Candie stood 5 feet, 5 inches tall and weighed a mere 110 pounds. Her lightly tanned face was accented by deep blue eyes, a button nose, full lips, and was surrounded by long blonde hair. She was just past her eighteenth birthday, and her class had recently graduated from their small town high school.
Candie had been an early bloomer. Her breasts had started developing while she was still in elementary school. By the time she started her freshman year of high school, she had a firm set of B-cup tits. By the time she graduated, her tits had filled out to become C-cups. The rest of Candie's slender body had kept pace with her tits' development. She had long, shapely, legs that were brought together by a nicely rounded ass. Candie was as close to being a living Barbee doll as any human could be.
Candie had indeed grown into a lovely young lady. The problem was, she knew it. She had become a remorseless tease, and gleefully tortured any boy who dared approach her for a date, even those who only wanted to be her friend. All through high school, as she grew older and her body developed, nearly every boy who knew her had asked her out.
From an early age, Candie would laugh, cup her breasts in her hands, and tell her suitors. "Drool all you want, I'm saving these for someone who can afford me."
Candie admitted she wasn't looking for a boy to love her. She was looking for any man that had a fat checkbook.
She hadn't been much nicer to the girls she had gone to school with. She frequently referred to them as jealous, titless, little bitches that resented her for her good looks.
Through their senior year of high school, many of the boys had grown more and more resentful of Candie's attitude. Five of them, part of a rough and less than popular group, had an especially strong dislike for Candie. It seemed she took extra delight in dressing provocatively and parading past them every chance she got.
"One of these days, she's going to get what she deserves." George often said after Candie had flounced by. George was something of a leader of his group, and the others tended to agree with his assessment of Candie's future.
One warm summer night, George and his buddies had bought a couple of pizzas. They were leaning on their cars eating and generally shooting the shit.
As luck would have it, Candie had decided to pick up a pizza before heading home that same night. As usual, she only sneered at them when the guys said hello and asked her how her night was going.
"That bitch needs to be taught some manners." George told his friends.
Almost in unison, they all replied. "Hell yeah!"
It was then that a plot was hatched. That bitch, Candie, would be taught a few lessons in manners. They figured someone had to do it. Why not them?
Over the next few days, George and the guys discussed their plans for Candie. They started gathering the required supplies. They soon had what they needed. A rope, a gag, a bag to put over her head, rags, and ether (starting fluid stolen from a local auto parts store) were all stashed in the trunk of George's car.
George also picked up a few supplies from the pet store and adult toy store. He bought four small dog collars, two steel food bowls, and a leash from the pet store. From the adult toy store, he bought a large leather collar, several tubes of sexual lubricant, and a rather large butt-plug. The others laughed their asses off when George showed them the extra supplies.
The capture would be the most critical, and dangerous, time for the guys. After they had her they would need to take her some place where they would not be discovered. George's deceased uncle's barn would do nicely. The details were soon worked out, and the conspirators only had to wait for the opportunity to carry out their plan.
Candie lived with her parents in an average home on the edge of town. Her home sat about 150 yards from the nearest neighbor on a paved, two-lane, rural road. Behind the house was a wooded area with a seldom used dirt road running through it.
After about two weeks, an opportunity presented itself. Candie's parents left for a Mexican vacation. Candie had stayed home alone.
Late the following Friday night, a dark colored car rolled silently to the side of the dirt road. The lights from Candie's house could not be seen through the trees, and the car was not visible from her house or the neighbors' houses. Gathering the things they needed, George and the boys slipped through the woods.
In a short time, they stood at the edge of the woods near the rear of Candie's home. They watched as, one by one, the lights went out in the house. Finally, the light in Candie's bedroom winked out.
After giving what they considered enough time for Candie to fall asleep, they put on their ski masks, crossed the yard, and prepared to enter her darkened house. With a quick flip of his pocket knife, George had the rear door open. Quietly, they moved through the kitchen, down the hallway, and gathered outside Candie's bedroom.
With a rag soaked in the ether, George and the boys slipped into her room. For the briefest moment, the guys admired Candie's sleeping form. She was clad in a light blue, two piece, pajama set. The top buttoned up the front. Her matching bottoms were like lose fitting shorts.
A terrified Candie awoke for only a few seconds. As she sprang up, someone threw an arm around her neck. Before she could scream, her attacker covered her mouth and nose with his other hand.
"No!" She screamed. It wasn't just a hand that covered her mouth. There was something in his hand. A rag muffled her scream.
The ether soaked rag did its work swiftly. Candie quickly stopped kicking and screaming. As everything went black for Candie, she caught a fading glance of several guys standing around her bed. Finally, she slumped into unconscious in her attackers arms.
While Candie was knocked out by the ether, George and the guys bound her hands and feet. They then placed a cloth bag over her head. Still wearing only her two piece pajamas, Candie was carried from her house. They swiftly and silently carried her across her back yard, through the woods, and to the waiting car. She was placed in the trunk and its lid quietly closed. The car slowly left the area undetected.
As Candie began to come to her senses, she realized she was in the trunk of a car bouncing down a rough road. With her hands and feet tightly bound behind her, she could move very little. She could see nothing. There was something covering her head. She wondered what was going to happen to her and began to cry.
Suddenly, the car stopped. A moment later the trunk opened and Candie immediately began screaming and cussing at whoever was there. "Let me go you son-of-a-bitch. Who the hell do you think you are bastards?" She struggled as best she could as she was dragged out of the car's trunk and stood on her bound feet.
A husky male voice spoke softly into her ear. "Shut the fuck up, bitch." She then felt the covering over her head being loosened. Suddenly, a rag filled hand was again held tightly over her nose and mouth. Blackness again enveloped Candie.
When Candie began to come around again, she realized she was on a straw covered floor. The bag over her head had been removed and replaced with a soft leather hood. The hood covered the top and back of her head and extended down her face to the tip of her nose. It was held in place by leather straps running under her chin and around to the back of her skull. A small pad lock secured each strap. Her mouth and nose were unobstructed, but she still could not see.
She again began screaming at her unseen captors.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch." It was the husky male voice again. Suddenly, her left tit was roughly pinched through her pajama top. She opened her mouth to scream. But, before any sound came out, a ball-gag was roughly shove into her mouth and secured behind her head. Candie's tormentor then placed a small nylon dog collar on each wrist and each ankle.
Her binding ropes were then cut. She was stood up, walked a short distance, and turned to face the direction from which she had come. Though she couldn't see, Candie was standing in the doorway to an old horse stall. Her arms were each stretched up and out. The collars at each wrist were tied with rope to eyebolts in the top corners of the door jam. Her legs were then violently jerked apart and the collars at her ankles secured to the bottom of the door's frame. She then looked like a giant X.
George then whispered to Candie. "We're going to teach you a few lessons, bitch. You will learn it's not nice to tease people.
Candie jerked her head toward George in an attempt at hitting him. He ducked and slapped her cheek, hard. He then licked the cheek he had just slapped from the tip of her chin to near her ear.
Candie growled at him.
George reached out and firmly, but not roughly, squeezed both of Candie's tits. She unsuccessfully tried to twist away from his hands.
Almost gently, George took a hold of Candie's pajama top near her neck. He kissed her lips. When she turned her head to avoid the kiss, George tore her top open with a jerk. He took out his knife and carefully cut both sleeves and shoulders of the pajama top. It fell to the floor leaving Candie's firm tits standing in the air for all to see. Her nipples hardened as a cool breeze hit them.
"Look guys, her nips are hard. I think she's starting to enjoy our party." George said to his friends.
Candie heard several guys laughing.
When George snapped his fingers, the laughter stopped and there were hands all over Candie's tits and soft belly. The guys took turns licking and sucking her hardened nipples.
.... There is more of this story ...