It was strangely quiet as Charlotte opened the front door. She set down her bag and stepped out of her black heels, noticing a solitary light on in the living room. As she walked into the room, it was immediately clear that something was terribly wrong. Her youngest son was sitting in a chair at the dining table. His eyes opened wide in fear. As Charlotte stepped further into the room, she saw that he was tied to the chair, his mouth taped shut. She ran towards him, but her path was suddenly blocked as a tall figure stepped in front of her.
Charlotte froze, a mixture of confusion and horror. She recognised his face from somewhere. Young, very young in fact. Not much older than her other son. He and her husband were nowhere to be seen. Before Charlotte could form the words, the intruder told her that her son owed some money. A lot of money, and they had gone to work it off. Maybe they would be back in a few hours, but in the meantime she would be keeping him and her young son company. He walked towards her, towering above her, and fished Charlotte's phone from the pocket of her coat, slipping it into the pocket of his pants. She caught sight of a large hunting knife in his other hand, blade glimmering menacingly in the dim light.
The man walked over towards her young son. His eyes widened in fear as the man approached. Charlotte's heart pounded, paralysed by fear as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The man pulled the tape covering the young boy's mouth and pulled another dining chair out from the table. He turned slowly to Charlotte and motioned for her to sit. She stared a moment longer before hurrying over to the chair and her terrified son, hugging him tightly.
The intruder wandered to an armchair across the room opposite them and lowered himself into it. He picked up the tv remote, flicking aimlessly through a few channels before settling on an old black and white movie. His gaze moved slowly to Charlotte, still clinging to her son and whispering to him that it would be alright. She was quite the sight. Her long red hair cascaded over the shoulders of a classic tweed business jacket. A white blouse stretched tight over heavy breasts, the fabric just sheer enough to make out a red lace bra beneath. Her skirt was knee length, although the angle of her body as she clung to her child had made it ride up her thigh, making his cock twitch approvingly. His mood improved even more at the sight of her dainty nylon-covered feet.
Time passed slowly, the hostages gazing absently in the direction of the TV while their captor tried to ignore the raging desire to ravage her over the dining table. The impasse was finally broken by Charlotte's son, whining that he needed the bathroom. The intruder nodded, and all three set off in the direction of the bathroom. They stood on opposite sides of the door as the boy relieved himself, Charlotte doing everything possible to avoid meeting the stranger's increasingly hungry gaze. Needing to fill the silence, she asked what would happen if they couldn't get the money. The man flicked open his coat to display the knife, and looked in the direction of the bathroom door where her son was. The intent was clear. Charlotte took a ragged breath and had to steady herself against the wall.
The man ushered them back into the living room, this time directing them to the lounge while he returned to the armchair. Minutes became hours, night falling outside. The young boy, exhausted by his ordeal, had fallen asleep, mouth hanging wide open as he snored. It was clear from the stranger's demeanour that he was becoming increasingly annoyed. She had to find a way to keep her family safe, and her mind turned to a movie they had seen a few weeks earlier. She screwed her eyes tight, revolted at the idea of it, but there were few options left. Silently she stood up and walked out of the room and down the corridor.
Naturally her captor followed, knife at the ready. She turned, angrily waving him away, telling him she needed to get changed. He didn't move, leaning casually against the door frame, evidently intent on enjoying whatever show was about to commence. Charlotte turned away from him and began to unbutton her blouse. After carefully hanging it up, she reached behind to unzip her skirt. The stranger, cock rapidly hardening, let out a murmur of appreciation as it slid to the floor. Her juicy, peachy ass was encased in sheer nude-coloured stockings with a red lace thong. Charlotte took a deep breath and tucked her fingers into the waistband.
The nylon hissed as it slid down her soft pale legs. She had no real plan for what she was going to do next, other than find a way to get help. As it turned out, her captor made a plan for her. He walked slowly behind her, breath hot on her neck. Charlotte gasped as his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight to him. The man's fingers skimmed over her stomach and up, caressing her lace covered tits, before roughly tearing off her bra. She gasped as the tattered fabric was replaced by his hands. Her tits were spectacular, a birthday present to herself after the birth of her second child. The one that had placed her in this awful position. Charlotte closed her eyes, ashamed of the intrusion but also the reaction of her body to his touch.
Suddenly, she felt him step back. On instinct she turned to face him but was greeted by the point of the knife, encouraging her to stay where she was. When he stepped back to her, his skin was touching hers. Something pressed against her back, hot and hard. It couldn't be, surely. Now she was encouraged to turn around. This strange intruder in her home was naked. Charlotte glared at him, anger bubbling inside her, before taking a step back to create some distance between them.
