Babysitting My Little Friend – Part 1

Babysitting My Little Friend – Part One
Mistress Morrigan

Mistress Morrigan babysitting the (adult) little girl“Now you be a good girl for Auntie Morrigan and I’ll bring you a treat.”

I couldn’t believe that I had agreed to babysit.  I have nothing against children; I’ve just never been a particularly maternal person.  This was a different situation however.  I wasn’t babysitting someone who was a child chronologically speaking.  I was keeping an eye on a new friend of mine, an adult woman who happens to enjoy the kink of being a “little” to her husband’s “Daddy” role.

Now not every kink is for everyone.  There are whole lists of kinks that just aren’t my thing and I’d rather not participate in them.  That doesn’t mean that I won’t help someone live out an aspect of theirs.  That’s how I found myself playing the role of Auntie to my friend the little while her Daddy went out to meet some work colleagues for a drink.

With those parting words from her Daddy I turned to see big brown eyes filling with tears and a trembling bottom lip.  For a moment I was completely out of my comfort zone.  I had no idea what to do.  For all intents and purposes this was a little girl standing in front of me.  I couldn’t take out my flogger and cuffs and tie her up like a misbehaving submissive.  That wasn’t the role I agreed to play this evening.  I wasn’t Mistress Morrigan, Dominatrix.  I was Auntie Morrigan, and this little who was about to throw a tantrum in my living room had to be distracted some other way.

My eyes fell on the bag that had been left for her.  It was pink and covered with pictures of hearts and what looked like teddy bears.  I quickly snatched it up and in my most comforting voice asked her if she would like to show me what toys she brought to play with.  I was rewarded with one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen.

We sat on the sofa side by side and she began to remove one stuffed animal after another.  In a soft lisping voice that couldn’t have belonged to anyone over the age of six she told me each animal’s name and insisted that I pat them on the head as she introduced them.  We arranged them on the coffee table facing us so they could see what else was going to be brought out of the bag.

I don’t know how all of the things she brought out could have fit in that one bag.  There were coloring books and crayons, three story books, two board puzzles with large pieces and even some modeling clay.  It was with these items that we hit our first snag.  As she took each item from the bag she showed them to me proudly and then promptly dropped them on the floor.  I remembered from my own childhood that this was not something that I could allow.  I told her in a gentle but firm voice to pick up her toys and stack them neatly on the table.

Well, she crossed her arms over her chest stuck out her bottom lip and told me that she didn’t want to, although it sounded something like “dun’wanna” to me.  For a second I felt my normal level of control slip, I really didn’t know how to deal with this kind of rebellion.  But I am nothing if not adaptable.  I told her that if she didn’t pick up her toys then she was going to get spinach for dinner and no dessert.  Apparently spinach is high on her yucky list because she hopped right down on the floor and picked her things up. She made two neat stacks of coloring books and story books and set the tubs of clay between them, with her row of stuffies standing guard.

Then she looked up at me from the floor and in her sweet little voice asked her “Auntie” to play.  I slipped down beside her and we spent the next twenty minutes or so coloring and making funny shapes out of clay.  I felt myself getting into my role.  I told her silly stories and tickled her to make her giggle.  It was almost as if there was a transformation and she became the tiny girl she was portraying.  I was curious to see just how far this would go.

To be continued… see part 2

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