*************** ADULTS ONLY ***************
The Loveable Ladies of Libido Lane
(C) by Erotin Thraller
*********************************************

Chapter 10 - Home Invasion

It was still vividly fresh in John's mind.  He could envision 
her, dressed as she was that day, without even looking at the 
photograph.  Or perhaps it should be said she was "undressed" for 
the photo.

It all began quite innocently.  John was relaxing in the den when 
his wife, Ruth, called from the kitchen, warning him that the 
doorbell was about to ring.

"There are a couple of men coming to the door," she informed him.  
"From their looks I would guess they are Mormons.  I have dinner 
on the stove, so can you please deal with them?"

Needless to say, John was not happy at being interrupted by 
another religious visitor, especially a Mormon on Mission.  As if 
on cue, the doorbell rang, but John took his time getting up out 
of his comfortable recliner.  Meanwhile his wife was remained in 
her private domain, busy in the kitchen.  This won't take long, 
John thought, so he left the television on, expecting quickly to 
return to his ball game.
 
At the door, feeling frustrated by the persistent ringing of the 
bell, he didn't bother checking to see who was there.  He simply 
released the deadbolt, unlocked the door, and turned the knob.  
Immediately, the door burst open, thrusting him backward so hard 
that he lost his balance and fell against the wall.  Two men 
rushed in, and before he could regain his feet, they were over 
him, holding him down.  He didn't remember much about the ensuing 
struggle, but he did know they struck him several times.  He had 
the bruises for some time proving it.  By the time he finally 
gathered his senses, they had shoved him into his recliner, bound 
his arms behind the back of the chair with plastic ties, then 
strapped his feet to the footrest.  The position was most 
uncomfortable, especially for his arms, but he was immobilized so 
completely that he had no option for escape.  He could only 
accept whatever they wanted to do with him.  Or his wife.

"What do you want?" he demanded, finally able to get a look at 
his attackers.  They were both in the mid-twenties, neatly 
dressed in white shirts and neckties.  No wonder Ruth thought 
they were Mormons, John muttered to himself, but if this is a new 
approach to evangelism it certainly is not one which meets my 
approval.  They will not make a convert of me this way.

"It's not what we want," the tall blonde man announced, "it's 
what we're going to get."

The other man, who was short with dark hair, leered around with 
an evil grin.  "And you are in no position to stop us from taking 
whatever we want."

John remained silent, because that was not a statement with which 
he was ready to agree, even though he knew it was completely 
correct and true.

"What in the world is going on?" Ruth demanded just then as she 
hurried into the room.  "Oh, my word!" she exclaimed when she saw 
her husband's predicament.

Big Blonde greeted her with sudden glee.  "Well, well, look-ee 
what we have here," he grinned at her salaciously.  "She's even 
better than we were told."

"Now I know what I want," Blackie chuckled, ogling her 
salaciously, "and neither of you are in a position to keep me 
from taking it."

"Run!" John yelled at Ruth, fearing for what they might do to 
her.

It was too late.  She was already well inside the room, so it was 
easy for Blondie to block the doorway behind her.  Trapped, she 
looked from one to the other and then back at John.  The panic 
rising within her showed in her eyes as they began to fill with 
tears.  She remained silent, whether from fear or good sense, 
John couldn't tell, but for once he was glad she did not launch 
into a verbal attack which might have further antagonized their 
uninvited guests.

"Turn off that TV, and then go get our bag," Blondie said 
quietly, "while I explain the facts of life to this couple."  
Blackie slipped away obediently.  He was gone only a moment 
before he returned and closed the front door behind him.  With 
the ominous click of the deadbolt, John knew they were locked in, 
totally at the mercy of these men, whoever they were.  Ruth still 
stood frozen in place, desperately looking alternately first at 
her husband and then at Blondie.

"Now, here's how this works," Blondie was saying as Blackie 
reentered the den.  "Lady, as you can see, your husband is 
completely at our mercy.  We can do with him whatever we choose.  
Now, we could bind you the same way and get on with our business, 
but we much prefer to have your cooperation."

"Never!" Ruth exclaimed.  

"Oh, I think you'll change your mind," Blackie grinned. "In fact, 
I think you'll cooperate in everything we tell you to do.  
Unless, of course, you don't care what we do to your guy."

"What do you mean?" Ruth stammered.

Blondie nodded, and Blackie reached down and jerked off John's 
shoes and socks.  "Cute little toes, aren't they, Lady?" he 
grinned as he tossed the socks to one side. 

"Do you care what happens to him?" Blondie asked.

"Of course, I do!" Ruth responded.  "You know I care."

"Well, in the next little while we're all going to find out how 
much you care."  He leered at her, bobbing his head as he looked 
her over from head to foot.

It was about then John realized what was actually happening.  
This was his worst nightmare becoming reality.  When Ruth married 
John, he felt he was the luckiest man on earth, because of her 
rare beauty.  She was statuesque, always holding herself erect, 
and her black hair seemed always in place.  Her classic figure 
was slim with modestly small, upright breasts.  The first time he 
saw her naked he was totally overwhelmed with her beauty.  She 
was so attractive that he continually worried some fiend might 
violate her.  Now it was happening.  Bound as he  was, there was 
not a thing he could do except watch.  Stoically, he braced 
himself for whatever might ensue.

"What are you going to do?" Ruth asked, nervously.  "I mean, what 
will you do to him?"

"Probably nothing at all, Lady.  In fact, we won't do anything at 
all," he grinned, "if you will cooperate."

"What if I don't?" she asked defiantly.

"Well, we'll kind of work that out as we go along."  Blondie 
paused and grinned again.  "So why don't you get us started?"

"Me?" Ruth asked.  "What do you mean?"

"It's time for you to get undressed."

"What does that have to do with robbery?" she asked.  She may 
have been playing for time, but she appeared not to understand 
the implications of what he said.  "If you want jewelry, I can 
tell you right now we have nothing of any great value.  If you 
want money, I give you whatever we have here.  But as for 
undressing," she stamped her foot hard, "no way!"  

Blackie moved so fast that John had no time to see what was 
coming.  One moment he was standing beside him looking at his 
wife.  The next moment he was holding a flaming cigarette lighter 
near the sole of John's bare foot, who was already screaming in 
pain.

Ruth also screamed, "All right!  All right!" 

"Ruth, don't do it," John demanded, as Blackie withdrew the 
flame.  His foot was aflame with pain, but he was more concerned 
with the danger his wife was facing.  "Don't do it, Ruth," he 
yelled, desperately wishing he could reach his foot, but his arms 
were held fast, with his hands behind the chair.  He was 
helpless.

"Shut up!" ordered Blackie, "unless you want me to turn your foot 
into a bloody torch."

Ruth was in shock, suddenly realizing she was caught in a web of 
decision from which neither she nor her husband could escape.  
One of the other were going to be hurt, and it was her decision 
as to which one it would be.  As usual, she was dressed 
immaculately, even though she had been cooking dinner.  She wore 
a tiny hostess apron over her gray slacks.  Her black peasant 
blouse had a low neckline, with several strands of pearls around 
her neck, a sort of multi-layer choker necklace.  The effect was 
quite dramatic, and John loved her for the care she always took 
to look nice.  She was even wearing three-inch heels, which were 
black to match her blouse.  Throughout the years, John had often 
wondered how she could maintain herself so attractively, even 
while doing mundane housekeeping duties.  Obviously, he was still 
in greatly in awe of his lovely wife.

"Well," Blondie asked.  "What'll it be?  I'm sure my friend would 
love to turn your husband's foot into charcoal."

Tears streamed down Ruth's face.  Reality settled her mind, and 
she determined that if she refused to do whatever they demanded, 
her husband would suffer untold agony, and afterward they would 
still probably force her to do as they demanded.  She shrugged 
helplessly, scared speechless but determined to save John as much 
pain as possible.  Without taking her eyes away from her husband, 
she began to untie her apron.

Blondie interrupted her.  "Oh, you can leave that on."  Then he 
added, "For now."

"Don't take off my apron?" Ruth asked.

"That's right.  You don't want to get blood on those nice pants," 
he grinned.

"Blood!" she almost shrieked.  "What blood?  Whose blood?"

"Don't worry about that just yet," Blondie said quite calmly.  
"Just leave the apron on.  Instead take off your blouse."

Ruth frowned and sucked in her lower lip.  John could tell she 
was trying to keep from saying something she might regret.  After 
a moment, she reached her shaking hands behind her back and 
unbuttoned the blouse.  Once free, the fabric fell forward off 
her shoulders, revealing her lacy half-bra which only slightly 
covered her nipples.  She looked questioningly at the men.

"Keep going," Blondie instructed.  "You still have something else 
to get off your chest."

Once again, Ruth's trembling hands were behind her back, this 
time unhooking her bra.  A moment later, her small breasts burst 
into view.  Her nipples stood out, obviously hard, like bright 
little marbles on her creamy skin.  She smiled faintly at John, 
who knew that even under these terrible circumstances she was 
proud of her body.

"Little guys, aren't they?" Blackie said with a smirk.

"You mean her boobs?" Blondie asked.  "Are those tiny little buds 
really nipples?" 

"They're so small," Blackie replied.  "I think they need 
decorating.  They need something to make them exciting, to give 
them class."

"I agree," Blondie laughed.  "Where did you put the bag?"

"It's right here," Blackie answered eagerly, clearing the side 
table to make room for the duffle bag.  Then he opened it and 
extracted a bottle and several small boxes, all of which he 
placed on the table.  "Okay," he said softly as he worked, "now 
what else do we need?"

John stared at Ruth, recognizing the terror which filled her 
face.  He didn't know if she was afraid of being disfigured or 
afraid of possible pain, or perhaps humiliated by her exposure.  
Maybe she was intimidated by the unknown.  Probably all of the 
above.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Hopefully, we're not going to do anything," Blondie replied.  
"You are."

"I'm going to do what?" she asked again, still struggling to 
regain her composure.

"You're going to pierce your nipples," he explained.  "But don't 
worry.  We're not demons.  See," he said, holding up a small 
bottle, "we brought some Lidocaine.  It will take away some of 
the pain."  He pointed to Blackie, who was holding a large needle 
in the flame of his lighter.  "Look, we're even sterilizing the 
needle so you won't get any infection."

"You can't be serious!" Ruth exploded.  "You don't expect me...."  
That's as far as she got.  Blackie thumbed the lighter until it 
broke into flame, then waved it in the direction of John's feet.  
John flinched.  Ruth visibly wilted, grasping her breasts with 
her hands to cover and protect them.  Tears once again welled up 
in her eyes.  She bit her lip, squelching whatever she had 
started to say.

John's insides were churning.  The thought of his wife having to 
pierce her nipples was frightening, for he was positive it would 
hurt unbearably.  Plus, he had no idea what the after-effects 
might be.  On the other hand, if she refused, he was sure the men 
would follow up on their promise to torch his feet again.  And he 
did not know how he could endure the pain, as his one burned toe 
was still aching.  Eventually, he assumed his wife would have to 
give in and acquiesce to their demands.  Either that, or they 
might even do the piercing themselves, and by then the piercing 
might be the least of their worries.  Finally he resigned himself 
simply to hope their situation didn't get any worse than having 
his wife's nipples pierced.

"All right," Blondie began, "you may want to sit down so your 
hands will be more steady."  Ruth sat without question, 
apparently relieved at this consideration.  "Now," Blondie 
continued, "here's a clean rag you can use to clean up, in case 
you need it.  And I have the Lidocaine, which I intend to hold 
myself, just so you won't get any cute ideas.  Now, which nipple 
do you want to do first?"

Ruth, even though seated, continued to cover her breasts with her 
hands.  She looked desperately at John, but he did not answer.  
In Ruth's eyes he could see anger, but he couldn't tell if it was 
aimed at him for not protecting her or at her attackers for what 
they were demanding.

"Choose!" Blondie demanded, or you'll soon be hearing from your 
husband."

Ever so slowly, Ruth dropped one hand, revealing her left breast.

"Good girl," Blondie said encouragingly.  "Now, I'll just spray a 
little of this on your nipple."  He was silent as he uncapped the 
container and sprayed her breast.  Ruth winced, and John presumed 
the liquid was cold.  "There.  It will take a few moments for 
that to take effect.  Then you'll hardly feel the needle when it 
goes through."

Blackie then turned to John and asked jokingly, "You okay with 
this?"

"Of course, not," John snapped, then as he considered his 
helpless state, he wished he had been less harsh.  "I don't want 
her to get hurt."

"Believe it or not, we don't want to hurt her either.  That's why 
we brought the Lidocaine.  If anyone gets hurt, it's going to be 
you," he laughed.  "So you better hope she's a good girl and 
cooperates with our demands.  And I mean all our demands."  
Blackie snickered. 

"Then why did you ask how I feel about it?"

"Well, some people think pierced nipples are rather erotic," he 
grinned.  "I was just wondering what you thought." 

John decided not to respond.  Instead, he listened as Blondie 
continued giving instructions to Ruth.  "Now, I presume you've 
never done this before, so let me explain the procedure.  You 
take this little cork, and you hold it with your left hand 
....You're right handed, aren't you?"  She nodded.  "First of all, 
you give your nipple a really hard pinch.  That helps to numb it.  
Then you hold this cork right up against one side of your nipple, 
and with your other hand you push this needle through from the 
other side.  Line it up real careful-like, so the needle will go 
through straight, 'cause you don't want to be lopsided.  Once the 
needle is all the way through, it's important that you leave it 
in.  That will help later on.  So don't pull the needle back out.  
I'll give you another one for your other nipple.  You got that?"

Ruth nodded, then slowly reached out and took the needle.  It was 
as though she were hypnotized.  Only her one hand moved.  Her 
face remained expressionless.

Blondie stared at her impatiently.  Blackie stepped up for a 
closer view, then advised, "You'd better get with it, or that 
Lidocaine will wear off before you're finished." 

Even then Ruth did not move.  John tried to read her face, but 
she appeared to be somewhere else, as if she had zoned out in 
complete denial.

"You still have your lighter?" Blondie asked.

"Sure do," he laughed.  "Do you suppose I could get his little 
toe to burn?"

Still Ruth's expression did not change, but her hands moved more 
quickly.  Apparently she either forgot or ignored the part about 
pinching her nipple.  Instead, she simply pressed the cork to the 
outside of her left nipple and plunged the needle all the way 
through until it stuck in the cork.  When she took her hands 
away, both the needle and the cork remained in place.  Several 
drops of blood appeared at the place the needle had entered her 
flesh.

She mopped away the blood, looking helplessly pitiful as she 
glanced in her husband's direction, then looked quickly away.  
She was biting her lower lip, but she said nothing nor gave any 
sign of great distress.

"Good girl," Blondie cheered.  "Now, leave the needle in, but 
pull that cork free so you can use it again.  Here, I'll spray 
Lidocaine on your other nipple."

They waited a few moments after he finished with the spray.  Then 
Blondie gave her a second needle.  Without further prompting, 
Ruth raised her hands and plunged the point through her right 
nipple.  More blood oozed out around the needle, and John noticed 
there was a slow trickle of blood down the underside of her left 
breast.  She saw it too and used the rag again, gently cleaning 
the blood from both her breasts.  

"Now," she announced, her voice flat and her face showing no 
expression, even though both her nipples were impaled on shining 
needles.  "Are you satisfied?"

"You've been such a good sport, I'm going to give you another 
shot of Lidocaine."  He picked up the container and sprayed a 
generous amount of the liquid on each of her nipples.  "There.  
No sense in you having to endure any more pain than necessary.  
Now comes the good part.  We have jewelry for you."  He picked up 
a small box from which he extracted two silver half-rings.  They 
were flat on one side and oval on the other, apparently made to 
fit through the newly-made needle-holes.  Holding them up, he 
showed how they opened and snapped shut.

"And you thought we came to steal your jewelry," Blackie laughed.  
"See, we're not so bad.  We actually came here to give you some 
jewelry."

"Okay, that Lidocaine should be working by now, so here's what 
you do.  You open this ring and hold the pin tight against the 
end of the needle.  Then, you pull out the needle very slowly, 
using it as a guide for this pin to go in through the opening you 
just made in your nipple.  Normally, you would put in some dental 
floss and leave it while your nipple heals for a few days, but we 
can't wait that long.  You have to do it today.  So we're going 
straight to the nipple rings. Okay?"

Ruth gave no response.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered.  And a few moments later, she had 
performed the maneuver he had described, and each of her breasts 
sported a silver ring in her pierced nipples.  Once again she 
wiped away the few drops of blood which oozed out.

"The bleeding should stop before long," Blondie assured her, "and 
hopefully there won't be too much pain, even after the Lidocaine 
wears off."

"Yeah," Blackie laughed.  "We don't want you holding up the fun 
because of pain."

Suddenly, Ruth stood up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Blondie demanded.

"I left dinner cooking on the stove.  It could cause a fire."

"You stay here with junior," Blondie nodded to Blackie and then 
at John.  "I'll go with her to see that she doesn't get into 
trouble.  Or decide to abandon her miserable husband and run 
away."

Blackie sat in the chair which Ruth had just vacated, while Ruth 
and Blondie left for the kitchen.  John watched as Blackie picked 
up Ruth's blouse from the arm of the chair and tossed it on to 
the table.  Then he picked up her bra and smiled as he held it to 
his face as if to smell it.  "Nice," he said, "but I don't think 
she'll be needing this any more today."  Then, while leering at 
John, he stuffed it into the duffle bag.  "Souvenir," he beamed.

Faintly the sound of voices came from the kitchen, but John 
couldn't understand what was said.  Meanwhile, Blackie was 
rummaging in the bag.  He extracted a roll of fabric, which was 
black and appeared almost transparent.  As he unrolled it, John 
could see there were two pieces.  One was a large, flat square.  
The other appeared to be a tube, perhaps four feet long.  Holding 
it up, he shook out the folds.  

"Nice, isn't it?" he grinned.  "This will go great with her black 
hair and that string of beads."  With that, he hung the fabric 
over the back of the chair.

Just then, Ruth reentered the room, followed closely by Blondie.  
In spite of all that had transpired since the two men had burst 
into our home, it was still something of a shock for John to see 
her topless.  She still wore her slacks and apron, as well as the 
pearl necklace, but her breasts were bare, except for the newly-
added silver ring in each of her nipples.  They sparkled, 
swinging with each bounce of her breasts.  The effect was quite 
stunning and, John decided, daringly sensuous.

"She's got a real nice meal fixed out there," he grinned at 
Blackie.  "I think there's enough for both of us once we're done 
in here."

Ruth frowned, then nodded to John that she was all right.  She 
raised her hands as if to touch her exposed breasts, hesitated a 
moment, then turned away.

"I see you have already unpacked her gown," Blondie observed.  
"Good.  I think it's time we see how she looks in it."  He turned 
to Ruth and said, "Okay, it's time for you to lose the apron."

"Please," she complained.  "You made me take off my blouse, and 
then you mutilated my body.  Isn't that enough already?  Are you 
going to make me strip completely nude?"

"Not really," Blondie smiled.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because we're not done with you.  That's why," Blackie snapped.

"Take it easy on the lady," Blondie intervened.  "She's been very 
cooperative.  So let's keep it that way."

"That's the problem," Blackie objected.  "She's been too 
cooperative.  I really wanted to scorch this guy some more, but 
she's not letting me have any fun."

"You heard him, Lady," Blondie laughed.  "So don't tempt him by 
refusing to do what I tell you to do.  He would love to put the 
flame to your husband's feet."

"All right," Ruth agreed rather roughly.  "I'll take off the 
apron."  She did, angrily throwing it on the table with her 
blouse.  "And I suppose you want my slacks too?"

"That's correct.  Your slacks will just be in the way."  

Ruth paused for a moment, then opened the zipper and stepped out 
of the slacks.  Her long legs flashed white as she exposed them, 
and a moment later she was dressed only in the nipple rings and a 
skimpy little bikini panty.

"Nice," Blondie observed.  "Very nice."

"Tell her to keep going," Blackie insisted.

"No, we'll let you maintain your modesty, at least for now."  
Blondie stared at her for several moments, then continued, "It's 
time for you to try on your new gown.  I'm sure you can 
understand why we can't let you go in the other room to change," 
he explained.  

"It would be nice if you would," Ruth said with a slight laugh.  
John was amazed at her composure, even to the point of her 
attempt to inject a bit of humor into her situation.  At this 
point, it appeared to him that he was in less danger than she.  
He was merely the pawn to force her into obedience.  John 
wondered what they had planned for her before they were done.  
The possibilities seemed endless and none of them, certainly, 
could be good. 

"We'll be kind to you," Blondie assured her, "if you will be an 
obedient lady.  You see, we have things for you to do.  So for 
now, you can keep your panties."

"Thank you," Ruth said flatly.

"However," Blondie continued, "I want you to put on this gown."  
He picked up one piece of the black, gauzy material and held it 
up, showing that it was indeed a long, slim tube.  "You can step 
into it or pull it over your head, however you prefer.  Just put 
it on."

Ruth acted quickly, as if she had suddenly been given reprieve 
from her nude exposure.  She gathered the material into a donut-
shaped ball and lowered it over her head.  Then she held one edge 
of the material and allowed the remainder to drop down over her 
body.  As she held it at her shoulders, the bottom came just 
below her knees.  Puzzled, she looked down at herself, as if 
suddenly realizing there were no sleeves or straps of any kind.  
Looking then at Blondie, she asked, "So what keeps it up?" 

Blackie burst into laughter.  "She still doesn't get it, does 
she?"

"I guess not," Blondie concurred.  He picked up a small pair of 
shears from the collection of items Blackie had placed on the 
table.  "This will only take a moment," he told Ruth.  She 
flinched.  "Don't worry," he insisted.  "I'm not going to hurt 
you."  With that assurance still hanging in the air, he pinched 
up the edge of the material near Ruth's right breast, snipped at 
it with the shears until he had separated a two-inch-long strip a 
mere fraction of an inch wide.  He threaded this string through 
her nipple ring and tied it in a double knot.  "There," he 
smiled, "that should hold that side."  A few moments later, he 
had repeated the process, fastening a matching string to her left 
nipple ring.  "You can turn loose now," he told Ruth as he 
stepped back away from her.  "Hold your arms out so I can see how 
it looks."

As Ruth turned loose of the material, the entire tube of material 
slipped down until the bottom almost touched the floor, the 
length of a proper evening gown.  The top, of course, dropped to 
just below her breasts, leaving them completely exposed except 
for the strings attached to her nipple rings.  Her breasts were 
all that held up the makeshift gown.  Or rather, the rings in her 
nipples held up the gown.  The effect was terribly naughty and 
extremely erotic.

"Do your nipples hurt?" Blondie asked.  "I mean, is your new gown 
too heavy?  We tried to find material as light as possible."

"No," Ruth replied hesitantly.  "They sting a bit, but I guess 
it's all right."

"Good," Blondie told her, "and I'm glad the bleeding has stopped 
'cause you're going to need to wear your new gown awhile."

"That's good," Ruth replied.  "I guess...."

"Tell her to get her panties off," Blackie demanded suddenly.

"Oh, you're so anxious," Blondie laughed.  Then, turning to Ruth, 
he agreed, "Yes, Lady, it's time for you to lose the panties.  
Keep the shoes.  You're going to need them."

Ruth looked at John, with a strangely confused expression, as if 
to say that she knew this was coming.  Then, without argument, 
she reached up under the black gown and in one swift movement 
stripped her panties down off her legs.  Just that quickly, she 
was dressed only in her black heels, her pearl necklace, and this 
strange gown, if one could call it that, which hung sensuously 
below her breasts.  The materials itself was opaque just enough 
that it hid the intimate details of her body, but it was so light 
and flimsy that it clung so closely to her curves that it was 
obvious she wore nothing under it.

"Turn around," Blackie instructed.  "I want to see it all."

Ruth turned slowly, making a complete circle.  The fabric clung 
to her buns, accenting her rounded curves.  Even in John's 
helpless condition, he wanted to shout Wow!

Blondie picked up the other piece of fabric, opening it to show 
that it was a large rectangle.  He used the shears to create a 
long string midway along one side of the material.  Then he used 
that string to attach the material at the nape of her neck to 
Ruth's necklace.  The remainder of the material draped over her 
shoulders and down her back like a cape.  "Here," he instructed 
her.  "Hold the ends like this in your hands."

Ruth did as instructed.  When she pulled the material completely 
together, it concealed her breasts.  She almost beamed that her 
ingenuity was guarding her modesty.

"Excellent," Blondie exclaimed.  "That's perfect."

Indeed, the cape did provide a modicum of modesty, but it did not 
take a great deal of imagination to see that she was actually 
naked beneath the tissue-like fabric of the gown.

"Oh, I love it," Blondie said exultingly.  "This will make for 
great photos."

"Photos?" Ruth exploded loudly, in disbelief.  Then in a whisper 
she asked, "What photos?"

"Of you, of course, my fine Lady.  Photos of you," Blondie 
explained, still quite excited.

"Well, do it then," Ruth demanded.  "Let's get this humiliation 
over with."

"Not so fast," Blackie ordered.

"He's right," Blondie agreed.  "We may be lots of things, but 
we're not photographers.  That's your part in this process, 
because we want truly professional pictures."

"What do you mean?" she asked, "...my part...?"

"It's going to be up to you to go get your picture taken," 
Blondie laughed.  Then he added, "And this is the fun part."

"Go?" Ruth asked.  "Like this?  Go where?"

"To the mall, of course.  There are several good photographers 
there, and they accept walk-ins, no appointment needed.  You just 
walk in, say you want your photo taken, and then have him shoot 
several poses, including...," Blondie paused as his grin became an 
outright laugh, "...including several with your cape dropped back 
...like this," he added, tugging the material from Ruth's hands so 
that it slid backward over her shoulders to leave her breasts 
once more completely exposed.

"So you're going to just turn me loose to leave here and go have 
photos taken?  What would you do if I went to the police?" Ruth 
asked.

"Oh, you won't do that," Blackie assured her, "because I'm going 
to be right here with your husband, and if you're not back here 
within two hours, I will have all kinds of fun setting fire to 
his toes."

"Also," Blondie continued, "I'm going with you.  I'll hang back 
so no one knows we're together, but of course I'll be close 
enough to watch.  The only time you'll actually be alone is when 
you're with the photographer.  If I get any hint that you tell 
him why you're doing this, I'll call my friend here, and he will 
have fun with his lighter and still be gone long before the 
police arrive.  Do you understand what I mean?" 

"I understand," Ruth answered, "but that doesn't mean I'm going 
to do it."

"Oh, I think you will," Blackie grinned, clicking his Bic and 
watching it spout a flame.  "I think you'll do just as you're 
told."

"And," Blondie added, "you'll tell the photographer this is an 
absolute rush order.  You want the prints immediately so you can 
take them with you.  Then you'll bring them back here ...within two 
hours.  Understood?"

"I understand," Ruth assured him.  Her look, as she glanced at 
John, was wilted and defeated.  "What choice do I have?" she 
added.

"Good," Blondie told her.  "Now go get the keys to your car and 
your credit cards so you can pay the photographer."  He smiled, 
"The pictures are your expense, not mine."

Ruth was gone several minutes, and John wondered if she had 
slipped away.  Soon enough, however, she returned carrying her 
wallet and car keys.  As she walked, her makeshift gown stretched 
against her legs, limiting her to walking slowly with small 
steps.  The thin fabric molded against her curves and accented 
the beauty of her body.  He shuddered at the thought of her 
walking through the mall dressed so indecently, as she was about 
to do.  "I guess I'm ready," she said.

"One more item I should mention," Blondie told her, "and that 
might be of critical importance to your well-being.  It's a 
matter of how tight that dress is.  Before we leave, I think you 
ought to see if you can sit down."

Ruth backed up to the chair and started to sit.

"Careful," Blondie warned.  "That material is not going to 
stretch very much, and you don't want to rip it ...or put too much 
pressure on your new rings."

Ruth actually smiled, then hoisted the hem of her flimsy gown 
above her knees and easily lowered herself into the chair.

"That'll work," Blondie agreed.  "Just remember how you did that 
when you get in the car.  Otherwise you might be in for a painful 
surprise."

With that, they were gone.  A few moments later, John heard the 
garage door open, then close.  He knew they were on their way, 
and he was stuck with Blackie the arsonist.  They stared at each 
other for several minutes.  Finally, John could stand it no 
longer.

"Why," he asked, "are you doing this?  When you burst in, I 
thought for sure you were going to rob us, or rape my wife, or 
even worse.  What's this all about anyway?"

"Actually," Blackie grinned, "It's sort of a retirement plan for 
my friend and me.  One of these days your company is going to 
advance you to a much higher paying job, and then it will be 
worth a lot of money for you to avoid the embarrassment of having 
certain photos circulated."  He grinned, "Like those your wife is 
going right now to have taken."

"You're talking blackmail."

"No.  Only the possibility of blackmail.  Let's just call this an 
investment in future potential," he grinned even broader, "kind 
of like buying futures on the stock market.  You may never be 
worth anything.  If so, we'll never bother you again.  On the 
other hand..., well, who knows?"  He paused a moment, then said, 
"Now, I want you just to sit tight and behave yourself."  With 
that, he slipped quietly out of the room.  

John did as he was told, mostly because he had no other choice.  
He also assumed Blackie was taking advantage of this opportunity 
to search the house, hoping to find something of value to steal.  
There certainly was nothing he could do to stop him, especially 
since he had been totally unable to prevent his humiliating or 
mutilating his wife.  John shuddered, realizing that even now he 
was still totally at the intruder's mercy, and his wife had 
unwillingly gone off to expose herself to heaven-knows-who-all 
might see her at the mall.  She would even have to expose herself 
to some photographer who would record her mutilated image on film 
for all posterity to ogle.  Straining, he listened for some sound 
in the house to tell him where Blackie was or what he was doing, 
but there was nothing but silence.  Then he remembered the meal 
Ruth had been cooking.  Perhaps he was enjoying the food.

Time passed.  How much time, he was not sure.  It seemed forever.  
Everything remained silent throughout the house.  Whatever 
Blackie was doing, he sure was quiet about it.  More time passed, 
and regardless of how frustrated John was he had no choice but to 
endure the wait, as well as the silence.  Surely it's been two 
hours, he thought.  Finally, he heard the garage door.

A few moments later Ruth entered the room.  She was alone.  And 
still wearing the makeshift gown.  With one hand, she clasped the 
cape together over her breasts, only now the material was 
wrinkled, making it even more obvious that the single garment was 
all she was wearing.  In fact, all the material had become so 
crushed that it scarcely hid anything.  She was gloriously and 
seductively exposed.  Her pubic bush pushed against the fabric 
announcing its radiant existence, but she seemed more concerned 
about John than herself.

"Where's the guy with the lighter?" she asked, looking all 
around.  "I hurried home, afraid of what he might do to you."

"I don't know where he is," John explained.  "I thought he might 
be in the kitchen, but he disappeared soon after you and the 
blond guy left.  Where is he, anyway?"

"I don't know.  He waited for me, just like he said, and he was 
there when I came out of the photography studio.  I gave him the 
packet of photos.  He sorted through them, and then gave me this 
one."  She waved a single print at me.  "Then we started for the 
car, and somewhere along the way, while some boys were teasing 
me, he just disappeared.  I've not seen him since.  I looked all 
around, but when I couldn't find him, I hurried home to see about 
you."

"That is strange," I admitted.

"Now what do we do?" she asked.

"First, why don't you use those shears to cut me loose.  My arms 
are killing me, and my foot really hurts where he burned it."

Later, after John had stretched and loosened up the kinks in his 
arms, his wife gave him the picture so he could study it up 
close.  Not bad, he thought as he examined it carefully.  

"Maybe we ought to have this framed," he told her, trying to ease 
tension with a bit of humor.  

When she did not respond, he looked around for her.  She was 
standing by the table, looking in the large mirror.  She had 
slipped the black cape back off her shoulders, fully exposing her 
breasts, the nipple rings, and the strings which held up her 
make-shift gown.    

Nice, he thought.  It matches her shoes.  It matches her hair.   
She is beautiful.

"I'm sorry about your nipples?" he told her.  "Do they hurt?"

"Some," she smiled.  "Well, yes, but it's bearable."  She arched 
her shoulders and thrust out her breasts.  "Do you like them?

Before John could answer, she continued, "I want to keep them."

~~~
Continued in Chapter 11



  
Chapter 10 - Home Invasion