Senshi1
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Hiya, folks. I recently ran the idea of a story with randomly-generated plot turns past the community (thread here. The basic idea is that, at certain points in the story, the direction of things is decided randomly, adding some unpredictability to the plot.
This is part 1 of 2 of my experimental story written using this set-up. There is some "action" at the end, but it's mainly a set-up. The character in the story is my own wife Karen, known on this forum as TKLVR18. Yes, I ran this entire story by her and got her permission before posting it. Such a generous husband (maybe after reading the story, you won't think so).
The key for "pivotal moments", as I call them, is after the body of the story itself.
The story isn't my best writing, but I had a blast doing it. Being at the mercy of chance is a lot of fun as a writer, particularly when the victim is someone close to me. 😉
So please read, and tell me what you think! If you like the random-plot idea, please let me know. If you have ideas or suggestions, please let me know as well. If it's the type of setup you'd like to see in a story written for you, please tell me!
I will post part two in a day or two, if anyone is interested in reading it.
Thanks, and enjoy. 🙂
--------------------------
My wife Karen and I live in a fairly average house, probably a bit on the modest side. It isn't huge (for one thing, it's only one story), but only the two of us live here, so it doesn't matter too much. Having a smaller house is good most of the time, for example, when it comes time to spring clean, or trying to shout to each other from separate rooms for whatever reason. But there are also times when it's bad, for example, when you're trying to get away from people who have broken into your house to rob you.
My wife knows this better than anyone, as this happened to her recently. I was visiting a relative a couple months ago, and she was unable to accompany me due to her job (she teaches English Lit. at Nathaniel Essex University, in the next town). So I left her alone for five days. Did someone say "what's the worst that could happen?"
As I mentioned, on the third night of my absence, our house was broken into by armed robbers. They had obviously been watching the place, because they knew I was out of town. Karen was alone in the house and, unable to run in such a small house, they found her pretty quickly. Luckily, they either had a little moral restraint, or didn't want to risk being slammed with too serious charges, because although they definitely took some liberties with her, it wasn't as bad as it potentially could have been.
Anyway, after I rushed home and we straightened everything out as best we could, she told me the whole story of what had happened.
It was a Wednesday night, close to midnight. Karen had been up grading midterm papers for her class, and updating her blog on her smartphone (one of her guilty pleasures – she would use the phone to upload photos of various things she found interesting, and give her English students extra credit for writing short stories about them in the styles of whichever author they were studying at the time). Having finished, she was getting a quick shower before bed. Up until now, nothing had been out of the ordinary. No strange phone calls, no strange vehicles or people, no strange noises - nothing. After she'd gotten out of the shower and towelled herself off in our small bathroom (which is in our bedroom), she threw on a pair of panties and a bathrobe and towel-dried most of the wetness out of her hair. As she was disrobing to put on her nightie, she finally got the first hint that something wasn't right - a strong draft.
She shivered, violently, her wet skin intensifying the chill from the breeze. Then she stopped.
"Why was there a draft in here?" she mouthed to herself. She realized with horror that only the front or back door of the house opening would cause a breeze like that. She quickly pulled her robe back on over her naked body and, with a sudden feeling of paranoid fear, turned out the light. Reaching to the dresser for her phone, she realized with a lurch that she'd left it in her home office when she was grading papers. Her mind was racing - even if somebody was in the house, she didn't know exactly what she'd be able to do about it other than run.
"'Cool it, Karen, it's nothing,' she told herself; 'just the heebie-jeebies from being alone here.' Smiling encouragingly, she strode silently to the bedroom door and lightly pushed it open, peeking into the living room.
She squinted into the darkness and saw nothing. She waited for a minute, her mouth slightly open, listening, trying to pick up on any audible disturbance of any sort - a breath, a footstep - but nothing came. She chuckled to herself. "It's nothing. Told you, Karen." She walked into the sitting room and peeked through the window. Her blood ran slightly cold when she saw a truck she didn't recognize parked a way up the street. She shook it off.
'It's somebody getting visited by a friend, I'm sure. A relative staying over - it happens.'
She checked the door - it was unlocked. She frowned. "I'm sure I locked you," she said aloud. She locked it tightly and glanced at the truck in the street again - it was still and silent. Her skin crawled.
She nervously slunk back to our bedroom and throwing off her robe for good, pulled on a silk nightie that came down just past her butt.
Closing her bedroom door behind her, she heaved a deep sigh. 'Okay, here's how it is,' she thought; 'this night isn't going to get any less creepy. It's dark, I'm alone, and I'm starting to get freaked out and paranoid. Tonight’s a write-off - the sooner I get to sleep, the sooner morning will come and this house will be nice and lit up and not REMOTELY as scary.' She nodded affirmatively and, having nothing left to do, took a drink of water from the bathroom and climbed into bed.
She sighed, letting the bed settle around her, and let her breathing slow. Her mind spun and thoughts of creepy noises, visiting relatives, and midterm papers blended together in her head.
She may have been drifting off to sleep, or she may even have been asleep, but she awoke to the familiar noise of the front door lock being clicked open. She sat up, groggily about to call out - probably to me - until she remembered I was still in the next state. Then her blood ran cold once more and, for the second time that night, she listened, mouth slightly open, for sounds of intruders.
This time, she heard them.
Hushed hissing from the next room, and the sound of clothes rustling.
She reached to the nightstand for her phone and nearly yelled in frustration when she realised that, again, she had left it in her office.
'Okay, Karen, be calm,' she thought, frantically; 'panicking won't help you now. What do you do? The obvious choice is to sneak out of the window. Perfect.'
She shuffled silently over in bed until she was at the window, and tried to slowly slide it open. It was jammed. She tried again, harder. It wouldn't budge.
'Okay, there goes that. Maybe I can break it and make a run for it.'
She looked around the room for something to use and spotted a bronze statue on the far shelf.
'That'd be perfect.' She was about to shuffle over to get it when she heard a male voice next to her whisper, "quiet!"
She froze and may even have yelped quietly in surprise - it wasn't for a few seconds when she realised that the voice was coming from right outside her window. One of the intruders ('Oh shit, how many ARE there!?') was circling the house, presumably keeping watch, and presumably talking on his phone to one of the men inside.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Karen mouthed in silent desperation. "Even if I DO break the window, he'll catch me in a flash, and if I wait any longer they'll get to this room. My only hope is to get out the traditional way - through the door."
After a tense few moments of shuffling into position and waiting behind her closed bedroom door until the hushed voices sounded adequately distant, Karen held her breath and pushed open the door, praying the way to the front door would be clear.
She peered into the sitting room. There, in the middle of the room, was a dark-haired man of about twenty. Unfortunately, he was looking right at the bedroom door as Karen opened it, and therefore immediately made eye-contact with her. Even through the darkness, she could see the surprise on his face. He opened his mouth and shouted, "HEY! Get in here! She's up!"
"Shit!" Karen slammed the door and locked it. Then, looking frantically for an option, she grabbed the bronze statue from the shelf. As she heard the first kick against the locked door, she knew she wouldn't have time to escape through the window, so she stood beside the door with the statue raised, ready to hit the man when he got through.
On the next kick, the door was flung open. Karen closed her eyes and swung the statue down, hoping for the best.
Her wrist stopped abruptly.
She opened her eyes - the younger male had caught her wrist in his hand.
"Whoa! Nice try, lady," he said, visibly stunned at her boldness. Dropping the statue, Karen jerked her wrist away and ran past him into the sitting room, straight into the arms of a second man.
"Hey, where do you think you're going, girl?" the second man asked.
"Get off me!" Karen yelped, kicking at the man. He clamped a hand over her mouth.
"I don't think so - you were supposed to stay in bed," he said, the grin audible in his voice even in the dark.
* * * * *
Karen later told me that it was too dark to see her captors faces at this point, but that they held a hand over her mouth, effectively gagging her, and dragged her to her home office at the very back of the house. Once there, they had pushed her down into her leather office chair and tied her to it, her wrists pulled up over her head and secured behind the top of the backrest.
“I guess seeing as the lady of the house is awake, we might as well cut the stealth now,” said one man, flicking on the lights and giving Karen her first good look at her captors.
The man who had attacked her in the sitting room was indeed a dark-haired male, around twenty years old. He wore a perpetual smirk, and his eyes were as though on swivels, roving up and down Karen’s body and never settling in one position. She suddenly felt very aware of her flimsy pink nightie and would have folded her arms over her chest if they weren’t tied up.
The second man was slightly older, maybe in his late thirties or very early forties. He was bald and had a goatee beard. He seemed slightly less interested in Karen herself and was talking on his phone.
“Don’t you worry about the lady, we have her tied up,” he was saying; “Just keep lookout and don’t draw any attention.”
The young male was still smirking. “I don’t suppose we need to tell a smart office lady like you that screaming for help would be a bad idea, do we?”
Karen wrinkled her nose up at him and spat at his feet. He shrugged.
“It’s your house, lady,” he chuckled. “Now what’s that scowl for? Don’t you know a good hostess should always smile at her guests?”
Karen smiled as sweetly as she could. “Well, why don’t you untie me, and I’ll show you what else a good hostess should do?” She wiggled her chest slightly, catching the man’s eyes. Her nightie was bright pink and so thin that the points of her nipples could be easily located for anybody who was looking. It was also very low cut, and most of her cleavage was very much on display for the intruders. She, very clearly, had NOT been expecting company tonight.
The man smiled and shook his head. “Very alluring, lady, but you make that sound just a little too much like ‘untie me so I can kick you in the nuts’. But, uh... You should be careful, suggesting things like that. You might give a guy ideas.”
As her spoke, he walked his two fingers across her breasts, tickling her cleavage briefly. As he did, Karen grunted and tensed up, holding her breath until he took back his hand.
An understanding grin spread across his face. “What’s wrong, lady, ticklish here?” He reached across and tickled her cleavage a second time.
This time, Karen yipped. “Cut that out!!”
The man grinned and, biting his tongue, tickled her cleavage again and again, looking into her eyes to gauge her reactions. Surely enough, although she was trying hard not to laugh, she was clearly ticklish.
Karen squirmed in her bondage, trying to pull her wrists down. “EEK! STOP that! You asshole, let me go RIGHT NOW!!”
The man laughed. “That’s just too cute. And, you know, I meant what I said about hostesses needing to smile. Your little outburst here has just given me an idea.”
Karen clenched her teeth – she knew full well that this man was about to tickle her, but this pre-emptive knowledge made it no easier to deal with. In fact, as he slowly advanced towards her, flexing his fingers and grinning, she almost wished she didn’t know what he was planning.
“I swear,” she growled; “if you lay another finger on me- EEE! EEK! EHEHEHE!!”
She bounced and bucked as her grinning assailant pinched at her ribs with his thumbs and index fingers on both hands.
“If I lay another finger on you then WHAT, huh? What WILL you do?”
Karen gritted her teeth and tried to tug her arms down to defend her open torso.
“Asshole! Get OFF me!!”
The man laughed.
“No, come on! I really wanna know what you’ll do! Come on, tell me!”
He lightly but rapidly dragged his nails around inside the hollows of Karen’s armpits.
“GEEHeheheeh! Fuckin’ STAHAHAP!!”
The bearded man who had been rummaging through a drawer this whole time stood to face them.
“Will you both shut up? You’re gonna attract attention!”
“What!?” Karen spluttered; “How is this MY fault!? Tell HIM to quit TICKLING me and I’ll be QUIET so you can be on your WAY!!”
The bearded man turned to face Karen’s tormentor. “If she can’t be quiet, then gag her,” he said, simply. He put his phone back up to his ear and spoke.
“Hey, you still there? Is there anything going on out there? It’s getting noisy in here and I wanna make sure no one heard. … Never mind what he’s doing to her, just focus on the job at hand.”
Karen, grateful for the brief intermission, breathed deeply a few times and collected her wits.
The bearded man continued his phone conversation. “You want to come in? You’re supposed to be the lookout!”
Karen’s grinning tickler shook his head at the bearded man. “Nuh uh, she’s mine – tell him to stay where he is!” He looked Karen in the eyes and grinned. “He always tries to take over things. I’m just getting warmed up on you – if nobody gets in my way, I’ll be able to REALLY have some fun with you!”
The bearded man shook his head. “No – you’ve got a job to do out there, so do it. You can come have a go at her later, if I need you too – depends on what we do or don’t find in here.”
Karen looked at her solo captor, who was laughing.
“Looks like I’m going to be able to get creative with you after all, lady!” the man said, leaning in and beginning to slowly tickle the sides of her breasts through her silk nightie.
Karen screwed her eyes closed and bit her lip.
To be continued in part 2...
"Pivotal Moments" (Decided with dice rolls)
Karen checks the living room - have the intruders made their move yet?
No.
Karen pushes open the door to the living room to make a break for it. Is the way clear?
No.
Karen swings the statue downwards to hit the intruder - does it connect?
No.
Does the third robber come inside and join in, or is the grinning man left in peace to get creative with Karen?
The grinning man will get creative.
This is part 1 of 2 of my experimental story written using this set-up. There is some "action" at the end, but it's mainly a set-up. The character in the story is my own wife Karen, known on this forum as TKLVR18. Yes, I ran this entire story by her and got her permission before posting it. Such a generous husband (maybe after reading the story, you won't think so).
The key for "pivotal moments", as I call them, is after the body of the story itself.
The story isn't my best writing, but I had a blast doing it. Being at the mercy of chance is a lot of fun as a writer, particularly when the victim is someone close to me. 😉
So please read, and tell me what you think! If you like the random-plot idea, please let me know. If you have ideas or suggestions, please let me know as well. If it's the type of setup you'd like to see in a story written for you, please tell me!
I will post part two in a day or two, if anyone is interested in reading it.
Thanks, and enjoy. 🙂
--------------------------
My wife Karen and I live in a fairly average house, probably a bit on the modest side. It isn't huge (for one thing, it's only one story), but only the two of us live here, so it doesn't matter too much. Having a smaller house is good most of the time, for example, when it comes time to spring clean, or trying to shout to each other from separate rooms for whatever reason. But there are also times when it's bad, for example, when you're trying to get away from people who have broken into your house to rob you.
My wife knows this better than anyone, as this happened to her recently. I was visiting a relative a couple months ago, and she was unable to accompany me due to her job (she teaches English Lit. at Nathaniel Essex University, in the next town). So I left her alone for five days. Did someone say "what's the worst that could happen?"
As I mentioned, on the third night of my absence, our house was broken into by armed robbers. They had obviously been watching the place, because they knew I was out of town. Karen was alone in the house and, unable to run in such a small house, they found her pretty quickly. Luckily, they either had a little moral restraint, or didn't want to risk being slammed with too serious charges, because although they definitely took some liberties with her, it wasn't as bad as it potentially could have been.
Anyway, after I rushed home and we straightened everything out as best we could, she told me the whole story of what had happened.
It was a Wednesday night, close to midnight. Karen had been up grading midterm papers for her class, and updating her blog on her smartphone (one of her guilty pleasures – she would use the phone to upload photos of various things she found interesting, and give her English students extra credit for writing short stories about them in the styles of whichever author they were studying at the time). Having finished, she was getting a quick shower before bed. Up until now, nothing had been out of the ordinary. No strange phone calls, no strange vehicles or people, no strange noises - nothing. After she'd gotten out of the shower and towelled herself off in our small bathroom (which is in our bedroom), she threw on a pair of panties and a bathrobe and towel-dried most of the wetness out of her hair. As she was disrobing to put on her nightie, she finally got the first hint that something wasn't right - a strong draft.
She shivered, violently, her wet skin intensifying the chill from the breeze. Then she stopped.
"Why was there a draft in here?" she mouthed to herself. She realized with horror that only the front or back door of the house opening would cause a breeze like that. She quickly pulled her robe back on over her naked body and, with a sudden feeling of paranoid fear, turned out the light. Reaching to the dresser for her phone, she realized with a lurch that she'd left it in her home office when she was grading papers. Her mind was racing - even if somebody was in the house, she didn't know exactly what she'd be able to do about it other than run.
"'Cool it, Karen, it's nothing,' she told herself; 'just the heebie-jeebies from being alone here.' Smiling encouragingly, she strode silently to the bedroom door and lightly pushed it open, peeking into the living room.
She squinted into the darkness and saw nothing. She waited for a minute, her mouth slightly open, listening, trying to pick up on any audible disturbance of any sort - a breath, a footstep - but nothing came. She chuckled to herself. "It's nothing. Told you, Karen." She walked into the sitting room and peeked through the window. Her blood ran slightly cold when she saw a truck she didn't recognize parked a way up the street. She shook it off.
'It's somebody getting visited by a friend, I'm sure. A relative staying over - it happens.'
She checked the door - it was unlocked. She frowned. "I'm sure I locked you," she said aloud. She locked it tightly and glanced at the truck in the street again - it was still and silent. Her skin crawled.
She nervously slunk back to our bedroom and throwing off her robe for good, pulled on a silk nightie that came down just past her butt.
Closing her bedroom door behind her, she heaved a deep sigh. 'Okay, here's how it is,' she thought; 'this night isn't going to get any less creepy. It's dark, I'm alone, and I'm starting to get freaked out and paranoid. Tonight’s a write-off - the sooner I get to sleep, the sooner morning will come and this house will be nice and lit up and not REMOTELY as scary.' She nodded affirmatively and, having nothing left to do, took a drink of water from the bathroom and climbed into bed.
She sighed, letting the bed settle around her, and let her breathing slow. Her mind spun and thoughts of creepy noises, visiting relatives, and midterm papers blended together in her head.
She may have been drifting off to sleep, or she may even have been asleep, but she awoke to the familiar noise of the front door lock being clicked open. She sat up, groggily about to call out - probably to me - until she remembered I was still in the next state. Then her blood ran cold once more and, for the second time that night, she listened, mouth slightly open, for sounds of intruders.
This time, she heard them.
Hushed hissing from the next room, and the sound of clothes rustling.
She reached to the nightstand for her phone and nearly yelled in frustration when she realised that, again, she had left it in her office.
'Okay, Karen, be calm,' she thought, frantically; 'panicking won't help you now. What do you do? The obvious choice is to sneak out of the window. Perfect.'
She shuffled silently over in bed until she was at the window, and tried to slowly slide it open. It was jammed. She tried again, harder. It wouldn't budge.
'Okay, there goes that. Maybe I can break it and make a run for it.'
She looked around the room for something to use and spotted a bronze statue on the far shelf.
'That'd be perfect.' She was about to shuffle over to get it when she heard a male voice next to her whisper, "quiet!"
She froze and may even have yelped quietly in surprise - it wasn't for a few seconds when she realised that the voice was coming from right outside her window. One of the intruders ('Oh shit, how many ARE there!?') was circling the house, presumably keeping watch, and presumably talking on his phone to one of the men inside.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Karen mouthed in silent desperation. "Even if I DO break the window, he'll catch me in a flash, and if I wait any longer they'll get to this room. My only hope is to get out the traditional way - through the door."
After a tense few moments of shuffling into position and waiting behind her closed bedroom door until the hushed voices sounded adequately distant, Karen held her breath and pushed open the door, praying the way to the front door would be clear.
She peered into the sitting room. There, in the middle of the room, was a dark-haired man of about twenty. Unfortunately, he was looking right at the bedroom door as Karen opened it, and therefore immediately made eye-contact with her. Even through the darkness, she could see the surprise on his face. He opened his mouth and shouted, "HEY! Get in here! She's up!"
"Shit!" Karen slammed the door and locked it. Then, looking frantically for an option, she grabbed the bronze statue from the shelf. As she heard the first kick against the locked door, she knew she wouldn't have time to escape through the window, so she stood beside the door with the statue raised, ready to hit the man when he got through.
On the next kick, the door was flung open. Karen closed her eyes and swung the statue down, hoping for the best.
Her wrist stopped abruptly.
She opened her eyes - the younger male had caught her wrist in his hand.
"Whoa! Nice try, lady," he said, visibly stunned at her boldness. Dropping the statue, Karen jerked her wrist away and ran past him into the sitting room, straight into the arms of a second man.
"Hey, where do you think you're going, girl?" the second man asked.
"Get off me!" Karen yelped, kicking at the man. He clamped a hand over her mouth.
"I don't think so - you were supposed to stay in bed," he said, the grin audible in his voice even in the dark.
* * * * *
Karen later told me that it was too dark to see her captors faces at this point, but that they held a hand over her mouth, effectively gagging her, and dragged her to her home office at the very back of the house. Once there, they had pushed her down into her leather office chair and tied her to it, her wrists pulled up over her head and secured behind the top of the backrest.
“I guess seeing as the lady of the house is awake, we might as well cut the stealth now,” said one man, flicking on the lights and giving Karen her first good look at her captors.
The man who had attacked her in the sitting room was indeed a dark-haired male, around twenty years old. He wore a perpetual smirk, and his eyes were as though on swivels, roving up and down Karen’s body and never settling in one position. She suddenly felt very aware of her flimsy pink nightie and would have folded her arms over her chest if they weren’t tied up.
The second man was slightly older, maybe in his late thirties or very early forties. He was bald and had a goatee beard. He seemed slightly less interested in Karen herself and was talking on his phone.
“Don’t you worry about the lady, we have her tied up,” he was saying; “Just keep lookout and don’t draw any attention.”
The young male was still smirking. “I don’t suppose we need to tell a smart office lady like you that screaming for help would be a bad idea, do we?”
Karen wrinkled her nose up at him and spat at his feet. He shrugged.
“It’s your house, lady,” he chuckled. “Now what’s that scowl for? Don’t you know a good hostess should always smile at her guests?”
Karen smiled as sweetly as she could. “Well, why don’t you untie me, and I’ll show you what else a good hostess should do?” She wiggled her chest slightly, catching the man’s eyes. Her nightie was bright pink and so thin that the points of her nipples could be easily located for anybody who was looking. It was also very low cut, and most of her cleavage was very much on display for the intruders. She, very clearly, had NOT been expecting company tonight.
The man smiled and shook his head. “Very alluring, lady, but you make that sound just a little too much like ‘untie me so I can kick you in the nuts’. But, uh... You should be careful, suggesting things like that. You might give a guy ideas.”
As her spoke, he walked his two fingers across her breasts, tickling her cleavage briefly. As he did, Karen grunted and tensed up, holding her breath until he took back his hand.
An understanding grin spread across his face. “What’s wrong, lady, ticklish here?” He reached across and tickled her cleavage a second time.
This time, Karen yipped. “Cut that out!!”
The man grinned and, biting his tongue, tickled her cleavage again and again, looking into her eyes to gauge her reactions. Surely enough, although she was trying hard not to laugh, she was clearly ticklish.
Karen squirmed in her bondage, trying to pull her wrists down. “EEK! STOP that! You asshole, let me go RIGHT NOW!!”
The man laughed. “That’s just too cute. And, you know, I meant what I said about hostesses needing to smile. Your little outburst here has just given me an idea.”
Karen clenched her teeth – she knew full well that this man was about to tickle her, but this pre-emptive knowledge made it no easier to deal with. In fact, as he slowly advanced towards her, flexing his fingers and grinning, she almost wished she didn’t know what he was planning.
“I swear,” she growled; “if you lay another finger on me- EEE! EEK! EHEHEHE!!”
She bounced and bucked as her grinning assailant pinched at her ribs with his thumbs and index fingers on both hands.
“If I lay another finger on you then WHAT, huh? What WILL you do?”
Karen gritted her teeth and tried to tug her arms down to defend her open torso.
“Asshole! Get OFF me!!”
The man laughed.
“No, come on! I really wanna know what you’ll do! Come on, tell me!”
He lightly but rapidly dragged his nails around inside the hollows of Karen’s armpits.
“GEEHeheheeh! Fuckin’ STAHAHAP!!”
The bearded man who had been rummaging through a drawer this whole time stood to face them.
“Will you both shut up? You’re gonna attract attention!”
“What!?” Karen spluttered; “How is this MY fault!? Tell HIM to quit TICKLING me and I’ll be QUIET so you can be on your WAY!!”
The bearded man turned to face Karen’s tormentor. “If she can’t be quiet, then gag her,” he said, simply. He put his phone back up to his ear and spoke.
“Hey, you still there? Is there anything going on out there? It’s getting noisy in here and I wanna make sure no one heard. … Never mind what he’s doing to her, just focus on the job at hand.”
Karen, grateful for the brief intermission, breathed deeply a few times and collected her wits.
The bearded man continued his phone conversation. “You want to come in? You’re supposed to be the lookout!”
Karen’s grinning tickler shook his head at the bearded man. “Nuh uh, she’s mine – tell him to stay where he is!” He looked Karen in the eyes and grinned. “He always tries to take over things. I’m just getting warmed up on you – if nobody gets in my way, I’ll be able to REALLY have some fun with you!”
The bearded man shook his head. “No – you’ve got a job to do out there, so do it. You can come have a go at her later, if I need you too – depends on what we do or don’t find in here.”
Karen looked at her solo captor, who was laughing.
“Looks like I’m going to be able to get creative with you after all, lady!” the man said, leaning in and beginning to slowly tickle the sides of her breasts through her silk nightie.
Karen screwed her eyes closed and bit her lip.
To be continued in part 2...
"Pivotal Moments" (Decided with dice rolls)
Karen checks the living room - have the intruders made their move yet?
No.
Karen pushes open the door to the living room to make a break for it. Is the way clear?
No.
Karen swings the statue downwards to hit the intruder - does it connect?
No.
Does the third robber come inside and join in, or is the grinning man left in peace to get creative with Karen?
The grinning man will get creative.
