Diane Parker went quickly upstairs to the bedroom. She knew there wasn't much time before Leanne was home from school, and her son Damien wouldn't be far behind. They all had to be ready, she knew.

As she always did Diane opened the closet door to get a full length view of herself in the huge mirror. She kicked off her shoes, slipped off her dark business suit jacket and started to unbutton her plain cream blouse, the sensible style she always wore for the office. Mrs Parker, successful, independent, a power house for her company - but a woman who when she got home shook all that off in favor of creating a happy home. She paused to see her reflection in the mirror and thought how good she still looked for a 36 year old, how attractive she was. But there again, it helped keeping in trim, working out, watching what she ate. Just as she was told to do.

Swiftly she removed her blouse and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She slid the white, lace edged half slip down her well shaped thighs, unclipped her stockings from the garter belt and shed that too along with her pants. Expensive, white lace pants with a cute little bow at the front. Finally she unhooked her matching white lace bra and let her 36D breasts fall free.

For a moment, as she stood naked in front of the mirror, her hand strayed to her shaved cunt and her fingers caressed the outer folds, sending a tingle through her. She was excited but this wasn't the time or place to play with herself. Not now. Not with the children coming home soon.

She reached into the closet and brought out her underwear for tonight: the black, leather half-cup corselette. It took a few moments for her to struggle into it: it was tight, perhaps a shade too tight, but it packed her shape well, emphasised her curves and even - praise be - thrust her large tits forward with an inviting cleavage. Just as it was meant to.

She found a pair of black stockings, seamed stockings, and carefully clipped them to the six dangling garters. She spun round and checked the seams in the mirror: thankfully they were straight. She ran her hands over her shapely, well-rounded hips and marvelled how the corselette had made them seem even more alluring. Then, without any more ado, she picked a blouse off a hanger. It was white - or would have been if it hadn't been so sheer, so transparent - and buttoned it on, pausing just to admire how the black leather seemed to shine through the thin layer of blouse.

Then it was a short red plastic skirt - a skirt so short it barely covered her garters but left her stocking tops exposed. It always gave her cunt a little tingle to see herself like this but she pressed on, finding a pair of black, spike heeled shoes with little ankle straps she could fasten tightly. The heels were five inches and it always made her teeter slightly, but they felt good.

She turned, carefully, and admired the rear view of herself in the mirror, pleased at how the seams and the upward thrust caused by the high heels emphasised the full curve of her calfs and thighs.

From the jewelry box Diane dug out a pair of large, gold loop earrings. She screwed them tightly to the lobes of her ears and then turned her head rapidly from side to side to feel the weight of them and how they swung and collided with her neck. In front of the dressing table mirror Diane applied her make up: bright red lipstick, black mascara and eye shadow. Plenty of it, as she had been told. Satisfied, she stepped back and from the mirror and sought out the chains she would wear: heavy silver steel chains that would dangle from a heavy metal collar. She closed the collar round her neck, snapping the little padlock shut (and as always, marvelled at the sheer weight of the chains that threatened to pull her off her high heeled feet) and swiftly bent down to snap the ankle cuffs closed and finally, slipped the wrist cuffs on and closed them in front of her.

Perfect, she thought, and smiled.

She made her way, as quickly as the short ankle chains and heels would allow, to the closet mirror and looked at herself with a glow of sexual pride. She regarded herself: an attractive middle-aged woman with a heavily made up face and huge gold earrings, her black underwear showing vividly through her sheer blouse, her short red plastic skirt already sliding up to reveal her garters, her jet black seamed stockings, her black spike heeled shoes and above all the collar and cuffs all attached by heavy silver chains - wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, connected to the chain that hung from her collar.

'Nice,' she purred to herself, 'Damien will think I look very nice.'

Then it was time to snatch up the little bag of things for her daughter and hurry down stairs, though in view of the sheer weight of chains and height of her heels hurry was the wrong word. She arrived as quickly as she dared in the hallway just as the front door opened and Leanne entered.

'Oh, mom,' she said, and looked a little downcast, seeing her mother dressed and chained like this. 'I was hoping that maybe today...'

'Now, honey.' Chided the mother. 'You know we have to do what we are told. That way we have a lovely, happy home.'

The 13 year old girl nodded. She knew they had to, that she had to. It was what her brother wanted. What he demanded.

Leanne dropped her school books on the hall table and sighed. 'Okay,' she said, putting on a brave face and placing her hands behind her the back of her head. 'Let's go.'

Leanne, her hands still behind the back of her head as she was expected to, followed her mother into the lounge. In the middle of the rug in front of the TV, Leanne kneeled down, legs spread wide, her weight back on her ankles. 'Wait here, honey. And not a sound,' said her mom, unnecessarily as it happened, because Leanne knew the rules. But Diane had been told to say it, so she did. She always did what she was told, whatever Damien said.

In the lounge Diane opened the bag while Leanne stood, legs apart, hands still behind her head. The teenage girl watched as her mother took out a black PVC garter belt and matching PVC stockings. There was also a large roll of wide, flesh colored surgical tape.

Leanne did not break position while her mother undressed her, nor did she flinch when her mother - as she had been told to - ran her fingers across the young teen's budding tits. Leanne was used to it and could feel her nipples swell slightly at the touch. She longed for her mother to plunge her mouth to her nipples and suck and tease, but Diane had no instructions to do that today, so Leanne could only snort in frustration.

Diane had to hurry, however she felt about her daughter's available body. Carefully, Diane hooked the black plastic garter belt on her daughter's naked hips, rolled the thin black rubber stockings up the girl's slender legs and then clipped each of the eight garters to the top of the stockings.

The woman longed to plunge her fingers into her daughter's bald little pussy but that wasn't allowed without permision. She patted her daughter's legs affectionately, pleased they looked so good. It would please Damien when he got home to see his sister so prepared.

Next, Diane unwound the wide surgical tape. Carefully she wound it round and round Leanne's chest, flattening the small developing orbs of tit so the girl looked more like a ten year old. For a moment Leanne was tempted to kiss her daughter's lips before she gagged her, but knew it was not what Damien would have allowed, so reluctantly she took more tape and wound it around the girl's head to seal Leanne's mouth, even taking it under the the girl's chin, around her neck and then up over the bridge of her nose so the child's lower face was hidden and only the child's nostrils were visible. Diane smoothed down the last piece of the tape on the side of Leanne's face and stood back and admired her daughter.

'Good,' she said. 'Damien will be pleased.'

Leanne gave a little grunt into her well sealed mouth and dropped to her knees as she knew she had to, knees spread wide and weight back on her ankles, her hands still behind her head.

Diane went over and put the TV on, the VCR coming to life. Leanne would have to watch the tape while she knelt there - a tape of herself being heavily bound, stretched on the bed, legs apart. It embarrassed the 13 year old to see herself so open, and how the camera had dwelt between her legs, showing her young hairless cunt gaping. But she had to watch it and if she would admit it to herself, the sight of her being bound like that thrilled her. It gave her a glow that seemed to spread up from her cunt to radiate through her body. She felt the glow intensify as the tape showed a wedge of her mother's panties being forced between her lips and into her mouth, then strips of tape to hold them in place. Leanne shuddered at the sight but somewhere in her delighted at the memory, the taste of those period stained pants against her tongue.

Leanne was aware that behind her, her mother was watching. She wanted to turn round and see her mom standing behind her, legs spread as wide as her ankle chain permitted, her fingers no doubt at her cunt, teasing herself. The schoolgirl could hear her mother's breathing grow harsher, a climax approaching. The clink of chains. Leanne wanted desperately to reach between her own spread legs and play with her own cunt lips, finger herself to a climax too. But though her hands weren't tied, she knew she dare not move them from her head, dare not break position.

Suddenly, abruptly the scene of the girl on the bed stopped. The next scene was a long shot of Diane, naked, bound and gagged, standing in the yard, lashed harshly to a tree. The camera tracked in slowly to show the mother's naked body in close up: it was covered with a mass of small red weals from a long, harsh beating with a riding crop. Diane was ball-gagged and in close even her cheeks above the leather gag strap showed signs of feeling the cut of the crop. The camera dwelt on the woman's savagely striped tits, her large nipples decorated with clothespins.

A figure of a girl in chains - Leanne herself, chained up as her mother was now, stepped into the shot. She had a riding crop and proceeded to steadily beat the woman's tits, belly and thighs. Steady rhythmic blows, making red marks spring up across the helpless struggling mother's body.

Leanne wriggled a little, feeling herself grow hot, her cunt twitching. Behind her Diane was noisily approaching a climax, the woman's chain's rattling as her hand, her fingers, moved rapidly over her open cunt. Then with a cry, Diane stopped fingering herself - not beacuse she had climaxed but because it was not in her orders to come. She was gasping with a pleasure denied.

Shaking, Diane stepped up behind her daughter and taking more tape, carefully taped the girl's hands and wrists into a solid mass, winding tape from the girl's wrists round the child's neck. More tape went from the sealed hands round the lower part of Leanne's face.

On the VCR, the scene had changed. Now Leanne was hanging by her wrists from a branch of the same tree her mother had been bound to. Her slim, then pre-teen body, dangling. The naked mother appeared and fastened her daughter's ankles to a spreader bar, pausing only to insert a vibrating dildo into the girl's tender snatch.

Diane had finished taping up her daughter's hands and neck and face. The last act she did was to make her daughter kneel up and, her legs together now, wind tape round the child's ankles and legs, above her knees. Then the girl was pushed back down (a simple move that tightened the tape bonds on her legs, causing Leanne to offer a well-muffled squeal) and then tape her thighs to her lower legs. She couldn't rise now and all she could do was watch more of the tape of herself and her mother being punished.

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing: it was Damien, home from school. He came into the lounge and stood watching them, surveying their work, their preparation.

The fourteen year old boy said nothing, but went upstairs to get ready, to put on the clothes his dad liked him to wear when he got home. The clothes his mother had worn all day. He called his mother upstairs, to help him get dressed as she was, made up as she was during the day.

Once he was fully dressed - a younger version of Diane - and ready right down to the perfume, the boy ball-gagged his mother before slapping her firm butt hard several times. His way of saying thankyou.

Then they waited for Don to come home. The father and husband would come in, as he usually did, and greet his "wife" with a long, wet kiss. Diane would bustle round, preparing a meal, leaving Leanne watching yet more videos of bondage and suffering. Leaving her husband cuddling his elegant, pretty young "wife" on the sofa.

Later, Don would do what he always liked to do and tie his "wife" up, securing the boy's arms behind him, gagging him with the pants Diane had worn all day at the office. Only then did he feel sufficiently aroused to have sex, hoisting up the business suit skirt and playing with the now naked boy's ass, framed by the garter belt and stockings.

Diane smiled to herself as she watched the boy in her clothes struggling against his ropes as he was fucked in the ass. She looked at her husband enjoying himself as he slapped his "wife's" ass cheeks. She looked at Leanne struggling to get some pleasure from her bondage, wriggling in a vain attempt to climax as she watched more of her own pain and degradation on the TV.

Diane sighed contentedly as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, a gagged and chained slut for the night, and reflected on their happy, happy home.