BabySitter's Example

The whole thing was my fault I suppose. I mean, I always thought that when you don't know something, you ask. It turns out that in this instance I'd have been better off googling my question instead of just blurting it out.

I'd been sitting for the Saminov's for the past year. They were a nice couple. Petor was a bit odd regarding a woman's place in society, but apart from that quirk a nice man. Katina was a trifle subservient, accepting her place as he dictated, giving way to him when he made a decision. Mind you, I had heard her gently pointing him towards the correct decision at times, but I thought that was fair enough given his attitude.

On this particular night, Gregor, Katina's brother, had gone out with them. I'd had several brushes with Gregor. He was of the same mould as Petor, regarding women as second class citizens, only there to look after the man of the house. He'd made several passes at me, all of which I failed to see, to his great frustration.

The evening passed smoothly for me. The kids went to bed and to sleep without any hassles and I just relaxed and watched TV until the Saminov's returned. With Gregor, unfortunately.

Katina invited me to stay for a cup of coffee before I went home and I thought, why not? So we were all sitting around the table, drinking out coffee and chatting generally. Eventually I asked Katina about the book she'd left lying around. (I was willing to offer odds that Petor wouldn't be caught dead reading a book.)

Katina blushed slightly, which I though was strange, and said that the book was Fifty Shades of Grey, and that it was a romance. I remembered hearing something about that book and that it was very popular and, curiosity satisfied, I was going to drop the subject.

Gregor had other ideas. He gave a laugh.

"Romance, indeed," he said. "It's BDSM at its finest, or so I've heard."

This is the point where I stuck my foot in it. I'd heard the term BDSM before, but I hadn't really known what it meant.

"What, exactly, is DBSM?" I asked. "I've heard the term before, but I've never known what it really means."

Petor laughed.

"The term is BDSM," he said. "Not DBSM. It stands for bondage, discipline, sadomasochism. Some people enjoy a bit of bondage, some like discipline and some both. The sadomasochism part varies wildly. Some enjoy a forbidden taste, others go all the way to whips and chains and other gruesome instruments. Have you ever experimented with any of them?"

He had to be kidding. Not bloody likely. I shook my head vigorously.

That's when he gave me an evil smile.

"You should experiment," he said. "You might enjoy it."

Now Petor was sitting next to me at the table. After that comment he pushed his chair back from the table, grabbed my arm, and jerked me over to him so I fell across his knee.

Now I knew he was only fooling around and wasn't actually going to do anything. After all, Katina and Gregor were right there at the table. So I was giggling and wriggling and trying to push myself up off his lap when the brute slapped my bottom.

I was wearing a skirt and that naturally softened the spank, but I was still startled and gave a yelp.

"Now that," said Petor, "Is the sort of spank I'd give you if you were being cheeky. It doesn't really count as discipline. Where BDSM is concerned discipline is something like this."

Would you believe the swine then flicked my skirt out of the way and pulled down my panties?

"This would be more like BDSM discipline," he said, and spanked me on my bare bottom.

I gave a squeal, because that had smarted, and tried wriggling a lot harder. For my pains, and I do mean pain, I received another firm spank, this time on my other cheek.

"Stop wriggling," Petor said firmly, and I did, assuming he would now let me up.

Silly me. I could hear Katina mildly protesting and Gregor laughing, but neither had any effect on Petor. He actually continued to spank me, his hands alternating between my cheeks. He'd spank, I'd squeal and protest and then have to wait until he spanked again. If he'd had a rhythm, I might have adjusted to it, but he just seemed to deliver spanks at random, and I never knew when or on which cheek the next spank would come.

Like I said, I was squealing and protesting, and I'm quite sure my bottom was getting a very nice flush to it. I was also kicking my legs up and down and trying to hit him with my fists, but I wasn't doing any good. In fact, I shortly found out that kicking my legs up and down was another mistake.

It turned out that flailing my legs just exposed my pussy and provided Petor with another target. The squealing I was doing was nothing compared to the squeal I gave when his hand slapped down over my pussy, stinging my lips and making me acutely conscious of the fact that I was a woman and he was a man and in control.

After that I was wailing and squirming and Petor was laughing and spanking both my bottom and my mound, and I never knew which one would suffer next. And he also seemed to take an inordinate amount of time lifting his hand off my pussy once a spank landed on it. He'd just slowly drag his hand along my pussy, squeezing it as he went.

I have to admit, the entire thing was incredibly erotic and stimulating. By the time he decided to finish I was hot and wet and thoroughly aroused. Don't get me wrong. Despite my arousal I had no intention of letting him have sex with me. He was married, for crying out loud, and his wife was right there. Fortunately, or so I thought, Petor was of the same mind.

When Petor finished spanking me he held me across his knee, still, his hand resting on my pussy, damn him, and I could feel his fingers spreading my lips slightly.

"Normally, if this was a proper BDSM session," Petor said, "I would start having wild and enthusiastic sex with you at this point. However, I'm a married man and I wouldn't cheat on my wife. She'd kill me if I did."

As you can guess, this was a bit of a relief to me, even if I was feeling all hot and bothered. Before I could say anything, however, I felt a large fat cock forcefully pushing its way between my lips.

"Fortunately, I'm not married or even engaged," drawled Gregor, "so I can attend to your needs without any problems."

My needs? Who did he think he was kidding? My needs were to be left alone. Not bent over one chauvinist's knee and spanked and then pronged by what felt like another chauvinist's enormous cock. Mind you, it couldn't have been as big as it initially felt or I'd have been split in two. As it was, Gregor had pushed it all the way home with one vigorous thrust, and I'd been so wet and aroused that it had gone in without any problems. You might say I was well and truly stuck with it.

Gregor was greedy. Not content with just ravishing me he pushed my top up, undid my bra and then grabbed hold of my breasts. With his great paws wrapped around my breasts he pulled me up off Petor's lap (and even harder onto his cock, if that was possible) turned me so I was facing the table and pressed me against it. I naturally put my hands on the table to stop myself being flattened against it. Gregor seemed to think that this was his cue to take me.

Well, considering that he'd already gently placed his erection inside me, I suppose you could say that he had already started to take me. Now he really got down to it. He pulled out and came ramming back home hard and fast and often. I was screaming and bouncing up and down as he pounded into me. My bottom and that damned robin had something in common. They were both red and bob, bob, bobbing along.

I was protesting of course, yelling my head off as Gregor comprehensively worked me over. His hands mauled my breasts and his erection plundered my pussy, his voice whispering in my ear how great this was and wasn't I lucky to have him.

I finally gave up protesting when I realised that my screams of "Don't! Stop!" sounded like "Don't stop," even to my own ears. And truth be known, it would have been a tremendous let down if the chauvinist swine had stopped. I was flying higher than a kite with Gregor's cock the wind that was lifting me.

Wind, nothing. It was a storm that had blown straight past all my defences and was absolutely shredding my nerves. Gregor's pounding was spanking my bottom all over again as he charged into me, his loins slapping hard against me with each drive. The smarting of my bottom flowed out and into me while the excitement being engendered within my pussy by his cock was spreading like fire. To top it off, my breasts were being mauled and my nipples pinched and roughly massaged, and the feelings from that assault was also making its way deep into me.

I just felt totally helpless, bottom smarting, pussy on fire, breasts tingling and absolutely no control over what was being done to me.

It was marvellous, though you could pull my teeth out before I'd admit it to Gregor. I just kept on squealing and bucking under him, letting him do what he wanted. (I'm kidding myself when I say letting him. He was doing what he wanted. Full stop.)

A vigorous man, Gregor, with a lot of stamina. Several times I found myself starting to develop a high-pitched squeal, expecting my climax at any moment. Then Gregor would change his style slightly and the feelings would slowly ebb, whereupon Gregor would start working me up again.

I was almost incoherent with need and lust by the time Gregor decided that he wanted to finish me off. I was giving that high-pitched squeal again when Gregor's hold on my breasts tightened and he started coming at me even harder and faster. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he managed it.

That extra kick was enough for my battered body. It just collapsed under him, my climax leaving me dead. I could vaguely feel him squirting inside me, but I was just shuddering and trembling as all my nerves seemed to just give way at the same time.

When I finally gathered my wits about me I found I was sitting at the table again. My panties were still down round my ankles and my bra was still loose. Apart from that, my clothes were back in position.

I looked rather dazedly at the others. Gregor and Katina were just sitting there, looking at me, faces bland. Petor spoke.

"That's a little example of BDSM," he said. "I hope that gives you a better idea. Any time you have these little queries, feel free to ask. We don't mind educating you."

"If you want to know what bondage is like," murmured Katina, "I have some lovely pink fluffy handcuffs you can borrow."

I didn't say anything. It seemed to me that Petor's trousers were bulging strongly. I had this suspicion that, wife or no wife, the wrong word would have me finding out just what Petor had there. I did make a mental note that I should probably cross the Saminov's off my babysitting list.