by Frank Limadere
Jeff pulled up to the small townhouse, stopped the car and sat back to look at the place for a few minutes. It was his, it was really his. He had owned the place since the day he outbid everyone else at the auction and signed the papers, but now settlement was over and he was moving in. Now it really was his place. He sighed happily, then popped the boot and climbed out of the car. He picked up one of the sealed boxes, heaved it onto his shoulder and started to carry it inside. As he walked up the low steps he felt the full weight of the carton and wondered what on earth he had packed in it to make it that heavy. He was trying to balance the carton on his shoulder and fumble around for the keys to the door all at once. With alarm he felt the carton slide back on his shoulder and began to stagger backwards.
"Whoa!" came a bright female voice behind him and he felt a steadying hand on the carton; he righted himself and dropped his keys.
"You might want to put the box down before you try that again," Jeff's unseen saviour advised.
"Thanks," a blushing Jeff muttered as he put his other hand on the carton and gently lowered it onto the porch, then turned to look down into a pair of sparkling, bright green eyes.
"Hi," said the owner of the eyes, thrusting her hand at Jeff. "I'm Bobbi, we're neighbours."
"We are?" Jeff answered rather stupidly as he took the slim, out-thrust hand.
"Uh huh," the girl replied. "I live there," and she jerked a thumb at the adjoining townhouse. "I saw you at the auction, but didn't get a chance to introduce myself."
"Oh great, thanks, nice to meet you. I'm Jeff."
"Hi Jeff," Bobbi smiled.
Jeff stared at his pretty new neighbour. She was a petite girl. Jeff was not tall, but Bobbi only came to his chin, which put her at about 5'1". She was slender, but there was strength in her small body, she had a lovely even tan and a cloud of golden hair floated around her perfectly formed face.
"Would you like me to open the door while you bring that inside?" Bobbi asked kindly.
"Oh yes, thanks."
Jeff bent to pick the carton up again and Bobbi stood there, regarding him with some amusement.
"Jeff," she prompted.
"Yeah," Jeff grunted as he lifted the carton.
"I need the keys."
"Oh yeah," Jeff said, cursing his social awkwardness inwardly, put the carton down again and picked up and handed the keys to Bobbi.
"Thanks," the girl said and calmly opened the door.
As Jeff followed the pert bottom, encased in tight faded blue jeans, he began to think that buying the townhouse was one of the best moves he had ever made.
Jeff put his carton down inside and Bobbi asked, "How many more of those have you got?"
"Lots," Jeff replied.
"Is anyone helping you?"
"The movers will when they get here."
"Well I'll tell you what. I've got nothing better to do today so if you can promise me at least a cold drink out of the fridge that I see you already have here I'll give you a hand."
"Deal," Jeff said with a grin.
Bobbi was as good as her word. She spent the entire day helping Jeff move in. She even directed the movers where to place some of his furniture when they arrived with their truck. It was late afternoon and Jeff's lounge room was full of opened and unopened cartons. Jeff and Bobbi were lounging in Jeff's armchairs each with a tall, frosted glass of lemonade. Bobbi sipped her lemonade, looked at the mess in the lounge room and commented, "You don't realize how much stuff you accumulate until you move, do you?"
Jeff cast an eye over it and agreed, "No, you don't."
"What are you doing for dinner tonight?"
Jeff shrugged. "I dunno. I don't have much food here yet. I was just gonna order a pizza, I guess."
"Oh no you're not," Bobbi told him. "You're coming next door for a good home-cooked meal."
"Bobbi, I can't," Jeff protested. "Not after all the help you've already given me."
"Nonsense!" the blonde girl exclaimed sternly. "You can and you will. Besides you'll be helping me prepare it. Now get your little behind into your bathroom and wash up before coming over."
Despite her diminutive size there was something about Bobbi that told Jeff she was not a girl to argue with.
Bobbi also turned out to be quite a good cook. Jeff helped prepare the vegetables and he uncorked the wine and even set the table, but Bobbi did all the cooking. Dinner was over and they were having coffee on Bobbi's couch as they learned about each other. "I was the first one born," Bobbi told Jeff, "and my Dad had his heart set on a boy."
"So that's why you're called Bobbi?"
"Sort of," the girl smiled into her coffee cup. "My real name is Bronwen. My Dad wanted to call me something androgynous, but Mum wouldn't have it. Dad shortened Bronwen to Bobbi."
"Not Bron?" Jeff posed.
Bobbi's eyes narrowed. "Calling me that is the best way to get yourself in my bad graces, young man. That and interrupting me during 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer.'"
"You like it too?" Jeff asked with genuine excitement.
"Doesn't everyone? Did you see that episode where she staked..." and the two of them discussed the finer points of the popular fantasy comedy drama until late in the night.
As Jeff eased himself into bed that night he said to himself, "You sure picked the right neighbourhood to live in, Jeffrey boy."
Jeff himself was relatively average. He was around 5'10" with a slim, boyish build, his complexion fair and smooth. He only needed to shave twice a week and he had very little body hair. His hair was dark brown and neatly cut, he had never ever changed the style. He parted it on the left and brushed it across to the right. He often had to flick up an errant lock that tended to fall into his clear blue eyes. He was in his mid twenties, but looked younger and was regularly asked to provide id when buying alcohol or going to nightspots.
Over the next few months Jeff and Bobbi developed a very close friendship and learned a good deal about each other. The blonde girl was four years older than Jeff and soon became the big sister he had never had. Jeff was an only child and Bobbi, the eldest of six, regularly teased her younger friend about it. The most common insult was 'spoilt brat'. Jeff was very much unspoiled. He had been an extremely well behaved and level-headed child and while he never needed for anything, nor was he given everything he wanted. Being the eldest, Bobbi had often looked after her younger siblings and she had become quite the 'little mother'; it was how she had perfected her cooking skills. While Jeff could cook, he did not even come close to matching the petite blonde in the kitchen and Wednesday night, when he went to her house and she prepared dinner before they both settled down to watch Buffy The Vampire Slayer, became his favourite night of the week.
While they always spent Wednesdays together it was not their only social activity. Bobbi was an active woman of the 21st century and she kept that slim body in trim by twice weekly aerobics and a Pilates session. She also played volleyball and, despite Jeff's pleas that he was hopelessly uncoordinated, she still coerced him into joining her team. They also regularly attended films and occasionally went out to dinner. Despite the fact that Bobbi was most definitely a modern woman she had some very old-fashioned views. They seemed to be formed from her baby sitting sessions with her siblings and were modelled on her parents philosophies of life. Jeff soon learned that swearing around her was very much forbidden. The first time earned him a sharp reprimand, the second a stinging smack on his bottom and the third got the smack and a threat to wash his mouth out with soap if he ever did it again. Jeff found it hard to believe that Bobbi could follow through on that threat, but he was not prepared to test her out and watched his language around her. The other thing that you never did around Bobbi was discuss sex. She found the fact that magazines with sexual content such as Playboy and Penthouse were easily available at newsagents scandalous, and gave Jeff a fearful tongue-lashing when he confessed to having on occasion read one or two. She found some of the magazines when he was unpacking and burned them.
Despite their close friendship there was one secret Jeff never told Bobbi about. Jeff did not really know why, but from a very young age one subject had fascinated him. It was the subject of spanking. When Jeff first realized that the subject interested him and actually aroused him it scared him, because he thought it was weird. None of his friends found it exciting, especially those that were spanked, although they were in the minority. Very few of his friends and acquaintances were spanked. It was not an accepted form of discipline and Jeff himself was never spanked at home. The most he could ever remember getting was an occasional smack from his parents when his behaviour went too far. He was well behaved and those occasions were extremely rare. However whenever he heard the word spank or saw it written or saw scenes that featured it in movies, he never failed to become excited. He looked the word up in the dictionary and found related words via the Thesaurus, he even looked at the discipline sections of parenting books to see if he could find references to spanking or smacking. He loved watching old TV shows and movies that had spanking scenes or references and reading old comics and cartoons where spanking was often the way of dealing with the hijinks of the characters. There was something about seeing someone turned over the knee of a determined man or woman and having their bottom repeatedly slapped that pushed Jeff's buttons. He later learned it was a sexual kink, but never did anything further to act on his fantasies. He did however try to work out from where the fascination stemmed.
Jeff recalled being excited or aroused by the subject of spanking at school when he had Mrs Pintocevic as his teacher. He believed the two things were related. Mrs Pintocevic was a tall, slender, attractive, dark haired, elegant woman of European extraction in her late twenties. At Jeff's small Catholic primary school the accepted form of discipline for the older pupils was spanking. It was not really classical over the knee spanking as depicted in countless books and stories. A spanking in class usually consisted of a few slaps by hand on the backs of the legs or some stinging smacks with a wooden school ruler in the same area. The strap, which was really a broad metre long ruler, was also in use, but only the headmistress, a tall, matronly nun was permitted to administer it and it was usually done in private in her office. Jeff never got it, but he knew others that did and it consisted of a walloping across the outstretched palms of the hands. All teachers, be they lay teachers or nuns, were allowed to administer corporal punishment to the 18 year old students if it were deemed necessary.
Mrs Pintocevic was an acknowledged expert in that area.
While the elegant teacher was attractive and could be very nice if a student performed well or was in her good graces, she was also extremely strict and woe betide the boy or girl who displeased her. There was something about the combination of Mrs Pintocevic and corporal punishment that excited Jeff. He was at a loss to explain what it was. He had had other teachers who spanked, in fact they all did, but none of them had the effect that Mrs Pintocevic did. When Mrs Pintocevic hauled an unfortunate student up the front of the class and scolded them severely before administering a stinging volley of swats to their upper legs and bottoms with her trusty ruler, Jeff felt himself becoming breathless and knew he was watching the punishment with brightly shining eyes.
He had seen it happen before in other classes, but only Mrs Pintocevic produced that reaction. Jeff got plenty of opportunities in her class as hardly a week went by without a public chastisement taking place. The woman was inventive as well. The boys wore thick, long trousers made of corduroy and Mrs Pintocevic felt on one occasion that a well-known troublemaker needed to feel the sting of her ruler on his bare skin. While the school gave her carte blanche to spank the 18 year olds as she saw fit, and whilst this particular boy was a regular recipient of his father's strap at home, Mrs Pintocevic knew that taking the boy's trousers off in front of all his classmates would be overstepping the bounds of her authority, however the ruler on the seat or upper legs of those thick cords had absolutely no effect. The teacher took a firm hold on the boy's upper arm and dragged him out of the front of the class. She stood him with his back facing the class and, still keeping a grip on his arm, began her scolding. What she saw infuriated her. Jeff saw her lips compress in anger from where he sat in a desk near the front, the little brat was smiling!
Although she did not say anything, Jeff could almost hear her thinking 'I'll give him something to smile about.' While continuing her tongue-lashing she bent down and, to the boy's consternation, began to roll up the bottoms of his trousers. When she had exposed his calves almost to the knees, she pushed down his socks and commenced his spanking. The ruler smacked against those marble white calves quick and hard. In no time at all the boy's calves glowed red and the rest of the now completely silent class could hear him crying quietly. Mrs Pintocevic finished the spanking. She unrolled the boy's trouser legs and ordered him back to his seat. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks as he walked stiffly back to his desk. It was quite some time before he had another encounter with her ruler.
Jeff used to dream up spanking fantasies that centred around the classically beautiful teacher. She had never spanked him and it was unlikely that she ever would. He was one of the most studious, best-behaved boys in her class and, to tell the truth, she considered him her 'pet'. For his part Jeff, while he wanted to be spanked by Mrs Pintocevic, did not want to commit an offence that would have him dragged up to the front of the class and have her scorch the seat of his pants with her well-used ruler. The teacher liked him and he liked her. Besides, the sort of spankings she administered in class were not what he was looking for.
What Jeff really wanted from Mrs Pintocevic was a good, hard, old fashioned, over the knee, bare bottom spanking. Preferably with her hand. There was something about the thought of bare skin contacting bare skin that excited the boy even more than a spanking with an implement. The spankings at school were rarely ever on bare skin, rarely with the hand, and never over the knee or on the bare bottom.
Although Jeff had no real idea about Mrs Pintocevic's home life he did not think that she was as strict at home as she was at class. Her son had given Jeff and every other child in the class reason to believe that. She had a very young son who was only around three years old. He was a nice little kid and generally stayed with an aunt during the day while his mother worked, but sometimes he came to school with her and behaved like an absolute brat and completely out of the strict teacher's control. Despite his general naughtiness she never raised a hand to him.
Jeff did not take her more relaxed attitude to discipline at home into account in his dreams about the woman. The most common fantasy had him being looked after by Mrs Pintocevic. His parents had gone away for some time and he had been left with Mrs Pintocevic. He would be in her home for the duration of his parents' trip and be treated the same as her children, which meant that he was subject to the same discipline.
While staying with Mrs Pintocevic he had done something naughty, exactly what it was he never specified, it was just very naughty - naughty enough to earn him a spanking over Mrs Pintocevic's knee. At bedtime that night the teacher led him to his room and ordered him to change into his pajamas and come out when he was changed. Jeff did as he was told and Mrs Pintocevic took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. She took him inside and sat on the bed. She smoothed her skirt out over her silken thighs and sternly ordered Jeff to come and stand by her knee. The boy did as told and stood nervously by her knee. Mrs Pintocevic scolded Jeff, telling him how disappointed she was and how naughty he had been and that in her house there was only one way to deal with naughty boys and that was a hard spanking over her knee.
She leaned across and with a smooth practiced movement she whisked his flannel pajama bottoms to his knees, then before he could protest put one hand on the small of his back and the other gently on his stomach and turned him easily over her shapely legs. As he squirmed a little, she hoisted him higher so that his bottom was dead centre in her warm, maternal-feeling lap. He lay there with his head resting on the bed and his feet nearly touching the pillow. He shivered as Mrs Pintocevic's smooth, cool palm brushed over his bottom. She rubbed the soft, tender, round, goose-pimpled buttocks over her knee and cooed gently, "Such a naughty boy."
"I'm sorry ma'am," Jeff mumbled into the coverlet.
"Oh you will be, darling," Mrs Pintocevic told him ominously as her hand lifted off his bottom. "You will be," she repeated, tightening her grip around his waist.
CRACK! SMACK!
The two stinging spanks rang out like gunshots in the room as Mrs Pintocevic slapped his waiting bottom hard. "Ow!" Jeff squealed as twin pink handprints bloomed on his previously alabaster skin.
"This is what happens to naughty little boys' bottoms!" Mrs Pintocevic scolded as she worked herself into a steady rhythm with her strong right arm, spanking a hot little fire into Jeff's previously unspanked bottom.
Jeff could no longer hear the scolding, all he could concentrate on was the hard, warming palm that soundly spanked his defenceless bare bottom. That and the growing heat and sting of that bottom.
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