The Candle Factory

Julie would never have gotten caught if she had thought about the system backups. And I never would have done anything about it if she hadn't lied to me about messing with my machine.

I work for Julie's father, or I should say I am a one-fourth partner with her father in a candle factory. We specialize in "hand dipped" candles. Actually it is only the outer two or three layers of colored wax that are hand dipped. The rest is done by a machine which I invented. We supply these "hand dipped cores" to a wide variety of small candle companies throughout the United States and Canada.

To understand what Julie did, you have to understand the machine. Basically it "hand-dips" candles about 500 at a time. The machine consists of 3 large tubes, about 3 feet in diameter and about 8 feet tall. One tube has water at 130 degrees. One tube has water at 45 degrees. And the other tube has a special wax formula (also developed by me) at 135 degrees. There is a frame that fits inside each tube, that when properly strung holds 480 candle wicks that have been "pre-seeded" with a small amount of wax like a very thin candle. The candle frames attach to an adjustable, segmented center column and are built up layer by layer until they are about 6 feet tall. The whole assembly hangs by two large steel bars from square platform at the end of a specialized hydraulic boom. The round bottom platform in a heavy steel grid. On the upper, square platform there is a hydraulic shaker motor that can be adjusted to vibrate the whole assembly at almost any speed or intensity.

When the machine is operating, it quickly lowers the candles into the 130 degree water to preheat them. As it rises out of the water, a vibrator motor shakes the frame to help the water drip off. Then the candles are then plunged into the wax and the vibrator motor kicks on again for just a few seconds to force off any air bubbles or water. The candles are drawn slowly up out of the wax and then plunged into the cold water to set that wax layer. This is repeated about 20 times to form a small candle and up to 50 or even 100 times to form a really large candle.

Julie is a college student and lives in a loft apartment in the factory. She doesn't work during the week, but over the weekend, it is her responsibility to clean the equipment and cycle it through its maintenance and calibration runs.

I knew she was doing more than that. I didn't know what she was up to, but the cycle counters on the various actions were getting out of sync with the automated production logs recorded on the computer controls. There was no real problem with this, but it is my design and my machine and it bugged me that something was happening that didn't make sense. So, I asked Julie if she was doing anything with my machine over the weekend that wasn't on the schedules.

I really didn't expect her to tell me what she was doing, but I thought she would at least say she was sorry and wouldn't do it any more. Instead, she told me that it wasn't my machine, it was her father's and that she didn't have to listen so some technician obsess about numbers on a little dial. Then she said, "It is probably just an error in your control programs, anyway."

OK, no program is foolproof, so I rechecked the logs and to be sure double checked them against the backups which ran every day at 6:00 am and 6:00 pm. Everyday, that is except Sunday. That's when I noticed it. The program only backed up files that had changed, but the production log backed up on Saturday night was also backed up on Monday morning. That could only happen if someone copied off the log file before the backup on Saturday night and overwrote the logfile with that copy before the backup on Monday morning. Julie was doing something on Saturday night or Sunday and hiding it by erasing the machine's production logs.

I had to find out what it was, so I modified the backup program to make a backup every hour over the weekend. What I found out was very interesting. Julie had created her own production program, but it didn't make any sense. The candle frame was set to randomly plunge into either the 45 degree or 130 degree water, and the vibration motor was also set to come on randomly for anywhere from one to 20 minutes. The whole production routine was set to run from 6:30 on Saturday night until a maximum of noon on Sunday. The duty cycle wasn't over stressing my machine. From what I could tell, it might sit totally still for up to a couple of hours and then cycle through repeated vibrations or plunging into the water baths. I really had no idea the purpose of Julie's programing, so I set up several hidden surveillance cameras in the production area. The video feed went to the same computer in my office that held the system backups. From there it went out on a secure internet feed to my home computer.

What I watched the next Saturday night was, to say the least, surprising and stimulating. After Julie had cleaned the machine, she disassembled and cleaned all of the candle frames. Then she reassembled all but one of the frames. Nothing happened after that until just before 6:00 pm. At that time she came down from her apartment totally naked and carrying a large gym bag. She walked over to the control council and plugged in a memory card. I assume she was copying off the production log file and loading her special program.

Then she began to reassemble the final frame. Without attaching any of the candle supports, she reassembled the adjustable center pole until it was about 3 feet in height. Then she went over to her bag and got out an additional section that was tapered on the tip, almost like a bullet. This she screwed into the top of the frame. She then attached four clamps to the support rods of the frame. Two were all the way at the bottom by the platform grid and two were about three feet up on the pole. The video quality wasn't the best because only the night security lights were on and it was starting to get dark, but it was obvious that the next thing which she took out of her bag was a black rubber-looking hood with some sort of attached snorkel-like device at the mouth.

She cycled the machine so that it connected to the partially assembled frame, and then she went and stood on the frame. She bent down and locked her ankles into the lower clamps and then stretched up on her tiptoes and moved herself over the support pole. I wished I had set up a sound transmission so that I could have heard her groan as well as watch the look on her face as she impaled herself on the pole. She shifted back and forth a little. Maybe she was adjusting how the pole was inside her, or maybe she was just rubbing herself against the pole.

Standing straight up, she slipped the rubber hood over her head and attached the snorkel tube to the upper support platform. Then she lowered her arms and pushed them into the clamps at waist level. I could see that the clamps had connections which led up to the support platform. Evidently the clamps were controlled by the production program she had running on the machine.

Julie stood there moving only a little for about a half hour when suddenly the machine sprang into action. She was raised above the tubes and suddenly plunged into the tube of cold water. She was completely below the surface of the water. I could tell from the agitation of the water that the shaker motor had kicked in and the whole frame was vibrating. After just a minute or two, she was pulled from the water and again raised high above the tubes. This time she was plunged into the heated water. 130 degrees normally won't really burn you, but if you have just come out of 45 degree water, it will seem to be scalding. Julie was plunged into the water tubes repeatedly. Sometimes the frame was vibrating, sometimes it was not. Once the frame hung still above the cold water tube for almost twenty minutes vibrating wildly. I could see Julie thrashing against the clamps which held her firmly impaled on the support rod at the center of the frame. Then the platform dropped swiftly into the cold water.

After about three or four hours, the program came to an end and the machine released the frame back on the preparation area. I could see that when the machine released the frame, the clamps on Julie's hands popped open. She stood there for several minutes before finally reaching up and removing the hood. It was several more minutes before she could stand on tip toe and free herself from her impalement. After she finally freed her ankles, she collapsed on the floor by the machine and lay there for almost a half hour. Finally she rose, removed her clamps and special tip from the frame, cleaned it, and reassembled it so that it would be ready to dip candles on Monday morning. She put everything back into her gym bag and walked over to the control console. I couldn't see for sure what she was doing, but I was pretty sure that she was restoring the original control programs and writing the original production log back onto the system. Then, still wet and naked, she slowly walked back up the stairs to her loft apartment.

I finalized the DVD which had been recording all of this and also went to bed. I wanted to watch this again in "more comfortable" surroundings, and I had some planning to do.

Part Two.

It takes some time to contemplate what to do with the information that the boss's daughter is playing self bondage games with the equipment on the weekends. There were so many different options. I could do nothing and just continue to watch and record her Saturday appointment with the vibrating steel rod and the plunges into hot or cold water. I could blackmail her with the videos. I could "accidentally" drop by the factory on Saturday evening and catch her in the act.

Or I could get fired.

That last option wasn't one I had planned. I was after all a one-fourth partner. You can't fire a partner, right? At least, I didn't think you could, but bright and early Monday morning Julie's father asked me to stop into his office. He said he was exercising his option to buy me out and presented me with a set of paperwork to sign.

It was all done up in official lawyer language, but basically it said that our partnership agreement contained a clause that allowed him to buy me out at "reasonable market worth" any time after the first three years. It also stated that any machinery, programing or product developed by me remained the property of the company. Accompanying the paperwork was a certified check for about twenty times my yearly salary. It definitely wasn't bad money, but I knew that my machine alone could be sold to other candle companies for two or three times that amount.

I asked what I had done to bring this about and he told me that it was mostly his daughter's idea. She was completing her college studies, and he was getting close to retirement age. She would be taking over the company soon, and he wanted her to be able to "completely immerse herself in the company" while he was still around to guide and mold her. As angry as that made me, I almost laughed out loud. Little did he know how completely Julie was already immersing herself in the company.

I wondered what he would say if I showed him the video of her strapping herself to the candle dipping frame and impaling herself on the support column? What would he think as he watched her ride the machine through orgasm after orgasm as it cycled through plunges into hot and cold water all the while vibrating like a giant dildo between her bound legs?

I was still contemplating an answer when he added, "You have until Friday night to clear all your personal things out of your office. Next week, my daughter will take over as plant supervisor. I want her to be immersed in the wax production full time."

I didn't say anything except, "OK, if that is what you want."

If he wanted her "immersed in the wax production," that is what he would get. I signed the paperwork and deposited the check into my bank account. As soon as the check cleared, I wire-transferred the money to a new account in a different bank back in my home town. I didn't think staying in the area would be a good idea if my plan actually worked.

There was a small party for me on Friday. Everyone congratulated me on moving on to bigger and better things. Julie was there and was introduced as my replacement. I smiled and thanked everyone and said that I would be thinking of them in the future wherever I ended up working. I fulfilled my end of the bargain specified in the paperwork. I turned over all my plans and programs, just as I was required to do. I didn't, however, de-activate the network link between my computer and my home, and I also didn't erase the specialized programs which I had placed on my hard drive which I could activate from home.

Saturday afternoon, I was sitting in front of my computer waiting for the show to begin, I was hoping that Julie was too much a creature of habit - or perhaps need - to change her routine. I was not disappointed. I watched as she diligently cleaned the machine and cycled it through its maintenance routines. She cleaned the dipping frames and again left one frame disassembled. Then she went up to her loft apartment.

At precisely 5:45 pm she returned naked, carrying her large gym bag. I watched as she downloaded the production logs and uploaded her programming to the machine. I waited while she attached the clamps which would hold her legs immobile in the frame. I laughed as I heard her grunt as the long polished support column entered her - it was definitely worth "working late" one evening to install the audio pickups. As she pulled the rubber hood over her face and positioned her hands into the clamps at her sides, I whispered softly, "Got you!" Then I sent out the commands that would trigger my programs and switch the video feed from a private feed to my computer to general internet feed. It also logged on using the company account and issued an open invitation to watch "The Candle Queen" on live video. The program then erased itself completely from my hard drive using military standard erase criteria. Anyone who tried to trace things would come to the conclusion that all of the programming came from Julie's memory stick. The files were backdated and the program's internal markings indicated that they had been compiled on the computer at Julie's college, which in fact, they had been after I hacked into her accounts there.

I don't know when Julie realized that something was wrong. Perhaps it was when the machine sprang to life almost immediately. Her original programming had including an initial waiting period of not less than 15 minutes. Maybe it was when the shaker motor came on and stayed on continuously as she was rapidly and repeatedly plunged first in the hot and then the cold water. Certainly, she knew something was amiss when after about a half-hour she was plunged, not in the hot or cold water, but into the tube of wax. I was pretty sure that the wax would not actually burn her, but just to be sure, she went immediately from the wax to the cooling water and remained under water for a couple of minutes. Then she was cycled through the warming water and back into the wax.

I could see that she was now bucking and thrashing against her bonds. Maybe she was trying to escape. Maybe she was in the throws of violent orgasm since the support rod had been vibrating continuously within her for almost 40 minutes. In any case, it made no difference. The wax began to accumulate in thicker and thicker layers as she cycled through the wax dip and then the cooling dip and then the pre-warming dip. The snorkel which led from her hood to the top of the dipping frame began to look more and more like the wick on a candle.

It took over an hour to create a two-inch thick layer of wax on her body. The effect was quite erotic. Her totally immobilized, shapely form was still slightly visible through the white wax. You could tell that beneath those layers, she was naked. If you watched carefully, you could see the water droplets dancing on the surface of the wax as the shaker motor violently vibrated the entire dipping frame. I smiled as I noticed that the viewer count on the web cam indicated that the Candle Queen had gained quite an audience in a short time.

Finally, the dipping machine raised her from the cooling water for the last time. With a pop of hissing air, it released the frame, only this time it did not release it back onto the preparation area. Instead it released it onto the conveyor which normally carried product into the assembly and packaging area. I wondered what was going through Julie's mind as she felt the frame begin to move along the belt. She knew where the belt ended. She would be carried all the way to the front of the plant at the head of the packaging equipment. Anyone coming into the building would have to walk past her.

She had a lot of time to think about what would happen. It was now almost 11:00 pm on Saturday night. At 5:00 am Monday morning the doors of the plant would automatically unlock. At 6:00 am the first of the production crew would begin to arrive. By 6:30 all of the workers would be clocked in and precisely at 7:00 her dad would arrive expecting her to already have the plant up and running for the day.

I wished I could see the faces of her employees as they first saw her in her wax cocoon. I wish I could hear what her father had to say when he saw his precious daughter "totally immersed in the business."

What am I saying, I will see it all, and I will hear it all. So will everyone else who is tuned in to the Candle Queen channel. My recorders will also record it all - at least until everything goes off the air and deletes all traces of the programming an hour later.

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Wayne Mitchell “The Technician”

[email protected]

See my published books at

https://fiction4all.com/ebooks/a1711.htm

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30.04.08