«Wenona had entered that house the way she always did: silent, sure of herself, convinced no one would catch her. She had been robbing the wealthy for years without ever being caught. That night, she chose the wrong house.

Ivan saw her.

He didn't call the police. He didn't shout. He simply followed her in silence as she moved through the room searching for her prize. When he finally intercepted her, Wenona barely had time to react. The older man — bald, with a white beard and a green shirt — was stronger and much faster than she expected.

Within minutes he had her against the wall.

First, he pressed the black ball gag into her mouth. The thick rubber sphere stretched her lips wide and pressed down on her tongue, leaving her able only to emit muffled moans and heavy breaths through her nose. Wenona's eyes flew open with a mix of rage and disbelief as Ivan held her throat with one hand and, with the other, slid her black dress down her shoulders. The neckline slipped, and her breasts spilled free: firm, generously sized, dark nipples already stiffening from the cool air and the adrenaline.

Ivan was in no hurry.

He spun her around and bound her wrists with dark green rope, pulling it tight, crisscrossing the loops until her hands were firmly secured behind her back. Wenona struggled, her black hair falling over her face, but every movement only drove the gag deeper and made her breasts sway with each ragged breath.

Then he led her to the upholstered ottoman. He made her kneel, then lie on her side, torso over the cushion, legs bent.

He pushed her dress up to her waist, revealing the black stockings, the garter belt, and the thong. More green rope appeared: around her arms, across her chest, securing her shoulders, pulling her hair back so her neck was exposed. A line of rope ran from the gag down to the floor, holding her head in an uncomfortable position.

Wenona panted through her nose. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with fury and something darker, more confused. Every time she tried to move, the ropes reminded her she wasn't going anywhere. Her breasts, completely bare, pressed lightly against the ottoman with each breath. The ball gag made her drool a little; a thin thread of saliva glistened at the corner of her lips.

Ivan knelt beside her, watching in silence as he finished adjusting the last loops. Wenona couldn't speak, but her expression said everything: rage at being caught, humiliation at being so exposed, and beneath all of it… a nervous tension she couldn't tell was pure fear or something more complicated.

She had robbed the wrong house.

And now Ivan had all night to decide what to do with her.»

«Wenona.»

«Damn what a hottie»