Between Two Worlds: Home Invasion

***CONTENT WARNING***

This is an explicit erotic story exploring class divide in modern Britain with power and sex as its core themes. Contains non-consensual elements and situations involving coercion. Only continue reading if you're comfortable with mature, taboo content. Read on if you're a perv!

What am I doing in a fancy house like this? Bet that's what you're wondering.

Marble worktops. Posh paintings on the walls. Everything screaming money. Not my usual scene, is it? Me, Chloe Bennett from Heathfield Estate, standing in Lady Muck's kitchen, running my fingers over her boujee handbag from Louis Vuitton.

I pick up some fancy hardback book from her coffee table. Big leather thing with gold writing. Open it at random and read out loud: 'Everything in the world is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.'

'Oscar Wilde,' Jack calls out from the living room, surprising me. 'Massive bender, weren't he? Learned about him in school before I got kicked out.'

Behind him, Sophie's making these muffled noises. Tied to her own dining chair with her Wolford stockings. Her husband's Hermès tie blindfolding her. Her own posh knickers stuffed in her mouth. Jack's got his trackies round his ankles, going at it like he's got something to prove. The contrast is mental, him with his hoodie still on, her in what's left of her posh work clothes, legs spread wide open and young jack balls deep in her MILF pussy. Obscene!

'Didn't know you was into books,' I say, leaning against the doorframe.

Jack doesn't even pause. 'There's lots you don't know about me, babe.'

She made all them career choices. Law degree. Fancy chambers. Prosecuting people like us. And now look. She's not exactly fighting him off, is she? Cal's gone upstairs to 'have a look around.' Probably nicking stuff, knowing him.

A month ago, I was just Cal's girlfriend. The one nobody notices. Now look at me. Got a proper education, didn't I? About power. About how quick things change when you've got something someone needs to keep quiet.

See, I watched that posh bird come out of the shed that day. All messed up. Tights ripped. Hair like she'd been shagged senseless. Followed by Jack and Cal looking proper chuffed with themselves. Didn't take a genius to work out what happened.

Never seen someone rebuild themselves so fast though. By the time she got back to all them other mums, she was perfect again. Designer wellies. Silk scarf. Like nothing happened. Like she hadn't just been... well, you get the picture.

Everyone knows Jack's got the rizz. Always had. Could chat up anyone's mum and be in their knickers by teatime. But even I was shocked when I saw who he'd pulled this time.

Took photos, didn't I? Not just after. Got a few through the shed window too. Proper shocked me, what I saw. Mrs. Sophie Crawford, King's Counsel. Committee treasurer. Model mum. Not so perfect now, is she?

Jack doesn't know why I'm really here. Thinks I'm doing this for him. To help with his court case. Get Mrs. High-and-Mighty to use her legal powers. And yeah, part of me is.

But mostly? It's seeing her face when she opened the door. When she saw me standing there. When she realised her perfect life was in my hands.

'Not going to invite me in then?' I said. Showing her my phone. Just a glimpse of what I had.

Should've seen how fast that door opened wider.

---

Jack hadn't planned this. Not really. Not like this.

When Sophie opened the door, face draining of colour at the sight of them, him, Cal, and Chloe standing there, he'd felt that rush. Power. The kind he never had on the council estate.

'Remember me?' he'd said. As if she could forget.

Now he's here, in her fancy living room with its posh furniture that probably cost more than his mum's entire flat. Chloe's wandering about, picking up books, touching things she shouldn't. Cal's come back downstairs, drinking from a crystal decanter, Sophie's silk knickers dangling from his pocket.

'Found her knicker drawer,' Cal announces, swigging what's clearly expensive whisky. 'Proper filthy collection for a barrister, innit? Always knew these stuck-up bitches were dirty underneath it all.'

And Sophie...

Sophie Crawford KC is tied to her dining chair. Not fighting it. Not really. Her breathing's heavy through that makeshift gag. Her expensive blouse half-torn. He can see the marks on her neck from last time. Bruises she must've hidden with silk scarves all week.

'You could've called the filth,' Jack whispers in her ear, making her shiver. 'Could've had me and Cal banged up. But you didn't, did you?'

She makes a sound behind the gag. Something that might be protest, might be trying to explain. Her eyes wide with fear above the blindfold.

Twenty years in criminal law. Two decades facing down murderers and drug barons across courtrooms. Yet nothing had prepared Sophie for this, complete powerlessness. No words to argue with, no legal precedents to cite. Just pure, animal vulnerability.

'Know why?' His hand slides down, feeling how her body betrays her despite her obvious reluctance. 'Because you know what happens if you don't play along.'

From the kitchen, he hears Chloe reading something aloud. Some posh book quote about sex and power.

'Oscar Wilde,' he calls back, surprising himself. 'Massive bender, weren't he? Learned about him in school before I got kicked out.'

Sophie makes a noise that might be shock. He grins. 'What, didn't think chavs like me would know that?'

Her body tells him otherwise. This is what gets her off. The contrast. The wrongness. Him knowing things he shouldn't. Doing things he shouldn't.

'Didn't know you was into books,' Chloe says from the doorway, watching them with her cracked mobile held up, recording everything.

'There's lots you don't know about me, babe,' he answers, not stopping. 'Don't film my face, yeah?'

Sophie's body responds despite herself. Her barrister brain's probably going mental, calculating every legal risk. Every way this crosses lines she can't uncross. Her professional life, her family, her reputation, everything hanging by a thread. She has no choice but to endure this.

If I survive this, I'll never underestimate anyone again. Never judge by accent or postcode or trainers. The things we don't know about people. The things I never knew about myself until that day at the football pitch. The darkness I kept buried under silk and cashmere.

He leans down, whispering: 'Look at your posh wet cunt taking my cock. Bet your husband don't bang you like this.'

She makes a sound, definitely a sob this time. Her body tenses with each touch, but she doesn't fight. Can't fight. Not with what they have on her.

Jack glances back at Chloe, still filming with that busted screen catching the light. Something in her eyes makes him uneasy. Like she's got plans he doesn't know about. This was supposed to be simple, blackmail. Get Sophie to make his court case go away. But now...

'Go on then,' Cal urges, knocking back more whisky. '£200 a bottle, this is. Proper nice. Finish her off.'

Sophie's breathing changes. He looks down at her, blindfolded with her husband's tie. There's something happening here he doesn't fully understand. Something beyond the obvious. A power struggle more complicated than who's tied up and who isn't.

For a second, he wonders who's really in control.

'Look at you,' he says, loud enough for Chloe to hear. 'Not so high and mighty now.'

But even as he says it, feeling himself spunk inside her with a grunt that makes Cal laugh, he's not entirely sure it's true.

---

Chloe lowers her phone, her cracked screen catching the light. Something's burning inside her watching Jack with Sophie.

'Is that all you got?' she says, voice hard. 'Thought you was gonna show her what council estate boys can really do.'

Jack looks back at her, sweat on his face. 'What?'

'She's used to getting everything her way,' Chloe says, stepping closer. 'Bet she's never had it rough. Never had it where she couldn't brag about it at them posh lunch things.'

Cal laughs from the sofa, swigging straight from the crystal decanter now. 'Christ, Chloe.'

Sophie makes a noise behind her gag. Her eyes wide above the blindfold.

'Turn her over,' Chloe says, suddenly. 'I want to see her face when you put it up her bum.'

Jack hesitates, something passing between him and Sophie.

'What, you going soft now?' Chloe challenges him. 'After all that big talk?'

'Nah,' Jack says, but there's something in his voice. Something uncertain.

'Do it properly,' Chloe pushes, raising her phone again. 'The way she's scared to ask her husband for.'

Sophie's breathing changes. Not fear exactly. Something else.

'She wants it,' Chloe says, reaching down to touch Sophie's face. 'Don't you, your ladyship?'

Sophie tries to turn away from Chloe's touch, but there's nowhere to go. Her eyes dart frantically above the blindfold.

'Fucking hell,' Cal mutters, watching them with new interest. 'She's proper scared.'

Jack's looking at Chloe different now. 'You serious?'

'Dead serious,' Chloe says. 'I want to see her break. Really break.'

She leans in close to Sophie's ear. She leans in close to Sophie's ear. 'This is what you came looking for on the estate, innit? What you can't get in your perfect life? You stuck-up old bitch, slumming it with the likes of us.'

Sophie makes a sound that's not quite protest.

'Need to get her arse ready first,' Chloe says bluntly. 'You can't just ram it in. Even I know that.'

She rummages through her bag, pulls out a small bottle of lube and a roll of duct tape. 'Always prepared, me.'

Cal laughs from the sofa. 'Fucking hell, Chloe. You're the local bike, ain't ya? Everyone's had a go.'

'What?' she shrugs, not even offended. 'Girls gotta be ready for anything these days. Besides, you wasn't complaining last week, was ya?'

She spots a framed photo on the sideboard and picks it up. Sophie with a thin-faced man in an expensive suit. Both of them stone-faced with a boy in posh school uniform.

'This your old man?' Chloe snorts, holding it where Sophie can see despite the Hermès tie blindfolding her eyes. 'Looks like he's got a broom up his arse. And your kid... proper little Lord Fauntleroy, innit? Boarding school, I bet. Mummy and Daddy too busy being important.'

Thomas. My beautiful boy. Thank God you're at boarding school. Thank God Richard's in Hong Kong. No one to witness my humiliation. No one to see the great Sophie Crawford KC brought low. Fifteen years of separate beds with Richard, of quiet desperation, led to this moment. This is my punishment for that day at the football pitch. For wanting something I shouldn't.

Sophie tries to speak, but her expensive La Perla knickers are shoved in her mouth, now secured firmly with several strips of grey duct tape wrapped around her lower face. All that comes out is a muffled, desperate sound.

'How old are you anyway?' Chloe continues, putting the photo down. 'Forty-five? Fifty? Old enough to be Jack's mum. Bet that's part of it, ain't it? Getting stuffed by a lad half your age.'

Jack steps back as Chloe takes charge, untying Sophie just enough to position her how she wants.

I prosecuted a case last month. Woman held at knifepoint in her own home. I told the jury to imagine her terror, her helplessness. God forgive me, I had no idea. No concept of what true helplessness feels like. The jury convicted on my words alone. My eloquence. My privilege. And now here I am, experiencing what I've only ever theorized about in court.

'You should see your face, Lady Muck,' Chloe taunts. 'Not looking so posh now with your arse in the air, are ya?'

Sophie thrashes her head, but the gag and blindfold remain firmly in place. She can't speak, can't see, can only feel what's happening to her.

In the background, Cal's moved to an armchair, Sophie's collection of silk knickers from her drawer spread over his lap. He's having a wank while watching, still swigging whisky with his free hand.

'Dirty bastard,' Jack mutters, noticing what Cal's doing.

Cal just grins, unashamed. 'Quality gear, this. Bet each pair costs more than my trainers. Anyway, don't act like you're better than me. Your rizz got us here in the first place, innit? Getting off with a posh bird twice your age.'

'Ever had it this way before?' Chloe asks Sophie, her voice a mix of taunting and genuine curiosity.

Sophie shakes her head frantically, the blindfold preventing her from seeing the looks exchanged between her tormentors.

How did I end up here? From Oxford to the Bar to silk by forty. The dinner parties, the committee meetings, the carefully curated life. All of it hanging by a thread now. And the worst part? Some small, terrible part of me wants to be punished. Wants to pay for my weakness, my desires. The part that walked behind that shed knowing exactly what might happen.

'Thought not,' Chloe smirks. 'Your husband too boring, innit? Well, you don't get a choice now.'

She works the lube with her fingers, watching Sophie's body respond involuntarily. 'Look at that. Lady Muck's wet pussy is twitching. She loves it up her bum, I can tell.'

Jack watches, surprised by how Chloe's taken over. 'Christ.'

'Didn't think I knew what I was doing?' Chloe challenges him, not stopping her movements. 'There's lots you don't know about me, Jack.'

She turns Sophie's face toward her, though Sophie can't see through the blindfold. 'You're gonna remember this every time you sit in them fancy court chairs. Every time you're giving it the big one to some poor sod in the dock. You're gonna remember who really had the power.'

Cal grunts from his chair, still focused on the silky garments in his hands. 'These cost more than my rent, probably.'

'That right?' Chloe says, eyes narrowing. 'Well, ain't karma a bitch?'

Sophie makes a sound behind her sealed gag, a desperate whimper that only serves to encourage them.

Jack positions himself behind her, his voice rougher now. 'Ready?'

Sophie shakes her head frantically, but her body is positioned with no way to resist.

Cal sits forward on the chair, whisky forgotten as he watches intently. 'Go on, lad. Proper bang her. Balls deep.'

'See?' Chloe says, vindicated. 'Told you posh birds are the filthiest.'

She positions herself where she can film everything, where she can see Sophie's eyes above the blindfold. Where she can watch the moment when all that expensive education and privilege shatters into pieces.

'Maybe we should put this on TikTok,' Chloe says, adjusting her phone angle. 'Or OnlyFans. "Posh KC Gets Stuffed By Council Estate Lad." We'd make a fortune.'

Sophie's whole body goes rigid with terror.

My career. My reputation. Everything I've worked for since I was eighteen. A viral video would end it all. The Bar Council. The judges. My colleagues. No one would look at me the same again. I'd be finished. Is that what I deserve? Is this the price for one moment of weakness?

'Or maybe,' Chloe continues, 'I should just WhatsApp it to your hubby in Hong Kong. That's where he is, right? Found his business card in the drawer. "Richard Crawford, Finance Director, Asia Pacific." Bet he'd love to see what his wife gets up to while he's away.'

'Fucking hell, Chloe,' Jack mutters, but he doesn't stop.

'What?' Chloe shrugs. 'Just saying there's options, innit?'

Jack's face is flushed now, his movements growing erratic. 'Gonna spunk,' he grunts.

'Look at her face,' Chloe urges, zooming in with her phone. 'Want to catch the moment when Lady Muck realises her perfect life is over. She loves it up her bum, don't she? Proper dirty tart underneath it all.'

'This is about more than your court case now,' Chloe says, more to herself than to Jack. 'This is about her knowing she can't go back after this.'

And as Jack follows her instructions, as Sophie's perfect world comes apart against her will, Chloe understands what real power is. Not the blackmail. Not the threats. But this, forcing someone like Sophie Crawford to endure things she would never choose freely.

That posh book was right. Sex isn't about sex at all.

Chloe glances back at the living room, watching them. Sophie's nipple clamps glinting in the light from her posh chandelier, her body rigid with each violation. There's something in the way she's responding that Chloe can't quite read. Fear, yeah. Resignation. But something else too. Something that makes her wonder if Sophie, even trapped in this nightmare, might somehow find a way to turn this against them all.

They think they know me. They think this breaks me. But they don't understand what it takes to become what I am. The years of fighting in a man's world. The cases won through sheer force of will. I may be powerless now, but this isn't over. I know their names. I know their faces. I know the law better than anyone. And when this is done, when they think they've won... that's when Sophie Crawford will truly begin to fight back.