Babysitter Bondage (An Age Play Story) (3 page)

Because it looked like he was holding a pink diaper. Worse, it looked like it had been sized for an adult. It looked like it might fit me…

Panic set and I started to struggle, kicking the bed and the air and yanking on the cord that kept me there. With my free arm, I tried to wave him away, and the whole time, I couldn’t get my eyes off the diaper.

Bright pink, it had a pattern of stars along the front that curved all the way back to the butt. The inner thighs were lined with big ruffles. It seemed perfectly smooth, and when Trevor got closer, I caught the babyish scent. It would have been adorable on a little girl, but he wanted that on me.

“Silly girl. I can’t let you nap without a diaper. You might get yourself all wet again,” he said confidently. If I had been more coherent, I might have pointed out how I didn’t pee myself. I spilled something, a drink he drugged. But nothing like that came out. Instead, I shrieked one word.

“No!” I sounded like some snotty two-year-old and I could hardly believe I was the one who did it. Seriously, I had come here to scare this guy off, and less than an hour later, I was strapped to this bed as he approached with a diaper.

But he didn’t just put it on me. No, he took his time. He ran the diaper along the line of my legs. He made sure I felt its smooth outer surface. Trevor used it to tease me as I squirmed and kept mumbling how I didn’t want to be diapered. I didn’t want to be a baby!

Satisfied with my humiliation, Trevor unfolded the diaper. “Lift your legs,” he ordered. The mocking tone had vanished, replaced by the commanding authority of someone used to being in charge.

“No!”

“Do I need to spank you?” he asked.

“No spanking!” I longed to say something more articulate. Even then, I felt the fatigue press down on me. His expression softened and he touched his palm to my leg. He started to stroke me lightly. His fingertips left a sparking fizz of energy dancing at my nerve endings.

Only seconds before, I managed to sound almost fierce. Now his gentle petting started to relax me and the tiredness rammed down on me, full bore. My heart beat a soft, constant rhythm now. Every second seemed to make my body heavier. I tried to flex my fingers. I managed to lift my pinky.

“Shush, just relax. Relax, sweet girl. Just relax.” His calming voice should have pissed me off. On some level it did, but that part of me was shrinking, drifting down into relaxed sleep.

After a few minutes of stroking me, Trevor lifted my legs. I let him guide me, too exhausted now to really fight. I couldn’t tell if this weakness came from the drugs or the orgasm or his petting. It didn’t really matter because he lifted my legs and spread them a few inches apart.

He slipped the diaper beneath me, then lowered my butt down onto the gauze padding.
The sensation rubbed me the wrong way, and for an instant, I managed to come back to semi-consciousness. I wiggled and writhed a bit. I even found the energy to tug on the cord again, but it didn’t budge.

“Silly girl. Fighting so, so hard,” he said, more to himself than to me. “It’s really not necessary. You can just let yourself go and you’ll wake up feeling refreshed and happy and we can start to play. Wouldn’t you like that?”

I tried to say no. I tried to tell him to release me at once. Nothing made it past my lips.

He pulled the diaper up to my pelvis. I wiggled my legs together and felt the thick padding and plastic crinkle. Knowing this covered my most adult body part made me bristle again, but the fatigue quickly washed away any semblance of rage. Trevor attached the taped tabs, effectively securing me in the diaper.

It didn’t matter, I consoled myself, not when I could just tear them off. These drugs couldn’t last forever, and then he would get it. He would suffer my wrath. Stripped, strapped down, and diapered, that idea would have made him laugh.

He left me alone and I was almost asleep. He came back, and I got my eyes open to tiny slits. I saw him holding something else. It looked like a plastic set of panties, but I didn’t understand when he already had me in a diaper. What was the point of another layer?

Trevor stretched the plastic panties and pulled them over my feet. “Up with your bottom,” he told me. In spite of myself, I obeyed. I didn’t know why I did it. I still don’t. I can only chalk it up to whatever drugs he used on me.

The plastic cover slipped over my shins, knees, and up to my crotch. He pulled it tight over the diaper. Once it got closer, I spotted something else. There were a set of cords around the leg and waist holes. They looked like plastic or rubber bands.

Once the cover was firmly in place, Trevor explained, “Sometimes little girls get curious. They want to feel what it’s like to get out of their diapers and then they make really bad messes for the grownups to clean. But that’s not fair, is it?” As usual, he answered his own question, “No. It’s not fair at all. No, it’s not.” I hated having this handsome man talk to me as though I
was
a simple child, but I couldn’t do anything to stop him.

I quickly learned what the bands were form. Trevor pulled them, tightening the waist band first. Then he secured it with a locking buckle. I heard it click into place. He pulled away a key, and I realized what he had planned for me. Before, I consoled myself with the prospect of simply slipping out of my diaper. I was an adult after all. A few strips of tape couldn’t really keep me in this infantile prison.

The lock changed everything.

I tried to thrash and buck against him. I wanted to kick him in the face or do anything to get out of his reach. None of it worked. For all of my tremendous exertions, my drained body only wiggled a bit. He smirked down at me, obviously able to guess how badly I didn’t want to be locked into the diaper.

Once he locked the waist band, Trevor went to work on the legs. Within a minute, he had two more locks set into place. Without the key he stowed in his pocket, I had zero chance of getting this thing off.

“There we go,” he said and gave my crotch a little pat. “There’s a good girl. All cute and diapered. You are going to be such a good girl, and we are going to have such a good time. Yes, we are!” He sounded so cheerful and positive, but I could tell he was mocking me. The corners of his eyes crinkled with nothing but patronizing disdain for me.

Right then, I felt it too. I showed up here to put him in his place only to find myself on this bed.

But it wasn’t a bed.

Trevor stroked my forehead again. He ran his hand down my bangs to the ridge of my nose and back again. I fought to stay awake, to remain conscious and aware of my surroundings, but his light ministrations made it more and more difficult. The weight of my body pulled me down, down, down, closer to sleep and lethargy by the second.

“Shush,” he told me whenever I tried to speak. He wouldn’t let me get a word out before I heard the same comforting remark. “Shush, baby girl.” His half-whispered response lulled me deeper into a state of relaxation.

My eyes closed, but I wasn’t asleep yet.

Trevor must have thought I was though because he stepped away. I got my eyes open, just fractionally. From the other side of the room, he retrieved a set of five grates. They were thick, big, and looked fairly heavy. Their edges were smooth and reminded me of the tough, industrial plastic little kids’ toys are made with.

After several seconds of trying to lift my head, I eventually had to give up and simply lie there. I almost never slept on my back, but for once this position actually felt pretty comfortable. It didn’t occur to me that I was about to fall asleep like an infant who hadn’t yet mastered the skill of rolling onto her side or stomach.

Ignoring my furtive struggles, Trevor brought the plastic gates over to the bed. He lowered one into a set of holes. The grate clicked into place and stood up like a fence. He took another gate and lifted it over me, connecting it into another set of openings. He repeated this process twice more until I was surrounded by heavy, plastic bars.

In spite of my lethargy, my breath caught in my throat.
Oh my God
, I thought. He was caging me in.

No, not a cage, I realized as I tried to bring my legs together. It was a crib. Boxed in on four sides, I watched in horror as he brought the final piece up and lowered it down onto the top. One more set of clicks trapped me in a crib with a locking top.

“Sleep tight, baby girl.”

It didn’t matter how hard I fought. Before he left the room, my eyelids drooped down and sleep claimed me in another layer of bondage.

 

Waking up, I opened my eyes to meet a wave of disorientation. At first, I thought it had all been some bizarre dream like I only had to roll over and I would find myself in my bed or on the couch. Perhaps I fell asleep during a movie. That would have explained the ache in my arms and legs.

Before I really oriented myself, I rolled onto my side and felt the bulk between my legs. I assumed it had to be my blankets or a pillow. Some linens got caught between my thighs, no big deal.

But then my back hit something when I tried to roll over again to check the clock. It was heavy. It didn’t give. It wasn’t cold like metal. Shutting my eyes again to block out the mild dizziness, I reached out and felt something plastic and cool to the touch.

I ran my hand up and down: bars.

Bars!

It all came back in a burst of memory. I couldn’t believe it. Those images had to be wrong. It was a dream or a nightmare or something. C’mon, it just didn’t seem possible. There had to be a mistake. I must have hit my head or something, but when I finally got my eyes open and stared ahead, I saw them.

Bars.

They stood before me, completely undeniable. Swallowing, I worked to get a hold of myself. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t freak out. So long as I remained calm and rational, then I could figure this out. I mean, there was no way Trevor really locked me into a cage.

No, I remembered this was a crib. Something else came to mind, but I shoved that detail aside. It was too terrible to imagine.

Forcing myself to calm down, I inhaled and exhaled. I pretended this was an exam, and although I had already finished college just a few days before, I could pretend this was another high stakes test. As my body started to settle down, I sat up. The top of the crib was too low, so standing was out of the question, but my hands were mostly free.

The cord remained. Now that I didn’t have a bunch of drugs running through my system, I had no trouble undoing the Velcro. It tore free and I threw the fabric manacle aside. Savoring my first small victory, I returned my attention to the bars.

Trevor pushed them down into place, so getting them out couldn’t be that difficult. I couldn’t stand up. In fact, just sitting upright was something of a challenge since I could feel the ceiling of my crib simply by straightening my back. I wasn’t claustrophobic or anything, but the instinct to get out pressed pretty hard at the back of my neck.

Gripping the bars, I gave a tug. I tried to pull them free, thinking it was just gravity that kept them in place. No, it couldn’t be so simple. When I pulled, the bars lifted a tiny bit then caught on something. There must have been another lock or mechanism. I could imagine there being clasps or something along those lines. It was hard to guess without being able to inspect the cage from the outside.

Cage. Crib.

Those two thoughts made me redouble my efforts. I moved to the other side of my confines and checked the top of the crib. Again, I hoped there would just be a simple latch. There wasn’t.

Reaching through the bars was difficult but doable. I managed to get my arm out and I started to search for some hook or way to open the top. There had to be something. Straining with my limb, I also tried to remember some detail or clue about how he connected these pieces together.

It felt like a puzzle, only I had to solve it if I wanted any chance of getting out of here. Trevor. He was attractive and obviously very smart, but I didn’t know what he had planned for me. Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but he might humiliate me. Again, I almost remembered the other half of this morning and what he did to me—what he made me wear, but I forced those thoughts back down.

I managed to reach for the top and corner of the cage. I felt between the bars and tried to imagine the different pieces. I searched for seams and the spaces between the plastic parts. There had to be grooves or teeth to hold it all together.

At first, I did a pretty good job of remaining patient. I didn’t let my temper get the best of me even as my arm started to hurt.

As the ache got worse, I slipped my arm back into the cage and rubbed at my shoulder. Straining at that angle made my muscles ache as the frustration built at the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t believe Trevor was able to trick me. Mia told me he was some sort of chemistry genius.

Swallowing back my aggravation, I touched the bars again. A
vicious
smile touched my lips, and I gave a hard shove. I wanted to just knock this thing down. The crib shook but didn’t move. Nothing happened. That’s when my frustration got much worse.

He had me locked in here.

I couldn’t get out.

Throwing myself back down against the mattress, I felt the soft sheets.

There was something else, something I couldn’t ignore as I peered up toward the ceiling through the bars. He had me in a locked crib, but there was something else he did, something I hadn’t wanted to admit.

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