Babysitter Forced

I'm Catherine. Cat to my friends, Kitty to my boyfriend. Anyone else who calls me Kitty will find that this Kitty has claws. I'm nineteen, or close enough to it to make no real difference, of medium height and with weight commensurate for my height, reasonably fit and reasonably intelligent. I have a social disposition and make friends easily. I work full-time but can always use a little extra so I sometimes take on the odd babysitting job.

The night that the incident happened I was doing some sitting for Mr and Mrs Mack. The Mack's are in their mid-twenties and have two toddlers but they do like to go out at the weekends. Mr Mack is a salesman and seems to earn a decent living as they always seem to have money to spend.

What are they like as people? Well, they're never going to be in my social circle but I don't actively dislike them. Neither do I really like them. I guess I'm just sort of indifferent where they are concerned.

Ivy, that's Mrs Mack, is dogmatic and argumentative and doesn't really like you arguing back, no matter how stupid her opinion. If she thought of it, it must be so. She has a streak of cattiness in her so I learnt not to contradict her, or try to argue with her, the first time I sat for her. I can be very diplomatic when I try.

Frank (Mr Mack) is an extrovert. One of those hail fellow well met type of person, an instant friend to everyone he meets. He's tall, dark, and handsome, and god's gift to the female sex. If you don't believe me, ask him. Some people would say he's full of himself and is likely to do his back in carrying around that giant ego of his, but not me. I'm diplomatic, remember.

When they got home from the party that they'd been attending it was obvious that they'd been arguing. The atmosphere was so thick between them that you could cut it with a knife, but a wise person would make sure there were no knives within reach. They were still arguing when they came in, not loudly, but quietly with a vicious edge. This was not one of those arguments you made up after in bed.

I stood to one side as they sliced and diced each other, waiting for a break so I could politely ask for my pay and get the hell out of Dodge, letting the fight roll on without me. As it was, when the break came I timed my request badly.

Ivy had just made a nasty crack about Frank not getting any tonight and probably never again if he didn't watch himself. Frank had retorted that if he wanted some he could get it quite easily, without her help. She'd retaliated with a scornful comment on Frank's ability to find another woman, and they both shut up and glared at each other.

With them both silent I coughed discretely and they both turned to look at me.

"Ah, I'll be going now, Mrs Mack," I said. "Um, if I could just have my pay?"

She glowered at me, having forgotten I was there, but reached for her purse and extracted my money. I was hastily stuffing it in my purse and saying goodbye when Frank spoke up.

"Ha, if I wanted another woman I wouldn't have to look very far," he snapped, looking at me.

"You have got to be kidding," sneered Ivy. "Three problems; she doesn't like you that way, you wouldn't have the guts to ask her, and she'd say no if you did."

"Au contraire," said Frank with a supercilious air. "First, all woman like me, second, why would I bother to ask, and third, who cares if she says no?"

As far as I was concerned I had my money, I'd said goodbye, and I was out of there. Unfortunately, I was standing too close to Ivy, and she reached over and snagged my arm.

"Hold it a second, Cat," she said, turning to look at Frank. "Just what do you mean by that last statement? It can be taken two ways."

"I mean," he said, speaking clearly and distinctly, "that if I wanted her I'd just go ahead and take her, ignoring anything she says. After all, I know she wants me so why should I listen to her trying to do the right thing about not sleeping with a married man?"

"Cat?" asked Ivy, apparently wanting my comment.

"Hey, leave me out of your argument," I protested. "I assure you, I don't want Mr Mack. I just want to go home."

"Well, there you go, Frank," crowed Ivy. "She doesn't want you. So are you going to take her anyway?"

"I would if I wanted to," retorted Frank.

"You haven't got the balls," sneered Ivy. "Prove it. Put your money where your mouth is."

"Meaning?"

"Fuck her or you have to buy me a new outfit."

"Ah, excuse me," I said quickly. "Innocent bystander here. It's past time for me to go."

I wrenched my arm out of Ivy's grasp and headed for the door, only to come up short as Frank caught hold of me.

"No comeback from you about me sleeping with another woman?" he asked Ivy.

"Not a word," she assured him. "It'll be fun to watch. I've always thought Cat considered herself better than us. This will bring her down to earth."

Things started going downhill rapidly from there. We were in the kitchen and Frank pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat on it. At the same time he dragged me across his lap, face down. I was kicking and squealing and getting nowhere. Frank had one hand in the middle of my back holding me in place and with the other one he lifted up my dress and pulled my panties down.

Next thing I knew there was a hard spank on my bottom.

"Quit your wriggling," I was told, "or there will be more of those. Ivy, finish taking her panties off for me."

Ivy, blast her, promptly did as requested, giggling like a loon as she did so. With my bottom bare, Frank was taking full advantage, rubbing both my bottom and my pussy. My one attempt to keep my legs closed tightly together was met be a prompt spank and a firm warning. I either let him do what he wanted, or suffer the consequences.

I pointed out that I was suffering consequences either way but my opinion was ignored.

Frank was also feeling fairly lazy it seemed. "I'll hold her in position," he told Ivy, "while you take off the rest of her clothes. If I'm going to fuck her I want her naked."

Ivy's attitude was quite gleeful as she stripped me. I wriggled and hindered her to a certain extent but didn't dare struggle too hard as that would invite another spank. The rotten bitch was actually sniggering triumphantly when she finally peeled my bra off, leaving me completely naked.

Frank was enjoying himself, running his hands all over me. Concentrating on my breasts and pussy, of course, but also touching me everywhere, running his hands over my bottom, along my legs, up my back and around my neck. He seemed to be getting a kick out of the fact that he could do what he liked to me and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

I will admit he was careful not to hurt me, apart from those spanks to my bottom, and they were more of a warning than anything else. I suppose that was fair enough, in a way. If he had been deliberately hurting me all bets would have been off and I'd have been fighting like a tiger. Or like a cat, anyway. I'd have done my best to scratch his face off. The reason I didn't do it now was because I was afraid of the retaliation.

Something that I found to be a source of the greatest irritation was the fact that his touching was getting to me. I was becoming aroused. Against my will, maybe, but definitely aroused. It became even worse when Ivy started playing. She told Frank to concentrate on his parts and she started stroking my breasts while Frank let his fingers go wandering into my more intimate area, slipping between my lips, testing my internal preparedness.

Frank finally decided I was ready for the next step. He swung me back onto my feet and pushed up against the kitchen table, leaning over it. I braced myself with my hands and tried to move my feet together. I gave up on that idea when he laughed and said, "Spank?"

He was standing behind me, hand on me, rubbing. I almost screamed when I felt him spreading my lips because I knew what was coming. I was so right. I could feel the bulbous head of his cock leaning into me, rudely pushing its way past my lips, starting down the damp tunnel to my secret self. I could feel myself being stretched to accommodate him, his turgid shaft filling me.

The rotten swine took it nice and easy, moving into me quite slowly but not stopping, going deeper and deeper until he was fully inside me.

"OK, Cat," he said softly, "now the real business takes place. If you cooperate and move with me you'll find things will go smoothly and soon be over. If you don't cooperate then it will probably take me a lot longer to reach the end point. Your choice. I'll get there either way."

I wasn't sure if his logic was true or not. Does it take longer if the woman doesn't move? It didn't really matter. If it got him off faster I'd play a trombone solo while he fucked, just to get it over with, so if moving would help. . .

Frank started thrusting into me, taking it slowly at first to make sure that I was moving with him, slowly speeding up until we were moving at a decent pace. With his basic rhythm established he reached around and took hold of my breasts, squeezing them to the rhythm of his cock-work.

The trouble with sex, I decided, about thirty seconds after Frank had started fucking me, was that if you were properly aroused it felt good, even if the fucker was a low-life asshole with delusions of male supremacy. Frank, damn him, had got me properly aroused with his foreplay and was now taking full advantage of that fact.

He plugged away and my bottom bounced in accord with his movements, bringing me pleasure and exciting me. Every time he thrust into me I could feel my excitement levels rising, every stoke adding to the ones that had gone before. I was desperately trying to keep my mouth closed, ignoring little urges that wanted to egg him on and demand that he go harder and faster. What I wanted was for him to stop. (OK. Stop after I'd had a climax, possibly, but to stop.)

My mood was not improved by Ivy's comments, suggesting that Frank hadn't really needed to force me.

"Geez, Frank, the way she's going all you needed to do was whip it out and shake it at her and she'd have been all over you like a shot."

A base calumny, that, and I would find an occasion to ram it down her throat just as hard as Frank was now ramming himself up me. I could hear myself giving little grunts of exertion as Frank drove in and I pushed to meet him, our groins slapping noisily together.

It is, I found, hard to plan a fitting revenge while you're being bounced off a large cock. Not that I'd actually seen Frank's cock, but it sure felt large. As it was, my mind would wander to nasty things I could do but before I could formulate a plan Frank would come driving in, scattering my thoughts, leaving me wanting to scream.

I could understand Ivy not wanting to have sex with him tonight. He was going on forever, banging away and pushing me ever nearer a climax. I was just wishing he'd push that little bit harder so I could have that climax.

Finally, finally, Frank got down to the business end of the deal. He started banging in harder than ever but I didn't have to worry about trying to keep up because I was too busy climaxing. He climaxed as well, but I wasn't really worried about how he fared. I just wanted to get dressed and get out.

He disengaged and I scrambled into my clothes, giving the pair of them icy looks the entire time. They didn't seem too perturbed.

As I was leaving Ivy had a word of advice for me.

"I wouldn't bother complaining about this, Cat," Ivy said. "It will just be your word against ours and we'll say you were willing. Frank can sell that sort of thing with no problems. He's a born salesman. He could sell sand in the Sahara."

She reached up and patted my cheek, the adult giving worldly advice to the kid. I smiled and reached up and patted her cheek, drew my hand back and slapped her as hard as I could. She fell back against the wall, half stunned, and I had my hand out and resting against her cheek, nails pressing against it, and I had long nails.

"Frank," I said smiling, "why don't you empty your wallet and give me the money. My nails are very long and if I scratch hard enough I might break some nails but I'll swear that Ivy will need plastic surgery to remove the scars."

I was quite serious and they could both tell that. Ivy was frozen to the spot, feeling those nails pressing against her cheek. Frank, looking quite shocked, brought out his wallet and grabbed the money in it, passing it over. I took it, pushed Ivy hard so that she stumbled into Frank, and beat it out the door as fast as I could run.

Neither of them tried to chase me. I didn't really think they would. I'd have screamed blue murder and there's a difference between doing something in private and having to explain it in public.

I wondered how much money Frank had donated.