Marge's Rubbish

I had been reading these trash stories for some time. Basically they all were made up of the same thing. Either someone put them in with the rubbish or they had tied themselves up in a rubbish bag and had been put out by their partner or friend. The other point of view was that they had put their rubbish bins out and had been taken away by the dustmen. There were a few stories where they had been tormented and didn’t know if they would be left or would be rescued.

I have to admit, the idea of being tied up in a plastic sack did not appeal to me and then to be left out with the rubbish seemed a little silly to me. I love bondage, my wife doesn’t.

I have to resort to self bondage and usually just lay on the bed with my hands cuffed behind my back and feet tied together and a nice ball gag in my mouth. I usually roll onto my stomach and rub myself on the towel I have to put beneath me. That way, I can get relief.

My wife, Margie, doesn’t like me masturbating as she thinks it is a slur on her. She once caught me and burst out crying asking if she wasn’t sexy enough for me. It took me ages to calm her down. I told her that I did it rather than look elsewhere. That proved I loved her. It was just that my sexual needs were far greater than hers.

She got over it, but didn’t want to get involved with my bondage. Our sex life was extremely boring. Missionary position only.

The next time she caught me, I had gagged myself with a pair of socks tied around a bandage. With the bandage tied behind my head, I could not push the socks out of my mouth. It was most effective.

I put on a pair of short satin sports shorts, chained my ankles together put my hands down the front of my shorts, out through the legs and handcuffed them together. I was stuck. I was naked apart from that. I had left the keys to my cuffs up in our bedroom.

She came home early as there had been a power cut at her place of work. I had the day off. She screamed and raged at me. I did my utmost to make her realise that I wanted her to undo the gag and I would tell her where the keys were. She told me that as I had put myself in that position, I had to get myself out of it. She went to get changed and left me standing in the lounge.

I bumped my way up the stairs on my backside, to our bedroom. As I went up the stairs, she came down past me and shook her head at me in disgust. I got to the bedroom only to find she had closed the door. My hands could not reach the handle. The keys to my cuffs and ankle chains were in the bedroom.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not reach the handle. I wish I had put a pull down handle on the door instead of a knob type you turn.

I heard Margie getting dinner ready. The pots and pans were crashing about. I could sense she had a bit of a foul mood on. I could guess why. I was at the root of it. The smell of a delicious meal wafted up the stairs. I was feeling hungry.

I started to jump up and down to reach the door handle. Marge called up, “What on Earth are you doing? Dinner is ready” I tried calling back but with the gag in my mouth, I couldn’t call out loud enough for her to hear me that I wanted help.

I bumped my way down the stairs once more and hopped into the dining room. Marge looked at me with disdain. “I thought you were going to get out of that stupid outfit. You had better get it off if you want dinner”. My answer was unintelligible. Margie sat and ate her dinner while I tried to get her to get the keys and release me. Marge ignored me and carried on eating.

“Aren’t you going to eat your dinner after all the trouble I’ve gone to cooking your favourite meal?” With that, she scooped the lot up and rushed past me into the kitchen. I tried to follow her to stop her but got there just in time to see my dinner go into the rubbish bin. “Perhaps I should put you in there as well” she said sternly, glaring at me with cold steel eyes.

I returned to the bedroom and still failed to grip the handle and get the door open.  Eventually Marge came up to see what I was doing. I hopped into the bedroom once she opened the door. The keys were not on the dressing table where I left them.

Marge sniggered at my discomfort. “I took them downstairs with me when I got changed. I found them on the dressing table and guessed what they were. That is why I took them downstairs with me. You tried to ask the wrong question. If you had asked for the keys instead of trying to get me to open the bedroom door, you would have been out by now”

Marge went back downstairs while I tried to get down the stairs as best I could.  Eventually arriving into the kitchen to see she had washed the dishes up. She opened the back door.  “I have put them in the back garden. It is up to you to find them”

I hopped into the garden and saw the keys hanging on the washing line. I turned to ask Marge (as best I could in the circumstances) to get them for me as I could not reach them, she simply said, “I am going to watch my television programs in peace. In the mean time, it is warm tonight, so you can wait out there until I feel you can come in. Watch out the neighbours don’t see you. They will realise what a pervert you are”

She grabbed the keys and went back inside locking the door behind her, trapping me in the back garden.

Much later she came out and told me she was off to bed. “Goodnight” She closed the door and locked it once more.

I was wide awake all night. Fortunately the next day being Saturday, our neighbours didn’t get up until late. Marge eventually opened the door and let me in. “I hope you enjoyed yourself last night. I have to admit that thinking about how I had trapped you made me extremely hot with excitement. I could have used you last night”

Marge undid the gag. It was a relief to get those nylon socks out of my mouth. She gave me a drink and told me that she was not going to release me. I had to do that myself. The keys were where I left them. “I hope you have got over this silly bondage obsession because of last night. By the way, Jean is coming in the next few moments so you had better hurry up and get changed unless you want her to see you like that”.  Jean lives two doors away from us.

I wish she had not moved into the area. Everything she does has to be perfect. But to my disgust when I forgot to sign a cheque, I found she could copy my writing so well, even Marge could not tell who wrote it. Mind you, she has a fantastic body that she does not mind displaying. She works out three times a week at the local gym.

I had only just made it to the bedroom when Jean called. I knew that she would have made my life a misery if she had seen me. For a while I stopped doing bondage.  Jean and I do not see eye to eye. She is always over here in our house or Marge is visiting her. I feel sure Jean would love to get me out of the way and have Marge for herself. Jean threw her husband out many years ago.

However, I digress. Back to my problem of the stories.

I started to look how many people wrote these stories and was surprised at how many read them. There must be something in it after all. I thought I would at least give it a try. How could I condemn something unless I had tried it?

For weeks and weeks, the thought kept entering my mind. What just was the attraction of being stuck in a rubbish bag? Okay, it probably feels smooth and silky against the skin, but there must be more than that otherwise it would be easy to make a few holes in one and turn it into a dress.

Marge had complained that at times we had left the rubbish bags until they were too heavy for her to lift. A few times when I had forgotten to put out the rubbish, Marge had to get help from Jean to put the bags out as they were too heavy for her. I had got fed up with the cheap bags the council had supplied; I had bought some larger and stronger bags to use. It saved too many bags being left out.

The last lot I bought, I realised I could climb into and get stuck in, tightly bound and thought of as nothing but rubbish.

The thought germinated in my head and I started to dream of it. It grew stronger. I started to masturbate by taking a little piece of plastic bin bag in my hand and having a hand job.

Weeks went by doing this. It was enjoyable although Marge found out and didn’t like me doing it or even the thought that I was tossing myself off.

“One day, I’ll put you in one of those bags and leave you out for the dustman to take away” she said.

“Ooh. Yes please” I joked back knowing she would never do it.

Marge and Jean were close friends from way back in their schooldays. I often thought they were up to something and that there may have been, or there may still be a bit of a lesbian relationship going on between them. They shared all their secrets. Except I hoped Marge hadn’t told her about my penchant for bondage. Nothing was ever said about it.

Jean even had a spare key in case we got locked out of our house.

The day came when I had a day off from work. It was the day before the dustmen called. I drove Marge to the shop where she worked and drove home again.  I had a good clear eight hours of being rubbish for the day.

To help shift these sacks we had a large plastic dustbin that had a locking top. You could padlock it, but there was a catch that swung round to hold the top down. The lock merely stopped this from being opened.

It had wheels on it so it could be wheeled to the kerb, left for the dustcart to lift and empty into the back and compress it with the other rubbish. But what we used to do was take the sack out of the bin and leave it on the side with everybody’s other sacks. That saved going to get the bin back.

As soon as I got home, I started. The refuse was not collected the week previously as it was a bank holiday. There was a bit more rubbish than normal. We had filled an extra two bags of the type that the council had sent us. It was also the week for the recycling bags and as I say, two weeks of rubbish collection.

I pulled the rubbish sack out of the bin. Fortunately the smell of the rubbish had not impregnated the bin, so after leaving the lid open, the smell would disappear. It had a few air holes in it in case of accidents and to help get rid of the smell.

I got some of the bags the council sent. They are black like the ones I bought, but obviously not as big. Next in my list was duck tape. Finally I got one of the big bags that I had bought.

I wheeled to bin around to the kitchen door. If all else went wrong, Marge would find me and release me.  

My next job was to strip off. Most of the stories I read, put the victim as being naked. That intrigued me. I imagined the feeling of the plastic on various parts of the body. Fortunately where the bin stood, meant it could not be seen by anybody so I knew I was safe nipping out without any clothes.

Getting all my stuff together, I put one of the council sacks inside my big sack. All I had to do was get in, pull the sacks up in turn and I become rubbish ready to be discarded.

I stepped into the bin. I stepped gingerly into one of the council sacks and pulled it up to my waste.

Taking the duck tape, I wound some around my ankles, below my kneecaps and then above them. I put more tape around my thighs and finished it off with winding tape around my waste.

I was getting horny already. The coldness of the plastic on my knob was having the right effect. Then I tied a knot in one of the council bags and made a gag. With the knot shoved in my mouth, it tasted better than those socks. I tied it behind my head.

I pulled the big sack up to my neck and pulled the ties around it. All I had to do was settle down and pull the lid down on the bin and wind tape around my wrists and pretend Marge had put me out for the dustmen.

I had not been in the bin long when I felt it moving. I tried to lift the lid, but the lock had been put in place. The bin was being pulled rather fast. The wheels were making a hell of a row on the driveway. I was scared. I didn’t know who had got me or where they were taking me. The bin stopped. Were they leaving me by the roadside? Then we started moving again. Obviously, I was being taken elsewhere.

It was not long before I found out where. The bin was put on its side and I was unceremoniously tipped out. It was Jean. “Well, well, what have we here? A lot of rubbish” she mocked. “That looks too easy to escape from. If you want to be tied up properly, I will help you”

I was dragged inside her house. Then Jean left me for a while. But she had not been long when she came back with my dick tape and more of my large plastic sacks.

“I just nipped to your house to get some more bits. I have everything I need now. You are going to the landfill site tomorrow” she told me.

With that, Jean wrapped more duck tape around my arms holding them down so I could not reach the ties around my neck.

The next thing she did was to bend my knees up and wound tape around my knees and my body, holing me in a foetal position. The plastic sacks just tickled my knob and I found it very erotic.

Jean left me and came back with some rope, a single duvet cover and some scissors. “I think that you would be able to rip that lot if you tried, perhaps this will stop you”

Jean pushed me on my back and slowly eased the duvet cover up over me. When she had it around my neck, she tied some rope to hold it in place.

She untied my gag and retied it, but it was tighter than when I had it. “I don’t want you talking. I want you to listen” jean left me and went to her kitchen. She returned with a cup of tea for herself.

She sat down looking at me. “You utterly pathetic worm. Marge told me about your love of bondage. I saw you run Marge to the station and wondered what you were up to. I gave you enough time and saw you from your bedroom window as you climbed naked into the bin. So you want to be rubbish. Well, your dream has come true. I am going to write a letter for you to Marge to say you cannot stand it any longer. You have found someone else who will tie you up and you have left her”.

I knew Jean could write a note copying my handwriting. I tried to break my bindings, but it was useless. Jean laughed at my pathetic attempts to break the tape.

Once she had finished the note, she showed it to me. It could have been me who wrote it. “Tonight, I will be comforting Marge. I will offer to stay the night. I have this wonderful new toy that I feel sure she will prefer over your pathetic dick” Jean show me the huge strap on dildo she had. “It is not only longer, it is much thicker than yours. This will stretch her out. I don’t care what they say, size does matter”

Jean sat there rubbing her bare foot up and down my nose. “You look kind of cute like that. Trapped in a bin bag, helpless, waiting to be discarded like the rubbish you are. I bet you have an erection”. Jean was right. My dick had not throbbed like this for years. “Tomorrow, I will tell Marge to phone in sick. I will watch as the bin men come and take you away and then go back to Marge and caress her into ecstasy.  As you go into the dust cart and on to the landfill, you can think of us enjoying ourselves. Do you know what, I feel hot already. In case you are wondering, I have packed all your clothes into a suitcase and brought them over so she will think you have left. She won’t know just how close you really are. That really excites me”

Jean finished the tea and started to finish off wrapping me up. She untied the duvet cover and made holes in it, finishing off with cutting it just so it went over my head.

She went off again and came back with one of her council dustbin bags and some tubing. She tied one of the bags around the tube. “I am good to you. I want to make your final journey as pleasurable as possible. I am making you a new gag. The tube will allow you to breathe so you last longer than you would if you suffocate. The thing is, that you won’t be able to escape from the duvet cover, but it would be obvious that there is something that is not rubbish inside. Well there is really, but they would not take you if they knew, so I am going to have to put one of your bags over it. No, I will use two. I was going to cut the tube, but it would stick out. I will leave it hanging down between the two plastic bags so air can come up to sustain you. I don't want you having a quick end. I want you to savour every last minute of it"  

Jean untied my gag and stuck the tube into my mouth. It held my mouth open. She tied the plastic bag tightly behind my head. “As you won’t be able to see what is happening, I will explain it nice and slowly to you so you can cum if you can” More duck tape was wrapped around my head to hold the tube in place.

Jean took one of the council bags, cut a small hole in the bottom and pulled it down over my head. I was now blind. I could just make out what she was up to through the bag as it was lighter outside than it was where I was.

But my vision was not for long. More duck tape was wrapped around my head taping the bag tightly to me. “Oh my God” I thought, “she really intends getting me out of the way.

“I am pulling the duvet up now and tying it above your head. Of course the tube comes out of the top” I felt her pulling and pushing. It went tight around my head so I could not move it now. "I am tying the knots into triple knots"

I was pushed onto my back, “I have to get the two plastic sacks in place” Soon I was sitting upright once more. I felt Jean mess around with the tube. “Just wrapping more tape to make sure nothing remains that looks like a human. The tube will be tapped to the first plastic bag". 

I never realised that I had so much tape. “In case you are wondering, this is carpet tape. I always keep a dozen rolls handy in the shed for sending parcels and other things. People have borrowed it. In fact they think I am a joke keeping so much tape handy. I bet you don’t though. I used your up long ago”.

I tried to scream, but noting came out that was intelligible. Jean laughed. “I am just pulling the first bag up. I have to poke the tube down. I shall put the rest of the duvet over the top of you in case anyone gets curious”

“There, that is the first bag tied off and the tube just pokes out. Just taping the tube to you know. The second bag will have a hole, but the tube won’t stick out” I felt Jean mess around with my plastic prison. ”There, all ready for the rubbish bin and the dustman to collect you”

I felt the bag being dragged back again. I was shoved and push. “Just to let you know that you are back inside your dust bin. Normally you take the bags out. But in the morning, I shall be helpful for Marge and put all your rubbish out and I will leave the bin on the kerbside ready for collection. By the time you leave the street, I will be screwing Marge and she will soon get over you walking out on her.

I felt the bin being moved once more. “Okay, you are back outside your own house. All I have to do is go home and wait for the phone call from Marge. Hopefully she will be crying and I will help drown her sorrows. Don’t forget, I will be watching you go into the dust cart tomorrow. Have fun. I know I will”

I struggled uselessly to get out of my prison. I felt it getting colder, so I guessed Marge had come home and it was getting dark.

I sat there huddled up wondering what was going on between Jean and Marge. I tried calling out, but obviously Marge had not come to the back door. I wouldn’t know.

“Okay big bag of rubbish, I am putting all the rubbish out tonight for Marge. She is crying her heart out. I will have to spend the night consoling her. Don’t forget my greatest pleasure will be as the dustcart lifts your bin up and tips you inside. I hope they press the compressor for you. I can watch you disappear into the back and return to comfort Marge. You have all night to think about your fate”. It was jean. My heart sank. Jean is keeping Marge away from me.

I felt the bin being moved. I guess I was now standing where we leave the rubbish bags. I could imagine what the effect would be. The bin being lifted and I get tipped unceremoniously into the back. “Goodbye rubbish” Jean said and I heard her walk off.

From the stories I read, the compactor will push me into the back and if my bones don’t break, the rubbish around me will soften the pressure. I hope they are right. There may be a chance I would be found alive when the dustcart gets tipped into landfill. Once more dustcarts empty their loads on top of me that will be it. I wonder if there is anyone else in there.

Several times I heard people walk past and tried to get their attention, but with the noise of the traffic no one heard me. I could only wait to be taken away.

I thought I heard the dustcart coming along. I was right. Oh well this is it. I am a goner. I hope Marge is happy with Jean. If only she knew what Jean had done to me and how close she was to me.

Suddenly the dustcart stops right next to the bin. I felt it being moved. I feel the bin being lifted. Then it stopped. I heard Marge telling the dustmen she had dumped something in the bin by mistake. She would have to go through it and put it out next week. I felt the bin being put down and wheeled back into our garden. That was close.

I was tipped out and the bags over my head was removed. Jean removed the gag. Marge and Jean stood there looking at me. “I told you I would put you out for the dustman one day. I told Jean and we hatched this plot. Now have you got over this silly idea?” 

I told her I had, but Jean interrupted. “Leave him here, like the rubbish he is. I have better ideas. Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea and discuss his future” They walked of and left me. I pondered my fate. What did they have in mind. Was it worse than being tipped into the landfill? Surely not.

 

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