Submitting to the Neighbour Lady

I went to high school with the Post twins in the late 60's. Tommy and Belinda Post. The Post twins were new to our area and it was rumoured that their father wasn't with them. It was our senior year and being 18 we just wanted it over with so we could get on with being adults. Belinda never gave me a second look but before he knew better Tommy struck up a tentative friendship with me. However once he realised that I some what of a nerdy outcast at school he took to avoiding me.

Since we lived near each other in the same row housing complex Tommy and I did somethings together, not because we were friends but because he was either bored or lonely. One day his sister was with us and she getting particularly nasty to me. When I finally had had enough I said something nasty back and Tommy took offence. It started with pushing but the pushing soon led to punches but when his sister jumped in on his side scratching at me I took off. I could hear Belinda jeering as I rounded a corner heading for home.

Fights at school happened and once I was in the safety of our house I pretty much forgot about it. My father answered the ringing phone sometime later and after a brief exchange hung up then called for me. He was not pleased and asked me if I had been fighting. Sheepishly I admitted that there had been a fight with this other boy not expecting it to matter much. When my father asked if I had hit a girl I was shocked and vehemently denied it. He said that that had been the other children's mother on the phone and that she was really angry about me beating up her boy and hitting her daughter. I pled my case to my father showing him the scratches but to no avail.

Still clearly displeased he said, "Alright, enough. At 18 you are not a child any more and it is high time you realised that there are consequences for your behaviour. You were fighting and we now have to go talk to these people." After which he promptly marched me over to the Post's house to face the music.

We arrived to the sounds of Mrs Post shouting and Belinda sobbing. When Mrs Post answered the door I could tell my father was taken aback by the woman. For one thing she wasn't wearing a dress but tight fitting pants that accentuated her hips, a fitted blouse sheer enough you could easily see her lacy brassiere beneath, and she was smoking. She ignored my father's look of disapproval as she immediately started accusing me of all kinds of terrible things. My father asked quietly if we could take this inside and though looking at me like I was the last person she wanted in her house Mrs Post stepped aside allowing us to enter.

Once inside she invited my father to sit at the kitchen table before parading her battered boy and distraught daughter before him. Some how Tommy now had a slightly bleeding nose even though I knew I never punched him there and Belinda's dress was all dirty and torn because apparently I had pushed to the ground after hitting her. I couldn't believe it when my father apologised for my behaviour. He then explained that if she wished my mother would wash and mend any damage to the girls dress.

Somewhat mollified Mrs Post told Belinda to get out of her dress and give it to my father. Without batting an eyelid Belinda began to strip off her dress as I watched on wide eyed with surprise and my father squirmed uncomfortably. I could feel that he was trying to say something that would stop the girl from stripping in front of us but he was too dumbfounded to come up with anything. I couldn't keep my eyes off Belinda as I watched her slip her dress off her shoulders and let it slide down her body.

Belinda had to pull her dress over her breasts and I swallowed hard watching intently as her lace edged green brassiere appeared while I was ominously aware of the stirring in my pants. When Belinda's dress fell to her hips I heard my father's slight gasp of surprise quickly followed by Mrs Post's snort of superior contempt. Mrs Post was watching my father closely and seemed to be smugly satisfied with his discomfort.

Non-pulsed by the reactions she was causing Belinda pushed her dress down exposing her matching green panties to us. Breathing deeply I surreptitiously moved my hands to cover the front of my pants in case the growing bulge there became visible. My father was studiously averting his eyes looking uncomfortably at the floor while Mrs Post hummed tunelessly and Belinda stepped out of her dress offering it to my father.

Without daring to look at the girl my father told her in a croaking voice to give it to me. As Belinda did she looked me directly in the eye smirking at my discomfort obviously enjoying the effect she was having on me and my father. As I took the dress grateful to have something to cover my pants front I heard my father tell me to apologise to her. Belinda's smug smirk broaden as she stood there in her matching bra and panties daring me to look while waiting for my apology.

So shamed faced and humiliated I was forced to say I was sorry for something I hadn't done. My father then insisted that I apologise to Tommy who had been watching the proceedings with aloof boredom. Then to Mrs Post for all the trouble I had caused. My father informed Mrs Post that she could be assured that I would be dealt with appropriately and severely once he got me home.

Mrs Post accepted my fathers assurances with detached disinterest before turning her ire on me with a stern admonishment, "Learn from your father boy," she sneered, "because next time I'm going to the police."

My father murmured that he hoped that would not be necessary and that he would see to it that I behaved myself. With Mrs Post's threat ringing in my ears, my father and I departed. He made me carry the dress all the way home and once there told me to wait in the punishment corner and think about my behaviour until my mother got home. After putting up with the all the afternoons humiliation I looked my father in the eye defiantly telling him, "I'm eighteen years old dad. There is no way I'm going to wait for mom in 'the punishment corner'!"

My father turned silently towards me. I tried to match his look but couldn't. I withered under his baleful glare and when I dropped my eyes his cold hard voice asked me, "You dare to defy me?" With my head bowed I shook my head no. With a snort of dismissive anger my fathers voice dripped with contempt as he informed me, "You will do as your told young man. Do you understand?" Feeling myself shrinking before him I nodded my head subserviently.

So still holding Belinda's dress I went to the corner of the front room and stood in the punishment corner as if I were a child to wait for my mother. I was so furious that I was receiving punishment for something I hadn't done that I wanted to rip the dress to shreds. While I fumed about how unfair it all was the memory of Belinda stripping off her dress distracted me. Having no sisters I had never seen a girl undress. Besides peeking up girls dresses at school for the odd panty glimpse I had only ever seen women's underwear in a catalogue.

Staring blankly into the corner I watched Belinda undress over and over again as my penis throbbed in my pants. I was beginning to wonder if I could quietly slip upstairs to the bathroom and perform the nasty deed undetected. I was willing to try as I watched Belinda's light green panties appear again but before I could bring myself to act my mother arrived home. I felt my penis wilt as I listened to her and my father having a terse and meaningful conversation in the kitchen before he called for me to join them.

My mother looked properly distressed while my father pointed out the damage I had caused to the girls dress while filling her in on my dastardly deeds. He was quite worked up by the time he finished and I was hanging my head forlornly in front of my mothers stern displeased glare. She let me stew before asking quietly if this was true but when I started to deny everything the look between her and my father told me it was pointless. I realised that I may as well admit to being guilty and take my punishment.

Judgement was passed and to the sound of my mothers scathing lecture on behaviour I was marched back into the front room. Still remonstrating me she unceremoniously hauled my trousers and pants to my knees forcing me bare bottomed into position over the ottoman. I was too brow beaten to offer any resistance and while my mother counted my father began lashing my exposed buttocks with his doubled over belt.

By seven I was squirming wincing with every strike. By fifteen I was fighting back tears, hoping that they would stop. They finally did at twenty-five. My buttocks was on fire. I lay across the ottoman sniffing back tears trying not to cry until my mother grabbed hold of my ear and twisting dragged me on my knees back to the punishment corner. I was informed that I was to stay kneeling there until bed time as there would be no dinner for me that night.

I spent the next several hours kneeling with my nose firmly pressed into the corner as my bare bottom burned. I was certain that it must be glowing in the evening light. After they had dined my mother came for me. Without a word she grabbed hold of my ear again pulling me to my feet. Twisting she ignored my yelp of pain while she dragged me stumbling along behind her with my pants around my ankles. She marched me to the bathroom telling me to strip and use the toilet and brush my teeth. To humiliate me more she stayed to lecture me further about what I had done and the shame I had brought to her and my father.

When I didn't move fast enough for she became irate lashing out with her bare hand to deliver a resounding swat to my backside. The unexpected smack to my tender buttocks was shockingly painful and I muttered a curse under breath. My mother heard and hissed, "Why you foul mouthed little brat." Before I knew it she had me by the hair cruelly pulling my head back. "Open that filthy mouth," she snarled in my ear and when I did she stuffed a bar of soap in it. "Bite," she ordered, "and don't you dare drop it."

Still holding me by the hair she pushed me against the vanity picking up her hair brush. While I watched her in the mirror she used it to paddle my ass. I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my cheeks almost biting the soap in half because of the searing pain emanating from my poor tortured buttocks as I endured my mothers punishment. She smacked my ass alternating cheeks until her fury subsided. When it did she let go of me and sobbing silently I slipped to the floor at her feet.

Looming over me she viewed me with open disdain spitting out, "You disgust me. Now go to your room." Naked I scurried to my room on my hands and knees with her clicking heels following me. Head bowed I crouched half naked before my mother trying to hide my boy bits with my hands. She sneered at me with contempt, "Don't just sit there simpering. Put some pajamas on and get into bed." Once I complied my mother looked down at me still furious, "don't you ever disappoint me like this again." With that she pulled the bar of soap from my mouth dropping it on my bedside table before storming out of the room.

I seethed in the dark with my buttocks burning and the horrible taste of soap in my mouth planning all kinds of revenge until I finally fell asleep. The next morning my parents were very cool towards me. First my father lectured me on the behaviour expected of me with my mother chiming in with scathing remarks about how disappointed they were. When I was reduced near to tears of frustration with how unjust it all was my mother shrieked with exasperation, "Do you want me to give you something to cry about?" I was then informed that I was grounded, that I would have extra chores to do and that I was to stay away from those Post children.

For the next month my life was hell. I was confined to my room anytime I wasn't at school or doing house hold chores. If I even showed a hint of defiance or willfulness I was severely berated and threatened with more corporal punishment. The kids at school soon figured out that I wasn't allowed around Tommy and Belinda and that I didn't dare get into a fight. They used my predicament it to torment me mercilessly. It was a miserable month.

Some how I managed to endure the worst of it and though my mother still seemed angry with me my father at least conceded that he hoped that I had learned my lesson. I assured him that I had and we moved on. Though I was still being tormented at school I did my level best to be the model son. It was going on well enough until the day my nemeses, Tommy and Belinda Post, cornered me after school. Worse there was a bunch of other kids watching as Tommy tried to provoke me into a fight. Though I wasn't afraid of him I was terrified of the consequences if my parents found out.

While his sister led the other kids in taunting me Tommy started pushing me around. When I had my back turned to her Belinda landed a slap to my head. Distracted by her I didn't see him throw a punch that had my ears ringing. In a panic I reacted instinctively pushing him so hard he fell over and I fled to the jeers of the Posts and the other kids. I ran all the way home. My father was home reading the paper as I crept into the house. Panting I waited in fear of what could possibly happen if the Post kids told their mother. Just as I was starting to feel relief that the whole thing blow over the phone rang. I answered it trying to sound as normal as possible. My heart leapt into my throat when I heard Mrs Posts voice. She didn't sound surprised that I had answered and without any small talk she announced, "It would seem we have to have another meeting."

Fearful that my father would over hear I stammered, "Yes. I will be right over." I then told my father that I was going to a friends house to hang out. Barely looking up from his paper he muttered something about dinner but relieved and scared I wasn't really listening. Sheepishly I made my way to the Posts house and stood there head bowed after ringing the doorbell. Mrs Post opened the door and after looking around asked pointedly, "Where's your father?"

"He's not home," I lied fearful that she wouldn't believe me. She didn't look like she believed me making me stand there fidgeting on her porch. Eventually she stepped back inside informing me tersely, "Come in." She stood close to the doorway forcing me to squeeze by her. As I stepped in to the darkened hallway I was trembling nervously. She followed closely behind me directing me with a cold hand on my shoulder into the kitchen.

Pointing to spot in the middle of the room Mrs Post told me, "Stand there." After which she pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. Lighting a cigarette she appraised me coolly while I waited uncomfortably for what surely wasn't going to be an enjoyable experience. With a half smile she finally asked, "Do you want to tell me what happened today young man?"

My voice came out as a squeak that made her smirk at my obvious discomfort but I managed to tell her weakly, "They started it."

Through the curling smoke from her cigarette she looked at me with sharp hard eyes judging the veracity of my claim. "Bullshit," she snorted. I was thunder struck that a woman would use such language and almost didn't understand when she hollered, "Tommy. Belinda. Get in here."

I was still gaping at Mrs Post in disbelief when her children came scurrying into the kitchen. Without direction they stood shoulder to shoulder in front of their mother ignoring me. Not looking at them she announced in a very cold voice pointing at me with her cigarette, "This boy says you're liars."

In unison they both turned to look at me. Neither of them looked surprised as they both told their mother deadpan, "No mom, he's the liar."

I wanted to call them liars back but the look in their mothers eyes stopped me. Staring right through me she asked her daughter quietly, "Belinda tell me again what happened."

Though I couldn't look away from their mothers stare I could hear the smirk in Belinda's voice as she regaled her mother with her story of my assault on her and her brother, "He was bullying me mother. Then Tommy came along and tried to make him stop," Belinda's tale made my heart sink as Mrs Post nodded her head as if it all sounded completely true, "He pushed Tommy down and hit him several times. I tried to make him stop mother but then he hit me too." I stood there in that kitchen feeling my world slip away as Belinda lied and her mother nodded her approval. My guilt was sealed when Belinda informed her mother, "All the other kids saw it to."

Her words seemed to hang in the room condemning me. Nervously I started chewing on my lower lip as my mind went blank. When Mrs Post looked at me and drawled contemptuously, "Well young man." I could only mouth words as no sound seemed to come out. She viewed me dispassionately as she announced, "I think you owe my children another apology."

Dazed I managed to choke out automatically, "I'm sorry Belinda. I'm sorry Tommy."

They didn't respond and Mrs Post kept staring at me smoking. "Who else do you think you should apologise to young man?", asked Mrs Post.

Feeling utterly beaten I mumbled, "You maam."

"What was that?", she asked annoyed, "Speak up boy. Speak clearly."

Flushing red with shame, and frustration, and anger, I almost cried, "You Mrs Post, I owe you an apology."

Taking a long drag on her cigarette she smiled at her children before bestowing her dispassionate gaze back on me while she sang out, "I'm waiting."

I dared not look at her two smirking kids but I could hear them snickering as in a pathetic whiny voice I babbled out, "I am very sorry Mrs Post." She didn't acknowledge my apology while I stood there crushed with shame and frustration.

After what seemed like forever Mrs Post asked quietly, "Shall we call and see if your father is home yet? Or perhaps the police?"

Stunned I cried out, "No please don't," before I could think about what I was doing. Mrs Post smiled cruelly at my reaction and the desperate tone of my plea.

With her eyes glittering with malice Mrs Post inquired politely, "Surely I must inform your parents of just what an evil little shit they have for a child." I was so terrified that her language didn't even register as she continued smiling heartlessly, "Surely you deserve to be punished for your wickedness don't you think?" I thought I heard Belinda snicker as I gaped open mouthed at her mother unable to respond.

Mrs Post let me worry over her words and when she spoke next it was like I was hearing her from a great distance, "What punishment did you receive last time boy?"

Breathing desperately, uncertain I fixed my dread filled eyes on Mrs Post, she looked back emotionless blowing a long stream of smoke in my direction asking patiently, "Well?"

Hanging my head not knowing if she knew of the punishment I had suffered at the hands of my parents but not daring to lie, I started mumbling trying not to blubber, "My father strapped me with his belt Maam."

"Where?" Mrs Post pounced immediately. When I could only stare her uncomprehendingly she snorted with exasperation, "Was it on our hands or your ass boy?"

"Ass," I announced loudly before I stop myself. Mrs Post looked at me somewhat surprised as I burned shame faced for swearing in front of an adult.

Almost whispering she inquired, "Bare?"

Trembling I nodded yes forlornly.

"How many?", came Mrs Post's voice out of a fog.

As if in a trance I mumbled, "25."

After a long silence Mrs Post announced matter-of-factly, "Well we'll have to at least double that won't we." My head snapped up as I gawked at Mrs Post in disbelief. With an arched eye brow she asked me pointedly, "Is that not enough?" The question left me shaking my head every which way grasping for a response while Mrs Post continued, "Would you rather I called your father?" My brain went blank at the thought of my parents reaction to yet another incident between me and the Posts when Mrs Post hissed through a cloud of smoke, "The police."