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I am babysitter woman Femdom stories bites

If you are using a proxy or an archive this is probably what you want so just continue although some functions and formatting may be inoperative. The following story is fiction about youth who is subjected to CP to change his behavior. The story contains scenes of spanking with various implements, humiliation and young femdom.


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My parents worked, so we had a female college student living with us. Lori was a pretty girl with large breasts. During my summer vacation, just after high school graduation, I started hiding in the closet of her bedroom while she was in the shower.

Pepita
How old am I 41
Orientation: I love male
My gender: My gender is girl
What I prefer to drink: Tequila
What I like to listen: Country

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I suppose my parents must have chosen a dominatrix as my babysitter accidentally. 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.

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So I think my parents chose Karen to babysit for me only because they believed she was responsible and Femdom. 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 story, 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 babysitter 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.

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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.

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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.

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That's how it is in all families. The woman cooks. We were just about at eye level with each other.

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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 stories 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 Femdom. I suppose it was mainly based on ish 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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.