Size: a a a a    Colour: a a a
BECOMING HIS BABYGIRL

by Chloe Carpenter


Prologue

"She's the one." Tarak adjusted the zoom on his console, magnifying the image. He stared intently at the screen, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he beheld her: Selina. Mine. She will be mine. I know it. Certainty bloomed like a bright flower.

The young Comms officer by Tarak's side looked on with interest and approval. "How do you know, Sir?"

Tarak exhaled, his eyes glimmering as he drank her in: petite, dark brown hair swinging in a jaunty pony tail as she walked, big brown eyes blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight, her sweet lips smiling for no apparent reason other than she was happy. Though small in stature, she had curves in all the right places, pert little breasts, trim waist, and a nicely rounded bottom topped a pair of shapely legs, her feet encased in pale pink sneakers, pink laces tied in a floppy bow. She was undeniably pretty, simultaneously managing to look both cute and sexy, alluring and innocent. She was enchanting, exquisite. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Officer Kasa."

An experienced veteran of intergalactic travel, he had never before encountered any female who had evoked in him such an immediate and powerful attraction. From that moment on, his mission to apprehend the renegade Flynn became more than a routine assignment, it became a personal quest, because through Flynn, he could reach Selina.

As The Anastrasis orbited the earth's atmosphere, Tarak stood on the fight deck, deep in thought. After years of waiting, he had finally found 'the one', and relished the prospect of claiming her as his own. "Selina," he whispered, testing her name on his lips. "I am coming. Be ready to embrace your destiny, little one."



Chapter 1 - Thirteen Jericho Place

It was just an ordinary looking house, a modest three-storey end terrace in a block of six, solidly built and unpretentious. Like all the other houses in the row, number 13 Jericho Place had bright white paintwork and a black front door with a brass door knocker. The afternoon sunshine cast a warm homely glow on the row of red brick dwellings, all seemingly identical from the outside.

Selina lived at number 12, bang opposite number 13. The houses on this side of the road were much older and built of stone, blackened with age. The spacious attic bedroom at the top of the house was her domain. It was a fabulous old room, full of character, and it was a pleasure to snuggle down in bed listening to the splats of rain pattering on the window pane, and the twitter of birds nesting in the eaves. She loved its curious walls and cracked ceiling that sloped quirkily in different directions so that it seemed geometrically impossible they should come together in the right way to form a room, and she liked the way the crooked floorboards dipped unevenly by the door, and the creaking sound they made when anyone stepped on them.

There was a comfortable old wicker chair in the recess by the peaked attic window. It had been with Selina since her childhood, and even now at twenty-four, she still liked to curl up there with a book, surrounded by cherished remnants of her childhood that she couldn't bear to throw away. Faded prints of teddy bears, fairies and butterflies lined the walls, and well-loved picture books, porcelain dolls and stuffed toys were crammed onto shelves. The 'Pretty Princess' bed she had for her thirteenth birthday still had pride of place because she loved it, and because at five foot three, she still fit quite snugly in it. The room was her abode, her sanctuary, a place where she would draw and paint, read and listen to music. Sometimes she would pull out her old telescope, a well loved relic from her school days, and gaze at the stars and the moon in the night sky, and at other times simply relax and look out of the window to watch the world go by. Not that there was ever anything of significance to catch her eye, as Jericho Place was a quiet cul-de-sac, especially at the bottom end where Selina lived.

But something changed one day in early September as the leaves were beginning to turn and the air became cooler with the tang of Autumn. It was the day that the new people moved in to 13 Jericho place. They were a middle-aged couple - the woman quite striking for her years, with sleek dark hair that she wore twisted into an elegant chignon. She was tall and wore expensive-looking clothes. Her husband, Selina assumed, had dark hair flecked with grey at the temples, and strands of silver at the crown. When Selina sneaked a peek at him through her telescope, she found he had brilliant blue eyes the colour of forget-me-nots. He was also quite hot, considering he was an older man; for some reason she couldn't fathom, Selina was attracted to older men.

It didn't take long for Selina's mom to find out a few pertinent details about the new arrivals. "He's a retired professor apparently," she told Selina. "Professor Flynn - and he spends his time doing private research. Isn't that interesting?"

"I suppose," said Selina, thinking it sounded rather dull.

"His first name is Hugh, and his wife is called Caroline. She's an accountant. What a smart couple. I'm sure they'll soon settle down nicely. Now - bring me your dirty washing down, there's a dear, I'm going to put a fresh load in."

Selina duly deposited her laundry in a big pile on the kitchen floor, and returned upstairs with a sandwich, an apple, and a can of coke. She ate lunch in her chair by the window, whilst flicking through the pages of a glossy magazine, pausing once in a while to idly watch as the removal men unloaded an assortment of furniture and cardboard boxes. Shortly afterwards, the engine of the big removal van burst into life as it was driven away. Selina lost interest in the new neighbours at that point and returned to her magazine, and after that immersed herself in the latest novel she was reading.

"Selina."

"Yeah?"

There was a brief silence, and then her name was called a second time. Putting down her half eaten apple, she got up from the chair and went towards the door, opened it, and looked out onto the deserted landing.

"Is that you, Mom?"

But as soon as she had asked the question, she knew that it wasn't her mom, for it had been a man's voice. No one other than Selina and her mother lived in the house. I must be imagining things, she thought. Returning to the chair by the window, she picked up her book.

"Selina." The voice was louder, more insistent, and there was a barely discernible edge of irritation in the tone.

Puzzled, Selina looked round her room, and then cast her glance at the house opposite. Someone was standing by the attic window of number 13, clearly observing her. She recognized Professor Flynn, and her first reaction was one of annoyance. She objected to being overlooked. This was an invasion of her privacy. What the heck did the old man want anyway?

"Mind your manners, girl."

Selina's jaw dropped. This wasn't remotely feasible, for unless she had just inherited super powers, how was it possible for her to hear what the man was saying across the road from behind a closed window? But it was the professor. She knew it was him, and as she stared at him, he fixed her with his blue-eyed gaze and she was unable to look away.

"So, Selina, now that I have your attention, it seems you have something on your conscience, something you need to confess."

"Am I imagining this?" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Not at all. You are real. I am real. We are conversing, though perhaps not in the conventional way. And it has come to my attention Selina, that you have been a bad girl... a very bad girl."

"Wh...what do you mean?" she stammered.

"You know very well what I mean. What did you do last night with Jimmy Walker?"

"Oh!" Colour flooded Selina's face. Shit! How could the professor possibly know about that? The kissing and petting on the back row of the cinema, and afterwards, in the park, she had let Jimmy penetrate her, in an all too brief and somewhat disappointing encounter filled with his thrusts and primal grunts.

"I know everything. And use of base language in addition to licentious behaviour has earned you additional punishment."

She shook her head. "Jimmy has been talking. I'll kill him."

"He has not, and the only thing you will do is obey my command. You have been a lewd girl, a wicked girl, a fornicating unrepentant little girl, and it is time for your punishment."

As those words spun round inside her head, Selina felt a tremor of fear and a frisson of excitement which made her shiver. She was lewd. She was wicked. And she had enjoyed being so - but what was this stuff about punishment? The very word made her shiver again.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" He can't have said that.

"I did say that. I'll say it again - take off your clothes."

There was that edge to the voice again, an odd inflection, something strange ... she had to obey. Refusal was out of the question. In an almost trance-like state she pulled off her top and jeans and stood by the window in her underwear.

"Remove everything."

Selina swallowed and with trembling fingers, unhooked the clasp of her bra. Her pert breasts sprang free, the nipples engorged and swollen. Hard little nubs of desire. Lust. Wicked thoughts whirled. Putting her thumbs in the waistband, she slowly peeled her panties down over the swell of her hips and thighs; they fell to the floor and she stepped out of them.

"Arms up. Hands behind your head."

She obeyed, feeling gloriously, wonderfully shameful. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward. But what if this conversation is all in my head? I could get arrested for public indecency. A small smile played on the curve of her lips. I'm so naughty.

"Good," he said approvingly. "And no, this conversation is most definitely not in your head. Right, move the chair further back. That's it. Now spread your legs and bend over it."

Facing the chair, her backside presented to the window, Selina obeyed, giving him a pleasing view of her bottom and her most intimate secret places. A flush of shame suffused her face as she felt the familiar tingling in the pit of her stomach. He knew, of course. He knew she was aroused. He knew everything.

"Lower your hands. Place them on your bottom, a hand on each cheek. Feel the smoothness of your skin. Caress the curves. Trail your index finger down the valley between your buttocks. Slap your right cheek."

Selina slapped one side of her bottom. Her cheek wobbled. The slap rang out like a pistol shot in the stillness of the room.

"Slap it again. And again."

She obeyed, her hand splatting down on her pale cheeks. It was not unpleasant - quite the opposite, in fact. She slapped herself again without being prompted, and felt his approval flow into her.

"Harder. Do it harder."

She did. Her bottom was beginning to sting now. Her right cheek was becoming tender.

"Harder still," he urged. "Now spank the other side. Good. Yes. Now move down to the top of your thighs.

"Oh!" yelped Selina.

"Pick up the belt from your jeans. Double it over. Wind the end round your hand. Now lash your lower buttocks. Ten lashes. Count them!"

"One... two... oh this hurts," she wailed. "Three, four, owwww!"

The leather belt licked at her soft young flesh, the once milky white skin now turning from pink to red as the belt slashed down over her thighs.



© Chloe Carpenter
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.