Mum’s friend Ff/m)

[suedenym]

In the quiet town where I lived, there was a woman I called Aunt Julie. She wasn't really my aunt, but she was a close friend of my mother's, and I called her that out of respect and affection. Aunt Julie had a way about her that made you feel both safe and a little nervous at the same time. She had a sharp wit and a penchant for mischief that could either make your day or get you into trouble, depending on the kind of person you were. With her straight red hair and piercing blue eyes, she was a force to be reckoned with, even though she was only about five-foot-four.

It had started innocently enough, with a simple request. I'd been watching cartoons and had become fascinated with the idea of being tied up. It seemed like an adventure, something to conquer. So, the next time I visited her, I asked if she could tie my hands behind my back with tape. To my surprise, she didn't laugh or say no. Instead, she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and said she'd be happy to oblige. And just like that, she did it. The feeling was strange at first, but as I squirmed and tried to get free, a thrill shot through me that I couldn't quite explain. It was like I'd found a new puzzle to solve.

Over the weeks, the sessions grew longer and more intense. Aunt Julie would tie me up in different positions, using ropes, scarves, leather belts, old stockings and of course tape. She would keep me gagged for hiurs on end, as if she was testing my limits and watching with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. Sometimes she'd leave me to struggle on my own, other times she'd sit beside me, casually sipping her tea as if it was the most normal thing in the world. But it was the tickling that really got to me. She had a way of making my feet feel like they were on fire with just the lightest touch, and when she combined it with the gag, the sensation was almost unbearable.

Her house smelled faintly of lavender and cinnamon, a comforting scent that filled the air as I lay there, bound and helpless. The floorboards would creak beneath her feet as she approached, and the sound of her setting down her tea cup was the only warning I'd get before she'd start in on my feet. I'd try to keep still, to ignore the rising panic, but it was no use. My body would react on instinct, my legs kicking and my muffled squeals echoing through the room. She'd laugh, not cruel, but delighted, like she was watching a particularly entertaining sitcom.

Then there were the times when Joanne, her 16-year-old daughter, would join in. Her presence added a new dynamic to the game. Joanne was tall and slender, with the same fiery hair as her mother, but her eyes were green. She had an air of curiosity about her, and I could see the spark in them when she looked at me, tied up and squirming. She'd sometimes help with the tickling, her long, slender fingers dancing over my soles with surprising strength. Other times, she'd just sit there, watching, a slight smile playing on her lips. It was unnerving and thrilling all at once, feeling her eyes on me as I was rendered powerless.

One particular afternoon, the doorbell rang while I was in the throes of a particularly intense tickling session. Aunt Julie called out, "Joanne, can you get that?" The sound of footsteps grew closer, and I felt a brief flicker of hope that she would untie me and put an end to the torture. But instead, once the lavkage was signed for, Joanne poked her head in, took one look at the scene, and grinned mischievously. She didn't say a word, just shut the door behind her and plopped down on the floor next to her mother, crossing her legs so that her feet were right in my face. "Mum, I've got an idea," she said, and before I knew it, she had peeled off one of her socks and began to rub her foot against my gag.

The sensation was strange and overwhelming, the softness of her sole gliding over the cloth, sending waves of pressure through my cheeks and nose. I squirmed harder, trying to get away, but Aunt Julie's grip was firm, her fingers digging into my flesh as she held my legs in place. Joanne's eyes were glued to mine, watching my reaction with a mix of curiosity and amusement. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I knew that if I weren't gagged, I'd be begging for mercy. But there was something in that helplessness that was also exhilarating, a strange thrill that only grew as she increased the pressure, her toes pressing into the fabric that was cutting off my breath.

Joanne leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she whispered, "You look so funny like this." The sound of my voice in reply was muffled the gag and by her foot, and the smell of her skin was all I could focus on. I tried to wriggle away, but it was useless. They had me trapped, and I was at their mercy.

With a giggle, she pulled off her other sock, revealing her bare feet. They were pale and smooth, with a hint of peach polish on the nails. Before I had a chance to protest, she pressed both of them against my face. Her toes curled around the gag, squeezing my nose tightly between her big toes. I couldn't breathe, and panic began to set in. My eyes watered and I could feel my nostrils flare as I struggled to inhale through the fabric.

Aunt Julie chuckled at my distress, her eyes never leaving mine. She'd clearly done this before, knew exactly what was happening, and was enjoying the show. "Don't be a baby," she said without looking away from me, her voice muffled by my own desperate sounds. "You'll get used to it."

The phone on the side table began to ring, piercing the air with its shrill tone. Aunt Julie raised an eyebrow at Joanne, who was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of me squirming beneath her feet.

"I'll get it," Joanne said, jumping up and crossing the room. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

Julie raised an eyebrow at me, her hand still poised with the tape. The sound of my mother's voice floated in from the hallway, faint but recognizable. Joanne's smile grew wider, and she looked back at me with a glint in her eye. "It's your mum," she called out, holding the phone to her chest. "She wants to know if she can leave you with us for the whole weekend."

Aunt Julie's eyes danced with excitement, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "What do you say?" she whispered. "Should I tell her you'd love to spend the weekend tied up and tickled?"

8 shook my head violently.

“Well OK then. Justvthat youd love to stay.”

The sound of Joanne’s voice was like a dagger to my heart as she spoke into the phone. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, my body tensed and my eyes wide with horror. Being tied up and tickled for hours was one thing, but an entire weekend? The very thought was overwhelming. I thrashed my head back and forth, trying to convey my desperation, my eyes pleading with Joanne to tell the truth. But really, deep down, i knew i wanted to be helpless at these two women’s mercy.

Aunt Julie looked at me with a knowing smile, her hand hovering over the phone as if she were waiting for my response. She knew I was powerless to do anything but nod, and she reveled in that power. "Oh, he'd love to," she called back to Joanne, her voice dripping with sweetness. "We're having such a lovely time together. Aren't we, dear?"

Joanne's laughter echoed through the hallway, and I could feel the vibrations of her footsteps as she walked back into the room. She held out the phone to me, her grin taunting. "Your mum wants to speak with you," she said, her voice sing-song and filled with mock innocence. She quickly covered the mouty oiece as Julie ripped the tape off my mouth.

"Mum," I gasped, my voice hoarse from the gag. "I don't think I should stay the whole weekend."

Aunt Julie's smile never wavered. She leaned closer and whispered, "Nonsense.” She said into the phone. “Tell her you're having fun. Tell her you're learning new things. Joanne and I can fund things to keep you occupied.”

Her words hung in the air like a dare, and I knew what she was really saying. I took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest ease slightly. "Mum, I'd love to stay for the weekend," I managed to croak out, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Aunt Julie and Joanne have lots of fun activities planned."

Julie nodded approvingly and took the phone back from me. "Great," she said into the receiver. "I'll make sure he's all set. We'll see you Sunday." She hung up and turned her attention back to me. "Your mum's going to bring an overnight bag with your clothes later," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Are we giing to intie him till she’s left mum?”

“No..”. Julie replied yo her dayghter whilst turning yo me. “We'll keep you tied up in the spare bedroom until then. Won't we, Joanne?"

Joanne giggled and nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "We've got so much planned," she said. "It'll be like a little vacation for you, right here in the house."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep the panic at bay. Being tied up and tickled was one thing when I knew I could go home at the end of the day, but the thought of being stuck here for an entire weekend was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. The anticipation was already building, my heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

They didn't waste any time. With surprising strength, Aunt Julie and Joanne each took an arm and hoisted me to my feet, the ropes biting into my skin. I stumbled after them, my legs wobbly and weak from the hours of being bound as I hopped to the stairs. They picked me up and carried me up the stairs, the sound of my own breathing and their light laughter echoing through the old house. The creak of the stairs seemed louder than ever before, as if the house itself was in on the secret of what was happening to me.

Once in the spare bedroom, they laid me down on the bed, the coolness of the sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin. Aunt Julie rummaged in the drawer and pulled out a fresh strip of tape, ripping it off the roll with a sound that made my heart skip a beat. Joanne watched with eager eyes, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, like a child waiting for the next thrilling part of a game to begin.

My heart was racing as Joanne put one of her recently removed socks in my mouth and Aunt Julie leaned over me, pressing the tape firmly over my mouth, sealing my protests in once again. The room swam around me, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of fear. But then Joanne climbed onto the bed, straddling my chest with a playful smirk, and the thrill of the situation flooded back. Her bare feet were in my face now, and she began to tickle my cheeks with her toes, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure and discomfort through my body.

Aunt Julie took a step back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She picked up the blindfold from the bedside table and secured it tightly over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. The loss of sight heightened my other senses, and the smell of the old house and the faint scent of Joanne's feet washed over me. I could hear their muffled giggling as they worked together, their movements synchronized as if they'd done this countless times before.

They flipped me over onto my stomach, and the coolness of the mattress sent a shiver down my spine. The ropes around my ankles tightened as they began to tie them to my wrists, the fabric digging into my skin. The feeling of being hogtied was more intense than any other position I'd been in so far. The helplessness was complete, and a strange thrill of vulnerability surged through me. My breathing grew shallow as I tried to adjust to the new sensation of being folded in half.

The sound of their footsteps grew distant as they left the room, and I was alone with the muffled murmurs of their conversation floating up from downstairs.

Some time later (I had nimsense of gime) yhe doorbell rang agin. My mother's voice was unmistakable, and I could almost see her standing in the hallway, oblivious to what was happening above her. The idea of her walking around the house, chatting with Aunt Julie while I lay here, bound and gagged, was both terrifying and strangely thrilling.

They talked for a while, their muffled voices floating up through the floorboards like whispers from another world. I tried to listen, to make out what they were saying, but all I could do was guess. The anticipation of what might happen next had my heart racing, and the ropes around me felt tighter than ever.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open and Joanne's bare footsteps , craekingbin yhe dloor boards, approached the bed. She climbed onto the mattress, and I could feel the warmth of her body as she straddled my hips. The smell of her, a mix of soap and something faintly sweet, filled my nostrils. She leaned down and whispered, "Mum says your mum's going now. Then you are ours until 6pm on Sunday."

Her breath tickled my ear, and I shivered. She giggled and began to tickle the back of my neck with her toes. "Do you want me to start now?" she asked, her voice a teasing purr.

"No," I mumbled through the sock, my voice barely audible. The word was lost in the fabric, and she took it as a challenge, pressing her left foot on my face whilst her fingers traaced patterns on my soles.

[MommysNB]

How exciting! I love how this is coming together!

[WhereAmI]

It seems that aunt Julie and Joanne will be learning new knots this weekend as they practice on their little pseudo nephew/cousin for 2 whole days. This should be fun and so enjoyable for all concerned especially getting tiedup in new positions. Imagine a nameless boy that's never been hogtied before, pretty preposterous isn't it? !!!

Great story, please continue. I must see what happens to the nameless boy over the weekend.

[milagros317]

I really envy the narrator!
How old is he?

[lilshinefan]

fantastic! hope there's more to come

[Redman]

Wonderful story suedenym!

[jone123]

lovely story