Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude

Another game planned and executed for my amusement occurred on what I believe was the last full evening of my burial. On that night, DR. D and mate hosted a party for their friends. They entertain a lot, both with their BDSM friends and with others. It was an outside pool and patio gathering like most of their parties. That night there were both gay couples and straight couples. Some singles too. The streaming to the monitors in my box is set to pan the event with one of the screens set to center on the swing over me and pathway in front of it. They want me to see people walking by and others enjoying the swing while having conversations directly above me and totally oblivious to the fact that there is a man naked, bound and buried alive underneath them. It’s another thing that plays with the mind and is simultaneously exciting. I assume DR. D and the other few that know that I am there are getting a kick from it.

It’s curious who uses the swing. And for what purposes. Most often it is just pairs having casual conversations. One pair was a new couple, more than just hooking up, they explored their newfound affections somewhat discreetly. DR. D and his mate held hands as they gently let the swing rock back and forth. One of them was aware of what was beneath his feet, the other oblivious. This was to be a present. Not sure how the construction was done without him knowing. (Turns out it was done during a week when he was traveling for business.)  The swing was used equally by gay and straights throughout the evening. Often people would stop as they passed to chat with whoever was swaying on the swing. It was centrally located within the outside retreat and thus got more used than I would have guessed.

While I knew it would be fruitless, I couldn’t stop myself from calling out, yelling as loud as I could, trying to get some of the swingers’ attention. They of course heard nothing. I found that I would get a wave of depression each attempt, a form of frustration at the foolishness of my situation I have placed myself.  

There is even more foot traffic going by than people using the swing. Watching is a great diversion. It was probably the most relaxing time of my entombment. One person walking by tripped on one of the pavers. It caused me to chuckle. People commonly carried food and drinks. It was the only time I felt hunger. I like parties. My visit to Vegas started with a little a party. While I didn’t want to be here, I did get a little kick, knowing they had no idea I was trapped below.

I can hear the sounds through the monitors, though not loud, of the party. Some are using the pool. There is even a DJ. He must be set up on the gazabo. I listen to his music, faint as it is, something again to help the time pass. He’s got a nice selection and provides minimal commentary. There is alcohol being served. No one seems to be drinking to excess, a largely classy crowd. That is all but one, he needs to go, but instead of using the bathhouse, he takes a whiz behind the bushes, the place where my air intakes are located and close to where one of the cameras is mounted. Thanks a lot. It is just phycological on my part, but geez. The party goes on for a long time, well into the night. A benefit for me. I just hope someone is watching over me. Turns out, they were. In hindsight, I wonder what would have happened if they had to do an emergency excavation of me while everyone was there. As only part of the crowd are BDSM practitioners, eyebrows would be raised.