Emily the Honest Inspector, Part 2
February 6th, 2011Emily struggled to sit up as Ronald Strump and his goons left her bound, gagged and helpless in the basement. Suddenly a panel in the ceiling opened; it was the chute that allowed deliveries in from the sidewalk. She tried to scream through the gag but not much came out—certainly not enough sound to counter the roar of the cement truck parked outside! Emily’s eyes bugged out as the first trickle of gooey cement slid down the chute. He was going to bury her alive!!
The frantic inspector struggled to get off the floor as the wave of cement approached, managing to get to her knees before the viscous glop engulfed her. She just had to get her hands free! But Strump’s men knew their job and she found no slack in her bondage. The roar of the mixer filled the room and the level of the cement began to rise. Fighting panic, Emily was able to slide to the wall and, bracing herself against it, slowly managed to stand up.
By this time the cement was up to mid-calf. Emily writhed against the tight ropes that pinned her arms to her sides, her breasts heaving as the tough fibers dug into her soft skin. No one knew where she was, no one would come to save her! Was this awful fate her reward for being honest? Her struggles kept the rising cement from setting in a small area around her body, but how long before she would be unable to move her legs? The cool semi-liquid rose up over her knees, encasing her thighs, approaching her crotch. In a different context, it might have felt soothing—but here it only meant doom.
Refusing to give up, the helpless damsel looked for anything that could help her. Her eyes lit up as she noticed the building’s fuse box about a yard to her right. Heel to toe, heel to toe, she began to push her way through the rising cement towards the metal cover. The fact that the cement was lapping over her hips actually helped stabilize her, but pushing through the goop was a slow struggle. By the time she got there, it had risen to her waist!
She had to bend over to get her hands on the level of the fuse box, and she gasped as her nipples dipped into the rising tide. When she stood up straight there were wet circles of cement on her prominent boobs, and she grimly realized that unless her plan worked, that would be the last time they felt pleasure. She began flipping the circuit breakers, one by one, cutting the power to the apartments. She could only hope that someone would come down to investigate!
By the time Emily had flipped every switch she could reach, the cement had risen over her tummy to a level just below her breasts. The concrete that coated her nipples had begun to dry and tighten on her skin. Despite all her struggling, she could feel the cement around her legs was beginning to set as well, the pressure immobilizing her. Unless help arrived, she was doomed to be encased forever.
The heavy slop inched slowly up her breasts, so that the dried muck on her nipples was softened by fresh, wet cement. Fighting back tears, Emily realized that she had only minutes left; her writhing became less frantic as her exhausted body accepted defeat. But as the gooey mess finally covered her bosom, sudden silence from the cement mixer!!
True to his pattern of cutting corners, Strump had ordered the minimum amount of concrete needed—and his calculations had been off! Emily was stuck in slowly setting cement up to her shoulders, but for now there was no more pouring into the chamber! And above her in the complex, people had been able to call about the loss of electricity, and a man from Con Ed was on his way! It would take the rest of the day before she was finally pulled out, but Emily had beaten the tycoon!!









