Isobel and Aunt Jan (Ff/f; ff/F - part 6 - 28th October

[Janbound]

@copperfox thank you for a lovely criticism of my work.

@TightsBound when I started writing I wasn’t sure who would win the bet either. It’s just as the chapter progressed, I thought an initial lack of progress with a sudden breakthrough which still leaves much to be done was the ideal progression. It was the vision in my mind of two girls desperately pulling tape and shreds of rope off them and an aunt who can’t quite believe she lost the bet seemed the better outcome.

[Nainur]

Most excellent read! Enjoyed it very much! So detailed!

[Noobiereader666]

Hello. I sent you a message on Deviantart
I like your stories and writring style. Any chance we could see more spreadeagle bondage positions like the ticklee tied to the four posters of a bed and more upperbody tickling?
Thanks

[Scarfbound13]

Can you please add more parts to this story. Use more scarves please!

[Janbound]

Part 6

So sorry i have left this over a year. Hopefully everyone remembers Saffy, Izzy and Aunt Jan.

As it is over a year since my last addition I apologise now for any continuity errors with hair colour, eye colour, clothing, body shape, exact ages, furniture designs, floor coverings etc. but those little things were not the point of the story.

Enjoy part 6: The Victors’ Benefits or The Girls’ Revenge.





the girls were quite stiff and sweaty aftervtheir escaoe so whikst Jan took a bathroom break they had a quickmshower and changed, leaving Jan to try and suppress the butterflies in her stomach womdering what her niece and dayghter had planned for her. She thoughtbof having a coffee but she could feels the panic all yhe way diwn to her bladder and thiught better of it.

The sound of footsteps on yhe stairs herakded the girls’ return and Saffy entered first wearind black tbshirt, cut off denim shorts and thick black tights. Her cousin followed wearing pink hoodie, baggy jeans and barefoot. Both carried seveal coils of rope and a roll of tape.

“OK mum. Lets start with hands behind your back.” Said Saffron.

Jan instinctively clenched her fists as Saffron approached with a coil of soft cotton rope, the fibers whispering against her palms. Isobel nudged Jan’s shoulder blades together, making her gasp softly at the sudden pressure against her spine. The rope snaked around her wrists with practiced efficiency—tight but not cruel—each loop locking her fingers into stillness. Jan’s knuckles turned pale pink against her white shirt sleeves as she tested the bonds, finding only slick resistance. Saffron moved up to bind her mother’s elbows whilst Izzy began to tie her aunt’s ankles rogether, crossing left over right before wrapping rope around.

Isobel knelt, her bare knees pressing into the carpet theough the designer rips, as she wound rope around Jan’s ankles, crossed snugly, before securing the knot just below the cuff of Jan’s black leggings. The rope bit slightly where her socks should’ve been but weren’t. Jan shifted her bare feet against the floorboards, toes curling involuntarily as Isobel pulled the final loop taut. Above her, Saffron cinched the rope connecting Jan’s elbows, forcing her shoulders back into an elegant arch that strained her shirt. Jan’s breath hitched—a sharp inhale of trapped air as her daughter began to wrap loose ends of the elbow bonds round her torso abive and below her chest, restricting her breathing slightly.

Isobel meanwhile worked up her Aunt’s legs. Jan flexed her toes against the cool wood floor, the slight rasp of rope on lycra leggings unnervingly loud in the quiet room. Isobel didn’t pause; she swiftly moved higher. With practiced efficiency, she wound rope snugly around Jan’s shins, just below the knee, pulling until the black leggings bunched slightly and Jan felt the distinct bite of restriction against her shins. A soft "hmmph" escaped Jan as Isobel cinched the knot, locking her lower legs firmly together. She then repeated the orocess abive her knees, the same rasping sound as Jan gelt ecery last bitbof freedom to move stooen from her.

“Isnktbthatbenkugh girls?” Jan asked wothna slight whimper and air of trepidation in her shaky voice.

Without missing a beat, Isobel slid her hand up to Jan’s mid-thighs, ignoring her question. The rope hissed as she pulled it taut across the thickest muscle, compressing the soft lycra. Jan sucked in a breath, her hips shifting involuntarily as the unyielding pressure settled deep. Isobel secured this fourth band tightly, deliberately placed halfway between knee and hip, ensuring Jan’s thighs were held firmly parallel. The sensation was profoundly immobilizing – a stark contrast to the freedom of bare feet she’d relished moments before. Finally Isobel moved ro jan’s mid calves and began to add a fidth band of white corton on black lycra.

Meanwhile, Saffron worked with focused silence. Kneeling behind her mother, she guided a fresh coil of rope around Jan’s forearms, pulling them snug against her spine. The cotton rasped harshly against Jan’s white shirt sleeve as Saffron cinched the loops tighter than the wrist binding, drawing her mother’s shoulders back further. A small gasp escaped Jan as her spine arched impossibly. Saffron didn’t pause; she threaded the rope ends forward, wrapping them firmly around Jan’s torso just below her ribs. The first constricting band dug into the soft fabric of her shirt, flattening it against her stomach. She added a second band , lower, just abive thenwaisband of her leggings, tied off to her wrists, each pull stealing another sliver of breath.

“Have you got yhe shoelaces Saffy?” Calles Isobel.

“What for?”

“Her roes silly.”

“Yiu cant tie her bigtoes together with her ankles crossed Stupid!”

“I’m not going to.”

Isobel’s fingers, cool and precise, slid beneath Jan’s left foot as she lifted it slightly off the floorboards. Jan sucked in a breath through clenched teeth—not from pain, but from the startling intimacy of her niece’s touch on the bare arch of her foot, still damp with nervous sweat. Isobel ignored Saffron’s scoffing, her focus absolute as she separated Jan’s smallest toe from the others. The thin cotton shoelace—stolen from Jan’s own sneakers earlier—felt absurdly delicate against skin as Isobel looped it twice around the tiny digit. Jan’s little toe twitched involuntarily, a trapped butterfly against the lace’s sudden pressure as Isobel repeated the process on ghe kther foot. In defiance to her cousin, she had indeed tied her aunt’s toes together.

Saffron watched, a smirk playing on her lips as she finished cinching the final torso rope—a punishing band just below Jan’s ribs that forced her spine into a perpetual, elegant curve. "Enjoying yourself, Izzy?" she drawled, deliberately slow as she tugged the knot tight against Jan’s trembling back. Jan whimpered softly; the ropes above her waistband dug deep, making every shallow breath a conscious effort. Her white shirt clung to her skin, damp patches blooming under her arms and along her spine. Below, Isobel’s work was meticulous madness: each tiny toe now individually bound, the laces pulled taut enough to make Jan’s feet curl in protest against the rope securing her ankles.

The roll of silver duct tape unfurled with a sharp, metallic *rrrrip* that echoed off the walls. Isobel tore a strip free with her teeth—a practiced motion—and met Jan’s widened eyes. "Head back, Aunt Jan," she murmured. Jan instinctively resisted, her jaw clenching shut as Isobel’s fingers brushed her left sole. as she shrieked her kwn daughter shived a slightly damp white sock into her mouth. The tape descended cold and adhesive, sealing her lips into a flat, unyielding line before Isobel smoothed it firmly over her chin. Jan’s muffled gasp was swallowed by the tape’s grip; her nostrils flared as she fought for air through her nose alone. The scent of glue and her own trapped breath filled her senses as her niece added half a dozen more strips.

“And finally.” Said Saffron, holding two gauze makeup pads up ifront of her mither’s face.

“Nooommmpppppmmm.” Screamed Jan jnto her gag.

The pads landed softly against her eyelids, blotting out the world like twin moths settling on her skin. Jan flinched—a full-body shudder that strained every rope binding her—as the gauze absorbed the dampness trapped in her lashes. Darkness bloomed, thick and absolute, amplifying the rasp of her own panicked breath against the sock filling her mouth. She heard the rip of tape, sharp and close, then felt Isobel’s fingers brush her temple, cool and detached. The first strip pressed horizontally across the pads, adhesive biting into the delicate skin at her temples. Two vetical strips then sealed her fate.

Panic surged, raw and primal. Jan thrashed against her bonds, muscles straining against the ropes biting into her thighs, torso, wrists. Her bare feet scrabbled uselessly against the smooth floorboards, the thin shoelaces connecting her toes tightening painfully with every jerk. The room dissolved into sound: the creak of stressed rope, Saffron’s low chuckle somewhere to her left, the sticky *peel* as Isobel tore another strip. More tape followed—diagonal, crossing the bridge of her nose, anchoring the pads immovably. The pressure was suffocating, a physical manifestation of the terror clawing its way up her throat, choked silent by the gag.

A whimper escaped her muffled lips as she finally stilled, trembling. Sweat slicked her temples, plastering strands of hair beneath the tape, the sharp scent of adhesive mixing with the damp cotton of her gag and the faint floral detergent clinging to her shirt. She inhaled sharply through flared nostrils, the air cool and insufficient. Every rope felt alive: the torso bands constricting each shallow breath, the elbow bindings locking her shoulders in that unnatural arch, the thigh ropes digging deep into yielding muscle whenever she shifted her weight. Below, her calves burned from the pressure, her crossed ankles utterly immobile. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation and her own ragged breaths.

Saffron sank onto the worn leather sofa, its springs groaning beneath her weight. She kicked her thick black-tighted legs up onto the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle with deliberate nonchalance. "Comfy, Mum?" she drawled, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest. Her dark eyes tracked Jan’s minute struggles – the desperate flexing of bound toes against the polished floorboards, the subtle tremor running through her arched spine, the frantic flare of nostrils above the silver tape. "Bit warmer now? Looks like you’re working up a proper sweat." Beside her, Isobel perched on the armrest, her pink hoodie bright against the muted room. She giggled, a high, bright sound that cut through the tension, her gaze fixed on the intricate web of ropes cinching her aunt. "Shouldn't have worn white, Aunt Jan," she chimed in, her voice light but edged. "Really shows where you're sweating."

“OK mum just setting my phine for an hour.”

“But theres two of us Saffy. Should she have to do an hour for each of us?”

Saffron’s smirk widened as she tapped her phone screen. “Genius, Iz. Two hours it is.” The timer’s soft *beep-beep* punctuated the stillness. Jan’s muffled groan vibrated against the gag – a low, desperate thrum that echoed off the high ceiling. She strained against the ropes cinching her torso, shoulders pulling back in that relentless arch as she tried to shuffle her bound ankles sideways. The cotton rope rasped against her leggings, biting deeper with each futile shift. Her bare feet scraped the floorboards, toes curling against the shoelaces connecting them, the delicate knots digging into tender skin. Sweat bloomed visibly through the thin white shirt across her ribs and spine, darkening the fabric in uneven patches.

Isobel leaned forward, elbows on her knees, studying her aunt’s immobilized form. “Look at her toes, Saffy,” she murmured, pointing at Jan’s twitching feet. The individual laces binding each pinky toe stretched taut with every involuntary flex, stark white against the flushed skin. A stifled giggle escaped Saffron. Jan jerked her head sideways at the sound, the tape sealing her eyelids straining against her temples. A thin bead of sweat escaped the gauze pad, tracing a path down her cheekbone.

Saffron snorted, kicking her legs higher onto the coffee table. “Two hours, Mum. Hope you didn’t drink much coffee.” Jan responded with a frantic, muffled scream, her torso ropes creaking dangerously as she arched against them. Her bound thighs trembled visibly beneath the black lycra, the rope bands digging deep furrows. Isobel watched, fascinated, as her aunt’s bare soles scrabbled uselessly against the polished wood, the shoelaces connecting her toes pulling each digit into an unnatural splay. The faint scent of fear-sweat mixed with the metallic tang of the duct tape filled the still air.

Laughter bubbled from Saffron, sharp and unkind. “Look at her wiggle! Like a fish on a line.” Jan froze at the words, humiliation flooding her cheeks crimson beneath the tape. She tested the ropes again—slowly, deliberately this time—flexing her wrists against the unforgiving cotton. Each movement amplified the bite: elbows locked, ribs compressed, thighs welded together. A choked whimper escaped the sock-gag as she realized the futility. Her breath came faster, shallower, whistling faintly through flared nostrils. It was nitbthe first time Jan had been tied up, but she had never feltbthis helpless before, bound, gagged, blindfolded, arms and legs tied in a dozen different places, and atbthe mercy of two teehage girls.

Isobel looked outbif the window. “ Saffy. You know hiw she threatened to pitbus into a cold shower?”

“Yes.”

“Well its justvstarted raining. I thought we could……save water.”

Saffron’s grin was slow, predatory. “Oh, Mum’s *definitely* getting that cold shower now.”

They hauled Jan up, her muffled protests vibrating against the gag as they dragged her awkwardly towards the back door. Her bound legs flopped uselessly, heels scraping the hardwood floor. The rain hammered against the glass panes, a steady drumbeat promising icy misery. Isobel flung the door open, and the sudden rush of wet, chill air made Jan shudder violently. Together, they maneuvered her struggling form onto the slick grass of the darkened garden. The rain instantly plastered Jan’s white shirt to her skin, turning it translucent and chilling her to the bone. She landed heavily on her side in the muddy lawn, ropes biting deeper as the cold shock hit.

The girls slammed the door shut, muffling the storm’s roar. They leaned against the glass, steaming cups of hot chocolate warming their hands as they peered into the gloom. Through the rain-streaked window, Jan was a pale, writhing shape against the dark grass. Her muffled cries were lost in the downpour, but her desperate thrashing was clear: shoulders straining against the torso ropes as she tried to arch away from the cold mud, bound legs kicking ineffectually, her individually tied toes curling pitifully against the wet earth. Water plastered her hair flat against the duct tape blindfold, running in rivulets down her neck and soaking her shirt completely.

Saffron blew gently on her hot chocolate, the steam swirling around her smirk. "Looks cozy out there," she murmured, taking a slow sip. Beside her, Isobel giggled, her breath fogging the cold glass. Inside, the warmth was thick and sweet with cocoa scent; outside, Jan shuddered violently, her body jerking as rainwater pooled beneath her hips, turning the soil into slick sludge. Her gagged mouth pressed helplessly into the mud whenever her struggles tipped her forward, forcing desperate snorts through her flared nostrils. The ropes binding her elbows forced her shoulders back into that perpetual arch, exposing her soaked chest to the icy rain, every shiver visibly tightening the bands across her thighs and torso.

Jan writhed sideways, her bound legs kicking futilely in the mud. The shoelaces connecting her toes stretched taut with each spasm, digging into the tender webbing. Her blindfolded head whipped left and right, tape pulling painfully at her temples as she fought the suffocating darkness. The sheer helplessness, amplified by the relentless drumming rain and the muffled voices drifting from the warm kitchen, sent fresh tremors through her. Her soaked leggings clung heavy and cold, plastered with wet grass clippings, while her thin white shirt became a translucent second skin, revealing the harsh indentations of the ropes cinching her ribs and waist.

Aunt Jan's muffled groans escalated to desperate whimpers as icy rainwater pooled beneath her cheek. Her chest arched against the torso ropes with every shallow, whistling breath through her nostrils. Below, her thighs strained uselessly against their tight binding, muscles trembling visibly beneath the soaked black lycra. The mud began seeping through her leggings, chilling her to the bone. Inside, Isobel pressed her nose against the cool glass, fogging it with her breath. "Look at her wriggle," she murmured, fascinated by the, frantic movements of her aunt almost involuntary as she rolled on the slick lawn. Saffron just snorted, swirling her hot chocolate.

“Are we really going to leave her ythere two hours Saffy?”

Saffron shrugged, swirling her hot chocolate lazily. "Rules are rules." Outside, Jan bucked violently, her bound legs kicking up clods of wet grass as she rolled onto her back. Rainwater streamed across the duct tape sealing her eyes, pooling in the hollows of her collarbones exposed by the shirt plastered transparently to her skin. Her gagged mouth worked frantically beneath the silver strips, muffled cries lost in the downpour’s roar. Isobel watched her aunt’s toes flex against the mud—each individually tied digit straining against its lace like pale, trapped worms.

“She’d have probably justbketbus suffervfor ten minutes in the shower. But. This is funntomwatch isn’t it?”

Isobel,made a gelighted moan as she supped her hot drink and watched her aunt rolling, thrashing, helplessly bound, gagged and b,indfolded in the rain.

[Boundgirl09]

Just started reading this, a fun series of events, especially the aunt trussed up in the rain with her little toes tied together