5 comments/ 29396 views/ 12 favorites Bound by the Burglar Pt. 01 By: natashastevenserotica Elena felt something gently touch her cheek, and she stirred from sleep in the darkness. It was a hand, a warm soft hand. She murmured and nuzzled it and it caressed her cheek and neck. She'd been dreaming. Was she still dreaming? She was lying in her big comfortable bed... Alone. Alone because her husband was away on a business trip. She started, rousing herself from the fuzziness of sleep; and saw that there was a man standing in her bedroom. She switched on the light next to the bed and the stranger said, "Good evening, Elena, sorry to disturb you." She shrieked and clutched the covers around herself, an instinctive but useless gesture. The man smiled down at her. He was young - in his mid-twenties - and had sandy hair and green eyes. He wore jeans and a black hoody over a black t-shirt. "Who the fuck are you! Get the fuck out of here!" she screamed. He held his finger to his lips. "Shhhhh," he said. "Don't scream, okay? I mean, there's not any chance anybody's going to hear you, around here, but... " he said, putting his hand in his pocket. Did he have a gun? A knife? She began hyperventilating with terror, her eyes filling with tears. "Shhhh," he said. "Shhhh, calm down. Just calm down. I'm just a thief. A burglar. I'm here to rob you. That's all. I'm not going to hurt you. Okay?" She nodded her head, her breath still whistling raggedly and rapidly through her nose. "Okay? Say that you understand I'm not going to hurt you." "I understand that you're not going to hurt me," she said quickly. But did she believe it? He certainly didn't look violent, but the news was full of pictures of men who didn't look violent. "How did you get in here?" "Shit, the kitchen door wasn't even locked." "I mean, past the gate?" "These gated communities are amazingly easy to get into. And if you're young and white, it's unlikely anybody will even ask you a question. Those rent-a-cops are probably sleeping anyway." "What do you want?" she asked again. "I'm robbing you, I told you. I didn't know you were here - I knew your husband was away on a business trip, and I thought you went with him." "I wasn't feeling well," she said. "I just need to tie you up, and then I'm going to take some stuff, and I'll leave." "Tie me up?" she said in a small voice, and pulled the covers around her again. "Yeah," he said, patiently. "I'm just going to tie you up, so you don't call anybody, and sort through some things and then I'll be gone." She looked around; could she make a run for it? Could she make it to her phone, and out of the room? "Don't try it," he said, again patiently, but with a cold confidence that suggested she wouldn't have much of a chance of escaping if she ran. "How are you going to tie me up?" she asked, timidly. "To the bed posts," he said. "Just right there; you can lie there comfortably while I look around. Go back to sleep, even." "But... I'll... how long will I be tied up?" "Look, relax. Before I leave, I'll untie one of your arms. By the time you untie yourself, I'll be long gone." She looked at him, her huge blue eyes wide. "Do you promise you won't hurt me?" she said in a small voice. "Of course," he said, warmly. "I already promised I wouldn't hurt you." He pulled a coil of thin green rope from his coat pocket. "Nylon paracord. Tie the end to your left ankle." She looked fearfully at it, flinching as if he'd thrown a snake on the bed. "Come on," he said, putting his hand in his coat pocket again. "Do it," he said, a little more firmly. "Okay!" she said hurriedly. "I will... but, I, I'm only wearing my nightie... can I, can I get dressed?" she asked weakly. He grabbed the covers and pulled them off her, throwing the heavy duvet on the floor. She shrieked again and pulled her legs up and grabbed them, instinctively curling into a ball. She was wearing nothing but a short, mint green spaghetti-strap camisole and a pair of white cotton panties. "Look," he said. "I've seen plenty of pictures of you in underwear and bikinis in magazines and on the internet. I want to get out of here quickly, okay? So, let's get moving here. Tie that cord around your ankle, now." He was speaking more crisply and firmly now, gazing down at her steadily. "Okay! All right!" she said. "Okay, I'll do it, just... okay, hold on." She unraveled the green cord; her hands were shaking. There was about five feet of it. She wrapped one end of it around her slim pale ankle. "Wrap it around twice, and then tie a knot." "I don't... I don't know how," she whined, and felt tears rolling down her face. "You're doing fine," he said. "I'm sure you at least tie your own shoes occasionally," he mocked. She tied a knot in the cord and he quickly moved forward and grabbed the other end of it, and pulled it taut and wrapped the other end around the bedpost. "Nooo," she whined, starting to sniffle and cry. "I don't want to be tied up," she said weakly, as her leg stretched out straight towards the bedpost. "Okay, now the other ankle," he said. He tossed another small coil of paracord down on the bed. "No," she said petulantly. "One ankle is enough!" "Let me show you what I found already," he said, and removed his hand from his pocket. In it was a black plastic square that she recognized: her stun gun. She'd always carried it in her purse; the two electrodes could administer 50,000 volts, which would immediately incapacitate anyone unfortunate enough to touch them. She sobbed and wrapped the second length of paracord around her other ankle. He quickly grabbed the other end and stretched it to the other bedpost, pulling her legs apart; she instinctively screamed as her legs spread, covering her crotch with her hands and trying to pull her leg back; but he pulled the paracord taut and tied it firmly to the other bedpost. "Shhh," he said. "It'll be okay. Almost there." He bent and checked the knots. "Doesn't hurt? Not too tight?" He checked the knots, and seemed pleased with them. "No, it doesn't hurt," she sniffled. Not yet, anyway. "I... just, okay, just get your stuff and go, okay?" "I haven't tied your hands yet," he said patiently. "No, don't tie my hands! Please! Look, I'm tied up enough! I can't get out of these knots without an hour of picking at them with my fingernails! And I can barely reach them!" she pleaded. He didn't respond, just grabbed her left wrist and wrapped a loop of paracord around it. She screamed again and started to try to twist free of his grasp, and this time he slapped a hand over her mouth. "Look," he said coldly. "I told you not to scream." He was sitting on the bed now, over her, imposing, his fingers digging into the side of her face. "Just let me tie you up and soon this will all be over. I said I wouldn't hurt you. So don't make me do that, okay?" He was staring down at her now without any of the good humor she'd seen in his eyes before. She nodded her head and made an affirmative sound, muffled by his hand. Her blonde hair was falling in her eyes now. His grip was firm but rather gentle - he had strong hands but they were very soft - and wrapped her left wrist with the paracord, then tied it to the headboard of the bed. He took her right wrist and did the same, and now she was tied spread-eagled on the bed. She started sobbing again, feeling completely helpless. Without the duvet the air conditioning seemed too high; it was chilly in the room. She was aware her nipples were hard and her skin was buzzing with gooseflesh. It wasn't the first time she'd ever felt helpless and vulnerable, but it was the first time in many years. "There," he said, and stepped back and looked down at her; he was smiling again. "Okay. Going to go do some work now. I'll be back to check on you shortly." Thirty minutes later, he returned into the room. She'd tried to escape from the cord; but the more she struggled, the more it seemed to bite into her flesh, and on her back with her limbs spread, she seemed to lack the leverage to pull strongly in any direction. She lay in the dark thinking and crying for a while, shuddering with fear. He was now carrying two of her husband's expensive suitcases. One of them seemed to be full; she assumed it was now filled with some of her husband's expensive things. "So," he said. "Now the hardest part for you. I'm going to steal some of your stuff." She made a whimpering noise. "Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?" he asked. He looked honestly concerned. Such a nice, cute, innocent-looking guy. She considered it. "No," she finally said. She didn't know how long she'd be here and didn't want to need to use the bathroom. "But, please, do you have to steal my things? My husband has plenty of things here for you to take, very valuable things!" He looked at her, looking bemused. "Oh, poor little rich girl doesn't want to lose her things? Well, your husband will buy you more, won't he." She started to speak, and then stopped. "Oh?" said the stranger, looking at her, amused. "He won't buy you more stuff?" She looked away, turning her face to her arm. "Hmmm," said the stranger. "Some kind of trouble in paradise? The life of a trophy wife not all it's cracked up to be? Your fat rich husband turns out to be a stingy bastard, after all?" She closed her eyes and said, "The economic crisis affected all of us." "Hmf," he said, opening her walk-in closet, and looking critically at all the expensive designer clothes and shoes. "Yeah, I can see that. This closet is bigger than some apartments I've lived in." "So that gives you a right to tie people up and steal their stuff?" she said, finding some anger burning beneath the helpless vulnerability she felt. "Hmm, no, of course it doesn't," he said absently. "No right about it. Just like you don't have any right to all this stuff. He just gave you all this shit, right?" "They were gifts!" she said. "Well, easy come, easy go," he said casually. He removed some handfuls of clothes and tossed them on the floor. "You know it's not the first time I've been in here," he said. "I've been in here twice before." She just looked at him. She thought she had noticed a few things missing recently - some jewelry, some clothes - but she had so much stuff, it was actually hard to keep track of it all. She'd assumed that her mother or visiting friends had borrowed the things. He opened the drawer that contained all her underwear and she said, "Hey! No!" He came back towards the bed, carrying a big double handful of her underwear. "Are you kidding? This is the best part." She looked at him, eyes wide with terror, as he dropped the underwear on the bed and began sorting through it. He selected a few panties - he seemed to prefer the light colors - and tossed them in the heap of clothes he was collecting. He then chose a few bras, and threw them in the growing pile. She bit her lips. What was he going to do with those? Somehow she didn't think he was going to sell them on eBay. He seemed to read her thoughts and turned to her, smiling. "Just souvenirs. Of course, I've seen you in underwear many times in magazines and stuff, but it is a real treat to see you live and in person," he said, now beginning to sort through her jewelry. "I don't even have makeup on," she said, softly. "Don't worry, I prefer the natural look." He lifted something. "Wow!" he said. "There's a lot of nice jewelry here, but this is something outstanding." He was examining her favorite - a platinum necklace with an emerald pendant that was worth more than her Mercedes. "No!" she cried. "Don't take that." "Fatass will buy you a new one," he said. "No, look... okay, he's... we're going to be getting a divorce soon." "Isn't this thing insured?" he asked. "I... I don't know. Please, take all the other stuff, but leave that." "Awww, poor baby," he said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well, what do I get if I leave it?" he asked. She looked fearfully at him. "What do you mean? What do you want? Do you want money? There's $50,000 cash in the safe in his office!" "Yeah, I know," he said. "There was, anyway. I took it already. I mean, what are you going to give me that's yours, if I leave this necklace?" "I... I don't know... " she said softly and looked away from him. "What do you want?" "Hmm," he said. "What do I want. Well, seeing you tied up in your nightie on the bed, I must confess that I do get some, uh, carnal urges." She sobbed and looked away, and began crying again. "This is a nightmare," she sniffled. "Hey! Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay," he said, and touched her cheek; she flinched from his touch, then relaxed and he stroked her cheek gently. "I'm not going to do anything, I already told you that. I'm not going to hurt you. I told you, I 'm just here to rob you." He stood up and took the platinum necklace. "Anyway, this thing will look great on this stripper I know," he said and winked at her. "No!" she said. "Okay, please, look what do you want from me?" "Hmm, well, I'll leave that up to you. Make me an offer, maybe I'll reconsider what I steal." He stepped back into the closet and emerged a moment later carrying her white sable coat. "Hey, this is nice too. Of course it's way too warm around here to wear them, but there's a good resale value on these, to the Russian gangsters." She made a moan of unhappiness. She loved that sable coat. "Yeah, you're Russian, aren't you? You women love to wear dead animals," he said disdainfully. "I'm Ukrainian," she said softly. "If you knew what it was like there where I lived, you wouldn't think it so strange that I like nice things. Or warm coats." "What, you grew up on a farm, had to eat fresh vegetables and stuff? Boo hoo." "It wasn't like that!" she said sharply. "It was an industrial city, and there was nothing there but pollution and alcoholics." He picked up her MacBook Air and her Iphone from the nightstand and she cried out as if he'd struck her. "Don't take those! Please! There's a lot of material on there that can't be replaced!" "Where? On the phone or on the computer?" he asked. "Both!" "Hmmm," he said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the phone, looking through it. "Pictures of you and your dumb friends at clubs... dopey apps... a few episodes of dopey reality shows. Kind of hard to believe none of this can be replaced," he said. "Aha! Here we are. A bunch of naked pictures of you. What's the big deal? You think it'll ruin your career?" "No, it's just... " she whined. He looked at her craftily. "Ah ha... and who took these pictures?" She looked away again. He opened her computer; she started to protest and then bit her lip. "Some valuable stuff here, that can't be replaced. Hmmm... " She turned her head to the side and tried to bury her face in her arm. He found it quickly enough; she'd just made it two days before. "Aha! Well, Elena, you are a bad girl! A sex tape! Who is this muscular gentleman? He is ripped!" said the burglar, smiling at her. "My personal trainer," she said, miserably. "Well, that's not very original. Anyway, it all becomes clear. You're afraid that if I take all this stuff, these pictures and videos will be made public, and that will be the end of whatever huge divorce settlement you hope to get out of your fatass husband." She just made a whimpering noise. "So what are you going to do for me, hmmm?" he said, looking frankly at her. She started weeping again. "I don't know." "I think you know," he said. "I think we both know how you usually get what you want." She nodded, more tears spilling down her face. "All right," he said. "We'll start with a fair trade. Let's see - the platinum necklace. I'll trade it for the camisole you're wearing now." Her breathing quickened as her heart lept in her chest. She couldn't look at him as she nodded. "Hmm? Tell me it's okay, Elena." "It's okay," she said in a small voice. "What's okay? Tell me," he said. "You can take my camisole if you let me keep the platinum necklace," she moaned miserably, tears sliding down her face. He smiled. "Good girl. Lift your head a little," he said, and gently slipped the necklace over her head and settled it around her neck, carefully positioning the emerald pendant between her breasts, which were heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She felt like she was going to hyperventilate again. "Shhh," said the stranger. "Just calm down. It'll be okay. I'm going to take out a knife now, please don't be afraid." She made a high-pitched whimpering noise as her eyes fixed on the short shiny blade he flicked out of his pocket. "Are you going to cut me loose?" she asked warily. "No," he said. "I'm going to cut the camisole straps to get it off you." She made another high-pitched noise in her throat and turned her head to the side, trying to bury her face against her left arm, which was still stretched out to the headboard of the bed. "Please don't hurt me," she wailed. "Listen, Elena, you're going to hurt my feelings! I told you very clearly that I'm not going to hurt you. But we just made a deal - the platinum necklace for the camisole. Do you want to change your mind?" he said. "Noooo," she moaned, drawing the word out. "No, you don't want to change your mind, or no, you don't want me to take your camisole?" "No, I don't want to change my mind," she sniffled. "Say it again - do you want me to cut the camisole off you now?" "Yes," she moaned. "Yes what?" "Yes, I want you to cut the camisole off me now," she whimpered. "I mean, I'm sorry to cut it," he said, as he lifted one thin strap and placed the knife blade underneath it. "But it's mine now, right? I can do anything I want with it, right?" "Yes," she said, sniffling again. She was aware her back was arched a bit and her breasts were thrust forward. He cut the left strap, but didn't pull the thin lacy material off her breast yet. He then cut the other strap, and again left the material lying on her breast. "Are you ready, Elena?" he asked, quietly. "Yessssss," she groaned, beginning to weep harder. He pulled the two thin straps down and exposed her breasts; the pink nipples were already stiff and tingling. The camisole was just a puddle of fabric around her waist now. She felt her breath rasping through her open mouth now. He then deftly sawed through the side of the camisole with his knife and pulled it from beneath her, and tossed it on the pile of clothes he was collecting. He was admiring her breasts. "And they're real, too?" "Yes," she whimpered. "Please, please don't hurt me." "Shhh, Elena, shhh, I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Where did you get this idea? I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't want me to do." His face was close to hers now. "Oh god," she moaned. "Oh my god, please let me go, please just leave." "Okay," he said. "I'll just take the sable and your phone and the computer and go." He stood up. "Nice meeting you, Elena." "Wait! No!" she said, crying. "Please, please don't." "Listen," he said. "I'm getting tired of this. You just keep crying, don't, don't. You better tell me what you do want me to do." "Don't make me say it!" she said. "Say what? There's nothing to say yet. I offered you one fair trade, would you like to make another?" "Yes!" she said desperately. "And what do you want to offer?" He was still smiling. "Okay," she said, sniffling again, blinking her eyes. "My panties. My panties for the sable." "Now you're thinking!" he said. "Good girl. And you don't mind if I cut them off?" "No," she said tearfully. "Just cut them off me, it's okay." Bound by the Burglar Pt. 01 "Okay," he said, examining her legs and waist. He deftly cut through the side of the waistband of her panties, and began tugging them off her. He paused. "Ready, Elena?" "Yes," she whimpered. In one easy motion he completely removed them. She was now completely naked, shuddering, trembling, gasping and writhing against her bonds, spread-eagled on the bed. "How do you feel now, Elena?" he asked, smiling down at her. He held the panties under his nose and the stroked his cheek with them. "Oh god," she moaned. "Helpless. Vulnerable." "Excited?" She made a whimpering noise again and tried again to hide her face against her arm. "I should confess," he said, moving his face close to hers again, speaking softly into her ear. "I kind of did know that you were here tonight." "You did?" she asked, her voice soft with fear. "Yes I did. And one other thing - on one of the other occasions I was here, I stole your Kindle." She'd wondered what had happened to that thing. "And of course I saw the kind of stuff you read, and I guess that means I know what your fantasies are, too," he said, and she whimpered again. "If I put my hand between your legs," he said, now breathing into her ear, "would it be wet down there already? I think this turns you on even more than it turns me on." "Yes," she admitted, weakly, feeling the tears start again but feeling great relief in surrendering. "Okay then, I'll give you the phone if I can touch you down there and see how wet you are." She nodded immediately and said "Uh-huh" breathlessly. "Uh-huh what?" "Give me the phone and you can touch me there," she said quickly. "Sure," he said, moving his hand gently down her thigh. Her legs were straining against the bonds in excitement but she relaxed a little at the gentleness of his touch. His forefinger traced very lightly over the slick, swollen lips of her vagina. She gasped with pleasure and threw her head back against the pillow. He slid his finger teasingly up and down her wet slit. She moaned and looked into his eyes. "Please," she said. "Put your finger in me." "You're sure it won't hurt?" he asked, taunting. "I promised not to hurt you." "No, it won't hurt," she murmured, "it'll feel good, please put your finger in my pussy." She was practically whispering. She cried out in pleasure and threw her head back when he inserted his finger slowly into her wet vagina, and she thrust her hips forward onto it - but then, maddeningly, he withdrew it. "Wet down there, but not wet enough," he said. He brought the wet finger up and licked it, and then held it in front of her face, and she eagerly sucked it into her mouth, tasting her own juices. His face was hovering over her breast now and she felt herself pushing it towards him. "Do you want me to lick your nipples, Elena? They're so hard now, I guess a nice hot wet tongue on them will feel very nice. Your nipples are so hard, I guess they're very sensitive." "Yes," she moaned. "They are. Very sensitive." "Do you want me to bite it?" "No," she murmured, "don't bite it. Please don't bite it." "Just lick it? Kiss it?" "Yes... just be gentle, lick it gently, please, just lick it gently." His tongue swirled around her hard pink nipple, and she gasped and moaned. "Can I touch them?" he asked. "Oh god, of course, yes, please, touch me, touch my tits, hold them, I want to feel your hands on them," she moaned. Both his hands came up and covered her breasts, as his mouth moved from nipple to nipple, licking and kissing and sucking, kissing her between the breasts while he squeezed them, luxuriating in them. She was gasping and moaning, "Oh, oh, that feels so good, your tongue feels so good on my nipples." His mouth was moving down her stomach now, blazing a moist hot trail. "Oh, yes, please, please," she said, whimpering and panting, her body undulating against his kisses. "Please what?" he asked, looking up at her and smiling. She strained her neck to look at him. "Kiss my pussy," she whimpered. "Kiss it, suck my clit... " He gently pulled her pussy lips open with his fingers and licked her clit gently, in the same way he'd done her nipple. She bit her lips and tried to stifle the vulgar moans emerging from her mouth. He put her clit between his lips and began sucking and tonguing it, gently at first but then harder. She cried out. "Oh, put your finger in me," she moaned. "Put your finger back inside me." He slid his finger back into her, thrusting it in as he continued to suck her clit and she bucked her hips and began gurgling and moaning in pleasure. She was whipping her head back and forth on the pillow, babbling "yes, please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE . . ." and he eased two fingers into her and curled them until he touched her g-spot and she felt herself having an orgasm, crying out hoarsely, her body spasming and bucking against the ropes that held her. "Good girl, good girl," said the stranger, raising his head from between her legs. "Kiss me," she moaned, and their lips met, their tongues caressing, and she licked her own wetness off his chin. "Okay," he said, opening his jeans and removing his long thick cock. "Now we need to negotiate for the computer." "Oh, god," she moaned, eyes down, still trying to catch her breath. "Please just give it to me, I'll suck your cock, don't make me beg you to fuck my mouth... " "Okay, open wide," he said, taking her head in both hands and straddling her as he slowly inserted his cock into her wide open mouth. She formed her lips around it, making a moaning noise of pleasure and acquiescence. She eagerly sucked it, moaning and murmuring her enjoyment around it, as he thrust into her face; occasionally he pulled out and she chased it with her tongue, swirling her moist pink tongue around the purple head and over the shaft as he caressed her face with it. "All right," he said breathlessly, pulling away. "Do you want me to fuck you now, Elena?" "Please," she said, looking into his eyes. "Please fuck me, don't tease me anymore." "Do you want me to untie you?" "No," she moaned. "I love it, I love being tied up and helpless like this, I love being vulnerable... " She was aware she was babbling but she'd never felt quite like this before. "All right, I'll fuck you now... " They both cried out as he slid his cock into her silky wet pussy. He supported himself over her with his arms, so he could look into her face while he thrust rhythmically into her, slowly at first. The pressure and heat was building inside her and she strained at her bonds. "Please, please, more, faster," she moaned. "Are you sure?" "YES!" He began thrusting harder, lowering himself to kiss her breasts and neck while he did so. She screamed her pleasure at the ceiling. Soon they were both gasping for breath, trembling, as he sped up until he was pounding into her, driving into her with all his lust, breathlessly, and the heat and pressure ballooned up uncontrollably through her and she had another orgasm, her mouth slack and her head thrown back. She felt him begin to tremble as he withdrew, stroking his big wet cock. "Where do you want me to cum," he said, panting. "On your tits, or on your face?" "Oh on my face!" she said, hungrily. "I want it all over my face!" "All right, I'll cum on your face," he grunted, pulling out and pushing his swollen cock into her face as he stroked it. She extended her tongue and when the tip of her tongue touched the tip of his cock, a hot spray of semen exploded into her face, covering her cheeks and forehead and eyelids. "Oh god," she cried in pleasure, loving the hot sticky feel of it. He collapsed on the bed next to her, gasping for breath. But he quickly got to his feet. "That was great, Elena, but I've got to run," he said. "Do you want me to clean you off?" "No," she said, shamefully, exhausted, closing her eyes, feeling tears come again, feeling the semen drying to scales on her face. "Will you untie me, though?" she asked in a small voice. He pulled out his knife and quickly cut through the paracord holding her left wrist. "As I promised," he said. He covered her naked body with the sable and she murmured her thanks. He was gathering the valuables. "Okay, I'll leave the computer here on the dresser," he said. "After I make a copy," he said, and inserted a flash memory stick into the computer, quickly copying the video to it. She was so exhausted it took her a moment to realize what he was doing. "What!? No! You promised!" "I promised I'd leave the computer, and I will. But I'll keep a copy of the video." He finished quickly and pulled the memory stick out and stuck it in his pocket. As he turned to exit the bedroom, carrying the two bags, he looked back at her. "We can negotiate about the return of the video sometime later." "Oh my god," she said, horrified, struggling to free her other arm but knowing she'd never get free in time. "See you soon, Elena," he said, and closed the bedroom door. To be continued!