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Rachel's Panties

Rachel has trouble keeping track of her panties, which gets her in trouble with her landlady.
Rachel was far from the first lodger I had taken in over the twenty years I had been living here, but she was the first who managed to fool me. Her proper facade crumbled after only a week, and I felt enraged and foolish when I stood in the middle of my own living room and shouted her name, while a pair of panties, so tiny that you couldn’t even scribble “modesty” on their front, dangled from my fingers.

“Missus LeClare?” She ambled into the room with a smile - after I had called out her name for the third time, that is - wearing nothing but one of those trashy, overly large t-shirts young women of her age appeared to mistake for proper dresses.

“What,” I huffed, “is the meaning of this?” I held up the pink, offending item and sent her a hard stare.

“Oh my, gosh,” she declared airily, and it almost made my blood boil, “I’d wondered where they got off to.”

“Listen, young lady!” I took a few measured steps in her direction. “It’s enough that you managed to make a mess of your room in the short week you’ve been here. You’re not going to spread your debauchery into my living room! And stop that ‘Missus’ nonsense, we’re not in the south! Stop that snippy attitude at once, or you’ll find your juvenile bum out in the street faster than you can say your own name!” I was getting worked up, and I hated it. How dare that little tramp talk back to me? But I couldn’t voice my annoyance.

“Put these away!” I threw the panties at her, turned around and went into the kitchen. It wouldn’t do to let her see my discomposure.

* * * * *

You’d have thought that would have been the last of it. Imagine my shock when I found another pair of panties under the living room sofa just two days later, on Friday. She had, conveniently, gone out for the evening and left me simmering in my rage.

I had my words already laid out when I came home from my weekly tea on Saturday evening, but she wasn’t there either. But, and I thought for a moment that my heart would stop, another pair of panties were. Right in the middle of the coffee table, to boot, they greeted me, garishly green and with cats of all things printed all over their front.

I gasped when I picked them up and saw they consisted of nothing more than a tiny triangle of fabric and a few threads. The one in the back - my breath hitched when I realized it - would clearly make its way between the wearer’s bottom cheeks! But I could just imagine my lodger strutting around in her skimpy outfits with this immodest little garment between her legs. She was probably even enjoying the feeling of the thin strip of fabric on her dirty spot.

I shook my head and tried to think of something else, glad that I hadn’t touched the panties there.

This could not go on. I had no idea when - if - she would be back home, but my heart beat hard and I was determined to confront her. I put on my comfortable bathing robe, ruby red and long enough to be modest. I fetched a glass of Chardonnay from the fridge, together with a bottle of water, and settled in the plush chair facing the entry, my fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the armrest.

* * * * *

“Missus LeClare? Ma’am?” I had apparently fallen asleep, and even while I tried to get my bearings, I chastised myself for that.

“Rachel!” I hissed her name, leaving no doubt about my emotional state. “This,” I declared, pointing at her repugnant legacy still in the middle of the table, “has gone on too long! I’ve had enough of you!”

“Oh, come on,” she drawled back as if I was blowing things out of proportion, “that’s just a pair of panties. They don’t bite.”

She tried to lift them from the table, but I was close to steaming right now, and I quickly stood from my chair and caught her wrist.

“This stops now!” I growled at her. “I’ll not have another of your disgusting, immodest underwear items lying around in my space. Imagine what would have happened if some of my friends had accompanied me home! Do you have any idea?”

I felt hot all of a sudden, but that feeling paled when she answered.

“You mean to say that your friends are also prudish spinsters like you?”

“Why, I never!” I was at a loss for words, and I still like to blame my further actions on the glass of wine and the remaining daze of sleep. I had had enough, and I needed to make it clear.

I twirled her around, with her wrist still captured in my hand, and slowly but steadily pushed her backwards until she was up against the wall.

“This! Stops! Now!” I growled and enforced each word with a stab of my finger to her chest.

I thought for a moment that message had rang true. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing had quickened. I even thought I could feel her tremble slightly.

“Or else?” The words dripped sweet like honey over her lips and robbed me of my breath. The loose, slutty dress she wore barely covered her chest from afar, and from this close, I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t even wearing a bra. The tops of her perky breasts and even parts of her nipples were quite visible to my shocked eyes. What a hussy!

“Or else? Or else!” My grip tightened involuntarily around her wrist, and she winced. “I’ll show you what else, young lady! You know what, I’ll even let you decide! You can either pack your things and go looking for a room to rent somewhere else, or I’ll give your bum the hiding it deserves for your impertinence!”

I wanted to take back the words as soon as they had left my mouth. I had no idea where they had come from. I abhorred corporal punishment! And more, even though she was my lodger, the blonde young woman in front of me was in fact a stranger.

Her chin tightened, and we started into each other’s eyes, both of us breathing hard, neither of us willing to give an inch. Finally, she took a few quick, deep breaths, and I thought she would bolt. Instead, her body sagged against the wall.

“I’ll take the spanking.” Her voice was quiet and breathless, and I wasn’t sure I had heard her right.


“...take the spanking. Yeah.” Something I couldn’t grasp twinkled in her eyes, but then she lowered her gaze to the floor, suddenly demure and shy. “I guess I deserve it.”

Still, I couldn’t back out now. My own breathing quickened when I pulled her after me to the high-backed chair on the right wall that was only there as a decoration. My legs trembled when I sat down. What was I thinking? Yes, I was over forty, almost twice Rachel’s age, and I should command some authority. But spanking? I had never done that before.

My self-doubts were cut short when she draped herself over my thighs. Her body felt hot, and I could barely resist the urge to loosen the top of my robes.

I froze. “What,” I gasped, “are you doing?”

“Baring my bum,” she answered, her voice just as throaty as my own, “for the spanking.”

She had folded the hem of her miniskirt up over her back and exposed the tight globes of her bum cheeks. And exposed they were, because she wore another of these flimsy things with strings. Only the thin, red thread that vanished between her half-orbs showed that she had on panties at all. Her skin was smooth and shimmering in the soft light from the chandelier.

My fingers trembled. There was no way out. I took a deep breath. “Prepare yourself.” What a silly expression!

The first hit was barely a slap, and she showed no reaction. I hit a bit harder and could feel her tight flesh bounce under my fingers. But still, there was no gasp or outcry. Her skin was really, really soft, but I knew shouldn’t thinking that. This was a spanking, and I had to show that I meant it.

I let my hand swish down with considerable force this time. A loud smack filled the air, and I felt the impact resonate in my arm. Her body shook, and a small “Ow!” told me that I had finally managed to get through. I hit the other cheek just as hard, and I felt her body wiggle with it.

“Ow!” she complained. “That stings!”

“It is supposed to!” I answered. “You know that there is still the option.” A part of me prayed that she would take it. This - this wasn’t right. But there was the other part, the part that had felt a strange excitement when my hand struck her backside, and that part was getting louder.

When she hadn’t moved after ten seconds, I knew my own options had run out as well. And when I looked at her young, unblemished body, at the tight, well-toned thighs and the muscular bum so lewdly exhibited, I was gripped with a light-headed feeling.

My hand smacked down hard on her left cheek, and even while the sound rung in my ears and her protest left her lips, I followed up on the right one. Her body shook and I felt her skin grow hot under my fingers. Again, first the left cheek, then the right, and her protests grew louder.

But she had chosen the punishment, the little hussy, and now she would have to endure it. I rained down swats on her bum and didn’t hold back. Each one shook her body and made her gasp and protest. Soon, her gasps turned into sobs, and her bottom took one a lovely, rosy shade.

“I’m going to teach you,” I growled between spanks, “to throw your dirty panties all over the place! I’m going to blister that naughty backside of yours so you can’t sit for days!”

It felt - good, I realized, powerful. I reveled in the feeling of her soft, increasingly hot skin and settled into a steady rhythm, my hand playing a lovely duet of sharp smacks and sobbed protests with her bum.

Her backside wiggled more and more, and I had to push down with my free hand to prevent her from sliding off my thighs and to keep my aim.

I didn’t keep count. I kept smacking, and her sobs grew in intensity. Suddenly, or perhaps it was only that I noticed it belatedly, too taken up in the perverted delight I took in my task, her sobs turned into exclamations of “Yes!”

It was too late to hold back my last smack, and when it impacted her glowing backside, her whole body stiffened for a few seconds. My heart tried to jump from my chest when I recognized the signs for what they were, and her long, guttural moan accompanied by the shaking and twitching of her legs removed the last doubts.

“Rachel!” I exclaimed in outrage, but I could only watch on, my movement frozen, while she shook and wiggled over my thighs.

When she finally relaxed and turned her head to look up at me, a satisfied gleam shone in her eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs. LeClare.” Her whisper sounded genuine, the first time since she had interviewed for the room.

“Rachel!” My mind was in turmoil. “You - I - this - you shouldn’t have…”

She slipped from my lap onto her knees right in front of me, and before I could react, she had taken my wrist and was examining the hand that had spanked her. It was slightly reddened too, but more importantly, it glistened with a sheen of moisture - moisture that wasn’t her sweat!

Her tongue snaked out. I tried to pull my hand away, but I was too slow, and when the velvety warmth slid over my palm, my last energy seemed to evaporate.

“Don’t.” I protested meekly, “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t…”

“Hush,” she whispered between licks, “I’m sorry that your fingers got covered with my pussy juice!”

Pussy juice? Was that how young women called their secretions nowadays? But - this was really what it was, and thinking about the slippery moisture on my hands made me want to vanish into the ground.

“Don’t.” I pleaded again.

She lifted her head and smiled at me, an unreadable expression tugging at the corners of her mouth. I was too busy staring at her face and trying to discern her intentions.

Something pulled on my clothes. She had opened my belt, and before I could stop her, her fingers had pushed my robes apart! The front of my body, as good as nude and only covered by my bra and a pair of modest cotton panties, was exposed to her yes, and I finally recognized the look in her eyes. It was hunger! Her fingers touched my thighs, just above my knees, and slowly slid upwards.

“Don’t.” I wanted to stop her. I really, really tried. But I couldn’t move. Only my legs appeared to have a mind of their own, because the parted easily with the touch until they were spread almost completely to the side. My muscles rippled where her soft fingers touched me, trailing closer and closer to the tops of my thighs. My heartbeat thundered, and I heard the rush of blood in my ears.

“Let me thank you properly for putting me in my place,” she growled.

“Don’t. Please. I’m not…”

“I know. That’s why your crotch isn’t a single huge, wet stain, is it?”

I wanted to die from mortification when I looked down and saw the dark, glistening spot that took up almost the whole front side of my panties.

“Now be quiet and let me express my gratitude.” She pushed my panties to the side and I started trembling.

She wouldn’t? She did.

Her smooth tongue delved between my labia without further warning, and try as I might, I couldn’t contain the delightful tingles that spread all through my sex. My breath whistled, and she started to lap at my private spot, tickling and nuzzling and slurping.

“Oh god.” I didn’t want to swear. “Oh my god!” That was how it felt when her tongue sneaked into that holy opening that only my former husband had ever entered. “Oh fucking god!”

Something pushed inside me, a finger, and my back arched and my head tilted backwards. I felt like flying, it was the most intense feeling I had ever had, but then she wrapped her soft lips around my clitoris and suckled lightly.

Lights exploded in front of my eyes. A heat I had never felt before exploded in my sex. Waves of lust washed all over me and swept me away into sweet oblivion, into a tumbling maelstrom of joy and lust. I felt my body shake and tremble, over and over, and her lips kept suckling and held me in that wonderful state for what felt like ages.

“Stop!” I couldn’t take it anymore, every little touch sent my nerves on fire, and I pushed her away.

She smiled up at me like the cat who ate the canary. Unspoken words went back and forth between our eyes and crumbled everything I had thought I knew about myself to dust.

“I...” I had to clear my throat. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m…”

“Hush.” Her finger silenced my lips. “I needed that. We both needed that.” And then her eyelids fluttered coquettishly and blew away all left-over inhibitions. “I fear I’ll be needing proper punishment again in the future. It’s how I am. I’m a troublemaker.”

Her smile was sweet. She looked adorable. I didn’t want to feel like this. She was my lodger, and a girl too.

She stood up and slowly crossed the living room, but she still held up her skirt and presented me with her backside, red and shiny from the spanking, incredibly pretty.

“Oops.” Something fluttered from her fingers right onto the middle of my expensive Persian carpet. Her panties! She kept on walking.


Now she stopped and smiled back at me. “Yes, Missus?”

I don’t know what I wanted to say. “Tomorrow,” I growled instead, “ten o’clock. Here. Don’t bother with dressing for your punishment!”

She sent me a quick grin. “I’ll be here, Missus!”

She walked, no; she sashayed out of the room, leaving me with my conflicting emotions. When I looked down at myself and once more took in my drenched panties, I knew which part of me would win the conflict. I didn’t bother closing the robes when I got up from the chair.

I picked up the flimsy panties. The crotch was almost transparent from the moisture. If she had… could I? The insides were sticky. I sneaked a quick glance towards the door to make sure she had really left, and then my tongue licked over the wet fabric. My cheeks burned and I licked again.

“Just you wait until tomorrow,” I whispered between hard breaths, “dirty little hussy!”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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