Submitting to the Neighbour Lady

The threat hung between us as Mrs Post watched me closely. Under her intense scrutiny I finally succumbed murmuring meekly, "No maam."

"Well," she responded in a delighted happy tone, "then 50 it is."

Hearing the number made my stomach churn and my knees buckle weakly. When Mrs Post told me. "Come over here young man." I shuffled towards her in a daze. "Drop your draws," she commanded and automatically I complied instinctively cupping my hands over my boy bits in shame. Standing before Mrs Post exposed I was consumed with my shame as she scrutinised me with obvious distaste. From behind me I could hear her children giggling quietly. I had all but forgotten that they were even there and briefly wondered how they would use this moment against me in the future, or oh god, at school.

Mrs Post cleared her throat to get my attention and when I dared look at her she pronounced, "Over my knee boy." When I hesitated she snarled. "NOW!" Flustered, in a panic, I had to let go of my boy bits and clumsily sprawled my body over Mrs Post's thighs. Draped over Mrs Post I was aghast that My boy bits hung unprotected and exposed between Mrs Post's thighs while she used her digging nails in my buttocks to adjust my position to her liking. Satisfied she hissed, "Quit your giggling Belinda and go get my strap. Hurry now."

I could hear Belinda clambering up the stairs and then back down again trying not to tear up as I lay bare bottomed to the world over Mrs Post's lap. I could feel Belinda press in close as she handed Mrs Post her punishment strap. Mrs Post admonished the girl to, "Go stand with your brother and you two pay close attention to what happens to naughty little boys."

As she completed her instructions to her kids Mrs Post squeezed her thighs together pinning my boy bits between them before almost playfully tapping her strap against my bare cheeks, "What a nice bottom," she cooed above me tapping my butt some more. As she tapped Mrs Post kept shifting, aligning me on her lap, squeezing my boy bits painfully.

Just as I started to lie to myself that that this wouldn't be to bad Mrs Post's thighs clamped tightly together over my boy bits as she brought her strap lashing into my exposed butt cheeks. The unexpectedness of the blow as much as the pain made me shriek. Mrs Post landed several more stinging blows before pausing to take a breath. Taking a pull on her cigarette Mrs Post brushed the leather strap over my bare burning buttocks. She looked up at Belinda and Tommy who were watching my strapping with malevolent glee and in a calm disarming tone Mrs Post asked her daughter, "Belinda would you mind counting for me?"

"Oh yes mother," Belinda responded happily.

Distracted by the conversation I was taken completely unaware when Mrs Post landed a vicious smack to my left ass cheek. Through my anguished howl I could hear Belinda merrily calling out "one" before the stinging strap smacked loudly into my other cheek. I tried to squirm away but Mrs Post's thighs clamped tightly over my boy bits kept firmly and vulnerable over her lap.

To the sounds of Belinda counting down my sentence Mrs Post smacked my ass red. Long before she got to fifty Mrs Post had me sobbing in tears. It hurt so bad I didn't care that the other two were witnessing my humiliation or that they would surely share the news with the other kids at school. When Belinda announced "fifty" Mrs Post delivered an extra swat to each cheek and I broke down sobbing uncontrollably.

With a grunt of disgust Mrs Post released my boy bits from between her thighs and pushed me from her lap to the floor. Partially naked I lay at her feet simpering while she proclaimed to children, "You see my dears even the most evil willful child can be reduced to tears and to hopefully be made to behave." Nudging me with the toe of her shoe Mrs Post inquired sweetly of me, "You will behave now won't you boy?"

Still blubbering I quickly nodded yes. "Very good then," Mrs Post announced lighting another smoke. "Tommy get the cereal and Belinda get a pen and paper."

As her children scurried to comply Mrs Post nudged me with her toe again saying disdainfully, "You, get up." While I struggled to get to my feet I started to pull up my pants and underwear only to freeze when she remarked coldly, "Did I tell you you could get dressed?"

Not daring to look at her I shook my head no and waited shame faced with my ruby red bottom and boy bits exposed. When her children had returned Mrs Post pulled out a kitchen chair before taking the box of cereal from Tommy. She then dumped a bunch of the flakes on the chair covering the seat. Looking at me she murmured quietly, "Sit." Tentatively I went to sit down when her hand on my shoulder forced me to plant my burning butt firmly onto the cereal covered seat. The crisp cereal flakes digging into my red raw buttocks made me squirm uncomfortably and I cringed when Mrs Post leant towards me informing in no uncertain terms, "Now young man, you are going to write apologises to myself and my children."

While wrote them she stood over me informing that my punishment wasn't over yet. That for the next month I would come to their house to do Belinda and Tommy's chores every day. That I would be punished if I was not prompt, if I was not courteous and polite, if I talked back or if I didn't do the chores properly or fast enough. Mrs Post was leaning against my chair with her hand on my shoulder making sure I was firmly seated on the chair full of flakes.

She blew smoke down on me while I wrote and continued to tell me what was in store for me. While she did I began to notice that she was rubbing the front of her pants against the edge of my chair. Though I had no idea why it became a little distracting especially when her voice changed and she rose up on to her tip toes grinding herself into the top of the chair. I couldn't help but cry out when her nails dug painfully into my shoulder. Mrs Post stopped talking and took several long shuddering breathes before sliding off the chair top. Leaning her bodies weight into me she murmured, "Sign those and stand up."

Bewildered I stood with cereal flakes sticking to my butt cheeks. "Alright you can pull up your undies boy," Mrs Post drawled at me as she sank back onto her chair. I pulled my underwear quickly relieved to be able to cover myself up before I realised that there were cereal flakes caught up in them. My butt still burned and I could feel the scratching flakes while I stood before Mrs Post waiting. Mrs Post viewed me with amusement as she asked her son politely, "Tommy get the dust pan please." Tommy smirked knowingly and did as he was told. "Sweep up the rest of the flakes for me dear," Mrs Post requested of her son with undisguised niceness.

Tommy enthusiastically complied and when finished he showed his mother the dust pan full of flakes. "Very good Tommy," Ms Post cooed at her son. "Belinda," she called out indicating me with a flick of her head. Not having a clue as to what the Post's were up to I flinched when Belinda's cold fingers slipped into the waist band at the back of my undies. Sharply Mrs Post admonished me, "Stand still boy. Are you looking for another spanking?"

Terrified I desperately shook my head no, then wide eyed I stood stock still as Belinda pulled my undies waist band out as far as it would go while I cringed and she cried out with a mocking, "Oooh this is so disgusting."

With another flick of her head directed at Tommy Mrs Post arched her eyebrows and smiled. Not needing to be told he dumped the contents of the dust pan into the back of my underpants. Belinda laughed as I sniffled loudly before she let go of the waist band that snapped loudly into my back. Tommy joined in and trying to contain her laughter Mrs Post giggled, "Come over here boy."

The humiliation was numbing as I shuffled closer to Mrs Post. I could feel the uncomfortable scratching of the flakes on my sensitive bottom with every step. Standing before her I didn't dare even flinch as she grabbed my waist forcing me to turn around. I some how managed to stay still as Mrs Post pressed and squeezed the flakes with both hands into my bottom. Still trying not to laugh she commented to her children, "If it wasn't so crunchy I would swear your little friend here had messed his pants!"

Her comment brought on another round of malicious laughter from Belinda and Tommy that had me hanging my head in fresh shame. Mrs Post gave me a playful swat before pushing towards Belinda, "Have a feel darling and see what you think," Mrs post encouraged her daughter.

Belinda made all kinds of disgusted noises but enthusiastically repeated her mothers fondling of my flake filled undies. Singing gleefully with mock horror Belinda cried out, "Oooh mother it feels so disgusting."

"Yes darling it does," Mrs Post cheerfully agreed, "but boys like this one are always disgusting." Turning to Tommy Mrs Post inquired cheekily, "Would you like a feel Tommy."

Disbelieving I looked at Tommy and the glazed look in his eyes startled and shocked me. Tommy finally smirked and with a look of malevolent intent stepped towards me. I wanted to run but fear had me frozen in place. I watched as if I was a spectator as Tommy's drew back his arm back and he smacked his open palm with all his might into my butt. I squeaked jumping in place only to be struck again. Tommy had me by the arm with his other hand as he then alternated between smacking my flake filled undies and roughly caressing the flakes into my tortured bottom. Belinda was laughing, I was crying and Mrs Post just sat there calmly smoking waiting for Tommy to get tired or bored and stop.

When he finally did he pushed me sobbing to the kitchen floor. The Post's let me sit on the floor sniffling for a while before in a weary voice Mrs Post murmured, "That's enough of your weeping boy. He sounds like such a goddamned sissy." Mrs Post half asked, half told her kids while I tried to stem the flood of tears. "Do yo think he's a sissy Tommy," Mrs Post amiably asked her son.

"Oh yes mother. But I always knew he was one," Tommy asserted knowingly.

Somewhere above me I heard Belinda's cruel voice chiming in with, "It was probably why he was so horrible to us mother."

"Stand up Sissy," Mrs Post snapped at me. Struggling to my feet I stood there utterly defeated just wishing that the torment would finish, even if it was just for now. "Look at me," she commanded and meekly I raised my head to look into the hard uncompromising glare of Mrs Post. "You understand what is expected of you Sissy," Mrs Post asked emotionless.

Looking at her uncompromising glare I sadly nodded my head. "Good, and Sissy you understand the consequences if you fail to perform entirely to my satisfaction," she asked me coldly. When I nodded again she hissed, "Excellent," before continuing with instructions, "Sissy you will be here at 7am tomorrow to complete your morning chores before you go to school. Do you understand Sissy." Again unable to speak and unable to look away I nodded my head yes. "Don't be late Sissy," Mrs Post admonished before barking, "now get out of my house."

Shuffling as quickly as my pants around my ankles would let me I headed out of the kitchen. Before I could make it to the kitchen doorway Mrs Post's voice halted me with a sharp, "One more thing." I froze. While I stood still she sneered, "Come back here." Nervously I shuffled back to stand before her. "Kneel," she demanded in the same snarling tone.

Fearfully I sank to my knees staring mournfully at a point between Mrs Post's thighs. "Kiss my foot Sissy," Mrs Post almost whispered over me. When I didn't respond she repeated her command more strenuously, "Kiss my foot Sissy." Feeling entirely debased I bent at the waist and kissed Mrs Post's left foot. "Good Sissy," Mrs Post announced, "and the other one." I obeyed kissing Mrs Post right foot, as I started to pull away she hissed, "don't stop." While I kept my lips glued to her shoe Mrs Post informed me that, "Kissing my feet is a sign of obedience Sissy and you should do it every time you enter or leave a room I am in."

Finally after what seemed like forever Mrs Post pronounced, "that's enough Sissy." Taking this as my cue to get up and leave I was shattered when Mrs Post voice informed me, "I think you best kiss Belinda's feet too Sissy. We wouldn't want her to feel as though you weren't going to obey her too." Feeling myself shrink I turned away from Mrs Post and crawled dutifully over to Belinda. Without waiting to be commanded to perform my act of obedience I lowered my lips to the toe of her shoe and kissed it. When no one spoke I kissed her other shoe. From somewhere out of a dream Mrs Post's voice announced, "Now Tommy's feet Sissy." Shrinking further I crawled over to Tommy to perform obediently, kissing first one sneaker then the other. "Very good Sissy," Mrs Smith lorded over me, "now that you know your place you just make damn sure you stay in it."

While she let that message sink in Mrs Post murmured casually, "You're dismissed Sissy." When I started to rise her stark rebuke felled me back to my knees, "crawl to the backdoor Sissy and let yourself out."

And I did. As fast as I could. Once at the their backdoor I rose and quickly pulled up my pants not caring about the flakes against my buttocks just dreading Mrs Post's voice calling me back for more humiliation or punishment. To the sounds of uproarious laughter I fled the house shame faced and scurried away hoping not to be noticed.

I was just glad to be gone. Not daring to go home just yet I went to the nearby park. Despite the discomfort of the flakes I sat on a swing wondering how I could have let Mrs Post strap me and humiliate me in front of her kids. I wondered if there was any way I could dare to ignore my pledge to go back to the Post's house despite having been told that I had no choice. Mostly I wondered about the memory of my boy bits trapped between Mrs Post's thighs. It was disconcerting to realise that without noticing it I now had an erection.

Disconcerting as my erection was, my juvenile mind couldn't begin to understand how my recent suffering and debasement at the hands of the Post family had inspired it. With my mind in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and regret I slipped from the swing to furtively slink off to the nearby toilet block. It was dark gloomy place that stank of urine and though I was loathe to enter needs I couldn't understand nor contain compelled inside. Entering one of the toilet stalls I opened my trousers to marvel at the rigid size of my cock. I had had erections before but never anything like this. When my fingers touched it was like an electric shock passing through me. Swallowing hard, listening for any telltale sign of another person I started to stroke it. It felt wrong, horribly wrong and absolutely fantastic.

I had closed my eyes and was remembering staring at the spot between Mrs Post's thighs when a thunderous banging on the toilet stalls door made me jump out of my skin. I could hear the echoes of my startled scream though I couldn't remember screaming. My hand still griped my rigid cock and in a flurry of mindless actions I pulled myself together before opening the stall door. Panicked, panting, wide eyed with fright I peeked from the stall, though I could hear what sounded like kids laughing outside I was loathe to leave the relative sanctuary of the stall and brave what was waiting outside for me.

Creeping nervously towards the exit I was relieved to see no one about. Unfortunately they were hiding around the corner and when as I stepped from the toilet block several boys jumped out from the far side of the block screaming like banshees. Startled I bolted across the open field for home with their laughter chasing me. I ran all the way home and had to wait outside before I calmed myself enough to be able to face my parents.

Luckily when I finally went inside they were both distracted and uninterested. I managed to escape with a cursory hello to my mother and slip upstairs to the bathroom. I didn't dare look at myself in the mirror as I fumbled about trying to get the cereal flakes out of my underwear and off my very tender buttocks without making a mess my mother would question. Having done the best I could I retreated to my room to await the call to dinner.

When my mother finally called out that dinner was served I slipped down stairs to the dining room. My father was already seated and when I went to join him he sighed wearily at me, "Go help your mother." Sheepishly I complied. Once my mother and I had everything on the table I was allowed to sit. Sitting was very uncomfortable given the strapping I had received from Mrs post and the odd bit of cereal that I seemed to have missed. I couldn't help squirming and after a curt rebuke from my father I was sent to eat alone in the kitchen.

All by myself at the kitchen table sitting on a hard kitchen chair my day overwhelmed me. I sat there forlorn on the verge of tears feeling infinitely sorry for myself. My mother discovered me sitting in front of my now cold dinner sniffling as she was clearing away their dinner. Mistaking my tears and mood for being sent to the kitchen by father she sneered at me exasperated, "You need to smarten up young man. You have been a deep disappointment to your father and me and I won't stand for it any longer. It's time you straightened yourself out because you won't amount to anything if you keep misbehaving."

While standing over me with her arms folded beneath her breasts obviously angry my mother sighed before stating scathingly, "And no one likes a cry baby." When I started leaking fresh tears she cursed under her breath before dismissing me with an exasperated, "Oh just go to bed you big cry baby."

Miserable I trudged up the stairs and used the toilet before going to my room. I could hear my parents having a heated discussion downstairs and fell asleep despite their raised voices. I endured a restless sleep filled with dreams that seemed all too real. I awoke with a start while it was still dark to an ejaculating erection. At first I thought I was pissing the bed before I realised that it wasn't pee that was spurting from my cock. Having never had a wet dream before I had no clue as to what had just happened. I only knew that there was a wet mess that I would have to clean up as best I could and try to hide the evidence from my mother.

Sneaking to the bathroom I was shocked at the amount of milky wet discharge that had soaked my underwear and pajama bottoms. Using toilet paper I tried wiping it up but didn't fare too well before eventually giving up to sneak back to my room. I was horrified to find a large wet stain in the middle of my bed that was already turning yellowish. "Oh how was I going to hide this," wailed in silent anguish. My mother would certainly find it when she washed on the weekend. And there was no way she would ignore it or let it go.

Already the horrid memories of the nighttime diapers my bed wetting days of my youth were flooding back over me. Resigned to the fact that there would be hell to pay I pulled on fresh pajamas hoping the wet spot would dry and that my mother would miss it. Some how laying next to the cold wet stain I fell asleep again.

To my dismay I only woke to the sound of my already angry mother calling that I was running late. More dismaying I had another massive erection tenting out the front of my pajamas. I squeaked with fright when I heard my mother call again terrified that she might come to get me and see not only the evidence of my accident but also witness the erection I could never hide. With an unconvincing call of, "I'll be right down," I began scrambling to make my bed to hide the soiled bedding, hide my soiled clothes in the hamper and put on clothes for school.