Elise has a wide leather belt around her waist –and neck. Her wrists are cuffed to her waist band in the back. Her ankles tied together and drawn up toward her wrists, sort of a reverse fetal position. Worse, elise is completely encased in a thin clear plastic bag; she is slowly suffocating inside. It is already growing foggy for her as he seals the bag shut around her waist. It is a full encasement, all the air she breathes now is air that has been used by her. It grows thinner with each breath. Less and less oxygen and more and more condensation and heat inside. She tries to control her breath, her breathing. She wines. She works on maintaining control. She is lying on her side. The thick leather collar tightly secured around her neck doesn’t give her any comfort, let alone make it easy for her to drawl a breath. As time passes it becomes increasingly difficult to see her inside of there. We can hear her breathing, her attempts at controlling it. Jr ask her what is the toughest part of her situation. She tells us the collar right now. It makes it difficult for her to get a full breath. Water starts to bead up inside and run down the plastic around her face. It wants to stick to her face, making her panic. She appears all wet inside. Her hair plastered to her face as she attempts her composure. But it is faltering. The heat and water inside, the water from her own breathing, condensation, and the heat from her breath and body conspire against her. She’d like to be out of this, maybe back in her hole. She tells me how difficult the collar makes it for her, green shorts still fitting her like an uber woman. She tells me how hot it is inside there and I tell her how cool it feels outside. She starts to tell me how hard it is to catch a breath. I cut a small opening for her. An opening that I shove a short rubber hose into, for her to breath with. At least that’s what she thinks. Once she has it in her mouth she uses it to take in fresh oxygen –and we can hear her doing so. It is her own fresh air supply as she tells me how tight the collar is. She is sucking it in. We can hear it. And then the hitachi. She finds herself needing to reach for a new way to breath, to get that orgasm, because she is a bondage slut. But that was temporary, before jr cut her breathing off with a pair of hemostats on the rubber hose punching itself from the bag. He makes her ask, beg for a fresh air supply. He brings out a well nurtured hookah, one ready to smoke. Finding her rubber hose he picks it up and fills her bag with hookah smoke. She cries out and wails. She tells him how bad the air is getting, how she can’t see now, how she can’t even see her breathing tube now for the smoke. Her bag is permeated, smoke she did not want. Smoke that just makes her situation that much more demanding. She coughs, and hacks –spits inside her enclosure. She grows into a panic....He decides to see what the hitachi changes. She screams out at the top of her lungs....This is only the beginning....