the one wild brown eye searching around the room. With the other eye sealed behind the white coat, Tombstone imagined she was winking at him. He winked back… and plastered her other eye closed.
Claudine was entombed into a different terrifying darkness. She could not hear or see, and her pried aching jaws barely registered through her fear. The cool plaster was heating as it dried to hardness. She felt the man’s hands on her pussy again, and she wailed in her dark torture and strained to close her thighs. Once more, smooth fingers spread her. Up and down, in and out, gently caressing her clit. Angry wailing and distorted curses streamed from her pried jaws. Claudine could only hear them echoing in her mind.
Something slick slid into her pussy. At first she thought he was fucking her, but then she realized it was some sort of silicone phallus. In and out it was pumped, while fingers stroked her up and down, over her clit, spreading her creamy response to his touch, filling her with a desire she should not be feeling, tweaking her nerves to a place that did not belong here, pushing her into a shattering orgasm that could only be experienced when no other senses were left to her. Echoing through her black thoughts, she heard him call her a slut.
She felt a rapping at the side of her stone mask, persistently tapping and moving along the line of the trench he had carved. A relieved sob escaped through the ring when Claudine realized he was separating the plaster. He worked slowly, and she remained frozen through the agonizing minutes, afraid to move… afraid that he would change his mind… and leave her locked in the plaster prison if she disobeyed.
At last the casing separated and the two halves lay on the table beside him. His thumbs ran over the inside of the mold, and Claudine did not want to think of the reason he had made it. A small part of her wanted the safety of her coffin… and maybe to join her husband.
For the rest of the day, he left her chained to the pipe while he worked in the other room. Though her hands were still locked behind her, Claudine was free to walk back and forth and stare at the coffin and study the room. It was after another bowl of bland oatmeal for lunch that she noticed a small copper plate fixed into the lid of the casket. ‘Room One’. She shuddered causing her pried jaws to ache again, after the small measure of comfort from numbness. How many other ‘Rooms’ did the man have?
Tombstone worked silently, coating the plaster head first with a releasing agent, and then a build up of rubber. The mask would be made of a thinner compound and slightly more pliable than the rest of the costume he would make her. He selected the dye from his many colors and stirred it into the bucket. After applying each coat, he smoothed around the edges of the mouth opening, eyes, nostrils, and ears, patiently drying each of the five thin coats until the mask had a thickness just shy of a quarter inch.
It was a remarkable compound that had the appearance of being a solid glossy finish. In reality, there were indiscernible pores through the surface to let the skin breathe underneath. It had taken two days for him to finish the mask, and he sat back to look at his creation. The woman, Claudine? Tombstone shrugged. Her name made no difference. She had been pacing and dragging the chain, and he only saw her when he fed her, ordered her to shower, and lifted her in and out of the casket to sleep.
Tombstone stretched the rubber off the form, already imagining it surrounding her head. His cock jerked and his balls filled with warm excitement. He rubbed his stiff rod. Soon. He had tried having sex with them when he captured them, but he quickly softened in disgust and went limp. Only when the shining latex covered their heads and eventually their bodies, could he thrust to triumphant climax as a reward
Claudine was entombed into a different terrifying darkness. She could not hear or see, and her pried aching jaws barely registered through her fear. The cool plaster was heating as it dried to hardness. She felt the man’s hands on her pussy again, and she wailed in her dark torture and strained to close her thighs. Once more, smooth fingers spread her. Up and down, in and out, gently caressing her clit. Angry wailing and distorted curses streamed from her pried jaws. Claudine could only hear them echoing in her mind.
Something slick slid into her pussy. At first she thought he was fucking her, but then she realized it was some sort of silicone phallus. In and out it was pumped, while fingers stroked her up and down, over her clit, spreading her creamy response to his touch, filling her with a desire she should not be feeling, tweaking her nerves to a place that did not belong here, pushing her into a shattering orgasm that could only be experienced when no other senses were left to her. Echoing through her black thoughts, she heard him call her a slut.
She felt a rapping at the side of her stone mask, persistently tapping and moving along the line of the trench he had carved. A relieved sob escaped through the ring when Claudine realized he was separating the plaster. He worked slowly, and she remained frozen through the agonizing minutes, afraid to move… afraid that he would change his mind… and leave her locked in the plaster prison if she disobeyed.
At last the casing separated and the two halves lay on the table beside him. His thumbs ran over the inside of the mold, and Claudine did not want to think of the reason he had made it. A small part of her wanted the safety of her coffin… and maybe to join her husband.
For the rest of the day, he left her chained to the pipe while he worked in the other room. Though her hands were still locked behind her, Claudine was free to walk back and forth and stare at the coffin and study the room. It was after another bowl of bland oatmeal for lunch that she noticed a small copper plate fixed into the lid of the casket. ‘Room One’. She shuddered causing her pried jaws to ache again, after the small measure of comfort from numbness. How many other ‘Rooms’ did the man have?
Tombstone worked silently, coating the plaster head first with a releasing agent, and then a build up of rubber. The mask would be made of a thinner compound and slightly more pliable than the rest of the costume he would make her. He selected the dye from his many colors and stirred it into the bucket. After applying each coat, he smoothed around the edges of the mouth opening, eyes, nostrils, and ears, patiently drying each of the five thin coats until the mask had a thickness just shy of a quarter inch.
It was a remarkable compound that had the appearance of being a solid glossy finish. In reality, there were indiscernible pores through the surface to let the skin breathe underneath. It had taken two days for him to finish the mask, and he sat back to look at his creation. The woman, Claudine? Tombstone shrugged. Her name made no difference. She had been pacing and dragging the chain, and he only saw her when he fed her, ordered her to shower, and lifted her in and out of the casket to sleep.
Tombstone stretched the rubber off the form, already imagining it surrounding her head. His cock jerked and his balls filled with warm excitement. He rubbed his stiff rod. Soon. He had tried having sex with them when he captured them, but he quickly softened in disgust and went limp. Only when the shining latex covered their heads and eventually their bodies, could he thrust to triumphant climax as a reward
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