tagBDSMTaking Out the Trash

Taking Out the Trash


You should never have thrown out my old leather jacket.

I've had the jacket since high school. Not that I wear it all that often (it had gotten a bit too tight if you want to know the truth), and I know you've been riding me for years to get rid of it. But I never actually agreed to throw it out, and I was shocked when I went looking for it and you casually mentioned that you had thrown it out with the trash.

I was especially shocked because, given the nature of our relationship, you had to know you would be thoroughly punished for it. You've always been submissive: being ordered about or better yet punished is a sexual turn-on for you; the more humiliating the better. And I've always enjoyed satisfying that dark urge inside you. So we play it perfectly straight in public ("what would the neighbors think") but in our private sex life I am entitled to mete out harsh, humiliating, sexual punishment for the slightest infraction. There was the time I chained you to the bed for the entire weekend, the trip to the mall with a radio-controlled vibrating egg set deep in your pussy, and the experiments with whips... So I know you must have been looking for trouble when you said it: "Oh, that old thing? I finally threw it out a couple of weeks ago." I could even, I think, see the glint in your eye as anticipated my reaction.

I sent you to see if the jacket could be retrieved, but the trash had been collected long before and the jacket was well and truly gone. I could see you tensing; anticipating your just deserts -- looking forward to them. In no mood to satisfy you, I simply grunted: "You KNOW you shouldn't have done that. Don't worry: I'll punish you later." For the rest of the weekend, you were walking on eggshells, but I held back.

Actually, I waited two weeks (by which time perhaps you thought I had forgotten). I waited so long because I wanted to find the perfect opportunity for revenge. It had to be something that would get you off, sexually (that is, after all, the point of our games) but something utterly, completely humiliating: an experience you would never, ever be able to forget. And the truly diabolical plan I came up with had to wait until this weekend.

I spent two hours Friday evening getting things together and all set up. You didn't notice because you were too busy cooking for the block party. Today, Saturday, is our neighborhood's annual summer block party. They close off the street and set up some picnic tables at the end of the cul-de-sac (right at the foot of our yard, in fact). Then everyone comes out and we spend the day sharing beers and grilling hot dogs. The neighbors who have kids all let them run wild; the Johnsons set up a badminton net; there's an annual talent show; and everyone generally kicks back and hangs out from morning to dusk.

So like I said, you were so busy cooking something to bring for the potluck that you didn't notice me making my preparations. That evening I really set you up: first I invited you to bed a bit early, but after I had teased you some I broke off without letting you come. I wanted you sexually aroused but unsatisfied -- the proper mood to receive your punishment.

I woke you up at 8:30 this morning by wrapping your punishment collar around your neck. "What? What's going on?" you mumbled as you dragged yourself to consciousness. "Silence, Slave!" I snapped back. "Do you remember how your threw my prized jacket in the garbage? Well, I hope you didn't think you were going to get away without punishment. Your course of punishment begins now." I stood back and waited for you to climb out of bed.

First, I led you to the bathroom, leaving you to take care of business. When I came back carrying a steaming bowl of hot granola cereal, you had used the toilet, washed your hands and face, and you were leaning over the mirror in your nightgown, applying a touch of makeup. I handed you the cereal and bade you eat up.

"Mmmm," you said, "this is a pretty nice punishment... I'll take this any day." I could tell that you meant it: your mood was perfect for some sexy bondage leading to an over-the-top orgasm. "Eat up," I said, "you have 10 minutes to finish the breakfast."

Showing at least a modicum of caution, you gave me no protests, but dug right in with your spoon and ate up the breakfast. You also had a long drink of the orange juice I brought. When you finished and set the dishes aside, I ordered you to remove your clothes.

The nightgown came off slowly as you performed a strip tease for me, but I had to remind you to remove the panties. I spent a moment admiring your graceful body (caressing lightly with my fingertips), then reached down to pick up a few of the items I had brought from our bag of bondage toys: two padded wrist cuffs, a 2-foot length of chain, and three keyed padlocks. A cuff went on each wrist, with a padlock holding it shut and attaching it to one end of the chain. "Now hold your hands up over your head." I commanded, then flipped the chain behind your neck and used the third padlock to hold shut your collar and fasten it to the middle of the chain.

You stood before me then, naked, with each wrist chained to the collar running round your neck. Just over a foot of chain for each arm allowed you enough movement to get your hands down to the level of your breasts, but no further. And every piece of it secured with cold iron: I didn't even bring the padlock keys upstairs with me, and without them there was no way you were getting out of this. Now I pulled out the silk bandanna and added a blindfold to complete the picture of helplessness.

I paused for a moment to admire my handiwork, and to tickle you a couple of times in tender spots. But time was running out and I still had more preparations to do. Holding you firmly, I helped you lay on your back on the floor (a feat you could not accomplish on your own with your hands chained). Then, with little warning, I shoved the remote-control vibrating egg deep, deep into your pussy. A startled, but pleased "Ooooh! Oh!" escaped your lips. Even though the egg was definitely OFF at the moment, you began gyrating your hips: your clit just begging for attention.

Unfortunately, it was going to be denied (for now). I grabbed the last bit of bondage gear: a simple length of rope. Once around your waist I ran it, just above the hips, then tied it off in a square knot. Then I ran the end down the back between your cheeks and up the front. Tightened up a bit so it slipped into your slit without pulling too hard, then I tied the end off on the front of the waist strap. It was nothing secure, but I was pretty sure it would ensure the egg stayed inside. You could easily have untied it or just pulled the cord to one side... but your hands weren't going that far down your body; without the use of your hands it would hold.

I had to help you back up on your feet, and then with a couple of sharp swats to your shapely bottom I managed to direct you down the hall to the stairs. For fear of falling (what with the blindfold and restraints), I led you carefully down the stairs, but we paused at the bottom. Here was where I had set up the fiendish part of my plan. Still blindfolded, I helped you lay down in the dining room on the dolly from the garage (you know, that board with wheels I use for working under the car).

I wished you could see the setup: it had taken me quite some time to figure out just how best to do it. You could detect that there was something out of place, but I doubt you were imagining what I had set up. I had brought in the large garbage can from outside: the one that tips back on wheels. Yesterday I had gone through all the garbage to remove anything that was sharp. That left three plastic trash bags worth of the usual kitchen leavings: food scraps, used napkins, and such. This morning I had brought the trash can in and laid it on its side, then slid in a long flat wooden plank. Up the plank I rolled the dolly, so you rolled feet-first into the large container. Then, while you were still trying to figure out what was going on, I grabbed the handle on the garbage can and tipped it upright with you inside, then pulled out the dolly and the plank.

"What the HELL are you doing?" you snapped, and yanked the blindfold off your face. I am sure you were a little startled to find yourself half-kneeling, naked, on a pile of garbage in our outdoor garbage can.

"Suck it up, Jacket Thief," I responded, "this is the punishment you have rightfully earned. You thought you could throw my jacket in the garbage? Well, for punishment I am throwing YOU in the garbage. Do you feel a bit dirty? A little humiliated? You know you've earned it, and I'm making sure you get what you deserve." I paused, taking stock to see how you were responding. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Actually," you responded in an unguarded moment, "the truth is, I'm kinda turned on. I guess I did deserve it, and I think this might be the most humiliating setup you've ever put me in."

So that was the cue that I needed. "Don't go anywhere," I quipped, "I have to do a little bit of cleaning up around here." I picked up the large box of scraps from the paper shredder that I had gathered yesterday and left to soak in water. "I need to throw this out." I said and upended it into your garbage can.

You wiggled, and it settled in beside and around you. Then I grabbed the trash can from the bathroom, filled with old tissues, shaved hair and pads from your last period, and added it too. I ordered you to scrunch down and gave the garbage can a little shake to settle things a bit. I tossed in a banana peel I had saved from yesterday, and you carefully plucked it off of your pretty white arms to drop it further down in the pile under your knees. At this point I handed you a large water bottle I had filled with fresh drinking water, clipping its little carabiner onto your wrist chain. While you were distracted trying to figure out the purpose of the water, I picked up two eggs from the counter by the sink and quickly, without warning, cracked them over your head. As the mess seeped through your hair and began to run down your body, I flicked the remote control for the vibrating egg, activating its lowest setting.

That certainly got your attention. After a few minutes, you were wiggling in place enough to settle the garbage quite nicely. Then I proceeded to work on a long-overdue task: cleaning out the refrigerator. I dumped in the leftover spaghetti and meatballs as well as the refried black beans. I poured in most of a can of tomato soup that had sat around for far too long. And finally, I dumped in the week-old lasagna right on top of your head. They were all cold from the fridge, but by this point you were beyond caring: hands pinching and rolling your nipples, pelvis gyrating in an attempt to satisfy your hungry clit. Before you could reach a climax, I switched off the vibrator. "Too soon, my dear." I reassured you.

Then for the big surprise. "Now keep your head down," I ordered, "and for goodness sakes, stay quiet!" I swung the lid closed on the garbage can (you had settled enough there were a few inches of clearance), then I tipped the can onto its wheels and began to move. With enough momentum, I could make it Bump! over the threshold and out onto the porch. I could hear you try to protest, but I rather sharply shushed you. Down the step off the porch, then I wheeled you out to the end of the driveway.

Leaning over, I whispered into the closed lid: "So here is your punishment. You'll stay here in the garbage until dusk. Since today is the block party, you will probably hear a lot of activity going on around you. But you'd better keep quiet no matter what happens. I'll make sure that no one opens the trash can and peers in, but if you make enough noise, eventually someone is going to notice. And your unveiling, in your current state, would be, shall we say, a 'memorable event' for the neighborhood -- you'd never live it down." At this, I heard a small whimper escape your lips, but I have to give you credit, you kept it fairly quiet. "If you make it through the day, I'll bring you back inside at dusk. And I'll probably drop in a hot dog or two over the course of the day so you won't go hungry. But you'd better find a way to keep yourself still and quiet." I paused a second, then continued loudly: "Oh, hi Mike... are you ready for the block party?" (Our neighbor Mike wasn't actually there, but of course you couldn't know that.)

So that's how you got yourself into this predicament. Now you're scrunched up on your knees in a trash can, literally buried in garbage, totally naked under the filth, with your hands restrained so you can neither move nor clean yourself off. On all sides, you can hear your friends and neighbors chatting, mixing, sharing good food. They've all swallowed my story about how you had to rush off to your mother's, but you don't dare let out a sound. You are doing everything you can to keep yourself still and silent. And now I have the remote in my pocket, and I'm beginning activate the egg buried deep in your sex, making you ache to touch the clit your hands can't get to.

Don't move.

© 2012 gilgamekk

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bygilgamekk© 3 comments/ 18615 views/ 3 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous01/21/18

I liked it!

Don’t be so serious people above.

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