Uninvited nightime Visitor (F/Fm)

[Bondageboi]

Response to a request


"Don’t move!" The whisper sliced through the midnight silence, sharp as broken glass. Eleven-year-old Jamie froze mid-turn under his dinosaur duvet, breath catching in his throat. Not Mum's voice. Too low. Too cold.

A gloved hand clamped over his mouth, stale leather and sweat flooding his nostrils. Before he could kick, wiry arms hauled him upright, bare feet dangling above the carpet. His Spiderman pajamas bunched under his armpits as he was dragged backward toward the landing. He saw only shadows—a black sleeve, the glint of duct tape dangling from a belt—before the bedroom door slammed shut behind them.

"Walk." The word was gravel scraped from a throat. She shoved him toward his mother's room, where pale moonlight outlined Mum's silhouette sitting bolt upright on the bed. "Face down," the intruder ordered, shoving Jamie beside her. The mattress springs groaned as they pressed foreheads to the quilt. Jamie felt Mum's trembling leg brush his own as she turned over.

“Hands behind yiur backs. Cross them!” The first loop of tape hissed around his wrists—tight, biting cold—before circling his elbows. He choked back a whimper as the pressure pinned his shoulders back like a trapped bird's wings. Beside him, Mum gasped as her own arms were forced together, the robber's knee digging into her spine while tape crisscrossed her chest, flattening her pajama top against her ribs.

Jamie's ankles were lashed next. The duct tape tore as it cinched skin to skin above his bony heels. Then knees—two brutal revolutions that fused his calves together. He felt the intruder's socked feet pad silently around the bed, smelling of damp earth and something chemical. A strip of tape smacked over Mum's mouth first; he heard the muffled, panicked puff of her breath before cold adhesive sealed his own lips, glue taste thick on his tongue as it wound around hus head kber his hair.

The tape yanked Jamie's eyelids shut next as it too was wrapped around his head, crushing his ears flat. Darkness swallowed him whole. Only sounds remained—the robber’s shallow breathing, the rustle of her black clothes as she moved, the frantic hammering of his own heart. Mum's body vibrated against his shoulder blade, her gagged whimpers vibrating through the mattress like trapped electricity.

Mother and son were uncere tipped off the bed into the floor. Footsteps retreated toward the door, then paused. A drawer scraped open in the hallway dresser; coins rattled. Jamie strained against the tape binding his elbows, the plastic digging cruelly into bone. Beside him, Mum shifted subtly—a slow, agonizing inch—her bare toes scraping the caroet. The small movement ignited something fierce in Jamie. He pushed his forehead hard into the floor, arching his taped spine like a bow, straining his fused knees sideways. The tape pinched savagely, but he felt a fractional give near his ankles. Hope, sharp and metallic, flooded his mouth beneath the gag.

“No struggling!” The female voice barked out.

Jamie froze, his spine locked rigid, forehead grinding into the carpet pile. The intruder’s socked feet padded closer, the scent of damp earth and stale sweat intensifying as she leaned over them. Her gloved fingers dug sharply into Mum’s shoulder blade, confirming stillness. Jamie heard the faint rasp of nylon rubbing against taut duct tape—her stocking-covered head turning, surveying the room. Her breathing was unnervingly quiet, punctuated only by the distant clatter of a drawer being yanked open in the hallway. Coins scattered, tinny and bright against the silence. Jamie squeezed his taped-shut eyes harder, picturing her rifling through Mum’s jewellery box, pawing at Dad’s old watch. The violation felt physical, a cold worm burrowing under his skin.

Beside him, Mum’s body remained utterly still, a statue carved from terror. Only the frantic flutter of her ribcage beneath the tape betrayed her—shallow, rapid breaths muffled against the gag. Jamie felt her bare foot press firmly against his ankle, a silent warning. He matched her stillness, muscles screaming from the unnatural arch of his bound elbows and wrists. Dust motes tickled his nostrils beneath the tape gag, mingling with the chemical tang of adhesive and the sourness of his own fear. Every rustle of the burglar’s clothes, every scrape of a bootless toe on hardwood, sent fresh jolts of panic through him, locking his joints tighter than the tape itself.

Time dissolved into a suffocating crawl. The sounds of searching shifted—drawers thudding shut downstairs, cupboard doors creaking open, the faint chime of glassware shifting. Each noise carved another slice of helplessness into Jamie. He focused on the rough weave of the carpet pressing into his cheek, the way Mum’s trembling shoulder blade radiated warmth against his arm, the metallic taste of blood where his teeth had bitten his inner cheek through the gag. The darkness under the tape was absolute, amplifying every scrape, every distant thump, every rasp of his own strained breathing. He counted Mum’s muffled inhalations, trying to sync his own ragged gasps to hers—a desperate anchor against the rising tide of panic threatening to drown him.

The sharp *snick* of the front door latch echoed through the silent house. Footsteps receded down the gravel path, fading until only the frantic symphony of their own breathing and the thundering pulse in Jamie’s ears remained. Silence descended, thick and heavy. Mum’s shoulder shifted infinitesimally against his. He felt the tremor in her muscles intensify, a silent communication screaming *Is she gone? Is she really gone?* They remained frozen, straining their taped ears, listening for any betraying sound—a creak on the porch, a car engine failing to start. Ten agonizing minutes stretched like elastic, each second punctuated by the tick of Mum’s bedside clock echoing from across the room, impossibly loud in the void.

Jamie felt Mum’s body coil beside him. A muffled grunt tore through her gagged lips—strained, urgent. Her bound torso heaved upwards, arching against the tape cinching her chest and elbows. Her bare feet scrabbled frantically against the carpet, searching for purchase, kicking wildly like a landed fish. The sudden violence jolted Jamie into action. He drove his own forehead hard into the floor again, levering his entire taped body into a desperate arch. Pain screamed through his shoulders as the plastic dug deep, but he pushed harder, straining his fused knees sideways against their binding. The tape groaned, stretching minutely where it bit into the soft skin above his ankles. Dust choked his nostrils beneath the gag, mixing with the coppery tang of blood where his frantic movements reopened a cut on his lip.

A raw, tearing sound erupted beside him. Mum had managed to twist her face sideways, grinding her cheekbone against the carpet pile. The tape gagging her mouth strained and puckered. Jamie saw it—not with his blindfolded eyes, but *felt* it in the frantic shift of her muscles against his arm, heard it in the wet, tearing rasp of adhesive pulling away from skin. Her muffled cries gained volume, becoming ragged, desperate gasps. She bucked again, a surge of primal strength lifting her hips clear off the floor for a terrifying second before crashing back down. This time, Jamie heard a distinct *pop*—plastic yielding, perhaps near her wrists? Hope, fierce and terrifying, surged through him, lending strength to his own frantic thrashing.

He drove his forehead harder into the carpet, ignoring the burn. Arching his spine like a bowstring against the tape binding his elbows and chest felt like tearing muscle, but he pushed past the agony. Simultaneously, he strained his fused knees sideways with every ounce of strength his skinny legs possessed. The tape around his ankles screamed its protest, digging deep, but he felt it shift—a microscopic loosening where it bit into the tendons above his heels. Dust filled his nostrils beneath his own gag, thick and choking. Beside him, Mum’s struggles became a violent symphony: the scrape of her bare heels tearing at the carpet, the wet smack of her lips fighting the gag’s seal, the frantic drumming of her taped elbows hitting the floorboards. The air thickened with the scent of sweat, dust, blood, and the sharp tang of ruptured adhesive.

A final, desperate wrench from Mum tore the gag loose with a thick, ripping sound. Her first breath was a raw, tearing gasp. "Jamie!" The name rasped out, muffled still but achingly clear. "Elbows… *inwards*!" Her voice was shredded wire, urgent. He obeyed instantly, folding his bound arms awkwardly towards his stomach instead of straining backwards. The pressure on his shoulders eased fractionally. He heard her twist violently, her breath coming in frantic pants. Something scraped harshly against wood—her teeth? The corner of the bedside drawer? Then came a sharp, satisfying *schwick*—the sound of tape parting under sudden, angled force. "Got… it!" she gasped. "Wrists… next!"

Jamie writhed, mimicking her inward twist. The tape binding his elbows and chest felt suffocatingly tight, crushing his ribs with each shallow breath. He strained his head sideways, grinding his cheekbone against the coarse carpet pile, smelling dust and his own sweat mingled with the sharp chemical bite of the adhesive sealing his eyelids and mouth. He focused his entire will on his wrists, jammed painfully against the small of his back. He imagined them folding inward, pulling *against* the tape's tension rather than fighting it directly. A sharp edge dug into his forearm. He levered sgainst it, sawing his bound wrists sideways in tiny, desperate jerks. The tape groaned, stretching minutely. He felt a burning sting as it tore skin, but pushed harder, grinding his wrists against the hidden edge. A muffled sob escaped his gag—equal parts pain and furious hope.

Beside him, Mum’s frantic movements were a storm of sound and vibration. He heard the wet smack of her lips working against the remnants of the gag, her breath whistling through blood-slicked teeth. "Almost…!" she gasped, voice raw and thin. There was a frantic scraping near her wrists—the rasp of plastic edge against skin, then a sudden, triumphant *rip*. "Free!" The word exploded in a harsh whisper. "Hold still, Jamie!" Her bound hands fumbled blindly against his back. He felt her trembling fingers clawing at the tape binding his wrists, slick with sweat and blood. Her ragged breaths warmed the nape of his neck. Nails tore desperately at the plastic seam near his thumbs. He held his breath, straining backwards to increase the tension. The tape screamed resistance—then yielded with a sharp, brittle *schwick*. Cold air rushed across his raw wrists. Fireworks of pain blossomed as blood surged back into his cramped fingers.

Jamie ripped at the tape sealing his lips, gagging on glue and dust as it tore free. He gasped in deep, shuddering gulps of stale air. "Mum!" he choked out. "Your elbows!" He twisted awkwardly onto his side, his knees still fused, ankles burning. He saw her dimly in the grey pre-dawn light filtering through the bedroom curtains—a tangle of tape, torn pajamas, and frantic determination. Her face was smeared with blood and carpet fibres, eyes wide and terrified but blazing with focus. He scrabbled towards her, dragging his taped legs, ignoring the agony in his shoulders and hips. His freed hands clumsily sought the edge where tape bound her elbows. They found purchase on a puckered fold near her shoulder blade. Using his fingernails like chisels, he dug and peeled, tearing upwards against the adhesive's grain. It resisted stubbornly, then peeled away with a thick, ripping sound that echoed in the silent room. Mum groaned, collapsing forward as her arms finally snapped free. She hugged herself instantly, rocking, breathing in ragged sobs.

Dawn’s thin light crept across the carpet as Jamie attacked the tape binding Mum’s ankles. His own legs remained uselessly lashed together below the knees. He worked by feel—fingers numb, slick with sweat and blood—peeling, tearing, unravelling the tight loops above her bare heels. The tape left angry red stripes on her skin. Mum gasped instructions hoarsely: "Higher... left side... *pull*!" Her voice was shredded velvet. Beside them, the discarded blindfolds lay like grey slugs. The clock on Mum’s nightstand ticked relentlessly: 5:17 AM. Outside, the world remained stubbornly asleep. No sirens. No neighbours stirring. Only the frantic rasp of their breathing and the sticky rip of tape surrendering inch by stubborn inch. Finally, Mum’s legs kicked free—a jerky, uncontrolled spasm. She immediately rolled towards Jamie, fumbling for his own knee bindings. Her fingers trembled violently as she traced the edges.

The tape around Jamie’s knees was tighter, knotted in places. Mum wedged a thumbnail under a fold near his kneecap, leveraging upwards with desperate strength. The plastic bit deeper into his skin. He bit back a cry. "Almost..." Mum hissed, twisting her wrist. A sharp *snap* echoed—not tape, but her thumbnail cracking against the plastic edge. She gasped but didn’t stop. She clawed at the knot like a wild thing, her breath whistling through clenched teeth. Jamie felt blood trickle warmly down his shin. Suddenly, the tension yielded. The loops unravelled with a sickeningly loud *rrrrrip*. Relief flooded him—a physical sensation like ice water poured over burning nerves. He kicked weakly, legs trembling with newfound freedom. Mum collapsed forward, forehead pressed against his still-bound ankles. "Your turn," she breathed, her voice raw gravel. "Hold still."

Jamie watched Mum’s bloody fingers attack the final binding. Her hands shook violently as she dug into the tape fused above his heels. Each tug sent jolts of pain up his spine. Outside, the first tentative chirps of dawn birds filtered through the curtains—a mocking soundtrack to their frantic struggle. He focused on Mum’s face: smeared with blood and dust, eyes bloodshot and wide, lips cracked and swollen. Yet her jaw was set, a terrifying mix of exhaustion and ferocity. The tape resisted stubbornly. Mum snarled, low and guttural—a sound Jamie had never heard her make—and hooked a finger deep under the plastic seam. She braced her foot against his calf and *yanked*. Skin tore. He cried out. The tape surrendered abruptly, peeling away in one long, sticky ribbon. Free. Utterly free. They lay gasping, limbs aching and bruised, staring at each other in the grey light.

The clock on the nightstand blinked 5:30 AM. Silence pressed in—thicker now, without the burglar's lurking presence. Jamie flexed his freed ankles, wincing as blood prickled painfully through his feet. Mum pushed herself up shakily onto her elbows, scanning the ransacked room: drawers gaping open, jewellery box overturned, Dad's watch gone from the dresser top. Her gaze lingered on the discarded coils of duct tape, twisted like metallic snakes in the grey dawn light. "Check the window," she rasped, voice still shredded from the gag, nodding toward the street. Jamie crawled across the carpet, knees screaming, and peered through the blinds. Empty pavement. No unfamiliar cars. Only Mrs. Henderson's tabby cat stalking across dew-soaked lawns.

[TuggyBoundMale]

Wonderful story, loved it!

[Redman]

Brilliant! I love the description of their desperation at the situation. You nailed it!

[Boundgirl09]

Wow. Really loved this story.

[DTbound]

Very dramatic! I loved Jamie’s inner monologue while the burglar rooted through their valuables.