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Sixteen Candles
Part Four
Both Hanna and Holly felt the vibrations and subsequent gentle motions of the vehicle starting up moving once more. This time, rather than the howls and moans of some disembodied female, their ears were assailed by the monotonous hiss of “white noise”. The volume had been set a notch or two above what either of them would consider “comfortable”.
In a sense, this new stimulus was more unsettling than the former. Holly, as did her mother, found it hard to sustain any form of linear thought. It was impossible for Hanna and Holly to detect beneath the monophonic static, the masculine voice now reciting their life’s new doctrine in its entirety.
Both the 16 and 34 year old blondes remained tensed in anticipation, waiting for whichever stimulus was going to assail there breasts and privates. Holly began to “relax” in her restraints, lungs squeezed by latex and leather, exhaling in relief. That’s when the first, solitary charge ripped through her. Her whole body tensed and she squealed, her cries all but silent, as the current passed through her ass, breasts and sex. The wail lasted longer than the actual shock, for its effect seemed in no hurry to fade.
The sixteen year old thrashed in her restraints, mindless to the fact that she’d done so countless times before without success. She had to get loose, she just HAD TO! But her bondage would not flinch (nor could she). By the time she’d exhausted herself, the only thing that had changed was the fresh batch of tears trickling down inside the tight, stifling hot helmet of latex and leather. Once more, she sat there tensed, trying to prepare for another assault for which there could be no defense.
Hanna, sitting less than six feet from her daughter, was oblivious to her child’s torment. The voluptuous blonde woman was dealing with similar issues, yet very much all her own. She too, had tried to brace for the resumption of electronic stimuli, only to become more puzzled than grateful when they had not occurred. Unconsciously letting her guard down, the first shock coincidentally struck moments later. Holly’s mother writhed with desperation equal to that of her daughter, the outcome identical to that of the 16 year old.
Neither captive could have known that their vital signs were being carefully monitored by the computer program. It was designed to keep them in an agitated state. This may sound strange, given their current circumstances, perhaps, “a more acutely aggravated state” would be more accurate. Should either lapse in to an “at rest” status (which was practically impossible not to do, simply from fatigue), a shock would be administered. The silicone chips and wiring would dispassionately observe their heart rates, respiration and EEG spike, as they ever so slowly fluttered back down to normal. Then, the process would be repeated.
All the while, the subliminal voice would whisper to them through the static in the headphones. To the women’s subconscious, the confident, huskily seductive male voice was like a warm shelter in the midst of the harsh blizzard of white noise. Neither Holly nor Hanna were aware that their independence as 21st century women, was slowly fraying around the edges.
***
In the cab of the van, the two men drove along in silence. There was little to be said. The details of what had, was, and going to happen, had been planned out over the past 18 months. Dozens of contingencies had been designed for any deviation in the script. Thus far, none needed to be implemented.
The “Student” glanced over at his mentor, who looked at his Rolex. A barely perceptible nod was the only communication offered. It was all that was needed. It was as though both men were of one mind. This was, at a certain level, true.
The older man had seen promise in the younger, seven years ago. In the time that followed, he carefully nurtured the young talent with his vast expertise. At times, it was a learning process for both, strengthening each of them beyond what they’d even thought possible. All of the training, studying and practical application had been carried out with this very day in mind. “School” was out. The fantasy, now a reality.
The young man tapped a key on his laptop. A colorless, odorless gas now pervaded the captives’ breathing tubes. Slowly, subtly, it would render Holly and her mother unconscious for the final half hour of the journey. Completely ignorant of the change, both beautiful blondes would slip into unconsciousness, their troubled minds still wrestling with the nightmare they’d been plunged in to. And the voice in their heads spoke on and on.
***
Holly awoke with a start, utterly disoriented. She could not see and everything either hurt, crushed or wouldn’t move. These sensations would not afford her a gradual transition back to reality. There was no moment’s delusion, of waking up in bed having dozed off in front of the TV. Recent events slammed to the forefront of her consciousness with the subtlety of a hammer blow.
She immediately felt the stifling restriction of the straightjacket and the crush of the outer latex sheath. She only realized that she had been released from the side of the van, when hands grasped unseen shoulder straps and yanked her to her feet. Too dazed and frightened to struggle (with what little defiance she could muster), the blonde birthday girl was led to the rear of the vehicle. Another pair of hands waited for her, lowering her trussed form to the cold concrete floor. Holly couldn’t be sure, but somehow, her handlers’ touch seemed different.
She was marched four hobbled paces forward, her feet coming to rest on a small, cool metal surface. The notion of trying to escape finally dawning on her, died a premature death, as she felt straps encircle her standing form. In less than sixty seconds, Holly was held rigidly upright by uniform bands of tightness across her ankles, shins, knees, thighs, hips, waist and chest. Although the last band circled low below her breasts, the strictness of the straightjacket and sheath limited her animated struggles to a weak, twisting writhe.
Holly’s frantic grunts of protest switched to a squeal of surprise, as her world tipped back on a forty five degree angle. A subtle shudder of motion vibrated through her lower limbs. It dawned on her that she was lashed to some kind of wheeled hand truck, as if she was no more than an innocuous parcel being transported to an unknown destination. Although the headphones no longer roared through the earplugs, her own pulse and internal dialogue kept up a constant, disquieting clamor.
“Where am I.” She thought. “Where’s Mom? Who are these people? What do they want from me? Ugh! I can’t breath! Please get me out of this horrible jacket! I want to go home!”
All of these unspoken questions went unanswered, instead ricocheting around in her head until she thought it might explode. The “ride” seemed to go on forever. The only information she could glean of her whereabouts outside her claustrophobic bondage, was the temperature of the air playing across her bare legs. Wherever she was, she knew with a cold, stark certainty, that no living soul capable of helping her, had any clue to her location. She never would have thought it possible to feel so utterly alone and helpless.
Her stomach suddenly fluttered, a moment later she realized she was in an elevator. Up or down, she couldn’t be ascertain. Even this, compounded her sense of being lost. Holly half expected to smell the musty scent of ancient masonry and dampness when the journey ended, a dungeon filled with unspeakable horrors surely to be her destination. That’s why the warmth and unmistakable aroma of a wood fire caught her off guard. Although she couldn’t be sure, the environment seemed to give off an aura of opulence and comfort.
The room was in fact, a large, well appointed study. The bookshelves, oak paneling, priceless paintings, fine furniture and luxurious rugs exuded an air of wealth. Whether it was old money or new, the study reeked of it. That’s why the two identical fixtures near the fireplace seemed so out of place.
The minimalist design of the two, chromed shafts rising from the floor escaped explanation. Reaching a height of four feet, the gleaming, tubular aluminum poles, 2” in diameter were interrupted in two places. Down low, 14” off the floor, a smaller shaft jutted out horizontally from both sides of the upright, a leather cuff rigidly affixed at each end. The top of the shaft was crested with a deep, “U” shaped appendage.
Holly (and unbeknownst to her, Hanna as well) were wheeled over to the matching metal uprights. Figuring that she had sense enough to know that struggling would pitch her over defenselessly to the floor, the two men left Hanna unattended and focused on her daughter.
Releasing her from the hand truck, the men quite easily thwarted Holly’s writhing struggles. Each man noted with satisfaction, how virtually silent their prize had been rendered, although they were certain she was protesting vehemently. Each grasping a thigh and shoulder strap, they lifted the teen into the air. Fear of being dropped, greatly reduced the blonde’s struggles.
They lifted her up over the rear of the “U’s” upright and lowered her into its trough. Suddenly, Holly’s latex encased crotch bore all her weight. This did all sorts of unpleasant things to the prods still inflated inside her. The blonde struggled half-heartedly, still greatly concerned about pitching over. As it turned out, there was a manner in which those fears would be allayed.
Removing the cluster of keys the paid kidnappers had so thoughtfully strung around each captive’s neck, the hobble cuffs were unlocked and removed. Before Holly could even think to kick a freed limb, she felt each ankle trapped by a new leather cuff. Both men loosened the thumb screws on the horizontal shaft and pulled the teens legs into an ever widening split. This outward tension directly exacerbated the downward thrust of her crotch upon the cold, hard metal “saddle“. The screws were re-tightened, leaving the birthday girl’s legs splayed more than 3’ apart, her wriggling toes more than a foot above the polished oak floor.
As the hands left her, Holly was petrified that she would fall. As her predicament became more obvious, she became petrified that she couldn’t fall. All of her trim, youthful 104 lbs had settled on her privates. There was absolutely, positively no way for her to rise up off the perch. It was a situation that was instantly intolerable. And the girl had no hope of altering it.
Her struggles became more animated, grinding her pussy and ass into the tubular saddle until she willed herself to stop struggling. Holly ‘hung’ there, legs quivering, praying to be lifted from her insidious perch. Her prayers went unanswered, as the men set about positioning her mother in the same fashion. When finished, the captors stepped back to take in the entire picture.
Although both women were trapped beneath a virtually indestructible layer of latex and leather, the bonds seemed to accent, rather than mask their sensual forms. Two sets of bare, well toned legs quivered in their wide, involuntary “stance”. Four cute, shapely feet with brightly painted toenails writhed and twisted in the air, frequently pointing downward toward a floor well beyond their reach. The crackle of the fireplace behind them all but masked their whistling, frantic calls for a halt to this madness.
Each man was reminded, almost in cliché fashion, of a pair of beautiful butterflies pinned in a display case. Or perhaps more accurately, two trophies ‘stuffed and mounted’, spoils of a successful hunting expedition. Whatever the metaphor, one fact rang true. The two blonde knockouts were completely theirs. Anyone having a clue as to the women’s current circumstances was either incinerated or suffering from a “third eye”.
“Right then,” the senior man said, “I suppose it’s time for introductions.”
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