Now consider the subject of today's story. Eric is an older lad, but he too is smitten, and who knows what lengths to which he might go to to be near the object of his desire?
[This story and others may be found in the collection Strict Ladies and Naughty Boys, Volume 2. Scroll down the panel on your right for the cover and the link. Also available for Nook and at iTunes.]
When Amanda arrived Mr and Mrs Heath were hurrying to get out the door.
“Amanda, thank goodness you are here. We’re late for the party and it has been quite a day. We haven’t had time to attend to much needed chores. I hope you don’t mind. I left you a list in the kitchen.”
“Sure, Mrs H. I don’t mind.” They paid her really well. This was a frequent job that she did not want to lose.
“Just so you know, Eric was a complete pill today---fighting with his sister, broke a window in Mrs MacDougal’s garage, coming in late. Oooh! I am just beside myself.” Mrs Heath grimaced in frustration. “We just didn’t have time to cope with it all. And I am so angry I don’t trust myself to even deal with Eric right now. He’s banished to his room. I don’t have time so you’ll have to deal with him.”
Amanda shook her head. Eric was a typical teenage boy---all supercharged energy and boisterousness. At his age though, he was getting a bit big for a sitter. Amanda guessed that they still wanted her for Melinda, the 11 year old, who was at a movie and due to return later.
“It’s ok, Mrs H. Eric and I get along swell.” Amanda had to laugh to herself. That was an understatement. He usually stuck to her like glue on nights when she babysat, and she’d been doing it for years. Eric would hang around her all night. He’d be doing little things for her, showing off his hobbies, asking her to play cards or games with him, constantly vying for her attention. And all the time fixing her with that loopy grin of his, desperately seeking to please, just like an eager puppy. Why he wanted to hang around her, Amanda could not fathom. True, she was a statuesque brunette and very popular with the boys, but she was older than he was. She was aware that she was thought of by the boys as “hot.” She had lustrous dark hair that cascaded below her shoulders, a thirty six inch bust, long legs and an hour glass shape. Still, she thought teenage boys wanted to hang out with their buddies, not with an “older woman” like her. After all, she was a college graduate and Eric was still in high school.
It was, in a way, very sweet. Well, he’d be a good looking catch for some girl some day.
She sauntered into the kitchen. There was the list, right there on the counter. She perused it.
“take out trash”—ok, no big deal
“put away groceries”—again, no biggie. There was a sack on the counter.
“feed the cat”----ok
It was the last item, written in a hurried script, that got her attention.
“spank Eric—long and hard!”
What? She reread it. That’s what it said. This couldn’t be right. She had to think back. Eric had blushingly admitted once that his parents did, on occasion, spank. And there was that one time that Mrs Heath had smiled at her as they were leaving and said, “If they give you any trouble, you have my permission to dish out spankings.” The kids had said, “Awww, mom.” Mrs Heath had pointed at them with her finger and said, “So behave!” Amanda had laughed nervously. Had the woman been serious?
But this? Wow. She had seemed really put out with Eric. Was this a chore she just didn’t want to do or have time to do? From her own experience she knew that parents, when they decided that a spanking was in order, did not like to delay the act. So in a way it made sense---of a sort. She had been their babysitter for years. Why not trust her with this disagreeable chore? But spanking Eric? He was a teenager. Wasn’t he a little too old for that?
But if that is what they expected of her….She looked up at the second floor. Eric’s door was still closed. With a sigh she ascended the stairs. Might as well get it over with, she decided.
She knocked on the door softly. “Eric? Eric? We have to talk.” She heard a muffled ‘yes’ from behind the door. She turned the knob, pushed the door open. Eric was seated on the bed, knees up, body slumped forward hiding his face.
“What is it?” He refused to look up.
She sat on the bed, holding the note so he could see it. “Well….I think you know.”
Eric didn’t say anything.
“Eric, your mom….the note.” She held it out.
In a small, almost inaudible voice she heard, “I know.”
“I mean, Eric, I don’t want to do this, but your mom, she expects me to….”
Eric finally looked up. He looked embarrassed, his face flushed red.
“I know what it said. I was there when she wrote it. But do you…I mean are you really going to, you know….do it?” His face was a picture of teenage angst.
Amanda sighed. The poor kid. He looked miserable.
Amanda decided then. No. She couldn’t do this. The hell with the note. Eric and she were friends. She couldn’t punish him like a six-year-old who runs into the street. “No, I won’t do it,” she said. She dropped the note on the bed and got up to leave.
“No wait.” Eric’s voice caught her at the door. She turned. Eric stood up. With a big sigh he said, “If you don’t do it my mom will—or dad. And she’s so mad at me. It will be after church tomorrow and all that time she’ll just be steaming.” His head slumped. “I’d just rather get it over with.”
Amanda stopped and thought. She understood. It was no fun having to go about your day dreading a punishment. He’d sit in church the next day no doubt squirming with anxiety as to what awaited him when they got back home. He’d have to endure the sharp looks, the barely repressed anger, then that awful command---go to your room and get ready.
Amanda came back, sat back down on the bed. “All right. How do they do it?”
“Mom sits on the bed. I have to stand next to her, on her right. She asks me to repeat what I did and say I deserve to be punished. Then she…she…takes my pants down. I have to go across her knee.”
“And she spanks you.”
“Yeah. With her hand.”
“Pants down? Really?” Geez, how embarrassing.
Eric blushed beet red. “Yeah,” He mumbled.
“Does she spank you hard?”
Eric shrugged. “She spanks me for a long time. It’s hard I guess. It hurts. Sometimes I cry.”
They looked at each other for a moment, the attractive young woman and the nervously fidgeting teenaged boy.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” she asked.
“No… but I’d rather you did it than mom.” He shuffled his feet, looking down. From what Amanda could see he looked pretty miserable and embarrassed about what was going to happen.
“I can’t go easy on you, you know that.” He nodded. “I’m not going to lie to your mom and say I gave you a good spanking if I didn’t.”
“I might make you cry. I’m pretty strong. I swim and play tennis, so this won’t be easy for you.”
“All right, but I want you to cooperate. No jumping up, no putting your hand back, none of that. Can you be brave and take your medicine?”
“Yes,” he said.
Amanda brushed her hair back and sat up straight. “Ok, Eric,” she pointed with her finger, “then stand over here.” Eric obediently moved to her right side. “Now, tell me what you did that lead to all of this.”
Eric took a deep breath. “I broke Mrs MacDougal’s window. Mom said not to play ball out there, but we did and somebody threw wild.”
“And I was fighting with Melinda earlier.”
“I was late coming back and it made mom and dad late.”
“It’s quite a list, Eric. Do you deserve to be punished you think?”
“I guess so.”
She looked up at him sharply. Amanda steeled herself. She was going to have to be a different person now. Not the sweet, friendly sitter that Eric doted upon, but a new Amanda, a no nonsense disciplinarian performing an unpleasant, but necessary task.
“You can do better than that, Eric.”
“I mean, yes. I deserve to be punished.”
“Very well, Eric,” she said squaring her shoulders. “I’m going to give you a spanking. It will be a good one, just so we understand ourselves. There will be no set number of spanks but….” She eyed Eric’s clock. “It will go for three minutes. One minute of good sound spanking for each offense. Does that sound fair to you?”
“Yes, I guess.” Eric grimaced and shuffled nervously.
“All right, then.” Eric stiffened as Amanda inserted her fingers into Eric’s shorts. She dragged down the athletic shorts and white cotton underpants in one yank. And was startled to see Eric’s stiff penis pointed right at her face and bobbing up and down like a pendulum. She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“What is this?”
Eric blushed beet red. “I…I can’t help it. It…it just happened.”
Amanda sighed. Boys. She guessed it was the anxiety. And, she told herself, he’s only a teenager. All raging hormones. He can’t control anything, least of all his penis. She had to admit being startled, not only at the erection, but its size. Why, he was like a full grown man. She hated to admit it, but at the sight of the prominent erection she felt her own faint stir of arousal.
Enough. Time to do this.
In her most commanding voice she said, “Get across my knee, Eric.”
With a soft groan Eric lowered himself across Amanda’s thighs. Amanda was wearing shorts herself and it was s shock to feel the boy’s mid section make contact with her in such an intimate way. She felt his hard penis slide along the top of her left thigh, imprisoned there by his weight. She forced the sensation out of her mind. She had a job to do.
“Look at the clock. When the second hand goes by twelve, I’ll start. You’ll tell me when it’s been three minutes, ok?”
She rested her hand on his bottom, patting. She felt him shiver. “Good boy. And just so you know, I’m really sorry I have to do this.”
The seconds hand passed 12. Amanda raised her arm to shoulder height and brought it down with a loud crack, right on the center of Eric’s bottom, spanning the divide between the boyish cheeks. “Owoooh!” Eric yelped. She quickly raised it again and brought it down again delivering another sharp smack to the same place. Eric hissed, drawing air through his teeth. She drew back and placed another spank on the same spot. It made a red hand print. “Yeowch,” yipped Eric. A half dozen smacks later, she felt she was getting the hang of it.
Amanda increased the tempo, settling into a rhythm. She spaced the spanks out all over Eric’s bottom but concentrated on the undersides of the wobbly cheeks. Right where he sat, she thought. Eric tensed and relaxed, flinching at times. He grunted in pain, obviously trying not to cry out. Poor kid, he was trying to be brave, she thought as she continued to pepper his bottom cheeks with hard ringing smacks. It stung her hand enough, it must be stinging him. She looked at the clock. One minute had passed. She paused for a second or two then resumed.
“Ow…ow…ahhh…ow!” Eric bleated now with almost every smack. His bottom was getting red. The spanking was faster now--- rapid volleys that impacted his cheeks and caused a nearly continuous ripple. Handprints had merged into an overall red flush. Amanda realized she was sweating and that Eric was too. He was wriggling across her lap. She shifted him a bit to get a better grip. She paused to wipe her brow with her forearm. Licking her lips, she resumed the punishment with a volley of brisk spanks that made Eric arch his body inversely. He let out a long anguished groan.
She looked again. One minute to go. She slowed down, bringing her hand down hard, each spank deliberately placed. Eric gasped. He began to rock, sliding across her thighs. As she increased the tempo again he humped up and down, wriggling like an eel. His legs fluttered as if vainly seeking relief from the searing heat of the intense smacking. Twenty seconds to go.
Almost there, she thought. Suddenly Eric jerked frantically, back and forth across her knee, then his body went stiff. Amanda felt the explosion of a jet of warm sticky fluid on her thighs. Instantly she realized what had just happened. Eric had climaxed. The friction of his penis rubbing her thighs had caused him to come. The seconds hand passed 12.
“Eric!” she exclaimed. “Look what you did!” She hauled him up and stood him on his feet. “Get me a tissue.” Before Eric could react she saw a box and grabbed one. “Eric, I don’t know what to say!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cried Eric. “It just happened.” His face was flushed with embarrassment. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing his bottom.
Amanda willed herself to calm down. It wasn’t his fault. He was just an average teenage boy after all.
“Ok, Eric. It’s all right. It was an accident. Come here.” She took him in her arms for a hug. It had been an intense emotional experience. Eric leaned his head on her shoulder. She patted his back, oblivious to the fact that he was still naked below the waist. For a few minutes she just hugged him. “There…now, it’s all right. It’s done.” She pulled back. “Better pull your pants back up.” She smiled. “Then you can come downstairs and we’ll have some ice cream. Would you like that?” Eric appeared to be in a daze. He just nodded.
Later that night Eric lay in bed, stroking himself. He was approaching another climax---the third one since Amanda had left and he’d gone to bed. It had been an impulse thing, adding that item to his mom’s note (which had since been flushed down the toilet). He hadn’t really thought it through, he’d just wanted to be close to her in any way that he could. But downstairs later he’d had the presence of mind to ask her not to say anything to his mom unless she asked and, of course, she hadn’t.
It had all been worth it. The humiliation of her pulling his pants down, going over her knee, the stinging pain, all of it. Just to be close to her, to feel her, to breathe her scent, to bear the smacks from her hand. Climaxing while enduring the spanking had been a bonus beyond his wildest dreams. Now the dull hot throb in his bottom from the spanking just made him all the more aroused. It had been HER hand striking him, he’d lain across HER lap, he’d come all over HER thighs. Pain, embarrassment, humiliation? What did any of that matter to a man in love?