1 comments/ 19309 views/ 3 favorites Candace Is Taken for a Ride By: JulianWinslow It was a conspiracy. A plot meticulously laid out by a small group of grimly determined men bent on revenge. They would arrange a little "vacation," just the four of them and their insufferable, arrogant boss, a beautiful woman whose overbearing ways were legendary throughout the corporation. It was to be an unforgettable week in a remote mountain cabin, during which Candace Ashbee would find herself shamelessly used by her four randy captors, men behaving badly who subjected her to the most extremes of sexual humiliation, to bondage and discipline, and the most unspeakable sexual depravity. This is a story of extremes, a story that skirts the outer fringe of human sexuality. The beer was flowing freely and the guys were feeling no pain, all except for Eddy Shaw that is. He was still steamed, madder than hell. He had just found out that very day what office gossip had known for weeks. He had been shafted, screwed out of the promotion of a lifetime by the bitch he worked for: one Ms Candace Ashbee. The others could only nod knowingly as he went on to describe the Boss Lady in the most graphic terms, using every one of the many nicknames the guys had for their insufferable, duplicitous, and overbearing boss. Names that included: "The girl with the Golden Cunt," "Mother Juggs," a not very subtle reference to her obvious assets, and more simply -- "The Bitch," that one used most often, even by the other female employees. Over beers after work on Fridays, she was frequently the subject of discussion as simply "that Goddamned Cunt." They all knew who that was. But the name that Lewis particularly liked was "Miz Candy Ass." He nodded to himself, well satisfied with the name he had bestowed on her. All four of the guys around that table had had a run-in with Candy Ass at sometime, and they were lucky to escape just a little bloodied. She was known as arrogant and ambitious, a conniving bitch who used people, especially men. She was originally appointed as a regional manager over better qualified men, because the company had been threatened by a feminist group for not having enough female executives. But if that threat launched Candace's meteoric career, she took full advantage of her sex once in place. It was well know that she was perfectly willing to sleep her way to top, and use that beautiful body of hers to maximum advantage. Of course sex with "underlings" or even co-workers was quite out o the question. She was much too snooty for that. No, she would preserve her precious assets for more important fish on the company's food chain. "What I wouldn't give just to get that bitch alone for just one night," Jack Crowley. "You wouldn't know what to do with her if you had her. And besides, all you'd have to do was go to sleep and she'd cut off your balls and hand them to you in a nicely wrapped package!" "She wouldn't cut anything off, cause first I'd tie her down. There's only one thing a woman like that understands," he added with drunken logic. Now Lewis who had sunk into a more mellow mood and was only half listening, sat up and leaned across the table. "Agreed!" Lewis nodded, sitting up, taking a sudden interest. "The woman needs to be tied down and fucked silly "But how would you so that Jack? If you had her for 24 hours..all yours, tell us what you would do to her." Crowley looked at Lewis, and got the feeling he was being put on, but he didn't give a damn. "Well, I'd lay her out on her back in the middle of big bed and tie her spread-eagled, you know with her legs spread wide open. Then I'd do her, once an hour, every hour. And when I wasn't in the saddle with my prick up that golden cunt, I'd shove a vibrator up her twat, just to keep her company." Lewis nodded, impressed. The graphic description conjured up a powerful erotic image in Lewis's inebriated imagination of the long bodied, beautiful brunette, her dark silky hair loose and whipping the pillows as she flung her head from side to side between outstretched arms, her pretty features contorted in the throes of a massive orgasm. The power of that image stirred him deeply; he felt an awakening movement in the front of his pants, and slipped a hand under the table to ease the progress of his unfolding cock. "And you Eddy?" he asked, warming up to his newly-invented game, "what would you do with Miz Candy Ass?" "I'd go for those big jugs of hers," was the immediate answer. " I'd have her naked, leaning over the back of a chair, all the way over, so those big floppy tits were hanging down the front between her arms. And I'd tie her hands to the legs of the chair so she was kept bent over. Then I'd go to work on those puppies, playing with those tit-bags, just feeling Miz Candy Ass up till I had her all hot and bothered and just begging for it." Again, Lewis, nodded, and let himself savor the pleasing image, of the conceited, overbearing boss lady upended over a chair. He gave Ben an inquisitive look. "I'd tie her over the back of a couch and spank that big fat candy ass." Ben offered modestly, but with a hopeful smile for the others. "How about you, Lewis? If you could do anything you wanted to Miz Candy Ass, what would you do?" "I like the idea of bending her over and tying her down. But first I'd make her beg me for it, maybe crawl around on hands and knees and sit up like a dog and beg me for it. Then I'd tie her down, and once I had her like that, I'd take her. Right up that precious candy ass!" The roar of laughter that followed showed how much his inventive approach was richly appreciated by his all male audience. "Oooh. I'll bet she wouldn't like that at all," Crowley chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, she wouldn't have much choice, now would she?" The conversation went along such lines with each proposed position getting more inventive and perverted until the hour grew late and one by one the revelers drifted off. Only Ben and Lewis remained. Neither showed much inclination to go home. The earlier gaiety had worn off, and the two men had grown more sullen as they sat nursing a final round. It was then that mild-mannered Ben told Lewis about something else that bothered him about Candace Ashee. Ben was their computer guy, and he got to know a lot about everybody in company. One of his jobs was computer security, and now he told Lewis about how he had stumbled upon an unregistered computer being used to gain access to the company's intranet. When he dug into it, he found that Ms Ashbee was using her personal laptop to make gain entry – something the company strictly outlawed. He didn't know what was going on, but it sounded suspicious to him. Lewis was intrigued. Could he find out what the bitch was up to? Well Ben allowed, he could try. Maybe someday after work. Lewis smiled to himself. He knew how much Ben just loved a challenge. *** It was late. Even by the last of the night janitors had made their way home. From outside, the glass cube of the office building was dark, except for a single windowed office on the 30th floor. Sitting there under that lone halo of light was Jonathon Lewis. He was staring at computer screen when he heard the footsteps he had been waiting for. Someone was scurrying down the lane between the rows of cubicles. Ben had found something! He knew it from the quick pace. The tech guy was rushing to find him. Lewis spun around in his chair just as Ben, draped his lanky form over the entrance to the cubicle, hanging from one hand by the thin paneled wall, a great big, shit-eatin' grin on his mostly bald face. "Looky what I got." His fellow worker held up a CD to be admired. Lewis felt a surge of excitement shoot through him. 'This was unbelievable!' "No shit! You actually got the goods on her?!" "You better believe it brother. It's all here...numbered accounts, international bank transfers, valuations, both actual AND reported, dates, times, everything!. The bitch is in deep doo-doo, right up to those big fat jugs of hers." Lewis jumped up and did a little dance. He couldn't contain himself. "Sonovabitch!" was all he could say. The two conspirators slapped hands in a joyous 'high five,' barely able to contain their glee. "I know just what I'm gonna do. Tomorrow, I get an appointment with old Fennerman. First thing in the morning. I'll bring my laptop with me, and treat the old boy to a little 'show and tell'. By 10 O'clock, Miz Candy Ass will be history around here. They might even throw her precious butt in the clink! I mean, shit, they're gonna half to go public with this stuff, and this, my friend, is what they call grand larceny. Big time!" Lewis smiled his approval of the plan, and through the picture of their insufferably arrogant boss peeking out mournfully from behind the bars of women's prison gave him a cozy glow, his mind was racing, a half formed thought rose up to niggle away at him. "Hold on a minute, Pal. Let's think this through. What we got here is a goldmine...the mother lode. How much do you think it'd be worth to her to make sure we kept this just our little secret?" Ben stepped back. The smile faded as his eyes narrowed, taking on a sly, crafty gleam. "Whaddya mean?" "I dunno," Lewis began tentatively, "but don't you see we got the arrogant bitch just where we want her. You know what she's like, always on the warpath about some sort of sexual harassment thing. "So...," Ben asked, clearly intrigued as to where all this was going. "Well, the point is, you know she's got this thing about sex, making life miserable for any poor bastard stupid enough to think he can buy her a drink and maybe get in her pants." Ben nodded knowingly, remembering his own encounter with the bitch when she was still the new girl, and he thought he might have a chance with her, even though he consistently struck out with pretty girls like her. At least most of them let him down gently. But he, like a few other men at BBR&J, bold enough to try, had been haughtily spurned by the cold, conceited beauty whose perfect ass now occupied an executive chair in the choice corner office on the 31st floor. Candace Ashbee seemed bent on a mission to put men in their place, while always babbling on about "glass ceilings," about how men were out to keep her down, complaining like the whining feminist bitch that she was. Of course it was only those under her in the organization, or her co-workers who got a full blast. To those above her, she was the pretty girl with the dazzling smile who was all sweetness and light ...Ms Candy Ass. Lewis was looking at Ben with a thoughtful look in his eye. He had an idea, but he didn't trust Ben to pull it off. No, he'd have to do this himself. "Well, maybe that meeting you want to have tomorrow, shouldn't be with Fennerman. Maybe I should take the meeting, directly Ms. Candy Ass—you know, just me and her, kinda private like? And, oh yeah, I'll need to take that laptop." *** His meeting with Candace had gone surprising well, once she had gotten over the shock. When the full realization of her precarious predicament came thundering home to her, she could only sit paralyzed behind her desk, the blood drained from her face, and though she tried to control herself, Lewis saw the way her hand trembled as she reached for a pencil to toy with. He knew he had her just where he wanted her! He could see the fear and desperation in her eyes, the eyes of a hunted animal. "What do you want?" she managed to get out in a harsh whisper. He took his time, letting his eyes study the silver-framed picture on her desk: Candace at some swanky dude ranch, mounted on a chestnut stallion and wearing a fancy cowgirl outfit. They all knew she was taking lessons in horsemanship at some farm in Maryland, where she went riding on weekends. He let the full weight of it sink in, before offering her a way out. He knew it was an offer she couldn't refuse. "Oh, not so much, really. Just a date with you, babe," he purposely used the word knowing it would infuriate her. She caught the gesture and realized that their status had changed; she could never go back. "A...date?" she repeated the word numbly. "Yeah, a date. Well, more like a week-end getaway. A couple of days, that's all, together, just you and me. Maybe at some fancy resort, in one of those honeymoon suites. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He smiled. She blanched and grimaced as the thought of what he had in mind, but she nodded dumbly, playing for time, while her mind raced a mile a minute looking for some way out. She paused to consider this, studying the man with those gorgeous blue eyes of her, those wonderful eyes that almost made him soften. "And if I agree?" Her voice was low and husky. "Then the disk is yours, and no one has to know about the little business on the side that you're been running from your pretty office here. Think it over, Candy. Not a bad deal really." "You know this is blackmail," she pointed out with a threat in her voice. "Yeah, and this, Lady," he said, holding up the CD for her to see it, "is grand larceny." *** Of course the first problem was where place they would take her. It had to be somewhere isolated, like a remote cabin, Lewis thought. It was Crowley who came up with perfect answer. It seems a cousin of his had this place in the hills, a cabin way out in the boondocks. This time of year no one was around. His cousin had left the keys with him to look in on the place while he was traveling. It was a perfect setup! The conspirators spent a weekend there, getting the deserted place ready to house their very special guest. Jack even brought along his collection of sex toys, and Lewis made a few special purchases at the local sex shop, then stopped at a hardware store, so they felt they were well equipped. Everyone knew that what they were doing was dangerous, but by now -- there was no turning back. *** Lewis met their guest at the prearranged spot in the airport parking lot where she was to leave her car. He drove up in a rented van, silver with tinted windows; she didn't seem to think that was unusual. She had let her hair down and pulled back in perky pony-tail that gave her a particularly youthful air that had never seen before. She looked good enough to eat; neat and trim in a pair of form fitted jeans, which she wore a western style shirt, with fancy trim and bright sequins down the front; a casual, though expensive, outfit -- one fit for traveling, he decided. But though he was once again taken with her beauty, any positive feelings he might be having was promptly destroyed by her attitude as the bitch climbed in the front seat, cool and prickly as ever, obviously still seething with resentment, although apparently resigned to getting the distasteful task over with. Before she even had the door closed, he jammed down on the pedal, and roared off at a rapid clip. As they careened down a winding ramp and onto the highway, she opened her mouth to protest but just then the back of her seat collapsed and the girl found herself flat on her back with two guys in camouflage outfits crouching over her from behind. Her screams were drowned out by the radio. She recognized her attackers of course, it flitted through her mind that they these mild mannered office workers looked silly dressed up like Rambo, but she had no time to consider the irony, for she was being dragged kicking and screaming, into the back of the van. She was twisting and flailing away at her attackers, but Jack was soon on her, using his superior weight to pin her down her wiggling body as the other two grabbed her by the wrists and ankles to further immobilize her. He eased up and looked down into her blazing, angry eyes. Then he did something he had wanted to do for a long time. He slapped her, hard, right across the face. "Shuddup cunt. Just shut the fuck up!" The single slap had the desired effect. The squirming girl became instantly still. Jack paused, then eased up, and still straddling her on his knees, he shifted back to settle back sitting on her belly. He thought he could get to enjoy this. And when he saw the look of fear that had come into her eyes, he was even more elated. "Get off me, you bastard!" The voice was low, controlled and dripping with venom. "Now see, that ain't nice. If you're gonna play with us your gonna have to learn some manners, now aren't you? And first of all, you're gonna have to learn to control that filthy mouth of yours. He nodded to Eddy who was kneeling behind her and who now dangled a ballgag over the terrified woman's wide blue eyes, letting her get a good look. "Now, open wide, and say 'ahhh'." She clenched her jaws tight and shook her head in vehement refusal, her hard eyes blazing with defiance. Jack simply reached down an pinched her nose, held her nostrils shut till she started to squirm helplessly and a look of alarm rose up in her eyes. It took only a few seconds till she gasped in an explosion of air and Eddy, poised for just the right moment, jammed the hard rubber ball into her gaping mouth. In few seconds the straps were secured around her head, and Ms. Candace Ashbee's pretty features were distorted by a red rubber ball tightly wedged between her opened teeth. "Uuuumph," was all she could manage, a braying protest, that came out repeatedly in an increasingly desperate pitch, and went largely ignored. Working like a well practiced team, the men who held her quickly shifted positions. Jack slid back to immobilize her bluejeaned legs, while Ben gave up her ankles and scuttled around to assist Eddy who knelt behind her, and was by now raising up her arms over her head, and pinning them to the floor. Their captive now realized she was being handcuffed, and suddenly panic-stricken, let out a muffled screech. An elastic cord was strung from her handcuffs to an anchoring point in the floor high over her head. Of course the sudden attack, the cuffs and the gag, were a calculated risk, but they had talked about this -- how she would be taken. They didn't know how she would react, or cooperative she'd be, once the initial shock wore off. Besides, it was Jack's idea that treating her a little rough at first, would soften her up; improve her attitude for what was to come. So it was agreed, the initial capture would have all the trappings of an abduction. It was the way to teach the bitch that they meant business. By now Lewis had pulled the van off the road and scrambled back to join the others in preparing their guest for the weekend fun. He was eager to get a good look at their prize...and to take part in the unveiling. Now, for the first time he saw their distraught captive, disheveled and panting, pinned down to the carpeted floor of the van. Restrained as she was by her manacled wrists held over her head, she reminded Lewis of a beast, a magnificent animal brought to bay. Her eyes were big and bright, her mounded chest heaving, her brow sheened with sweat. He could almost smell the woman's fear. She still struggled, but more weakly now, squirming her shoulders, tossing her head from side to side, mewing into her gag. Eddy knelt behind her next to her stretched arms He was stroking her brow, trying to soothe her, fingering her bangs, and telling her in a soft whisper that no one was going to hurt her, that all would be ok. Lewis looked down and appraised the situation. "Get off her, Jack." The big guy reluctantly dismounted. The captive looked down from between her upraised arms to watch Lewis who crouched at her feet. She glared at him over her gag. He met her spiteful gaze evenly and keeping his eyes on hers, he gave her a smile as he began to undo the shoelaces of her sneakers. He pulled the running shoes off her feet; her white cotton socks followed. Suddenly it came to her: she was about to be stripped by these grinning louts! Candace Is Taken for a Ride She let out a muffled shriek of outrage, and her bare feet kicked out wildly. But Lewis backed up out of range, and let her flop around helplessly till she tired of it. "Hold her." Shaw went for her again-flailing legs, held them pressed together on the floor, while Lewis reached for the girl's wiggling hips. The muffled braying rose in pitch and intensity as his hands found the belt and began undoing it. He ignored her cries, and worked methodically till the front of her jeans were open, and the denim was being worked down her writhing hips. The men closed in on her. No one wanted to miss this: the chance to see their snooty Boss Lady being de-pantsed before their very eyes! The crumpled jeans came down, bringing to the light of day a pair of underpants that were silvery white. The low slung hip-huggers she had on were made of some kind of slick and shiny satin with a reinforced crotch that, drawn taut over a gently mounded pubes, bulged just slightly. Her naked thighs were sleek and pale, like hard white marble. Shaw moved his clamping hands down her legs, keeping ahead of Lewis who dragged the loose jeans all the way down her slack legs and pulled them off over her bare feet. Now, at a nod from Lewis, they all sprang into action. Each man knew what to do. They had practiced this well. Working quickly now, one man held the gagged prisoner down while two others lifted her bare legs to slip leather straps around each ankle, buckling them firmly in place. Her legs were now spread and short bungie cords were run from the D-ring of each ankle cuff to anchoring points in the floor at the back of the van. Still on their knees and they could now safely back away from her, never taking their eyes off her wonderful stretched-out body. "Goddamn," someone breathed, awe-struck at the sheer eroticism of the sight before them: a big, beautiful dark haired woman laid out on her back, her hands held over her head, long legs held open, the disheveled western shirt rucked up around her waist, her pretty white panties left on view for all to see. Candace saw their leering male delight, turned her head to one side; closed her eyes, and shuddered. Crowley scuttled up to kneel beside the supine woman. "Let's get a look at her tits," he croaked through a mouth that had gone suddenly dry, looking to Lewis for approval. Their leader gave a curt nod, and the big man went for the collar of the blouse. His thick fingers seemed to shake as he fumbled ineptly with each button, working his way down the front of the fine sequined blouse. Behind his descending hands, a lengthening vee opened up to reveal her neck and upperchest, and the puddled breasts: full but flattened mounds, encased in a white brassiere made of the same shiny satin as her panties. At the centers of each cup one could dimly make out the little nubbins that emerged from darkened disks of wide auerolae. Each man was sporting an erection by now, and the hot sight of the pretty girl stripped to bra and panties brought to each of them the same burning itch to lay into her. Crowley couldn't resist touching those tightly-brassiered bulges. He let his fingertips skate up and over the left bra cup and along the top edge, sliding over soft warm tittie-flesh. His touch sent their captive into an explosion of pent-up rage. Her screeching, even through the gag, soared to a frantic howl of alarm as she shook in wild frenzy, yanking on her bonds as far as the vibrating cords would allow. It was Shaw who leapt to restrain her. After sitting on her, he drew back to straddle her twisting body on his knees, before plunking his butt down to sit solidly on her heaving chest. He nodded towards Crowley. "Hold her head. I want her to see this." Kneeling above her, Crowley cradled her head. Holding her face between two big hands he tilted her head forward, keeping it immobilized so she was forced to face the man who sat on her chest. The woman lay stiffly; eyes defiantly tightly shut. The slap on the cheek Shaw gave her was not hard, but sharp enough to give her the message. Her eyes flew open, and Shaw saw the mixture of fear and loathing. Still staring deep into her eyes, he reached behind him and placed his flattened hand on her belly, then ran the palm down over the curved front of her panties curling his fingers as they delved into her crotch. Then, still looking into her eyes, he began palming the softness of that fleshy vulva through the thin slippery panties. The woman raged; whinnied in her gag but the masculine hand just kept on, tickling her pussy through her panties, then lavishly fondling her pantied sex, till her hips started instinctively bucking and he had her moaning into her gag. *** To the passenger stretched out on the floor of the van, the long ride which she spent laying flat on her back, must have seemed interminable. Before they started again someone pulled a canvas bag down over her head. It increased her feelings of helplessness, and of course she couldn't see when one, or more, of the men might take a notion to feel her up. Spread-eagled as she was, she was acutely aware of her vulnerability. She had been shamelessly used, although so far no one had actually fucked her. They taunted her that they would auction off her golden cunt to the highest bidder, with the losers getting "sloppy seconds." But for all their talk, her captors had confined themselves to toying with her, feeling her up, sending their hands to roam freely all over her warm, squirming body and dipping into the most intimate places. The fear and excitement welled up in her; all this male attention was definitely making her hot. Much as she tried to steel herself against this unrelenting stimulation, her healthy, needy body betrayed her. She could feel herself moistening, her panties getting wet. And when an unexpected hand had slipped between her legs to find her crotch and shamelessly fondle her pussy, she couldn't keep her hips from bucking in obscene pelvic thrusts, nor could she stop the plaintive moans she made into the gag when some man's hand clamped her mounded breasts, squeezing and fondling her sweaty tits through the thin silky bra. So far, it had all gone according to plan. The arrogant bitch had been adducted without a hitch, stripped down to bra and panties, tied down, and humiliated...and her ordeal had only just begun. This was beyond their wildest dreams! Candace would have been horrified had she known about what they had planned for her. During the next few days they intended to see Miz Candy Ass buck naked, forced to crawl on hands and knees, her big jugs hanging down, made to shake her ample butt at them, and beg to be fucked, just like the whore she was. They would see the haughty, conceited, Vice President for Sales, bare-assed naked and kept that way, without a stitch of clothes on, their prisoner in the remote mountain cabin. She would be made to perform for them: reduced to a mere fuck toy, a play doll, a party girl, a naked sex slave kept solely for their entertainment and amusement. They knew she had no choice but to submit, but would she cooperate? Still in her underwear, her head covered by the canvas bag, Candace was hauled out of the van, slung over Crowley's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The braying she gave out with to protest this undignified delivery, earned her nothing but a sharp slap on her upturned buttocks, and the laughter of the raucous gang. They plunked her down in a wooden kitchen chair, and when they took off her sack, it was apparent from her sullen look and the hostility in her blazing eyes that she had decided that though they might take her -- they damn well weren't going to enjoy it! Now they crowded around their prize as she sat on the wooden chair, her handcuffed arms behind her. Glaring at them over the top of the ballgag that effectively stoppered her gaping mouth. Lewis stood before her in a widened stance, his arms folded across his chest, looking down at their prisoner. "Well now Boss Lady, how do you like your new home? Not exactly the executive suite, at but it's got all the conveniences." "Uuuumph," came the muffled reply. "What's that? You don't like it? Whadya think boys, should we get the lady's opinion on the décor?" Lewis reached out for her; she flinched, but he only unbuckled the straps around her head and removed the hated gag, for which she was exceedingly grateful, although she wouldn't give the grinning apes the satisfaction of showing it. She worked her jaws and licked her lips before replying in low, controlled voice. "Ok boys, you've had you fun, now let me go, and maybe I won't charge you with kidnapping." Lewis took in the sight of the pretty woman seated before him, glaring at him defiantly, with hostile blue eyes. For moment he stood admiring her heaving chest, the taut bulges that threatened to spill out of the tightly-packed bra, and then he slowly shook his head. "No can do, Miz Candy Ass. Not till you've kept up your end of the bargain. You're gonna be here for the next days, so you might as well settle in. We got everything we need here: food, shelter, clothing, -- well, you won't be needing much in the way of clothing. It's a bit primitive, but the cabin's well–equipped. Kitchen. Indoor plumbing, but only one bathroom; guess we'll have to share. And, oh yeah, you're going to have your very own bedroom, though I don't imagine you'll be getting very much sleep. And don't worry about the neighbors; none around for miles. No pesky cell phones, no computers, nothing to interfere with your relaxing weekend. And don't worry about being bored. We'll just have to think of something to provide our own entertainment. That'll be your job. You're gonna be the entertainment." This speech got another round of laughter, while the reddening woman fought to control herself. "Listen to me, Lewis. This has all been a mistake. We've all made mistakes, but it's time to stop this before it goes too far. Let me go, and we'll pretend none of this has ever happened. You get rid of those files you have, and I'll resign, and not say a word about this to anyone. That's what you want isn't it?" "You still don't get it, do you, Miz Candy Ass? You behave, and do what you're told, and no one will get hurt. Now get up and drop your drawers, you know, do a little dance for us? Jack, get her cuffs off. Ben, find us a little music. Something slow and easy, strip tease music." "You're crazy. You're all crazy," she yelled, as Jack worked to undo her cuffs. And the minute she was freed, she bolted for the door. Of course the door had been locked. And as she fumbled with it, Crowley grabbed her and wrapped her up in a bear hug, enjoying every minute of it as she squirmed against him. "You can't force me to have sex with you. That's rape," she screamed, twisting and struggling in the arms of the big man, who only grinned at her. "Let me tell you something, Candy Ass. Before we're through with you, you're gonna do a lot more than 'have sex.' You're gonna beg me to fuck you in that big, beautiful ass of yours!" *** The poker game wasn't going well for Lewis. Both Jack and Ben were the big winners, having gathered an impressive pile of chips. From time to time, they heard a moan coming from the bedroom, but they ignored the mournful cries. But as the game went on, the moaning became more insistent, a muted caterwauling that finally drove Lewis to throw down his hand in disgust, and announce that it was time to see if Candy Ass was ready to be more cooperative. The woman, stripped to bra and panties, hung from the bedroom ceiling, suspended by her wrists from a massive wooden cross beam. The cord was short enough to keep her up on the very tips of her pointed toes. They had strung her up to give her time to reconsider her refusal to dance for them. It was hoped that, upon reflection, the Boss Lady might become more cooperative. "Put her in a better mood," was how Lewis put it. After 15 minutes of hanging by her wrists the desperate woman would have done anything, but since the gag was back in place, she couldn't tell them that -- though she certainly tried her best. The gang crowded around her where she hung in the bedroom. Lewis stepped up to the suspended girl and slowly ran a hand up her stretched contoured lines from a pantied hip to the pad of soft stubble he found on her exposed underarm. "Nnummeeee!" The muffled sound had the plaintive sound of an urgent plea. He removed the gag, and the captive began babbling, pleading to be let down, promising she would do anything they wanted. **** Her relief upon being released was so great that Candace readily agreed to do a little dance for the boys. They left her alone in the bedroom to pull herself together, and prepare for her performance. Ben kindly offered her a drink of scotch, which she eagerly downed, immediately asking for a re-fill, which was granted. Thus fortified, she began to dress. The men had gone through her suitcase and found the black evening dress Lewis had ordered her to pack. He called it her "office party dress." She knew which one he meant. Lewis had actually given her a list of detailed instructions, specifying what she was to bring with her. To go with the dress she was to bring all black accessories: sexy underwear and thigh-high stockings, and a pair of high-heeled pumps. It was the outfit she was now told to put on for her dance. Sitting before the small vanity, Candace studied herself in the mirror, taking in her pale image in the low cut dress which left her shoulders bare and provided a generous view of her neck and upperchest. She released her hair from its pony tail, combed it out, let it fall in loose waves to caress her shoulders. Then she began applying the makeup they insisted on; more makeup than she ever used, eye shadow and liner, a thickening of the lashes, some blush for her cheeks, and then the scarlet lipstick, a thick glossy red. Looking at herself in the mirror, the words "painted whore" came to mind. She stood up, tugged down on the hem of the short skirt, ran her hands down her curvy body, over the thin, snugly-fitted dress, adjusting the tight fit. Then she took a quick swig of scotch, draining off the glass, before she turned to do what she had to do. Her hesitant emergence from the bedroom in her high heels and the little sexy dress was greeted with a round of applause, raunchy cat calls, and whistles. They had cleared a circle in the middle of the wood floor, and their chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. A single floor lamp was aimed like a spotlight, into which she now stepped, with head lowered, eyes on the floor. Someone started a stereo, a slow jazz piece with a boozy sax, sleazy snare drums and a crashing symbol that punctuated a bump and grind. Candace, acutely embarrassed and feeling totally awkward, slowly started to move her hips in time to the raunchy music. She closed her eyes to block out the humiliation, but Lewis would have none of that. "No! Open your eyes! This is not some ballroom dance, Candy Ass, let's get a little life into it!" She took a deep breath and wiggled her shoulders, getting encouraging hoots and hollers from her male audience. "Take it off! Take it off!" The rhythmic chant grew louder; the male voices, more insistent. She forced herself to reach up behind her back to work open the dress's zipper; leaning forward, she let the loosened bodice fall away, to eager cheers that burned her ears. The fallen dress uncovered a bra that was made of black mesh with lacy embroidered cups. It was the sexiest lingerie she had, underwear she saved for special occasions. Turning her head to one side, she gathered up handfuls of the dress and shoved the bunched fabric down her hips, wiggling in a little slither that brought the dress sliding down to her knees. Bringing her legs together, she let gravity take over. The displaced dress collapsed straight down to ring her ankles in a black puddle, earning her another round of hearty cheers from her wildly appreciative audience. Now the shocking realization came to her that Ben, standing behind the row of chairs, held a digital camera in his hands! The picture of her standing in her underwear and sexy black stockings with her fallen dress around her ankles, was being captured for posterity! She closed her eyes and shuddered. She knew there was no way she could stop them. She'd have to worry about getting those pictures back later. "Hey, what'd we tell you about keeping your eyes open? Come on, Candy Ass, give us one of those great big smiles, like you do for old man Fennerman! Show us how much you love it. You know you love it, don't you? Sticking out those big tits of yours. Showing them off to all the guys. You love it, you whore you." Their taunts deepened the woman's profound sense of humiliation, but she managed a brittle smile as she wiggled her hips and shuffled her feet awkwardly in a poor parody of a strip tease. "Now the bra. Get with it, Candy Ass, we don't have all night!" Leaning forward, she reached up behind her, found the bra strap, blindly worked open the tiny catch. The tight bra popped free, abruptly releasing her voluptuous tits to spill out and judder into place, dangling freely, to the great delight of her all-male audience. The breasts were firm and generous, with just the slightest sag to them, twin mounds of bountiful feminine pulchritude, capped with the wide flattened disks of dark brown aureolae. "Goddamned! Lookat them torpedoes!" the voices exclaimed in hushed admiration. "YEAH! Shake those things!" someone demanded. Candace swallowed down her indignation and closing her eyes wiggled her shoulders, causing the loose floppy mounds to wobble back and forth to a chorus of whistles followed by raucous cheers of enthusiastic approval. "What did I tell you, guys, our Miz Candy Ass here is a natural...a born slut. Come on slut, lean over and cup those cans of yours, lift them up to show the boys, you know, kinda offer them to the camera." Candace moved as in a trance, cupping her hefty breasts, cradling them in her palms, then throwing back her shoulders to stick her chest out, all the while watching the cameraman snapping off a rapid series of shots. "Now I want you to look right at the camera and feel yourself up. I'll bet you have a lot of fun with those puppies, don't you, Candy Ass? Go on, play with them," Lewis ordered. By now she felt displaced -- detached from what she had been ordered to do. But her body was definitely responding. She felt her face burning with heat and embarrassment; her body, flushed and warmed with sexual excitement. A shiver of raw lust went through her at the sound of his words, the lewdness of the incredibly erotic experience. Vaguely she heard the clicking of the camera's shutter. By now, she had stopped moving to the music. She stood in place under the single light, fondling her breasts, cupping the full mounds, squeezing the spongy flesh, moving the pliant swells in circular massage, until she had to close her eyes. She swayed, stumbling on her high heels before them. She heard the words: "Oh, yeah, that's nice. But we ain't got all night. Let's get on with it. Drop your pants, Candy. We want to see what you got." Her movements were dream-like. The hands that released her tingling breasts went immediately for her panties. Those lovely breasts that hung free now sported semi-erected nipples. "No wait!" he stopped her with her thumbs hooked in the front of the black panties. "That's not the way you do it. We've waited a long time to see that sweet candy ass of yours, so turn around and peel them down, nice and slow. Go on, let us see that big, fat ass! Candace obediently turned in place on her high heels. She tilted forward just slightly, reached back and slipped her thumbs into the lacy elastic waistband and began to lower her panties over the fully-rounded curves of her shapely bottom. Candace Is Taken for a Ride The music had stopped. The room was perfectly quiet as Candace Ashbee bared her buttocks for the suddenly hushed audience of randy men. For a moment they sat entranced, visually caressing those taut white cheeks with the narrow crack that tightened reflexively with the lewd exposure. The panties were down, spanning her thighs, and she was about to slide them all the way down when one again she was stopped. "No, leave 'em there!" Jack Crowley cried out: "Shake that thing!" And the thoroughly humiliated woman did it, she wiggled her naked bottom at the flushed and eager men who sat behind her. They applauded and demanded more. She was made to bend down and stick out her butt and rotate it in lewd pantomime of a bump and grind, much to the enthusiastic response of the excited men. "Now turn around Candy Ass. Show us your cunt!" She straightened, turned to face her audience: breasts exposed, her panties displaced, stretched across her thighs at half mast -- a wanton pose that offered a gently mounded, black-furred pussy for their inspection. She heard the furious click of the camera, and closed her eyes. "NO! Keep your eyes open!" Her blue eyes flew open wide to stare unseeingly straight into the camera. "That's right. Now, get rid of the panties. Then spread your legs." Obediently the woman ran her panties down her legs, bending over, breasts swaying heavily under her bent torso, as she stepped out of her fallen underpants and tossed them aside. Now reduced to her high heels and the wickedly gleaming black stockings that encased her glamorous legs, she straightened up and spread her legs, setting her heels wide part, to stand facing the camera with her arms loosely at her side. "Hands on your hips!" She took up the pose with arms akimbo, held the wicked pose for a series of rapid-fire photos, just standing perfectly still, the thick wedge of a fleshy pubic mound exposed: the slight bulge of the labia, and the darker center cleft, all dimly visible through the haze of dark pubic hair. Every man in the room suffered from an aching, intolerable erection. The all had one thing in mind: to lay into this juicy piece. "Damn, this is great! Let's get her to play with herself," a voice cried out. The shouted suggestion was immediately joined with a rousing chorus of assent. Someone pushed a low-backed easy chair over to the center of the room, and the erotically-clad woman sat down, and let herself be arranged, limp and unresisting, as though she had fallen into a trance. She was pulled to the front edge of the cushioned seat, her head and shoulders lolling back into the thickly padded back of the chair. They tossed open her slack, nyloned legs, draped them over the arms of the chair so that she lay back with furry crotch opened, her pussy brazenly exposed to the men, and their ubiquitous camera. They made her put her hands on her cunt, spread open the labia, to show the glistening inner pink as she looked up at the camera. They insisted she smile, grinning, in the wanton pose of a slatternly whore showing herself in lewd invitation. "Go on, slut. Play with yourself. Show us how you do it!" The men shifted their chairs closer, leaned forward, eager and alert, to watch with fascinated interest while the Boss Lady pleasured herself. Candace lay with head thrown back, staring at the ceiling, moving a hand that seemed disembodied as it cupped her vagina and curled fingers pressed into the bulging softness of her cuntlips. They watched her playing with the rubbery lips, fingering herself. Fluttering fingers brushed over her labia, circled her clitoris. And when she was good and wet they saw her stick a finger up her hot squirming vagina. Hot and bothered, she was caught up in raging lust now, the sex juices flowing copiously, pussylips slick and flushed a dark pink. "Come on...do it! FUCK YOURSELF!" A male voice commanded, crackling with impatience. The eyes of the passion-drugged woman fluttered closed, and she obediently inserted her stiffened middle finger up her cunt. She gave herself a stab of pleasure, then slipped a second finger into place, and with two joined fingers in her cunt, she began to jiggle her wrist. The men applauded. The hand in her crotch pumped faster, the girl finger fucking herself with increasing fury as she arched back in the thickly-padded chair. The room was perfectly silent except for the tiny squishy sounds her jiggling fingers were making in her well-lubricated cunt. Then she started to moan. A low breathy moan; they strained forward, eager to see it all as the lust-driven girl neared her impending climax. The moan turned into a high pitched keening sound; her body stiffened and she tossed her thick mane from side to side, caught up in the rapture of ecstatic delight. They watched her orgasm; no one said a word. As she lay in the afterglow, panting and depleted, they tied her to the rounded chair so she was left that way, with legs obscenely opened. As a final touch, someone inserted a whisky bottle up her gapping, drooling cunt. The protruding bottle was left in place for a few more photos. Then they turned back to the interrupted poker game. *** Over the next 48 hours, Candace Ashbee was to be used shamelessly, degraded and humiliated, and fucked in every conceivable manner by four healthy, randy, and revenge-minded men. Throughout her ordeal, she was kept a naked slave. Whenever she was given a command, she was to smile and to obey, instantly, no matter how outrageous the order might be. For less than quick and enthusiastic compliance, or even for what they saw as a sullen attitude, she would inevitably be punished. As she was that Friday night. Candace's punishment took the form of being tied down over a low trestle and repeatedly spanked with a wooden paddle. It was Lewis, the engineer, who designed and built the trestle. It looked like a gym horse tilted so that it was lowered at one end. It was a simple wooden frame: the tilted crossbar, wedge-shaped and padded in rubber, mounted on sturdy legs only 15 inches off the floor. At the lower end, a rod stuck out to either side to be gripped by the mounted rider who rode the trestle as a jockey rides a horse, head down, ass high. Naked but for high heels and stockings, she was made to straddle the crossbar on hands and knees, bringing her torso up lengthwise along the padded bar. Then she would reach out to grip the bar so she was stretched out with the wedged-shaped rubber pressed into the valley between her hanging breasts then into her belly all the way to her crotch. A wide leather belt was passed around her lower back tying her down to the bar, while a second looped her just below the shoulders, pinning her even more firmly in place. Crouching down over the trestle, her dangling breasts hung down on either side of the padded bar, while her extended buttocks were raised, nicely served up to be used ...in whatever way the men desired. The men took turns paddling their former boss, often looking for the flimsiest to excuse to force the girl to arch her back and present her tempting bottom, each more eager than the last to take up the paddle and get in a few solid licks. The paddle they used had begun life as a ping pong paddle, a short handle attached to a pliant oval blade with a textured rubber facing. It delivered a sharp sting. It was most effective. The captive was ordered to raise her head so as to look at the men who crowded around her, while the one designated to perform the deed knelt by her jutting ass, paddle at the ready. The first time it was Shaw who won the toss to start them off. He seemed in no hurry to get on with the spanking. He took his time in a pleasant diversion, admiring those full-fleshed, tautly-drawn curves. Grabbing hold of her butt, he wobbled the two generous handfuls. Then he slid his thumbs from either side into the middle of the crack to pry her open. The woman burned with humiliation to realize he was holding back her straining buttocks, holding her open to expose her asshole to the huddle of men, who joked and laughed. And when he let her pliant cheeks snap shut, he tarried there, cupping her, letting a generous buttcheek spill through a clenching fingers, then employing a single finger to trace her cringing crack from the top of her ass to the where it ended right up between her legs, tickling the hairy perineum in a gentle goosing soon had her wiggling excitedly. And while she was still squirming he took the pouch of her underslung pussy in his hand and began to lavishly fondle the delightfully soft flesh of her furry vulva. Candace bit off an involuntary moan. The hand withdrew. For a moment nothing happened. She waited tensely. The she felt the paddle lightly tapping her bare bottom. It amused him to see her anxious butt clench in fearful reflex, the coiled muscles tightening down, the rearcrack drawn to a narrow slit. Then he hauled off and gave her hardened ass a quick whack, crisply meeting the proffered rump, flattening the jutting curves with a solid slap that sent the jellied mounds wobbling and had the woman jacking up and letting out a high-pitched yelp, again and again, at each repeated slap. Nowhere did Candace more intensely feel her utter humiliation, her enforced subjugation to these revenge-minded men, than when she was splayed naked over the padded bar. Tied securely with head lowered and breasts dangling heavily beneath her, her jutting buttocks were forced up, temptingly raised like a female animal's -- presented for mounting. And of course that obvious use occurred to the randy men who eyed up that delightful upraised rump with lustful glee...and four, painfully stiff erections. **** They let her rest on Saturday morning. She was given toast and coffee, allowed to wash up, but she was denied all privacy in the bathroom, and was forced to shower while the men crowded in the doorway and watched. Then, still naked, she was taken back to the bedroom and locked in. She heard some of them leaving, and from her one window she saw the car pull away. Hours passed; she waited, naked fearful and alone. She heard the sounds outside and alertly lifted her head, straining to listen to the sounds of arriving cars, counting each one that pulled up the gravel driveway. The solid thump of slamming car doors mingled with the shouts of raucous male voices greeting each other as three men met and clomped into the wooden cabin. Tonight there seemed to be a lot excitement. From what she could make out, Lewis had bought something at a sex shop, and whatever it was they were all laughing and admiring it. There were jokes about how much their guest would enjoy "going for a ride." Candace shuddered. She didn't like the sounds of that at all! The captive didn't have to wait long. In a few minutes Shaw came for her. She was untied, and helped to sit up on the bed while a leash was snapped to the ring in her collar. She was made to accept the hated ballgag, which she did with nothing more than a silent plea of her mournful eyes. Now they brought out the Western boots she had worn the day they were taken, and she was urged to shove her bare feet into the high heeled tooled-leather boots. Then the booted and gagged prisoner was led by the leash into the brightly lit main room where she saw it squatting in the middle of the floor -- a small cylinder cut lengthwise: the size and shape of half of a wastebasket lying on its side. The curved mound was covered in smooth vinyl, and perfectly symmetrical. The bulging curve was wide, but not so wide that its girth can't be accommodated between the clutching thighs of a kneeling girl. Centered at the top of the curve, a rubber dildo, glistening with a coating of lubricant, jutted into the air, sticking straight up in obscene invitation. The Sybian mount was plugged in and waiting; it lacked only one thing -- a rider. There was no doubt in anyone's mind who that would be. In the face of this fresh humiliation, Candace suddenly cowered back and shrieked her protests through the gag that stoppered her mouth. She resisted for all she worth, while Shaw tried to drag her forward. When the others went to grab her, she flailed out wildly at them. Finally all four men had jumped into the fray, and by sheer force they had wrestled the naked woman into submission -- enjoying every minute of it. She was quickly overpowered and subdued. Crowley ended up holding her in a bear hug, while she squirmed helplessly back against him, and her wrists were cuffed before her. Then Crowley and Shaw each took an arm and a leg, and they picked her up off her booted feet and hauled her, kicking and screaming into the gag, over to where her mount waited. The woman's legs were spread, held open over the mounded beast while she was forced down into a squat with her vagina poised over the upright phallus. Ben helpfully reached down to pry open her cuntlips and carefully align the shaft with the gaping pussy. He looked up at the other two and nodded as, with a single shove, the helpless prisoner was forced to impale herself on the hard rubber shaft. Candace's eyes flew wide open over the gag, and she let out a muffled cry at the swiftness of the penetration. As she straddled the hump on her knees, squirming to adjust to the novel sensation of the dildo that stuffed her cunt, someone pushed her shoulders forward and her cuffed hands shot out to brace herself with wrists together and splayed fingers curving down each side of the vinyl contour. The men closed in around her to enjoy the unforgettable sight: Their arrogant, overweening boss lady, Ms. Ashbee, humbled before them, her head bowed low in shame, her magnificent naked breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. And though they could see nothing between her splayed thighs but the top of her darkly-furred vulva, the very knowledge that Miz Candy Ass was mounted on a dildo at their feet was enough to instantly stiffen the surging prick of every man in that room! All agreed: they had to have a picture of this! Lewis rushed off to the bedroom for the camera and one final detail – the Stetson hat she had worn on that fateful day they picked her up at the airport. The Western hat was plunked on the back of her head, and she was told to look up at the camera. Surprisingly, this she refused to do! She knelt with head stubbornly lowered, her face well hidden under the hat's broad brim. "Sit up, bitch," Eddy snarled, reaching down to pluck her left nipple and hold it lightly between thumb and forefinger. And when she didn't comply fast enough for him, he squeezed his pincer grip while pulling the captive breast upward, stretching the pliant tittie-flesh, forcing Candace to abruptly straighten up and throw back her thick mane. The face she presented to the camera was etched with lines of pain as the man squeezed and twisted her left nipple. Finally, he let her go and she slumped forward, breathing raggedly. "Shoulders back!" he warned. She obediently straightened, pulled back her shoulders to shove her proud breasts forward. Her left nipple was swollen and throbbing with a dull ache, but both nipples were now fully erected. Sitting there with splayed knees, her naked body held rigid, she was once more told to look up at the camera. There was a distinct look of uneasiness in those wide blue eyes that met the camera lens over the distorting ballgag. Ben snapped off a few choice pictures, while Lewis took up the control box at the end of the wire that snaked out the back of the Sybian machine. He clicked the little red "on" button and they heard the muffled hum as the dildo was activated sending deep-seated vibrations reverberating through the impaled girl. Lines of urgency creased her smooth brow, tightening around half-lidded eyes as the naked girl jogged forward, absorbing the repeated stabs of pleasure. No one moved. The men watched entranced, as the girl's lashes fluttered, and her eyes slid closed against the creamy rise of pleasure. She was jogging more rapidly now, rocking back and forth on the vinyl mound. A dreamy expression came over her upturned face as she savored the delicious sensations generated deep in her innards. Her thighs clenched tight, and she soon was bobbing up and down in syncopated rhythm, her floppy breasts jouncing merrily, her bouncing matched to the pistoning phallus that impelled her on her jogging ride. Now Lewis slid his thumb along the control that increased the intensity, and the quiet hum turned into an angry buzz, as renewed waves of pulsing energy were sent to wildly electrify the juddering girl. The abrupt surge of energy sent Candace into a profound spasm of pure ecstatic delight, she shook and trembled, gave out with strangled shriek and fell forward, braced on extended hands as the pumping vibrator picked up speed. Abruptly, she arched back, threw her head back and shook her hair held there on the brink for several impossible seconds as repeated thrills racked her gyrating body till she experienced a massive, earth-shattering orgasm. An orgasm that was to be recorded in detail with digital fidelity. **** Candace was looking a little wan, though none the worse for wear once she was dressed again in her jeans, the western shirt and boots -- the same clothes she had worn the day they picked her up in the silver van. Before they returned her to the airport parking lot, they arranged a slideshow on her laptop using the digital photos that had been taken over the week of her captivity. Candace watched in shocked disbelief, horrified to see the color pictures of her clad only in stockings and high heels, or booted and gagged, or tied to the spanking rack. Pictures taken from the front, rear, and side, standing, kneeling, and bending over. Pictures of her being spanked like a schoolgirl; of her riding the bizarre pleasure machine and seeming to enjoy it mightily; of her servicing four men whose faces could not be seen. It was explained to her that if she still harbored any thoughts of revenge the photos could easily be sold to any number of eager webmasters for world-wide distribution on the internet. In a matter of days her image would be famous across the globe. The photos would be a sort of insurance policy. She would go back to work at BBR&J just like any Monday morning, and immediately apply for a transfer. The men had talked it over and decided that the Korean office would be good choice. The End