Two student lodgers learn the hard way they need to obey their landlady’s rules
By Kane Strokes
Many months had past since Helen’s daughter had left home as a married woman. Pleased and happy for her daughter, Helen missed the noise, the chatter and laughter that young women bring into a house, and this house was demanding those features of life.
The house was ideally set, less than fifteen minutes walk from the university, but only yards from open country and, better still, only a short drive to sun, sea and sandy beaches, when there was a summer to enjoy such features.
Helen no longer had to work. She filled her days doing the things she wanted to do, gardening, walks in the country, days out to places of interest, and of course some retail therapy. It was on such a therapeutic day, taking a break with morning coffee, she over heard a conversation between two students sat behind her. Their language was colourful, to say the least. When you stripped away the expletives, their topic of conversation was the high price of lodgings in or close to the university. An idea was born.
Back at home, Helen made several draft copies of an advert she was going to place on various notice boards locally; rooms to let, would suit university students, good rates, references required. She was going to stipulate girls only, but in these days of political correctness no one was allowed to show a preference. Still, she thought, any males wouldn’t be acceptable. Finally happy with the final draft, Helen placed her adverts.
An hour had passed since Helen had placed her adverts, then her phone rang.
“Hi, my name is Cathy. I have a friend, Sarah, are those rooms still available?”
Helen confirmed the rooms were still available, and arranged a time for Cathy and Sarah to call. Cathy and Sarah arrived punctually, Helen showed them around, the rooms weren’t en suite, they would have to share the bathroom and share the inevitable cleaning duties. The rooms were clean, spacious and in a quiet location, far better than the cramped and noisy conditions they were currently living in.
Helen had taken a liking to the girls. Happy, always laughing, she was sure they’d fit in well. Helen gave the girls a list of rules. They weren’t too happy about the rules of boys in their rooms, but Cathy was sure that in a couple of months she’d have Helen wrapped around her little finger, then wondered if she would when they saw Helen’s stern side.
“Break any of those rules, just once, and you’re out, no second chances.”
The laughter stopped abruptly, at the realisation of how seriously the rules were to be taken. For what they were, though, the rules would be easy to live with.
Cathy and Sarah settled in well. Within weeks, Helen felt as though they were family. She helped them through the emotional roller coaster of university life, and of relationships forged then lost.
“Now, ladies, you’re going to have to fend for yourselves next Wednesday, as I’ll be out most of the day. At this event, I can’t leave until midday. I’ll be back about 8pm.” Helen was pointing to an open day. A stately home was opening a new exhibition.
“Oh, that looks good, you go and enjoy it, we’ll be ok,” said Cathy, a plan already forming in her mind.
Helen left the girls to their studies.
Cathy looked up towards Sarah. “I think we can take advantage of that stately home.”
The next day, lunch time at the university, Cathy met Sarah. “Right, Sarah, here’s the idea. With Mrs Davis out of the way, let’s invite those two lads round. We can make sure they’re gone long before she gets back.”
Sarah wasn’t so sure. She had a lot of ‘but, what if’ which Cathy quickly poo-pooed. Before long, Sarah was actively planning with Cathy. The two lads in question, Neil and Gavin, were very enthusiastic about being alone with these two girls. Gavin had a problem, he had a lecture at that time, but he’d get one of his mates to sign in for him. The plotting foursome had all bases covered, roll on Wednesday.
The weekend passed like any other, except Cathy and Sarah appeared more helpful than usual. They also seemed to spend more time studying, not that Helen was going to complain. Through Monday and Tuesday, the girls were hardly able to contain their excitement. Helen’s maternal instincts told her something was going on. She didn’t know what, where or when, but these two were up to something.
Cathy and Sarah couldn’t believe their luck that Mrs Davis was away on a Wednesday, a lecture free day. Both girls had told Helen they’d be studying in their rooms. Helen thought it odd, but paid no attention. Although dressed in their traditional jeans and T shirt, beneath it each was wearing the scantiest of underwear. Helen left the girls studying as she left for the stately home.
Five minutes later, her doorbell was ringing. The two lads, Gavin and Neil, found the door was opened to them by Cathy and Sarah, their miniskirts leaving little to the imagination, as did their low cut tops.
“Well? What’s it to be?” Asked Gavin.
“Strip poker,” replied Sarah, giggling.
“I’m game for that.”
The four went into the living room. Cathy provided the cards, Helen’s favourite classical CD was discarded for the latest dance CD. Neil lit a strange cigarette.
“You can’t smoke that here, she’s a non-smoker, she’ll go fucking ballistic if she smells that,” shouted Sarah.
“It’ll be alright, we’ll open the windows and get the air freshener out the bog,” replied Neil.
“Stop worrying,” Cathy told Sarah as she dealt the cards.
“Look what I’ve found, a bottle of Talisker, now that is an awesome whisky. Drinks all round?” Asked Gavin.
“Don’t be a fool, she’ll know someone’s been at it; none for me,” yelled Sarah.
“Sarah, what the fuck’s the matter with you? Now chill, yes? Drinks all round?” Cathy cut in.
The drinks poured, someone smoking a funny cigarette, the cards dealt, the game commenced.
“This will be a short game, we’re not wearing much,” said Cathy, grinning.
Cathy was the first to lose her top, then the lads both lost theirs. A run of bad luck and Sarah was down to her bra and panties. The boys were soon down to their underpants. Cathy had a worse run of luck, she lost her skirt in one hand, and was undoing her bra to chants of: “Get your tits out for the lads,” with the next hand.
Helen pulled off of the drive, unaware of the planned subterfuge, heading towards the main road and then on her way. The stately home sat part way along a single track road. As she pulled into the road, she was stopped by a policeman directing traffic.
“Are you heading for the stately home, Madam?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Sorry you can’t get through this way. There’s been a mud slide and the road is blocked, you’ll have to detour.”
“Thank you, officer, I know the route.”
Helen pulled over to the side of the road to consider her options. The alternate route was a fifty mile detour. By the time she got there it would all be over. Reluctantly, Helen headed home. The road was clear and, as always happens, the journey home appeared quicker than the journey out. She pulled the car onto the drive, and noticed the living room window open, the normally quiet street suffering the noise pollution of modern ‘dance’ music emanating from her living room.
She opened the front door. She heard voices, laughter; she smelt strange smoke. She walked to the lounge door. She saw two young men in only their underpants. Cathy sat at the table in only her knickers. All eyes were on Sarah, who was dancing around undoing her bra.
The chants started: “Off, off, off!”
Sarah threw her bra towards the door, looked up and saw Helen standing there.
“Oh fuck!” Said Sarah, trying to cover her bare breasts with her arms.
Everyone looked towards the door.
Apart from the music from the CD, a stunned silence fell on the room; the laughing and chattering stopped abruptly.
“You two, OUT!” Helen said angrily, pointing to Neil and Gavin.
She then marched across the room, picked up their jeans and threw them out of the open window.
“Hey, what the fuck, lady!” Neil started, but was unable to finish.
“I told you, out! As you’re not listening, then I’ll put you out.”
Helen grabbed Neil by his left earlobe and twisted it hard, she took hold of Gavin’s right earlobe and did the same, both boys followed Helen quickly to the front door and outside. The door closed and locked firmly behind them.
Sarah and Cathy watched in disbelief as Helen had removed Neil and Gavin so effectively, both too young to understand what all mother’s know, that a naughty child always wants to go in the same direction and speed as his or her earlobe.
Helen returned to the living room, switched off the CD, then looked at Sarah and Cathy.
“You two, get dressed before I throw your clothes out of that window as well. Go and get packed, you’re out.”
The two girls left the living room in tears. As they climbed the stairs, the recriminations began.
“This is your fault, I told you this would go wrong.”
“Yeah, like when? Now, you’ve said nothing before. I didn’t see you objecting to Neil and Gavin taking their jeans off, and who’s idea was strip poker anyway?”
The squabbling faded as the girls got to their rooms.
Helen poured herself a drink, looked at her living room and thought of the way those two girls had abused her trust.
‘Where to now?’ She asked herself. ‘Another advert for new lodgers, or give it up as a bad job? One thing is for sure; the house will be quiet with those two gone.’
She thought more of what would have happened if she had come home and found her daughter behaving like that. Helen knew the answer to that immediately. Chairs would be underused for a week! So why not, Cathy and Sarah? They had become almost family, so what is wrong with some traditional family discipline?
“Cathy! Sarah! Get down here, NOW!” Helen shouted up the stairs to them.
Two very worried looking and tearful teenage girls appeared in the living room. They had changed back into their usual jeans and T shirts.
“I have an alternative for you, your choice, but you both have to accept. You either move out today, as your contract states, or I’ll punish you with both a hard spanking, followed by a caning. You decide, but it has to be unanimous.”
Without hesitation, Cathy said: “I’ll take my punishment from you.”
“Sarah?” Asked Helen.
Sarah said nothing.
“Alright, go to your rooms. You have 30 minutes to decide. Otherwise, you are out.”
Back upstairs, Cathy made her sales pitch. “Sarah, take the spanking, please. If we move out, we’re back to those horrible digs; overcrowded, noisy, smelly. You remember how hard it was to study, then we were kept awake at nights with drunks and people rowing. I really don’t want to have to leave here.”
Sarah was unsure. She’d never been spanked and was asking Cathy what it was like and how much it would hurt. Cathy told her straight; it would hurt, a lot, and then she made her final sales pitch.
“Do you want to move back to those horrible digs?”
“No,” replied Sarah.
“Or stay here and our bums hurt for about a week?”
“I don’t know, I’m scared,” replied Sarah.
Cathy took charge. “Come on, let’s go and get spanked.”
The two girls knocked on the living room door and entered.
“Well?” Asked Helen.
“We’ll take the spankings,” replied Cathy.
Helen looked at Sarah. “And you?”
Sarah looked worried, and just nodded.
“Go back to your rooms and change back into the mini skirts you had on earlier. Wear a Tshirt, but leave your knickers off. I always spank a girl’s bare bottom.”
“Could we wear thongs, please?” Asked Sarah.
“When I say no knickers, I mean no knickers. You, young lady, must learn to do as you’re told!”
Cathy and Sarah returned to their rooms to change. Helen collected up her hairbrush and the school cane, which hadn’t been used punitively for some years.
Two rather frightened looking teenage girls entered the living room, dressed as required; miniskirts, T shirts, but no knickers. They saw the cane and the hairbrush, ominously placed on the table where not that long ago they were playing cards.
Helen looked at them. “I’ve been treating you as maturing young women, but your actions today, and your planning those actions, show me you are just naughty girls capable of the worst D’s; deceit, deception, devious, disrespect. There are probably many more I could think of.”
Cathy and Sarah lowered their heads, looking at the floor.
“Very shortly, you can add a new D to your repertoire; D for discipline!”
Cathy looked up. “Mrs Davis, I apologise for our behaviour. We have abused your trust. It was my idea, I’m the most at fault.”
“I’m as much to blame. I should have stopped you,” cut in Sarah.
“Enough!” Helen raised her voice. “Thank you for the apology, Cathy, but you’re both getting spanked as hard as each other.”
The girls stayed silent. Helen knew that Sarah had never been spanked in her life. She knew Cathy had been spanked but had no idea how much she would shout, scream maybe, or yell, and set Sarah running.
With that in mind: “Cathy, go face that far wall, hands on your head.”
“Yes, Mrs Davis.”
Helen picked up the hairbrush from the table.
“Sarah, you come here to me.”
Sarah walked slowly and uncertainly towards Helen. Helen had sat herself on an armless dining chair. As Sarah approached her, she reached out and took Sarah by the arm. She guided her over her left thigh. There was no need to lift Sarah’s skirt, it rode up of its own accord presenting Helen with a prime target area. Helen trapped Sarah’s legs with her right leg; her pristine white bottom was perched high on Helen’s thigh, nicely bent and ready for a visit from Helen’s hairbrush.
Sarah’s nose was only inches from the carpet, her field of vision saw only the carpet pattern. She lay there ready, her bottom twitching, awaiting the first smack.
Helen looked at the two girls; Cathy had her face to the wall, Sarah was staring at the carpet. Neither would see how high Helen was lifting the brush. Only Helen knew the brush was being held above head height, and now it was speeding on its way towards Sarah’s bottom. The brush struck across the fullest part of Sarah’s bottom.
She yelled and her whole body bucked under the sudden pain. She tried to twist and wriggle her bottom but with Helen’s grip on her legs, Sarah’s bottom was going nowhere. Sarah’s bottom belonged to Helen. Helen watched as the first red mark grew and it’s colour deepened, and gave her another smack of the brush. Again Sarah yelled and bucked, trying to twist and wriggle her bottom. Helen felt her gyrations on her thigh.
Cathy heard both smacks with the brush, and Sarah’s subsequent yells of pain. The smacks sounded harmless; nothing like the sound she was used to hearing when she had been across her mother’s knee. Cathy didn’t realise how carpets and curtains, sofas and cushions, all help to deaden sound.
‘Sarah is being such a baby,’ thought Cathy.
Helen continued to spank with the same force she’d started with. The brush continued to start its journey to the target from above head high. Sarah continued to buck with pain, her yells had turned to pleas to stop. She was sorry. The pleas turned to tears as the brush continued to rain down on her bare and unprotected bottom. Helen called on all the experience she’d gained in spanking unruly young women. The brush landed across both cheeks, then three times on one cheek. Helen varied the spanking in such a way that a naughty girl could never predict where the next smack was going to land.
That one was high on the cheek, then the next low in the crease of both cheeks, bringing a shriek from Sarah. That was music to the ears for Helen as she knew the message was getting through. Helen watched with satisfaction as a white bottom turned pink, and now she had a Hawaiian sunset perched high on her thigh.
Helen and her brush continued their crusade against unruly teenagers. Sarah, now bawling like an eight year old, no longer bucked and twisted with each smack. She just lay there, Helen had spanked the fight out of her.
‘That’s the first one done,’ thought Helen. ‘But something first to wake her up.’
She didn’t lift the brush so high, and gave Sarah six rapid fire smacks on both cheeks across the fullest part of her bottom. Sarah bucked and screamed, and tried to wriggle. Helen released her leg and Sarah fell from her thigh on to the floor, her hands clutching her burning and swelling bottom.
Cathy continued to take heart while hearing the sound of the brush impacting on Sarah’s bottom; a dull thud, unlike the pistol shot echoing around the room, the sound she was used to hearing from one of her mother’s spankings.
‘Sarah really is a big baby,’ thought Cathy. She gained confidence, almost eager for her own spanking.
“Cathy, come over here, please. Sarah, you go and face the wall where Cathy was standing.”
The two passed each other, Sarah in obvious pain, but Cathy still held the belief that Sarah was crying before she was hurt. As Cathy approached, there was no need for her to be guided. The years of being spanked by her mother, Cathy knew the procedure. She lowered herself across Helen’s left thigh and felt her legs trapped by Helen’s right leg.
“You’re no stranger to this position, then?” Helen questioned Cathy.
“No mum, sorry, I mean, Mrs Davis.”
“Mum will do nicely, especially as you’re about to get a maternal spanking.”
Helen studied Cathy’ blemish free bottom, not white like Sarah’s but slightly tanned, no bikini marks. Cathy obviously had somewhere she sunbathed nude.
No favouritism, Helen again raised the brush above head high, once more racing towards an unruly teenager’s bare bottom, a bottom presented for correction by an unruly young woman. Cathy heard the dull thud as the brush hit her bottom. She wasn’t ready for the pain that exploded in both cheeks.
Cathy shouted out in pain and disbelief. She grabbed hold of the leg of the chair, her bottom bucked with the pain. She suddenly became aware her bottom was going to salute a woman, a mother, skilled in the discipline of wayward girls.
Just as she did with Sarah, Helen waited until the pain of that first smack reached it’s peak before unleashing the hairbrush for its next visit to Cathy’s bottom, striking just below the first. Cathy, this time, was ready. She gripped the chair in a vain attempt to ease the pain. More prepared, she didn’t yell nearly as loud, but still her bottom bucked beneath the brush.
Helen watched as Cathy’s bottom cheeks compressed on the impact of the brush, than sprang back into, and past, their correct shape as Helen drew the brush away, quickly increasing the sting. Helen spanked hard and with a purpose; a random pattern of smacks to the bottom, Cathy unable to fathom where the next smack would land, each smack of the brush taking her by surprise, yelling now as the brush twice revisited the first smack.
Cathy was losing the fight. Tears that were just gently rolling off her cheeks were now a flooded river racing down her face. The make up she’d applied to her eyes was now polluting those rivers. The crying turned to sobs, her fight worn away. She just lay there taking all the brush could deliver, every square inch of her bottom throbbing with a deep pain, the skin burning with sting.
Cathy was suddenly brought out of her submission into a bucking, wriggling, writhing teenager with a very sore bottom, as Helen delivered six rapid sharp smacks to Cathy’s sit spots.
Helen released Cathy’s legs, and helped her up. She danced from foot to foot trying to alleviate the pain, her hands by her side itching, yearning to clutch and soothe her bottom, but mum never allowed that, and Cathy didn’t know if this new surrogate mum would allow it either, so she stood there, bawling, dancing, wishing she didn’t have arms and hands to control.
“Go face the wall over there, hands on head!” Helen pointed to where she wanted Cathy.
Helen sat. After all that exertion she needed a rest. Her anger spanked out, she sat back to the music of spanked 19 year old girls bawling and snivelling. Half an hour had passed, the bawling had ceased, most of the snivelling had stopped too. The girls could wait another fifteen minutes, more time for their bottoms to recover, to loose any numbness, and be sore and sensitive for the fiery kiss of the cane.
Helen called the girls to the middle of the room. Helen was flexing the cane across her bust. The girls’ eyes were drawn to it like moths to light, then they flinched as Helen released the business end and the cane sprang back into shape. The girls were told to move furniture to the sides to give Helen room the swing the cane.
“You, Cathy, stand there and face the window. Sarah, you stand there and face the opposite wall.”
Helen pointed to where she wanted the girls to stand. Helen had them stand about four feet apart, one closer to an inner wall, the other closer to an outer wall.
“Bend over, touch your toes.”
The girls obeyed, with ows and ahs as their sore bottoms stretched into the required position.
Helen looked at the scene. Two girls, stood touching their toes in a perfect light to highlight their rounded behinds. Sarah, the more athletic, stood with her legs straight and held perfectly together. Cathy, less athletic, still keeping her legs straight but slightly parted.
Helen knew what she was going to do; she would alternate between the two.
Cathy heard the swish, her bottom cheeks tried to clench, but couldn’t. She heard the crack of the cane against bare bottom, then she heard Sarah yell. Helen stood back and watched as an angry red welt grew across Sarah’s bottom.
She then turned her attention to Cathy. Helen tapped the cane against Cathy’s bottom, lining up the first stroke. Three, maybe four, times she tapped her bottom firmly. Cathy, feeling a sting from these aiming strokes, heard the swish of the cane. Cathy would have clenched her bottom, but there wasn’t time before the cane planted it’s fiery kiss fully across Cathy’s bottom. A slight forward lurch and an anguished cry, Helen returned to Sarah.
Admiring the first welt, now fully matured, then tapping Sarah’s bottom as firmly as she did with Cathy, the next stroke landed just below the first. Sarah gave voice to her pain, wriggling her bottom frantically trying to shake out the burning sting.
Cathy’s turn again, more firm aiming strokes. Helen knew she didn’t need to, she knew where naughty girls kept their bottoms. The cane cracked hard against Cathy’s bare flesh, the second welt now rising slightly beneath the first. Cathy did her best, but was unable to restrain her yell.
The room had been quiet, apart from the sound of a swishing cane, and the cracking against a naughty girl’s bottom. Now the room had the background sounds of girls crying as their bottoms once more burned like fires out of control.
Sarah, crying softly as Helen once more added more sting with her firm aiming strokes, but this was nothing to the sting Sarah was about to feel. As the cane tapped firmly on the fullest, roundest part of her bottom, Helen eyed the real target, the cane swished, then cracked hard in Sarah’s crease. Sarah leapt up in agony, crying hard and rubbing frantically to reduce the burning sting beneath her bottom.
“Back in position, that one doesn’t count, we’ll do it again, and we’ll keep doing it again until you learn to stay in position!”
The cane cracked down hard once more into Sarah’s crease. She lurched forward, her fingertips rose away from her toes, but quickly she returned to her position.
Helen smiled, discipline at it’s best.
Cathy’s third stroke also landed in her crease. She yelled and fought hard to stay touching her toes as her feet marked time drumming the floor. Helen admired the girl’s courage, and decided it would be tested further.
Sarah’s fourth stroke again landed across the fullest part of her bottom. The welt rose evenly across both cheeks, her tears flowing freely. Each stroke caused Sarah to fight hard not to move. Helen observed Sarah’s bottom, and congratulated herself on such accuracy, getting strokes so close together but not overlapping; yet!
Now to test Cathy’s courage. The firm aiming strokes applied again to her sit spots, even these now were increasing her discomfort. Cathy prayed the stroke would land where the cane was being aimed. The swish, the crack and Cathy’s crease felt the ravages of every stinging insect that inhabits the planet. She yelled and jumped up.
Helen felt self satisfaction at breaking her resistance, and now to reward her initial resistance with more pain.
“Back in position, that one doesn’t count. We’ll do it again, and we’ll keep doing it again until you learn to stay in position.”
Cathy slowly bent back into position. The cane once more left a fiery kiss in Cathy’s crease. She yelled, lurched forward as expected, but stayed touching her toes.
Once more, Helen congratulated herself. Her teaching of the lesson ‘D for Discipline’ was slowly and painfully being learnt.
Both girls were crying hard now, and both had two strokes to come. Helen aimed the cane between sit spots and crease for both. Both yelled at the unbelievable sting and deep throbbing pain.
“Last stroke coming up; remember to stay in position until I tell you to stand. Otherwise we repeat the stroke and I’ll tell you now, you’ll regret it.”
Sarah first, the cane cracked diagonally across the other strokes. Sarah yelled and screamed desperately clenching her fist to relieve the pain. She stayed touching her toes, crying fresh floods of tears as her bottom throbbed and burned.
The same for Cathy; causing more floods of tears as the pain in her bottom surged through her body, fighting the natural response to jump and soothe her injured bottom. Helen looked at both girls’ bottoms.
“In your own interests, I suggest you now stand up, very slowly. It will hurt less.”
Sarah and Cathy both rose as Helen suggested, and faced Helen, their faces tear-stained.
“Go to your rooms; take your time to compose yourselves.”
Helen busied herself returning her living room to order. As she did so, Cathy appeared in the doorway.
“Don’t listen to Sarah, it was all my idea. Sorry, mum.”
“Would you like to discuss this on Friday evening whilst Sarah’s at work?”
Cathy nodded. She understood the discussion Mrs Davis had in mind. It would undoubtedly mean another sore bottom.
© Kane Strokes 2016