No explaination (Ff/m)
Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2025 7:37 am
“So you actually want to be tied up?” Sarah asked Liam, somewhat surprised.
“Yeah,” Liam replied quietly, his bare feet digging into the grass.
Sarah shrugged and called her mom over from the kitchen. Mrs. Henderson wiped her hands on her apron, leaving faint dirt streaks on the tan grey. She didn't ask questions, just fetched t several could have rope from their shed while Sarah watched Liam shift his weight. The humid air clung to Liam's skin as he stood awkwardly in his football jersey, wondering if this was a mistake.
Without warning, Mrs. Henderson grabbed Liam's wrists and twisted them behind his back. The coarse rope bit into his skin as Sarah wrapped it tight around his ankles. He stumbled backward onto the damp lawn, grass blades pricking his calves. Sarah's school skirt rustled as she knelt beside him, her eyes bright with anticipation. Her mother held him down with surprising strength, one hand pressing hard on his chest.
Sarah doubled the rope around Liam's knees—first above, then below—before binding his thighs together so tightly his circulation throbbed. She slid the rope between his big toes, cinching them sideways until he hissed. Mrs. Henderson worked silently behind him, looping ropes around his elbows and pinning them flush against his back. Her blouse sleeve brushed his neck, smelling faintly of laundry soap.
Sara’s mother wrapped coils across Liam's chest, binding his shoulders and pressing his upper arms against his back whilst more rope tightened round his belly pressing his forearms flat against his spine. The rope rasped harshly over his ribs with every breath. When she knotted the elbow bindings around his torso, Liam felt each rib groan—his arms welded uselessly behind him. He tried twisting, but Sarah’s knots held firm, grass blades scratching his bare legs as he strained.
“Tight enough?” Mrs Henderson asked.
Liam nodded silently. With a final tug, she secured his elbows flush against his spine. Damp earth soaked through his shorts as Sarah knelt beside him, her school skirt brushing his legs. The ropes dug into his ribs with each shallow gasp. Her fingers hooked under her thick wool socks—peeling them off slowly, deliberately—revealing soles stained slightly yellow from school shoes. She held them aloft, letting the humid air thicken with their musky scent.
Mrs. Henderson took them without a word. She unfolded one sock into a crumpled lump, pressing her thumb deep into its center until it formed a dense wad. Liam clenched his teeth, turning his head away as she gripped his jaw. The sock tasted of stale sweat and synthetic fibers, filling his mouth until his gag reflex shuddered violently. His nostrils flared against the sour odor flooding his senses as she tied the other sock between his teeth holding the first in place.
Sarah laughed softly, kneeling beside his head. She lifted her bare right foot—the sole slightly damp, lines etched with dirt from her schoolyard—she had been barefoot at lunchtime in the heat-and hovered it just above his face. Liam’s eyes widened as she lowered it slowly, the rough heel scraping his cheekbone. Her toes curled against his forehead, pressing into his skin until he felt every ridge of her sole lines. She dragged her sole sideways across his mouth, smearing damp grit over the sock gag.
Mrs Henderson unfolded a faded deck chair nearby, its canvas creaking under her weight. She slipped off her low heels, sighing as she stretched her legs. Her tan tights were sheer, clinging tightly to her feet with perspiration. Without hurry, she lifted one foot and rested it heavily on Liam’s forehead, trapping him. Her toes flexed, the nylon straining. He smelled the tangy sweat trapped in the fabric—sharp, sour—before her sole ground down against his eyelids.
Her foot pressed harder, rubbing back and forth like sandpaper. The heat from her skin radiated through the tights, mixing with the humid air. Liam tasted cotton fibers from Sarah’s sock gag as Mrs Henderson’s heel scraped his nose, her arch smothering his mouth. She chuckled softly, shifting her weight to deepen the pressure. Strands of grass stuck to her nylon sole as it slid across Liam’s face.
Sarah stood abruptly, her skirt rustling. “Shouldn’t he be properly blindfolded?” Her voice held a playful edge as she glanced at her mother. Without waiting for an answer, she unknotted her school tie—dark blue polyester, slightly frayed at one end. Liam’s breath hitched as she knelt behind his head, her fingers brushing his hair. The fabric felt coarse and smelled faintly of chalk dust when she wrapped it over his eyes, knotting it painfully tight at the base of his skull. The world plunged into scratchy darkness.
Mrs. Henderson shifted her weight above him, her nylon-clad sole grinding harder against his mouth. Liam tasted the grit trapped in her tights—dust, grass, salt—as her toes flexed against his nose. Suddenly, Sarah’s bare foot pressed against his cheekbone. Her heel dug in sharply, contrasting her mother’s broader pressure. Liam felt every pebbled ridge of Sarah’s sole scrape sideways, leaving trails of dampness. She giggled as her toes pinched his earlobe. The smells intensified: adolescent sweat souring against adult musk, layered over the earthy lawn.
Liam’s bound legs jerked involuntarily. He tried curling his toes, but the rope dug deeper between them. Grass prickled against his soles. Sarah noticed—her fingers slid down his bare calf, nails trailing lightly. When she reached his ankle, she hooked her thumb beneath the rope cinching his big toes. Her touch lingered there, idle. Liam braced himself.
He felt the shift—Sarah leaning back onto her hands, her bare feet settling heavier against his face. The rough skin of her heel scraped his jawline. Then came the first feather-light stroke. Her fingertip traced his arch slowly, deliberately. Liam gasped against Mrs. Henderson’s nylon soles with his sock-filled mouth, his hips bucking upward. Sarah chuckled low in her throat. She dragged her fingernail along his sole again—this time harder. A tremor shot through him.
This was the ultimate degradation, humiliating torture. And he loved it.
“Yeah,” Liam replied quietly, his bare feet digging into the grass.
Sarah shrugged and called her mom over from the kitchen. Mrs. Henderson wiped her hands on her apron, leaving faint dirt streaks on the tan grey. She didn't ask questions, just fetched t several could have rope from their shed while Sarah watched Liam shift his weight. The humid air clung to Liam's skin as he stood awkwardly in his football jersey, wondering if this was a mistake.
Without warning, Mrs. Henderson grabbed Liam's wrists and twisted them behind his back. The coarse rope bit into his skin as Sarah wrapped it tight around his ankles. He stumbled backward onto the damp lawn, grass blades pricking his calves. Sarah's school skirt rustled as she knelt beside him, her eyes bright with anticipation. Her mother held him down with surprising strength, one hand pressing hard on his chest.
Sarah doubled the rope around Liam's knees—first above, then below—before binding his thighs together so tightly his circulation throbbed. She slid the rope between his big toes, cinching them sideways until he hissed. Mrs. Henderson worked silently behind him, looping ropes around his elbows and pinning them flush against his back. Her blouse sleeve brushed his neck, smelling faintly of laundry soap.
Sara’s mother wrapped coils across Liam's chest, binding his shoulders and pressing his upper arms against his back whilst more rope tightened round his belly pressing his forearms flat against his spine. The rope rasped harshly over his ribs with every breath. When she knotted the elbow bindings around his torso, Liam felt each rib groan—his arms welded uselessly behind him. He tried twisting, but Sarah’s knots held firm, grass blades scratching his bare legs as he strained.
“Tight enough?” Mrs Henderson asked.
Liam nodded silently. With a final tug, she secured his elbows flush against his spine. Damp earth soaked through his shorts as Sarah knelt beside him, her school skirt brushing his legs. The ropes dug into his ribs with each shallow gasp. Her fingers hooked under her thick wool socks—peeling them off slowly, deliberately—revealing soles stained slightly yellow from school shoes. She held them aloft, letting the humid air thicken with their musky scent.
Mrs. Henderson took them without a word. She unfolded one sock into a crumpled lump, pressing her thumb deep into its center until it formed a dense wad. Liam clenched his teeth, turning his head away as she gripped his jaw. The sock tasted of stale sweat and synthetic fibers, filling his mouth until his gag reflex shuddered violently. His nostrils flared against the sour odor flooding his senses as she tied the other sock between his teeth holding the first in place.
Sarah laughed softly, kneeling beside his head. She lifted her bare right foot—the sole slightly damp, lines etched with dirt from her schoolyard—she had been barefoot at lunchtime in the heat-and hovered it just above his face. Liam’s eyes widened as she lowered it slowly, the rough heel scraping his cheekbone. Her toes curled against his forehead, pressing into his skin until he felt every ridge of her sole lines. She dragged her sole sideways across his mouth, smearing damp grit over the sock gag.
Mrs Henderson unfolded a faded deck chair nearby, its canvas creaking under her weight. She slipped off her low heels, sighing as she stretched her legs. Her tan tights were sheer, clinging tightly to her feet with perspiration. Without hurry, she lifted one foot and rested it heavily on Liam’s forehead, trapping him. Her toes flexed, the nylon straining. He smelled the tangy sweat trapped in the fabric—sharp, sour—before her sole ground down against his eyelids.
Her foot pressed harder, rubbing back and forth like sandpaper. The heat from her skin radiated through the tights, mixing with the humid air. Liam tasted cotton fibers from Sarah’s sock gag as Mrs Henderson’s heel scraped his nose, her arch smothering his mouth. She chuckled softly, shifting her weight to deepen the pressure. Strands of grass stuck to her nylon sole as it slid across Liam’s face.
Sarah stood abruptly, her skirt rustling. “Shouldn’t he be properly blindfolded?” Her voice held a playful edge as she glanced at her mother. Without waiting for an answer, she unknotted her school tie—dark blue polyester, slightly frayed at one end. Liam’s breath hitched as she knelt behind his head, her fingers brushing his hair. The fabric felt coarse and smelled faintly of chalk dust when she wrapped it over his eyes, knotting it painfully tight at the base of his skull. The world plunged into scratchy darkness.
Mrs. Henderson shifted her weight above him, her nylon-clad sole grinding harder against his mouth. Liam tasted the grit trapped in her tights—dust, grass, salt—as her toes flexed against his nose. Suddenly, Sarah’s bare foot pressed against his cheekbone. Her heel dug in sharply, contrasting her mother’s broader pressure. Liam felt every pebbled ridge of Sarah’s sole scrape sideways, leaving trails of dampness. She giggled as her toes pinched his earlobe. The smells intensified: adolescent sweat souring against adult musk, layered over the earthy lawn.
Liam’s bound legs jerked involuntarily. He tried curling his toes, but the rope dug deeper between them. Grass prickled against his soles. Sarah noticed—her fingers slid down his bare calf, nails trailing lightly. When she reached his ankle, she hooked her thumb beneath the rope cinching his big toes. Her touch lingered there, idle. Liam braced himself.
He felt the shift—Sarah leaning back onto her hands, her bare feet settling heavier against his face. The rough skin of her heel scraped his jawline. Then came the first feather-light stroke. Her fingertip traced his arch slowly, deliberately. Liam gasped against Mrs. Henderson’s nylon soles with his sock-filled mouth, his hips bucking upward. Sarah chuckled low in her throat. She dragged her fingernail along his sole again—this time harder. A tremor shot through him.
This was the ultimate degradation, humiliating torture. And he loved it.
I would love it, too. 
