The Nanny Share

"Hello? Anyone home?" I called out, hearing no signs of the children, nor Mr. M. In the distance I could hear Mrs. M click-clacking in her heels in the dining room. I found her fixing a martini from the bar. "Oh hi, Mrs. M. Are the kids on a playdate? I didn't have anything in my calendar."

"No, Mr. M took them to the museum today so that you and I could have an important discussion."

"Oh," I stammered, "of... of course. What is it?"

"As you know, Mr. M and I put a great deal of trust in you, and you came highly recommended by the families in the nanny share with us. So what I'm about to show you is quite a violation of... well, I can't even say it. Just follow me to the bedroom."

I froze. She placed a firm hand on my lower back and said, "NOW. There are some things I need you to account for."

I followed Mrs. M upstairs. Once in the master bedroom, she pointed to the foot of the bed. "Sit and do not say a word until I am done. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am, I said, stunned." On the bed was the red box.

Mrs. M caught my glance, "ah yes, the contents of that box. That is what we're here to talk about."

My face felt hot, but I tried to tell myself there was no way anyone saw. Picking up a remote from her nightstand, Mrs. M lowered the television screen and began to play security footage from the week prior.

There I was, poking around Mrs. M's dressing room, peeking inside the large red gift box. Inside the box I found what had to be the finest handmade lingerie money could buy. A bespoke silk corset with hand embroidered lace, a thong so delicate it looked like it could melt, and an Italian leather paddle hand stitched and embossed with her monogram. At the bottom of the box was a crumpled up card that read: "Darling, you know you are my dream come true... dare I tempt the fates and ask you this indulgence in celebration of our ten years of marriage?"

Mr. and Mrs. M were, by all accounts, an enviable pair. They met while modeling at the Paris shows in their late twenties. Their attraction to each other withstood several very public broken celebrity engagements, and they broke a lot of hearts when they ended up married to each other. They'd since built careers outside of modeling, though they probably didn't need to. He excelled in real estate development, and she, in interior design. I often cared for their two young children well into the middle of the night as they were photographed about town, regulars on Page Six. They were sickeningly gorgeous, wealthy, glamorous and well-liked.

The video captured the smug look on my face as I read the crumpled card, picturing the power couple at a sexual impasse. "Trouble in paradise?" I had chuckled to myself. I squirmed at the foot of the bed, fearful of what would come next on the security footage. Who the hell keeps security footage of their closet anyway?? The video continued.

I watched the recording, mortified, as I pulled the leather paddle from the box, hiked up my skirt and pulled down my panties. I'd given myself a few choice smacks across the ass and had reached down to rub my clit. Seeing me squirm there, deciding whether or not to flee the viewing, Mrs. M paused the video and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you know what it was like for me to come home to my husband watching you do this? Jerking off to it no less?! Just days after our tenth wedding anniversary?"

I wanted to run, but her firm hand kept me there. I also wanted to hear more about Mr. M watching me and jerking off.

"I... I... I am so, so sorry, " I stammered. "I swear I never meant..."

"Stop," she cut me off, "We are going to watch every excruciating detail of this video. Together."

Tears welled up in my eyes and I begged her to turn it off. She gripped my shoulder to show me she did not intend to let me leave.

The next twenty minutes or so were the longest, most humiliating minutes I've ever experienced... sitting next to my boss and watching as the video continued to betray the way I'd fondled myself to a writhing orgasm there on the floor of her dressing room... clutching the corset to my bare breasts and getting on all fours to spank myself to another orgasm. I'd fantasized aloud, begging Mr. M not to spank me any more: "Oh please, Mr. M not again, I beg of you... I promise I'll be good. No please, not that..." acting out an elaborate scenario where an imaginary Mr. M me to undress completely and crawl before him as he fondled and spanked my naked, body.

Mrs. M stopped the video again. I began to sob, "Please don't make me watch any more. I am mortified. You.. must... hate... me! Oh god, please let me go. Just fire me and I'll go away forever."

She tightened her grip on my shoulder and sighed deeply. "You need to calm down. I didn't bring you up here to fire you. I am here to discuss the nature of your job." She opened her nightstand and pulled out some paperwork. "Mr. M and I talked about the best way to handle this indiscretion, and we are prepared to... make you a new job offer."

I nearly blacked out from the shock.

Mrs. M handed me the papers. "This is a non-disclosure agreement, and an offer for you to take on an additional and separate role in our household. Mr. M has always had certain desires that I cannot and will NOT fulfill for him... and you... " she motioned toward the screen, "are clearly qualified to be my surrogate in that regard." Looking down her nose at me, she continued, "Take a look at the offer and you will see that we have put together an extensive compensation plan. Should you, however, find this offer to be objectionable, we are duty-bound, however, to notify the J family and the B family of your indiscretions. Understood?"

She left me to go fix another drink, yelling up the stairwell, "Now go splash some water on your face, pull yourself together, and review the offer."

I did as I was told. I went in the master bathroom and splashed some water on my face. I took a deep breath and looked at the offer. I can't reveal the details here, because I would risk violating the terms of our agreement, but let's just say the amount of money offered made me almost pass out again. My rent would be covered, easy. My student loans paid, easy. At the hand of the extremely sexy Mr. M?! With Mrs. M's approval?! I couldn't believe this was happening.

Just then, Mrs. M flung open the bathroom door, as if she expected to catch me doing something again. I flinched. She sipped from her fresh cocktail. "So we're clear I do not hate you. Correct?"

"Oh, Mrs. M, I don't know what to say. I..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"So you will do it?"

"Um. Yes." I looked down, nervously.

She softened. "I don't hate you. I'm worried, quite frankly. This might be the worst decision I've ever made. It's fucking crazy is what it is." She took another long pull from her martini. She was definitely drunk at this point. "Come here," she pulled my hand. I followed her back to the bedroom where she flopped down on the bed.

"Lie next to me," she said as she pulled me down next to her. She tugged at the buttons on my dress. "I wanna see what we're getting." She brushed her hand across my breasts.

My breasts tingled and my nipples hardened with the inappropriate touch. I started to feel drunk myself. I got up, stepped back and opened the front of my dress to reveal my bare breasts.

She watched skeptically as I started to slide my dress off my shoulders. Cute panties, she said. Walk around the room for me. Let me see you move. I paraded around the room, wearing only a pair of light blue panties as she watched.

"I miss being 22," she said wistfully, her eyes roaming all over my body. "I know! Let's put this on you. I know you want to." She brightened as she grabbed the beautiful corset from the red box.

She took my hand again, leading me towards her dressing room like we were girls about to play dress-up. She faced me toward the mirror and cupped my breasts like she was judging fresh produce. Wrapping the corset around my waist, she settled each breast into the cups until she was pleased with the placement. As she stood behind me, lacing the corset, she spoke over my head to our reflections in the mirror. "You probably could have done runway yourself if you were taller. Good face. Nice enough body. You should wear a bra though." Hoisting me up as she tightened the corset, she squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and corrected my posture. Sobering up for a moment, she ordered, "Walk over to that bench and bend over like you will for my husband. If we're going to do this, I want it done well."

Barking orders, she corrected my walk, my approach, instructed me to fold at the hips and lift my ass higher. When I'd finally gotten the approach down, she corrected my stance. "Legs further apart, arch your back. Not that far apart!" She slapped my inner thigh until I moved my legs closer together. "You are my surrogate, not his whore. Do not put your legs THAT far apart. Understand? We do not have whores working for us."

"Yes, ma'am."

Circling around me, she continued her lecture. "If you feel pain or shame or whatever it is you're into, that belongs to you. That's what he's going to give you. If you feel pleasure, that belongs to me. That is your job. We clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her voice wavered. "He only fucks me. He promised me that." She devolved back into inebriation, her eyes welling up with tears. "Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, ma'am," I stayed in position, ass and wanting. "I promise."

"How can I be sure?" she said, still fighting tears.

The truth is I DID want Mr. M to fuck me. I wanted it bad. I wished he would bust in at that very moment and find me there, bent over the bench in Mrs. M's corset. I wanted him to lose control, spread my legs and shove his cock in me. I wanted him to fill me up, fucking me slow and deep. I ached to hear him moan with pleasure at my tight little pussy as he rammed me from behind. I wanted him to grab my tits out of their perfect placement in Mrs. M's corset as she watched.

I looked up at her and studied her face. "I think... I think you might need to spank me," I ventured nervously.

"That's HIS fantasy. Not mine." She snapped, looking annoyed.

"I think... I need you to spank me." My voice trembled now. I got up and retrieved the paddle from the red box. I walked back over to the bench, slowly. Under her intense gaze, I took care to position myself just as she had coached me earlier. I searched for her approval.

She made a slight adjustment to my hips. "You did that pretty well, I must say. Let me see you walk and bend over again."

She smiled with pride as I repeated my approach and positioned myself over the bench, correcting my hips myself just as she had done before. Running her hand over my ass and thighs, she gave me a light pat of approval. "You do learn quickly, and your ass really does look like it would be fun to spank. It just really isn't my thing."

Steadying myself, I looked back at her and fumbled my words, "I just need, um... I'm ready... I think... um, I think, it will make things better."

She shook her head skeptically, and said, "well, I guess I could try."

I said "thank you" as she bounced the paddle on my ass for a few tentative taps. Just then she smacked me hard with the paddle as I drew my breath in sharply. "I think..." WHAP! She landed another smack. I grunted, "...You can trust..." FWHAP!

That one left me speechless.

She stepped out of her heels and rolled up her sleeves. We proceeded in silence (aside from some stilted cries of pain from me) as I took about thirty more swats to my ass and thighs. Gripping the bench now with my forearms and doing my best to keep my ass up and back arched, I started shaking and tears started to roll down my face.

"Thank you," I said, almost inaudibly.

Nudging my feet further apart, back to a 'whore's distance', she paddled me more, adding strokes to my inner thighs in the rotation. I closed my eyes and took it, though my knees started to wobble.

"Thank you," I said so she could hear me.

She took some pity on me and paused to loosen the corset. She gently caressed the small of my back. "I think that was enough," she said. I said nothing.

Sitting on the bench in front of me, she pulled me over her lap and pulled back my panties to survey the damage. She stroked my red swollen flesh and surreptitiously ran a finger down to my pussy. I tensed, trying not to let her discover how wet I was. But she knew. Pulling my panties all the way down, she slapped my bare pussy and quizzed me, "When you feel pleasure, is it yours?"

"No ma'am. It belongs to you," I affirmed. She slapped my pussy again.

"And who does my husband fuck?" she prompted.

"Only you," I replied.

"Say it again," she instructed as she landed a sharp smack right between my legs.

"He only... (SMACK) fucks... (SMACK) you! (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) Aaaaaa!" I screeched in pleasurable fear.

"Say it again!" she pulled my legs apart to slap my pussy with all her strength. I curled up in her lap, trying to escape the next hit. She spanked my clit a few times lightly as she decided what to do next.

"I guess we're not done here," she determined. Straightening me back out across her lap, she locked me in place with one of her legs. Picking up the paddle again, she prompted, "and who does Mr. M fuck?"

"You?" I said. She landed a swat so loud it reverberated through the air.

"You!" I yelled as another swat left me stinging. And another. And another.

"HE. (FWHAP) ONLY. (FWHAP) FUCKS. (FWHAP) YOU! HE ONLY FUCKS (FWHAP FWHAP FWHAP) YOU!" I grunted the words out over and over as fast as I could between each hit until they were coming so fast I couldn't get any words out.

The rhythm of the paddle and the pain began to pulse deep in my pussy. I was afraid of what she might do if I came. I tried to stifle my grunting, but we both knew I was on the verge of a powerful orgasm. She paused and held the paddle just close enough that I could feel the heat of it mixing with the heat of my stinging cheeks. The pulsing continued deep in me though it threatened to fade away without relief.

"If you feel pleasure from him," she prompted, "who does it belong to?"

"You!" I cried, lifting my ass toward the paddle.

She obliged and paddled me until I succumbed to a throbbing orgasm. Writhing and sobbing as I came, I gasped, "This belongs to you."

Mrs. M dropped the paddle, sweaty, and spent. We both crumpled to the floor. I looked into her eyes, glassy with tears, her cheeks flushed and blotchy. "He only fucks you," I repeated. She nodded and combed my hair back from my tear-stained face. She ran her hand over my ass and thighs, still radiating heat from the beating. I wished she would kiss my forehead and wipe my tears away. I nestled in nearer to her and enjoyed her caressing my inner thighs.

But the caress soon changed. Her hand slid up my thigh as I tensed with trepidation. She avoided my quizzical gaze as she slipped a finger deep into my swollen and slippery cunt. I moaned and shook my head. I couldn't take any more stimulation. She climbed on top of me and gave me a look that told me I would be taking it regardless. Pinning my legs wide open with her knees, she slid in a second finger as she watched my eyes grow wider. My protesting moans grew fainter as she began finger fucking me with an eager intensity that rivaled that of any boy I'd known growing up. She thrust into me with the determination of a woman more than twice my age who had a lot more to prove.

It felt strange and wrong, like the very first time I was fingered by my tutor as a teenager. Every nerve in my pussy was alive and new. I began to come like I did that first time in the janitor's closet. Like I had no idea what was happening to me, I was too astonished to stop it, and shocked by the unfamiliar waves of pleasure that were running through my body.

But I did know what was happening now. And I came longer and harder and deeper than I thought possible. My eyes pleaded with hers... exhausted, amazed, bewildered. She felt my insides throbbing with satisfaction, and bragged, "This belongs to me." I nodded and managed a faint yes, ready for her to stop.

I should have known better. She flashed me a mischievous grin, pushed my shoulder down with her free hand, thrust in a third finger, and began contortions. I shook my head no but wailed YES over and over as she flicked and twisted her fingers inside me. My head and back arched against her in an excruciating and unrelenting orgasmic state.

No longer able to stifle her own pleasure as I squirmed under her, she began to shudder under the power of her own orgasm. A brief moan escaped from her lips and I gushed all over her hand. "Don't move," she demanded as she massaged my juices all over my clit, my legs still pinned open by her knees. Her eyes rolled back, she pounded her fully clothed pussy against my naked wet one several times and then collapsed onto my chest.

We both lay there, on the floor of her dressing room, panting and defeated as the last waves of our orgasms crashed ashore. She gazed into my eyes and whispered, "That was..."

As she searched for her words, we were interrupted by the sound of Mr. M and the kids getting back from their excursion. "Shit. I lost track of time," she said, abandoning whatever she was going to tell me earlier. We both bolted up off the floor, running to gather my clothes and shut the door to the bedroom. She tossed me my panties and retreated to her dressing room. Seconds later, she emerged fresh and immaculate, changed into her workout gear, glowing as if she'd just gone for a quick jog. I was impressed. The events of the day: martinis, spankings, tears, orgasms, and all, were erased from her face, swept up into a sleek ponytail. I searched in her eyes for some guidance but she had already returned to her usual level of distant formality.

"Thursday at 5:30," she announced. "The Lincoln Center fountain. My husband's sister will be taking the children to a show and keeping them until Sunday evening. You will be staying with us. Dress in something classic, elegant for dinner. Everything else for the weekend will be provided." I nodded silently. She checked her lipstick in the mirror and then bounced down the stairs to greet her husband and kids.

I finished dressing and hurried to neaten my disheveled appearance. In an effort to slip out undetected, I tried taking the back stairway through to the kitchen but ran into Mr. M there. "Oh. Hello," he said awkwardly as he called out for his wife. "Sweetheart, didn't you have something you wanted to tell me?"

"Nothing really, darling, just getting the kids to settle down in the playroom." Mrs. M appeared in the doorway, holding the paperwork and a pen. She placed the signature page on the counter along with a pen, while tucking a thick wad of bills discreetly into my palm. "And finishing up some business here, I believe."

I scrawled my signature on the page and she nodded. "Good girl. We'll see you Thursday then, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thursday." I confirmed as I walked toward the front door. Everything was still throbbing. Mr. and Mrs. M followed to see me out, and I prayed that my juices would not run down my leg. At the front door, I picked my purse up, bending deeply at the hips, just as Mrs. M had coached me earlier. I glanced back quickly, feigning surprise as Mr. M caught a glimpse of my welted backside and wet panties. She stifled a giggle.

"Uh, hmm, oh yes, we'll see you," he stuttered and looked away. An impressive erection began to struggle against his perfectly tailored trousers. He pressed it against his wife, putting his arm around her waist and shooting her a deep, warm grin, "Thursday."