© Copyright 2006 - Urbmon116 - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/m; buried; sand; breathplay; cons; XX
My master loves me. That’s what I tell myself. It has become a desperate mantra over and over with each breath. I’m becoming frantic. In spite of everything I know I start to panic. I’m sure that my arms and legs are flexing even if I can’t feel them. As the muscles of my torso tighten it feels like cold snakes spasming over my chest and back. Only nothing happens really. I feel but I don’t move. I’ve never been so immobile.
It started early this afternoon. He gave me a beer and a lot of pot and drove me out into the desert. I knew that it must have been something special. Otherwise he would have just done it at home. We didn’t really talk about much on the way out. Mostly I just enjoyed the buzz and looked at the distant mountains wondering exactly what the name would be for that shade of purple. We drove one of the side roads for about 20 minutes, then a dirt road off that for another 20 minutes, then about 20 minutes off road.
We pulled up next to a huge pile of sand and he shut off the car. He gave me some water then. As he talked to me, he held the back of my neck and kept my face close to his. He kissed me and told me that he loves me. I told him that I love him and he touched my lips and said, "No, I want you know that I really love you. That I’ll never let anything happen to you." I nodded at that, really unable to reply. He unlocked the doors and told me to get out and take a leak, even if I didn’t feel like I had to. By the time he got out I was trying to water the rear passenger tires. Nothing at first, then I was glad he told me to do it.
I zipped up and walked over to him. He had moved to the other side of the pile of sand. He was looking down and I stepped around to join him. Logically, because there was a big pile of sand, there was a big hole where the sand used to me. I looked at him puzzled. He smiled and I wasn’t puzzled any more. "No." I told him, "no, he was not going to bury me alive."
He leaned forward and kissed me again. He grabbed the bottom of my shirt and I automatically put my arms over my head. As he slipped it off he whispered in my ear, "Yes, I am."
He told me to take my shoes and socks off. For a moment I thought about saying no again, making it stick this time. He could see me thinking it over and waited. I answered by kicking off my shoes and peeling off my socks. That smile again as he unsnapped and unzipped my denim shorts. They dropped to my ankles. Still smiling, he asked if I would like him to remove my underwear or would I like to do it myself. I told him to go ahead. An instant later I stepped away from the cloth around my ankles into nudity. Except for my thumb ring and he noticed that. He bent his head forward, took my thumb into his mouth and sucked it gently for a moment. As he straightened up he slid the ring off my thumb and on to his.
He told me to get into the hole and I did. It wasn’t as deep as I expected and wasn’t long enough for me to lie down. Standing flat at the bottom my nipples were just about level with the ground and I expected him to just bury me up to there. Then he told me to get on my knees. My erection, which had been at three-quarter mast, went to full pole in three heartbeats. I dropped to my knees and the level of the ground was just above the top of my head. He jumped into the hole with me. He pressed me against the wall and it was a tight squeezed but he had enough room to work. First he tied my ankles together. Then my legs at the knees. Then my hands behind my back. Then a circle around my waist and abdomen securing my hands snug across my lower back.
"It’s not like I wasn’t cooperating," I told him, thinking I might be able to talk him out of tying me. Burial would be enough. He told me to shut up. Neither of us said anything while he finished. He climbed out and still without speaking forced me to position myself in the center of the hole.
He walked over to the pile, grabbed a shovel and started to fill it in. He concentrated my legs first, covering the feet and calves sticking out behind me. I read something once that said you can’t be tickled by someone you don’t trust. As he shoveled my feet tickled something fierce and we had some good laughter for a few minutes. As the laughter died, he started to fill the whole thing, not just the spot over my legs.
It was a fascinating feeling as the sand crept deeper and deeper up my legs. Sand touched my cock, my balls, my hands and sank them all beneath the surface. I didn’t really feel the weight of it until I was buried up to the bottom of my chest. I could feel my stomach moving in and out with each breath, pushing against the sand. He kept shoveling until my nipples were buried then stopped.
He jumped down into the hole again, only a couple feet deep now and I pulled back when I saw that he had a plastic bag in his hand and a roll of duct tape around one wrist. I thrashed around as much as I could. He caught me effortlessly and slipped the bag over my head. It was thick but clear and I watched as he started the tape and wrapped it a half dozen times around my neck, sealing the bag in place. It was a snug seal and I could tell by the way the bag shrank and swelled with each breath, it was airtight.
He stepped out of the hole. While I rocked back and forth hoping to somehow escape he picked up the shovel and resumed his work. I was helpless. I couldn’t move my lower body at all. I got goosebumps as he buried me deeper and deeper.
The air was just starting to get thick in the bag by the time my shoulders were completely covered. As he continued up to my neck and deeper I realized that the sand was pressing the bag against my face. Bad air was better than no air and I tilted my head back so my face was pointed straight up. As he filled in around my head the air in the bag was forced up into a bubble above me. My window to the world was moving up and down like a piston as I started to really need air. He walked over to the slight indentation where the hole used to be and knelt down to peer intently at me.
I started to beg. I know how much he likes that so I went to it. He made me go until I wasn’t faking it any more. He cut a hole in the plastic and suddenly I was gasping fresh air through a tube shoved into my mouth. He moved back and shoveled the last foot on me. He must have piled more on too. The weight on the bag forced the air out around the base of the tube. As it did the plastic slowly shrank down and sealed itself tight to my head
I don’t know how long he played with me then, stopping up the tube hole at the surface end, letting me get a breath, stopping it again. Now he’s done something different. I can picture it. He’s put a plastic bag over the end of the tube. He’s duct taped it in place. I’m breathing my own air. First my arms and legs started to tingle then I lost feeling in them. My torso is cold and my head feels hot like fever. I’m a flow of air going in and out of an empty room. I thought it would get dark but flashes of blue and red illuminate the nothing I’m seeing. And there’s a pleasant ringing note in my ears. I wasn’t expecting the slow explosion from my cock that sends ripples of yellow electricity through my body. I come into the sand and I buck frozen in ice as the orgasm sweeps over me in wave after wave. As it passes the flashes of blue and red start fading to a dim white glow.
Save me master. You love me.