I’m not what you would call a special woman - I live in a small town, with my husband, have an ordinary job and live an ordinary wife.  In one way, however, I guess you could say I have an extraordinary life - because every midsummer’s day, I seem to get robbed in my own house.  I don’t know what I do to deserve it, but that’s what happens.


I still remember the first year it happened - we had just moved into the house, with my daughter who was then about twelve, and she had gone to a friend’s house while my husband was out to work.  I was taking the day off, doing some things around the house, and in those days I tended to dress casually. 

On this particular June day, I had on a coral pink top with a round neck and capped sleeves, a matching pair of shorts, and for no other reason than I wanted to a pair of white heels and ankle socks.  I also had a pair of white earrings on, and for some reason I was trying out a new light blue eye shadow.


I’d spent the morning tidying up the house, and had started to clear my daughter’s room up when I thought I heard someone behind me.  I was about to turn round and see who it was when I felt this arm grab me, and a leather gloved hand clamped itself over my nose and mouth.  I tried to break free, but I soon passed out.


When I came to, I found myself lying face down on my daughter’s bed, across the brown duvet, but when I tried to speak it only came out as a low mumble.  I could feel something pressing against my mouth, and when I looked in a mirror on her dressing table I saw that a pink scarf, which I had used to keep my hair back, was now tied over my mouth. 


I could also feel my arms pressing into my back, and as I looked over my shoulder I could see that my wrists were tied together, side by side, and my legs had been pulled back.  My ankles were crossed and tied together, while there was a length of rope from my wrists to my ankles.


“Whtsgngnn,” I mumbled, only for a muffled voice to say “Ah good - you’re awake.”


I turned my head to see a man standing there, dressed form had to toe in black, including the balaclava over his head.  He smiled through the hole I could see his mouth in, before turning back to searching through my daughter’s drawers.


“Hru,” I mumbled as I saw him putting a few things into a small sack.  He said nothing, but instead put the bag down and sat next to me, stroking his hand over my short dark hair.


“You are a very beautiful woman,” he said, “but I need to keep you secure while I search the rest of the house.  I’m going to move you and untie your wrists for a moment - don’t move.”


As if I was in a position to argue with this big, muscle bound man?  I felt him move me so that my head was facing the base of the bed, and then sighed as he untied the rope from my wrists and ankles, then released my arms.  He did not allow me to move, however, but tied a length of rope around my left wrist and then secured it to one side of the bottom of the bed, and my right wrists to the other side.


“LTMGGG” I screamed out, but to my surprise he removed the scarf and said “You need to be quiet, or I will stuff something into your mouth and tape it over, understand?”


That shocked me, so I just nodded, even opening my mouth as he pulled the scarf between my lips.  I looked up at him as he stopped in the bedroom doorway, and then blew me a kiss before he left me alone.


So there I was, kicking my legs up and down in frustration as I made various interesting noises through the thin band that was holding my tongue down to the floor of my mouth.  Whoever this was knew what he was doing, because I could not get to the knots at all, so all I could do was wait until he either left or came back.


Eventually, however, my luck ran out - he came back into the room and said “I don’t think it’s fair to leave you unable to try and escape like that.  I’m going to untie your wrists again, and I want you to put your hands behind your back, wrists crossed.”


I looked up at him and nodded, sighing as my wrists were free and shaking them before I moved them behind me.  He knelt on the bed beside me, and used some washing line similar to what he had used earlier to bind my wrists tightly together.  I flexed my fingers as he did a professional job on me, and then made me kneel as he tied my arms tightly to my side, the rope going round my forearms and above my chest,


He then untied the scarf from around my head, easing out the now very wet pink scarf before he dropped it on the floor.  Picking up a strip of white towelling he had brought in, presumably from the bathroom, he then used that to gag me, before laying me on my side and tying my legs tightly together below my bare knees.


“You really are cute - he must be a lucky guy,” was all he said as he left me alone, looking up at the ceiling as I tried to call for help.




Luckily my husband got back before my daughter, or there would have been some explaining to do - and I thought that was that.  I had been robbed, as many women had before me and many would after me, and I moved on.


Until the next time - I had just dropped my daughter off at high school, and come back to the house before I went shopping.  When I walked into the front room, however, there he was - another masked intruder, who looked at me and said “Good morning - I’m going to be robbing you today, and I’m afraid I need to make sure you don’t get in the way.”


It was a cooler day, and I was wearing a blue v-necked jumper with thin red horizontal stripes, blue jeans and white sneakers.  “What would you do if I screamed right now,” I said to him, at which point he smiled, showed me the hunting knife he pulled from his jacket, and simply said “Guess.”


That was the problem - I could guess, so I simply raised my hands over my head, placing them on my brown dyed hair, and said “All right - what do you want me to do?”


“Do you have a spare bedroom?”


I nodded and said “the guest bedroom - why?”


“Let’s go,” he said as he pointed to the stairs, so I started to climb the stairs, with him two steps behind me.  As we reached the top, he said “which room is yours?”


I led him to my bedroom, at which point he made me put all my jewellery in a black velvet sack.  As I opened the drawers, he took out a clean pair of knickers, and then handed them to me with a smile.


“Fold these up,” he said quietly, “and then put them into your mouth.”


I looked at him for a moment, and said “Why?”


“Why do you think,” he said as he opened another drawer and took out a purple headscarf.  “Fold them, put them in your mouth, and then tie this scarf into your mouth to keep you nice and quiet.”


I didn’t have a choice, did I?  I pushed the silk pad into my mouth, then tied the scarf between my lips, securing the ends together under my hair at the base of my neck.


“Now,” the intruder said with a smile, “that spare bedroom.”  We walked into it, and as I sat on the brown bedspread he took a length of twine from his pocket, and tied my wrist tightly together in front of me, crossing them first.


A second length of twine was used to tie my ankles side by side, until he leaned over, lifted the stocking covering his head and kissed me on the forehead.


“Try not to be too scared,” he said as I lay on my side, my head resting on the pillow as he stroked his hands down my back.  I giggled a little as he tickled the back of my knees, and then sighed as I watched him close the door.  My phone was in my bag downstairs, and I just lay there.


Strangely enough, I found myself actually enjoying the peace and quiet for a little while, before I sat myself up and then managed to stand - I knew where there was a pair of scissors I could use to free myself.


There are a few times over the following years when the attack came while I was dressed as, for want of a better word, a soccer mum.  One really strange time was when my daughter was at home, downstairs with a friend, and yet still an intruder found me on a June day.


We had gone with her friend’s family to a holiday cabin, and I was wearing a short sleeved white blouse, a fawn coloured skirt, dark hose and a pair of flat shoes.  As I said, my daughter and her friend were downstairs, watching some teen movie, and I was sorting the main bedroom in the cabin out when...


“Oh Christ, not again,” I whispered when I saw him standing there, in an open necked checked shirt, jeans and with a gun pointing at me.  “Hello Darling,” he said in a southern drawl, “this the first time someone’s held you up?”


“Hardly,” I said with a weary sigh.  “Look - there are kids downstairs.  If you give me your word that they don’t get involved in this, I’ll do whatever you say.”


This time I was really upset - bad enough this happened to me, but I did not want her or anyone else to be dragged into it.  So I lay face down on the bed, and offered no resistance as he crossed my wrists and tied them together with white rope.


It dug a little into my skin, but I bit my lip and didn’t complain as he bound my ankles tightly together, side by side, and then - he smacked my bottom.


“Hey,” I called out, “you didn’t need to do that!”


“Yes I did,” he said as his hand caressed my butt cheek, “and I need to keep you quiet.  Got any medical tape in this room.”


I looked over to the table, where there was a first aid kit.  He opened it, took out a roll of white sticking plaster, and then tore off several strips, smoothing them down over my lips to keep them sealed.  I glared back at him as he pulled my ankles back and tied them to my wrists, but I couldn’t stop him taking my purse and running off.


The really embarrassing thing was the fact it was the friend’s mother who found me, staring at her from the bed under the fringe of my black hair.  She smiled, said “Having fun,” and - well, that’s another story.



Now,  I do have to admit that by this time, I was looking forward to the excitement of these visits.  Each year, as the time in June when they happened approached, I would find myself wondering what was going to happen this time.  Normally it was when I was already up and dressed, but there were a few occasions - mostly at weekends - when I would be woken by the intruder.


I remember one morning - I woke up and stretched, then got out of bed and walked into the bathroom.  I had on a peach coloured nightdress, with elbow length sleeves, and I regret to say nothing underneath.


The reason I regret to say it was because when I came out, a hand was clamped over my mouth and I felt sticky tape been pressed over my lips.


“Whtsgng,” I mumbled, but I was powerless to stop him pushing me back onto the bed, my head resting on a cushion.  Sitting across me, I could see he had the cords from an old pair of purple curtains I had taken down the previous day, which he tied to my wrists before stretching them out and securing them to the headboard.


There was a look on his face as he stared down at me - a look I could not quite figure out, as he stroked down my legs before pushing them up.  I’m ashamed to say that made my nightdress fell as he did this, exposing my bare bottom, and I tired to kick out at him in protest.


That just made him laugh, however, as he took an old dressing gown belt, grabbed my legs and held them tightly together as he lashed the belt around my ankles.  I was forced, yet again, to watch as an intruder rifled through the drawers - and then come and sit with me, stroking my body as he said “Are you afraid?”


I mewled a little as I stared at him, and waited to see what he would do next.  I soon found out...




Yeah, I know - but something else was becoming clear to me every time the intruder appeared.  I’m not ashamed to admit that it was becoming something of a turn on for me to be bound and gagged, and secretly I wondered if he would ever take things further.


Some years, the man did.  Other years, it was as if he knew what had happened to me recently.  A few years back I had to have a serious operation - one that left me drained and not feeling very good with myself.  So much so that I was sleeping in a downstairs bedroom, while my husband slept alone upstairs.


The operation was in April, so as June came round for the first time in all the years it had happened, I found myself dreading the visit if it came.


I woke up in the early hours of that June morning having spent the night lying on top of the open covers in a long, rather shapeless white nightdress, to the sight of a man with a bandana covering his mouth looking down at me.


“No,” I said as I looked up at him, but he stroked my cheek and said “I saw the medicine and dressing packs in the bathroom.  I’m sorry you have had to endure that, but I have come to rob you, and I will need to secure you.  I promise you, however, it will not hurt.


“First, can you sit up for a moment?”


“I need to go to the toilet,” is what I said in reply to that.  Well, it was the truth - I did need to go to the toilet.  He stood to one side and watched as I went in did what I had to do and came back out.


No, I could not have escaped from there - the window was far too small.  When I came in, I saw that he had a white scarf in his gloved hands, rolled into a band.


“I’m going to gag you first,” he said as he looked at me, “then you may lie on your back and relax.”


“You promise you won’t hurt me?”


“I promise,” he said quietly, so I opened my mouth and allowed him to put the band of cotton in, closing my lips over it as he tied the ends together at the base of my neck.  I lay down on the bed, and at his request I folded my arms in front of me, watching as he used two lengths of white rope to tie my forearms together, with my hands resting on my arms.


“IS that all right,” he said quietly, and I nodded as he put my ankles together and secured them together, side by side, over the short white socks I had worn to keep my feet warm.


He then tied some more rope around my legs, below my knees, as I stretched them out, and finally he tied my upper legs together, the rope going over the hem of my nightdress and pressing it against my limbs.


In this way, he actually kept my modesty, and checked on me several times as he worked his way round the house.  It was actually very comfortable, and after the initial shock I was so relaxed that I fell asleep again.  My husband found me when he got up, and after he released me we talked, we cried - and things got better between us as we spent the day together.



The years went by, and the visits continued - but there was a subtle change more recently, as my daughter grew up and left home.  The visits began to happen later in the evening, and become somewhat more - intimate in nature.


The first of those was on a night when I was tired, and had decided to go to bed early while the rest of the family went out.  I showered, did my hair and put on a purple nightgown, with a neck and short sleeves like those you see on a peasant blouse.  You know, short and able to be pulled off the shoulders.


The nightdress was made of silk, and had a lace trim, but I knew I still had to lock up, so I put on a pair of black sandals and went to put the refuse sacks out in the yard.  Of course, you can guess what happened next - I was grabbed as I went to come back into the house, made to bend over the kitchen table, and felt my wrists as they were crossed behind my back and tied together.


Unlike other times, on this occasion the intruder said nothing - he made me stand up, and pushed a folded handkerchief into my mouth before gagging me with a strip of cotton torn from a towel.  I was made to climb the stairs and forced into the spare bedroom, where he made me lie on the bed face down while he tied my ankles together.


By now, I was expecting him to start going through my drawers, taking my jewellery, yada yada yada - so I opened my eyes in surprise when I felt instead his lips on the back of my neck, and his arms stroking down mine.


“Whtrudng,” I mumbled as he eased the shoulders of my nightdress down, and kissed them as well, then the side of my neck.  That was when - well look, I don’t have to spell it out I suppose, but the way being tied and gagged had made me feel 99% of the time led to my giving in to his advances.


This has seemed to be the pattern in more recent years - whereas before the intruder would come during the day, or fist thing in the morning, now he comes at night, and he seeks to make me feel good as well as take my valuables.  For my part, I found myself giving in those fantasies that could arise from that - like the night three years ago. I had been waiting for whoever it was this time to come, and on this night I wore a pale blue nightdress with thin spaghetti straps, a pair of dark stockings and brown heeled sandals.


I was sitting in the snug, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine, when I felt the hand over my mouth and heard the man say “Do exactly what I tell you.”


I nodded in agreement as he made me stand up and walk to the master bedroom, his hand on my shoulder as we climbed the stairs, and then stopped me by the bed.


“Hands behind your back,” he said, and I duly obliged, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from expressing what I was feeling as he crossed and tied my bare wrists together.  What was I feeling?  A little fear, a little tension - but God help me, a lot of excitement and anticipation.


“Open your mouth,” was the next thing he said, and I allowed he to tie a knotted length of cotton into my mouth, closing my lips over the band and mewling as he secured the ends together at the base of my neck.


“Now, kneel on the bed, facing away from me,” he said, and once I had done as he had ordered I felt my ankles being bound tightly together, and then my legs above my knees.


What followed for the next half hour was indescribable, as he stroked my body from foot to head, gently caressing me, gently arousing me with the touch of his fingers on my skin, the touch of his lips on my neck and shoulders.  I could not stop myself from moaning with pleasure at his teasing, especially when he began to massage my breasts and use his fingers to trace around my nipples.


Oh come on - I know I was unable to stop him, but by that point I did not want to, as he pulled the thin straps down my shoulders and uncovered my bare breasts, his lips touching them as he caressed them.  I was finding myself transported away, forgetting the fact that I was bound and gagged as he had his way with me...


When he had finished, all I could do was close my eyes and rest my head, panting through the sodden cloth as he kissed my forehead and wished me a pleasant night.  I had already had one - and with my husband coming home soon, I suspected he would be happy as well.


Oh yeah - by now I had found out that he liked to find me like this, and - well, let’s just say it was a great night.



And then there was last year - I had been to a party, and come home early, stripping out of my black cocktail dress and standing in the bedroom, wearing only a pair of very sheer stockings, a black camisole top and g-string, and my strappy shoes.


The night was warm, and I sat on my bed, wondering if I should do anything before sleeping, when that decision was made for me.  I smelt the leather of his glove as he covered my mouth with his hand, and whispered into my ear “Hands above your head, palm to palm, and don’t move.”


“Lllrrt,” I mumbled as I nodded and slowly raised my hands, staring straight ahead as he crossed my wrists and I felt soft cord going round them, pulling them tightly together.


“What are you going to do to me,” I whispered as I dropped my bound wrists onto my legs, and then saw the strip of white cloth in front of my head.  Opening wide, I allowed him to pull the cloth between my lips, and secure it behind my head, before he walked round and knelt in front of me by the bed.  He was dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, with a black domino mask over his eyes - a real classic look, which actually made me smile.


Tying my legs together below my knees, he then secured my wrists down to them, before walking back round and kneeling behind me.  I felt his lips, his hands, and I knew once again that I was going to be in for a teasing.


This time was slightly different though - he did massage me, kiss me, arouse me, but he also moved his hands between my legs and stroked the inside of my thighs, making me gasp and moan as he slowly moved them up towards...


My eyes shot open as I felt him there, and I looked over my shoulder, giving him the opportunity to kiss my lips and then lie me on my side, facing him.


“Whrugngtdtm,” I said as I looked at him with slightly glazed over eyes.  He just looked at me and smiled, his hand stroking down my leg as he did so, and then said “Take you to paradise.”


He untied my wrists, only to take them above my head and secure them to the headboard, and then he started to take my shoes off, caressing the soles of my feet as he did so.  Now, I’m ticklish, but this felt so different, felt so good as his fingers massaged the soles of my feet...


He then untied my legs, and started to roll my stockings down my legs, my sighs increasing at his touch on my bare legs moved down.  My ankles were next to be released, as he pulled my stockings off and then started to kiss my legs, moving up until he kissed my mouth and ungagged me.


“What are you...” I started to say, but that was cut off as he pushed one of my stockings into my mouth, and then put strips of white plaster over my lips.  As I moaned more and more, he slowly removed my knickers, and I twisted on my bed, looking at him as I move my legs, and he reached for the front of his pants...




What?  You think I have been assaulted?  Why don’t I go to the police?


Why would I?  Nothing was ever really stolen, and my husband was only helping me to live out and fulfil my fantasies, every year on or around our wedding anniversary on the 20th of June.  I love him all the more for it - especially as the fact our daughter has left home now means he can go much further than he used to.


Anyway, I have to go now - I’m expecting a visitor...



She smiled at me as I opened the door for her, her wrists tied tightly together in front of her with white rope and a matching scarf tied in her mouth.  She had picked a sheer black nightdress, with thin spaghetti straps making a halter to hold the see through patterned front up.


 “Are you ready,” I said through the black stocking that covered my head.  I had worn at her request a dinner jacket, white shirt with bow tie, dark trousers and patent leather shoes.  She wanted to be taken by James Bond - and while I’m no Daniel Craig, I can try.


She smiled again and nodded, as I took her by the arm and led her to the bedroom.  “Happy anniversary darling,” I whispered into her ear as we went to start our celebration...







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