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Lucyís live-in lover has left the house. He will not be back for hours. How do I know? Iíve been watching their apartment for days. I know their routines as well as if they were my own. How do I know her name? Iíve been through her garbage. What am I? Iím a peeping Tom. Well, actually, thatís not true. A peeping Tom doesnít do anything other than watch - I do.
Which is why I am carefully walking up the stairs to their apartment door. I know Lucy is inside, and I know she is alone. I have no idea what she is doing because after her partner leaves she goes into the spare room and draws the curtains. How do I know it is their spare room? Because I see that it has the usual junk we all have in our spare rooms and it also contains an exercise bike and some weights.
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How do I know all this if I havenít been inside the apartment? A telescope, my friend. A high-powered telescope usually used for watching heavenly bodies that I have modified to watch this particular heavenly body called Lucy.
And trust me. She really is heavenly. Tall and slim with the sculpted body of a woman who takes her workouts seriously. Big bazookas. Serious bazookas, that will swell and distend when I tie rope around them. Hmmmm Ö. But Iím getting ahead of myself. Please forgive me.
When the curtains are drawn I donít think she spends her time working out. Or if she does, she is doing something that she doesnít want anyone else to see. Otherwise the curtains would be open, just like the other times she exercises. Also - she never draws the curtains when the guy is there.
So - Iím going to pay her a visit and see just what is her little secret. Iím going to play with her, so Iím bringing along my toys. Not all of them. No, not by any means all of them. That would give me a hernia just trying to lug them up the stairs. Just a small selection of what I think I may use.
Iím here at the door - waiting. The surrounding area is quiet, as all the kids are at school. Iím still waiting. I know that the curtains are drawn for between 30 and 60 minutes, so whatever it is that she is doing, Iím going to let her get well into it.
Arenít I going to disturb her when I ring the bell? What do you take me for? Two years in Borstal and a further 18 months in prison have honed my house-breaking skills to perfection. There is not a house round here that I cannot break into.
I slowly turn the handle, and what do you know? The bleeding door opens in my hand. Lover boy has been very careless and not locked the door. Lover girl has been equally stupid, and will soon be ruing her mistake. As I enter, I pull down my black hat over my face. Only it isnít a black hat. Itís a black balaclava, with cut-outs for eyes and mouth. Just like those SAS guys wear. Kinda scary-looking, but thatís all part of the plan, Ďcos I want her to wet her pants when she sees me - thatís assuming sheís wearing pants.
And I DO imagine her in pants. Exercise pants. You know the sort of things I mean. Brightly coloured and showing the flesh even better than if she was naked. Iím getting hard just thinking of her dressed in this exercise outfit.
I creep through the living room with my bag of toys in one hand. In the other hand is a pair of handcuffs, in my left trouser pocket is a black lycra hood, and in my right pocket is a small but firm sap - the fallback weapon if I cannot overpower Miss Universe at the first attempt. I laugh quietly as it makes me look as though I have two pricks down my pants.
Moving to the door of the spare room, I set down my bag on the floor. I will need nothing in here until I have secured my victim. I put my ear to the door and listen, hoping to hear something over the pounding of my heart. I can. I hear heavy breathing, a humming, and groans. Christ! Sheís masturbating herself. I push open the door quickly but quietly and stand in amazement at the sight in front of me.
Believe me - this is the honest truth. I open the door and see Lucy lying on the floor. OK you say - nothing special in that. Well, give me a moment and listen. Sheís lying on the floor wearing a weird black outfit. Nothing she would wear to the local gym. Oh my God, no. I can tell at a glance from the shine that everything is made of latex. Stockings, corset, and hood. It fits her like a second skin. She is wearing a hood with cut-outs for mouth and eyes and a hole at the top through which her brunette hair sticks out.
Except itís difficult to see her hair colour clearly as she has a plastic bag over her head and her eyes are closed. Stuck into her cunt is what I can only imagine is the handle of a deeply-buried vibrator - the source of the humming noise. She is totally unaware of my presence, as her fingers work on her clit.
All this makes it easy for me to grab each wrist, twist her on her belly and cuff her hands behind her. She attempts to scream, but succeeds only in drawing the plastic into her mouth. Her head twists to the side and her eyes flash open. She stares in horror into my masked face. I can only imagine what is going through her mind.
I sit on her back as she bucks furiously to get her hands to her face. I let her try. There is nothing better than watching a woman trying to do the impossible. Her face contorts as she struggles to breath. She is gasping in vain. Unless I choose to puncture the bag she will surely die.
So what to do? Get real! I punch a hole in the bag and pull the vibrator out of her cunt. I leave the thing buzzing on the floor in a pool of her juices. Lucy gulps in a huge lungful of air and then screams at the top of her voice. Ungrateful bitch. I place my hand over the hole in the bag, effectively resealing it. For good measure I pinch her nostrils together. We roll around on the floor some, until Lucy quietens down and I relent and let her breath again.
ĎOK, Lucy. Listen up.í She struggles under my body.
ĎI said listen up. If you want to continue breathing you will listen and do as I tell you.í Lucy lies quietly and I tell her the plan. Frankly, she has no choice, and she nods her agreement. I stand up off her back and move away to the door, retrieving my bag from the doorway.
Lucy is still in the same place I left her. I empty the contents of the bag onto the floor and pick through the pile. The first item I retrieve is a hood. This is spandex and has no holes in it at all except for the neck entry. I donít want Lucy identifying me at any point in the future and my own balaclava is causing me to sweat. OK. The real reason is that I love to see chicks tied up in hoods.
A short struggle ensues as Lucy sees the hood and guesses what is coming. I pull off the remnants of the plastic bag, removing the rubber bands that held it in place around her neck. The struggle is very much one-sided and I soon have the hood in place. Blinding Lucy causes her to quieten and I move back to the bag. More items are sorted from the pile and deposited at Lucyís side. I plan to have some serious fun with her.
ĎOpen upí. Lucy appears not to have heard me as her mouth remains closed. I repeat the command, followed by a sharp smack on the side of her head. Whether it is the command or the smack that does the trick I do not know, but the mouth opens and I jam in a ball gag and tie it tightly behind her neck. A stocking is pulled down over her head as far as it will go, to ensure that the ball gag remains in her mouth.
A leather strap tightened above Lucyís knees keeps them together. Further straps are added to increase her feeling of helplessness. I pull her elbows back behind her and fasten another strap to keep them in this uncomfortable position. Her wrists are crossed and another strap is added over the steel handcuffs, which are now removed. I double a piece of rope and link her ankles to her wrists, placing her in a stringent hogtie. Lucy is now going nowhere and I stand up and look at her at my leisure.
She is a stunning sight, wearing long latex gloves to complement the corset and stockings and hood. As we say up North, she is as fit as a butcherís dog. To my mind, she needs a collar to finish off the outfit, and I delve once again into my rapidly diminishing pile to retrieve a latex collar.
I fit this around her slim neck, pulling hard on the twin buckled straps to confine her neck at maximum tightness. I relent only when she starts to choke. Her outfit is complete, as is her bondage, and I step back again and study my creation. She looks absolutely fabulous and I cannot resist stroking myself as I look at her perfect body encased in the latex.
Kneeling down by her side, I whisper in her ear for some minutes. When I have finished she nods her head.
I draw open the curtains before moving to the door, closing it quietly behind me as I leave. I want to see what happens when her man returns much later in the day and finds her tied up. A telescope is a wonderful instrument!
What did I whisper to her, I hear you ask?
Now that is a secret between Lucy and I, and if Lucy says nothing, nor will I. Will we meet again? You will have to ask that question of Lucy, as she alone knows the answer. Perhaps I will be surprised by her answer. And then again, perhaps not.