Chapter 2

By the time lunch was on the table the following midday, Sam had completely finished the beautifully seasoned oak casket's exterior; oops, the seasoned oak commode, for want of a better word, and was fitting out the entrapment shackles inside. He had to widen it so that Mindy's knees were nigh on up to her armpits, snuggled under where her armpits would be locked in place. A belt strap would encircle her hips; cinched tight, it wouldn't allow her to struggle as she was raped by her father and brother. Wrist bands would hold her forearms from escaping; and, the piece-de-resistance, two upside down padded hooks would retain her shoulders in place.

Sam had just fitted a restraining contrivance, somewhat like an Iron mask, which when in place would effectively prohibit any displacement, or movement of her face and mouth.

Sam decided that was enough for the morning; now was time for a long untroubled lunch.

Maybe he'd open a nice Beaujolais to go with the steak barbecuing outside. He must remember to get Ethel to do the final fitting of all the parts; she was just about the right size as Mindy.

By four p.m. Sam had all the gadgets, bells, and whistles in place, ready for the guest of honour, and Ethel had laughed rather hysterically when the lid finally dropped down and was locked in place automatically, so that no one but Sam could disengage it and release the prisoner, oops their daughter; for it was just at that point that Sam realised he was tempted to throw away the key when Mindy was locked in her tomb. Mindy was going to be imprisoned; she was going to be totally and disgustingly corrupted, and it seemed that this was what she wanted.

"Ethel, come here please," Sam called out for his wife's help. "I need you to try out the crapper for me."

Ethel came downstairs into the basement, and through the utterly clean efficient workroom of her dear husband. "Well, well, well. What have we here? It looks wonderful, my love, how does it work?"

"You see this is the removable lid, and I unlock it here ... And the whole top hinges up so ... now Mindy will lie here on her back, and her thighs and feet lock into these straps, and you see how her cunt and ass will hang over here..." Sam was getting excited, his cock at full mast dripping juice down onto his nice clean floor. "And look down here, this hose runs into this drain trap and out to the sewer with the catheter from her cunt running out along side it.

"Now here's the good part, this strap will go over her neck, and this board will hold her shoulders down, so she can't move. Then this end of the funnel I made goes into her mouth keeping it open, wide open! And this clamp from my Scuba kit fits over her nose so's she can only breathe through her mouth." Sam smiled at Ethel, fully confident that it would work perfectly. Do you want to try it?

Ethel climbed into Mindy's coffin, and Sam clamped his wife in place. Struggle as hard as she could, she was at the mercy of her loving husband.

"But why should Mindy only breathe through her mouth?" Ethel asked.

"Because Mindy will have to swallow what's in her mouth, or she'll choke to death trying to breathe around one of our turds plugging her gullet!"

Meanwhile Mindy was strolling along, dizzy headed, a naturally blonde teenaged beauty, hair down to the crack in her ass, hip hugging micro skirt just covering the micro thong which split her labia majora (camel toe to you iggerant swabbies, ) leaving those tasty inner lips subtly covered up along with her sweet, tasty, rosebud.

She had foreswore any brassiere; not out of vanity, as unusual as it was for her not to be, but she felt she just didn't need one, for she had just passed the pencil test with flying nipples. Speaking of which, they appeared perched on top of thick fat areola, the delight of all males over the age of thirteen.

Little did she know what the future held for her.