West Valley High Day

Susan Mitchell spent a the most miserable night of her life stuck on the patio of "The Artist", a man who had held her captive for two weeks, photographing her in various bondage positions for an art exhibit. The poor woman drifted in and out of consciousness, only awakening when her neck became sore from supporting her dropping head. Susan's naked body was now permanently entombed inside a box made of two-inch thick concrete, from which The Artist had confirmed there was no release. Only her bare ass, head and feet were exposed, leaving her available for use by anyone. The ball gag in her mouth kept her from screaming. She had not eaten or had anything to drink in over 36 hours and she barely felt alive. The Artist had mentioned placing a feeding tube and catheter, which would make her bondage absolutely permanent. All she could think about was the wretched life she would live as a human statue.

The Artist came out onto the porch, dressed in a thick robe, with a tray in his hand. He sat it down on top of the concrete cube and walked around to the front to admire his artwork. Susan did not look up. She couldn't meet his eyes. The man circled behind the bound woman and took off his robe. She felt him pressing against her exposed pussy again. Aside from being permanently encased as Art, she was also a living fucktoy, unable to do anything to stop anyone who happened upon her from using her at their will. She knew this was to be her fate. Susan closed her eyes as the man inserted himself inside her and began pounding away. She had gotten used to being raped over and over as the year had gone on and knew she just had to wait for it to be over.

When the man finished with a hard final thrust, he pulled out and put his robe back on. He circled around to the front of the cube and bent down and unhooked the ball gag from around the girl's head. Susan spit the vile rubber out and it fell to the ground. The man ran his fingers through the woman's matted blonde hair, straightening it out so it fell on both sides of her trapped head. He picked up a bottle of water with a straw in it off the tray and placed the straw to the woman's lips. Susan sucked down the water greedily, finishing the bottle in less than a minute. She knew she would regret that as she already had to pee and knew eventually she would have to just do so right there on the patio. But not now -- not in front of this man. The Artist placed a handful of dry cereal under Susan's mouth and she chomped it down. The man fed her several more handfuls and gave her another bottle of water to drink.

The man knelt down in front of Susan and lifted her chin up. Her blue eyes were vacant, devoid of the sparkle he had seen earlier in the week. She looked like the most pitiful creature he had ever seen. "Oh, Art," he said, "perhaps we went a little too far." He brushed her cheek, where tears had started to fall again. "Anyway, Stephen will be sending someone for you soon, so we must get you ready." Susan had no idea what he meant, but she was not pleased to hear her headmaster's name again. She wondered how he would react to seeing his prized pupil permanently trapped. How would that affect his plans to use her to steal billions of dollars from a drug cartel? She knew he needed her alive, but in what state?

The Artist left and Susan sighed deeply. Loneliness was a constant for her and this man, despite the depravity he had inflicted on her, had a caring and tender side too. She then remembered where she was and who had done this to her and realized romanticizing her captor was not in her best interests.

The man returned with a large orange bucket filled with a gooey paste. Susan looked at it and wondered if her planned to finish her off by covering her in that goo. But instead, he began brushing the substance along the concrete cube, covering every exposed inch of it. She looked down and was surprised to see the material bubbling and it seemed the concrete was crumbling. The Artist scrubbed more of the paste onto the concrete and Susan could see it was actually dissolving the concrete.

"You see, Art," the man said, seeing interest returning to the girl's eyes, "this was a special mixture they use in movies. It looks and feels like cement to the uniformed, but it actually is not. It is much lighter, which is why I knew I could use it for this purpose without harming you. Real concrete would have been too heavy. This special solution I am using deactivates the mix and causes it to dissolve. The concrete bags were just for show for my guests who thought I had actually encased a living woman in concrete. You should have heard some of the idiots talking about how this would kill you. They paid me quite a bit for our collection, by the way."

Hope had returned for the young girl, however fleeting it might be. She was still heading back to Krutz with no plan for escape. There was now also apparently an art collection that prominently featured her naked body in a variety of bondage positions, including the video of her entombed. But at least she would not live the rest of her life trapped in cement.

The concrete dissolved enough for the man to be able to unscrew the parts of the wooden box. After ten minutes of work, the wood has been taken apart and lay strewn on the patio. Susan could not make herself move. Her body and mind were disconnected. The man reached down and helped the poor woman off the wooden platform and onto her feet. She leaned against him, still unable to process being freed. The man picked her up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen and sat her down at the dining table, where a large feast had been laid out. "Please eat," he said, "and then meet me in front of the house." Susan devoured pancakes and bacon and an entire carafe of juice and two more bottles of water. When she was done, she stopped off in the bathroom to relieve herself and then walked out the front door, still shaking from her ordeal.

Parked in the driveway was an old white pickup truck with the lift gate down. The Artist was standing next to the truck talking to someone in the driver's seat. When he saw Susan approaching, he looked at his watch and walked to the back of the truck. He ordered her to climb into the truck bed and lie down face up with her feet facing the cab. The driver came out and climbed into the truck bed. He pulled some chains and padlocks out of a toolbox and chained each of the girl's ankles to tie downs on each side of the bed, spreading her wide. Then he did the same to her wrists, spread-eagling her on the metal bed of the truck. He slammed the lift gate shut.

Susan panicked at the thought of being driven away naked and spread in the truck bed. She remembered the long drive the day before and feeling like the sedan was on the highway. But then she thought that someone would see her and call the police and maybe her ordeal would be over. Her fears were calmed slightly but her hopes of rescue were dashed when The Artist and the driver spread a blue tarp over the truck bed and tied it down in several places, covering her from view.

She heard the truck engine start up and soon it was heading down the winding roads. The truck's shocks were not good and Susan felt every bump and pothole. The tarp was flapping in the wind, especially as the truck went around curves. The light would flash across Susan's nude body and she wondered what people in the passing cars would say if they knew there was a naked woman tied up in the bed of the truck.

The truck exited the freeway and Susan felt it bounce down another series of backroads. Finally, it turned onto a pitted gravel road and the girl bounced up and down as the truck made its way through the gravel. She was a little dizzy from her head bouncing off the metal truck bed so she was happy when it finally came to a stop. The driver climbed out of the cab and unfastened the tarp, exposing the girl. Susan immediately recognized the rustic farmhouse where she had been held previously. The driver headed off to the house, leaving the naked girl baking on the hot metal of the truck bed. Susan struggled to get herself loose, but the chains and padlocks held her tight.

A man Susan knew as "Mr. Jacoby" came by the truck nearly an hour later.. He looked down at the girl and said, "Hello, Susan, nice to see you again." Susan said nothing as she knew Jacoby's presence only meant more torture and humiliation for her. The man lowered the tailgate as two other men came out of the house. They walked over to the truck and unlocked Susan's wrists and ankles. They helped her out of the truck bed and then used the chains to lock her wrists behind her back. They locked the chain around her ankles in a short hobble and brought the chain up to her bound wrists and locked it there. Jacoby walked beside her and lead her towards the house. He led down through the storm cellar basement and told her to make herself "comfortable" on the cold concrete floor. After the last two days, Susan fell asleep quickly, despite her discomfort.