BabySitter Angry

My day started badly when my little sister was too sick to get out of bed. My mother carted her off to the doctors and they came back with a diagnosis of measles. I'd already had them so it didn't worry me. I sympathized with Marie, made the traditional offer of 'anything I can do to help' and started to head off when she stopped me.

"Yes, there is something you can do," she said, smiling gamely.

"Not a problem," I said, already preparing to run off and bring her back a drink.

"You can babysit the Ferguson's tonight," she said. "They're my best customer and they pay a bomb. I don't want to lose them."

Well, damn. I have a big mouth. I looked at her, ready to retract my offer, but she was so pale and she had a tear in her eye so what could I do?

"Not a problem," I repeated. "I assume the details are in your diary. Don't you worry about a thing."

Marie was a very organised girl. All her babysitting jobs were in her appointments book and she also had a babysitter book, where she listed details of her customers. I looked up the Ferguson's and wanted to retract the offer all over again.

Ferguson - Boy four, girl five. Monsters. Lean on then hard from the moment you walk in the door. Mrs Ferguson - Nosy bitch with a short temper. Mr Ferguson - Non-entity, but he doesn't have wandering hands.

That was my summing up of her notes. Marie's comments were somewhat kinder, reflecting her sweet personality, but I'd learned to interpret what she was really saying. It was going to be a fun night.

My day didn't get any better when I had to break the news to my boyfriend that I'd be breaking our date. We had a big argument over it. We had an even bigger one over the fact that I wouldn't let him visit me at the Ferguson's. Having boyfriends over at a sitter's place was a big no-no.

I knew why he was so mad. He'd had special plans for tonight and, depending on my mood, I might even have gone along with his plans. We'd just about reached that stage in our relationship. After the dual arguments it seemed our relationship had taken a giant step backwards. Really, if a little anticipated fun wasn't going to materialize, suck it up and look to the next time. Don't get all snarky and take it out on me. I didn't give Marie the measles.

I left myself plenty of time to get to the Ferguson's place. What I didn't count on was having a flat tyre. It was easy enough to change the wheel (thank you, daddy) but it did delay me and I arrived a couple of minutes late.

A couple of minutes late, that was all, but Mrs Ferguson acted as though I'd destroyed her whole evening. Even though she'd been notified that Marie had the measles and that I was taking her place she pretended to have forgotten. I know she was told because I was standing next to my mother when she made the call.

Mrs Fergusson gave me the third degree to an extent not allowed to the police force. I was waiting for the bright lights and rubber truncheons before she'd finished. Nosy bitch with a short temper? How about interfering beldam in a permanently bad mood who got her kicks having a go at other people. If I was her genuine babysitter I'd have turned and walked out. Now I knew why Marie said they were paid well. Marie was probably the only person willing to sit for them.

I was introduced to the kids and I didn't need Marie's note to tell me they were going to be trouble. A pair of little horrors, proper descendants of their mother. (This was the moment I decided to enter medical school so I could find a permanent cure for measles and wipe the scourge from the face of the earth.) Fortunately Mrs Ferguson locked them in the playroom until she and her husband left.

He arrived home all ready to go out immediately. I took one look at him and decided that Marie was even younger than I thought. This guy was Adonis. He was superb. A non-entity he was not. As soon as he patted my bottom I knew that the 'no wandering hands' was false, as well. How could Marie possibly be so wrong about a man? Possibly because she was still a juvenile. Boy, did she have some growing up to do.

For all his bottom patting he seemed to be looking down his nose at me. A trifle two-faced in my humble opinion. I was perfectly delighted to see him and his wife walk out the door.

That was the moment that hell on earth began. Those two children were fiends, changelings left by dark elves to devastate a human household. Disobedient and disrespectful, and those were their good points. My opinion of Marie's babysitting skills rocketed. If she could handle these two multiple times she was an angelic babysitter and deserved every cent she earned.

Eventually the two little monsters fell asleep from exhaustion. I was then able to tuck them into bed, praying every second that they wouldn't wake. After that I collapsed on the couch in the front room, turning on the TV and looking for a numbingly boring show to watch. I wasn't up to watching anything even the least bit exciting.

As you can guess my mood was not improved by the children (Note how I politely say children, instead of expressing my true feelings) waking up after an hour's sleep and wanting to play again. It took me another hour to get them both down and asleep again.

When the Ferguson's arrived home I'd had it. I wanted nothing more than to collect my money so I could run screaming out the door, vowing never to return. Mrs Ferguson just breezed straight past me, not even looking at me.

"Jeff," she called as she sailed past. "I'm going straight to bed. Please pay the girl for me."

That was both rude and odd in my books. Rude, in the way she didn't even glance in my direction or say thank you. Odd, in that I was of the understanding that her husband's name was Gordon. That's what Marie's little book said. I'd have to get Marie to fix that.

Jeff turned to me with his wallet in his hand, asking how much. He looked shocked when I told him.

"You've got to be kidding," he said. "That's extortion."

"On the contrary," I replied, "it's the amount agreed to beforehand. I see no need to change the arrangement."

"Where the hell do you get off overcharging like that?" he demanded.

"For a start," I said, pocketing my pay, smiling and feeling happier now that someone else was upset, "I didn't negotiate the rate. That was done by my sister. She's able to charge that rate because no other sitter is willing to come anywhere near those two imps of Satan that you call children. On top of that your wife is a snide bitch who has alienated every sitter who has dared to come here. You, personally, have shown yourself to be an arrogant and supercilious bastard who sexually harasses the sitter. Considering these facts I think you're getting undercharged."

"I am not Jane's husband, I'm her brother-in-law," he snapped. "What the hell do you mean by sexual harassment?"

Brother-in-law - that explains why I couldn't reconcile Marie's description of her husband and what I observed.

"Patting the sitter on the bottom is considered harassment. Maybe you're so used to getting away with it that it hasn't occurred to you that most women probably object to over-familiarisation from a stranger. Most men, too, if you go around patting their bottoms."

"I see. So I'm an arrogant, supercilious, sexual molester, with gay tendencies. Oddly enough I've never seen myself in that light before. I guess it takes a rude, unruly, fractious, brat to tell me these things."

"Just calling them as I see them," I said smugly.

"Well, I think I'm a little too old and set in my ways to start changing my character. I can however, use these flaws to help you overcome yours. Being generally kind-hearted, as witnessed by my willingness to escort my sister-in-law to the theatre, I will now assist you in overcoming some rather unattractive character traits."

Before I could ask what the hell he meant by that he'd plumped himself down on the couch, grabbed my arm and simply hauled me over his lap.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded. "You let me go or I'll scream."

"I'm going to spank a, 'what was it?' a rude, unruly, fractious, brat. May I point out that if you scream it won't stop me spanking you but it will probably cause Jane to come out and see what's going on? She'll probably enjoy watching and would certainly tell all her friends about it."

"She has friends?" I asked, suspecting not, but I didn't scream. She was the sort of woman to come out and watch rather than help and then gossip about it.

I also found out pretty fast that struggling wasn't much use. He must have been at least twice my size and strong as an ox. He could handle me as easily as I handled the children. More easily, come to think of it. Handling those children was like dressing monkeys while they were swinging through the trees.

He tossed my dress clear of my behind and then I damn near did scream. He had the gall to pull my panties down, leaving me with a bare bottom. The only reason I failed to make my displeasure felt was because I was struck dumb with shock, not believing he'd done that. The spanking was one thing. The bare bottom bit was something else entirely.

"What are you doing?" I managed to ask, biting the words off.

"I just told you that," he retorted. "Spanking you."

"But my panties?"

"What about them. You're an adult, aren't you? What, twenty?"

"Eighteen," I snapped. Had I just been flattered or insulted? Insulted, I decided. This clown wasn't going to waste any breath flattering me.

"Well, there you go. You're an adult. You should expect your bottom to be bare for any spankings you get."

He added an emphasis to this by bouncing his hand off my bottom. I yelped, he laughed, and his hand came down again. After that I gritted my teeth, determined not to make a sound as he beat on my poor bottom. It would have been easier if he'd just gone spank, spank, spank, but he didn't, damn him. He switched cheeks at random and changed his timing so I never knew when or where a spank would land. Each blow came as a fresh shock and my bottom was smarting and I was always one spank short of screaming.

When the spanking ceased and I was placed back on my feet I wasn't angry anymore. I was just stunned, not able to believe that this had actually happened. How could he do that to me?

There was more to come I found. He was drawing me towards him, pulling me onto the couch so I was kneeling on it, straddling him.

"Sit," he said quietly, nodding downwards.

Glancing down I could feel myself going pale. He'd undone his trousers and his erection was standing tall in front of him. Sit? Did he mean???

He most certainly did, pulling me even closer to him, urging me to lower myself. I could feel him, first brushing against my lips, then pressing, now entering, sliding slowly but firmly into me. He kept on moving, driving up into me, slowly but surely filling me. I didn't truly sit on him, even though I finished up that way. He lifted, pushing up into me, driving fully home, then settling back down onto the couch, bringing me with him.

He left me like that, straddling him, cock fully sheathed within me, me staring at him in stunned surprise. I couldn't even resist when he pushed my top up and unfastened my bra. Then, hands covering my breasts, he started to move.

He didn't start driving furiously into me which was what I always thought would happen during a rape. And this was a rape, I was sure of it. Instead he just started moving slowly, gently rocking me, his cock moving back and forth, oh, so slowly.

For the first few moments, I guess if I'd reacted fast enough, I could have pushed myself up and away from him, but I just sat there trying to understand what was happening. I mean, people just don't do things like this. By the time I finally decided that yes they did, and yes he is doing this, it was too late. I found I didn't want to get away.

Oh my god, but what he was doing was absolutely dreamy. He was just softly rocking me against his cock while his hands gently rubbed my breasts and teased my nipples. Wonderful sensations were flowing through me. How could I possibly ask him to stop it?

I couldn't and I didn't. I just let it go on and on. Not thinking about who was doing this to me. Not thinking about afterwards. Not thinking at all, really. I was just sitting there, swaying, pleasure coursing through me and not stopping.

On and on he went, a nice gentle pace that was slowly driving me out of what remained of my mind. I was moving with him, it being just the right and natural thing to do. I idly thought of moving faster but instantly dismissed the idea. Why spoil perfection?

I have no idea how long we sat there, barely moving, but it seemed a long, long, time. My pleasure was intense, while excitement was slowly building, each gentle thrust adding that little frisson to my nerves. When it all spilled over into a climax I was quite taken by surprised, suddenly gasping and shivering, shaking while heat boiled through me, ecstasy tearing me apart.

By the time I got my act together I was sitting on the couch and my bra and top were back in place. He'd even produced some tissues and wiped me down, removing all the stickiness. The only indication of what he'd done was that I still didn't have any panties on. It looked as though I wouldn't be putting them on, either. He'd calmly tucked them into his pocket and seemingly had every intention of keeping them. Well, as far as I was concerned he could have them. Damned if I was going to ask for them.

"So, will you be sitting for Jane until your sister is better?" he asked.

"That woman and those kids? Not a chance in hell," I said, smiling sweetly. "She can stay home until the measles runs its course. Or maybe you can sit for her. They are your nephews and I'm sure they'd behave for you."

"Me? Sit for those little fiends? Not a chance in hell."

Well, it seemed we were in agreement on one point, anyway. I gathered my things and made a dignified departure, or as dignified as it could be, knowing you were going out into the world with no panties. It could be worse. I only had to walk to my car and drive home.