Good morning cruxforum. A while ago I created this short story and posted it on another forum, but I think here is really the right place for it. Disclaimer: don't do this to yourself or to others.
CEMENT SELF BURIAL
Michelle stood at the edge of the fjord, her eyes fixed on the calm waters. The chilling winds swept through her dark hair as her thoughts wandered to her plan. The realisation of many years of dark erotic fantasies. Inside her small house nearby, she had carefully crafted a gibbet, a macabre device that would capture her motionless, and lower her into the depths of the hole in her cellar that was filled with still liquid concrete.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see her neighbour, Olaf, standing on her doorstep. "Michelle, are you okay? I heard strange noises coming from your house lately. Is everything all right?"
Michelle forced a smile. "Everything's fine, Olaf. I am still working on my little project. Reconstructing my cellar, converting it in a storage room. Nothing to worry about."
Olaf raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not getting into any trouble, Michelle. You've been acting strange since Mike's accident. I am worried about you."
Michelle's smile faltered. "I just need some time alone, that's all."
"Okay, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Olaf said before heading back to his own house.
Alone again, Michelle returned to her grim creation. Remembering yesterday's test run with herself locked in the gibbet, she started to feel a tingle in her crotch. On the computer screen, she started the test sequence one final time. As it tested the gibbet's automatic locking mechanism, a small creak echoed in the room. She smiled and watched, satisfied with the unfailing functioning of all automated manacles and locks of her machine. The relentless sound of the gibbet lowering itself into the hole filled the air with a haunting groan. "Perfect", she said. She clicked the overrule-command. Once the gibbet was raised and open again, she started to assemble the last parts. With precision, she attached the tubes to the iron mask that formed the upper part of the skilfully crafted gibbet. There were a breathing tube attached to a dildo gag, and a feeding tube that would pass through her nose to her stomach. There were also, not attached to the mask, a catheter and an enema hose. Connected to the hidden machines, It would be capable to keep a person alive for months. She had taken a week off from work, so they would not be alarmed if she would not show up the next day.
She looked at her watch. Now her neighbour would leave for work. To be sure, she looked out of the window. As Olav's car disappeared down the narrow, winding road, Michelle hurried to her cellar, where the gaping hole in her foundation awaited her attention. No prying eyes were watching, so she started to work mixing the concrete. The rhythmic whir of her cement mixer filled the crisp morning air, punctuated by the clinking of the tools as she worked.
She spent a good hour of sweating, filling the hole. When this was completed, she shifted her attention to a second, smaller hole. In it was the computer, a large reservoir of liquid food and various equipment to control the enema, the food supply and other functions. She started the final sequence on the computer, with all the intervals set properly. Then she covered the equipment with a panel, and poured concrete over it to hide the equipment forever. Once finished, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and pushed the cement mixer out of her house towards her shed. She also stored all her tools in her shed. Then she proceeded to her car. As she started the engine, a sense of relief washed over her. She was finally taking matters into her own hands. She drove around the corner to the spot where the road was passing near the fjord. Here she stopped the car, turned the wheel towards the edge and got out. A look around to confirm no one was in sight. Then she reached inside to release the handbrake. The car slowly moved forward, the sound of screeching metal filling the air as it plummeted off the road and into the endless depths below. By doing this, she had ensured that no one would be looking for her at her home. Authorities would find the tire marks, assuming that her car had slipped and she drowned. She tossed her telephone into the fjord, so tracking her phone would also lead only to this location. Then she took the 20 minutes walk back to the house. No time to lose before the concrete would harden. Once inside the house, she got rid of her clothes, took a quick shower and donned a latex catsuit, adding knee-length laced boots with 4-inch heels and gloves to her outfit. The feeding tube she forced through her nose all the way to her stomach, a difficult and uncomfortable task. Over her head went the hood with the built-in hollow penis gag. All this latex would protect her skin from the abrasive cement. It had a connection for the breathing tube, that would align perfectly when in the gibbet. To be sure, she checked her breathing through the gag one more time. She inserted the enema hose in her ass and the catheter in her urethra, again difficult tasks causing discomfort. But she was determined. It has taken her months to plan and months to prepare, she would vanish from the world and not be found any more. Just as she wanted, just as her morbid fantasy that has been haunting her dreams since childhood. The woman set the timers for her gibbet and all the attached equipment, all positioned in another hole that she covered with a concrete tile. While taking care to avoid dislodging the tubes, Michelle opened the front part of the gibbet and stepped inside. She gently positioned her feet on the supports before placing her neck against the neck rest and placing her hands in the slits at her sides. Now it was just waiting. She still had maybe 10 minutes.
Michelle thought back about what has led her to doing this. Already at a young age, she had morbid fantasies that, when telling others about it, would get her reprimanded for daring to say things like that. She learned to keep them for herself, just like so many things that her parents liked to control, or use against her. It made her determined not to depend on her parents. After graduating and landing a job, she had various short-lived relations before meeting Mike. Her parents hated Mike, but she found him to be the love of her life. Eventually, she broke with her manipulative parents to be together with Mike. She did not have to think long before she decided to move with him to Norway, when he got a job offer over there at a managing level. Mike knew about her kinks, and they played some mild BDSM games to grant their sex life an extra edge. She managed to get a decent job, toiled hard to learn Norwegian, and they were planning to have children. In general, they were very happy until, on that doomed day last winter, Mike's car slipped and ended against a tree, killing him instantly.
Michelle's world collapsed. To make matters worse, when she called her parents to tell the news, they bluntly refused to come to the funeral and just said so many bad things to her, that she dropped the phone, blocked their number, and resolved to never contact them any more. After that, she could not pick up her life any more. After some time, she went back to work hoping to get distraction from it, but it made her only feel more empty. At night, she spent more and more time on the internet, checking the dark side of erotica. And after a while, her plan of self disposal started to develop.
It took quite some internet searching, study and lots of trial and error, but she managed to design the gibbet and all the equipment attached to it. Welding was the most difficult. Digging the hole in her cellar was extremely heavy for a woman more built for beauty than for physical work, even with the help of a powered demolition hammer. Designing the electronics took a dozen turns before she got it working. But she did it. And today was her last day above the ground, her last day before vanishing without a trace.
Click click click click click click. The manacles closed in sequence, in less than half a second trapping her wrists and ankles, above the elbows and knees, her waist, neck and around her forehead. She let a faint mmmph escape her gagged mouth. The front frame of the gibbet closed, connecting the breathing tube and the food tube to its sockets on her face. She struggled against her bonds, at no avail. No turning back. Now she panicked. Did she do the right thing? Part of her was screaming no. Thinking of all the things she could have done with her life. Another part of her was getting wet, wishing that she had a vibrator inserted. Slowly the platform on which the gibbet was mounted, started to lower itself in the pool of concrete. It took five minutes to reach to her chin while she was hopelessly struggling. The machine stopped lowering, giving her a last opportunity to see the daylight. Then the switch was re-activated, Mercilessly submerging her in her self-created doom.
All that remained was a shallow disturbance in the surface of the still liquid concrete floor, soon to be hard as rock. No one would be looking for her here. Right there below the surface, there was Michelle, motionless and still alive for months.
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Topic: cement self burial (female self bondage, gibbet, stuck, permanent, cement) (Read 2938 times)