It was about 8:30 Friday night, my birthday—I was home alone. My husband, George, was out of town on business. He’d called earlier to see if I’d received the flowers he’d sent and once again apologized for missing my birthday. I thanked him, we exchanged loving thoughts and I told him I'd see him tomorrow.

I went back to watching Naked and Afraid, thinking how stupid it was on one hand, and on the other, how much I’d like to be naked and alone with the current male star. Suddenly, a gloved hand forcefully covered my mouth. At the same moment, a male voice said, “Don’t fucking move or make a sound! Understand?” A gun was waved in my view.

At first, I was startled, then scared, and strangely enough, a tiny bit aroused. I remember thinking how weird that was, the arousal. I shouldn’t be aroused, I was being robbed, or I thought I was—what else could it be?

“I said, do you understand, bitch?!”

“Ess,” is all that came out as I vigorously nodded my head.

“All right. I’m going to remove my hand. When I do, you’re going to remain seated and not scream or shout, correct? If you do, this will get nastier than it needs to be.”

Once again, it was, “Ess” and a quick head nod. I’m not stupid. I knew that would be useless.

The hand moved away as the voice said, “So, Karen, let’s start with where the safe is.”

He’d said, “Karen.” He knew my name. This was planned, not random. And safe? What safe I thought, we don’t have a safe. Now I was somewhat confused.

“What safe?” I replied. “We don’t have a safe.”

That’s when his gloved hand shot down and grabbed my left tit, squeezing and rolling it.

“Fuck!” I shouted as the pain ran through me. Actually, pain and a bit of a thrill. My nipples are sexual “on” buttons for me. I reflexively reached for his hand, causing him to squeeze harder. I mumbled “Fuck,” mostly to myself.

“Naughty girl. See, this is how things can get nasty,” he said while keeping up the pressure and the rolling motion. “We know you have a safe. George told us. He’s quite talkative when he’s had a few beers.”

Squirming slightly in the chair from his nip torture, I said, “Okay, okay, please ease up on my tit.”

He started laughing. “Does that mean stop or keep it up, just not so rough, at least not right now?”

Now I was more confused. I started thinking: He knew George. He probably knew he was out of town and was due home tomorrow. I was not only scared and confused, but this was somehow strangely exciting. I’m a CPA, for God’s sake. Nothing exciting ever happens to me. That’s partly why I watch stupid reality shows. Right then, he squeezed even harder, if that was possible. “Oh, God,” I moaned.

“Look at that; she likes it,” he said.

Another male voice chimed in, “He said she was hot. Grab the other one. Let’s see what she does.”

He did.

“Fuck!” I shouted again. The same pain and thrills from the first one hit me again. Stronger this time. Control yourself, control yourself, I thought. This is crazy. I’m being molested by two robbers who seem to know a lot about me, and I’m getting turned on. Stop it, stop it, my brain shouted back at me. “Please just stop. We don’t have a safe. Take whatever you want. I won’t report this to the police.”

He did stop. “Now, Karen, we know you have a safe with ten thousand cash in it.”

Thoroughly confused and experiencing the sensation caused by blood flowing back into my tits, I blurted out, "I’m telling the truth. We don’t have a safe, and we especially don’t have ten thousand in cash laying around.”

“Karen, Karen, Karen, George told us he keeps his emergency money in a safe for any crisis that might come up. Like I said, he can be quite talkative when he’s had a few. You should hear what he says about you. You’re a hot little slut, aren’t you? He’s quite proud of that part of you. So, if you want to avoid the potentially nasty parts of our little visit, just tell us where it is and the combination. We’ll be out of your life before you know it. Oh, and take off that tee shirt. We want to see those tits that George talks about sometimes.”

“What!?” I shouted. “I’m not—”

“Take off the fucking shirt, Karen, or we’ll take it off for you... with a knife!”

Now that really scared me. I took off my tee. “There! Happy, you fuckers?”

He walked around in front of me. I guessed he was about 6' 2", dressed all in black with a balaclava covering his head and face. “Stand up, slut!”

I did. His hands shot out and grabbed my nips again, this time with crushing force. I gasped, and my knees went weak. I was briefly almost hanging by my tits until I recovered my senses. Oh god, the pain, but then that little bit of ecstasy and a tiny tingle in my pussy. Damn my fucking body, I thought.

“There’s still time, slut. Tell us, and it’s over.”

Weakly, I said, “I’m telling the truth. We don’t have a safe or cash. If George said that, he was just bragging for some stupid reason.”

“Sure, sure, slut,” he said as he released my nips. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get on your knees, take out my cock, suck me off, making sure to swallow every drop of my spunk.” A bit shaken, I tried to respond, but he overrode me. “Shut it until you’re sucking! Now, on your knees, and if your teeth as much as touch my cock, my buddy and I will beat you senseless. Capisce?”

“Yes,” I answered meekly while sinking to my knees. I’d almost said Yes, Sir—damn! I’d briefly slipped into my mostly sexually submissive self. I had to keep up the outrage. This wasn’t George playing around with me. These guys were fucking robbers who’d done this who knew how many times, maybe even killed people. God damn George! He’d probably told them how much I love to suck cock. They seemed to know a lot about both of us. I unzipped him and began.

“Oh yeah, slut! That’s perfect. Suck it deep! George says you do great deep-throat. Show me. Take it all. Fuck yeah, slut! Keep it up; I want to shoot when it’s deep in your throat.”

Despite being determined to resist anything they demanded, I was getting into it. I thought about George probably blabbing about how much I loved sucking cock, which made me almost as mad at George as I was with the robbers.

He had a big dick, quite bigger than George. This was a thrill. I’d almost forgotten how exhilarating a long, thick cock was. Before George, I was a minor-league slut. Bigger than average really did it for me, but there’s no accounting for love. I fell for average George, who also did it for me. I’d had no one else for our eight years of marriage.

Now I kept telling myself that this was disgusting, but my right hand had found my clit, and I’d begun rubbing. My caressing had me close to cumming, which, in turn, was making me suck him with greater effort. Now I really wanted his spunk. My sex drive had always been higher than George’s, but this was ridiculous. A little voice kept telling me to only do what I needed to survive and not get turned on. At that moment, he grabbed my head and pulled me tight to his face—burst after burst shot down my throat, triggering my orgasm. I prayed he hadn’t noticed.

“Damn bitch, ole George wasn’t kidding. You’re a champ. That may be the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some hot women!” That’s when I noticed the other guy standing there with his dick hanging out. I’d not reacted or tried not to. He saw my glance and went on. “That’s right slut! Now you get to take number two. Maybe when he fills your throat you’ll remember where the safe is.”

“I’m telling the truth! There is no safe. Search the house. Then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“He did, and couldn’t find it. Must be well hidden, wherever it is. We know George wasn’t BS’ing us. So suck away! Remember, this is fun; it could get nasty. I know you enjoyed sucking me off.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

“Words, simply words. You’re powerless, and I think some part of you is enjoying this. Just think about that as you’re blowing him, especially the asshole part. Now get to it, or I’ll spank the shit outta ya, and then you’ll still have to do it!”

I didn’t argue anymore—I wanted to survive. I got him off, and as much as I told myself I hated all this, I came again and silently enjoyed number two’s spunk. I thought they were right in calling me a slut.

One (being nameless and faceless, I named them One and Two) wordlessly offered me his hand, helping me up. Then, holding my shoulders, turned me so my back was to him and pulled me tight against him. He was no longer wearing gloves when his left hand cupped my boob as his right slid down to my pussy. Then he slid a finger into me as he squeezed and rolled my nipple. I involuntarily moaned and slightly slumped against him.

“Pussy’s soaking. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

I didn’t respond. What could I say? I knew I was soaked. My body was loving it as my brain kept telling me no, don’t respond. I thought of Stockholm Syndrome. Could this be that? So quickly? I had to admit that there was something about One... something that seemed quite non-threatening, something that was actually a bit attractive. Just then, he rammed his finger deep into me as he crushed my nip.

“Oh, God,” I blurted.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“About what?” I retorted.

“You're loving this. You’re a submissive slut that loves being taken, used. I’ll bet ole George isn’t quite getting the job done. Am I close?”

His voice had softened. Part of me wanted to agree with him. Maybe that would get them to leave.

“What if I agreed with you? Would you believe me about no safe and leave?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his finger curled and uncurled against my G-spot. I tried to resist it, but he was good. He knew just how to do it. I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh, God. You... you’re going to... Fuck yes!” I exclaimed as I leaned back into him. “Goddamn you! Just fucking goddamn you!”

“It’s okay, Karen. We’re going to give you what you need, and you’re going to give us the safe.”

I tried to prevent it, but I started to cry. I knew it was showing weakness. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. He was playing me like the proverbial fiddle.

“I... I just... just want you to know there really is no safe. No matter what you do to me, I can’t tell you because it doesn’t exist.”

“I understand, Karen. I really do. Now take off your shorts. I love that you’re so smooth. Brazilian?”

Unthinkingly, I replied, “Yes.” Then pulled my shorts off.

He held my hand as he said, “Come with me. We’re going to change direction a bit.”

“Direction?” I didn’t understand.

“Yes. Being the sub I believe you are, you might actually enjoy it, but I’m hoping that it will stimulate you into telling us what we want to know.”

I didn’t respond to his sub statement, but once again told him that we didn’t have a safe or any money stashed anywhere. Of course, he didn’t believe me, but he was being somewhat of a gentleman about it all. I laughed to myself at that thought. A polite criminal, is that an oxymoron or what? By then, he’d walked me to my bedroom. I thought about that television show. Now I was living naked and afraid. I assumed that fucking had to be next. I remembered how he’d emphasized “asshole.” It’d been before George that I’d had a cock back there. Suddenly the lyrics to the song Memory began running through my mind. That got interrupted by Two coming into view with a black duffle bag. One half pushed, half threw me onto the bed.

I didn’t talk or respond in any way. I’d decided that being cooperatively uncooperative would be my best way to survive this night. We really didn’t have a safe or any cash. I was just hoping they’d come to believe me or figure out I was telling the truth and not kill me.

One reached into the duffle, pulled out four leather cuffs, and tossed them to me. “Be a good slut and buckle these nice and tight around your wrists and ankles.”

I wasn’t expecting that, although I probably should have. “Fuck you,” was my response.

He smiled and walked up close. WHAP! He was so quick I never saw it coming. So much for the polite criminal. The left side of my face burned from the strike. I put on the cuffs.

“Good slut. You looked experienced putting them on.”

“Fuck you.”

“I expected something like that. You like that word, don't you? Now stand, bend over, and spread your cheeks.” I complied. I felt lube and then a plug pushing against my star. “Relax slut. I’m sure this isn’t your first time being plugged.” I stayed silent.

After it was in, he walked me over to a dark part of the room. “Now, don’t do anything stupid, or you’ll think that slap was a love pat.” I didn’t respond. “I’ll take it that you understand. My friend is going to attach a spreader bar to your ankles. You know what that is, right?” I still didn’t respond. “I thought so. Hold your arms out.” That was when I first noticed that rope was now hanging from the ceiling. The whole picture came into sharp focus. Different direction, indeed. This was not going to be pleasant. Well, maybe... I banished those thoughts from my mind. That’d also been years ago.

With the ropes and bar quickly attached, I was soon on my tiptoes. “I think a blindfold would be best. Why know what’s coming, right slut?”

“Fuck YOU!” Then, after a few seconds. ”Have you idiots really thought through what you’re doing? You’re fucking molesting me, assaulting me. That’s not a minor-league crime. Are you planning on killing me? Have you done this before?”

“My girlfriend loves this kinda stuff.”

“Do I look like your girlfriend, the poor thing? Stop now. I won’t call the police.”

“Feelin’ pretty helpless, aren’t you Karen? Tell us where the safe is and avoid what’s coming,” he said while slipping the blindfold over my eyes. “My intuition tells me that deep down inside, you’re lookin’ forward to what’s coming.”

“Think about you in prison. If you’re lucky, it’ll be in the shower, where they’ll use soap to lube you. Then some tatted-up lifer will ass fuck you. You’ll become his personal bitch boy. Eventually, you’ll love it. If you live to get out, all you’ll ever want is dick up your ass. No more pussy for you, sissy boy. Maybe that thought makes you hard right now!”

“Think about this, Karen.”

WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM!

Reflexively jerking and bucking, I blurted, “Goddamn!”

“So, Karen, do I have your attention now?”

“Fuck YOU!”

“Maybe later. If you’re a good girl. Right now, I’m going to turn your ass a bright red and pay close attention to your... what shall I say... reactions, responses... Ahh, yes, I think you’re even wetter than before. You are a nasty little slut aren’t you?”

Again, I didn’t respond. Then the paddling began—hard, sometimes easy, back and forth between cheeks. Each shock further stimulated the sexual area of my lizard brain. I couldn’t resist the primal emotions that he was creating in me. I was remembering things from my pre-George life. Eventually, I quit resisting and accepted what I was feeling. Accepted, shit! I embraced it and hoped he didn’t realize it, at least fully realize it. Eventually, after I’d almost cum, the paddling stopped.

Neither of us spoke. The room was quiet. My muscles were making me quite aware of the strain I was suffering. I’d just recovered my normal breathing when four fingertips touched one cheek and softly brushed across it—I shivered from the sensation. Then, the other cheek; same reaction. He so knew how to play me, and I loved it.

“You’re almost glowing. Such a beautiful color. Rosy pinkish-red, I’d call it. Quite thrilling, isn’t it?” I so agreed but stayed mute.

Then tap-tap-tap on my pussy began. I knew immediately what it was, a crop. The fucker was going to use that on me. I was so primed for it.

Next, tap-tap-tap directly on my clit. Oh god! Just that sent chills through me. Unthinkingly, I moaned.

“Oh Karen, even in your current condition, you recognize that, don’t you?” He paused. I said nothing. “That’s okay. You don’t need to respond. I know. My girlfriend loves telling “Daddy” how much she adores this, how much it excites her. You’re just like her, maybe even better.” Tap-tap on my clit. I flinched slightly. “You can just taste that orgasm, can’t you? My baby girl would be begging me to cum. Tell me where the safe is, and I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

“I told you, there’s no safe or money. If George really said that, he was just shooting off his mouth to impress you or someone. You can take me to an ATM. I can withdraw eight hundred. That’s our limit. You can have the card and I won’t report it lost until next week.”

“Maybe. My partner is tearing up your house, looking for the safe or any hidden money. George isn’t going to like that. If he doesn’t find anything we can talk more. If you admit how much you’re actually enjoying this, that’ll put a lot of positive credit in your...