A home invasion. A milf alone. A man with humiliation on his mind. A mind game…with consequences. That’s my eBook: ‘Interrogating Mummy: A Home Invasion Story.’
I absolutely loved writing this story, imagining myself as the lead character – Lillian Richards. She is my age (early forties), my situation (divorced), with one child (although mine is a daughter, Lillian has a son). And given my ongoing fascination (bordering on obsession) with sexual humiliation and blackmail) it was all too easy to slip into her mindset. To feel what she felt, to ‘endure’ what she had to, no matter what.
And of course, as the writer, I could control precisely what Lillian endures. And, believe me, I ‘lived’ every last moment. Who doesn’t love a little vicarious cruelty now and again? It is why I so love writing ‘mummy’ erotic fiction. The humiliation factor!
Lillian Richards’ home is invaded early one morning. She is that her son is a hostage and that the ONLY thing that can cause him harm is HER non-compliance. The invader is a young man who seems to know a lot about her. And he means to use that knowledge in ways that Lillian could never have imagined. He subjects her to an intimate and humiliating interrogation about her sex life and attitudes. He is ruthless and aggressive as he twists and turns her answers in ways that she could never imagine. Twists them, perhaps into the truth?
So begins her descent into a hell of sexual degradation and revelation. Although submitting to him fully to ‘buy’ her son’s freedom, when her ordeal is over, Lillian finally realises she is not – or is no longer – the person she thought she was.
A disturbing mind-game of motherhood, manipulation and a home invasion humiliation.
To download this title from Amazon, please click HERE.
Her son’s words hit her like a speeding bullet hits a watermelon.
‘Mother…mum… just do as they say, just do it…plea—–‘
The deadline tone replaced the desperate, frightened voice. She knew that she would always remember the instant as the moment her life shattered—the time when nothing would ever be the same again.
She looked at the man standing on her doorstep, the one who had just handed her the phone. His eyes were burning into her. Challenging her. ‘We have your son, Jordan. You are going to cooperate, yes?’ It wasn’t a question that needed an answer.
Her mind felt frozen in the moment, paralysed. All she could see in front of her was a mouth moving, saying things her mind would not let her understand; a mouth moving faster; more urgently; a mouth twisted with threat. A face contorted with hostility.
All she could hear was Jordan’s voice. Just do as they say. She couldn’t find any words, her mouth seemed to open and close without sound. There was no sound apart from the sound in her head. The shouting, the screaming inside…
‘We will go indoors’, he said, grabbing her wrist and pushing past her, pulling her along with him, and closing the door behind them. He stared straight into her face as he clicked the lock; trapping her in her own home. Shutting out the world; enforcing a barrier. Making her a prisoner.
Who was he? This man who was now in her home? Lillian stood there unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to think. Helpless.
She swallowed hard, her mind trying desperately to fathom the situation. ’Wha…’, she was trying to speak. Trying to say something; trying to break out of the bubble of her silence. She was looking at him, directly into his face. But she couldn’t see him.
All she saw was her son. It was as if her eyes had reversed and all she could see was inside her own head. The image of Jordan, somewhere at the mercy of…of…something…
‘Go into the living room Mrs. Richards’, he said, ushering her along. His voice seemed very even, his manner polite. Only his appearance made him seem less than respectable. He was perhaps mid-twenties with long straggly dark hair and an advanced state of lighter stubble. His clothes were old but clean, threadbare knees in the denims and a very faded cotton shirt.
He motioned for her to sit, and as if hypnotised she did so in her usual chair. He sat down opposite on the sofa. The thing that stuck her were his eyes, they were unreadable dark stones, emanating something she couldn’t decipher. And when he looked at her he didn’t blink.
She stared back at him and waited for him to speak. The silence seemed to occupy the room. She needed it to end; she needed to know what this was all about.
She tried to say something…anything…but her voice was not available to her. It seemed suspended like the rest of her. Disabled. Deserted. AWOL.
‘Well Mrs Richards, it is important that you listen very carefully to what I have to say now…very carefully indeed. I am expecting you to cooperate with me. Cooperate fully. I am not here to harm you or to harm your son. But it is all in your hands. Do you understand me so far? The only person who can cause harm to come to him is you.’
She nodded. She managed to find a voice. ‘What do you want? Wh-who are you?’
‘Your name is Lillian isn’t it?’ It was obviously a rhetorical question. He seemed confident in his words; his knowledge. ‘Forty-two years old, divorced, just the one son. You work at home illustrating children’s books. Correct?’
To download this title from Amazon, please click HERE.
And if you have any feedback on the story, I would love to hear. Please use the ‘Contact Me’ page to make contact
Other posts you might enjoy:
A woman moves into a new neighbourhood. But a man is watching her. And he likes what he sees. he has plans for her. And they don’t necessarily include her consent. Terrorising Melissa: A Story of Stalking and Blackmail tells her story as well as his, a story I absolutely loved writing.
Karen answers an advert. Karen fancies some excitement. But does she realise her own real needs? A Milf Ensnared: is a story of Milf humiliation like NO other …or will she have to be taught?
I’m just a woman with an exceptionally ‘grimy’ mind, who loves turning my Immoral thoughts, lewd fantasies and deeply-felt desires into words and stories. Life is just too short to keep them all to myself.
Born and live in Oxford. Divorced. Hobby…..exercising my luring imagination! 🙂