My heart dropped when I saw Grant's headlights flash across the living room through our front window as he pulled in from work. If a hand towel wasn't suppressing my tongue and forcing my mouth open, while white tape pulled my chin back, covering my lips, I'd scream for my husband to get away from the house and call the cops. The hoarse, muffled sound of my own shouting was terrifying because my loudest screams barely reached my ears. Zipties dug into my wrists and ankles, binding me to a chair that faces the window. Regardless of how hard I struggled, I couldn't move an inch. I dreaded this feeling of complete helplessness.
I shuddered knowing that Grant would soon unknowingly fall into the web that I'm in and there's absolutely nothing I can do to prevent that. Nobody else will be coming home, and who knows what this masked intruder has planned for us or if we'll ever get help?
I heard Grant's keys rattle on the other side of the door. The rattling stops. I hear the intruder's voice speak to Grant, then silence. I heard the keys enter locks and gears turning. It's incredible how heightened your senses get when you're under duress.
The intruder ordered Grant to put his things down and place his hands on his head. His voice is much clearer without to barrier of the door. The front door closed and locked. I hear two sets of footsteps until the intruder and Grant entered my line of sight.
Grant's face dropped at the sight of me bound and gagged. He was visibly disheartened, but didn't say anything. He's holding his hands behind his head with his fingers locked as the masked man walked behind him with his gun pointed at his back, the same gun he threatened me with before tying me to this chair. I tried looking as content as possible to keep Grant from worrying too much. As he got closer, we exchanged looks that said "I wish I could help you."
The masked man put his gun into the waistband of his slacks and took out a pair of handcuffs. He cuffed one of Grant's wrists, pulled it behind his back, then cuffed the other wrist, as if Grant were being arrested. Grant's posture tensed at this. He tried giving me a reassuring glance, indicating that we'll be okay, but he didn't look very confident. How could he?
Grant oddly seemed angry about all of this. Maybe he just feels humiliated about "being had" by some burglar who's getting one over on us. Grant is definitely someone who can be emotionally bottled up, so his response to vulnerability might just be hostility. Or, this could be because Grant and the intruder know each other and this might be some act of revenge or deception that I'm unaware of. What makes this theory seem plausible is the fact that the two are dressed similarly.
Once Grant was cuffed, the man pulled him closer, covering his mouth with his gloved hand. This startled my husband and he let out a muffled whimper in response. I don't think that this was a deliberate attempt to silence him because Grant hasn't said a word since he entered the room. He looked too tense to form words. This seemed to be a way of scaring Grant and reminding him that he has no control over what happens to him.
The masked man retrieved a white cloth, already rolled up, and slid it between Grant's lips, forcing his mouth open. Grant grunted as the man knotted the cloth behind his head. Grant's face looked disapproving and embarrassed. As his lips adjusted around his gag, Grant was turned to face me and told to get on his knees. My husband complied, as he wasn't in any position to fight or say no.
Once Grant was on his knees, the masked man pulled him closer, grabbing at his sensitive parts. One hand held my husband's head in place, while the other went for his nipple, pinching and twisting, even flicking and patting, anything that would make Grant wince and try to squirm out of his grasp. He whimpered and his eyebrows raised as he pleaded with the man, trying to form words through the cloth he was biting. Grant's struggling even loosened a button on his shirt.
I struggled furiously, saying to leave him alone, but my words were incoherent and the two didn't even notice me. I'm not sure what I hated more, witnessing what Grant was enduring or being ignored. I surely didn't want the intruder to do the same thing or worse to me, but my current position wasn't desirable either. I also feared what else I might be forced to watch him do to my husband.
The gloved hand returned to Grant's mouth to quiet him down. His frantic exhalations hitting the leather of the glove took several seconds to slow as he caught his breath.
The masked man got a roll of white tape, the same tape he used for my gag. He positioned Grant so his head was upright, and pulled out a strip to go over my husband's lips. Grant wasn't happy about the tape being added, but his protests grew increasingly faint as layers of it were wrapped over his first gag. Even though I was gagged more harshly, with my mouth being stuffed, the masked man seemed particularly deliberate about gagging Grant, as if he's doing more than preventing Grant from calling for help.
It seems like the intruder is enjoying getting to silence my husband. As Grant expresses utter disdain from being gagged, the intruder revels in Grant's displeasure. If they do know each other, perhaps he's exacting some kind of punishment or revenge on him. If they work together, maybe he has fantasized about getting to shut Grant up and is excited to finally get to do it. Grant's voice can be kind of loud at times. He isn't very confrontational, but Grant can be fairly critical and outspoken, especially in a work setting. So, even though I wouldn't dream of forcibly muzzling my husband, I can understand why someone might want to shut him up sometimes.
Grant hasn't looked my way since he was brought to his knees, probably out of bashfulness for the show being put on for me, the show of my successful and esteemed husband being taken down and made helpless. As if that wasn't enough, the masked man started unbuttoning Grant's shirt with no regard for his objections. Once Grant's hairy chest was exposed, the masked man went for my husband's nipples, this time with less of a barrier between his bare skin and the leather of the gloves. Grant let out pained chuckles through his gag, as the stimulation from that part of his body must have tickled and hurt him. Again, Grant desperately tried telling his assailant to stop, this time with a cloth parting his mouth AND tape flattening his lips, but his words were incomprehensible. His deep voice cracked pitifully as he choked out vocal responses.
Grant was the designated top of the relationship, always taking control, not wanting to do anything sexually adventurous unless it was his idea and didn't involve anything that would make him potentially vulnerable or submissive. Grant embarrasses easily, which I find cute, but it can be a little annoying and uptight. He always loved seeing me in submissive positions–spanking me, physically handling me during sex, calling me subservient things (bitch, boy, etc), making me call him things that made him feel superior (boss, daddy, sir, etc)--which I've accepted, but it's interesting to experience something different.
I felt guilty as soon as the sight of Grant in this position started appealing to me. I hate that my husband is in distress and I wish that I could help him, but seeing him so defenseless and essentially dangled in front of me when I couldn't do anything about it was honestly a little arousing. Aside from how this intruder violated Grant, while ignoring his muffled protests, I find Grant's reactions to his helplessness oddly attractive.
While the look of fear and irritation on his face makes me feel for him, it's fun to see him get picked on and forced to take it instead of Grant being able to brush it off with a quippy comeback. The look of humiliation on Grant's face, with his pink face, flexed cheeks, and lowered glance is very endearing. It reminds me of when I met his friends and they shared stories from when they were all in college, detailing drunk and messy nights where Grant left parties naked or got into shouting matches with random people. He'd smile and look down sheepishly, with a flushed face as his friends spoke and I reacted. It was fun to hear those insights about a different Grant, as well as seeing his response to hearing those stories and people he loved playfully laughing at his expense.
Since Grant is usually so composed and well-spoken, it's exciting to see him have to fight for control, unable to keep himself from reacting to stimuli or prevent another person from handling him. I never thought this could be appealing, but Grant's muffled whimpers and attempts to speak are kind of endearing and attractive. Even though he's still making noise, Grant carries himself differently when he knows that he can't talk, making his reactions kind of primal and guttural. I obviously like the sound of my husband's speaking voice, as well as speaking with him, but the novelty of his vocal responses being garbled and easy to ignore feels fun. The thought of Grant being unable to articulate is enticing because it would give me less to listen to and more I could say and do to him. He'd have to just take whatever I give him without any commentary or complaints. This makes him an object that can have anything done to him without being stopped, with only winces and faint objections!
Grant also looks sexy in his dishevelment. His dark hair is messed up. His normally pristine shirt is ripped open, showing more skin and body hair than Grant is usually comfortable with revealing. Since he's restrained, he can't modestly cover up or fix his hair. With his hands behind his back, the view of Grant's barrel chest and belly is emphasized. For awhile, Grant has only felt like the man I live with, cuddle up to, share bills with, cook for, etc, but this is making me see him as an attractive sex partner again. Who knew that watching Grant be ravished like some kind of damsel would reignite my attraction to him?
As much as I hate to admit it, our marriage started feeling the way that most comedians joke about married life: uneventful, predictable, sexless, petty little issues creating irrational feelings of resentment, getting excited about boring adult things, etc. It's obviously stable and comfortable, but any sort of flavor seemed to slip away from us.
It's hard to tell if I'm actually bound to this chair, being cucked with my husband and a stranger. I could be dreaming or I could be disassociating from a real situation to cope out of fear. Grant could have even set this whole thing up: getting a buddy from work to pose as a burglar, tie us up, and remind me of how sexually viable the man I'm married to is. All we needed was cuffs and some tape. He doesn't express himself that easily, so he might've arranged all of this to pitch this idea. This could also be my justification for being aroused by this depraved setup or even just a lucid erotic fantasy.
When we get out of this situation, or when I wake from this dream, I should discuss switching things up with Grant, taking some of his control away. If this is real, he might be too shaken to revisit this experience and these feelings of objectification and helplessness. I wonder if the masked intruder would just leave us to fend for ourselves, bound and moaning, trying to struggle out of our binds or reach a phone to call 9-1-1. The idea of watching Grant on his own, tied up and fumbling to get either of us loose or find his phone, with his clothes still ripped open, might actually be sort of entertaining.
Considering his role as the top and his uptightness, I don't know if Grant would ever agree to submit to me if this was all just a wet dream. He might be interested in exploring tying me up, which might also be a worthy experiment. But seeing how much I like him in his current position, I might decide to do what I want to him without asking for permission. I can catch him by surprise, tie his wrists, stuff one of the discarded socks he leaves lying around in his mouth, and see his face go from casual confusion about what he thinks is just me being silly to realizing that I actually rendered him helpless.
I'd order Grant to keep his mouth shut and be a good boy as I clamp one hand over his mouth and use my other hand to grope and fondle him. I might even rip his shirt open, tearing either a t-shirt or shedding buttons from their plackets, and pretend to not notice his objections. Hell, I might even tell him how much I enjoy hearing his failed protests and assure him that nobody can hear him. He'd likely try to convince me to stop, which is why I won't let him talk and show him that I mean business. He's sure to eventually relent and get into it when he's made aware of how attractive I find him in this position and how much it fulfills me. Who knows? Maybe this surprise is what we needed to revive our sex life.
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