“Make a wish, sweetheart.”  Holly’s father said.

The newly minted 16 year old looked at the candles and thought hard.  In truth, there was only one wish that she wanted to come true.  But the odds of that happening were remote.  The boy to whom she’d lost her virginity was now a man of 19, and 700 miles away at college.  Holly wished for that feeling of being “special” to someone.  Someone other than her parents.

As the last present was opened, a new, Fire Engine Red, Toyota Solara convertible, Holly knew that she had truly left girlish things behind.  One by one, the party goers departed.  Holly sat in her new car feeling very mature, while her parents cleaned up.  The electric tingle of such a wonderful gift coursed through her.  It reminded her of her one and only time.  It had been awkward and a bit painful, yet fabulous at the same time.  The stunningly beautiful blonde looked up at the stars and wondered how long it would be until she felt that way again.

***

Sixteen year old, Holly Kinkaid stood there trembling, trying hard not to cry, for she’d been ordered not too.  It was the hardest thing she’d had to do in her life.  At least up until this point.  She clasped her arms around her nude body protectively, one arm across her bust, the other shielding her wispy patch of blonde pubic hair. 

It was a body that belied her tender years.  She had matured early in her pubescence, filling out into an extraordinary young woman by the time she blew out sixteen candles on her birthday cake four hours ago.  Single men, ten years her senior, would stop her in the street and ask her out on a date.  Most of the time, Holly had found this silly (and a little exciting).

At 5’6”, 104 lbs, her 34B-23- 32 sized figure caused red blooded males to drool in her presence.  She was practically the spitting image (though 2” shorter) of her mother, Hanna, aged 34.  Holly did not know where her mother was, two of the masked intruders had dragged her away to another part of the house.  Sadly, she DID know where her father was.  He was lying dead on the floor of the foyer, shot between the eyes as he’d unwittingly opened the door for the four assailants.

Holly had been hauled into her father’s study, screaming for her parents the entire time.  Her cries had abruptly stopped, when one of the men stabbed a long, forked prod into an exposed thigh beneath her shorts.  She knew what the word “excruciating” meant, but believed it too tame a word for the pain that she felt.  Her leg muscles instantly cramped and she’d crumpled to the floor, only to be hauled back to her feet.

“Strip!” had been the only word spoken thus far.  Holly had begun to plead “no”, but her mouth snapped shut when the wand swung into position to deliver another strike.  With tears spilling freely down her face, she started with her sneakers and socks, hoping these men might have a change of heart.  They did.  They urged her to move faster.

Her ‘Hello Kitty” t-shirt went next.  Her hands fumbled with the clasps of the very adult style of bra she wore.  She’d picked it out without her mother‘s help. White, with an opaque grape leaf pattern, it made her feel more mature and confident about her sexuality.  Slipping out of the shoulder straps, she held the cups in place until she was ordered to toss the bra away.  As she did, her skin felt hot with an all-over blush. 

Apparently, the men felt as though she was taking too long to remove her shorts, for the wand stabbed out once more.  Holly saw this one coming, but couldn’t dodge away in time.  She watched it contact her bare side, miniature blue lightning bolts crackling from its prongs.  Again she fell to the floor, air driven from her lungs.  And again, she was hoisted to her feet.  The running shorts came off, then the white cotton panties with the word “Princess” written across the front in small rhinestones..

“Put these panties on!”  One of them said gruffly, tossing a bright scarlet garment at her.

Holly caught it reflexively.  The “panties” were heavy and felt like rubber.  Turning them around to find the waistband, she nearly dropped them when she saw the two, phallic appendages affixed to the crotch.  She looked up, words still forming on her lips, when the one with the cattle prod spoke.

“We know you’re not a virgin.”  He said firmly.  “Last year.  Your older brother’s friend, Billy Reynolds.  Right upstairs in your bedroom.”

Holly was stunned into silence.  How could they know this?  Not allowed time to figure it out, the wand inched closer.  The young blonde quickly slipped one, then the other foot through the openings of the panties.  Drawing it upward, she was surprised when the leg openings began squeezing her limbs at only mid thigh.

“We’ve got a long trip ahead,” the first man said, “and if you’re going to piss yourself, we don’t want you stinking up the van.”

The crude manner in which these men spoke, was another psychological blow to the teen.  Struggling with the panties, she felt the tip of the larger latex prod kiss the lips of her vulva.  Wishing to go no farther, yet desiring the punishing shocks even less, Holly worked the shaft inside her vagina.  Evidently, the probe had already been lubricated.

She had to pause in order to perform the nauseating task of positioning the prod which would enter her rectum.  Seeing no other way, she cupped the crotch panel of the latex panties and pushed both violators inside her.  Holly wasn’t sure where the fortitude to came from to complete this task with out going into hysterics came from.  She was at once horrified at what she was being forced to do, yet almost ‘grateful’ that she was able to avoid another debilitating shock.  The young blonde felt the two tiny nodes on the outside of the crotch panel, but had no clue as to their purpose.  Bile swirled in her stomach as the probes slid in to the hilt.  Although the front and back prods were the size of an adult thumb and forefinger respectively, she’d never imagined she could feel so disgustedly full. 

Not being allowed any time to adjust, she was ordered to pull the waistband of the panties up in place.  They turned out to be an extremely full cut,  coming up almost to her navel and tightly masking her hips.  Each leg of the panties actually extended down her thighs a few inches, gripping the muscles firmly.  Holly prayed she wouldn’t have to urinate.  The remarkably tight fit of the garment insured there would be no leakage.

“Good girl.”  The second man said in a surprisingly gentle voice.  “Keep following orders and you’ll do fine”.

“Do fine!?!”  Holly thought.  “I’ve just had to rape myself with your perverted panties!”

Sensibly, she kept this observation to herself.

From the black duffel bag one of them carried when they’d forced her back to the study, came a blood red jacket.  The light from the desk lamp behind her sparkled off its surface and the many chromed buckles adorning it.  Cautiously, the man holding the cattle prod handed her a small, plastic container.

“It’s talcum powder.”  He explained.  “Spread it over both arms.”

Completely baffled as to why this had to be done, Holly nonetheless complied, almost grateful that it didn’t require her to demean herself once again.  When finished, the other man stepped forward holding the ‘jacket open.  The teen noticed that although his partner had moved to one side, he was never out of striking distance.  It demoralized the girl, that the men never once provided an opportunity to run or cry out for help.  Not that shouting would do any good.  The nearest home was ½ a mile away.

Realizing the task required of her and hoping that cooperation would spare her any more pain, the sixteen year old raised her arms and slid them into the sleeves of the jacket.  The need for the powder quickly became clear.  Almost immediately, Holly felt the grip of the tight inner circumference of the sleeves on her skin.  She could not know that the jacket was made from a fusion of latex and Kevlar.  Remarkably pliable, it boasted properties of incredible strength and tear resistance.  A young, vibrant body such as hers stood no chance of damaging it.

Working one sleeve at a time, her assailant soon had her arms inserted into the garment.  Holly was surprised to find that there was no opening at the end of the sleeves.  What she found, surprised her even more.  Her fingers slipped into individual pockets, separated by some kind of dense foam padding.  As the man moved back behind her, she experimentally tried to make a fist.  Though her fingers would flex slightly, any real dexterity was impossible.

“It’s a straightjacket!”  The teen realized.

She’d seen pictures and had watched “Lethal Weapon”, but this ‘garment’ was unlike any of those.  The blonde complied with the orders to hold her arms out to the sides, a numbness of disbelief sweeping over her.  After the man had weaved the steel reinforced leather lacing through the hooked grommets on the back of the jacket, her torso was rocked back and forth as he proceeded to tighten them.

Terror welled back up inside her, as she felt herself becoming trapped within the increasingly tight grip of the jacket.  Her eyes darted to the relatively close proximity of the door, then to the man with the cattle prod.  He was watching her intently, as if almost expecting her to bolt.  A sob racked her lithe body and she remained still.

Running, as both men knew, would have done her no good.  She was already a goner.  Once her arms had become seated within the jacket, the teen had lost the use of her hands.  In the unlikely event that she had managed to reach the front door, she’d have found herself unable to manipulate the door knob.  In addition to this, the deadbolt had been engaged, its key resting in the taller man’s pants pocket. 

As Holly stood there, her concentration was focused inward.  The squeeze of the jacket was becoming alarmingly snug.  Unlike the few examples she’d seen, this red abomination was growing skin tight.  The hem covered her hips at a point where it masked the upper half of her pubic hair (which lay underneath the latex panty).  It hugged her trim waist incessantly.  Worse by far, was the fact that there didn’t appear to be enough room allowed for her bust.

Certainly no Pamela Anderson, Holly still possessed a full, firm set of breasts.  These pleasing and pliant features were now being molded and squeezed into rigid cups integrated in to the jacket.  The teen felt a mysterious poking sensation riddling each orb.  She had not noticed the dozens of metal, blunt-tipped studs that populated the inner surface of the cups.  The claustrophobic fit insured maximum contact of metal on flesh, though caused no real discomfort.  Yet.

As the lacing finished at the top of a high, reasonably flexible collar, the blonde was astonished by the fit.  Though definitely on the small side, it appeared to have been made for her.  It had been.  She felt a hand slide up her spine, not knowing that a Velcro flap was being smoothed down over the latticework of lacing.  Any peeks of skin showing up the seam (there were few), vanished.

Unbelievably, they weren’t finished.  Straps that had been sewn into the jacket were now tightened.  They traversed her body at the hips, waist and chest, both above and below her breasts.  Each was buckled brutally tight.  Holly heard an oddly familiar snapping sound being repeated, but couldn’t at the moment, identify it.

Strong hands gripped her wrists.  The teen was dumbfounded when her arms were drawn behind her back.

“Aren’t they supposed to go across my chest?”  She thought, flustered.

It would not be the only time she’d fail to see the method of their madness.  Her arms were folded across her back, forearms resting against each other.  As a pair of hands held them in place, the second man finally set down the cattle prod.  Moving in front of her, his cold eyes transmitted a menacing message from behind the ski mask.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Holly whimpered, but remained still, as the man drew the ends of the straps affixed to her immobile fingertips around front.  Feeding the tongue through the buckle, he placed a hand on the teen’s sternum.  Then he pulled as if he were trying to start a lawn mower.  Instantly, the crush on the blonde’s chest intensified.  A tight band gripped her ribcage, just below her breasts. 

Holly tried desperately to ease the compression by drawing her elbows in closer and thrusting her hands in opposite directions.  This played right into her assailants hands.  He hauled in the proffered slack, the teen realizing too late, what she had done.  Her shoulders protested the strain and her lungs struggled uselessly to expand.

“Ow!  Please,” Holly gasped, “it’s too tight!”

Rather than compassion, this earned her a slap across the face.  Holly’s mouth hung open in shock as her cheek burned.  Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, but she remained silent.

“This can’t be happening”.  She thought.  But she was, as they say, living the nightmare.  And there was more to come.

The man who had struck her stooped.  When he stood, Holly noticed a peculiar look in his eyes.  Moments later, an uncompromising force crushed up between her legs.  The teen felt it dig between her latex covered ass cheeks and mash down upon her sex.  The almost forgotten probes where driven deeper inside her.

Holly realized what it was, though knew not what it was called.  The crotch strap cleaved her most prized anatomy without remorse.  She could feel the strain on her shoulders and the pull on the hem of the garment.  What was already an inescapable restraint, became incomprehensibly more secure.  The strap was buckled in proximity to her navel.

The statuesque teen noted the gleam in her assailant’s eyes, affirming that this was a man who loved what he was doing.  The look changed to one of near mirth, as he held a straightened finger in front of her face.  From it, dangled two, high security padlocks, their hasps open.  Taking one, he fed it through the eyelet on the buckle below her breasts.  After clicking it closed, he repeated the process on the union of her crotch strap.  The mysterious *snick* sound she heard earlier had been answered.  Although her useless hands and arms had already been wrenched behind her back, she was nonetheless padlocked into the garment in no fewer than six places.  A cold, hard lump of helplessness settled in her stomach.

A cautionary hand from behind was placed on her latex encased shoulder, whilst the intruder in front went to the duffle once more.  He retrieved another glossy red item.  Though not exactly “floppy”, Holly could see that it had little *******  The man knelt before her and instructed her to lift her left leg.  Obeying, the teen slipped her foot through the appropriate opening.  The right foot immediately followed.

The intruder began pulling the ‘thing’ up Holly’s legs like a pair of shorts.  No sooner had it passed her knees, that the now obvious “leggings” of the garment grew tighter.  The teen recognized the now familiar, stretchy grip of rubber.  It was the same reinforced latex that comprised the straightjacket.  Her assailant had to circle her three times, working the snug ‘outerwear’ up as he did.  When he was apparently satisfied that he couldn’t coax the redundant restraint any higher, his work moved upward.

Holly flexed her legs against the relentless grip of the rubber.  It squeezed her thigh muscles down to where it stopped, roughly six inches above her knees.  Further examination was placed on hold, as the clench slowly enveloped her.  The captive teen realized that the thing must have been rolled up like a stocking, slowly unfurling up her torso.  She was suddenly overwhelmed by the image of a rodent being consumed by a snake.  And she was the unfortunate victim.

The rubber constricted into every nook and cranny, often creating one where there hadn’t been one before.  It inexorably worked up her body, slowly covering her hips, waist, chest and finally, shoulders.  A short zipper was wrestled up from between her shoulder blades to the back of her neck, guaranteeing a ‘all over’ seal.

The beautiful teenager flexed against unyielding hold of the restraints to no avail.  The pliant outer sheath gripped her like a sausage casing.  A paralyzing panic welled up inside her.  Her head swam and she begged to awaken from this nightmare.  To her dismay, it only worsened.

Long straps were now extracted from the duffel and fed through loops stitched into the outer sheath.  With sickening certitude, these were secured around her body and padlocked.  This included a strap around each thigh, at the base of the leggings.  The beautiful, vivacious teenager had been reduced to an impotent, armless torso.

The blonde sixteen year old could stand it no longer.  Crazed with fear and panic, she thrashed hysterically.  Despite her adrenaline fueled fury, the intruders simply slipped their hands through the straps riveted at her shoulders, thus easily subduing the lissome teen’s struggles.  Constricted by the hug of her bondage, Holly’s lungs quickly lost the capacity to fuel her body.  In less than a minute, the blonde could do nothing but stand there, panting rapidly.  She’d managed to change her situation not one bit.

One of them, it was impossible to tell which, her head was swimming on the edge of blacking out, knelt by her feet.  He snatched off her ankle bracelet, a sweet sixteen birthday gift sent from her older brother, who was away at college.  Stiff, scarlet patent leather cuffs were buckled and padlocked around each ankle.  Connecting them, was a 10” steel chain which looked capable of towing a car.

Standing on either side of her, each man slipped a hand through the leather shoulder straps.

“C’mon,” the man on her right said, “you’ve got an appointment to keep.”

They easily steered her out of the study, the teen struggling to adapt to the shortened strides of the hobble.  Blessedly, the bypassed the spot where her father lay slain, instead, heading toward the back of the house.  As they approached the kitchen, Holly could see it was ablaze with light.  As they reached the threshold and she peered inside, the teen gasped in astonishment at what she saw.

                               Sixteen Candles         

                                  Part Two

After getting over the shock of seeing her husband brutally murdered, Hanna Kinkaid had fought like a woman possessed.  Not for fear of her own safety (though that was obviously a concern), but for that of her gorgeous, sixteen year old daughter, Holly.  She had clawed, kicked, scratched, punched and screamed as two men had dragged her out of the living room.  The last sight of her daughter, was that of two other men leading the stunned girl toward the study.

“I have to get to her!”  Was Hanna’s overriding thought.

Her two assailants were duly impressed by the resistance the attractive, 34 year-old blonde put up.  But, as the saying goes, they didn’t have time to deal with this shit.  Despite numerous, near debilitating shocks from the cattle prod, Hanna kept coming at them.  It finally took two, old fashioned hammer-like blows to her solar plexus, to subdue the stunningly beautiful mother of two.

Working in practiced tandem, the masked men stripped, then wrestled Hanna into a set of restraints identical to that of Holly, though the mother was unaware of this.  By the time she had regained her wind and her wits, it was well past “too late”.  In addition to her inescapable straightjacket and tight, latex sheath, the assailants had rendered the uber-MILF completely isolated and helpless. 

She was wrestled to her feet and led hobbled through the house.  Hanna knew that they’d entered the kitchen, only by touch of cool tile on her bare feet.  She was forced to sit on one of the wooden chairs.  She could feel the polished wood of the seat on the portions of her thighs not encased in the hybrid rubber. 

And still, she struggled to free herself, twisting and writhing to the very finite limits of her restraints, not giving up until she was close to passing out from her inadequate intake of oxygen.  Completely winded and terrified, she sat there, her back held straight by the severity of her bondage.  She knew not, what was to come next.

***

As Holly entered the kitchen, she saw its three occupants.  Two were dressed as her attackers, in black from head to toe.  The third was seated.  Holly immediately knew it was her mother, and by the hump curving the ‘sausage casing’ tight outer layer of latex beneath her shoulder blades, the girl knew her mother was bound the same as she.  There were however,  two differences.  Holly’s mother was bound in shining turquoise latex, opposed to Holly’s scarlet.  Whatever the color, their identical bondage was severe and inescapable.

The other difference was that her mother had no head.  Or rather, it had been encased in something that looked like an aqua-colored, futuristic space helmet.  Strange domes covered her ears and Holly could see the edges of the wide, turquoise hued patent leather straps that crushed her mother’s mouth and eyes.  Around her neck, was an inconceivably high, plastic collar.  The glistening aqua shell of the collar held her mother’s head rigidly stationary.

“Mom!  MOM!”  The fearful teen called out.

Her immobile mother didn’t even flinch at the sound of her daughter’s voice.  That was because she hadn’t heard it.  For beneath the sound dampening headphones built-in to the patent leather helmet, foam plugs had already been inserted deep into her ear canals.  Hanna Kinkaid could hear nothing but the thrum of her pulse and the ghostly sounds of her shallow breathing.  Had she known that her daughter was nearby, Hanna would still have been unable to make the slightest sound of reassurance or concern.  Holly was about to find out why.

The teen was plunked down on another chair, facing away from her mother.  The hobble was temporarily unfastened, only to be looped around the chair leg and secured.  Running (or walking) away, was again, not an option.  One of her original kidnappers (Holly couldn’t be sure, they all looked alike) stood behind her.  He grasped the shoulder straps of the outer sheath firmly, insuring the sixteen year old remained seated.  Another masked assailant knelt in front of her.  Holly peered at him with wide frightened eyes.

“P-Please,” she sputtered, “why are you doing this?” 

Instead of an answer, he spoke with what could almost have been taken for compassion.

“Don’t fight it and this will go much easier.”  He said softly, yet firmly.

Holly watched as he rolled an orange rubber cone between his fingers.  When compressed enough, he inserted the cone into the girl’s left ear.  When her right ear was filled, Holly had been rendered virtually deaf.  The teenager whimpered at yet another alien sensation.

She looked at the man once again and saw that he was opening his mouth exaggeratedly wide.  Mechanically, Holly mimicked his actions.  A black, misshapen object approached her head.  She remembered the weird helmet her mother’s head was encased in.  Reflexively, she bucked, but the strong hands held her in place.  They squeezed her shoulders painfully until Holly opened her mouth once more.  She felt, rather than heard, her own frightened groan.

A flaccid rubber bladder slid between her teeth.  Holly retched at the horrid taste, but it was too late to spit it out.  Quickly, the black leather interior of her own helmet swung up in front of her face.  The unpleansantries continued, as a firm set of rubber tubes were worked up her nostrils.  The ravishing teenager found that air passed freely through them.

And then her world went momentarily dark, as the helmet was pulled over her face.  Holly’s vision returned, as the eyeholes were aligned.  The halves of the helmet were drawn around back.  Her head began to jerk involuntarily back as the laces were tightened.  The helmet grew tighter and tighter until she thought her head might implode.

There was an unexpected yank on the back of her head, which coincided with her lips being crushed flat beneath the coarse lining of the headgear.  The band of pressure was uniform around her head and Holly realized it was the same exterior gag strap she’d seen used on the outside of her mother’s helmet.  Tears spilled out from behind the eyeholes, soaking into the pungent hide.

The man fumbled beneath her nose and suddenly, the rubber balloon inside her mouth began to swell!  Holly screeched once more, as the space inside her mouth rapidly vanished.  Her tormentor kept a close watch on her eyes, gauging from them, when to stop the inflation.  Apparently, his concept of Holly’s limits were drastically different from her own.  Or perhaps, he had a better understanding of the tolerances the female body could endure.

The foul tasting rubber continued to expand, flattening her tongue and encroaching on the back of her throat.  Holly screamed for him to stop, which triggered her gag reflex.  The man waited for the retching and dry heaves to pass, then gave the inflator one final pump.  The import was immediately clear to the teenager.  Although she was unimaginably silenced by the gag and leather helmet, she would have to voluntarily remain quiet, in order to keep from triggering a deadly choking episode.

Her chin was forced up as an inflexible collar was secured around her throat.  When it was latched secure, Holly’s pulse throbbed with the relentless pressure.  Her head was held rigid, her neck elongated.  Once more, she looked pleadingly at the man before him. 

She saw now that he was holding a mirror.  The blonde teen stared into a reflection she did not recognize as her own.  Her dazzling, gray-blue eyes peered back at her, wide with fear and duress.  Everything else was trapped beneath the unyielding grip of scarlet patent leather.  A mirror behind her shifted, allowing her to see that the gag strap had been padlocked on.  Were she completely unrestrained, the helmet could still not be removed.

That was the last image she saw, as the blindfold cloaked her in darkness.  After it was firmly buckled, the felt a light tap on the back of her head.  Somehow, she knew that it too had been locked on.  She felt the hobble chain released from the chair leg and strong hands lifted her standing.  A tug on the front of the collar that could only have been from a leash, signaled her to move forward.  She was helpless to do anything but comply.

Holly’s bare legs registered the cool, evening air as she was marched outside.  She prayed that her mother was with her, but had no way of knowing if this were true.  Descending the steps, she winced beneath the smothering leather helmet, as she was forced to walk across the gravel driveway.

Strong hands lifted her and she found herself standing on the cold, corrugated floor of a vehicle.  The leash tugged once more and she followed its lead.  A hand on her latex covered breast signaled her to stop.  Unseen hands did something down by her crotch, then she was roughly pushed seated.  The seat or bench was hard and unpadded.

Strong hands grasped her ankles and pushed them under the bench.  Waiting there, was a wooden pillory set at a forty-five degree angle.  Once her ankles were in place, the other half was clamped down and locked.  Her legs would remain bent, feet beneath her seat, for the duration of the journey.

She was pressed back hard against the wall of the vehicle.  A broad strap was cinched down across her thighs, making her one with the bench.  Incredibly, her knees were strapped together, as if she stood any chance of moving from that spot.  More straps, probably anchored to the wall behind her, were drawn across her waist and chest.  A padlock was secured through a “D” ring on the back of her collar to a ring anchored in the wall behind her.  Finally, some kind of tether was attached to the top of her helmet and drawn up tight to the ceiling.  Holly was now literally, incapable of moving a muscle.

As if her terror and confusion weren’t enough already, the vivacious birthday girl nearly went catatonic when one of her breathing tubes abruptly stopped working.  But then the flow of air resumed.  In fact, it seemed that the gas was being forced into her lungs.  Holly felt no different and gratefully assumed she was being given oxygen to prevent asphyxiation.  She was partly right.

A gentle vibration tickled the backs of her thighs and the teenager guessed that the engine had started.  She at once hoped that her mother was with her and prayed that she’d been spared this horrible nightmare.  Again, there was no way of knowing which was true.  She could feel the vehicle sway slightly as they left the driveway.  She herself, didn’t budge an inch.

Behind her, Holly left the comforts of her home.  Ahead of her, she had no idea of what lie.  Quiet tears mixed with the sweat beneath the stifling leather helmet.  Her freedoms had been wrested from her, her voice, silenced.  She had no choice but to sit there and await whatever someone else had planned for her.

On the other side of the van, Holly’s mother, Hanna, sat in equally restrained silence, pondering much the same thing.  Her contemplations were interrupted, when the prods on her vagina and anus suddenly swelled.  She couldn’t suppress the startled squeal of surprise.  She hitched and sputtered, fighting back the urge to retch.

After managing to calm herself somewhat, the ravishing blonde screamed once more, as powerful electric shocks assaulted her breasts, vagina and rectum.  They weren’t constant, but pulsed intermittently at seemingly random intervals and intensities.  To Hanna, it felt like her most intimate, private places were being attacked by hundreds of white hot needles.   Her bladder let go, the warm fluid wicking between her skin and latex panties.

At the same time, the sharp sounds of a whip on flesh, accompanied by the anguished screams of a woman in agony, blared through the headphones of the discipline helmet.  The sexy mother of two, could do nothing to shut out the horrifying sound.  It assaulted her brain with a mind numbing intensity.  She found herself unable to form even the thought, that she hoped her daughter was not suffering the same fate. 

Holly was suffering a similar, but completely different occurrence.  The breast cups and crotch panels of both women’s straight jackets had been fitted with the blunt metal spikes.  They were in fact conduits for electrical impulses.  They could deliver incredible pain, as was Hanna’s experience, or something completely different.  For Holly, it was an oscillating vibration that wasn’t at all unpleasant.  Her breasts and nipples, vagina and clitoris seemed to vibrate with pleasurable sensations.  Even her rectum and ring of her anus were tickled by the impulses.  Through her headphones flowed the sounds of a woman, deep in the throes of sexual passion.

For a sixteen year-olds body, at the height of its sexual awakening, the feelings were deep and conflicting.  She knew she shouldn’t be liking this, but it felt so GOOD!  Her breathing became more shallow and rapid.  She began to rock against her restraints and couldn’t stop herself. 

Holly felt the first climax coming, but could do nothing to prevent it.  She wasn’t really sure if she wanted too.  When she came, it was like no other experience she’d ever felt.  Oh, she’d masturbated before, but this was on an infinitely grander scale.  She was blinded by intense flashes of light behind her eyes and her whole body seemed to levitate from the seat.  The crescendo nearly caused her to pass out.

As the orgasm faded, the teen was left completely exhausted.  She fought to catch her breath.  The impulses though, never wavered.  Holly groaned, as she felt the much too soon tickle of arousal radiate out from her sex.  Surely another orgasm would kill her.  But when it (and she) came again, it didn’t.  And neither did the countless others to follow.

One of the four kidnappers chosen to watch over the captives, did so with great interest.  In order to get paid, they had to deliver two, living hostages.  His eyes scanned back and forth across the van, carefully monitoring each motionless woman.  He sat close enough to listen to their breathing, whistling in and out of the nose tubes.  That, and the faint, shrill whines that whispered from them.

He could detect virtually no movement, which was exactly what they wanted to accomplish.  Unable to do anything but sit there and endure, was a powerful psychological weapon.  Looking at the two lithesome blondes, one bound in turquoise, the other crimson, the man thought to himself, “Some lucky bastard is going to celebrate Christmas early this year”.

       

                               Sixteen Candles

                                       Part 3

Less than ninety seconds after the van started rolling, both Hanna and Holly were completely, utterly, totally disoriented.  Oh, they knew where they were (in the back of some type of vehicle), but that summed up the extent of the acuity to their location.  So stringently strapped to the side walls of the vehicle, neither woman could discern which way they had turned out of their own driveway.  Whichever direction, each knew that they were passing friends’ homes where they’d barbequed, had sleepovers, chatted on the front lawn, or at least waved ’hello’ when they passed.  There would be no waving this trip.  A trip which still had another 4 hours to go.

***

The masked kidnapper picked from the quartet to ride in the back, had very little to do after striking the “Enter“ key on the laptop connected to the umbilicals leading to the two captives.  That didn’t mean that there weren’t things he’d love to perform.  Here he was, sitting less than five feet from two of the most gorgeous “women” he’d ever seen.  Sure, one was only sixteen, but she could easily pass for someone ten years older. 

However, glancing up at the web cams affixed in the four corners of the van, he knew there was no way to ‘cop a feel’ and get away with it.  Their orders had been explicit, “Touch only as was necessary to subdue”.  There had been no veiled threats, but someone with enough juice to pull off an operation like this, surely had connections.  Better just to get paid, then develop amnesia.

The man idly wondered what was happening to the two captives.  He’d anticipated a certain amount of struggling, that was to be expected.  But the two blondes were obviously still very agitated within their strict bondage.  He assumed it had something to do with the umbilical they’d attached to each prisoner’s crotch panels. 

“Surely they still can’t be trying to get free.”  He pondered.  “Harry Fuckin’ Houdini couldn’t get out of those restraints.”

He didn’t know half the story. 

***

The poor woman shrieking into Hanna’s head provided the perfect exclamation to what the 34 year old mother was suffering.  Oh, the vivacious blonde was doing more than her fair share of wailing, but any noise escaping the exterior of the insidious pump gag and helmet, sounded deceptively quiescent to the babysitting kidnapper sitting nearby.  The same was true for the latex straightjacket and body sheath.  Hanna thrashed as if she were drowning, yet her struggles were limited to subtle twitches.

A steady flow of oxygen and mild stimulant kept the curvy blonde in a very agitated state (as if her bondage wasn’t enough).  She was completely unaware of the effects of the gas.  She was also incognizant of the soothing, yet firm voice which whispered through the headphones, masked by the wail of the screaming stranger.  A voice which repeated the same message over and over again.  A message that was slowly seeping into Hanna’s subconscious.

“Disobedience causes pain…Disobedience causes pain…Disobedience causes pain…”  the voice droned on and on.

This continued for the first quarter of the four hour trip.  At the end of that first hour, things changed dramatically.  With no warning, the shocks suddenly terminated.  The anguished cries of the stranger also stopped, but continued to ring in Hanna’s ears.  The tightly restrained blonde sat there gasping, not wondering why the “treatment“ had stopped, just grateful that it had.  Then the vibrations began.  To the pinioned 34 year-old, they felt more like a soft, pleasant hum.  Her hyper-sensitive body reacted immediately to the change in stimulus.

As much as the shocks had made Hanna want to cringe away, these new sensations seemed to coax her into their embrace.  At the same time, a soft, feminine and very lusty moan wafted through her headphones.  She did not hear the new command that accompanied it.

“Servitude may bring you pleasure…Servitude may bring you pleasure…Servitude may bring you pleasure…”

The stunning MILF fought her body’s reaction that came with this new stimulus.  For a while.  But it was so incessant!  And she had no where to go to escape its manipulations.  Hanna was shocked to find that her vagina had begun clamping down on the bloated prod within her.  Her arousal swelled like a mushroom cloud, the blonde helpless to quell it.  When she came, it was so powerful as to be almost painful.  Although her body suffered an explosion of energy, her babysitter barely noticed the subdued quiver.  Distractedly, Hanna prayed that her sweet, innocent daughter was not suffering a similar fate.

Contrary to her mother’s hopes, Holly was indeed suffering right along with her, in her own private hell.  For now, it was the young blonde’s turn to suffer the punishment phase of the journey.  The shocks assailed her relentlessly, the sixteen year-old having nowhere to escape.  The soft, desirous moans in her head had been replaced by an ear shattering wail of pain.  Powerful current assailed tender flesh that had never known such torment.  And all the while, an unheard voice explained the parameters of the birthday girl’s new life.

“A slave exists only to please her Master.  Rebellion causes pain.  Only the Master can grant pleasure.”  “

“A slave exists only to please her Master.  Rebellion causes pain.  Only the Master can grant pleasure.”  “

A slave exists only to please her Master…”

Completely unawares, Holly’s psyche was soaking up these new directives.

***

“They seem to be responding to the program.”  Said the young man standing behind an older gentleman.

“Yes.”  Agreed the gentleman, obviously pleased, but not surprised. 

“They’ll not be transformed by the time they arrive, of course.  But the ’softening up’ process will be well under way.  From there, it’s simply a matter of good old-fashioned dominance and discipline.”

“Is everything arranged?”  He asked his protégé.

“Yes sir.”  Came the answer.

“Well then,” he concluded, “we’d best be off.”

He shut down the elaborate computer system, diverting the live feed to a hard drive to record the rest of the women’s trip.  The powerful laptop in the van would continue its pre-set program, alternating the “tutorials” each captive was receiving.  The two men then left for the rendezvous.

***

The van pulled into the enormous parking lot of the Neshaminy Mall, outside of Philadelphia, fifteen minutes early.  Traffic had been light.  Neither the driver, nor the other five occupants, knew that they were being watched from the moment the exited the Pennsylvania Turnpike.  The van drove to a predetermined location and parked. 

Three of the men got out, and after a careful survey of the area, rapped “All Clear” on the back of the van.  The fourth hopped out to join them.  By now, all had changed into casual clothes.  They spotted the aging SUV that had been left for them.  Climbing in, one of them checked the GPS resting on the dashboard.  Sure enough, the location to pick up the other half of their $400,000 fee had been programmed in.

“Let’s go get paid.”  The driver said to his accomplices and headed toward the exit.  He saw that his timing was perfect, the light at the bottom of the exit about to turn green.

The man with the binoculars watched, as the SUV turned on to the steep driveway that egressed from the parking lot toward US Route 1.  He thumbed the remote in his hand.  The quartet never heard the tiny *pop*, as the cellulose encased explosives destroyed the brake and power steering lines.

In his haste to get paid, the driver rushed to make the light.  He stepped on the brake in order to slow for the turn.  Nothing happened!  Startled, he tried wrenching the wheel to the right, but it refused to cooperate.  The others in the vehicle were a little slow to pick up this development.  When they did, the were frozen in shock.

The vehicle “shot” across the four lanes of highway doing 35 mph.  Directly ahead, reflective orange and white striped barrels had been placed where a terribly inadequate barrier once stood.  The barrier had been dismantled in preparation for installing one much more stout.  You see, what lie beyond, was an impressive 140 foot drop into an abandoned limestone quarry.  Several unfortunate vehicles over the past decade had plummeted into this pit.  Funding had only just now become available to see that this never happened again.

The SUV brushed the barrels aside, the occupants finally finding their voice.  As one, they screamed in terror.  One of the men in back managed to throw open his door and jump.  Unfortunately, the vehicle’s momentum shot him forward.  He bounced once off the pavement, then flew out over the chasm.  The other three in the SUV were close behind.

The observer watched only long enough to see the SUV go over the side.  He’d personally replaced the missing gas cap with a rag on the vehicle‘s topped off gas tank.  A black plume of smoke told him that the gasoline had splashed out upon impact, igniting the wreckage.  The police would have their hands full identifying the corpses.

He strolled casually over to the van, his mentor already behind the wheel.  Obeying all the traffic rules, they headed out of the parking lot.  The sirens of emergency vehicles yet to be heard.

                               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.”

                               Sixteen Candles

                                    Part Five

Each man clipped a small, wireless microphone to the collar of his button down shirt.  Both were dressed “Country Club” casual.  Crisply pressed, tailored slacks, fitted polo shirts and Gucci loafers.  This was to be their ‘uniform’.  They had no intention of parading around garbed in black, an executioner’s mask shielding their identity.  Their comfortable attire, in contrast to their prisoners’ insidious restraints, made it quite clear who was in charge.

It had been previously decided that Hanna, would be the first captive “enlightened”.  The younger man took his position, then unlocked and removed the MILF’s blindfold.

The stunning blonde 34 year-old blinked away her tears furiously, regaining her sight for the first time in what seemed like days.  Even though the light in the room was subdued, it still stabbed her eyes painfully.  Feeling as though she was wasting precious moments in which to gather information to her whereabouts ( and that of her daughter), Hanna forced herself to pry open her eyelids. 

Through misty vision, she saw a large room that had a decidedly masculine air to it.  Though still quite blurry, the blonde mother of a teenage son and daughter sensed something familiar about the surroundings.  Before she could her finger on it (figuratively), a tall figure filled her vision.

He watched as Hanna’s eyes narrowed to focus, then *SNAP* open as wide as headlights, in recognition.  The astonishment in those beautiful blue eyes was palpable.  He watched with a neutral expression, a slight smile curling the lips on the side of his face that still worked, as the blonde writhed hysterically on her chromed mount.  He waited until either exhaustion, or the pain through her crotch became too great, and the beauty stilled.  Then he keyed his microphone.

“Hello Hanna.”  He said, casually.  “Welcome to your new home.”

The fettered 34 year-olds’ shock was almost enough to blunt the crush and grind of her predicament.  She stared into the face that had once been extraordinarily handsome.  A face that she knew well.  A face that she was at one time, going to marry.  It was the face of her Brother-in-Law, Eric.

“hhfmmnghh!?!”  The blonde’s exclamation dribbled out from behind the discipline helmet.

“Yes,” Eric replied, “it’s nice to see you again, too.”

Hanna’s head spun.  Memories came rushing back.  She’d met Eric at a mixer, her freshman year of college.  He was preparing to graduate with a degree in Business Administration, suitably preparing him to take over the family business.  Their courtship seemed natural, the two of them making the finest looking couple on campus.  But then came the fateful visit to meet Eric’s family.  There, Hanna had met Eric’s younger brother, Peter.

“Oh God!”  Thought Hanna, the vision of her dead husband lying on the floor of the foyer, flashed before her eyes.

***

When she had met Peter that first night, the chemistry had been immediate, incendiary and eternal.  Though they tried to hide their feelings for each other, it was like asking the Moon to leave its orbit around Earth.  They tried to keep their romance a secret, but Eric eventually found out.  Stricken with grief, he and a bottle of Jack Daniels had gotten behind the wheel of his SL-450. 

Had it been a lesser vehicle, he probably would have been killed.  As it was, his shattered body required months of rehabilitation, the left side of his face a mass of twisted scar tissue.  Hanna and Peter had tried to remain apart out of respectful guilt, but were quickly drawn to each others arms once more.  Eventually, the three of them seemed to reach an accord.  Eric, still on crutches, served as Best Man at their wedding.

Hanna’s life had been one of fairytale books, the past seemingly forgiven, right up to this very day.  The day of her daughter’s sixteenth birthday.  Now, that world had taken an inconceivably nightmarish turn.  It would prove to only get worse.

***

“I’ve spent a great deal of time and resources acquiring you.”  Eric’s voice drummed through the headphones.

“Acquiring?”  Thought Hanna.  It sounded disturbingly inhumane.  And then another thought struck her.

“hhnnnmmfff!”  Although her bleat sounded like little more than a sigh, Eric seemed to understand completely.

“Oh yes!”  He said, the warped smile returning.  “Dear, sweet Holly is nearby as well.  Perhaps, if you’re good, I’ll let you see her.  Eventually.”

Despite the choking gag and crushing helmet, Hanna launched into a stream of impassioned pleas.

“ERIC, let her GO!  Please, what happened between you and I couldn’t be helped!  Love has no boundaries!  It won’t let us choose sides!  Take me, but please, PLEASE, spare my daughter!”

He stood there, listening to the unintelligible grunts and moans of his prisoner, perhaps not understanding each and every word, but comprehending their meaning nonetheless.  His expression turned dark, a weird mix of mirth and annoyance twisting his marred face.  Of all the things Hanna expected to hear, a chuckle was not one of them.

“Oh, you conceited little wench!”  He spat.  “When will you learn that it’s not all about YOU!”

“No,” Eric continued, “you are not my ‘prize’, as you so arrogantly think.  Holly, will have the privilege of being my slave.  I’ll let you watch, as I transform her into my bondage slut, eager to lick my balls and swallow my seed.”

Nausea and disbelief swept over the gorgeous housewife.  This couldn’t be happening.  She lurched at the smirking man, wishing nothing more than to wrap her manicured fingers around his throat.  She had to, HAD TO, do something to keep this lecher away from her daughter.  But her restraints didn’t even creak from her efforts. 

The frustration of her helplessness was maddening.  She “hung” there, fighting the urge to break down in tears.  She had to remain strong if she was going to find a way out if this dire situation.  She fixed Eric with a withering stare.  He returned her gaze until finally, Hanna’s eyes dropped to the floor.  She looked up, as he spoke once more.

“I see you still have spirit.”  Eric’s voice boomed through the headphones.  “Good.  That will make your Master’s task of breaking you that much more challenging.  And infinitely more rewarding when you finally succumb to his dominance.”

Eric cast his glance to the side and Hanna looked that way, as far as the neck brace and helmet would allow.  If it were possible for her eyes to bulge from their sockets, the blonde’s appeared to do just that, when a second man walked into view.

“Hello, Mother.”  Hanna’s 20 year-old son, James said.  “Or should I say, Slave.”

                               Sixteen Candles

                                  Part Six

“”ggnmmphh!?!”  Hanna grunted part astonishment, horror and complete disbelief.

Her son looked back at her, showing a total lack of concern or unease about his mother’s bizarrely restrained condition.  If anything, his eyes blazed with lust.  Lust and POWER!

Hanna went ballistic.  She flew into a frenzied struggle with her bonds , all the while trying to communicate at the same time.  She hummed and harrumphed, ordering him to let her go this instant!  Rather than snapping out of it, James instead, looked rather amused by it all.  After a few minutes, whatever reserves the blonde had left were completely spent.  She had nothing to show for it but a badly bruised crotch, a restrained body bathed in sweat and a head swooning with shock and oxygen debt.

“nnnnghh?!?”  The mother’s gasping moan had a decidedly questioning ring to it.

“Why, Slave?”  James mocked.  “Well, I’m sure there’s something Oedipal about it, but the real truth is, you’re still one hot bitch.  I’ve wanted to fuck your brains out since before I got my first pubic hair.”

“And now you’re all mine.”  James said as he moved closer.

He ran his hand down Hanna’s naked thigh, triggering a shudder through his mother’s body.  The woman who bore him, hardly recognized the man who stood before her.  Her head spun, the events of the evening too surreal to comprehend.  Her husband murdered, she and her daughter ruthlessly bound and kidnapped.  And all of this done by her brother-in-law and her own SON!  She wished insanity would sweep her up and carry her to a world of blessed ignorance.  It was a wish never to be granted.  Her wide blue eyes locked on Eric’s face as he spoke again.

“You see, cunt,” her brother-in-law explained (At that moment, Hanna did not know then, that she would not hear her name uttered again for a very long time).

“I first noticed James had potential as a Slaver when he was 12.  He has not disappointed me, showing an appetite and aptitude for domineering women.” 

“Over the past seven years, I have taught him all there is to know about breaking and training the lesser of the species.  I bet you didn’t know about all those high school and college girls he’s bound, tormented and disciplined.”

Eric paused to look in his sister-in-law’s expressive blue eyes.  It was clear she hadn’t had a clue.

“No, I didn’t think so.  Thus testament to his mastery of the craft.  I dare say it is second only to myself.  NONE of those women he controlled and defiled ever confided in another living soul, the demeaning things done to them, so complete was his hold over them.  You, my pet, will be but another in a long line of conquests, groveling at his feet and wishing nothing but to serve him.”

Hanna wanted to lash out, scream at them, anything to let them know what utter madness this was.  But she hadn’t the strength. She perched there, unable to fight, or argue, or even topple over.  Never had she felt so completely helpless.

“I’ll leave you alone for a while, pet.”  Eric said, “To ponder the new task that lie before you.  MASTER James will be along later to collect you and begin your training as his slave.  I offer one bit of advice.  Obey EVERY command as if your life depended on it.  For that is, very much the case.”

Eric reached up to secure the blindfold, then paused.

“Know this.”  He said.  “The person you woke up as this morning, no longer exists.  She is nothing but a memory.  Forget her.  You are nothing but an object now, a vessel in which to dispense pleasure and receive pain.  Nothing more.”

The blindfold closed over Hanna’s eyes, her whine not thwarting the darkness that enveloped her.  Eric’s voice boomed in her head, just before the white noise assailed her yet again.

“And now I must perform the sad duty of notifying the authorities, that my dear brother lie slain in the entranceway to his fine home, no doubt the victim of his lovely, yet mentally unstable wife.  Unfortunately, I have no idea the whereabouts of the homicidal Hanna Kinkaid.” 

“Even more worrisome, It appears that Hanna has taken my dear, sweet, innocent young niece, Holly, as hostage.  I fear the worst for the beautiful girl, who just today celebrated her sixteenth birthday.”

Eric’s tone switched after delivering the prepared monologue, to one of pure lechery.

“And now,” he all but purred, “I must introduce myself to my own little fucktoy.”

The electronic static thundered through Hanna’s head once more, pulverizing her thoughts into a kaleidoscope of splintered ideas.  She could not have felt more isolated walking on the moon.  Her strongest emotion was a maternal one.  Almost in unison, Hanna wondered how she could have lost her son to such an evil disposition.  At the same time, she pondered how to save her daughter from these “strangers” she thought she knew.  But how, when she was unable to free herself?  Her powerlessness was vexing.

Making matters worse, she seemed to notice the heat cast off from the fireplace behind her, for the first time.  It made the cloying grip of the inflexible latex and leather restraints seem that much more stifling.  Inside the straight jacket and latex sheath, the climate had taken on the atmosphere of a steam bath.  Once more, but with little fortitude, she twisted against the double-layered restraints.  Nothing.  She flexed her involuntarily spread legs.  Ditto.  Hanna tried to tell herself to be strong, but could not stop the flow of tears which exacerbated the clammy interior of her helmet.