours, time spent not fucking and hurting and binding, but talking. Jenny's once mint-condition skin had taken on a healthy pattern of welts and whip marks, and his fingers brushed a particularly nasty one adorning her shoulder as he poured her a refill of brandy. She winced and shot him a glare.

"Some day, dear Toran, you will get yours." She lay back on her side and slid the down comforter up over her shoulder, covering the wound.

He brushed her lips with his and when he pulled away, that there was an intensity in his eyes. Her breath caught in her chest and whether the third glass of brandy was totally responsible or not, a drove of butterflies took flight in her belly. And where they flew they spread warmth. A tingling that got her heart beating fast.

"The supreme sacrifice," he whispered, and the words worked the warmth even deeper into her body. To hear the words from his mouth, his eyes boring into her, she willed her hands to raise the brandy glass to her lips – anything to break the spell that settled in on her like a heavy blanket. Or the tight wrappings that were the skinny of all her fantasies.

She smiled and nudged the bridge of her glasses up higher on her nose. "The supreme sacrifice is when you knowingly and willingly allow yourself to be bound and sealed away forever." Even hearing the words pour from her lips sent ripples through her and she took another sip from her brandy.

He frowned, bushy blonde eyebrows furrowed over those intensely piercing eyes. "Forever. Surely she wouldn't last forever." He took a sip of his own brandy. "Not without help, anyways. An interesting problem to solve." He rolled over onto his back, eyes distantly staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling and she should have rolled atop him then, straddling his body, showering him in kisses, anything to break the train of thought that had started that night. But she lay there, motionless save the glass of brandy that found its way to her lips, and let him think, the fire of dark unease spreading out from her belly nearly consuming her.

She had already snuck a hand beneath the covers to gently stroke her throbbing little button, the brandy mixing well with the heady thoughts of ‘forever’, fucking ‘forever’ entombed and helpless - when he stirred and traced a finger along her breast. “Is that what you want, Jenny? Would you go that far?” His words, spoken softly in the light of the dying candles seemed to carry a power that rushed her almost to the brink of orgasm.

She willed her straying hand and dancing fingers out from under the warm comforter and rolled over so she could see his face. Her heart skipped into overdrive when instead of seeing the little smirk of his lips and crinkle around his eyes – signs that he was being a smart-ass – she saw the soberness of his face, the set of his jaw. He was serious.

She giggled a little nervous giggle, staring deeply into his eyes. He had the power to do it. With his money and engineering mind and her medical knowledge and … desire … it could be done. The supreme sacrifice. How far would she go? Hell, she didn’t know for sure. The body, driven by insane desire can agree to many things in the pursuit of pleasure – it can endure pain, crushing restraint, endless hours of torture. It can be made a product. From the moment she let the ropes pull her wrists together, she was a product. The first click of a padlock on the chain around her ankle, and she was a product. The pressure of a mouth filling gag, cutting off her speech – the only defense you have when he’s already tied your body and made you helpless, and you are a product. A product to be dealt with.

But this was different. This was as deep you could get inside her. This was the strongest, darkest fantasy she kept locked away – daring it to come forward as she wrote her stories about it, almost taunting it, as you would taunt a gorilla with a stick from behind the bars of its cage. But this was real. This was the zookeeper locking you in handcuffs and opening the cage. This was the gorilla having its way with you. This was the first threshold. All she had to do was utter the word that would get him moving. He didn’t fuck around. With a project in front of him, Toran was the ultimate in efficiency. And he loved her. This project he would do for her out of love. This was real, very fucking real.

Still boring into her with his eyes, he reached for her brandy and set it on the nightstand waiting for her answer. Would she go that far? Would she allow herself to be entombed? Forever? She closed her eyes and felt the blood thundering in her ears. How often does someone give your darkest fantasy life?
“Yes.”

…she catches him staring at her, his eyes roaming from her face to her taut and straining nipples. She knows that in any other setting, any other time, he’s reaching for the clamps. ‘A hard nipple is a shame to waste’ - one of his favorite sayings. But this isn't any other time. This is her time. All this is for her.

"Just another few seconds, love, while I run the last of the code through." He's sitting at the main console, discreetly hidden in one of the ceremonial pallets ringing the chamber. After the last episode in the sarcophagus, its trial run, all controls, from the massive hoist used to move the heavy teak-wood lid, to the complex computer system that would control the flow of air to the sarcophagus itself – all are set to Toran's hand. She follows his quick glance to where Dawn is busy readying the oils and perfumes …

…The whip slapped hard across Dawn's back and ass, adding another red line of blood to the criss-cross pattern. The brunette's head bobbed back on her neck and her scream filled the burial chamber. Sweat stood out on Jenny's forehead as she raised her arm again. One of the things Toran had taught her was the effective use of a whip. Her form was still a beginners but she was learning.

Dawn's shoulders were heaving as silent sobs wracked her body. Teri was the painslut – Dawn was into severe bondage, probably the reason for the immediate and intense rivalry she brought on Jenny. Even though she'd been married to Toran years before while both were in college – she in Accounting and he in Engineering – her contract specifically made her a powerless servant to her once husband and now permanent Master. To say there was history between Dawn and Toran was an understatement. That's why when Dawn had tried to kill Jenny in her own sarcophagus, severe retribution was called for.

In the end, after Dawn was cut down and had been sealed herself for a time in the sarcophagus as punishment, Jenny had felt a pang of jealousy. To be sealed in, not knowing when release would come, if ever…

…"This is a special collar." Toran stands before her, an ornate golden band, three inches thick in his hands. "Let me slide it on."

His hands are warm and gentle and she feels a strong surge of something flow through her. It's that warm flock of butterflies again … and something else – something that is like ice water trickling deep insider her belly, adding to the chill air of the tomb. She is drawing closer and closer, with every moment, every carefully thought out preparation.

The collar is surprisingly heavy for its apparent delicacy and the sharp click it makes as the ends are drawn together has a sound of finality. "This is a sound activated collar. It has many … features, when activated by the sound in your throat." He backs away, all smiles and reaches for a small plastic box. Jenny runs her finger around the collar lightly, its smooth metal surface so tight, like a second skin it fits her slender neck, all the while eyeing Toran as he slips a small container from the box. He pops open the container and fishes inside, pulling out something jelly-like between his fingers. A smile flashes across her face. Maybe her lover isn’t infallible after all. The thought warms her a little – stills the trickle of ice water in her belly. This mistake at least, brings things down a little.

“Ummm, Toran. I can’t wear contacts. My eyes are beyond correction from contacts-“ She stops, his smirk bringing the chill back with a rush.

“These are special contacts.” He reaches up and gently slides her glasses off. Immediately, she is in the blurred and unsettling world she’s plunged into whenever her glasses are off. Now, more than ever, a feeling of nakedness and vulnerability hit her and she reaches for Toran, wondering if this all is a good idea – maybe they should stop right now and continue with the minor fantasies. The normal mummification scenes she’s been doing all her life.

But she sees him lean close to her and feels his reassuring kiss. “Open your eyes wide.” She’s always hated the feeling of anything touching her eyes, but he’s both quick and gentle and before she knows it, she’s looking at him in half blur, half total clarity. She’s astounded with the sharpness of the world that her contacted eye shows her.

Then the sting hits. Her eye waters up and intense pain closes it. “Are you ok?” Toran’s whisper in her ear. “Here, let me see.” But it’s not the eye that is screaming in pain that he touches, it’s her other eye she feels opened and quickly covered with the other contact. She looks up at him, confusion flaring, then the sting in her other eye hits her and she almost bends over, palms rubbing and trying to sooth her watering eyes.

He pulls her arms away and whispers, “These are special contacts, Jenny, with a special saline solution. That’s what’s burning. Let them set for a second.”

They hurt. She’s not used to anything in her eyes and they hurt like a bastard. But soon, as Toran holds her, her naked breasts and tummy pressing into him, the pain does fade. “I’ve never tried contacts before. I didn’t know they hurt so much.”

Toran pulls back and holds her at arm’s length. Everything is somehow clearer, crisper – every line of his face every detail, every pore of his skin is there. And she’s been told that her glasses give her 20/20 vision.

“These contacts have special features. The most important is that they are a liquid permeable lens – they don’t require air in the way normal contacts do and that means that they don’t require a wetting solution. The special saline solution I used is all they will ever need. That means you’ll never have to take them out and you can sleep in them.” He pauses. “In fact, the saline, once set, will bond the lens to your eyes. Permanently.”

She looks up at him. “You mean I can’t get them off?”

His words are cool, almost clinical. “They are setting right now. Once completely set, they will be permanently glued to your eye. There’s still time to get them out. Do you want to continue?”

The cool embrace of the satin sheet was lost from her skin as she lay in his bed - she couldn’t move a muscle and he still had a few more rolls of tape to tightly wind around her body. This was his first experience in mummifying her and he already seemed like a pro. Only her head remained free of the med-wrap and tape. The feeling of every nerve ending pounding away with blood restricted flesh was giving her that giddy, tingling feeling and she barely heard his voice, his head inches from hers.

“Do you want to continue, Jenny? This is your last chance before I treat you like a product. I mean, I could do that now and there isn’t anything you can do to stop me.” He reached down squeezed her wrapped breasts harshly. “But I will always give you a last chance. Every time. After this, you are merely a product to be dealt with. My toy.” He held up the thick roll of gauze that would cover her face and entomb her completely. But only if she agreed. Only if she said…

“Yes.”

He kisses her long and slow, appreciation clear on his face.

"Give me your hand." He presses a thin piece of metal into her palm and wraps it snugly against her flesh with thin tape. "This is a transmitter I've designed. It sends a signal to a stronger, more powerful transmitter located in the sarcophagus which will then signal back to the master computer here." He slips a small metal fingertip over her finger, smaller but similar to the heart and blood pressure sensors at the hospital where Jenny works – so far far away in England.

"Now for your surprise," he says, once again standing back away from her. "Gently tap your fingertip to the metal plate in your palm."

She smiles uncertainly at him, trying to read the sharply focused look in his eyes. This same look is the one he wears when he's deeply into his world, the world of gears and computers and engineering problems. Gently she taps the metal plate – and her world changes. Almost a dissolving effect, she's suddenly way up in some unknown dark location, looking down. Sudden fear of falling causes her to reach out and she feels someone in front of her, steadying her – yet in her field of vision she's high up looking down at…them.

The ring of torches circle the massive sarcophagus – her sarcophagus. Standing before it is – her. Toran is holding her. He turns and looks up, over his shoulder at – her. He's waving and grinning.

"Tap the pad again, dear."

Her world changes again and she's looking at the side of his head as he looks up into the darkness above them, one arm holding her the other waving to a small blinking red light far up. She's back on the ground and her feet almost give way. He turns and steadies her with both hands. "It's your contacts, love. They're tied into the camera system. You can switch views with the tap of the control pad."

He fits a similar metal fingertip to each of her fingers. "Just one tap of any of your fingers will take you to a different camera. Try it again."

Taking a deep breath and preparing herself for the instant vertigo, Jenny lightly taps the same finger to the pad. Again, she's up in the darkness looking down. Suddenly the view zooms, a hellish rush that again makes her feel like she's falling, and she's looking at her own face from only inches away.

"The sensors imbedded in the contacts can read the dilation of your pupils and adjusts the camera accordingly. If you focus on something far away the camera zooms. Move your head."

She sees her head begin to move to the right and the camera shifts so she's looking at Dawn, still working with the oils on the far side of the chamber. Again the vertigo slams into her and she twists her head back to where she thinks Toran is. The camera rotates back and she's again looking at herself.

"Try another finger."

She taps her middle finger to the plate and she's looking at the front of the entrance to the burial chamber. Panning back and around, she sees the outside world, warm and sunny and spring. Tapping another finger she sees the close confines of the sarcophagus, from somewhere near where her feet will be but with a perfect view of the death mask resting there waiting for her. She taps the last finger, her pinky finger and her world goes black.

"The last camera isn't in place yet. That's my surprise."

She taps the pinky pad again and she's again looking at Toran from her own body. The wolfish look in his eyes, the second before they soften and he becomes Toran again chills her to the bone. The transition is so sudden that instantly she wonders if she's seen the first look there at all – that cold, intelligently appraising look…

…"So with an IV and ventilator, you can basically keep the body alive for a very long time."

Jenny laid the brandy back on the mahogany nightstand and pulled the comforter up around her. The giddy chill was back. She'd always been drawn to guys who made her feel that way. When a girl was made a product, she was in the hands of her captor. And the darker and more mysterious and dangerous her captor was, the stronger that giddy chill feeling was. There was always something dark trolling beneath Toran's surface. But like the Loch Ness monster, sometimes she'd wondered if it was really there. He was a sadist true, and that was dark enough. But there was something else. Something possibly worse.

"Yes, until the muscle cell content goes to hell, you can even snap everything off and they'll get up and walk away from it. But eventually you will get pooling of the blood, swelling, possibility of blood clots and pulmonary embolism.

There's calcium depletion which can cause kidney stones. Over time, many of the vital organs will suffer extreme deterioration due to diet alone – there isn't an IV in the world that can keep everything the body needs alive and well." She sipped from her brandy again, unable to shake the warm and fuzzy feeling mingled with fear. "But, all in all, I could survive a long time."

He raised his eyebrows, a slow smile creeping across his face. "You?"
Jenny flushed and took another sip of brandy…

Toran busies himself again with the last preparations and it is Teri that brushes past Jenny, her white Priestess robe flowing around her. Teri matches Dawn’s intensity in her feelings for Jenny, except that with Teri, it’s the other way around. Jenny has wondered in the past that were Toran out of the way, Teri would be with her, maybe fly back and live with her and her roommate, Sue. On the occasions where Toran has allowed Jenny to punish Teri, Jenny’s gotten the distinct feeling that Teri quite enjoyed it – enjoyed Jenny’s hand in her pain. There was even one night …

… Jenny slid the silk scarf through Teri’s lips and the brown haired girl accepted the gag with doe-eyed submission. Earlier in the day, Teri had been most interested in fisting and it hadn’t taken long for Jenny to find the time and place to introduce Teri to one of Jenny’s favorite pleasures. Teri lay on her own silk sheets, wrists cuffed to the headboards, legs nervously flexing around Jenny’s torso. Jenny had gotten her in the mood with little nips to her breasts and neck and now Teri’s head rolled from side to side in anticipation.

Jenny slowly moved down Teri’s torso until Teri’s closely cut brown pubic hair was ripe for the parting. Gently, Jenny slid three fingers into the moist outer lips and Teri moaned through the scarf. With her thumb stroking the little nub of Teri’s clit, Jenny felt the girl’s pelvis rise up. A fourth finger was added and then the thumb as Teri’s moans got deeper and louder…

Dawn pulls Jenny’s hair back off her shoulders, and none too gently. Now the busty brunette is standing in front of her, coldly avoiding Jenny’s eyes and laying the tray of oils at her feet. Toran stands and taps a few keys on his console, then comes over.

“These are authentic oils I had flown back with Dawn and Teri when they finished their training in Egypt. Let’s see, this is a mixture of frankincense, myrrh, palm, lotus, and cedar. This is to keep bacteria from setting into the husk of the body.” He smiles reassuringly. “Of course, you aren’t a husk. Not even dead.” His smile is overly bright as he turns away.

Dawn picks up a beautifully gilded bottle and rubs its contents into her palm. Not looking at Jenny, save to see what her hands are doing, Dawn gently, almost lovingly, rubs the oil into Jenny’s skin. This is just the training she’s been given, Jenny thinks. If she weren’t under close supervision, Dawn wouldn’t hesitate to try to get me helpless and hurt me.

But the gentle massage continues and as the oil is rubbed deeply into her skin, Jenny begins to feel a warm tingling of her nerves. Methodically Dawn rubs her arms, torso, and is beginning to go to work on her legs when Jenny notices two things. One, not only is her skin feeling more and more numb to the chill and subtle breeze in the chamber, but almost as if the oil has reached her muscle, she seems powerless to move her fingers and even lifting her arms is a battle of her will against her body. And second, Dawns fingers have slowly gone from their gentle nimbleness to a clumsy slapping and rubbing.

It’s the oil, Jenny thinks, fear rising side by side with a surprisingly strong wave of desire. It’s a special oil that numbs both skin and muscle much the way a muscle relaxant would…

“…but what if she fought? What if, at the last moment, she was worried she was making the wrong decision, that the supreme sacrifice was too much, even though it both scared the shit out of her and turned her on more than anything?”

Jenny spooned another strawberry covered with cream into her mouth, looking out at the tree-speckled valley that was Toran’s back forty. The spring breeze was hardening her nipples even through the thin fabric of her day-dress. She wasn’t wearing any sort of bra or panties, as was her custom, and it was only the intensity of the discussion out here on his veranda that kept Toran from doing something about those unattended nips.

“There are muscle relaxants, of course. You said you’ve read every one of my stories on the net and you don’t know that?” She pushed her glasses up higher on her nose and glared at him.

“Dear, I’m just a lowly engineer – I don’t know squat about whether what you’ve written in your stories is real or not. I didn’t believe for a second that you could have epoxy poured into your throat and survive that.”

She waved her spoon at him. “Shall we break your wrist and see if you don’t cry for a shot to deaden the pain and feeling in your arm? Of course, if you wanted to make a girl just a flesh and blood product all it would take is a-“

“… muscle relaxant to help you through the rest of it, love.” Toran nips at her ear while Dawn steps away, hands useless and numb from the oil with which she’s covered Jenny’s body. Teri moves swiftly to pour a bluish liquid over Dawn’s hands, a neutralizer, Jenny thinks.

Jenny can’t move a muscle. Dimly, she can tell that her skin is still sending back information to her brain, but that info is nothing but warm, fuzzy nothing. It is as if her body ends at the collar around her neck.

Toran looks deeply into her eyes. The fucking sadist. “Do you want to continue?” It’s all moving so fast. The reality of it again hits her like a run-away train. This is really going to happen, she’s really going to be entombed, buried alive. She opens her mouth to nervously ask him something, anything to reassure her that he loves her, that she can trust him, that he won’t really give her her wish to make the supreme sacrifice. And as she makes the first sound, her larynx vibrating, the collar comes to life and the only noise that makes it to her lips is a soft moan.

Toran’s smile brightens. “Ahh. I didn’t know for sure that the collar was going to work. It’s keyed to your particular vocal wave pattern and we couldn’t do a test without using you. And that, of course, would spoil the surprise.”

He reaches down and pinches one of her nipples hard enough to send a jolt of pain through the deadened blanket that is her body. She tries to shout at him to stop and is again cut short by the weak little noise that comes out of her throat. He’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Very nice.” He leans in and kisses an earlobe. “Are you feeling like a product yet, Jenny?” he whispers. “A product about to make the supreme sacrifice?” He bites her earlobe softly and she doesn’t even try to object with her voice. She just closes her eyes and feels a wave of intense arousal surge through her fueled by the copper electricity of real fear. He pulls back and kisses the bridge of her nose. “One moan for yes, two for no. Jenny. Do you want to continue?”

Eyes still closed, and without hesitation, feeling the wave of arousal smash into her, fear riding the crest like a surfer, she moans once. And is surprised by herself to the core. She should be saying ‘NO!’ – or moaning the equivalent. He’s taken away her freedom with the oils, he’s taken away her voice with the collar. What else will be taken away, she can’t guess. Unable to move a muscle, unable to scream or beg or get off this run-away train.

But she can. And he’s seen to that. His continued question, “Do you want to continue?” gives her the power to stop all of this. Yes, this is her fantasy – the big daddy of them all. Yes, he loves her and even though he’s surprising her with making her as helpless as possible even before she’s bound tight and sealed in her sarcophagus, he’s doing everything she’s told him about her fantasy – like making a complex meal from a recipe, everything about the tomb, the oils, linens, all are hers. And yet …

And yet, this is the way it will go, she realizes. And he can ask her the question until he is blue in the face because every single time he’s going to ask it, she’s afraid – deep down afraid - there’s only one answer she will give him. She’s going to say ‘yes’ – with her lips before, now with her moans. She will never disappoint him. She will never let him down. Even if it means she will willingly allow herself to be wrapped and buried alive.

Dawn kneels before her and roughly pulls Jenny’s pussy lips apart. She glares up at Jenny as she rams a big vibrator between her legs. Toran seems not to notice the look in Dawn’s eyes. “This will keep you company, love. I’ve made sure that the impulses are random and the batteries will last a considerable length of time. I didn’t think you would object.” Dimly, Jenny feels Dawn doing more down there than position the vibrator – she recognizes the feeling of a catheter being inserted immediately.

The first layer of Egyptian linen is wound around her and as the level of the wrapping, starting at her ankles, which have been subtly padded in between to separate her legs and make the wrapping even more immobilizing - as she’s being wound and bound, she’s afraid she’s slipping into this too easily. She tries to say ‘no’ twice and at the sound of her two weak moans, both Dawn and Teri stop. Toran hops up from his computer, worry plastered on his face.

“Are you ok, Jenny? What’s wrong?” He’s fumbling with the controls to the collar, to give her her mouth back when she nods her head and moans twice – another ‘no’. He tries to read her face and if he can read her mind now it is a simple strong thought pulsing through her. Kiss me, just kiss me. Don’t stay over there while I’m getting ready to go. Just kiss me.

And he does. Slow and softly. And his lips continue to suckle and nip and bite and caress hers as Dawn and Teri resume her wrapping. It’s Dawn’s irritated snort from behind that stops the kiss. Jenny’s body is now completely swaddled in linen. Teri wheels over a large vat that has been hanging over an open fire, the black contents not bubbling but warm.

“This is a sealing compound, love. Like tar, but not as caustic to the skin. This will seal the second layer of linens to the first.” He steps away and brings out a small spray bottle. “Open your mouth, love.”

Jenny tries to get the right questioning look in her eyes – please tell me what you’re doing now!!! But Toran just smiles at her and waits. So she reluctantly opens her mouth and receives a few quirts of the liquid deep in her throat. Instantly, her mouth is filled with a foul taste and she realizes that her tongue is going numb.

“This is a local anesthesia.” Toran steps aside as Dawn wheels a second table over. Jenny’s eyes widen at the tubes and machine she sees sitting on it. Tongue numb, body both numbed and wrapped, voice cut off by a sound deadening collar, Jenny closes her eyes and wills the rising fear to let the intensifying arousal win out and take control of her body. Ask me now, she thinks, heart pounding in her chest. Please ask me now and I WILL say ‘no’ – I’ll moan it as loud as I can.

“I see you recognize this.” It’s Toran’s voice in her ear, soft and reassuring. Of course she does. Only the last time she’s seen one like this is weeks ago in the intensive care unit, keeping an old man alive by doing his breathing. It’s a fucking ventilator.

And then he does ask. “Do you want to continue?” Softly, like a snake’s tongue flickering out and caressing the air, his voice comes to her. And she has no alternative but to moan her ‘yes’.

With her throat numbed she barely feels the intubating tube sliding down her trachea to the openings of her lungs. The initial wave of panic at being unable to breath is offset as the machine hums to life and works her lungs for her. She doesn’t even open her eyes one last time to see his face as he fits her ears with receiving earplugs or as the first layer of linen is completed, covering her head in a soft layer. She’s betrayed herself again. There’s no way to stop it now, in spite of the fact that she has the power to do so. She wants this as bad as ever and she’s scared to death she’s going to get it.

With her fingers numbed, Toran selects the camera feed to her lenses and suddenly, even with eyes closed and head wrapped, she’s seeing the sealing compound from the vat rubbed onto her white wrapped body. And this is when she looses it, the feeling of being Jenny, of being the girl who’s most extreme and darkest fantasy is coming to life. Now, even though every movement she sees through her modified ethereal vision is felt with her body, every touch, pull, every wrap of the second layer, every coating of the compound as her body is entombed in three, then four, then five and finally six layers of linen, bulging her once slim feminine form into the images she’s seen on the net and fantasized over in the wee hours of the night – even though she’s both there and not there, she’s not Jenny anymore. She’s just a girl who’s caught up in something bigger, something darker than her. Bigger than them all.

She is making the supreme sacrifice.

Toran’s voice, tiny in her ears, comes to her and even though he describes the gentle way they lift her into her sarcophagus, and the care that is made that she’s as comfortable as she can be, now locked in her death mask, and even his soothing tones as he describes the movement of the big hoist as it lowers the heavy lid into place, as he takes care to program the sealing mechanism so that no one, not even Dawn can free her now – only him, Jenny watches the live feed from outside as if it’s a movie, a great movie, a movie that has somehow broken the boundaries of reality and forced its viewer to feel everything. The panic hasn’t hit her yet. She can still stop this. Any time she wants to, she can just moan twice and the collar pick-up will transmit her moans to Toran and he’ll stop this at once and she’ll be released and they’ll all have a big chuckle and maybe, just maybe, she’ll get the nerve up to do this again, sometime.

But she doesn’t moan. In fact, she doesn’t make a sound. And, as her skin and muscles finally begin to get feeling back, as her body forgets that it is being kept alive by a ventilation system and tube down her throat, and has her fingers lightly tap the metal pad in her palm, the barely imperceptible movement through all the linen and sealing compound switching cameras to give her every view of her burial, Jenny tells herself that this is what she wants. Enjoy it. Savor it. It’s at this moment, as she focuses on the feed from the tiny camera inside with her – the one that shows her mummified body rigidly trapped in her sarcophagus, a bound girl for which there is now no escape – at this moment the vibrator comes to life with the first of its damnable bursts of power. She feels the first uncontrollable ripple of giddy warmth race through her body and the feeling builds and the fear that is racing right along with the warmth only adds fuel to the fire. Forever – she could be here forever. Fucking forever.

Right when she thinks she’s going to crest the mountain and fall into the valley of orgasm, the vibrator cuts off and she’s left, wrapped so tightly she can’t move anything but her finger tips and even then it’s barely perceptible movement. She can’t breath on her own, she’s locked away, a mummy for real … The orgasm, frustratingly held off, lingers for a few seconds, waiting to explode inside her.

Hurriedly she taps camera pad to the burial chamber, hoping beyond hope that anything will trigger the wonderful explosion inside her. She sees the sarcophagus sitting on the floor of the chamber, while Toran punches the controls on his computer, Dawn and Teri standing by. The massive hoist is attached to the entire sarcophagus now and with barely a tug, it lifts the heavy wooden tomb a few feet. The floor underneath the sarcophagus trembles then and slides away to reveal a huge and gaping black hole. Inside the sarcophagus, sealed in by elaborate locking mechanisms that now not even the hoist could rip the top off, Jenny doesn’t feel any movement as she’s lowered into the black darkness. He’s going to bury her!

Fear fills her now and panic right behind it. Normally, getting wrapped so tight she can’t move puts her to sleep. Now, with panic right on her heels she strains every muscle, wildly thinking that there is still a way to break free. And that’s when the vibrator comes to life a second time, reminding her body that not only is she close to total panic, there’s an orgasm lurking within too. The ventilator, programmed somehow with the vibrator, picks up it’s pace and now even her lungs betray her as she’s forced to take in short explosive breaths to keep pace with her racing heart.

She doesn’t feel the sarcophagus come to rest at the bottom of the pit and barely sees Dawn swing a long metal chute from the side of the burial chamber. She’s so fucking close to coming now that even the panic is adding gas to the fire and she’s going to explode inside her immovable prison. She’s at the mercy of her body and her body is controlled by the vibrator and the ventilator and the bindings and the wooden tomb and the deep pit it sits in and now the steady stream of cement she sees cascading down the chute into the pit over her and just as she realizes that cement really does mean a long time, possibly the rest of her life, possibly forever, this is it, the supreme sacrifice, this is real and why is she going to orgasm when she’s suddenly terrified that she’s going to be sealed in for real …

The vibrator cuts off and she moans into her bindings.

“Are you ok, Jenny?” It’s Toran’s voice in her ears. She sees him standing next to his console, staring at a monitor showing her body onscreen. In front of him, Dawn works the chute to distribute the cement evenly as it slowly fills the black hole like a gray lake rising.

“The cement is one of my surprises, love. I mean, even though I’m theoretically able to blow the bolts of the sarcophagus open, what is to keep me from doing it? Dawn thought it up. Not even I can break through cement, at least not quickly. So while no one else on earth can work the bolts without breaking them, besides me, I can’t get to you now.”

Panic and terror rises up finally taking control of her body. She tries to move something, anything. Nothing budges – she’s caught like a fly in amber. In fact, it’s like she doesn’t even have a body anymore, just random nerve endings that relay back to her brain a tightly confining, inescapable existence. It’s only the slow, steady work of the ventilator that keeps her breathing normally.

“Do you want to continue?” There is already hundreds of pounds of cement, a heavy wooden coffin, six layers of linen and sealing compound wrapped around her. She’s sealed in. Totally sealed in. But he can still stop it. She knows it. He’s surely thought of how to get her out, otherwise he wouldn’t ask her, now, when she’s making the last decision. She has to say ‘no’. She has to put a stop to this right fucking now because this is real, this is no turning back.

She moans her answer. “Yes”.

The vibrator kicks in just as the cement fills the pit completely, and it’s panic and fear and arousal and everything that she’s ever dreamed about and fantasized about and when she sees Teri, naked, fighting furiously against the chains that bind her, being attached to the hoist and when she hears Toran’s voice in her ears telling her that every mummified queen has her pets sealed in with her forever and Teri surely qualified as her closest pet, and when she sees Teri, crying around her thick gag, being lowered into the still liquid cement until only bubbles, lazily popping at the surface shows she’s ever existed – the biggest hardest longest orgasm erupts from deep inside Jenny and as she’s powerless to stop anything now, it rolls through her and sends her into satisfied blackness.

Toran pulled the last of the rope tight around Dawn’s wrists, drawing a deep moan and a squeal from the mousy brown haired girl. Reaching for the gag – his favorite, as it was big and always made Dawn’s cheeks puff out – his other hand fumbled with the remote to the TV. The big screen was mounted just behind the headboard of his king-sized bed and was used only for this purpose.

As he buckled the gag tightly into place and slapped Dawn’s belly to get her up on her knees, he adjusted the brightness to see the figure onscreen more clearly. He pulled Dawn’s hair roughly so she too could look at the screen and as he entered her from behind, both sets of eyes watched the immobile figure, wrapped with real Egyptian bindings and sealed in a real sarcophagus – a sarcophagus buried under twenty feet of cement somewhere out there on the back forty. The mummy never moved, at least the tiny movements of the fingers of one hand were never seen through all the layers of wrapping. The mummy never made a noise, save for a moan every now and then, indicating that she’d either had another orgasm, or had again succumbed to mind-numbing panic. The mummy’s life signs, displayed as a scroll across the bottom of the screen never wavered from perfectly healthy – the ventilator saw to that.

But the little control that Toran held in is hand as he pumped away on his bound Dawn sent torturous current through the tiny electrodes buried in the first layer of wrapping normally used to stimulate the mummy’s muscles to reduce the onset of muscle cell decay.

The only sound coming from the TV was the sound of the tiny vibrator buried deep inside the mummy and the breathing that seemed to increase with every jolt of electrically delivered pain – and the moans, don’t forget the moans.

Toran grinned. He had an idea that Jenny was watching him now too, compliments of the camera feed permanently mounted in the corner of the bedroom – his last surprise. He thrust hard once more into Dawn then fell on top of her, a satisfied smile on his face. Hell, Jenny could possibly be waiting for the question. Do you want to continue? He chuckled and Dawn looked back at him from behind her gag.

Somehow, he knew what Jenny’s answer would be.

25.06.02