The Commodities Market

Chapter One-4

“I have no idea but I’m sure Philippe will take good care of her, but let’s get this finished. You may have noticed that there is a hard plastic section around your chest. This will allow you to breathe when we put you in the crate and fill it.”

“Fill it?”

“Yea… after we screw the top down on the box, we’re going to squirt it full of expanding spray foam.”

“No… you can’t do that. You’ll kill me. Please don’t put me in there like that.”

“Gag him, Miguel. I’m tired of listening to him,” he said. “Think about it. Spending a couple of days in this crate will be far easier than the rest of your life is going to be. Trust me… dying in there would be a blessing.”

Suddenly a large, red ball gag was pried between my teeth and buckled behind my head. After the gag was secured they pulled the hood from the front of the suit up over my face. I felt them push something into my nostrils as the hood was closed tightly in the back. Then the hood was zipped around the neck to the rest of the suit.

Now I couldn’t see or speak, but I found I could breathe quite easily.

“If you can hear me, nod your head.”

It was faint but I nodded.

“We’re going to help you into the box. When you’re sitting there will be a hose going from your nose to the bottom of the crate. That will allow you breathe but you won’t be able to move.”

They closed some sort of manacles around my ankles and locked something similar around my wrists before locking them together. I pulled away and tried to stop them, but it was useless.

“Keep fighting us and I’ll make your stay in the box far more unpleasant. The choice is yours. Now sit down and stop struggling.”

As I sat down my feet were drawn back towards my ass, my hands were extended down between my knees to meet them and my wrists were tightly locked to my ankles. Then the two men lifted me up and placed me in the box.

“You’re sitting on a block of foam and your feet are on a similar block. When we put the top on another piece of foam will hold your head and shoulders down. I don’t suggest you move until the foam hardens. It won’t be very comfortable if you do, but that’s up to you.”

I felt them put something on the top of my head and the top was pushed into place. Then I heard the drills hum as the crate lid was fastened down. My heart started to pound as panic set in. My God! I can’t believe this is happening. I found it difficult to even breathe. I was hyperventilating.

“N – o – o – o – o…,” I silently yelled. I knew not a sound could be heard outside my little wooden box, but I cried and yelled until I was satisfied. I didn’t want to be locked in this tiny tomb. I tore at the solid bonds that held me, but it was no use. My hands were useless and the heavy nylon manacles that held my wrists to my ankles were far too strong.

With my head pushed down between my knees, my ass and feet were lodged tightly into the foam pads below me. There was just one way to put it. I was f****d!

Suddenly I heard a faint hiss. Then there was another. I knew they were injecting the foam into my tiny cubical. Then I felt it. There was a little pressure on my left side. Simultaneously I felt it on my right. Luckily it was low expansion foam or it would have crushed the life from my body. But before long it surrounded my feet and worked its way against my belly and balls. A few moments later I could feel it against my face. Oh God. I don’t want to be in here. I fought as hard as I could but it was no use. The snake like sound continued until I was completely engulfed. I could feel the heat as it cured, stopping all possible motion, making me a solid mass of fairly dense foam and held by the inch thick wooden planks of my shipping crate.

When they were done, I realized that I could still breathe, but only by taking short, deliberate breaths. It was just me in my little box. I tried to scream but it was just a waste of the precious breath that I desperately needed. So I gave up, deciding to await my fate. After all I had caused this to happen. I stole some of his money, thinking that there was no way he’d ever find out.

It wasn’t long before I thought of Janine. I was gone, out of her life forever and she was with Philippe, the guy with the ten inch d**k. How was she going to handle my sudden disappearance? Then I thought about what my abductor had said. She would be enjoying the ride on his huge c**k. Oh my God… no, no, no…

I tried to move, but that was absolutely impossible. The foam had filled every possible crack and crevice in the crate and gently squeezed my entire body. I could feel a constant pressure everywhere.

Suddenly I realized that things would be going from bad to worse as time slowly crept along. There was no way to get anything to eat or drink until I was out of the box. And to make matters even worse, getting rid of the waste in my body was going to be nearly impossible. I suppose my piss would seep around between my skin and the suit but what about the s**t? My only hope was the crate being removed from the ship at the next port tomorrow. I talked myself into believing that it was their plan.

I figured that a couple of hours had passed since I left the night club. By now Janine must be wondering where I was or what happened to me. What I didn’t know was that she had been slipped a slightly different drink. While I was trapped in this damn crate she was being f****d by the Cuban with the huge c**k, making the story of an affair a reality. A suicide note had been left in our cabin. It explained that I had suspected that my wife had been screwing around for some time and I couldn’t take it anymore. Especially the way she had been watching the handsome Cuban with the huge bulge in his pants.

By now they have been searching the ship. Everything was so well planned out. The note I supposedly left was in my own handwriting. No, I didn’t write it but it was done by one of the best forgers in all of Central America. It definitely would pass the test. They thought of everything. But I didn’t go overboard. I was hidden in plain sight. Anyone could come into this storeroom and examine the box, never suspecting that I was tucked away so neatly inside.

Hours passed and then suddenly I felt the box move. I was right. They were searching the ship, but it would do no good. Before long they would assume that I really did jump into the Caribbean and was eaten by the sharks.

After a while Janine will go on with her life, but I have no idea what lays ahead for me. I guess I should be a little concerned when I was told that death would be a lot easier than what was going to happen. I suppose he was right. Certainly Rafael won’t let me off easy. No, he will make me suffer for the rest of my life.

My constant thoughts occupied much of my time but I knew that sooner or later the boredom and the sensory deprivation would take its toll. Our bodies and minds rely on external stimulation and in the box I wasn’t getting any. I wonder how long it will take before my mind starts playing tricks on me.

Besides that, I knew from previous bondage experience that my body would soon start to revolt. It wouldn’t be long and the cramps would set in. My muscles would knot up because they couldn’t move and so when the Charley horses set in I wouldn’t be able to stretch out to stop them. It was going to be hell.

Any movement except for very short breaths was absolutely impossible. Neither a finger nor toe could even wiggle. The foam had filled every crack and possible crevice in the crate, gently compressing every square inch of my body. I wondered if it was snug enough to cut off the circulation. I was actually scared of dying in here. After all, I’m only twenty seven years old. I have an entire life just waiting for me.

Then another thought rocketed through my brain. What was going to happen to me? What fate awaited that could be worse than death? What did they say at my high school graduation? “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”