tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBabySitter's Penalty

BabySitter's Penalty


Sometimes you make mistakes. You do something, meaning to fix it up afterwards, and then forget. Oops. It happened to me last week. I borrowed my sister's new top. Hey, why not? It suits me a lot better than it will suit her. So maybe I forgot to ask, but I had every intention of slipping it back in her wardrobe and she'd probably never even notice that it went missing.

It wasn't my fault that it got a little bit of red wine spilt on it while we were at the nightclub. It was only a small stain, so it wouldn't really hurt, but I made a note to take it to the drycleaners before I put it back.

After getting home I bundled it up and put it in a bag and tossed it on the seat of the car so I wouldn't forget to drop off at the cleaners. Then Julie offered me a lift to work and I thought why not, we can go out afterwards. So I didn't take my car and the top stayed in it.

I took my car the next day and I noticed the bag and I really meant to stop but I was running just a little late so I put it off for another day. I didn't get another day. My sister was going out and decided to wear her new top and couldn't find it.

"Me? Why blame me? Maybe you just left it somewhere and forgot about it."

"No, I didn't. You borrowed it. You know you did. I can see it in your face. MUM!"

Geez, such a fuss over nothing.

"OK, OK. I borrowed it. It's in the car. I was going to have it dry-cleaned because it got a little spot of wine on it."

"You ruined my blouse?"

"I didn't ruin it. It's just got this tiny drop of wine on it. So small you'd hardly notice. I was just going to get it cleaned on principle."

"You don't have any principles or you wouldn't have pinched it in the first place."

"I didn't pinch it. I just borrowed it. I'll get it now. You'll see. Still as good as new."

I ducked out and grabbed the bag and brought it inside, not even looking at the blouse. I barged into my sister's room, yanking it out of the bag and waving it about.

"See. So problems. Just a little spot. . ."

My voice sort of faded away. I distinctly remembered the blouse as having a small stain on it. Maybe it was the fact that I was wearing it and looking down at it. Holding it up and looking at it and the stain seemed somewhat larger.

"A little spot? Did you spill a complete glass on it? It's ruined and I haven't even had a chance to wear it yet. MUM!"

Our mother ruled in my sister's favour which didn't really surprise me. I was going to have to replace the blouse. Well, I'd kind of figured that out as soon as I saw how the wine stain had managed to spread. I'm still prepared to swear it was only a small stain when it happened. Maybe it was the humidity that caused it to grow.

Like I said, I expected to have to replace the blouse so that didn't really worry me. An irritant but I could always borrow the new blouse. What really irked me was that mum handed out an additional penalty.

"You can take your sister's place sitting for Ian Summerfield's children on Friday evening. I was going to have Jan do it but you'll do just as well. The money you earn will go towards paying for the new blouse."

It wasn't that I objected to sitting for Ian's brats. It was the fact that I would be stuck doing it instead of going out on a Friday night that irritated me. That and the fact that Jan had this enormous grin on her face. For some reason she does object to sitting those brats and was delighted to get out of it. If I'd known in advance I probably could have traded the sitting job for replacing her blouse.

So there I was on a Friday night, a prime dating night, and I had to watch a couple of kids. I turned up at Ian's place at the required time to find the kids were in their pyjamas and ready for bed, quietly playing in their rooms. This was going to be simple.

"OK, Miranda. All the kid's needs have been addressed," he said. "Give them another half hour of playing and then tuck them into bed. You'll need to read them their story first but they know which book to get.

There is one thing. The TV in the front room has been set up to record the game tonight. If you want to watch TV use the smaller set in the playroom, because if you muck around with the main set and stuff up the recording I will cheerfully strangle you and bury you under the kid's sandpit."

"Um, right," I said. "Half an hour playing, read them their story, tuck them into bed and, if I stuff up your recording of the big game, strangulation and burial under the sandpit. Got it."

Ian departed and I watched some TV in the playroom. The half hour passed and I read the kids their story and tucked them into bed. Then I watched a bit more TV. I got bored with the TV and went looking to see what DVD's Ian had.

Ian had DVD's laid on. Dozens of them, for kids. On to the grown-up stuff. Do you like football matches? Ian has quite a few. And Martial art movies. Some nice action movies if you're a man interested in watching another man running around beating the snot out of all the bad guys. Finally I found a few older DVD's that might be described as suitable for a feminine audience, namely me. I carted them back to the playroom to watch them.

No DVD player in the playroom, was there. All the wires were there but no DVD player. I went and snuck a look in the kid's rooms to see if one of them was awake. Little Paul was, bless his sleepy head.

"Paul, sweetie, where's the DVD for the playroom?" I coaxed.

"Um, gone to shop. Dad says we shouldn't put peanut butter on DVD's and took it to the shop."

"OK. Thanks, Paul. Nightie night." He snuggled down in his bed, eyes drooping.

Peanut butter on a DVD and then play it. Yuk! So, no DVD for the playroom.

I wandered back to see what was on the TV and it was still the same crap that I'd rejected earlier. I wandered back to the main room, looking at the TV there. I took a closer look at the recorder. It was the same one as we had and I knew how to program it. All I had to do was take note of the times and channel and reset it once my film was over. I checked the times to ensure that I had time to play my film and yes, ample time. Well, sufficient, anyway.

Not wanting to trust to memory I found a piece of paper and wrote down the times and the station to be recorded and put it next to the set. Then I popped out the blank disk, put in my DVD and sat back to watch.

Halfway through the film there came the sound of a crying child. I paused the film and went to see what was wrong. Janet, the three year old, was standing next to her bed, looking a trifle soggy.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked, although my nose was already telling me the problem.

"I wet myself," she wailed. "I went to potty but I was slow and I'm all wet."

A quick check of the bed showed it was dry. Yes! Score one for me. That meant just wash and change Janet and wiped the pee off the floor. Easy. A quick strip and wash and nice clean pyjamas and Janet was asleep again while I did a quick clean-up of the wet floor. Thank god it was linoleum and not carpet. Now back to my movie.

I settled down to watch the rest of the movie and thoroughly enjoyed it. When it was over I put the DVD away and started flicking through channels to see if there was anything worthwhile on now. I finished up tuning in to one of those zany real life shows. They're always good for a laugh.

I was still watching the real life shows when Ian returned, and at the same time a horrible memory of strangulation and burial under the sandpit surfaced. I'd completely forgotten to reset the recorder for the big game. I was dead. Best thing was to confess quickly.

"Um, Ian, about your game. There was a power fluctuation shortly after you left and everything reset. I didn't know what times or channel to use or I would have reset it."

"What? Blast it! Power surges aren't supposed to be able to affect either the TV or the recorder."

He strode over to check the recorder and I could tell he was furious. He was even more furious when he turned back to face me holding a small piece of paper in his hand. Uh-oh. I'd noted down times and channel, hadn't I, and left it where I'd find it easily.

"I see the power surge was thoughtful enough to take down the details before it wiped everything," Ian said, and I had to give him full marks for voice control. He sounded quite calm and reasonable, apart from a little bit of sarcasm oozing through.

My face was burning. I'd quite forgotten about that note.

"Um, I was going to reset it but Janet had a little accident. After I'd finished cleaning her up I just forgot to reset. Ah, you're not really going to strangle me are you?"


"Didn't quite make it to the potty in time and wet her pyjamas. She was most upset but no harm done."

"I see. Strangulation, while looking good at this point, probably isn't the answer. However, I do have the time I had allocated to watching the game to fill in. I think a good start in this area will be me watching you take off your clothes and then proceeding to demonstrate why a woman should do as she's told."

Ian gave me the most blatantly sexual look, making sure I didn't miss his meaning. He was going to watch me strip and then have sex with me? He had to be kidding.

"Of course, men do like to unwrap their own presents," he drawled, "so if you're reluctant to actually strip just say the word. I won't mind."

Strip or be stripped, in other words. But he wouldn't really have sex with me. He was just saying that to scare me and teach me a lesson. I hoped.

What if he did try to have sex with me? Well, for a start, I wasn't a virgin and I quite enjoyed sex, even if I hadn't done it very often and then only with one person. I contemplated my boyfriend and sex for a moment. There was that slow entry as he eased his cock inside me. After that a long slow rocking as we moved together, our excitement gradually building, and at the end there would be that burst of sweet passion invigorating me.

I could see myself doing that with Ian. As long as I cooperated with him it would be just the same as if he was really my boyfriend. There'd be no harm in it. It would even be quite pleasurable. A bit irritating that I wasn't going to get a choice, but I could live with that. And he might not even have sex with me. Just threaten me and then laugh.

I started to undo my blouse. It was just a feeling I had but I'm pretty sure that I surprised Ian. I suspect that he'd thought I'd protest and he could get a lot more fun from trying to make me strip. I took my own sweet time about it, too. I was in no race to get naked. After my blouse was off I carefully folded it and put it to one side.

Shoes and socks were next. I wouldn't be able to take my jeans off while wearing shoes so they had to go first. Shoes off and neatly placed next to my blouse and socks off, rolled together, and placed in one of my shoes.

Then I started on my jeans. My skin tight jeans. Even at the best of times it takes a while to get them off. (Even longer to get them on.) In this situation it took considerably longer. Normally when I take them down they tend to pull my panties down with them and I let them go. It's the easiest way to get undressed. This time I took care to hitch my panties back into position each time they slipped down an inch or two. With the jeans finally off I had to fold them neatly, didn't I, and place them carefully next to my blouse.

Now, bra or panties? I started to drop my panties then changed my mind. Turning slightly away from Ian I reached behind and unclipped the bra, letting it slide down my arms. Then it was simply a case of fold it in two and add it to the growing pile.

With just my panties on I simply let them drop and stepped out of them. Feeling a little smart-alecky I reached out with one foot, picked the panties up with my toes and dropped them on the rest of my clothes. I did not turn back to face Ian.

That didn't stop him. He moved up behind me, slid his arms around me and took hold of my breasts. As if that wasn't enough of a shock when he pulled me back against him I felt him - not his clothes. While I had my back to him he must have done a very fast strip. Looking down I was irritated to see that he still had his socks and shoes on. Loose trousers don't hamper you the way tight jeans do.

One other thing was really working on me, irritating me no end because I didn't know the answer. If I had steadfastly refused to strip, would he really have tried to take my clothes off? Now that I was naked a little voice was shouting he wouldn't have dared. Why couldn't it have told me that before I got undressed?

Ian ran his hands from my breasts down to my mons and then back up again. He turned me slightly, tilting me back. He kept on tilting me back and I found myself being lowered onto the carpet, Ian sitting comfortably next to me. With me lying there he started touching me, stroking my breasts and playing with my pussy, working at getting me aroused.

Now that he had started touching me I found my trepidation had vanished. Being touched like this in preparation for sex was something I knew, something familiar. OK, maybe I'd never been touched up while completely naked before, but the principle was the same. I felt myself relaxing and going with the flow.

Hands danced over my body. My breasts felt tight and my nipples were full. Little ripples of excitement coursed through my loins as Ian's hands did their duty, paying homage to my femininity, rousing in me a desire to salute Ian's masculinity. Everything was going smoothly. This was going to be fun.

I was surprised when Ian took hold of my ankles. I'd have thought that if he'd wanted my legs further apart he'd have just hooked a foot over one and tugged. I know how to follow that sort of hint. Still, his choice.

And just what the fuck was his choice supposed to be doing? He'd hoicked my legs right up into the air moving them forward, effectively bending me in half with my feet up around my ears. I could see myself, damn it. I was looking right at my own pussy (which was rather obviously aroused).

My pussy wasn't all I could see. Ian was leaning over me and his cock was hovering over my pussy. He wedged his shoulders against my legs, holding me in that position while he manoeuvred his cock so it was touching me. I was ready, I'll admit, expectant of him sliding into me with a nice smooth stroke, slowly filling me as he came.

I was not ready for him to decide he was aligned properly and absolutely thrust his cock onto me, driving home as if he was late for dinner and had to make it in time. I gave a startled yowl, thinking that that was different, but at least he would have to do the next bit correctly. I mean, if you're going to make love to a woman you have no choice but to slide in and out. That's just what you do.

It turned out I was wrong again. No slow rocking for Ian. He was no sooner in me than he was pulling back and driving in again. I was desperately trying to move with him but I was in this weird position and not sure what I was doing. What was his fucking hurry? He was moving faster at this stage than my boyfriend did during his finale.

He kept up the pace, too, using me as a sort of springboard as he drove down and bounced back. I was gasping and panting and not knowing what I was doing but finding it all incredibly exciting. I kept on giving off these excited little cries as he thrust into me, totally unable to control myself.

He bounced merrily away, driving me wild, and not slowing in the slightest. I'd never dreamed that he'd go for this long. Did he have an ejaculation problem or something? The time he was taking, maybe he had the balls of a bull and had to wait until they were full before he could fire off.

For all that, I was going to climax and pretty damn soon, whether he was ready or not. I was ready, and I knew I was ready, and you could hear the expectation in my voice as I kept on with the little cries.

He stopped, didn't he? That vindictive, vicious, son-of-a-bitch stopped cold, pulling out of me. He moved to one side, letting my legs fall back to the floor, leaving me going, "What? What? What are you DOING?"

He grabbed me and dragged me across his lap, face down. I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach. He hadn't had an equipment failure so what the hell was going on? Unfortunately, I found out.

"I almost forgot, Miranda. Not only did you stuff around with the recorder, but you lied about it. We didn't discuss a punishment for your lying, did we? I think this will serve."

With that his hand came crashing down on my bottom. I couldn't believe it. I WOULDN'T believe it. He was spanking me. One moment he's doing his best to screw my ass off, the next he's spanking me. I had no choice to believe it because he didn't restrict himself to that initial spank. That was just the warm up.

He gave me the sort of spanking that my mother would love to give me at times, but doesn't. I'll swear he was using both hands to spank me, hard slaps raining down on both cheeks of my bottom while I kicked my legs and waved my arms and demanded that he stop, stop, stop.

Oh my god, I'll bet my bottom was bright red by the time he finished. The end came quite suddenly.

"Right, that'll do," he snapped, and rolled me off his lap and back onto the carpet, face down now. His hands gripped my hips and lifted.

"Come on," he told me. "Bum up, on your hands and knees."

He hauled me into position and then, dear god, his cock was back in action, driving back down my passage with the same frenetic fury he'd displayed earlier. My sexual excitement had died down somewhat while he spanked me. Well, it would, wouldn't it? Now he was stirring me up again, driving in hard and fast. I had an advantage this time. From this position I could respond better, my bottom bouncing up and down of its own accord as I met his driving cock, finally getting to meet him on equal terms.

It didn't take long for my previous excitement to be recaptured. Soon I was gasping again, once again knowing that I was going to climax, barring another spanking, the bastard. There were no more interruptions. Ian just happily pounded away, going faster and faster. I did have a momentary worry that I might get friction burns inside me but then I climaxed, everything going kablooey inside me. From the amount of jerking around he was doing I was also guessing that his bull balls burst, spraying me comprehensively as he had his own climax.

I was lying on the carpet breathing heavily and feeling exhausted. Who knew that sex could be such hard work? Ian was lying next to me, breathing easily.

"I trust you don't mind if I get dressed and go home now?" I managed to ask.

"Home now?" said Ian, sounding shocked. "Miranda, the game would have gone for one and a half hours, minimum. We have another hour to fill in. Why would you want to go home now?"

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