Here was the plan. Mrs. Reed always did a curfew check. She’d come upstairs and open each bedroom door and look in, making sure everyone was there if they weren’t otherwise accounted for down in the library or recreation room where the TV was.
“We’ll slip off up to my room before curfew while they are all watching TV. When Mrs. Reed opens my door, you give me a big kiss, like you’re kissing me goodnight. That will make her jealous. When she sends you another note, tell me when you have to go meet her on the fourth floor. I’ll get Mrs. Hansen. I’ll tell her I heard a strange noise coming from the fourth floor. I’ll lead her up there, she’ll hear you inside and fling open the door and Ida Reed’s goose will be cooked. What do you think?”
It sounded ok, but James had reservations. “I think you’d better get there in a hurry or my goose will be cooked. She threatened to blister my butt good. I mean, she warned me about Fran. When she sees me with you she’ll think I’m some kind of cheating Casanova.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lisa. “It’s a good plan.”
They planned it for a Saturday night. There would be fewer people there, plus the curfew was extended to midnight on Saturdays. But, because it was a weekend, both Mrs. Hansen and Mrs. Reed were extra vigilant. James had not been summoned by Ida Reed for a week since the incident reported by Lisa. Had she turned over a new leaf? James didn’t know, but from time to time he caught her looking at him, at times flashing him a knowing smile. He figured she was just biding her time. A note could come at any time. And then another thought hit him. He should hold onto those notes. The evidence could come in handy.
Saturday night James and Lisa sat in the TV room. Betty had a date. Molly was visiting a friend at the women’s dorm. Fran came in from something, James didn’t know what. At 11:00 Molly came in. Lisa announced that she was going to bed. Two minutes later James announced that he too was turning in.
Fran watched them both get up and leave. Her eyes followed James as he left. He seemed nervous. Something wasn’t right. She was still mad at James over the paddling incident, but she had just figured she’d let him stew awhile before letting him back into her good graces. But why were both Lisa and James going to bed before midnight on Saturday? As soon as James was out of the room, she got up and padded silently upstairs toward the girls’ wing on the second floor. She could see James turn the corner at the second story landing. But he didn’t head for the third floor. No, he was headed for Lisa’s room. Fran saw James push Lisa’s door open and slip inside.
Fran fumed. That two-timer! He acted like he wanted so much for her to be his girlfriend, but what? He’s making time with Lisa? It wasn’t so much that Fran actually wanted James. He was nice, but…. What rankled Fran was that he was apparently planning on dumping her. Then a cold and cruel idea formed in her head. I’ll show them both. She turned around and went looking for her no-nonsense landlady.
Fran found Mrs. Hansen in the kitchen pouring a glass of milk.
“Mrs. Hansen,” said Fran. “I think there is something going on that you should know about. It’s James and Lisa. They are…well, they are…”
“What on earth are you talking about? They are what?” She turned toward Fran and put down the milk bottle.
“They are together. Upstairs,” she said, pointing up.
“Together? Where?” Mrs. Hansen frowned, her eyes boring into Fran’s.
“In Lisa’s room,” said Fran. It was strictly forbidden. Boys did not go into any girl’s bedroom. Anytime.
Mrs. Hansen took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared. “Show me,” she said.
Up in Lisa’s room, things were getting interesting.
“Uh, what should we do?” said James as he slipped in the door.
“Well,” said Lisa, “first we turn off the lights.” Lisa moved over to the wall where the light switch was and flicked it off, leaving the room dark save for dim moonlight that streamed through the window. “Then, you come over here.” Lisa sat on the bed and crooked her finger, a come-hither smile on her face. James sat down on the bed next to her.
“Now what?” he said.
Lisa giggled. “Now you kiss me, silly. Don’t worry,” she said, sensing James’ reluctance as he glanced nervously at the door. “ She doesn’t do bed check until later. We have time.” She put her arms around James and drew him in. As they clinched and James’ lips found Lisa’s, he realized how nice this felt. The warm softness of her body pressed to his, the tender taste of her lips, the feel of her fingers in his hair. He felt instant arousal like an electric charge as Lisa’s tongue intertwined with his. It was soft, it was sweet. Not at all like the ravenous intensity of Ida Reed. They tumbled back into the bed and turned on their sides facing each other. Lisa put her arm around James’ waist pulling him tighter against her. She pressed her groin against his and allowed her breasts to mash into James chest. And oh it felt so good, she decided. She swooned when James put his hand on her bottom and began to gently squeeze the satiny globes. The kisses grew more passionate, so much so that the couple forgot entirely that their purpose was merely to create an appearance of impropriety for Mrs. Reed’s edification. The plan had been for Ida Reed to see them doing no more than holding hands. But they’d gone far beyond that.
What they created by getting so carried away was the real thing, a fact that was abundantly clear to Greta Hansen as she burst through the door and turned on the light.
“Just what is going on here?” she thundered. The couple shot straight up, startled and disoriented as the harsh light illuminated their dishabille.
“Mrs. Hansen!” Lisa exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. Why her? Why now? Where was Mrs. Reed?
James rose. “We…we didn’t do anything. I was about to leave.”
“You stay right there, young man. Imagine!” she huffed. “The two of you cavorting like alley cats. This is strictly forbidden and you both know it.” She shook her finger at the couple. “There will be a reckoning for both of you. A special reckoning. And this won’t wait until Sunday night. You will both report to me tomorrow promptly after church. You will see then what the wages of sin are.” She folded her arms and glared at them both. “James, go to your room at once. Lisa, you are in for the night.”
As shocked and nonplussed as the two were, James still noticed Fran in the background, standing in the hall behind Mrs. Hansen. She had done this. She had ratted them out.
On Sunday they all went to church. It was another rule. Throughout the service James fidgeted nervously. He snuck glances at Lisa occasionally. She would return them with a wan smile, but clearly, she too was dreading the return to the house after church.
Mrs. Reed had been uncharacteristically silent that morning. James had tried to avoid making eye contact, but he couldn’t help looking her way, trying to gauge her reaction to the events of last night. But when their eyes did meet she fixed him with a glare that told him that this incident wasn’t over by a long shot.
They drove back from church. As the five student boarders trooped into the house, Mrs. Hansen announced that lunch would be delayed. They were to wait. “But James and Lisa will come with me. Right now,” she said. Molly and Betty tried to flash sympathetic smiles at Lisa and James as the two turned to follow Mrs. Hansen down the hallway to her quarters. Fran’s face was twisted into a self satisfied smirk.
She ushered them into the room. Ida Reed entered as well. She shut the door and addressed them both.
“The two of you should be ashamed. I hope you listened to the pastor this morning. His sermon was very relevant.” Indeed, James and Lisa had had to listen to the preacher rail against the sins of the flesh and describe the fires of hell that awaited those who transgressed. “I’m sure your parents would be very displeased if they knew what you two had been up to last night,” she continued. “And in fact, they would probably do what I am about to do. But since they are not here, I must act in their stead. As you know I had extensive discussions with your parents before you contracted to board here and they all approved of my methods.”
James and Lisa cast glances at each other. Lisa felt sick. Her plan had failed miserably and now here they were, probably about to undergo a humiliating juvenile punishment at the hands of this woman. And the sheer hypocrisy to boot. Lisa swore to herself that she’d fix this somehow—with James most importantly, but she’d also expose this holier-than-thou pretender.
James’ mouth was dry and butterflies churned in his stomach. How had he gotten himself into this? Was she going to punish them together? That question was answered by her next pronouncement.
“James, you go to that corner. Lisa, you stand in that corner. Face the wall, and no looking around.” They moved to comply and shuffled over to opposite corners. It was a large bedroom and James stood in a corner twenty feet away from Mrs. Hansen’s large four poster bed. Isolated though he was, there was a mirror to his left, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the reflection of the foot of the bed. There was a padded bench there. Mrs. Hansen was lost to his view for a moment, but he heard her get up and walk over to a closet. The door squeaked on its hinges and footsteps told him Mrs. Hansen was coming back. James saw her carrying an object in her hand. It was a small paddle, about ten inches long and rectangular with rounded edges. It was a smaller version of the one she customarily used.
She sat down on the bench, paddle in hand. James regarded her in the mirror, this formidable hefty woman, tapping the paddle in her palm, her expression one of grim determination. She looked like every schoolboy’s nightmare, the authoritarian schoolmarm prepared to deliver a painful chastisement for misbehavior. James almost felt his knees knock.
“Lisa, remove your dress and slip, then come over here.”
James heard a soft gasp from Lisa and then the sound of a zipper. The room was silent save for the soft rustling of clothing. James couldn’t help it. The thought of Lisa undressing made his penis harden. Then he saw her in the mirror as she walked over to Mrs. Hansen. Clad in only a white bra and white panties, she was a vision of sexiness. Voluptuous, but not fat, her pinched in waist served to emphasize her wide hips and jutting bottom. Her breasts stood high and firm with no hint of sag.
“Now,” said Mrs. Hansen, as Lisa stood to her right, “You must be punished. What you did was strictly forbidden in this house and you know it. And as naughty children you will be punished as such. Lisa, place yourself across my lap. Right now.”
“Oh please Mrs. Hansen.” Lisa spoke for the first time. “We didn’t mean it. We were only…”
Mrs. Hansen cut her off. “A blind man could see what you were up to, girl. Now get across my knee. You broke the rules and your bare seat is going to pay the price.”
Slowly Lisa lowered herself across the woman’s lap. Mrs. Hansen took a minute to adjust her until her bottom was angled up at the ceiling. Then she laid the paddle aside for a moment and slid her fingers into the elastic of Lisa’s panties.
Lisa blushed bright red as she felt her panties slide down to her thighs and ultimately come to rest around her knees. It was unbearably shameful, being treated like this. She hadn’t been in this position since she was fourteen and had called her mother a bad name. She gritted her teeth as she felt the paddle tapping her seat.
“You will each receive twenty spanks with my paddle. They will be hard. It will hurt, but you will both learn a good lesson. Mrs. Reed, keep count.” She pressed the wood onto Lisa’s behind for a moment, as if lining it up. Then she raised the paddle above her shoulder and brought it down. There was the sharp smack! of wood striking flesh.
“Yow!” exclaimed Lisa. It was like her fanny had burst into flame.
At measured intervals of a few seconds each, Mrs. Hansen doled out the punishment. The splats of the paddle on Lisa’s tender bottom ricocheted around the room like the pop of firecrackers. Lisa hissed and yelped in distress. She fluttered her feet, drumming her toes on the floor.
Smack! The paddle flattened Lisa’s bottom cheeks.
Smack! Another solid lick made her squeal.
Crack! Lisa threw back her head and gasped.
James saw the fulsome cheeks jiggle as each swat landed and, God help him, it made him randy. But he was mesmerized. Watching Lisa’s sexy form squirming across Mrs. Hansen’s lap getting her bottom spanked presented a fascinating spectacle. The stout matron, a naughty girl across her lap, her bottom bare. The rise and fall of her arm as she raised it then brought the paddle down. The sharp crack, the wriggle of the girl’s shapely fanny and the resulting cry—it was a lurid display, the likes of which James had never seen.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Lisa squealed in reaction to the awful stinging swats. She couldn’t help it. Every lick was more intense than the last. It was awful, being helplessly jackknifed over this woman’s knee, her bottom bare, feeling the sting of that paddle over and over. She felt that she might cry.
James observed Lisa’s hips buck up and down in reaction to the paddling and listened to her soft cries. Her bottom was a bright red now. She was such a fair skinned girl that it would color that way. Then there must have been a signal from Mrs. Reed because suddenly it stopped. Mrs. Hansen put down the paddle.
“Now, girl, you may get up. Go back in the corner, put your hands on your head and no rubbing.” Sniffling back tears, Lisa picked herself up and shuffled over to her corner. Then Mrs. Hansen turned toward James. “James, you are next. Take off your shirt and trousers and come over here to me.”
James panicked. It wasn’t the imminent paddling, it was his wayward cock. It was rock hard. Mrs. Hansen would see. He gritted his teeth and willed it to subside as he shucked off his clothes. He heard Lisa sobbing softly and he turned to look.
“Don’t you look at her. You get over here,” commanded Mrs. Hansen.
James stood in front of her. Her eyes dropped to his crotch and the evidence of his arousal. “Well,” she said icily. “We’ll soon fix that, young man. Get over my knee.”
James went over the woman’s lap. He felt his white briefs sliding to his knees. The wood of the paddle tapped his cheeks, almost gently it seemed, before he felt the first hard whack.
It was a blaze of white hot sting. Then crack! Another. A few seconds later, another. I can’t take this, was his thought. It’s too much. The swats piled on top of each other, pain exploding across his bottom. He squirmed involuntarily.
“You stop that squirming, young man. You are going to take this paddling like it or not.” Then she resumed.
The cracks of the paddle fell with sonorous regularity creating a burning pain that blotted out everything. His whole world was the red hot searing agony inflicted on his behind. He heard Ida Reed count in a dry monotone. “…thirteen (crack!)…fourteen (crack!)..fifteen (snack!). James clenched his fists and tried to take it. He imagined what he must look like—bent over her knee like a ten-year-old, pants down, bare bottom up, his fanny wriggling as the paddle connected, wielded by this grimly determined matron. It would be comical if it weren’t so painfully humiliating.
How James coped without breaking down in tears was nothing short of miraculous. But he didn’t want Lisa to hear him cry like a baby. She hadn’t broken down. But it seemed like Mrs. Hansen spanked harder and harder toward the end, it was as if she were trying to make him cry. But he choked it back. After another scolding, delivered as they stood in the corner hands on head, they were allowed to dress and leave.
“I’m so sorry, James,” said Lisa. They were both standing in the parlor eating supper. There was a wide mantelpiece on which their plates rested. It hurt too much to sit. “My poor bottom is still throbbing. I think it was swollen to twice its size,” she said ruefully.
“Yeah. Mine still feels hot. But Lisa, it’s not your fault. How could you have known? It was Fran. She told on us.”
Lisa noted with satisfaction that James lips were pursed into an angry frown as he said it. Clearly Fran’s actions had soured him on that relationship.
“I don’t know what to do now,” she said, her lower lip protruding sadly.
“We’ll think of something,” said James. “Don’t worry.”
She managed a weak smile. Hopefully he was right. Still, no matter what, Lisa felt she owed him, and she resolved at that moment to make it up to James however she could. And she could certainly envision a few ways in which she might do just that. And that thought gave her a little tingling thrill.
“You know, if you think about it,” James said the next day as they walked to class, “nothing has changed. Mrs. Reed didn’t actually catch us, but she is now aware that you and I are, uh, you know, an item.”
Lisa smiled mischievously. “Is that what we are? An item?”
“Uh, yeah,” said James. “We are, aren’t we?”
“Yes we are, James,” she said with a giggle and snuggled against him. “Yes, we are.”