It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. But it's always been incidental. Like when we're in a dressing room at a store. Even when we went to the clothing-optional beach Jackie chickened out. And it was her idea to go!

Okay, so there was a time, well twice really, back in school. We were in our pot phase and we were stoned and we decided to go skinny dipping in the school pool. Jack was a cheerleader (So was Jackie. That's how they met.) and he spent more time in the gym than most of the jocks and he told us that even though the door was locked, all it would take was a twist and a pull and the door would pop open and it did. I don't remember much except our giggling echoing off the walls made us giggle even more.

And then there was the time in our room. The guys were there and, yeah, we were stoned and Jack and Jackie started making out and we did, too, but Roger was too stoned to get it up and, honestly, I was too stoned to care.

But this is different. It's ten years later and everybody's sober. Well, okay, maybe an adult beverage or two has been had, but if I have a buzz I don't feel it.

Jackie is naked and she's blushing. Whether from embarrassment or the aforementioned libation I don't know. She's biting her lip. I know she wants to talk, but the deal was we'd go along with whatever the guys wanted, no objections. Besides, a bet's a bet. It was my bad. I missed the shot. Actually, and don't tell Jackie, I missed it on purpose. Roger and I are seriously into kink and when he said he had plans for Halloween, well, I was there. The problem was getting Jackie on board. Oh, and Jackie isn't her real name. We started calling her that after the character on That 70s Show. So now you not only have a visual, but a bit of insight into her personality. Although, truth be told, she's mellowed quite a bit, but the nickname stuck. And I guess I'm a short version of Donna, red hair and all, so there you go.

Anyway, Jack and Jackie are more into fetish, costumes and whatnot, and bondage is more like an accessory. A collar and cuffs to go with the leather corset, say, a little something extra to spice things up. It's something we girls talk about and I'm sure the guys do, but we've never done anything together ... until now. Which is why Jackie is blushing. That and Jack is slathering lube on Jackie's pussy and now he's pushing this ... thing into her. It's a large, egg-like thing. Black with shiny metal bands running down the sides and there's a cord, an electrical cord, dangling from it and I have a bad feeling about this. Jack isn't a geek, per se, but he knows his way around a circuit board.

Roger and I can't help but watch, a bit embarrassed, but fascinated as the thing disappears inside of her. My muscles contract in sympathy.

"Let's test this, shall we?"

Jack takes the cord, which is actually two cords, and attaches them to a control box that's attached to a battery. He presses a button.

Jackie squeals, grabs herself, and damn near falls if Roger hadn't gotten an arm around her.

"A bit much?"

"Well, DUH!"

"Sorry. How's this?"

"Better."

Then after a long minute: "A little more."

Jack makes the adjustment. Jackie holds her thumb and forefinger a bit apart. Jack turns the knob slightly, Jackie nods. She stands there with her eyes closed for a while, then, suddenly, she opens them, remembering she's not alone, and her blush deepens. Jack presses the button again.

"Okay, time for the tape."

He hands Roger a roll of white tape. Sports tape. Sticky, but not too sticky. Stretchy to conform to a girl's curves. I know it well. And I wonder if I will share Jackie's fate. Mummification is one of Roger's favorite things.

He follows Jack's lead and begins to wrap Jackie's thigh, right up against her pussy and I feel a twinge, a tiny twinge, but a twinge none the less of jealousy. He lays the cord against her leg and works his way down, wrapping her, sealing her in leg white. Jack grabs a piece of metal - copper, thin and flexible. He places it on the bottom of Jackie's left foot, attaches the wire, and wraps tape around her foot securing the copper contact in place. He repeats the process on Jackie's other foot. Then the guys proceed to wrap her legs again.

Jack presses the tape between Jackie's legs and I'm glad Roger is focusing on her arm. Soon she's completely sheathed in white from the neck down.

"Walk."

Jackie walks.

"Bend your arms, make a fist."

Jackie bends her arms, but can't quite make a fist.

"Okay. One more layer all over except her hands."

Once that's accomplished, Jack wraps Jackie's head. He wraps her, blending the tape with the tape on her neck and shoulders. Then her he pulls a white gauze sack over her head, and wraps her again. He carefully avoids the area over her eyes and nostrils.

"Okay?"

Jackie mmfs and nods.

A third layer completes the wrap leaving only a sliver of gauze across her eyes and a bit under her nose. Honestly, I'm only a couple of feet away and it looks like a solid mass of tape.

Jack leads her over to the sarcophagus. The layers of tape force her to walk stiffly, properly mummy-like. He presses a button on the control and the lid swings open. It's a wooden box with a paper mache lid. It's ornately decorated because, as Jackie informed me, she IS a princess. So there you go.

As she steps into the box I notice metal plates on the floor and there's a smaller box plugged into a wall outlet behind it. She turns and backs into the box. Jack presses the button and the lid swings shut.

There's a long pause, then: "Becky?"

Now it's my turn to blush. I strip. Truth be told, I'm a prude. Well, not a prude, but seriously modest. I've teased Jackie about that day at the beach, but I said a little prayer of thanks when she bailed. Roger likes me to dress a bit more risqué than I'm comfortable with sometimes, but, while not collared, I do submit to him, yet there's a difference between risqué and bare nekid.

My bondage turns out to be simpler than Jackie's, but more restraining. She's wrapped, but not restrained. I'm restrained. Boy! Am I restrained.

Roger lubricates me front and rear. I close my eyes to avoid Jack's but I feel the flush of embarrassment. Roger works a vibrator in and out of my ass. I know what's coming. It was a gift from Jackie to Roger. A butt plug attached to a vibrator. The plug holds the battery and receiver and the vibrator, well, vibrates.

"I've made some modifications."

My eyes snap open. Jackie doesn't elaborate, but this is not the same toy. This one is dotted with little bits of metal. My fight or flight response kicks in and I resist the urge to run, screaming from the room.

Roger pushes a bit of vibrator into my pussy until the tip of the plug rubs against my anus. He works the plug into my ass and the vibrator follows, slides effortlessly into my pussy. I gasp as the widest part of the plug stretches me to the limit, then my sphincter closes and grips the thin stem, trapping both inside of me.

It feels the same as the other toy. Roger thumbs the remote and the vibrator buzzes to life. He plays with the adjustment, dials it in to that setting, the sweet spot I enjoy. So far, so good.

He turns a dial and presses another button. I squeal. You almost, damn near had to peel me off the ceiling! It took a second for my brain to register what I felt and what I felt felt like a swarm of bees stinging me - inside my pussy!

"You might want to dial that down a bit. Try 3."

Roger does. I cringe, then gasp as the shocks rake my pussy.

"Okay, maybe 2."

Roger sets the dial. Not bad. Distinctly uncomfortable, but not bad.

"Try 3 again," I say. At 3 it feels like I'm being snapped with a rubber band, or bands. Painful, but tolerable. And part of BDSM is finding and stretching a subbie's limits. Well, I think 3 is about my limit. I just nod.

The sack is like my sleep sack, but two sizes smaller and in white spandex. Roger helps me step into it and runs the zipper up to my ass. Again with his help, I slide my hands into the interior arm sheaths. He tugs it up and I duck my head into the hood. He finishes the zip. It's snug, really snug. The hood has eye holes and a hole for my mouth. Roger presses a white ball gag between then behind my teeth and buckles it.

Roger half carries me over to the wall. There's a white, metal pole fastened to a round wooden base, also painted white. The pole has several white, leather straps attached to it. He leans me against it and fastens the straps around me. One around my neck, two around my chest, above and below my tits. One around my waist, then hips, knees, and ankles.

He tears open a big bag of what looks like white fiberfill and arranges it around my feet, covering the base.

Lastly, he drapes a large, gauzy, white cloth over me. He spends a minute fussing with it, then steps back.

"Whatta ya think? The mummy in the box and a ghost on a post?'

"I think it was very thoughtful of them to schedule a game on Halloween."

"Yeah.

"Beer?"

"You have to ask?"

Jack thumbs the remote. The lid swings open. Jackie staggers out, bends awkwardly to retrieve two bottles from the cooler, staggers over to the guys, then returns to her box. The lid closes. I imagine her in there. In the dark. Wrapped, sealed completely in layers of tape. Vibrator buzzing between her legs. My musings are disrupted when my own vibe wakes up.

Roger has picked up the remote and turned on the TV. I have a premonition a split second before the reality kicks in. He changes channels. The electrodes zap my pussy. Every time he changes channels I get zapped. The shocks last for a while. How long? Long enough for me to want to beg him to dial it back to number 2. But then, after a bit, they turn off and it's just me in my sack and a pleasant buzzing between my legs. I decide to play a little game. To see how many times I can come between zaps. Something to pass the time. And I do come - easily - and noisily. The guys notice. Roger changes channels, cuts my release short, stops it in its tracks. Bastard.

They clink their beer bottles.

"Gotta love it."

"Happy Halloween."

"Back at ya."