June 26, 2013

Moving In

Posted in stories at 5:40 am by littlesubmissions

He was in the box, wrapped in his own clothes and an old blanket, drooling uncontrollably and with a plug shoved in his ass. She stared at the back of the truck from their car, licking her licks in anticipation as they plodded along with the local traffic.

The movers arrived a couple of minutes after she sealed the box, grinning young guys and middle aged men with cups of coffee and the smell of cigarettes lingering on their breath. She stood calmly in the middle, forcing herself to keep it together, telling them what needed to be loaded first and giving them directions. Gesturing at the box holding him, asking that they take it last.

They were an orderly group, forming a line and rotating through having to deal with the stairs and narrow hallway. Inside the box he could hear footsteps moving all around him, hear voices asking questions, replying, and joking around. She took out her phone and checked the time, then started typing.

Inside the box his screen flashed on, and his body twitched. The phone filled his vision, he’d clutched it tightly in case something went wrong. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. “They’ll be moving your box in a minute. Really hope the bottom holds.”

He shuddered, imagining the humiliation of them lifting the box and his body just laying on the floor as it tore and rose up around him. Had she written “BLOWJOB MACHINE” or “PLEASE FUCK MY FACE” on his back? What would they say at the sight of a naked man, gagged and defiled, laying in the middle of the floor?

Outside she shivered, picturing his naked body in the box with the handcuffs pulling his arms tight together. Thinking of him falling out of the bottom of the box onto the street, the way the air would rush out of his lungs and he would reflexively try to curl up into a ball. Of him lying on the filthy, stained concrete as everyone looked down and saw how completely she owned him.

They would read the words she had written on his body. Would they sneer, or look away horrified? Would they flinch and step away, or laugh? What would happen next?

She licked her lips, and forced herself to tell them the bottom of the box might break, and the contents were fragile. They just grunted and slid a dolly under one end of the box, then a second dolly under the other end. They rolled it down the hall, and slid it carefully down the stairs. Another second of lifting and it slid up the ramp into the back of the truck, wedged carefully into a corner between the side of the truck and another box.

She watched as the gate dropped, clanging shut, and turned to lock the door. She dropped the keys through the mail slot and walked to her car, settling down in the seat. The movers hopped into the cab of the truck, pulling themselves in and lighting cigarettes.

The light died inside the box and he resisted the urge to turn on his phone. He wasn’t sure how long he would be in here, and didn’t want to drain the battery. He wasn’t sure if the air inside the back of truck was already heating up, or if it was just his breath trapped inside the box.

She followed behind, keeping the truck in sight as they moved through traffic. Tires thumped on the pavement and her jaw twitched. At traffic lights she rubbed the small scar on her cheek, and wished she could be closer, imagined climbing up in the back of the truck and reaching into the box, dragging him out by his hair and fucking him in the street. She growled in frustration and followed the truck a little more closely.

The movers slowed to a stop, backing into an empty parking space. Two of the movers walked up with her to the apartment while another set up bright orange plastic cones and the fourth pulled out the ramp, dropping it with a clang on the sidewalk.

He felt the box moving again, grateful he was being rolled or slid along the ground rather than carried. Drool was still running out of his mouth, and he made himself stay very still and quiet. He was almost there, maybe he could relax or even get a little sleep, although the plug burning in his ass and the cramped position would make that difficult. He felt a series of bumps and heard voices, guessing he had finally crossed the threshold of the apartment, he sighed in relief as his phone lit up.

“Soon you’re going to wish you were back in that fucking box.”

He licked the roof of his mouth as more drool ran down his chin.

They moved with the same efficiency, carrying boxes and moving furniture. Soon the scene from the morning reassembled itself, piles of boxes segregated by their colored stickers in separate rooms, the skeleton of a home emerging. He shifted his head and dragged a corner of the blanket under his face when the drool sticking the cardboard to his cheek became too annoying and waited. She walked past the box, clicking her teeth, and went into the bathroom.

The screen of his phone flashed on again. It was a picture of her cunt, dripping wet, her fingers blurred as she played with herself. He stifled a groan, then shifted the phone as a text message blinked across the top. “Send me a picture of yourself. Just the first one you take.”

Hey awkwardly flipped the phone around, the handcuffs making his hands clumsy. He held his arms to the far side of the box, and then hit the button. The flash temporarily blinded him, and he shifted his weight as he flipped through more screens and sent the picture.

His eyes were half closed, and the flash in the box had bleached his skin. He could see into his mouth, white and pink skin and drool running down his face. His hair was sweaty and there was a dried crust around the edge of his nostrils. He looked awful.

She smiled and rubbed her clit a little harder. He flipped back to her picture and breathed a little faster.

She double checked the back of the truck to make sure nothing was left, and signed paperwork while they tossed blankets and straps back into the truck and stood around drinking ice water and soda. They waved goodbye as she stalked back into the apartment, locking the door behind her and leaving a stream of clothes on the floor as she made her way to the bedroom.

The tape ripped off and light and cool air flooded down around him. He looked up to see her naked except for her necklace as she tore the clothes around him away and flung them around the room. She planted one foot in the box next to him, then the other, then started to sit. His face was mashed into the corner, and she growled as she kicked at the side of the box. Finally she balanced carefully and pushed the side of the box until it ripped and flattened.

She walked around him, grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled until he was lying flat on his back, then squatted down.

“God you’re disgusting… I’m not going to let you anywhere near my cunt like that. Kiss my ass, and do it like your fucking life depends on it.”

She leaned back and he raised his head, wincing as circulation returned and muscles protested. His lips found her ass, kissing one cheek then the next, moving between them and down.

She punched him in the chest, hard. “Faster you dumb fuck, do it like you mean it or I’ll call the movers and ask them to come back. It’s not too late to arrange a little gang bang for your… Ohhhhh.” She groaned and sighed as she felt his lips frantically pressing against her ass, his tongue sliding in a circle around her asshole.

She balanced carefully and started rubbing her cunt, jerking herself off while he rolled his tongue frantically. She could feel his hot, warm breath rolling up over her and started to bounce, fucking his tongue.

Her fingers moved faster, plunging in and out of herself as she thumbed her clit, looking down at his sweaty body until she came. She shuddered and bit down on her lip, then collapsed, carefully falling to one side and laying beside him. She closed her eyes and he carefully shifted, bringing his arms up and down, wrapping the handcuffs behind her and locking them into an embrace.

She dragged the blanket over with one hand and they shimmied their way onto it, laying in the cool air and sunlight, their life around them in boxes.

Preview: “You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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