Cassie's Pov:
After having showered, she came back downstairs, still butt naked. I made a show of being disgusted and she laughed.
"I don't see why you're acting all grossed out because you're the one who is gonna have to strip now." A devilish gleam filled her eyes as she said that and I instantly became worried. Fuck, I naively assumed she was going to allow me to maintain my modesty.
"Can't I just keep my shirt and panties on? Isn't that enough?"
"No chance. I want everything off. It's gonna ruin the fun."
I sighed, annoyed that she was making me do this. Tying her up while she was naked was a different thing. That was about teaching her a lesson. I knew that if I stripped she was going to do everything she could to humiliate me. Anyway, I was her daughter. Stripping in front of my mom was gross.
But I had to comply, so I slipped my thumbs into my panties and pulled them off, feeling my dick flop. It was as soft as could be, which would be helpful given that I was afraid she would try the cockring trick I had done on her. I pulled off my shirt and tried to cover my breasts with one hand and my pussy and dick with the other.
"No, no, no. I won't be having any of that." She slapped my hands away. She stared at me for a few seconds, thinking deeply before running into the kitchen and returning with a chair in hand. It was a pretty sturdy one. I knew first hand because I had tied myself to it before and gotten stuck. I thought I could get out by breaking it but found myself unable to do so, the woodwork just being too well done.
"Take a seat, girlfriend." She patted the chair and I stomped over, still upset that I had to be naked. She noticed that and pulled on one of my nipples, talking to me in that baby talk voice of hers. "Aww, babygirl is a little annoyed at her mommy, isn't she?"
"Stop it, Mom. It's so disgusting when you do that."
She just laughed in response so I took a seat.
"Arms over the top and behind the chair." The top of the chair was a little high up but not terribly high so it fit snugly in my armpits. Mom set to work, getting the rope and tying my wrists together. It was a little hard to tell what she was doing since I couldn't see behind me that easily but I felt another rope being added to my wrists and then them being pulled down. After a second, I realized she was tying them with a leash to one of the bars that connected the legs of the chair. I immediately felt restricted, unable to really move wrists because of how little slack there was.
"Getting nervous yet?" She asked, still working behind me.
"No way. I can definitely get out of this." I tried to sound confident but already I was a little worried. These were some damn tight ties.
She then stuck my elbows together and tied them up nicely. This allowed her to start the breast work, essentially giving me the same treatment I gave her, tying one rope underneath my boobs, two that crisscrossed between and one on top. The rope wound across the back of the chair but underneath my arms so that I was, slowly but surely, being welded to the chair.
She then went to the front and admired the work, also noticing that I was sporting a mean boner.
"You like it when mommy ties you up?" She patted my cheek patronizingly. I pulled away from her touch.
"No, it's just that bondage excites me," I responded tersely.
"Hmm," she said in response, setting down to do my feet. She tied each one to a different leg, with rope at the ankle and up the calf. Then, for good measure, she applied some rope on my thighs to keep me in the chair. Now, I was definitely welded to the chair, suddenly finding myself unable to move without having to move the entire chair.
"Getting that nasty crotch rope on you will be too hard in this position. I should have done it in the beginning but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about it. I'll get you back later," she winked.
Then she sat on my thighs, her boobs getting dangerously close to my face. I turned my head away, doing my best to get some distance. "Don't you have to set the timer?"
She sat on my thighs, looking right at me for a bit before speaking. "You know, you're gonna stay like this. Fuck the bet. Everyday you come downstairs and yell at me and throw a fit about the way I'm dressed yet you haven't done anything to help around the house. I'm always picking up your dirty laundry, I'm always making you meals, I'm always cleaning your room. When was the last time you helped." Her gaze was intense. She seemed a little upset but not mad. Mom doesn't get mad.
Regardless, I couldn't think up a response to her, mouth slightly agape at the sudden change in plans.
