For the Joy of Mud

Dee manned the controls of the backhoe with a novice caution. She had a few days of experience now, but she still managed to bounce the machine around pretty good. Mis-movements of the arm often caused the whole machine to bounce and lurch from side to side. Dee knew she had no business running it by herself, but she dared not risk anyone having a clue as to what her little project was all about.

By accident, she had discovered the areas potential. She had a particular fetish for mud and quicksand. While trekking around her back acres on her ATV, she had discovered the clay like soil here turned to a delicious sticky slime when it was disturbed and mixed with water. It had rained the night before and now a pool of water stood across the trail. The first crossing through the puddle had presented little problem, but on her way back, the tires could gain no purchase. The instant they slipped the earth quickly liquefied and claimed the lower half of her quad. Though she were an independently wealthy woman, she had no qualms about climbing into the mud and attempting to free the thing by herself.

Though Dee was small, she was in good shape ant thought she would have the strength to move it. The ground on the other hand, wasn’t so willing to release its newly claimed prize. The longer she fussed around, the deeper the mud became. After a while, she forgot about the quad and became lost in her fantasies. Dee managed to soften the earth about a foot deep before the puddle was completely taken into the earth. Standing nearly knee deep in the mud, Dee knew she had to find a way to make it better.

She knew there was a backhoe in the barn that had once been used to clean and maintain the once functional feed lot below the ranch house. She had bought the farm for privacy and had no interest of bringing cattle back in, so the lot now sat in disrepair. Aside from the main house and the surrounding landscaping, nothing had received maintenance in the four years since she had bought it. After having a service man get the backhoe running and give her a quick lesson in its operation, she had moved it to the mud hole and gone to town.

The quad now sat in a mangled heap to one side, her attempt to remove it from the mud with the hoe hadn’t gone exactly smooth. It only took a few mis-movements of the machine to reduce the thing to scrap metal. Now she sat on her machine ready to finish her little project.

The hole was dug and filled with water from a water trailer that like the backhoe had come with the farm. She had no idea how deep the hole was, but she guessed it to be over eight feet. Just as the backhoe had reached its limit of reach, Dee found bone dry sand beneath the soft clay. Now she was in the process of pushing the pile of disturbed soil back into the hole. At first, she tried to scoop it up with the hoe, but she could see the sand below was stealing the water faster than she could work. In the end, she found sweeping the bucket sideways was much faster.

Tying a rope to one of the down riggers, Dee proceeded to toss the remainder across the pit. This would be her safety for getting herself out of the pit. Though she was far from prying eyes, Dee couldn’t help looking around as she undressed. As she pulled down her knickers, she found she was already quite damp below. Her heart pounded as she placed a foot into the mud. Pulling back, the mud produced a suction and slurp as she freed her foot from the slime. Taking up some slack in the rope, Dee prepared to jump into the middle of the pit.

Doubt and desire fought within her mind as she readied herself. As she sailed through the air for a moment, she almost didn’t believe she had made the leap. When her feet made contact, the mud offered little resistance. She plunged waist deep into the mire before her decent slowed. There was a little disappointment that the mud had taken her so far so quickly. The surface rippled and heaved as she struggled.

Checking her escape method first, she pulled on the rope towards the backhoe. The vacuum of the mud was strong, but with a slow steady pressure, she found she could move herself. A little more confident, Dee began playing in the mud. Alternating between pointing her toes and pumping her legs, she began to descend. Slowly, her belly disappeared into the mire. As it reached the bottom of her ribs, Dee could feel the weight of the mud pushing in on her. She was lost in the sensation as the mud touched the bottom of her breasts. Though it wasn’t labored, she was definitely aware of her efforts to breathe against the constriction of the mud.

She plunged her arms into the muck and tried to pull herself further, but she had reached a point of buoyancy. Every time she managed to sink a little further, Dee found the mud pushing her right back up. With her fantasy ruined, she began pulling herself free and searching for a solution. She needed something heavy to drag her down. There had to be something in one of the barns she could use. Rinsing off in the last of the water from the tank, she tossed her clothes back on and jumped into the truck, driving back to the lot.

In the shop, Dee spotted a weight that she knew to be a wheel weight for a tractor. It was about six inches thick and over a foot across. Dee tried to lift it and determined it must weigh over a hundred pounds. Using the hoist connected to the rafters, she picked the thing high enough to back the truck under. Some more hunting around produced some chain and a couple of grappling devices. The devices were built to form a ring when closed and be released when a rope connected to a lever was pulled. As she tested them, Dee was ecstatic to discover they were designed to release even with a large amount of pressure on them.

In the horse tack area she found a set of horse hobbles and some rope that should finish off her list of needs. The hobbles themselves were two padded nylon straps about three inches wide, connected with one circular steel link between them. There were several other sets of varying size and design in the box. She knew she would definitely have to check them out for later bondage games, but for now she had what she needed.

Back at her pit, Dee discovered things much firmer than she had left it. She spent several minutes stomping around in the mud finding it much firmer than the soup she was in before. “Perfect!” she said aloud. Not wanting to waste any more time, she began her riggings. The chain was connected to one of the grapplers and tied off to the weight. The other grappler was fitted to the center hole in the weight with its jaws pointed upwards, eagerly awaiting the link of the hobbles. There was about six feet of hemp rope connected to the release arm.

After fastening the free end of the chain to the scoop of the backhoe, she used the machine to position the weight over the pit. Once it dangled about four feet over the center, she shut off the machine and climbed down. Standing at the edge of the pit, Dee strapped the hobbles around her ankles. With one large jump she was now knee deep in the mud and clinging to the weight. It took a bit of effort to free her legs from the muck and climb atop the weight. Now holding on to the chain and balancing precariously atop the weight, Dee worked the grappler closed through the center ring of the hobbles. Taking the hemp rope in hand, she worked herself into a standing position and feeding the rope behind herself, Dee tied the end in a loop around her waist. She wanted her escape secure, but out of the way.

Her heart beat as it had earlier that day as she prepared to cut the weight from the chain. Bending back down and grabbing the release handle for the grappler holding the weight to the chain, Dee found herself holding her breath. She feared the potential disappointment if the thing didn’t sink the way she hoped. She feared the potential for injury when the thing dropped. She even considered the potential for getting stuck or being drug to a muddy grave. In the end, lust and determination won over and the lever was pulled.

The weight smacked the mud with a splat and settled just below the surface. Much to Dee’s relief, she had maintained her hold on the chain and remained standing on the weight. Giving the chain several tosses, she finally looped it over the arm of the backhoe and out of her reach. Ever so slowly, the weight sank deeper. It was nearly a foot down before the hole it left behind started to collapse inward. Dee watched as the mud closed around her feet like a beast’s toothless mouth. She played with her legs, moving them around as much as the hobbles would allow. Her movement sped up the mud’s ensnarement and she soon discovered how resilient it had become. Only up to her knees, she could barely move her legs against it.

The constriction was wonderful and a little frightening at the same time. Fear at this point was a good thing and helped to heighten her arousal. Further and further down she sank, the pressure on her legs increasing. It felt as though she was sliding into an ever constricting slippery tube. As it claimed her thighs and neared her hips, Dee felt more excited than she ever had in the past. As her mound neared the surface, she grasped it with one hand and fondled her breasts with the other. She worked her middle two fingers into her opening just in time for the mud to contact the back of her hand. As she pressed the palm of her hand into her folds and worked her fingers back and fourth within, the mud continued to rise. As the surface moved upwards, its pressure pushed her hand tighter into her mound. The added pressure quickly brought her to climax. Working her free hand into the mud with the other one, she worked her sex with everything she had. Several times Dee found herself screaming and grunting like a wild beast.

After fingering herself into exhaustion, Dee decided on a rest period. She relished in the sensation as the mud climbed her belly. Pulling her hands free, mainly to make sure she still could, she placed her palms flat on the surface. She pressed down as if she were trying to free herself. Her feet left the weight for a moment, before her hands were reclaimed by the mud. When she lifted them out again, she found herself back down on the metal. Playing the struggling damsel Dee twisted and writhed against the mire. Her struggles were quickly bringing her excitement level back up. After fighting the urge as long as she could, Dee began working her hands south again.

The mud fought her, but she got her hands back in place and began working towards her second orgasm. So much pressure, so much constriction. Her breasts now rested on the surface and lifted slowly as she continued to descend. The cool slick pressure aided in her climax as her breasts started to be drug into the muck. As she came, Dee felt the weight disappear from the reach of her toes and the tension begin on the hobbles. Breathing continued to become more difficult as she sank. It was beginning to feel like the mud closed in around her chest every time she exhaled and only gave back a little as she took another breath in.

Though Dee had intended to sink to the base of her skull before releasing herself, she decided it would be wiser to quit now. Reluctantly removing her fingers from her mound, she began to work her arms to the small of her back. It took several minutes to get them there, and she found herself worn out and gasping for breath. She had to take a moment and concentrate on her breathing before hunting for the knot. Feeling around, she found the slip knot and pulled it free.

Now began the tedious task of pulling up the slack. As she worked at it, she found a new level of frustration. Simply working her fingers against the rigid mud was proving extremely difficult. Her hands ached at the effort. By the time she felt the string tighten, her shoulders were disappearing below the surface. Working the string as best she could, Dee found she couldn’t gain enough strength behind her back. Her slender throat was now being encircled by the mud. It was now taking every effort to maintain her breath and any additional efforts left her dizzy and light headed.

Knowing her life was depending on action; she took the string in her right hand and began working it around to her side. Her chin was now resting on the surface and continuing to sink. By the time her arm was in a position to tug, she was forced to tilt her head back in order to keep it free from the mud. Slowly, Dee raised her arm, pulling on the string. The act helped to drag her down further. The only part of her remaining free of the muck was the circle of her face. Dee’s skin was sensitive to every millimeter of mud as it continued to close in.

Just as the mud rolled over her eyes, Dee felt the tension on her ankles stop. She was washed with relief knowing the weight was cut loose. She pulled up on her legs slightly and was rewarded with a sensation she didn’t want. The weight was still there and must have found the sandy floor. When she lifted her legs, Dee felt herself sink a little more before the heavy mud pushed back up slightly. Forcing every amount of strength she had into her arm, Dee pulled on the string. When the string suddenly became slack, Dee knew she was doomed. Either it had broken or come loose, either way she was in trouble.

For a long time she remained motionless and contemplated her predicament. As thick as the mud was, she could never reach the hobbles before suffocating. Any attempt to get her arms above the surface would produce the same results. As she continued to evaluate her condition, Dee remembered the giraffe cartoon about the stages of quicksand. As she contemplated what stage she was at now, she figured she might as well go straight to the last and accept the inevitable. Her adrenaline was in overdrive and despite her situation, she was still aroused. As she began the difficult process of getting her hands back in front, Dee figured she might as well go out with a bang.

She was really noticing how firm the mud was getting. At first, Dee blamed her slowing movements on exhaustion, but it was becoming evident her mire was indeed drying out. She figured the water must be sinking into the sand.

The moment her fingers found their places amongst her folds, Dee was rewarded with new vigor. Even the firm mud didn’t seem to slow her foundlings. As she worked herself into a great rush, Dee began drawing her legs up. Her face lowered below the surface and the beast began to close in ever so slowly, fingers working faster. It touched her lips and the bridge of her nose, fingers pressing harder. As Dee felt there wasn’t time for another breath, she drew herself down as quickly as she could. The surface grew together and she was cut off from the sky and still her fingers continued relentlessly. Within moments she panicked for air and attempted to thrust back up. Twisting and fighting, even with her lungs burning, her fingers continued their assault. Dee was exploding harder than she could have imagined possible. Her struggles were starting to be replaced with convulsions as she starved for air. Her legs bucked violently and she bent back and fourth at the waist in death throws, still washed with orgasm.

As her body finally slowed and a certain calm washed over her, she noticed her feet were free. She couldn’t think clearly enough to contemplate what this meant, as her body relaxed and the remaining air in her lungs escaped. There was something about the way the breath felt, but her mind was too faded. All she could sense was the feeling of white and then her body and lungs drew in. Air. Again her chest sucked in another breath. As the white began to fade, Dee still couldn’t process what was going on. Were these the first breaths in the afterlife? No surely not. As her breathing became more normal, she slowly found she was still in the mud.

She had risen enough that her mouth was just free of the surface. Before she even contemplated how she was going to free the rest of herself, Dee thought, “If I line the pit with plastic, It will stay wet much longer.”

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30.01.10