Another story written by myself and ‘B’
To see the rest of our joint efforts, and a lot of her own work, click on ‘Links and Contributors’, then click on ‘Contributors’ and scroll down to her section.
She runs her own blog, and you will find a link to that, and her game.
For the game, you can click here…
And so it begins…
Asking the Neighbours
My name is Brenda. I am Scottish and twenty-one. I am attending a prestigious law school in London. Although my parents are paying the rent, five hundred miles from home means freedom!
I took an envelope from the box in the lobby of my small walk up apartment building and then clumsily opened the envelope marked with the logo of my school. It was a copy of my monthly report card. The original was sent to Poppa and Mum in Scotland. I wasn’t too surprised when I read : “C minus – Brenda should pull her socks up.” I was rereading it when the neighbors, a young couple, breezed in. I overheard the handsome young gentleman admonishing his superbly uppity spouse.
“A fifty pound parking fine? Fifty bloody pounds! Again!!! You are far too relaxed about such things, one day you will end up getting banned from driving, and probably lose your job, you need a car! How many times! Just how many times is this now? I am going to give you what you should have had years ago! I am going to give you a spanking you will remember.”
Back in my apartment, I was still surprised by what I had heard. My classy neighbor was going to be spanked! Whoa! I was booting my laptop when I heard a flurry of loud smacks from next door. With a naughty grin, I sat by my opened window with my computer.
I imagined the scene. That snobby besom who had looked down on me as if I were a schoolgirl must be, by now, across the knees of her dishy husband with her skirt up and knickers down. The sounds of those smacks left little doubt that she was getting it on the bare. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “OH! AH! OUCH!”
My imagination added details. With his strong left hand, he is holding her wrists behind her back. He has pushed a knee between her legs. She must be feeling so exposed. His disciplinary right hand is raised high before each smarting smacks. I regretted to have forgot to count the smacks. It must be fifty by now. Her derriere must be ablaze and fire engine red. SMACKKK! SMACKKKKK! “OH! AHH! OUCHHH!”
Suddenly the sound of meaty smacks was sharper, and I heard her protesting. “Please, Stevie, not the belt !” After a dozen lashes or more, she again protested, “Please, Stevie, not my thighs! It might show !
” I silently giggled as I heard Stevie’s answer. “Might show? I hope so! That is the whole idea! Next time I will spank you on the front steps, or over the car bonnet!” I mused, She won’t be so uppity when tugging down her skirt to hide her belted thighs.
WHACK! WHACKK! WHACKKKK! “OH! ARGH! OUCHHH!”
I felt hot, although a lovely breeze was caressing my naked legs while sitting by my window. I heard Stevie say, “Take off your skirt and stand in the corner with your hands on your head.” My favorite hand wandered.
I stopped as I read an email from Pap. He must have received my bimonthly report card. “You deserve a skelping, my girl, and a severe one! We shouldn’t have listened to you. We should have sent you to Edinburgh. It wouldn’t be more than a short drive to give you the tawse. Mark my words, if you have to redo the year, it will be in Edinburgh!”
I slept poorly that night. My neighbors enjoyed plenty of horizontal gymnastics, punctuated by unladylike, enthusiastic cheers. I also remembered my O and A levels in Edinburgh. I still had to wear short tartan skirts while my friends had already dumped them, and schoolgirl cotton knickers often covering my fiery bottom. At the time, I was applying myself to my lessons, and I had great grades. I felt guilty to be disappointing Pap and Mum, now that I had moved away.
After such a poor night, the day at the law school seemed to be as slow as molasses in the North Pole. When questioned, my answers were confused. Following classes, I was lectured. “And you need more sleep young lady!” Back home, I grinned as lady luck had me walking up the stairs behind Miss Neighbor. I saw a few belt marks under her skirt. She was no longer so uppity. She must have felt my gaze and picked up her pace, she hurriedly entered her apartment.
I had a snack and reread the day’s lessons. I couldn’t help snoozing on my prep. I felt so guilty, so depressed, I had to sleep. I napped for three hours, then I finished my prep and mused while having chamomile tea Pap’s right. I deserve a skelping. He won’t travel five hundred miles to give me one, but if he did, I wondered if it would be as effective as before. Why wouldn’t it, though?
What if? Oh, no! I am not going to knock on their door. He did give her a good spanking and a belting, and he sounded like a gentleman. Plus, he looks great! She didn’t scream the place down, as she might have done. You have to face it, Brenda. It is an option, but it is so embarrassing! Some medicine has a bitter taste.
I will never be able to explain how I came up with the idea of dropping the envelope with my report card into the mailbox of my neighbors. You’re crazy! You’re mad! I frantically tried to extract it and feared being caught red handed fumbling into a mailbox known not to be mine. All my efforts were in vain. Sigh. The die is cast!
Next evening, I opened my mailbox with bated breath. My heart skipped a beat as I saw a neat envelope with no more than my first name on it. I hurried up to my apartment, then I sat by my opened window and extracted my report card and a letter. Dear Brenda, we have been appalled by your report card, and we feel that we might be able to help, if you will allow us. Would you please come for tea on Friday afternoon with your report card? You will be wearing an above the knees, fully pleated skirt. Steve and Linda.
There was no need for more details; all was quite clear. I already had butterflies in my tummy.
Friday tea time, the butterflies had returned as I stood frozen in front of my neighbors’ door. I was wearing one of the school skirts I had worn in Edinburgh for my A-Levels. I almost chickened out.
If you chicken out, girl, you will be so embarrassed every time you come across them in the lobby or on the stairs. And you have to admit that you deserve to be punished for your slacking, and hopefully it might be a salutary lesson.
I pressed the doorbell.
More to come soon…
Asa and B
