The Captive Mother and the Silken Restraints (FF/F)

[Richman65]

TAGS: (+18) Femdom, Bondage, Lezdom, Humiliation

Marian is a captive in her own home—bound not by rope, but by the silken restraints of her daughters’ love. The tighter the knots, the harder she struggles… and the more she questions her own desires.



Marian and her daughters' apartment were a spacious, bright place, but that afternoon, the fading sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the tension in the air. The walls, painted in neutral tones, felt colder than usual, and the beige leather sofa—normally inviting—now looked like an empty throne. Every object, from the glass coffee table to the shag rug, seemed weighed down by an uncomfortable silence, as if the apartment itself was waiting for someone to break the ice.

Marian stood in her bedroom, in front of her vanity mirror, putting the finishing touches on her outfit for her date with Robert. The black dress clung to her body like a provocative caress. The plunging neckline accentuated her bust, hinting at the delicate curve of her shoulders, while the short skirt left little to the imagination. It was designed to capture attention.

Her dark brown hair, long and straight, cascaded down her back, and her brown eyes sparkled with anticipation. She applied a final swipe of red lipstick and adjusted her silk stockings, fastened with black garters, while the short skirt barely grazed her thighs. The high heels she wore added a touch of sophistication to her figure, enhancing her poised, confident posture. The faint blush on her cheeks suggested she was enjoying the effect she knew she’d have.

Marian remembered the first time she’d felt desired. She was barely twenty, and that man had looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. But then he left, like all the others, leaving her with a void she could never fill. Now, every time she dressed for a date, she sought that same gaze—even though she knew it would never be enough.

Why do I always fall into the same trap? Marian thought, staring at her reflection. I know Robert isn’t different, but… what if this time he is? What if this time, someone finally wants me?
I can’t deny how excited I get thinking about the way he’ll look at me, the way he’ll touch me… but why do I always feel so empty afterward?

But she wasn’t alone. Sofia and Camille, her daughters, stood behind her, watching with expressions caught between shock and disapproval. Both crossed their arms almost simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed the gesture, their eyes scanning her dress with a mix of disbelief and concern.

Sofia, the eldest at 20, was tall and slender, with light brown hair cut short in soft waves. Her honey-colored eyes reflected a mix of unease and frustration. Camille, 18, was shorter and curvier, with dark blonde curls that contrasted with her green eyes—inherited from her mother. Both wore casual clothes: Sofia in jeans and a white T-shirt, Camille in a short cotton skirt.

“Well?” Marian asked, slowly turning in front of the mirror with a satisfied smile. “I think this dress was made for me. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Sofia scoffed, her eyebrows arching in a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
“Mom, what you’re wearing… do you really think it’s appropriate? It’s not that you don’t look good, but… it’s like you’re trying to impress someone who isn’t worth it.”

Camille stepped closer to Marian, her gaze reflecting both affection and frustration. Unlike Sofia, she had always been the mediator, the one who sought balance. But this time, there was a firmness in her voice that even surprised her sister.
“Mom, we don’t want to offend you,” she said, gently placing a hand on Marian’s arm. “But these clothes… they’re not you. Not the strong mom who raised us, the one who taught us not to depend on anyone. Why are you settling for less than you deserve now?”

Marian felt the weight of her youngest daughter’s words. Camille wasn’t usually so direct, but when she was, her words always struck deep.

Marian turned to them, a mix of disbelief and irritation flashing in her eyes. Her hands instinctively settled on her hips, as if physically bracing against their words.

“‘Appropriate’ for me? And who decides what’s ‘appropriate’ for me? I chose this carefully, thinking about how it makes me feel. It makes me feel powerful, confident. Why should I hide that?”

Sofia and Camille exchanged a glance, as if remembering the last time their mother had come home in tears. Camille gave an almost imperceptible nod, letting her sister take the lead.

“Mom,” Sofia said, her voice softer than usual, “this isn’t about feeling powerful. This is about… not watching you get destroyed again.”

Camille stepped closer, placing a hand on Sofia’s shoulder.
“Because this isn’t about feeling powerful. This is about seeking attention in a way that… could get you hurt. Do you really want everyone looking at you like that?”

Camille, gentle but firm, moved closer as well. Her posture was less aggressive than Sofia’s, but her words carried the same weight. She rested a hand on Sofia’s shoulder, as if to calm her, but her gaze remained fixed on Marian.

“We don’t want to control you, Mom… we just want you to be okay. Remember last time? How you came home shattered, drowning in tears. We don’t want to see that again. You deserve better, and if you can’t see that, we’ll have to remind you.”

At that moment, Amelia entered the room. Despite her age, she carried a quiet, undeniable elegance. Her gray hair was pulled into a flawless bun, framing a face with soft features and warm brown eyes that radiated serenity.

“Marian, sweetheart,” Amelia said, her voice gentle but firm. “You seem nervous. Are you sure you want to go out with this man?”

Marian looked at her through the mirror, surprised.
“Why do you say that, Amelia? Robert seems like a good guy.”

Amelia sighed, stepping closer to place a hand on Marian’s shoulder.
“I just want you to be sure, dear. Appearances can be deceiving.” Then she withdrew, holding a basket of laundry.

When Amelia left, Marian looked back and forth between her daughters, her eyes filled with frustration and confusion. Finally, she stepped back toward the mirror, studying her reflection in silence. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her neckline, as if making sure it was perfectly placed.

“It’s just dinner, girls. And yes, I want him to see me. I want him to notice what he’s been missing.”


Sofia exhaled sharply, as if holding back her patience. She stepped closer, her body tense with frustration.

“That’s exactly what we want to avoid! You can’t go out like this, Mom. You can’t just parade around handing out your dignity in a dress.”

Camille watched with a mix of unease and determination. Though she had seemed calmer at first, she now moved closer as well, as if words were no longer enough.

“My sister’s right. We just want to protect you. What you’re wearing… it doesn’t speak for you. It speaks for what others expect from you.”

Marian stared at them, shifting between disbelief and suppressed rage. Finally, she stepped back again, facing the mirror in silence. Her reflection seemed to ask a silent question.
The room fell into a heavy silence, thick with unspoken emotions. The three women stood frozen, each processing what was about to happen. The tension was palpable.

Sofia finally broke the silence.
“Mom, it’s not just the dress,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “You always choose men who hurt you. Don’t you see? This Robert is probably just like the others.”

Marian glared at her, her eyes burning with anger and pain.
“And what do you want me to do?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Stay here alone, waiting for someone to rescue me?”

Sofia took a deep breath, remembering the last time her mother had gone out with someone. She had come home crying, heartbroken, her self-esteem in tatters.

“We don’t want you to be alone, Mom,” Camille interjected, her voice soft but anguished. “We just want you to find someone who truly values you, not someone who just uses you.”

Marian lowered her gaze, feeling the weight of their words. She knew they were right, but admitting it felt like acknowledging she’d been wrong all along.

Camille nodded, softening her tone.
“You are strong, independent… you don’t need anyone to feel complete. But if you keep doing this, you’ll lose yourself. You don’t need someone who only wants… this,” she said, gesturing at Marian’s outfit.

“I know… but it’s not that easy,” Marian replied. “Sometimes, when someone makes you feel desired, it’s hard to see past that.”

“Mom, are you seriously going out like this?” Sofia asked, crossing her arms. “That guy isn’t right for you. We’ve been through this before.”

Marian, defensive, shot back: “I’m an adult, Sofia. I don’t need you telling me how to dress or who to date.”

“Mom, are you sure you want to go out with him?” Sofia pressed. “Haven’t you cried enough over men who just use you?” Her voice cracked. “Robert might be no different. He might just see you as a trophy.”

Marian opened her mouth to protest, but Sofia cut her off.
“Do you remember last time?” she asked, trembling. “You came home sobbing, completely broken. We can’t watch you go through that again.”

Camille nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“We’re doing this because we love you, Mom,” she said softly but firmly. “We can’t lose you. If you don’t understand, we’ll have to act.”

Before Marian could react, Sofia grabbed the hem of the dress and yanked it downward. Her movements were quick but careful, as if each motion cost her a piece of her sanity. Camille, after a moment’s hesitation, helped slide it off Marian’s shoulders. The dress pooled at her feet with a silky whisper, leaving Marian in nothing but her lingerie—vulnerable and exposed.

She wore a provocative black lace set that hugged her curves with elegant sensuality. The tight bra offered a teasing transparency, a small satin bow at the center adding a flirtatious touch. The matching thong left little to the imagination, its slender straps disappearing beneath her hips, revealing more than they concealed. The stockings clung to her legs like a second skin, their delicate straps weaving an intricate pattern. It was clear Marian had chosen every piece meticulously, leaving nothing to chance.

For a moment, her daughters were speechless, staring at her with a mix of awe and anger. Sofia was the first to speak, her tone hovering between joking and deadly serious.
“Now you really look like a slut, Mom. Is this what you wanted to show off?”

Camille, though more restrained, couldn’t help a nervous laugh.
“I don’t think you even need the dress to impress anyone now.”

Marian instinctively crossed her arms over herself, glaring at them with a mix of shame and defiance.
“You have no right to judge me. I’m an adult, and I can decide how I want to present myself—and to whom.”

Camille, softer, added: “We’re just worried about you, Mom. We don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Mom, for God’s sake,” Sofia said, incredulous. “You’re dressed like a whore. What kind of date is this?”

Humiliated and furious, Marian shouted: “This is ridiculous! You have no right to do this to me!”


“Well, I’m going, and you ungrateful girls can’t stop me!” Marian yelled angrily.
She grabbed her clothes and tried to push past Sofia, who stood in the doorway, but Camille blocked her path as well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Marian demanded, a mix of indignation and nerves in her voice. “You can’t do this.”

Sofia raised her hands in a placating gesture.

“Mom, we don’t want to hurt you, but we can’t let you make a mistake. This is for your own good.”

Marian shook her head, stepping back.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

But before she could escape, Camille wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, holding her firmly. Marian thrashed desperately, twisting to break free, but her daughters’ grip was unrelenting, working together like an unstoppable team.

Meanwhile, Amelia stood on the other side of the door, watching the scene in shock. She finally stepped in:

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Sofia, still holding Marian, answered:

“We can’t let Mom go out with that guy, Amelia. You know how this ends.”

Amelia nodded slowly, as if understanding.

“I do, but… is this really necessary?” she asked, looking at Marian with a mix of pity and resolve.

Camille, still restraining her mother, added:

“She’s not giving us a choice. We can’t watch her get hurt again.”

Sofia barked at Amelia: “Don’t just stand there! Get the rope from the closet—the kind we use for tying up boxes!”

Marian stared at Amelia, stunned by her complicity.

“You too, Amelia? You’re going to let this happen?”

Amelia lowered her eyes, avoiding her gaze.

“We’re doing this because we love you, Marian. We can’t watch you fall again.”

When Amelia returned with the rope, Sofia took Marian’s wrists and began binding them, making sure it wasn’t too tight but firm enough to keep her from breaking free.

“Let me go!” Marian cried, struggling violently. Her hair tumbled wildly as she fought, but her daughters didn’t relent.
They led her to a nearby chair. With quick, practiced motions, Sofia tied her wrists to the armrests, ensuring she wasn’t uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Camille secured her ankles to the chair legs, leaving her slightly exposed. Marian panted, straining against the ropes, but her struggles only made them dig in tighter.

Still resisting, Marian tried to scream, but Sofia muffled her protests with one hand while reaching for a silk scarf with the other. She folded it carefully, knotting the middle before pressing it between Marian’s teeth. Then she tied the ends behind her head, leaving her gagged and silenced.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Camille said, kneeling in front of her. “This is only temporary. We just want you to think and avoid making a mistake.”

Marian glared at them with a mix of shame and wounded pride. Though she couldn’t speak, her eyes burned with frustration and resignation. She knew her daughters were acting out of love, even if she hated their methods. Her anger was overwhelming.

The room fell silent again. Emotions, tension, and electricity hung in the air.

Sofia finally dared to speak.

“Once your date time has passed, we’ll decide if we untie you. But by then, we hope you’ll understand we’re doing this because we love you.” She swallowed hard. “Mom, I don’t want to restrain you… but I can’t watch you cry again. Ever since Dad left, you’ve thrown yourself into relationships that only break your heart.”

“Don’t you see? We’re tying you up not to control you—but to protect you from yourself.”
Camille nodded, standing beside Marian.

“We don’t want you to keep choosing men who only hurt you, Mom. You deserve better. I’m sorry… but we can’t keep watching you destroy yourself. This hurts us more than it hurts you.”

Marian lowered her head, sighing deeply. For a moment, it seemed her daughters’ words had struck a chord. But then she lifted her gaze, determination and vulnerability warring in her eyes.

She struggled against the ropes, fighting with all her strength. She tried to scream, but only muffled sounds escaped. Mmmph… mmmgh!


Nearly an hour had passed since her daughters had left the room. While they waited for their mother’s date to arrive, they planned to tell him she was feeling unwell, giving him an excuse to leave—but also giving them a chance to get to know him better and uncover his true intentions toward their mother.

Meanwhile, Amelia, the 51-year-old woman who had cared for Sophie and Camille since they were children, entered the room holding a steaming cup of tea. Despite her age, she had a certain allure, with a captivating gaze. Though she wore an apron over her simple cotton dress, it was clear that in her youth, she had been a striking woman. Her generous curves—full breasts and wide hips—though modestly concealed, hinted at a figure that still held its appeal. Yet Amelia preferred to project a maternal image, as if trying to hide the part of herself that had once drawn attention.

Marian sat tied to the chair, ropes immobilizing her wrists and ankles. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes burned with a mix of anger and humiliation. Amelia approached her carefully, holding the teacup with both hands. Her gaze traveled over Marian’s body with an intensity she hadn’t shown before.

"Marian, sweetheart…" Amelia said softly. "I know this is hard for you. Your daughters only want what’s best for you, even if they don’t always know how to show it." Her fingers lingered on Marian’s cheek, and for a moment, she leaned in close—close enough that their faces were mere inches apart—before pulling back.

Marian, still furious but visibly exhausted, glared at Amelia with eyes full of resentment.

"Mmmmmph! Nnngh—" came Marian’s muffled protests.

Amelia bent down and carefully removed the gag, making sure not to hurt her. Marian swallowed; her throat dries from the cloth that had been stuffed in her mouth. Amelia brought the cup of tea to her lips, holding it steady so she could drink.

"Thank you," Marian rasped after taking a sip. The warm liquid brought some relief, but it wasn’t enough to quell her anger.

Amelia stood before her, watching with a mix of affection, concern—and perhaps something more.

"You’re a wonderful woman, Marian," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "But sometimes you act as if you don’t realize it. Your daughters just want what’s best for you, even if they’ve gone about it the wrong way."

Marian looked away, avoiding eye contact.
"Stop doing this to me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m their mother, not some child they can control."

Amelia nodded, understanding her frustration.
"I know, dear. But I also know you’ve been through a lot lately. Those relationships… those men… they haven’t been good for you." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I’ve been disappointed by them too. I’m not interested in men anymore—maybe I never really was. But I’ve learned that true happiness comes from being at peace with yourself."

"Marian, do you remember how you were before all this started?" Amelia asked, her gaze full of tenderness. "You were strong, independent… you didn’t need anyone to feel whole."

Marian sighed, feeling the weight of Amelia’s words. She looked up, surprised by her sincerity.

"Amelia—" she began, but Amelia gently cut her off.

"You don’t have to say anything, dear. I just want you to know you’re not alone." Amelia hesitated, as if debating whether to say more. "But I can’t untie you. Your daughters are worried, and they’ll likely keep you like this at least until Robert leaves. After that, maybe they’ll let you go—but you need to calm down and understand why they’re doing this."

Marian stared at her pleadingly.
"Please, Amelia," she begged, her voice breaking. "Untie me. I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to get out of here."

Amelia sighed, a knot tightening in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t give in—but seeing Marian like this, helpless and bound, stirred something inside her. Secretly, the sight of Marian in this state was disturbingly alluring, a thought that confused her but one she couldn’t deny.

"I’m sorry, Marian," Amelia said firmly, though her voice was laced with compassion. "I can’t untie you. Your daughters are right—you shouldn’t go out with that man. You’ll be fine."

Marian closed her eyes, frustration washing over her.
"They don’t understand," she murmured. "They don’t understand how I feel."

Amelia placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I know, dear. But sometimes we have to let others take care of us, even if we don’t like how they do it." She paused, then added, "For now, just try to calm down."

Marian didn’t respond, her face a mask of anger and resignation. Amelia took a deep breath before picking up the silk cloth. Her fingers hesitated for a moment as they brushed Marian’s lips—soft, slightly parted—before carefully replacing the gag. Her hands trembled slightly as she did, and Marian noticed how Amelia avoided looking directly into her eyes.

"I’m sorry," Amelia whispered before leaving the room.


Nearly thirty minutes passed, and Marian, still and silent, noticed that one of the ropes binding her right wrist had loosened slightly. With cautious movements, she managed to work the knot free, feeling the tension in her body ease. Her fingers moved quickly, though clumsily, as she listened to the sounds of the apartment—her daughters’ footsteps in the hallway, Amelia’s calm voice in the living room. She knew she didn’t have much time.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Marian held her breath as she heard Sophie answer the intercom.

"Hello?" Sophie asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"Hi, it’s Robert. I’m here to pick up Marian," came the male voice on the other end.

Sophie exchanged a panicked glance with Camille, who stood beside her.
"One moment, please," Sophie said, pressing the button to unlock the front gate. "Come on up."

Camille, nervous, rushed to Marian’s room to make sure everything was secure. When she opened the door, the sight before her froze her in place—Marian had freed one hand and was about to remove the gag.

"Sophie!" Camille screamed, running back to her sister. "Hurry! Mom’s getting loose!"

Sophie burst into the room and, seeing Marian nearly free, lunged at her. Marian seized the moment of distraction to spit out the gag and turn her face toward the half-open window.

"Help! Someone, help me!" she screamed, desperation in her voice.

Camille instinctively clamped a hand over her mother’s mouth while Sophie struggled to restrain her.

"Shut up, Mom!" Sophie hissed, her voice strained. "Please… don’t make us do this. We can’t let you go out with him."

Marian thrashed with all her strength, but together, the sisters managed to pin her down. Sophie exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she untied the ropes from the chair. Camille watched, uncertain, but a firm look from her sister spurred her into action.

"We can’t stop now," Sophie muttered, gathering the ropes from the floor. "If we don’t do this, Mom will just fall back into the same patterns."

Meanwhile, Amelia, hearing the muffled screams from the living room, knew she had to stall for time. With a sinking feeling, she moved toward the door to greet Robert.

Sophie and Camille dragged Marian to the bed. For a moment, they hesitated, doubt flickering in their eyes—but Sophie’s determination pushed them forward. With firm yet careful motions, they began retying her, this time more securely.

Sophie bound Marian’s wrists with the flexible rope while Camille pulled her arms behind her back, securing her elbows together. Marian arched slightly, the tension spreading through her body. Then Sophie fastened her ankles, immobilizing her legs. The position was uncomfortable but not painful, leaving her completely defenseless.

Camille took another rope and tied Marian’s knees, keeping her legs bent. This increased her discomfort—and her exposure. Marian tried to protest through the hand gag, but her words were unintelligible.

Finally, Sophie pulled Marian’s heels back, tying them to her wrists in a hogtie. The position forced her into a fetal-like curve, her torso arched and muscles straining.

"I’m sorry, Mom," Sophie said, her voice trembling. "You’re forcing us to do this. You’re not leaving us any choice."

Marian, her mouth still covered by Camille’s hand, tried to protest, but her words were lost. Frustrated, Sophie yanked open Marian’s lingerie drawer and pulled out a handful of panties—small, soft ones.

"These’ll keep you quiet," Sophie muttered, trying to stuff them into Marian’s mouth.

Marian clenched her lips shut, resisting with all her might. Desperate, Camille pinched her nose shut, forcing her to open her mouth to breathe. The moment she did, Sophie shoved the panties inside, stuffing them in until Marian could no longer close her mouth. To make sure she couldn’t spit them out, they tied the scarf even tighter around her head.

"There," Sophie panted. "She won’t be screaming now."

Camille stared at her mother, her limbs brutally restrained, leaving her no escape. A knot formed in her stomach.
"Will she be okay?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"We don’t have a choice," Sophie replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "Come on, Robert’s here."

Before leaving, the sisters made sure Marian was securely bound. They glanced at her one last time, guilt and determination warring inside them, before shutting the bedroom door and heading to the living room.

Marian lay on the bed, the ropes digging into her skin like a constant reminder of her helplessness, her mouth stuffed with fabric. Fury burned in her chest—but beneath the anger, something insidious stirred.

Her eyes drifted to the mirror on her dresser, reflecting her image back at her: bound, exposed, vulnerable. For a moment, she felt like a stranger in her own body, as if she were watching another woman.

Yet she couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation coursing through her skin, a shiver running down her spine despite herself. The ropes, though restrictive, seemed to caress her with every movement, and the silk’s touch awakened something she had tried to bury long ago.

She remembered the first time she’d felt this way—years before her daughters were born, when a lover had tied her wrists with a silk tie. That night, she had discovered that losing control could be… liberating.

Now, though, it wasn’t a lover holding her captive—it was her own daughters. Humiliation and pain mingled with a strange fascination, as if part of her enjoyed being completely at someone’s mercy, even in this unbearable situation.

"What’s wrong with me?" she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why does this turn me on so much?"


As Sophie and Camille finished securing Marian in the bedroom, Amelia approached the door to greet Robert, who was surely stepping out of the elevator any moment.

The doorbell rang, and Sophie held her breath. She glanced at Camille, who nodded in determination. "Ready," Sophie murmured as Amelia moved to answer the door. When she opened it, she was met with Robert—a tall, attractive man holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a confident smile that reminded her why her mother had fallen for his charm.

Amelia greeted him with a warm, if slightly tense, smile and invited him inside.

"Robert, it’s a pleasure to meet you," Amelia said, closing the door behind him. "Marian is… a bit indisposed at the moment. Would you like some coffee while you wait?"

The man nodded; his smile easy.

"Of course, thank you," he replied, following Amelia with his eyes as she led him toward the kitchen. "I hope it’s nothing serious."

"No, nothing serious," Amelia said, forcing calm into her voice. "Just… women’s troubles."

While Amelia prepared the coffee, the girls slipped out of Marian’s room, shutting the door carefully. They exchanged a glance, took a deep breath, and walked to the living room, where Robert waited.

"Hello, I’m Robert," he said, extending his hand. "You must be Marian’s daughters."

Sophie shook his hand with a strained smile, tension coiling in her chest. "Hi, Robert. I’m Sophie, Marian’s eldest daughter. This is my sister, Camille."

Robert shook their hands warmly. "Nice to meet you. Marian told me a lot about you."

Camille crossed her arms, studying him with curiosity. "Yeah, we’ve heard a lot about you too." She tilted her head. "So, what exactly are your intentions with our mother?"

Robert chuckled, unfazed. "Well, Marian is an incredible woman. I just want to get to know her better and see where things go."

Sophie couldn’t ignore how rehearsed his words sounded. "And you’re not in any kind of commitment? Married? In a relationship?"

Robert shook his head patiently. "No, I’m not married or involved with anyone. I’m a single man, free and with good intentions."

Camille raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with sarcasm. "That’s what they all say. How do we know you’re not just playing her?"

Robert smiled, exuding understanding. "I get your concern, really. But I promise you, my intentions are serious. Marian is special, and I don’t want to miss the chance to know her better."

Just then, a muffled sound came from Marian’s room. The sisters exchanged a worried glance, but Robert didn’t seem to notice.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, glancing down the hallway.

"Yes, yes," Sophie said quickly. "It’s just… the cat. He makes weird noises sometimes."

Robert nodded, though a hint of skepticism lingered. "Well, can I see Marian? I’d like to make sure she’s alright."

Camille shook her head, her tone dry. "Sorry, but she’s not in any state to receive visitors right now. You know how women get with their… indispositions. She’s pretty much tied to the bed."

Robert laughed, though awkwardly. "I see. Well, I don’t want to push. I just wanted to check on her."

Amelia intervened, setting the coffee on the table. "Robert, we appreciate your concern. Marian will be better in a few days. Why don’t you see her at the office on Monday? That way, you two can talk more comfortably."

Robert nodded, his smile understanding. "You’re right. I don’t want to be a bother. Thank you for your hospitality—and the coffee. Have a good night."

"You too," Sophie said, walking him to the door. "And thanks for understanding."

Once Robert was gone, the three women exhaled in relief. Sophie leaned against the closed door, looking at Camille and Amelia.

"Well, overall, he didn’t seem so bad," Sophie admitted, her tone lighter.

"Yeah," Camille agreed. "He seems decent. Maybe not such a terrible match after all."

Amelia nodded, though her expression was thoughtful. "Maybe. But we still need to be careful. Marian needs time to recover and think about what she really wants."

For a moment, Marian imagined Robert bursting into the room like a hero, rescuing her from this nightmare. The fantasy of being saved by him—like some damsel in distress—flooded her with relief and hope. But the illusion shattered as she remembered her reality: bound, gagged, dressed in provocative lingerie, and contorted in an embarrassing, helpless position. Shame burned through her at the thought of Robert seeing her like this. What would he think? Would he still see her as strong and independent—or as desperate and weak?

Tears rolled down her cheeks. The helplessness consumed her, making her feel fragile and exposed. Worse still was the lack of control over her own body—a sensation she couldn’t ignore. She glared at her daughters, rage and humiliation warring inside her. Deep down, she knew they were doing this for her, but that didn’t make it any easier.


After Robert left, Sophie and Camille exchanged uneasy glances. They knew their mother was still furious.

"We can’t untie her yet," Sophie said, her voice tight with worry. "If we do, she’ll just go back to the same patterns."

Camille hesitated. "But we can’t keep her like this forever. Let’s at least wait until she calms down and thinks things through."

Their argument dragged on, tension thickening in the room as Marian struggled uselessly against her restraints.

Finally, they agreed she needed to be more comfortable—without compromising her "security."

"Mom, we’re going to make you more comfortable," Sophie said, approaching the bed where Marian lay in a strained position, her body exposed by the tight ropes and delicate lace lingerie, her hands, elbows, and feet bound behind her.

Marian let out a muffled protest, but her daughters ignored her for now. With careful movements, they untied her legs and helped her sit on the edge of the bed.

"Let’s get you to the bathroom," Camille said, gently guiding Marian by the arm. "You need to relax a little."

Still furious but compliant, Marian let them lead her to the bathroom. Her hands remained tied behind her back; her mouth still silenced. Once there, her daughters assisted her, making sure she was more at ease before bringing her back to the bedroom.

"We’re going to change your clothes," Sophie said, opening the dresser and pulling out a cotton-Lycra panty—far more comfortable than the skimpy thong Marian had been wearing. Though still snug, the new underwear was softer and less restrictive.

They untied her wrists and elbows but kept the gag in place. Camille removed her bra, replacing it with a thin, short camisole that clung to her frame. Physically, Marian was more comfortable—but the humiliation ran deeper than ever.

"Silk scarves are gentler than ropes," Sophie explained, rummaging through Marian’s drawers and pulling out several silk pieces she had stored away. "And the more you struggle, the tighter the knots get. We don’t want to hurt you, but we can’t let you go."

Sophie took one of the scarves and carefully tied Marian’s right ankle to one of the bedposts. Then she did the same with the left, ensuring the restraints weren’t too tight. Marian felt her legs being spread apart.

"This will be better," Sophie said, securing Marian’s wrists to the headboard with two more silk scarves. "You’ll be more comfortable like this, Mom."

The scarves held her wrists firmly, while her ankles stayed fixed to the bedposts, leaving her stretched out and vulnerable. Though still immobilized, the position was more relaxed than before—yet somehow, it made her feel even more exposed. Every slight movement only reinforced her helplessness, as if the world had become too vast for her. The knowledge that she was completely at her daughters’ mercy filled her with a confusing mix of anger and… something else she couldn’t name.

Camille placed a large pillow behind Marian’s head for support.

Sophie leaned in and carefully removed the silk gag. Marian opened her mouth, letting the saliva-soaked panties fall out. Sophie delicately pulled them free, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

"You’ll be okay, Mom," she murmured, wiping Marian’s mouth with a tissue. "This will help you feel less uncomfortable."

Camille opened another drawer and pulled out a fresh, dry thong.

"This’ll be better," she said, folding it carefully. "Not as unpleasant as before."

Sophie placed the thong in Marian’s mouth and secured it with a new, dry silk scarf, knotting it firmly but not too tight.

"There," Sophie said, stepping back to assess her work. "We don’t want you to suffer, Mom. But we can’t risk you doing something you’ll regret."

Though still resentful, Marian had to admit the new gag was softer. The microfiber didn’t chafe, and the small panty didn’t obstruct her breathing.

Yet despite the physical relief, the shame and frustration remained. Her eyes glistened with angry tears—but there was something else, too: a mental and emotional confusion she couldn’t understand. She fought back the tears, refusing to give her daughters the satisfaction of seeing her broken. But every restrained movement reminded her of her own fragility in a way she’d never experienced before.

"I’m sorry, Mom," Camille whispered, her voice trembling. "We’ll talk about whether we can untie you soon."

Sophie, meanwhile, avoided eye contact, clearly conflicted. Both knew what they were doing wasn’t entirely right—but they believed it was necessary to protect their mother.

As they left the room, the silk scarves glided against Marian’s skin like a caress, sending warmth through her body with every shift. She felt the friction of the restraints awaken something inside her—something she couldn’t ignore. Every tug of the scarves made her feel more ashamed, more vulnerable… yet, to her surprise, more alive than ever.


An hour later, alone in the room, Marian studied her reflection—trapped in a position that left her utterly defenseless. She stared at the mirror on the wall and, for the first time, felt no shame. Maybe, she thought, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn to love herself without needing someone else’s gaze to feel whole.

Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but notice how striking she looked: the low-cut white microfiber panties hugging her hips, their elastic band snug against her curves, while the thin camisole hinted at the outline of her nipples, stiffened from the heat and the unexpected thrill of her predicament. Her gagged face, the soft fabric pressing firmly against her mouth, reminded her of the damsels in movies—those waiting to be rescued by a hero. The image was unexpectedly alluring, and a part of her was intrigued by how she looked in this vulnerable state.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that stirred her. Though the situation humiliated her, Marian couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation coursing through her body. The feeling of being immobilized, completely at someone else’s mercy, sent waves of pleasure through her—something contradictory, something she couldn’t reconcile with her shame. Every tug of the restraints awakened something inside her, something she didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny. It was as if, for a moment, she could stop thinking about everything that had gone wrong and just feel. A warmth pooled between her legs, surprising and shaming her at the same time. How could she feel like this in the middle of all this?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and Sophie, Camille, and Amelia walked in. Marian looked at them expectantly through the soft yet firm silk that sealed her mouth, silencing her protests and adding another layer of submission to her predicament.

"We’re sorry for keeping you like this, Mom," Camille said softly. "But we’re not untying you yet. Just for tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll understand."

"Mom," Sophie added, firm but calm, "this isn’t a punishment. We can’t risk you sneaking out to find Robert or doing something reckless."

Camille nodded, stepping closer. "You need to calm down and think things through. You can’t always act without considering the consequences."

Amelia placed a hand on Marian’s hair, her fingers stroking gently. Marian closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel the touch. It was strange, but there was something comforting in Amelia’s firmness—something that contrasted with the hesitation she often felt in her own decisions.

"Rest, dear," Amelia murmured. "We’ll talk more calmly tomorrow."

Marian didn’t respond, but a small part of her felt relieved. Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she’d always believed. Maybe, just maybe, someone could understand her without judgment.

Sophie added, her tone softer now: "We liked Robert. He seems like a good match for you—but we need to be sure."

Marian lowered her gaze. Though still furious, a part of her was comforted knowing her family cared for her.

Before leaving, Sophie and Camille each kissed Marian’s cheek. "We love you, Mom," Camille whispered.

Amelia lingered in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Marian’s silhouette—legs spread, mouth obstructed by silk. Her fingers gripped the doorframe as if fighting the urge to touch her. Marian caught that moment of weakness and, for the first time, realized she wasn’t alone in her shame. Do you want this as much as I do? she thought, feeling a slick heat between her thighs.

Then Amelia turned off the light, leaving Marian in darkness.

"Rest, Marian," she said before closing the door gently.

In the dark, Marian felt her anger begin to fade, replaced by sadness and confusion. She knew her daughters and Amelia only wanted to protect her—but accepting that wasn’t easy. Deep down, however, a small part of her was comforted knowing she wasn’t alone. And though she refused to admit it, the arousal she’d felt while staring at her reflection still pulsed inside her, mingling with vulnerability and helplessness—awakening something she didn’t know how to handle.


It was nearly three in the morning, and the apartment was silent. Marian remained tied to the bed, though her position was less restrictive and humiliating than the hogtie she’d been trapped in earlier. The restraints no longer hurt, but she couldn’t ignore the damp fabric in her mouth, soaked with saliva.

The door creaked open softly, and Marian heard quiet footsteps. Amelia. The dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room as she turned it on, revealing her figure wrapped in a semi-transparent nightgown. Beneath the fabric, her still-firm breasts were visible, and her loose hair—streaked with gray—gave her a natural elegance.

"Shh, don’t make a sound," Amelia whispered, approaching the bed. She sat beside Marian and carefully checked the knots, ensuring they weren’t cutting off circulation.

"Mmmmph… Aaamlaaah—" Marian tried to speak, but her words were muffled.

"I can’t understand you with your mouth tied," Amelia said with a teasing smirk. "I’ll change it later. For now, let me make sure you’re comfortable."

Marian tried to protest, but only choked sounds escaped. Amelia gazed at her tenderly, brushing away a tear that had slipped down Marian’s cheek.

"Relax, dear," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "This is to help you unwind. I’ve noticed how tense this situation has made you… but also how it excites you. Let me help you release that."

"Mmmrph?" Marian tried to ask, but only incoherent murmurs came out. She was bewildered.

"I’ve always been here for you," Amelia whispered, her fingers trailing slowly down Marian’s arm. "But you’ve never really seen me, have you?"

Her hands then began to explore—first tracing Marian’s sides, teasing the thin fabric of the camisole. Then, with deliberate slowness, she moved upward, cupping Marian’s breasts. The thin material did little to mask the touch, and Marian felt her nipples harden under Amelia’s fingers.

The fabric tightened over her chest, outlining the peaks of her arousal. Amelia smiled knowingly, tracing slow circles around them, playing with the sensation of cloth against sensitive skin. Each movement was a silent promise, an invitation to surrender.

Marian closed her eyes, her breathing deepening. Heat spread from her chest to her core, pooling low in her stomach. Sensing the shift, Amelia slid her hand downward, following the contours of Marian’s body until she reached the waistband of her panties. There, her fingers began a slow, teasing exploration.

Amelia found the soft mound first, stroking in slow circles as if drawing constellations. Then her fingers dipped lower, tracing the shape of Marian’s lips through the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating from her.

With agonizing slowness, Amelia slipped her hand beneath the panties. Her fingers met smooth, shaved skin, and Marian let out a muffled moan at the first direct touch. Amelia smiled, her movements precise as she explored, then finally pressed inside.

The contact was electric—a flash of pleasure that made Marian arch slightly. Amelia watched her face intently, her fingers moving in a steady rhythm, seeking that spot she knew would unravel her. Every stifled moan from Marian was music to her ears, proof she was exactly where she needed to be.

Despite the restraints, Marian didn’t feel like a prisoner. Instead, the ropes seemed to give her permission to surrender completely, to let Amelia take control without resistance. It was an intimate dance, an act of mutual trust beyond the physical.

Amelia leaned in, her lips brushing Marian’s ear as she whispered:
"Let go. Let me take care of you."

Marian’s cheeks burned with shame and desire, but she knew there was nothing to fear. In this moment, surrender wasn’t defeat—it was liberation. Her body responded fiercely, and soon, she shattered with a trembling orgasm. Her legs quivered, her breath came in gasps, and heat flooded her from head to toe.

Amelia held her through the aftershocks, murmuring encouragement.
"There," she said, satisfied. "Now, let’s change your gag."

Carefully, she removed the damp cloth. Marian spat out the soaked panties and gulped in air, her voice hoarse.

"Amelia… what did you do?" she managed to whisper.

Amelia pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh, no talking," she said firmly but affectionately. "Just let it be."

Then, without warning, she kissed Marian deeply, her tongue sliding in with gentle insistence. Marian, startled at first, soon kissed back, confusion and euphoria swirling inside her.

Amelia stood, fetched a fresh, dry silk scarf, folded it, and tied it securely between Marian’s teeth.

"You’ll stay quiet, but you’ll feel better," Amelia said, stroking her cheek. "Tomorrow’s a new day. Let’s leave it at this. Our little secret."

Marian nodded, exhaustion and resignation washing over her. Amelia turned off the lamp and headed for the door.

"Rest, dear," she said before leaving. "Tomorrow, we’ll start fresh. And maybe… one day, we’ll get back at the girls. Tie them up, make them feel what you felt. But for now, sleep."

The door clicked shut softly. Marian closed her eyes, letting fatigue and confusion claim her. Though she’d never admit it, a small part of her was comforted knowing she wasn’t alone. Tomorrow was another day—but for now, she just wanted to rest.

The End.

[MrBind]

Really good story, but having it broken up in chapters would be great

I haven't finished it yet lol

[LunaDog]

Well that's one way of stopping your mum from going out, i suppose!

Great story, although i do agree with the previous poster, i was all a bit too much to take in one hit.

[Richman65]

Really good story, but having it broken up in chapters would be great

I haven't finished it yet lol

Thanks- Now, the story is without chapters

[Richman65]

Well that's one way of stopping your mum from going out, i suppose!

Great story, although i do agree with the previous poster, i was all a bit too much to take in one hit.

Thanks. Now the tory is without chapters. Maybe someday, the mother could turn the tables, and the daughters could became her hostages

[MildManneredBondager]

Thanks. Now the tory is without chapters. Maybe someday, the mother could turn the tables, and the daughters could became her hostages

Great idea!