Click and Collect: Amie’s Present

She nodded.

"Oh, and I'll need your phone please. I need to install the watch app."

Amie handed her phone to me, took her bag and made her way through the little door. I took a minute or two to compose myself. The thought of her in a dishwasher box, naked and alone at home, dipping her fingers into her pussy feverishly, enclosed in the dark, had set my mind racing. I needed to be calm and professional.

When the bathroom door opened, I nearly lost all hope of control. A petite, suburban woman had entered the bathroom a few minutes ago; the person that emerged was entirely changed into a perfect, blonde, lingerie model. It had been difficult to assess her figure in her t-shirt, but now she stood before me in thigh-high sheer black stockings that showed off her shapely, toned legs, tiny sheer g-string that just about covered her slit and a bustier that simultaneously shaped and lifted her cleavage to frame her pert, modest breasts into high, perfect orbs. I thought that I could see a hard point in the material of each bra cup. She was obviously turned on.

I cleared my throat. She handed me her folded-up clothing and her bag.

"I'm ready," she said.

I made a show of putting her clothing in the bottom of the box and picking up the breath hood I'd put there, bending over to conceal the swelling mound in my trousers. I needed to hood her quickly; I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to go on without revealing a full erection.

I brought the hood up to her face, and she looked startled. It was getting very real for her now, suddenly; I was about to transform her into a helpless package.

"You can say no at any time," I told her, "Even with the hood on I can still hear you. You'll get a full refund."

"No," she replied, "I want to do this."

I unfolded the back of the hood and held it up to her face. She nodded forward into the black latex.

"Okay," I said, "Here we go."

I slid the hood over the blonde bob; it fitted snugly against her skull. Taking the zipper, I drew it down the back of her head all the way down to her neck. There was an aperture in the front from which her breath hissed. Aside from that, there were no other openings in the slick black latex.

"All good?" I enquired.

The hood bobbed up and down.

"Good," I said, "Okay, just stand there for a minute while I get you ready."

I went over to the doors that led to the store and pushed them open. Hayley was standing outside, waiting. I put a finger to my lips.

"Take off your shoes," I whispered to her. "Barefoot."

Hayley slipped her shoes off and followed me into the back. I watched her face as she caught sight of the petite blonde, hooded and dressed in lingerie, waiting silently next to the cardboard box that would be her containment for the next hour.

Hayley looked at me and mouthed an obscenity. Then she pointed at my straining crotch. I shrugged. There was no point hiding it; Hayley was now in this as deep as I was, and I could tell from her face that it was also making her aroused. We were partners in crime.

I turned back to the customer and opened the bag that she had given me.

"I see," I said, bringing out a little pouch. "So, you took my advice."

I placed the pouch in her hand. "Put it in," I said.

Hayley gaped.

Amie opened the pouch and removed a lozenge-shaped object in bright pink with a loop at one end. It fitted snugly into the palm of her hand. After a moment's hesitation she picked it up between thumb and index finger and pressed it against her crotch.

Hayley and I watched while the hooded figure in front of us teased her g-string to one side and began to rub the tip of the toy against her slit, moistening it with her juices. I could see that Amie's lips were already engorged; she was massively aroused by the contemplation of what was about to happen to her.

Amie teased herself with the tip of the toy for a minute or so. My cock was now rigid and painfully constrained in my trousers. She slipped the toy into her pussy, pushing with her index finger until all that remained was a loop sticking out between her lips. She smoothed the sheer fabric of the g-string back over her engorged slit. I noticed the dark patch where her juices were beginning to stain the fabric.

On a whim, I took the control from the pouch and passed it to Hayley.

"We'll need to test it," I announced.

Hayley mouthed another obscenity, but I pointed at the remote and insisted. Hayley's thumb slid over the little button and hovered there for a moment. She pressed it.

The effect on Amie was immediate. She squirmed and attempted to double up, the flat of her palm pressing tightly against the front of her g-string.

"Oops," I said hurriedly, "Maybe that's too high."

I made a circular motion in the air to Hayley.

"Maybe we need to dial it down from cook, to simmer," I said.

Hayley fumbled with the controls and Amie was able to straighten up again. Her hand remained flat against her slit.

"Let's try this," I said, "Let's dial it up and down until you find a level that you can live with, but that isn't going to have you climaxing in the box."

The hood bobbed up and down eagerly in agreement. I smiled wickedly.

"Of course, I can't guarantee what your husband will do once he has your remote control," I said.

"He might get stuck in traffic and decide to play with it. The trouble is, he won't be able to hear you in the box. If he's not careful and he pushes it too high you could find yourself stuck in an endless orgasm loop, packaged up and helpless to do anything but submit to the toy inside you."

Amie shuddered. I decided to add a little more colour to the image.

"The only warning he'll have is the graph of your heart rate on his phone," I continued, "Maybe he won't notice. Maybe he will but he won't care. Maybe his intention is to unpack a quivering mess when he gets home. Something that's only able to think about fulfilling his every desire."

I made an up and down motion with my hand to Hayley. She didn't respond to me, but stared, transfixed at the hooded woman in black stockings and tight bustier in front of her. I made the motion again.

Hayley seemed to snap out of it and began to gently tease the controls up and down. We watched the figure react, beginning to grind the palm of her hand into her groin as Hayley increased the power.

"Too much," I said, and Hayley brought the level down again. Amie took her hand away from her crotch. I could see that the material of the g-string was sopping already.

"Okay, let's leave it at that level. Time to get you boxed up," I said, "The birthday boy will be here soon to collect his present. Kneel please."

The figure obeyed, kneeling down on the concrete, bending over to lie flat on top of her thighs and gathering her arms around her. I laid the box down and edged her stockinged feet into the cardboard. Amie began to wriggle back into her confinement, the cheeks of her bottom jostling deliciously around the tiny black strip of fabric emerging from the cleft of her rear.

I turned to look at Hayley, but her eyes were fixed on the figure slowly disappearing inch by inch into the tight confines of the cardboard box. I began to wonder if Hayley was imagining herself in the woman's place. I began to wonder what it would be like to box Hayley, and if she would like it.

When Amie was completely inside, I tipped the box back upright, making sure the hooded figure was sitting comfortably. I took the hose and screwed it into the aperture in the front of the breath hood. I felt Amie's breath through my fingers; it was warm and intimate.

Taking the roll of packing tape and the scissors, I cut a small hole in the side of the box and fed the end of the hose through before taping it securely in place.

"All good?" I asked.

The hooded figure nodded.

"Okay," I said, "So this is the point of no return. Given me your left wrist please."

Amie wriggled a hand free and poked it out of the top. I fastened the watch around her wrist and then spent a few moments making sure it was synched up to her phone.

"Now, I'm going to put a little cardboard tray in the top for the manual and the remote," I said, "Keep your hand there for me."

I had constructed a tray that I now slid into place over the woman's head. I took her outstretched hand and folded all the fingers into a fist, except her ring finger. There was a hole in the cardboard tray; I slotted her finger through it and pushed the tray down into place.

"Wiggle your finger if you're okay," I said.

On the cardboard, the finger moved. It was the only remaining sign that Amie still existed. I watched her wedding ring flash in the light.

"Okay, good," I said, "I think we're ready to go. Let me get the remote and manual in and we can seal you up."

I took the vibrator remote from Hayley and taped it into place, then I took the user manual that Amie had written out of her bag. I cast my eyes over it as a placed it into the tray, covering the finger.

The document was quite short, with a paragraph of introduction and a short list of bullet points. In it, Amie told her husband how much she loved him, and that she wanted his birthday to be really special. She listed all the things that he could do to her: she promised to dress up in an outfit of his choosing, he could request oral sex, she would even allow herself to be tied to the bed. He could leave the hood on her if he wanted to. The last paragraph told him that she wanted him to see another side of her, and she hoped that he would like it and accept it.

It felt very private and genuine: a loving wife taking a scary and courageous step to submit herself completely to her husband for one night. I closed the top flaps quickly before Hayley could read it. The tape gun made a loud, rasping sound in the silence that had descended on the warehouse.

I beckoned Hayley back through the doors, and was suddenly inspired. I gave her some instructions.

I returned to the box, alone. It seemed fantastical that where a perfectly ordinary woman had been a few minutes ago, there was now nothing left but a plain brown cardboard box. The only sign that there was still a person here was the gentle flow of air through the hole that I'd made in the side of the box. Otherwise, there was no hum of the vibrator, no shuffling. The box was totally silent, the woman sealed completely inside.

My phone pinged. It was her husband. I waved a hand in the air, and Hayley came crashing noisily through the doors into the warehouse.

"Hey boss," she said, loudly, "We all done here?"

"Just about," I replied.

"Whatcha got here?" Hayley asked, slapping the top of the box containing the packaged woman.

"Oh, this?" I said, "It's a click and collect pick up. Some guy is coming in right now to take it."

Hayley made a show of tilting the box. I imagined Amie, trapped and helpless inside, hooded and feeling the steady pulse of the vibrator buried deep within her, listening to our conversation.

"Heavy," she observed, "What's inside?"

"It's one of those new automated house helper things," I said.

"What, like a Roomba?"

"Yeah, but it has a lot more functions."

"Can I see?" Hayley asked, eyes glinting.

I grinned back, "You want to open it?"

My hand was on the side of the box, a finger poised over the little hole. I could feel the air rushing faster past my fingertip. The banter was having an effect on the occupant, who by now was obviously trying very hard to pretend to be an inanimate household appliance so as not to give the game away.

A horn beeped and we heard a car drive down the ramp into the loading dock.

"Ah, here he is," I said, "Could you get me the push trolley?"

Hayley grinned at me, and I thought I detected a light flush in her cheeks.

The car door opened and a man got out. He was dressed in a business shirt and trousers, and looked to have come directly from work. I waved him up the side ramp.

"Hi," he greeted me, "Pick up for Amie?"

"Right here," I said, patting the box. Hayley wheeled over the trolley and I tipped the package carefully onto the base.

"I'll bring it down to your car," I said.

Amie's husband jogged ahead to open up the back.

"I might need a hand here," I said, "It's heavy."

We hoisted the box up into his car.

"What's in here?" he grunted.

"Your wife didn't tell you?" I asked.

"No. Just to get here at six to pick up my birthday present."

I looked at him for a moment. He clearly had no idea.

"Maybe just open the top and sneak a peek," I suggested, offering him my boxcutter.

He took the blade, puzzled, and made a quick incision along the tape. I watched as he folded back the flaps, seeing the remote control and the piece of paper. He read the text, then looked at me, then picked the piece of paper up. The ring finger was underneath. It wiggled.

I took hold of the trolley and began to wheel it back up the ramp.

"Drive safe," I said. "You know your way out, right?"