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JCL : 10 - Babysitting Becky (f/m, m/f, F/m)

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JCL : 10 - Babysitting Becky (f/m, m/f, F/m)

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JCL's stories
10 - Babysitting Becky
Story index at the bottom

By JCL

Wed Jun 3 22:54:36 CDT 1998

It has been a long while since I have contributed. I hope you bear with another long drawn-out tale from my past.

When I was around fifteen, although I was a guy, I experimented with the idea of babysitting for extra money. I had been mowing lawns for some time and the money was good, but it seemed so easy to just hang around some kids for a few hours watching TV and then get paid. Needless to say, I wasn't babysitting for long. If more guys put themselves in women's shoes (figuratively not literally), we would have a lot more respect for what they do.

Anyway, a few babysitting jobs into my short career, I picked up a job babysitting a little brat for this woman (I'll call her Mrs. Harper) from our church. My mom had arranged it as I guess Mrs. Harper's regular babysitter was unavailable, and for whatever reason, my mother was promoting my newfound profession. Mrs. Harper had a 10-year-old daughter that was definitely a little princess. Pampered by her mom, Becky was used to being sheltered from life by her overbearing mother. Rambunctious but sweet when adults were around, Becky was capable of getting away with anything it seemed. Mrs. Harper was the prototype effeminate mother, always dressing formally, her hair styled high on her head, and always proper in manner. She was also a busybody, but that is not really relevant here. Her husband was quite the wimp, catering to her every whim. I liken them to the storekeeper and his family on the "Little House on the Prairie" if you have ever seen that show. At least Mrs. Harper was much more feminine and less boisterous than her TV counterpart.

It was a Saturday afternoon - I'm afraid I don't recall what pulled Mrs. Harper from her house, but I remember her husband was away for the weekend. Business trip I believe. I did not yet have my learner's permit (driving license) and so my mom dropped me off as they lived about five miles away. In the past my babysitting sessions were within walking distance from our house so I had at least a little security system should something go wrong. The unfamiliarity of the neighborhood made me feel uneasy. My mom did not stick around as she generally wasn't interested in any banter with Mrs. Harper. Reaching for the doorbell, I was startled by the door swinging open immediately by Mrs. Harper herself. (I'll try to reconstruct the dialog as best I remember.)

"Well, JCL, you are a few minutes late. I must hurry. Will you please take off you shoes and come in?"

I complied.

"I have made a list of where I will be while I'm away. If you have any problems, please try to call me. Becky is not to have anyone over, nor take any phone calls. I'm relying on you to supervise her properly while I'm gone. No more than one hour of TV for her. Please respect my wishes."

I had already decided at this point that this was likely to be the last time I babysat Becky.

"You'll find snacks and drinks in the refrigerator. I shan't be away more than three hours."

Mrs. Harper turned and fled to her car. I was still sitting there looking at my watch wondering why she thought I was late. Recovering from the introductional mugging, I scanned the place to find where the little brat was located. After a brief survey, I located her in her room with her dolls.

"Is my mom gone yet?"

Dr. Jekyl turns to Mr. Hyde now I thought. I awaited the transformation. Nothing. Becky seemed content with what she was doing so I settled back into the family room to watch TV. After all, there no restrictions on what I could do. Things progressed finely for some time. Eventually Becky emerged from her room with the "Call of the Child" (get it - a play on the phrase "Call of the Wild"): "I'm bored." From my massive babysitting experience, I always found that a game or TV would ease things. She was past that stage. Children can get so bored that any attempt to rescue them is boring. Becky moped around for a while until I finally gave up on trying to entertain her. Making my way back to the TV, I was watching when suddenly I felt this jab in the back.

"Stick 'em up!"

"Oh heck," I thought. "This has got to be better than worrying about her sulking." I had pictured my pittance being fretted away when Mrs. Harper returned to find her princess brooding in her bedroom. I put my hands in the air.

"Okay. Please Mrs. Robber, please don't shoot."

"You're coming with me," Becky demanded.

I looked back to see her pointing a water pistol at me.

"That's not loaded is it?" I asked, picturing the house soaked in water when Mrs. Harper returned.

"Do you want to find out?" Becky answered.

Following her directions, I walked down the hallway into her room. Now at this point, most of you would be anticipating some ropes and stuff. I didn't. In fact, I found that the times that were the most intriguing were the most unexpected. I had never put tie-up games and babysitting together at this point in my life. I certainly wasn't expecting anything that afternoon - and it didn't happen at first.

"Now what?" I asked, not sure of what to do.

"You sit over there," she said pointing to her desk chair.

I sat down. This was exciting! (note use of sarcasm)

"What are your plans," I continued. "Are you a burglar or a robber?" I ended up explaining the difference to her before she answered.

"I'm a robber - a bank robber. And you are going to help me."

"Who am I?" I quizzed, unsure of what part I was playing in this charade. This caught Becky off-guard. She thought for a second.

"You're my prisoner."

Now things were moving (note additional sarcasm).

"I am going to rob the bank."

"And where exactly is this bank?"

"In the living room. I've got to make some plans."

"Now here's an opportunity to entertain her for a while," I thought. Again, I had no inkling of anything beyond a little play-acting. "Do you want some help with the plans?"

She agreed heartily.

We spent the next 15 minutes or so sketching out the bank layout, the placement of the imaginary guards, the safe, etc. until Becky was satisfied. She was really enjoying the chance to play with someone this way.

"Are we ready to go?" I asked expecting to take full part in the heist.

"No, you're staying here," she said. I could see her thinking a bit, then looking around the room. "I'll be right back."

I sat there with absolutely no idea what was coming, looking at the walls in this lonely child's room. She loved to have a partner to play a game with - her game - one in which her mother didn't supervise or take part. I was beginning to think that babysitting Becky wasn't all that bad. We were bonding, sort of. Bad choice of words. Becky returned with this pile of rope in her hand.

"Sit in the chair," she demanded, pointing again to her desk chair.

I sat there, still unaware of this developing into anything. Becky untangled her rope and started wrapping this long piece around my torso and the chair, pulling it taut occasionally and coiling it around parts of the chair to hold it in place. I had just held my arms to my sides, so I felt somewhat restrained, but not really helpless in any way. I thought she would be appeased and run off. I wasn't relishing the thought of Mrs. Harper walking into any of this, regardless of who instigated it. Becky was not done however. She took another piece and tied my ankles tightly together and to a leg of the chair.

"You've got me pretty good, Becky." I commented. "You better go rob that bank now."

"I'm not finished," she stated matter-of-factly and grabbed another rope. Pulling my arms behind the chair back, which was difficult as they were tied pretty tightly to my side, Becky bound my wrists together.

Now I was helpless. I hadn't intended to let things go to this point, but it was useless to struggle against a 10-year-old when my arms were already tied to my side. I resigned myself to sitting there patiently until the game was completed, hopefully before Mrs. Harper returned. Becky exited her room. I was foolishly thinking that the robbery was taking place and started to struggle to free myself. The ropes were very secure. I pulled some more on my arms, trying to see if I could get one arm free when I heard a noise. Before I could look up, this white cloth flew past my eyes and was pulled tightly over my mouth. Becky quickly knotted the cloth (a handkerchief) behind my neck. I was surprised, but decided to play along even though I felt that I could have worked the gag loose with a little effort.

"This has got to be it," I thought. I thought wrong. Another white cloth was pulled over my eyes and knotted tightly. I gave up the pretense of helplessness. Working my jaw, I was able to push the gag down. "Becky, untie me right now," I commanded to an unseen foe.
Silence.

"Becky, I ..." I was suddenly cut-off as another cloth was stuffed in my mouth. Before I could spit it out, the initial gag was repositioned and tightened.

Oh, this girl was going to get it. I felt that the whole thing had been set up to manipulate me into this position. I could hear Becky giggling.

"I guess I get to do what I want now," she laughed, confirming my suspicion. "I think I'll call some friends."

I heard her leave the room. Struggling, I realized that there was little if any chance of freeing myself. This was the last time I was going to trust her.
Time passed. It could have been twenty minutes or so.

"I'm going to let you go now," Becky said from somewhere in the room. I felt the ropes around my body slacken, but was still unable to free myself. My wrists came next. As she continued with my ankles, I untied the gag and blindfold, spitting out the cloth in my mouth.

"Forgive me?" Becky asked putting on her princess face.

I was not in the forgiving mood.

"You are going to get it, you little brat."

Her face changed quickly back to Mr. Hyde as I pounced on her from the chair. Wrestling her down, I grabbed a rope and wrapped it around her wrists.

She began to spew threats of telling her mom. I countered with my own threats of telling her mom which quickly shut her up. She thrashed around the floor, kicking me until I managed to bind her ankles together. As the final touch, I stuffed the handkerchief that had been used to blindfold me in her mouth and tied my previous gag over her mouth very tightly. After a final "mmmppphh" she gave up. Then ice filled my veins. Becky's eyes got real big and I heard a gasp from behind me. Mrs. Harper had returned and was now watching from the bedroom door.

You have no idea of what I felt at that point. I felt justified and at the same time felt that I would be lucky to escape that house alive. My heart rate doubled.

"Untie her right now," she commanded.

I complied as quickly as possible without a word of protest.

"I want to know what happened here," she continued.

Through stuttered words, I was able to piece back most of what transpired. Mrs. Harper turned to Becky and asked for her version. Although primarily the same, Becky stressed that we were only playing until I had jumped her at the end and had tied her up. Self-preservation.

I started to protest but was quickly cut-off by Becky's mother, "I've heard your version already!"

This was it. I was in such big trouble. I could imagine this spreading throughout the church.

"JCL, I want to speak with you in the den. Becky, you will clean up this mess, and then sit in the corner until I release you."

I was doomed. At this age, crying is still an option. I pondered it as I marched in to the den and sat down.

Without going through the entire reprimand, the jest of the lecture was that although her daughter had apparently started things, I was the adult and was responsible for my actions. It was inexcusable for me to take advantage of my age and size to inflict punishment on her little girl. I endured this dressing-down for about five minutes. Then she stopped and things got strange. I could see her pondering what to do. (I do not remember her exact words but I will try to give you some idea of what she said.)

"I'm going to give you a choice. I can tell your mother about the whole episode. She can then decide what is best to do to you. Or, ... "she paused. "I am a believer in an eye for an eye. If you see what Becky endured, you may learn from the experience."

I was somewhat unsure of exactly what she meant, but the first alternative was not particularly appealing. I was still doing my best to shield my mom from any tendencies I had. This news would break things wide open. I didn't have to live with Mrs. Harper day to day.

"Additionally, if you choose to put yourself in Becky place, I will forget the entire incident."

That was the grabber. I could not help but relish the thought of this episode not being retold to others.

"I'll take the second choice," I replied quietly not really knowing what to expect.

"Very well. As Becky felt compelled by a larger stronger person, so it shall be with you." Mrs. Harper grabbed a kitchen chair and placed it in the middle of the room.

"Sit!"

I did so.

Mrs. Harper disappeared in to the back bedroom area. I sat there wondering what she had planned for me. Was I going to have to clean the house? Mow the lawn? I hadn't fully processed what she meant by enduring what Becky endured. This was not the day of child-abuse issues. Parents and supervising adults had firm control over the destiny of children under their care.

Mrs. Harper returned, marched up right behind me and pulled my arms behind my back. This absolutely shocked me. There was no "please", no warning, nothing. I started to feel what she meant by being dominated by an elder, but I still didn't believe that it was the case with Becky and I earlier.

I felt a rope encircling my wrists and then being yanked tight and tied. Another rope crossed my chest and was wrapped around me several times before being secured tautly. There was not a word being spoken. Mrs. Harper was so methodical it didn't even dawn on me to challenge her.

"Are you in any pain?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"No," I said sheepishly.

A final rope was tied around my ankles. I was helpless while not really considering the predicament. She had done a much better job than Becky had done earlier.

"Open up."

Another command. I was unsure of what she meant so I opened my mouth to ask her.

Apparently I complied as she stuffed a fresh handkerchief into my mouth. As she clamped her hand over my mouth to keep it in, she folded another handkerchief on my lap. Satisfied with the somewhat triangular shaped fold, she drew it up and secured it tightly over my mouth.

"There! You will now sit there until I decide that you will be released."

With that, Mrs. Harper headed back towards the bedrooms. I was left tightly trussed and gagged, unsure of whether I should try to work free. Wisely, I decided to wait things out.

Becky never emerged from her bedroom the remainder of the time I was at the Harper house. Mrs. Harper came out about five minutes later and proceeded to the kitchen where she began to prepare dinner. Every once in a while, she would look my way to see if I was still where she left me. I wasn't going anywhere. The ropes were tight and the gag was tighter. After about another 15 minutes, she picked up the telephone and called my mother. She instructed her to pick me up at 6:30. I had no idea what time it was as I could not see my watch nor any clock. It was strange to consider that here was this lady talking to my mom, while in the next room I sat unable to do a thing, bound and gagged. Mrs. Harper glanced over at me while she was talking. I started to feel like I had been kidnapped.

After another 10 minutes or so, she came into the room and removed my gag.

"Have you learned anything?" she inquired.

"Oh, yes," I replied knowing the required response.

Mrs. Harper finished untying me, and then brought me into the kitchen for a snack before my mom arrived. I had to recount the lesson I had learned from the experience. What I really learned was that Mrs. Harper could really tie and gag someone tightly, but that isn't what I told her. My mom arrived some 15 minutes later and nothing was ever brought up since. Needless to say I wasn't offered another babysitting job at the Harper's. I might have accepted given the eventual result. Who knows what would have transpired the next time.

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JCL's stories

Stories retrieved from Stories of Tie-Up Games
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