Babysitter Bondage (An Age Play Story) (13 page)

“Just as long as you think I have a chance. I wouldn’t want this to be unfair.”

At that moment, I forgot about how the game and console both belonged to you, how you and your friends sometimes played this game. I forgot all about the hours and hours of practice you had on me. Granted, this game sometimes turned into button smashing, but there was an element of skill.

“I’ll take you!” I announced and gave another wiggle of my butt. You smiled and petted my thigh as though this were the only way to calm me down.

“If you’re so confident, would you like to make a little wager?”

“Sure! What’cha got?”

“Are you feeling brave?” you asked, teasing and daring me at the same time.

“Absolutely,” I said, sitting back down and bunching up my shoulders. I had to mentally prepare myself for the next race.

“How about this? If I win, you have to do whatever I say. If you win, I have to do whatever you say.”

“You mean I’d get to dress you in a collar and walk you around the apartment like my little doggie?” Before you even answered, I hopped up and down on my side of the couch. “Okay then, let’s get started!”

We agreed on the racetrack, picked our characters, chose our vehicles, and waited for the game to load. The disk spun in its compartment as I wondered what I had just agreed to. Then again, I also imagined myself winning and all of the deliciously naughty things I could make you do.

The game loaded and the countdown began. I touched my finger to the acceleration and ran through the different facets of this course. The track would be covered in ice, which would make wild acceleration a bad idea on anything except the straight-aways. At the same time, I considered which weapons might work best. This game had both racing and combat. The drivers could always try to blow one another off the road.

The announcer shouted for them to go. I booked in, slamming the accelerator, pleased to see that I didn’t spin out right away. I zoomed past our competitors and quickly took second place. One of the computer’s characters tried to knock me off the road, but I hit the brakes for a second, fell behind him, then rammed back up with my superior speed. I knocked him off a cliff. After that, I sped ahead, using everything you taught me. I kept one eye on the road, and another on the map. I could see myself pull ahead of the computer characters and you stayed in second place.

I wanted to tease you about that, but a tiny bit of modesty started to resurface. Doubts started to pepper me as I wondered what would happen if I lost. Refusing to think that way, I concentrated on the game and contented myself with the knowledge that I was in the lead. All the way to the last lap, it seemed like I was going to win.

Then you shot me. You used one of the homing weapons the computer rarely handed out. You got it on the first lap then saved it the whole time. I never noticed. I never considered the possibility.

The missile struck, my car exploded and started the annoying process of blinking and regenerating, but I had to watch your car whiz by then shoot past the finish line. A moment passed where I couldn’t believe it, not until the announcer practically screamed from the speakers, “Game over!”

Your character appeared in his car, waving his arms. My figure stood nearby, clapping and frowning. Her expression perfectly mirrored my own.

“Another race?” I suggested, my voice small and squeaky.

“Oh no,” you said, lowering your controller onto your lap. At the same time, you reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. “You can’t get out of our little arrangement so easily.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

You looked back at me, your eyes focused and calculating. I could practically see the gears spinning through your head while I nibbled on the tip of my tongue and tried to look serious yet dignified.

“You look nervous,” you said politely, almost generously. “So let’s do a little compromise.” Hope sprang through me because I had to hope you saw the desperation etched into my features. It was a joke, right? Or maybe you could just be compassionate. You beat me. But, but it wasn’t a fair game! You had so much more experience…

“What’s that?”

“I’ll give you a couple days to relax. You’ll owe me some time as a completely docile little girl, but until then, you can relax, and we’ll spend the rest of the night like we usually do. Okay?”

“You just want to make me suffer,” I said, my lips tightened into a narrow pout.

“Maybe. But you’re still going to agree, aren’t you?”

Because I didn’t want to have to be your slave girl right then, I gave a piteous, “Yes.” After that, we played some more games, had dinner, and I got to almost pretend I didn’t have this debt hanging over my head. For the most part, you didn’t even tease me about it past the occasional glance and smirk. Each time, I could tell what you were thinking and my face started to darken with the anticipation of embarrassment.

I made a mistake.

By agreeing to a delay, I gave you time to go online and order some very specific items. I realized this the next morning, but it was too late. You wouldn’t let me out of our agreement.

Finally, the day came when I got home from work and found you reading on the couch. The second I stepped through the door, you hopped up, came over to me, clutched me in your arms, told me you loved me, and then whispered something else.

As I relaxed into the strength of your grip, you whispered in my ear, “Guess what? It’s time. You’re going to be mine now. Okay?”

I probably could have said no. If I had a really bad day, you would have been the generous boyfriend who let me off the hook, at least for a little while. But since my obligation wouldn’t go away until I fulfilled the terms of our deal, I nodded and said that would be fine.

“Good. Come with me,” you said, grabbed my hand, and led me back to the bedroom. As we walked, I realized there were a lot of boxes outside our guest room door. It made me wonder what you had been up to all day. Your schedule could be pretty erratic, so it was hard to predict what projects you’d take on.

You nudged me into our bedroom and ordered me onto the bed. At once, I started to grin and even giggled a little, thinking you intended this to be a game of simple domination. You would be the man and prove your virility by ordering around the hapless damsel. It irked me a tiny bit, if only because I only let you see my subservient side. Everyone else saw me as strong and independent, despite my childish features.

I got onto the bed and rolled onto my back. My legs remained slightly apart, and I lifted one arm over and onto my forehead. I placed my little finger on my lower lip and watched you with big, hungry eyes.

“So you’re going to do exactly what I say, right?”

“Yes.” A bit of my seductive energy dissipated at that. I didn’t like admitting you had complete power over me. It seemed somehow unfair, even if I agreed to this. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Good girl,” you said. “So first, close your eyes.”

I did it, and right away, you went to work. First, you unbuttoned my jeans and told me to lift my butt. It only took a few seconds for me to shimmy out of them as you tugged. Right after my jeans, you went to work on my top, my undershirt, and my bra. Before too long, you had me naked. You saved my panties for last, but they came off and found a spot on the floor as well.

With my eyes still closed, I expected you to pounce on me. I thought you would crash down onto the sheets around me and kiss me hungrily. Although some part of me disliked the idea of being pinned a helpless, another portion of my psyche savored the idea of being your powerless slave girl.

You had very different plans.

I heard you open some drawers. I heard something plastic tear. Once or twice, I asked for you to share your plans with me, but you simply instructed me to be patient. According to you, I wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The room settled after you finished gathering up whatever toys or items you had for us. Apparently satisfied with the preparations, you stroked my thigh gently, “Tell me, are you an adult?”

“Yeah. Of course I’m a grownup.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You see, someone who was actually mature would say adult. You say grownup, just like a little girl. So until I saw otherwise, you’re going to be more honest. Do you understand?”

Since you hadn’t given me permission to open my eyes, I kept them shut. I wasn’t about to give you an excuse to prolong my enforced obedience.

“Okay, you can open your eyes again.” You stood on the bed, high above me. In your hands, you held the shoulders of a dress. But it wasn’t just any dress. I had plenty of little black dresses and even a few pleated skirts. No, what you held was so much more extreme. It had ruffled shoulders, a pleated skirt, a big ribbon around the waist, and it was a shade of bright pink.

In all, it looked like something a kindergartner might wear.

Right away, I started to shake my head. I threw my cheeks from side to side and whimpered out a pathetic string of, “No, no, no. C’mon! You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious, sweetie. We’re going to get you dressed, and then we’re going to take you out to a movie since you’ve been such a good girl. Now, you wouldn’t want to undermine your good behavior by getting a spanking now, would you?”

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