To answer my own question, maybe Luigi could help.
What do you think of this?
I was lowered heavily, face up, on to a stainless steel autopsy table under dazzling overhead lights. I was bound hand and foot, a ball gag muffling my protests. “Welcome to Luigi's, boys.” The cold weight of fear consolidated in my guts. Luigi ran the firm's undertaker and disposal branch.
I turned my head to see you in the same position on an adjacent table. One of the goons that had carried us in on their shoulders, like sacks of potatoes, was cutting your clothes away. Another started work on me, ripping through my Armani slacks with a vicious hunting knife. He was grinning with pleasure as he laid bare my vulnerable flesh.
When we were naked they started washing us down, like we were already corpses. My captor flashed a lethal cut-throat razor in front of my eyes, before shaving the hair from my body.
“If it were down to me I'd take these as a souvenir” he growled, holding on to my cock and balls, lifting them away from my body “but the Boss wants you take your time dying”.
My mind was a turmoil of regret for my actions and total fear for my soon-to-be-ended life, but my body was reacting to the sensations of being shaved and handled.
“Well look at this, seems like this guy's enjoying himself.”
“Mine's got a woody too. When we get them together they can have a fine old time.”
“You know the Boss wants you dead and buried, guys, don't you? Just not in that order. Haw, haw.”
“And he wants you to really have time to think about what you did, so even six foot down you'll find there's an air supply.”
“Just no food or water, no light, and no way out. Shouldn't take you more than a week to croak.”
We got turned over, so our backs, arms and legs could be fully shaved. There was a cold probe in my arsehole, and a flood inside me, washing out my innards. I don't know what you were thinking. Panic and despair, I guess, like me. When I was dried, I was lifted again, and I saw the coffin that was to be our final resting place. It was one of those big American things, for big Americans, gold aluminium on the outside and white satin on the inside. I was laid inside, my hands and legs still bound. The silk was cold and slippery against my sensitive hairless skin. There was something erotic about the feel. I was pulled to the right of the coffin, and turned slightly on to my left side, making room for you to be put next to me, turned to your right. We looked into each other's eyes as our chests, bellies, hard cocks, and thighs were pressed together.
“The Boss says, 'enjoy justice'. I guess you'd know better next time, had there been a next time! Haw haw.”
The lid was closed on the coffin. I'd never been anywhere so dark. Our two bodies were pressed together, super sensitive in their unaccustomed smoothness. We lay there for a while, feeling the movement of the coffin as it was carried or wheeled away, then to stop. After a small delay, there was a grating sound and a sensation of being lowered to a sudden stop. A slow, rhythmic rattle brought to both our minds earth being shovelled down, the sound growing fainter as we imagined the filling of the grave.
We did not fall quickly into the eternal sleep of suffocation, proving that the goons had not lied when they said the Boss wanted us to have time to consider our misdemeanour.
I picked at the ropes binding my wrists. I knew there was no chance of escape, but I'd felt a slight slackening, and I desperately wanted to remove the gag, and to be able to talk to you. It took a time, but in that situation time meant nothing. Eventually I freed my hands, and with much wriggling managed to give us both freedom of speech and touch, though the constraints of the coffin made reaching our tied ankles impossible.
Pressed together in the inky blackness there seemed little to say. Instead, our lips came together as our hands explored each other's body. For both of us the sexual arousal was stronger and more long lasting than either of us had ever experienced. I drew my head back a little and spoke into the darkness.
“I've never been fucked. Would you...?
“I so wanted you to say that...”
With some difficulty and much squirming I managed to turn my back to you. Your arms embraced me and your fingers were playing with my nipples. My throbbing erection was pressed deep into the padded silk coffin lining. I felt a little pain as your hard cock first pressed against my sphincter and then slid deep inside me, but then I was overwhelmed with an explosion of pleasure. Our bodies were slick with sweat as they moved together in a sexual symphony, flesh on flesh, while all the time hugged and caressed by smoothest silk. Deep in the black darkness and silence of the grave we eventually cried out as one as we climaxed, semen spurting both far inside me and out over the sweaty skin of my stomach and the enveloping silk. Panting with exertion we decoupled and squirmed back face to face.
“Shall we sleep? Perhaps we can do it again, with me fucking you?”
We kissed.
“I'd like that.” you said.
With our arms around each other we began to doze.
There were noises around the coffin. It jerked and moved. The light was dazzling. The lid was open. Our captors were lifting us out, releasing the last of our bondage.
“You two are a bit sticky. I guess you enjoyed yourselves?”
I was trying to get my thoughts in order, and you answered.
“That was just the greatest!”
“Yeah, well we try to please. Do you think you want to make a repeat booking? Ten percent off for repeats, of course.”
I looked at you and grinned.
“Do we ever want to do something like that again!” I said. “Luigi's fantasy realisation has provided one of the most intense experiences of my life. Well worth the money. And I really don't want to know how you do it.”
