From the Top Shelf - Mrs Hansen's Boarding House, part 6

The conclusion to our story, courtesy of Rollin Hand.

Part 6

Ida Reed handed James the note one week later. He told Lisa.

“Ok, this is it. I’m to meet her on the fourth floor tonight at midnight.”

“So at midnight I’ll come downstairs and wake Mrs. Hansen. I’ll borrow a camera too. I’ll say I heard noises upstairs like somebody was up there, and they were hurt or something.”

“Just make sure you get there fast. That woman threatened to blister my butt and she’s going to be mad. Not to mention that I can still feel last week’s punishment.”

Lisa said she could too. But days later it had faded to a faint glow. Still, the memory hurt worse.

It was agreed. James would make his rendezvous on time. Lisa would wait fifteen minutes and then find Mrs. Hansen. She’d take her to the fourth floor. She’d hear Mrs. Reed and James inside and fling open the door. Then, good bye Ida Reed.

At the stroke of midnight James emerged from his room. And waiting right there was an angry looking Ida Reed. She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Come with me,” she said. It was a curt command. James could hear the anger in her tone. She turned at the stairs and started down.

“Wait,” said James. “aren’t we going—you know—up there?” He gestured toward the fourth floor.

She turned and grabbed his elbow. “That’s for nice obedient boys who do as they’re told. I have a special treat for you. Follow me.”

James gulped and followed. What now? He wouldn’t be up on four when Lisa and Mrs. Hansen came looking. He followed her down.

* * *

Lisa looked at the clock. 12:15. Time to go. She put on a housecoat and slipped silently out of her room. She made her way down the ground floor hallway to Mrs. Hansen’s room. She knocked on the door. A few minutes later a disheveled Greta Hansen opened the door.

“Whatever is the reason, young lady, for this disturbance?” She was clearly annoyed.

“I…I heard noises. Upstairs. On the fourth floor. It’s like someone is up there. And I heard voices. Angry voices.” She decided to spice it up a little.

“Voices? On the fourth floor? No one is supposed to be up there.”

“Well they are. I can show you.”

Grumbling, but clearly concerned, Mrs. Hansen let Lisa lead the way.

* * *

The basement! They were headed for the basement. The room Lisa had discovered. And it was just as bizarre as Lisa had described. A block with retraining straps stood in the center of the room. It was a black padded box on short legs—tilted forward. James saw the big four poster bed, the X frame, the mirrored walls and ceiling. And the implements hung along one wall. There were paddles and straps, multi-thonged whips, canes and switches. James shivered. What was she going to do? He could just turn and run, but that wouldn’t help. They had to be caught in flagrante delicto by Greta Hansen for this to work. But she and Lisa were up on the fourth floor by now.

“All right, James. We are going to come to an understanding.” Ida Reed walked over to the wall and selected a black leather strap. “Now, strip!” she said. “I think you need a little trip to the woodshed, my young lothario.”

Reluctantly, James began to take off his clothes.

* * *

“I don’t hear anything,” said Mrs. Hansen. Lisa had led her down the fourth floor hallway. She wasn’t hearing anything either. James was supposed to raise his voice, make noise. But it was silent up here. She heard nothing.

“But I did hear,” said Lisa. “I think it was coming from behind this door.”

“Young lady, if this is some kind of prank, I am not amused and you will be on the list for demerits. I would think after last week you’d be on better behavior and try to avoid being on the wrong end of my paddle.” She folded her arms and frowned.

“If you’ll just look.” Lisa threw open the door. Nothing. A dark empty room.

Mrs. Hansen turned on the light and looked around. “There is no one here. Why did you bring me up here?” She fixed Lisa with a sharp look.

Lisa panicked. Where had they gone? What had happened to James? Suddenly, she knew.

* * *

James was naked. Strapped down over the box, he could hardly move. He was tilted forward, his buttocks jutting up. He felt horribly vulnerable. Ida Reed paraded in front of him slapping that strap in the palm of her hand.

“Before we resume our relationship,” she said, “it looks like you need a little lesson in obedience. If you are with me, you will not have a girlfriend, some sweet little coed sapping all that energy. That is for me, understand?”

James nodded dumbly.

“So I will ask the questions and you will answer, got it?”

James said nothing.

“Yes, ma’am?” said Ida, putting her hand behind her ear like she couldn’t hear him.

“Yes—yes, ma’am,” said James.

“Good. But first, we have to have our little trip to the woodshed, don’t we?” She moved out of his vision to stand behind him.

“P—please, ma’am. Don’t.” James clenched his buttocks.

“But you’ve been a naughty boy, James. Naughty boys must be punished.”

Whack! Splat! Smack! Ida Reed delivered three strokes of the strap as hard as she could.

“Ah! Ahh! Yah!” cried James. The strap was a tongue of fire across his bottom.

“There. That’s a good start.” She reared back again and swept the cruel strap forward again.

* * *

“Lisa Benson, where are you going, child?” Lisa had bolted and began to scramble down the stairs. The plan was abandoned. She had to find James. The basement room. That’s where they were. Had to be.

Mrs. Hansen had no choice but to follow. Lisa hit the third, then the second floor. Mrs Hansen hurried after her. When she saw Lisa hit the first floor and head for the basement, she yelled frantically, “Don’t go down there!”

But it was too late. Lisa was halfway down the basement stairs. Molly, Betty and Fran emerged from their rooms and followed the commotion—all the way down the stairs.

* * *

Crack! The strap seared James buttocks again. It was agony.

“Are you going to obey now and stay away from that little floozy?”

Crack! The strap delivered another fiery band of sting. “Are you, James?”

“Oww…yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Lisa heard the sharp crack and flew toward the door. She flung it open. Ida Reed stopped in mid stroke, frozen in place. Like a deer in the headlights, she stared uncomprehendingly at the intruders. Molly, Betty and Fran crowded in behind Lisa, nearly piling into each other and looked inside. Behind them, Mrs. Hansen was screaming for everyone to stay out and go back upstairs.

“My gosh,” screamed Betty, taking in the bizarre tableau. “It’s like a torture chamber in here!”

Lisa’s camera flashed, catching Ida Reed, strap in hand, standing behind the naked boy secured to the box with angry red streaks across his buttocks.

* * *

James escorted Lisa to his new apartment. All paid for, along with his tuition, all courtesy of his parents and the newspapers who had solicited his story. The Saint Paul newspaper headlines had read:

COLLEGE KIDS IN BOARDING HOUSE OF HORRORS!

Another said:

DUNGEON DOMINATRIX—LANDLADY FROM HELL!

The stories went on to report that one Greta Hansen and her lesbian lover, one Ida Reed, had ensnared impressionable college students in a web of sadomasochistic slavery masquerading as moral discipline.

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but close enough. James guessed it sold newspapers, so he wasn’t complaining. His parents had been so ashamed and chagrinned at being taken in by Mrs. Hansen that they’d given him his own apartment, just off campus at the University of Minnesota in Duluth. Lisa had transferred there too. Of Mrs. Hansen and Ida Reed he’d only heard rumors—that she was in Oklahoma, that she’d fled to Alabama. He had no idea.

Lisa had just transferred. In the intervening weeks they’d written to each other often. Now she’d arrived and James was excited to see her. He had picked her up at her dorm and was proud to show her his apartment. Lisa was all butterflies. She’d been waiting for this.

James noted that she looked great. Wearing a short dress, one of those new “mini” skirts that showed off her great legs, she was a dream.

“It’s not much,” said James as he showed her around. “Just a one bedroom. But it has a kitchen and I got some nice furniture for the living room.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” said Lisa. “And the best thing—no rules and no curfew.”

“No landladies with paddles waiting?” said James with a wry smile.

“That too,” she laughed.

James even made dinner for them both. It was just spaghetti, a jar of Ragu, and some Kraft parmesan cheese, but to Lisa it was a gourmet feast—because James had made it. After supper they moved from the table in the nook to James’ new couch.

“Seriously though,” said Lisa. “I’m sorry about what happened. My plan fouled all up and you got the worst of it.”

“So did you,” said James. “Back in Mrs. Hansen’s room I could see you in the mirror.”

“Oh!” Lisa put her hand to her mouth. “You saw me bare and everything.”

James blushed and tensed up. She paused a minute, just breathing. “Did you like what you saw?” she asked softly.

James relaxed. “Yes. I did. You’re—you’re beautiful. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he stammered.

She put her finger to his lips. “Shssh. Just kiss me. The last time we were interrupted pretty rudely.”

James needed no second invitation. An electric atmosphere had been building throughout dinner. Now they were two young people on a collision course fueled by passion. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She snuggled up to him on his lap so that she was facing him sideways as he remained seated. They kissed that way for several minutes and then James reached over and tentatively put his hand on her luscious ass. “Ohh,” she moaned. He fondled her through her skirt, squeezing and rubbing her resilient bottom. “I love it when you do that,” she breathed. Then she pulled away as they came up for air.

“But I should be punished,” she said. Lisa turned over, placing her herself face down over James lap, her elbows on the couch. Her skirt rode up the back of her legs. “I got you into an awful mess. It’s only right that I should have a spanking for what Mrs. Reed did to you.”

“What?” said James. “But you….” He started to speak but then realized that this wouldn’t be punishment, or at least not angry, harsh punishment. She was blushing and slowly rotating her hips on James’ lap. James recognized the obvious signs of arousal despite his inexperience. She likes having her bottom played with. Maybe she likes having it spanked. He decided to find out.

He slowly lifted her skirt. “Yes, I think you were naughty. I think a spanking would be just what you need,” he said, playing along.

“Ohhh,” she said, lifting slightly so her skirt would slide up more easily. “You won’t take my panties down will you?” The panties in question were a skimpy white lacy creation that breathtakingly revealed most of Lisa’s plump and shapely bottom.

James understood that to be an invitation to do that very thing. When she felt his fingers in the waist band, she lifted up once more. James slowly peeled the flimsy panties down, unveiling a pair of jouncy bottom globes that were now arched up provocatively for his attention. Lisa purred as his hand roamed across the expanse of her saucy behind, stroking and patting. Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a light slap. Then he gave her a few more. She wriggled and looked over her shoulder.

“That’s not a real spanking. Do it like you mean it. Spank your naughty girl properly.”

James decided she was serious, and launched into a series of firm swats that alternated between cheeks. Right-left, right-left. He peppered her bottom with brisk spanks that quickly raised a pink flush on her soft white skin.

Lisa reacted with low moans and wriggles. “Yes, oh, yes,” she said urging James on. James took that as a signal to up the intensity. He smacked her lush fanny with authoritative, crisp spanks that flattened the wobbling globes and caused this delicious jiggling. He felt himself getting hard. Surely Lisa felt it too.

"Oh! Ouch! It’s starting to burn. But it feels good too. A good sting."

The splats of James palm on Lisa’s bare bottom filled the little apartment, echoing sharply off the walls. James hoped the neighbors wouldn’t hear. That could be embarrassing.

She was now raising her hips to meet his descending hand. Smack! Splat! Crack! The spanks were slower now and timed to her up and down movement. In addition he was pausing to rub between swats. Lisa moaned again and ground her hips against James’ groin. James found the sweet and slick wetness between her legs. She pushed back, impaling herself on his fingers.

I can’t take this any longer, James decided. He flipped her over so she was face up. He kissed her and began to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers flew as well, practically tearing off his clothes. They made it to the bedroom and James placed her on her back. “Let me do something for you,” he said, bringing his lips to the triangle between her legs. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know a thing or two about pleasing a woman. Lisa thought she’d come out of her skull with pleasure when his tongue found her spot.

When he entered her for the first time she practically exploded. It was a furious coupling that climaxed in a white blaze of rapid jerking, of bodies slamming together with abandon. But the next times were good too in a different way—more tenderness, a slower building to climax rather than racing toward it. She especially liked it when he did her from the rear. It gave him a chance to squeeze, pat and fondle her succulent ass cheeks, still warm from that stimulating spanking. It was heavenly.

* * *

Farther south in a suburb of Norman, Oklahoma….

“That’s five demerits, young lady.” The stout matron, a formidable woman built like some Midwest prairie farmer’s wife, addressed the schoolgirl in the ridiculously skimpy plaid skirt and white blouse. “Dishes not done, rooms not dusted. Go fetch the paddle. You are due for a reckoning.”

The “schoolgirl” who looked to be more in her 40’s than her teens, padded off and returned a moment later with paddle in hand. The matron took a seat on an armless chair. “Come here and get across my knee.”

“Oh please, Greta, don’t do this to me,” the schoolgirl whimpered.

“What did you call me? Get over my knee this instant, Ida. Until we get some boarders from the university, it’s Mrs. Hansen to you. You are the sole resident of Mrs. Hansen’s boarding house and you will do the chores I give you or pay the consequences. Lift your skirt, pull those panties down and over my knee you go, girl. You have lessons to learn…..”

I feel a sequel coming on.