Life in the Box

Time once again to wander into the darker parts of my slavish, masochistic imagination.

How about being put in a box?

A big, heavy wooden box.

It was from the alt.torture newsgroup that I think I got this one. But it seems a natural. I think one poor guy begged to be put in a box for weeks and live with his own filth. Now how long do you really think he could cope with that?

Indeed part of the deadly charm of being put in a box is how long could deal with the dark isolation. I know it wouldn’t take long to reduce me to the most humble slave on earth. Not that I’m sure what ‘long’ means. Half an hour? Two hours?

I was thinking in M/m terms when the idea of being locked in a box first came to mind. Aside from the air holes I there would be a larger hole he could open. I would service his cock, he would piss on me. Such would be time in the box.

If Alexandra were to wish to reduce me to the core of my slave self there would be an opening for me to lick her boots. Sitting there I’d wait, hoping she’d allow me that contact.

Almost but not quite sensory deprivation. More reality distortion. Time would be marked only by the appearance of her boots.

Would I really like to know what this is like? Yes.

Shoe Shine Slave

It was dark and hot.

I lay curled on my side; there wasn’t enough room for me to sit upright.

I was in a wooden box.

Time had come to seem just a word in the dictionary. In my life it had stopped. How long I’d been there I couldn’t guess anymore than I could how long I’d remain.

I kept my eyes on the open slot at the bottom.

Finally the fronts of two red shoes appeared.

With all the speed I could muster I shoved myself to them and groveled as I licked them.

The first time I’d been tardy. The tip of her can had poked me mercilessly through one of the air holes. By the time she had finished I felt calling myself her slave would be bragging. I was just her shoe polish.

Back into a ball I curled when the shoes withdrew.

Nothing was left for me to do but hope they’d return soon.

In the box her shoes were my only reality.

Quietly I lay there worshipping her without being able to see or hear her.