the punishment (f/F)

[danper140]

Julia tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, her green eyes scanning the living room mirror with a hint of worry. At 38, she was still that stunningly beautiful woman who turned heads, but these past few days, Robert's absence weighed on her. Her husband, away on a business trip to London, had left her alone with their daughter Victoria for an entire week. The house, a beautiful Haussmannian apartment in Paris's 16th arrondissement, seemed emptier without his confident steps and morning jokes.

Victoria, 14 years old, was a lively teenager with the same green eyes as her mother and boundless energy that made her seem like a whirlwind. That morning, as Julia prepared breakfast—fresh croissants and orange juice—Victoria came bounding down the stairs, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Mom!" she called out excitedly, sitting down at the table. "Is Dad still in London? When's he coming back?"

Julia smiled, placing a plate in front of her. "Friday evening, sweetie. He called yesterday; he's swamped with meetings. And you, ready for school?"

Victoria shrugged, biting into her croissant. "Yeah, whatever. Hey, Mom... Since Dad's not here and you're all alone with me, can I invite some friends over this weekend? Like, Lola, Sarah, and maybe Emma? We could have a sleepover, watch movies, eat pizza... Please!"

Julia hesitated for a moment, but the idea of the house filled with teenage laughter appealed to her. She felt a bit isolated without Robert, and it could be a good distraction for Victoria, who seemed a little stressed lately.
"Okay, why not?" she replied with a laugh. "But no mischief, okay? And you clean up everything afterward. I'll order the pizzas myself."

Victoria jumped for joy, kissing her mother on the cheek. "You're the best! Thanks, Mom! I'll tell them right away!"

The day passed quietly. Julia worked a bit from home—she was a freelance graphic designer—and Victoria came back from school around 4 p.m., all excited about the sleepover. But in the late afternoon, as Julia tidied her daughter's desk to prepare the guest room, she came across a crumpled paper slipped under a book: the trimester report card.

She unfolded it, and her heart sank. The grades were disastrous. Math: 4/20. French: 7/20. History: 5/20. And an overall average barely above 8. Comments like "Lack of effort" and "Unexcused absences" dotted the boxes. Victoria hadn't said anything, of course. Julia felt a wave of anger rise, mixed with worry. How could she have let this slip?

That evening, during dinner—a simple roast chicken with vegetables—Julia placed the report card on the table, face up.

"Victoria, explain this to me, please," she said in a calm but firm voice, her green eyes fixed on her daughter's.

Victoria paled, setting down her fork. "Mom... It's nothing, just a bad trimester. I'll make it up!"

"A bad trimester? Look at these grades! 4 in math? You know how much your father and I emphasize studies. And this sleepover..."

Victoria understood immediately. "Wait, Mom, you're not going to cancel because of this?! I've already told my friends yes!"

Julia shook her head, crossing her arms. "Yes, exactly. No friends over until your grades improve. You're going to study this weekend, and we'll talk about it with your father when he gets back."

Victoria jumped up, tears in her eyes, red with anger. "That's not fair! You said yes! You're always like this, changing your mind! Dad would have let me!"

"Victoria, sit down and calm yourself," Julia replied, her voice harsher. "This isn't a random punishment. Your results are catastrophic, and you know it."

"I don't care! You're the worst mom in the world!" Victoria yelled, before storming up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.

Julia stayed there, alone at the table, the crumpled report card in her hand, listening to her daughter's muffled sobs upstairs. Victoria was very angry.

Victoria slammed her bedroom door so hard that the picture frame on the wall shook. She threw herself onto her bed, fists clenched, face buried in the pillow to muffle a scream of rage. How could her mother do this to her? Right before the weekend, after saying yes! Tears streamed down her cheeks, more from anger than sadness. "It's unfair!" she muttered through gritted teeth, kicking the air.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. An hour passed, maybe more. The silence of the house was oppressive; she could vaguely hear her mother clearing the dishes downstairs, as if nothing had happened. Victoria rolled onto her side, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn't going to let this happen. No way. Her friends were counting on her, and canceling now? Unthinkable. Lola had already planned the movies, Sarah the face masks... No, she had to find a way.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind, crazy, bold, almost unreal. Subdue her mother. Neutralize her just enough to invite her friends without interference. She sat up abruptly, heart pounding. In her closet, there was that gym bag full of ropes—strong nylon ropes she'd bought for a school project on nautical knots last year. They were still there, forgotten at the bottom, with carabiners and everything.

But a shiver ran through her. It wouldn't be easy. Her mother, Julia, was a former amateur boxing champion. At 38, she still trained three times a week at the neighborhood club, and her reflexes were sharp as blades. Victoria wasn't bad herself—she'd been taking boxing lessons for two years to impress her dad—but against her mom? She'd have only one chance, maybe two, before getting taken down. A direct confrontation? Suicide.


She needed to be clever. Ingenious. Use surprise, diversion. Maybe lure her into the bedroom under a pretext, or take advantage of a moment when her back was turned...
Victoria crept down the stairs on tiptoe, her heart pounding so hard she feared her mother could hear it from the living room. The gym bag, heavy with nylon ropes, hung from her shoulder. She'd opened it in her room, pulled out two pre-cut lengths already tied into slipknots—a chair knot learned for the school project, perfect for tightening quickly and firmly. She took a deep breath, pushing away the fear. Element of surprise. One chance.

In the living room, Julia was sprawled on the couch, tea in hand, scrolling through her phone. She wore her tight black T-shirt, the one with the faded logo of her old boxing club, pale pink leggings that highlighted her muscular legs, and black knee-high socks. Her brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, exposing her neck. Perfect.

"Mom?" Victoria called in a trembling voice, forcing it to sound worried. "There's a problem... The washing machine is leaking in the laundry room. There's water everywhere!"

Julia frowned, setting down her phone. "What? Again? I called the technician last week..." She jumped up, used to handling household emergencies. "Show me."

Victoria led the way down the narrow hallway to the laundry room, her socks muffling her steps on the parquet floor. She felt the warmth of her mother right behind her—too close, too fast. Calm down. Wait for the right moment.
The laundry room was cramped, lit by a bare bulb. The washing machine stood against the wall, and Victoria had taken care, five minutes earlier, to spill a bit of soapy water in front of the machine—just enough to make it believable.

"Look, there!" she said, pointing to the floor, her voice high-pitched. Julia stepped forward, bending over with hands on her knees, peering at the puddle. Her ankles were slightly apart, her back arched, her attention fixed on the machine.

Now.

Victoria dropped the bag behind her silently. In a fluid motion, she slipped the first rope loop around her mother's wrists, crossed behind her back—she'd rehearsed the move ten times in her room. Julia startled, but too late: Victoria yanked hard, the knot tightening like handcuffs.

"Victoria, what are you—" Julia began, straightening up abruptly, her boxer reflexes ready to explode.

But Victoria had already pivoted, knees bent. With a quick sweep, she hooked her mother's ankles. Julia toppled forward, off-balance from her bound wrists, and crashed to her knees in the puddle. Before she could turn, Victoria wrapped the second rope around her ankles, tying the knots in a cross, blocking any extension.

Julia roared, trying to twist, but Victoria had already thrown herself onto her back, pinning her down with all her weight. "Stop! Let me go right now!" Julia cried, her voice hoarse with anger and disbelief.

Victoria panted, her hands shaking on the ropes. Her mother was subdued—for now.

Julia felt the rope bite into her wrists like a snake's bite. Shock hit her first—a icy flash down her neck—then rage, pure, burning, rushing to her temples.

"VICTORIA!" she roared, her voice hoarse, strained from the effort.

She tried to rise with a thrust of her hips, her shoulder muscles bulging under the black T-shirt. The ropes held firm. The nylon, stretched to breaking, slightly cut into her skin, but she didn't care. Her body, trained for years in the ring, reacted before her mind: she pivoted on her knees, thrusting her left shoulder back to unbalance her daughter.

Victoria staggered but held on, her hands clenched on the knots.

Julia inhaled a breath of the laundry room's humid air, her green eyes blazing. "You've just made the biggest mistake of your life," she spat through gritted teeth.

She tested the bonds' resistance: wrists crossed behind her back, ankles tied in a cross. The chair knot. Damn, did she learn that in sailing class? A bitter chuckle escaped her.

She lowered her head, feigned a forward fall, then kicked her right leg back like a spring. The ankle rope tightened, but she gained a few inches. Enough for her heel to brush Victoria's thigh.

"Let me go. Right now."

Her voice was no longer that of a mother. It was that of a boxer on the edge of the ring, ready to fight. The pink leggings, soaked from the puddle, clung to her skin. Her black socks slipped slightly on the wet tiles.

She contracted her abs, rolled to the side, tried to bring her knees under her. The ropes creaked. Victoria, panicked, pressed her full weight on her back.

"Mom, stop! I just want the sleepover!"

Julia burst into a dry, almost wild laugh. "You think you're going to tie me up like a chicken and I'll say yes?"

She breathed deeply, calming her breath—boxing technique, breath control. Then, in a fluid motion, she shifted her hips, partially freeing one hand by twisting her left wrist (the rope had a millimeter of play, just enough).

Her fingers brushed the knot.

Victoria felt it. Her eyes widened.

Julia slowly turned her head, her brown hair stuck to her cheek from water and sweat. A cold, almost predatory smile stretched her lips.

"You have ten seconds to untie this, Victoria. After that, I promise you won't walk straight for a month."

Julia panted, her forehead against the cold tiles, her body vibrating with contained anger. The knot at her wrists had given an inch—not enough to free herself, but enough to feel victory near. Victoria, kneeling on her back, trembled; her sweaty hands slipped on the rope.

"You're going to untie me, Victoria. Now." Julia's voice was low, sharp, like a held uppercut. She turned her head, her green eyes locked on her daughter's. "You think this is a game? That you're going to tie me up and I'll applaud your creativity?"

Victoria swallowed, but held firm. "I... I just want the sleepover, Mom. Your grades aren't the end of the world!"

Julia snickered, a dry sound that echoed in the cramped laundry room. "Your grades? YOUR GRADES? You mean yours, you little manipulator. 4 in math, 5 in history... And you dare lecture me on justice?"

She flexed her biceps, making the ropes crack. A nylon thread snapped. Victoria jumped.

"Listen to me carefully," Julia continued, her voice lower, more dangerous. "You have exactly three seconds to cut these bonds. One..."

"Mom, stop!" Victoria tightened her mother's wrists harder, panicked. "You're not going to hit me, are you? You're my mom!"

"Two..." Julia inhaled, tightening her abs. The pink leggings stretched over her thighs. "I'm not going to hit you. I'm going to teach you what consequences are."

Victoria paled. She released the ropes for a second, rummaging in the gym bag. Julia took advantage: with a brutal hip thrust, she half-rose, throwing Victoria against the washing machine. The girl hit the metal with a muffled "oof!"

But Victoria was quicker than she thought. She grabbed one of her mother's black socks—that had slipped halfway during the struggle—and, in a desperate move, stuffed it between Julia's lips before she could close her mouth.

"MPH—!"

Julia's eyes widened, she spat it out violently. The wet sock flew, but Victoria already had the second one in hand. She balled it up, forcing it between her mother's teeth as she fought like a lioness.

"MPHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Julia's cry was muffled, turned into a hoarse growl. Her bare feet—nails painted a bright red, impeccably manicured—thrashed against the tiles. Victoria tore off a wide strip of gray duct tape, ultra-strong, from the roll she'd pulled from the bag. With a sharp motion, she slapped it over her mother's lips, smoothing the edges to make it stick perfectly.

Julia shook her head, her brown hair disheveled, eyes bulging. MPHHHHHHHHHHHHH! She tried to bite, to push with her tongue, but the thick fabric and tape formed an unforgiving gag.

Victoria stepped back, panting, hands shaking. Then a smug smile stretched her lips.

"Well, champ... Looks like you've lost this round." She waved her phone. "I'm telling the girls. The sleepover is official."

Julia bucked, wrists still bound, ankles shackled, bare feet scraping the floor. MPHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Her eyes shot daggers. Victoria burst into a nervous laugh, already typing her message.

Victoria leaned against the opposite wall of the laundry room, arms crossed with a victorious smile lighting up her teenage face. She watched her mother, Julia, sitting against the washing machine, wrists securely tied behind her back with nylon ropes, ankles shackled the same way, her bare feet with red-painted nails futilely beating the wet tiles. The gray duct tape sealed her lips firmly, trapping the black socks that muffled everything.

"Oh, Mom... Look at yourself!" Victoria said mockingly, laughing softly. "The great boxing champion, taken down by her own daughter. You look ridiculous like that, with your socks in your mouth. What's your nickname at the club again? 'The Tigress'? Right now, you look more like a tied-up kitten!"

Julia shook her head vigorously, her disheveled brown hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her green eyes shot pure fury. She bucked her shoulders, trying to rise, but the ropes kept her pinned against the machine. A low growl escaped her: MPHHHHHHH! The sound was muffled, vibrating against the gag, but loaded with rage.

Victoria burst out laughing, leaning forward for a better look. "What are you saying? I can't hear anything! Try harder, champ!" She mimicked a boxing pose, pretending to throw punches in the air. "Come on, show me your moves now. Oh, wait, you can't!"

Julia contracted her muscles, pulling on the bonds until the ropes creaked. Her bare toes curled on the cold floor, the red nails contrasting with the white tiles. She inhaled deeply through her nose, then let out another cry: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! The duct tape bulged slightly under the pressure but held. Tears of frustration welled in the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from boiling anger.

"Seriously, Mom, you're pathetic like this," Victoria continued, approaching to adjust a strand of her mother's hair in a mocking gesture. "Imagine if Dad came home now? Or worse, if your club friends saw you! 'Julia the Tigress,' tied up by a 14-year-old kid. Legendary!"

Julia bucked again, her whole body twisting in a desperate effort. MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! The sounds were increasingly frantic, like muffled roars from a caged beast. She shook her head so violently that the duct tape wrinkled on her cheeks, but nothing gave. Her bare feet slipped on the puddle, making her tilt slightly to the side.

Victoria laughed again, but a hint of curiosity—or maybe guilt—made her hesitate. She squatted in front of her mother, observing her pleading and furious eyes. "Okay, fine... I'll take that thing off. Just so we can talk a bit. But no screaming, okay? Otherwise, it goes right back on."

With a cautious gesture, she grabbed a corner of the duct tape and pulled slowly, drawing a grunt of pain from Julia. The tape peeled off with a sharp sound, revealing the wet socks that she spat out immediately, panting, her mouth reddened.

"Victoria... Untie me. Right now," Julia articulated in a hoarse, breathless but authoritative voice. "This isn't a game. You've gone too far. Think about what your father would say!"

Victoria shook her head, a smirk on her face. "Oh, Mom, stop. I know you're angry, but it's for your own good. Or mine, actually. Come on, promise me you'll let me have the sleepover, and maybe I'll untie you."

Julia took a deep breath, calming her breathing like in the ring. "Listen, sweetie. I love you, but this is serious. Untie me, and we'll talk calmly. Your grades are disastrous; you can't just... tie me up to avoid the consequences! Please, be reasonable."

Victoria crossed her arms, unmoved. "No, Mom. I've already told the girls. And honestly, after all this, I deserve a little victory."

Julia narrowed her eyes, trying another approach. "Victoria, think about the risks. If I free myself—and I will—you'll be grounded for months. Untie me now, and we'll forget everything. I'll even help you with your homework."

But Victoria shook her head, inflexible. "Sorry, but no. You're staying like this for now."

Victoria shook her head, exasperated, after a few more tense exchanges where Julia vainly tried to reason with her, alternating between promises of leniency and veiled threats. "Okay, Mom, I'm tired of hearing you ramble. Your arguments are hot air. We're going back to radio silence."

She bent down to pick up the black socks, now soaked with saliva and crumpled on the wet laundry room floor. Julia, eyes wide, saw the gesture and understood instantly. Her heart raced, and she backed away as much as her bonds allowed, her back banging against the washing machine.

"No, Victoria! Please, don't do that!" she begged in a trembling voice, panic rising. "I... I'll promise to be quiet, not to scream. Just untie me a little, or leave me like this without... without that. It's humiliating!"

Victoria balled up the socks into a compact wad, a mocking smile on her lips. She squatted in front of her mother, waving the wet fabric under her nose. "Oh, Mom, look at you begging. It's almost cute. But no, I'm uncompromising. You're getting your favorite gag back."

Julia shook her head frantically, her brown hair flying around her flushed face. "Wait! Wait! Just gag me with a piece of duct tape, okay? That'll be enough to silence me, I swear! No need for the socks, it's... it's disgusting! Please, sweetie, listen to me!"

Victoria burst out laughing, a joyful and cruel sound that echoed in the small room. "Seriously? You're trying to negotiate now? No, Mom, I find you much cuter like this, with your socks in your mouth and your little bare feet wiggling on the floor. You look like a real tied-up doll! Come on, open wide."

Julia clamped her lips shut, resisting with all her might, turning her head side to side. "No! MPH—!" She tried to bite, to push with her tongue, but Victoria, more determined than ever, forced the ball of fabric between her teeth. Julia moaned loudly, a muffled and desperate sound: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH!

Her green eyes filled with tears of frustration as she struggled, her shoulders twisting, her bare feet—with red-painted nails—scratching the tiles in a vain attempt to escape. MPHHHHHHH! she groaned again, the sound vibrating against the socks filling her mouth, saliva already dripping down her chin.

Victoria, unmoved, unrolled a new piece of ultra-strong duct tape and slapped it firmly over her mother's lips, smoothing the edges to make it stick perfectly. "There, perfect! Total silence. You're adorable like this, Mom."

Julia bucked one last time, her whole body shaking with impotent rage. MPHHHHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHH! Her moans were frantic, muffled but charged with a fury that vibrated the air around her. She fixed her daughter with a murderous glare but could do nothing else but resign herself, for now, to her fate.

Victoria closed the laundry room door with a sharp click, ignoring her mother's furious moans echoing behind her like muffled roars. MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Julia was still struggling, her muscular body straining against the ropes, but Victoria shook her head with a smug smile. "Good night, Mom! Rest well for the sleepover!" she called before walking away down the hallway, her heart pounding with excitement mixed with a hint of guilt that she quickly pushed aside.

She went up to her room, turned on the light, and started preparing for the sleepover. She spread cushions on the living room floor, pulled out DVDs of horror movies—the ones her mom hated—prepared a bowl of popcorn, and sent a final message to Lola, Sarah, and Emma: "Come quick, the house is free! Pizzas ordered." She changed into comfortable pajamas, a pink short and loose top, and applied light makeup to impress her friends. The idea of having a night without adult supervision thrilled her; for once, she was in charge.

Meanwhile, in the dark and humid laundry room, Julia fought with determination. Sitting against the washing machine, she flexed her powerful biceps, pulling on the nylon ropes binding her wrists behind her back. The bonds, carefully tied by her daughter, didn't budge an inch—solid as concrete, they bit into her skin without yielding. MPHHHHHHH! she groaned, her mouth filled with the wet socks, the duct tape sealing any hope of an audible cry. Her green eyes shone with determination; she wasn't a boxing champion for nothing. She rolled to the side, tried to rub the ropes against the metal edge of the machine, but the nylon slipped without fraying.

Frustrated, she changed tactics. With effort, she lifted her bound legs and kicked the adjacent wall with her bare feet, her toes with red-painted nails smashing against the plaster. Bang! Bang! The noise echoed through the house, a rhythmic and desperate pounding. MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her moans accompanied each blow, hoping to alert Victoria—or at least make her come back to negotiate. Her bare feet, cold on the tiles, began to redden from the impact, but she persisted, her body sweating under the black T-shirt and pink leggings.

After thirty minutes, the incessant noise—this enraged heartbeat-like thumping—started getting on Victoria's nerves. She was arranging face masks on the coffee table when another "bang" made her jump. "Oh no, she's at it again..." she muttered, annoyed. Her friends would arrive any minute, and this racket could ruin everything. With an exasperated sigh, she went downstairs, phone in hand, and headed to the laundry room. "OK, Mom, what do you want now?" she said, opening the door, ready to face Julia's furious eyes.

Victoria pushed open the laundry room door, a mischievous smile on her lips, and found her mother still lying on the floor, body tense, bare feet reddened from repeated kicks against the wall. Julia, seeing her daughter enter, redoubled her efforts, her muffled moans resounding like desperate howls: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! She shook her head, her brown hair disheveled, and tried to twist to sit up, but the ropes held her mercilessly in place.

"Oh, Mom, still making noise?" Victoria said, laughing, squatting beside her. "You're like a living drum! But seriously, stop; your boxing club friends would die laughing seeing you like this. The great Tigress, reduced to stamping her foot like an angry kid. It's pathetic!"

Julia bucked violently, her green eyes blazing with rage. MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! The sounds were frantic, vibrating against the gag, but they only provoked another burst of laughter from Victoria.

"Okay, okay," Victoria said, feigning compassion while rummaging in the gym bag she'd brought with her. "Since you're so insistent on getting my attention, I'll tell you: you've won a gift! A little something to calm you down and make you even more... comfortable."

She pulled out another length of nylon rope, long and strong, unrolling it under Julia's horrified eyes. At the sight of the rope, Julia moaned even louder, a long muffled cry betraying her growing panic: MPHHHHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHH! She shook her ankles, trying to back away on the wet tiles, her bare toes with red-painted nails curling in the air.

"No, no, stay still, Mom," Victoria murmured mockingly, grabbing her mother's bare ankles. She tied one end of the rope securely around the existing bonds, then pulled Julia's legs back, connecting them to her already bound wrists behind her back. The hogtie was strict, forcing Julia to arch her back, her bare feet pointed toward the ceiling, her body bowed in an uncomfortable and vulnerable position. Julia struggled weakly, but the rope tension kept her immobile.

MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH!

Victoria stepped back to admire her work, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Wow, Mom, you're even cuter like this! Look at you, all arched and helpless. It looks like a real work of art. Your little bare feet wiggling, it's too adorable."

Julia moaned again, a hoarse and desperate sound: MPHHHHHHHHHH! But before she could react further, the front door doorbell rang, a cheerful ding-dong that broke the silence.

Julia's eyes widened, and she tried to scream through her gag, straining her voice until the duct tape bulged: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! It was futile; only a muffled hum escaped.

Victoria laughed softly, standing up. "Oh, that must be the girls! Have a good evening, Mom. Rest well, okay?" She patted Julia's cheek in a teasing gesture, then left the laundry room, closing the door behind her with a definitive click.

In the living room, Victoria turned on the hi-fi and played some background music—a catchy pop playlist, loud enough to cover her mother's distant moans. Satisfied, she headed to the front door, excited for the evening ahead, and opened it to her friends with a big smile. "Hey girls! Come in, let's get the pajama party started!"

Julia, lying on her stomach in the dark laundry room, struggled with all her might in her strict hogtie. The nylon ropes bit into her skin, mercilessly connecting her wrists to her bare ankles, forcing her body to arch painfully. Her boxer muscles, used to effort, trembled under the tension, but nothing gave—the bonds didn't yield an inch. She shook her head, her brown hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, and tried to scream through her gag: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! The sound was muffled by the wet socks and the gray duct tape sealing her lips, producing only a weak buzz, drowned out by the pop music pulsing in the living room. No one heard. Her green eyes burned with frustration and impotent rage, her toes with red-painted nails curling in the air as she bucked weakly on the cold tiles.

She persisted for nearly an hour, twisting, rubbing the ropes against the floor or the edge of the washing machine in hopes of loosening them. Sweat dripped down her black T-shirt and pink leggings, making the position even more uncomfortable, but the knots held firm, solid as rock. MPHHHHHHH! she groaned again, her voice hoarse and exhausted, but the house's silence—interrupted only by the distant laughter of the teenagers—responded cruelly.

On her side, Victoria was having a blast with her friends. Lola, Sarah, and Emma had arrived with bags full of candy and face masks, and the sleepover was in full swing in the living room. They danced to the music, shared school gossip, and applied green creams to their faces while laughing hysterically. "It's so cool without parents!" exclaimed Sarah, pouring chips into a bowl. Victoria, beaming in her pink pajamas, nodded with a knowing smile, almost forgetting her mother's tied-up presence downstairs.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, a shrill ding-dong that cut the music for a moment. "That's the pizzas!" Victoria cried, bounding to the door with excitement. The girls cheered, hungry after their games.

For Julia, it was a chance to be heard.

Heart pounding, she redoubled her efforts, screaming with all her might into her gag for several minutes:

MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHH!

She bucked in her hogtie, making the laundry room floor vibrate, hoping the delivery person or someone would hear. But the music had resumed, louder, and the girls' laughter covered everything. Nothing worked; no one heard. Julia collapsed mentally, exhausted, tears of frustration streaming down her cheeks, the duct tape bulging under her vain cries.

After the girls had eaten—devouring the pepperoni and melted cheese pizzas on the couch, telling horror stories—Emma, one of Victoria's friends, stood up holding her stomach. "I'm going to the bathroom," she announced with a laugh. She crossed the hallway, still a bit dizzy from the sodas, and opened the wrong door. Instead of the WC, she pushed open the laundry room door, entering the dark room.

She froze, coming face to face with Julia, tied on the floor in her hogtie, body arched, bare feet pointed toward her. Julia, surprised but seizing the opportunity, screamed again into her gag: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her green eyes implored, begging Emma for help, while she struggled weakly, the ropes creaking under the effort.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Emma, frozen in the doorway, eyes wide at the surreal scene—Julia hogtied strictly on the floor, body arched, bare feet with red-painted nails pointed to the ceiling, gray duct tape firmly sealing her mouth—suddenly burst into nervous, uncontrollable laughter. She brought a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushing from shock and amusement.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed between laughs, cautiously entering the room. "Julia? Is that you? Wait, now I understand why Victoria could throw this sleepover without issues! She... put you aside, huh? This is crazy!"

Julia, seizing this unexpected opportunity, bucked weakly in her bonds, her muscles strained to the max.

She screamed through her gag, straining her muffled voice to beg for help: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her green eyes shot a desperate look at Emma, silently pleading: Untie me! Please! But the sounds were only hoarse grunts, vibrating against the wet socks and the duct tape that bulged slightly under the pressure.

Emma, instead of panicking, shook her head laughing even harder, squatting beside Julia with a playful air. "Oh, poor thing... Trying to tell me something? To untie you? Sorry, but you're too funny like this! Look at you, all tied up and helpless. Victoria did a good job."

Julia redoubled her efforts, shaking her head frantically, her brown hair disheveled. MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her moans were frantic, loaded with frustration and urgency, but Emma just shrugged with a mocking smile.

"Seriously, Julia, you're very cute like this," Emma continued, observing the hogtie with malicious curiosity. "All arched, with your little feet in the air... It makes me want to... Hmm, I'd love to tickle your feet! It might relax you."

Julia's eyes widened, panicked, and she moaned even louder: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! She tried to pull back her ankles, but the ropes held her immobile, her bare soles vulnerable and exposed.

Emma laughed softly, feigning innocence. "What? You're giving me permission? Wait, let me ask: Can I tickle your feet?" She paused dramatically, tilting her head as if waiting for an answer. "Well, anyway, you can't respond, right? So, I'll take that as a yes! Let's go."

Without further ado, Emma placed her fingers on Julia's bare soles, starting with light brushes that quickly turned into intense tickles. Julia twisted violently in her hogtie, her body shaking under the assaults, forced and muffled laughs escaping her gag: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her toes curled, her muscles contracted, but the bonds prevented escape. Emma continued for a full five minutes, laughing hysterically at Julia's reactions, alternating between fast and slow tickles to maximize the effect. "You're so sensitive! It's adorable!"

Suddenly, voices echoed in the hallway. Victoria, accompanied by Lola and Sarah, came running, alerted by the unusual noises. "Emma? What are you doing in there?" Victoria asked, entering the laundry room with a mix of worry and annoyance.

Emma jumped up, wiping her hands on her pajamas, an innocent smile on her lips. "Oh, nothing! I just found your mom. She was bored all alone in here; it was cruel to leave her like that. I was keeping her company, that's all!"

Finally, all the girls burst out laughing at the absurd and unexpected situation. Lola brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, Sarah doubled over, and Emma, still red from tickling Julia, pointed at the tied-up woman with a hilarious expression. "Oh my God, Vic, your mom is... incredible like this!" exclaimed Lola between laughs. "A real action movie star, but comedy version!"

Julia, still in her hogtie on the laundry room floor, groaned even louder, her muffled moans resounding like frustrated roars: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! She twisted weakly, her muscles trembling from exhaustion and rage, her green eyes shooting murderous glares at the group of teenagers. Her bare feet, still sensitive from Emma's tickles, wiggled in the air, the red-painted nails catching the room's dim light. But her efforts only amplified the mockery.

"Look at her squirming!" Sarah giggled, imitating Julia's exaggerated movements. "It's like she's trying to dance! Come on, Julia, show us your boxer skills now!"

Emma added, with a wink: "Yeah, and with your socks in your mouth, you're even more expressive. It's too cute!"

Victoria, amid her friends, laughed too, but with a hint of possessive pride. "OK, girls, stop; she'll explode eventually. But seriously, Mom, you're hilarious like this." Julia responded with another furious grunt: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH!

Finally, Victoria decided it would be better if her mother was on a chair—more visible, more... integrated into the evening. "Come on, let's move her to the living room. It'll be more fun like that!" she suggested, and the girls agreed enthusiastically. Together, they carried Julia—not without some additional laughs when she bucked weakly—to the living room, where the pop music still played in the background.


They set her on a solid wooden chair in the center of the room, like an unwilling guest of honor.

Victoria pulled out a kitchen knife to cut the hogtie, releasing the tension connecting her mother's wrists to her ankles. Julia let out a muffled sigh of momentary relief, but it didn't last. Victoria immediately tied her torso to the chair with a new length of rope, wrapping the nylon around her chest and the backrest, tightening just enough to immobilize her without hurting. She also undid the ankle bonds, but the girls—Lola and Sarah handling it with giggles—tied each bare foot to a chair leg, spreading her legs slightly for maximum stability. Julia's bare soles were now exposed, vulnerable, her bare toes curling under the amused gaze of the group.

Julia groaned again, testing her new bonds: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! But she was stuck, her muscular body forced into an upright and helpless posture, her black T-shirt and pink leggings soaked with sweat. Clearly, the evening wasn't over—far from it. The girls resumed their activities around her, treating her like a living and hilarious piece of furniture, while Julia seethed inwardly, waiting for an opportunity that seemed increasingly distant.


After mocking Julia for another full hour—alternating between merciless tickles on her bare soles, hilarious selfies with her in the background, and exaggerated imitations of her muffled grunts—the girls finally noticed it was getting late. The living room clock showed past midnight, and the laughs were starting to mix with yawns. "Okay, girls, we should go to sleep," Victoria suggested, stifling a yawn. "But first, let's put Mom to bed. She looks exhausted, poor thing."

Julia, still tied to the chair, her torso bound by ropes and bare feet fixed to the furniture's legs, shot a furious but resigned glare. Her muscles, sore from hours of restraint, trembled slightly, and she no longer had the strength to groan as loudly. Victoria approached her, a smirk on her face, and grabbed a corner of the gray duct tape. "OK, Mom, I'm taking this off. But be good and don't scream, okay? Otherwise, it all goes back on right away."

Julia nodded slowly, her green eyes shining with contained but pragmatic hatred. Victoria pulled gently on the tape, drawing a grunt of pain from her mother, then removed the wet socks from her mouth. Julia inhaled deeply, her throat dry, but kept her word and didn't scream. "You... you're going to regret this," she murmured in a hoarse voice, but the girls ignored her, laughing.

They set about untying the bonds holding Julia to the chair. Lola and Sarah handled the torso, cutting the ropes with kitchen scissors, while Victoria took care of the ankles. She had barely undone the knot around her mother's right foot when Julia, seizing the opportunity, launched a precise and powerful kick—a boxer's reflex—straight into Victoria's stomach.

Victoria had the wind knocked out of her, doubling over with a muffled "Oof!", eyes wide with surprise and pain. She staggered back, a hand on her abdomen, while the other girls reacted instantly. "Grab her!" Emma yelled, and they pounced on Julia like a pack. Lola seized one arm, Sarah the other, and Emma pressed on her shoulders to pin her to the floor. Julia fought furiously, her muscles tensed, but exhausted from the hours past, she couldn't resist long. They managed to tie her ankles together with a remaining piece of rope, rendering her helpless once more.

"You're going to regret this bitterly," Julia spat through gritted teeth, short of breath, fixing her daughter with a murderous glare. "All of you."

Victoria stood up with difficulty, still breathless, a hand on her stomach. Her face, reddened by pain, hardened into an expression of cold anger. "It's you who'll regret it, Mom," she replied in a trembling but determined voice. "Come on, girls, let's take her to her room."

Together, they carried Julia—who twisted weakly, grunting inarticulate threats—to the parental bedroom bed. They threw her unceremoniously onto the mattress, where she bounced slightly, wrists still bound behind her back and ankles shackled.

Victoria disappeared for a moment into the adjoining bathroom, returning with a little surprise: a sponge. What was she going to do with it?

Victoria, holding the sponge in her hand with a mischievous smile, approached her mother tied on the bed. The friends—Lola, Sarah, and Emma—watched the scene from the doorway, barely holding back their laughs. Julia's eyes widened at the sight of the object.

"Guess what's going to be your new gag, Mom?" Victoria said teasingly, waving the sponge under Julia's nose.

Julia paled, shaking her head frantically. "No, Victoria! Please, don't gag me with that! I'll be good, I swear! I won't resist anymore, I won't say anything! Just leave me..."

Victoria burst out laughing, a joyful and cruel sound that echoed in the room. "Oh, Mom, you're too funny when you beg. Come on, open wide!"

Julia tried to negotiate, her voice trembling. "Wait! I'd rather the socks at worst; you can put them back in my mouth, but not..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Victoria forced the sponge into her mother's mouth, pushing the spongy, absorbent material between her lips.

Julia let out a muffled moan of surprise and disgust: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! Her body arched on the bed, her bare feet wiggling in the air as she tried to spit out the object, but Victoria was already unrolling a new piece of ultra-strong gray duct tape. She slapped it firmly over Julia's lips, smoothing the edges to seal it all.

"There, perfect!" Victoria declared, stepping back to admire her work. Julia groaned even louder, a hoarse sound vibrating against the sponge filling her mouth: MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH!

The girls, unable to hold back, burst out laughing at the scene. "Look at her, with her sponge gag! It's like she's chewing a cloud!" Emma giggled, imitating exaggerated chewing motions.

"Yeah, and her little bare feet wiggling, it's too cute!" added Lola, pointing to Julia's red-painted toes curling futilely.

Victoria, still breathless from the earlier kick, laughed at the situation, a mix of revenge and amusement in her eyes. "Seriously, Mom, you're the queen of self-inflicted punishments tonight. You could have been quiet, but no, you had to try your luck."

Julia bucked on the bed, her frantic grunts resounding:

MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH! But the girls didn't care. They pounced on her again, tying Julia's bare feet to her wrists with an additional rope, forming a perfect strict hogtie. Julia found herself arched on the mattress, her muscular body tense like a bow, unable to move anything but her toes wiggling in the air.

In the end, Victoria tucked her mother in with the blanket and sheets, wrapping them tightly around her to immobilize her even more, like an impenetrable cocoon. "Good night, Mom. Sleep well!" she said with a wink.

Julia struggled even more, her whole body vibrating with vain efforts:

MPHHHHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHH!

But she couldn't move a single muscle in this position, except her toes wiggling weakly under the blanket. Victoria knew she'd gone far this time, maybe too far, but she told herself it was a rare chance to party with her friends without supervision. She shrugged, pushing away the guilt.

After that, the girls turned off the bedroom light, leaving Julia alone in the darkness, struggling for the rest of the night, her muffled moans lost in the house's silence.

Julia, alone in the darkness of her room, her body numb from the ropes holding her in a strict hogtie, felt a wave of pure rage wash over her like a devouring fire. How did I end up here? she wondered, tears of frustration silently streaming down her cheeks, absorbed by the bitter sponge filling her mouth. My own daughter... that little ingrate treated me like a broken doll, and her friends—those cheeky kids—laughed at me like I was a circus act. I was a boxing champion, damn it! And now, I'm reduced to this, helpless, with my bare feet wiggling futilely under the sheets.

Her thoughts swirled in a mix of stinging humiliation and cold revenge. Victoria is going to pay for this. Oh yes, she'll regret every second. When Robert gets back from London, I'll tell him everything—no, I'll show him the rope marks on my skin. He'll be furious. And those friends? Banned from the house for eternity. But first, I need to free myself. If only I could reach that knot... Come on, Julia, focus. Breathe like in the ring. One more effort...

But each twist only tightened the bonds, amplifying her despair. It's unfair. All this over a report card? I was just trying to be a good mother, to educate her. And this is how she thanks me—gagging me with a sponge, like I'm a criminal. I can still taste the soap... Disgusting. And those laughs, those endless tickles on my feet... They treated me like a toy. Tomorrow, when I'm free, I'll take back control. No more sleepovers, no more freedom.

Victoria will learn what real consequences are.

Despite the exhaustion overwhelming her, a spark of determination persisted. I'm not sleeping tonight. I'll struggle to the end. Robert's coming back soon... Will he find me like this? No, impossible. I have to hold on. They'll regret it bitterly. Her bare toes curled under the blanket, the only free movement she had, like a cruel reminder of her impotence. Hold on, Julia. The Tigress isn't defeated.