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.

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byJulianWinslow© 1 comments/ 23625 views/ 4 favorites

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