The Worm That Turned




It was the third time it happened that made Wilma snap and become the woman she is now.


 The first time was that Halloween party she went to last year – the one with the theme of leather and lace.  Wilma had gone in a black leather skirt, silk waistcoat with slip underneath and wader style leather boots, and was having a great time until she walked into the bathroom.


There was another woman there – she was a lot smaller, with red hair, a black bustier dress and suede boots, and she was checking over a very nice looking set of tools.  Wilma had said “Hi” and then “Oh” when she saw the pistol the woman was holding.


“Shut up” the woman had said “and turn around” as she took a length of white rope out of her pocket.  Wilma had been too scared to resist as her wrist were bound together behind her back, and then the lengths of rope allowed to drop on the floor while the smaller intruder took two further lengths of rope out of a bag.  For some reason, she had then taken Wilma’s right boot off before tying her legs together at the ankles and knees.


She’d then pulled over a table, picked up the loose ends of the rope around her wrists from the floor, stood on the table and tied the loose ends around the light fitting in the ceiling while Wilma watched her.  Her auburn hair was around her face as she whispered “Please, don’t do this…” – but the intruder had just laughed as she took strips off a roll of blue tape and smoothed them over Wilma’s mouth,


“Don’t hang around for too long,” she had said as she got off the table having first felt Wilma’s breasts under the waistcoat, then she picked up her toolkit and left.  When the open safe was discovered, Wilma was found tired and frightened, hoping never ever to go through that again.



That hope lasted about three months.



It was Valentine’s night, and Wilma had been getting ready to go on a date when there had been a knock on the door.  She slipped a silk dressing gown over her body, tied the sash around the waist and opened the door.


“Hello again, dear,” the red haired woman had said as she pushed Wilma back into her flat.  “We need something from your office again, and you’re going to help us.”


Wilma was, once again, too scared to resist as she was pushed back into her bedroom, and the intruder took long lengths of rope out of her bag.


“I need to make sure you won’t raise the alarm, dear,” she had said as she pulled a chair away from Wilma’s dressing table.  “Sit down facing the back of the chair.”



Two hours later, Wilma’s date knocked on her door to see why she hadn’t turned up.  When the door swung open, he stepped in, called out “Wilma?”  And heard a muffled call from the direction of the bedroom.  When he walked in, Wilma turned her head and tried to call out to him, but the white scarf over her mouth and the balled up scarf sitting inside were muffling any calls.


She had been stripped to her panties, stockings and white heels, which were on her feet while her ankles were bound to the front legs of the chair.  Her wrists were tied to the bottom of the back rest, while three lengths of rope held her tightly against the chair back.  It took the poor lad a while to untie her from there, and by then the office had been raided again,


In the confusion, she didn’t notice her spare security pass had been taken as well – and that led to the events that changed everything.




A week later, Wilma was at her desk in the office when she was grabbed from behind, a hand placed over her mouth and a familiar female voice said “Guess who?”  She screamed in frustration and began struggling, but the female intruder laughed, said “Thanks for the pass” and threw a number of coils of rope down onto the table in front of her.


Wilma was wearing a white blouse and tweed skirt to work that day, and she watched as the fabric creased under the ropes that the intruder wrapped around her arms and chest once her wrists had been secured behind her back.  She struggled as the ropes were tied on – and that proved to be her saving grace later.  At the time, however, she just screamed in frustration as the knots were tied out of reach of her probing hands.


A rolled up length of white cloth was pulled into her mouth, and as the woman whispered “Just sit there and behave yourself” into Wilma’s ear, she was pushed down into the chair.  Watching in frustration, she realised that unlike the previous times, there was actually some give in the rope around her wrists.


Maybe it was because she had tensed up this time, maybe the intruder had not pulled as tightly, but there was definitely the potential for her to move her wrists.  She could also see a letter opener sitting on the desk beside her.  With a glint in her eye, she stood up and shuffled over to the desk…..





“Where are you, honey?”  The red-haired intruder called as she walked into the room – only to be felled to the floor as a ream of paper was slammed into the back of her head.  Wilma stood over the prone body, laughed and rolled her onto her stomach, picking up a length of rope that had been discarded in the floor as she did so.


The intruder shook her head as she returned to consciousness, and tried to speak, but something was preventing noise leaving her mouth.  She also realised that her hands were fixed behind her back, and as her eyes came into focus she saw Wilma standing over her.


“How does it feel to be the victim this time, bitch,” she said as she checked the knots around the woman’s wrists and arms.  Sitting on the desk in front of her, she placed a finger on the red rubber ball that she had fed the cloth through, before using it to gag the intruder.


“Third time’s a charm, it seems.  I have to thank you for finally making me see the light, my dear.  Now, I’m going to call the police and report that I’ve captured an intruder in the office.  Before I do that, however, we’re going to have a nice little private chat where I tell you what you have taught me – and perhaps we have some fun as well.  Nod if you agree.”


The intruder turned her head away, partly in shame but mainly in anger that she had fallen for such an old trick, “Ah well – your loss,” Wilma said as she reached over and started to undo her blue jacket.




A week later, Wilma was walking down the street when a tall, well built brunette bumped into her.  “Sorry,” Wilma said.  “So you should be, you little mouse – watch where you’re going,” the woman snapped as she walked off, the heels of her boots clicking on the ground.  Wilma stared after her, then turned and from a distance followed her as she entered a block of flats.  Dusk was starting to fall, and Wilma kept watching until she saw a light in the window and the woman walk past in the ground floor flat.




Some hours later, there was a knock on the door of the flat, and the brunette opened it only to be pushed back inside by a woman, dressed in black with a stocking mask over her head and a knife in her hand.


“I have a challenge for you,” Wilma said as she held the knife against the woman’s throat.  “If you can answer my question, then you can go free.  If not, you do as I say.  Understand?”


“Yyy… Yes” the woman stammered.


“What was the biggest mistake you made today?”


“Letting you in?”


“Close, but not correct.  Come with me.”


Wilma took the woman by the arm and led her into the main room of the flat, where she was glad to see the blinds were now drawn.   “What are you going to do?”  The brunette asked as she watched Wilma pull the telephone out of the wall.


“Strip,” was all she said as she took several coils of rope from her backpack and dropped them on the floor, “then lie face down on the floor and shut up.”


Several minutes later, the woman grunted as Wilma tied the tightest knot she could for the rope that held her ankles to her wrists.  Her white blouse and black skirt were on the floor beside her, and her wrists, arms and elbows were tied tightly together behind her back.  She struggled in the tight hogtie, but was powerless to stop Wilma taking the contents of her purse.


“You’ll never get away with this,” she cried out.  Wilma laughed, said “Oh, I think I will,” and then wrapped a roll of blue medical tape around the woman’s mouth and face to silence her.  Blowing her a kiss, she left the flat, removed the stocking mask and walked down the street, a feeling of elation and triumph in her head and chest.  She knew a new career was dawning for her, but she only wanted to do this when it was needed – and the challenge was there.




As the weeks passed, the police noticed a number of similar robberies in the area, but Wilma wasn’t suspected as there seemed to be no pattern.  The next was a young Asian woman who worked in a travel agency.  She had come home one night to find a woman, dressed in black with a balaclava over her head, in her flat waiting for her.  She had said she had a challenge for Su-Lin – could she guess what she had in her pocket?  When Su-Lin replied some money, the intruder had laughed, picked up a small pistol from the table beside her, and ordered Su-Lin to strip to her underwear.


Su-Lin was soon standing in a very fetching red bra and panties combination, with her red heels still on and her black stockings.  The intruder had very methodically tied her wrists together behind her back with white rope, then her elbows together and then wrapped rope above and below her 38DD breasts.  More rope had secured her arms to her waist as well, before she was made to sit down in a folding chair.


She watched the woman cross her ankles and bind them together with more rope, then her legs above and below her knees.  When she had asked the intruder why she was doing this, all she said was “I enjoy the challenge,” before pushing a very large wad of white cloth into Su-Lin’s mouth, filling her cheeks so that a small strand had to lie outside her stuffed mouth.  She watched the intruder emptying the contents of her flat and taking her valuables, unable to push the cloth out and call for help, before the intruder came back with a roll of clear parcel tape.


“Night night,” was the last thing she said before placing the tape over her victim’s stuffed mouth, and leaving the flat.  Su-Lin still didn’t know that, earlier that day, she had laughed at Wilma’s request for a nice, quiet holiday for one…..





Wilma didn’t perform any more break-ins for a few weeks after that, as she wanted to make her job work as well.  One day, however, she made a small spelling mistake, and her boss ripped her apart for it, before firing her on the spot.  At that point, Wilma knew she had to make money somehow – and she knew her boss was at a late meeting that night…..


Jenny was tidying up the front room when she felt the breeze against her back.  “Funny?” she thought as she turned round and walked back into the kitchen – where she was met by a woman dressed in black, a balaclava over her head and a gun pointing at her.


“I have a challenge for you, Jenny,” she said, “Do you know why I know your name?”


“No,” Jenny whispered.


“Good – now, turn around, put your hands behind your head and walk back into the main room.”


Jenny did as she was told, the hem of her pick satin blouse raising above the waistband of her black skirt as she did so.  “What’s this about,” she asked as she and the intruder walked back into the room, “and who are you?”


Wilma thought for a moment – Jenny was the first person ever to ask who she was.


“Call me The Challenger,” she said as she stopped Jenny in the centre of the room.  “Now, pull that chair out from the table and sit in it.”


As Jenny sat down, The Challenger took some lengths of white rope from a rucksack she was wearing, then knelt down behind her and gently pulled her wrists together behind the back of the chair.  Jenny winced as the rope cut into her wrists as it was pulled tighter and cinched off, then watched as more rope was upper chest and arms, over the bare skin below the short sleeves of her blouse, followed by rope holding her waist against the back of the chair.


“Please, just take what you want and leave us alone,” she pleaded as Wilma knelt in front of her and started to tie her ankles together, before lashing them to the leg of the chair.


“Oh, I will,” she said as she proceeded to tie her legs together below her knees, and then lash her lap to the seat of the chair, “but first I need to make sure you can’t challenge me.”


Standing up, she reached into the rucksack and pulled out a thick white scarf.  Walking behind the trussed woman, she held it in front of Jenny’s mouth, and as she opened wide Wilma pulled the scarf tightly in and knotted the ends together at the base of Jenny’s neck.


“I hope your husband finds you soon, Jenny,” she said as she started to fill her rucksack with the valuables in the room, and then searched the rest of the house as Jenny tried to struggle free.  IT was, sadly, some hours later before her husband found her asleep in the chair.




That was when I first heard about her.  I was vacationing in a hotel in Majorca when I saw this smartly dressed woman having an argument with the hotel staff.  Dark jacket and skirt, cream blouse and leather heels – and she was giving the staff a right ticking off for some trivial reason.  As I watched, I saw this red haired woman watching as well, an intent look on her face.  I sat for a moment, then walked over and engaged the staff in conversation, getting the room number of the woman as part of the small talk.


I had intended to pay this woman a visit myself, but when I opened the door with my skeleton key I heard a conversation going on.  One woman was saying “the correct answer was forty-two”, while there were muffled calls from some one else.  I stood in the room hallway, silently watching the scene unfurl in the mirror.


The red head was on the bed, straddling the blonde haired woman who was lying face down, black tape over her mouth.  As the first woman bound the crossed wrists of the blonde behind her back, I heard her say “Never challenge someone unless you know you will have the upper hand – and I always will.”  As she said this, she tied off the knot and the blonde winced at the tightness of the ropes.  Turning round without getting off the mewling woman, she took more rope and quickly but efficiently bound her ankles together, then her legs above her knees.  She took the heels off the victim, threw them on the floor and leaped off the bed, as the blonde looked over her shoulder and her skirt rose up to show the tops of her black stockings.


“As I said,” the redhead answered as she emptied the contents of the blonde’s handbag, “Never reject a challenge.”  I slipped out of the room and made my way down to the lobby, waiting for her to re-appear, and then walked up and gave her my business card.


“I saw the good work you did up there,” I said as she looked at me, “Can I buy you a drink?  I have a proposal you may find interesting.”



Over a couple of margaritas, I told her my proposal, and asked her to describe a recent piece of work she had done.  She described it to me like this.


“I was having a quiet drink when Denise Lewis walks in.  I had been at school with Denise, and she had always been the popular one while I was the swot – and the victim of her bullying.  Anyway, she came up to me and, as if ten years hadn’t passed, laid right in.  I stood up, and as I went to leave knocked her handbag over.  Picking it up, I pocketed an address card and handed it back before running out.  As I looked back, I could see her laughing – but as I looked at her address, I vowed she soon would be laughing no more.


“I waited a couple of days, then got changed into my new work outfit and made my way to her house in the suburbs.  Her side door was open, so I slipped in through the gate and paused only to put on my eye mask before I slipped into the kitchen.  There was the sound of laughter coming from a front room, so I pulled out my pistol and walked in.


““Shut up and do nothing,” I barked as I surprised Denise and her two friends in the room.  All three were wearing blue jeans – in Denise’s case, the legs were tucked into clack boots, and she was wearing a black crop top with elbow-length sleeves.  Both her friends were redheads – one wearing a striped jumper and pink heels, the other a grey flecked jumper and white heels.


“Denise stared at me, but failed to recognise me as Wilma the Wimp as she used to call me.  ‘What do you want’, she asked as I watched her starting to shake.


“’Close the curtains, and then I have a challenge for you,’ I said, and Denise stood up.  ‘You two stay right where you are’, I ordered her friends as one of them started to stand up.


“’All right,’ she said as she walked back, ‘What’s the challenge?’  Silently, I took my rucksack off my back, took out a length of white rope and handed it to her.  ‘My challenge is for you to tie the wrists of your friend behind her back so that I don’t have to – you are being robbed,’ I replied.


“’It’s all right, Denise’ the striped one said as she stood up, walked over to Denise and put her hands behind her back.  All the time Denise was tying the rope around her wrists, she stared at me trying to memorise what she could about my appearance.   When Denise had finished, I ordered the striped jumper to sit down, and handed Denise another length of rope, telling her to tie her ankles together as well, and then her legs above her knees.


“When she had finished, I made Denise do the same to the other friend, so that eventually both were sat on the floor, bound by the wrists, ankles and legs and staring at both of us.  ‘Your turn now,’ I said as I took Denise’s wrists and tied them behind her back, somewhat more tightly than usual, but I had sixteen years of anger to get out of my system.  Soon she was sat next to her friends.


“’So what happens now,’ the grey jumpered woman said, so to answer her I took a roll of silver duct tape from my bag and gagged all three women with several strips.  I then made Denise stand up, and lashed more rope around her arms and chest, above and below her breasts, before passing the rope over her shoulders and between her breasts to tighten them together.  The other two soon followed suit, and they stood there looking at me like three little maids.


“’Now, let’s make sure you can’t get free’, I said, and I manoeuvred them so they stood back to back with each other, before taking one last length of rope around their waists to hold them together.  They then watched me as I went out of the room, searched the house and brought stuff back to place in my rucksack.  As I left the room for the final time, my takings on my back, I saw Denise trying to scream through her gag.”




I remembered reading about that case in the paper, so I knew this was indeed the Challenger that we had all heard of.  So, I made my proposal and set her a challenge to see if she was worthy.  Today I had this e-mail.


Hi there.  Hopes this proves I am worthy.  The Challenger


Attached was a photo of the young woman, in her current work outfit of a black cat suit with gold stripes down the side, black knee length boots and a black eye mask with her red hair in a pony tail.  She had another woman next to her, in her late teens, which she was taking photos of.  This blonde teenager was looking at Wilma, with fearful eyes over the red tape gag she had over her mouth.  Her wrists were tied behind her back, and her ankles and legs tied with red rope, while her white blouse had been opened to reveal her black bra.  She was obviously taken on her way to school, as the contents of her bag were scattered over the floor.


So, as you can see, the daughter of the chief of police has been taken, and I am sure he will now allow us the access we need when we talk to him.  Given this exemplary performance, I nominate Wilma, also known as The Challenger, for membership of the Burglars’ Association with all rights and benefits that entails.  Who will second my proposal?