Virgin's Education: Bound and Pregnant Babysitter (BDSM Breeding Erotica)

by Nicole Snow

  I saw a tenderness that seemed wholly uncharacteristic for this man. When he kissed me again, softly like a civilized lover, I wanted to cry.

  “There. I never thought you'd enjoy me stifling your screams so much. Believe me, little Lori, I would've loved to hear every one of them. But we can't risk waking Flynn right now.”

  “Oh.” So, his actions had a purpose beyond brute pleasure. “I'm sorry, Mr. Oliver. I should've taken your son into consideration.”

  “Don't be. In the future, we might have to find you a gag, or else change locations. Think you can keep it together for now?”

  “Why?” I asked, tilting my head.

  “Because I'm not done with you yet.”

  My eyes opened fully and my lips pressed tight. I couldn't say anything as he dropped, moaning softly as his hands caressed my overly sensitive nipples.

  He went lower, lower, until his kisses stamped the top of my right thigh. They curled up, a little higher, aiming straight for the waning fire at my center, fully intent on fanning it back to life.

  My lips became a tight O the second his tongue landed on my clit. And I cinched it smaller, firmer, losing control of my breath as his tip circled my nub.

  Vibrating and swaying, his delicious strokes washed over me with wild abandon. Briefly, he sank lower, letting it explore the velvety opening to my body, teasing each side of my folds with pinprick magic.

  Needle like energy sailed up my spine. I gushed from above and below, spilling my cream into his mouth as my sudden gasps puffed in the air.

  It didn't take a lot to get me going, but it had always taken a mountain to keep the momentum after I came whenever I toyed with myself.

  Not now. My body gorged itself on the endless ecstasy offered by his tongue. Before I knew it, I was careening headfirst toward orgasm again.

  The mattress beneath us became an unsettled wave, lifting me higher, tuned to the zigzags decrees of his tongue, his lips. My thighs closed over his strong shoulders.

  I surrendered to the white hot blaze flickering over my eyes. My second explosion was hotter than the first, and so much more demanding.

  Every muscle tensed in gratifying agony, then convulsed in triumph. The spasms wracked my whole body, turning everything from head to toe into one long clenching, sucking, squirming mass.

  Mr. Oliver didn't stop as I hardened and went into a miniature coma underneath his tongue. His laps circled faster still, strumming my center, screwing my clit with his smooth flesh.

  I lost consciousness, but it wasn't the blackness that waited for me. Instead, it was the pure white flames he conducted, turning everything in my head into a delicate and irresistible foam.

  I sank into it for what seemed like hours. Its quicksand honey enveloped me, hot spring therapy for all my senses.

  His fingers snapped, mere inches from my face, and I opened my eyes. Everything was normal again. Well, as normal as they could be after relishing the best pleasure of my life.

  He'd taken off his jacket and crouched near my head, slowly stroking my hot cheeks.

  “Finally. I wondered if I'd have to take care of myself while you slept.” He smiled, sliding one hand up my arms and stopping to finger the handcuffs on my wrists.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  I knew he expected me to return the favor in some way, and I was ready. Right then, I was prepared to give him the world – especially if it meant more of those universe unraveling climaxes for me.

  “I'm tempted to take your sweet virginity right now.” He paused, waiting as I focused on him with surprise. “But I'm not going to do it just yet. Soon, but not today. I want you to get used to my heat all over your body. Prove you're as talented as you are beautiful.”

  I heard a sound like tiny wings fluttering. Realizing it was his zipper, I followed his fingers and peered down.

  He pushed aside the opening around his crotch. His thick fingers worked aside his pants and boxers, freeing his cock from its business attire.

  “Tongue it. Put it between your lips and show me what you can do.” His face hardened and he shifted his hips, bringing it close to my face. “Go ahead. I know you're new to this, and I don't expect perfection right away. We can learn together.”

  My knowledge of oral sex didn't extend beyond teenage chatter and crude jokes I'd heard back in High School. I doubted the reality was anything like the dark, humorous whispers.

  There was only one way to find out...

  My hands tugged nervously on their restraints and I leaned my head. Slowly, he slid between my lips, and I breathed deeply, opening myself to accommodate his thickness.

  It wasn't ugly or foul tasting like I expected. Quite the opposite.

  Mr. Oliver had a very lovely erection, a powerful thing like a thick root lined with veins.

  Something about the way it throbbed against my tongue instantly turned me on. With new lust as my muse, I licked his underside, stroking him the same way he'd done to me.

  Brushing my tongue around the big head did the trick. His breathing grew more ragged, broken by occasional throaty groans whenever I applied pressure around the crown.

  Yes, that's it. I'm all open for you, sir. Fuck my mouth.

  My jaw tingled as I opened as wide as I could. Attuned to my cue, he slid himself into me faster, using my wet lips for friction as my tongue massaged him inside.

  I cleared my mind, focusing on bringing him as much pleasure as possible, delivering my grateful heat straight to his loins.

  His cock grew stiffer and hotter in my mouth. The hand he'd placed on my shoulder began to tighten. I barely had time to prepare for his transformation before he went into full climax.

  Growling, he jerked out of my mouth. I watched in stunned silence as his hand wrapped around his erection.

  Pumping it furiously, he ballooned and spasmed, spraying a thick white jet of hot cream at my chest. Several more milky streams came like lightning, splashing my neckline and the edge of my dress before I could react.

  I closed my eyes and lifted up, offering my breasts to him, not caring if he ruined my summer outfit in the process.

  This is about submission? Surrender? Well then, Mister, here you go.

  I weathered his shower, steadying my breathing, quietly wondering what he'd turned me into in the space of an hour. The molten stream thinned, and turned into slow, milky droplets.

  Satisfied and spent, he swung his leg off me. He sat on the edge of the bed next to me, his face slightly lowered.

  Then he got up and retrieved tissues from a small dresser across the room. He didn't look at me until all of his seed had been dabbed up.

  I reluctantly watched the spots drying on my skin. A shiver ran through me.

  It seems so wasteful – especially when I wanted it deep inside me. It felt like the only place it truly belonged, though I didn't dare question his choice. I simply accepted his shower as a blessing.

  I relaxed when he came back to bed and laid next to me. He reached up and released my hands, slinging the handcuffs over to the empty space on his side.

  Cautiously, I laid my head on his chest. He didn't protest. His arm hooked around my neck and let me settle in.

  We dozed together. In my dreams, I savored the sound and heat of his heart, a comforting tempo that walled off the world's insane complexity.

  III: Season of Fevers

  “Can you find the doggy, Flynn?” I smiled, watching the young boy fidget as the screen on his tablet refreshed.

  After a couple seconds, he placed his hand on the silhouette of a greyhound, and the software barked happily. I clapped my hands and tickled his shoulders, listening to his laughter.

  “Now, what about the heart? Which one is the symbol for love?” My voice softened.

  I looked over his head as he stared at the three choices on the screen: a bright pink heart, a glowing carrot, and a jumping music note.

  Funny. His question is the same as mine. What's the symbol for love in this household?
r />   The last couple weeks came roaring back. Mr. Oliver had made his presence known in the house, taking longer breaks away from the office.

  Most nights, he came in long after I'd fallen asleep, creeping into my room. The last time he'd taken me as a submissive, I'd woken up cuffed to my own bed.

  “Keep your voice down. We can't have my son waking up across the hall. I'm going to toy with you tonight, and you're going to hold everything in. This is your chance to savor your pleasure in sweet silence. Understand?”

  I shook my head, biting down on the purple rubber strapped around my mouth. The gag he'd gotten me wasn't uncomfortable, but I couldn't resist the urge to bite it.

  Unable to answer him with words, he watched my eyes instead, seeking the starlight twinkling in my pupils that said, Yes, Master.

  As soon as he saw it, he got between my legs, hiked up my nightgown, and buried his face in my steaming center. Sharp, sensual licks hit me like the world's smallest storm, growing in my body as it absorbed his energy.

  He hadn't taken my virginity yet. And he was much more patient than I – a freakish surprise I wasn't entirely enjoying.

  God, I wanted him inside me. Each time his lips closed around my clit or mine encircled his cock, I thought about how wonderful it would be to go all the way, indulging ourselves in carnal delirium at the same time, rich as nature intended.

  A labyrinth of hidden ecstasy throbbed in my hot blood, its whispers rumored in his kisses landing on my naked flesh. I felt it painfully close, and I wanted it bad.

  So bad I fucked back at his face, his hands, my hips undulating like a machine designed to manufacture bliss. But I really wanted it to make seduction.

  I wanted to make him overload, to release the beast within him off its chain. To have what I wanted most, there were only two options.

  He'd do it on his own time – the horror! – or else I'd have to overwhelm him, make him a slave to the fire we shared.

  Oh, please. Please, please, please...

  Later, he flipped aside the gag and shoved his way into my mouth. I sucked him furiously, pivoting my teeth to sink toward his erection whenever the strokes were too shallow. He had to go deep to get off, as deep as I could handle.

  That's it, Mr. Oliver. You like stretching these lips, smearing yourself across my tongue, spilling your seed down my throat, don't you?

  Imagine, sir. Just imagine what it'll feel like in a tighter, warmer place where there are no teeth. Where there's nothing but pure fire, an eternal flame lit in prayer for your offering.

  His head snapped back. He came in my mouth.

  I steadied my tongue, continually circling his big head as it spasmed in my mouth. Hands tensed on my temples, he growled and pistoned his hips between my lips, fast and feral like he needed the gag himself.

  After we finished, he laid with me. I watched his eyes close sleepily, knowing he'd be gone in the morning when I woke.

  If it wasn't business, then it would be an outing alone with Flynn, leaving me alone with my mad fantasies.

  His gaze was darker than usual, needier. Had he really understood my ache in the language only flesh knows?

  “Heart,” Flynn said uncertainly, like a voice from another world.

  His little fingers tapped the big pink loops. A trumpet blew from the speakers, and I watched as a cartoon cupid flew from the corner, giving him a thumbs up and a goofy smile.

  I shook my head. “Very good!”

  The game refreshed and showed the finally tally. He'd scored a hundred percent. Perfect, just like his father.

  “Alright, young man. Let's set that aside for now. Looks like it's time for your Brain Ball.” He laughed and bounced eagerly as I walked over to his closet to retrieve the new toy.

  The musical ball was impressive, even to me. I turned a button, set it next to him, and it began to roll on its own. Lights flashed and a jaunty tune about numbers played. Flynn rose and chased after it, as fast as his tiny legs would carry him.

  I relived Mr. Oliver's perfection inside my head, the glory he'd given me five days ago.

  I hadn't heard from him since. I hadn't heard his Lexus rumbling into the vast garage – not even in my dreams.

  There hadn't been anything except a text announcing a business trip to Mexico. It was plausible enough, sure, but...what if something else had happened?

  What if he's tiring of you? He's had his fun. You didn't meet all his expectations, and now he's off to a professional bondage club where the girls are a thousand times more beautiful and exotic.

  Anxiety rose up and lassoed my heart, sending its cruel tension through my muscles. I shouldn't have allowed myself to think that way. But old habits die very, very, hard...

  It hurt to smile. I fought to keep up the front with Flynn, taking it one day at a time.

  I had to do my job – the part that was on record and receiving pay, anyway.

  I served the boy three meals and a snack with the biggest grin I could manage. Ditto for helping him with games and education.

  It was ten days and counting since I'd last heard from Mr. Oliver. I ticked them off on my hands, pushing the boy in a small wagon as we crossed several blocks to the nearest park.

  While he occupied himself on the swing set, I sat on the nearby bench and counted again, just to be sure.

  When the hell is he coming back? I'm starting to lose faith...

  I teared up. My lips quivered, and I hissed as a single teardrop fell from my eyes, shameful and hot.

  Thankfully, a wild turkey emerged from the trees and ran into the nearest brush. Flynn hopped off his swing and tottered after it, forcing me to get up and deal with the welcome distraction.

  I held his hand. The boy looked up at me, confused and frustrated.

  “It's okay, little man. When you're a few years older, maybe your daddy will take you on all the turkey hunts you can handle. We'll ask him when he comes back.”

  I had to carry him the last block to the mansion. The cleaning crew had arrived and started on the floors shortly before we left, and now they were packing up and about to leave.

  An older woman named Margarita flashed me a friendly smile. I waved, but looked away. My heart wasn't in it, and any contact with another adult right now came dangerously close to setting me off.

  I settled into my guestroom after putting a very sleepy Flynn down for a nap. I wasn't sure if I fell asleep, or if I was in that uneasy state between consciousness.

  A loud ringing in the house caused my eyes to snap open. It took several seconds to realize it wasn't the alarm I'd set on my mobile phone.

  “The doorbell,” I muttered to myself, throwing my legs over the bed and rapidly ascending toward the main door.

  “Special delivery, Miss.” A man in thick spectacles shoved a slip toward me to sign.

  “Another delivery?” I asked.

  “That's right. Our freshest specimens. Engraved, just like the order says.”

  I stared in disbelief as a huge bouquet of roses with silver and gold wrapping around them folded into my hands. The crinkly wrapping paper sparkled in the sunlight, a yellowish haze spilling across the horizon as the sun began its long march toward darkness.

  I murmured a thanks and stepped inside. In the kitchen, I turned the flowers over and over again, unable to stop smiling.

  As much as I tried, I couldn't find any card attached to them. They'd obviously arrived in silence, meant to warm my heart without words.

  Wait. What else did that man say about engraving?

  I gently let one flower slip above the rest, eyeing its delicate crimson petals. My eyes needed time to adjust to the dark gold ink tenderly burned into the flowers flesh.

  With these roses, you'll know that I care. And when I return, you'll confess everything, just as I am now.

  My mouth dropped. I wanted to call him, thank him, and ask the dozen questions spinning in my brain.

  But I didn't dare use the phone. He'd made it known in no uncertain terms that the numb
er he left was only meant for emergencies.

  There was nothing to do but wait. At least this time, it wouldn't be in darkness and doubt. I scrounged an unused vase from the utility closet and placed the roses in water. They brightened up my Spartan guestroom, the same way they turned everything sweetly red with anticipation.

  “Is it really you?” I asked, shaking the sleepers out of my eyes.

  My heart was pounding. A heavy body rested against mine, its hardness protruding along my ass, a strong calloused hand pressing familiarly over my lips.

  “Don't speak again until I've got you naked and upstairs. Come with me, little Lori.”

  Shaking, I let him pull me up from the covers. Mr. Oliver kissed me hard. I hadn't tasted his lips for nearly two full weeks, but it felt like a whole century had passed.

  I snaked up into his arms, my hunger growing with every kiss. My inner pilot light kicked on, blazing its pent up energy in the darkness.

  His lips taste physically sweet. Or is that just the honey running in my veins, the way my mouth waters whenever I inhale his musk and cologne?

  I leaned in when he broke his latest kiss, breathing deep. God, he smelled even better than before, as if he'd been steeped in incense and manly rigors before returning to me.

  My hands hooked below his armpits and wrapped around his back. I pulled him close, spreading my fingers near his spine, nails plucking at the neat gray jacket separating me from his immaculate flesh.

  “I'm ready, sir. Let's go.”

  His lips curled – a mask of hungry expectations. His big hands teased my neck, working their way to the string holding the gown tight to my body.

  He untied it quickly and let it fall to the floor. In nothing but my panties, he stopped, sampling my young beauty before thrusting me into his grip.

  He held me close to his chest as we exited my room and ferried upstairs. We didn't turn toward that other guestroom down the hall, the same place he'd always taken me when we didn't do it right in my room.

  Oh, is this really it? Is he going to allow me the privilege of fucking him in his own bedroom?