Mistress Twig instructed me to fetch what she called the “Mail Sack,” and she told me
exactly where to find it. When I brought it to her she suggested that I inspect it.
It was simply a large canvass sack, except that there was little that was simple about
it. It was made of a very heavy white canvass. It was empty while I was inspecting it,
but I did notice several things about the sack. It had a round shape but with a flat
bottom, so that if one fully opened it and set it upright it would resemble a barrel. It
was perhaps thirty-six inches tall. It was perhaps eighteen inches in diameter. Around
the top there were belt loops just like you would find on pants. There was a rope
threaded through these belt loops and the two loose ends of the rope were fitted into a
small sliding metal device that would be used to easily secure the rope so that the ropes
could be drawn closing the sack and the metal device held the rope so that no knot needed
to be tied to keep it secure. Playing with the metal device I could see that by simply
squeezing the device in one hand, one released its grip on the rope making it quite simple
to securely close or open the sack. Further inspection of the sack told me that the
original color of the sack had been white, and the words “U.S. Mail” had been stenciled on
the sack in three or four places. The sack had been filthy several times over its life so
that it was quite stained and almost a dirty gray in color now, but it had been washed
many times over its life and now smelled quite fresh, as if just laundered. There were
numerous straps stitched onto the outside of the sack. These straps appeared to be so
that the sack could easily be lifted and carried even when full of mail. It appeared to
be nothing but what its name claimed it to be; an old mail sack.
Mistress told me to stand up with my arms folded across my chest. I did so. Mistress
tossed the sack upside down over my head and down to where it encompassed my arms. She
then drew on the rope until the sack cinched itself tightly around my waist. I was
covered from head to waist including my arms, but I was quite naked and defenseless from
the waist down. Humorously I thought to myself that this is the first clothing I had worn
in almost three weeks, and wondered how I looked in my new dress.
It was quite easy to breathe inside the sack as the canvass allowed the easy penetration
of air. I could see plenty of light, but could not see well enough to determine shapes or
shadows. Mistress did not give me any command; she simply grabbed one of the carrying
straps and led me. I, of course, blindly followed.
Mistress Twig announced, “Slave Isidora has come to visit with Slave Islandia.”
A male voice said “Welcome Twig. I will see to it that Isidora gets to spend a good
deal of time with Islandia today.”
Mistress Twig offered, “Take good care of my slave girl. I will be back to pick her up
before supper time.”
With that I felt a sting on my right butt cheek as she gave me one of her playful little
barehanded swats.
I stood where I was not being commanded to do anything else. I heard a door close. I
could still see light but nothing else.
“Bitch,” the man called.
I uttered “Yes Master” loudly enough that I hoped he could clearly hear it through the
canvass. I fell to my knees making sure they were quite widely spread. Inside the sack I
raised my arms so that they were in front of my face. I leaned the upper half of my body
forward until my arms, chest, and head rested on the ground. I could feel my ass up in
the air, bare, making itself a big old target. I waited.
I did not wait long. He quickly mounted me and used me swiftly. His cock was not one
of those cocks that dance around hoping it might get lucky later that night if he so much
entertained and complimented a damsel who may or may not allow the courtship. No. Rather
his cock was one of those cocks that fucked what he wanted to fuck, and fucked it when he
wanted to fuck it. He had seen me. He had decided to fuck me. He had commanded me to
get into the position he wanted me in while he fucked me, and once I was in the position,
he simply fucked me and as exactly what I was, a slave. He made absolutely no attempts to
make it pleasurable or even pleasant for me. He used me like a utility toy that was
designed for nothing but his own physical pleasure and release. In all actuality, here in
this place at this time trussed up in the mail sack, I was, naught but his sex toy. How
right was it then to be so used? A man I had never seen brutally fucked me as his will
described. I was fucked. My cunt creamed. Damn it! My body reacted to the situation
betraying to all present that it was proper for me to be used in such a manner.
As soon as he finished he shoved me forward so that I landed on my belly. He grabbed
one of my carrying straps and easily lifted me from the ground. He tossed me around like
a small sack of potatoes until he had me sitting in a chair with my legs spread.
“Suck my cream, out of her, quickly,” I heard him command.
“Yes Master!” the voice of Islandia squealed.
I felt her warm moist lips along my slit. She did as she had been commanded to do.
The mail sack was never removed from me, but the man did allow Islandia and I a lot of
time to talk and spend the time together. It was not an all day hen party. Several times
during the afternoon I was commanded back into position so that some guard could use me as
Islandia’s Master had. Occasionally too Islandia was put to such use by a guard. There
was little I could do to prevent such usage, but even more so, confined in the sack. There
was little I could do to show my cooperation or dedication other than simply hold still
and spread my knees.
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