Who Knew?

Who knew? (alternate version)

Who knew that such a trivial offense would earn you this, one of the worst, most horrible types of punishment imaginable?

Who knew that doing something so small, so utterly small and insignificant could earn you the wrath of your master?

Who knew indeed?

Those were the thoughts that raced through your head that day as you sat in your cell, the door shut and locked, with those handcuffs locked around your wrists.  Earlier in life those cuffs were a source of pleasure, of fun and excitement.  Now they were grim restraints.

Those cuffs locked around your ankles reminded you that you were not going anywhere.  Your master knows how to take care of naughty slaves, and how to restrain them to ensure that they won't escape.

At least he didn't make you change into something humiliating.  He decided to let you stay in your white body glove as he clicked the old fashioned cuffs onto your body.

And now here you were, sitting in a cell in the bottom of the house, awaiting whatever punishment your master had in store.

Time passed.  How many hours?  You didn't know.  The punishment cells had no clocks.  You could have been down there a few minutes, a few hours, or a few days.  You wouldn't know.

At last, a sound.  The click of a lock as the door was opened.  You looked, hoping that your master had decided to forgive you for what you did.

But master's face was stern.  There was no mercy in his eyes.  You trembled slightly.  When master decided to be rough, master was very rough.

You were brought up into the living room.  Your fellow slaves were there.  You were the only one in restraints.  Not a good sign.

Your master walked you to a spot on the floor, and ordered you to stay there.  You shuffled in your cuffs and hurried to obey as best you could.

When you were in place, master took several chains and bolted you to the floor, ensuring that you could not escape.  You tested the bonds anyway.  Sure enough, they locked you firmly to the floor.

Master walked in front of you, and the other slaves.  He took out a piece of paper from his hands, unfolded it, and began to read.

"A slave should never disobey his or her master.  This is common knowledge between both slave and owner.  If a slave should be so foolhardy to disobey his or her master’s orders, then a punishment is warranted.  If a slave is a repeat offender, then a very stern punishment is needed."

Master glared at all of you, his eyes saying "Don't mess with me."  He said, in the coldest voice imaginable, "Sometimes, a very special punishment is needed."

You shivered.  There was fear of course, but there was also excitement.  If he wanted too, master could get very creative when it came to punishments.

Master folded up the piece of paper.  "It is clear to me now that the slave I currently own is not up to my current standards, and needs a stern reminder that disobedience will not be tolerated."

You froze, and, for just a moment, your heart stopped.

"I sentence this slave to be mummified and buried alive for one week."

Your heart did not resume beating.

***

How?  You wondered.  How on earth had it come to this?

The thoughts went through your head over and over again as you were locked into the restraints in the dungeon.  You were standing up, arms chained above your head, ankles locked together.

Master stood several feet away, calmly watching.  Your fellow slaves would do all the dirty work.  They soundlessly cuffed you, not daring to look at you, either too ashamed or too frightened of master's wrath.

When it is finished, your fellow slaves began the mummification process.  They took out the bandages that master had placed on the floor.  You knew how it would go.  The elastic bandages first, then the rubber ones.  Then the linen, another layer of elastic, another layer of rubber, and a final wrap of duct tape. 

When the shackles were unlocked and removed from your ankles, you did not kick, thrash, or squirm.  You dangled limply, allowing your fellow slaves to begin your mummification.

Resistance during punishments brought additional penalties to all involved. 

As your legs were wrapped, your mind drifted back to when you were purchased by master.

***

It had all began ten years ago.  Walking from the car to your house, you were ambushed by thugs waiting in the bushes.  They quickly knocked you out with chloroform.  When you awakened, you found yourself tied up and in a basement somewhere, along with many other men and women.

You all cried when several rough men came in and announced that you were to become slaves.  You cried very hard all day, trying to wiggle free of the rope that bound you.  But the thugs knew what they were doing.  The ropes would not come loose.

And so, several days after being kidnapped, you were all tied together and forced into several waiting vans.  There, you were driven away from everything you knew and loved.  You were driven somewhere far away, beyond the reach of friends, family, or the law.

There, on a wooden platform, you were all auctioned off, and sold to the highest bidder.  You caught the eye of a middle aged man.  He had a kind, friendly look to him.  In the depths of despair, you thought that perhaps, perhaps he would help you.

He smiled as he paid for you.  He continued to smile as he took the leash around your neck and led you to his car.  "Do not fear."  He said.  "I will take care of you.  Already I love you."

As he drove away, you thought that perhaps things would turn out all right.

You were wrong.

Though the man had a kind look, he was really a control freak.  He demanded complete submission from you.  He demanded that you follow his rules, his way of living.  If you didn't do what he told you to do, there was torture.  There was pain and agony. 

And yet, when he was not harming you, he said that he loved you, and he wanted you to be with him.

Five years of this began to change your thinking.  You couldn't think anymore.  There was only times when master was kind and gracious to you, and then there were times when master was mean and spiteful to you.

"I am your new father."  He said.  "I must punish you to correct you."

When you cooperated and followed him, he trained you to become a maid.  You were given a rubber version of a French maid's outfit and forced to wear it twenty three hours a day.  Your arms were forced behind your back and placed into an armbinder, and they too were kept there for many hours each day.

A hood went onto your head as well.  A gag was constantly in your mouth.  Day and night you wore your restraints and your outfit.

Eventually, after a few more years, you somehow adjusted to life as a slave.  The doors were always locked, the phones were always disconnected, and restraints were always applied.  There was no way to escape this man, who now controlled you.

Slowly, more and more slaves joined you.  And master said that he loved them too, and that he needed to punish them for their mistakes and when they went against his will.

After many years, none of you dared challenge him anymore, except only in secret, when it was certain that you would not be discovered.

Too bad it had not happened with what you had done.

***

The wrapping of your neck brought you back from your memories.  Your fellow slaves had completed the first layer of your mummification.  White elastic bandages now encircled your body, binding it together and compressing it.  You squirmed slightly at the uncomfortable tightness.

When your neck was wrapped, your fellow slaves wrapped your arms and your head, cutting away all your hair and covering your head with a hood.

And when all that was completed, you were completely covered in white, save for your eyes.

The first layer complete, master's slaves began the next layer of your mummification.  Taking the thick rubber strips, they began to wrap them around your body.

Being mummified was not a new sensation to you.  It had happened before.  The experience of being wrapped head to toe in inescapable full body bondage was something that happened fairly frequently in the household.  Eventually, one got used to being wrapped for days at a time if necessary.  Eventually, you even found it pleasurable.

On and on they went.  Layer after layer after layer of wrappings.  Rubber, linen, elastic.  Each layer going upon the last.  Each layer further sealing you into your wrappings.  Each layer adding on to your permanent mummification.

Soon, a full inch of wrappings encircled you.  And yet you still did not resist.  You were weary, tired, worn out.  Ten years of slavery were finally catching up to you.  And even if you had wanted to thrash, it would have been impossible.  With all that now encased you, you could only wiggle.

The chains holding you up were loosened and undone.  Your wrapped, bandaged, and encased body was lowered to the floor.  Your fellow slaves propped you up, took your arms, and folded them behind your back into an armbar.

Wrappings went over your already wrapped arms, sealing them together, binding them as one.  You closed your eyes, grudgingly accepting what was being done to you.  Your arms were going to be useless for the next week.  Better to start getting used to it. 

After five minutes of wrapping, you did an experimental tug.  You could wiggle your arms slightly, but they remained sealed together.

Master was standing there, still, unmoving, without pity.  You had done the crime.  Now you had to pay the price.

***

You were carried up the stairs and set down on the living room floor while the other slaves went out back to dig your grave.  You lay on the carpet, unable to move save for a wiggle.  You could not feel the soft carpet beneath you.  You could sense that you were lying on something, but that was it.

Master sat on the couch, watching you with cool eyes.  You looked back at him, wanting to ask for his mercy, to please spare you the horrible punishment that was coming.  "Please," you wanted to say.  "Please, can't you do anything else?  This is a bit much."

But master did not hear your silent pleas.  You knew from his expression that he knew what you were thinking, but he did not care.  He had no mercy now.

An hour later, your fellow slaves came in to retrieve you.  You were carried, helplessly, outside to your burial.  Only your eyes and your nose showed now, and your eyes told those in attendance what you were thinking.

One did not care in the slightest.  The others were sad, but knew that nothing would change the masters will.

At last, your fellow slaves lowered you into a box.  With a horrible chill you realized that it was your coffin.  You squirmed slightly as straps were tied across your body, sealing you into your coffin that would hold your body. 

You wiggled and squirmed, afraid, but also irritated.  Being buried alive for a week was bound to get anybody cranky.  You could see the sky above you, the clouds drifting lazily through the blue.

What you did not know was that you were in the corner of the yard, amongst the weeds and the ugly plants, a place that was never attended to, never worked on.  It was here that you would be buried.  It was here that you would be entombed, sealed, and interred for one week.

There was to be no escape.

Master leaned over you.  Master leaned over your coffin and looked you straight in the eye.

"You made a mistake, and I pronounce sentence.  One week in the ground, sealed away from all contact.  A week to remain in darkness, never to be released.  A week of being all alone."

"It isn't fair!"  You screamed silently.  "You demand perfection knowing damn well that none of us are perfect!" 

But you realize, on another level, that you are all nothing but toys, tools to this man's will.  Nothing you can do will stop him.  What he says is law, even if that law is enormously unfair and perverted.

But there is nothing you can do.

"Your coffin is hooked up to a silent compressor, which will pump air down to you for the week you are buried.  And this…"  You flinched as something sharp went into your arm.  "Is an IV.  It will keep you hydrated.  When you come out, you will be very hungry, but you'll still be alive."

You glared at him.

"Farewell Julia."  Master said.

And with that, the lid was placed on.

You moaned as the nails were pounded in.  You moaned with both anger and irritation as you felt your coffin being lowered into the ground.

"Come on!"  You silently shouted.  "Do we really have to do this?  Can't you leave me locked up in the basement for a week instead?!"

No one heard you as the dirt and mud was poured into your grave.  You continued to silently moan as you heard and felt the earth coming onto you, sealing you into it's grip,  sealed away from the sunlight.  You squirmed within your wrappings, trying to escape, to break off the lid and escape to freedom.

But your wrappings held you.  In their emotionless embrace, there was no escape.

It went on for several minutes.  Then…it was over. 

All sound stopped, save for the sound of air being sucked in through your nose. 

It was dark.  So horribly dark.  No light.  Not even a tiny pinprick of light. 

No sound, save that of your labored breathing. 

Nothing to feel, for your wrappings numb your skin and make you immune to physical feeling.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing at all.

You moan, knowing that there is no way out.  You will remain like this, unable to escape.  You were sent here by master, and master has no mercy, though he claims to have it in abundance.

Six feet above you, the slaves and their master were gone.  In their wake lay an inconspicuous part of the garden, a place that was, within a few days, to be covered with weeds.  You will remain there, entombed, sealed away from everything and everyone.

For now, you can only breath.  It's the only real thing you'll be doing for the next week, and you know you'll be bored to tears by then, but what else is there to do?

How quickly will time pass?  You don't know.  All you know is that you are mummified, sealed, and entombed within your grave, far from home.  This is your (temporary) final resting place.

You can faintly hear the air slowly coming in near your feet.  With no other sounds to keep you occupied, you wonder how on earth you are going to keep from going mad down here during your entombment.

There is no escape.

As you begin the long week, one little thought comes into your mind.

Who knew?

Who knew that taking a bite of the master's fudge cake would bring you to this place?

It is so silly that you begin to laugh.  If it is a laugh of amusement or insanity, you cannot tell.

It does not matter anyway.

It's going to be a long week…

 

27.06.06