From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 3

James is drawn deeper into the web of Mrs. Hansen and Ida Reed.

Part 3

For James, things were different now. Mrs. Reed acted as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. She warned him to act no differently. It seemed a bit unnerving to James to take supper in the dining room every day and engage in polite conversation, all the while sneaking looks at Ida Reed and getting hard under the table.

At the same time there was the matter of Fran and a budding relationship. The two began to spend time together, in the student center, at the malt shop in town and walking home after classes. James was developing feelings for Fran and it appeared mutual. And that is when the notes began to appear.

James found the first one under his pillow. It said, simply, “Meet me in the 4th floor room at midnight.” It was unsigned, but James knew who it was. He went cold and feverish all at the same time. It was a summons he dare not disobey.

“Right on time, James,” she said as he entered the fourth floor bedroom that night. She reclined on the bed in a sheer negligee that revealed the lines of her body and those proud upstanding breasts. “Come here,” she said, crooking her finger. “Take off your clothes. Then let’s see what if you remember what I taught you.”

James blushed but stripped off his clothes. Ida Reed noted the robust erection that sprang to life almost immediately as his briefs came down. At her command he climbed into bed. “That’s a good boy,” she cooed. “You don’t want to be bad boy for momma do you?” She patted his bottom. “If you’re bad, momma will spank.” James gulped, remembering that shameful experience. He had no doubt that she’d order him across her knee if provoked. It seemed to James that perhaps she got some perverse thrill from it. So he and did as she commanded.

He slipped away in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted. She had made him lie on his back while she had ridden him like a horse. He felt sore all over. Three days later another note came. Another summons. These came with some regularity now. She was the teacher, he the pupil.

At the same time, she noted James’ interest in Fran. When she observed them walking up to the house together holding hands, she realized that there was now a rival for James’ attentions. A rival that had to go, she decided.

* * *

“We have had a few problems this week,” announced Mrs. Hansen at Sunday supper. Everyone looked around at each other. “The dishes were not cleaned and put away properly on Tuesday and the person assigned to dust the parlor did not do so. These things were reported to me by Mrs. Reed while I was out.” Fran’s face fell as the realization hit her. “Fran Blackman, these chores fell to you according to the schedule.”

“But I did these chores,” said Fran, protesting. “Everything was cleaned and put away on Tuesday. And I did dust the parlor. I did!”

“Not according to Mrs. Reed you didn’t, Miss Blackman.”

Fran looked at Ida Reed, bewildered.

“And so that, I’m afraid, is five demerits. We will adjourn after supper to the library.”

A disbelieving Fran continued to protest, but to no avail. Mrs. Hansen was unmovable. Fran would get five swats. If she didn’t like it she could move out. Rules were rules. In the library Fran hiked up her skirt and bent over, hands on the seat of a chair. James noted the pert bottom, very nicely shaped, that she presented for the application of the paddle. Fran had not anticipated being in the dock for swats, and had worn briefly cut panties that showed off a considerable amount of bare flesh. James was so enthralled he almost missed the smirk on Ida Reed’s face as she handed Mrs. Hansen the paddle.

The swats were delivered slowly with a deliberate pause in between. Mrs. Hansen would announce each one and take a stance, lining up to deliver the swat most efficiently for maximum effect. A few taps to zero in and whoosh…crack! The paddle impacted Fran’s bottom with a loud slapping noise that caused all watching to wince.

“Ouch! Ahhh!” Fran wailed after absorbing a smack. Each smack of that paddle burned hotter than the last. Her bottom felt aflame, a white heat that seared her nerve endings and permeated her entire being. Twice she had to be reminded to stay still and take her punishment. When it was over, she was in tears.

Later, outside when they slipped away, Fran allowed James to hug her. “It was so awful,” said Fran, as James patted her shoulder. “It still burns. I won’t be able to sit. It was so unfair! I did those chores.”

James had to wonder. Fran swore she’d done the chores. It had been Mrs. Reed who had reported her. And that smirk. Then he got it. She was jealous. That was it. She had observed Fran and James together and had decided to exact some revenge. James was about to explain but stopped cold. What on earth would she think? I can’t tell. No, I can’t tell. That’s when James realized he was in bigger trouble than he realized.

Up in the fourth floor bedroom it became clear. “You’re mine, James,” she said after a steamy bout of sex. “You’ll do what I say.” When James protested she cut him off. “If I catch you with her, young man, I’ll use my hairbrush on that lily white bare bottom of yours. But for right now, maybe just a little lesson will do. Get over my knee.” James gritted his teeth and came across her lap. For the next several minutes she peppered his bottom with crisp slaps. As she spanked she scolded him, admonishing him to do exactly as she said.

“You will (smack! crack! whap!) stay away from that girl, James (crack! slap!). You will do as you are told (crack! whap! Smack!).”

James felt the sting intensify as her hand smacked his bottom cheeks in a fast flurry of smacks that alternated between his cheeks, striking one side then the other. An admonishment to behave, just like you’d do for ten year old who kicked a ball in the house. But really, it hadn’t hurt that much. In fact it had increased his arousal, because when she let him up his erection stuck straight out, much to her approval. She sat him on her knee afterward, just like a little boy, and jerked him off until he came. It was a clear reminder of her power over him.

But even that wasn’t enough for her. A week later there was a new twist. But it was made possible in part by infractions on the part of both Lisa and Fran. They had both missed curfew twice in one week. They had thought they’d get a reprieve because Greta Hansen was feeling poorly and did not come to supper. But it was not to be.

“You two are due for punishment,” Ida Reed said to Lisa and Fran at the weekly reckoning. “Neither Mrs. Hansen nor I treat curfew lightly and I’m sure your parents would want that rule rigidly enforced. I have discussed this with Mrs. Hansen. It’s for your own good, girls. You are each getting six swats tonight.”

“Six!” Both girls exclaimed at once.

“Yes, six. And, since my wrist feels sprained, I cannot punish you as I should. I have taken this up with Mrs. Hansen and she is of the opinion that one of you shall apply the punishment, just like the fraternities and sororities do.”

Everyone looked at each other as that bit of news sunk in.

“So, James, Betty and Molly shall draw lots. The one selected shall dish out the swats.” She produced a bowl with three slips of paper inside. “You will draw. The one that has a black mark on it will paddle you two,” she said to Lisa and Fran. “James, you first.”

The three looked at each other helplessly. Reluctantly, James drew. “Open it,” said Mrs. Reed. James flipped open the slip of paper to see a big black X on it. “Well,” she said. “No need for the rest of you to draw. It’s James.” James looked stunned. “Come along,” she said, “into the library. Let’s get this over with so I can report to Mrs. Hansen that it has been done.”

Fran looked at James wild eyed. James was speechless. He stared at the slip of paper in his hand. The realization dawned on him that he would have to do this or face expulsion from the house. He did not want to leave for two reasons now, one that he was ashamed of, and the other, well, it was Fran and being close to her.

They trooped into the library. The paddle was there, on the desk, waiting.

“Take the paddle, James.” Ida Reed pointed at it.

“Bring some chairs over,” she said to Molly and Betty. “Fran and Lisa, skirts up, girls, and bend over. Hands on the chair seats and stick those bottoms out.”

Wearing an agonized grimace, each girl rolled up her skirt to the small of her back. Both girls had attractive figures, James observed. Fran’s bottom was well proportioned. She was a cute girl. Lisa, a honey blonde with a more voluptuous figure, displayed rear cheeks that were full, shapely, and very round.

“Go on, James. Six swats each. Give one to Fran, then give one to Lisa until each get six.” James hesitated. Having to swat his would-be girlfriend with a paddle was bad enough, but the prospect was now making him aroused. What if somebody noticed?

“And James. If it’s not done properly, you will have to repeat that stroke and I’m sure the girls don’t want that.”

The voice came from the doorway. It was Mrs. Hansen in a house coat. She hadn’t been so sick that she couldn’t get out of bed and see that the reckoning was carried out. Everyone turned to look. James realized that now he really had no choice.

Lisa flinched as he took up a stance beside her and lightly tapped her seat. Carefully, he drew back then let his arm descend in a flat arc.

Splatt! The paddle smacked Lisa’s bottom with a sharp crack and Lisa’s bottom wobbled. She hissed through her teeth. Gosh! He hadn’t meant to hit that hard, but it was like the paddle’s own momentum took over and did the work. James moved over to Fran next. She looked at him over her shoulder in a look that implored him to take it easy. He nodded as if conveying the message that he’d try.

But even with a relatively easy swing, still the weight of the paddle created momentum and Fran’s first swat fell with another resounding crack.

“Yow!” squeaked Fran, half rising at the sudden onrush of hot sting and shuffling her feet.

James swore under his breath and moved back to Lisa.

“I want them firm, James,” said Mrs. Hansen. “The girls won’t break. They get worse in the sorority houses. Go on now.” She motioned with her hand. “If you don’t strike hard enough, you will have to repeat and I’m sure Fran and Lisa don’t want that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied James.

James got into a rhythm, lining up, applying a paddle swat, then waiting until she settled down before moving to the next girl. He marveled at how the flesh flattened as the paddle struck, only to spring back into that deliciously rounded shape with a little wobble. Six swats was a lot, James realized, and both Lisa and Fran were finding it hard to stay in position. They would react by half rising out of position, coming up, and had to be reminded by Mrs. Hansen to stay down. At one point James had to put his hand on Fran’s shoulder, gently pressing her back down. “You don’t want her to tell me I have to do one over,” he whispered.” Fran nodded and bent over.

It took what seemed to James to be an eternity, but in actuality it was probably no more than three minutes. But during that three minutes the other girls winced at the sharp cracks from the paddle and empathized with the muted yelps of anguish from Lisa and Fran. When all six strokes had been meted out, the girls were allowed to rise. They were both sniffling and eyes were red as they rubbed their inflamed bottoms vigorously.

“Now let that be a lesson to you girls,” said Greta Hansen. “You are dismissed.” Ida Reed held out her hand, and with a half smile took the paddle from James’ hand.

Things have taken a decidedly creepy turn. Would you want to stay in that boarding house? As a student, what would be your altenatives?