Illegal Entry

All participants are over 18. There is some very mild violence.

*****

When Geoff opened the door, Wilson rabbit-punched him and shoved his way across the threshold. Geoff fell in a boneless heap on the floor and Wilson heard a call from a woman somewhere else in the house. Wilson set down the duffel bag that hung from a strap over his left shoulder. He shut the door behind him and bolted it. He kicked Geoff and the little man grunted; he was still conscious, just stunned. Wilson picked him up by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Geoff was confused but standing on his own.

"But you knocked," he said stupidly, unable to wrap his dazed mind around the fact that he had innocently admitted a home invader.

"Shut up," Wilson said softly.

"Geoff? What was that noise?" The wife was descending stairs from the upper floor. "Geoff, why do I have to check every—"

She never finished the sentence because Wilson knocked her out with a single well-placed sock to the head as she turned the corner from the staircase. She collapsed with no sign of grace.

"You hurt Miranda." Geoff said it in a strange matter-of-fact tone. Wilson noted that the little man made no move to help her.

"I'll hurt you too," Wilson said. "Unless you do exactly what I say."

Geoff wasn't built of the sternest stuff. "What do you want me to do?"

"First off, there's her. Do you have any duct tape?"

Geoff and Wilson went to the kitchen. Geoff found a roll of duct tape in the cupboard under the sink. The men went back to where Miranda lay at the bottom of the stairs. They carried her together and set her on a sturdy wooden office chair. Under Wilson's watchful eye, Geoff taped his wife's arms to the arms of the chair and her legs to the legs of the chair. He used much more tape than was necessary, but there was still plenty left for later, so Wilson raised no objection.

"Now what?" Geoff asked.

"Now pull all the drapes and blinds on this floor. Lock the back door."

Geoff did it. He was not out of Wilson's sight for more than ten seconds.

"Now it's your turn." Wilson directed Geoff to another strong chair and he held up the roll of duct tape.

Geoff took one step toward the chair when there was a hard knock at the door.

Wilson held up a silencing finger at Geoff. With his other hand, he pulled a gun out from under his jacket.

"It'll be a cop. He'll ask you if you've seen any strangers in the neighbourhood. For yours and Miranda's sakes, convince him you haven't." He walked Geoff over to the door and after a few long seconds to prepare, Geoff opened the door. Wilson stood behind it. The visitor was a young policewoman. She introduced herself as Officer Banks, then began asking Geoff if he'd seen any strangers, heard any noises, noticed anything suspicious.

"No, Officer," Geoff lied. "Nothing strange at all."

"Is there anyone else at home?"

"No, my wife has gone to work."

"What's in the duffel bag, sir?" The officer pointed behind Geoff and the little man turned around and saw it for the first time.

Wilson cursed under his breath. That was a stupid mistake to make, leaving the bag of loot in line of sight of the door.

"Hockey equipment," Geoff said. Wilson blinked; Geoff didn't exactly look like a hockey player. The policewoman didn't pursue it.

That was all there was to it. Officer Banks thanked Geoff and walked away, and Wilson gently pushed the door shut.

"Good," he said. Geoff basked in the praise. "You did good. Now we had a chair waiting for you."

When they came back into the living room, Miranda was waking up. She saw Wilson, who still had the gun in his hand, and she started to scream. Wilson had his hand over her mouth in an instant. She tried to bite him, so Wilson wound up and slapped her across the face hard. Miranda was stunned.

"If you stay quiet, I won't cover your mouth. If you scream or call out, I'll tape it shut. Or I'll kill you. I don't care which." She nodded her head in agreement and he backed off.

Wilson wasn't really a killer unless he needed to be. He was a thief; he considered killing unprofessional. Sometimes the threat of violence was necessary in his line of work; it either worked or it didn't. Intimidation had worked on Miranda and Geoff.

The wife might not talk back to her captor, but there was nothing stopping her turning her attention to her husband.

"Did you see what he did to me? And you just stand there?"

"Take it easy, Miranda," Wilson said. "He can't do anything about it."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Never mind my name," Wilson said.

"Why isn't that pussy tied up too?"

It clearly bothered her that Geoff was unrestrained, so Wilson left him that way. Her displeasure amused him.

"Sit down, Geoff."

Geoff obeyed, seating himself in one of the comfortable living room chairs. Wilson's mind was at work.

"Do you have a car, Geoff?"

"Yes."

"Good. I might need you to drive."

"But I can't leave Miranda."

"Why? It's obvious she doesn't think much of you."

"He's a spineless worm," she said. "And I'm a better driver. Take me instead." There was more than a hint of invitation in her eyes. He preferred her to be explicit.

"Why should I take you instead of your husband?"

"He's a pansy! I could satisfy a man like you." There it was. She was making him an offer. It wouldn't be the first time he hid from the cops by shacking up with a willing hostage. Not that the bimbo had known she was a hostage; she just thought she was on an adventure. It worked out alright. He eluded capture and nobody got hurt.

"I can't give you both a test drive but I can have a look under the hoods." Keeping Geoff in his peripheral vision at all times, Wilson unbuttoned Miranda's top. She did not protest. He opened her blouse wide. Then he produced a knife and cut the fabric joining the cups of her red bra. Her creamy breasts fell out. Wilson kept the knife in one hand and felt Miranda's tits with the other. He had gloves on and the roughness over her nipples tantalized her.

Wilson looked over at Geoff. The little man showed no jealous or protective rage at all. If anything, he seemed fascinated. Miranda noticed Geoff's stare as well.

"You see, you little fairy? That's how a real man takes what he wants. Something you wouldn't understand."

Wilson cut her skirt, opening a slit from her knees to her upper thighs. He sheathed the knife and tore the rest of the way up with his hands. He snatched the thin panties off her with one cruel yank. She gave a startled cry, but she bit it off herself, preferring not to be slapped again. She squirmed as Wilson wriggled two fingers into her wet pussy. She moaned as he pulled them out and licked his fingers.

"Tastes bitter," he said, smacking his lips with a sour look on his face.

"You son of a bitch," Miranda said.

"Alright, Geoff. Your turn. Shuck the clothes."

Geoff didn't even think to disobey and as he stripped, his wife hurled insults at him.

"You sissy! A real man says one word to you and you can't bend over fast enough!"

"Shut up," Wilson told her.

Geoff kicked his discarded clothes to one side.

"Lube," said Wilson. He wasn't gay, but he'd taken enough ass in prison to appreciate the special tightness of a man's arse. He learned to recognize the bottoms that were broken in and Geoff had that look about him. In the big house, he usually used spit for lubricant, but it was less than ideal. Wilson followed Geoff to the bedroom, where the homeowner soon found the jar in his wife's night table. They returned to the main floor where Miranda waited helpless and exposed.

Wilson told Geoff to lean over the back of the couch.

When Wilson opened his pants, and pulled them down, his cock made a sizeable bulge in his underwear. He freed the tube of flesh and Miranda watched it harden as if by his will alone. Of course, a man this methodical wasn't subject to mere arousal. Sex was a function. He would fuck with purpose.

Wilson fell on Geoff savagely. He rammed his dick up Geoff's ass and the little man cried out. Wilson began rocking his hips back and forth rapidly, his cock sawing up Geoff's insides. Geoff began pushing his ass back to meet Wilson's powerful thrusts, maximizing penetration and stimulation. Geoff moaned and groaned in a pleasure for which his wife and others shamed him.

Miranda flexed her thighs against one another and moaned softly as she watched the thief fuck her husband silly. It was sexy as Hell to see Geoff topped like that; she had always known that Geoff dropped his pants for anything with a dick and a will, but she had never seen it actually happen before. But Wilson was the greater turn-on for her. She wished the bigger man had fallen on her like that. She continued squeezing her thighs until she bit her lip and she shuddered through a minor orgasm.

Wilson came after ten minutes, quietly and with a single shudder of pleasure. He withdrew his cock and wiped it against Geoff's buttocks until they were sticky with his cum. He'd made no effort to make Geoff come; Wilson didn't give handjobs, reach-around or otherwise.

But Geoff had come. Twice. His ass was still prone on the back of the couch. Wilson's cum ran down the inside of Geoff's leg and pooled on the hardwood floor. Miranda had also seen Geoff coming into the back of the couch and now that she wasn't distracted by Wilson's prowess at fucking, she mocked her husband.

"This only proves what I've thought the last few years. You're a lisping, limp-wristed, bottom boy faggot. My mother was right. I should never have married you."

Geoff only looked down in quiet shame, knowing that what she said must be true. Even now, his insides were shivering with echoing pleasure at the fucking they just had and his cock was still a flagstaff. He had enjoyed every second of it. He really was a submissive sissy boy. Miranda and Geoff both knew very well that he had submitted his ass to other bigger, stronger, smarter or more interesting men and he would again. He couldn't help himself.

Wilson had found a TV remote control on the couch. He touched a button and saw the "Breaking News" banner on the local news station. The robbery was top news. The anchorwoman announced that two suspects had been apprehended but it was believed that a third escaped the scene and remained at large. The heat would be staying on for a while.

So Marco and Flanagan were taken in, Wilson thought. They would talk about Wilson, but probably not right away. There would be lawyers and plea deals in exchange for information as long as Wilson was free. There was only so much they could tell anyway; his fellow thieves knew him as Wilson, but they didn't know his real name or any of his cover aliases. If they kept their mouths shut for just a few hours, he'd have time to get a long way from here or deep into hiding.

"That's you they're talking about on the news, isn't it?" Miranda asked. "What happened?"

"It was a robbery. We took our haul but my getaway driver was overconfident, lost his grip on the ice and buried the car in a snowbank. The police were already converging on the scene. It was every man for himself. I ran and made it here."

"So why—"

"Shut up," said Wilson. "That's all you get to know for now."

There were two ways to proceed. Either hole up here and wait out the road blocks or skip the cordon somehow.

The points for staying with the couple included the fact that the police had already visited and at least tentatively eliminated it from their interest. A quick look at the pantry confirmed they wouldn't need to go out for food for days. He could just wait until the fuss died down and drive off in Geoff's car at his leisure.

Points against staying: Miranda was already problematic; her flirty advances aside, she'd cause trouble if she could. Sooner or later, someone might come looking for Geoff and Miranda and not all of them would be easily dissuaded. And points for going: Wilson had access to a car with a clean registry; he could ride it a long way before he dumped it for another.

Go or stay, Wilson was confident that Geoff would do anything he asked with the proper motivations. That ass-fuck had chased away whatever remained of Geoff's manhood after years of marriage with Miranda.

He decided on a plan.

"Okay, Geoff," Wilson said.

The little man seemed slightly despondent and spaced out, so Wilson slapped him hard enough to get his full attention.

"We're going to go for a drive," Wilson said.

"Are you taking me away from her?" Geoff asked.

"Do you want to be away from her?"

"Yes. I'd rather go with you."

Wilson was surprised. Geoff was utterly submissive. If only the little man were younger; Wilson knew some people who would pay good money for such a docile man. Maybe they could be persuaded to forgive ten years if Wilson had Geoff blow them.

"Fine," Wilson said. "Go kiss your wife goodbye."

"You queer, keep your mouth away from me," Miranda said.

"When we can, honey, we will call the police and send them to free you," Geoff said. "It won't be long."

"Fuck off," Miranda said. Her breasts were still hanging out of her blouse. She would be found that way by her rescuers. Wilson figured she'd probably get the first cop's phone number.

"Enough of this shit," Wilson said. "Geoff, get your ass back in your clothes." The smaller man obeyed out of long habit of obedience; he had only changed his master. He felt his bottom leaking Wilson's semen into his underwear.

Fifteen minutes later, Wilson and Geoff were in a line-up to get through the road block at the city line. Wilson purposely chose the busiest road block. That was where the police would be the sloppiest, trying to keep traffic flowing, letting people get to work on time, get on with their day. He looked ahead. Six cars that he could see. Behind him, another six or eight. It might work. Or it might not. Wilson didn't get nerves. What happened, happened.

As Geoff's photo identification was linked to the car's registration, Wilson let the little man drive. He'd have preferred driving himself but his ID was from another jurisdiction. It wasn't his real identification, of course. Jobs could go south and Wilson always carried a set of brilliantly forged documents in case he needed to be someone else, like today.

Their car advanced in the line and when they reached the front, a shivering policeman told Geoff to roll down his window.

"Licence and registration please."

Geoff produced the documents and the cop reviewed them. Once he was satisfied, he handed the papers back to the car's owner. The policeman bent over to peer into the car and made eye contact with Wilson.

"Do you have any identification, sir?"

"Of course, officer," Wilson said. He pulled out his wallet and selected one of the cards inside, a fake driver's licence in the name of Edward Lemmons.

The cop seemed to be stuck on it for a moment. Even Wilson wondered if it was all about to go wrong. If so, there was little enough to do. He dropped his gun into the river before lining up for the roadblock. There was no use for it. He didn't need it to control Geoff. Getting into a gunfight with police would just be stupid. If he had to face prison again, he'd survive. He began to prepare himself for the worst.

The worst part would be losing all that loot. Wilson had considered burying it somewhere in town and coming back for it in six months when the robbery was forgotten. Instead, he decided to risk it. The money had been transferred out of the duffel bag into a couple of Miranda and Geoff's matching suitcases. If the police opened the trunk, it would look like they were going on a short vacation. If they opened the cases, he'd go down for sure.

The officer took an interest in Wilson's identification because a late description of Wilson had been circulated and this man almost matched it. Then again, they were looking for a lone, desperate criminal. It wasn't expected he'd be traveling with someone, not that he'd be as calm and light-hearted as this fellow. He handed Wilson's ID back to him. The description was very vague after all. Why, the officer thought, he fit the description himself.

"Where are you gentleman going today?" the officer asked in warmer tones.

"Just overnight to the city and back," Wilson said cheerily. "We're checking out a sale on golf clubs."

"I see. Okay, go on through." The officer waved another cop to open the barrier and let them pass. Geoff drove away from the officers slowly as if they had all the time in the world.

Another fifteen minutes after that, they were pulled over at a truck stop while Geoff gave Wilson some pretty inspired head. He bobbed up and down on Wilson's cock with dedication. The bold robber was the kind of man that Geoff wished he was, but Geoff knew he would always feel subservient to any real man. Sucking Wilson and giving him his ass were the ultimate expressions of Geoff's submission. He hoped that Wilson would keep him as his ass-fucking and dick-eating whore.

As the thief sent a creamy load of jizz down Geoff's neck, he decided he would do him a favour. He wouldn't try to sell the little man after all. He considered leaving him at the truck stop—the truckers would love that—but instead Wilson decided he would give Geoff a fifty out of his third of the take from the robbery and leave him thirty miles from the nearest house. By the time Geoff reached civilization, it would be too late for him to offer the police any insight into which way Wilson was going; he would already have reached his own hidden vehicle and crossed a dozen jurisdictions before the police even found Geoff's abandoned vehicle.

Besides, doing it this way, he'd get his rocks off in Geoff's arse a few more times too. He was always horny after a job and he wasn't always discriminating about who he shot his loads in.

When Wilson was done with him, Geoff could always go back to Miranda. Wilson shook his head.

That might be worse than the truckers.