Princess




Mrs. Branch came back home very, very late.

We were on the couch, watching the late, late, late movie: John Carpenter’s The Sylph.

As the characters on screen were wondering where Teeny Tina had gone, and an arm dangled from Adrienne Barbeau’s sandwich, little tiny sylph fingers were digging into my wrist.

Barbeau smiled, tucked the arm back into the bread, opened her mouth…

And the front door banged open.

Electra swears that she screamed right then because I flinched and she was afraid I was going to toss her across the room.

I flinched, yes, but not from the front door, but from the fact that her nails suddenly drove in deep enough that they

actually drew blood.

I turned off the TV and walked to greet Mrs. Branch. She ducked down the hall to look into the bedrooms, then came out and sat down.

At a gesture from her, I sat down, too. Electra walked a short way away from my hand. My crippled, bleeding, paralyzed hand.

She asked about her daughters and the evening, then smiled at me when I ran out of things to report.

“So, Conrad, have you told all your friends that you… What do they say these days, scored?”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t tell ANYONE.”

“Oh?” She looked… Was she disappointed? A little relieved, yes, but there was something else she’d expected.

“No, I, well. First of all, I don’t think it’s something that’s right to brag about. Second, they wouldn’t believe me, especially if I didn’t give your name.”

“Ah.” Now she sounded wistful. I glanced down. Electra was gesturing… She held her hand out next to her head, palm down. OH! Someone the size of my sylph. And Mrs. Branch had that sylph fantasy…

“Now, if I owned Princess,” I said.

“Yes?” she perked up.

“Well, I’d take Princess everywhere. And I’d show her to everybody.”

“What do you mean, show?”

“I mean…” I took a deep breath. It was really, really weird talking about this out loud. But it seemed like she wanted to hear this. Or something like it.

I mentally crossed my fingers and started to blurt out my own fantasy. “I mean, I’d probably dress Princess in a kimono. Something to set off her hair.”

“Black,” she said. “With cherry blossoms.”

“Perfect. And short, to show off her legs.” Mrs. Branch crossed hers, one foot dangling a shoe just at the edge of my vision.

“And with a pair of panties, that’s all she’d get. So then, if people asked if I was a virgin, I’d say, it depends on how you look at it. And I’d stand Princess on the desk or the table. And they’d see what I got to play with at night.”

“MMmmmm,” she purred.

“And sometimes, if you’d been…. I mean, if PRINCESS had been naughty, I might make her open her kimono and show off one or more of her breasts.”

I heard the door to the carrier shut right about then. I didn’t pay it much attention.

“What if she’d been good?” she asked.

“Well, then I might just allow her to part the top and show some cleavage.”

“How much?” she asked, reached up to unbutton her blouse. I stared. She opened one button, then a second. Then she paused. “Is that enough?”

“Weeeeeeellll,” I drooled. “Sylph breasts are pretty tiny, so the cleavage has to be kind of exaggerated to have the same effect.”

She giggled. “Objects in the bra are closer than they appear?” That was kind of the opposite of what I’d just said, but she was opening two more buttons so I just went with it and laughed.

She leaned back with a deep breath. Her breasts rose and fell, shaking slightly.

I glimpsed a sliver of turquoise peeking up from behind her shirt. Part of me started to think of it as my lucky color.

“And what if I was naughty, Conrad?” she whispered.

“Naughty? For sylphs, naughty is being uncooperative. So… I’d punish you. I’d have to.”

“How?”

I’d had math homework for the weekend (I always MEANT to do it on babysitting nights, but I’d been distracted.), so I had my pencil case. I brought that out of my backpack and took out a 6-inch ruler. It was a clear, red plastic.

I gripped it in my fist, with a little bit extending. I bent that part back with my thumb.

I made a fist with my other hand, and flicked the side with the ruler. It was a teeny, tiny smack on the skin. Being a clear ruler, it allowed us to see the flesh flatten briefly under the impact.

“One should be enough to let you know I’m serious.”

“Oh, yes, Conrad, then I’ll be ever so obedient.” She scooted closer to the table, her breasts all but hanging out, brushing the edge of the table. “I’d do… Whatever you ordered me to.”

“Bodyjob,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Like, a, uh, um…” I looked for Electra for help. I didn’t really think she would, but it was a reflex when I was in over my head. And boy, was I in over my head.

The carrier was shut, with all the blinds drawn. I looked back at ‘Princess.’ She was smiling encouragingly at me.

“It’s like a hand job, but… but you, you, uh, put your whole body into… Into doing it.”

She smiled and took my hand, stretching my arm across the table. She formed my fingers into a fist, then laid it down, palm up, with my middle finger extended.

She held my wrist in place with one finger. The other hand, she ‘walked’ it over on two fingers, like a really tall sylph stepping over the table.

She pantomimed the sylph straddling my finger, kneeling, rubbing her little crotch on my knuckles, bouncing up and down, writhing across the length of me.

I could hardly breathe.

“Does Master forgive Princess?” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” I whispered back.

Then she stood up, pulling on my wrist. I stood with her. She pulled me around the corner of the table and to her side. She kissed me, nibbling on my lips, sliding her tongue between my teeth.

She tugged me towards the living room and I followed, dazed. At the couch, she kissed me some more as she opened my fly and pulled my pants down.

One push on my shoulders and I dropped to sit down on the cushion. She knelt. “Body job, huh? I suppose I’d rub my body, especially my boobs, against your cock?”

“Yuh,” I managed. She eased both breasts out of her bra and squeezed my dick between them.

She moaned softly, holding me tight and bouncing her tits up and down.

The whole universe spiraled down to my lap and what was happening in it. I could see that she wasn’t covering her nipples and placed fingers against them.

“Be a good master and come for Princess,” she said softly. I obediently lasted only a few moments. I came, spurting up from her cleavage. She ducked her face, caught my jizz, allowing it to splash across her chin.

She wiped that on her sleeve and stood, putting her clothes back together.

I pulled my pants up with difficulty and stood. It took me two tries to get vertical. She kissed me then, patting my cheek and smiling.

Then, like last time, she went upstairs, turning lights off as she went.

I stumbled to the table and collected my stuff. I hadn’t noticed her put money on the carrier but there it was, the agreed upon amount.

The air outside was cold, the first I noticed that I’d been sweating. I zipped up against the chill and started walking quickly home.

I left the carrier closed up against the cold. I heard no complaints from Electra. Or any other comments.

At home, I took a moment to down a glass of water, then went to the bedroom. Electra went behind her screen and came out dressed for bed.

I turned out the lights and silently counted down. Three… Two… One… Go.

“Mighty obedient of you to come when you did, ‘Master.’ I’m sure your little pet sylph really appreciated your cooperation.”

“Not really any of your concern,” I said softly.

“You think if I called you Master, Master, you’d obey my commands?” she went on.

“Try it, let’s see.”

“I think I’ll save it for a special occasion,” she said.

“Of course,” I mused, “I’d have to start calling you Princess, as an experimental control. And I’d have to put you in a kimono.”

“What do you want to bet Mrs. Branch owns a black kimono with a cherry blossom pattern?” she said in a similar musing tone.

“No bet,” I said.

“But I can’t really ‘routine’ wearing a kimono, even a short one.”

“I suspect if we had a Master-Princess relationship, you’d be ‘routining’ in the nude.”

“Ugh,” she moaned. “Friction burns EVERY-where.”

“That’s it!” I said. “I cover you, or the bars, with Vaseline.”

“I’d shoot across the table like a watermelon seed!”

“Yeah… So it’d have to be you. So you’d slide across the table, too. No rug burns from the tablecloth.”

“Eugh,” she squeaked.

“What’s eugh? A whole-bod layer of petroleum based lubricant?”

“No,” she said. “You applying it.” I didn’t respond. “Oh, stop imagining it!”

“I’m not!” I protested.

“I can practically SEE what you’re thinking of!” she yelled.

“But it’s not YOU I’m thinking of!” I fired back.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I guess that makes sense.” She rustled under her blanket. “Just try to keep it to yourself, please?”

“No promises,” I said.



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Index

20. Babysitting (N)

22. Studio Attention