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THE NANNY
Young, beautiful, already on her own at times for almost three years, Jodi Lynn’s well experienced past her nineteen plus years. Having lived sporadically from Florida to California, experiencing a range of the lighter drugs, having several relationships, she considers herself a “Free bird” answering to no one without the slightest worry of the ramifications of any of her instantaneous whims. Having answered a newspaper ad for a live in Nanny with an upper class family, she’s being flown from Ohio to New Mexico to meet her employers at their estate.
Chapter One
Entering the airport’s rotunda, she immediately notices the hand printed sign with her name on it being held by a man in a typical pilots’ uniform standing close to the luggage area. As she approaches him while nodding toward the sign, another man steps in between. Thirty something, attractive yet strict looking with his jet black hair pulled tightly back, he’s dressed in business type attire.
“Jodi Lynn?” He asks, obviously glancing down toward the photo of a young brunette.
Nodding, she glances back and forth between the pair, unsure who he is as he lowers the photo, turns toward the pilot, instructing him to get her luggage. Turning back toward her, the look in his stark blue eyes is almost piercing as he glances up and down at her black, slick raincoat, barely shaking his head back and forth.
“So, you’re the one they chose by just glancing at this photo, huh?” He shrugs as he turns. “I’m your escort. Follow me.” Walking toward the large glass door, glancing back, in a harsher tone, he hesitates, orders. “Come on!”
Glancing toward the pilot, seeing him picking up her pair of black, nylon luggage bags, turning, she steps toward the exit while again noticing the piercing stare as he holds the door open.
“There.” Nodding toward the pad, he points toward a glistening black, twin turbo prop plane with dark tinted glass all around. Idling on the tarmac as a light misting rain’s noticeable in the early evening darkness, it appears ready to taxi. “Get in the back seat.” Stopping beside the short steps folded out from the plane, she turns to the escort as he steps beside her, inquisitively asks. “Wait, you sure you’ve got the right person? I, I’m suppose to transfer to another commercial flight, here’s the ticket.” Showing him the packet, he reaches, takes it from her hand.
“Don’t worry; Master Desade felt his private plane was more appropriate to transport you to the estate. This is your photo, correct?” He asks, holding the photo in the palm of his hand. “He’ll be reimbursed for the commercial flight. It’s a short one anyway. Go ahead and climb in, to the center leather stool facing back, and take your coat off.”
Glancing toward her photograph, nodding as the apprehension disappears, she climbs the half dozen steps, enters the fuselage, noticing the unusual seat in the middle of the aisle, facing backwards toward a trio of seats, a large mirror setting upright on the middle one. She notices the single seat’s chrome with split black leather straps, no back, and a light shining down directly above it from the ceiling.
“Go ahead, that’s it.” He leans past, nods.
Twisting, turning, glancing toward him, back to the slack leather straps stretching across, forming the base of the seat between the chrome posts, she slips her coat off, tosses it across to an empty seat. Positioning herself she notices she has a full view of her reflection from the mirror facing her. Hearing the hatch shutting, the pilot entering the cockpit, she glances toward the dark portals, unable to see anything on the outside, even under the lit tarmac. The escort slides across from her in a conventional style seat facing forward. In moments she feels the motion of the plane taxiing onto the runway, the leather straps under her slightly swaying while she grips the sides of the cool chrome bars as he reaches across, buckles a strap across her thighs.
Still quiet, he reaches up toward the center of the plane’s ceiling, flips down a surprisingly large monitor screen facing the center stool, a small red light glaring in its upper right hand corner. Pushing a couple buttons, the screen lights up, giving a view of what appears to be some sort of parlor with bookshelves in the background of an empty office chair.
Feeling the gentle motion of beginning to roll onto the runway, she watches inquisitively at the blank monitor as he leans forward beside her, opens a cheery wood cabinet, folding down a small table. Opening the top of an elegant container, pouring a couple splashes of what appears to be wine into a sterling chalice; he reaches toward her, for the first time, smiles, offering her the cup. “Sip this; we have an interesting flight ahead of us.”
Accepting it, a curtsy smile, she takes a sip, lowers the cup. “Thank you.”
“Finish it! Go ahead, finish it, he doesn’t like it wasted.” At first raising his voice, then more calmly instructing as he reaches across, raises her wrist toward her mouth.
“Okay, okay!” She answers back as she lifts the cup to her lips, takes a gulp, finishing it off. “There! Finished.”
Silently nodding, taking the cup in his hand, he places it back in the cabinet along with the container.
A couple minutes of silence pass as she feels the soft swaying of her seat with the motion of the plane, rolling, picking up speed. Glancing toward the monitor, glancing toward him, she asks. “What’s that for? It’s not just a TV, is it?’
“That?” He asks, titling his head, glancing toward the monitor as he buckles his strap. “Oh, that’s where Master DeSade will be addressing you shortly, matter of fact within a couple of minutes or so. It’s a two way system. The red light shows you’re on his monitor as we speak. Actually, you’re also being video taped when the light’s on.”
Again silence, only the motion of the plane lifting into the night air as Jodi Lynn begins feeling a little lightheadedness along with queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Glancing at the still blank screen, back toward her escort still facing silently forward, she feels strange, the sensation of the strength ebbing from her extremities, her head tilting slightly forward, her arms slumping toward her sides.
“I, I don’t feel, so, so good.” She nods, speech slurred, as she tries to focus on him, her vision rapidly blurring, but her mind sharp, working, almost too fast, just the opposite of her motor skills.
“Yes, I know.” He leans toward her, answers as he reaches behind her, slides a black leather chocker collar around her throat. “You’ll be like this for some time.” He adds, clipping a strap from the ceiling behind her to the back of the collar. Lifting her arm, letting go, he watches her struggle to hold it up as it slowly drops to her side. “Yes, you’re virtually helpless physically, but I don’t need to tell you, your mind’s racing a mile a minute!”
Blankly staring toward him, at her reflection in the mirror across from her, she terrifyingly realizes he’s right. Her thoughts are crystal clear; yet, she’s barely able to remain sitting upright, her arms, legs practically useless, yet with plenty of feeling. “Wha, what’s happen happ happening to…” Unable to finish her sentence orally, the thought resonates in her mind. “What’s happening to me?… Oh God! What’s happening to me?!”
The next couple minutes pass as the plane reaches altitude, banks, adjusts its direction. “I see she’s ready.” The voice emits from the monitor as a sinister image appears on the screen, black robed, hooded, unveiled only from his neck to below his nose.
“Yes, Master DeSade.” The escort answers back. “Drugged, waiting your instructions, we’re in the air.”
“You may start with her.” The voice from the monitor commands.
She stares at the screen, the vision almost surreal through her blurry eyes, the robed man staring directly toward her, sinister, threatening. She can feel her heart pounding. She can also feel her arms, legs, they just don’t work. Struggling, grunting, she feels just the tips of her fingers, toes barely flexing, if at all. “Wha… Wha… Ohh… Wha…” Trying to speak, she hears only slurred mumblings echoing in her head as they can’t catch up with her thoughts. The thought of acid or something similar crosses her mind.
“Wasting your time, might as well remain silent!” The escort scolds as he releases his seatbelt, reaches across and unclips the strap from her hips while sliding an open shears across the top of her white cotton blouse.
Clipping, snipping, he cuts the one side, then the other from the tops of her shoulders. Reaching across the front of her, he slides the blades horizontally, slipping downward between her breasts, from her neck to her waist. Grabbing the back of her blouse, tugging pulling, he yanks the material from her arching back leaving only her strapless, low cut satin bra barely covering her twin mounds.
Panicking, her eyes lower as her body jerks, the collar holding her upright. Glancing across at her reflection in the mirror, watching in terror as the flashing blades of the shears cut through her blouse as her breasts sway and bounce in her stretching bra, she frantically struggles, tries to will herself to move her hands, cover herself, to no avail as her arms lay limply at her sides.
Dropping her ruined blouse on the floor, he slips his thumb, forefinger of his left hand into the valley of her substantial breasts, tugs the thin material between the French cut cups, tugging outwards. Snipping the shears between her breasts, he twists the material, jerks it away from her arching torso, watching her bare breasts bounce, practically stand upright as if the material had been holding them down.
Glancing at the ruined bra, twisting it in his fist, he again glances at her incredible tanned breasts, global, natural, high smooth areolas with perky nipples, yet the firm mounds almost too large for her slender body. Finding the tag on the back strap, giving it a closer look, he realizes it’s a size 34 DD, and almost too small to hold her perfect, youthful melons.
Raising the bra close to the red light on the monitor, his voice almost in awe, he whispers. “Master DeSade, thirty four double D’s, and tight!
“Good, continue!” She hears the quick response, the voice sternly spoken from the monitor. Still gazing toward the mirror, she watches as her breasts, as if in slow motion; sway from side to side with the causal motion of the plane as the shears are lowered toward her kilted skirt, snipping up its side.
Tugging, stretching, he continues to snip, splitting the skirt in two. Jerking it away from between the bottom of her right hip and the seat, dropping it onto the floor, he glances toward her matching thong panty barely covering her obviously shaven pubic mound. Snipping the thin white strap across her right hip, then left, he grips the front of the material and tugs it, watches it stretch between her slit while her hips thrust forward as he forces her right thigh toward her side. Glancing at the panty before tossing it on the floor, he smiles at the size one tag.
Admiring her tanned, now naked body, her defined abs gently flexing as her shoulders slump forward, he watches her symmetrical breasts spreading apart, hanging above her slender stomach sloping gently outward from above her spread thighs, her butt cheeks jaunting back on the leather straps.
Reaching between her legs, spreading her thighs with his left hand, he tweaks her exposed clitoris between the thumb and forefinger of his right. Tugging, twisting, he squeezes, stretches it out from the folds of her puffy vulva as he glances up into her glazed eyes. Satisfied with his firm grip, knowing he’s hurting her, he reaches for a chromed Japanese clover clamp, slides it across the swelling nub, hesitating before releasing it.
Her screams are only in her mind, just soft grunts are audible. The pain tears through her clitoris as she sets virtually motionless facing him. Watching thru her tears at him raising his left hand, tightly pinching and twisting the bud of her right nipple between his thumb and fingernail, the silent screams continue as he slides another identical clamp across her tan areola, encircling her nipple, before letting it snap shut.
Her involuntary twitching resonates in his fingertips as she’s totally helpless to protect herself. Even her sighs, moans are virtually nothing more then forced breaths as the clamps continue to send electrical jolts throughout her nearly paralyzed body.
Tears streak off her cheeks as she sees the third clover clamp raised toward her left breast, slid across her bare skin, snapped shut as he tweaks that nipple. The pain pulses, thumps inside her tortured body. Her mind rages with fear, anger and frustration as she mentally urges herself to resist, yet realizing her arms are barely moving, just twitching as she can’t believe she’s staring at her own reflection, chrome clamps sparkling off the front of her naked body.
Leaning away, he lets the monitor’s camera get a full view of his work. Her quivering body glistens under the single light reflecting down across her naked flesh as she sets in an almost relaxed appearing position. Reaching behind her neck, he twists her single braid of hair in his fist, raising her face toward the camera. Even through her welling eyes, the monitor’s large enough for her to make out the image on the screen.
“Ready, Master DeSade.” She hears the escort’s voice in her ear as he leans beside her.
“Jodi Lynn. Nod your head up and down to communicate with me. Now.” The stern voice echoes from the monitor.
Struggling, she feels the hand twisting her hair, yet her head barely moving as the sight of the monitor slightly rises, lowers.
“Good. Okay. We’re going to go over a few conditions of employment.” She listens, almost dumbfounded. Employment? She watches the screen, again her mind sharp, crisp, the pain of the clamps pulsing on her most tender flesh as everything happening is so surreal, the image of the naked girl across from her nodding her head.
“First, if you don’t nod in agreement.” The voice echoes from the monitor. “I’ll be disappointed and won’t be able to stop your escort with you there from showing his disappointment and adjusting your attitude with what he has in his hand. And, he uses it in interesting places. He has quite the imagination.” A silent moment eerily passes. “Understand, nod.”
Barely able to move, she feels the tightness of her hair being gripped as she sees a long, thin, shiny skewer glistening in the fist held in front of her face. Eyes widening, her heart races as she forces her head to slightly jerk up and down, the clamps biting into her bare flesh seeming to expand, contract with each rasping breath.
“Good, that’s good! Now first, rule number one. Look at the mirror.” He orders as she glances toward her reflection. “That body is no longer yours; its only function is for my pleasure. Understand?”
Staring into the mirror, up at the monitor, she again tries to force herself to move as a range of emotions flood her mind. Confused, mad, terrified, she struggles mentally and physically as the clamps jiggle off her aching nipples and clit, her arms hanging limply beside her relaxed thighs. Feeling a cold sensation against her left breast, quickly glancing toward the mirror, she sees the glistening skewer pricking against the outside globe of her left breast. Heart racing, trying to nod her head, she’s too late. “Uuuggghh!” The hoarse grunt escapes her parted lips as the skewer sinks inward into her glistening breast until the needle sharp tip pierces the enveloping flesh.
“Aaaggghhh!” An actual scream escapes her lips as she’s barely able to twitch her head up and down, even as the skewer sinks one, two inches deep into her breast. “Agghhhh!” Another scream as the skewers’ twisted, probed like a red hot poker before being pulled slowly back out. Glaring at the mirror through her tears, she watches the clamps painfully twitching on her quivering breasts as a spurt of blood trickles off her rounded globe, tracing down the side of her ribcage as her naked body appears obscenely relax.
“Okay.” The calm voice comes across the monitor. “I see you got the point! Now number two. Unless otherwise ordered by me or my wife personally, your body will always be unclothed, nude, completely naked. Even when performing your duties as a servant, maid, even as the Nanny. By the way the kids are almost your age, they’ve seen your photo, they’re pleased.” Continuing he adds. Getting back to you staying naked, at times I might want to just put you on exhibit, anytime, anyplace. Also, your orifices will always be instantly available to me or anyone else I offer them to. Agree?”
Not believing what she’s hearing, what she’s going through, the ridiculous orders resonate in her mind as she stares numbly toward the monitor as if she’s in the twilight zone, a nightmare. Her mind centers on the metal clamps continuing to burn across her body as each twitch causes them to tighten even more, the oozing needle prick burning like a swarm of bees.
“Aaaaaaagggghhhhh!” Her body reflexively jerks upwards as her glazed eyes dart toward the mirror, unbelievably directed at the piercing pain of the skewer jamming up from between the leather straps forming the seat, directed into the very nub of her clamped clitoris.
Twitching her head up and down, hysterical, the clamps jerking on her nipples and clit, she feels the skewer punching its way clear through the tortured nub. “Aaaaagghh Aaagghhhh Agghhh!” Each rasping breath brings an animalistic shriek as the skewer’s twisted, jerked back out. Her body quivering, her reddened eyes glare at the mirror, at the image of the blood dripping off the chrome dangling from her clitoris reflecting back at her.
“You need to answer more quickly Jodi Lynn.” The voice pounds in her ear. “Understand? I warned you about him, didn’t I?” Glaring wide eyed toward the monitor, her head jerks, twitches up and down as she grunts through the saliva drooling off her parted lips, dripping across her naked breasts.
“Good girl. Now that’s better!” The vision of the robed man speaks through the monitor. “Now thirdly, you’ll learn to service me, my wife, and anyone else I allow. Actually you might say you’ll be a real, live sex slave. You’ll be enthusiastic and instantaneous with your sexual services.” Again silent for a few moments, he adds. “But, your orgasms are forbidden unless instructed. Then, it must be instantaneous, but don’t worry about that, they must be earned, they may be separated by weeks, or even months. In fact, most of the time they will not be allowed to come from sex, but from discipline sessions. It will all come with practice. Oh, and of course you are never to touch your breasts, vagina or ass without permission. Agreed?”
Glancing at the monitor, nauseated, her eyes darting at the mirror, she quickly twitches her head up and down. Feeling the hand still gripping her hair, in an odd way glad she can feel it, hoping he realizes she’s answering, even if she doesn’t mean it.
”Oh, finally, just to let you know, just in case you harbor any ideas. You’re being brought to our Caribbean estate. And, by the way, your airline ticket’s being used. That flight’s taking you to your original destination as we speak. But for whatever reason, when you get there, you’ll change your mind like you have so many times in the past and you’ll get a ticket for a bus to take you to Mexico, where sadly, you’re going to disappear. At least that’s what any investigators will uncover, if there are any.” A chuckle comes over the monitor as he adds. “You’d be amazed how much your look a like actually looks like you, except for those titties!”
The escort releases her hair, leans toward the monitor, asking. “Anything else Master DeSade?”
Dismayed, oblivious to their discussion, she quivers as the realization of her unthinkable future sinks in, her heart thumping in her chest as the voice comes over the monitor. “That’s all for now, you’ve still got a couple hours or so before the plane lands. Have your usual fun, and then bring her home, she starts at her position tomorrow morning.”
Raising her head, watching the monitor as the hooded man stands, leaves the view of the screen, leaving the empty chair and bookshelves, she again struggles to move her arms, legs, anything. Glancing down toward the mirror she watches her limp body gently swaying in the reflection, the strap hanging down from the ceiling behind her neck supporting her, blood trickling down from between her thighs. Only the clamps jiggle off her pulsing nipples, aching clit, nothing else moves.
Gazing back toward the blank monitor, she notices the red light still glaring. Feeling cold metal, her heart pounding, her eyes dart toward the mirror as she sees the glisten off the skewer being slid between the clover clamps, against the tip of her swollen nipple.
End Part One
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