Rebecca Welsh (who from now on will go by her wrestling
name), was walking from the wrestling gym, full of confidence in herself. She
ignored the fact that most guys were gawping at her curvy physique: she had no time
for men, and was used to this fact. As she walked down the street, a large
caught her eye: it was decorated with many colours and was advertising a fight
of some sort. The 17-year old walked over and read the description: an address
was written, offering fighters of all sorts to challenge a mystery man at this
small dojo. Candy Cane smiled to herself, and wrote her name on the challengers
list with an attached pen.
‘I’ve got
first shot at him. And I’ll be the only one to fight him. He won’t last against
me,’ she said to herself, and walked away. As she lost sight if the poster,
someone removed it from the wall, and walked in the opposite direction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As 10pm came into
existance, Candy walked to the address, a small building just outside the
business sector of Tokyo, next to a building site. She was dressed in usual
wrestling gear: white shirt tied around her breasts, red and orange chequered
short skirt, white boots, black fingerless gloves and elbow protectors. A thick
red belt wrapped around her waist, and her red hair was done up in two short
tails. She walked up, with confidence and sex appeal to the doorway, and swung
it open.
It revealed a
medium sized room, a pillar in each corner and a doorway at the other end. A
man in dark blue pants and top was seated in the centre of the room, his head
down and his eyes shut. As she walked in and shut the door, he looked up: his
face was mostly covered with a dark fabric: only his eyes were visible.
‘Are you
Candy Cane?’ he asked, his voice muffled slightly.
‘Who wants to
know?’ she responded, ‘I need to know the name of my victim.’
‘You’ll find
out when you beat me.’
‘Then let’s
not waste time. Come on!’ she yelled, and charged, her arms ready to grab any
loose limbs. The mystery man calmly held his ground, and opened his right hand
– revealing a small blade. Candy saw this, and stopped just as the challenger
swiped upwards. She felt no pain, and promptly backed off, not bothering to
look down as there was no wound. If she HAD looked down though, she would’ve
noticed that it had cut through the knot in her white top. It split apart,
revealing her impressively huge breasts. The masked man had done so on purpose,
and now was in complete control. They circled each other for a minute, and then
he said ‘Are you afraid?’
‘Of you? No
way, you look really weak. There’s nothing you can do to me. I’ll humiliate you.’
She readied another charge, but the man stopped her: ’I’d say the same to you,
but it’s too late for that.’
Candy Cane
stopped with a bemused look on her face, and then looked down. On seeing her
‘guns’ on display, her arms immediately covered them up and her face turned a
colour similar to that of her hair. While distracted, the man rushed forward,
and held her arms behind her back. A rope trailed down from the ceiling (in an
overly coincidental moment) and he tied her arms folded behind her back. The
female wrestler was now at the mercy of the stranger, and she knew it. She
tried flailing her legs towards him and moving as far away as possible, but the
man made no reaction. It was only when she drew back a breath to scream that he
stopped her, gagging her with a white cloth. A second rope trailed down, this
one with a carbineer attached to the end of it (even more coincidental) – this
he attached to the back of her white panties. With a signal to an unknown
associate, the rope jerked upwards, bringing the redhead with it, putting her
into a hanging wedgie.
The man
paused for a minute or so, listening to her muffled cries of agony as the tense
fabric found its way between her rounded tushie cheeks. Candy cane felt
humiliation like never before: not only had she lost, she had her more intimate
areas on display to someone she’d never met. The man decided to move into stage
2: he walked over to her and tore off her checkered skirt and white top: after
a pause, he got her white boots to wiggle off as well. Stepping back, he
signalled again to his invisible companion, who gave a response: the rope
slowly moved upwards, taking the humiliated popstar with it. For ten seconds it
did this, and then suddenly stopped. A pause – then it dropped back to where it
was prior hand.
As its descent
ceased, there was a massive CREAK from Candy’s underwear, and a long groan from
underneath her gag. Her eyes then widened with horror – as she felt the rope
start to move upwards again. The stranger spoke: ‘It’ll keep doing this until
you hit the floor.’ The girl then started talking from underneath the cloth,
and he decided to hear her out; he untied it to hear a stream of garbled
English. ‘Slow the f*** down, and start again.’
‘I’ll never
hit the floor,’ she said desperately (or that’s what he could understand), ‘My
undies are made from polyester, they’ll never give.’
‘Well then,’
he said slyly, replacing the gag, ‘It’s going to be a long night for you.’ He
gave the signal again, and the rope started pulling her up once more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘234... 235... 236...’
The masked
man had grabbed a chair and sat down, resting his feet while Candy Cane’s
underwear was continually pressurised: he expected it to end after a minute or
so. After ten minutes however, the girls’ prophecy stating that the polyester
panties would remain intact seemed to be correct. So he decided to count the
bounces, stopping when either the white fabric tore, or when she reached 250
bounces – with the latter looking more likely. Said underwear had driven itself
seemingly as far as possible between the redheads’ round globes that were her
ass cheeks. She had stopped trying to cover herself up, and had hung her head
and arms in defeat and humiliation. What made it worse was the fact that people
recognised her from her career – and guestimated that he was filming her
torture.
‘248...
249...250. I think that will do for phase 1.’ From her position, Candy Cane
stared in horror: phase 1??!
The man
stood up, and gave a signal to his unknown associate. He bounced the girl one
more time, and then let her drop to the floor. Candy let out a moan of relief
as the thin strip of cloth relaxed. Her relief was short lived, when the
stranger kicked her in the head: out like a light.
======================================================
The
wrestler began to stir after a while, and partly opened her eyes. From what she
could tell, around her was the interior of a van. The back doors opened, and
the outline of the man could be seen. Slinging the girl over his shoulders he
walked away from the vehicle, towards a darkened building site (can you guess
what will happen? :P) Candy could not see anything a foot in front of her face.
A sudden rise above the ground and bumpiness suggested to her steps. Just as it
started, it stopped, and she was thrown to the ground. She tried to get up –
only to flop on the ground like a half-dead seal. Her bare legs were tied
together at the ankles, as were her arms by the wrists, in the
folded-behind-the-back style. The stranger then (in a peculiar fashion) cut
free her legs and stood her up. Candy tried to run but he held her arm firmly.
With the other, he pulled down a large carbineer that was attached to the jib
of a small crane. Just like in the dojo, the back of her panties ended up attached
to the carbineer. Leaving Candy on her tip-toes (to prevent the wedgie) the
masked man walked back down the platform and into the cabin of the crane. He
rubbed his hands together and reached for a switch.
Knowing
her escape wasn’t going to happen, Candy tried once again to scream through her
gag. Her attempt was cut off by the sudden jerk of her polyester underwear into
her crack. Her feet left the floor in an instant and she let out another groan
of pain. The man steered the crane away from the platform and swivelled 100
degrees to the right, halting abruptly. Candy felt the front of her waistline
climb up past her belly button, and moaned as the tense fabric slid with ease
between her noticeable pussy lips. The man walked out and watched her hang from
the heavy machinery. He then spoke from under his mask: ‘Just so you know, this
is being recorded, as was the time spent in the dojo. If I were you, I’d not
show up at the training sessions for a while. You know, to give yourself a
break...’ Candy had no idea what he was getting at, but all that mattered to
her at that moment was getting down. ‘Anyway’ he continued, ‘I’ll leave you up
there to think to yourself. See you at dawn.’
DAWN???!?
The
humiliated girl tried calling out after him, but whatever sound came out made
no difference. He has gone. Candy groan in misery, and hung by her aching ass,
staring down at the floor which she had no idea what it looked like or how far
away it was. The time was 12:04.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As the hours rolled by, the
surroundings got darker and duller and the fabric of Candy’s tough polyester
panties got more stretched, she wondered who did this to her. As the clock
struck six, a light bulb seemed to go on in her head: she remembered hearing a
rumour about two high school girls getting supreme wedgies in a changing room –
by a masked assailant. 'Could it be the
same perv?'
Her thoughts were interrupted by the
voice. ‘Well now, it seems you’ve been hanging around here for a while now.’
The masked man came into display. ‘I think I’ll let you off for now. Enjoy your
trip back.’
The redhead saw he was carrying a
stepladder; he walked over to her and climbed up it – it turned out she wasn’t
far from the ground after all, though that was due to stretched knicker fabric.
He stood atop and looked at her for a minute, and then reached into his pocket
– and pulled out a pair of scissors. He had one more humiliation to lay on her.
With a snip, he cut through the arm
bindings and the two legholes. Candy cane fell for a second, and landed with a
splat into a pool of mud. For a minute she didn’t realize her predicament from
holding her crushed pussy. When she looked at herself, she covered herself in
sheer embarrassment and stood up. The man stuck out a foot as she ran, and she
fell into the mud again. Crawling away with a face again the colour of her
hair, she then got up and ran out of the site – a challenge for someone who had
her underwear becoming a taste in her mouth. The sun came out from the horizon:
she had a long way to run.
The man took off his mask and smiled:
there was no mistaking that ginger hair.
‘I love my job,’ said Hwoarang with a
smirk, and he too left the building site.
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