The following account is unusual for this site in that it happened when I was no longer at school, and to all intents and purposes an adult by today’s standards. However, when reading this, bear in mind that when these events took place, you had to be 21 before you could vote so I was technically classed as a child, certainly by my parents and really by my work colleagues too.
After the first few months in my job, I was sent on a three-month training course away from home. Mum and Dad would not let me ride my motorbike there so I took a train, and I was met at the station by Mrs Groves (all names changed – Ed) who was my personal mentor at head office. She took me to my lodgings in her car and introduced me to my landlady, Mrs Watson.
To my surprise, Mrs Watson was in her early 30s – she was also very beautiful. It turned out that Mrs Watson worked in head office as a secretary to one of the managers and was divorced. She took me indoors and showed me my room before making tea for me.
We sat chatting during tea and Mrs Watson laid out some ground rules – these included no girls in my room and an evening curfew. My landlady told me that my parents had signed a form allowing her act as my guardian while I was away, and confirmed that this included corporal punishment if necessary. This was not actually a surprise to me, as they had always let friends’ parents spank me when I stayed on sleepovers, if needed. Of course, I agreed to her rules – indeed, I had little choice anyway.
Everything went well until my second month in the house. I had met a girl in the pub and we had gone to her flat for some ‘bedroom gymnastics’. She was slightly older than me and soon had me aroused. This was my first time having proper sex with a woman, and there was no fumbling about as there had been with my cousin Carol previously. We had such a good time that I didn’t leave until after my curfew. Nothing was said about meeting again, so presumably the girl had not been impressed with me!
When I got back to my lodgings I discovered the front door was locked and I had to knock. Mrs Watson opened the door and let me in. She pushed me into the lounge and started telling me off. She told me that she had been worried as I was so late back. “You know the rules!” she said. I couldn’t argue about that – and it was gone midnight by now. Then Mrs Watson said: “I’m too tired to deal with you now – I’ll punish you in the morning.” I felt my cock getting erect at the thought of her spanking me and rushed to my bedroom to relieve myself.
I stayed awake for some time after replaying the evening in my mind and getting excited at the thought of Mrs Watson spanking me in the morning. I fell asleep and was awoken by Mrs Watson knocking on my bedroom door. I opened it and she looked a picture of beauty. I was told breakfast was ready and to get downstairs.
After breakfast, I tidied up the table and washed up before apologising to Mrs Watson for the previous night. She told me that it was time for my punishment and put a kitchen chair in the lounge. I followed her in and was mesmerised as she hitched her tight skirt up slightly and sat down. She had to tell me to bend over her knees as I was awestruck by her beauty.
I started stripping as I would at home and she seemed surprised but didn’t stop me. By now I had a big hard on and she obviously felt it as I flopped over her knees. She started smacking my bum on alternate cheeks, hard and rhythmically, and I soon felt the pain and wriggled about.
I was worried about having an orgasm, and perhaps she was as well, because she suddenly stopped. She told me to stand up and then eased herself out of the chair. “That was only the warm-up, young man!” she said. She went to a cupboard and produced an old-fashioned school cane, very long and whippy. I bent over the back of the chair back without being bid and my landlady stood alongside me.
I felt the cane touch my bare skin and it soon whistled down on my bum, causing me to grunt. The pain was different to school – much more severe, probably due to the thin cane. Mrs Watson gave me five more strokes. I gently stood up and rubbed my bum carefully. I was soon getting stiff again and she obviously noticed but didn’t say anything – she merely put the cane and the chair back in their normal places. I returned to my room and laid face down on the bed. I resisted the urge to have a wank in case she caught me.
After that punishment I behaved myself for a few days – but couldn’t get the desire for another dose from Mrs Watson out of my mind. So the next Friday I deliberately stayed out late, walking the streets after the pub closed. Mrs Watson was waiting but the door was not locked. She called me into the lounge and told me off for being late. I apologised, and again she said she would punish me after breakfast the next morning.
Next morning, I came downstairs wearing only my underpants to make it easier for the punishment. Mrs Watson had a loose dress on and had breakfast ready. After breakfast she repeated the same routine and sat on the chair. She pulled her dress up, revealing her thighs and showing her knickers. She was not wearing stockings or tights. I dropped my pants and she spanked me as she had done the previous week, then eight strokes of her cane followed. Mrs Watson shocked me afterwards by admitting that she had been caned at school and knew what it felt like – she refused to give any more details though.
I returned to my room and masturbated this time, despite the fear of getting caught. Indeed, I probably inwardly hoped she would catch me – but no such luck.
This scene played out twice more in the coming weeks and it was very obvious to me that Mrs Watson enjoyed administering the punishment as much as I did receiving it.
As the final week of my stay away approached, I decided I had to feel that excitement again and decided to once more deliberately break my curfew. Sure enough, Mrs Watson was waiting for me when I got in. She read me the riot act, saying I was the worst-behaved lodger she had ever had under her roof. In the morning, she administered another sound spanking, followed by eight extremely hard strokes of the cane. Boy did that hurt! But once again I enjoyed the heady mixture of feeling of pain, excitement and arousal.
I went to my room afterwards and had just got my penis out and started masturbating when I looked up. My landlady had crept in without knocking and was watching me wank. She had an amused look on her face.
“Did you think I didn’t know you enjoyed being beaten, you naughty boy?” I blushed but couldn’t find the words. “You deliberately stayed out at nights to get punished, didn’t you, Peter?” I managed to nod. “Well, I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it myself – you’re a good looking boy with a very smackable bottom!” she said. I felt myself blush.
To my amazement, she suddenly reached out to gently touch my rock-hard penis. “Come along – it’s a shame to waste a good erection.” She took me by the hand and led me to her own bedroom. We spent the day in bed, with her teaching me several positions I had never thought of. She really knew how to pass her experience to a fumbling, teenage lad.
By contrast, the following few days were slightly embarrassing for both of us. Neither of us seemed to want to mention the sex we had enjoyed and conversation was minimal.
On the Friday I completed the course, I was about to leave work for the railway station. Mrs Watson walked me downstairs to the waiting taxi and said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. She also told me that she had enjoyed having me as a lodger, and wished I worked in head office.
Sadly, that was not an option, and by the time I next went there on a course she had a boyfriend. He was one lucky bloke! I left the company a year later but often wonder if I missed a chance to be happy with an older lady who knew and understood my fetishes.