He pulls slowly past her house, noting with satisfaction that the windows are dark. She's either sleeping, or at least back in her room. All he needs to do is figure out how to get in quietly.
He circles the cul-de-sac, then coasts his motorcycle into the drive...cutting the engine as soon as he's off the road. He steps off the bike, and removes his helmet and coat. He'll keep the soft leather gloves on, he decides.
He needs to decide on an entry. Stealth is the utmost priority. The front door is in shadow, but he knows the storm door squeaks a bit. It's also a little tricky to get the deadbolt open without making noise. He decides to try a different entrance.
He goes around to the side of the house and tries the side door into the garage. It's unlocked, and he grins wickedly. The garage enters into the kitchen, far from her bedroom. With silent steps, he moves through the blackness of the garage to the kitchen door, then places his hand firmly on the knob and begins to turn.
It's locked. He has only one key to the house, and it fits the front entry. He curses his luck under his breath, and retraces his steps until he is back outside.
There is a sliding door around the back, but she almost always leaves it locked at night. Still, he slips around the back of the house to try it. As he rounds the corner, a bright light suddenly explodes over his head. He ducks back quickly. "Damn it!" he thinks. "She's installed a motion sensor light!"
He stands still in the shadow for a moment, waiting to see if she comes to see what set her light off. Maybe she'll open the door to look. That will be a good opportunity.
After a moment or two, she has not appeared and he realizes she may not have even noticed the light. Slinking back to the door, he looks in through the glass and sees nothing except the pale glow of her bedroom light down the hall. Unfortunately, this door is also locked. He'll have to use the front.
After moving quietly back to the front door, he eases the storm door open. By swinging it very slowly, he manages to keep the noise to a barely audible squeal. He gently wriggles the key into the deadbolt, passing it over each tumbler, one at a time, until it is fully inserted. With a firm pressure, he turns the key, feeling the bolt draw smoothly into the cylinder. In a few more subtle movements, he has the door open and steps inside. From down the hall, he can now hear the blare of the television. Now there's a break. With that thing going to drown out the noise, he can move a little more freely.
He slips out of his heavy motorcycle boots, and pushes them out of sight under the kitchen table. Crossing the kitchen, he picks up an empty water bottle from beside the sink, then circles around through the living room and office until he has a good ambush point at the hallway. He removes his necktie, and holds the loose end in one hand, then with the other hand tosses the empty bottle to bounce against the wall by the kitchen.
"Cat!" she yells. "What have you gotten into?"
His smile broadens. He knows she'll be out here in a moment to see what the cat has done. The bed squeaks, then he hears her footfall on the hardwood floor. His heart thuds faster, and his fist clenches on the necktie.
Her steps draw nearer, moving steadily and totally unaware of his presence. He knows she sees the bottle lying on the floor, and hopes her focus is on it, rather than roaming the hall. He tenses as her steps get even closer, and her shadow precedes her shape in the opening.
He waits until she is nearly past, then with a quick flick of the wrists, throws the necktie around her and pulls it tight...wrapping her arms to her body and pulling her close.
She doesn't scream at first, but lets out a gasping yelp. Her body seems to go suddenly limp for only a split second, then she is fighting him as he turns her to get her off-balance. The advantage is his, and he twists her off her feet and onto the floor, face down.
She is wearing only a silk chemise, with nothing underneath, and as she struggles beneath him her bare ass and pussy are fully exposed. His cock stirs and swells at the sight, and at the thought of what he is about to do with her.
But first she needs to be subdued. She's a strong woman, and apparently giving up is not her way. Even with a knee firmly planted in her lower back and one arm pulled behind her, she resists fiercely. He feels the burn of her nails digging through the flesh of his shoulder, and only a cat-like move enables him to capture her free arm and pin it with the other behind her.
"Fight all you want, love," he whispers, coarsely. "It's not going to do you any good."
She bucks and tries to kick him with her heels, but he leans forward and avoids her blows. With her arms held, her efforts become more futile, and he laughs at her helplessness. Her screams of fear become roars of rage, and then slowly fade to moans and whimpers of impotence as she realize she can't get free.
Sensing his opportunity, he whips the necktie free, and quickly loops it tightly around her upper arms. In only seconds, he has her securely bound and nearly immobilized. He pauses to breathe, and to take in the spectacle of his victim. He also realizes that he's become mostly erect, his cock tenting against the front of his slacks.
"Be still," he orders, and stands up.
She quickly runs through her chances of escape in her mind. She knows she got in at least a couple of good blows and some nice scratches, but he put a stop to that by binding her arms. He has pulled her arms so tightly behind her that it feels like her shoulders are being torn apart. Struggling against the bindings will be useless. Still, she is going to have to fight and all she has is her feet. That will have to do.
