This is actually largely based on a true story that happened, but I've embellished on enough details to post it here. When I was about 13, I lived alone with my mom while my older sister was away at college. My mother, Kate, was beautiful; everyone knew it. I would sometimes catch my friends glancing at her when she came home from work. She worked in an office and often dressed very professionally, which us boys unknowingly took a liking to.

One day I asked if I could have some friends over for the evening, and my mom agreed as long as she was there to supervise. So later that day, my friends started to arrive, with Michael, Steve, and Lucas arriving first. A while later, both Jake and Clark showed up too, making six of us total. Just moments later, my mother arrived home from work, quickly catching the attention of most of the boys. She stepped through the front door wearing a dark gray buttoned blouse, a black pencil skirt, as well as black tights and high heels. I noticed Lucas and Michael, the two oldest boys, whispering about something with a mischievous grin, but thought nothing of it at the time. We all spent the next hour or so playing games and gorging on snacks, until Michael commented that we were out of soda. I asked my mother if she could run to the store and get us some more. She wanted to stay here to supervise, so I ended up being the one to make the trip. The store was only about a 10-minute walk away, so I made the trip pretty quickly, grabbing a couple 2-liters and heading back to the house.

Eventually I made it back to the house and went to open the front door, only to find that it was locked. I didn’t know why my mom would have locked the door since I wouldn’t be gone long, wondering if my friends had locked it instead. I curiously knocked on the door and waited for a response. After a minute or two, Lucas and Steve opened the door with stifled grins on their faces. They invited me in, and I asked why the door was locked; their only response was that his mom wanted to keep things more secure. Looking around, I noticed she wasn’t in the room and asked where she went. Michael then entered the room, saying that she was a bit tied up at the moment. I asked what he meant, and he beckoned me to follow him. We walked down the hall to the living room, where he gestured to a shocking sight in the middle of the room.

My mother sat in a kitchen chair, tightly bound, gagged, and blindfolded, completely helpless. My eyes went wide and my face flushed red as I demanded an explanation from my friends, the rest of them having slipped into the room. “That’s a story you’ll have to ask her,” he simply replied with a mischievous grin. “Look at her all helpless like that; she can’t move an inch.” The other boy chuckled and jeered at the mocking before beginning to shuffle out of the room and through the front door. Lucas patted me on the shoulder, whispering, “Have fun.” Once the boys all left, I remained in the room, so dumbfounded that I almost laughed.

I approached my mother and examined her predicament. She was still in her work clothes, except for her high heels, which had been discarded on the floor next to her. Walking behind her, I saw that her hands were covered in what appeared to be socks, with her wrists then being tightly wrapped in purple duct tape with a zip tie secured over several wraps of tape. Her elbows had been wrapped in tape so tightly that they nearly touched, and another zip tie was added on top. I saw more tape and zip ties securing her waist and arms to the chair, with more bindings above and below her chest. Next, her legs had been wrapped together and zip-tied at her ankles, calves, above and below her knees, and around her thighs and the lap of the chair. As some final touches, I noticed that the soles of her feet had been taped together and zip-tied, and her ankles had been pulled back and anchored to the underside of the chair. She was well and truly helpless, and I had no idea what to do.

Part of me just wanted to go demand apologies and explanations from my friends, but another part of me was entirely fascinated by seeing my mom like this. I watched her for a moment, seeing her chest rise and fall with her slow breathing. She seemed calm, all things considered, which further confused me. I quickly went back to the kitchen and got a pair of scissors, approaching my mother from behind. I first removed the silk scarf that had been securely tied over her eyes, causing her to blink and look over her shoulder at me as I snipped through the bonds securing her to the chair. Her deep green eyes contained many emotions as I met her gaze, but I found myself unable to decipher her thoughts. Next, I went to remove her gag, beginning to unwind the tape from around her head under her hair. After undoing what felt like a dozen wraps, the tape finally separated from her lips, but she remained quiet. That was when I saw the massive wad of cloth that had been stuffed into her mouth under the tape. I removed the stuffing from her mouth, and as she sighed and worked her jaw, I discovered that it was a pair of her tights. I wondered how my friends got these, but before anything else, my mom cleared her throat, and I turned to face her. "Are you going to finish untying me?” She asked casually, wriggling a bit in her remaining bonds. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply began cutting away at her bondage until she was free.

She stood up and stretched, casually thanking me for freeing her and plucking the pair of tights from my hand. “What’s with those? What happened while I was gone? Why were you tied up?” I hit her with a barrage of questions, half expecting a long, serious lecture. Instead, to my surprise, she simply answered, “These are tights, like the kind I’m wearing; they used them to stuff my mouth for the gag. While you were gone, they tied me up. Because they wanted to.”

My jaw must have been hanging because my mom chuckled, picking up her heels and walking towards her bedroom. “Mom, did you let them do this?” I finally asked, my mind racing with ideas of what might have happened.

She turned to me with a playful smirk, simply responding, “With how helpless they made me, would it have mattered?” She then entered her bedroom and closed the door, the sound of the shower coming on a moment later. I stood there dumbfounded, a multitude of emotions racing through my mind. I decided to try and sleep on it but only ended up laying awake, the image of my tightly trussed-up mother playing over and over in my head. Even the next morning, she refused to elaborate, and any attempts to get information from my friends proved useless as well. Was that it, then? I wondered: would life go on like that never happened? It’s safe to say quite the opposite happened, and it certainly would not be the last time I saw her like that.