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Freshman adventures
Part 2

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 16 Dec 2015


At 8 a.m. the next morning, Mrs. Evans was in my bedroom, standing over my bed where I was splayed out still asleep. When she called out to me, I looked up in a stupour of semiconsciousness.

Wake up, Connor. It’s Saturday morning, and we have some unfinished business, young man. And I have some work, raking leaves, for you to do, she called down to me.

She reached down and yanked the blanket and sheet off me. The cool air, as well as the fact of my nude, lean body with full morning wood being exposed before her, made me jump and grab the sheet and blanket to pull back up over me.

That apparently was viewed as oppositional conduct by Mrs. Evans. She grabbed the sheet and blanket again to pull off me, but I held on with my hands.

Unbeknownst to me, she turned and quickly left the bedroom, returning a minute or so later with the same, wooden spoon she had employed on me the preceding morning. I was back on my stomach, with my face in the pillow, swiftly drifting off to sleep.

Displeased with my resistance to her directions to me, she reached down the side of the bed, slid her arm under the sheet and blanket, grabbing my naked, thin leg. Even though I felt it, I was too tired and far fading along back to sleep for it to bother me.

With surprising strength, she pulled me by my leg out from under the sheet and blanket, off the mattress and bed, to land on my butt and back on the floor, with my stiffy pointing up at her. My face instantly flushed red with embarrassment while I was irked at finding myself manhandled in this manner.

As I lay there looking up at here with puzzled grogginess, she reached down, grasped my skinny arm, lifting me up onto my feet. As quickly as I was standing, she sat on the bedside and I found myself towed around to her right, and dumped naked, upside down over her lap.

Aaaaa-ah, Muh-isses-aaa-Evans! Whuh-uht nowwww! Aaaa-ow-ow-oooo-ow! I squealed as she began revisiting the spank marks from yesterday morning’s spanking with the same wooden spoon.

I bucked and twisted immediately, trying to writhe myself off her lap and away from her restraint. That only evoked a faster, harder flurry of smacks to my still sore bottom and upper legs. She roughly slid me around so my butt was elevated and slanted, poised as a ready target.

You are a very insolent young man, quite out of control. If I had known you behaved like this, I would never have allowed you to rent here.

I told you over two months ago what the rules and conditions are, and gave you a list so you would know. I asked you if there was going to be any trouble by you in obeying them, and you told me no problem, Mrs. Evans. Didn’t you, Connor?

I was taken aback by her confronting me and did not answer. She began swatting my backside and upper legs harder as she demanded, I asked you a question, Connor. I expect an answer  – and an honest one, young man,

Aaaa-haaa-ye-es, you did, er, I mean, I did, aaaa-ow-ow-aaa-okaaay-ah-please-ah-staaaahp!

You want me to stop?! she barked her question in reply. Back in August, I told you any deliberate violating of the rules would be dealt with from the bottom – this little, red-marked fanny  – up to your mind and memory.

I was squirming and whining under the barrage of smacks assailing my behind and thighs. You hold still there, Connor, she commanded, tightening her encircling left arm around my bare waist.

Yesterday morning, you skipped class to sleep in, which you know is breaking the rules here. When I tried to get you up, you fought against it, and you found out the punishment for violating the rules is serious, didn’t you, son?

I was gasping from the shocking, crumbling effects of the pain afflicting my rearend. Huh-uh-yuh-essss-uh-buh-uht I’m-uh-suh-arrr-eeee!

It doesn’t look like you’re one bit sorry, Connor Robertson. You were told yesterday morning: you are going to have a bedtime and a wake-up time from now on, and you’re also grounded for this weekend. Instead of obeying, and coming straight back home after school, you went out and got drunk, underage, and a minor, and another violation of the rules here – not to mention the law!

Now, you’re getting a second dose of punishment. Tonight, after supper, you are going to get a third dose  – besides which, you are now grounded for the entire month of November!

Uh-uh-whuh-uht-uh huh-oooool-uh-month?! I shouted my question.

Be quiet, boy! Starting tomorrow morning, you are going to be getting up and going with me to mass every Sunday.

Whuh-huh-uht?! I asked startled.

You heard me, Connor. You’re Catholic aren’t you? And you’re going to a Catholic college.

Uh-ye-es-uh-buh-uht we-eee-don’t goooo-to-uh-uh-chur-urch, I cried out.

Don’t go to mass?! How can you say you’re a Catholic and not go to mass?! she interrogated. Anyway, that’s changing. You’re going to start going, Connor, and attend the Catholic youth gathering on Sunday evenings as well.

Uh-uh-wuh-uht-uh-aaaa-ow-ow-uh-I-don’t-uh-waaant to dooo-uh-thaaat!

That’s too bad, Connor Robertson! You are going to start behaving, and being a good boy  – which means going to mass on Sunday mornings, and Catholic youth on Sunday evenings.

When we finish here, while you’re in the shower washing up and crying your sorry eyes out, I am going to call your parents and inform them of everything that’s gone on here, starting yesterday morning, and the added conditions being placed on you.

If they disagree, they can come get you, or find you another place to rent and get you moved  – right away. I am not going to put up with any more defiance and disobedience from you.

My-uh-uh-parents-uh?! I asked amidst my gasping, near-tears moaning.

That’s right, Connor. You’re not even an adult, and here you are getting into trouble. They are responsible for you, and they will have to make other arrangements for you because you can’t obey! she flatly decreed.

Nuh-uh-oooo-uh-pleeez-uh-uh-Mrs.-uh-Evan-huh-uh-ow-uh-ow-ow-uh-uh-ow!

Hush your impertinent mouth, young man! she scolded me, as she lit into my butt and thighs with the spoon. I jerked and jolted with each spank, but quickly ceased my opposition, breaking down in uninhibited sobbing.

The pain was doubly intense from the overlay on yesterday’s morning spanking. My shame was even deeper in view of her calling me out for every incident of misbehaviour.

At the same time, my horny woody was becoming crazed with intense over-stimulation as it rubbed all over her lap as I buck and bounced under the repeated swats.

I was terrified I was going to lose it and ejaculate on her as she was spanking me.

Sobbing, I shrieked and screamed howling, bawling cries. She quickly and completely mastered me, and I broke, caving in, capitulating to her authority and discipline, and the right to exercise it over me.

As last, and in the nick-of-time, she stopped, letting me hang sobbing, heaving, and shuddering. She pulled me up off her lap and turned me around to sit on her lap, straddling her legs, facing her.

Ashamed, hurting, and regretful for my bad behaviour, I leaned into her, hugged her, and cried on her bosom. She held onto me, patting my head and back, telling me it wasn’t too late. I could still turn things around and be a good boy.

My willpower, supple and bent toward pleasing her, and doing what she said, surprised us both by uttering pleas to be forgiven and have a second chance, apologies, and promises to be the good boy you expect.

On her lap, facing her, clinging to and resting on her, crying with a hot, freshly spanked bottom, my words just tumbled out. Later, I cringed remembering how I had pled and begged, and what I’d said. In response, she said she would see whether I could be trusted to obey from now on.

When she pulled me up off her lap, I stood up, bent backward, face up, nude as birth, my hands plastered on my hot, dark red, sore mounds, my boner still engorged and standing stiffly upright.

She led me out of my bedroom to the next-door bathroom. Turning on the shower, she opened the door for me to enter, then pulled it closed. You hurry, now, Connor. I think I’ll wait until you’re present, and we’ll call your parents together, she added.

Nooo-hoooo-oooo-aaaa-Mrs. Evans! Please! I’ll be good! I promise! I mean it! Please, I’ll be your good boy! I’ll obey, I will! I promise, Mrs. Evans.

You just hurry and get cleaned up, then dressed in work clothes, and come out to the kitchen for breakfast. We’ll discuss it further then.

Inside the shower, I broke down into loud, squalling sobs. While I showered and shampooed, my youthful manhood clamoured for relief. It didn’t take much to give it that, and I did feel some assuaging calm afterward.

I raced to my bedroom, dressed in old jeans and an old sweatshirt to wear and work in the yard. There were a lot of fallen leaves in her yard, and I worked long and hard until I had them all raked into a huge pile by the side of the road. It was well after 1 p.m.

As I stood pausing with weariness for a minute, I heard her calling me. Connor, come on in for lunch now, son. You’ve done a very good job. They’ll pick them all up on Monday.

I turned and trod back to the house. As she held the door open for me to enter and pass her, she complimented me again. I see what good work you’re capable of, young man, when you listen, heed, and do as you’re told.

Thanks, Mrs. Evans, I replied meekly, looking for a place to sit down.

Oh, no, you don’t, my boy, she read my mind. Go get those dirty clothes off and get back in the shower. When you’re ready and dressed in clean clothes, I’ll have lunch ready for you. After that, you can study and do homework.

Gee! I feel like I’m back in high school, being programmed and regimented with my time and work! As I thought of how to tell her to back off from dominating me, I looked at her face.

She glanced a no-nonsense, serious look of determination, and I thought better about saying anything in opposition. After all, she still hadn’t called my parents. So, I hurried into the bathroom, tore off my soiled, sweaty clothes, and got in the shower.

When I’d dried, I carried my dirty clothes to my bedroom to put in my laundry bag. It was missing, so I put them on the floor in the closet, unwrapped the towel from around me, and re-dressed in clean underwear, socks, jeans, and a sweater.

Are you ready, Connor? I heard Mrs. Evans call.

I hastened to the kitchen, smelling grilled cheese sandwiches, two of which she placed on a plate before me. Hungry from the strenuous work and the cool, outside air, I ate them quickly and downed the tall glass of milk before me.

Here’s a half dozen peanut butter cookies to hold you until dinner, Connor, she cheerfully offered, placing them on a small plate.

Thanks, Mrs. Evans. Ummm, these are really fresh, and gooood! I commented.

Good cookies for a good boy, she replied. I cringed at her words while blushing intensely.

Oh, ah, Mrs. Evans. I was looking for my laundry bag and it was missing from my bedroom.

That’s because Nana Evans took it and has your laundry going in the washing machine while we’re speaking.

Ah, why, Mrs. Evans?

Nana Evans, son?

Nana? I couldn’t help expressing the odd feelings at her wanting me to address her like I was her grandson.

Do you still have grandparents, Connor? she digressed with the question.

No ma’am, ah, Mrs. Evans, ah, they’re all gone.

There now, I knew it. See, you need a grandparent to look after you, spoil you when it’s right, and spank you when you surely need it. From now on, I’m gong to be your Nana Evans. That’s what you are to call me from now on, boy.

Man, I know I’m not yet an adult, and just embarking on being out in the world on my own; but being required to call her Nana like a young grand kid was too much.

Ah, Mrs. Evans, I, ah, I mean it’s just not...

Nana Evans, Connor. You can say it. Say it now. Nana Evans.

I just stared at her, perplexed at this whole turn of events and finding myself under the demands of this lady who insisted on treating me like her juvenile grandson.

Say it, Connor  – unless my boy needs another spanking to get his attention from a freshly tanned little fanny.

Oh, gee whiz! She is really coercing me! I thought. But I’d already had 2 spankings from her in 24 hours. I sure didn’t want another.

Noooo, no, that’s not necessary, Mrs., ah, I mean, Nana Evans.

There you go, son. See, you feel better about that already, don’t you? And you’ve avoided another trip over Nana’s lap too. Of course, that doesn’t let you off the hook for tonight, after supper  – for disobeying and behaving so badly last night.

I grimaced at what I was hearing from her.

I know, Connor. No boy likes getting spanked. That’s what makes it so effective. After tonight’s, I doubt you will go off trying to deviate from your Nana’s rules again. You’re hot, sore little bottom will help you remember and obey in the future.

Anyway, Nana Evans is going to take over doing your laundry, Connor. That’ll give you more time to study, since you’ve got to get more done before your bedtime. You won’t have to worry about that any more.

So, now, you go on back to your room and get busy with your school work. I’ll call you when it’s dinner time.

I bit my lip, but refrained from objecting. Instead, I walked quickly back to my bedroom, took out books for assignments, and began working through them.

The combination of the late night, with too much alcohol, and the fresh air and exercise today, made me drowsy. My head was bobbing up and down and my eyes slamming shut.

All at once, Mrs. Evans was beside me. Having trouble staying away, Connor? she asked. I nodded, and she put a large mug of coffee on my desk. Sip this, and maybe the caffeine will help wake you up, son.

It did help, and I finished a lot of homework by supper time. She called me to set the table, which I did readily and at once. We sat down to chicken cacciatore which she had prepared, along with squash and beans.

After supper, I was clearing the table and putting the dishes in the dish washer. You’re a big help, dear, but you may as well go on into your room and get ready for the spanking you know you have coming. I’ll be in shortly and we’ll get it over with.

I flinched at her comment, turning to look at her. The serious intent in her eyes sent me on my way down the short hall to my bedroom.

Depressed, I sat down on my bed, pondering the strange set of circumstances that had swept me up and along so fast. How the heck did I get into this situation, sentenced and waiting to be spanked by my landlady?

Connor, why are you sitting there, and still dressed? My reverie was broken by her query as she strode into my room, vicious wooden spoon in hand.

You know spankings are always administered bare, young man. Stand up right this minute.

I did, and she took hold of my waist and belt, pulling me around 180 degrees to face her as she replaced me sitting on the side of my bed. Methodically, but with dispatch, she disrobed me of every stitch of clothing.

Being denuded to stand totally bare before her, I felt like a self-conscious, naughty, little boy, awaiting punishment. The added embarrassment was my instant, erect, stiff boner jutting out and up at her.

Now, son, over you go! her voice sweetly sung as she pulled me around to her right, then dragged me downward and forward across her lap. My penis was trapped between her legs, and she tightened them down on it, as she angled me better to hit.

Mrs. Evans started in with more hard spanks from the wooden spoon, which immediately brought a real cries of protest from me, as she counted the series of smacks to my buttocks and thighs.

One... two ... three... four... five... six...

She spanked more slowly, alternating from one red mound to the other, raising her hand two feet above my cheeks, and flicking her wrist at the last moment before impact. I gasped and lurched and kicked with each one. She was obviously a very experienced disciplinarian.

Seven... eight... nine... You know, Connor, I thought a real spanking might get your attention,... you naughty child... ten... eleven... twelve... Any boy who’s not too old to disobey and try me is definitely not too old to be well-spanked over the lap of an older woman whenever he misbehaves... like you have, Connor,... thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... .

I was flinching and squirming all over her lap, while my trapped,