Homecoming Interrupted

Peter trudged all the snow covered streets, leaning forward a little into the gusting wind. It figured that minutes after opting to walk the final distance between the train station and the family home, Mother Nature decided to dump all the snow. He gave a half grin at the mental thought, and pulled his scarf tighter around his face. Ah well. Nature couldn’t take away the fact that he was actually getting to come back home for Christmas, after three long years shut up in the university and its little town.

Peter’s examination period had, somehow, been luckily scheduled in the first week of the month long period. Having completed everything, he suddenly had a little over a month before his next study session began in the new year. Time enough that he could finally justify taking the train ride back home, to see his hometown. And surprise his family.

He chuckled mentally to himself. They would definitely be surprised since he’d given them the by-now familiar story of intensive studying and exams right up until Christmas Eve. And added some wistful musings on next year at least being hopefully free of school related commitments. He’d been suitably regretful and hopeful for next year. The same way he’d been for the last few times. So they likely would think he was still shut up in the school’s library, rather than slogging the last distance homewards. The looks on their faces when he came barging through the door.

He turned onto the long laneway that his house was located on. It stretched away beyond his sight, partly due to the gathering storm. The houses along here were pleasantly spaced out, each homestead having a decent amount of tree covered land. And the massive snow drifts built up from the wind and the valiant efforts of the local snow plowing folks.

Eyes downwards to protect against the gusting flurries he chanced to glance up as he neared the Morgen household. Out front, armed with a shovel, was Mrs. Lisa Morgen. Mother of his best childhood friend, Wendy Morgen. He had nearly missed her as she struggled around a pile of snow that had clearly been dumped by a snow plow. Peter stumbled across the street, raising an arm in greeting.

“Hi Mrs. Morgen!” He had to half shout the greeting through the wind.

She looked up and her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him, “Oh Peter! How wonderful to see you!” She forged through the snow to wrap her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug, “I thought you weren’t coming back this year?”

“Lucked out with my examination schedule.” Peter half-wheezed as he squeezed her in return, “So planning on surprising everyone with an unexpected appearance.”

“You haven’t even told your folks you’re coming home?”

“Nah. Makes for a better surprise.” He grinned, and she returned the smile as she stepped back from him, “How’s Wendy doing by the way?”

“Oh not too bad I think. She’s coming back for the holidays too, which is part of the reason I’m trying to shovel at least the entrance to the driveway.”

“No one’s home to help?”

She blew a breath out, “They’re all busy with other parts of our decorating and cleaning schedule. And Andrew, Mr Morgen that is, is having a bit of a nap just now.”

“Well, would you like some help with the drive?”

“Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that dearie,” Lisa squeezed his arm with another smile at him, then eyed the deepening snow around them, “Though I guess the help wouldn’t go amiss. Wendy’s arriving in a few hours, and I haven’t even begun to clean up the main floor because of this bloody mess the plow left me.”

Peter chuckled, “It’s no problem at all Mrs. Morgen, I’ll just need a spare shovel and I can pitch in and lend a hand.”

“Well you can have mine, I’ll go root another one out of the garage.” She handed off her shovel and made her way back up the drive towards the house. Peter turned back to the drift covering the entrance, and began to shovel it away onto the lawn to either side. The flurries had lessened a bit during their conversation, but the wind had picked up too.

As Peter shoveled he found his mind wandering back to his childhood spent in this neighbourhood. Tearing around the place in the summer, or building elaborate snow defences in the winter. To ward off other neighbourhood kids, or parents who were intent on enforcing curfew. He and Wendy, along with a rotating cast of other kids or their own siblings, had been inseparable. Building tree forts in the summer, hiking woodland trails in the spring and autumn, or constructing snow bastions in the winter, they had been a common sight in the neighbourhood.

As he flung a heavy load of snow his eye caught a particular tree that still stood on the front lawn. It was recessed slightly from the road, and in the summer would be partly obscured by bushes that grew thickly in the area. One particular summer evening surfaced in his mind as he looked at the tree. Wendy and he had been trying to avoid going indoors, because that would mean it was time for him to go home and to bed. So they had led Mrs Morgen on a merry chase all over the yard, always splitting up whenever she grabbed one so that inevitably she would have to let go to try to grab both, and then disappearing into the backwoods. And it had lasted for nearly an hour before she had disappeared inside, to re-emerge with several coils of rope.

Peter felt a little shiver in the small of his back. At the time it had been her way of winning their little game. A quick lasso toss, a tightening of the rope, and Peter had been brought down to the ground. Lisa had then gone after him in a flurry of rope, binding his ankles and wrists, before lashing him to the tree. When Wendy, after waiting for her mother to seemingly disappear to search for her, had crept in to try to free him, she too had been brought down by lasso. The two ne’er-do-wells had then been bundled inside, plonked down in front of the tv and left there to calm down.

A fresh gust of wind hitting Peter in the face brought him out of his reverie, and he set back to shoveling with a will. Of course that tree eventually became the ‘jail’ for new games of cops and robbers which got introduced. Wendy appeared fascinated with rope, for the purposes of making certain robbers couldn’t escape. And she usually ended up as the head cop, overseeing the imprisonment of however many neighbourhood kids failed to escape the law. He chuckled as a fresh memory came to him, of half a dozen boys and girls, including her sister, bound hand and foot while she made them recite over and over again various promises to never commit a crime again.

Ah, childhood.

The steady tramp of booted feet announced Lisa’s return. She gave him a silent grin and then set to shoveling with a will. Peter fell into an easy beat, as natural as breathing, as the old skills came back. He’d made quite a pretty penny shoveling driveways through the winter, and his body was well used to its particular rhythm.

Hours passed as they cleared away the front of the drive, and then enough space for a couple vehicles to park outdoors, and finally a path all the way up to the door. Peter leaned against the column supporting a small overhang by the door, breathing a little hard as he surveyed their work. Not too bad.

Lisa squeezed his arm again, “Thanks so much for stopping by to do this Peter! Why don’t you come inside to warm up a bit, hmm? I’ll make some of that hot cocoa that you used to love…”

Peter gave a tired grin, “Well I can’t say no to that Mrs. Morgen. Be nice to feel my toes again, that’s for sure! Lead on!”

She ushered him behind her and then entered the house. Peter took a few moments to adjust to the warmer lighting inside as he began to slowly ease out of his winter clothes. The place was just like he remembered. Perhaps a little more worn here and there, with an added piece of furniture or picture, but otherwise essentially the same. And it was not nearly as much of a hurricane as Lisa had implied, though there were a fair number of half unpacked boxes. Most of it seemed to be Christmas-themed as a good deal of the boxes were concentrated in the living room and front hall which appeared to be the final areas in need of festive ornaments.

“Alright, you just get your stuff off and go have a seat in there to warm up,” Lisa gestured off into the living room, “I’ll go put the kettle on, and then we can catch up a bit!”

 Peter finished shrugging off his coat, and shucking his boots, and then padded into the living room. He eased down onto one of the eminently comfortable couches, and let out a deep, pleased sigh. So many lazy summer days or cold winters, either before or after whatever outdoor games had been played, were spent in this room. He glanced down and grinned at the double container filled with all manner of comics, books, and magazines. Plenty an early morning spent reading those while waiting around for everyone to wake up.

He leaned forward to begin stuffing some of the detritus into an empty box, trying to tidy up a little bit. As Peter lifted up a couple empty cartons for Christmas lights, he spotted a small coil of rope, seemingly untangled and tossed aside. He reached down and gingering picked it up, absently spooling it around his hand. His mind was elsewhere. Back to another childhood memory.

It had been a high summer day. Well into summer vacation. Somewhere in between celebrating Canada Day and the start of whatever summer sports or activities he had signed up to do. The neighbourhood gang of kids had dwindled as some were bundled off to camp, or summer school, or what have you. Wendy, and the rest of her folks, were sticking around. And so Peter had come over, with one or two other friends, to rip around the place and generally have fun.

They had elected to play yet another round of cops and robbers, with Wendy and Peter both reprising their usual roles. He had actually managed to steal and hide their loot, a Canada flag hat with moose antlers, and had been sneaking away through the house when Wendy had leapt out at him. He had only had time for a strangled shout before she was wrestling him to the ground. He was no weakling, but she was like a damned spider monkey, swarming all over him. Eventually a pair of toy handcuffs were snapped around my wrists and, rules being the rules, Peter allowed himself to be led over to the couch. Wendy had left him there with stern orders “Not to move or else” and had dashed off to “find the blasted loot!”

Lisa had entered the room then, laughing in her gentle way at the situation. She had thumped down onto the couch next to him, idly flicking the television on to something, and grinned at him. Upon his answering grin she had casually leaned over and, with a cocked eyebrow, suddenly ran her finger up his side. He had jumped with a short bark of laughter, turning wide eyes towards her. She leaned back for a moment, fishing for something in her pocket, “Would you like to really be tied up? Then you couldn’t get away from my tickling!” She shook out some thin cord, probably from an old clothesline, and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Peter recalled being absolutely tongue tied, and had started to stammer something, when the thundering approach of Wendy down the stairs saved him from any verbal embarrassment. Moments before Wendy crashed into the room, triumphantly bearing the stolen hat, the rope vanished quick as a flash. With another quick little tickle to his sides which produced another yelp, Lisa leaned back as Wendy tackled Peter into the couch to celebrate her victory over crime.

He shook himself a little, bringing himself back to the present. He tossed the rope back down into the partially cleared morass of Christmas stuff. Distracted as he was as he tossed it, it was a bit more out in the open than before.

“Hot cocoa for my gallant helper!” Lisa’s announcement was shortly followed by her own entrance, carrying a tray featuring two steaming mugs of her finest. She set them carefully out, one in front of Peter and the other for herself. He eagerly sipped at the drink, the delicious warmth of Lisa morgen’s hot cocoa rushing through him. He settled back into the couch with a deep and satisfied sigh, clutching the drink in both hands.

“Still a hit then?”

Peter grinned at her, “Absolutely!”

They fell to talking then. Catching up after nearly four years away took some doing. There were Peter’s studies, and the experience of being away at university for so long. Trips he had taken, crazy nights he had had, the funny events at various part time jobs. Lisa passed along little tidbits of neighbourhood events. This person or that had moved. Some limited bits about Wendy, or her sister Elizabeth (Lizzy). All the while they sipped away at their really, truly delicious cocoa.

Lisa, while Peter was finishing up the last of his mug, suddenly pointed down at the floor, “Oh. Well that brings back some memories eh?”

Peter glanced down to see part of his spooled up rope bundle poking out from amidst the debris. He chuckled in agreement, “Y’know I’m surprised Wendy didn’t decide to be a cop or something with the number of times I ended up cuffed and in jail with her.”

Lisa smiled in return, “Well I suppose so.” She delicately placed her mug down on the table, “Do you remember that day when I found you in here with those silly plastic cuffs on?”

Peter grinned back at her, “I was just thinking of that when I found the rope actually.” He chuckled, “We were regular little terrors weren’t we?”

Lisa gave a shrug, “Not especially. Certainly nothing I couldn’t handle. But I wonder if you remember my little offer from that summer?”

He choked a little on the final dregs of his coca, and gave a stuttering sort of laugh, “Huh?”

“Oh come on Peter. You were sitting right there, hands cuffed behind you in those dinky little things, and I asked if you wanted to feel what it would be like to actually be tied up.” She edged a little bit closer, “So do you?”

“I…I…”

She giggled and poked him, “C’mon, I promise you’ll enjoy it!”

“But what about…”

“Everyone else is busy or sleeping. C’mon! You know you want toooo.” She grinned as she got a little sing-song towards the end.

Peter gave a nervous nod, placing his own mug onto the table. Maybe it was the warmth from the cocoa, or just the fact that it was Lisa Morgen, his best friend’s mom, but he felt both relaxed and oddly thrilled. He had really missed the childhood games that tended to end with him, or less often Wendy, tied up and kept that way for an hour or two. A certain peacefulness came with being restrained.

She gently took hold of his shoulders, turning him to face away from her, towards the large Christmas tree that was mostly decorated. Her hands trailed down his arms to softly grip his hands. Hands that were then slowly drawn behind him, and then, oooooohhh. He felt a little shiver run up his arms at the first silken caress of the ropes passing around, and around, his wrists. Again, and again, and again. And then, the ropes shifted, entwining between his wrists. Cinched. Peter bit his lip to stop the moan that he felt rising in his chest as the ropes dug home.

 “Stay right there sweetie, not done just yet.”

He felt her presence retreat as she stepped away, back only a few moments later with additional bundles of rope. His ankles and knees were the next to fall captive to her ropes. He watched her, entranced at this lady kneeling next to him calmly roping him up tight. Finished with his legs she rose gracefully to her feet, shook out another line, and began to cast another web around his arms and chest. Securing them snugly together. Peter’s breathing had become heavier at this point, verging on quiet little pantings, as the heat from the cocoa seemed to combine with his current situation and shorten his breath.

A steadying hand clasped his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze of understanding. Then another hand gripped his hip and eased him down to lie on the couch. An encouraging pat was given to his bound torso, and then she was raising his ankles up towards his rear with a bit of left over rope, threading them through his wrist bindings to form a snug hogtie. That was one thing too far for Peter’s self-control and he couldn’t prevent the soft moan that escaped his lips as the final knot was seated home.

Her hand ruffled his hair, a soft caressing touch, “It’s alright to feel sweetie. It’s ok. That’s what this sort of thing does to people.” Peter felt another moan escape him, and received another reassuring head pat, “It’s ok to feel that way sweetheart. One last bit now.”

A thick clean white rag was brought round in front of his face. Peter was trembling now with little shivers running up and down his bound body. This was…this was so much. More than he had ever thought could happen. Would happen. Summoning that last bit of resolve to see this through, he opened his mouth. Above him Lisa cooed in approval as she seated the gag in place, tying off the ends snugly behind Peter’s head.

“There now,” she stroked his forehead, and then his cheek, “Don’t you just look precious!”

Peter flushed, though he didn’t shy away from her gaze. She patted his bound arms again and stood up.

“I’ve got to get some more decorating done, but you just lie there and relax. You’ve had a long hard day of travel, which I’ve made longer with all that shovelling. So just enjoy your ropes for a bit, and let the stress of the day fall away into nothingness.” She bent down and gave the top of his head a quick kiss, and then bustled off. Before she left the room he flicked the television on, setting it to some channel filled with Christmas cartoons.

Lisa was off then. The very picture of a woman about to welcome family over for the holidays. Cleaning up, getting the cooking started, finishing up the decorations in the hall and living room. All perfectly normal, save for the bound and gagged boy in her living room. Peter lay there, luxuriating in the restriction of the ropes. He flexed inside their web, and gave muffled grunts and moans into his gag. Outside the blizzard really began to pick up, and the howling sounds of the wind, muffled as they were, further lulled Peter. Despite himself, despite the excitement that undeniably coursed through him at his present predicament, he found he just…couldn’t…keep…his eyes…open…

Twenty minutes peacefully passed in the living room, with little breaking the silence save for the wind gusting outside, the chatter or cartoon characters, and the quiet breathing of Lisa’s bound guest.

For her part, Lisa continued to tidy up the front hall, getting the last few decorations and boxes up. She had all the time in the world. With those last little tasks completed, and a final check that everything was cooking along nicely in the kitchen and that Peter was sound asleep on the couch, she wandered upstairs. Noises came down from there that, had Peter been awake, might have worried him. Noises that sounded fairly similar to the far quieter ones that he had been making before dozing off. Lisa’s arrival upstairs appeared to first raise the volume of those pleas, or entreaties, or simply expressions of desire, whatever they were. But then, rather rapidly, the noises died down. A few minutes after that, Lisa came trotting down the stairs, carrying a large box which she carefully placed down in the living room.

She popped the top open and slowly drew out a black rubber catsuit. She handled it for a few moments, stroking it softly, and eyeing Peter’s bound body. Laying the catsuit to one side, and giving his rump a little squeeze, she dug back into the box. Out came an assortment of leather straps, broad and long. A thick and involved rubber hood with attachments also was drawn out of the box, followed by an armbinder. A small finely carved wooden box was then withdrawn and settled beside the other bondage paraphanalia. Lisa picked up a nearby pair of bondage safety scissors and stood over Peter for a moment, as though considering him.

The consideration, or second thoughts, if that’s what it was, did not last long. Lisa bent down and began untying his roped up form, freeing him of the majority of his bondage. In short order Peter lay still on the couch, with only his gag and wrist bindings securing him. It would be enough. Lisa took the scissors to his clothes, carefully cutting away all vestiges of his garments and piling the ruins neatly inside the box so recently emptied of bondage supplies.

Lisa then began to gently rub a powdery substance onto Peter’s now naked body, ensuring she coated his legs liberally in the stuff, before moving on to his rump, back, and chest. Throughout this entire process Peter had been comatose, a happy effect of the cocoa and special ingredients Lisa had mixed in to his drink. Once she had finished coating him in the powder, Lisa began to ease the catsuit onto his body. Working with the ease of one who has long experience with such things, Lisa rapidly enclosed Peter’s lower half in restrictive rubber. She paused briefly to grab a couple of the leather straps which were efficiently buckled around Peter’s legs, placing him in a frogtie.

Next the wrist rope was picked apart, and spooled back up into Lisa’s pocket. The remainder of the catsuit was then pulled upwards, engulfing the rest of Peter’s body in rubber. Once the arms were properly in, with the hands poking out, she zipped the suit all the way up to its tapered end at the neck. Caressing his rubber coated body, and getting in another squeeze of his rear, she then picked up the armbinder. First one and then the other arm were fed into his yawning maw, bringing them close together behind his back. Soon enough that too was buckled and zipped up tight, firmly securing his arms behind his back and trapping him.

Next up she laid a hand, with a tiny quiver, on the rubber hood. This sort of bondage was, by far, her favourite. She shuffled over on her knees to get on the other side of Peter, and took a few moments to stroke his head and hair. As though she were reassuring him. Everything was going to be fine. And he will enjoy this. With that she brought the hood up, and gently tugged it over his drooping head. Making sure that it was fitted just so, she began to carefully cinch the back of it closed, firming up the rubber covering his head. It took three solid passes, and nearly ten minutes of tugging every line taut, before she was satisfied. The hood now pressed into his head like a second skin. Perfect.

She made sure that the thick blindfold on the hood was properly snapped shut, blocking out any hope of light. She listened carefully and was satisfied to hear his continued steady breathing. Bless that concoction, and everything that it brought her.

She brought up the panel gag which was a match for the hood. She gave the ballgag on its inside a deep kiss, and then gently began to press it into the receiving slot in the hood. A few snorts and grunts came from inside the hood, but she felt the thing go home as Peter’s jaw was wrenched apart to accommodate the gag. She paused then, cooing softly at him in wordless whispers. Urging him to just relax. And he did. Or seemed to. Didn’t wake up at any rate. His breathing, though a bit more ragged, did not change from its steady rhythm.

Finally, the last piece. Lisa turned back to the table and picked up the carved wooden box, gently lifting the lid. Nestled within on some elegant looking padding, was a black leather collar. A tag hanging from it was embossed with Peter’s name, in bold flowing letters. Lisa smiled at that. A nice touch. She brought it out and slowly wrapped it around the sleeping boy’s neck. Another wonderful moment that she always enjoyed. That final, irrevocable act of ownership. However fleeting or long lasting it might be, to collar someone was to own them. And she always savoured that heady draught. Tracing the collar now buckled around Peter’s neck, she got up and stored the box and all the other leavings away in the hall closet. Plenty of time for that later.

She settled down on the couch beside her tightly bound and catsuited guest, content now to simply watch Christmas cartoons while she ran a hand idly up and down his head, back, and arms. That he was so utterly helpless and within her power gave her a not insignificant thrill. She rested her hand on his back, measuring the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and closed her eyes in contentment.

Nearly half an hour passed with Lisa snuggled up to her captive guest before he finally began to stir beneath her tracing fingers. Beginning with a few whimpers and snorts, then suddenly with one full body shake, suddenly seemed to wake up.

Peter was groggily aware that something had changed. For one, his head felt tight. Hell, his whole damned body felt tight. And…shit his arms had definitely not been behind his back that stringently. What the hell was going on??

He moaned, and found that his cloth gag had been replaced with something harder and rubbery. He effected some struggling, but made no headyway against his bondage.

“Mmmmmmmppphhh!!!”

“Oh, did you enjoy your little nap?” Lisa’s voice dimly filtered through whatever was around his head. Lisa! What the heck had she done to him?

“Mmmpphhh?! Mmmfrrgg hmnnnmmmmhhh!” He began to thrash around, but she just giggled and began to rub and squeeze him through his rubber. His protests began to be edged with hints of moaning as he continued to wriggle around on the couch.

“Oh you silly thing, I cant understand a word you’re saying! No, stop thrashing around. It’s me. Lisa. You’re still here, in my house remember?” She was off the couch now, crouching down so that her head was level with his own, though he couldn’t see it, “I offered you a taste of what really being tied up would feel like, and you said yes.”

“nnopphh ikkkk iiiisssssss!”

“That’s hardly my fault, is it?” You were practically shivering with the desire to be in my ropes. But to really get a feel for this sort of thing…well. I have this gear for a reason.”

Lisa was about to continue when her phone suddenly began to buzz from its position on the table. She snatched it up and then settled down onto the couch, Peter’s hooded head cradled in her lap. She glanced at the caller ID. Wendy. Excellent.

“Hello sweetie, how are you? Oh yes, just putting the finishing touches on the house. Mmmhm? Well I’ll see you soonest then. Mmhm. Mmhm. I have a surprise for you too! Bye for now.” Lisa set the found down with a satisfied grin. Not that her dear little prisoner could see it. But it didn’t matter. His wants didn’t matter anymore. Not since he let her loop that first band of rope around his wrists. She was carrying through her plan, come hell or highwater. Speaking of which…

She wrapped her arms around him, drawing a surprised squeak from within his hood, and then eased him off the couch onto the floor. Drawing him up to kneel on his knees, she then rotated him to face her, with her legs splayed out to either side of him. Perfect.

She reached out a hand, tracing his hooded head. Blind and half deaf to his surroundings, Peter could only bunt back into her hand, moaning into his gag. She brushed a hand only his rubber enclosed cheek and gave a little clucking noise,

“Now then my gallant little helper, I suppose its time I told you your real role here today, tonight, and going forward.” She checked his whimper with more soothing caressing of his cheeks and head, her legs holding him close, “I always thought you and Wendy were rather cute together. She clearly thought so too from the number of times she finagled you into her ropes or toy cuffs. Especially as you got older.”

She chuckled and ran a hand down his chest, ending teasingly just above his groin and drawing another moan from poor Peter, “Given your constant presence over here, I’m pretty confident the feeling was mutual. Certainly you love being tied up.” A finger brushed his bulging erection under the suit and he gabbled incomprehensibly into his gag.

She giggled.

“Anyway, she’s coming home for the holidays too. You,” she booped his hooded nose, “Are my Christmas gift to her.”

For a moment Peter thought he had heard wrong through the hood. Then, eyes widening in the darkness he began to frantically thrash around. What the hell did she mean by that? He wasn’t a thing to be gifted!

Lisa just patted him on the head, “Are you wondering about your packaging darling? Where do you think Wendy got her interest in cuffing and tying others from? Naturally enough from being my daughter, and certainly once I decided to take a more involved approach with her exposure to bondage.”

Peter moaned into his gag, and Lisa chuckled, “What was important about you was that she always took such care to move gently with you. Other neighbourhood boys got tackled, roped, and left in the backyard as trophies. I had to intervene a few times to make sure boys weren’t kept for more than a day in her knots. Did she ever tell you what happened when you were gone away on that weeklong camping trip? I had to make some calls claiming to be hosting a sleepover that first full day you were gone I had so many squirming forms in the basement.”

She stroked his hooded head in a reassuring manner, “Not you though. You got fun little games, playful cuffs or ropes, and her unstinting attention. And you kept coming back, over and over, though neither of you ever seemed to pluck up the nerve to say anything, even as you both packed up for college.”

Lisa sighed, “But I’m tired of missed signals. So I decided to play matchmaker. Thus your restrictive attire.”

As if on queue there was some scrabbling at the door as Wendy arrived. Lisa plopped herself down on the couch next to Peter, one hand draped across him in ownership.

“Hi Mum,” Wendy came into the room, “I’m—” She paused to take a closer look at the bound form next to her mother, “Who is that?”

Lisa’s hand rubbed Peter’s hooded head, her confident smile solid on her face. “Why don’t you come have a seat next to me dear?”

Peter heard Wendy, confident always in control Wendy actually stammer for a moment. Lisa continued,

 “A mother doesn’t get a Merry Christmas at all? Just questions about some tied up boy. The manners on you now.”

A moment of silence. Peter pictured Wendy staring askance at her mother

“Well Wendy, as a matter of fact. This is dear little Peter from down the way. He stopped by to help me with the shovelling and, well, one thing led to another.”

“Why?” The single word was far too breathily said for much outrage to be contained within. Peter almost thought he heard…hope? He stayed stock still, apart from meekly shifting around in his bondage.

“Why? He’s my surprise Christmas present to you my dear. Dear, sweet little Peter, all wrapped up as your very own bondage toy. Look! I’ve even given him your tag.”

Peter heard footsteps as Wendy approached, sounding almost ginger in her movements. He felt her fingers give a soft tug around his collar as she examined the teg attached to it, inadvertently getting pulled forward a bit. He moaned into his gag, drawing a nervous giggle from Wendy.

The tag, not that he could see it, read: Property of Mistress Wendy Morgen

“Oh Mum!!” Wendy wrapped Lisa in a fierce hug, “Thank you thank you thankyouthankthankyou!!”

Lisa gave a delighted laugh.

And then Wendy crashed into Peter, wrapping him up in his own fierce hug. Squeezing around his bondage. He gave a mighty groan, though in frustration or pleasure at her reaction which had sealed his fate he had no true idea. The blindfold was eased off his eyes, and Peter finally got to see his longtime friend, and now perhaps something more. That fiery red hair he remembered so well was cut shorter now, just touching her shoulders. Dancing green eyes held a spark in them that, had he not been thoroughly gagged, Peter would’ve been hard pressed not to grin back. That was the same at least. She was gripping his shoulders now, and went in for another crushing hug.

 “Oh Mum thank you so much!!” She planted a deep kiss on Peter’s gag, and then more sprinkled around his head, “It’s what I’ve always wanted!”

“I’m glad,” Lisa gave her daughter’s head a kiss, and then Peter’s as well. As she rubbed the top of his head she continued, “I’ve set up downstairs for you to use as your room. My one rule is that he stays bound in some fashion. Those are the rules for slaves in this house.”

“That won’t be a problem.” There went any hope that Wendy might be more understanding of the insanity of the situation than her mother. She chuckled, “I don’t know that I can ever let him go.” The pure joy in her voice as she said it, and the smile that beamed down at Peter that blew much of his concern away.

“Now, you can sit here with him for a few minutes whilst I roust the rest of the family for supper. I don’t want him wailing, so you can set him up with the feeder.” With that Lisa disappeared for a few minutes, leaving Wendy to hold Peter. She clutched at him tightly, as though if she let him go he might vanish in a puff of smoke.

Lisa reappeared on the stairs, leading down a similarly rubber catsuited and utterly restrained male form. She strapped him down to a chair at the head of the table, then trundled back upstairs to fetch the next batch. Wendy gave Peter a squeeze, and then hopped up to give the bound figure a hug.

“Hi Dad! I’m home from school!” The bound figure, Mr Morgen evidently, gave a few happy though weary grunts of greeting. Wendy gave him a peck on the cheek, checked the straps holding him to the chair, then flounced back over to Peter. Taking him up to hold him again. Mr Morgen and Peter could do nothing but struggle around in their bondage.

Next down the stairs came Lisa, leading two bound girls with leashes. One Peter could immediately recognize as Lizzy, Wendy’s sister. Lizzy had avoided having a hood fitted over her, simply wearing a ring gag. Her eyes seemed to light up as well seeing Peter’s bound form, and Wendy’s possessive hold on him, darting back and forth between the two of them. Happy gurgles came flying out of her mouth, and Lisa had to give a sharp tug to her leash to keep her moving. The other woman was bound much the same as Peter, and indeed Mr Morgen.

As Lisa began to strap Lizzy down to a chair, the other woman standing nearby and struggling in her restraints, Wendy unbuckled Peter’s legs and tugged him over into the dining room. Down onto a chair of his own he went, round and round went a number of strpas. Firmly belting him in place. Out came Peter’s gag, but before he could get a word out of pleading or acceptance, Wendy jammed a plug penis gag into his mouth. He groaned at this, sucking on it a little in spite of himself. As she finished buckling the new gag, he looked over to where Lisa was methodically doing the same for the other two bound prisoners at the table. Mr Morgen had evidently been prepared upstairs already. Once all in place bags were rigged up next to all four of us, filled the blended bounty that Lisa had spent a good chunk of the day cooking. Turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy, all mixed together and now consumed via sucking through the small tube in each of our gags.

The strangest dinner that Peter had ever taken part in, but seemingly perfectly normal for the Morgens. The unidentified third girl was, as Peter discovered from the immediate conversation, a friend of Lizzy’s who was over from England. Having no family on this side of the pond, Lizzy had invited the girl over to spend the holidays with her. The two of them had managed to spend nearly two days together before, with one curious question about why Lizzy had a pile of rope in the corner, the English girl had sealed her holiday fate.

“I swear, when I went up to talk to Lizzy to talk to her about possibly having Peter over, this girl was completely roped up and in the process of grinding out Lord only knows what number of orgasm she was on. But Lizzy just couldn’t contain her excitement that her big older sis was finally going to get the boy of her dreams. All sorts of crazy ideas, most of which involved charging Peter down and roping him up in the middle of the street.” Lisa shook her head fondly at her youngest daughter, “So I had to take charge of her and her dear little friend too.”

The English girl, whose name Lisa hadn’t gotten from Lizzy before binding her, and subsequently was not interested in “having some slave girl jabber on”, was clearly also still getting used to the fact of her captivity. Even as she was sucking down her dinner, she was moving and struggling against the restraints. No tag dangled from her collar. Evidently she was not (yet) to be kept as property by one of the Morgen women. But there were still many days yet of Christmas holidays. If she had not done so already, no doubt she would soon reflect on how her one, innocuous question about rope had sent her careening down the path into tight rubber and leather bondage and on the verge of slavery to her friend. Or to be kept as a house slave by her friend’s mother. After all, what woman would not want a cute little bondage maid to do the cleaning while she attended to her thoroughly bound husband?

But her future, whether or enslavement or some degree of freedom, would not be decided tonight. Eventually dinner drew to a close. The bags of food were emptied. Lisa and Wendy finished their own food, and conversation naturally dwindled as each turned to their seat mates to eye them lustily. Lisa began by leading Mr Morgen back upstairs, informing him to a deep groan of relief that he had not only earned a night in her bed, but sexy times as well. As for the two girls, English would be properly caged with vibes going and a crooning enslavement track from Lisa whispering into her ear through the night. Lizzy would be chair-tied in position to watch her friend in the cage, her own vibrator hooked up and buzzing her through the night. Lisa checked with Wendy to make sure she wouldn’t mind freeing Lizzy in the morning as “I’ll be quite busy with your father. So you are in charge.”

Wendy, after agreeing to all this, led Peter on a leash down into the basement. Flicking the lights on peter’s eyes were greeted by a redone basement. Gone were the pleasant couches, television, and gaming systems of his youth. Instead a bondage dungeon, complete with all sorts of equipment, structures, and a full bed, greeted him. The queen-sized bed had a pile of restraints on it, whch Wendy carefully deposited on a nearby table, before shoving Peter onto the bed.

“Mmmmm, yes. This will do nicely.” She slipped into the bed next to him, spooning him. A finger twirled over his rubber encased nipples.

“So much to do. So much to show you.” Her hand tenderly cupped his jaw, and she planted a kiss on his rubber and collar enclosed neck, “Good thing I’ve got time. We’ve got time.”

She began to croon softly into his ear, while keeping up her tender stroking, “Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is sooooo delightful…”

Peter moaned into his gag, and she squeezed him tighter,

“And since we’ve no place to gooooooo”

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snooooooooow.”

 

 

Peter never did make it home for the holidays…