Mr. & Mrs. Edwards were the first couple I met after the agency sent me out on interviews and I had no problem accepting their generous job offer. Being from America I called myself a babysitter, but in my new Kensington neighborhood it was fashionable to have an 'au pair' so this became my new title. The deal was pretty good since I got the use of a cute car and a cottage to myself instead of my little flat.
The girls were nice kids and were never a problem and their love settled me in quite easily as their caretaker.
Mr. Edwards is a partner at a very prominent British accounting firm and Mrs. Edwards busies herself with her position with the Royal Trust. Emily and Rachel were adorable little girls and my work with them soon became more of a parental duty to me since they saw more of me than they did their mother. We still have our daily walks and we go to the museums and...well, this isn't what my story is about.
I have some wild ideas about sex and I have rape fantasies that I write in my diary as idle works of fiction to keep me busy while the girls are at play. My collection of stories is become quite extensive and it runs the gamut from abduction to gothic-style bondage. It's all stories about places and men I've never seen or met and I write it all as if it really happened. And it's all just fantasy.
My only boyfriend clumsily made love to me a few times before he went off to the Army and then I ended up in England. His lovemaking was brief and as soon as he'd fill the requisite condom he'd pull out of me and then go watch TV. My sex life was as boring as I was. My stories are far more exciting than I am.
Anyways; On certain days of the week I would bring the girls home from the park and we'd find Mr. Edwards home early. One day we came home and he was flushed and out of breath and he gave me the strangest stare, as if there was something on his mind. By the way, this was unusual for such a composed man as Mr. Edwards. Imagine a forty-year-old man with the appearance of Tom Selleck and the demeanor of Laurence Olivier and you'll have Mr. Edwards. Well, after I got the girls settled down for dinner I went back to my cottage and noticed that some of my diaries were out of order on the bookshelves. I thought nothing of it and just wrote it off to one of the maids being in to dust. The maids are all illiterate Bangladeshi girls so I didn't worry about them ever reading my stories.
My daily routine never varied for the next three months and then one day Mrs. Edwards tells me of her upcoming trip to Australia to see some archaeological site where the first British house down under was built. Emily and Rachel were to accompany her on the four-week trip and I was to stay home and keep the house open for Mr. Edwards.
The day came that they had to go and I drove them to Heathrow as Mr. Edwards had some important business with someone at 10 Downing Street. Mr. Edwards was very disapproving when I asked him if anyone special lived there. I saw the ladies off at the gate and watched the big jet roll away and get lost in the many planes rolling around the tarmac before I went home.
I had to make the dinner as Mrs. Edwards had let the staff off for her holiday, expecting that I would attend to the household chores since I did not have the girls to care for. When Mr. Edwards came home he was a different person from the stoic man I had become so accustomed to over the previous months. He asked me to set out a plate for myself and join him for dinner and then he went on to tell me about his time with the Prime Minister.
He was glowing as he told me of how the French finance minister was making arrogant demands about how the PM was handling the American Treasury Secretary and, well, he lost me. I paid very close attention to his tale, said, "Oh, no!" at a few key points, and generally tried to hide my vast ignorance of global finance policy.
After dinner we sat in the family room and kept company as the Sky News gave the update on the world and then he flipped to the satellite to watch German news. In the course of all of this he'd poured me a sherry and I never noticed that my glass seemingly had no bottom. He was so accomplished that I never noticed him refilling the glass over and over through the night.
By 10pm I was quite drunk and I fell asleep, or passed out if you wish, on the plush sofa.
* * *
It was the tingling in my hands that woke me up. My hands were painfully tingling and I woke up from my fog to move them and they didn't budge. Then I woke fully out of fear.
I tried to scream and found my mouth blocked with a very solid rubber ball that was held in place with some sort of harness over my head. My hands were tied to the legs of what appeared to be a four-legged sawhorse-type of thing with a comforter draped over it. My ankles were securely tied to the other two legs of the sawhorse.
"I was wondering when you would wake up, pet."
I tried to turn and see Mr. Edwards but he was behind me.
"You have had a very exciting life, haven't you, Renee?"
The caress of his hand on my bare bottom made me realize I was naked and I struggled to break free and hide myself.
"No, I don't think you'll get out of those cuffs, pet. Remember your time in San Francisco with Steven? I got the idea from your diary and had the carpenter make it to your specifications. You do like it, don't you?"
I tried to scream again.
"That's nice, pet. You scream just like you like to."
He walked around to where I could see him and he cradled my head in my hands to look me in the eye. His dressing gown was loose and I could see that he had nothing on underneath it.
"Mrs. Edwards and I have about the most boring sex in the whole world and I had given up on sex until you came along. Do you know I've wanted you since you first interviewed? I never thought we'd have this chance but then I read your diary and realized this is what you like. I should think that maybe I will like it, too."
As he stood up and let my head down I saw the gown fall at his feet. I screamed and struggled as he went around behind me. I was now acutely aware of how vulnerable I was.
SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!!
I shrieked with the pain as he slapped my upturned and naked asscheeks.
"Did you like that, pet? Or maybe I should go get a whip?"
I screamed again just thinking about it.
"No, I didn't think you'd want to go that far."
I froze as his hands wandered over my body. His fingers wandered across my every curve, exploring every inch of my body. He touched the inner curves of my ears, the spaces between each of my fingers and toes, the backs of my knees, and even my elbows. It was disturbingly erotic how he teased me in my helplessness by touching me everywhere else n my body but my private places. His caresses evolved into a massage and I felt myself relax at his persistent touch. I can't say how long this went on, maybe an hour, maybe more. He lulled me almost back to sleep and when I finally felt his hands come under me to hold my breasts I didn't complain.
He knelt behind me and I could feel his hot breath on my opened pussy as I wondered what he was doing.