Senshi1
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Here it is, folks - part 2 of my story featuring my lovely wife Karen. 
(Part 1 can be found here.)
In part 1, she found herself face-to-face with a couple burglars after being on the wrong end of a home invasion. Now, tied to her own office chair in her silk nightie, she get's a sneaking suspicion she may no longer be in control of the situation. Let's just hope these burglars focus more on her posessions and less on her goods.
Feedback would be greatly appreciated if possible. Hope you enjoy reading about my poor wife's ordeal!
(Mini-Disclaimer: Yes, I got Karen to review and approve this story before submitting it, seeing as she's the main focus of it)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Karen screwed her eyes closed as the man leaned in and began to slowly tickle the sides of her breasts through her silk nightie.
“So, whaaaat should I do to you first?” he asked, leering at her.
“You can untie me and I’ll give you a minute’s head start before I phone the police?” Karen snarled.
The man laughed in his throat. “Yeah, you wish. Trust me, if we get caught, we’re already screwed – I’m gonna make the most of this while I can. Perhaps a memento?”
He walked over to Karen’s desk and picked up her smartphone.
“Hey, you put that down!” Karen growled, trying again to pull her arms down. She was feeling very exposed, with her arms pulled all the way up behind her head, and these men going through her belongings wasn’t helping.
The man looked at the phone for a few seconds and chuckled. “Hey, you have a photo blog! Are you a photographer?”
Karen blushed. “No, I’m an English professor, and that blog is for the benefit of my students.”
The man snickered. “Well excuse ME, Professor! Here, why don’t you smile for me?”
He turned and held the phone up to Karen, who gasped as it flashed and the digitized sound of a camera shutter made her flinch.
“Are you crazy!?” she yelled, blushing to her chest; “STOP that!”
The man, not taking his eyes off the camera screen, moved around her to get a better angle and snapped another photo.
“I said CUT IT OUT!”
“Aww, come on,” the man said; “Don’t you want to give your students something to really write about?” He crouched in front of Karen and snapped a picture of her from the ground up.
“HEY! That was up my nightie!!” Karen yelled, blushing furiously and crossing her legs – the nightie only came down a couple inches past her butt, and her cotton panties would have been right in the center of the picture.
The man stood up and looked at his new pictures on the phone. “Aw, come on, Professor - don’t you wanna look good for your class? What, are you ashamed? You look hot – flaunt it! Show off a little! They’re college kids, right? You’ll probably get some good feedback.”
Karen tugged wildly at the ropes holding her.
“Ah ah aah,” the man tutted, holding up her phone; “If you’re a bad girl I WILL upload them!”
Karen glared at him. “Do you really expect me to sit here like a good housewife and put up with your games!?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know, depends – do you really want to be an online lingerie model?” He wiggled the phone at her, a slick smile on his face, clearly enjoying her predicament. Karen closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The man blinked. “Excuse me?”
Karen opened her eyes. “You heard me. You break into my house, you go through my belongings, you tie me up in my underwear, you put your pervy hands all over me, you humiliate me, you blackmail me – and you expect me to sit here, smile sweetly at you, and thank you for it? Sorry – GO-FUCK-YOUR-SELF SIR.”
The man stared at her flabbergasted for a few seconds.
“She’s a firecracker, ain’t she?” the bearded man laughed, his back turned, rummaging through the room’s walk-in storage cupboard.
After a few seconds, the grin finally returned to the man’s face and he chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to playing with Karen’s phone.
“You are a firecracker. And maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m a nice guy, and you seem like a… nice… Professor.”
He put the smartphone back down on the desk next to Karen.
“By the way, what IS your name, Professor?”
Karen shook her head, defiantly. “Fuck you!”
“Fuck you?” He laughed. “As appealing as that sounds, I doubt that’s your real name. Come on, Professor, spill it – who are you?” He moved around behind Karen and, reaching around her, began to tickle her underneath her breasts, where the soft flesh met with her ribcage.
“Her name’s Karen Mars,” came the bearded man’s voice from the walk-in storage cupboard.
The grinning man threw his arms up in exasperation. “Killjoy! I wanted to interrogate her!”
“Well, looks like you’ll get your wish,” the bearded man said, walking back into the main part of the room; “There’s a big old safe in that cupboard, and I’m going to need Professor Mars here to tell us how to open it.”
Karen spat on the floor. Both men grinned widely.
* * * * *
Karen later told me that what happened next was that they brought in the third man from outside, who immediately had her blindfolded and gagged. This third man, who carried a few more pounds than the other two, and appeared to be in his mid-twenties, told her that she was to be “tenderized”, which meant that she’d be subjected to his persuasion methods, only without the option to tell them anything (hence the gag). The reason for this, he said, was so that she’d be more willing to co-operate when they finally DID ungag her.
She wasn’t sure for how long the third man worked on her – she said it felt like at least thirty or forty minutes, but it could have been as few as five or ten. He started by tickling her, slowly and lightly – not enough to make her really struggle, but just enough to register – endless, maddening, relentless, light tickles. About half of them were around her tummy, sides, armpits, neck and ears – the other half, however, had been around her breasts. He focused on her breasts a lot, but was always extremely careful to avoid the spots under the silk nightie where her nipples were. Once he started to tickle her inner thighs with both hands, but she squeezed her legs closed, and he did not push her to re-open them.
On several occasions, to her humiliation, she heard her phone camera taking pictures, and the soft chuckling of the man responsible.
* * * * *
Eventually, her gag was removed, but her blindfold left in place. She grunted, her entire body tingling from the endless stimulation. A glass of water was pressed to her lips. She drank thirstily, and the rest was unceremoniously poured over her breasts and torso. “Assholes,” she spat, shivering slightly.
“So, sugartits,” she heard the third man say; “Would you like to tell us how to open that safe of yours, or shall I start the REAL interrogation?”
Karen shook her head. “Not a chance. There are at least six teenagers living on this street. They come and go at all hours of the night. One of them will have noticed all this commotion and activity by now, not to mention that van of yours.”
She heard one of the men laugh. “You think a teenager would be observant enough to notice anything that wasn’t on the screen of a phone?”
Karen grinned. “Maybe not, but their rubbernecking mothers don’t miss a trick.”
She couldn’t help but grin wider as silence prevailed. She recognized the bearded man’s voice as he grunted:
“Okay, we do need to get a move on. Make her talk quick so we can get out of here.”
“My pleasure,” the third man said. He pulled the blindfold off Karen’s eyes and got face-to-face with her. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light, but held his gaze.
“Last chance, Mrs. Mars,” he smirked; “you either talk now, or we take THIS cute little number away from you.” He pinched Karen’s pink nightie, rolling the silk between his fingers.
Karen glared at him. “I can’t DO that! There’s sensitive student information in there, I could lose my job!”
“Ah come on,” the second man laughed, turning over a makeup brush in his hands; “we don’t care about that stuff, we just want the valuables you undoubtedly have in there!”
“Somehow I doubt whether you take them or not will make a difference to my bosses,” Karen said, glaring at him; “They have strict laws about this stuff.”
“She’s given you her answer,” the bearded man said; “Strip her down and make her sing – we don’t have time for this.”
“My pleasure,” the third man said, grinning widely.
“Come on, see it from my point of view!” Karen pleaded, as he positioned himself behind her; “I’ll give you anything else, just let the safe drop!”
“Oh, you’ll be giving us something else,” the third man said, pinching the hem of her silk nightie and sliding it up over her head; “You can start by giving us an eyeful of those puppies.”
“That’s more than an eyeful,” the second man grinned as Karen’s 36D breasts fell freely out of their silk prison.
The third man removed the nightie completely from Karen’s body and let it hang at the ropes behind the chair she was tied to. Then he moved back in front of Karen and looked her up and down to get a better view. Karen now sat there, blushing deeply from the chest up, wearing nothing but a pair of mass-produced white cotton underwear. Her bare breasts protruded in front of her, drawing stares from all three of her captors.
“Very nice,” the third man said, lifting both breasts up in his hands and letting them fall back into place, as though testing their weight.
“Never mind that,” the second man grinned, holding Karen’s smartphone up again; “tickle her some more – make her give us some motion!”
“No,” said the bearded man, stepping forward; “I’ve been doing all the damn work here tonight. It’s my turn to have a bit of fun.”
He moved behind Karen and, reaching around, began to lightly tickle the sides of her bare breasts.
“A-gitchy gitchy gitchy!” he teased into her ear. Karen screwed her eyes closed and shook her head.
“Come on, Mrs. Mars,” the bearded man teased; “give the guys a show – they’ve had a long night!” He cupped her breasts and jiggled them around with both hands, to the amusement of his comrades.
“I say screw the safe and let’s just take her with us,” the second man grinned.
“Aww, hear that, Mrs. Mars?” the bearded man cooed, lightly tickling the undersides of her breasts with his nails; “they wanna keep you. Hell, if I didn’t think it’d triple the police search for us afterwards, I’d keep you myself – you’re a hot little number.”
“Hey, I got an idea,” the second man said, holding up the makeup brush. “Get her legs open for me – I wanna see if she’s ticklish down there!”
Karen gasped and stared, aghast, at the man. A look of understanding crept over his face.
“Oooh, I think she IS ticklish down there! Quick, hurry up and untie her feet!”
Karen opened her mouth to protest, and then stopped as the third man got down on his knees in front of her and began to untie her ankles from the chair. Realizing that this would be her best chance to escape, she closed her eyes and allowed the man to untie both ankles.
Karen giggled and squirmed in the chair, trying not to alert her captors to her plan. She felt both of her legs lifted up into the air. Ignoring it, she tried to focus on the knots holding her wrists behind her head. She knew that if she didn’t escape on her own, they’d get away with not only the students details and a ton of valuables, but a LOT of incriminating footage of her.
She molded her hands into tight fists and then partially extended her fingers, making a cone shape with them. She heard one of the men mention something about a “ticklish pussycat”, and felt hands inside the waistband of her panties, trying to pull them down. Doing her best to ignore her predicament, she positioned her hands as best she could, and gave a great tug.
“Whoa!!” she heard the bearded man yell.
She felt her elbow connect with his face and lunged forward, kicking her way past the other stunned intruders. Her vision blurred with adrenaline, she ran at full speed through the house towards the front door. Flipping the lock smoothly open, she burst through and ran across the grass into the street. The cold wind kissed her almost-naked body, and she vaguely felt the mud splat under her bare feet, but she didn’t slow down. At the end of the driveway, in front of the house opposite, were two trucks. Their doors were open and several people were stood around talking. Karen ran into the middle of them and frantically told them to call the police.
* * * * *
As it happened, Cody, the 18-year old who lived across the street, had been coming home from a party at that moment. The half-dozen or so people around him were his friends, who had been dropping him off. It was only after several minutes did Karen remember she was practically naked amongst a group of teenage males, and demand a shirt from one of them.
The three intruders, it happened, did not give chase after Karen had broken free, but rather fled through the back door of the house, even leaving their own van behind. Two of them were caught within the hour, but the second man – the one with the permanent grin – escaped. In the confusion, they had not taken anything from the house.
Due to Karen’s quick action in escaping, not much else remained after the initial event was over, aside from the second man being in the wind. In the days following, she had a new security system installed in the house, and moved the student information to a slightly more subtle location.
She also noticed that Cody, from across the street, had been coming around very frequently, asking her if she needed any help with anything. Karen couldn’t help but wonder if this was due, in part, to him being a hormonal teenager who had recently had a naked housewife throw her arms around him in front of all his friends. She was willing to overlook the hungry looks in his eye, clumsy flirts, and not-so-subtle peeks down her shirt when he thought she wasn’t looking, as she deemed having a neighbor who was that singularly focused on her was a good safeguard against this type of thing in the future.
There was, however, one last issue that remained.
The day after the robbery, Karen remembered, with a start, the threats made by the second man concerning her photoblog. With a sick feeling, she opened the blog. Surely enough, a single photo had been uploaded. It was her, tied to the chair right where she had been. Mercifully, she still had her pink nightie on and her legs were closed. But what surprised her was that her face had been intentionally censored, protecting her identity. Remembering the second man’s comments about not being ashamed and letting things happen, and feeling a little twisted herself, she left the photo up and simply titled it “bound woman”.
She later found several stories in her inbox from her students, all centered around the “bound woman” in the photo. They all offered different takes: some funny, some surprisingly intense. However, there was one story that made her blood run cold, as it recounted the events of that night almost to a tee. There was no name given, but the story had ended with the words:
“Hope you liked this story as much as I did, Professor. I won’t be back to get my grade any time soon, but maybe one day, hey?
See you around.”
THE END
Pivotal Moments (Decided by dice rolls)
The man blackmails Karen with suggestive photos. Will she co-operate or resist?
Resist.
Will the robbers strip Karen to humiliate her, or let her stay clothed but torture her in a slightly more adult way?
Strip her topless.
Karen wriggles her wrists into position and makes one last, desperate effort to escape her captors. Does she succeed?
Yes!
Well, there it is. Hope you had as much fun reading about Karen's plight as I had writing it (and showing it to her - talk about blushing ).
Any feedback you can give would be tremendously appreciated. Ideas or thoughts about the randomly-decided plot points? Fan (or not) of the classic Home Invasion scenario? Just love the idea of a married woman being subjected to this kind of tickling and humiliation? Got an idea for my next story? Please let me know, in a reply or a PM!
Those of you still here, massive thanks for reading my story. And Happy New Year!
(Part 1 can be found here.)In part 1, she found herself face-to-face with a couple burglars after being on the wrong end of a home invasion. Now, tied to her own office chair in her silk nightie, she get's a sneaking suspicion she may no longer be in control of the situation. Let's just hope these burglars focus more on her posessions and less on her goods.
Feedback would be greatly appreciated if possible.
Hope you enjoy reading about my poor wife's ordeal!(Mini-Disclaimer: Yes, I got Karen to review and approve this story before submitting it, seeing as she's the main focus of it)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Karen screwed her eyes closed as the man leaned in and began to slowly tickle the sides of her breasts through her silk nightie.
“So, whaaaat should I do to you first?” he asked, leering at her.
“You can untie me and I’ll give you a minute’s head start before I phone the police?” Karen snarled.
The man laughed in his throat. “Yeah, you wish. Trust me, if we get caught, we’re already screwed – I’m gonna make the most of this while I can. Perhaps a memento?”
He walked over to Karen’s desk and picked up her smartphone.
“Hey, you put that down!” Karen growled, trying again to pull her arms down. She was feeling very exposed, with her arms pulled all the way up behind her head, and these men going through her belongings wasn’t helping.
The man looked at the phone for a few seconds and chuckled. “Hey, you have a photo blog! Are you a photographer?”
Karen blushed. “No, I’m an English professor, and that blog is for the benefit of my students.”
The man snickered. “Well excuse ME, Professor! Here, why don’t you smile for me?”
He turned and held the phone up to Karen, who gasped as it flashed and the digitized sound of a camera shutter made her flinch.
“Are you crazy!?” she yelled, blushing to her chest; “STOP that!”
The man, not taking his eyes off the camera screen, moved around her to get a better angle and snapped another photo.
“I said CUT IT OUT!”
“Aww, come on,” the man said; “Don’t you want to give your students something to really write about?” He crouched in front of Karen and snapped a picture of her from the ground up.
“HEY! That was up my nightie!!” Karen yelled, blushing furiously and crossing her legs – the nightie only came down a couple inches past her butt, and her cotton panties would have been right in the center of the picture.
The man stood up and looked at his new pictures on the phone. “Aw, come on, Professor - don’t you wanna look good for your class? What, are you ashamed? You look hot – flaunt it! Show off a little! They’re college kids, right? You’ll probably get some good feedback.”
Karen tugged wildly at the ropes holding her.
“Ah ah aah,” the man tutted, holding up her phone; “If you’re a bad girl I WILL upload them!”
Karen glared at him. “Do you really expect me to sit here like a good housewife and put up with your games!?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know, depends – do you really want to be an online lingerie model?” He wiggled the phone at her, a slick smile on his face, clearly enjoying her predicament. Karen closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The man blinked. “Excuse me?”
Karen opened her eyes. “You heard me. You break into my house, you go through my belongings, you tie me up in my underwear, you put your pervy hands all over me, you humiliate me, you blackmail me – and you expect me to sit here, smile sweetly at you, and thank you for it? Sorry – GO-FUCK-YOUR-SELF SIR.”
The man stared at her flabbergasted for a few seconds.
“She’s a firecracker, ain’t she?” the bearded man laughed, his back turned, rummaging through the room’s walk-in storage cupboard.
After a few seconds, the grin finally returned to the man’s face and he chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to playing with Karen’s phone.
“You are a firecracker. And maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m a nice guy, and you seem like a… nice… Professor.”
He put the smartphone back down on the desk next to Karen.
“By the way, what IS your name, Professor?”
Karen shook her head, defiantly. “Fuck you!”
“Fuck you?” He laughed. “As appealing as that sounds, I doubt that’s your real name. Come on, Professor, spill it – who are you?” He moved around behind Karen and, reaching around her, began to tickle her underneath her breasts, where the soft flesh met with her ribcage.
“Her name’s Karen Mars,” came the bearded man’s voice from the walk-in storage cupboard.
The grinning man threw his arms up in exasperation. “Killjoy! I wanted to interrogate her!”
“Well, looks like you’ll get your wish,” the bearded man said, walking back into the main part of the room; “There’s a big old safe in that cupboard, and I’m going to need Professor Mars here to tell us how to open it.”
Karen spat on the floor. Both men grinned widely.
* * * * *
Karen later told me that what happened next was that they brought in the third man from outside, who immediately had her blindfolded and gagged. This third man, who carried a few more pounds than the other two, and appeared to be in his mid-twenties, told her that she was to be “tenderized”, which meant that she’d be subjected to his persuasion methods, only without the option to tell them anything (hence the gag). The reason for this, he said, was so that she’d be more willing to co-operate when they finally DID ungag her.
She wasn’t sure for how long the third man worked on her – she said it felt like at least thirty or forty minutes, but it could have been as few as five or ten. He started by tickling her, slowly and lightly – not enough to make her really struggle, but just enough to register – endless, maddening, relentless, light tickles. About half of them were around her tummy, sides, armpits, neck and ears – the other half, however, had been around her breasts. He focused on her breasts a lot, but was always extremely careful to avoid the spots under the silk nightie where her nipples were. Once he started to tickle her inner thighs with both hands, but she squeezed her legs closed, and he did not push her to re-open them.
On several occasions, to her humiliation, she heard her phone camera taking pictures, and the soft chuckling of the man responsible.
* * * * *
Eventually, her gag was removed, but her blindfold left in place. She grunted, her entire body tingling from the endless stimulation. A glass of water was pressed to her lips. She drank thirstily, and the rest was unceremoniously poured over her breasts and torso. “Assholes,” she spat, shivering slightly.
“So, sugartits,” she heard the third man say; “Would you like to tell us how to open that safe of yours, or shall I start the REAL interrogation?”
Karen shook her head. “Not a chance. There are at least six teenagers living on this street. They come and go at all hours of the night. One of them will have noticed all this commotion and activity by now, not to mention that van of yours.”
She heard one of the men laugh. “You think a teenager would be observant enough to notice anything that wasn’t on the screen of a phone?”
Karen grinned. “Maybe not, but their rubbernecking mothers don’t miss a trick.”
She couldn’t help but grin wider as silence prevailed. She recognized the bearded man’s voice as he grunted:
“Okay, we do need to get a move on. Make her talk quick so we can get out of here.”
“My pleasure,” the third man said. He pulled the blindfold off Karen’s eyes and got face-to-face with her. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light, but held his gaze.
“Last chance, Mrs. Mars,” he smirked; “you either talk now, or we take THIS cute little number away from you.” He pinched Karen’s pink nightie, rolling the silk between his fingers.
Karen glared at him. “I can’t DO that! There’s sensitive student information in there, I could lose my job!”
“Ah come on,” the second man laughed, turning over a makeup brush in his hands; “we don’t care about that stuff, we just want the valuables you undoubtedly have in there!”
“Somehow I doubt whether you take them or not will make a difference to my bosses,” Karen said, glaring at him; “They have strict laws about this stuff.”
“She’s given you her answer,” the bearded man said; “Strip her down and make her sing – we don’t have time for this.”
“My pleasure,” the third man said, grinning widely.
“Come on, see it from my point of view!” Karen pleaded, as he positioned himself behind her; “I’ll give you anything else, just let the safe drop!”
“Oh, you’ll be giving us something else,” the third man said, pinching the hem of her silk nightie and sliding it up over her head; “You can start by giving us an eyeful of those puppies.”
“That’s more than an eyeful,” the second man grinned as Karen’s 36D breasts fell freely out of their silk prison.
The third man removed the nightie completely from Karen’s body and let it hang at the ropes behind the chair she was tied to. Then he moved back in front of Karen and looked her up and down to get a better view. Karen now sat there, blushing deeply from the chest up, wearing nothing but a pair of mass-produced white cotton underwear. Her bare breasts protruded in front of her, drawing stares from all three of her captors.
“Very nice,” the third man said, lifting both breasts up in his hands and letting them fall back into place, as though testing their weight.
“Never mind that,” the second man grinned, holding Karen’s smartphone up again; “tickle her some more – make her give us some motion!”
“No,” said the bearded man, stepping forward; “I’ve been doing all the damn work here tonight. It’s my turn to have a bit of fun.”
He moved behind Karen and, reaching around, began to lightly tickle the sides of her bare breasts.
“A-gitchy gitchy gitchy!” he teased into her ear. Karen screwed her eyes closed and shook her head.
“Come on, Mrs. Mars,” the bearded man teased; “give the guys a show – they’ve had a long night!” He cupped her breasts and jiggled them around with both hands, to the amusement of his comrades.
“I say screw the safe and let’s just take her with us,” the second man grinned.
“Aww, hear that, Mrs. Mars?” the bearded man cooed, lightly tickling the undersides of her breasts with his nails; “they wanna keep you. Hell, if I didn’t think it’d triple the police search for us afterwards, I’d keep you myself – you’re a hot little number.”
“Hey, I got an idea,” the second man said, holding up the makeup brush. “Get her legs open for me – I wanna see if she’s ticklish down there!”
Karen gasped and stared, aghast, at the man. A look of understanding crept over his face.
“Oooh, I think she IS ticklish down there! Quick, hurry up and untie her feet!”
Karen opened her mouth to protest, and then stopped as the third man got down on his knees in front of her and began to untie her ankles from the chair. Realizing that this would be her best chance to escape, she closed her eyes and allowed the man to untie both ankles.
Karen giggled and squirmed in the chair, trying not to alert her captors to her plan. She felt both of her legs lifted up into the air. Ignoring it, she tried to focus on the knots holding her wrists behind her head. She knew that if she didn’t escape on her own, they’d get away with not only the students details and a ton of valuables, but a LOT of incriminating footage of her.
She molded her hands into tight fists and then partially extended her fingers, making a cone shape with them. She heard one of the men mention something about a “ticklish pussycat”, and felt hands inside the waistband of her panties, trying to pull them down. Doing her best to ignore her predicament, she positioned her hands as best she could, and gave a great tug.
“Whoa!!” she heard the bearded man yell.
She felt her elbow connect with his face and lunged forward, kicking her way past the other stunned intruders. Her vision blurred with adrenaline, she ran at full speed through the house towards the front door. Flipping the lock smoothly open, she burst through and ran across the grass into the street. The cold wind kissed her almost-naked body, and she vaguely felt the mud splat under her bare feet, but she didn’t slow down. At the end of the driveway, in front of the house opposite, were two trucks. Their doors were open and several people were stood around talking. Karen ran into the middle of them and frantically told them to call the police.
* * * * *
As it happened, Cody, the 18-year old who lived across the street, had been coming home from a party at that moment. The half-dozen or so people around him were his friends, who had been dropping him off. It was only after several minutes did Karen remember she was practically naked amongst a group of teenage males, and demand a shirt from one of them.
The three intruders, it happened, did not give chase after Karen had broken free, but rather fled through the back door of the house, even leaving their own van behind. Two of them were caught within the hour, but the second man – the one with the permanent grin – escaped. In the confusion, they had not taken anything from the house.
Due to Karen’s quick action in escaping, not much else remained after the initial event was over, aside from the second man being in the wind. In the days following, she had a new security system installed in the house, and moved the student information to a slightly more subtle location.
She also noticed that Cody, from across the street, had been coming around very frequently, asking her if she needed any help with anything. Karen couldn’t help but wonder if this was due, in part, to him being a hormonal teenager who had recently had a naked housewife throw her arms around him in front of all his friends. She was willing to overlook the hungry looks in his eye, clumsy flirts, and not-so-subtle peeks down her shirt when he thought she wasn’t looking, as she deemed having a neighbor who was that singularly focused on her was a good safeguard against this type of thing in the future.
There was, however, one last issue that remained.
The day after the robbery, Karen remembered, with a start, the threats made by the second man concerning her photoblog. With a sick feeling, she opened the blog. Surely enough, a single photo had been uploaded. It was her, tied to the chair right where she had been. Mercifully, she still had her pink nightie on and her legs were closed. But what surprised her was that her face had been intentionally censored, protecting her identity. Remembering the second man’s comments about not being ashamed and letting things happen, and feeling a little twisted herself, she left the photo up and simply titled it “bound woman”.
She later found several stories in her inbox from her students, all centered around the “bound woman” in the photo. They all offered different takes: some funny, some surprisingly intense. However, there was one story that made her blood run cold, as it recounted the events of that night almost to a tee. There was no name given, but the story had ended with the words:
“Hope you liked this story as much as I did, Professor. I won’t be back to get my grade any time soon, but maybe one day, hey?
See you around.”
THE END
Pivotal Moments (Decided by dice rolls)
The man blackmails Karen with suggestive photos. Will she co-operate or resist?
Resist.
Will the robbers strip Karen to humiliate her, or let her stay clothed but torture her in a slightly more adult way?
Strip her topless.
Karen wriggles her wrists into position and makes one last, desperate effort to escape her captors. Does she succeed?
Yes!
Well, there it is.
Hope you had as much fun reading about Karen's plight as I had writing it (and showing it to her - talk about blushing ).Any feedback you can give would be tremendously appreciated. Ideas or thoughts about the randomly-decided plot points? Fan (or not) of the classic Home Invasion scenario? Just love the idea of a married woman being subjected to this kind of tickling and humiliation? Got an idea for my next story? Please let me know, in a reply or a PM!
Those of you still here, massive thanks for reading my story.
And Happy New Year!
