Like mother like son (F/m F/self)

[suedenym]

"Hey mum, can you tie me up?" Jamie bounced on the balls of his bare feet, fingers tugging at the frayed hem of his t-shirt. The living room carpet prickled against his soles as he shifted, eyes bright with that particular brand of childish insistence that made refusal feel impossible.

His mother lowered her book, the black silk of her nightdress slipping against her knees as she tilted her head. A slow, bemused smile curled her lips. "You want me to *what*, exactly?" The question carried the weight of a dozen unspoken follow-ups—*Why? Where did this come from? Are you sure?*—but she didn't voice them yet, just studied him over the rim of her reading glasses.

Jamie scrunched his toes into the carpet fibers, suddenly aware of how silly this might sound out loud. "Just... you know. Like in the movies," he blurted, gesturing vaguely toward the TV where they'd watched some spy thriller last weekend. "With ropes and stuff. I wanna see if I can get out." His voice cracked on the last word, betraying the nerves buzzing under his skin.

His mother's chuckle was warm, low—the sound of someone enjoying the absurdity before committing to it. She marked her page with deliberate slowness, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Jamie fidget. Then she stood, silk whispering against her thighs as she crossed to the hall closet. "Alright, little Houdini," she said, rummaging past winter scarves. "But if I'm tying knots, I'm doing them properly." The clothesline rope she pulled out was thick and sun-bleached, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and the garage where it had hung for years.

Jamie's breath hitched as she looped the first coil around his wrists, her fingers firm but not unkind. The rope bit into his skin just enough to feel real, and when she cinched the knot, he tested it instinctively—tugging, twisting—before grinning at the satisfying resistance. "Cool," he breathed. His mother arched an eyebrow but kept working, guiding him to sit, then binding his ankles together with the same secure but nit painful technique.

The his legs came together with practiced efficiency; ankles lashed together, below knees, above knees, mid thighs, the rope threading through in neat, unforgiving lines.

His elbows were next, pressed back to back as she wound the rope figure-eight style between them—a knot Jamie recognized from their sailing trips, though he'd never been on the receiving end. The rough fibers scratched at his skin, but the pressure wasn't painful; just firm, *real* in a way that made his stomach flutter. When she pulled the final loop tight, his shoulders automatically rolled forward, testing the limits. The restriction was immediate—a delicious inability to separate his arms that sent an unexpected giggle bubbling up his throat.

"Comfy?" His mother smirked, but her hands were already moving higher, looping the rope over his shoulders so it pressed his shirt tight against his chest and his arms against his sides; she then moved down to hus chest, pinning his elbows to his back. Each pass pulled his posture straighter, until he was sitting bolt upright, the rope digging pleasantly into his ribs with every breath. The final cinch around his tummy made him gasp—not from pain, but from the sudden, strange intimacy of being *contained*, like his whole body had been wrapped in one of her bear hugs.

Jamie barely had time to process the sensation before she was nudging his chin up with two fingers. "Open wide," she murmured, and before he could question it, something soft and faintly mint-scented pressed against his tongue. The foam ball filled his mouth instantly, its porous surface absorbing his spit as it settled against his molars. His mother's thumb brushed his lower lip—a fleeting gesture that might've been affectionate if she wasn't already tearing a strip of medical tape with her teeth. The adhesive hissed against his skin as she smoothed it over his lips, then another strip, crossing the first in a crisp X. The tape pulled at the corners of his mouth when he tried to speak, reducing his protest to a muffled squeak.

"Shhh, shhh," she soothed, ruffling his hair as if this were just another bedtime ritual. Her bare feet padded across the carpet as she fetched a final length of rope, this one thicker than the clothes line she’d use to restrain him so far. Jamie gulped, pulse hammering, as she lowered him to the carpet, laying nim face down then knelt behind him and used one arm under his shins to bend his knees as she guided his ankles upward. The rope slithered between his wrists and ankles like a live thing, coiling once, twice, before she pulled it taut. The sudden tension arched his back, forcing his shoulders to bear his weight as his body curled in on itself. Every shift sent prickles of heat through his limbs—not pain, but a startling awareness of how thoroughly he'd been folded, rearranged.

His mother’s fingers danced along the sole of his right foot without warning, tracing idle circles that made his toes jerk against their bindings. "Mmph—!" The sound punched out of him, muffled but unmistakably startled. She laughed, low and throaty, as her nails scritched lightly over his arch.

“Ticklish?” She already knew the answer of course. The tickle wasn’t cruel—just present enough to make his stomach muscles clench, his legs twitch in their ropes. Her grin was audible when she spoke. Another skittering touch, this time feather-light between his toes, and Jamie bucked uselessly against his restraints, his laughter vibrating against the gag.

She leaned over him then, her silk nightdress pooling on the carpet as she rolled onto her side beside him. Face to face—close enough that he could see the laughter lines around her eyes, the way her pupils dilated when she saw him squirm. She kicked her bare feet lazily in the air, toes wiggling. “Look at you,” she murmured. “All trussed up like Sunday roast.” Her knee bumped his thigh, deliberately jostling his precarious balance. The movement sent a fresh wave of pressure through his shoulders, his breath coming quicker through his nose. “Bet you didn’t think I’d actually do it, huh?”

Jamie’s eyes darted to her hands—those quick, clever fingers now drumming against her own knee—then back to her face. She grinned, slow and wicked, and curled her toes just inches from his nose. The soles were smooth, faintly pink from the warmth of the carpet. A dare. An invitation. He could’ve leaned forward, nipped at them if he weren’t gagged, weren’t folded so tight he could barely twitch. Instead, he just groaned around the foam, cheeks flushing when she laughed and trailed a single toe down the bridge of his nose. “Aw, don’t pout,” she cooed. “You asked for this. Repeatedly.”

The rope creaked as she rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands with exaggerated nonchalance. Her nightdress rode up her thighs, silk catching the lamplight as she kicked her legs up behind her, ankles crossing mid-air. The casual display of freedom was its own kind of torment—every flutter of her bare feet a reminder of what he couldn’t do. She stretched one leg out, toes brushing the side of his bound forearm, and pretended to consider the ceiling. “Hmm. Maybe I should’ve used more rope.” Her voice was all false innocence. “You’re *awfully* squirmy.”

Jamie tried to snort through his gag—failed—and she smiled, slow and satisfied. Then her expression shifted abruptly, eyes widening in mock horror. “Oh no.” A gasp. “We’ve been *robbed*.” She flopped onto her back, arms splaying dramatically. “Tied up helplessly by—” she shot him a sidelong glance, “—mysterious intruders.” Her wrists flopped together, miming bonds that weren’t there. “Whatever shall we do?”

Jamie blinked. His mother kicked her legs in the air, toes curling with theatrical despair. “They took everything! The silverware, the—the *good* tea bags—” She rolled toward him, silk rustling, until her nose almost touched his. Her breath smelled like the mint tea she’d been drinking earlier. “And they left us like this.” A pause. “*Defenseless*.” Her knee bumped his hip, sending a jolt through the ropes. “Except—” Her fingers walked up his ribs, tickling lightly. “Maybe *you* could—” She pinched his side, making him jerk. “—*save* us, oh brave hostage?”

The absurdity of it punched a laugh out of Jamie’s nose—snorty and wet against the gag. His mother grinned, then suddenly scrambled up, silk whispering against her thighs as she strode to the hall closet *again*. Jamie craned his neck, watching her rummage past vacuum cleaner attachments and a dusty box of Christmas lights. When she emerged, she was trailing even more rope—and swinging it like a lasso. “Seems the robbers,” she said, looping it around one wrist with deliberate slowness, “decided to tie me up too.”

She dropped to her knees beside him, the new rope slithering across the carpet like a lazy snake. “Terrible oversight on their part.” Her fingers worked quickly, wrapping the rope around her own ankles in neat spirals—as tight as Jamie’s, but convincingly snug. She paused to wiggle her toes at him, then cinched a loose knot just below her knees. The silk of her nightdress bunched around the restraints, framing the contrast of creamy skin against rough fiber. “Though,” she mused, pulling another length between her teeth to tear it, “they clearly knew what they were doing with *you*.” Her gaze flicked pointedly to his hogtied form, lips quirking.

Jamie watched, fascinated, as she positioned the foam gag—identical to his own—between her teeth with practiced ease. The sight of his mother like this, voluntarily silenced, sent a peculiar thrill down his spine. She wrinkled her nose at him before pressing the adhesive tape firmly over her lips, the *shhk* of it pulling taut making his own gag feel tighter by proxy. Her fingers lingered just a second too long on the X-shaped seal—testing, adjusting—before she flopped onto her side beside him with an exaggerated sigh. The silk whispered against the rope as she twisted to mimic his pose, knees bent, wrists bound behind her, though her ties were visibly looser.

Her bare toes flexed toward him—a silent question—and Jamie huffed through his nose when she dragged the tip of her big toe along his calf. The contact was fleeting, barely-there, but it sparked a jittery awareness in his muscles, still taut from being coiled so tightly. She kicked playfully at his shin, the ropes around his legs shifting just enough to remind him of their unyielding grip. Her gagged laughter was muffled but unmistakable.

His mother rolled onto her side, facing away as she reached behind her with both hands. The black silk clung to her back as she arched slightly, fingers working with what looked like deliberate slowness. Jamie caught glimpses of the rope as The first loop circled just beneath her shoulders, whispering against the silk as she smoothed it down. Not crushing like his ropes, but snug enough to press the fabric into the dip of her spine. The second batch of ropes went lower, snugging around her ribs in a way that made her exhale sharply through her nose, her shoulders rising briefly before settling again. Cinching between arms and sides awkwardly until her upper arms were held to her sides.

Her breath came faster now through the gag—short, controlled bursts as she worked—but her mouth beneath the tape curled in unmistakable amusement. She shifted onto her stomach, hips pressing into the carpet as she bent her knees, ankles lifting toward her hands. The silk rode up her thighs, bunched where the rope now circled just above her knees.

The slipknot around her wrists was a clever little trick—one Jamie had seen her use to secure sails in high winds—but watching her twist her own arms to cinch it tight made his pulse stutter. She nudged the loose end of the rope toward her feet with her chin, lips pursed in concentration even beneath the tape. Her toes curled around the cord, dragging it closer until she could hook it with her fingers again.

Rolling onto her stomach was a slow, deliberate process, silk rustling as she arched her back to keep tension on the rope. Jamie caught the moment she bit her lip—just a quick flash of teeth against adhesive—as she bent her knees and guided the cord between her ankles. The first loop was clumsy, her fingers fumbling where they twisted behind her, but the second pulled taut with a satisfying *snick*. Her breath hitched audibly when she yanked the final knot tight, legs folding reflexively as the rope bit into her skin.

She collapsed onto the carpet with a muffled *oof*, her cheek pressed to the fibers beside Jamie’s face. Her shoulders trembled—not from strain, he realized, but suppressed laughter—as she wriggled experimentally. The ropes creaked, her silk nightdress riding higher with every futile twist, until her bare thighs brushed his bound forearm. Her toes curled inches from his nose, soles flexing pink and vulnerable. A silent *ta-dah*.

Jamie grunted through his gag, bucking in his bonds until their shoulders knocked together. The contact sent them both tilting sideways like felled dominos, her hair fanning across his face in a ticklish wave. She snorted through her nose, breath warm against his temple as they rocked to a stop, her hip wedged against his ribs. Her knee jabbed his thigh—accidental or not, he couldn’t tell—and the sudden pressure made him squirm, ropes digging fresh lines into his skin.

His mother rolled onto her back with a muffled *humph*, silk pooling around her waist as she kicked her legs. The motion sent her sliding just far enough that her bound feet knocked against his, toes tangling briefly before she jerked them away with a playfully indignant wiggle. Jamie huffed a laugh through his nose, watching her arch dramatically against her ropes like a beached seal. The lamplight caught the sheen of sweat at her throat, the way her chest rose with each breath beneath the crisscrossed restraints.

She rocked sideways again—deliberately this time—her hip bumping his ribs hard enough to jostle him onto his side. The sudden shift forced his face into the carpet, fibers prickling his flushed cheek as his mother's knee pressed into his stomach. He could feel the heat of her bare thigh through his thin t-shirt, the flex of her calf muscles as she nudged him further. Her gagged giggles vibrated through the point of contact, alive with the kind of mischief usually reserved for pillow fights or surprise water balloon ambushes.

Their legs tangled as she rolled, her silk-clad knee hooking over his bound shins. The motion twisted his hogtie tighter, ropes biting fresh lines across his wrists where they strained against his ankles. Jamie groaned into his gag, but the sound morphed into a startled snort when her toes—unexpectedly nimble despite her binds—skated up the inside of his thigh. His mother's eyes crinkled above her tape-sealed lips, triumphant as she deliberately flexed her foot to drag rough sole against his sensitive skin. The carpet burned against his hip where he bucked, their combined weight making the floorboards creak beneath them.

She rolled again, this time with enough momentum to flip them both onto their sides like paired shrimp in some absurd seafood display. Her nightdress rode up to the crease of her thighs, silk catching on the coarse rope around her knees as she wriggled closer. Jamie caught the faint citrus-and-laundry scent of her shampoo as her hair fanned across his face, her nose bumping his when she suddenly reversed direction. The sudden motion sent her knee driving into his stomach—not hard enough to hurt, but sufficient to punch a breathless *mmph!* from his lungs. His mother froze, eyes widening in theatrical innocence even as her toes curled against his calf in unmistakable glee.

Jamie retaliated by arching sharply, using their tangled limbs as leverage to rock her onto her back. The move cost him—his shoulders screamed as the hogtie pulled tighter—but the startled squeak she made through her gag was worth it. Her bare foot skidded against his thigh as she tried to brace herself, toes splaying wide before slipping on his sweat-damp skin. They tumbled sideways again, her hips knocking against his in a way that sent them spinning half a rotation across the carpet fibers. Dust motes swirled in the lamplight above them as they came to rest with her silk-covered stomach pressed flush against his bound arms, her legs still hooked awkwardly through his.

He could feel her ribs expanding against his back with every stifled giggle, the vibrations traveling through his t-shirt where she’d slumped against him. Her gagged laughter hitched higher when he flexed his trapped fingers blindly behind him, managing to graze the sole of her foot with one fingertip. She kicked reflexively, her knee bumping the back of his thigh hard enough to make him grunt against the foam filling his mouth. The rope around his chest tightened with the motion, forcing his lungs to work harder. Panic flickered at the edges of his awareness—both of them trussed up, no one else home, no way to call for help—but his mother’s breath was warm and steady against his nape, her muffled amusement unmistakable. *She’s not scared*, he realized. *This is still a game.*

[TuggyBoundMale]

This story is really cute, so innocent…
But still really good. Good job

[BoudBoy22]

This is a really good story, I love the gags, please write more

[MommysNB]

Wonderful story! I got tingles just reading this.
Thank you for sharing!

[JC1991]

Please add a Mummification area? Maybe with blankets or something.

[CarouselCowboy13]

Really Nice and Good Story

[momsonbondagelover]

This story is so cute!!! i cant wait for the part 2

[lilshinefan]

this is so cute!!