"Hi, honey, I'm home," called Frank Hulme as he stood in the hallway of his house. There was no response, just a settled silence interrupted only by the gentle ticking of the old clock that stood by the bottom of the stairs. "Honey," the man called out after a moment listening carefully, then modified it. "Honeys. I'm home!"

There was still no response from any of his family. The man glanced back through of the frosted glass of the front door: he could make out his wife Kelly's car in the drive, as he'd expected it to be. But there was no sign of her, no response to him arriving home. It was a pleasant early summer's evening, and he was more or less on time. There had been only a slight delay driving back from the office and normally he would expect his daughter Jasmine rushing to meet him or his son Donny, if he wasn't doing his homework, demanding his father play some sort of game or better still his wife smiling at him as she came to give him a deep, welcoming kiss.

But there was no one to greet or bother him, and only a silence disturbed by the unhurried ticking of the clock.

The man sighed and wondered if there was a note on the hall table, telling him the family had trooped out; the kids to play with a friend or two, his wife telling him she had gone to see a neighbour. But there nothing, and anyway the house was unlocked. Kelly didn't like to leave the house like that even if she popped over the road to see old Mrs Charles as she often did, or went next door to see the Robinson family.

Cautiously, Frank stepped forward towards the living room. He had for a moment wondered if this was some sort of surprise, like a party. But that was unlikely as it wasn't his birthday and not his wedding anniversary (he still mentally checked that it wasn't, just in case that date had somehow slipped his mind) or even some other special occasion. But this was a plain old Friday evening in June, and nothing unusual about it. Still, he braced himself for a chorus of 'surprise!' yells as he peered into the living room.

There were no yells, no one there at all. Even the television was off, which was somewhat unusual. It usually entertained an empty room when one of the kids switched it on and then left within a moment or two for it to play to unoccupied sofas and chairs.

A faint alarm registered in Frank, and instinctively he sniffed the air, worrying there might be some sort of gas leak or the smell of burning. Of course, he would have detected anything like that the instant he arrived home, but still... he had to be sure. It was unlikely that there had been any crisis, though it was easy to imagine that 12 year old Donny or nine-year old Jasmine had been rushed to hospital as the result of a fall or a tumble. But that was ridiculous; Kelly would have called on his mobile or had a neighbour on stand-by to pass on the news.

The kitchen was empty and the stove cold. There was nothing cooking in the oven, no food on the table. The washing up had been done (one of the kids' tasks, and Frank was pleased to see it had been done) and chairs at the kitchen table neatly put away. There was no note here, no sign of any disruption. The back door was locked and when he opened it to look out at the garden, Frank didn't see anyone there and for that matter could see nothing disturbed or out of place.

Just for good measure, he called out again, this time using all three names. "Kelly! Donny! Jazz!" He always called Jasmine by the name Jazz, and no one else did. Donny would call his younger sister 'Minnie' just to annoy her (she would retort with 'Duck' just to try to get back at him) while Kelly said that Jasmine was simply Jasmine to her. First Frank called into the garden, and then turned back and called into the house.

Neither the garden nor the house brought any response to his new calls, and despite regarding himself as a rational man a fear gripped his heart. There was nothing that felt wrong, but the lack of reaction or calls back began to worry him. Irrational though it was to think that harm had come to his wife and two kids, the man still couldn't help wondering what exactly was going on and whether it was bad news.

Frank stood in the hall again, listening. Then, through the deep silence and not masked by the old clock, he heard a sound like a faint moan. Taking the stairs three at a time, he raced up them and stood at the top of the stairs, calling out names again, asking where his family members were. There was no sign and in the silence, masked only by his heart pounding in his chest, he listened for a sound again. There was nothing immediately, and then he heard a faint moan. He was sure of it.

Heart pounding harder, he stood and wondered which room he should search first. The logical place was the main bedroom, but it was empty. The double bed he and Kelly slept in was neatly made with the pillows plumped up as they usually were; if Kelly was anything she was good housewife (and a wonderful lay in bed, for what it was worth right now) and she took a pride in the bed being ready for them at night. Frank even, unlikely though it was, checked under the bed. There was no body, nothing to alarm him.

Next he checked Donny's bedroom. It was the usual pre-teen boy's mess, but the bed was neatly made and no one there. If this was some kidnapping (and heaven knows they weren't especially well-off so that would make no sense) they had been remarkably careful and tidy about it.

Finally, wondering if this was all perhaps some exquisite nightmare he had stumbled into, he went into Jasmine's bedroom. There she was.

The nine-year old girl was naked, and sat on a chair in the middle of the room, ropes tied round her upper body and her arms pinned behind her. Her legs were bound together at knees and ankles, cinched neatly, and more ropes were across her lap so she couldn't leave the chair. The most telling thing was that her pretty young face looked anything but distressed, or at least from what the man could see for there was a wide strip of white adhesive tape across the girl's jaw and a bulge at her mouth suggesting that something was taped into her young mouth. She was calm and even somehow looked pleased, not just that her dad was there but she was where she wanted to be.

Frank stared for a moment at his bound and gagged daughter and then started forward, wanting to know if she was alright and to hold still while he got the tape off her face. To his astonishment Jasmine shook her head vigorously as he reached for the edge of the white tape. The girl grunted loudly into her gag, and redoubled the urgent shaking of her head. It was as if she didn't want him to remove the tape. Then she looked down at her lap and nodded, and grunted again.

Frank blinked at his daughter and then saw what she was looking down at. Between her young, slim but well-tied thighs was a folded sheet of paper. Whatever it was she clearly wanted her father to read it. He pulled it out and opened it.

It was a note written by Jasmine's own hand. 'Dear dad,' It began. 'I know you will be surprised but please don't be shocked. I am OK and not hurt. I wanted you to find me tied up but please, don't untie me. Don't take out my gag yet, please. I like this and mummy says it is okay. Honest.'

Frank stared at the letter, looked up at his daughter who eyes appeared to be smiling despite her situation, and he resumed reading.

'Mummy says you like this tying up thing, so we decided on a nice surprise for you (His daughter had misspelt surprise and crossed it out, and then corrected it) so I am tied up and I like it. But Mummy is tied up somewhere else and you have to find her. Oh yes, and Donny too. Only don't try to untie them, not until you know why.' The note was signed 'Love from your tied up little Jazz.'

The man looked back at his girl. He had not seen her naked since she was about five, and though she had no bust yet and was every bit as pale as he remembered from when she was little, it was arousing to see her as a bigger child, naked and even bound. Despite everything, Frank felt his cock harden in his pants. But the main thing was she clearly wasn't in distress. She looked happy enough and Frank had to admit that, having got over the shock of seeing Jasmine like this, he really liked the view. He read through the note again, satisfied himself that she wasn't in distress and sat on the edge of her bed. For a minute he studied her and then he said: "You okay, Jazz?"

Jasmine grinned behind her gag and nodded. She gave the smallest grunt as if to say 'yes.'

"You don't want me to untie you, do you? You want to stay like that I take it."

The little girl nodded agreement, and then inclined her pretty blonde head to one side. Neither a nod nor a shake, so he asked her if she was okay if he left her there like that. She nodded hard, then seemed to indicate the door.

Frank understood. "I have to go and find mum and Donny?" He paused, feeling his cock harden even more. "They're tied up too, right?"

Jasmine nodded again, eyes shining, then tilted her head towards the door again.

"Okay, I'll be back soon," said Frank as he stood, aware that his stiff cock was tenting his trousers. Jasmine glanced at it but there was no reaction, no look of alarm. He paused though, thinking how radiant and how beautiful his child looked and then he stepped over to her bound form. "Don't worry, I won't untie you," he whispered and ran his fingers over the knots and ropes that held Jazz tightly to the chair. He loved the way the ropes made little creases in her flesh, loved how perfect she looked. How happy she was too, perhaps happier than she had ever been. She gave a small shudder, though the man understood this wasn't one of revulsion but of anticipated pleasure.

Standing behind Jasmine, Frank had a sudden urge to free his hard cock and rub himself slowly as he stared down at her neatly secured arms and the way her wrists were held together. It was certainly a thorough job; whoever had tied this - and he had to presume it would the same person who would have tied his wife and son, when he found them - had done a very professional job. Whoever had done this knew how to secure a person; the ropes looked not to be on a critical point like the wrist immediately above the hand which would cut off the blood supply but slightly higher up the child's forearm. Still effective, but not putting the girl at any risk. The way each rope had been carefully cinched impressed him too. There was no way Jasmine could wriggle out of this, even if she wanted to and he was sure she didn't want to try.

Frank was impressed and wondered who it was who had gone to this much trouble. He thought perhaps for a moment that his wife had done it - Frank had tied her up a lot when they were first married 14 years ago, so she would understand how it should be done - but why if she had done this had she hidden herself away? Had she put herself in some cupboard in self-bondage? He had to admit it seemed unlikely. Still, he had to find her. With a reluctant sigh he stroked the girl's ropes and flesh one more time and then set off to find the other two.

Frank paused at the door and looked back, wanting to take in the sight of his securely bound and gagged naked daughter and because he wanted to say something that mattered to him. "Jazz honey, I've wanted to tie you up for a long time," he said after a moment. "You don't know how happy this makes me. I guess we will have to do this again soon."

Jasmine nodded and winked at him, and he left feeling even better than before.

--

Frank found Kelly in the garage, and she wasn't in any self-bondage for no one could do this to themselves. She was bound head to toe with wide rubber straps, fastened to a board the length of her body, and she was naked. She had been bound so she was upside down and the board hauled up on a set of chains that the house's previous owner had installed to lift engines out of vehicles. Now the naked 35 year old woman, her naked tits hanging down, swung gently on the board some six feet off the ground.

The man stared at his wife and saw she was gagged too, but not like Jazz had been silenced. In Kelly's mouth was a ring gag and she was drooling. On the concrete floor beneath her was a pool of saliva, suggesting she had been bound like this for at least an hour, perhaps longer. But like Jasmine, the woman wasn't in distress. She had been tied with wide, thick straps to properly hold her safe. The chains from the pulleys in the garage roof could take a load far greater than his slim wife's weight, and the bonds that pinned her to the board were carefully placed across her upper chest, her waist, her hips and at three points on her legs from thigh to ankles. Her arms were by her side and they were trapped too by the straps, but what impressed Frank was the broad strap that went across his wife's forehead and covered her eyes as a blindfold. It supported her head perfectly and kept her in the dark, and Frank's cock stirred anew at the sight.

He guessed that under the head strap his wife's ears would be plugged with something so she couldn't hear him coming, or at least he guessed it was like that because that was what he would have done. So the first she would know that anyone was there was when she was touched. Moving up to his wife, Frank reached out for her dangling tits and without warning he pinched her nipples gently.

Kelly moaned into her gag and twitched in shock, then as he massaged her rapidly hardening nipples he laughed at the way she was gurgling into her gag. "Hi honey, I'm home," he chuckled, and pinched the woman's nipples sharply, bringing fresh moans from his gagged wife. She struggled weakly, or perhaps that was ineffectually, in her straps and the board swung a little back and forth.

Frank stopped torturing his wife's nipples after a few minutes and went to the pulley control handle and lowered the board a couple of feet so that her face, and mouth, was at his cock height. He freed his cock from his pants and put himself where he could slide his stiff prick up into his wife's ring-gagged mouth. Slowly he began to fuck the helpless woman's mouth with slow, measured strokes. He had done this type of thing many times before, of course, but not with a ring gag in her mouth; the feeling of her tongue on his cock head and the pressure of the ring as he slid in and out of her mouth was wonderful. He came all to quickly and then stepped back to watch any unswallowed cum slowly drip on to the garage floor, joining his wife's saliva puddle.

After a couple of minutes of enjoying the sight he unfastened the rubber strap holding Kelly's head to the board. Free of the restraint it sagged forward a little as she struggled to keep her head up and she blinked in the subdued light of the garage. He could see now that his wife's ears had been plugged with some wax-like substance but he could pull one out so she could hear him. "Hope you are okay," he said, squatting down by her side.

Kelly gurgled and gave a sort of nod in response. "I've already found Jazz tied to a chair in her room. She looks wonderful, as you do, hon. But I haven't found Donny yet. You know, I really want to know who did all this to you but I guess it can wait. I really don't want to untie you or Jazz."

Kelly managed another nod as if she understood. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as if she was quite content with this arrangement.

"I suppose I have to ask if you want to be unstrapped from this. You want me to set you free, darling?"

His wife shook her head as best she could. Another surge of happiness went through Frank; she was happy as was their daughter and it meant he could enjoy all this longer.

"I think I need to look for Donny, though I imagine I am not looking in the right place yet," continued Frank. "I could take your gag out but..." he shrugged. Then he saw that his wife was looking at the far wall of the garage. He followed her gaze, and saw written with a finger in dust on the floor at the end of the garage two words, 'Hurt me.'

Frank was taken aback. Had Kelly written that, before she was fastened to the board? Or had the mysterious bondage expert written it, knowing the woman wasn't in a position to object to anything? Frank felt his cock twitch and knew deep down he always wanted to hurt his wife.

"Honey, I don't fully understand what's going on. You may do and perhaps tell me some time. All I know is I love all this. But as for hurting you... Actually, I always wanted to whip those tits of yours, so I have to admit this is a wonderful chance. But, you screaming and disturbing the neighbours wouldn't be good. I just hope the gag does it's job properly when I punish your boobs." Frank had never said anything like that before, but Kelly didn't look shocked. He put the wax ball back in her ear, fastened the head strap back in place round the plank to keep his wife's head up and keep her in darkness and then he raised the board back up back to where it was when he found her. Frank went to the work bench and rooted round for a length of electrical wire before returning to his suspended, helpless wife. "I guess this will hurt and in a way I am sorry, but it has to be done now I know I can. Maybe I've wanted to do it all the time I have known you. Like tying up Jazz, I guess. Who knows? Who cares?"

She couldn't hear him, he knew, but she would feel the pain sure enough. Frank stood back and swung the length of thin electrical cable as rudimentary whip. As the first unexpected blow struck her naked, inviting breasts Kelly screamed into her gag, though it came out as a sort of high-pitched gurgle. Several times as he swung the cable upwards he hit the rubber strap rather than her twin globes, but he persisted and more often than not he struck her tits. After a few minutes the woman's bust was criss-crossed with angry red weals and only then did he stop. He fondled her punished tits lovingly, squeezing them and caressing her still hard nipples. He thanked his wife for her patience and promised to do it again some time.

Frank left a sobbing Kelly hanging on the board, drooling and no doubt tears trying to find a way out from behind her rubber blindfold, and went to find Donny.

--

A search of the house, including the bathroom and all the cupboards and storage areas, didn't reveal his son. Frank was sure the boy would be bound in some way, and perhaps in some unexpected way. He had imagined him crammed in a cupboard, or even forced into the laundry basket but he wasn't. Apart from calling in to check Jasmine was still okay (she was) and telling her he had found her mother, he continued looking. Frank had thought he ought to tell Jazz that he had punished her mum's tits, and the thought excited him. He went back to the helpless little girl and told her where he had found her, how she was secured, and how there was a message to hurt her.

"Sorry, hon, but I had to hurt your mummy. I whipped her tits because they were just so tempting."

Jasmine didn't seem entirely shocked. She simply nodded as if that was fine by her.

Frank pressed on. "One day," he said, reaching out and touching his daughter's little nipples, "you'll have tits too. Nice ones, I hope, like your mum's. Then maybe I will punish them like I did with hers."

Jazz nodded. She winced a little as Frank pinched her nipples, but she couldn't exactly retreat from his playing. "Perhaps one day I will have your nipples ringed and tie you up by them," he mused. "We've got so much to look forward to." Then he got up, stroked his child's face and told he he loved her, and went to find her brother.

The house showed no sign of Donny - not even in the dusty and dark loft space - and a small panic rose in Frank. Perhaps there was bad news here, but he couldn't believe the bondage expert as he called this person would have done something bad to his son. Leaving a small girl and woman naked and secured so they couldn't escape suggested the same had been done to the boy, but he was unsure where.

Frank knew he had to keep looking but he was stumped. He could of course have taken Kelly's gag out and asked her, but in a way that spoiled the game. Plus, she might not know. The bondage-expert had done this so it was a game and they wouldn't leave obvious ways out of the game like allowing people to know much and give clues away. The man stood outside his house and surveyed the garden. It wasn't big, but there was a shed at the end of it. Of course, he thought, and set off to check.

The shed though was the usual mess. No one had been in there other than him for a while and there was no sign of his son. He stood in the door of the shed and looked across the neat lawn and the flower beds, and then he saw something he didn't expect.

Between the flowers on one bed was an upturned bucket. A new one, and one he hadn't put there. As he was the family's sole gardener, he wondered why the galvanised, silver bucket was there. Carefully he approached it, as if trapped under it might be some fierce creature lurking. When he lifted it up, he saw it wasn't some creature at all. It was his son.

Donny's head was emerging from the soil and he was ball gagged. There was a pair of his wife's pink lace panties stretched over his head so he could see through the leg holes and the stained, soiled crotch over his nose. The gag was on the outside of the panties so they were pinned into his mouth. Not surprisingly the pre-teen boy looked in some distress, and not just because he was buried up to his neck. Whoever had put him there had not only gagged him efficiently, but smeared honey on his underwear-covered head and ants were crawling over the fabric as well his face and hair where they were exposed. He grunted pathetically and rolled his eyes up at his dad as if to say 'get me out of here, please.'

Frank stared at his helpless son and couldn't help feel his cock harden. The game, if that was what it was, had just got a lot more interesting. He had seen his daughter tied up tightly, he had seen his wife strapped to a suspended board (and satisfyingly had whipped her tits) and now his son was suffering in a delightful way. The ants wouldn't harm him, but they would be a constant source of irritation and he would fear other creatures coming along with stings and bites. He looked at the boy's neck and saw, to his surprise, that there was lace ruffle emerging from the soil. Frank recognised it with a shock; it was his wife's original wedding dress she had kept for all these years. This bondage expert had dug a hole, probably bound the boy and having gagged him lowered him - dressed in his mother's wedding gown (he was about her size and build) into the hole, filled it in around him. He couldn't escape and he couldn't speak, and he had insects all over his head and face. He had been crying, so this wasn't exactly pleasurable for the boy. He was probably terrified and the thought pleased Frank for reasons he couldn't explain.

Frank looked round for some garden tool to begin to dig him out, but what he saw at once was the end of the garden hose nearby with a label tied to it. Intrigued, he read it. 'Water to clean the mess off the sissy," was all it informed him. The hose was attached to a tap on the back of the garage some yards away and clearly he was meant, on discovering the boy, to subject him to more misery with cold water.

"Donny," he said to his son as he squatted by him. "I have to water you, like the label says." The boy looked up with fresh tears in his eyes. Some beetle crawled across the bridge of his panty-crotch nose and Donny sobbed anew. The boy's father picked up the hose and as it had a spray head attachment on it he began to wash the boy's head. The honey and the small creatures were hosed off him, immediately soaking the thin panties, and as the water gathered in a cold puddle round the kid's neck the lace ruffle of the wedding gown was saturated in seconds. Frank felt a surge of pleasure he was making his son's life more uncomfortable. No doubt the cold water would seep down his neck and even though he was trapped by the soil it would turn to mud around him. Perhaps the boy would have to wash Kelly's wedding gown when he was dug out. Well, he would need to wear chains if he was to do jobs like that around the home. Kelly always said he didn't do enough to help, and maybe this was the start of something more fun.

Frank smiled as he looked at his son's now clean head, though the panties and his hair were matted to his skull and the puddle round his neck was large. Water, and fresh tears, dripped off his nose. Still, there was no need to waste the opportunity to have fun here. Frank grinned as he knelt by his son's head (admittedly in the muddy puddle but he didn't care) and he freed his thick, erect cock. He rubbed it against Donny's soaking wet hair and the knickers marvelled at the feel of it on his dick. He came in a minute, and his semen squirted across Donny's head. Frank sighed and wiped his cock on his son's face as the boy wept at the humiliation of it all. It took a little more water from the hose to clean his cum off the boy's head.

The man stood and wondered if he should leave his son to suffer more like this. Was he really a sissy? Well, Kelly had confided some time ago she thought their son was raiding her underwear, so perhaps he was. Could be that was why he had the panties on his head, why he was probably wearing Kelly's wedding dress in the ground? If so, he was probably wearing some of sexy underwear too. But how did the person who put him in the ground know all this? Who was so cruel and so clever as this?

Frank stood for a full minute contemplating what to do next, and then he heard a sound behind him like footsteps on the grass. He spun round, expecting to see some sadistic monster approaching him, maybe intending to make him like the rest of his family. He had clenched his fists to defend himself.

It wasn't a monster, however. It wasn't even a man. It was old Mrs Charles from over the road, and she was smiling.

"Good. I see you have finally found all your darlings," she purred, sweetly. "And now I expect you'd like to find out why they are where they are. How about making me a nice cup of tea and I will explain. After you do something for me."

End of part 1