Babysitter Bondage (An Age Play Story)

Babysitter Bondage

Devon Shire

 

 

 

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Disclaimer:
  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: male/male sexual practices, multiple partner sexual practices, strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play.  This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.  Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experience practitioner.  Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

 

Publisher’s Note: 
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

 

First Edition

©2012

 

 

 

 

Holy crap.

I blinked furiously, not because of the morning glare but from shock and a deep, foreboding sense of awe. I could imagine the road opening up and swallowing my compact car right there. I kept closing and reopening my eyes, thinking this had to be some kind of joke. Seriously, he couldn’t have a place like this.

There was just no way.

Except it couldn’t be a joke since Mia didn’t know I was here. Furrowing my brow, I rechecked my phone. The directions were all correct. Squinting at the street sign at the next intersection, I spotted the address. This was the correct street: Maple View Road.

Damn, I started to shake my head. Against my will, I had to admit that this was pretty impressive.
His
house seemed to sit pretty much in the middle of nowhere. There weren’t any sidewalks, but when the property line started, there was
a
clean, bright, neatly
trimmed yard. I imagined an army of hired hands mowing, cutting, and manicuring the different bushes, trees, and grass
. A gorgeous cobbled path led from the paved driveway up to the house. Swallowing, I couldn’t actually think of it as a house, not any more.

Mansion would have been a better word. Palace could have worked too.

There were at least three floors. The front entrance had two doors, both of some golden wood. There were six gables and two sets of bay windows. From my spot, parked on the street, I couldn’t tell how far back it went.

The rest of the neighborhood might have been all trees and forest paths, but this place was nice. I could hardly believe it sat just forty miles from my family’s suburban house down in the city.

Should I keep going?

Generally speaking, I never back down. Seriously, I harassed Professor Michaels into letting me into her class even though I was ninth on the wait list. I convinced our university’s chancellor to give an interview for our student paper even as he tried to push through a new round of tuition hikes. All of my friends called me tenacious or stubborn. When we bickered, words like bitchy and snotty came up pretty frequently too.

But a few insults were just the price of success.

Nervously, I tapped my steering wheel, not sure if I should proceed. This would have gone easier if I could have showed up at some flea ridden drug den in the worst part of town. That would have proven my point very nicely. Finding this, well, it gave me pause.

But Mia was still too young. My annoyingly profligate sister was eighteen. She graduated from high school just a few days before. While I finished college around the same time, she simply declared she wasn’t going to go. My parents called this a phase, while I thought she was absolutely insane. Seriously, who skips out on college? It might have been better if she had some backup plan, but no, she just wanted to sit around the house or go party with her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.

The idea of him makes my nostrils flare, but not out jealousy. Mia is eighteen; Trevor is twenty-seven. He is almost ten years older than her. The thought makes my skin go red. He is way, way too old for her, no matter how mature she claims to be.

So that was why I pulled up in front of his house. I was there to tell him off and to tell him to stay away from my little sister. As I drove out of my subdivision and onto the freeway, it had been so easy. I pictured myself shouting every profanity, cursing him five ways from Sunday to make sure he learned his lesson.

Those fantasy rages made me smirk now, if only because he obviously wasn’t the tattooed burnout I first imagined. No, he was possibly even a nice guy, but my sister really needed some structure. She couldn’t go through the last of her teen years thinking everything would simply be handed to her.

Opening the door, I stepped out into the early summer sunlight. The warmth already prickled through my dress shirt and black yoga pants. I pulled my hair back into a fierce ponytail and turned to my car, checking out my reflection in the mirror.

I didn’t look half bad, very professional. Possibly even intimidating.

As I headed onto his property and up the cobbled path, I bit down thinking of Mia. Since my parents just left for a three month cruise, they wanted me home now that I had graduated. Even they could recognize Mia shouldn’t be left alone, which essentially made me a glorified babysitter.

Biting down, I thought of some of my friends. Alexandra had saved up for a trip backpacking through Latin America. Stephanie and Megan decided to do internships in New York. And me? I was stuck in a suburb babysitting my eighteen-year-old sister.

Bitter regret burned at the back of my throat, but Mia was still my sister, so I had an obligation to take care of her. She might not have liked it in. In fact, she would have been pretty pissed off if she knew I guessed her password and hacked into her laptop to get his address.

I got to the front door and rang the bell.

Okay, so a fiery attack probably wouldn’t work. Even if this place belonged to his parents (which had to; there was no way a guy in his twenties could afford a place like this), he had to break up with Mia. It just wasn’t fair to her. She wouldn’t be able to handle a truly adult relationship.

Seconds passed. I pressed the doorbell again.

I tapped my foot against the porch and let my frustration build. The ferocity coalesced, and I imagined myself ripping this guy’s head off.

The door opened.

All of those aggressive fantasies broke apart. Just as I had done when I first laid eyes on the house, I started blinking again. I couldn’t believe it. Trevor stood there with one arm braced against the doorway. He leaned there like a prince, like the lord of the universe. His cocky half-grin should have engendered the urge to smack him.

Instead, a pulse of desire ran down my spine. This man was gorgeous. He was beautiful. I had to blink, thinking maybe this wasn’t really Trevor. I had seen a couple of his pictures when I rifled through Mia’s computer, but they didn’t do him justice. Not even close.

His dark, tousled hair glistened in the morning light. His eyes pressed into her like he could read her every thought and desire. Dressed in worn jeans and a black dress shirt, he looked like some multimillionaire.

“Good morning. It’s Claire, right?”

I froze. Between his first glance and opening words, I had come up with a brilliant declaration of my intent. I could have started shouting and shoved him back into the house. With one arm against his chest, I could have knocked him into a wall. It didn’t matter he had a good eighty pounds on me, not when I had the element of surprise.

He just stole my element of surprise, especially because he knew my name.

I opened my mouth to start off with something scathing, but I didn’t get the chance. He motioned for me to come inside, “Would you like something to drink? Some juice maybe?” Without waiting for a reply, Trevor turned back around and strode back into his house like there was no question I’d follow.

I bristled at his supposition. The arrogant bastard was right, and I entered his house. Closing the door behind me, I took one searching look and marveled at this place. Expensive looking art covered the walls. Taking a couple steps, my shoes clicked against the hard wood floors until I moved onto one of the rugs. They looked equally pricey.

Pausing at the paintings, I took a moment to examine the images. There were waterfalls, deserts, and mountains. Each one looked spectacular. I noticed the artist
signatures
as well.

Damn it. I didn’t want to be impressed. I didn’t want to think this guy could have anything good going for him.

The back of my neck started to grow warm as I thought of Trevor heading off to some kitchen or dining room and leaving me behind. I was ashamed of feeling embarrassed, especially because I was there to show this guy who was in charge.

Turning down to the hall, I bowed my head and chased after him.

About fifty feet on, the hall turned to the left. I followed the sound of Trevor’s footfalls until we both came to a small,
intimate
dining room. Right away, I got the impression this house had multiple dining rooms.

Trevor was at the fridge with a carafe of orange juice. He took it back to the counter and poured two glasses. “So what brings you here?” he asked as he filled the two glasses.

“We need to talk.” This time I managed to cross my arms over my chest threateningly. “It’s about Mia.”

“Yes, I thought you would be coming around sooner or later.”

“Then you know why I’m here.”

Trevor came back with the glasses and held one out to me. Regretting it instantly, I took the cup. He sat down at the small dining table. For a moment, I tried to stay on my feet, only he motioned to the other table with a wave of his hand. Again, he put off an almost royal vibe, like he expected the world to follow his lead.

I did.

I sat down in the proffered chair and took a polite sip. “If you know why I’m here, you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

Trevor stared back at me, considering me. He was older by three years, but I was right, damn it. He couldn’t intimidate me, especially when he was in the wrong. Trying to harden my expression, I glared back.

When he didn’t wilt under the heat of my glowering stare, I gave in and took a sip of the orange juice. It wasn’t bad. Lots of pulp. The juice left a slightly weird after taste, but I didn’t consider what it meant.

Big mistake.

Trevor withstood the venom in my voice. He didn’t quake or shudder at my angry sister routine. “Not even a little,” he said easily. Leaning forward, Trevor placed his forearms on the tabletop. “Please tell me, what is your position?”

“My position?” I nearly choked on those final two words. “Seriously, you have the balls to ask?” Momentum building, I shook my head, hoping he felt like an idiot for asking, but his face didn’t change. “Fine. This is my position. You’re too old for my sister. She is young, and she doesn’t need you in her life. What you’re doing is sick. She can’t handle this, and I really have to wonder why you are going out with a teenager. What’s wrong with you?”

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