Kirsty was nervous. Just turned eighteen and about to do her first stint as babysitter to two boys.
Bob and Carol were nervous. Leaving their young sons in the hands of a nice, respectable girl ought to be safe, but they had had SUCH disappointing experiences in the past...
Devlin and Jake weren't nervous, exactly, but they were definitely excited. A cute teenage girl, all to themselves, from seven until after midnight...
Bruno the dog wasn't nervous or excited or anything in particular.
"Well, I'm sure you're going to cope splendidly," said ice-maiden Carol as she lipped on her coat. "You seem very... mature."
"Absolutely," agreed Bob, shamelessly eyeing Kirsty's pert breasts. Kirsty blushed. She was a shapely young thing with curly red locks, an adorable line of freckles crossing the bridge of her nose, and a reputation at school for unassailable Christian virtue. Not that she was stuck-up. She was really sweet. But none of the boys had gotten past first base with her.
The parents departed and Kirsty faces her young charges. Not so much younger than herself, she thought, but girls mature quicker. They looked up at her with big wide eyes. "What would you like to do, boys?"
"Mom usually runs us a bath, Fridays," said Jake.
"Oh. OK," answered the sitter, brightly. "I can do that."
And so, fifteen minutes later, she was rolling up her sleeve and testing the temperature of a nice soapy tub-full. "Ready, boys!" she called, innocently.
But as she turned to the bathroom door, it burst open violently, striking her in the forehead. Dazed, Kirsty staggered back, her calves connected with the side of the bath, he teetered, and -
SPLASH! Jake and Devlin high-fived as their baby-sitter descended ass-first into the water, slipping and sliding until she was lying in it, spluttering as the water slopped up and down, drenching her completely.
"Hang on, we'll help you!" cried Devlin, and the boys rushed forward. Unfortunately for Kirsty, their idea of "help was to grab her legs and try to pull her out that way. This caused Kirsty's top half to get dragged under the surface, where she stared at them wide-eyes, cheeks bulging as she tried to store air the way a hamster stores nuts. The boys took this opportunity to ogle their wet babysitter thoroughly, relishing the way her top had become translucent, revealing her bra, itself rendered partially see-through by the water. Her breasts bounved in alluring slow-motion under the rippling surface, as her slippery legs kicked and thrashed in their grasp. Only when Kirsty could no longer hold her breath, and a great burst of bubbles exploded from her lips, did they change strategy and hoist her up by her top half, each grabbing a forearm and a juicy tit.
"Kaff-splutter-ugh-oh-shit!" cried Kirsty, her clothes now clinging to every contour, nipples poking through her blouse like bullets (in truth the bath hadn't been THAT warm.)
"Tsk, such language!" tutted Devlin.
"Ought to have her mouth washed out with soap!" affirmed Jake.
Why not? As Kirsty gaped, still trying to make sense of this situation, Devlin shoved a big lathery bar of soap into her mouth, the soft surface scraping off on her teeth, the object forcing her mouth open wide, hidding the back of her throat so she gagged momentarily.
"Mmmlurgh!" she cried, spitting out the soap and staggering awkwardly to her feet, blue murder in her brown eyes. The boys stepped back, nervously. And then Kirsty, stepping from the bath, stepped on the bar of soap she'd just emitted, and slipped over again, hitting her head on the side of the tub as she plunged back into it.
Kirsty woke up naked on Bob and Carol's bed. She had a bump on her head. And Jake and Devlin were toweling her body dry using the tiniest hand-towels they could find. Really, they were concentrating too much on certain areas, leaving her arms and legs and head shiny and moist.
"Oh good, you're alright. We were worried," lied Jake.
"Where are my clothes?" gasped Kirsty, belatedly covering herself. The boys had taken the opportunity to thoroughly examine her, so there was really no point in her tightly crossing her thighs and covering her pert tits with her hands, but her embarrassment was so attractive the boys were glad she did.
"We put them in the drier," said Jake.
"They should be done by now," said Devlin.
Taking the tiny towels, Kirsty tried to cover herself, but all she could do was hold one each over her tits and pussy, leaving her lvely round arse bare as she scampered to the kitchen where the drier was. To her horror, she saw there were no curtains on the windows here, and the neighbours house was lit up, making her feel on display. Hurriedly she opened the drier and pulled out a few items.
"Where's my skirt and top?" she asked.
"Dunno. Maybe the drier ate them?"
Kirsty slipped into her bra, panties, stockings and suspenders, but found a new problem. Her undies had been neatly scissored in a number of places, so that they did not conceal as well as they should, Her nipples, and a good deal of the surrounding tit-flesh, poked through twin openings in her lacey bra, and the gusset and back of her panties were entirely missing. In addition, the garments had shrunk a good deal, making them uncomfortable to squeeze into and causing exposed flesh to bulge through the openings with obscene impudence.
"This won't do! You must find me something to wear!" protested Kirsty, and the boys ran off, taking the towels with them. Kirsty followed, frowning, and found herself in the empty living room. There were no curtains here either. She could see into the neighbour's house, and there he was, a fat slovenly man, staring at her. He was unzipping his trousers. Oh my goodness, he was --
Kirsty turned away, then ran from the room. "Devlin! Jake!"
She found them in their room. The curtains had also been removed from this one, so that again she was in display to the disgusting man next door. He had binoculars now. It was revolting, what he was doing with that big... She did her best to cover herself, and spoke to the boys, who were sitting on bunkbeds from which all the sheets had been removed.
"Have you found me anything to wear?"
"We got scared. There was a sound at the back door. We thought it might be a burglar."
"My goodness. Well, can ou get me some clothes and I'll take a look?"
"Take a look first. We're too frightened. Prove there's nobody there and you can have clothes."
The boys watched Kirsty's bare ass wiggle as she left the room and headed for the kitchen where the back door was located. She opened it and the night air struck her bare skin with stinging force. She scanned the back garden. The shed. Beyond it, the neighbour's garden, where he had left the house and was now ogling her from just twenty feet away, grinning and stroking his...
"I'm enjoying the show, sweet-cheeks," he remarked.
Kirsty stuck out her tongue, and turned and went back in, slamming the door. But just as she turned back to the kitchen -
SPLAT! A cream pie, intended for the boys' dessert, hit her smooch in the kisser. The force was such that she sat down, heavily -
SPLAT! into a hot steak pie intended for the boy's main course.
"Yeeee-owww!" cried Kirsty as the scalding gravy coursed between her thighs, infiltrating every crevice. Rolling out of the brown sticky mess, she would up on her elbows and knees, letting the cool air from the recently-open back door chill her meat-soaked privates.
Suddenly, there was an unpleasant, rasping sensation right up her crack! And hot, stentorous breathing at her knicker area. Too shocked to react at first, Kirsty actually crouched still for three more repetitions of the bizarre sensation, until a camera flashed and she came to her senses. Bruno, the family dog, had been tempted by the meaty pie, and was licking its remnants off her upthrust derriere!
Kirsty pushed the disappointed ppoch away and staggered to her feet, wiping cream from her face.
"Sorry, Kirsty," said Devlin, hiding his camera-phone, "We thought you were the burglar! Never mind, you can wash your face and, er, other bits at the sink."
Kirsty tottered over to the sink and started sploshing water in her face, while Devlin and Jake took a sponge to herbare bottom, removing those bits of beef Bruno's tongue had failed to reach. Kirsty was about to protest this inappropriate behaviour when Devlin squirted her in the face with the washing up liquid.
"Here, this'll help you get clean!"
"Aaaahh! My eyes! I can't see!" Kirsty wailed, blinded by the green goop.
"Here, there's a towel over here," said Jake, leading her by the hand. Devlin nipped in front and opened the back door, and before she knew it, Kirsty was in the back garden again. In fact, she didn't realize it at all until she heard the sound of a durstbin lid being removed, and felt two hands shove her bare bottom hard, and pitched head first into the food recycling bin.
Blackened banana skins and used teabags and potato pealings filled her mouth as she tried to yell, and she became swamped in disgusting refuse up to her waste, so that however she thrashed her legs she couldn't get free. Then she felt a tickling on her bottom...
"Come in, come in," said Jake to Mr Murgatroyd, the obese and ugly neighbour, opening the garden gate to invite him in. "A little neighbourly treat for you. Perhaps when you've finished using her you might call up some friends, she LOVES being the centre of attention..."
"She's a very kinky girl, actually," said Jake. "Into anything and everything. You mustn't feel ashamed to do anything you want to her. ANYTHING. She may protest, but she loves it really."
Mr Murgatroyd's eyes lit up as he saw the teenager’s bare ass and pussy projecting from the bin, and the words FUCK ME written on her ass cheeks in magic marker pen (which would take weeks to erase.)
So that was how Kirsty got her cherry popped while face down in the garden mulch, which was not the circumstance she would have chosen. But it did give the boys time to prepare several interesting games for her indoors. For Kirsty's misfortunes were far from over...
“Please, let me in!” sobbed Kirsty, dancing about on bare feet in the cold, oblivious to Devlin creeping up behind her as Jake kept her distracted.
“I’m not sure we should have anything to do with you after you had sex with that man in our back garden like a dirty slut,” sneered Jake.
“It wasn’t like that! Oh, you’re too young, you don’t understand!”
“That’s what they all say,” scoffed Jake. “I tell you what, admit you’re a dirty little slut and we’ll let you in.”
“Wh-what?” cried Kirsty, unable to believe her ears.
“Show that you’re sorry. Quick about it, before he comes back and you find yourself bent over taking it like a bitch all over again!”
Blushing with shame and snivelling pathetically (to the silent amusement of both lads), Kirsty found herself admitting, “Alright, alright, I admit it, I’m a dirty little slut.”
“A dirty little slut who loves it in every hole.”
“(sob) I’m a dirty little slut who loves it in every hole. Now PLEASE open the door, Devlin! I’m begging you ever so nicely!”
But at that point, Devlin threw the canvas shopping bag over Kirsty’s head from behind, tying the string handles around her neck in a knot far too complex for her to untangle, blinded as she was by the bag. And Jake DID open the door, clonking her on the forehead and making her stagger back into the garden.
Both boys watched in amusement as Kirsty blundered about, blindfolded, struggling with the bag, until she trod on a rake which sprang up and hit her in the nose. Then she fell on her very sore bottom on the gravel path.
“What now?” whispered Jake.
“To the garden shed! There’s tons of stuff in there we can use on her!”
So each boy grabbed an ankle and they hauled poor Kirsty up the gravel path, the little jagged stones digging into her tender rump, then over the wet grass and through dirty mad patches, up to the shed which stood ominously at the foot of the back garden.
Here, sensitive readers may wish to skip down to the next set of asterixes, since what follows is a bit extreme. Denuding the babysitter had been a lark for the boys. Arranging for her to be raped by the neighbour was just a bit of fun. Thrashing her bottom was merely high spirits. What follows is hard to excuse, although it must be admitted that two of the three people involved thoroughly enjoyed it, and perhaps that outweighs the torment of the third, who happened to be the one with tits.
Opening the shed, the boys bundled Kirsty in, getting to her feet with a good bit of slapping and squeezing of tender or private areas, then bending her forward until those luscious young breasts dangled irresistibly above the vise affixed to dad’s workbench.
Jake spun the handle until the vise closed around the surprised teen’s nipples, eliciting a pleasing screech from inside the shopping bad.
“Sounds like you got a good grip there,” whispered Devlin.
“Best give it an extra half turn to be sure,” said Jake, doing so, and was rewarded with another delightful moan. Lest Kirsty make too loud a complaint during the next sequence of events, Devlin then reached inside the shopping bag and stopped her mouth using a burst tennis ball much beloved of the family dog, Bruno. It was caked with mud and dog saliva, but was a good size and inflated inside her mouth so that she could not spit it out within the confines of the bag.
The dog leash had decorated Kirsty’s plump and rosy rear with attractive stripes, but the carpet beater was a whole new project. So big it took both boys to lift it, it delivered a vast, all-over smack rather than the concentrated whip of the leash. The boys laid into Kirsty’s bare bum with a vengeance, and each colossal spank made her jump so that her young breasts were yanked savagely against the grip of the vise. Her movements were so vigorous that Jake eventually felt it best to tighten it a twist more, just in case.
Once the boys were exhausted, the more relaxing work could be done, with stinging nettles, handled carefully with gardeners gloves. Rubbing the leaves up Kirsty’s inner thighs and letting them dance over her throbbing buttocks was immensely satisfying, bringing fresh howls of a higher pitch from the darkness of the shopping back. Tickling her exposed pussy with the stinging plants until her lips swelled up and opened like an exotic red flower was, it seemed, the final delight. But –
“A shame we can’t sting her on the Inside,” sighed Jake.
“Can’t we?” giggled Devlin. Hefting a huge pair of rusty garden shears, he carefully positioned them at the mouth of Kirsty’s defenceless sex, and gently (by his standards) inserted the blunt tips of cold steel into her aching pussy. Once he’d worked them a few inches deeper, he tugged the handles hard apart, so that the blades opened Kirsty like a crude, and rather uncomfortable speculum. Jake could now tickle the inside of Kirsty’s cunt with the nettles, and as a final gift, pushed them deep inside with the handle of a hoe.
To repeat this process with Kirsty’s bottom was simple, and by now seemed impossible to refuse. This apparently affected the victim so much that her legs gave way under her, she fell to her knees, and her breasts were stretched out into taut cones, nipples still caught in the crushing vise. This sight was admired for a few minutes, then Jake thought it best to release the tortured tits.
“Yoooow-oooW!” cried Kirsty again, and Jake realised with a giggle that he was turning the handle the wrong way. Easily rectified, and with her tits free, Kirsty fell to the shed floor, not unconscious, unfortunately for her, but exhausted and powerless to resist.
Now that her breasts were exposed, Devlin felt the need to flutter the nettles over the sore nipples, which had the welcome effect of restoring them to a three-dimensional form. Then it was back to the house. Each boy grabbed an ankled and dragged Kirsty, belly down this tim, over the lawn. A slight confusion at the rose bush led to Jake going left and Devlin going right, so that with wide-spread thighs, Kirsty was hauled over the bush, each branch thrashing and each thorn pricking with devilish aim at a delicate place, though I can reassure you that no severe damage was done: nothing that would prevent a man from enjoying those sensitive parts, anyway, which would be proved repeatedly later that night.
Kirsty certainly didn’t enjoy it, though, nor did she care for the journey over the gravel, jagged rocks stabbing into her belly and breasts. Who would?
The next thing Kirsty knew was a blast of icy water on her sore breasts. She gasped and shivered, and then the bag was pulled from her head and the light of the bathroom dazzled her and the spray of water hit her right in the face.
The babysitter was bound by the ankles to the shower rail so that jake and Devlin could clean her all over, taking particular care to jet the water up between her thighs to wash out all the incriminating evidence of their neighbour’s intrusions, and all the bits of nettle. The boys both thought it would be a shame for anyone taking advantage of Kirsty to discover stingy leaves inside her. Though they were certainly delighted by the thought of how sore it would be for Kirsty if that happened (did I already mention that it would, in fact, happen? And indeed very sore it would be).
“F-f-freezing,” gasped Kirsty.
“You’re alright now,” said Jake. “We heroically rescued you from the burglar.”
“Th-th-thank y-you. B-but c-c-cold!” shivered the wet and near-naked girl.
“Oh, sorry,” smiled Devlin, turning the heat all the way up and aiming the steaming spray directly at Kirsty’s crotch. She went limp again.
“We’re ba-ack!” sang Mum and she and her husband returned from their delightful evening.
Imagine the doting parents’ surprise when they found their beloved boys still awake, way past their bedtime, watching an inappropriate film.
Imagine their further surprise when they found Kirsty, apparently asleep in their bed, a half-empty bottle of whisky (which had definitely been full) beside the bed. Dad pulled back the sheets in a fury, and was horrified, yes horrified, to find the eighteen-year-old schoolgirl stark naked save for sussies and stockings, his electric toothbrush buzzing away in her wet snatch. Kirsty’s eyes opened wide (she had not, in fact, ad a drop to drink, because the boys wanted her quite conscious for this next part, she had merely passed out from exhaustion. There are limits to what a hot chick can endure in one night. Although Kirsty’s wasn’t over yet…)
“You filthy little tart!” snarled Dad, as Kirsty tried to cover herself.
“You slutty little hussy!” shouted Mum, grabbing her wrists so she couldn’t.
“I’ll teach you to corrupt our children!” yelled Dad, right in Kirsty’s tear-stained face.
“It’s not what you think! There was a b-burglar,” she whimpered.
“What’s this, boys?” asked Dad.
“Dunno,” said Jake.
“Haven’t the faintest idea what the slut’s talking about,” said Devlin.
“Right!” said Dad, turning Kirsty over his knee and beginning a powerful spanking. Kirsty wailed, her bum-cheeks bounced and throbbed, and Dad’s hand descended at lightning speed, filling the air with deafening smacks.
“That’s it, Dad, let her have it!” encouraged Devlin.
“Make the little bitch suffer!” yelled Jake.
“Please!” wept Kirsty.
“Your belt, dear,” said Mum. “I’m off to bed. I suggest using the buckle end if your arm gets tired.”
“Good idea!” smiled Dad, catching his second wind.
It was a good half hour later that Dad’s shoulder finally wouldn’t cooperate any more, and he sent the boys away (having happily let them watch Kirsty’s comeuppance) and was alone with the delectable nude. It was then that he took the advice of the graffiti still inked on her red-raw rump, thrusting away vigorously while Kirsty sobbed into a pillow.
She had left her Facebook page open and signed in on the computer downstairs, so Jake and Devlin uploaded all the photos they had taken during the night: Kirsty with the toothbrush on her G-spot, Kirsty in the shower, Kirsty on her elbows and knees being licked by the dog… They put in lots of comments purporting to be from Kirsty, specifying her supposed sexual preferences, all of which were extremely filthy, very violent, or both.
“I think she’s going to be very popular at school,” smiled Jake.
It was two a.m. when Dad shoved Kirsty out into the night, still naked.
“A blanket or something, please!” she shivered.
“Not a thing. You can walk home and just think about what a filthy little whore you are.”
“But it’s half a mile! Through the centre of town. How am I going to get there without beign r-”
“I believe I can help you there,” said Mr. Murgatryod, putting his arms around her and walking her off. Dad had closed the door before Kirsty could say another word, and by then Mr M. had a ball gag in her mouth and one of his friends was restraining her wrists behind her back with furry handcuffs.
Kirsty spent the whole night as the centre of attention at the Murgatroyd residence, where his rough middle-aged male friends did their best to make her feel welcome. At eight a.m. they booted her out, naked and drunk (she got that half bottle of whisky in the end) and called the cops on her. It was Friday night so she spent the whole weekend in the cells, without even a blanket, prey to every scumbag brought in by the cops (the small town had only one combination cell and drunk tank).
Unable to give a coherent account of herself, Kirsty was fined heavily on the Monday: it seems the judge assessed her character based on her Facebook page. Her parents were beside themselves, and her dad promised her “the spanking of her life,” and believe it or not he delivered on that promise.
“It is SO hard to find good babysitters,” complained Mum at breakfast.
“Can’t we have Kirsty again?” asked Jake. “I’m SURE she’s learned her lesson.”
“I don’t know about that,” grumbled Dad.
“Oh PLEEEEASE!” chimed in Devlin. “PLEASE let us have Kirsty again!”
“Well, alright, but she better mend her ways this time or the punishment I handed out last time will seem like NOTHING,” declared Dad.
Jake and Devlin smiled at each other.