Sixteen Candles

“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.