Baby Sit the Wife Ch. 02

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Nadine is found out.
3.1k words
4.21
219.3k
31

Part 2 of the 4 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 09/08/2008
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Nadine waited for her husband to clear the house before rising unable to face him or anyone else. Fortunately he slept in the spare room too cautious to wake her and slunk out early this morning for a round of golf.

She was lingering over a cup of coffee wondering if it would be wiser to give him a hard time over being left with the neighbours daughter or keep silent, as she would rather forget the whole sordid episode, but he would expect her to say something. Again she thought silence might just work or was it wishful thinking for she didn't trust herself to be able to carry on a convincing argument when she felt so guilty.

There was a knock at the back door. "Come in its open." She shouted. "Damn!" She thought he's forgotten something. She felt safer with her back to the door so he wouldn't see the guilty expression still writ large upon her face and she still needed more time alone to get her thoughts back together after last night's ordeal.

"Hello Mrs Brandon. How are you this morning?"

"Shit!" She thought. The coffee cup rattled the table as it almost fell from her grip. The unmistakable voice of the baby sitters boyfriend shook what little stability had been pulled together.

"I'm not so good. Can you come back later?" She said, not daring to turn to face him, she just sat staring down into the black coffee.

"I've got this for you." He said.

Not caring what it was she murmured. "Just put it on the table. I'll look at it later." He pushed the phone along the table, in her face, forcing her to look at the tiny screen. Her eyes focused to see a picture of a naked body, her body on the sofa taken last night. It began to move.

"I hadn't realised the movie camera was on. Well, not at first. I edited it on my computer last night. I took out all the useless shots of the carpet and sofa, even the ceiling." He said quietly. "This bit is when it was kicked out of my hand. It landed on the sofa so it wasn't broken after all." He said calmly.

On the small screen it could just be made out, a close up of a hand slapping a bottom. If she hadn't been there perhaps it would be unrecognisable for what it was. Stunned, she sat attempting to digest this new twist of a knife in her stomach.

"Open your eyes Mrs Brandon." He said politely.

She looked up to see the young nineteen year old standing by the kitchen television with a wire running to his mobile phone. She didn't understand what was going on. There she was on the big screen. Trying to deny what was going on her thoughts drifted off. 'Why had they such a large screen in the kitchen.' She wondered, trying not to look at it. 'They never used it. Breakfast was always a hurried affair and in the evening they dined in the lounge.' Then she remembered it was a fixture, it came with the house. Unable to move her head, her eyes wide, the brain began catching up with events.

Mrs Brandon heard clearly a voice, her voice, out of view calling the babysitter a bitch. The scene showed two women on the floor squabbling in a writhing heap. The large screen showed her face clearly, other things too clearly. Now the view was straight between her legs, her bottom shaking with each slap.

"That's when it fell on the sofa." He said.

The scene changed again. A very nervous looking young woman was pulling at a little white dress standing mumbling, apologising. Another clear shot of her face looking contrite, where she was obviously feeling very sorry for herself.

Over his knees again only a different angle this time. Watching her bottom being massaged brought back the sensuous feelings, which she desperately tried to ignore. Her head looked round into view, revealing a look of bliss as she arched her back. The face dropped out of view to reveal a close up of her crotch with fingers delving intimately. She gasped on seeing her hips rise up clearly striving to regain contact with those nimble fingers. Watching in shocked fascination, not remembering anything of these final moments of orgasm, she marvelled at its intensity. She sat in stunned silence looking at the blank screen.

Mrs Brandon rocked on the kitchen stool nearly falling in a feint. "Here let me help you. You need to sit down. Over here." Daren said, calmly trying to reassure her. He guided her into the lounge to sit on the very same sinful sofa, where she folded weakly onto his knees. He pulled the dressing gown to one side.

"No! I mustn't. I'm a married woman. You mustn't do that. Please. Oh!" Her voice trailed off to nothing. Once more fingers worked magically upon her body only this time with more confidence. "Please stop. This is wrong." She repeated, making no attempt to stop him. The same ointment had been found under the sofa for two hands to lavishly spread the grease over her upturned bottom. His fingers polished the glistening softness working their magic upon over-wrought senses. "Oh. No! You mustn't. Please!" She gasped. "Yes!"

Two fingers probed finding different places to explore. A steady rhythm of fingers and thumb worked hard, a little more expertly than the night before. She writhed and squirmed desperately thrusting her crotch up at those tormenting digits grasping his fingers inside to heighten the exquisite sensations. "Yes! I'm coming!" She screeched.

He slipped the supine body gently to the floor then lifted her head cupping her face in his wet hands forcing her to look him in the eye. "What do you say, Mrs Brandon." He asked.

Falling back into the role she had played last night it was easy to reply. "Thank you, Sir."

He guided her head into his lap for something else he had heard about but never experienced. Intently watching a tongue tentatively flick against the head of his cock held him captive as completely as she had been ensnared. Watching a pair of luscious lips cautiously suck the head between them and the feeling of her tongue playing against sensitive skin was too much to bear. He pulled her head forward burying himself in her face.

Choking, retching and protesting, it made no difference, for he was beyond caring. He fell back into the sofa pulling her head forcefully, burying his cock deep into her throat.

***

Mr Brandon complimented Daren on a job well done. "You handled that like an expert. I couldn't have done a better job myself." He said, while his wife stood quietly not knowing what to say, too self-conscious to join in. "What do you think, darling? Has he got the magic touch or not." John asked his wife.

"He certainly knows what he is doing." Nadine agreed.

"Now you're taking over that tedious task Nadine won't be nagging me and I have more time to play golf." He laughed. "That bush of hers looks superb, I've never seen it looking so alive. You have a gift for gardening." He said, while hefting a golf bag over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr Brandon. That hedge trimmer is a brilliant piece of equipment. It takes half the time compared to the old one."

Mrs Brandon thought about men and their toys but made no comment, simply handing their new gardener a glass of juice.

"Thank you, Mrs Brandon. It certainly gave me a thirst hefting that trimmer around." Daren said.

She almost replied, "Thank you, Sir." As he handed back the glass, but caught the 'Sir' in time.

As her husband drove off she knew the moment had arrived for a change of roles, as she had done so often over the past two weeks, from housewife to sex toy. Daren would be stepping into the kitchen from the garden at any moment, to take control of another of his new toys. She wondered if he had brought another accessory, for as his plaything she had an intense concern over what new attachment she might be wearing.

She was wearing one at the moment. She wriggled her bottom; clenching both cheeks as a reminder that she had been reduced to a mere toy fitted with accessories by an attentive owner. Resigned to playing along with whatever took his fancy she hoped it wouldn't be painful.

***

Two weeks ago, while on her knees before him, he had explained as delicately as he could this would be her position from now on. She remembered protesting. "No! This mustn't happen again. It's wrong. You're a young man. You must find yourself a young girlfriend." She desperately fought for words and excuses until he pulled her over his knee and spanked her bottom where she once more sunk into a submissive role. Attempting to assuage the guilt she told herself there was no choice it would have to be endured, whatever he wanted, while that damning video existed.

When he arrived a third time she was desperate for its return. "Please Daren. Give me the video. This has got to stop. No more. Please, Daren. I mean it this time. Brag to whom you like but this has got to stop. Now. No more."

"Get down on your knees if you want to beg. That's it. You're like a bitch on heat. Admit it. Say it, Mrs Brandon."

"I'm a bitch on heat." She quavered; the excuse she made to herself was this might be the only way to get it back. Whatever it took, however humiliating, she would grovel for this dreadful secret to be kept, she would have to beg this young man for her life back.

"You're a bitch waiting for me to make you come. You want me to play with you. Tell me, Mrs Brandon." He commanded her.

"I want you to play with me." Her voice faltered with shame knowing it was true, she did want to feel those strong fingers playing with her.

"You're my toy to play with. Say it Mrs Brandon." He goaded her.

"I'm your toy to play with." She moaned. He took a hold of her long hair pulling her face close to his saying clearly and slowly. "You are my toy Mrs Brandon. I'm here to play with you, to do what ever I like with you."

For two weeks she pandered to his whims, each time giving in to whatever he wanted. So here she was a sex toy waiting for him to play with, bent and shaped to his whims for whenever and however he wanted her. What she hadn't thought through was how much more he had over her after fulfilling each sordid act, so it seemed she was his toy until discarded. She tried not to think about being unwanted knowing it was wrong not to look forward to that day of freedom.

***

Nadine stood in her own kitchen with head bowed as he walked in not wanting to reveal the look of anticipation upon her face, not wanting him to know she had become somehow dependent upon these sordid sex sessions. She felt him reach between her legs pulling gently at the butt plug.

"Just checking." He said, in response to a startled reaction.

She could have taken it out until he arrived but somehow there was a compulsion to obey, even when he wasn't there in the house. Each day it was removed while spread over his lap then replaced before he left. What would have happened if she had to use the toilet before he arrived? It would be just so humiliating to phone this young man for permission to visit the bathroom.

"Bend over." He said. Bent over displaying everything she felt disgraced having this young man delving between her legs and in her own kitchen too. Having removed it he told her, "You don't have to wear it again. Go and freshen up. I'll wait for you in the lounge."

Had it been there just as a reminder of her lowly position, to humiliate, or a test of obedience? Surely he knew by now how completely hooked on this grubby game she had become. Standing before him in a short plaid skirt she wondered what was to be her fate today. A slight tap of his hand upon his knee was the signal for her to lie there stretched out where he started as always with the delicious massage of oil over her bottom that she delighted in so much. Just a small comfortable release was felt, but it didn't matter, for she was sure to experience a dramatic climax before he left.

"Stand up. Now bend over that chair." He said, while guiding her by the hips to a large easy chair. From behind he pulled open the white blouse finding her small nipples already hard, rubbing, pinching, teasing them, forcing from her lips involuntary little gasps of pleasure. His cock sawed across her wet lips teasing there too.

She felt him pushing at her crotch only it didn't feel right so she stuck her bottom out trying to couple with him. Each time, before she could push back onto him he slipped away, either from the slickness of the oil or from her own wet juices. In frustration she was trying harder, thrusting back, needing to feel him inside. Unexpectedly he entered or had she pushed onto him, only it felt wrong. Sobering up from the sexual headiness that had fogged her mind, the wrongness of it suddenly made sense. Pulling away was impossible as he had her pressed hard up against the chair.

"No!" She managed to gasp. "Please. Not that! Not there. Oh!" She wailed. Feeling the hardness slowly slide up her rear was a shock but she didn't cry out in pain rather she whimpered at the degradation of her virgin bottom being taken. On feeling him tense and a final thrust she screeched loudly, "No! Not that! Please no!" She cried out as he came in spurts that seemed to last an age, feeling each moment with intense disgrace.

It hadn't been a pleasure it had been endured. Mrs Brandon lay slumped across an easy chair with the little plaid skirt up around her waist, panties around her knees, shamefully naked before this young man. He was no longer a stranger; he knew all of her secrets and now all of her personal places. With monumental effort she pulled herself together from an overwhelming lethargy. 'So that was why I was wearing the butt plug.' She thought. 'I'm so stupid not to have realised what he was up to.' Attempting to assuage the intense feelings of guilt over giving up this last fragment of dignity she told herself there was no choice but give in however crushing the ordeal.

***

A few days had passed without molestation from the tormentor leaving some time to think and regain strength of purpose. She had enough self knowledge to realise it had gone this far from a base need he was satisfying but how low would she fall, how far was she willing to go? It wouldn't be long before she was discovered and her whole world fell apart so an escape plan was formed. Nadine concentrated all her efforts using the same business techniques utilised when selling her fathers business. At last she was ready for him.

Her hand was shaking as she waited for him to answer the phone. "Daren. It's me. We can't meet here, can I come over there?" Her words spilled out in a single gush of breath. "It's too dangerous, we'll be found out. OK. I mean I'll be found out. Just not here, please. When do you want me? Whatever you want. Yes. I will. I'll be there." She put down the phone and took a deep breath. If she had a hat she would have set it at a jaunty angle.

***

Arriving in the area she was unsure if she wanted to even get out of the car for the apartment was in a seedy area of town, the street looking dark and forbidding. The streetlights were out and the old brick buildings had been left to rot. Looking round she worried if the car would be there when she returned.

The boarded up door opened upon a shabby corridor. She followed him up a flight of creaky uncarpeted stairs gripping the coat tight to her body not wanting to touch the mouldy peeling walls. At the top of the stairs another boarded up door was opened onto a dark forbidding room that she dare not examine too closely. In the gloom she noticed the glow of a computer screen. Her eyes brightened on seeing the object of her salvation and quickly dropped her head in case he saw the look of interest.

"Here let me take your coat." Daren told her.

As ordered she wore her hair pinned up showing off a long sensuous neck. The white bra pushed her small breasts up into as much of a cleavage that could be managed, where usually she wore something padded this was thin and lacy. The matching panties were a filmy transparent white lace together with a suspender belt, the whole raunchy set bought as instructed. The stockings too were sheer seamed white nylon stretched tight by thin belts pressing at her milky white thighs. Even with the high heels she was still only as tall as his broad shoulders.

Winding both arms about her body was an unconscious movement not from cold, more as a token protection of a near naked body.

"Hear let me take you on a tour of the place." He said, taking a thin delicate hand engulfing it in a large paw. "I've been working and didn't notice it getting dark."

With the sudden brightness she became more conscious of the lascivious outfit she was displaying her body in. It seemed so sordid in this young man's home. Trotting around with him she saw the apartment was unexpectedly well decorated. The whole floor of the warehouse had been refurbished, though not completely decorated it was impressive.

"Here's my pride and joy. My other toy." He laughed loudly.

Trying not to show too much interest she wondered if she could distract him long enough to find the photos and video of that fateful night. Even if she had to break in she would find and destroy the evidence of her downfall. Without proof who would believe him?

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4 Comments
StoryTeller07StoryTeller07over 7 years agoAuthor
Reading and comprehension

At school were you ever taught comprehension? Reading, AND taking in what you are reading is important. There was more than just her ass on the video. Her face looking aroused, while he played with her. The humiliation of standing submissively before him like girl. The video was a witness to her sordid private sexual secrets, and that she was a submissive, when aroused. Next time I'll spell it all out in simple words. (Nice to have you back, though would prefer if you wrote more than a rant.)

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Maybe you are a pervert pubescent teen?!

Idiotic story! To believe a picture of a naked ass is a fact to blackmail her !!! How insane have you to be!!!

DesireeFoxDesireeFoxalmost 11 years ago
Better, loved

where it seemed the hubby was saying thanks for fucking my wife now I have time for golf

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
suggestions

have the wife pierced and tattooed as a sex toy, humiliating her further and making it very difficult to hide and explain to her husband. Text on cunt saying 'sex toy' and perhaps also som dirty words on tits as well as piercing them

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