Mr. Aspen is used to being the one in charge, but ever since he sold the shares of his company for millions he’s lost his outlet of control. When he hires Sophia, the young, bubbly nineteen year old to look after his children in the evenings, he sees the danger immediately. He knows its wrong to want her, but her ripe body and charming innocence have already captured him in a way nothing has in a long time.
Sophia enjoys babysitting, and at first she’s simply eager to meet the high standards her handsome boss sets for her. But as his form of discipline takes a turn for the intense, his approval becomes all that matters.
It’s obvious he enjoys toying with her and she’d be happy to let him, if she weren’t so afraid of how much it turns her on …
Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, a mature man of the house and a young inexperienced babysitter, discipline and physical punishment, forbidden desires, unprotected first time sex, dominance and submissiveness. All characters are 18 or older.
Excerpt:
He finished the pile. “Three wrinkles. It could have been worse.”
Her face flaming, Sophia stared in dismay at the three slightly wrinkled shirts he had extracted, and then slowly raised her eyes to meet his steady gaze.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your choice.”
She looked down at herself. She was wearing her favorite medium-length skirt with a soft cotton top and a low-cut sweater.
The first was easy. She pulled her sweater over her head and paused to neaten her hair before handing the garment over to him.
The second, too, could have been worse. She stepped out of her shoes and drew her winter panty-hose down her thighs and peeled them from her feet. As she started to hand them over, her fingers brushed the crotch and she was mortified to feel they were noticeably damp. She was so wet she had soaked through her panties. Why did he always affect her that way, and most of all during these little discipline sessions?
“Is there a problem?”
Her face burned almost impossibly red as she looked up at him. “Ah, no, sir. Sorry, sir.” She held out the pantyhose and he took them.
He watched her speculatively as she studied herself desperately to find a third item that would leave her respectably clothed.
It was a cold night. She couldn’t go home without shoes or a shirt. And she certainly couldn’t take off her skirt.
Resigning herself to the humiliation, she reached back and unsnapped her bra through the cloth of her top. She pulled her arms in and managed to work the straps around her elbows and extract the black silk push-up bra. It seemed like the single most humiliating way imaginable to reveal that she had been trying to dress up for him. She hadn’t even really been conscious of it herself, but now here it was, dangling from her hand.
“Thank you, Sophia,” he said, taking the bra and running his gaze unabashedly over her. His eyes lingered on her soft breasts, their naked shape unobscured by the thin cotton of her shirt. The room was cold and the feeling of her nakedness in front of him was undeniably affecting her. She could feel her nipples stiffening, becoming painfully obvious through the thin covering. She shifted a little, now not at all surprised that the pantyhose had been damp.