Free Babysitter Bondage (An Age Play Story) by Devon Shire

weaken. Between gusts of laughter, I felt a squirt between my legs. Clenching down, I stopped it at once, but something shifted. I knew that if this last much longer, I wouldn’t have a choice. I really would pee myself. I’d soak my diaper and it would be up to Trevor to decide when to change me.
    My head seemed fuzzy, and I couldn’t think straight, but one truth became obvious. Trevor won. He beat me. Any more and I’d face an entirely different sort of humiliation. Getting diapered would make me blush for a long time, but at least he didn’t have any real proof I should be a baby girl. If I wet, then he would have it.
    On and on it went until I started to whimper out, “Please!” I laughed some more, “I surrender! I give in!” Each word had to be punctuated with more panicked laughter.
    “You’ll do the pictures?”
    “Yes.”
    “No more timer?”
    A minute remained.
    “Yes,” I said breathlessly because if this continued, then I’d have to wet my diaper. Okay, so he’d get the pictures but I could feel myself about to wet.
    Trevor paused. He rested one hand on my tummy, right beneath my breasts. Tapping his fingers along my skin, he made me tense and flinch and twitch. A couple stray chortles escaped my throat, but I could feel myself settle down. The pressure between my legs was intense, but at least I had maintained control of myself. If I could have some more time, then I knew I’d be able to rebuild my controls. I would be able to hold my need to urinate for a lot longer.
    “And you’ll admit defeat?”
    “You beat me.”
    His hand snaked back down into my diaper. I was hot and a bit damp from the sweat, but it wasn’t soaked yet. “No, I don’t think I’ve beaten you yet. What has to happen before you’ve really lost?”
    I started to shake my head slowly, unable to believe what he was saying. I could read his implications, but I couldn’t admit it, not yet as I started to plead, “No, please, I said I surrendered! You won! Okay? You won! You don’t need to do anything else.”
    “Silly girl,” he said, letting his palm hover over the length of my body. He raised his hand over my breasts, and my nipples hardened at the image of him touching me again. And for a moment, he rested his hand on my breast and tweaked my nipple. He circled my pleasure nubs with one finger, like an ice skater making figure eights.
    “Please,” I said again.
    “This wasn’t about some silly bet. This is a lesson. I don’t want to win a game. I want to teach you the truth. Tell me you understand.”
    Swallowing, I tried to hide, but I did as he wished, “I understand.”
    The second those words left my mouth, his fingers flew down to my sides. In one heartbeat, I was a sane, rational young woman capable of real conversation, debate, and negotiation. In the next heartbeat, a cascade of ticklish sensations burrowed through me, robbing me of any sense of reason.
    He teased me, dancing his fingers along my rib cage, down to my flanks. One hand shot over to my stomach to circle by navel while his other arm stretched out to give Trevor access to the back of my knees.
    I threw myself from side to side. I never fought so hard as I screeched out shrill laughter, fighting just to keep myself oxygenated while he made me spasm and buck. It was like his fingers had turned to hot magma, but instead of burning me, he made me laugh. He made it sound like I wanted to be there.
    In spite of the onslaught, I tried to hold on anyway. I was tied down, diapered, and utterly helpless. Unable to do something as simple as roll over, my only defense was to try to dodge his advances, but confined to a small changing table, I didn’t have much success. It took him moments to readjust, and before long, I couldn’t breathe or even open my eyes as the battering rush of sensations made me nearly insensate.
    It felt as though I became one set of nerves, a bundle of ticklish receptors. I felt his fingertips at the base of my feet, over