A Family Christmas

“’twas the night before Christmas...”

The old poem was running through Camilla’s mind as she finished putting up the decorations in her house. Her mother and aunt would be arriving soon, as would her partner and mother, and she wanted to be sure everything was just right for when they arrived.

“Some supper, midnight mass, and then sleep before we open the presents,” she said to herself as she put up the final sprig of holly. Camilla was in her early thirties, with long ash brown hair, and was dressed at that moment in a black vest tip, grey denims and over the knee black suede boots. A black choker lined with small diamonds was around her neck, and she had a gold bracelet on one wrist, with a gold watch on the other.

Stepping back from the wall, she pronounced herself happy, and started to walk to the kitchen, only to stop when she heard singers outside her front door.

“Carol singers – must be collecting for the church,” she said to herself as she picked up her purse, and went to answer the knock on the door.

“That was lov...” she started to say, only to be pushed back against the wall by a man in a blue boiler suit, a stocking pulled down over his head as he clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and held a pistol against her head with the other one.

“Hello sweetheart,” he growled, “you’re not going to give me any trouble, or cause a scene, are you?”

Camilla shook her head, still in shock as the man nodded.

“Good – because if you do anything stupid, we kill you, got it?”

She nodded as the man said “Daughter, make her comfortable.”

“Yes father,” a young woman said as she came forward, her head also covered in a stocking mask, her long blonde hair sticking out at her neck from underneath. She smiled – and evil smile as the man took her hand away, and before Camilla could say anything she stuffed a wet cloth into her mouth, and then tore the end of a roll of duct tape free, pressing it to Camilla’s chin and wrapping it round her head, trapping her hair underneath.

“Mother, Son, come with me,” the man said as two more masked and boiler suited intruders came in, the older woman closing the door behind them as Camilla was turned to face the wall, pushed into it as the masked girl crossed her wrists behind her back, and started to bind them tightly together with rough brown rope.

“Whtthhllsgngnn,” Camilla whined as the ropes bit into her skin, but the masked woman said nothing as she used more rope to pull the young woman’s elbows together behind her back, making them touch as she screamed in pain. This only seemed to excite this woman – Daughter? – more and more as she produced yet more rope and wound it round her arms and chest, pulling them against her back as it went above and below her breasts, stretching her vest over them until she tied it off.

As Camilla was spun round, she looked into the woman’s eyes, shaking at the look in them as Daughter tied the end of a length of rope between her breasts and pulled the rope even more tightly round them. She felt as if they were going or explode, but then as she was turned again, and she felt the masked woman’s hand go between her legs, she shook her head in fright.

It was useless however – she felt the rope been sharply pulled up between her legs, making her scream as it pressed on her crotch. She felt it been tied to her elbows, and then the rubbing as she was pushed towards the front room, Daughter following behind her...

“It’s going to be good to see Camilla again,” Constance said as her sister Maria drove down the road. “She’s doing well in her job?”

“Yes, she is,” Maria said as she peered through her glasses, the heater making sure the windscreen did not fog up in the cold air. “They both seem to be doing well.”

“Good,” Constance said as they stopped outside the house. As they got out, Maria looked at the grey transit van parked a short way up the road.

“Someone must be getting a late delivery – come on in, I’ll put the kettle on.”

They both walked up the path and into the house, Maria closing the door as Constance removed her fur coat. Underneath she was wearing a leopard print top with a scoop neck, a bead necklace hanging round her neck, brown leggings and knee length brown leather boots, the small kitten heel clicking on the wood as she walked further in.

Maria removed her coat to reveal a brightly coloured top, the bands of colour marked off with zig zag edges, and the sleeves coming to her elbows. She was also wearing brown leggings and knee length brown leather boots, her ones with side buckles and square heels.

“Camilla? Are you in love,” Maria called out, but there was no reply.

“Funny – come on, I’ll put the kettle on,” Maria said as she looked at Constance. Her older sister had greying blonde hair cut in a bob, in contrast to her long hair pulled back and held in place by a clasp.

Before they took a step, however, a deep male voice said “don’t move a fucking inch, bitches.” Looking to the staircase, they saw a couple standing there, man and woman, dressed in boiler suits and with stockings over their heads – and the man was pointing a sawn off shotgun directly at them.

“Who... Who are you,” Maria finally said.

“Good question – I’m Father, she’s Mother, and you two are going to walk slowly up the stairs, hands on your head, and do exactly what we say or you charming daughter suffers. Understand?”

The two women looked at each other as Constance says “what guarantee do we have you’ll keep your word?”

“Would you like to find out what happens if you don’t? Daughter – how is the little brat?”

The two women heard the screams from the front room, as Daughter pulled the rope between Camilla’s legs while she lay hogtied on the floor.

“All right – what do you want,” Maria said, her face pale.

“Upstairs, now – we want you to open your safe,” Mother said, watching as the two women slowly walked up and they followed them to the master bedroom.

As they walked in, Maria gasped at the mess on the floor, contents of drawers strewn everywhere.

“If you hurt my sister’s baby,” Constance said as she turned round, “I will kill you.”

“Really,” the man called Father said as he handed the gun to Mother, and picked up a large baseball bat. “Do you use this bedside table?”

Constance nodded, and then gasped as he brought the bat down on it, splintering it into pieces as the lamp fell to the floor. “Try and threaten me again,” he growled, and that will be your legs. Mother, cover that one while I deal with her.”

Putting the stick down, he grabbed Constance and pushed her onto the bed, pulling her arms behind her back as he pulled some rope from a sack, and starting to bind her wrists tightly together, taking the rope around and between her arms.

“Now, dearest,” Mother said as she levelled the gun at Maria, “there is a safe in that walk-in wardrobe. You are going to open it for us.”

“And if I don’t?”

Mother nodded to Father, who forced Constance onto her knees and then groped her chest from behind.

“Shall he continue?”

“No – no I’ll do it,” Maria said as Constance tried not to call out, their eyes locking as she walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors, slowly kneeling on the floor as she started to open the safe.

As she did so, Father grabbed more rope and pulled it round Constance’s body, forcing her smock to stretch over her chest as the rope went above and below it, and then under her arms and around the back of her neck.

“That’s fucking tight,” Constance complained, only for Father to reach round and grope her chest again – this time with the ropes around them, she was shocked to find she actually was responding to the grip, as she tried not to moan.

“What the hell are you dngntthhrrrr,” Maria moaned, taken by surprise as Mother shoved a balled up pair of panties into her mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” she whispered into her ear as Maria felt her elbows been pulled together behind her back, the rope around them forcing them to touch before Mother threw it over a hanger rail above them and forced Maria to stay kneeling her arms pulled up behind her back.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the older masked woman use a shorter length of rope to bind her wrists tightly together, and then start o strip her fingers and wrists of her jewellery.

“Leave her alone,” Constance shouted out, only to gasp as Father gripped her tightly, his fingers sinking into her chest.

“Mother will take good care of her,” he whispered into her ear as Maria felt her ankles been lashed together, and then her legs above her knees. “As for you, time you were kept quiet.”

“No, please, I’ll shttpppnneww,” Constance said as a second pair of panties was pushed into her mouth, and then she heard the sound of tape ripping from a roll as Father started to wrap silver duct tape around her head. Tearing it free and smoothing it down at the back of her neck, he threw the roll to Mother, who caught it and started to encircle her captive’s head as well. Once she had Maria silenced, she smiled as her hands went under her tunic and stroked between the muffled woman’s legs, her boots squeaking as she tried to move her legs.

“Hmswwtlrd,” Constance said as she heard this, and then felt Father cross and lash her ankles together as well, before he pushed her onto her back and tied her legs together below her knees.

“Now, what shall I do with you,” he said, but the sound of the front door opening made both Mother and Father stop, their gloved hands over their captive’s covered mouths.

“Not a sound,” Father hissed into Constance’s ear...

“Hey – anyone home?”

The dark skinned woman looked round as she removed her black fur coat, revealing her cashmere roll neck sweater, blue jeans and knee length stretch leather boots.

“Cammi? Are you around,” the younger woman said as she looked through her glasses. Unlike her mother, she was more flamboyantly dressed, one could almost say in a steampunk style. She was wearing a grey silk jacket and pleated skirt in a Victorian style. The jacket fastened over the front of a pink and grey tartan bodice with four buttons, and opened out above and below them with a lace trim, the same as on the cuffs. She also wore a pair of knee length black leather boots with strap details crossing all the way up them.

“The lights are on Jen,” the older woman said as she hung her coat up, “but I...”

“Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

They both turned to see a young woman come out of the front room, holding a shotgun as she looked at them through a mask.

“Shit – run mum,” the young girl said, but as her mother turned she was grabbed from behind by a young man, dressed and masked as the woman was.

“Looks like the little lesb’s lover has come home,” the masked woman said as she came forward, “and brought her mummy with her. Would you like to see your lover, lesb?”

“What the hell have you done to Cami?”

“Oh, such strong words, Daughter,” the young man said as he pressed the barrel of a pistol against the older woman’s head. “Not shut the fuck up and turn round, you little slag.”

“Please,” the older woman pleaded as she looked at Jen, who nodded as she stared at the masked woman.

“Turn round,” Daughter said, as she spun Jen round and then pulled her jacket open, the buttons flying off as she pulled it down her arms and left her in her bodice.

“Oh nice,” she crooned as she pulled Jen’s arms behind her back, and started to tie her elbows together. “Son, why don’t you show mummy dearest what she might be missing.”

“In the kitchen,” the man said as he pushed Jen’s mother in front of him, Jen watching through her glasses as she felt her wrist been tied.

“Let’s loose this silly skirt as well,” Daughter said as she yanked the skirt down, revealing the lace top stockings and suspender belt underneath. “Very nice, slut – your lover must really have been looking forward to this.”

“Where is she,” Jen growled as Daughter wrapped more rope around her arms and chest, pulling tight as her bodice strained to stay attached.

“I’m taking you to her,” she whispered as she pulled the ropes even tighter, and then fed the ends between Jen's legs, pulling them sharply up and smiling at her gasp as she tied them between her breasts.

“Sit down and shut the fuck up,” Son said to Jen’s mother as he pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and forced her onto it, pulling her arms round the back and starting to bind them tightly together with rope.

“Where is everyone else,” she said as she felt her arms pulled tighter, and then her body forced against the chair back as Son wound the rope around her and the wooden back supports.

“Been entertained by my family,” Son said as he pulled the ropes even tighter, making it hard for his captive to breath. “So shut the fuck up and enjoy this.”

“ENJOY? How the hell am in meant to EEEEENNNJJOYYYYYY...”

She screamed as he pulled her jumper up and started to roughly grope her chest, unable to stop him from sinking his fingers deep into her flesh, cursing the fact she hadn’t put a bra on that day. She could feel them firming, her nipples hardening as she screamed “for God’s sake, please, stop...”

“Shut up,” Son said as he picked up a kitchen sponge and pushed it into her mouth, then ripped the end of a roll of duct tape free and wound it tightly round her head, trapping her hair underneath as her moans got progressively quieter.

“There – now you can enjoy yourself,” he said as he knelt in front of her, using more rope to bind her ankles and knees to the chair legs, then reaching up and groping her from in front, smiling under his mask as she closed her eyes and moaned.

“IF you think that’s good,” he whispered, “try this.” She looked at him as he moved up, and then closed her eyes, not sure whether to scream or sigh as he started to kiss, suck and nibble on her breasts...

“HMFKNGGDDDD – CMMMEEEE?”

Camilla looked slowly up as she saw Jen standing there, her head encircled in silver tape, the ropes almost forcing her chest out.

“Hshttnnnn,” Camilla mumbled as she watched Daughter force her lover to her knees, and then bind her ankles and legs with the rope.

“You two deserve to be together,” she said as she made Camilla kneel in front of Jen, and then pulled their upper bodies together with even more rope, making their taped mouths touch as she gloated over them.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” she said quietly as she pulled on both their crotch ropes, making them both moan as she went out of the room.

“The safe is empty Father,” Mother said as she came out of the closet. Maria turned and looked at them, distracted like mad by the device the masked bitch had slipped under her leggings and into her passage, then tied a rope around her waist and between her legs to keep it in there.

“Good – then we can get going,” Father said as Constance fell onto her side, her leggings down at her knees, her eyes fixed and staring straight ahead as she tried to rationalise what he had done to her.

The two masked intruders walked down the stairs, Father calling out “Son, Daughter, time to go.”

“A pity,” Son said as he looked at Jen’s mother, “just when we were going to have fun.”

She nodded slowly, her pants pulled down with her knickers, her flesh gleaming in the light where he had made her cum, before she watched him walk out.

The four looked at each other before they removed their stocking masks and walked down the path, climbing into the transit van before Father drove off.

“A good night – plenty of jewels and valuables, and we all had some fun,” he said.

“Yeah – best Christmas Eve ever,” Daughter said with a laugh, then she looked at her watch.

“Sorry – Christmas Day. Merry Christmas everyone!”

“Drinks when we get back,” Mother said, “and presents. I hope they all enjoyed theirs...”

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