Author Topic: A Fragrant Fantasy By S M Ackerman  (Read 13933 times)

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A Fragrant Fantasy By S M Ackerman
« on: February 19, 2016, 11:28:51 am »
A Fragrant Fantasy
By S M Ackerman. (2012)

Self-bondage, rubbish, slops, restraint, desire, lust and risk. Caught, helpless, reluctant, enforced chastity, cons.

A Fragrant Fantasy

Hello dear reader.
    If you do not already know I am English, I live in the midlands of great Britain, ok if I must,’ Robin Hood Country,’ is that better?  I am a twenty-seven years old female and stick thin or boyish as I prefer to call myself. So there will be no heaving bosoms in this tale I am sad to say. My legs are long, thin but quite nice and lead up to my best asset or so most men say and judging by the wolf-whistles I get from the nearby building site, I have to agree with them. Why is it that builder’s wolf-whistle girl’s wearing short skirts?
   Anyway, the one thing you need to understand first is my job, I work as what is called a line sorter; it sounds quite posh put that way. In fact it means I sit next to a conveyor belt picking out recyclable material and sorting it into its respective chute from the rubbish brought in by truck. This is not household waste it is industrial only, which makes some difference though it is no cleaner to sort through.
    Aha, now you are seeing where this is going, waste muck rubbish dirt are my daily working conditions and they are also a part of the most demanding sexual fantasy I have yet to experience.
   Another thing you need to know is the Thursday before the Queen of England’s Jubilee Celebrations are to commence. My tale rotates around those celebrations in the simplest of ways. Friday evening the factory will close and it will remain shut until the following Wednesday. I have a plan for that time, a plan that I hope will lead to the best most erotic experience a horny girl can ask for, especially if like me she fantasises about being bound and helpless locked away from the world with the rubbish.
   I have been bringing a large gym bag to work for weeks, at first the other girls asked what was in it much as might be expected. I told them it was a change of clothes as I had another job to go to after I had finished working here. Soon they accepted the gym-bag as being normal and so it was that the first part of my plan had been passed without difficulty.
   I also made certain that I was always the last woman to leave the plant and soon I was being asked to lock-up behind me, which had been my intention all along and it earned me an extra five pounds per shift as a bonus, which was helpful.
   On the Friday I arrived at work with my gym-bag and with a deep feeling of trepidation swamping my guts, would the other women notice that there was something different about me or would I get away with my secret. As it was, no-one asked or even so much as looked at my gym-bag as I put it into my locker. Had they thought of it they would have realised that my other job should have been shut down for the long weekend. No-one thought and so no-one asked, so my gym-bag went into the locker with its secret contents undisturbed.
    Once the locker door was shut I re-fitted my new padlock through the catches thus securing it away. All of us women had a locker because there had been a spate of things being stolen a while ago. By way of a response the company had insisted that personal belongings be secured away, hence the locker and my padlocks.
   The company was owned by a father and son; the father was moistly retired preferring to leave the running to his son. He was thirty-something and occasionally we women would be subjected to his presence; in other words he would depart from his gilded office to visit us, his workers, as a sort of encouragement. He was not the most attractive of young men but then he was the boss and that was that as far as I was concerned. Some of the other women would talk about what they would like to do to, and with him; but that was just talk, lecherous admittedly, but just talk all the same.
   The day passed just as every other day passed; eventually it ended and I was again thinking about my plan and feeling very nervous but also desperate. Had anyone been able to check my knickers they would have found them sopping wet with excitement. I can tell you sitting in your own juice soaked panties is not the most pleasant experience, especially if you cannot deal with the cause because you have to wait like I did. For the last three hours I had been secretly telling myself that I was a disgusting slut and that I deserved every second of what was going to happen to me, once of course everyone had gone home and I was alone.
   I had taken to having a shower before I departed for home or should I say my other job, and so it was not unusual for me to wait until the others departed. Then I would on a normal day shower and depart, locking the doors behind me. There was no alarm system to set on the works floor; after all there was nothing but rubbish and very heavy machinery to steel from down there.
    The women filtered away leaving me alone with my thoughts and my sodden knickers. I waited a while, then just to be certain I took a quick turn around the factory. They were all gone and I was alone, so I locked the main doors and pocketed the key. Just as I always did, but this time I was inside of the plant, not standing on the outside ready to return to my empty bed sit and a microwave meal, with only the tv for company.
   Yes I live alone in a small cheap one bed, with a built in kitchen, flat of sorts. I plan to move to something better with a private garden once I can save up enough money, but that will be a while yet. I do not have a partner, a man as the women at work call them. I live alone, mostly because I like my own company and there is not a man that I have so far met that can arouse me in the ways that I want to be turned on by.
    My desires as you might have guessed do not run much in the normal channels and so relationships have been few and very far between. That might just be the reason that I am determined to subject myself to the plan, probably out of  pure unadulterated frustration and a deep seated need. I want to experience the ultimate bondage, and that for me has to involve dirt and muck and getting covered in both whilst tightly restrained and preferably helpless.
   Anyway I have checked out the factory floor and am satisfied that I am alone and will remain so for the next four days. Not that I intend to be indulging my lust for that long. I return to the women’s changing room and slowly strip off my dirty work apparel. I place each garment in a heap on the bench seat provided, as there is no point in locking them away. My rather wet panties are the last thing I remove and I ceremoniously place them on top of the pile.
   Naked I turn to the locker where I work the combination opening the pad-lock to reveal, held safely inside my gym-bag, which I removed and place next to my clothes. The zip has always been a bit of a bitch at times and in my excitement I yank it to hard and the damned thing brakes. After some struggling with the broken zip parts they separate to allow me access.
   Inside are the means by which I will induce my suffering. I remove them and lay them out with reverence on the wooden bench.
   There is a single pair of leg shackles, leather cuffs with eight inches of chain separating them. There is a vibrator with built in random settings, which I have pre- programmed into it. There is also a dildoe of a size more suited to’ my other place.’ Along with plenty of rope to lash them both into their respective places. There are two lengths of chain each ending in a single hand-cuff and then there is the most important item in the bag. It is a black box with two clasps, one at either end, which lock the handcuff chains together.
    This device cost me an arm and a leg to purchase but it was well worth the expense. It opens its clasps and then they hook through the end of the hand-cuff chain, then it locks and a built in timer activates. I have set the cuffs to open at random, that means to me between one hour and twenty-four hours and with no hope of release until it reaches its setting.
   There is also a modified snorkel, I have cut the tube off four inches beyond the mouth-piece and I have fitted a strap that will hold it in place, this is my gag but I can both breath through it and suck up water should I need too. Where I intend to spend the next few hours there will be plenty of liquid and even food of a sort, should I desire or be desperate enough to eat it. Lastly there is a rubber hood with no eye holes in it that will grip my head tightly, adding fear and containment to my adventure I hope. It will certainly leave me blind and deaf to everything around me, as it also has ear-pads to dull out any sounds around me or that I might make.
    There has to be a special order to bind myself and quite frankly the thought of what I am about to do for real is scaring me into hesitation. If I had not been so bloody aroused all day I might well have chickened out, but I had been aroused and so the vibrator went in hard and fast, causing me to gasp on its entry and double up as I thrust it deeper up my wanton slit. I tightened my vaginal muscles around the plastic body to hold it tightly in place, rocking slightly as I do so. How I do not orgasm right then I can’t say but I somehow I held it off as I turned my attention to the remaining dildoe.
   I always have problems sinking this one home, mostly because of the large bulbous head on it. I have found that the best way is to squat down holding it into position and then sit down hard, so that it enters sharply into my waiting place. This I did using the wooden bench as the leaver point to push down against, thus thrusting it in as my body sat down on to it. The pain at entry is off putting, but once the large heads pushes its way past my resisting sphincter that changes, then as it plunges deeper inside of me the relief and the arousal return with much to spare.
   With both devices fitted and doing their bit to subjugate me, I set to with the rope making a sling around and between my thighs to hold them in place securely, whilst also creating a barrier to stop my fingers adding pleasure to my torment. The rope is twenty feet of nylon and it pads me out effectively, it also keeps my thighs nicely separated a bit. Next I secure my ankles with the shackles; these do not need locking as I will not be able to reach them shortly. Eight inches of chain makes for a very interesting walking style and add to that my parted thighs filled with rope, means that I will be shuffling along like an old lady.
   I fit the black box to the handcuffs and activate it with a touch button. The clips close locking the chains into place. I then put a cuff around my wrist and double lock it so it cannot tighten up and cut my circulation. The other I resist fitting as I will need my hands soon. I gather up the gag and hood and with a last look around I head out to the factory floor and to one particular part of it.
   As well as reprocessing general materials we also accept the food waste of local schools and hospitals, that’s all the uneaten or part eaten waste for reprocessing. This is kept in a twenty foot long, four foot deep metal vat. At the far end there are crushing rollers that pulp the food down before it is turned into a slurry and sent out to be re-used. My intention is to lower myself into the un-crushed quite disgusting mess and then secure myself for the duration.
   I cannot tell you or explain why, but I have had a desire to be imprisoned helplessly in the dirtiest nastiest smell place I can find, this metal box is it for me. As I approach, and I know that this will be hard to understand, I find my slit reacting to my thoughts and the repulsive scent. My lust has risen and I can feel the lube dripping out of my love-hole to soak the ropes binding me so tightly.
   Arousal is a strange thing; even I would find this strange and probably repugnant if I was not so bloody aroused by it. I stop by the tank and look in; it is full with the most yucky looking mixture of old food I have ever seen. Soon I tell myself, very soon I repeat, I must climb into that if I am to achieve my self set discipline and fulfil a promise to myself at the same time.
   Now I fit the hood pulling it over my head and down to my neck; there is a small strap waiting there to secure it in place, which I secure with trembling fingers. I have placed the gag carefully on the metal side where I can find it; once the hood has stolen my sight I reach out cautiously for the gag. I find it and place it into my mouth, the strap I then buckle behind my head. I check that I can breathe freely, which I can, just for safety you understand. I had read of the dangers of suffocating due to other types of gag’s and this one seems to offer the least possibility of problems of that nature. With the gag firmly secured in place, I climb up onto the edge swinging my legs over and down into the squishy food beneath me. This is the most dangerous part as I being blind and bound I could easily slip and fall, I do not and soon I am sat on the metal lip.
   The last moment of choice has arrived for me; I reach behind me for the remaining cuff, the one that will seal my fate and lock me away for as long as the black box has decided that I deserve to be held in captivity.
   The simple sound of the ratchet closing fills the room; I can feel each click but not hear it. I know that it is far too late now to change my mind and as the cuff tightens to its locked point I sit nervous of what awaits me below. The last click arrives the cuff is locked and the single double catch button has been depressed. The keys for these cuffs are at home, safe in my tiny flat as I will not need them to get free. The black box will provide my freedom and I will be able to release the separated cuff once I have returned home.
   Just so you understand, only one of the black box clips will release so I will not lose my toy in the slurry.
   The last part over which I have any control has arrived. I have to slip forward and lower myself into the stench waiting beneath me. I ease my legs as wide as they will go in the hope of making a clean (ha ha) entry. I rock my hips feeling the ropes burn my flesh as they move beneath me. Without warning my balance departs and I slip then drop forward and down, my back got scraped against the rough steel of the box, scratching my flesh before I lost all control and tumble forward.
   I hit the content with a splat, my face plunges into the mass of waste followed by my naked breasts. I sink slightly pushed deeper than I expected by my impetus. I struggle hard, my mouth fills with rotten fruit as the tube is driven into the waste. I blow and cough desperate to expel the disgusting mess from within the tube, then I gulp and swallow the food that has entered my mouth. I have no choice but to swallow, despite it being the last thing that I want to have to do.
    I raise my head seeking the air; I have fallen onto my knees, as my head raises I find that I am buried up to my neck in repugnant slime. Eventually I recover to discover that I am in my fantasy. I am up to my neck in shit and stuff, bound gagged blindfolded and helplessly held captive by a little black box. What bliss I think, as my vibrator kicks in and I enter almost instantly into the first of many long drawn out orgasms.
* * * * *
   Now reader I would normally spend the next while expounding on how delightfully squishy the rotten food felt as I pulped it beneath my feet or how the smell somehow vanished as my incarceration developed, or perhaps I might describe my arousal and orgasms to you. Well there is a slight twist to this tale which at the time I was in the box enjoying all of the above I did not know about. In fact I would not discover something was wrong until I had returned to the women’s changing rooms once more, and then only after I had a showered to clean the worst of the fruit residue from my body.
    Even then I did not see the change until I had finished drying myself off and having packed away my rather disgusting toys. The cuffs of course were dangling still from my wrists they would have to wait to be removed, but as for the rest it was all safely packed away. I reached out for my knickers only to discover that they were not where I was certain that I had left them, that was on the top of the pile of clothes I had stacked up. I ducked down half expecting to find them having fallen to the floor, but they were not there, in fact some how they were gone.
    Now I know you would naturally think that someone had stolen them and in any other place, so would I. This factory, because of the nature of the work it does, has a bit of a problem with rats. They are harmless creatures really, once you have adjusted to them being present you just don’t notice them much. Rats like to make nests and that is where I thought that my panties had gone, stolen by a rat to line its nest. I wished the little creature well and completed dressing. Now I thought that my adventure in sexual debauchery was over.
   I departed the factory and headed for home looking forward to a nice long bath and feeling every second of my fantasy bondage in every bone of my body.
   At home everything went exactly as it should, I got my handcuffs unlocked, I cleaned and put away my ropes, I decided that I would have to do something like this again soon. I even thanked the Queen for sixty years of service to the country and for the four day break she gave us to celebrate it, and then I had my bath and slept dreaming of the future and its treats.
   Logically you would expect me to return for another go but the risk of being seen entering the factory during the holiday was just too much for me. Being discovered and having to explain myself was not a part of my plan, so it was that the rest of the holiday passed within the bounds of my flat and very pleasant it was too.
   Wednesday morning I arrived at the factory as usual to the accompaniment of the women’s chatter. We changed into our sorting clothes and shortly on mass we headed to our respective seats, to another expected day of sifting through the counties rubbish. For me that was what I expected but not what I received.
   At tea-break time, that’s about ten in the morning, I got a call via the fore-woman to go up to the office. Trepidation filled my stomach as such a call was unheard of. I knocked on the thick heavy office door and entered. A pretty secretary sat behind a desk obviously expecting my arrival. She smiled up at me and told me to go right on in. I walked past her and knocked on the boss’s door, a voice called out ‘come in’ and I entered into the lions den. He sat behind a large desk with a window that looked out across the factory floor. I could see the women working thirty feet below where I  was stood feeling uncomfortably before my boss.
   “Please sit down I want to discuss some things with you.” He said.
   I sat bolt upright looking at him, quaking in my shoes with fear whilst wonder at his summons. He looked some how different in his office than he did on his occasional visit to the factory floor. His hair was neat cut, quite short; he had on a suit as I should have expected matched with a subtle pink tie around his neck. His smile looked reassuring but at the same time a little predatory and I was the prey I realised.
   “Well Marie did you enjoy your holiday?” He asked me.
   I replied by nodding as I did not trust my mouth to form words, let alone actually speak them to him.
   “I have a problem of sorts and I hope that you might be able to help me solve it.”
   I nodded again wondering what was happening, what he meant.
   “I am sure you know that in the past there was a little problem with internal theft.”
   I nodded again, Oh shit exploded in my mind, did he think that I was the thief!
   “Anyway in an attempt to put a stop to it we had cameras fitted throughout the factory.”
    I gulped.
   “Not in the women’s changing rooms of course!”
   He said quickly on seeing my shock at his revelation, whilst looking almost guiltily as he spoke, so that I thought that he might be lying.
   Having said that he turned a computer monitor to face me; there frozen in perfect clarity was I sat on the edge of the metal box, bound hooded and secured about to enter into the slurry tank. I was of course naked, the image showed my back and hands and a bit of my bottom and the ropes. The fear exploded in me, I could see myself instantly being dismissed and then where would I be left. My fantasy house move would have gone, my safe privacy removed and I would be forced to sign on the dole with my life and reputation in tatters. I gulped again as he switched the tape on and I watched myself ease into the slurry and so it went.
   “You looked beautiful you know!” He said to me. “Absolutely beautiful, so prettily bound and hooded alone out there.”
   I watched and listened and turned very red in the cheek, but mostly I just admired how I looked. Let’s be honest, despite the current situation, this was likely to be the only time I would ever see myself bound and helpless and I could not help but enjoy watching it.
   “I was wondering Marie if you, well I mean, if you would consider, ummm.” He took a breath a deep breath before attempting to carry on.
   Oh Sir!” I interrupted him. “I am so sorry I won’t ever do it again, honest I won’t!” I exclaimed over his further attempts to speak.
   “Its all right Marie I understand, I really do; I just wanted to say would you consider getting to know me, to sharing your interests with me, to well coming out with me for dinner. I have seen you so many times through this window and always you have set my pulse racing, but I did not dare to approach you, because you see I like things a little different and now that I know that you do too, it seems obvious to me that we should be friends at least.”
   I fell silent as the meaning behind his words filtered through my pleading.
* * * * *
    He started as he intended us to go on, I agreed willingly when he produced a metal belt from a large draw after accepting his invitation and talking a lot together. We had talked about sex and chastity and I knew that he liked the idea; I didn’t know how much he liked it then, or how much of my life I would be wearing the device he held out to me, from that day on but that did not matter I had found a man of my own.
   I took it and looked at him, he just smiled at me as I fingered the metal of the device. I pulled up my skirt, lowered my panties and stood before him. He stood up accepting my offer and slowly he fitted the device around my hips and then as I spread my legs wider, he pulled the final plate through between my thighs and the catch clicked into place, sealing my sex away and with him forever holding the key.
   I felt electricity flooding through my sex, this man, this lovely thoughtful depraved man had taken control over me and I could not have wished for more from him.
   The conversation lasted most of that morning and by the end of it I realised how much I liked him and he liked me, so that was the start and also my first step into chastity and subjection to him.
* * * * *
Some Years Later. 

    I walked out of the back door and through the kitchen garden with my head held high by a posture collar, naked as the day I had been born, but still wearing his chastity belt as a good and dutiful wife should be. I strolled in my nudity on into the rose garden, I was heading for the dark water of the pond, intending to sit under the shade of the large oak tree, there to wait for my husband to arrive home from the factory and discover me.
    It was his fortieth birthday and I was to be a part of his present, there was a note addressed to him on the table where he put his keys, asking him to come into the garden. I secured my ankles to the metal rings that protruded out of the ground with my legs stretched wide and shackled. I handcuffed my wrists wide apart, stretched around the trunk of the oak tree having already fitted my hood and gag.
Secured I waited for him to arrive and claim his present from me in our lovely garden, spread eagled naked and vulnerable for him before our large home. Oh how my humble life has changed since I entered into that slurry pit.
   Occasionally, for old time’s sake we will go to the factory after it is shut and I will be subjected to all manner of things for our respective pleasures, but for now I wait, the naked bound wife of the boss, enjoying the feel of the British summer time, eager to be ravished on his return, eager to please him as he so deserves to be pleased.
                                                                                                                          The End.   


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