The Slave Woman's Grave Keeper

Part 1

0 - 0 - 0 - 0:28

“Some people are winners and some are losers. That’s just the way that it is,” Hank thought as he stacked the last of the scaffolding into the back of the truck. “Best to always take action to make sure you are the winner.” He added another fabricated fuel log to the trucks burner and tightened the steam valve on the piston compartment.

Farley and Luke, the twins, were shoveling the last of the dirt into the hole. “Y’all use a rake to level the ground out a bit,” Hank said. “Make it a little less obvious that something was buried here.”

The woman’s fate was sealed before the first shovelful hit the lid of her coffin. Still, the dirt was hip-high before they were able to bury her screams as well. She was still down there  - probably screaming. Her heart racing… On one hand, the thought made Hank shiver in terror, but on the other, he felt a strange surge of power knowing she was down there struggling, yet forever kept. And he put her there. Might have to try this again on his own time...

He looked up at the wall of thunderheads blowing in across the desert. He could see streaks of rain falling from up high, but the water was evaporating before it hit the ground. A cool wind blew over the scrubland. The wind should blow a new layer of grit over the gravesite. No one would ever know it was here half a click from the roadway on another anonymous dusty rise.

With the payoff he was getting from this job, Hank considered himself a winner.

0 - 0 - 0 - 1:13

The truck chugged to a stop in front of Edgar’s Smithy. Hank and the twins knocked on the door and were ushered into the hot, dark workshop.

“You got her stuff?” Edgar asked.

Hank started pulling a dress, undergarments and shoes out of a bag. Edgar examined each article for moment before tossing the garment into the glowing belly of the stove. He regarded the brief pair of lace panties for a second with a smirk on his face before shoving them through the stove hatch. “D’you get a piece of that?” he asked Hank.

Hank smiled. “Let’s just say that not all of her final screams were from being scared.”

Edgar let out a raspy laugh. “Her jewelry?”

Hank pulled out another bag and shook it twice to make a ringing sound. “She was quite the  little fetish whore.”

Edgar held out a metal tray. “Dump it here. Did you cut it all off?”

A plethora of gold rings and lengths of jewelry chain rattled into the tray. “Couldn’t find no seams. Had to,” Hank said. He poked a dirty finger at a plumply curved heart shaped locket. “That one was dangling from her clitty.”

“Good. It’s all here?” Edgar asked - all humor gone from his face. “Something like that could have charms attached to it… Could be used as a locator.”

“Of course,” Hank said. “You know I always follow my instructions. Especially when I’m doing a job for your boss. I like repeat business.”

Edgar smiled. “I do know that about you.” He turned and grabbed an envelope filled with money and handed it to Hank. “Nice doing business with you… By the way, did those locks work good for you?”

“Thanks. Of course the locks worked. Smooth as butter,” Hank replied grasping the envelope.

“I was sure that they would, but, you know, if they only lock once, you can’t test them.”

Hank shook Edgar’s hand. “Until next time…”

“Oh, here’s some drink I thought you might enjoy,” Edgar said as he grabbed a large corked jug. “Finished this batch just last night.”

Hank took the jug and smiled. “You‘ve got a magic touch, Ed. Much obliged.”

Edgar watched Hank and the twins shuffle out of the shop. He knew the jug would be empty in a couple of hours. He knew the extra ingredients would wipe any memory of what they had been doing for the past 24 hours from their brains.

Edgar squeezed the bellows to heat up the fires in the oven. Time to melt the jewelry down.

Outside the shop a small, blue bird peered down as the Hank and the twins climbed back into the truck. After a moment it flapped its wings and took off into the darkening skies heading across town.

0 - 0 - 0 - 1:24

A blue bird flapped through the open window of Bethesda’s cozy cabin sailing on a chilly wind.

“Oh, there you are,” the old woman croaked slowly laying a wooden ladle next to the brewing pot. “Tell me.”

The bird whistled and twisted its head from side to side while Bethesda hemmed and hawed. Finally, the bird quieted down and seemed to wait expectantly while the old woman pulled a cookie of some type, sprinkled with sunflower seeds into a small bowl and set it on the windowsill. The bird fell upon the cookie, tearing into it with its beak.

“And so it is…” the woman said as she shuffled across the room to where a  structure with numerous small shelves hung from the wall. Vertical slats divided the shelves into small cubbies, each holding one or more crudely human shaped figurines.

Bethesda pulled the contents from a cubby, a pair of the dolls wrapped together with thick twisted strands of maroon yarn, and placed them in a pile on the counter by the stove. She grabbed a convenient paring knife and began to work the blade between the dolls, sawing at the yarn which snapped and frayed with each pass.

Once the dolls were separated, she examined the front side of each, both vaguely representing a woman’s form. One of the dolls had a collection of rusty rings randomly pressed into its waxy surface. Bethesda shuffled back to the hanging cubbies and pulled opened a drawer down near the floor, extracting a small wooden box. She opened the box and lay the ringed doll inside. With a clatter, she pushed aside the lid of a ceramic urn and grabbed a handful of ashes which she sprinkled into the box, muttering something quietly as she worked. She replaced the lid of the box and returned it to it’s drawer - kicking it closed.

She picked up the remaining doll and examined its face for a moment. It’s eyelids and mouth represented by some hastily painted lines. A drop of water coagulated and dropped from the doll’s face.

“Oh, poor dear,” Bethesda moaned. She started to chuckle, but it turned into a phlegmy cough. She shoved the doll back into the cubby she had previously pulled it from.

Bethesda shuffled to a door set upon particularly unoiled hinges. Once opened it revealed a staircase descending into a musty, murky darkness.

“Lucy!” she shouted leaning her weight on the rusty door knob. “Lucy! Come up quick! We’ve got work to do!”

0 - 0 - 0 - 3:42

Ileana pushed into the dry, stone enclosure of the sarcophagus through the footboard portal. She felt chains on either side of her, pulled taut, leading to the slender ankles of her human ward where wide, cold steel cuffs anchored the victim’s feet.

“Chains?” Ileana thought as she gently brushed the thick polished links of steel with her fingers. There was no slack at all. “As if being buried alive in a small box is not bad enough.” She knew from experience that humans tended to injure themselves if left alive in isolation for too long. So, chains would certainly help prevent that. But then, how long was this woman to be kept alive in this grave? The woman’s future was looking pretty bleak.

Ileana took a moment to study a set of dainty toes. She saw no sign of motion, but she was sure that her ward was still alive. She could see heat rising from the victim’s slim feet - an indicator of the vitality that must still pump through the limbs beneath her.

Ileana crawled further into the cavity, draping the wet sedgeling weeds into the corners. Her back side occasionally brushed against the smooth metal above her, as she took care not to press too firmly against the occupant. Those who are buried alive exist in a tortured mental state and could react unpredictably upon finding they are not alone in their grave. Not that this victim would be able to move much, constricted as she was, and in such a tight space. Still, Ileana hoped to delay the inevitable wailing and caterwauling her beneficiary would illicit upon discovering her unresolved situation.

“Cute,” Ileana thought as she crawled further into the sarcophagus, nudging her right knee between the woman’s legs, sensing cords of muscle beneath the soft flesh of her inner thighs, pressing into the soft pad lining bottom of the stone box. She could see the glow of heat rising from the woman’s body, unburdened by clothing in her burial. It gave Ileana a sense of her womanly shape. The victim was stretched out on her back, with her arms pulled up beyond her head, held there by another set of cuffs and chains. Ileana lightly touched the area of darkness around the woman’s neck and felt the smooth surface of a hard, wide, steel collar.

The woman’s face was relaxed, angling down to a pointed chin. Her lips appeared soft and inviting - slightly parted as though an invitation to be kissed. She had high cheekbones which allowed for a pair of wide eyes - so peacefully closed, indeed - seemingly already resigned to an eternal nap. Her hair was splayed around her head in haphazard, yet radiant glowing strokes as heat dissipated along the strands.

Ileana’s fingers drifted down onto the woman’s chest. Her skin was clammy, coated in a sheen of sweat, reeking of terror and violation. Regardless, her skin was soft and supple rising from her neck to the peak of her breasts, her nipples, where the skin was held taut by her bondage, pulling and elongating the teardrop appearance of each breast into a softly-shaped, feminine dome.

The woman’s eyes popped open wide, and Ileana yanked her fingers away from the smooth flesh beneath her. She saw the woman’s irises shift left and right searching for a flicker of light in the oppressive darkness of the grave. Ileana heard the soft scrape of polished metal as links of chain were pulled to their limits when the woman tried to move.

“Kesi?” the woman croaked, her voice ragged and spent, no doubt, from screaming. Ileana remained frozen, not even breathing. Kesi? A name perhaps? Hopefully. Ileana only knew one human language. Verbal communication would be most useful in such a lightless environment.

“Kesi?” she whispered again. “I can’t see…” Her face twisted into a mask to sadness and a sob erupted from her lungs. “Please… Help me get up...”

Ileana sighed and decided to get the formalities of introductions going. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

The woman’s entire body jerked with fear. “Who…?” Her breathing began to whistle through her throat, her breasts rose with an inhalation until her nipples touched Ileana’s naked shoulder and then she tucked her chest back into the pad beneath her, cowering as best as she could from Ileana.

“Please!” the woman screamed, though, still her voice was broken and airy. “Get off me! Let me up!”

Ileana looked at the woman’s face, her eyes tightly shut again, her teeth clenched, straining to hold in great cries of sadness and fear. “I can not let you up. You are chained here. And, even so, there is no room in this sarcophagus to sit.”

“No!” the woman cried. “This can’t be! The air is fresh! It smells like…” The woman inhaled deeply, once again pushing her breasts into Ileana. “It smells like a river...”

“I have laid out some sedgeling weeds here to refresh the air. It should provide what you need… for a while.”

“Who the fuck are you? Please get off me!” the woman screamed with her cracked voice.

Ileana tried to use a calm steady voice for her reply. “I am Ileana. I have been sent to keep you alive. I can not get off you very easily. There is only a little space in your grave. Listen.” Ileana then reached out and knocked lightly above the woman’s head, and then again to the right and left - all spots easily within reach - hard metal above and stone to the sides. With each tap, the woman’s head jerked with a light rattle of metal in the direction of the sound.

Ileana felt the woman’s muscles tense even more beneath her as she strained at the restraints that held her in place. She was hyperventilating again.

“This can’t be happening. Please! Let me out!”

“I have no means to let you out…”

“Bullshit!” the woman screamed. “How the hell did you get here then? We must be above ground. The air is too fresh.”

“Oh,” Ileana answered, “I can assure you, that though I have no idea where we are, I am quite certain that we are still underground together here in your coffin - wherever someone chose to bury you alive and with all these chains.”

The woman’s voice took on a whistling tone, “I’m going fucking crazy… This can’t be happening.”

Ileana continued with her introduction. “I came in through a portal attached to the foot of your sarcophagus...”

“A portal?” The woman’s body continued to pull and twist in her chains with little effect. “Then please fucking take me out through the portal!”

“I can not do that.” Ileana replied.

“Well, go get something to break the chains, or… or… or someone else who can do that and get me out. Please!”

“You are human. You can not pass through the portal,” Ileana explained.

“Fuck! Then what the fuck are you?” the woman asked.

“I am Ileana. I am your grave keeper. I am to keep you alive.”

“Alive!?” the woman screamed. “So, someone is coming?”

“I do not know what your future holds,” Ileana explained. “I only know that I should provide you resources, so that you will not perish due to suffocation, starvation, or dehydration in the immediate future.”

“What?!” The woman’s body now seemed to flex and relax in a somewhat random fashion.

Ileana took a deep breath. She could feel the woman’s heart racing. She was producing much more heat. The woman seemed to be losing a bit of lucidity. “I am a nurse to provide you with sustenance and I bring to you a vessel to remove your wastes.”

“This can’t be happening!” the woman cried. “I’ve gone out of my mind.”

“Shall I provide you with nourishment now?” Ileana asked. She felt a small chill slither its way along her spine and grimaced briefly.

The woman smacked her lips noisily. “I’m thirsty… Uh… Sure! Yes!” the woman moaned. “This is such bullshit… I have to be delirious.”

Ileana carefully crawled further into the coffin, her breasts swaying side to side, her nipples hardening. Ileana acknowledged the frisson that surged through her body causing her kegels to clench involuntarily. “This is how my body functions,” she thought. “That is all.”

Once her knees were on either side of the woman’s waist she lowered her upper body until her elbows rested to each side of her head. Ileana’s right nipple scraped across the woman’s chin.

“Whoa! What the hell are you doing?!” the woman rasped as soon as Ileana’s nipple brushed her lips. Ileana pulled back uncertain what the woman might do.

“I can provide you with your required nourishment. It will keep you alive and as comfortable as possible for a little while,” Ileana explained.

“I’m supposed to suck your breast?!” the woman asked. “Oh, god!”

“Yes.”

“No! No thanks!” the woman screamed.

Ileana sighed. She expected such a reaction anyways. There was no need to try to force the woman to eat yet. The woman would eat eventually - if she were to remain in her grave for any length of time - if she were meant to stay alive. Ileana began crawling back down the woman’s body, carefully slipping her knee between the woman’s thighs again until her face was less than  three fingers width above the sobbing woman’s blindly staring eyes.

“Would you like for me to relieve you of your wastes?” Ileana asked.

“Oh, god! I’m in some kind of hell or purgatory or something. This is the payment for all my earthly sins. Please, forgive me.”

“I shall assume that you have no wastes at this time,” Ileana said and started to crawl further backward toward the portal.

“Wait!” the woman cried. “Do you have a bottle or something for me to pee in?”

Ileana cringed and gritted her teeth. Calm. She must stay calm. “No. I have no… bottle.”

“I thought you said that you had something to collect my wastes.”

Ileana crawled further down until her face hovered over the woman smoothly shaved sex. Then she opened her mouth wide and pressed her lips tightly around the woman’s vagina. She held her tongue towards the back of her mouth avoiding contact with too much intimacy. Still she tasted salt and the tang of fear. And blood. Indeed violation.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?”

Ileana released her seal. “You may release your wastes once I have sealed my lips around your vagina. I will take in your wastes.” She lowered her head once more.

“Oh! No! No! Uh-uh!” the woman screamed.

“It would be better than lying in urine. This is such a small space. You don’t want it to wreak so soon,” Ileana explained.

“I don’t need to pee!”

Ileana raised her head again. Silly, stupid human. If she refused to accept Ileana’s comforts, there was nothing more to do. “Then I bid you adieu until... and if... there is a next time.”

“What?! Wait! Don’t go!” the woman shouted. But Ileana continued her descent towards the foot of the sarcophagus, past the taut chains, until she felt her own feet, pulled gently by the entrance of the portal, and she let herself be extracted from the grave.

All the while the woman screamed for her to return.

to be continued...

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11.09.17