Savage Shadows: Florence in the Grip of the Masked Burglar Part 2
By the Masked Writer
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However, before she could dial anything, the intruder lunged at her with surprising speed and agility. The young woman's movements were swift, and Florence was caught off guard as the burglar's hand closed around her wrist like a vice.
A short struggle ensued and Florence, in her came and panties, felt the surprising force of the intruder tugged at her wrist. She realized that the burglar was much stronger than she had expected and suddenly vulnerable.
With a swift motion, the burglar wrenched the phone from Florence's grasp and, with a smirk that hinted at a sadistic satisfaction, threw it across the room. The device clattered against the floor and Florence realized, with a cold feeling in her guts, that she was now cut off from the outside world. It was all between her and the burglar.
Stunned, Florence staggered backward. The intruder, amused, took a step closer. Florence's mind raced as she tried frantically to assess the situation. She had very little experience in physical fight and being overpowered was something she had not experienced since she was a teenager, and she used to play wrestling with her older brother. However, scary as it was, this constatation fueled a newfound determination.
Florence faced the intruder head-on. With a resolute glare, she steadied herself and the burglar, now fully in control, decided to taunt her further. With a mocking smile, she brutally shoved Florence, sending her sprawling onto the nearby sofa. The impact jarred her, but Florence, fueled by adrenaline, scrambled back to her feet.
Determined to face the intruder, Florence squared her shoulders. The burglar, seemingly amused by the unexpected turn of events, awaited her next move without so much as an appearance of hesitation. The confrontation was taking an unpredictable turn. Florence, in her underwear, prepared to defend herself and her home against an opponent who seemed to really enjoy the challenge.
Undeterred by the intruder's mocking demeanor, Florence raised her fists, determined to stand her ground. However, the burglar seemed more amused than impressed and met her defiant gesture with a scoff, saying:
-Oh! The old lady has some fight in her! Good. This is gonna be fun. C’mon!
Florence lunged forward with a bold yet inexperienced attack. The burglar's reaction was swift. With precision, she effortlessly caught Florence's arm mid-air, her fingers closing around it with a force Florence had not expected. The sudden twist forced a sharp pain through Florence's shoulder as her arm was contorted behind her back, showing the experience of the burglar in combat.
The room echoed with a gasp as Florence's attempted assault proved futile against the intruder whose strength and skill were obviously superior to those of the middle-aged reporter. The burglar in control, skillfully subdued Florence with a cruel smirk on her lips.
Before Florence could react, a powerful shove from the burglar sent her forward and she found herself on all fours on the floor, her heart pounding, boiling with frustration.
The intruder made a taunting remark.
"Nice try, darling, but no cigar! " The burglar sneered. Florence, humiliated and physically overpowered, gritted her teeth. The sarcasm was like a whip. It enraged her even more than it hurt.
The sting of humiliation fueled Florence’s rage, and, despite the pain in her shoulder, she refused to be defeated so easily. Ignoring the pain, and fueled by a newfound anger, she got back on her feet. With a primal yell, she lunged at the burglar, her hands clenched like claws, aiming at the throat.
The intruder sidestepped the assault with an almost nonchalant ease. In a swift dance of evasive maneuvers, the burglar avoided the older woman’s claw-like hands, leaving her grasping at empty air. The sudden dodge left Florence off balance, and, with a quick, precise movement of her feet, the burglar expertly tripped the older woman. Florence, now off-balance, tumbled to the ground once again. The impact reverberated through her entire body, and the room seemed to spin as she found herself again sprawled on the floor.
The burglar seemed to relish in the confrontation. Florence’s pride was wounded but her determination was still intact. The battle had taken an unexpected turn, and she felt painfully the vulnerability of being outmatched by an opponent who seemed to surpass her in everything.
Seeing Florence struggle to get back up, panting, the burglar added insult to injury. With a cruel smile, she unleashed another round of biting sarcasm, alluding to Florence's age and less-than-impressive fighting skills.
"Is this the best you've got, Grandma?" the burglar taunted, the words dripping with disdain. The reference to Florence's age, coupled with the mockery of her attempts to fight back, intensified the humiliation.
"Come on, Granny, you're not getting any younger!" the burglar jeered. You should stick to knitting or something along that line. Fighting clearly isn't your thing," the burglar added with sadistic amusement. Florence, grappling not just with physical strain but the sting of the taunts, felt each sarcastic remark like a direct assault on her pride
Almost exhausted, Florence mustered her last reserves of energy and unsteadily climbed back to her feet. Now, she was breathing heavily, her body aching from the previous struggles, she saw clearly that the odds were stacked against her. Yet, she couldn't see what to do but to keep fighting.
In a desperate attempt, Florence threw a punch, but it was slow and clumsy, and the burglar easily dodged the attack. Florence's vision wavered.
Before she knew it, a precise punch from the burglar landed squarely in her soft stomach. The impact cut through the flesh, leaving her gasping for air as she fell on her knees. She was in pain, hardly breathing. She needed all her remaining strength to avoid falling flat on her face.
Florence struggled to regain control over her body. The room spun, her senses reeling.
As she knelt on the floor, panting and gasping for breath, her face contorted in pain, the burglar couldn't resist the urge to mock her again. A malicious laughter escaped the young woman’s lips. She jeered, each word a calculated insult aimed at Florence's weakness, perceived lack of skills, and apparent lack of fitness. The sarcasm cut through the air and intensified the pain with a relentless assault on Florence's pride.
"Maybe you should consider retirement, sweetheart. Your belly is a flabby as jelly and, look at yourself: you’re already washed up and we hardly begun this fight." the burglar said, with a tone of condescension. Florence, still gasping for air felt the weight of every insulting remark like a heavy blow to her spirit.
Exhausted and in pain, Florence made a feeble attempt to rise, determined to defy her opponent one more time. However, her weakened state betrayed her, and before she could fully stand, the burglar struck with a calculated neck hit. Florence collapsed to the floor, unconscious her body completely limp.
To be continued
