Babysitter Bound

I'm a babysitter and a bit of a snoop. I admit it. I like looking around people's houses when they're out and the kids are asleep. It's amusing. It's also quite surprising what you find at times. Mind you, I don't go into the parent's bedrooms. I'm not sure I want to know the sort of things I might discover in there. No, I just snoop through the various drawers and cupboards in the rest of the house.

So there I was, sitting for Mary and Roy Adams. They were out, the kids were asleep, and I was thoughtfully browsing through the general junk drawer in the kitchen. You know the one. Everyone had one. You don't know where to put something so it goes into the general junk drawer.

What I found in there was a little puzzling. Two sets of fluffy pink handcuffs, complete with keys. I thought they were kid's toys at first but when I picked up a set it was quite heavy and a quick check showed me that it was a real pair of handcuffs, just covered with pink fur. Oh, they were of different sizes, one set noticeably larger than the others.

His and hers pink fluffy handcuffs? What would they use them for? I know, I know, you're thinking sex toys. That was my first thought, too. My second thought was, if they're sex toys, why aren't they in the bedroom where they'd be used? I didn't have an answer but I knew who did.

When the Adams's got home we all had a cup of coffee in the kitchen. I must admit that I'd forgotten all about the handcuffs at that stage. It wasn't until after the coffee when Roy asked his wife where something was and she said in the junk drawer that I remembered. Like an idiot, I promptly asked what they were for.

"Um, Mary," I ventured, "I was looking for some scissors earlier and tried your junk drawer and there are these pink handcuffs in there. What are they for?"

Roy laughed, but Mary just smiled.

"Oh, they're a disciplinary aid," she said airily, dismissing them as on no particular concern.

Roy must have seen that I was still a trifle puzzled because he told Mary she'd probably have to show me.

"If you don't she'll probably be wondering if we chain the kids up to the wall when they misbehave," he observed.

Mary looked at him and laughed.

"Do you mean we should give her a proper demonstration of how they can be used?"

"Why not?" Roy asked softly. "It could be fun."

Mary seemed to consider that for a moment or two and then shrugged.

"As you say, why not?" she agreed, and turned around and fished the cuffs out of the drawer.

"Hold these," she said, tossing the larger set to Roy. "Give me one of your hands, Melissa."

I had to stand to reach across the table to her and watched as she snapped the handcuffs around my wrist. After that she snapped the other end around something under the table, presumable the table leg.

"There we go," she said. "You're now secured."

My immediate thought was that this was stupid. All I had to do was work my way around the table or climb over it and lift the table slightly. The handcuffs would then drop down off the leg of the table and I'd be free. Wearing handcuffs on one wrist, admittedly, but I'd be loose.

My second though was more along the lines of, "Uh-oh," as I felt the set of cuffs that Roy had closing around my ankle. Apparently the larger set were ankle-cuffs. While I'd been watching Mary he'd attached them to the leg of the chair nearest me and then snapped them on my ankle. I was now properly secured, left ankle and right wrist attached to opposite points of the table.

"Ah, OOKK," I said, "and this proves what?"

"It doesn't actually prove anything," said Mary. "It just makes sure that you stay there while Roy spanks you."

"What?" That was a very indignant question.

"Roy is now going to spank you. Remember we said the cuffs were for discipline? Well, you're now cuffed and the discipline will commence."

"But you don't have any reason to discipline me," I protested.

"Ah, you're right," admitted Roy, "but, unfortunately, I don't care. It will be fun to discipline you anyway."

Roy was standing next to me and to my surprise and indignation he unfastened my skirt and pulled it down.

"What are you doing?" I protested. "You can't do that."

"Um, it appears he can," said Mary, "because he already has. Be reasonable about it, Melissa. You can't expect him to spank you with your skirt in the way."

"But I don't want him to discipline me in any way," I pointed out. "You stop that," I added, feeling shocked, because my panties were joining my skirt.

"Spankings are normally done on a bare bottom, you know," murmured Mary.

"Not on mine. What are you doing now?"

What he was doing was trying to lift my foot so that he could slide the panties right off one leg. I kept my foot planted firmly on the ground.

"Come on, behave yourself and lift your foot for a moment. Penalties apply if you don't," Roy told me.

I stood firm, determined to win at least this little point. The next moment I was making a squealing sound and lifting my foot. That rotten excuse for a human being had just reached up and poked me, and you can guess where he poked me. God, was my face red.

"Part of the fun here is that feeling of helplessness you get," Mary told me. "You know what's coming and there's nothing you can do about it. You'll find it's actually rather arousing being helpless. Let me help you with your top."

With that she latched onto my top and dragged it up over my head, and then she undid my bra and pulled that up. Just like that the two of them had very efficiently stripped me. It was starting to register that I was about to be raped, and I didn't know what to say.

"If it helps," said Roy softly, "you don't need to worry about being raped. You can fret about the spanking, and you may find that I pet you in a few places that I probably shouldn't, but I don't want you to worry about rape. OK?"

"Ah, OK," I mumbled, although it was a relief. Not that I wanted to be spanked and groped, but I guess I could put up with it. I'd just think about ways to get my revenge.

Then I was giving a squeal when his hand came down firmly on my bottom.

"Not so noisy," Mary suggested. "We don't want to wake the children, now do we?"

Roy gave me another spank. There was a slight delay between the first and second spanks. This was apparently because Roy was of the belief that if his hand landed on my bottom he might as well make use of the opportunity and explore. Ditto between the second and third spanks. Roy would deliver the spank and then his hand would go wandering.

Have you ever wondered why we talk about being goosed? It's from the old nursery rhyme:

Goosey goosey gander, Whither shall I wander? Upstairs and downstairs, And in my lady's chamber.

That was Roy in action. His hand would come down, stinging my bottom, and then off it would go, upstairs to caress my breasts or downstairs to rub my pussy. As for in my lady's chamber, the first time his fingers slipped past my lips and into my chamber he was damned lucky I was handcuffed to the table. It was probably the only thing that stopped me jumping clear across the table with the shock of it.

"Oh, did he touch a sensitive spot?" asked Mary when that happened.

I didn't deign to reply, just squirming around on the table and wishing it was over.

It seemed to me that Roy was spending more and more time exploring with the spanking lessening. That didn't mean the spanking was over. It just meant that he'd decided that my poor bottom had a nice red glow to it and didn't need a continuous spanking to maintain that glow.

It reached a point where he seemed to give up on the spanking and concentrated on teasing my pussy and breasts. Mainly my pussy, I'm afraid. His hands seemed to be all over it, dipping between my lips and tantalizing me internally as well as externally. I protested bitterly when he started playing around near my clitoris, I can assure you. My god, if he kept brushing about in that area I was going to climax and that would be so embarrassing.

"I think she's just about ready," Mary suddenly said. "Time to help her out."

What? They're going to release me? About fucking time in my opinion. Not that I said that. I kept my mouth firmly closed in case they changed their mind.

Roy was currently stroking my breasts but at Mary's words he moved his hands down to my mound. I could feel him parting my lips and thought, "Typical. Tell a man that's enough and he wants to get one last touch."

My error. He parted my lips all right, but that wasn't his finger I could feel pressing against me. Before I could fully catch on I found he had half his cock inside me and the rest was coming in rapidly.

I was like, "Wait! What are you doing?"

"Ah, Melissa, dear, you're not a virgin. You should be able to work out what he's doing," Mary told me.

"But, but, but he said he wasn't going to do that."

"Not exactly. He said he didn't want you to worry about him doing it. After all, you are totally helpless, and there's nothing you could do to stop it, so why worry needlessly?"

I lost track of the argument at that stage because I had a more pressing problem. Roy was well and truly inside me and starting to work at it. He'd got me so worked up and wet than when he decided it was cock time it slid in as though it had been greased.

His hands were back to clutching by breasts and rubbing them in time to his thrusting into me and I was rather irritated to find that I was pushing back to meet his thrusts. It wasn't my fault. I didn't intend to, but he'd got me so worked up that I couldn't have not pushed to meet him if I'd tried.

"Don't be greedy, dear," I heard Mary say. "You can hold her hips."

With that Roy switched to holding my hips and I'll swear that the change in position gave him extra oomph when he was pushing in. He certainly seemed to be hitting harder than before. My breasts, I might add, weren't lacking for attention. Mary was playing with them, rubbing them and teasing the nipples. I was slightly scandalised. How could she? Very easily, was the answer.

I was gasping and shaking, giving my all, not even stopping to consider that this was theoretically against my will. Roy's cock was inside me doing wondrous things to me and I just wanted it to continue. Even Mary's playing with my breasts seemed right and proper and exciting, pleasure playing off against pleasure. I was totally lost in the haze of it all.

I have to say that I strongly suspect that Mary and Roy had played this little game before. They worked at a team, and I was losing. Mary would do something to my breasts and when I started to react to that Roy would come driving into me. A cock charging into you is a great distraction, making it hard to concentrate on anything but it and the way it makes you feel. Then Roy would pause a moment, leaving me waiting for the next thrust, and Mary would pinch a nipple. My head would jerk towards her and I'd open my mouth to say something, but all that would pass my lips would be a "Wah" as Roy's trouser snake would strike again.

It just kept on going, reducing me to a quivering mess, excitement keeping me trembling and eager for the next assault. I hadn't known that I could be so aroused and excited and it was still building. Roy was the main culprit, stirring me up but just not moving quite fast enough to let me climax. That finally changed at a word from Mary. She told him to go for it and oh, my, god!

Roy started driving in, stepping high, wide, and handsome, driving me very quickly towards the finish line. I could feel my eyes opening wider and wider as he continued. I'd thought I was shock proof at what the pair of them were doing but I was wrong. Mary was apparently assessing my closeness to a climax and just before it hit me she leaned forward and gave me an open-mouthed kiss. It was beautifully timed, swallowing my scream as I lost it, my climax doing a real number on me.

I just slumped on the table afterwards, totally spent, feeling a warm glow throughout my body. From what I could see, Roy was also spent, but Mary was waltzing around the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee. Oh, yes, the handcuffs were off.

Mary served up the coffee and I slumped on a chair and drank it, still feeling drained but in a good way. For some reason it didn't even occur to me that I should be getting dressed. Roy and Mary were both fully dressed. Mary seemed amused about the whole affair.

"Do you know what one of the major rules is for politicians?" she asked and I shook my head.

"Don't ask a question unless you already know the answer," she said. "If you'd thought about what people do with pink fluffy handcuffs you'd never have asked why we have them."

If she'd had them in the bedroom and I'd spotted them I'd have just raised my eyebrows and thought, kinky. Having them in the kitchen is what threw me.

"Tell me, Melissa, do you know what a French Tickler is?"

"Ah, not really," I admitted. "I've heard the term but never really known what they were."

"Well, how about you look it up on the internet," Mary said with a smile. "We'd be delighted to show you how they're actually used."

What? She expected me to come back after tonight's episode? From the look on her face, apparently she did. Did I want to find out what a French Tickler was and how it was used? No. Of course not. Although I suppose it wouldn't hurt to sneak a peek on the web and find out what they were. Better to know what people are talking about, after all. Then I wouldn't ask the wrong question.