Babysitter Bondage (An Age Play Story) (2 page)

“Several things,” he explained easily. “I probably watch too much TV. I don’t work out enough. I don’t eat as many vegetables as I should.” He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching up boyishly. “But when it comes to Mia, I assure you, my intentions are honorable and wholesome. You see, she is a brilliant, beautiful young woman. She has so much potential, and she seems to like me too.”

“She’s eighteen,” I reiterated. It sounded so obvious.

“But maturity isn’t a matter of age. Maturity is what counts, and your sister is very wise and patient, and she knows how to deal with people.”

I couldn’t believe this. Trevor was so full of crap. Again, the urge to smack him twitched through my palm. It took everything I had to control myself.

“We must be talking about two different girls named Mia. Mia, my sister Mia, is a brat. She acts like a toddler half the time. She doesn’t take responsibility for anything.” He watched me, and it started to get awkward because he didn’t flinch. To divert myself, if only for a second, I took another sip of orange juice. Again, I noticed the slightly off aftertaste.

“You’re mistaken.”

“How long—” I started to ask, but the world seemed to wobble around me. The counters seemed to blur or shake. I grabbed at the table as my mouth went dry. “How long have you known her?” My vision and sense of balance clarified.

Trevor obviously noticed, “Are you feeling okay?” The bastard actually sounded concerned, like he cared about my well being.

My stomach dropped out. To center myself, I decided to take another pull of orange juice. It was cold and helped me focus. I took another long pull of air through pursed lips. “I’m fine,” I growled back at her. The universe gave me a slap across the face because the room started to spin faster.

The cup slipped out of my fingers, hit the table, and spilled down onto my pants. The cold liquid soaked into the fabric. It stained my blouse as well, leaving a big, dark smear.

“You’re obviously not doing well,” he told me. Trevor got up and circled the table to put an arm around my shoulder. “Here, let me help you.”

Trevor helped me to my feet. I tried to nudge him away except he put another arm around my waist to keep me going. He walked me out of the kitchen. I kept trying to tell him I was fine, only he didn’t listen and I couldn’t argue.

We got to another room. My sight blurred again. I made out the soft, pastel colors, but that was it. I didn’t notice the shape of the bed or the dressers. Nothing really made sense here. “This is a guest room,” he said and lowered me down onto the bed. I stared up at the ceiling. The lines melded together as I scrunched my eyes closed.

Opening them again, I realized things were a bit easier to process.

“Oh, silly girl. It looks like you got your pants all wet. We’re going to need to get you out of them.”

“What?” I couldn’t comprehend what he just said.

Rather than explain it again, Trevor unbuttoned my pants with one quick motion. Rolling the waistband into his fingers, he yanked my pants down and pulled them off my feet.

I sat up and glanced down at my now bare legs. Part of me couldn’t believe it. He just took off my pants! I tried to roll off the bed, but Trevor grabbed my wrists and pinned me back onto the bed.

“Naughty girl. Do you think I’m going to let you leave with wet pants? People might think you wet yourself. They might think you were some naughty little baby.” He cooed down at me, speaking to me like I was really an infant or toddler.

Frustration bit at the back of my throat. The desire to smack him intensified, only my body refused to act on my orders. My muscles felt fuzzy and cottony. It was like the impulses got lost from the trip between my brain and limbs. At least I got my mouth to work.

“No,” I shook my head, “No. I’m not a baby.”

“I think you are,” he said with a deep nod of his head. It looked exaggerated, the same kind of gesture you might use with a small child. “I think you came in here ready to act all big and tough when you’re just a small girl at heart. Isn’t that right?”

“No!” I hissed through my incisors, fighting to maintain my sense of self. My muscles didn’t want to work right, and his words seemed utterly confused. I was there on my back, unable to really move. In some ways, I actually felt like a child as my legs kicked uselessly against the air.

“Silly girl,” he chuckled, and he made it sound like I was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. My skin flushed at his patronizing attitude. “Oh well, we’ll make things right. Okay?”

“Make things right,” I mumbled back, trying to understand what he meant.

Trevor nodded again with the same exaggerated motion. Then he let my wrists go only to grab something soft and fabric. He pulled it up and wrapped it around my right wrist. I heard the Velcro rub together and lock together.

Straining my head, I rolled over to see what he had done. I found my wrist encased in a fabric sheath. It was about the size of a thick bracelet, maybe two inches wide. The inner material looked shiny and black, but the outer lining glimmered a bright pink with two white hearts. It seemed like something an errant three-year-old might have to wear. The fabric connected back to a cord that stretched across the bed and down beneath the mattress.

I pulled. I couldn’t break the cord. Trevor had me trapped.

If I were in a normal state of mine, I might have simply torn away the Velcro. Only right then, I could barely think straight. And even if my thoughts weren’t so jumbled, I didn’t know if I could make my fingers work properly. Flopping from side to side felt like the limit of my dexterity.

“There. Now that I know you’ll be nice and safe, I can get your things ready.”

My things. He was going to wash my pants, I thought. The idea made sense at the time, but then he came back. “Oh, I forgot your panties. How silly of me.” He didn’t sound silly. If anything, he sounded more predatory, like a hunter who found easy prey. The conflicting ideas sent my heart into overdrive.

Rolling onto my back, I saw him come back to the bed. He seemed to move in slow motion. Again, it must have been whatever made me feel so unsteady, whatever made me drop my drink.

He inserted his fingers beneath the elastic of my bright blue panties. Realizing he saw them and smirked down at me, obviously amused, I blushed even brighter. The heat spread across my skin in pattered waves as my heart kept pounding. Guys never saw me like this. Before graduating, I only had one boyfriend, and we only had sex a couple times.
The idea of this man, Trevor, getting to see me naked made me yank as hard as I could on the cord.

I wanted to snap it.

I wanted to hear the vinyl material stretch and snap.

I wanted to watch his expression jump from condescending to frightened.

Nothing happened. The cord stretched but kept my arm in place. Stuck there on my back, I tried to whack him with my hand. I swiped at him, hoping to slap him, but I kept missing. My hand eye coordination really had been reduced to a toddler’s. Maybe younger.

I moved like I hadn’t learned how to manage my own body yet.

Taking full advantage of my disorientation, Trevor yanked once and brought my panties down my legs, past my knees, and beyond my heels. Using my free hand, I tried to grab at the edge of my blouse and cover as much as I could.

It wasn’t much.

“Silly girl. Are you embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. Baby girls don’t have to worry about modesty,” he said, sounding very much like a preschool teacher. I seethed, glaring back and fighting again to get my blouse to stretch but it barely covered half of my pubic hair.

“No,” I mumbled again, struggling to make real words.

“Don’t worry. The drugs will wear off and you’ll get to talk again. But by then, we’ll have you dressed more appropriately.”

Drugs! The orange juice! The pieces slammed into place. Trevor watched my expressions shift from confusion and back to outrage. I wanted to threaten to sue him. I wanted to tell him his life would be ruined over this. Those and a hundred other perfectly articulate images flashed through my head, but when I tried to voice any of them, they sounded more like pathetic mewling.

Knowing he drugged me only added to my frantic struggles.

“Do you need to calm down, little girl?” Trevor asked me. In spite of my raging psyche, he smiled down helpfully. “Are you going to be fussy?”

Fussy? Who talked like that? Parents, I realized. Babysitters. The last thought burned especially bright as I thought of why I had come back home. Mia needed a babysitter, only now this guy had the gall to speak to me as though I were so much younger when in reality it was only three or four years.

“Here, let me help you calm down,” he said. With one hand, he pinned my free wrist. As my legs kicked against the air, he slipped his other hand between my legs. “A nice little treat should help you get nice and sleepy. Isn’t that right? Yes, it is. It is right because you’re just a sweet baby girl at heart.”

“No,” I answered back pathetically. “No, I’m a big girl.” My words lost their power right as I realized what he was about to do.

Trevor’s fingers made their way down to my pelvis. He stroked me, petting me almost soothingly. For a second, I thought he simply wanted to pet me into submission. Considering my already malleable state, he might have succeeded.

No, he had something else in mind.

Trevor’s fingers shifted lower, down between her legs. As she kicked up, I had spread my legs, which gave him the perfect opening. With his eyes on me, he stroked my vaginal lips.

The sensations cut through the fuzz and made me throw out a loud yelp. My whole body tensed up. It seemed like everything clenched as humiliation and pleasure pumped through me. Panting, I opened my mouth to say something else, to protest or demand he stop, but the time it took to formulate a response was too long.

Eyes on me still, Trevor stroked me again. He ran his fingers up and down the length of my slit. Breathing hard now, heart ramming against my rib cage, I bit down to keep from crying out again. In my head, I got the idea that I wouldn’t let him see how this affected me.

It was a dumb idea.

For one, he felt me get wet. To my eternal shame and embarrassment, the heat excited me, and I was damp by the second stroke. His touch was firm and light in the same motion. It didn’t seem possible. It was like he teased me with a delicious paradox. Part of me longed to slap his hand away, but I never managed to summon the will necessary.

Second, I started to writhe to his touch. When he dipped his fingers into me, my eyes widened to the size of quarters. I tensed up even more as he worked his fingers deeper into me. Those two digits discovered my clitoris, and he started to stroke and tease me. My breath turned to ragged little puffs as he tormented me to a delicious motion.

I felt his fingertips in pulsed movements. On, on, off, on, on, off, over and over again until passion and desire and pleasure swirled through my entire body. It was like every nerve ending I possessed had been lit. No one ever touched me like this. Every protest dissipated in my throat, unspoken.

Heck, I couldn’t talk at all, not anymore, not when he played me like a stupid instrument. It was like he knew all of my buttons although this was our first meeting.

The desire gained momentum, pounding through my blood to the same intense rhythm as my heart. It was like I had just become those two sequences: the percussion of my heart and the pulse of his fingertips.

“Do you want to come?” he asked.

My lips quivered through some unintelligible response. Even in the throes of intoxicated arousal, I managed to nod quickly. That must have been good enough because he sped up, pressing harder, working me over until the orgasm snapped into place. It felt like an explosion, like I heard one click somewhere far away before my world turned to deluge of pleasure.

It came over me like an avalanche, like the fabric of reality changed and enveloped me in heat and a perfectly warm glow at the same time.

In time, the pleasure faded and I tried to keep my eyes open, but the desire had been replaced by an intense fatigue. It was all I could do to pry my eyelids up and try to speak again.

“Silly girl. Babies don’t know how to talk yet. But maybe if you try really hard, you’ll be able to get something out tomorrow,” Trevor said to me as he cleaned his fingers off on a tissue. “But for now, I’m going to get you ready for bed.”

Bed? Somewhere far away in my head, I thought it wasn’t even noon yet.

“That’s right,” he said with the same patronizing nod. “Little girls need to nap. Otherwise they get all cranky and naughty.” Wrinkling his brow, he put on a faux glower, like something Oscar the Grouch might have worn.

Trevor moved out of my line of sight. I heard a drawer open, then close. I wanted to be interested. I knew this would be relevant to me, only I couldn’t make myself contrite. All the desire and focus in the world couldn’t command my body if it absolutely refused to obey me. And right then, it seemed more interested in following Trevor’s lead. It was like my physical form had become warmly submissive to my sister’s boyfriend.

He came back holding something. When I first glimpsed the item, I thought it was impossible. No, there was no way I was seeing it right. My vision had been distorted ever since I sipped that stupid orange juice. This had to be another symptom.