Throw Trash in its Proper Place [Abridged]

[Cade]

"Get in."

Your eyes grow wide as you turn to me, obviously dumbfounded. Frozen in place, you hold the trash can lid hovering over the can with its black bag half fallen from the lip. The bag appeared not quite full, and errant trash had collected atop it. A fat fly buzzed around your face bringing you back to the situation. "Um...I don't understand what you mean, Sir," your words laden with confusion.

A cruel grin tugged at the corners of my mouth as I look you over like the dumb bimbo you are, accessing your street value. Or maybe, trying to determine what I might catch from you. "Take the bag out and place it on the ground, then climb into that garbage can, idiot," I say with a chuckle, though even with my eyes looking over the scene, you know I am definitely not joking.

When my cold gaze listlessly meets your eyes, you know I'm drop dead serious.

You shoot a quick glance around, trying to see if there's anyone around. You know that I know there is no one else on this lonely stretch of the walking path this late at night. We're only surrounded by darkness, held off by the solitary lamp shining brightly over our heads. You look at me one last time, knowing full well my smirk means your little ass isn't getting out of this predicament.

So, you resign to it. After placing the lid on the ground, you strategically snatch the bag out to keep it from spilling. Unfortunately, the bits of food wrappers and discolored fruit that had missed the bag would just have to sit at the bottom of the can. You know my eyes are fixed on you, observing and taking in every facial expression and movement you take - even if you didn't know it, you could feel me leering through your clothes, through your skin, right into your thoughts.

You have no more secrets from me.

A slight hop transfers you from one foot out to one foot in, and you lift the prior to join the latter. You study the unspeakable filth and undefinable leftovers trying to decide the best way to squat down, you know I will want you all the way down on your bum as if I was speaking the words directly into your thoughts. And as you descend, you're overwhelmed with the smell of a thousand stenches, each unique even within the borg of putrescence. You gag hard and your mouth fills with bile, but you manage to push it back down as you try to get comfortable; no matter how insane that may seem.

You realize there is more space than you thought...you know, once the rubbish was shifted. Staring up, you feel incredibly small with me casting scrutiny on you from outside the opening of the can. You chuckle to yourself as you make the absurd realization that this was your new "horizon", and that made me the God glaring down on you.

"Give me your clothes," your glee fades as you register my decree. You should have known it was coming, knowing all too well how much I enjoy seeing you naked, exposing you, humiliating you. Piece by piece, you hand up the articles of your modesty, wiggling your toes free and letting your tits bounce, even spreading your thighs as much as possible to display your filthy fuckholes to me as you hand over your soggy panties.

I clear my throat before spitting a large glob of mucus and saliva that hits your face with near precision right between your eyes. "You disgusting piece of trash," I speak stoically with all the regard I would give a slab of beef, "I just needed to remind you. You're only in my world because you serve and entertain me. If you cease to have purpose..."

The pause was frightening all in itself, filling your head with images of dread and despair.

"I'll have no issues throwing a useless bitch away," I spit again, splattering across your lips and dripping to your breasts from your chin. You only barely hear a zip that serves as your only warning as [something occurs that you as a consenting adult are not allowed to read on a fetish site for whatever reason]; you panic and relax in a strange mix of emotions mirroring your disgust and arousal. This was all short-lived as my creepy smiling face comes back into view just as I empty the bag of garbage over you into the can.

I'm burying you in trash. I obviously possess the necessary descriptive powers to illustrate a disturbingly gross display of trash on trash action, but I'll spare the details of what refuse is discarded on a walking trail and left to bake all day under the hot sun. You find it impossible to keep your stomach, and your last couple meals cover the rubbish and debris.

To your good fortune, I won't make you look at the revolting mess for long. "Wait here," my smarmy tone burns your ears. "I will be back." Anxiety fills you with fright as the lid strangles out the already weak light, but it's that one last word you thought you heard me say as darkness overcomes you that scares you most.

 

"Maybe."

Edited August 4 by Cade
Censorship