The lesson here is: figure out why the rent is so cheap before you sign the lease.
In the end, Tim figured it was a peach of a deal. His new job didn’t pay much and he did not want a long commute, so the top half of Mrs. Howland’s duplex was a real find after a long and frustrating apartment search. Mrs. Howland lived on the first floor and rented out the second floor. The apartment was small, just a one bedroom, but Tim didn’t need much space and the rent was affordable. Mrs. Howland, his landlady, struck Tim as something of an odd character. She reminded him of a mom out of a 1950’s sitcom or an elementary school teacher from the same period. A large woman, but not fat, she wore the type of flower print dresses church ladies wore, the kind that had gone out of fashion years ago. For a woman in her late 40’s, she still had a nice figure, if a bit overripe. It was the cinched waist. It constricted her middle, but by contrast her hips and bust were curvy and nicely proportioned. Her coppery hair pouffed out to frame a round face with wide set eyes and a prominent nose which gave her an authoritarian schoolmarm look.
In fact, in some ways she reminded him of a former teacher of his, and that was uncomfortable because he had to admit to himself that he had entertained a few lustful thoughts about her from time to time. It was the same with Mrs. Howland. That big ripe figure of hers and that full mane of auburn hair appealed to him on some primitive sexual level. She looked like a woman who would smother you with all those lush curves, and Tim found himself checking out her tits and ample sized ass every time they crossed paths. The fact that she was twenty years his senior didn’t seem to matter much.
Tim, who was rather small of stature, also found her intimidating since she towered over him by a good four inches. She had attitudes out of the 1950’s as well. She was very explicit about acceptable behavior, and there were to be no loud parties, no drink or smoking and no female visitors overnight. As to that last part, she had no need to worry. Tim was new in town and knew absolutely no one, so the prospect of his having an overnight female guest was pretty dim.
There were certain other expectations, Tim was told. For one thing, he was to keep his apartment clean, and Mrs. Howland reserved the right to inspect it from time to time. “If it’s not clean, we get bugs, so I insist,” she said.
Tim understood that, but there was the issue of privacy. After all, he was a guy and wasn’t above keeping a cache of porn mags around for those lonely nights. He wouldn’t want her to see those. Very proper and old fashioned in that way, she would no doubt disapprove.
After a time she became an object of Tim’s lust. If he saw her arrive with packages in her car, he’d offer to help. It gave him a chance to walk behind her and see those lush buttocks flexing under her skirt. The sight made him hard, and often he’d go upstairs afterward, pull out a magazine and stroke himself to climax, spewing his seed all over the bedclothes. He promised himself he’d wash those, too, just in case.
His best intentions at housekeeping went awry, however, and he came home one day to find Eve Howland in his apartment. She was seated at the small table in his dining nook. He looked around. The apartment was clean and all picked up. That meant Mrs. Howland had done it, because he had left the place a wreck, having put off that chore time and time again. With a sinking feeling he noticed a stack of magazines on the table.
“Well, there you are, Timothy,” she said.
Dammit all. The porn mags. She’d found them and now he was supremely embarrassed.
“Mrs. Howland, I can explain. I was going to get to the apartment,” he said, blushing beet red.
“Never you mind, young man. It’s this I’m talking about.” She tapped the stack of magazines with her finger. “It’s disgraceful, a nice young man like you spending your money on such pornography.”
“Well, I … I sometimes can’t help myself.” He didn’t know why he felt he had to explain. He guessed he didn’t want Mrs. Howland to think badly of him. “It’s sort of a compulsion I guess.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, and moved toward the stack. “I’ll just throw them away and that will be that,” he said.
She put her hand on the stack of magazines. Tim froze. “Sit down, Timothy,” said Mrs. Howland. “Let’s talk.”
Tim sat down at the table. What now?
“I know boys like this kind of thing,” she began. “But it is a nasty habit, and should be nipped in the bud. I know just how to do that,” she added with a confident nod of her head. “Would you like for me to tell you?”
“I suppose, that is … yes, ma’am.” Tim sat motionless and listened while she first nodded then continued. “Well. I used to be the director at a vacation bible school in the summertime. Some members of my church rented cabins from a Christian camp and several of us bible study teachers along with the pastor’s wife acted as staff. This was a sleepover camp and we had both boys and girls who would stay in two week sessions. One summer several boys, really one boy in particular, snuck some of these magazines in with him. We told all the parents that certain things were contraband, including smut of any sort whatsoever of course, but this one boy hid them in his luggage.”
“One night I was making rounds after lights out, and I heard noise. It was laughter coming from one of the boys’ cabins. I entered the cabin and walked softly so as not to wake the others. What I saw were three boys on one bed with a blanket over their heads shining a flashlight onto something they were reading. They sat together turning the pages, looking at pictures and giggling like girls.” She folded her arms, shook her head and frowned as she continued. “The little scamps were looking at dirty magazines, just like you have here, Timothy. Well, I put a stop to that party, let me tell you. When they saw me they jumped up, all red faced. They tried to hide what they were doing, but I’d caught them all red handed. I also saw some very stiff male members, if you know what I mean. They’d had their hands down in their pants playing with themselves. Disgusting and lewd behavior, that’s what it was. Onanism is a very serious sin, you know.”
Tim blushed. She knew, of course, what the magazines were really for.
“The next day we called them into the camp office. It was decided that punishment was indeed due. Pornography had no place in a bible camp, and all three of them knew they had sinned by looking at those pictures and exciting themselves. It was the devil’s work and the devil had to be driven out. Do you understand, Timothy?”
Tim understood, but what did that have to do with him? These had been kids. He was an adult. “So what did you do?”
“We prayed on it, and then talked to the parents. The boys were all from God fearing families, and they were appalled. It was decided that each boy could stay at camp on the condition that he accept punishment for his sin.” She stared Tim in the eye. “The punishment we decided upon was a good sound spanking on the boy’s bare bottom, given by me as camp director.”
Tim gulped visibly. A spanking? A cold chill formed at the base of Tim’s spine. The atmosphere in the room had turned and there was a palpable tension in the air.
“That’s right, Timothy. An old fashioned sound spanking was just what those boys needed, and they got it. They reported to my cabin the very next day. The boys lined up along the wall, and one at a time I called them over. As each boy went over my knee, I peeled down his pants and underwear and spanked that boy’s bare fanny long and hard, until it was beet red and the boy was crying real tears. I’ve got a strong arm and believe you me, I know how to spank. Those boys did not sit comfortably for days afterwards. And just so they got the message, the punishment was repeated a few days later. And, I expect, those boys’ parents may have had something to say about it when their camp session was over and they went home.”
“I don’t think …” Tim stammered, then stopped. “What are you suggesting?”
“Timothy, spankings are a very natural and normal part of growing up, and it’s my belief that growing boys need to be put across a motherly knee from time to time, have their pants taken down, and have their bottoms soundly spanked. It keeps them from all kinds of mischief and bad habits. And I think that goes for young gentlemen as well,” she added, watching his reaction with narrowed eyes and a knowing expression.
“You mean … me?” Tim could hardly believe what she was implying.
“Timothy, I don’t think I could have a tenant living right above me who I knew was practicing self-abuse with dirty pictures. It isn’t clean, and I insist on a clean house.”
“Well, ok, Mrs. Howland, I’ll just throw them away. I won’t bring any more into the house. I promise.” That should do it, he thought.
Eve Howland shook her head. “I’m afraid that isn’t good enough, Timothy. What I see is a young man who may have good intentions, but who will go back and sin again when my back is turned.” She looked Tim in the face and shook her head. “No, there must be a reckoning. I think a good spanking would be beneficial to you, and I think it is a necessary consequence, if nothing else to impress upon you how serious I am.”
“You want to sp …spank me?” Tim said, incredulous at the very idea.
“It’s up to you. You can move out, otherwise” She folded her arms and looked Tim in the eye, awaiting a response.
“B – but I’m an adult. I’ve never had a spanking before.”
“A young man is never too old for a good spanking, at least in my book. And the fact that you’ve never had one, well, that explains a lot.”
Tim sat there dumbfounded. His landlady seemed determined to give him a humiliating spanking because of the porno mags. Why hadn’t he cleaned up? So stupid! Good grief, the idea was embarrassing. Spanking was for kids. He was twenty two years old and she was proposing to put him across her knee like he was a boy of ten. What was he going to do? He had few options. He needed this apartment – the rent, the location – it was perfect for his needs.
He looked at Mrs. Howland out of the corner of his eye, and had another thought. He was sexually attracted to her despite the age difference. It was all those lush curves. Women like her, all large and powerful, but at the same time wholly feminine, held a fascination for him. All of a sudden the thought of her laying hands on him and that body-to-body contact seemed oddly appealing. He hadn’t had any experience with spanking. How bad could it be? He supposed he could take it. The episode would be more embarrassing than anything else. At that thought his cock began to harden.
“Well, I … ok, but this is silly,” he said, finally capitulating.
She wagged her finger at Tim. “You may think it silly, young man, but I guarantee you it is not. I am serious. Now, you will present yourself downstairs in my apartment at 7 o’clock tomorrow evening. You will be prompt. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Howland.”
“Good,” she said and rose from her seat, magazines in hand. “We will nip this little habit in the bud, you and I, and there will be no more of this in the future.”
All day long Tim was on pins and needles. He couldn’t concentrate at work. Instead, his imagination worked overtime trying to conjure up a picture of what seven o’clock would bring. He felt alternately aroused and terrified. Coworkers told him he looked pale and he was aware of the sheen of sweat across his brow. Images of spankings from comic books and movies floated into his head – The Katzenjammer Kids, The Little Rascals, sitcoms on TV. It was always played for laughs there, but he was afraid what Mrs. Howland had planned was no joke. She’d made it clear that she felt he needed a “real” spanking, and with her size an apparent strength, she seemed fully capable of delivering one. For the umpteenth time he looked at the clock and shivered as the hours dwindled down.
He arrived home as usual, at around 5:30. Normally he would fix himself something to eat, but his stomach was in knots. He had no appetite. He asked himself for the hundredth time why he had agreed to this shameful thing. It was laughable to think than in little more than an hour he would be receiving a childhood style spanking from a woman nearly twice his age and, one who was serious about it. He paced around. What should he wear? Of all the stupid things to have to think about.
He decided to be prompt. It wouldn’t do to be late, so at precisely 7 pm he knocked on Eve Howland’s door. She answered the door and ushered him in. “Please go into the parlor, Timothy,” she said. “To your right.” The front parlor was a room made for conversation. A high-backed couch with end tables stood along one wall while antique chairs occupied spaces flanking the couch. A coffee table that would have sat in the middle had been shoved to the side. In its place was a heavy armless chair facing the couch. Mrs. Howland stood in the doorway. She wore a white dress with a short flared skirt that exposed her knees. It was the shortest dress Tim had ever seen her wear and it flattered her legs.
“Now, Tim, you must get into the proper frame of mind to receive correction, because that is what this is – correction to stop a nasty habit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“So take off your clothes and go stand in the corner. You may leave your underwear and socks on.” Tim had a rush of panic.
“Take my clothes off? That’s crazy … you can’t …” he began.
She cut him off. “You will do as I say, Timothy, or there is the door.” She extended an arm, pointing .
“Oh, geez, ok,” he said. “All of them?” This was getting more surreal by the minute.
Eve frowned. “You will say, yes, ma’am and no ma’am and speak only when spoken to, young man.”
Tim gulped. The tone of her voice indicated she meant business, so he had no choice but to comply. He sat down and pulled his shoes off, then took off his shirt.
“Lay your things across the sofa neatly,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Tim. Blushing red he undid his buckle and pulled off his slacks. This left him in nothing but tight white cotton y-briefs, an undershirt and socks. He looked at Mrs. Howland beseechingly.
“Now go stand in the corner. I’ll be ready for you in a minute.”
Tim stood, facing the corner, feeling like an absolute fool. This just got worse and worse. The minutes ticked by. What was she waiting for? His question was answered, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ring. The sound of Mrs. Howland’s pumps clicking through the foyer as she went to answer the door reached his ears. He panicked and started to grab his clothes when he heard his landlady’s voice.
“You stay right there, Timothy. Don’t you move or it will be worse.”
Tim froze. He heard the door open, and with that, voices.
“Oh, hello, Betty. Come right in. You are right on time. He is in here, in the parlor.”
“Do not turn around, Timothy,” he heard a voice say as Mrs. Howland and her guest entered the parlor. “He is ready and has agreed to accept his punishment, haven’t you Timothy?”
Tim could barely choke out a “yes, ma’am,” he was so rattled.
“So this is your young man, Eve. I must say he is a fine specimen. Just perfect. Like a young Adonis.”
She took a seat on the sofa opposite the armless chair.
“Mrs. Simkins is here as a witness, Timothy. She is also here to learn how a young man should be disciplined for sins of the flesh. Our church’s women’s auxiliary strongly condemns the type of behavior you have engaged in, and we believe several of our young men could benefit from similar treatment.”
Tim peeked around and sized up Betty Simpkins as she walked into the parlor and took a seat. Definitely younger than Mrs. Howland, she was a tall busty woman with long legs and a rangy build. Her black hair parted in the middle and fell toward her shoulders, framing a face that featured high cheekbones, a hawkish nose and big brown almond eyes. Her breasts strained the front of her blouse and Ted had to admonish himself not to stare. She was hot.
Mrs. Howland strode over to the chair in the center of the room and took a seat. Tim watched, mesmerized while she pulled her skirt up revealing thighs encased in nylons. The clasps of her garter belt were clearly visible. Nearly instantly his penis began to swell, lengthening and becoming hard.
“We shall begin. Come here, Timothy,” she said.
Tim had to obey. He stepped toward Mrs. Howland to stand to her right as directed.
“Underpants down, Timothy,” she said. “All the way.” She indicated with a finger pointing down.
Tim gasped. “You mean in front of…?”
“I do indeed, young man. Take your pants right down.” His face turned red with embarrassing shame. I have a boner and they’ll see, he thought. It was total humiliation. He had no choice. Tim slipped his thumbs into the elastic of the briefs and pulled them down. It was supremely embarrassing to strip in front of this woman who was twice his age, and he felt flushed all over even as goosebumps rose on his bare skin. Naked now except for some white crew socks and a shirt, Tim held his hands in front of his groin while he stood for Mrs. Howland’s appraisal, his erection bobbing up and down uncontrollably.
“Well, I never,…” said Betty Simpkins noticing Tim’s erection. “Will you look at that? How impudent!”
Tim blushed ten shades of red. He could not hide the evidence of his arousal. Somehow being naked in front of these two fully dressed ladies, and being minutes away from a humiliating spanking had made him erect.
“Timothy! Tsk. Tsk,” said Mrs. Howland. “This is what naughtiness like this does, Betty,” she said addressing her friend.
“I see,” said her friend, leaning in to get a good look.
“Well, we will fix that! Timothy, get over my knee this instant.”
This was it. Tim leaned forward and allowed Mrs. Howland to guide him face down over her lap. His penis slid along her nylon covered thighs and the sensation was electric, causing a surge of erotic pleasure to course through him. She pulled and adjusted him with her big hands until he was bent right over her right knee, bottom thrust prominently upward. His nose was almost at the floor and his feet barely touched the floor on the other side.
“Now, this is how you position a boy for a sound spanking, Betty. Make sure his bottom is the highest point. The target is right here.” She patted the lower half of his bottom cheeks just below the crown. Tim felt the contact of her palm with his bare flesh. His cock surged.
“I see,” said Betty.
Tim glanced sideways at the woman whose eyes shone bright with excitement.
“Now, then, you get a good grip and pin his right arm to his side.” She reached around, clamping her left arm over his back.
Tim felt like a trussed up turkey. His bare ass was completely vulnerable and she had him encircled in a steely grip.
“All right, Timothy. I begin. Do not try to squirm away.”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Tim felt three hard cracks from Mrs. Howland’s palm land on opposite sides of his bottom and then right across the center. Then, after a second or two, she did it again. Then again. Tim felt a hot sting that rose in intensity, building into an uncomfortable heat. He fluttered his legs involuntarily. Ow! Ow! He thought to himself. The sting was a shock. His landlady kept up the tempo, spanking the globes of his bottom with hard openhanded smacks. Was that just her hand? It felt like a paddle. She had a hard hand and it was setting his seat ablaze. He writhed as best he could, but his motion was limited, and he couldn’t evade her punishing palm which spanked alternate cheeks of his bottom with solid hearty blows that sent shock waves of distressing pain from his bottom cheeks outward.
“Ah…ah…ok! That hurts!” Tim was finding it difficult to take his punishment. He had severely underestimated how much this would sting. Right now his behind felt like she had applied a hot iron to it. He squirmed and bucked, but to no avail. The heat from the sharp stinging smacks from Mrs. Howland’s capable palm seemed to grow ever more intense.
“See, Betty, this is how you spank a young man – with hard smacks right on the fleshy parts of his sit spots.”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Her arm delivered a new flurry of spanks and Tim yelped. “You have to beat the sin right out of him. Every young man needs to have his bare fanny smacked long and hard by a determined woman from time to time. It’s the only way to make them behave.”
“Yow! Ow! Arghhh!” Tim was afraid he was bawling like a girl.
“Oh, does it smart, Timothy?” She asked, even while peppering his bottom with brisk spanks. “It should, and there’s more,” she said landing a brisk volley of spanks.
Tim spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes, Ma’am, please. Please stop.” He bucked across her lap, almost banging his nose into the floor. His feet waved helplessly as her arm rose and fell, rose and fell. His eyes started to water.
“Oh, we don’t stop yet, young man. You’re barely warm.” With that she redoubled her efforts, launching into another barrage of rapid fire smacking that made Tim throw his head back and howl. Tim squirmed so much that Mrs. Howland shifted him further over and, took her right leg and clamped it over the back of Tim’s legs, pinning him to prevent further movement. Now his toes could drum against the floor helplessly, but no other movement was possible. His jackknifed position gave her unfettered access to Tim’s bare cheeks as she landed one sonorous smack after another on his red and swollen fanny. She finished by making Tim count out a dozen smacks delivered slowly and with the full force of her arm behind each one. Tim was gasping by the time it was done.
“There!” said Mrs Howland with one final smack that rattled Tim’s teeth. “That’s how you spank a naughty boy.”
Then she lifted him off her lap and set him effortlessly on his feet.
Tim started hopping from foot to foot, rubbing his behind furiously. “Oooh … ahhh,” he bleated – anything to put out the fire in his throbbing seat. Mrs. Howland wasn’t having any of that.
“Stand back in the corner, Timothy, hands at your side. I’ll say when you can rub,” she admonished. “And leave those pants down. I want that naughty bottom on display.”
Tim reluctantly obeyed. He sure didn’t want any more. He clenched his hands as he stood in the corner listening, his underpants bunched at his ankles.
“Most impressive, Eve. He won’t look at dirty pictures for a while, I think,” said Betty with a giggle.
“Oh you’d be surprised, Betty. The scamps recover pretty quickly. I think quite a few young men today need frequent applications of a woman’s hand or paddle to their naughty fannies.”
Betty chuckled. “If you say, so, Eve. But I must say though, he seems to have learned his lesson for now.”
The way they talked about it, it occurred to Tim that maybe this wasn’t a rare occurrence. Were there others?