Family ties (F/F)

[Janbound]

Jan's kitchen was a dance floor of flour and sugar as she moved deftly around the room, kneading dough with her strong hands. The warm aroma of bread baking in the oven filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of berry pie. Her bare feet slapped rhythmically against the cool, tiles, setting a tempo to her culinary ballet. Her mother, Grace, sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Her eyes followed Jan's every movement with a gentle smile, her own hands folded neatly in her lap.

The kitchen window was open, letting in a soft breeze that fluttered the curtains and brought with it the distant sound of children playing. The sun cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the flecks of flour in Jan's hair and the lines of concentration on her face. Grace watched the play of light and shadow, feeling a sense of contentment that was as comforting as the aroma of fresh baking.

Jan, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and blue tracksuit bottoms with white stripes, wiped a smudge of flour from her cheek with the back of her hand. The fabric clung to her in some places, hinting at the effort she had put into her task. Despite her casual attire, there was an elegance to her movements that made Grace proud. She herself was dressed more formally in a neat blouse, a navy skirt that fell just below her knees, and black tights that whispered with every step. Her low heels clicked quietly against the floor as she approached the kitchen counter to peer over Jan's shoulder.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice teasing, "You're making my favorite apple tart?"

Jan chuckled, glancing over her shoulder. "It's not every day you visit unannounced, Mom. I had to whip something up that's special." She playfully nudged Grace's hip with her own, a gesture that had been passed down through generations.

"Well, I just couldn't resist," Grace said, her eyes sparkling. "Besides, I know how much Phoebe loves your apple tart."

Jan's expression grew mischievous as she turned to face her mother. "Speaking of Phoebe, I've been thinking. It's been a while since we had one of our little games."

“Oh. When is Phoebe back from school?”

“Nitbtill at keast three, and it’s college by the way. She will remind yiu she is nuneteen and a student, not a school girl anymore.”

Grace rolled her eyes with a smirk. “You know what I mean. Anyway, you said we have time for some fun before she arrives, don’t we?” Jan suggested, wiping her hands on a nearby towel.

“Yes and this lot will be in the oven a while yet.”

Grace's smile grew as she set down her coffee cup. She knew the games Jan spoke of all too well. They had been playing them for as long as Jan could remember. It was a strange but endearing bond they shared, one that had held them tigether when Jan’s father died, and had only grown stronger as Jan grew up and had Phoebe, whose father ran away, unabke to face his responsibility.

Wlaking to the lounge, Grace slipped out of her heels before she padded across the plush carpet which was soft under her feet, a stark contrast to the kitchen's tiles. She reached up and drew the curtains closed, blocking out the sun's intrusive gaze and any passerby. The room was plunged into a gentle twilight, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. She turned to face Jan, who switched a standing lamp on shiwing she was now holding a handful of ropes, tape, and scarves she had retrieved from a drawer in the kitchen.

Grace began to unbutton her blouse, her movements deliberate and graceful. Placing it on the sofa she unzipped her skirt stepping out kf it begire turning to Jan and asking for help,with her bra. Each layer peeled away, revealing more of her mature frame, the fabric whispering as it fell to the floor. Jan released the clasp and Grace’s boobs fell out, amole but somewhat dropping after motherhood and time itself, yet she was still good looking and Jan hoped she could match her figure inntwenty years’ time. watched her with a mix of excitement and anticipation, her heart racing in her chest. Jan felt a thrill run down her spine as she took in the sight of her mother's bare legs as she peeled her tights iff, standing in inky her black cotton knickers as the pile of fabric discarded on the sofa grew.

With a knowing smile, Jan stepped closer,carrying the ropes and scarves in her hands as Grace turned her back to her daughter and clasped her hands together. Jan reached out and took her mother's wrists, gently pulling them together behind her back. Grace's pulse quickened as Jan bound her hands with the rope, the rough fibers pressing against her skin, the tension tight but not uncomfortable. Jan's touch was firm, yet gentle, a testament to the care she had for her mother. She repeated the process on her arms, just above her elbows, making her chest stick out further.

Once funushed, Jan helped her mother to lie face down, her chest and tummy flat on the olush tug. Grace obeyed, feeling the soft fur fabric of the rug against her bidy, her heart hammering a rhythm that matched the thump of a bass beat to one of Poebe’s dance tracks. Jan knelt down beside her mother’s legs, her own breath coming in short, excited gasps as she secured Grace's ankles with more rope, wrapping and cinching as she had fone with her arms, leaving just enough slack to allow for comfirt, but not enough to escape. Grace squirmed slightly, her eyes closed as she felt Jan’s weight on her legs. The anticipation was delicious, a thrill that danced through her veins like a fine wine. Jan reoeated the process below Grace’s knees.

With a swift motion, Jan grabbed her mother's ankles and pulled them up to her wrists, tying them together with a length of rope, oausing to examine her mum’s feet. The toe nails were painted subtle pink, unlike her own striking red, her heels dry and slightly flaky, soles wrinkled and wriggling as her ties twitched.

Grace's body bent into a tight bow, the arch of her back accentuating her hogtied position. Jan admired her handiwork for a moment, and her mum’s flexibility at sixty, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of her mother's vulnerability and trust. She retrieved some scarves, balling up a crimson one and easing it into Grace’s mouth. Grace took a deep breath, her breasts pressing into the rug, the pressure on her arms and legs a reminder of Jan’s control. Jan tied a second scarf between her teeth holding the first in, then a third covering her mum’s mouth from just below her nose to over her chin muffling her speach. A fourth scarf she tied over thecolder woman’s eyes as a blindfold.

“Comfortable, Mom?” Jan asked, her voice low and sultry. She felt a shiver run through Grace's body in response. The house was near silent, tnphe ticking of a clock, the crackling if the fire, the oven fan, Grace’s breathing. This moment was most important to the women’s bonding.

Jan knelt beside her mother's hogtied form, her eyes drawn to the bare feet that stuck out towards the ceiling. She ran her hand, over the sole, feeling the smoothness of her mother’s skin, the gentle arch of her foot. Grace’s toes curled slightly at the touch, and Jan couldn’t help but smile. It was a simple act of affection, yet it carried with it the weight of their shared history, the unspoken trust that allowed them to engage in these intimate games.

She danced her finger tips and nails over her mother’s feet, causing grace to squirm and shriek into the gag. Paradoxically grace hated the feeling if being tickled uet at the same time thrilled by the feeling of utter helplessness the teasing torment caused in her.

The kitchen timer sounded, the shrill noise slicing through the quiet house like a knife through the tension-filled air. Jan’s eyes snapped to the digital display. "Ah, perfect timing," she murmured to herself, rising from her knees. She had set it for the baking to be set out, but knowing that it would only add to the excitement of their game. She turned to leave the room, her eyes lingering on her mother's bound form for a moment longer before disappearing into the hallway, her bare feet silentbin the carpet snd slapping faintly on the wood block.

Grace lay still on the rug, her breathing heavy and labored through her gag. Her body was alive with sensation, the ropes biting into her skin, the carpet rough on her tummy and chest, the heat from the fireplace kissing her bare legs and the anticipation of Jan's return like a lover's caress. She could hear the distant clink of dishes, the hum of the oven, and the rustle of Jan moving through the house. The sounds were comforting, familiar, but they also served to remind her of the game they were playing.

When Jan re-entered the lounge, she had a steaming cup of coffee in hand, the scent of it wafting through the air. She approached the sofa and sat down with a soft sigh, her eyes never leaving Grace's bound body. With a playful smirk, Jan lifted one bare foot, her toes curling and uncurling in the air before she reached out to trace the line of her mother's side with the tip of her big toe. Grace flinched, a muffled sound escaping from the scarf in her mouth. The coolness from Jan's foot having been on tiles was a stark contrast to the warmth of the room, sending goosebumps skittering over her skin.

"Someone's ticklish," Jan teased, her voice low and husky. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the bitter taste as it danced on her tongue. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the house, and she knew Phoebe would be home later, bringing with her a whirlwind of energy and youthful exuberance. The thought made Jan's heart swell with love. She set the coffee down on the side table, her eyes lingering on her mother's bound form, the ropes standing out starkly against her pale skin.

Suddenly Tthe front door opened with a bang and a creak, the sound echoing through the hallway. "Something smells good," a voice called out, and Jan's heart skipped a beat. It was Phoebe, home earlier than expected. Jan's mind raced as she tried to decide whether to stay and continue the game or rush to the kitchen to greet her daughter. Grace's eyes widened beneath the blindfold, her body tense with the sudden realization that their little secret might be discovered.

"Is gran here? Her car's on the drive."

[Caesar73]

Am I mistaken or might we hope for a Continuation?

[slackywacky]

I sure hope there is more, this is a good story.

[LunaDog]

Totally agree with the two opinions expressed above. This is extremely enjoyable, may we hope for more?