Nanny Bob

Every night the kids and I watched Ronnie on her CPPW remote broadcast from Nairobi, interviewing teenage girls, married women, prostitutes, old ladies. It was all so interesting. And Ronnie looked very glamorous in the different Dashikis she wore each evening.

"There's mommy," I said to the children, pointing at the TV.

"I know," said Warren.

"Why is she wearing that funny dress?" asked Nancy.

"That's the fashion in Nairobi," I explained to her.

"When is she coming back? I miss my mommy."

"Darling, she'll be back next week. Before you know it," I told her, and gave her a little squeeze. Then I took her upstairs and put her to bed.

When I came back into the parlor, Warren put me to shame as usual on the evening quiz shows, and then I took him upstairs also and tried to help him into his jammies.

"I can do it myself," he said. He was getting so independent. He was really growing up.

"Okay," I said, and watched as he changed. He had an adorable little body. He was just like a little cherub, sculpted by some great Italian artist.

I kissed him on his forehead and pulled up the covers. Then I turned out the light and went down the hall to my own bedroom. There had been a lot of laundry that day, (I had changed all the linens, and washed them, and dried them, and folded them) so I was really tired.

Usually before bed, I read a little, and I was right in the middle of the best part of the book I was reading, 'Magda on the High Seas,' a romance novel about an eighteenth century highborn lady who is on a sea voyage from England, bound for the Carolinas, when her ship is overtaken by a pirate vessel, and she is taken captive by a vicious band of brigands, led by the handsome and dashing Captain Fabian, after which, she is forced into all kinds of menial labors which she had never been unaccustomed to, such as cooking the meals, and acting as a servant to the rowdy crew, as well as to the handsome Captain. And I was just getting to the part where she was about to be forcibly seduced by Captain Fabian. He had called her into his cabin and was about to rip open her bodice and force himself upon her. I was breathless to read it. But it would have to wait until tomorrow night. I was just too tired now. I fell immediately asleep.

I don't know what time it was. Probably after midnight, but I came awake. I felt a presence in my room. Someone was in here with me. Slowly I opened an eye, and I saw my employer, Eric. I saw his slim naked body glowing in the moonlight streaming through the window. He was standing barely a foot away from my face. I could only see his midsection. I didn't dare look up. He was standing there with an erect penis sticking roughly ten inches perpendicular to the rest of his body. Whatever could this mean? Rather than face the situation, I closed my eye, and pretended to still be sleeping.

He shook my shoulder roughly. I opened my eyes, and looked up into his. They were cold and they were mean.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Suck my cock, homo," he ordered me.

"I am not a homo," I defended myself.

"Of course you're a homo. I knew you were a sissy the minute I laid eyes on you. So why don't you just be a good little fairy and suck my cock for me? I need to shoot off a load, so I can get some sleep."

I had told him I was not a homo, but I thought that maybe I really was. I had been terribly attracted to some of the boys on the sports teams back in junior college, back when I was eighteen. There had been this really sleek, beautiful boy, Jimmy who was the star of the swimming team, and he had kind of cornered me in the shower room one day. He had pretended to be my friend, and told me how much he really liked me, and I kind of got a momentary crush on him, and I was so happy that he really liked me that I would have done anything for him, so that when he suggested that he would like me to suck on his penis, right there in the shower, I slipped to my knees, and took it in my mouth. And then he wasn't so nice any more. He kept pushing my head down on it, which was choking me, and yelling, "Suck it, faggot. Suck it, faggot," and before I knew it his hot thick cream was filling my mouth, and even going back into my throat, and I tried to spit it out, but he held my head in such a way, yelling "Swallow it, faggot. Swallow it.," that I had no choice but to swallow it.

After that life was not worth living. Every boy in school knew I was a homo and hounded me for blowjobs, but I only did it if I knew they were going to beat me up, should I refuse to blow them. I didn't really want to do it any more. So, yes, maybe I was as gay as everyone thought I was. Junior college had been years ago, and I had mercifully put it all out of my mind.

And now, here was Eric, my employer, calling me a homo, and ordering me to suck his cock. Eric was very handsome, but I was deathly afraid of him. I felt just like Lady Magda felt toward handsome Captain Fabian in 'Magda on the High Seas,' repelled by Eric, and attracted to Eric at the same time.

I crawled out of bed, and obediently got down on my knees before his thick pulsating penis. I took it in my left hand, and felt its amazing rigidity. Then I inched forward and took it into my mouth. He had showered, and I tasted Ivory Spring soap, which I loved. I began sucking on his penis. At first I liked it.

But then it was just like back in high school with Jimmy. He got mean and nasty. He grabbed the back of my head and forced me down on it, so that I was choking, all the while yelling "Suck it, faggot. Suck my fucking cock, you fucking homo."

It didn't last long. Ronnie had been gone for over a week, so he had a copious amount of cream, which needed to be expelled, and it was. Down my throat. He kept forcing my head down on it and thrusting in with each spurt, until the fountain had run dry.

He withdrew his softening cock from my mouth, and complimented me. "You give a good blowjob, faggot." Then he turned and left my room. I watched the bounce of his tight buttocks as he walked to the door, and I could see his large pendulous balls and limp penis swinging in front of him, as I looked between his muscular thighs as he walked away from me. He closed the door behind him. I was still kneeling on the floor next to my bed, trying to mentally process what had just happened. Finally, I just got back into bed, and luckily, I fell back to sleep rather quickly.

I was preparing breakfast as usual the next morning, and getting the children fed and ready for school when he descended the stairs. The moment I had been dreading. I couldn't even look him in the eye.

I put his platter of bacon and eggs on the table in front of him.

"My juice," he said.

I had forgotten his orange juice. I poured him a glass and set it in front of him. And not another word was spoken.

Ronnie returned from Nairobi a week later, and life returned to normal. I was so much more comfortable having her in the house. By this time I was very attached to the children, and happy in my job except for that one incident, which in a strange way had been a little exciting, so I decided not to risk anything by revealing to Ronnie what had occurred in her absence.

And then a year passed, and the children had each graduated to the next grade level, and Ronnie was again given a foreign assignment. 'The Life of the Ladyboy in modern-day Thailand'.

The kids and I hated to see her go, but it was a good career move for her. She was to be gone three weeks this time, and was also to interview sex-workers in other Asiatic countries. This was a subject garnered to bring the station mucho high ratings.

It happened again. About a week after she was gone, I awoke to see the handsome, naked Eric looming over me, clutching an enormous hard-on. I sat up in shock. "On your knees, faggot. You know what to do."

I did know what to do, and I got on my knees and did it, and as mean and rough as he was, I was getting a perverse kind of thrill out of his ill-treatment, and the largeness of his dick filling my mouth, and I was even grasping his firm buttocks, as he slammed his cock into my throat, and the dribble was running down my chin, and onto the wood floor. He was still using Ivory Spring. My favorite. I began to get into it a little, and succeeded in pulling my mouth off his knob, so that I could tongue his heavy balls, and even the flesh behind them, and even a little between the tight buttcheeks. My tongue touched his hole, and he jumped and roared. Finally, he grabbed my hair and sent his cock burrowing down my throat for his voluminous liquid climax.

"Swallow it, faggot," he ordered me, but I already had.

Ronnie came back and life returned to normal. Another year passed. I wondered if Ronnie ever noticed that her husband never looked at me or spoke to me, but I said nothing.

And then she got her biggest assignment yet. She was going on an assignment to interview Aslamic women for CPPW. She was going to be broadcasting from the country of Medinastan. This assignment was going to put her in line for the top anchor position on the nightly news. She was terribly excited, and I was happy for her. I knew that I would probably have another visit from Eric while she was gone, but I now felt I could handle it.

Sure enough. Not too many nights had gone by when his trim naked form appeared by my bedside. "Hi," I said. I just wanted to make it a little more friendly.

"I can't fall asleep. I need to cum. Do it."

"Yes, master," I said, trying to make it sound like it was a game, and I was kidding. I climbed out of bed and got down on my knees in front of his erect penis, and decided I would tantalize him a little first. I didn't put it right in my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and licked up both his thighs. I felt his muscles tighten beneath my tongue. This hadn't been expected. Then I started to nuzzle on his large hairy sack, taking each of the large eggs into my mouth one at a time, and running my tongue over it. He seemed to like that too, because I heard a little moan. I knew he wanted me to swallow his cock now. Wanted it badly. But not just yet. I crawled between his thighs, and licked his firm, manly, muscular buttcheeks, which I then separated just enough to stick my tongue between until it came into contact with the soft wrinkled hidden ring. As long as he was moaning and arching his body like this, I had no intention of stopping. I was enjoying his pleasure. I was positive that neither Ronnie nor any of the other nannies before me had ever done such extreme things for him, and wondered if he even appreciated my efforts to delight him. Suddenly he grabbed my hair and pulled my face in front of his long straight cock, with the smooth angry red knob.

"Suck it," he ordered. I was about to say okay, but he used that opportunity to shove it right down my throat. He was throat fucking me with unbelievable force, as if he wanted to hurt me, but I was excited. Secretly I reached down between my legs, and grabbed my own erection, and stealthily jerked it back and forth as he fucked my face. The sensation of the hot liquid blasts filling my mouth and throat sent me over the top, and I spilled my own load secretly in the dark on the wooden floor. Thank goodness there was no carpet in my room. I would have stained it.

As soon as he had drained the last drop down my throat, he pulled away and turned and left the room. Not so much as a thank you. And I had given him such extra special treatment tonight. I shrugged and reached for a tissue to mop up the puddle on the floor. Then I got back into bed and slept like a baby. I'm not sure, but I think I even dreamed that I was sucking Eric's cock.

Ronnie had been making nightly appearances via satellite, and it was so interesting to learn about the lifestyle of the women in the eastern lands. So different from here.

But about two days after my visit from Eric, I was dusting the parlor, and I had the radio on. Suddenly the hip-hop song they were playing stopped right in the middle. There was a news announcement. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I stood frozen in a half-stooped position about to dust the legs of the armchair, when they announced that Ronnie Ranger of CPPW International News had been captured by terrorists, and that they were going to behead her the next day. The terrorists were planning to charge her with crimes against the modesty and obedience of Womanhood itself, and would show a videotape of the mock trial in several hours. The dust rag dropped from my hand. I began to cry.

I tried to call Eric at the plant, but they told me he had already been informed of the situation and was on his way home, and that he was stopping to pick the children up from school.

I sat down in the undusted armchair, and faced it toward the television, where I had CPPW tuned in for further information. I was still crying, and using the dust rag for a handkerchief.

I gave the kids an early dinner and sent them up to bed. The less they knew, the better. Eric and I sat in separate chairs watching the large LCD screen across the room. As usual, we didn't speak. I tried to tell him how sorry I was, but he just glared at me.

All of a sudden there was a breaking story. CPPW was about to show a tape it had just received from Al Haluul, the leading television broadcaster in the Eastern world.

A group of covered, masked men led in a woman whose hands and feet were bound and who was completely covered in a chador. Only her frightened eyes were showing. They spoke in Medinastantic, which was then translated into English, and the woman answered in English. It was indeed Ronnie.

There were English subtitles also, as the men spoke in Medinastantic. One of them, the leader, it seemed, spoke.

"You are accused of walking through our Kingdoms with neither shame nor feminine modesty, displaying your face and body for all to see. You are the ultimate example of the Western Slut who is corrupting the purity and virtue of our women. We have consulted our holiest texts and the righteous men who interpret them, and have decided that these crimes are punishable by death. You will be beheaded at once, and your head will be carried on a pole throughout the land for all to see the fate of a harlot."

Ronnie started to cry.

At first the man seemed unmoved. But then he asked her. "Do you repent your crimes?"

She was desperate. She didn't know what to say or do. She just kept ripping at the long sleeves of her chador, with her frightened eyes looking left to right. Finally she made a decision. It was obviously a last futile attempt to save herself.

"Yes. Yes. I do. I have been a Western slut and harlot, and I only wish I had the chance to show you what a modest and obedient woman I could be. That is my true self. What you saw in me was a mask I wore to survive in the Western world, where it is impossible to be a real woman."

"Is this the truth?" The man, was impressed with her impassioned speech, but didn't know if he could believe her.

"Yes. That is the truth. I only want to be a good woman and follow in the traditions of obedience and humility."

"There is a way that you could save yourself and live," he suggested.

When she heard the English translation, her tremulous voice asked, "How?"

"You would have to convert to our beliefs. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Yes. How do I convert?"

"Repeat after me," he said. The translator told her what to do and say, and she repeated the foreign phrases she had been told to speak, not having the slightest idea what she was swearing to.

"Is that it?" she asked. She wasn't quite sure she was out of trouble yet.

"Not quite." The translator told her "Not quite." The next conditions, which we saw in subtitles on the screen even before they were translated, were these: "We will arrange a marriage for you. You will become the wife and property of one of our great Mujahadeens. You will serve him religiously and obediently and bear his many children."

Ronnie just stood there in her chador.

"Do you agree to these conditions?" The translator asked, following the leaders foreign words. She stood motionless for a few moments, but what choice did she have? It was either agree or be beheaded.

"Yes. Yes, I agree," she agreed.

At this point the translator, translating the leader's words, told her that this very man, this leader, this great Mujahadeen has agreed to make you his third wife, as he already has two. He has always liked blondes, and thinks that perhaps you will have beautiful babies together."

She seemed a little dizzy, and looked about to faint, but the leader caught her and set her down into a chair. They would be married immediately, and start their new family. The ceremony would be shown the next day on Al Jaluula television. And then it was over. Eric and I sat there stunned. As usual we didn't speak.

He switched off the television and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I waited a few minutes and went to my own room. Somehow, some way, Ronnie would find a way to trick them and escape. She was smart. She was clever. She was Ronnie. We would have her back soon. I was sure of that. I never gave up hope. Still crying, I fell asleep.

The next day we witnessed the Matrimonial Ceremony rebroadcast on CPPW from the original tape sent to Al Jaluul. They had Ronnie. At least for now. I knew that at this very moment she was probably having to go to bed with that horrible Mujahadeen. I had only seen his eyes, but they were mean.

Eric worked tirelessly with the State Department, trying to secure her freedom, but it was useless. Neither the identity of her new husband nor her whereabouts could be discovered.

I bonded with the children as closely as I could, to make up for the loss of their dear mother. We told the children almost the truth. That she was being detained in another country and our government was doing everything possible to get her back.

I helped the children with their homework every night. I did everything I possibly could. I knew they were feeling insecure. Nancy was always throwing her arms around my waist and holding me, and Warren was also. He was even kissing me on the cheek every morning when he left for school.

It took Eric about a month to appear in my bedroom late one evening, and demand that I give him a blowjob. Well, Ronnie was gone, and I had been hired as her surrogate. I was the Nanny. I did what I had to do. He was happy enough to use me, but he still never spoke to me. I wondered if the children ever noticed that their father never addressed a word to me.

Then he started coming in more than once a week. Then he started lying on my bed, and making me crawl on my knees between his legs to suck him off. He was making himself comfortable now.

And then one night, instead of saying "Suck it," he said. "My wife is gone, and I like to fuck. I'm going to bang you. Kneel on the bed with your ass in the air. I'll go in doggy."

"I don't think......."

"Get on your fucking knees," he screamed at me. I did. He climbed up behind me on the bed and I could feel the tip of his cock probing at my virgin asshole. He slammed forward. I screamed. I don't remember when I had ever felt such excruciating pain. He took it out and spit on it. Then he went back in. But I was very sore now. I think he had scraped me a little. I was crying. That didn't stop him. He just kept pushing it forward more and more until my ring closed around the large head of his tool, and after that he plunged forward. It was not fun. He slammed against me. "Take my dick, faggot. You like my big dick up your hot tight little ass?"

"Yes. Yes," I lied. "I love it. Fuck me. Fuck me."

And he did. And in a few more minutes I was starting to actually get to like it. I was still chafed, but it felt very good deep within me, filling me. Then he pushed me down flat on the bed and just lay on top of me with his hips pounding up and down, feeding his big cock into my cherry ass. And then I felt it happening.