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

by Nicole Snow

  Heart pounding, I basked in full wakefulness. No, more than that.

  I surrendered my body to lust, the only proper owner besides him. Sharp hormones needled my blood, making me sweat and quiver.

  Desire, once released, moves like an inferno. And now it spiraled deep into my bones.

  “Is this really your room, Mr. Oliver?” I had to hear it from his lips.

  The dark chamber he carried me into smelled like him, but amplified. Smoky, masculine, and just a little bit sweet.

  “Call me Michael. Or Sir.” His lips quirked up as he stared into my eyes, starry lights dancing in the darkness. “The choice is yours. But coming into my bed isn't. You've earned your way here, little Lori.”

  I wondered if it were possible to blush from the inside out. My stomach did a barrel roll, exhilarated and excited all at once, but mostly churning with stark desire.

  His bed upstairs wasn't much different from the one in the guestroom. It was a huge frame built from oak and mahogany, its generous posts towering above us.

  He laid me down on the plush mattress, and he sat next to me, pulling the dark curtains closed around us.

  Mr. Oliver – Michael! – reached up, tapping a small bubble fixed to the canopy overhead. Blue luminescence filled the blackness between us. It painted him in light navy rays that wavered, as if we were underwater, or else in heaven, seeking ourselves in the lowest depths.

  “Tonight's your greatest test, Lori. If you pass, then anything can happen. And I really do mean anything.” He paused, letting the heaviness of his promise settle on my shoulders.

  “Lay back. Let's get you ready in your rightful place. Ready for your sweet destiny...”

  I heard a jingle behind him. I didn't even need to see them to know it was the handcuffs.

  He retrieved them from his back pocket, stretching the aqua-caressed silver in his hands. I smiled as the coolness embraced my wrists, kisses of ice to soothe the lava flow flowing deep inside me.

  That night, fixing my bound hands behind the post wasn't enough for him. He reached behind him again, and spread a large black flap in his hands.

  “For your eyes,” he explained. “I want you to trust me. Fully. The flowers showed you that I'm not going to abandon you. You're always in my thoughts.”

  “I loved them,” I moaned. “I have to tell you, Michael, that I've always been a little claustrophobic. Not to mention a little bit afraid of the dark...”

  Michael. His given name rolled tastefully on my tongue.

  “Give it a chance, little Lori. Once we get going, you won't even know it's there. The best kind of sensations are the ones that come as a total surprise, and I know how wonderfully responsive you are. When my hands, my mouth, and all the other parts you're craving hit your skin, you'll be begging for them to stay there forever.”

  I nodded slowly. The metal around my wrists gradually warmed with my body heat. It comforted me as he bound the thick black blindfold across my eyes.

  Total darkness. Somehow, the blindness accented the quick, loud whoosh of my own breathing.

  I listened to fabric rippling around me in the darkness, soft and fast as hummingbird wings. I imagined him pulling off his neat business clothes, piece by piece, exposing the morsels of hard flesh I wanted to worship forever.

  I jumped when a ticklish sensation started on my thighs. That sneaky Adonis!

  He'd shifted his weight on the bed without me knowing, and now he was between my legs, kisses and licks beginning above my knees. He went all the way up my right leg, slow and hot, stamping my flesh in even paces.

  Just when I expected him to turn and push his mouth to my slit, he stopped. I grinned in happy agony as he turned to my other leg, picking up where he'd started on the first, kissing and licking his way upward.

  “Please! I can't stand being teased!” My voice sounded whiny, pathetic, desperate for fulfillment.

  “You'll stand it, Lori, the same way you take my angry tongue against your clit. Don't you want to feel it harder, stronger, and hotter than before?”

  Stronger?

  Behind the blindfold, my eyes widened. I gasped as he pressed one finger to my virgin slit.

  For an instant, I thought it was his erection, but he wouldn't take me yet. He wanted me good and wet, tender and open, slavish and salivating for his rock hard perfection.

  My lower lips swelled, oozing against his hands. He ran his finger up and down each side of my labia in small strokes, stopping just before he entered me.

  I never knew how long the sweet torture went on, but it felt like hours. My lower lips were still tingling and echoing with my heartbeat when the finger strokes stopped.

  I began to count, wondering what he'd planned in the darkness. An involuntary whimper escaped my lips.

  Then I felt his lips, and I cried out twice as loud.

  His tongue dove into me, looping across my virgin landscape, polishing each layer of my folds like a beloved artifact. I shifted my legs against his face and he turned his head, raking my thigh with the faint stubble on his chin.

  The new angle exposed my clit. He dove, pulling it deep into his mouth, wedging it tight with his teeth.

  Trapped in ecstasy, I didn't dare make a drastic move.

  I could only lay there as his broad tongue swept against my nub again and again, predictable as a rising tide and just as strong.

  Intense electricity snaked through my veins, lighting up my nerves like Christmas lights. My muscles convulsed in my lower half, a preview of the climax to come.

  My labored breathing kept coming as he brushed my flesh. His hands reached up and plucked at my nipples.

  I bucked my hips and fell back into the mattress, simultaneously tense and exhausted. Every inch of me howled for release.

  But it didn't come.

  The pleasure stopped without expectation. His hands rolled to my sides, and his mouth withdrew.

  Before I could work up the energy to ask what had happened, one hand slid below my belly, achingly slow. He poised a single stiff finger atop my clit and stopped.

  “Tell me your deepest fantasy,” he said, his voice low and severe. “Good girls who tell the truth get to come. Bad little girls who lie or let their shyness carry them away don't.”

  “No, sir. No, Michael,” I moaned. His finger moved slightly – almost imperceptibly – and I sucked in a harsh breath.

  He was breaking me apart with pleasure, inducting me into submission's full sweetness. There, in the fiery red field the blindfold had become, he stripped me to nothing.

  Exposed, naked, unable to hide anything. I'd been revealed.

  “Go on,” he said again, this time more softly. “We can finish this whenever you're ready. You're in control now. Not me.”

  “No, no, no! I – I can't!” My face flushed a deeper shade of red, and I felt misty droplets of spittle fly out and land on my throat. “I can't do this. Please, please let me come!”

  His finger twitched again. I bucked my hips, pushing against his hand, ready to hump him if I could to end this torture. But he moved back, lightening his touch, without fully removing his fingertip from my fire filled bead.

  A brutal pulse twisted through me, cyclic as a full body headache. My muscles twitched once, screaming for release.

  I fought for breath, fought to stay conscious, fought to survive the prison chains angry lust wrapped around me. I fought not to like it, and failed.

  “I want...a baby,” I moaned.

  Before I could regret my words, he rewarded me with a single stroke along my clit. My face flushed hot, and I saw dim red flicker to orange on the blindfold's dark landscape.

  “My baby? You want me to hold you down, fuck you hard, and pump my seed deep inside you?” I sensed him smiling as he spoke, slow and sultry as all hell. “Finally, we're getting some candid words out of you. Tell me more, little Lori.”

  His thumb reached near his forefinger. He was pinching my clit, deepening his pressure as my hips bobbed against his ha
nd. My tongue slipped out and circled my lips, heightening the gnawing urge.

  “Your son, he's...so fucking beautiful.” I gasped. My clit swelled against his fingers, almost to bursting. “I want a beautiful baby too. I want yours, Michael. I want to be mixed up with you forever.”

  “Lucky for you I'm in the market for another child. Another beautiful piece of myself, and so much more.” I moaned louder as his fingers clenched along my nub.

  He drew close to me, only inches from my ear, before he spoke again. “I'm in the market for a mistress, a mother, a nanny, and a submissive. Think you can fill all those rolls?”

  “Just as long as you stop this torture and fill me!” I shouted the last few words.

  He chuckled, low and sexy – his way of showing surprise at my surge of energy?

  I didn't care, just as long as it worked. If I didn't come soon, I'd slip into a coma, or else I'd have to be committed with old fashioned hysteria.

  I listened as the last of his clothes rustled away, shed like a serpent's skin. The next heat I felt was much wider than a fingertip, grazing both my thighs. They automatically tightened against his body.

  Oh, God! Here it comes...

  “I've never seen anyone so wet before,” he whispered. “It's going to feel amazing. And now that I've got you primed, you'll barely feel a thing when I push my way deep inside you. Nothing except pure pleasure.”

  I swallowed. Hard.

  My heartbeat picked up, like a big bass drum beating in my center, sending its shocks to distant nerves. His words held total conviction.

  “Are you ready, Lori?”

  “Yes!” I hissed through my teeth, and kept them taut on my bottom lip.

  The bedsprings below us creaked, my only warning as he moved his hard, thick cock closer to my virgin slit. The heat of his big head resting against it hit me like lightning.

  There was a flash, fire raging, and then a tornado of pure energy ripped up my center. Finally, he'd penetrated my silk, and he wasn't stopping.

  His breath became a dull grunt. When he reached the edge of my womb, he held himself there, bathing himself in my slick juices, testing our flesh for optimum touch.

  “Holy fuck. So tight!” He paused, breathing heavily, replenishing the energy I'd sucked out of him. “Hold on, Lori. I'm going to stretch your precious cunt apart and enjoy every filthy second.”

  He began to move. For several seconds, it was faint, ghostly even. His violent invasion had numbed my virgin nerves.

  But they weren't overloaded for long. I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his hips, sliding my ankles up to rest just below his chiseled ass.

  I wondered why it hadn't hurt. I'd heard endless stories about how much a girl's first time had blood and pain and frightening aftershocks.

  For me, there was just a faint tearing, a tingling, a numbness – and when it changed, it shifted all at once. It was like his erection was coated in some mad potion, rubbing deep into my flesh.

  My nerves lit up in one stroke, about his tenth deep inside me. I clenched my fists tight in the handcuffs and screamed.

  A swarm of orgasmic fire hit my brain and turned south, consuming me whole as he throttled into me.

  I bellowed and panted like a crazy woman as my flesh constricted around his unstopping thrusts. They only made him fuck me harder.

  He crashed through my sucking, my coming, my gushing. He growled, craning his neck to bite my shoulder, one more impulse I couldn't stand as my system melted down.

  Everything stopped. The bright blindfold across my eyes turned into blue, white, starry fires, distant and streaking toward me every time my sex convulsed so delightfully.

  There was nothing around me anymore but heavy breathing, shrieking springs, and the steady clap of his powerful waves on my soft, feminine shores.

  My fingers let go first. I hadn't realized how deep the handcuffs cut into my hands as I yanked their chain, but the sharp sensation helped me wake up.

  Unlike all the other times I'd orgasmed in my life, this brought no relief. Michael continued his assault, faster and heavier than before, aggressively pushing through my wavering walls, straight to my dark center.

  I looked up, even though I couldn't see him. Behind the blindfold, I imagined a predator's joy painted on his face, the mask of conquest and ownership.

  “Fuck me, sir. Use me as hard and rough as you want. Just as long as I get my baby...”

  He kissed my neck, right over the light bite spot he'd left. He moved downward, sinking his teeth into the nook below my neck, just above my cleavage.

  New nerves lit up. My body jerked, crashing up into his erection.

  I impaled myself on him – anything to make the fire just right. Anything for his seed.

  My clit sparked. His thrusts quickened, and his huge hands wrapped around my backside, lifting my hips. Now, he was using me for his pleasure, just as I'd begged.

  The idea, the reality, went off inside my head like an exploding star. My muscles tensed, spasmed, and I began coming all over again.

  The second climax was even more intense than the first. My body hadn't fully exhausted all the pent up energy the first time.

  If anything, the electric shock cut through my nerves deeper, digging up fresh ecstasy as his thrusts mined me for pleasure.

  I came, savagely digging my heels into his ass. His hands pinched my breasts as our bodies mirrored each other in nirvana.

  Even through my delicious spasms, I felt him growing harder around my flesh. One last snarl burst out his lips, and he plowed into me, wedging his ballooning tip on my cervix.

  I knew he was about to come, but I had no clue what I was in for.

  Pure plasma flowed into me, hot bursts erupting from his overheated cock. The thick, burning flow covered my flesh, pouring out of him like hot candle wax.

  I opened my mouth to scream again, but I couldn't. My orgasm had kicked one level higher, and it was one level too much to draw breath or speak.

  Everything froze, swallowed in pleasure and pulsing. A tempo ran through our connected bodies, perhaps the very hum of the cosmos.

  My hips lifted and my flesh quivered around him. I consciously clenched, milking his spasming cock for seed, wild to draw it inside me as deep as I could.

  Soak me, sir. Pour your essence across my valleys and let it enrich me. Let it bloom with our beautiful baby.

  My arms fell. A cold stillness worked its way through my body. My hips went slack and I collapsed into the mattress, alert to the sharp sound of air intake as my lungs woke up.

  He left himself anchored in me for a long while. His big root and the ocean of seed he'd deposited went from active fire to smoldering embers, adjusting to my body's temperature.

  Before he pulled out, he leaned down, kissed me and rested his forehead on the blindfold. I smiled, happier than I'd ever been – too happy and tired to speak.

  “Hold you thighs together,” he whispered, pushing my limp legs together after he crawled over my thighs.

  Soon, the handcuffs and blindfold were taken off. I didn't turn toward him, but he spooned me from behind, enveloping me in those world spanning arms.

  We slept. Freed of old burdens and stripped of my virginity, nothing but sweet silence filled my head as his seed worked its magic inside me.

  It was the most peaceful sleep I'd ever had.

  IV: Permanent Changes

  He'd been gone for two weeks. I stared at the silver Christmas tree all lined with wintery white lights, gold chains, and silvery tinsel.

  I craned my neck in a wide arc to see everything. It reached high, all the way to his tall ceiling, and fanned out across its corner in the living room, right next to the fireplace.

  Has it really been four months?

  I turned slowly, eyeing Flynn as he sat on the sofa, lazily tapping memory game icons on his tablet. I smiled.

  He was so well behaved. Last week, Michael's servants had put all our gifts under the tree, and it sprawled out like a Sultan
's treasure. Remarkably, the boy hadn't touched anything, and only cast an excited glance at the waiting horde every so often.

  So well behaved. He barely needs me at all anymore. I just hope I get so lucky with mine...

  “I'm going to make some tea,” I told him. “Do you need anything? Juice? Milk?”

  He looked up from his game and shook his head. I smiled softly and began to walk toward the kitchen when I heard his high young voice.

  “No. No, Mommy.”

  I flinched and stopped in mid-step. It took a full ten seconds to collect my wits before I remembered where I was going or what I was doing.

  The first time he'd called me that, it had been last week. My jaw dropped, and not just because of the word.

  Michael had told him. Without delay.

  Our engagement only became official a couple weeks before, right after Thanksgiving passed. We'd eaten our dinner alone in the house, enjoying the quiet company of our little makeshift family, and the next day the office was closed.

  I remembered the scene as I measured out my berry tea and put some hot water on the stove. Leaning against the counter – the same where I'd discovered his handcuffs – I gently placed one hand on my belly.

  It was the end of the first trimester, a happy and healthy one, that pushed him to do it. I knew, even if he didn't say it.

  He'd taken me out on the balcony with a bottle of sparkling cider. The first snowfall cast its glitter across the landscape, slowly building a cottony dusting that made me warm and excited, despite the cold air.

  “Marry me,” he'd said.

  I was barely paying attention until I heard the words. I hadn't even seen him drop to one knee next to me, several hefty flakes resting on his shoulders.

  He popped the question like a command – an irresistible command – but his posture said everything. He was really asking me, from the bottom of his heart, showing me I still held the key to it all, despite how far along the path he'd guided me.

  My lips trembled as I waited for the teapot to hiss. The memory brought back tears – especially when I recalled the way his hands grabbed at me after I'd whispered “yes,” hugging and massaging my flesh like he wanted to pull me into him.