Linda
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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