I hired Ashley to babysit for my son, afternoons when his school was over, but before I got home from work just after five. For her, it was an easy job; they played for a while, then he usually took a nap for an hour or so. She was mostly just there to do homework and keep an eye on him.

I was typically a trusting guy, but as a single father, I’d developed a suspicious streak. It’s not that Ashley seemed untrustworthy -- she went to a good college and came with glowing references from a good friend -- it’s just that I’d become very protective of my son, after his mother just up and left us. I still have no idea why and wonder what kind of a mom would just up and leave her child and husband, but she did!

When I saw a “nanny cam” disguised as a book advertised on Amazon, I bought it. When it arrived a few days later it really did look like an ordinary book, I was impressed and placed it on the shelf amongst other books next to my TV. I programmed it through my laptop, but really I didn’t even plan on looking at the footage.

After Ashley had been working for me for about a month or two, I remembered the nanny cam and decided to check it. I had it set to record only from two till five, the times that I would be gone from the house, but I really had no idea if it even worked.

It did, the footage was of the empty couch in the living room. I chuckled at my own stupidity. If I wanted to see what was going on while I was gone, what was the use of putting a camera where the couch was actually the only thing really on it, not where I could see the living room, dining room, and the kitchen? But what the hell, it was a nanny cam disguised as a book so I put it where my books were. I pressed fast forward until I saw Ashley come into the frame.

Totally boring. She got out a book and began to read. It didn’t look like a textbook, more like a paperback of some kind.

It’s nice to see that college students are actually reading something these days, not just texting on their phones, I thought to myself. For the first time, I noticed that Ashley, who dressed rather conservatively around me, was actually a very attractive young woman.

She had long, red, curly hair that she kept back in a ponytail, large green eyes, freckles, and full lips. Her breasts were large on her curvy sculptured frame, and I found myself watching them rise and fall as she paged through the paperback. She really was mesmerizing in a way I found totally sexy, almost erotic.

I quickly remembered my role as her employer, however, and pressed fast forward once again.

Suddenly, however, something startling happened.

I watched Ashley put the book down on the coffee table and move her hands to her jeans, unbuttoning the top button.

My eyes widened as she unzipped her jeans and reached one hand inside. I had a hard time understanding what I was seeing at first.

Was she --?--- She was.

With her right hand down her pants, Ashley now reached up under her top to play with her breasts, her eyes closed all the while. I watched breathlessly as my babysitter proceeded to bring herself to a silent orgasm that I could see by her trembling body.

I felt myself getting aroused, but then I closed the video.

This is wrong, I thought. Sure, it’s my house, but she deserves privacy too doesn’t she?

The next day I brought my son, Noah, home from school on my lunch; my boss was cool and allowed me to always take a late lunch so I could pick my son up and take him home and wait for Ashley to show up. She was always punctual.

As I thanked her once more for being so prompt, I examined her face for any signs of the wantonness I’d witnessed on the nanny cam. I couldn’t say I saw any. To all outward appearances, she was the picture of innocence. Her hair was back in a ponytail as usual, but I couldn’t help but notice that her shirt had a neckline a bit more plunging then I’d remembered seeing her wear, showing some cleavage.

That night when I came home, I carefully examined her appearance once again, as well as I could without arousing suspicion. Everything seemed in place, there was no outward sign of any mischief. Her hair was pulled back just as neatly as it had been that afternoon, and I couldn’t see any sign that her hands had been in her pants, or anywhere else. Not that I would have been able to tell anyway.

After Noah was in bed that night, I kept thinking about the video of her masturbating. I pictured her soft, supple lips quivering in pleasure. I thought of her hands skilfully teasing her clit. The way she bit her lip as she played with her breasts. Whom was she thinking about? One of the guys at school, I guessed.

Certainly not me. At 45, I was old enough that I could be her father and probably way too old to be in her range of interest. Besides, I could never have a relationship with a 20-year-old.

Then a thought came to my mind;

I could never have a relationship with her.

But I could fuck her.

I immediately dismissed the idea out of my head. She was my babysitter!

Even so, I couldn’t resist downloading the nanny cam video to my computer once again.

I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought, as I fast-forwarded through the video.

The first few minutes showed absolutely nothing.

Then there was Noah playing, I smiled.

A few minutes later, Ashley appeared and they talked for a few moments before Noah followed her into the bedroom. It was naptime.

Shortly after that, Ashley appeared. Once again, she produced a book and began to read.

For a long time, nothing happened. I felt my breathing accelerate in anticipation, hoping, praying, that she would start to touch herself again.

Suddenly, she was out of the frame again.

Then she was back, this time with her purse. She rummaged through it until she found a small object.

I couldn’t tell what it was at first.

That is, until she unbuttoned her jeans once again, pulled them down a wee bit to her knees and proceeded to rub it across her panty-covered mound.

A vibrator! In my house! I felt myself getting angry, even as my cock got hard at the sight of this beautiful young woman masturbating on my sofa.

She’d crossed a line. I knew I had to fire her, as much as it pained me to do so.

But as I watched Ashley slowly pull her panties down and insert the vibrator into her pussy, I was conflicted.

Those lips, I thought. That hair. Those eyes. That little tuft of red hair above her pussy.

As angry as I was about the fact that she was OR had been masturbating while my son slept, I still wished I could hear her. Was she a moaner, a groaner, or a screamer even? That would be bad, of course. In a good way.

Suddenly my eye caught sight of a volume control at the bottom of the video. Surely the camera didn’t record audio too? I should have read the instructions.

It did. As I adjusted the volume slider up, I couldn’t believe my ears.

The exquisite creature on my couch, my babysitter Ashley, was murmuring my name.

“Don,” she whispered, “fuck me, please. Oh yes, Don. Give me that big dick.”

My cock stiffened as I heard my name.

Surely this must be a case of mistaken identity? There must be a guy at school she was lusting after, or maybe even an actor?

But her next words removed all doubt.

“Fuck me, Mr. Naughton!” she groaned in a hoarse whisper that I could still make out distinctly.

That was me, Don Naughton, her employer. There could be no doubt.

I closed the video and weighed my options for a few moments. My brain was telling me to fire her. What I’d witnessed could have put my child in danger. What if there’d been an emergency of some kind? My babysitter would have been caught with her pants down and a vibrator buried in her pussy.

On the other hand, my cock was telling me another story entirely. It was telling me the story of a beautiful, voluptuous curvy coed who thought about me -- and talked dirty to herself -- while she masturbated.

The next day, when Ashley showed up for work, I still hadn’t decided what would win: my brain or my cock. Then, when she’d closed the door behind her and set down her purse, I finally arrived at a decision.

The cock it was.

She looked stunning that day. Better than I’d ever seen her before. She was wearing a tight-fitting white blouse with a plunging neckline, a miniskirt, and tall black boots. Her hair was back as usual, and her full red lips were covered in a shiny gloss that suggested the look of a teenager more than that of the young woman I saw before me.

“Hi!” she said with a smile

Then, noticing the distinct quiet that lay across the house, “where’s Noah?”

“I dropped him off at his grandmother’s,” I said.

“So you don’t need me?”

“I need to talk to you,” I replied, and noted how her face fell, her eyelids wilting to the floor.

Dark eye shadow and a hint of mascara. Nice.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” I said, gesturing in a friendly manner even though I could sense the tension in the room rising.

“Have a seat.”

She sat across from me on the edge of an armchair. I took the couch.

“Do you know why I wanted to talk to you, Ashley?”

“No,” she murmured, looking at the floor, “but I’m guessing you’re not happy with my work or something.”

“Close,” I said, “I’m quite happy with your work. It’s your -- how do I put this -- extracurricular activities that concern me.”

She looked at me with her large green eyes.

“Extracurricular?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about, Ashley?”

“You mean like my yoga class?”

I chuckled. She had a good sense of humour.

“No Ashley,” I said, “I’m talking about what you do in this house when I’m not around when Noah is asleep.”

“I don’t do anything,” she said, clearly upset, “I -- I read. I study. I watch TV sometimes.”

“Is that all, Ashley?”

“Yes, of course, it is! Why would I lie to you?”

She started to cry. As much as it hurt me to watch the tears fall down her face, I was prepared for this. I pushed a box of tissues across the table to her.

“It’s ok, Ashley,” I said, giving her a moment to calm herself.

“It is?”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” she said, dabbing the streaks of mascara from her face, “because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But Ashley,” I said, “would you agree that part of your job is being prepared for emergencies while Noah is asleep?”

“Yes,” she said, growing suspicious again.

“And would you agree that if you weren’t prepared for an emergency, I’d have grounds to fire you?”

She paused for a moment.

“Yes, I guess you would.”

I picked up the remote control.

“Then would you please explain how this situation demonstrates your being prepared for an emergency?

I pressed play. The big-screen TV was filled with an image of Ashley on her back on the very sofa I was sitting on, pussy skewered obscenely with a vibrator. She looked marvelous.

“Fuck yes,” she moaned onscreen, in a low whisper, “fuck me, Don!”

The Ashley sitting on the chair turned bright red, leaped up and grabbed at the remote.

“You TAPED me! You fucking perverted bastard! I’m going to the police!”

I tried to defuse the situation by handing her the remote. She pressed pause, but not before the woman onscreen let out a final obscenity: a long, trailing, whispered “fuuuuck!”

“Go ahead,” I said, “I’ll have them book you for child endangerment. This is my house, and I can videotape whatever I want.”

“You bastard,” she spat, throwing the remote against the couch so hard it bounced back and hit the floor with a crack, “you fucking bastard!”

“Ashley,” I said, “how can you call me those names after what I heard you say in the video? Should I rewind and refresh your memory?”

“Fuck you.”

“Seems like that’s what you want,” I grinned.

She stormed towards the door.

“Hold it a sec,” I said, “don’t you think there’s a way we can settle this?”

“You mean like sex? I knew that’s where this was going. I might have had kind of a crush on you before, but there’s no way I’m letting you anywhere close to me now.”

“Relax,” I said, “I’ve got a way that we can resolve this, without sex, and you can keep working for me.”

Her hand dropped from the doorknob.

“I’ll just punish you.”

“Punish me?”

“Spank you.”

I let my words hang in the air for a moment. She was quiet as if considering my proposal.

“Spank me?”

“Spank you.”

“How?”

“Over my lap,” I said.

“With your hand?”

“At first.”

“And then?”

“With my belt.”

She looked at the floor.

“Your belt?”

“My belt.”

“Over my skirt?”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think so. I think it would have to be on your bare...” I paused for a moment, “ ... bottom.”

“No!” she looked at me defiantly.

“Yes! Or you can go now and I’ll call all of your references and offer to forward them the video.”

She put her hand on the doorknob for a moment, then let it drop.

“How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many... , “ her voice trailed off, mascara-stained eyes dropping to the floor once again, “spanks?”

“I don’t think it would be right to negotiate that in advance. I think you’ll just have to trust that I give you an appropriate but not excessive punishment.”

She was silent.

“You can stop it whenever you want,” I said, “but if you do, the deal is off of course.”

She bit her bottom lip for a moment, furrowing her brow before she mumbled “ok.”

“What was that?”

“Ok.”

“Ok!” I said, standing from the sofa, “I suggest we get started right away.”

Ashley stood there, next to the door, motionless.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I said, heading to the kitchen to grab a chair and two scarves, which I stuffed into my pockets.

When I returned, she was sitting on the couch again, still avoiding eye contact.

“Alright,” I said, putting the chair down and taking a seat in it, “please take off your panties.”

She gave me a pained look.

“Yes, go ahead,” I said, “we already agreed that you’d be spanked without them. Now please take them off and hand them to me.”

Ashley’s pale skin turned bright red.

“I --,” she began.

“Not your skirt,” I added, “just the panties.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood and wriggled out of her panties, doing her best to avoid exposing her legs as she worked them down over her shapely ass. Still, in her boots, she stepped out of the panties skilfully, leaving them a heap on the floor. Then she looked at me.

“Bring them to me,” I commanded.

She sneered at me before bending down just enough to grab the tiny black thong lying on the floor.

“Here,” she said, crossing the room towards me and offering me her panties with a look of disgust.

“Thank you,” I said, taking hold of the panties and bringing them to my nose to inhale her scent, then putting them in my pocket.

Her eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, I’ll return them!” I said.

She was standing in front of me now, a curvy figure of feminine perfection. I took a moment to admire the curve of her breasts as they heaved against her black bra. Her breathing was definitely faster than normal.

“Ok,” she said, “let’s get this over with.”

“Agreed.”

She stood there waiting.

“So what do you want me to do? Bend over or something?”

I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“As much as I’d like to see that, we agreed on an over-the-knee spanking, didn’t we?”

“I know,” she said, “it’s just that it’s so...”

“So what?”

“Humiliating.”

“But that’s part of the fun!”

“For you maybe,” she sneered.

“For you too. Maybe,” I smiled.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“We’ll see about that.”

“You already made that joke.”

“Sorry. Then I guess we’ll have to stop joking around and get on with it.”

She sneered at me, sticking out her tongue halfway like a petulant teenager.

“Over my lap.”

Slowly, carefully, she walked to my right and then bent gingerly forward, gradually letting her exquisite body balance across my legs. I had an incredible view of her ass, which was, admittedly, still covered by a skirt.

When I reached down to peel it off, she swatted my hands away.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” I asked.

“I thought you were going to spank me, not undress me,” she said.

“Yes,” I said, “on the bare bottom.”

“Alright,” she said, reluctantly, “go ahead.”

I slowly peeled back her skirt to reveal her shapely bare ass. Pale and pristine, it was simply a marvel to behold. She was truly a beautiful woman.

SMACK!

I let the first blow fall without warning, squarely on her right bum cheek. Ashley let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a yelp. As I slowly removed my hand from her burning skin, I saw that I’d left a red palm print.

SMACK!

I tried to duplicate my handiwork on the other side.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, grabbing at me with her right hand while steadying herself against the floor with her left, “that fucking hurt!”

“As well it should have.”

SMACK! SMACK!

Ashley squealed as I delivered two more blows to the same two areas, leaving two even redder palm prints on her rear. She was panting now.

“You know what, Ashley?” I said, swatting her hands away from her throbbing backside, “I think you’re going to enjoy yourself by the time we’re done here.”

I grabbed her wrists, holding them together in my left hand as I landed two more blows across her backside. She shrieked.

“FUCK! YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Ashley, if you keep fighting me, I’m going to have to secure your hands.”

She kicked her legs in protest but stopped resisting with her arms.

“Good girl.”

I paused for a moment before delivering two more blows in rapid succession, each hard enough to make my palm smart.

SMACK! SMACK!

“OOOOOWWW!” she moaned, kicking her legs and struggling against me once again.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I followed up with four more blows, equally distributed between her two cheeks, but moving down from my starting point and approaching the delicious place where her legs met and her red-haired, well-trimmed pussy was starting to appear.

“FUCK!” she moaned, “GOD DAMN IT!”

Then she began to sob quietly.

“Are we done yet?” she asked between sobs.

“Not yet,” I said, massaging her beautiful buttocks, working just to the edge of her pussy before withdrawing my hand once more, “we have to move on to the belt, remember?”