Oxford Bags

by Daniel Guy.

Clare drove out of the city centre, biting her lip with anxiety. At last she had an address, scribbled on an envelope lying on the passenger seat beside her, where her boyfriend Tom might be found. He was an undergraduate at Oxford University. They had been together for three years and she was still blissfully in love with him. She had thought he felt the same about her, but they’d had an argument a week before and not spoken since so she had driven up to Oxford to see him. He wasn’t answering his phone and his flat mates hadn’t seen him all day. One of them said that Tom might be staying with a mate out at a farmhouse in the country, so that was where she was heading.

Clare found the place, pulled up on the driveway outside, and walked up the narrow gravel path to the front door. The isolated grey-stoned house appeared to be empty. Everywhere around it was overgrown and wild. She hammered the oak-paneled front door with the tip of her boot and then waited. Silence. She walked round to the back of the house and discovered a large Range Rover parked in the yard, beside a large barn. After a moment or two she began to hear men's voices. She walked as quietly as he could over the weed-ridden gravel and round the barn she found a wooden door at the back.  

When she opened it and peered in he saw a horrific sight. At the other end was Tom lying face up on a large wooden table. He was naked and his wrists and ankles were bound to it with thick black tape. Three young men, evidently students like Tom, but older, were standing around the table. One was leaning over and slipping a clear plastic bag over Tom’s head. Tom was shouting and squirming, his beautiful pale body shimmering in the straw coloured sunlight streaming in from a high window, his beautiful brown eyes terrified as the bag slipped down over his face. 

Clare gasped and then ran towards them screaming - "NOOO! LEAVE HIM! STOP!"

The three men turned. The ginger one with silver-rimmed glasses, leapt forward to grab Clare before she reached the table. He held her tight around the waist and stopped her in her tracks. Clare struggled to pull away and continued screaming.

'What the fuck are you doing! Leave him alone!'

The plastic bag was pulled off Tom's head and the men stood staring speechless at Clare. Still gasping for breath, Tom managed to say 'Clare - listen. Clare - shhh..' until eventually she stopped being hysterical.

'Clare - it's all right. It's not what you think. It’s just a game....'

It was at that point that Clare saw his erect cock for the first time. 

'Listen..’ said Tom , ‘This is really embarrassing but, these are my friends. It's just a fantasy.'

Tom nervously introduced them, hoping to break the tension.

'This is Philip. Over there is Martin and the guy holding you is Ashley. Guys - this is my girlfriend Clare.'

A long pause followed before Clare finally offered an incredulous - 'What the fuck is going on?'

Tom went on.

'Clare – I know this is going to freak you out and I’m really sorry you had to find out like this. I was going to tell you about it. The thing is that we get turned on by the idea of being suffocated. I know it’s weird but that’s just the way it is.’

Philip stepped back from the bench and added bitterly,

‘Let me explain. We call ourselves the Oxford Baggers. We're sort of a secret society; or rather we were until you came along.' 

Clare could not take it in. She stood motionless, struggling to understand the bizarre scene he had just interrupted. Finally she said,

'You're all fucking sick. Tom - what happened to you? You can't be into this fucked up stuff. Tell me it isn't true.'

Philip dropped the plastic bag onto Tom's belly and said

'O.K. Martin, let her go. Ashley - lock the door. It looks like we have problem.'

Clare was released. Behind her, the barn door was bolted.  The students gathered nervously around her.

'If she tells anyone we're all fucked.' said Ashley.

'We'll be sent down, that’s for sure. The humiliation will be unbearable,' said Martin, adding, 'My father is going to disinherit me. I'm totally fucked. We’re all totally fucked!'

The discussion soon developed into and argument between Tom and Philip, whom Clare deduced was the leader of the group. He had a shaved head and goatee beard. Tom insisted that he wanted to be untied and said it was best for everyone to go home and forget about it. But Philip was becoming agitated.

'No Tom. We can't leave it like that. Your fucking girlfriend knows about us. She's bound to talk about it and there'll be a bloody scandal. Martin is right. We are all completely fucked.’

Tom said, 'It's O.K. She won't say anything - will you Clare?'

Clare was angry now.

'What do you mean – pretend this didn’t happen? Pretend my boyfriend isn’t involved with a bunch of perverted homosexuals?’

Ashley took objection.

‘Your girlfriend is clearly very narrow-minded.’

Martin moved up behind Clare and fetched out a plastic bag from his pocket.

'Maybe we can try to change the way she feels about this…’

He turned to Clare.

‘Eh, Clare? Why don’t you try it? You might enjoy it. What do you think, hmm?  Try it. There’s a lot to be said for the feel of soft smooth plastic rubbing gently against your skin. Have you never wrapped a bit of cling film around your wrist and thought - mmmmm that feels goood....?'

Clare veered away and shouted 'Fuck off, you pervert! You’re all sick! You need help.'

This remark clearly angered all of the men standing in the barn.

Philip pointed at Tom and retorted,

'So is your boyfriend – watch this.' He picked up a plastic bag and slipped the bag over Tom’s head.

Clare jumped forward shouting - 'Take it off him!' but was again held back by Ashley.

Philip gripped the plastic bag tight around Tom’s neck. Tom wriggled and writhed.

 'No. Phil. Stop it. Take it off. I don't want it now...' His voice was muffled by the suffocating plastic. The bag expanded and contracted as he breathed in and out. But still his cock began to rise again.

'Take it off!' Clare screamed, but Philip held his grip.

Martin began once again to wave another bag in front of Clare's face.

'What would sweet Clare do to save her boyfriend’s life?' He asked, grinning. Tom shouted out from inside the bag,

'Leave it out, Martin!'

Tom’s breathing began to rush as the air grew stale, as the hot plastic stuck tight to his face as he breathed in all the trapped air he could.

'NO! Take it off. It's over. I don't want it!'

But the bag stayed on.

Martin stood in front of Clare and holding a bag out in front of him and said,

'Listen, Clare....I have an idea. Bag me. Go on. I want you to bag me. Then we’ll let Tom go.'

'Fuck you,' muttered Clare contemptuously.

Tom began to panic. The shiny balloon around his head was steaming up. His face was hot and soaked with sweat. He tried to jerk his head but Philip's grip around his throat was tight.

Clare was momentarily distracted from the sight of Tom suffocating, by the touch of plastic covered fingers brushing her cheek. She squirmed and tried in vain to step back and to release herself from Ashley's grip. Martin continued to play with the plastic bag in his hand as he spoke.

'It's the only way out. I want you to bag me. See it as my punishment. Smother me. Your uninvited visit has almost certainly wrecked my future, so as far as I’m concerned, you may as well snuff me out completely.’

Clare stared, unable to respond.  Martin turned to his colleagues.

'What do the rest of you say? Shall we see if we can turn Tom's girlfriend into a bagger like one of us? If she does at least I'll exit this world enjoying the greatest orgasm I'll ever have. If she doesn't she'll watch Tom suffocate.'

When the idea sank in, the others agreed.

Tom’s vain struggling became frantic. He continued to beg Philip to take off the bag. But then he turned his muffled pleas to Clare. He started pleading with her to do as Martin desired. His sentences were broken. He was close to passing out.

'No!...please...Clare...just do it. Oh fuck....please just do it!’

Clare became so freaked out by the sight of his desperate struggling and his plastic covered face that she said,

'ALL RIGHT! Take off the bag. I'll do it!'

Ashley released his grip and Philip pulled the plastic bag off.

Tom’s head fell back, his eyes closed with relief and he began to gasp for air. 

A wooden chair was fetched and placed in the centre of the barn. Martin walked over to it and sat down to untie his shoes. As he undressed, Ashley fetched tape and handed it to Clare. She snatched the tape aggressively and said,

'So you just want me to tie you up and put this over your head and then you'll let Tom go, right?'

Martin smiled.

'Yes. We promise. But before you do it - could you take your clothes off?'

Clare said, 'Fuck you.'

Philip picked up the bag and made to slip it over Tom's head once more.

Tom cried 'NO!'

Clare saw what was happening and knew she had no choice. Ashley moved away. Clare began to undo her shirt. She unzipped her jeans and kicked off her shoes. She slipped off her knickers and socks and left them on the floor at her feet. Although much older than Tom, Clare still had a beautifully smooth and slender body, and her long naturally snow white hair fell draped over he shoulders and the tops of her large, perfectly shaped breasts. She walked over to Martin, who by now was naked and sitting on the chair, perfectly still. He said nothing as she knelt down at his feet and began to bind his ankles tight with the tape. She walked round to the back of the chair and strapped his wrists tight together. She turned to Ashley and said,

'Give me a fucking bag.'

She was handed another clear plastic bag from a pile that had been placed on the table. She sat down astride his victim's lap and looked at him with contempt and disgust.

'O.K. Martin. You little prick. If this is what you want...'

Clare opened up the clear plastic food bag and lifted it over Martin’s face. As she brought it down over his head, she watched Martin's eyes close. She was momentarily puzzled by the expression of pleasure and contentment growing on Martin's face as he began to feel the warm air trapped inside the bag.

Ashley stepped nearer, and unzipping his fly he said,

'Martin likes the bag sealed tight around his neck with tape.'

She picked up the roll of black tape off the floor and began to wrap it tight around Martin's neck. The bag expanded like a balloon and then sagged as Martin took in a deep breath. She stayed perched on her victim's knees and felt the student's body twitching and shaking, his muscles quivering. She studied the shiny plastic covered face closely as the plastic around it expanded and contracted. She gazed at the transparent mask, stuck tight around Martin's mouth as he struggled to fill his lungs. She glanced up for a moment to see the other two students pulling out their cocks from their trousers and rubbing them gently. Her gaze turned back to Martin as he started to rock and twist more violently.

Then suddenly, without thinking, Clare pulled Martin forward off the chair and he fell heavily onto the straw strewn wooden floor.

'Is this what you want, you pathetic little shit!' she shouted.

Inside the bag, Martin looked up and although his face was contorted by the bag, he seemed to be smiling. He pushed out his tongue as if he wanted to lick her, but his tongue squashed out against the inside of the plastic like a slither of raw packaged meat. Then as the small pocket of oxygen inside the bag diminished, he began to twist more violently, moaning aloud and with greater urgency. 

Martin rocked and twisted like a worm on a hook, the smile now gone, his expression now a mixture of pain and pre-orgasmic pleasure. The bag now expanded and contracted at a faster rhythm, his chest was chest heaving, his head jerking violently from side to side as he writhed on the floor like a fish out of water, pulling at the plastic tape binding his wrists behind his back.

Clare could not take her eyes off him. Philip stepped closer and began to rub his thick stiff tool.

'Lucky bastard..'

Clare began to wonder whether she should take off the bag, but then she noticed Ashley taking off his shirt. Ashley turned to Philip and said,

'Phillip, be a good chap and bag Tom up again. We haven't finished yet. Not yet. It's my turn now.'

Clare was confused. Ashley took off his glasses and threw them over his shoulder and said 'Do it, Phil. Bag him up again.'

Clare saw the bag being slipped back over Tom's head and tried to go over and stop, but the half-naked Ashley grabbed her from behind and held her tight by the neck with his forearm.

Holding Clare's head firmly in the direction of the table he said,

'You can either watch what happens to your boyfriend, or you can wrap me up in cling-film. You choose.'

Clare struggled to break free once again, screaming 'NO!'

But she was held too tight. Sure enough Philip pulled the bag back down over Tom's head. This time he picked up a piece of rope and quickly tied it tight around Tom's neck to keep the bag tightly in place. Clare began to cry.

'You fucking bastards! Leave him alone!’

Again she saw Tom being suffocated by the plastic bag. She began to weaken. She didn't want him to die, even if he was fucked up. She could stand it no longer, and again she agreed to the strange demand.

Philip untied the rope and removed the bag. Ashley released his grip from Clare's neck and went over to a second table where several large rolls of industrial pallet wrap cling film were stacked. He handed a roll to Clare and began to undress.  When he was naked he stood quite still with his arms at his side.

Clare peeled the film from the heavy roll and with hatred in her eyes began to mummify him, starting at his ankles, wrapping the thick stretchy plastic round and round, moving slowly up his legs as he went. Ashley's cock was large and stiff but within a minute it has been strapped tight up against his belly by several layers of pallet wrap. His arms were bound tight to his sides.

Round and round the plastic sheeting went until his pale skin was hardly visible through its many layers. Clare wrapped his body as tightly as she could and didn't pause before winding the plastic around his neck and then his head. She continued to wrap until his head was completely encased. She made sure that the plastic stuck smoothly round at the top of his head and that there were too many layers of cling film across Ashley's mouth for him to bite or pop open a hole, before she tore the roll away and dropped it onto the floor. For a moment, Ashley stood perfectly still like a sculpted, polished marble figure. Then he began to rock and twist and finally topple to the floor. Philip moved round from the other side of the table to get a better look at his friend completely encased inside the shiny cocoon.

Clare was out of control. Nothing in her mind made sense any more. She was fired up, and very angry. And yet at the same time, she found herself strangely aroused. She dropped to her knees and crouched over the stiff writhing plastic mummy, turning him over onto his back before climbing astride him. She felt the thick line of hard cock muscle along Ashley's lower belly and began to move her pelvis up and down, rubbing her moist cunt hard against it. She didn't think about what she was doing. She rode the plastic-covered mummy, squeezing its neck, able to see just the faint outline of Ashley's terrified eyes inside the plastic layers, and his mouth open, desperately trying to suck in air.   

Clare got up. She turned to the table and to Philip and Tom. Both were staring down expressionless at the writhing shiny plastic shape at her feet.

'And you?'

Clare spat out the words as she looked into Philip's eyes.

'You next?  What would you like me to do with you?'

Philip stared back. He smiled but said nothing. Only Tom spoke.

'Clare - make some air holes so they can breathe...'

'Shut up Tom. I'm talking to your friend.'

'Clare - no, listen. You must, or....'

- 'Shut up!'

There was silence. Then very calmly, Philip began to take off his sweat-shirt. He unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his shoes and jeans. He took off his socks and walked naked over to the table in the corner of the barn.

Tom called after him.

'No, Philip! Stop! No more! Just untie me!'

Philip ignored him. He picked up a large pile of neatly folded black garbage bags and placed a pair of hand-cuffs on top. Then holding the bags out in front of him with both hands, like a priest commencing a hallowed religious ritual, he walked slowly towards Clare. He stopped in front of her, dropped slowly to his knees, and placed the bags and cuffs at her feet. Clare studied the handsome naked male cowering before her like some obedient dog. As she reached down for the hand-cuffs, Philip crossed his wrists behind his back. She cuffed them together, picked up a black plastic bag and opened it up.  It was the largest and shiniest black plastic garbage bag she had ever seen.

'Sit down in the chair, you fucking pathetic shit!' she barked and Philip staggered to his feet and walked over to sit in the wooden chair, vacated by Martin. 

Clare slipped the bag over Philip's feet and began to strap it round with thick black tape. When Philip's legs and thighs were tightly parceled up, Clare pulled him up to his feet by his hair and continued to wrap the bag up to his chest. She fetched a second bag to cover his upper body. She opened it out and slipped it over his head. All the time, Philip was whispering gently,

'Thank you, Clare. Thank you....'

His whispers became muffled as Clare began to strap the second bag tight, first around his head, and then his neck and upper body.

Soon Philip was completely wrapped in the two large, shiny black plastic bags. He could not keep his balance long before he too fell like a heavy parcel onto the floor. Clare watched him writhe. She studied the plastic around his head as it bulged with air around the sides of the strips of tape. She noticed the large lump of erect cock, making a black plastic pyramid halfway down the long shiny black suffocating worm.   

Tom too was still trying to free his hands. He kept calling out to her.

'Let them go.....You've got to let them breathe, Clare. Please...'

But it was as if Clare was now deaf, completely absorbed, and perhaps even aroused by the sight of the naked male form, now twisting and writhing inside its tight black plastic wrapping. Even the sound of the plastic crackling with each frantic, desperate movement was having a strange impact on her, sending a tingle around her skin and hardening her nipples.  

She knelt down beside the moving black package and touched the mound of black plastic covered cock. She moved her hand up the writhing shape, feeling the heat from the dying body inside. She leaned over and kissed the plastic covered head before standing up and turning to Tom.   

Tom looked up but saw something very unfamiliar. It was a look, an expression he had never seen before. He noticed that she now looked even more beautiful, her face now relaxed and radiant.  

'Clare?’

But it seemed as if she wasn't listening, or responding in any way.

Instead, she moved slowly towards him, bending down along the way to pick up something from the straw covered wooden floor.

'Clare! Look, if you won't release them, just untie my hands and feet and I'll do it!’

But before he could finish the sentence, his mouth was stuffed with her knickers. She kept them in place by sealing a large strip of thick black tape over Tom's mouth. Suddenly his shouting was reduced to a faint muffle.

She reached over to the pile and picked up a fresh clear plastic bag from the table. As he walked over to Tom she slipped a hand inside the bag to open it up.

Tom looked up terrified, but the only sound he could make was

'MMMMMM! MMMMMMMMMM!'

Clare lifted the bag over his head and then pulled it down as far as it would go until his head was completely inside. Clare wrapped more tape around his neck until the bag was sealed airtight over his head.

'MMmmmm!'

She stood close up beside the wooden table to watch Tom suffocate.

'There you go, Tom. You carry on. Sorry I interrupted you.'

Clare now looked down and was grinning. He took hold of Tom's cock and squeezed it tight. She leaned over and licked across the tip of it like it was an ice-cream. She laughed again. She watched the bag fill out like a balloon and then contract, until it compacted tight around the contours of Tom's face. She watched his terrified pleading eyes look out from inside the hot shiny balloon. Clare had never before been so aroused. Her hand slipped down till her fingertips reached her aching clitoris. They both began to groan with pleasure together until finally both came, exploding with immense release and ecstasy. Tom’s body sagged and fell still. His head rocked over slightly to rest on its side.

As she recovered her breath, she looked round, first at Martin, lying bagged and naked beside the chair, then over to the other two, stiff, shiny parceled bodies nearby, all writhing and moaning at the same time, then finally back to her boyfriend, lying motionless on the table, his head in a plastic bubble, his eyes staring blankly at nothing.

For a second, she imagined what it would be like to watch all four of them drift away to their strange ecstatic deaths.

Then she reached over and tore off the bag around Tom's head. She walked over to Martin, tore a breathing hole in his bag and then untied his bound wrists. Finally he went over to Ashley, and after hauling the plastic cocoon onto its back, broke open the wrapping around Ashley's face.

She went over, picked up her clothes and sat on the chair. She watched them free each other one by one. Ashley managed to tear himself free and began at once to fumble around on his knees in search of his glasses.  The other two stood up and began to wipe the spunk and sweat away from their bodies. Clare, still flushed and shivering a little from her orgasm, grinned and said,

‘So guys, what else do I have to do to join the Oxford Baggers?’

Daniel Guy.