Estelle grinned as she twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. Though she was approaching 40, she could still look good in the right attire, and the red devil costume in skin-tight spandex showed off her curves most admirably. She guessed that her bottom would receive a lot of looks at the Halloween party.
As she headed out the door, she watched a small group of teenagers standing outside her neighbours' house. When the first rolls of toilet paper started flying, a young man came outside to confront them, but they ran away as soon as he emerged. Bruce was her neighbours' son, quite big and strong, and she guessed he'd come home from college to protect his parents' property while they were out at some party. Part of her wanted to help him chase the delinquents away, but she had no intention of running in heels. Besides, if she had to admit the truth, she'd done far worse than throwing toilet paper when she was their age.
Several hours later, Estelle made her way back home. There had been a lot of booze at the party, so she was walking quite unsteadily, but she'd refused the host's offer to call her a taxi – she'd walked there, and she was going to walk home, no matter how her legs felt in these heels.
As she passed the neighbours' house, her gaze rested on the pumpkins on the porch. Not really a thing in this country when she was young, she reflected. She'd heard about American teenagers kicking them to pieces when out pranking, and she grinned at the thought. It seemed so fun! The memories of her own misdeeds as a youngster came back to her.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was heading up the stairs towards the closest pumpkin. She lifted her foot, driving the heel of her expensive shoe into the eye of the pumpkin. It made a quite satisfying "squelch" as she kicked it repeatedly, and she started to giggle from joy and drunkenness.
Suddenly, a firm hand closed around her wrist. She squealed, turning around to see a very tall, very strong, and very angry young man. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bruce snarled.
"I'm sorry!" Estelle squeaked. "It was an accident!" She trembled under his angry gaze. She'd known Bruce since he was a little boy, and she had never considered him a particularly scary person – until right now.
"An accident?" he scoffed. "You mean that you ACCIDENTALLY walked up those steps and –" He stopped, staring at her. "Wait a second. I know you, don't I?"
"I don't think so," Estelle mumbled, shivering as she tried to avoid his gaze. Being caught playing childish pranks was embarrassing, but being recognized as his parents' neighbour would make the humiliation complete.
He continued to stare at her, before nodding his head. "You're one of Briana's friends, aren't you?"
Briana was Bruce's younger sister, still in high school. Estelle was quite surprised at being mistaken for a teenager by a college student, and was about to correct him, but managed to stop herself. If he thought that she was one of Briana's friends, he was less likely to suddenly realize who she really was. Instead, she nodded.
"What's your name?" he demanded.
"Ashlee," Estelle whispered. It sounded like something the young people today would be called.
"Right. Well, Ashlee, you're coming with me so that I can phone the police."
"The police!? Why?" Estelle stared at him in horror.
"Ashlee, you're on my prop- well, my parents' property. Committing vandalism," he scolded. "I'm also going to call your parents. They need to know what you're up to."
Estelle bit her lip. She tried to think of a way out of this mess that didn't involve telling him who she actually was. "Isn't there another way? I'll never do this again, I promise!" She looked at him with her best puppy-dog eyes. "Please don't call the police – or my parents!"
For a few seconds, he stared into her tearful eyes. Then, he sighed, seemingly coming to a decision. "Very well. If that's what you want, I think I can punish you myself."Estelle breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure what he meant by "punish", but it had to be better than having her identity revealed through a visit to the police station. She barely noticed that he dragged her over to the porch bench, or that he sat down, still firmly grasping her wrist.
When he suddenly pulled her forward, and she found herself lying face-down over his lap, she awoke from her stupor, however. Her eyes widened as the first firm smacks landed on her upturned bottom.
"Ow!" she yelped. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She tried to stand up, but he easily held her down.
"You're a brat who goes around destroying people's decorations," he scolded as he continued to swat her spandex-clad backside. "You deserve a good, hard spanking – and I'm just the man to give it to you."
She almost laughed at the idea of this college boy calling himself a 'man', but the pain he was inflicting upon her seat made it harder to see the funny side. "Ouch! Stop it," she said, reaching her hand back to try to shield her bottom. However, he only grabbed her wrist and held it down with his left hand, while his right hand continued to spank her.
His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering hard, loud slaps. He seemed to know what he was doing, and she wondered absently whether he'd done it before. Suddenly, the full realization of her situation struck her alcohol-addled mind; she was outside, on her neighbours' porch, being spanked by a boy half her age. If anyone walking past recognized her, she would never live it down.
"Stop! Please! Ow! Can't you let me go?" she begged. "Or at least take this inside? Everyone can see! Ouch!"
"They're supposed to," he scolded, still spanking just as hard as ever. "Hopefully, all the other young ladies walking past can learn from your example and behave themselves."
She tried to plead for mercy and promised to behave, but nothing she said seemed to have any effect. He held her firmly as he spanked every inch of her posterior, until she felt like she'd sat in a campfire and wondered if she'd ever sit again.
Suddenly, he rested his hand on her backside, stroking it gently. She whimpered at his touch, hoping it was all over.
"I have half a mind to bare your bottom and give you a proper spanking," he scolded, "But this costume is one-piece, isn't it?"
Estelle felt a lump in her throat. "That's right, sir," she whispered timidly. The only way to bare her bottom was to strip her completely. Surely, he wouldn't be so cruel, would he?
After a few seconds, each of which felt long as a year to Estelle, he spoke again. "A few minutes more over your costume, then you can go."
Estelle breathed a sigh of relief; she could never have imagined that she'd feel so grateful about being sentenced to a spanking. Her nervous grin vanished as the first smacks fell, and she howled as her bottom burned.
After an eternity over his lap, Estelle was allowed to stand. She jumped from foot to foot as she tried in vain to rub the sting from her sore rear. After promising earnestly to never do anything so silly ever again, she was allowed to leave.
She ran off, both hands rubbing her sore bottom, but she deliberately ran past her home – if Bruce saw her enter the neighbouring house, he might eventually put two and two together. She managed to sneak in through the back door without being observed, where she headed to the bathroom and stripped off her costume.
A relaxing bath, some soothing lotion, and a few bowls of ice cream, and hopefully, the whole affair would fade like a bad dream. One thing was certain – she would never play a Halloween prank ever again!
As she headed out the door, she watched a small group of teenagers standing outside her neighbours' house. When the first rolls of toilet paper started flying, a young man came outside to confront them, but they ran away as soon as he emerged. Bruce was her neighbours' son, quite big and strong, and she guessed he'd come home from college to protect his parents' property while they were out at some party. Part of her wanted to help him chase the delinquents away, but she had no intention of running in heels. Besides, if she had to admit the truth, she'd done far worse than throwing toilet paper when she was their age.
Several hours later, Estelle made her way back home. There had been a lot of booze at the party, so she was walking quite unsteadily, but she'd refused the host's offer to call her a taxi – she'd walked there, and she was going to walk home, no matter how her legs felt in these heels.
As she passed the neighbours' house, her gaze rested on the pumpkins on the porch. Not really a thing in this country when she was young, she reflected. She'd heard about American teenagers kicking them to pieces when out pranking, and she grinned at the thought. It seemed so fun! The memories of her own misdeeds as a youngster came back to her.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was heading up the stairs towards the closest pumpkin. She lifted her foot, driving the heel of her expensive shoe into the eye of the pumpkin. It made a quite satisfying "squelch" as she kicked it repeatedly, and she started to giggle from joy and drunkenness.
Suddenly, a firm hand closed around her wrist. She squealed, turning around to see a very tall, very strong, and very angry young man. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bruce snarled.
"I'm sorry!" Estelle squeaked. "It was an accident!" She trembled under his angry gaze. She'd known Bruce since he was a little boy, and she had never considered him a particularly scary person – until right now.
"An accident?" he scoffed. "You mean that you ACCIDENTALLY walked up those steps and –" He stopped, staring at her. "Wait a second. I know you, don't I?"
"I don't think so," Estelle mumbled, shivering as she tried to avoid his gaze. Being caught playing childish pranks was embarrassing, but being recognized as his parents' neighbour would make the humiliation complete.
He continued to stare at her, before nodding his head. "You're one of Briana's friends, aren't you?"
Briana was Bruce's younger sister, still in high school. Estelle was quite surprised at being mistaken for a teenager by a college student, and was about to correct him, but managed to stop herself. If he thought that she was one of Briana's friends, he was less likely to suddenly realize who she really was. Instead, she nodded.
"What's your name?" he demanded.
"Ashlee," Estelle whispered. It sounded like something the young people today would be called.
"Right. Well, Ashlee, you're coming with me so that I can phone the police."
"The police!? Why?" Estelle stared at him in horror.
"Ashlee, you're on my prop- well, my parents' property. Committing vandalism," he scolded. "I'm also going to call your parents. They need to know what you're up to."
Estelle bit her lip. She tried to think of a way out of this mess that didn't involve telling him who she actually was. "Isn't there another way? I'll never do this again, I promise!" She looked at him with her best puppy-dog eyes. "Please don't call the police – or my parents!"
For a few seconds, he stared into her tearful eyes. Then, he sighed, seemingly coming to a decision. "Very well. If that's what you want, I think I can punish you myself."Estelle breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure what he meant by "punish", but it had to be better than having her identity revealed through a visit to the police station. She barely noticed that he dragged her over to the porch bench, or that he sat down, still firmly grasping her wrist.
When he suddenly pulled her forward, and she found herself lying face-down over his lap, she awoke from her stupor, however. Her eyes widened as the first firm smacks landed on her upturned bottom.
"Ow!" she yelped. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She tried to stand up, but he easily held her down.
"You're a brat who goes around destroying people's decorations," he scolded as he continued to swat her spandex-clad backside. "You deserve a good, hard spanking – and I'm just the man to give it to you."
She almost laughed at the idea of this college boy calling himself a 'man', but the pain he was inflicting upon her seat made it harder to see the funny side. "Ouch! Stop it," she said, reaching her hand back to try to shield her bottom. However, he only grabbed her wrist and held it down with his left hand, while his right hand continued to spank her.
His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering hard, loud slaps. He seemed to know what he was doing, and she wondered absently whether he'd done it before. Suddenly, the full realization of her situation struck her alcohol-addled mind; she was outside, on her neighbours' porch, being spanked by a boy half her age. If anyone walking past recognized her, she would never live it down.
"Stop! Please! Ow! Can't you let me go?" she begged. "Or at least take this inside? Everyone can see! Ouch!"
"They're supposed to," he scolded, still spanking just as hard as ever. "Hopefully, all the other young ladies walking past can learn from your example and behave themselves."
She tried to plead for mercy and promised to behave, but nothing she said seemed to have any effect. He held her firmly as he spanked every inch of her posterior, until she felt like she'd sat in a campfire and wondered if she'd ever sit again.
Suddenly, he rested his hand on her backside, stroking it gently. She whimpered at his touch, hoping it was all over.
"I have half a mind to bare your bottom and give you a proper spanking," he scolded, "But this costume is one-piece, isn't it?"
Estelle felt a lump in her throat. "That's right, sir," she whispered timidly. The only way to bare her bottom was to strip her completely. Surely, he wouldn't be so cruel, would he?
After a few seconds, each of which felt long as a year to Estelle, he spoke again. "A few minutes more over your costume, then you can go."
Estelle breathed a sigh of relief; she could never have imagined that she'd feel so grateful about being sentenced to a spanking. Her nervous grin vanished as the first smacks fell, and she howled as her bottom burned.
After an eternity over his lap, Estelle was allowed to stand. She jumped from foot to foot as she tried in vain to rub the sting from her sore rear. After promising earnestly to never do anything so silly ever again, she was allowed to leave.
She ran off, both hands rubbing her sore bottom, but she deliberately ran past her home – if Bruce saw her enter the neighbouring house, he might eventually put two and two together. She managed to sneak in through the back door without being observed, where she headed to the bathroom and stripped off her costume.
A relaxing bath, some soothing lotion, and a few bowls of ice cream, and hopefully, the whole affair would fade like a bad dream. One thing was certain – she would never play a Halloween prank ever again!
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