Prologue - Day 0
I started this journal for myself. To keep track of my kinky adventures as a 20-something in the big city. I had been seeing a Dominatrix for a few months and it was going well - meaning I had somehow managed not to screw it up. She had completely transformed my life. Broken me into a new creature - one who was more submissive than human. I quickly emptied myself of my own needs and filled myself with her desires only. But she was not satisfied with stopping there. She had other ideas for my final form.
It was so easy for me to give myself over to her completely. During our first session, my hands and feet were tied in front of me while she teased my mouth with the dildo sitting in her black leather harness. I had wondered why she had left the blindfold off this time until I dared to look her in the eyes. She returned my stare with a look that was so cruel, so derisive, and uncaring… I knew then I would do anything for her.
My body quickly adapted to her every wicked whim - of which there seemed to be an unlimited amount. She would wrap me in saran wrap and let live rats crawl all over me - my face still exposed. Their tiny claws scratched and nibbled at my tender flesh while she smoked and texted in the corner.
If I was a good boy, she would take me to the park on my leash. The glares and gawks from strangers seemed to entertain and delight her, which made me happy.
I once stayed on my knees in her bathroom for 14 hours straight. She had decided I needed to be a human urinal, drinking down her sweet, hot piss which came often since she stayed so hydrated. I had to keep this position (on my knees, mouth open) longer than I thought possible. I was proud of myself for this achievement. Even more experienced subs may have passed out or given up after the first 6 hours, but I stayed on her cold tile floor for more than twice that length. The bathroom in her apartment was small and cozy, if I drifted off at all I’d fall into the radiator which instantly scalded me awake. It was completely worth it to be able to accept a small part of her into my own, worthless body.
I did whatever she asked me. Immediately. Without thought or doubt. Her wants and needs soon became my entire universe.
I was the perfect little submissive, and still… It wasn't enough. Okay, I suppose I should stop being cryptic and tell you what the fuck happened.
I was already nervous entering our session on that fateful day, we had rented out the neighborhood dungeon and were planning to make good use of their equipment. She had been training my pathetic ass to be fucked and the plan today was to continue that training. It was excruciating for me to endure but worth it to see her pleased.
My hands were already sweaty when I entered the dungeon and she could tell I was nervous. It always seems like the more nervous I got, the more relaxed and demure she became. As if she was siphoning off my nerves and churning them into confidence for herself.
“Hi Goddess,” I kneeled and kissed her toes which were peaking out of her denim heels. Her feet were so small and delicate. It was such a turn on how someone so soft and beautiful could be so evil. Her big blue eyes looked down at me, showing no signs of warmth.
“Thank you. You ready to play the Bussy game today?” I nod nervously. “Good. You may go ahead and stand.”
She leads me to a red and black Saint Andrew’s cross along the concrete back wall. She ties a black satin sash over my eyes. Then tells me to take off my boxers, leaving me naked and even more vulnerable.
She cuffs my hands and feet to the cross. Every hair on my body stands as she runs her long fingernails across the skin of my thigh, before landing on my skinny ass. She slaps me once. HARD. Then again and again, until tears are already unwillingly streaming down my face.
“Mmm you’re SUCH a good pain slut, aren’t you?” She whispers in my ear. Leaning in and biting my ear - instantly breaking skin. I involuntarily scream. She laughs in my ear and then licks the side of my face.
Then I hear the sound of something large being wheeled across the concrete floor. The blindfold is tight and keeps things pitch black. But in my mind’s eye, I picture the metal table covered in seemingly random objects that all have a singular purpose… to fuck my ass. The game was that I then had to guess what exactly she was fucking me with. I said a nervous prayer to myself, hoping she’d be kind enough to use lube this time.
I feel her fingernails once again running up and down my back. They feel so good, even better because I know what horrible pain lies ahead. Even though it feels so good, I also
feel more aware of my nudity than I think I have ever felt. So exposed and vulnerable. Why had I purposefully stripped myself of any protection and thrown myself to the wolves- or- AH - suddenly, she thrust a smooth but wide object into my slutty hole. Immediately stopping my inner monologue. My mind and hole were instantly filled with the strangely shaped object being thrust in and out of me. Stretching my ass far beyond its limit. I cried out but accepted the pain as it washed over me.
“What’s your guess?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone as she increased the speed at which she was stretching out my bussy.
“A - a vase?” I stuttered.
“Oh my god! Did you peek?” she laughed playfully.
“No. I promise I can’t see anything.” I quickly replied.
“Okay, beginner's luck,” she said while harshly tapping my balls with her firm hands. I whimper but keep my murmurs down, knowing if I’m too loud then she’ll have to punish me.
Before I can even think of a reply - I feel an icy cold metal and plastic tube being shoved into my boyhole. She was going slow, but so deep. I almost began to panic but practiced my breathing.
“Wow, what a good slut. You can take soooo much of this. Can you tell what I’m fucking you with?”
“Umm - a- uhh-” I stammered.
“Use your words,” she said, the phrase dripping with sweet condescension. Inhale. Exhale. I slowly find my words. “An LED light pole?”
“No. Very specific - but no.” I knew that an incorrect answer would cost me but still yelped in surprise as she began fucking me even harder with this unknown object.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” I whimpered in a way that made her laugh. She leaned in close to my ear and breathed, “Curling iron. Do you think I should open it?”
“Do whatever you want, Mistress. My ass belongs to you.” I could feel her smiling with approval.
She giggled as she said, “Correct,” while sliding the curling iron out of my ass. I was grateful she had chosen not to open it inside of me.
The session continued like this for what felt like forever. A never-ending carousel of household objects whose only purpose was to torture me. A broom handle. Kitchen tongs. A glass bottle. Barbie doll. This was the most my ass had ever gotten fucked in one day. I knew it would be a struggle to sit or walk tomorrow.
“Okay, last one,” she finally said. I could feel her hands grab hold of my waist as she thrust a hard, smooth object inside me. It glided in and out of me in a way that felt so good - TOO GOOD. I knew what this object was without question. She was giving me her strapped-on cock. It pressed hard against my prostate in a way that made it sooo difficult not to cum.
“Ple-please Goddess, can I cum? You feel so good,” I begged.
She laughed, “You haven’t even guessed what the object is yet.”
“It’s your cock, Goddess. Thank you for giving me your cock.”
“You’re so welcome. I know my cock makes you want to cum… but the answer is no… you can’t,” she said as she reached around and wrapped her perfect, soft hands around my hard dick. She stroked it up and down in a way that felt like heaven.
Before I could even think, my body reacted. Tensing and twitching and then cumming all over her hands.
There was a stiff moment of silence where we were both shocked. I had never disobeyed her before. I was still thinking of what I could possibly say to apologize when she ripped my blindfold off and slapped my face with her jizz-covered hand. My face stung and was sticky from my own cum.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”
“Shut up.” She said coldly, anger raging in her eyes. She grabbed my sticky cheeks with both hands and said in a sickly sweet tone, “You knew if you ever disobeyed me you would have to endure the worst punishment of your life. A punishment of my choosing.”
I used what little control I had over my face to nod in response. I was too scared that anything I said would make her even angrier. She sighed, releasing some of her frustration. Then said, “Luckily, I have been prepared for this.”
She went over to her bag on the bench and took out a glass vial filled with an amber-colored liquid. “Drink this,” she said, though I don’t really have a choice as she forces my mouth open and dumps the liquid down my throat. It burns, making my head spin.
And then everything fades to black…
DAY 1 IN TRASHBAG
I slowly blink my eyes open. I worry for a second that I have lost my vision as everything is still black. I can tell that I’m in a sitting position with my hands cuffed in front of me. It smells awful and all sorts of random things are poking different parts of my body.
I finally look up to see a solid rectangle of light. My eyes adjust, realizing I’m surrounded by plastic… a plastic garbage bag. She must have chained me up and thrown me in her giant garbage can!
I try to say something but only succeed in letting out a groan. A figure then darkens the rectangle of light.
“Good morning my sleepy slut,” Goddess said.
“G- goddess. What’s happening?” I stammer.
“Since you have disobeyed me and proven yourself to be human garbage, I am treating you as such.”
A panic washes over me… how long did she plan on keeping me in this cramped, rancid trash bag?
“I’m sorry Goddess. I’m so sorry-”
“Save your begging. We had an agreement - if you disobey me then I give you one final punishment. No ifs, ands, or buts. You know I always keep my word.”
I let out an involuntary whimper.
“Aw don’t worry… lucky for you trash day was yesterday… so you have another six whole days before I fill your bag and have my friend, the trash man, throw you into the compactor.”
My heart sinks and my head spins as I realize just how much I had fucked up. I was going to DIE in the dump like a piece of Goddess’s garbage. Knowing there was nothing I could say - I began to weep.
“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes, “You are so loud. You can cry but keep it down. I’m trying to watch Real Housewives.” I obeyed her and lowered my sobbing as she closed the trash can lid, ushering in complete darkness.
I was now alone, bound, and destined for death…
I guess I must have somehow dozed off because I was startled awake by a loud THUD against the wall of the trash can that I had been sleeping on. I groggily realized it was Goddess kicking my can.
“Rise and shine,” she said as she opened the lid of my trash can, letting the light pour in around her dark silhouette.
“Wh-what time is it?” I stammer.
“11PM. Almost one day closer to trash day.”
“No Goddess, please you can’t seriously be ready to kill me?!”
“When have I ever lied to you?”
“I hope right now, please. Please tell me this is all just a cruel joke.”
“Oh, so you’re calling your wise and kind Goddess cruel? I let you live in my trash can and devour my garbage, AKA give you the best week of your pathetic life and I’m CRUEL?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry again. I look around for any escape routes, but its hard to see much outside of the can since I’m crammed far down into the bag.
“No - no Goddess. You are perfect and I’m very lucky to be allowed in your trashcan. I just -”
“What?” she snapped.
“I don’t want to die!” I wailed. Then I immediately felt embarrassed by how loud I was being. But I couldn’t help it. I had no energy left to hide my raw emotions. I already felt so broken.
I could see her face light up as she looked down on what must have been a pathetic sight.
“Then you should have thought about that before you disobeyed me. This is the fault of you and your dick alone, not mine.”
Then I heard her walk out of the room and return holding a large tray. “Unluckily for you, this is the day I clean my cats’ three litter boxes.”
“NO! That’s disgusting!” I found the strength somewhere inside myself to yell. “Look at me,” she said in a voice that was dangerously calm. I slowly met her gaze.
“Now, open your mouth.” She watched me flinch as I hesitated. “I said open your mouth. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Tears streaming down my face, I opened my mouth. She poured the acrid-smelling litter and its accompanying treasures all over my head. A good bit of it did get in my mouth and the dust from it stung my eyes.
I spit and spluttered. I cried. And begged. I shouted until I had nothing more left in me.
“Are you done?” she said after a few minutes that felt like an eternity. I whimpered and nodded.
“Good,” she replied, “just two more boxes to go.”
Useless tears dripped down my face as I choked on the ammonia smell from the cat piss.
DAY 2 IN TRASHBAG
I had not slept a wink that night, trying to think of how to escape. Goddess had cuffed my hands but not my feet. Still the crouching position left my legs so numb and mangled I certainly didn’t have the strength to stand. I wondered if I could knock over the trashcan while she was out and army crawl out of it. But so far, she has not left the apartment.
My stomach ached with hunger and upset at the inedible garbage I’d been forced to eat. I wanted more than anything to be home in my bed with a warm bowl of miso soup. Instead, I was trapped and sitting in- not only her filth- but also my own.
Maybe there was a chance I could bargain with Goddess. Or plead with her. I mean she was a strict master but not a murderer… right?
I hear the door to the kitchen creak open and the shuffle of Goddess’s feet.
“Good morning Goddess!” I say cheerfully. She grunts a response. I remember then that she is not a morning person. I must try extra hard not to upset her. Soon, the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee is just detectable over the putrid smells that surround me.
She flips open the lid to my can, looking stunning in her silk lavender robe. Gorgeous even without her makeup on yet.
“Hope you didn’t sleep too well,” she said looking down on me, “I like my garbage weak and sleep-deprived.”
“No, Goddess, I spent most of the night awake thinking of how better to serve you.”
“Good. Maybe I should give you some coffee, further wake you up?”
I didn’t allow myself to get too hopeful but replied, “Yes Goddess, I would love that.”
“Do you like cream or sugar in your coffee?”
“Just Oat Milk please, Goddess.”
“Wow, aren’t you a little lesbian. That’s how my girlfriend takes her coffee too. Should be ready in a minute.”
“Yes Goddess. Thank you Goddess. You know… if you let me out… I could make the coffee for you. I could clean your whole kitchen. I’d do whatever you want.”
She yawned, “Mmm, pass. I have other service subs to do that for me. Treating you like garbage is more fun. And you do want me to have fun, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, Goddess,” I replied meekly.
I hear a mechanic click and she chimes, “Coffee’s done.”
I barely have time to look up when I feel scalding hot liquid being poured over my head. Searing my skin and creating second-degree burns that I’m sure will soon be infected. I’m once again screaming.
“Why Goddess, why are you doing this to me? I’m a good person!” I cry out. “A good person would have listened to me when I told them not to cum.”
“Please. Goddess. Does that really deserve the death sentence? I work hard. I’m a good man. I donate and I volunteer–”
“That was before you were human garbage.”
“Please Goddess, you’re not a murderer–” I blinked and saw her face staring down at me.
“You don’t know what I am or what I’m capable of,” she said in a way that sent shivers down my burned spine.
I’m so dehydrated that I’m surprised as the salty tears run down my wounded face.
“Look,” she says, “I know you’re scared, hungry, tired and it’s okay to feel that way. You can feel however you want. Just don’t tell ME about your feeling because I don’t give a fuck about them.” And with that, she tied a gag around my mouth and slammed the trash can lid shut.
A few hours later, her steps sounded more jaunty as she entered the kitchen. She opened the lid and allowed me to peek my head through the bag. She kept me gagged so I wouldn’t scream (little did she know I had no energy for that at the moment). She said she wanted some company while she ordered dinner.
“Do you want anything?” She said casually as she flipped through restaurant options on her phone. My heartbeat quickened even though I told myself not to get too excited. I’m sure this was just another chance to tease and torture me.
“I would, Goddess, but-”
“But what?” she said, “You think I would begrudge you a last meal?”
“I - you - you are a kind and merciful Goddess.”
“Exactly. Just because I’m going to let you die doesn’t mean you have to die hungry. For real, what would you like as your last meal?”
“Some pork gyoza, Goddess. Please.”
“You got it,” she flashed a smile at me but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine. “I was craving sushi anyway.” I let a small bubble of hope swell in my chest.
We continued to chat while we waited for the food. I made sure to keep the conversation light and focused on her. I actually learned quite a bit about her and it made me realize how rarely I had made it a point to take genuine interest in her life during our time together. Most of our conversations were about me and planning for our sessions. I wish I had made more of an effort to get to know about her life before she ended mine.
Ding dong. The food arrived. The thought of screaming for the food delivery person briefly occurred to me but we were on the 3rd floor in a downtown apartment. No one was going up that many flights of stairs to explore some weird distant sounds.
Goddess returned up the stairs with the food. I stuck my neck out even further - desperate to soak up some of the good smells.
“It smells delicious, Goddess,” I venture. She smiles and sets the bag down on the counter opposite me. She takes out the styrofoam container of gyoza and waves it in front of my face. My head spins as I drool and wonder for a moment if I might pass out.
“Say ahhhh,” she says cheerfully, dangling the dumpling between her pinched fingers. I don’t hesitate this time to open my mouth. She feigns like she’s going to throw it in before popping it in her mouth. She chews as I stare at her in shock, my mouth still agape.
Then she spits the emulsified dumpling into my face. I try as best I can to scrape it off of my face and into my mouth. She laughs at my attempt. Then she does this again and again with the four other pieces.
I’m grateful for any large chunks I manage to get in my mouth but it's difficult with my hands tied. I have to wipe it on the garbage bag and then lick it off. It’s completely humiliating.
“Look - I made your last meal even better by mixing it with my spit. Say, thank you.” “Thank you, Goddess” I whimper.
DAY 3 IN TRASH BAG
“Are you an organ donor?” I blinked my eyes open and realized I had been sleeping. My head felt cottony as I try to understand the words I’m hearing.
“I said - are you an organ donor?” I looked up and see Goddess standing over my trash can.
“Yes, I am Goddess,” I replied groggily.
“Oh good! That’s one less piece of paperwork we have to do. Very important to donate organs, my dad has had to have three kidney transplants.”
“I’m - I’m sorry to hear that Goddess.”
“It’s okay! The last one he got is still working great. Now let’s see…” I watched her pick up a clipboard from the kitchen counter and flip through some papers clipped to it.
“What’s your full legal name again?” I gave it to her, along with my address, phone number, and social security. I know there’s no point in fighting her for this part. I had already provided all of this information to her in a previous session. She was probably just making me repeat it to avoid having to dig around in her files for it.
“Okay, now, as a special treat - I am going to let you initial and sign your own life insurance document.”
“Life insurance?! NO please Goddess-”
“What? You don’t want me to be taken care of after you’re gone?”
“I don’t want to go at all! Please!”
“You are being so impractical. Be serious.”
I try to regain control over my breathing. I swallow some sour air and think for a second. If I sign the papers then she would have to untie me…
“Okay. Yes. I’ll sign.”
“Good. Give me your hands.” I willingly lift my hands up and she unlocks the leather handcuffs binding them. I can’t help but twitch having this small amount of new freedom. Should I make a run for it? No… my legs would never wake up fast enough for that…
She sets the handcuffs on the counter and then pushes a pen into my left hand. I’m weirdly touched that she remembers I’m left-handed. That feeling quickly disappears as she pushes the papers for me to sign my entire life insurance and all my life’s savings over to her.
Even though I was young, my corporate job out of college allowed me to put away quite a bit of money. I had been saving up for a new electric car and another dog… for travel… for more time with my Goddess. Now I would never experience any of those things.
I thought for a second about signing the wrong name but she was watching me like a hawk. So, I did as she asked. I signed my initials, here and there and there and signed there. The sinking feeling in my stomach quickly turned to numbness. What else was there left to feel? Remember your hands are free now, I reminded myself.
“Perfect!” she snatched the clipboard and pen away from me. “Glad you’ll be able to give your Goddess one last tribute.” She takes the paperwork out of the kitchen as I stare at my handcuffs on the counter.
I use the last of my energy to grab onto the rim of the trash can and experiment with pulling myself up. My feet and calves are stabbed by the pins and needles feeling after being in the same position for so long. I unsteadily wobble into a crouching position, peaking my head out of the trashcan up to my chin. I look around and see the back door. I’m mere feet from freedom.
Then the kitchen door swung open as Goddess returned. She took one look at me and burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry - haha,” she continues between fits of giggles, “you just look SO much like Oscar the Grouch.” Not missing a beat, she picks the cuffs back up from the counter. My heart sinks. I allow her to re-cuff my hands, feeling more hopeless by the second.
“Want to keep me company while I make some stew?” she asks. I’m still weirdly turned on by her humiliation. I agree - because I’m not taking any risks of souring her mood.
We spent the rest of the night listening to music while she cooked. She made me eat the raw potato skins, the tops of some carrots, flakey onion skin, and other scraps from the vegetables she chopped up.
My stomach felt so acidic, I could feel it rising in my throat. Luckily, I was polite enough to wait until she had finished cooking to then promptly vomit all over myself. Emptying my already empty stomach.
DAY 4 IN TRASH BAG
I can’t even tell if I slept that night. Sleep and consciousness were beginning to blend into one long nightmare. I knew I was dehydrated and starving. I started to wonder if I’d even make it to trash day…
“Wakey wakey,” my Goddess's beautiful voice startled me from my hopeless trance. “G-good morning, Goddess,” I mumbled.
“Aw, poor thing, you don’t even know it’s three in the afternoon.” `
“Oh. Yes. Good afternoon then, Goddess.” I felt woozy. Then I felt too tired to feel anything at all.
A cold, gentle hand pressed against my forehead.
“Mm seems like you might be running a minor fever,” Goddess assessed, “I don’t want you perishing before trash day. Still three more nights to go. How about I give you a little pick-me-up?”
My vision swam and I honestly couldn’t tell whether I replied or not. But soon I felt a glass straw being forced between my lips.
“Drink this,” she commanded. I complied immediately and a delicious, cold fruit smoothie filled my mouth. Unless you count the masticated dumplings, it was the first non-trash food I’d had in days. It tasted so damn good. I gulped it down so fast I got a brain freeze.
“Good trash boy,” Goddess’s praise still felt amazing even though she was the reason for my impending death. I began to feel a bit more like a person rather than a piece of trash.
“Now, I’m craving some company this morning,” she continued as she put the empty smoothie cup in the dishwasher. “Oh! And you’ll be glad to know everything with the life insurance seems to be going through.” My heart sank a bit at that last part but I tried not to show it.
“Yes Goddess, I am always blessed anytime you allow me to be in your company.”
“Duhhhh,” she quickly replied while pulling in a chair from the living room. She seated herself across from me and picked up her warm coffee mug from the counter.
“So tell me…” she said, taking a sip of coffee, almost like a TV interviewer, “Do you have any regrets?”
“About…?” I asked.
“About your life! Ya’know you’re in your final days, doesn’t that call for some self-reflection?”
“I only have one regret–”
“If you say fucking up and cumming in my hand I’m going to spit this coffee in your face,” she said while keeping her voice cheerful and calm.
“Well, it's true. That is my biggest regret.”
“Oh c’mon! I know you’re young and have lived a short life but tell me something about it that I don’t already know.”
I thought for a second. My life had always seemed pretty average before I met her. I’d just work, play video games, and complete my family obligations. I got to a point where I was very bored of myself and bored of life which is why I had sought her out in the first place.
“I guess - in a weird way - I also regret not meeting you sooner.”
“Aw,” her face morphed into something I hadn’t seen in quite a while: a look of compassion. She leaned forward, I involuntarily flinched before her hand softly caressed my face.
“You have been one of my favorite playthings,” she leaned back and all signs of empathy left her face. “BUT there’s plenty more weak men to play with.”
“Yes Goddess, I understand.”
“Good. Anything else you would like to share? Final thoughts? Life lessons learned? Gossip or inspiration?”
“I - I have a goldfish.My dog is at my parents, but my goldfish-”
She blinked for a second then laughed at this.
“Oh right, I think you mentioned it - what’s its name again - Ben?”
“Bernard.”
“Right, of course, Bernard the goldfish.”
“Yes, I would like it if you kept him alive. He should be fine for another few days but then he’ll really need to eat.”
“I can do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” she leaned forward with her pinky raised, “I promise I will take care of Bernard after you’re gone.”
I looked at her pinky. She then giggled and said, “Oh right, your hands are cuffed.”
“They don’t have to be!” the exclamation just slipped out of me.
“Mm unfortunately they do,” she said getting out of her chair. She began washing the dishes while we continued to chat. I tried to act very attentive though I was also trying to think of a way to convince her to let me out or at least untie me.
“You know I could do the dishes for you,” I ventured.
“I know you COULD, but then the trash slut would have to leave his little trash can and that is not allowed. That bag is your final resting place.” My emotions whipped back and forth from sadness to numbness, to being turned on by her cruelty - like a line of laundry in a windstorm.
“I don’t want to die.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she replied. And I truly could not think of a single thing. She was, after all, my all-knowing, all-seeing Goddess.
“Okay,” she said after my lengthy pause, “how about I tell you something you don’t know?”
My heart sped up as icy fear rushed through my veins.
“That smoothie I gave you was full of crushed-up Viagra. In another few minutes, you’ll be hard and swollen and have even less room in your trash can coffin.”
Oh fuck. The thought of being drugged by her was already enough to get me fully erect. My hard dick pressed into the used napkins, cardboard oat milk boxes, and cat turds. I had never been more excruciatingly and painfully turned on.
She left me like that all night. There was nothing I could do with my tied hands to alleviate my boner. I tried to mentally make myself orgasm but my body would not comply. Every four hours, she would make me take more Viagra to keep my hard-on painfully raging.
That night I did not sleep at all.
DAY 5 IN THE TRASH CAN
Goddess had also been up most of the night torturing me. Feeding me Viagra and then wearing her lingerie around the kitchen. I felt like I was going to lose what little was left of my mind with the horniness of it all.
Finally, she roused me after I guess we had both dozed off for a nap. My penis was still erect, to my dismay.
“Hiii, my sleepy little trash slut - you’re one day closer to your death.”
I wondered if I’d begin to look forward to death at some point, but the will to live was almost as strong as my boner.
“Look,” she said rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, “ we’re going to have a fun party tomorrow. My friends and I are going to celebrate with a spaghetti night. Lots of cold, creamy pasta dumped in the garbage. And that should make it just full enough for the next day - trash day.”
I was so distracted by my horniness I could barely take in what she was saying.
“But I have a special last present for you that I want you to have today. Just between the two of us.” I looked into her eyes and still felt so much love and admiration for her.
“Thank you, Goddess. What is it?”
“I’m going to allow you to jerk off… one last time.” I gasped. Fear of death briefly left my brain and was replaced with a cautious excitement.
“Really, Goddess?”
“Yes. I want you to come for me, one final time. But this time you better do it when I say.”
“I will, Goddess! I promise!”
She asked me to stand up, which was exceedingly hard with my numb, weak legs. The pins and needles shooting through them every time I moved was almost unbearable. However, I was able to adjust myself so that my hands were hanging over the lid of the trash can so she could release them from the handcuffs.
“Good slut,” she cooed as she slid the cuffs from my hands. She settled back in her chair and said, “I’m of course going to watch you do it so you don’t try any funny business.”
It took a few minutes of maneuvering around the sea of trash before I found a position where I could get my hand around my dick. It felt sooo good as soon as I was able to finally touch my helplessly erect cock - almost too good. I had to stop myself. I focused on how disgusting everything - especially me - smelled. I stroked my hard cock, bumping the tip against the trash bag in a way that felt strangely good.
I heard my Goddess laughing at me as I continued stroking. Hearing her laugh at my horny helplessness almost made me lose it again. But I was not going to disappoint her a second time.
“Goddess, can I cum?” I begged.
“That didn’t take long,” she smirked.
“Please, Goddess. One last time. For you.”
She walked over - and kicked the trashcan which startled me but luckily not into an orgasm. She leaned in close, so I could see her face and almost make out her sweet scent over the horrible cacophony of trash smells.
“Yes. You may look at me while you cum for the last time.” I stroked, and stroked and then - orgasmic waves washed over me as I finished all over the trash. I basked in the seconds of fleeting pleasure before the aches, pains, and discomfort of my body returned.
“Good boy,” Goddess said in a way that made me swell with pride.
“Now lick it up.” I did so, getting quite a bit of garbage in my mouth as well. She then bound me again before I could even think about escaping. She also tightly tied the bag shut, enclosing me in complete darkness.
DAY 6 IN THE TRASH
I was not sure how many hours had passed since I last saw Goddess. The post-orgasm come-down had hit me hard and I had been in an almost catatonic state of depression.
Suddenly, I felt something wet hit my head and a chemical smell burned my nose.
“Happy Trash Day eve!” Goddess said, untying the top of my bag. I looked up to see her hair covered with bleach and realized that it must be a bleach-covered rubber glove currently burning the back of my neck.
“Good morning, Goddess,” I winced, distracted by the pain. To my surprise, she got a wet paper towel and wiped down my face and neck. I relished the cool relief that washed over my skin.
“Have to make you presentable for the party tonight.”
“Party?” I murmured, my malnourished brain slowly catching up to her words.
“Yes! Remember? I’m having a big spaghetti dinner night to fill your can all the way to the tippy top before we throw you out tomorrow. It’s going to be the perfect send-off.”
I felt myself leave my body as my situation dawned on me again for the 100th time.
“Please Goddess, I’ve always been a good and obedient sub. Please don’t throw me in the trash compactor.”
“Well - 1) you did it to yourself and 2) my friend Jason is the one that is going to be doing the actual throwing.”
“I don’t want to die!” I wail. Then she slaps me across my face with full force. My cheeks burn red, but I’d be lying if I said the pain didn’t turn me on a bit.
“Listen, this was the way it was always going to end. Of course, you don’t deserve to die, none of us do. And yet we all have to. So if you’re going to die anyway, at least you were able to entertain me and turn me on in the process.”
“I- you - this turns you on?”
“Your despair does. Your hopelessness. Your desperation. It’s probably the only bit of pleasure you could ever hope to give me.”
“I’m… I’m glad I can give you pleasure, Goddess.”
“Yes,” she said leaning in closer, “and doesn’t that make it all worth it?” She exhaled then turned around.
“Okay, I have to go wash my hair and get ready. My friends should be here in a few hours. Don’t go anywhere,” she winked at me as she disappeared through the kitchen door.
I felt numb trying to think of my nearing death, so I instead focused on the small part of me that was… excited? Curious? Intrigued? By how the party would go tonight.
And, though I feel a bit of shame admitting this, part of the excitement came from the knowledge that all of Goddess’s friends were extremely hot. So at least I would be living my last moments being tortured by beautiful creatures.
Goddess’s friends floated in and out of the apartment throughout the evening. Some of them had brought their own trash to ceremoniously throw at me. Goddess had been keeping my can half-filled, but since it was the last day I was to be completely covered in garbage by the end of the night. Her beautiful friends dumped their day-old take-out containers, doggie poop bags, expired yogurt and more on me as they drank, laughed, and socialized.
I recognized one of the party guests as someone Goddess had had over for tea while using me as human furniture. He was a very handsome trans man with a dark black mullet and gorgeous octopus face tattoo. I looked directly into his sea-green eyes.
“Please help me. I don’t want to die.” I whispered. A look of confusion flashed over his face that softened to pity.
“Star said that you disobeyed her…” he said, but he looked unsure which emboldened me.
“I truly didn’t mean to. It was only once. It’s not worth the death sentence. Please!” I begged, staying as quiet as I could. My range of sight was very limited from the can so I had no clue if others were lurking in the corners of the kitchen.
He seemed to be processing the information then said, “Just lay low. I’ll see what I can do.”
I nodded furtively, a small bubble of hope rising in my chest.
Then I hear the door of the kitchen slam open in a way that makes my heart drop into my stomach. After a second which feels like an eternity I hear my Goddess say…
“Make over tiiiiiiime!”
Goddess laid out a full beauty station on her kitchen counter and had her friends circling me. She announced, “Before we serve dinner, we’re going to make over our little trash slut so that tomorrow he can be turned into a beautiful corpse.” I hear them all giggle and a few cheers.
Goddess turned on some loud sapphic pop music. She forced my head out of the bag and then secured the ties around my neck. Soon her friends were brushing me with a heavy liquid foundation. A curvy brunette shaved my head to prepare it for a hot pink wig that she was going to glue directly onto my scarred scalp.
“Mmm do you think we should make him eat some of his own hair?” Goddess asked playfully. There were murmurs of agreement. Goddess presented me with a handful of my light brown hair. I obediently munched it out of her hand like a goat at a petting zoo. Chewing on the thin floss-like texture and then gagging as I tried to swallow.
“There we go,” Goddess said, “Swallow it down.”
Her friend then used Elmer’s glue to attach the cheap plastic wig to my now bald head. Everyone laughed and I couldn’t help but get a little aroused. They continued to do my hair, eyes, and lips.
Once they were done, Goddess held up a hand mirror to reveal the finished look. My pale, sallow, burned face was now smeared with a too-tan concealer and my eye makeup was already running down my face due to the sweat of being trapped in the plastic bag. However, I have to say, my pink glossed lips did look perfect.
“Now you’ll be the prettiest corpse in the whole dump,” Goddess proudly proclaimed. Then she ushered her friends back into the dining room for dinner.
I sat in my bag, alone again in the kitchen. The smell of delicious pasta occasionally wafting in from the next room made my stomach growl angrily. I prayed that her friend who felt bad for me would indeed help me.
The party continued late into the night. I listened to them do karaoke songs themed around the ideas of garbage and death. I could still appreciate the creativity.
Goddess had set up a timer on the kitchen fridge and I watched the hours tick down closer to my death.
At some point, I heard Goddess outside the kitchen door exclaim that she was going outside with two others to smoke. I heard the front door open and shut, the sounds of the crowd fading out. Then the kitchen door slowly creaked open - it was the guy I had talked to. He had come to help me! He quietly closed the door and walked over.
In a whisper, he said, “Look, I can uncuff you but the rest is up to you.” I nodded fervently, knowing we had mere minutes until Goddess and the others came back. He loosened the ties around my neck and helped me get my hands above the rim of the can. He undid the buckles on the leather cuffs and then looked around.
“Uuhh maybe put them in the drawer?” I offered. He nodded and hurriedly shoved them in one of the drawers by the kitchen seat. Not two seconds later, we heard the sound of feet coming up the front stairs.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge and winked at me as he left the kitchen. I plunged my now free hands back into the filthy garbage bag.
The door to the kitchen swings open, Goddess is still laughing as she breezes in. She looks at me and taps the timer on the fridge.
“Only 6 more hours of life, I hope you’re thinking carefully about your last words,” she teases.
“Yes, Goddess. My last words will be… I’m sorry. I know they don’t mean much and they certainly won’t provoke you to spare my life - but I do just want you to know I am truly sorry.”
She looked at me for a solid second before giggling again. “Yeah of course your Oscar the Grouch ass is sorry. Look at you!” She continued to cackle as she went to rejoin the rest of her guests.
Everything felt excruciating as I watched the minutes on the timer tick down. This whole experience in the trash had been the worst of my entire life, but these minutes were the worst of the worst. The now full bag of garbage reeked of rotten food, cold spaghetti, and feces. Every cut and burn I had gotten while here seemed to be on fire. The hunger pains were a constant stabbing in my stomach.
Finally, the murmurs from the other room dissipated and I heard the guest leaving the apartment. I saw the light in the living room flick off. Goddess must finally have laid down to get a few hours of sleep before waking up for trash day.
I exhaled. It was now or never.
Slowly, painfully, I white-knuckled the trash can’s edge as I tried to stand. I was able to rise but cautious of making any sudden movement unless the noise would wake my Mistress. I looked around the kitchen, assessing my options. The back door was only a few feet from the trash can and seemed to lock from the inside. But how could I possibly crawl out of this can with my semi-working limbs quietly?
There was a kitchen island a few inches away. If I could pull myself up onto the island - very slowly and very silently - then I might be able to slide myself closer to the back door.
My fingertips reach towards the edges of the island, and I’m just able to grab on. I slowly pull myself (can and all) closer - the plastic can scraping against the tile floor.
I pause nervously. I listen, my heart pounding. Everything appears dark and quiet beyond the kitchen. I pull my can up directly next to the island. I place my forearms on the cold marble and use the last of my strength to pull myself up. I do this at a painfully slow pace - the loudest part is the crinkle of the bag. I pull myself out of the bag up to my waist, and then–
A blinding light. A chemical smell. Sinking into complete darkness while hearing the faint sound of my Goddess laughing.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
I was startled awake by the insistent ringing of an alarm. As soon as I regained consciousness, pain and discomfort flooded my body. I blinked my eyes open.
Goddess was standing over me holding the kitchen timer which now reads “00:00”. I stare at Goddess, confused and unable to articulate.
“Did you really think I’d let you escape so easily?” she mocked. The memories of my almost escape last night came rushing back.
“I had told my friend to help you,” she smirked, “you don’t think he actually felt sorry for you, do you?”
A white hot panic burned through my chest.
“It was funny to watch you wriggle out of the can like a desperate worm. Haha. Worth it. Of course, I was watching the live feed the whole time.”
“I - is it - you can’t-”
This made her laugh in a way that was so cruel yet so beautiful.
“I can do whatever I want. That’s what we agreed on when you became my sub. And THIS is exactly what I want.”
She pulled me and the trash can out from the wall and began circling us like a shark. 25
“So here’s the deal- my friend Jason works for the sanitation company and he is on his way with the dump truck. He’s going to come up and then carry you in your filthy bag and throw you straight into the trash compactor where you would be crushed into a stinky, disgusting, DEAD cube.
Therefore, trash bitch, I will ask you ONE more time… any last words?”
My eyes fill with tears as I look at Goddess and for some reason, I think of all the good times we had together. The sweet sound of her laugh as she slapped my balls. The looks of joy on her face when I peed on a bush in the dog park. I had been hers. Truly, fully, completely hers. That’s not something many people can say.
“Thank you, Goddess,” I said. For the first time since she trapped me in her trashcan, she gave me a warm, effusive smile.
“You are so welcome, Garbage Bitch.”
The rest happens so fast it's a blur. She shoves my head down into the trash-bag. Ties the top of it tight. Soon I feel strong arms lifting the entire can. It feels like two men are carrying me down the stairs, but it's too late to know or care. I keep waiting for my life to flash before my eyes but all I see is my time with Goddess.
She was my life. And now she is my slow, painful, crushing death.
THE END