Charlene

When my wife and I got married (each our second) we decided to move into my
house and use her house for rental property. We leased it to one of my old
friends, Charlene, a woman I had been friends with for a number of years at
work. Charlene's and my friendship had been strictly platonic. We carpooled
some, and during my divorced years went to Friday happy-hours with the people
at work. Charlene was from my part of the country, and had in earlier years
been a school teacher. I have always had a special fascination with school
teachers in relation to authority and spankings. Once, after a few too many
beers, as we were driving home in our carpool, I asked her about her previous
school teaching career and I asked her if she ever used corporal punishment.
Our
discussion remained on an academic level, i.e., the validity of corporal
punishment, the increasing absence of its use in schools, etc. By the time I
got home, I was very hard, thinking about her administering 5 or 10 licks
with a paddle - pants down.

Charlene was attractive in a unique sort of way. At work, she dressed very
conservatively, old fashioned, long dresses, "Laura Ashley" type stuff, wore
conservative black rimmed glasses, and kept her hair up in a bun. She evoked
the image of a "school teacher" and was quite aloof, stern and authoritative
in the work setting. Although lithe, she was large boned, and every time I
looked at her I could see her swinging a paddle, unrelenting, no mercy.

Once, after renting the house, she came by our house to drop off a rent check
on a weekend - she had her long black hair down, was dressed "Land's End"
style - cotton shorts, but her long legs stretched beyond the hem of the
khaki shorts. I had never thought about it, but due to her proclivity for
long dresses, I had never seen her legs before. They were virtually perfect.
She could have been quite attractive if she worked at it. After getting
married, my participation in the office happy hours ceased and I saw Charlene
only occasionally at work, when our divisions interacted, and when
maintaining the house, where I did all the "handyman" type repairs.

One weekend, she asked that I come over and work on a minor plumbing leak.
She went to run errands and shop and said she would not be back until late
afternoon. The "minor" plumbing job turned out bigger than I anticipated.
Charlene was an avid non-smoker, and after several hours of frustrating
plumbing repair, I decided I had to have a cigarette. I did not have time to
go outside and had just lit up. I figured that I could turn on the air
conditioning and ceiling fans, spray some room freshener and she would never
know the difference - after all it was our property and I was doing her a
favor by fixing the leak without having some stranger come in. Running an
electric drill, I did not hear her come up the stairs and open the door.

Bob, what are you doing? You know I HATE smoking! I will NOT tolerate it in
my home. You may own the property, but it is my HOME, and I pay rent. I
apologized profusely, saying I just didn't think about it, it was just a
habit. She grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth and crushed it into the
sink and ran it down the disposal. Her stern manner was intense and brought
back ambivalent memories of my small, west Texas school teachers.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me up from under the kitchen cabinet. I am
going to punish you. Come with me. She firmly led me upstairs. I am going
to teach you a lesson. Charlene was by no means a big woman, she was
somewhat
tall, but perfectly proportioned. I, however, am small, both short and lean,
and the difference in stature enhanced the "school teacher/little boy"
fantasy that was quickly developing. I want you to undress and to stand in
the corner. I protested, "but I need to finish working on the leak." That
will wait. Now get those clothes off. By that time I was entranced by the
fantasy that was not only developing, but being actualized. I complied,
taking off my shirt and jeans. I proceeded to the corner. "No, your
underwear too." "But Charlene...." "Do what I said, NOW, young man."
Charlene
was probably 5 years older, but coupled with her personality, mannerisms, and
dress, was perceived, or fantasized by me, to be older, as I retrogressed
into childhood. I hesitatingly complied, embarrassed and very self-conscious.
I had developed an erection.

She again grabbed may arm and firmly placed me in the corner. "Now, you are
going to stay there until I tell you to move." She went downstairs, brought
up some purchases, and started unwrapping and putting them away. "Come on
Charlene, this isn't funny, I need to get back to work." I turned, to get
dressed, trying to be modest and hide "myself" as I reached for my
under shorts. She stepped over and slapped me before I knew what was
happening. My ears rang and my face stung. "Get back over there - I mean
it!" "Don't you EVER disobey me!" I couldn't believe what was happening.
In reality I was embarrassed beyond belief, but in fantasy, I dreamed of what
might happen next. In our conversation of several years ago, she had
indicated that she had, indeed, paddled students, and when teaching at the
small west Texas town middle school, she had had quite a reputation and had
put the "fear of God" in any number of boys who thought they were "tough."
Was I going to finally get my greatest fantasies fulfilled. One of her
purchases was a wide, leather belt, which was laying on the bed.

I stayed in the corner for about an hour. Already tired and sore from
bending, stretching and squatting while working under the kitchen sink, I was
getting uncomfortable standing in the corner. Charlene had gone downstairs,
and I could hear her puttering around, running the vacuum, and later talking
on the phone. Was she calling my wife, was she telling some of her friends
what was going on? 

I heard her coming up the stairs. "Are you getting tired?" she asked. Still
facing the wall trying to be modest, I said "Yes..." Before I could finish,
she firmly grabbed my arm, her long nails digging in, "Yes, what.." "Yes
MA'AM." "That's more like it," she said as she turned me around to face her,
fully exposed. I still had an erection. "Why are you like that?" Do you
like this? You won't like it when I get through with you." Still firmly
holding my arm she led me over to the bed.

"Do you see that belt? I ought to use it on you, but if I did you would wear
stripes for a week and I bet you would have a hard time explaining to Karen (my
wife)! I like Karen and I think you make a great couple, so I'm not going to
make you have to explain, THIS TIME. I am going to spank you, but I'm not
going to leave marks. But you better listen to me 'young man' if I EVER
catch you smoking in my home, I will use the belt on you, and I WILL leave
stripes on your bottom and legs that will be very hard to explain. Do you
understand me?" "Yes.. I mean, Yes Ma'am" I meekly answered. She let go of
my arm and stepped over to her dresser and picked up an old fashioned, wooden
hairbrush. Just as she approached me the doorbell rang. "You wait right
here, don't you move" she ordered as she went downstairs to the door.

The voice was unmistakable. It was Laurie, Charlene's secretary from work.
Apparently Laurie was dropping off some typing she had worked overtime on.
"Isn't that Bob's car outside?" "Yes, he's been over working on the
plumbing. He's upstairs."

Laurie was one of the old "happy hour" gang. Following my divorce, I had
always wanted to date Laurie, but had never had the courage to approach her.
She was young, stunning - beautiful long blond hair, perfect legs, cute
little ass, definitely "model" material. I was horrified when I heard
Charlene
ask "you want to come upstairs?" I thought I was going to die. I grabbed
one of the new towels Charlene had just purchased and had left lying on the
bed, trying to cover myself up. I heard the stairs squeak with their
approach. The shock and surprise on Laurie's face was obvious. "What in the
world..?" "I caught him smoking in my house and he is about to be punished.
He's been standing naked in the corner for an hour, and now he's going to get
a spanking. I believe he thinks he's going to like it - he asked me once if I
ever gave whippings when I was a school teacher and he's had a hard-on ever
since his punishment started. He's going to find out he doesn't like it,
though."

She jerked the towel away. By this time I had lost my erection, and the
reality of someone else from work seeing me was embarrassing beyond all
comprehension. Laurie stifled a giggle.

Charlene sat down on the bed and said "come here, get across my lap." I
hesitated - my mind was racing - what if Laurie told?" "NOW" Charlene firmly
ordered. I crawled across her lap. I could feel her firm legs through the
cool cotton skirt. She grabbed my wrists and pulled them back to the small
of my back as she firmly held me. She wrapped her leg around one of mine - I
could feel the warm skin of her thigh against mine as her skirt hiked up.
She picked up the hairbrush.

With no hesitation, the sharp, stinging licks began. I didn't think it would
hurt much, but it did. Faster, harder, staccato- like. Tears were coming.
I squirmed, my legs began to kick. I tried to get loose - she was strong.
It stopped. I relaxed thinking it was over. She had stopped only to rest
and catch her breath. With renewed intensity, she started over, building
into a crescendo that climaxed with several very hard, deliberate smacks that
made me wince. Tears were flowing to the point the bedspread was wet. Any
more
and I knew I would surely cry aloud, in earnest, like a little kid.

I felt her relax and she released my wrists and the pressure against the
small of my back as she unwrapped her leg. "Get up." As I stood up I could
see my crimson bottom, white spots in the middle of each red cheek in the
dresser mirror. "Now, have your learned your lesson?" she asked. I answered
"yes ma'am." "No that's not good enough" - she picked up the hairbrush.
"What is the lesson" she asked as she stood with her arms akimbo, hairbrush
in the right, legs firmly spread. "I won't ever smoke in your house again, I
promise." She deliberated. "What else?" she continued. "I'm sorry" I
replied, hoping an apology was what she was after. "And what else - did you
deserve to be punished?" "Yes, Ma'am." "AND..." she pursued. "Thank you
for punishing me" I answered, more as a question than an answer. I flinched
as she unfolded her arms, still holding the hairbrush. "Good, I think maybe
you have learned your lesson" she responded as she stepped over an put the
brush down on the dresser. "Now, you get downstairs and finish your job. I
have company coming over at five, and you better be finished, or I might just
have to punish you in front of a bunch of people."

Laurie was still visibly amused. Charlene picked up on my embarrassment and
fear of disclosure of what had just happened. "We're not going to tell, are
we Laurie?" Laurie shook her head "no," holding back laughter. "That is,
unless you are 'bad' again!" Laurie nodded "yes."

As I started dressing Charlene said "wait a minute." My heart started
pounding
as she approached the dresser. As much as I liked the "idea" of getting
spanked, it was unpleasant, yet I wanted more. Was she going to give me
more. She approached me as I stood by the bed. Lay down on the bed. She
had something in her hand, behind her back. I could see the hairbrush still
on the dresser. I lay down on the bed. I had not yet put my jeans on and I
felt her fingers reach under the waistband of my shorts and reached back
trying to keep them pulled up. "No, please, Charlene, I've had enough, don't
spank me any more, PLEASE." "Shhh," she said gently, "I'm not going to
punish you any more, THIS TIME," I just want to put some lotion on your
bottom - it will feel good and make some of the redness go away." She gently
pulled my cotton briefs down around my sweating, stinging, raw buttocks. She
gently rubbed on some type of oily, but alcohol based lotion on - it was
cool, the oil coupled with the warmth of her warm, soft hands felt good,
juxtaposed against the sting of the alcohol on irritated nerve endings. I
was getting aroused - I "humped" and spread my legs and buttocks, wanting her
long fingers to explore my most private parts. "No, Bob," she said firmly.
"This is not sexual, you are my friend, Karen is my friend." I just want to
make you feel good, I am sorry I spanked you so hard." A quaver could be
heard - was she sure, or trying to convince herself? When finished, she
gently pulled my shorts back up, trying to keep from rubbing off the lotion
or irritating the rawness. "Okay, go on, now."

I quickly finished working on the leak as Charlene busied herself setting out
snacks and wine for her guests. It was 4:55 PM as Charlene unlocked the door
for me to leave. She gave me a firm hug and light kiss on the cheek. Not a
sexual hug or kiss, just a caring, sympathetic gesture. "Are you, okay?" she
asked. I nodded "yes," as tears again began to flow, not from the pain,
which had pretty well subsided, but from the intensity of mixed emotions.
"You'll be OK, but you might want to be careful getting out of the shower and
so on for the next few days, so Karen doesn't see your bottom, since think I
may have gotten just a little carried away with the hairbrush!!" As I walked
down the sidewalk with my tool box, cotton underwear and rough denim rubbing
against my red and raw buttocks, I passed Charlene's earliest guests. More
people from the other division at the office - would she really have punished
me in front of them? Laurie was a tease, but she would not "tell" as long as
she worked for Charlene.

Very soon after the experience, Charlene got transferred to another city and
moved out. I always wonder, had I ever had the opportunity to do repairs on
the house while she was a tenant, would I have smoked again, just to incur
her wrath - would she have really used the belt - did she still have the
paddle she used when she taught school? On the one hand, I so wanted it, yet
feared it. Did she enjoy it? Were her panties wet? I will never know.

Laurie still works at the company. Every time I pass her in the hall on her
floor, or run into her on the elevator, I wonder - has she ever told, will
she tell? There is always a "special look" in her eyes, and I can feel the
blood rush to my face as we speak in the hall or make small talk in the
elevator.