What neighours are for | illustrated spanking story

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Ron waited until he heard the closing of the front door before going into the kitchen for a can of beer. Madge, his wife, was paying her weekly visit to the Lyceum bingo hall, and though he considered this a senseless waste of his hard earned money, it did at least give him a chance to enjoy the latest edition of Janus.

Returning to the living room he went straight to the shelf below the stereo unit where his records were stored; it was also where his copy of Janus lav secreted, inside the sleeve of a Frank Sinatra album. Madge was not a music lover so there was little chance of her discovering his hiding place. Oh, there had been times in their marriage when he had almost summoned the courage to confess his penchant for spanking, but he could imagine her reaction; 'What! You want to smack my bottom? Ron, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Don’t be so silly and read the evening paper.' Well, something like that, anyway. Not that she was a prude — their sex life was adequate and she never refused him in bed — but he just couldn't imagine her consenting to a spanking, not even a mild, playful one.

Ah. well. He settled back in his favourite armchair, glass of beer at his elbow, and Janus open on his lap. Ron always looked first at the photos, then came the readers’ letters section, and finally he would read the various stories and articles. He was admiring the colour photo of a girl whose bottom displayed the marks of a recent caning, rather like a connoisseur of fine wines savouring the bouquet of a rare vintage, when the doorbell sounded.

‘Oh, damn! ’ He sighed deeply. Who on earth could it be? Probably local kids up to their usual mischief, the little devils. Mind you, what else could they do for fun? There weren’t any playgrounds or similar amenities around here for them. So, expecting his trip to the front door to be a fool’s errand, he lay the magazine aside and wearily stood up.

Oh, it’s you, Pamela,’ he said on opening the front door. ‘Please, won’t you come in?’

The attractive divorcee from next door smiled warmly, stepping in as he stood aside and closed the door behind her. He noted, as on previous occasions since she had become his and Madge’s neighbour, the sumptuous curves of her large bottom which filled the tight scat of her white slacks to the utmost capacity; and when presented with her front the view was equally breathtaking, her breasts like over-ripe melons threatening to pop the buttons of her pink blouse.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Ron,’ she apologised, ‘but Madge promised to lend me a knitting pattern this morning but I think it's slipped her mind.’

‘Sorry, Pamela, but Madge is out. Bingo night,’ he explained.

‘Oh, of course, it’s Wednesday, isn't it? Silly me. Ah well, thanks anyway, Ron.’ She turned to leave but Ron was eager to delay her.

‘Er, I was just having a glass of beer. I don’t suppose you'd like one, would you, Pamela?' He expected a polite refusal, but at least he’d tried. And where was the harm? He only wanted a chat.

Pamela beamed. ‘Whv, thank vou. Ron, I wouldn’t say no. If Madge can go out to bingo I don’t see why we can’t enjoy a little drink together, do you?’ She gave a conspiritorial wink. ‘And I won’t tell if you won’t.’

Ron’t spirits soared. ‘Splendid! One very cold beer coming right up! Why don’t you go and sit down in the living room while I pour it?’

‘Say no more! ’ the red-headed divorcee gaily laughed, heading for the living-room door, and before she disappeared Ron was treated once more to her mouth-watering rear view. Quickly, he went into the kitchen, taking another can of beer from the fridge, carefully pouring so that the head was just right. Then, glass in hand, the sweet refrains of ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ sounding in his head, he almost waltzed through to the living room. However, once inside the door he came to an abrupt halt, almost spilling beer from the glass, and he was assailed by sudden panic - for there sat Pamela in his armchair, reading his Janus'.

‘Pamela, I — oh, God!’ he spluttered.

Pamela looked up from this month’s candidates for ‘The Order of the Burning Bot’. ‘Sorry. Ron, what did you say? Oh, is that for me? Lovely.’

In a state of shock Ron came forward. handing her the brimming glass. Once relieved of it he fumbled for a cigarette from the open packet on the coffee table, lighting it with a trembling hand.

‘T wonder.’ Pamela said, taking a sip of beer, ‘if I might ask a favour of you. Ron?’

Ron mumbled something unintelligible, racking his brains for some plausible explanation — but he could think of none! What possible excuse could he give?

‘You see,’ Pamela continued, seemingly oblivious to his panic-stricken state of mind, ‘that silly newsagent in the high street sold every copy of this month’s Janus, so I wondered if I might borrow yours when you’d finished with it?’

'Oh, er, yes, cert— what did you say! '

To be perfectly honest with you, Ron’ — she blushed slightly — ‘I used to enjoy it. Yes, even from mum!’

The abruptness of the last part of Ron’s sentence almost caused Pamela to leap from her seat! ‘Well, er, only that I, er, wondered—’ lie didn’t allow her to finish. ‘You mean to say that actually read Janus'! ’ His tone was incredulous.

‘Well, yes. There’s nothing., wrong in that, is there?’ she asked, obviously perplexed.

‘No, no!’ Ron laughed, somehow resisting the sudden impulse to do a merry jig around the room. ‘No! Nothing at all! ’

Pamela’s features retained their perplexity. ‘But why are you so surprised, Ron? Women aren’t averse to a titillating read, you know. Surely Madge reads it, doesn’t she?’

Ron sat down in the opposite armchair, his sudden high spirits somewhat dampened. ‘No,’ he admitted sadly. ‘No, she doesn’t.’

‘But why ever not?’

Ron sighed forlornly. ‘Because she doesn't know that I’m, well, interested in ... in spanking.’

It was now Pamela’s turn to display incredulity. ‘You mean you haven’t told her? After all these years of marriage you’ve kept it like some dark secret? Really, Ron, I think you underestimate Madge. She’s never struck me as being the narrow minded sort, quite the reverse, in fact: we’ve had some quite intimate little chats about this and that.’

He shrugged helplessly. ‘Perhaps you’re right — I know you’re right. It’s just that . . .’ He finished lamely.

Pamela nodded sympathetically. ‘I know what you mean. You’re afraid she'll yell pervert, or something. That’s why my marriage ended, because my ex-husband was such a narrow-minded little tick. I was flabbergasted at his attitude — to me it seemed so natural. I was spanked from a very early age, and continued to be spanked almost until the very day I got married. Mum always maintained that a naughty girl is never too big to spank — and she was right! To be perfectly honest with you, Ron’ — she blushed slightly — ‘I used to enjoy it. Yes, even from mum!’

Ron felt his passions stirred. ‘You did?’

‘Yes, aren’t I awful. Mind you, I’m sure she did, too. She never spanked in anger, not even when I'd been extremely naughty, and always went very carefully about her task.’ Pamela wet her lips with a sip of beer before continuing in confidential tones. ‘You see, she and dad indulged, too. I heard them one night when they thought I was asleep. I was going past their bedroom for a glass of water when I heard the unmistakable sound of palm meeting bare bottom, closely followed by little squeals from mum. I wasn’t shocked — quite the reverse, in fact! I stayed there outside the bedroom door, listening — and I was only sorry I wasn’t inside so that I could see mum receiving a soundly smacked bottom!

Ron crossed his legs, hoping to hide the signs of his arousal. If only he could have married someone like

Pamela. He felt suddenly bold after her confession. ‘You really arc a naughty girl, aren’t you, Pamela? Still not too big for a spanking, I wouldn’t have thought.’

Pamela smiled alluringly. ‘Is a woman ever?’ she said.

Ron was beginning to feel like some lecherous villain of a silent, twenties melodrama; if his upper lip had sported a drooping moustache he would probably have twirled it. He uncrossed his legs and shuffled forward on the seat, patting his lap. Slowly, Pamela stood up, moving towards him. Coyly, she said: ‘Mum always bared my bottom first, Ron.’

For a brief moment Ron experienced a difficulty in breathing, then with trembling fingers he unfastened the single button at the side of Pamela’s waist and tugged down the zip. Lowering the tight slacks was quite some achievement considering the fullness of Pamela’s hips and the expanse of her seat. But it was an enviable task and he accomplished it bravely. Now, only a pair of thin, black nylon knickers separated Ron from the experience of a lifetime, and he savoured the unveiling, discovering that Pamela was, indeed, a true redhead. Without being told she lowered herself over his thighs, and Ron was mesmerized by the majestic proportions of that bountious seat, unconsciously beginning to stroke its warm, smooth texture. Pamela moaned at his touch, rubbing her furry mound against him.

‘Oh, Ron, I’m so naughty . . . spank me soundly . . .’

He needed no further bidding.


‘Owww! ’


‘Ohhhh! ’



‘I’ll teach you a lesson, young lady! ’ he scolded.

‘Owww! Oh, yes, Ron, oh, yes — I so deserve it! ’
Smack! — Smack! — Smack! — Smack! — Smack! — Smack! —
Smack! — Smack! — Smack! —
Smack! — Smack! —

The buxom divorcee wriggled and writhed as Ron’s palm smote her glowing rump one dozen, two dozen

— three dozen times! He tightened his grip on the back of her waist and, leaning forward, removed his heavy-soled slipper and began a fresh assault with a smacky weapon!
Thwack! — Thwack! — Thwack!
— Thwack! Thwack! —Thwack!
-— Thwack! — Thwack! — Thwack!
— Thwack! —

Even Pamela’s appetite was now' sated, but Ron didn’t stop. He had lost all track of time — was possessed by a veritable demon — and all he saw in front of him were a pair of bouncing buttocks the colour of overripe tomatoes. Pamela sobbed and pleaded, the tears coursing freely down her flushed cheeks, dripping onto the carpet beneath her. She threshed her shapely legs, writhed and wriggled on his lap, pummeled the floor with her fists, and literally begged him to stop. And eventually he did, flinging the slipper aside, his chest labouring for breath, caressing his palm across that scalding, crimson mass of agonized flesh.

‘Oh, Ron,’ Pamela sobbed. ‘Oh, Ron . . .’ She had never been punished so soundly, but it had been worth every minute. Pleasure rippled through her and she brought one hand up to her breast, the nipple greatly swollen through the thin material of her blouse, and with the other hand she reached behind her, guiding Ron’s trembling fingers down between her fleshy thighs to the hot, moist core of her desire . . .

The following day Pamela paid a visit to the only sex shop in town, situated down a backstreet behind a large supermarket. She emerged some time later with a large, gift-wrapped parcel. She took a taxi home, and after checking her appearance in a mirror went next door to visit Madge.

‘You really are a naughty girl, aren't you, Pamela? Still not too big for a spanking, I wouldn't have thought.’ Pamela smiled alluringly. ‘Is a woman ever?’ she said.

Once settled in the living room, after first making some tea, Madge couldn't contain herself anv longer and asked: ‘Pamela, whatever have you got there?’

Smiling, Pamela presented her with the parcel. ‘Open it and see. You might say it’s an early Christmas present for you and Ron.’ She sipped from a China teacup, her green eyes atwinkle.

Madge smiled through her puzzlement. ‘But Christmas is an age away yet . . . Pamela, what arc you up to? I know that mischievous look in your eye.’

‘Oh, go on — open it! ’

Not without a show of girlish excitement, Madge did just that. Then — ‘But what’s this?’ She found herself holding a full schoolgirl uniform in her lap —- that and a thin, swishy, crook-handled cane! Wagging a finger at her friend Madge demanded: ‘Now come on, young lady, just what is this all about?’

Refilling both their teacups, Pamela began to tell her about the events of the previous night — and she left out nothing! When she had concluded Madge gasped: ‘Pamela, you didn’t . . . you and Ron . . . here ... in my . . .’ Suddenly she burst out laughing, tears filling her eyes.

At first Pamela was afraid she was becoming hysterical. ‘Madge, I’m sorry, I really—’

‘Oh, Pamela! ’ Madge laughed. ‘I'm just imagining you over Ron’s lap getting that big bottom of yours smacked! ’ She continued laughing, taking out a handkerchief and mopping her streaming eyes.

Pamela shook her head, incredulous at the way Madge was taking all this. ‘You mean to say that . . . that you don’t mind . . . not even about what . . . well, what took place afterwards?’

Madge tucked her wet handkerchief away and shook her head, still looking as though she might burst out laughing again any moment, her eyes sparkling. ‘I suppose I should, but what would be the point? I’m only sorry Ron never told me about his little interest, I certainly wouldn’t have minded. I mean, there’s nothing wrong in it, is there?’

‘So you wouldn’t mind him spanking yOU?’

‘No.’ She giggled suddenly. ‘It might be fun.’

Pamela regarded her friend in a new light. ‘Haven’t you ever been spanked before, Madge?’

Madge thought back to her childhood. ‘Well, no, not really. My parents were very lenient and I onlv ever got the odd smack. I did have an aunt who always said I needed a good spanking especially when I was a teenager — but she never carried out the threat.’

Pamela sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and try your uniform on?’

Madge noted the twinkle still alive in Pamela’s eye. ‘All right, but no laughing at me. Do I have to put the stockings on, too?’

‘Oh yes, stockings, suspender-belt - everything!’

Madge giggled as she stood up, the open parcel of clothes in her arms. ‘Okay, I won’t be a minute.’ She left the room, leaving the slender school cane beside her chair. Alone, Pamela experienced a familiar excitement rising within her, and she smiled rather wickedly to herself.

A short while later Madge returned, and on seeing her Pamela’s pulse began to race. The navy-blue gymslip contrasted brilliantly with the white blouse and striped school-tie, the material clinging to her generous curves, the hem barely coming to the tops of the black-seamed stockings, and Pamela could glimpse a sliver of bare, white thigh. Madge had used a pair of her own black, high-heeled shoes — and she'd even put her ash-blonde hair into twin pigtails!

‘Wow!’ Pamela exclaimed. ‘You look gorgeous!’

Madge beamed, coyly fluttering her long eyelashes. ‘Do I?’ she said, obviously flattered, and did a twirl, giving Pamela a fleeting glimpse of navy-blue knickers. She almost skipped over to the chair and once more sat opposite her friend. In doing so the hem of the gymslip rode up to display stocking-tops, suspendered thighs — even the crotch of her knickers. ‘Do I make a believable schoolgirl, then?’ she giggled.

‘Oh, you most certainly do!’ Pamela cooed. ‘I could you! ’ She could hardly take her eyes from the plump, white thighs and the triangular patch of knickers — she could even sec the odd pubic hair straying from beneath!

Madge glowed with mischief. ‘Could you also spank me?’

Pamela nodded vigorously, red curls falling across her forehead. ‘Oh, I most certainly could! And cane you! ’ ‘Why don’t you, then?’ Madge said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. ‘After all,’ she added quickly, T wouldn’t want to disappoint Ron with my reaction . . .

‘You mean it?' Pamela said openmouthed.

Madge giggled, then coyly played with a pigtail. ‘Yes, of course. Where do you want me?’

For a brief moment Pamela was rather flustered, then her countenance became that of a strict Headmistress. ‘Very well, then, you naughty girl. Over my knee ! ’

‘Y-Yes, Miss . . .’ Madge faltered, playing the game. She went and stood beside her seated friend whose lap looked so inviting, and in a trice she was bending over, her weight ably supported by Pamela’s firm, fully-fleshed thighs. The gymslip's hem was now up around her waist and Madge felt all tingly inside, knowing that Pamela could openly view the seat of her knickers. This was certainly, well . . . different!

For a moment Pamela was bound, then the trance evaporated, and taking hold of the elasticated waist of the navy-blue knickers she pulled them down around Madge’s thighs. ‘Mv, mv.’ Pamela breathed, ‘what a delectable derriere! ’ And, indeed, it was. Perhaps not the equal of her own in size, it was. however, firm and well-rounded, the dividing cleft between those nether cheeks deep and inviting.

‘Not quite as big as yours, though,’ Madge said saucilv.

‘Owww! ’

‘That’s for being cheeky! ’ Pamela scolded.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ Madge giggled.

‘Just be grateful I’m not holding a wooden-backed hairbrush in my hand,’ Pamela warned. ‘Now, then, young ladv . . . have you been a naughty girl?’ ‘Yes, Miss.’ This time she suppressed a giggle.

‘And what do naughty girls deserve?’

‘What you got last night . . .’

Smack !
‘Owww ! ’

Pamela smiled to herself as a tinge of pink already materialized on Madge’s bottom-cheeks. ‘What do they deserve?’

This time Madge said quickly: ‘A good spanking, Miss.’


‘On the bare bottom, Miss.’

‘And do you deserve a good spanking on vour bare bottom, young lady?’

She’d actually taken six with the cane — and she'd loved it! She jumped up and threw her arms around Pamela's neck! ‘Oh, Pamela!’ she cried, tears streaking her cheeks. ‘That was — was heavenly!’

‘Oh, yes, Miss, I certainly hope so!’

‘Very well, then,’ Pamela said sternly, ‘and for being so cheeky you will be caned, too!'

‘Oh, no, Miss! ’


‘Owww! Oh, Miss, please! ’


‘Owwww! Oh, Miss'. ’

Pamela decided Madge needed a crash course so she didn’t spare her the full weight of her flailing palm.


‘Ooooo! Pamela — I mean, Miss — that was my thigh! ’


‘And that was your other one! ’ Pamela laughed.

As the spanking progressed Madge began to wriggle her bottom vigorously, and she knew full well that Pamela was probably getting quite a display! .Pain and pleasure was a combination she had never before experienced — and she adored every moment, anticipating each delectable spank!

The spanking continued for another five minutes before Pamela rested her stinging palm on Madge's hare thigh, and she surveyed the rosy condition of her friend's twitching buttocks.

‘There, you naughty girl. Now, I want you bending over the back of this chair for the conclusion of your so well-deserved punishment!’

Smack! She gave Madge’s bottom a parting slap as it was hoisted from her lap by a sobbing owner.

Madge quickly went round the back of the chair and immediately bent over, thrusting her already sore bottom high in the air, watching as Pamela picked up the thin, swishy cane and flexed it between her fingers. To think what she’d been missing for all these years!

‘Six-of-the-best I think for you, my girl.’ Pamela said in her Headmistress tone, taking a stance to one side of the sublime offering. She tapped the cane’s tip on her friend’s quivering seat, then raised it above her.

Swish — Whack!

‘Owww! ’ Madge yelped as the cane stung her flesh, leaving in its wake a thin, red line. It certainly hurt more than a spanking, and yet it was—

Swish — Whack!
Th e second stroke was administered.
‘Owwwwwoh — Pamela!’
‘T m-mcan. Miss!’
Swish — Whack!

‘Oooooo! ’ Madge pressed her knees tightly together and fought to maintain her position, despite the inclination to jump up and nurse her scorching rear! But the fresh sensations wrought by each new stroke kept her there, somehow forcing her bottom to elevate itself yet higher.

Swish — Whack!

‘Ahhhhhhooo! ’ Now she was crying, the tears suddenly falling. She clenched and unclenched her buttocks, screwing up her eyes, and bit her lip.

Swish — Whack!

‘Owwwwwohno! ’ Her bottom was streaked with fire — she just couldn’t take any more!

Swish — Whack!

‘Owwowwowwwo! ’ She heaved with sobs and suddenly felt an uncontrol - able urge to go to the loo —- but she’d done it! She’d actually taken six with the cane — and she’d loved it!

She jumped up and threw her arms around Pamela’s neck! ‘Oh, Pamela!’ she cried, tears streaking her cheeks.

Pamela hugged and kissed her, patting her flaming seat fondly. ‘Madge — oh, Madge!’ She brought her lips into contact with hers and suddenly they were kissing passionately and hungrily. However, Madge suddenly broke the embrace, holding her friend off at arm’s length, her eyes wide with shock.

Pamela hugged and kissed her, patting her flaming seat fondly. ‘Madge — oh, Madge!’ She brought her lips into contact with hers and suddenly they were kissing passionately and hungrily.

‘Pamela! What . . . what are we doing! ’

Pamela smiled. ‘I’ll show you, my darling—’ and she quickly spun Madge round and once more bent her over the chair back. Pamela was suddenly on her knees and Madge felt something — a hot, moist tongue! — between the cheeks of her bottom!

‘Pamela — how dare you! Pamela, you shouldn’t — Pamela, you . . . you . . . you . . . oh, Pamela . . . ohhhhh! ’ She pushed her bottom-cheeks against Pamela’s face.

Later that evening, when Ron got home, he found a note on the hallstand. I le hung up his hat and coat before reading it. It read: ‘Ron, darling, come upstairs — there’s a surprise waiting for you . . .’ lie put the note back down on the hall-stand, deeply intrigued. Madge never called him darling — and she never bought him surprises, except at birthdays or Christmas, and the day was certainly neither of those. ‘Madge?’ he called. ‘Madge . . . where are you?’

No answer.

Shrugging he began to climb the stairs. Might as well see what it is, he thought . . .


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