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At least, I can't think of any reasons why they would want their 6-year-old to be subjected to a babysitter who believed in female domination: my mother wasn't a practicing femdom by any means, and as far as I'm aware my father didn't have any submissive tendencies -- at least none that all men don't have.

So I think my parents chose Karen to babysit for me only because they believed she was responsible and competent. No doubt they were struck by how sincere she sounded when she professed to love children.

In fact she did love children -- in a unique way -- but my parents never had any idea what Karen did with me, and what sort of influence she had on me.

I should point out Karen's beliefs in female domination were coincidental; she believed in being dominant, and happened to be a woman.

Any philosophical positions relating to female domination were probably just stilts for her egotism. I have no idea whether this sort of claim would hold true for most femdoms.

I first met Karen as a six-year-old, on December 31, -- my parents' anniversary and New Year's Eve. She had long, dirty blond hair, seemed very tall to me though in fact she's 5'9" , and seemed as much of an adult as my parents, though she was only Our first sessions were very normal, uneventful.

She was wittier and funnier than any other babysitters I'd had before, and let me stay up later. Best of all, I felt that she really liked me, and really had an interest in my youthful vision of things.

I had fun with her, and was always bitterly disappointed when she wasn't available and I had to have other babysitters.

Certainly Karen was different from the very beginning. Rather than making me dinner, she had me make myself dinner and merely stood by offering guidance or giving instructions.

Take it off For a moment I was embarrassed at her superior strength -- I already had the notion that boys are supposed to me stronger than girls.

While I blushed, Karen held me there for a moment, her arms around me, not letting me move. My first experience of female domination that had a pronouncedly sexual character occurred on Karen's sixth visit at my home.

She told me she wanted me to make macaroni, and I flatly refused. I had had a discouraging day at school and I was in a bad mood.

Generally Karen's presence was immediately uplifting -- her humor, her playfulness -- but on this occasion my sulky attitude persisted. I told her I wasn't going to make dinner.

Why not, Andrew? That's not a good reason. You're the babysitter. Do you think that makes me your slave? I felt ashamed of my refusal to comply, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

Her voice was almost a hiss. That's how it is in all families. The woman cooks. We were just about at eye level with each other.

Her smile broadened, and she put one of her hands around my shoulders. I looked away from her; despite her smile, her eyes burned into me.

I was acutely aware of her anger, and it made me shrink inwardly. Women choose their own roles for themselves. If they don't want to do something, they don't have to.

That was a very stupid, silly thing for you to say. Still with one arm around my shoulder, she put her other hand on my chin and turned my face toward her.

I was trembling. What she said struck home for me. I could recall many instances in which clashes between my parents ended with my mother, through manipulation or sheer force of will, coming out on top.

Generally when there were serious fights, the episodes were only resolved when my father apologized to my mother and pleaded for her forgiveness.

Somehow, while on the surface my father appeared to be the head of the family, my mother actually wielded the power and set down the law. But this was very confusing for me, and seemed to conflict with the depiction of men and women in cartoons and other TV shows: men were clearly physically superior to women, and since they were equal in all other ways, it was obviously men who had the edge.

And despite what happened between my parents, it was always women who had to clamor for equal rights; it was men who were presidents and prominent leaders; it was men who seemed to make things happen in the world.

Women were a presence, but only a subdued one. Men are who control things. It's a fact. Men are more powerful. One day you'll realize that men are desperately afraid of appearing weak, so they'll do anything to appear strong.

But in every way, they're slaves by their own nature. The deepest fear that all men have is of realizing that women are superior to them.

But when men realize this, they can finally start to live the kinds of lives that they're supposed to live. Andy, I'm going to help you start learning that kind of life now.

I suppose it was mainly based on a childish impulse to test authority. Again, I refused. My voice was very, very small, but I said, "No.

Her eyes looked like storm clouds. Her hand, which was still around my shoulders, slid slowly down my back to my rear. She placed her hand over my small buttocks, moved her fingers gently so as to feel the crack between my cheeks, then seemed to massage my behind slowly.

She moved her other hand to my face, and heavily -- mushing up my cheek -- stroked me. You shouldn't've said that.

Holding me from behind, she broke open the button of my pants and in a series of powerful, swift movements, yanked my pants and my underwear down to my ankles, spun me around, bent me over her knees, and began spanking me.

I had never been spanked by my parents. For some reason I had the impression that spankings were illegal -- that parents weren't allowed to do things like that anymore.

I was astonished by Karen's show of authority, and her seemingly endless series of blows stung my bottom badly.

I began wailing. I thrashed weakly to break free, but Karen held me down easily. After an eternity of pain, Karen asked me if I was ready to do as she said.

Through sobs I cried that I was. Although she stopped spanking me, she continued holding me over her knee. My buttocks were aching, but they weren't numb, and I could feel, about a minute after she stopped spanking me, her fingers slowly probe between my small cheeks.

They moved up to my tiny anus, touching the rim gently, and rested there. After some minutes, exhausted by my sobbing into quiet whimpering, Karen lifted me up, still with my pants at my ankles, and sat me on her lap normally.

She put one arm around my chest, and although she had just beaten me -- even terrorized me -- I felt deeply comforted by the feeling of her face next to mine.

I shuddered, and she held me warmly. Her head tipped back, she squeezed her breasts, playfully teasing her own nipples.

Her eyes opened, lustfully admiring the chiseled ebony body of her lover. Balanced skillfully on her stockinged toes, she began picking up the tempo as she rode him cowgirl style.

Gently biting the corner of her lip, she slid upwards slowly almost to the end of his length, before plunging herself downwards, impaling her moist sex on his hard shaft.

Well it was the second time we met. She was a FWB. We were in a restaurant, she had a gym bag with her so I assumed she came from the gym.

We sat and had drinks for a while. Chatting and flirting. I noticed she was flirting heavily with the waitress as well witch gave me a pleasant surprise.

We had dinner and she kept touching me under the table. Especially when the waitress was around. The sexual tension was Something was different.

It had started as usual, him playing pool with his friends, me racking the balls and walking around for his friends amusement, serving drinks and flirting.

I was wearing the usual clothes for the night, black corset, black g string, black high heeled shoes. My hair was pulled back in a pony tail and I had the usual perfume on.

I hadn't said a word as usual, and I had been leaning over the table to show my Home Stories FemDom babysitter. My girlfriend's first BDSM experience I met my girlfriend Dawn at a party in college and we have been dating for about three years now.

Login Register Submit. FemDom babysitter Kathy my new babysitter gives me an evil grin as Mommy leaves for work. Next her tits were released and I feasted my eyes on them.

She would then wiggle out of her skirt and black panties and sometimes bend over with her butt to the window and give me the best view of a womanly ass that I ever had.

I suspected that she knew I was watching, but she never let on that she knew she had an audience. One of these little shows was usually good for a weeks worth of masturbatory fantasies.

I recall having a hard on a good amount of the time for no reason at all. When Christine gave these performances it was really reason to jack off, sometimes twice or more in one day.

One time when her parents were gone she brought her boyfriend home. She brought him to her room and did her show for the both of us, then her boyfriend pulled down the shades and I was left pounding my cock and imagining what they must be doing.

Anyway, on the second day of my folks' absence I was up in my room after coming home from work. I was in my usual horny state that evening, however, I noticed the light in Christine's room was not on.

So I grabbed a "girlie" magazine I had and started thumbing through it. In no time at all I was hard and needed some release.

I had masturbated earlier that day before I went to work while showering, but I was ready again. I took off my shoes and socks, my shirt and my pants.

My underwear bulged in my excitement and I removed these to reveal my turgid cock. I gave it a couple of preliminary strokes as I stood there and felt that familiar tingle go from my buttocks to my heels.

I retrieved my magazine and lay down on my bed, took my cock in my hand and started to stroke it. I was enjoying the pictures as well as the feeling in my body.

Sometimes I would fondle my balls and pull at my ball sac to give an added tingle. Also, I would run my free hand over my belly and chest as these areas were also sensitized and I would give my nipples a good rubbing as this would increase my self pleasure.

Soon I was lost in my reveries and totally oblivious to the world around me. Suddenly, the door to my room burst open and I looked up to see Christine standing there with a long thin piece of wood in her hand that looked like it came from her dad's work bench.

Stand up now!! As soon as I stood she gave my bottom about five good lashes with her switch. It made me jump and squirm as I stood.

Christine how can you say that? Besides, I've seen you take your boyfriend up to your room when your folks are gone," I said somewhat indignantly.

Next her switch came down upon my cock which was still hard and standing out in front of me. Once again I jumped at the sudden sharp pain, but my cock remained hard.

I could tell that she had respectable strength for a woman. We got over by my desk and she pulled out my chair. I noticed that a few buttons on her blouse were undone and I caught a good look at her cleavage that revealed she was not wearing a bra.

Her large nipples appeared to be hard under her shirt. She sat down and then took my hand and firmly drew me down across her ample thighs.

She grabbed my cock and made sure that it was out of the way as I settled in for my anticipated paddling. I'm not being bad and it feels so good.

Well I'll show you. You have been naughty. Not only playing with yourself like this, but watching me undress.

You must be punished and I'm going to warm up this little ass of yours. My whole body twitched.

Femdom Babysitter Stories

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I began wailing. I thrashed weakly to break free, but Karen held me down easily. After an eternity of pain, Karen asked me if I was ready to do as she said.

Through sobs I cried that I was. Although she stopped spanking me, she continued holding me over her knee. My buttocks were aching, but they weren't numb, and I could feel, about a minute after she stopped spanking me, her fingers slowly probe between my small cheeks.

They moved up to my tiny anus, touching the rim gently, and rested there. After some minutes, exhausted by my sobbing into quiet whimpering, Karen lifted me up, still with my pants at my ankles, and sat me on her lap normally.

She put one arm around my chest, and although she had just beaten me -- even terrorized me -- I felt deeply comforted by the feeling of her face next to mine.

I shuddered, and she held me warmly. With her other hand, she reached around and touched my tiny penis and my little scrotum.

At first her fingers drifted lightly over my genitals, as if just measuring their miniscule dimensions. Then she cupped my little balls and my penis in her warm palm, and kissed me on the cheek.

She sounded soothing and wise. These little things are part of what make men so different from women. They're part of what makes men so weak.

Women don't have to have these things. She probed the seeds of my maleness, shifting my testes around, toying briefly with my little penis.

Then she delicately held my left ball between her thumb and her forefinger. How helpless the boy becomes when a girl can touch him here? Although I was frightened, I was starting to feel my tiny penis grow stiff, like a brittle twig.

Karen released my nut from her grip. She lifted me off her knee, then helped me remove my shoes and slip off my pants and underpants.

She told me to lift up my arms, and then lifted off my shirt. Holding my hand, she guided me into my bedroom, then told me to lie down on my back.

After I did, she took off her clothes. I had never seen a woman naked before, and her breasts seemed somehow strange and disturbing; the dark corner of hair at her crotch frightened me -- as if I had some sort of instinctive response to that place.

Everything about her body suggested strength and power. I was trembling as Karen moved above me on the bed. As she joined me, she again stroked my tiny genitals; then, putting one knee on each side of my chest, moved her dark patch of hair close to my face.

It looked moist, and seemed huge to me. Karen moved her crotch over my face. I felt a surge of energy in her body as our flesh touched, and her vagina overwhelmed me: pinned my body to the bed: drenched me in its powerful liquids as I licked, and gasped, and licked.

Her body rocked against my face, and I was terrified that she would injure me. At some point I ended up on my stomach with her lying on top of me.

I had one cheek on the bed as my babysitter stroked my face. She had become calm; her sweat covered me.

She slid her hand under my body, under my boyish groin, and moved her fingers gently into my scrotum. Her thumb rubbed my little penis, which poked like a small wooden nail against the mattress.

I always pleased her; every night I spent with her, her vagina feasted on my face. On our last night together, she showed me how her clitoris, swollen and moist, dwarfed my limp little penis.

One evening while we lay in bed she held my head between her legs and drenched me with urine. The next morning I confessed to my parents that I had wet my bed.

On two occasions Karen became frustrated with me -- though I never again defied her as I had that first night that she dominated me.

On one of these occasions I had been sucking her nipples, and accidentally nibbled her too hard. She yelled that I was a brainless imbecile, then told me to stand in front of her with my legs apart.

We were both naked; she was sitting on the edge of my bed, and I was standing with my tiny balls dangling, my little penis like a drop of flesh.

With one hand, Karen held my hair -- firmly, but not tugging at it; with the other she made a fist. She told me to look her in the eyes, then she slammed her fist against my boyish genitals.

I crumpled to the floor: I wailed: I clutched myself in helpless, tearful agony. I had never felt so much pain. Karen was especially rough with me as she rocked her crotch against my face that night.

I ended up with a bloody nose. The other time I angered Karen, it was for not being responsive with my little penis. Though erect it was only two and a half inches long, barely long enough to penetrate her at all, she order me to make it rise.

I couldn't. She slapped at it with her hand, but that just brought tears to my eyes. Karen told me to get on my hands and knees.

On her knees behind me, she put her index finger in my mouth and told me to get it wet. Then she stuck her other fingers in, and told me that I should make them slick with spit.

I felt like I was going to choke on her hand, and tears welled up in my eyes. When she took her fingers out of my mouth, she slid them between my buttocks and drove them -- first one, then two, then three -- into my hole.

At first I shrieked -- it felt like my body was being slashed open by a dagger -- but Karen's blow to the back of my head silenced me.

Soon her fingers began to feel soft entering me, and though I felt slashed open, even more vulnerable to her than usual, the act felt began to feel wonderfully affectionate.

With her other hand, Karen reached around and fingered my boyhood. I told you I'd make your tiny penis hard.

Her clitoris continued passionately rubbing me long after my penis became exhausted. Disappointed with me, Karen slapped my face, and spanked me again until my tears soaked my pillow.

She told me that I would have to learn to keep my little penis hard when she wanted it to be. Next time I failed her by letting my penis soften, she would get a penis of her own -- one so long that when she rammed it into my hole I would feel it all the way up in my throat.

Karen had assured me that if I ever told anyone about the private things she did with me, she would make it so that I would be a boy all my life -- I would never be able to have children.

Her threat was totally unnecessary: my obedience to her was complete. No one had ever brought so much intensity to my life: Karen was my best friend, and the most frightening person I had ever met.

Consequently when my parents told me that Karen had stolen something from their house and that I would never see her again, I was crushed.

I protested, I tried to change their minds, but they assured me that it was better that Karen stay away from the house. They didn't want her to be a bad influence on me.

I lost touch with Karen completely. By the time I moved away to college, I had become thoroughly disappointed with women. Karen created godlike expectations in me about women, but by misfortune I never encountered any femdoms in high school.

Vanilla girls -- tame, submissive, spiritually exhausted -- never excited me. When we met for our discussion session -- led by a vivid, commanding female T.

After the discussion ended, I lingered in the room until all the other students left, then approached the T. I told her that she h0nad been my babysitter twelve years earlier.

I suppose I was so bored with women after Karen because none of them could give me the total experience that she gave me -- the experience of utmost surrender, of losing oneself to another's pleasure, of having ones own self eclipsed by another person's will.

When Karen had me sexually, I was utterly engulfed by her. I can barely describe it; it was like merging with another person then disappearing into her pleasure, which I was only a replaceable isntrument for.

Karen picks up the instrument, laughs at it, then smashes it on the ground; from that moment on I can only be made whole again by her putting me back together.

Ironically, this happens from her sexually tearing me apart. As I grew into adolescence and young adulthood, I looked back on my experiences with Karen and missed her painfully.

When I realized in my discussion section at U. My scrotum formed a tight fist. I nearly fainted or When I came up to re-introduce myself to her -- after all the other students had left the room -- I suffered my first disappointment.

Karen spoke small talk to me; though I told her who I was, she addressed me like she might address any other student. I was crushed. Desperate to spark some warmth in her, I told her how much she had meant to me; how all women after her were like smudges of diet vanilla ooze, only worthy of being wiped off with a napkin; how my last twelve years were lived in mystery because she began to explain the relations between the sexes to me only to be cut short in her lessons.

I even told her that because I had found her again that day, it was the most important day in the last twelve years of my life.

She looked at me silently, without appearing in the least bit flattered. I lurched after her in the hallway, like a pathetic beggar for affection.

I had abandoned all dignity by this point; I had become again the little boy pinioned to the mattress under the weight of her body, terrified at her strength, desperate for her approval.

I pleaded with her to have lunch with me. She unlocked the door of her office, and stepped into the small cubicle. I'm a T. I was confused. This woman, who I had fantasized about for twelve years, who had given me the most intense moments of my life, was brushing me off like a spec of dandruff.

Do you I'm not sure what you mean. She had pierced her nose on both sides; on one there was a ring, and on the other a stud. You're still a baby.

I was hurt, and my pain burned into rage. You're fucking unbelievable. Karen stared at me with a look of detestation; her eyes riveted me against the wall.

I am NOT here to fullfil your brainless expectations. Don't you even get it? I was never your fucking babysitter. I was raping you, Andrew.

Over and over again the pain becomes intense, and my bottom is burning. She then stops. I feel Kathy pull my butt cheeks apart.

I feel her finger on my anus and she pushes it in hard and dry. I scream. Kathy pushes me off her lap and onto the floor. She gets up and walks out of the room.

She comes back a few moments later with a jar of Vasaline, Vicks Vapor Rub, and a hair brush. Get up on the kitchen table on your hands and knees, ass up and your head down, she says with an angry voice.

Kathy put a big glop of Vaseline on my asshole. I then feel her push two fingers inside me hard all the way to her knuckles. I can feel her fingers twisting and twirling around deep in my ass.

I let out a grown. Kathy picks up the hair brush and pushes the handle of the brush deep up my ass. Kathy begins to pump the brush handle in and out of my ass deep and hard.

I begin to moan and she tells me what a bad boy I have been and that this will help my behavior problem.

Kathy removes the brush and inserts two fingers inside my ass from each hand. I then feel her pull her hands apart and my asshole being pulled open.

Kathy pushes her fingers in deep and hard and then quickly pulls them out. I met my girlfriend Dawn at a party in college and we have been dating for about three years now.

Dawn is now twenty and I thank my lucky starts everyday that I ended up with her. She is drop dead sexy. She had blonde hair to her shoulders with black streaks and the greenest eyes I've every seen.

She had a absolutely stacked body, Large tits and an amazing ass. The more amazing thing is that she has a tiny body and I had always had a thing for girls with tiny bodies.

Even though I met Dawn at a party she Read more. Does anyone else have a homeless friend? Weird shit is, this motherfucker won't come inside!

I think he is trying to pick up on a homeless girl and he wants to show her that he is going through the same struggle.

I see where he is going with this, I mean homeless girls can be hot. Think about the logistics. Chances are, she's not fat, she's not thinking clearly, and

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