After breakfast I had a shower and was put naked in Jessica’s box. We sometimes call it
the coffin because it does look like one. I have never felt as alone as I did in there. I
knew I was not really alone, but he and Jessica seemed so far away from my prison. Peter
ordered me into the place she had occupied herself so often in the past and like a meek
submissive I obeyed him. Considering it was purpose-made for Jessica it was a surprisingly
good fit, but then she and I are about the same size.
The locks sounded much more solid as they clicked into place, but the padded wrist bands
were not uncomfortable. Next Jessica closed the end panel - like stocks with holes for the
feet - and locked it in place. So far so good. I could hardly move my head, but it was
like being surrounded by a very snug bed. The first part of the lid closed above my head
and kept my forehead locked down. Next, another hinged part went across my neck. It was
not at all tight, and I felt no panic. I imagine claustrophobic people would have been
yelling blue murder by now.
My legs and stomach were the next to be covered - I felt rather than saw these because I
could no longer raise my head. Jessica kissed each of my naked breasts before covering
them, then drew her fingers along my crotch, placed them to her mouth and closed that
also. All that remained uncovered now was my face, and it was then that the first fear
came to me. Jessica must have experienced this before, because - even though we had
commanded her to be the “mistress” for the week - she leaned close to me, kissed me on the
lips and said “I’ll never hurt you mistress. You will be safe.” This really made me feel
better as the closure of the last lid cut out nearly all light and most of the sound. I
was aware of a small amount of light near my face, and knew this was from the small hole
in front of my mouth and the various ventilation holes within the box.
Jessica took my hand and asked if I was all right, and I gripped her hand to signify I
was. I heard Peter mumble something before she unclamped my hand and I felt my fingers
pushed into her warm wetness. I was capable of little movement other than my fingers, so
it was up to her to get her pleasure from me, and that is what she did, riding my hand
until I felt and sensed, rather than saw or heard, her climax. I could also sense Peter
watching.
And then I was left alone. I was unsure of whether Jessica had left the room or not, but
I don’t think so. It’s strange that when you are deprived of some senses the others become
heightened, and I am sure she was there. I realised that time would be my enemy here. I
had not been told, but I imagined was to be here, thanks to Peter, for several hours, with
nothing to occupy my mind except my mind. I tried thinking of all manner of things, many
unrelated to my curious situation. The charity do I’m organising, the holidays, the
gym..., but I couldn’t concentrate on any. In the end I started looking around my
surroundings. Perhaps a strange thing to say because I could hardly see anything, but
nevertheless I could almost sense the box around me. It was frightening yet comforting at
the same time. Frightening for all sorts of reasons - the dark, the silence, the
isolation, the unknown. Comforting because I felt as though I had been regressed,
experiencing the sort of comfort a child feels when taken in a parent’s arms and told that
everything will be all right. Maybe I had returned to the comfort and security of the
womb, at least I’m sure many learned psychologists would have seen it that way.
For some reason as I lay there I felt very close to Peter and to Jessica, to the point
where I felt a tear escape my eyes. I was in others’ hands. No argument, there was nothing
I could do about it. My comfort and well-being were no longer mine to control. I fought
back sudden waves of panic by believing that neither would not allow any harm to befall
me, and started to relax again. I have no real idea how long I was there between their
visits, which were, I imagine, quite frequent. Sometimes Jessica brought me genuine
refreshment - light snacks: biscuits, a sandwich and drinks, for which she opened the lid
over my face and fed me. The light, each time the lids were opened, was blinding and being
unable to shield my eyes was quite disturbing
At other times Jessica simply used my hands, presumably under Peter’s instruction. I
would feel one or other unclamped and my fingers would be pulled into contact with her.
Afterwards I was re-clamped. Again the heightening of the senses made me appreciate more
the outlines of her vaginal area, almost as if I were exploring her for the very first
time. Sometimes she touched my erogenous zones, and at other times not. On at least one
occasion I could tell he was whipping her as she lay across the box face down, since -
deliberately or otherwise - the whip caught my hand several times.
Just once I felt Peter’s penis pushed into my hand, and had the curious experience of
trying to masturbate him when all I could move was one arm. It sounds as though that
should be enough, but I didn’t do a very good job and somewhat impatiently he opened the
lid above my face and masturbated himself until he sprayed me. Some went in my eye too,
which smarts a lot and always makes my eye red. I guess I should have closed them, but I
do like to watch him come. Afterwards he closed the lid and I felt his spunk going cold
and trickling down my face and neck. I’m not so keen when it goes cold.
Thankfully Jessica was not far away when I got a cramp in my calf - I could feel it
coming on and there was nothing I could do to stop it, but she massaged the knotted muscle
until it was relieved and she made sure I was comfortable before she closed me in again.
Would I go in the box again? Not willingly, certainly, but I have to ask myself whether
this was willing. Was I simply commanded to go in there? The answer, of course, is that I
was commanded, but I was willing to be commanded, and this is perhaps the most significant
thing about a good submissive and a good dominant. I was not sorry when Jessica came to me
and unclamped me from the box. She had brought me to the brink of a climax numerous times
without completing it - perhaps to reinforce the message that there was nothing I could do
- and when she helped me to my unsteady feet and took me to the warm, scented bath she had
prepared, I was more than happy to lie back and enjoy her bringing me off with her fingers
in the warm water as Peter looked on. I was unbound then yet felt just as captive. It
never even occurred to me to do anything with my own arms. I felt stiff and tired and
sweaty, but afterwards I felt wonderful, all except for the feelings of anticipation I had
for whatever Peter had planned next. As I thought of that my heart rate and my breathing
quickened.
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