One Week in Americana

1964 small town America – a place where crime was something that happened to other people.

But these people all experienced the fear of an unwanted visitor – I know, I was that visitor, searching for that elusive something.

Starting on a Monday afternoon, after Ethel returned home from her Prayer Lunch…

There was a distinct chill in the air as Ethel walked down her street on the sidewalk, the heels of her black leather shoes clicking on the flagstones. She was wearing a brown fur coat over her red silk dress, thinking over the subjects they had prayed over after lunch.

And the choice gossip she had learned from that she could pass on to others.

Turning and climbing the two steps to her home, she fished the door key out of her handbag, holding it in her gloved hand and inserting the key as she unlocked the door. Stepping in, she put her handbag and keys onto the table by the door, and removed her coat, hanging it up and checking the hold on her grey hair as she looked in the mirror, the silver brooch at her chest.

That was when she noticed the wire for the telephone had been pulled from the wall – and then she felt the pressure on her back, as the young male voice said “my apologies, dear lady, but I need to make sure you cannot raise the alarm. You’re not going to scream, are you?”

“No,” Ethel whispered, too shocked and scared to do anything else.

“Good – slowly, put your hands behind your back.”

As she did so, she felt the pressure ease on her back, but she also felt someone grab her wrists and hold them together, before she felt the rope pulled tightly round them as they were tied together.

“What is it you want,” Ethel whispered as she felt the ropes tighten even more.

“Your co-operation,” the male voice said, “walk with me.” He guided her into the front room, Ethel noticing the drapes drawn over the windows as the room was in semi-darkness, and then she sat in a wooden chair with pink upholstery. She then got her first good look at the man – young, short hair, non-descript.

He knelt in front of her and produced from his jacket pocket a length of white cord, crossing her ankles and securing them together tightly before he said “where are the rest of your valuables?”

“In our bedroom…”

“Excellent,” he whispered as he stood up and walked behind her, Ethel feeling his hands as he removed her earrings, her rings, her brooch – and then she saw the folded cloth as he said “open wide – and keep this in there. You do not want me to take steps to make sure it stays in.”

She slowly nodded as he pushed the cloth in, the rough material tickling her tongue as she sat there, watching him head up the stairs, then back down and out again before she started to struggle…

Simple, neat – and a good first day. The next day found me playing a role for Maggie…

Maggie stood at the glass doors of her house, watching the young man as he used the tools to remove the leaves from her swimming pool. He was not the usual man – he had called sick – but as he worked in his jeans, with his shirt off, Maggie could not take her eyes off him.

She was in her early fifties, her brown hair arranged in a bun on her hair, her green angora sweater with the purple scarf tucked in round her neck and her white skirt the model of civility – especially with the gold brooch on the front of the jumper. Comfortable black shoes completed her outfit.

She smiled as he stood up, putting the large rake down and wiping his brow, as she called out “Hey!”

He looked over and smiled as he said “yes, Ma’am?”

“Come and have a cold drink – you’ve earned it.” She watched as he put his shirt on and picked up a knapsack, then walked towards her as he said “that’s mighty neighbourly of you, Ma’am. It’s hot work.”

Maggie just smiled as he followed her into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said with a smile as he put his knapsack down, watching as she poured some lemonade into a glass with ice, and handed it over.

“Will you have some,” he said with a smile.

“No,” Maggie said as she watched him. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh, I’m just staying for a couple of weeks,” he said as he looked at her, “but this is fine lemonade, Ma’am. May I ask a forward question?”

Maggie was flattered, as she said “and that question is?”

“Do you live here alone, Ma’am?”

“I do – why?”

“Well, it makes this so much easier,” he said as he put the glass down, and then produced from his knapsack a handgun, Maggie’s eyes opening wide. “Kindly stand up, hands in the air, and walk into the front room. I would surely hate to have to hurt you while I take your fine valuables.”

Maggie stared at him, before she slowly stood up, saying “well, since you asked nicely…”

“Much appreciated, Ma’am,” the young man said as she walked in front of him, hands raised in the air as she was forced to walk to a long couch with purple cushions.

“Now what?”

“Kindly place your jewellery in this here bag,” he said as he held out a velvet sack, “and then pleas lie face down, and put your hands behind your back.”

“Are you going to tie me up?”

“With deep regret, yes Ma’am,” the man said as he drew a length of white washing line from his knapsack, Maggie nodding as she removed her rings, earrings, watch and brooch and put them down, then lay face down and placed her hands behind her back. She saw him stand beside her, and then felt the rope as it was wound tightly around and between her wrists, forcing them together.

“Do you get pleasure out of tying women up,” she said as he bent her legs and crossed her ankles.

“I cannot rightly answer that,” he said with a smile as she felt her ankles been secured together in the same way as her wrists, keeping her feet in the air as he did so. “But it is surely true it is better if you cannot interrupt me while I search your fine house. Now, I must ask your forgiveness.”

“For robbing me?”

“For silencing you,” he said as Maggie felt him remove her scarf, and then pull it taut in front of her mouth. Knowing she had no choice, she opened her mouth, tasting her perfume on her tongue as he pulled it between her lips and tied it tightly round her head. She lay there, listening to the radio as he turned it on, powerless to stop him robbing her.

She was such a beautiful sight when I left her house.

Wednesday saw me in the next town, delivering a telegram…

As she opened her front door, Laura was surprised to see the messenger boy standing there, wearing the uniform and the small hat to one side on his head, smiling as he said “Mrs Laura Graham?”

“That’s right,” Laura said as she looked at him, her blonde dyed hair swept back so far her red forehead was clearly visible. She was wearing a green short sleeved wool dress with a white design on the front and white stilettos. Looking through her tortoiseshell glasses, she said “how can I help you?”

“Telegraph for you,” he said as he reached into the canvas sack by his side, and pulled out a small envelope.

“Oh – right, hold on a minute,” she said with a smile as she took the envelope, opened it, and looked at the message inside.

“Step back inside stop do not raise the alarm stop this is a robbery stop.”

Laura looked up to see the boy with a gun in his hand, smiling as she stepped back and he entered the house, closing the door behind himself.

“Thank you – now, slowly, walk into the front room and draw the drapes.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh don’t worry about that – once I have you safely secured, you won’t see me again. Now, do as I say.” He waved the gun, Laura nodding as she walked into the front room and looked out of the window. For a moment, she considered calling for help, but instead she drew the heavy curtains over and then turned to look at the intruder.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile as he looked at a purple upholstered chair. “Please, sit down and put your hands behind your head.”

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Laura whispered as she complied.

“I just need to make sure you stay here and cannot raise the alarm,” he said quietly as he drew from the bag a ball of twine, and made a loop in the end before he knelt down and raised her feet, passing the loop over them and then pulling it tight as her ankles were forced together. Laura could only watch as the twine was wrapped round and between her ankles, and then wound in a spiral up her legs, forcing them together as well until the twine went over the skirt of her dress.

“Now,” the intruder said as he looked at her, “put your hands together in prayer.”

Laura slowly nodded as she moved her hands round and together, watching as he tied the twine around and between her wrists to hold them tightly together, before he took it up and wrapped it round her arms and upper body.

“I… I have to stay here,” Laura said as she wriggled round, watching as he brought the twine back round and wound it between her wrists before he tied it off and cut the twine free with a penknife.

“Yes you do,” he said quietly as he removed her jewellery and placed it in the bag, before he took out a roll of brown fabric. Laura wondered what it was, and then he said “open your mouth.” She knew then what was going to happen, as he passed the cloth between her lips and wound it round her head, passing it several times between her lips before he covered them and pinned the bandage behind her head.

He looked at her and smiled as he left her there, before he searched the house, finding her purse and taking the money out before he left her sitting there, struggling and starting to call for help.

I was lucky there – as I left, her neighbour was going up to her front door, so I had to walk very quickly away before she was discovered. But I can say one thing – I was getting bolder, and more confident in the way I secured the ladies with each passing day.

And yet, I still felt I had not found what I was looking for. Thursday provided another opportunity – and this one I followed from the local store…

Annie nodded as she left the haberdasher, her camel coat over her blue checked dress, the paper wrapped package under her arm as she walked down the road. She didn’t see the young man who came out of the hardware store and followed her, smiling as he carried his paper sack in his arm as well.

She wound her way down the main street, and then turned right as she entered a street lined with single storey houses, then turned up one path and stood on the patio as she fished her door keys out. The young man walked past as she unlocked her door and let herself in, before turning round and walking back…

Hanging her coat on the hook, Annie rubbed her bare arms, and then made her way into her front room as she looked at the paper. She did not hear the front door quietly open and close, did not hear the soft footfall, and did not know she was not alone until the damp cloth was clamped over her mouth and nose, the sweet smelling fumes as she struggled breathed in, her mind instantly fogging as she struggled to get free…

When she opened her eyes a short while later, Annie wondered what had happened. Her arms ached, her head ached, and she felt as if she had swallowed a cushion in some way. As she slowly raised her head, she wondered why she was kneeling, allowing her eyes to slowly focus as she tried to bring her hands round form behind her to rub her eyes.

And failing to do so – something was stopping her moving her arms, and as she glanced down she saw the band of white washing line that was around her arms and chest, holding them firmly to her sides. She shook her head and tried to speak – only to find she could not.

Annie was kneeling in front of a white footstool in her bedroom, and as she slowly turned her head she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror. The band of rope holding her arms to her sides was also down her back, holding her crossed wrists tightly together, and then went down and around her ankles.

As to the stuffed feeling in her mouth, she could see a towel was tied round her head, and her lips were closed over it – stifling her cries as a young man walked in.

“Have fun,” he said quietly as he smacked her bottom, Annie calling out – and then she cried out again as the smack was repeated.

And repeated.

And repeated, the smacks paired with the feeling if his hand rubbing her bottom – and Annie was not sure why he was doing that…

I wasn’t sure either – except that as I left her, I realised one of the things I was missing was that when I left a wonderful mature lady like this, it was possible to have, shall we say, some fun – and I resolved that whoever I visited the next day I may try something else.

The Friday afternoon found me in a town where the younger generation were off to a football game – which left me to visit a glamorous grandmother, who looked as if she was adventurous…

Barbara was in her early sixties, and a woman who liked to look attractive – today, that meant a tight zebra print dress, with brown gems in her earrings, necklace and bracelets, and black heels. She smiled as she sat reading a magazine, knowing later that afternoon her granddaughter would visit – but also feeling bored about what might happen until then.

“Hello.”

She suddenly looked up to see a man standing there, wearing a dark suit, white shirt, tie – and a mask over his head, so that only his eyes and mouth were visible.

“Hello – can I help you?”

“Yes – you can let me make sure you cannot raise the alarm, and then I will rob you,” he said with a smile. Barbara looked at him, and said “if I say no?”

“Please – don’t. It would not be pleasant.”

Nodding, Barbara said “very well then, where are you going to make sure I cannot raise the alarm?”

“Your bedroom – I am sure I will find something there to make sure you are comfortable.”

Nodding Barbara said “this way” as she walked in front of him, up a set of stairs, and into a bedroom. He nodded as he said “lie on the bed, hands where I can see them, and don’t move.”

“If you insist,” Barbara said as she lay down, crossing her hands on her lap as she saw him search through the drawers, taking some boxes out – and then he produced three pairs of stocking, Barbara raising an eyebrow as she said “and they are for?”

“This,” he said as he came over, putting the stockings on the bed before he tied the end of one round her left wrist, and then took her hand above her head, tying the other end to the iron headboard. He then took a second stocking, and tied it round he rankle, stretching her leg out and securing it to the foot of the bed before he picked two more round and walked to the other side.

Barbara shook her head on the pillow, trying and failing to move hand and foot, as he secured her free wrist and ankle in the same way, leaving her stretched out on the bed, tightly bound in place.

“Okay – this is interesting,” she said quietly as he rolled another stocking up, and then said “Raise your head, and open your mouth.”

“And then what?”

“And then I make sure you stay quiet,” he said, Barbara allowing him to push the rolled up stocking into her open mouth, and then pulled the final one between her lips, the tightly stretched nylon digging into her cheeks as he tied it round her head, the knot pressing against her as she laid her head down.

She watched as he emptied the contents of the jewellery boxes into his pockets, and then he walked over and looked at her, his gloved hand on her cheek – and then on her chest, as he gently caressed and squeezed it.

“Whhthrudhhdhnn,” Barbara said as he repeated the gesture – this time with both hands, and she tried to twist herself out of the way – with no success.

But there was something else – she was enjoying the attention he was paying to her, something she had sorely missed – and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to carry on…

But then he glanced at the clock, and said “are you expecting anyone?” As Barbara slowly nodded, he said “well then – perhaps another time” and walked out, leaving her there mewling into the nylon…

Five days, and I had moved from simply making sure they could not stop me, to doing things that might actually give them some pleasure. I was gaining financially – but also I felt I was beginning to give something back.

Saturday was a day of rest for me – but I also had identified a widow to visit that night…

“Are you sure you are going to be all right, Mum?”

“I am sure, darling,” Rebecca said as she stood by the side of the car, her brown fur wrapped around her as she located her door keys. “Give the girls a kiss from me.”

“We will,” her son in law said as he drove off, Rebecca walking up to her house and letting herself in. She removed the fur to reveal the dress she was wearing, a metallic brown fabric cut into a classic style with a bronze coloured collar, a gold necklace round her neck and gold rimmed glasses, her grey hair in a perm.

“Well, I think…” She was starting to talk to herself, and then stopped as she felt the small disc pressing against her back.

“Hello,” a male voice said, “do what I say, and you will not be hurt. Do you understand?”

Rebecca slowly nodded as the voice said “slowly, take your glasses off and hand them back to me.”

“Please, what do you want,” she whispered as she handed her glasses back.

“You will see – actually, you won’t. Close your eyes.”

“Oh god,” Rebecca whispered as she closed her eyes, and then felt the pressure on her eyelids as a folded black scarf was tied tightly round her head as a blindfold. She then felt the hands on her wrists as they were guided behind her back, the rope rubbing on her wrists as it was tied tightly round them to hold them together. Who was this man, why was he tying her up?

She felt the final tug as the ropes were tied off, and then the sudden pressure on her arms as they were forced into her sides. He was doing something, something that meant it was not possible for her to move her arms away – and the rope was pressing on her in two bands, by the feel of it framing her chest.

“Who are you,” she said quietly as she felt this person feed the rope under one arm, and pull it up, taking it round the back of her neck and then under the other arm. There was one more tug – and then she felt his hands on her shoulders as he said “walk forward, three steps.” When she had done so, she felt him push down as he said “kneel down.”

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she said, but there was silence as she knelt down, and then she felt him remove her black shoes, before the rope pulled her ankles tightly together.

More rope went round her legs, as they were held together below her knees, and she could feel the hands on her legs as he took the rope between them. She was shivering now, as he tied the ropes off – and then she felt her hands on her chest, felt his body behind her as he started to slowly caress and massage her breasts.

“Oh god – no, please…”

“Hush – or I make sure you cannot say anything,” he whispered, as Rebecca felt him continue to grope her.

No – it wasn’t groping, it was caressing, it was gentle not coarse, and it was loving, not forceful. What was going on? Why did she want him to continue doing this?

“Why…”

“Because I was searching for something, and I believe I may have started to find it,” the voice said, “is this giving you pleasure?” As Rebecca bit her lip, she slowly nodded, as he said “shall I continue?”

“Yes…”

“Then you need to be quiet,” he whispered into her ear, and she felt him pull something that tasted of silk and perfume into her mouth, the band compressing against her cheeks as he tied it round her head. She was blindfolded, gagged, bound – and free to moan as he continued to massage her chest.

And then she felt him unfasten and open her dress up, before he lifted her, laid her on her side on something soft – and then she groaned as she felt her lips on her body…

And so here I am, on a late Sunday afternoon, in the home of a very devout lady called Frances. The end of a very educational week, and I feel I may have finally found something.

She is in her early sixties, her grey hair blue rinsed, wearing a white dress with a scalloped hemline on the skirt and held up with spaghetti straps, and white heels. I surprised her an hour ago, and started by binding her wrists together behind her back with white rope, more rope framing her chest in two bands as it holds her arms against her sides.

She has more rope around her ankles, holding them firmly together and making sure she cannot kick her shoes off as they were tied into place, and her legs tied together below her knees. I had tied her as she sat on a chair, and then I had walked behind her, listening to her moans as I had caressed and played with her chest, whispering into her ear what a beautiful woman she was, how attractive she was, how much she should be appreciated.

As I had figured, this had not been said to her in a long time, as her complaints turned into soft moans and then the signs of appreciation. She shivered as I played with her, and then asked what I was going to do to her.

I asked her to kneel down, and as she did so she saw how her moans had made me feel. She actually – and this is not a joke – licked her lips, and said she wanted to show me how I had made her feel. As I looked at her, and then opened my pants, watching as she shuffled forward and put her lips over my cock.

Modesty demands I do not say what happened over the next few minutes – suffice to see I was released, and I was happy. As she pulled her head back, I took a handkerchief and wiped myself – and then pushed the cloth into her mouth, before I used more rope and tied it between her lips and round her head.

I then knelt, and said I wished to return the favour – but I would not go into her. She looked at me as I used a penknife to cut through the straps of her dress, and pulled it down, before I reached down and kissed her breasts, then sucked on her nipples as she started to shake.

I then laid her on her back, using my lips on her chest as my hand slipped between her legs and played her there. She soon started to shake, her head back as she screamed into her gag and had a wonderful orgasm.

And in that, I found what I had been looking for – not to be a robber, but something else…

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