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

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

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

  Midpoint

  Virgin's Education: Bound and Pregnant Babysitter

  By Nicole Snow

  Content copyright 2013 Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

  Smashwords edition.

  Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

  All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Description

  A VIRGIN'S LESSONS AND A PREGNANT CONFESSION!

  Shy young Lori wasted her teen years avoiding risks, especially the sexy kind. When she lands a nanny job with the wildly successful and intimidating CEO, Michael Oliver, caring for his precocious son is the least of her worries.

  When Michael catches Lori opening a package that was never meant for her, all his dark secrets come tumbling out. The virgin knows practically nothing about sex, let alone the hardcore implements and dominant desires that keep the CEO sane outside the office.

  Michael hasn't ever seen a sweet young woman so ripe and ready to be bound and plucked by his lusts. He'll teach submission and own her virginity – but only if Lori casts shyness aside and admits her aching desire to be flooded with his potent seed...

  Warning: This story features hard babysitter breeding sex, BDSM, virgin submission, and explicit language.

  Word Count: 13,000+ words.

  I: Special Delivery

  I never understood kinky until I began to work for Michael Oliver. A man's passions run deep and wild, or so I'd heard.

  But to me, it was all just hearsay. My girlfriends never tittered about anything more taboo than pleasing their dates with their hands and mouths. And it wasn't like I had any first hand experience to set me straight...

  I graduated High School without so much as kissing a boy. My Mom, a trading analyst at Oliver Holdings, taught me that a girl should stay busy and keep her passions under wraps if she wants to succeed in this world.

  I should've applied her advice. My first summer out of school as an adult, and I had no prospects, romantic or job wise. If there really were benefits to saving my energy for better things, I hadn't seen any yet.

  “Now, I know you want to lounge around and enjoy your last summer as a girl, Lori. But the sooner you start work, the better.”

  “Does it really have to be with him?” I asked, sitting on the sofa and nervously wringing my hands.

  Really, asking the question was nothing but a formality. She had free reign over my life – as usual.

  I'd never known a father. The subject hadn't come up since I was a young teen, when Mom implied she'd mated like an animal with an anonymous man, a business-like tryst as efficient and uncomplicated as the rest of her life.

  I didn't ask about it again. Even so, going through life without an older man to look up to only made me fear them. And Mr. Oliver's complimented fear like peanut butter did chocolate.

  I'd met him at the company Christmas parties she dragged me to as soon as I turned twelve. The owner towered above all the other men, cut like a Titan, eyes of cold command never stopping to blink during the holiday cheer.

  “Oh, come now. Don't tell me you're afraid of him? We all keep our distance from Mr. Oliver because he prefers it that way. He's really quite nice to his closest employees. And he's such a busy man – you probably won't see much of him at all.”

  “But Mom...living in a stranger's house?”

  She turned, tapping her sleek black heel in irritation. “Didn't your teachers ever tell you to get outside your comfort zone, Lori? I know I have. And besides, Mr. Oliver is no stranger. He's seen you every year at the Christmas party, plus those times you showed up at the office on your bike.”

  She took a step closer. “He trusts me enough to tell me about his son. No one else knows. And he's placing enough faith in you to take care of him. You should be flattered, just as I am.”

  I looked at the floor. A long time ago, I always hoped my cowardice would fade with age. But it hadn't.

  There I was, eighteen and just as afraid of upsetting my environment as ever. Mom's dark eyes shined on me like dim suns, forceful and interrogating.

  “Okay,” I said, lifting my face. “For you, I'll do it.”

  A faint smile lined her thin lips. “Don't do this for me, honey. Do it for yourself. Use my networking to build some good experience and make some money. You've got youth and time on your side. That's a lot more than the rest of us have.”

  I watched her walk down the long corridor to her bedroom. She'd just survived another maddening day crunching numbers and riding graphs.

  Debate wouldn't be tolerated. Not when she wanted nothing more than to lay down with a glass of wine, kick off her high end heels, and pass out until morning, when everything started all over again.

  At least I've always been good with children. Maybe I'll adjust, forget he's even there keeping watch over me, and just do my job.

  Mom always said to forge on, without letting the little details and emotions get in the way.

  I smoothed my dress, feeling goosebumps creep up my flesh. Most of my friends were preparing to head off to college since we'd left High School.

  They'd make new friends in dorms and have crazy adventures. I wondered what had happened to make me so different.

  Why was I so broken? And for no good reason?

  Once again, I imagined Mr. Oliver's massive house, alone like a castle on prime lake shore. He lived there with his two year old son, and nobody but a few aides for company.

  Suddenly, I wished I were going away to a dorm too. Moving across town to become this strange man's live in babysitter filled me with a dread worse than embarking halfway around the world.

  “You have the keys, the eating recommendations, and all the latest information from Flynn's pediatrician. Is there anything else you'll need to do your job well, Miss Koffay?”

  I looked him up and down, my eyes losing themselves in his perfectly tailored gray suit. So, this was his armor, the uniform he donned before confronting the world, commanding legions of underlings like a skilled general.

  And doesn't he look handsome in it?

  I banished the thought, trying not to blush. I took one last sip of the tangerine juice from the crystal glass he'd given me.

  “I think that's everything. Mr. Oliver. And please, you can call me Lori.”

  “Of course. Miss Koffay is more appropriate for your mother.” He drank the last of his coffee from the thick ceramic mug in his hands and smiled. “I'm sure your work will be just as impeccable as hers. She's been my best analyst for ten years strong.”

  Funny, but you didn't say whether or not the first name basis goes both ways.

  I shook my head, unsure why I expected it. Though friendly, Mr. Oliver was nothing but my employer, and a man of much greater importance than I'd ever be.

  “I'll do my best,” I said. The words weren't hard to force out.
<
br />   Anything less wasn't an option. I had to meet his expectations.

  If only looking at him weren't so damned distracting! I wanted to wither and melt at his smile.

  I couldn't imagine surviving if his hard faced fixed on me with disapproval.

  “Well, then. I'll leave you to get acquainted with my son. I trust you'll examine Tess' notes and copy them as best you can. She did a wonderful job, and it was a shame to accept her resignation. There's no delaying acute arthritis, I'm afraid.”

  I studied his face closely. Beneath the stony lines of strength around his eyes, I thought I saw...real regret?

  I nodded, strangely energized. The old nanny's little notebook was all I had to go on for pleasing this kid. And if he was anything like his father, I imagined it would take a lot to keep him entertained and happy.

  “Good. We'll talk more later. Don't expect me home until well after midnight. Assuming my son is well taken care of, you can go to sleep anytime you wish, and wake as late as you want. I'll be staying at the office late and rising early, as usual.”

  I whispered a goodbye as he walked beneath the neat arch connecting the kitchen to the rest of the house. His expensive silver Lexus purred as it left the garage, signaling me to get on with it.

  I walked quickly to the nursery, summoning all my focus and putting up my guard. But after the first few hours, I began to relax.

  I smiled, helping the boy clean up after every wooden tower he built with his blocks became too unstable and went crashing to the ground.

  Later, we switched from toys to a learning game on the tablet Mr. Oliver had left me. I got it ready and sat in the corner as Flynn played with the talking dog on the screen. The blue canine barked a happy tune every time the boy correctly identified his numbers.

  I should've been paying attention, but my mind wandered. I hadn't been up so early since dance practice, way back in the autumn of my Senior year.

  Maybe it was the strange environment I'd been thrown into, but I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I thought about my conversation with Mr. Oliver.

  In the safety of my own memory, I explored him. Who was he, really? And why did I want to know so badly?

  This giant house, the tiny boy, and the high powered career invited so many questions.

  What happened to your mother, little Flynn? Are you a product of loveless baby making just like me?

  The boy giggled at something on his screen. I smiled softly, wondering if we had something in common.

  My mind wandered back to what might've happened this morning if I were a thousand times braver.

  If I were a different girl, like my mother on steroids, I would've worn something lower on my chest and higher on my legs. I would've stood close to Mr. Oliver as he laid out his expectations, perhaps leaning in to graze his collar with my long, painted nails.

  And then you would've been promptly fired!

  I shook my head, forcing away the fantasy. I straightened my skirt, unsettled by the brutal heat throbbing between my thighs.

  It didn't help as I spent the rest of the day caring for Flynn. The more time we spent together, the more I realized what a beautiful child Mr. Oliver had created. It couldn't have all been the unknown mother.

  The kid had his bright eyes, his jawline, and an intense concentration vibrant enough to carry the whole world. Mr. Oliver had given his son the greatest gift of all – superior genes – the kind of hard coding that made a person destined for excellence the moment they left the womb.

  God, whatever the terms of Flynn's creation, this had to be a lucky woman. Anyone would kill to have babies like this with a man like him.

  My tongue circled the outside of my lips slowly as I prepared Flynn's dinner. The child gave me a welcome distraction when I carried it down to him – my first real difficulty as he struggled with his vitamins.

  After several refusals, I sighed. Doctor's orders. Lucky me.

  “No, no! Yucky!” The boy shook his head vigorously every time I moved the cartoon character shaped pills up to his lips.

  “Chew them quick, and take a big sip of water and swallow. Just like this.”

  The boy stared up at me as I took one of the extras I'd brought into my palm. I popped it into my mouth and chewed, washing it down with a huge gulp from my water bottle.

  Bleh! He wasn't kidding. These things do taste disgusting.

  “Come on, young man. You want to grow up looking just like your Daddy, don't you? You're already stronger than me. Surely, you can do what I just did?”

  I held my breath, hoping it would work. Flynn's face went blank. After a few seconds, he furrowed his small brow and picked up the baby blue pill.

  I bottled my laughter as his face squirmed with disgust. He sucked the water from his cup – too fast! I ran my hand across his back as he coughed, cleaning up the excess that sputtered out his mouth.

  “Good boy! I'm going to tell your father later. He'll be so proud.”

  Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief. The rest of the dinner went smoothly, and then I read quietly from my Kindle as Flynn played with his army men.

  It was later than I thought, and I must've been much more tired than expected. I woke up, slumped in my chair, as the grandfather clock upstairs chimed midnight.

  Flynn had collapsed on the plush rug, snoozing softly. I leaped up and carefully lifted him into my arms. We made it to his room without waking, where I tucked him into bed.

  I wished I could've stayed asleep as easily as the boy. I undressed and laid in the guestroom uneasily, staring at the Spartan walls and debriefing myself after the first full day as Mr. Oliver's babysitter.

  Had I done a good job? Yes.

  Had it gone more smoothly than expected? Certainly.

  Had I asked for such intrusive fantasies about a much older employer? Hell no!

  Mr. Oliver's firm body rippled in my mind one last time as sleep fogged my brain. At some point, I rolled over, toward the thin crack of dim light shining through my door.

  I'd forgotten to close it. I didn't know if I were half-dreaming or vaguely awake, but I saw a suited silhouette creep into the room across the hall, stop over Flynn's bed, and gently kiss him on the forehead.

  Then, the same figure exited, closing the door behind him. He paused in the hall, arms folded, and turned to my room.

  I dreamed – saw? – Mr. Oliver standing in the pale yellow light, his strong figure framed in blackness, except for the hungry embers flaring in his eyes.

  He was true to his word about being busy. Aside from the dull roar of the Lexus in my dreams, I never caught up with him even once.

  His work schedule proved more than demanding. It was downright slavish, all driven by his unstoppable commitment to the company he'd founded.

  Christ. When does this man ever unwind? Does poor Flynn even know his father?

  I wondered. He hadn't knocked off early on the weekends either.

  Now, it was Tuesday morning, and I'd just finished talking to my mother on the phone as I ate my breakfast.

  I was lounging near his barren fireplace shortly after Flynn went down for a nap. The doorbell rang unexpectedly.

  I jumped up, heart pounding. Mr. Oliver hadn't given me any guidelines for dealing with unexpected guests.

  The idea that someone else might show up hadn't entered into my head. My brain ran through a carousel of possibilities as I crept slowly toward the main door, ready to sweep aside the blinds.

  A thief? An old enemy from the corporate world coming back for revenge? A little girl selling cookies?

  Everything relaxed the instant I looked through the small glass pane. A tanned man in a gray jumpsuit stood on the porch.

  I flung open the door and he held out a neatly wrapped package. The man departed as soon as I put my curly signature on his little device.

  “Thank God.” I wanted to smack myself for being so stupid and jumpy.

  A couple days ago, Mr. Oliver had left a note about a new toy coming for Flynn. Some
kind of special ball that played music and did math while you rolled it around the room. Guess he was intent on getting his son ready for multi-tasking early.

  It couldn't have come at a better time. Every child loves a new toy, and armed with this, my afternoon would be a breeze.

  He might even take his vitamins without protest if I offered them before handing over the ball...

  I placed the package on the kitchen counter and grabbed a large knife. Slicing through the paper revealed a neat box. One cut, and it was open.

  Hm. Seems a little small to hold a ball. Unless this thing is a lot more tiny than it seems...

  An object fell out, clattering so loud on the counter it echoed through the entire kitchen. My heart leaped into my throat and pounded.

  It took me a full minute to recover, and then I felt even more foolish.

  Shit. It's not a toy at all...or is it?

  I picked it up, feeling the cool steel in my hands. It was a simple pair of shiny handcuffs, bound together by a plastic tie. The silver loops shined in my hands as I twirled them over, thinking they were a little too realistic and tough to be a toy for Flynn.

  When I held them up to the window, I saw it. An engraving on the metal, not far from the chain, faint and inscribed in some fancy stylized cursive.

  With these handcuffs, you'll do as I please...

  A loopy heart was tacked onto the end. My heart did another circuit and I almost dropped them, shaking as I laid them onto the counter.

  Several pieces of paper had fallen out behind the handcuffs. I picked up the yellow and black slips – brochures? – and turned them over to read.

  Present this pass to security for expedited VIP check-in. Enjoy the backrooms with our best girls! Remember, they can't say no. Behind the curtain, ANYTHING goes.