Tricks - by PM2K

[Aiko]

Tricks - by PM2K (2006)

Donna pulls up to the manor and switches off the moped's engine. Her loose shoulder length blonde hair is plastered to her by the sweat which trickles down her bare back, drawn out by the oppressive heat and humidity of the bayou.
Save for a single light burning from the front veranda of the huge house, all was dark, and if she was the type to let her imagination run wild, she might not have approached the structure. Donna snorts, then pushes the moped towards the manor. She passes through a pair of rusty iron gates and crumbling stone walls towards the decaying house, a remnant of the glory days of the old South. She notes with interest the masses of Spanish moss hanging from the graying building and the trees crowding close by.
"Weird..." Donna says aloud, and adjusts her outfit. The tight pink vinyl top barely contains her ample, firm chest, and she is bare from the bottom curves of her breasts, peeking out from beneath the shiny material, to the waistband of her impossibly tight black vinyl skirt. That is slit up her right thigh to just below her ass, exposing a hint of her short white panties beneath. A pair of flat sandals clashes with the outfit, but she decided a long time ago when one walks the streets, one might as well have comfortable footwear.
The first contact had been done through the escort agency. Donna had gone to the bar as instructed, but instead of the trick she expected to see, there was a slim, exceedingly well dressed man who simply passed over a thin envelope and left. Frowning, she opened the creamy vellum and stifled a gasp when she saw the bills neatly stacked within... A quick skim confirmed $2,000 was in her hand, more than she'd earn in a week on her back. Inside with the bills was a note, containing instructions and the promise of even more money...
Donna smiles, even as her senses kick in to high alert. The 23 year old hadn't lasted this long on the streets without a strong sense of self preservation, so she did a little research on the location. She found little on record, except the manor was part of an old plantation, and its owner was well off, elderly, eccentric and confined to a wheelchair.
Donna finally reaches the main doors of the huge house and leans the moped against one of the facing pillars. Walking up the steps, she half expects them to open slowly, a creepy manservant peering around to welcome her. Instead, a simple intercom/buzzer sits attached to the door frame, its newness a stark contrast to the rest of the house.
Stepping up, Donna clears her throat, feeling somewhat nervous.It wasn't the prospect of sex or even violence which worries her... but the possibility of rejection. She was smart enough to know she likely didn't have much more time left before her assets became less desirable, so the chance to hook up with a sugar daddy to take care of her... yes, that was worth the risk.
Steeling herself, Donna rings the buzzer.To her surprise, it is answered promptly, and not by the younger man who contacted her... No, the voice is older... quiet, but not weak. There is strength behind it.
"You.... you are so beautiful..." it crackles through the speaker. "So beautiful... Kurt has always had excellent taste..."
"Um...thanks..." Donna replies, glancing around. She spots the camera placed high in a dark corner of the veranda, which whirs quietly in greeting. "Look...shall I come in? I know you've paid a lot...."
"Paid?Ah, yes...paid..." the voice says, in tones of rustling leaves, the sounds of a mummy speaking through centuries of decay. Donna suppresses a shudder, and presses the button again.
"So...uh...can I come in? It's been a long trip..."
"Of course...of course it has..." the voice responds. "Please... just follow the veranda to the back gate... you'll see a hot house beyond it, built over the water... Please come there. That's where I am now. I'll be waiting...."
"Great... see you in a minute..." Donna says, and strolls away from the intercom, following the directions she was given. The gate was easy to find, and the hot house now stands before her in the distance, its luminous glass foggy with the moisture trapped within. Looking at the way the manor was built, Donna sees how it blends in with the hot house, which juts far out into the bayou, like a covered jetty, except it is far wider, almost like a small aircraft hanger. Instead of being on stilts, the building rests even with the dark waters, which are thick with cypress. She also notices how the glassed in structure has a separate outer door, which, judging from the single light glowing above it, was the entrance she is meant to take.
Stepping quickly towards the door, she isn't surprised to find it unlocked, and steps inside. After a quick walk down a connecting hallway, Donna steps into a jungle... Broad leafed tropical plants abound, and the heat and humidity is even more oppressive than outside, which she wouldn't have thought possible.
Donna drips with perspiration just standing still, yet she marvels at the thickness and variety of the plants around her... It is like something out of a jungle movie, she thinks... Seeing the vines, I'd expect Tarzan to come swinging though at any second...
"Ah...welcome my dear...welcome..."
Donna starts at the voice which crackles from the intercom, the device tucked under some of the leaves of the plants. Clearing it away, she spots the box sitting atop a thin pole jutting out of the dark soil which thickly coats the floor of the hot house. Without the visual references, it was easy to imagine this wasn't all man-made...
At the base of the intercom is a small bundle,wrapped in string and fine, waxed paper.
"This is quite the place..." Donna says, guessing the speaker didn't require her to press any buttons to hear her. The quick reply convinces her she is right.
"Yes it is..." the voice says. "My family has owned it for generations... built it right out of the swamps, as you saw in your drive out here.All you see is naturally occurring. The plants aren't native, of course, but the soil is..."
"It's pretty..." Donna says. "But what do I have to do with..."
"Oh, everything, my dear...everything..." the voice crackles. "All will become clear once you open the package..."
Donna smiles as she bends over to open the bundle. Role playing was a big part of her profession, and over the years she has been everything from a French maid to a Girl Scout selling cookies, so she wasn't really surprised to discover the skimpy loin cloth and bone necklace within. Slipping out of her working outfit into the costume took a few moments, and Donna stands before the whir of the camera hidden in the foliage, her exposed skin glistening with moisture.The faux leopard skin feels good against her bare thighs and groin, for she figures the lack of panties would play a part in this fantasy. A bone necklace is the only remaining part of the ensemble, and rest over her bare breasts. The savage jungle girl fantasy was a popular one, and she admitted a certain fondness for the image... but no one had taken it to such extremes before...
"Magnificent...oh, God...you are a truly magnificent creature..." the voice said, slightly choked with emotion and lust.
"Thanks..." Donna replies, finding the feel of the slightly moist black dirt beneath her bare feet quite nice. "So...what did you have in mind?...Me Jane, you Tarzan?"
"Oh yes..." the voice says quietly."Just follow the path...I'll meet you at the end of it..."
Shrugging, Donna proceeds down the compacted dirt trail, noticing the thick vegetation on all sides. This set up must have cost a fortune, she thinks. The plants alone would fetch thousands... maybe tens of thousands. With the choking blanket of humidity all around, and the rich heavy odor of the soil, she could almost imagine being a savage half-naked queen, lost in the darkest jungles of the mysterious Africa of the movies...
The path ended at a small clearing, perhaps six to eight feet wide, the dirt a strange mix of dark and light patches, glistening slightly with moisture in spots and narrow bands. Across from where Donna stands is an elderly man,seated in a fancy motorized wheelchair. His suit and manner suggests wealth and power, and she shivers slightly at the intense gaze of his blue eyes.
"My dear...you are even better in person than on a video screen..." he says in the same quiet voice she had heard crackling through the speakers. "Truly ravishing..."
Donna smiles slightly, and deliberately runs her right hand slowly over her bare breasts, noting with satisfaction how his eyes never left her. Men... pretty much act the same, really... Mentally she begins counting the money and jewelry she would accumulate as a trophy wife... or failing that, long term mistress...
"Please... come over here... let me get a closer look at you ..." the man rasps, his voice tightening with emotion. "I want to see the sweat beading on your skin..."
Donna smiles again, and wanders slowly towards the man in the wheelchair, giving him one of her sultriest looks as she slowly sways her hips. I hope I don't give him a heart attack, she thinks, considering the way he stares at her nearly nude form... The soil beneath her feet is wet and spongy, but Donna doesn't give it any real mind. Perhaps the old coot wants to mud wrestle later, or watch her wallow...
She gasps in surprise when the dirt suddenly melts and cracks beneath her, plunging the blonde past her knees in wet earth.
"What?What the hell?" Donna says, looking down at the rapidly liquefying soil.The dirt she has been walking on appears to have been a thin crust over far more wetter and looser material, which yields quickly beneath her weight. In no time she is mired to her upper thighs, her loincloth already spreading itself on the surface.
Donna looks over to the old man, and notes for the first time the wheelchair is sitting on a platform of some sort, flush with the dirt which now wobbles around her. Frowning, her arms waving to keep her balance as her feet desperately quest for anything solid below, she looks at him, and is astonished by his expression. It was a look of pure lust.
"What the fuck?..." Donna says, even as the wet dirt clings tightly to her submerged limbs. I seem to be sinking... no,I am sinking.... and she stares at the man, confusion written over her face.
"My dear, dear girl..." he says, leaning forward.He remains a foot or so out of reach, a fact which occurs to Donna as her bare groin touches the cool, churning mud. "Ages ago... before my condition robbed me of my ability to walk and do... other things... I watched obsessively every jungle and swamp movie in existence with the hope of doing what I am now... watch a beautiful girl struggle to stay afloat in bottomless quicksand..." "Quicksand?You're shitting me..." Donna says, even as she feels herself sink past the neatly trimmed triangle of her blonde pubic hair. The thick mud laps at her navel and cups her belly and ass, as she squirms against the sensation.
"No...I'm quite serious..." the man replies. "This whole greenhouse was built 100 some years ago by my grandfather,jutting out over the swamp to use the rich soil for his plants... some of which need deep, loose and sodden soil to grow and flourish... Of course, there are planks and such to keep the gardeners from...submerging..."
Donna couldn't believe this.She fights to extract her legs from the mire, yet only succeeds in forcing herself deeper into the thick slurry of dirt and water. The muddy soil makes obscene slurping and gurgling sounds in response to her struggles, and she shudders as her hips slip under, allowing the muck to encircle her narrow waist.
"Grandfather never knew what he had... but once I inherited the place... well, it was a simple matter to rip up the planks in one particular spot... right where you are, actually... the deepest place..." the man says.
"Oh, fuck...fuck..." Donna gasps, the quivering mud lapping at her lower ribs. Sweat streams over her bare skin, drawn out by excess humidity, her struggles and fear. Her toes,pointed downward, feel only more shifting mud, and a current of cool water which circulates through it.
"You sick bastard!You can't do this...you can't!" she says, trying to keep the panic from her voice. The old man sighs in response.
"Of course I can...in fact, I am doing it..." He smiles,watching the earth hungrily slop against the young woman. "I have a whole library of tapes of others like you... and they all reacted differently to your predicament..."
Donna, her arms raised up, pants as she settles deeper in the wet black mud, which.is stirred by her movements.Her breasts jiggle a mere inch above its cool surface, and with a gasp she slips down further, feeling its muddy touch cup the firm orbs. Out of reflex, her nipples stiffen to sharp points, provoking a hiss of breath from the madman watching her sink.
"You are the fifth, I think..." the man says. "My first jungle girl... I think my previous favorite was Keiko.. dressed as a schoolgirl... You know, she put on such a show, I think she may have got off on it... Hmmm... maybe she did..."
"You sick fuck!" Donna spits out, the muddy slurry now even with the tops of her breasts, and licking at her armpits. She still manages to keep her arms free of the sodden dirt, but she senses it is a losing battle.
"Ah, delightful...delightful..." the old man sighs. "The way that mud sticks to your bare flesh, the way it quivers and wobbles.... the quicksand wants you... it is hungry for you... I can tell..."
"Shut up!" Donna shouts, squirming as dark mud oozes between her breasts to fill her cleavage. Her arms are floating on the bog's surface, and she keeps feeling the wet mass shift beneath her, drawing more of her body into it... She begins to frantically claw at the mud, hoping to dig herself out somehow, but all she manages to do is thrash the muck into a looser mess, which slurps and gurgles around her form.
As the dark quicksand rises thickly to lap close to the top of her breasts, Donna stretches forward with her mud covered arms towards the platform where the old man's wheelchair is sitting, whimpering slightly as she realizes this hint of solidity is a foot beyond her fingertips. Looking up, she shudders. The man is staring at her intently, a strange glow in his icy eyes. He seems mesmerized by her struggles to stay afloat, and is close enough so she can hear his raspy breathing.
"Lovely...." he hisses. "Lovely... oh, God... you are so lovely... so deep in the mud..." Feeling the cool slime ooze over the rest of her chest and surround her bare shoulders, even as her feet continue to slip deeper into the morass, Donna finds herself gasping, in fear as much as in shortness of breath. The mud is getting heavy against her, making it difficult to draw in air.
Despite her best efforts, she continues to sink, and as the tips of her blonde hair dip into the gurgling wet filth and begin to spread out on the slowly wobbling surface, she feels panic seize her in an icy grip. Whimpering, Donna claws frantically at the mud, trying desperately to clear it away from her body, to break its cool grip...
The dark quicksand slaps liquidly against her, as her actions drive her deeper into its sodden mass. Donna's neck is quickly embraced by the quivering slime, and her chin and jaw are blackened with wet dirt, which quickly coats her flailing arms with muddy clumps. And through it all, the old man stares, drinking it all in, his tongue constantly wetting his lips, his breathing rapid and rasping...
Exhausted from her struggles, Donna slows her movements, settling just past her chin in the churning ooze, her arms barely visible on the surface of the muck. She glances up, a motion which fills her ears with cool mud, turning the sound of her breathing into a loud, muffled wheezing which drowns out all other noise save the frantic pounding of her heart.The cold eyes burning down on her terrifies her more than her fate, which is rapidly approaching... God only knows how this fucker satisfied himself before inheriting this place, Donna thinks, as her mouth and nose slip under.
The man stares down as the woman vanishes from sight, her head sinking in a thick swirl of blonde hair and filthy bubbles, her forearms popping up briefly from the muddy surface of the sucking quicksand to extend her clenching hands... then they too slide under, fingers wiggling. He watches silently for a time, the surface of the dark wet earth quavering and bubbling until it stills. Then, as the last bubbles rise to the surface, he seizes the joystick of his wheelchair and twists it, sending it whirling around to run quietly along the wooden pathway out of the greenhouse. A few shovelfuls of loam and the trap will be set again, and he finds himself aching with anticipation. Tomorrow, Kurt promised him a redhead...

[PM2K]

Many, many thanks for finding this and posting it, Aiko!

I can't believe it has been more than four years since I wrote this... Time sure flies...

[Viridian]

First time I've seen that. That was bloody brilliant. Delicious!

[quickbeard]

one word WOW!

[Sandyandy]

Awesome read. Thanks for posting