Dear Diary: Brick Me Up, Please...

Dear Diary,

The candle's flame dances low tonight, shadows playing on the walls like bricks waiting to close in. Just us, Diary—no breath but mine, ragged and waiting. A sip of cool air, and the fantasy uncoils, slow as mortar setting.

I want to confess a sexual fantasy of mine. It’s based on the terrifying punishment known as “immurement”. I understand it took hundreds of lives in the past. However, this time, it’s all about pleasure for me.

I got kidnapped. I don’t know the face of my captor. I’m naked, bound with iron cuffs that bite hard at my neck, pinning arms wide, waist cinched tight, legs tight and locked—immobile, exposed, every inch claimed by the unyielding hold. I'm pressed to the cold stone, skin flush against it, adhered like a secret sealed forever. The gag swells my mouth, muffling pleas into hums that vibrate through me, eyes wide on him, my captor, mortar trowel in hand.

He smiles and tells me I should be thankful for having a gag that allows me to breathe decently. But he assures me it won’t save me from my death. I also got my nipples clamped with pincers that send electricity through them. He plans to torture me so I suffer for a long while before I die.

One brick at a time, he lays them: rough edge first, scraping close enough to tease the heat from my skin. The wall grows, inch by inch, sealing me in—darkness creeping, air thickening with dust and desire. Terror twists sweet in my gut, heart hammering as the gap narrows, his gaze the last light before the final thud.

Entombed alive, forgotten but felt, every breath a stolen thrill in the crush. I was erased from existence.

I want so badly to be in his place....

The flame wavers. Dreams like this... they bind without breaking.

El Jaquio