Help Wanted: Caretaker (looking for rapist)
 

Having been a stay-at-home mom for years, it is frustrating to try to find work these days. Especially when you have little experience to put on that resume of yours. This is my current situation. And my husband has been 'politely' asking me to get out and get a job. He has NO IDEA how hard I've been trying.

This week, I hit a big break! There was an ad in the newspaper under 'Help Wanted' for a caretaker. It said:


Now, I DO realize that the phone number is a cell number, but...hey, I am DESPERATE for a job. So, I called the number. A really sweet sounding guy told me that I was the only one to have called. I think, AWESOME! He tells me that it pays $20 an hour. My husband makes almost minimum wage; this sounds wonderful. So, he gives me directions to his house. I leave my oldest in charge and tell them to follow the rules while I'm gone. She's happy because this means she'll get money to spend when she goes out with her friends this weekend.

I start to get a little nervous as I'm driving up his road. It's the only house for what seems like miles around. As the large gaudy house comes into sight, I see that this is the only road in and out. I consider heading home, but my family really needs the money. A handsome man greets me at the door and invites me in. We talk for a while about what my duties would be, what cuisines I am familiar with, what sort of experience I have with being a nanny. I tell him that I have been a mother for 13 years, that all my children are straight A students and well-behaved, and that I figure that should be reasonable experience. He laughs whole-hardheartedly at this. I ask him if I can meet his children. He says, "Oh no...I don't have any children." My gut tightens.

"But you said you were looking for a nanny...?" I say nervously. I start to get up from the luxurious couch.

You start to feel a little light headed, at first you don't know why and then you look at the coffee I offered you. "No no brighid, I'm looking for a nanny to take care of my throbbing cock" you hear me say as you stumble to the floor.

I vaguely hear the words as the plush carpet approaches my face in slow motion. I never actually feel my face hit the floor, but I feel this strange jolt as my head bounces. The darkness of unconsciousness envelopes me.

When I wake, I am lying in bed with my eyes closed. "It was all a dream," I think thankfully. I try to roll over on my side, but something cold on my arm prevents me from shifting much. My eyes don't want to open, and my face feels numb. I try to talk, to call my husband, but my tongue feels fat and lazy in my mouth. Someone grabs my jaw as they lean in to whisper.

"Good morning, Brighid..." he says. I manage to pry my eyes open at this, and see that I am in NOT in bed. I am dangling from a cushioned wall. My hands and feet are shackled. My body was naked and exposed to the cold air of the room. And to the strange man's touch.

"Oh...oh my gods," I mumbled. "Please, let me go..."

Good story so far. Hope to see much more. And I just gotta say... if that was me and the Red Head in the picture is you... you could say goodbye to your life, because I'd never tire of you!!!

I run my hand over your face, then smack you. "The first rule you learn is you take orders you don't give them. As for letting you go, why we haven't finished your interview you yet." I walk over to a walk where a variety of sexual instrumentation is hanging from the wall. You see phalic shaped devices, whips, chains and other bondage instruments and in the far corner a collection of syringes. "Now apologize to your Master, for being rude slave and ask to make up for it" I tell you not looking at you but making sure you have a clear view of all my persuasion instruments.

My heart is pounding in my chest like a galloping horse as my senses slowly return to me. I am struggling to get my mind to focus, but it is hard to think through the foggy murk. There is a stinging tingly sensation on my cheek. My tongue is not thick and slow anymore; it smacks against the roof of my mouth as I move it around experimentally. My eyes shift, and I see the man standing beside a table. The man calls himself master; he wants me to apologize for something...

Anger wells up in me, overriding the fear and disorientation. My arms and legs struggle against my restraints. "Fuck you!" I growl.

"I see you have to be educated on your duties I pull a nylon whip from the cabinent. I whip your breasts five times pleased to see that it doesn't mark up your breasts but does leave you with a stinging sensation. "Now do you have something to tell your Master slave?" I rub the whip up and down your legs.

I do not flinch as the whip licks my breasts. I determine to show my captor as little response as I could manage. He has no idea how well I could withstand pain, but if he was looking for a timid, sniveling, shrieking mouse, he has stumbled across the wrong chick...

"Slave? I'm no one's SLAVE!" I say defiantly. "My husband will tear you apart with his bare hands!" I clenched my jaw in anticipation of his reaction.

You're defiant, this makes my cock even harder, I whip you a little more, I notice that your nipples are getting hard. I walk over and put my hand on your crotch to see if you are getting wet. "Tell me do you know what Sodium penthiol is?" I ask as I run my fingers over your lower lips.

His fingers draw a gasp from me as they slide between my legs. When he touches my face, I tighten my lips as his fingertips trace along them. Not even having realized I am holding my breath, I turn my head away and exhale sharply. "Do you mean Pentathol?" I retort.

My stomach tightens at the thought of the drug. Memory tells me that this is the 'truth serum', used to make a person docile.

I put my fingers btween as I start to feel a little wetmess between your legs. "It seems like your enjoying this. But lets make sure" I go over to the cabinet and pull out the syringe.

My fear of needles grips my chest as my eyes fall on the syringe. He presses the plunger slightly, and the liquid forms in a large droplet at the tip. My chest heaves as he approaches, and I shrink away. "No, no, no...please don't," I cry. I flail the best I can as he grabs my leg firmly. "Noooo! Please, no...I'll do whatever you want!"

"What I want from you is the obedience, and I know the best way to do that is to get the truth from you, now hold still you don't want me to break the needle." I grab one of your lucious breasts and inject it into you. "Now it will take a few seconds but then we can continue our interview. My first question is a personal one just to test if its working, now slave why if you don't want it is your pussy getting wet?"

I clench my teeth as the needle pierces my skin. It leaves behind a burning sting in my breast.

"Now it will take a few seconds but then we can continue our interview. My first question is a personal one just to test if its working, now slave why if you don't want it is your pussy getting wet?"

My face starts to tingle, and I state, "My body is reacting to stimuli. It is in a state of arousal due to fear. But that does not mean that I am enjoying this, because I'm not." But as my body reacts to his touch, I am not as sure of this.

Tell me about your family slave, does your husband provide well for you, does he still sexually stimulate you, or have you started looking at other men wondering maybe even participating, in short are you cheating on your husband?" I ask pushing a button turning on a hidden video camera.

I try not to answer, but the words fall from my lips. "I love my husband, I could never cheat on him. He has cheated on me, but we have been working through that."

"Shut up..." I say, meaning to think the words, but saying them aloud, instead.

"I see, tell me when is the last time you had sex? Did it satisfy you? What turns on you on? What gets you so wet that you can't stand it? I push a button and the camera zooms in on your face. "What could I do to give you an unbeleivable orgasm?

My teeth stab my lower lip as I try to fight the effects of the pentathol. I focus on the metallic taste of blood as it trickles over my tongue. My heart is slowing, despite the terror I felt. Swimming in a sense of dissociation, I watch myself answer him.

"I make love to my husband every night. Sometimes it is satisfying, sometimes it is not. I find the most pleasure when he eats my pussy and plays roughly after he fucks my face."

Normally, I would have blushed at the mention of sex. But I was speaking so freely about it that I wanted to punch myself in the jaw to get me to close my flapper.

"If you're going to kill me, will you please just get to that part so I don't have to talk about sex anymore?" I asked desperately.

"Kill you? Im giving you a job as my cock nanny." As I speak I grope your breasts.
"But I would like to know more about your husband, what kind loser needs his wife to get a job cleaning and cooking for someone else, what does he do and why are you so desparte for work?"

"He's not a loser! He does the best he can for me! And...I put more pressure on myself than he does...about a job." I am finding it difficult to ignore the building thrill in my belly.

"I...hate being...such a burden on him.....I thought I would be watching someone's kids and stuff...I never thought..." I swallow hard.

Tears swell from my eyes. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't know you...I've never done anything to you...I never do anything to anyone, I just stay in my own little corner and try not to bother ANYONE...so, WHY?"