Insurance Scam (F/FF)

[suedenym]

"Pass the damn pliers." Susan's voice cut through the muggy stillness of the garage. Sweat beaded on her forehead, pink hair plastered to her temples. She didn't look at her mother.

Maggie fumbled in the toolbox, fingers brushing against cold metal and greasy rags. Her knuckles were scraped raw from yesterday's failed attempt to fix the leaking sink. She handed the pliers over without a word, watching her daughter's tense bottom in tight leggings, where it poked out from under the sink, thecsoles of her feet grimy and black.

Susan wrenched at a stubborn pipe fitting, her shoulders trembling with the effort. A sharp *crack* echoed in the cramped space, followed by a hiss of escaping water that sprayed her face and soaked her white vest top, turning it transparent. "Goddammit!" she spat, scrambling back as the leak became a gushing torrent across the concrete floor. Maggie sighed, the sound heavy with years of patched-up disappointments and mounting bills. This was their life now: one crumbling disaster after another.

Jan arrived precisely at six, her red dress a splash of defiant color against the grimy kitchen. Her heels clicked sharply on the wet tiles as she surveyed the chaos – the flooded floor, the defeated slump of Maggie's shoulders, Susan angrily wringing water from her hair. "Insurance scam, Mags?" Jan asked softly, her gaze lingering on the hopelessness etched on her friend's face. "Seems drastic." Maggie met her eyes, a flicker of desperation hardening into resolve. "We're out of options, Jan. Truly out."

“OK. Well younfint eant to be too uncomfortable. Lets go,to,themlounge.”

Maggie led them into the dimly lit living room, the sagging sofa and stained caroet smelling faintly of dust and despair. Susan perched stiffly on the armrest, crossing her black-legging-clad legs, her damp vest clinging coldly. Jan kicked her heels off , her admission yo protect the worn carpet as she pulled a thick roll of silver duct tape from her oversized purse. The metallic *screech* of the tape unrolling was startlingly loud in the quiet room; Susan flinched, a sharp intake of breath hissing through her nose.

“OK. Hands behind yiur backs.” Maggie held her wrists behind her, the lines on her hands deep crevices in the low light. Her bare feet shifted nervously on the carpet.

"Make it look real, Jan," she whispered, the tremor in her voice belying her resolve.

Susan watched Jan wrap the cold, sticky tape around her mother's thin wrists, the silver gleaming under the single bare bulb. Maggie winced as the adhesive bit into her skin, her knuckles whitening. Susan's own breath hitched—this wasn't pretend anymore. The scent of mildew mixed with Jan's cheap perfume as Jan knelt behind Susan. "Your turn, kid," Jan murmured, her fingers surprisingly gentle as she guided Susan's hands behind her back. The tape pulled Susan's shoulder blades tight, the pressure sharp and immobilizing. She felt the rough weave of her leggings against her knees and tasted a metalic tinge—she’d bitten her lip.

Jan worked methodically, pulling Maggies elbows close together with three tight loops. The tape sank deep into Maggie’s khaki shirt, creasing the fabric as she wound round her shoulders, below her boobs and round her tummy, pinning her arms to her back. Maggie gasped, a muffled sound against the sock gag as Jan stuffed a damp white gym sock in her mouth. Susan gagged on her turn, the cloth thick and suffocating against her tongue. Tape followed instantly—a rough strip sealing her lips shut, pressing the sock deeper. She tasted adhesive and salt, tears pricking her eyes as panic clawed its way up her throat. Beside her, Maggie made a low, animal sound of distress against her own gag.

Susan flinched as Jan moved back to her. The tape cinched her elbows like a vise, grinding bone against bone, something her mother did not have to contend with, lacking her daughter’s flexibility. She could feel every ridge of her own ribs beneath her soaked vest as Jan wound tape horizontally around her torso—over her shoulders, across her collarbones, then twice around her upper chest. The constriction stole her breath; her lungs fought for shallow sips of air. Dust motes danced in the lamplight, settling on her bare arms.

Jan crouched before Maggie, her red dress pooling around her knees on the worn carpet. With swift, practiced motions—learned where? Susan wondered—she bound Maggie’s bare ankles together with overlapping strips of silver tape. The adhesive bit fiercely into delicate skin above her Achilles tendon. Maggie whimpered through her sock gag, toes curling reflexively against the pressure. Jan shifted higher, wrapping Maggie’s knees tightly together, forcing her legs straight, the denimmof her jeans bunching painfully beneath the tape. Then came Maggie’s thighs—thick bands pulled taut above and below the knees, pinning her legs in a rigid, unnatural line, leaving her utterly helpless as she lay back against the sofa.

Susan watched, heart pounding against the constricting bands around her own torso, as Jan turned to her. "Lift your feet," Jan instructed, voice low. Susan obeyed, the fabric of her black leggings whispering as she raised her grimy soles. Cold tape encircled her ankles first—tight, unyielding coils that crushed bone and tendon. Then Jan wound tape above her knees, below them, and finally around her thighs, the layers biting deep into the stretchy fabric. Susan gasped; the pressure amplified the ache in her shoulders and chest, making every shallow breath a battle. Her legs were fused together, immobilized from hip to ankle, leaving her sitting in the carpet next to her equally imobilized mother, unable to,complain aboutbher discomfort, like a bound doll.

Jan retrieved two more socks—one faded grey cotton, one bright pink athletic—from her purse. Maggie stiffened , the first sock filled her mouth, muffling her ragged breaths. Susan’s jaw clenched instinctively when the pink fabric touched her lips; it smelled faintly of stale sweat and detergent. Jan placed one sock over each woman’s eyes. Tape,followed,wrapped,around their heads, over their hair, holding sock blindfolds in place and re-inforcing the gags in their mouths.

The world vanished into muffled, scratchy darkness for Susan. She heard only her own frantic heartbeat thudding against the tight tape encircling her chest, the rasp of her breath through her nose, and the terrifying silence beside her where her mother lay. The sock pressed coarse fibers against her eyelids. Dust tickled her nostrils. The metallic tang of fear coated her tongue. Panic surged, a cold wave threatening to drown her. She tried to thrash, but the tape dug viciously into her shoulders, ribs, ankles, thighs—every movement punished instantly, a sharp reminder of her utter helplessness. She was frozen, blind, mute, cocooned in suffocating pressure. But strangely, she found the situation exciting.

Jan's stockinged feet padded softly on the carpet, moving away. She spentba few minutes gathering the valuables and cash Maggie had carefully sorted earlier as she and Susan had “ransacked” their own house. She knocked over a table lamp on her way oir for anotjer air of reality, then the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing.

Silence descended, thick and absolute, broken only by Maggie's shallow, ragged breathing nearby and Susan's own choked gasps. The reality slammed into Susan: they were alone, bound tight, utterly vulnerable. The insurance scam felt horrifyingly real now. Every creak of the old house settling, every distant car engine outside, became amplified threats in the suffocating dark. Susan strained against the tape binding her wrists behind her back, the adhesive tearing at her skin. Futile. She felt sweat trickle down her temple, mingling with the dampness from her soaked vest top still chilling her skin beneath the constricting bands. The scent of mildew, duct tape adhesive, and Jan's cheap perfume lingered, sharp and cloying. She tried to scream against the thick sock gagging her, producing only a pathetic, muffled groan that vibrated painfully in her throat. Beside her, Maggie jerked violently, her bound legs thumping dully against the sofa cushions. A low, continuous whine escaped her gag – pure animal terror. Susan felt it echo in her own chest.

Maggie's mind raced faster than her struggling limbs. *Jan tied us up tighter than discussed. And the elows……god, she crushed them.* The tape dug deep, unforgiving into her bare skin above her Achilles tendons, and the thick bands cinching her thighs and knees felt like industrial restraints, far exceeding the messy, simulated struggle they'd vaguely planned. Panic clawed at her throat, thick and cold. Had Jan misunderstood? Was this a betrayal hiding beneath a veneer of friendship? Every nerve screamed danger. Yet, beneath the icy fear, a strange warmth bloomed low in her belly. The helplessness, the sheer pressure binding her limbs straight and immobile against the worn sofa fabric, the rough texture of the sock gag filling her mouth… it sparked an unfamiliar, forbidden flicker. She hated it. She craved it. Her hips shifted involuntarily against the cushions, a tiny movement instantly punished by the tape digging into her ribs and hips. She froze, mortified by the confusing surge amidst the terror.

Susan gasped against her pink sock gag, the stale taste overwhelming. The tape binding her elbows behind her back felt like steel cables welded to bone, grinding with every shallow breath she managed past the constricting bands crushing her ribs and breasts. Her shoulders screamed in agony, tendons stretched to snapping point, the unfamiliar ache a stark counterpoint to the icy numbness creeping into her bound feet. The grime from the garage floor felt permanently etched onto her soles now, cold and rough against the carpet pile. Fear was a live wire sparking along every nerve: trapped, blind, utterly vulnerable. But beneath the primal terror, something else pulsed – hot, insistent, terrifyingly alien. The pressure of the tape encircling her torso, the immobilizing tightness pinning her legs together… it ignited a sharp, unexpected throb low in her belly. A flush crept up her neck. *No, not possible,* she mentally recoiled, straining uselessly against her bonds, the friction only amplifying the sensation. The thrill was undeniable, a forbidden current surging against the tide of panic.

Beside her, Maggie writhed against the sofa cushions, a trapped animal muffled by grey cotton. The sock gag scraped her tongue, thick and suffocating, forcing her breaths into frantic snorts through her nose. Tape dug like knives into her bare ankles and thighs, immobilizing her legs completely. The pressure on her pinned arms sent sharp jolts through her shoulders, yet… a different heat bloomed deep within. The helplessness was absolute, terrifying, yet somehow *intoxicating*. She felt every ridge of the sofa fabric pressing against her, every constriction of tape around her torso through her shirt. Her hips shifted microscopically, seeking… something. *Stop it! Jan went too far… she tied us like prisoners!* The thought was a chilling splash of reality. But the visceral sensation of profound vulnerability, of being utterly controlled, persisted, warm and liquid against the cold dread. Her fingers, numb and tingling behind her back, instinctively curled, blindly seeking purchase, anything – her daughter’s hand, the tape edge, freedom.

What sadistic motive had Jan had, was she into this more than she had admitted. Did she jntend to really rob them? To have them kidnapped? Or did Jan hide some secret fetish for leaving her and her daughter biind struggling, sufferring? This was far tighter than a fake robbery needed to be, so restrictibe. Everybpiece of tape perfectly placed to restrain, becimpossibe to remover, cause just enough discomfort and suffering to……..to turn her on. Gid was Maggie really a sibmissive masochist? She had never been tied jp vpbefore, she had seen pinkmfluffy handcuffs, joked about spanking but…..l.she was actually enjoying this. How? And how did Jan know so. Uch about thing her and her daughter up. Almost as if she had practiced.

The silence pressed down, thick and suffocating, broken only by Maggie's frantic snorts through her nose and Susan's choked, shallow breaths. Dust motes danced unseen in the stale air, coating Susan's nostrils. She strained against the tape binding her wrists, feeling the adhesive rip tiny hairs from her skin. Futile. Her shoulders felt like they were tearing apart, a deep, grinding agony radiating down her arms. Her numb fingers, trapped behind her back, brushed against something familiar – the rough fabric of her mother's jeans leg. *Mom.* Susan's mind screamed the word, a silent plea. She scrabbled blindly with her fingertips, the sensation distant and tingling, like touching through thick gloves. She found the edge of the duct tape binding Maggie's ankles. Desperation fueled her. She hooked a clumsy fingertip under the sticky edge, pulling weakly. The tape didn't budge from her Mum’s bare ankles. Maggie jerked violently beside her, understanding the touch. A muffled groan vibrated against her own gag. Maggie pushed her own bound feet towards Susan’s hands, her bare toes stretching blindly, grimy soles brushing Susan’s numb fingertips. Maggie’s toes curled, seeking purchase on Susan’s skin, a silent signal. *Try mine.* Susan shifted her aching torso, an agonizing millimeter at a time, bringing her own numb fingers closer to Maggie’s bound ankles. Her fingertip found the cold, hard ridge of Maggie’s ankle bone above the thick silver band. She pressed, blindly fumbling for the tape edge, her movements hampered by the crushing pressure around her own elbows and torso.

Maggie felt Susan’s clumsy touch against her bare ankle, a spark of connection in the terrifying dark. She pushed her bound legs harder towards her daughter, the tape biting fiercely into her thighs and knees. Every movement sent sharp jolts through her immobilized limbs. She strained her own bound hands behind her back, fingers stiff and cold, blindly reaching. Her knuckles brushed Susan’s leggings. She wormed her fingers lower, scraping against the rough carpet, searching frantically for Susan’s ankles. *Find the tape.* Her mind chanted it like a prayer. Her fingertip snagged on the overlapping edge of tape binding Susan’s ankles together. Hope flared, brief and desperate. She hooked her fingernail under it, pulling with all the strength her awkward position allowed. The tape stretched infinitesimally, the adhesive pulling at Susan’s leggings and skin beneath. Susan gasped against her pink sock gag, the sound muffled but urgent. Maggie tugged again, her own shoulders screaming protest. Nothing. The tape held fast, unforgiving. Tears of frustration welled behind Maggie’s sock blindfold, soaking into the coarse cotton pressed against her eyelids. Her numb toes stretched again, brushing Susan’s fingers still trapped near Maggie’s ankle tape. A silent message passed: *It’s hopeless.*

Four hours later, Maggie lay perfectly still, face diwn, exhaustion a lead weight pressing her into the scratchy rug. The agony in her shoulders had dulled to a deep, constant throb, merging with the fierce cramps in her pinned arms and the burning pressure around her hips and thighs from the tape. Every shallow breath rasped past the damp sock filling her mouth, tasting of stale cotton and despair. Dust coated her nostrils, thick and choking. The sock blindfold felt like sandpaper against her eyelids, the darkness absolute and suffocating. Beside her, Susan’s breathing was shallow and uneven, punctuated by tiny muffled whimpers that vibrated through the gag. Her own legs, fused together from hip to ankle, felt alien and numb. Sweat had dried cold and sticky beneath her soaked vest top, trapped under the layers of constricting tape encircling her torso. The metallic tang of fear had long been replaced by the sour taste of utter defeat. The initial frantic panic had drained away, leaving a terrifying emptiness. Only the relentless pressure of the bonds remained, a brutal reminder of their helplessness. *Jan betrayed us,* the thought echoed dully. *She’s not coming back.*

Susan floated in a hazy limbo between agony and numb dissociation. The sharp pain in her shoulders had subsided into a deep, grinding ache, every shift – however microscopic – sending fresh jolts through her immobilized limbs. The tape binding her elbows felt fused to bone, the bands crushing her ribs making each breath a shallow, painful gasp. Her legs, bound straight from thighs to ankles, were dead weights, pins and needles pricking fiercely whenever she dared flex a toe. The grime from the garage floor felt permanently etched into the soles of her feet, pressed cold against the carpet. The pink sock gag was a sodden, suffocating mass, its stale sweat taste overwhelming. Tears had long soaked into her sock blindfold, the coarse fibers sticking painfully to her lashes. Silence pressed in, thick and heavy, broken only by her own ragged breaths and her mother’s muffled, shallow gasps nearby. The desperate struggle to reach Maggie, the frantic scraping of numb fingers against unyielding tape, felt like a distant memory. Hopelessness was a cold stone in her chest. *We’re going to die like this,* she realized with chilling clarity. *Bound, gagged, blind… forgotten.*

The distinct *click* of the front door latch snapping open sliced through the suffocating stillness like a gunshot. Both women froze. Susan’s heart hammered against the constricting bands encircling her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror. Boots scraped heavily on the hallway linoleum – heavy, deliberate footsteps, sharp and unfamiliar. Not Jan’s soft padding. Then, a sound that flooded Susan with dizzying relief and instant dread: the crackling static and clipped, distorted voices of a police radio. "Dispatch, this is Unit Four. Arrived at 27 Sycamore Drive. Possible 10-31 in progress. Requesting backup." The voice was male, calm, professional. Maggie jerked violently beside Susan, a muffled groan escaping her sock-filled mouth, her bound legs thumping weakly against the sofa leg. Rescue! But the panic surged anew – *How do we explain this?*

[LunaDog]

*How do we explain this?*

How indeed?

[Janbound]

Wow, lovely, the horror of finding themselves absolutely helpless.