Heather had finally decided to get on with her life again. She’d had enough of moping around the flat on her own.

The divorce had been really messy; her husband had used her drinking as an excuse to get full custody of their daughter, Rachael.

She had tried to keep in touch but for the last few weeks the number had been no longer in service. Her husband must have stopped paying for it, or he’d turned her daughter against her. She didn’t blame him; she realised what an idiot she had been due to the alcohol. However, the shock of the divorce had had one good result; she was now sober and had been for three months. She’d been going to AA meetings and got all the things to prove it.

She had resigned herself to the fact that she’d probably never see her daughter again. She’d tried, a few times, at the beginning, and her own daughter had taken out a restraining order against her.

Right now, though, she felt she could really do with a break, so she booked herself a weekend break on the coast and headed off…

The first few days were fine; a bit wet, but nothing unusual. She found a few interesting shops and art galleries to look in and really enjoyed herself.

It was the third day that really shocked her…

She was walking down a backstreet back to her hotel when she passed some disused, boarded up shops. Trenton Gate had its own homeless problems, like most places these days; someone was sleeping in one of the shop doorways. The young woman looked vaguely familiar…

The woman stirred and went to rearrange her sleeping bag. Heather shrieked, a strangled gasp that was full of pain. Tears streamed down her face. The woman was her daughter, Rachael…

She was in a real state. She was dressed as a goth, but what a goth would wear if she was also a hooker. Latex kilt, fishnet tights, tartan top and a choker, as well as platform boots. It was all totally out of character, as Rachael was normally a neat and tidy woman, almost businesslike in her appearance.

Heather rushed over.

“Rachael! My god, what’s happened to you?”

“Why the fuck would you care! You walked out on me!”, cried Rachael.

“You took out a restraining order against me!”, cried Heather. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you now!”

“I didn’t!”, cried Rachael. “Dad said you didn’t want to see me anymore. He said you were fed up with me trying to stop you from drinking.”

“I only got worse because of you refusing to see me!”, Heather cried. “However, the break has helped me. I’m sober now. Have been for three months.”

“I’m glad it’s helped someone!”, said Rachael, bitterly. “I’ve been living on the streets for about the same time.”

She turned to face Heather…

Heather gasped again, then started crying. All Rachael’s clothes were locked on; Heather could see padlocks everywhere.

“Do you think I want to dress like this? This is the costume for the club I now have to work at. They are the only place that would give me a job as I’m on the streets. That reminds me, I’ve got a shift starting at five.”

“The fuck you have!”, cried Heather. “I’m taking you back to my hotel with me, then you’re coming home with me. We can sort the legal mess out later.”

“I can’t, mum!”, Rachael cried. “They’ve got the keys to all this. You can only see part of it. I’ve also got a chastity belt and bra on, and that’s locked as well. That only gets undone when I’m at the club, working.”

“Right, then. Let’s go.”

“What? To the club? Are you crazy?”

“Nope. I’m damn well getting my daughter back. Your father is going to have hell to pay.”

“Who do you think runs the club…!”

Heather was seething.

Despite Rachael’s pleading, Heather refused to leave her side and the pair walked to the club together.

The bouncer at the staff entrance tried to stop her. Big mistake…

One moment he was standing there looking confident, the next he was lying in the alley, out cold. Rachael had not even seen her mum move…

“Shall we?”, Heather said…

As soon as Rachael walked in, someone said “The boss wants you upstairs; and who the fuck is this?”

“The President of mind your own business”, said Heather, decking the man with one punch.

Rachael was developing a healthy amount of respect for her mother…!

The pair strode into the boss’s office.

“Heather!? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Keys. Now. I won’t ask again.”

“Why the hell should I? We’re divorced, and she wants nothing to do with you.”

“That’s not true, dad!”, cried Rachael. “This was all your damn idea! Also, if I’m here voluntarily, why do I need to be locked into all this shit? Answer me that one!”

While the boss had been distracted, Heather had silently crept up behind him. She suddenly grabbed him in a very strong choke hold…

“If you want your neck to remain intact, hand me the damn keys!”, she cried, squeezing.

“Can’t breathe… need air…”

“I’m not seeing the keys yet…”

The boss scrabbled in a drawer and pulled out a keyring.

“The big one… chastity gear… the little one… padlocks…”, he gasped.

Heather spun him round, then kneed him in the nuts as hard as she could. The boss gasped, then slumped, unconscious.

“What am I going to wear if I take this gear off?” Rachael asked.

Heather smiled wickedly…

When Heather left the club, Rachael was alongside her, wearing a neat business suit, looking much more presentable. She’d even got rid of her goth makeup and tidied her hair. Heather looked her over.

“That’s more like it”, she said.

“Where’s my old gear, the stuff I was wearing before? You grabbed it away as soon as I took it off, and threw me these clothes that you found from… Oh no. You didn’t…!”

Rachael started giggling, then laughing, as did Heather.

“Oh yes, I did. I even did his makeup…! His dick is probably a bit squashed under the belt, but that’s his tough shit.”

Heather had dressed her ex completely in Rachael’s goth outfit and locked it all on. She’d given Rachael his suit to wear instead. She’d also taken the keys with her…

“You BITCH!!!”, came the cry from upstairs in the club, as they left…

“Ah, he’s woken up”, said Heather. The pair roared their heads off, again, as Heather dropped the keys down a nearby drain…

As Rachael had supposedly asked for the restraining order in the first place, she was easily able to get it cancelled, proving she now had no problems being with her mother. Her evidence that she was treated as a slave (Heather had taken before and after photos of Rachael as a goth slave) as well as proving that her father ran a brothel was enough to get custody transferred to Heather, especially as Heather was now sober and could prove it.

The only problem now was making enough room in Heather’s flat for Rachael to sleep.

“I don’t mind sofa surfing for a while”, she said. “Especially if it’s your sofa.”

“Ok, kiddo”, said Heather.

“One more thing, mum. Can you teach me to fight like that…?”

“Didn’t I tell you I was a lethal weapon?”, Heather asked. “No, I wouldn’t have. Secrets and all that. I’m Special Forces, Retired…”

Rachael’s eyes opened wide…