Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
The floor creaked softly.
We both sat back as we were lifting the floor safe from its hiding place. It was a very slight noise or was it a vibration in the flooring. The house was supposed to be vacant for the next week. I turned toward the noise.
It continued, resolving into soft footsteps heading in our direction. We closed the safe and replaced the rug then both of us hugged the wall behind where the door would open, guns drawn. With no bullets in our guns, they would only serve to frighten. We always knew we were in big trouble if anyone ever called our bluff.
The door opened slowly. Since no lights had been turned on, it seemed clear that we weren't the only burglars in town, a thought which in and of itself indicated trouble for our plans.
Two of them. They opened the door only partially allowing us to watch them entering the room. They crept into the room in an actual crouch, knees bent, shoulders rounded. They carried nothing and their tight fitting black clothes didn't seem to leave anywhere to hide anything. From the form of the bodies encased in the tight outfits it was clear that one was male, the other female. He was some taller than she, but not hefty. She, on the other hand, seemed rather well-endowed. There was nothing in their behavior that indicated that they thought the room might already be occupied.
I began to think this could be interesting as I watched the female's cute ass move into the room. Rick slammed the door. "Hold it right there. I'd rather not have to kill you." As they swung around we both leveled our guns at them. They stopped and raised their hands. Their entire bodies trembled. With their arms aloft the material of their body suits was drawn tightly across their bodies providing an even more tantalizing look at the young woman's body.
"Oh no, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh no. You said this would be easy. That there wouldn't be anyone here." She was screaming at her partner through her black ski mask though she kept her arms raised. He shied away from her, but said nothing.
"You," commanded Sandy, "put your hands behind your back." They both obeyed. They seemed to be real amateurs. Sandy handed his gun to me and moved behind the guy to bind his hands with the zip strips we carried for these occasions. "On your knees," he told the guy pushing down on his shoulders. The guy complied. Sandy pulled off the man's ski mask, found a sock in a bedroom drawer, and used it to gag him holding it in place with another zip strip.
He did his patented number of using zip strips to hobble the guy. One strip around each ankle with two in loops like chain links between his ankles. He'd be able to walk, but with difficulty.
He did the same with the girl. The sock quieted her. It was really good to have her shut up since she was carping all the time about her burglar buddy's poor planning. In between screaming at him, she screamed at us coming up with every description that could be used to humiliate a man. Really ugly, unfeminine behavior, I thought. Her talking and screaming stopped once the sock was in her mouth. If I'd had bullets in the gun, I'd shoot her, I thought. Through all of this, I reflected, all her partner had said was an occasional "Be quiet, Marion" and "I'm sorry". He never looked at her.
Nonetheless, when Sandy pulled off the ski mask, a beautiful head of auburn hair fell to her shoulders. Her face, though contorted in anger and fear, was very attractive even in the low light of the room.
"Take a look in the basement. See if it has support columns," I suggested. Sandy knew exactly what I was thinking. He nodded and left to look for a doorway to the basement.
I could hear Sandy moving throughout the house, then on a staircase. He returned. "Yup."
"Let's search them to make sure there's nothing we should know about."
"Yeah, right," Sandy agreed kneeling behind the guy. He began to pat him down. From the waistband of his leotard he extracted a piece of paper. Then he helped the intruder stand. "You gonna shoot him if he does something while I pat down his crotch?"
"I'd rather not," I replied thinking of the bloody mess such a shot would create, even if we could shoot. I pushed Sandy's pistol in my waistband. Picking up a walking stick from what was apparently the owner's collection of walking sticks, I said, "I'll just beat him with this stick. Less noise."
The body language, and his wide eyes indicated that our victim would cooperate. "Spread your legs as far as you can," Sandy commanded. The guy obeyed watching the stick fearfully. Sandy patted down the guy's crotch and butt distastefully. "Seems clean," he said standing.
He got the girl to her feet. From behind her gag a torrent of gurgling surged. "Honey, you did this to yourself. Don't give me any of your crap. I'm really not in the mood for it. The crap continued though neither of us could make out what she was saying.
His face impassive, Sandy began to search the girl. The intensity of her gurgling increased. A sharp crack and snap of her head stopped her cold. She dropped to one knee. "Get up," Sandy said pulling her upright. "I can hit harder than that."
Tears began to stream down her face. She stood still as he ran his hands through her hair. When he finished, he said to her pointedly, "Now I'm going to feel you up. I'm going to feel your tits to be sure you don't have a pistol or knife hidden there. You got that?" She nodded.
He did as he said taking much more time than necessary to examine each breast through her black Lycra. Even through the Lycra, I could see he thoroughly enjoyed her soft breasts. He continued downward. "Spread your legs." She did. I noted her reaction as Sandy ran his hands across her butt. She remained still the entire time even as he closely examined her crotch. After he'd finished, he said, "Didn't find anything, except this paper. Can't read it in this light. There may be more light in the basement."
"OK. Let's go," I said herding them from the room. The muzzle of the gun directing them was sufficient to get them to go where I wanted.
They shuffled along as Sandy led us to the basement stairs. "Walk slowly or you're liable to fall," he counseled them. At the stairway, Sandy said, "Grab the hand rail with your hands, then slowly, taking one stair at a time, walk down. If you fall, you'll bang your head on the concrete. We won't be calling an ambulance for you."
With their backs to the hand rail, hanging on tightly, they made their way down the stairs. The loops holding their legs together barely extended sufficiently to allow them to walk down the steps. Slowly taking one step at a time, they made the trip without incident.
Sandy had turned on several low lights in what appeared to be a typical basement featuring work tables for the guy and a laundry area for the gal.
Sandy had each of them back up to a support column. He fastened the guy to one, feeding more zip strips through the strips binding his hands and then around the post. He did the same with his feet. For good measure he fed a long one around his neck and the column. Fear filled the burglar's eyes as the zip strip applied pressure on his windpipe.
"You thinking what I'm thinking about this bitch," Sandy asked Rick.
"Yup."
Sandy cut the ties holding the girl's hands together. She looked confused and scared.
"Open his shirt and push it off his shoulders," Sandy told her motioning to her burglar partner. She hesitated. Sandy wound up as though to slap her again. She ducked almost losing her balance, then hobbled to her restrained partner. She unbuttoned his Lycra top and pushed it off his shoulders. Sandy cut his undershirt off. "You gonna use that walking stick or something else," Sandy asked me.
"We'll see how cooperative the girl is," I replied.
