“But you haven’t met them before! We know nothing about them. For all we know, they could be criminals!” my mother protested, getting seriously worked up.
“I’m almost eighteen, I could stay here on my own! It’s my thing if I want to move somewhere else. In three weeks I’ll legally be allowed to anyway! I’ll not go to some African bush camp with you! They have spiders and lions and whatnot!” In hindsight, neither my hysteric voice nor me stamping my foot like a petulant child helped my argument.
“A year ago I would have said the same. But since you’ve been caught smoking pot, and to make it worse, while skipping school with a well-known hussy, your dad and I have decided that you can’t be trusted to manage a whole year on your own.”
“Stepdad!” I interjected, sure that this was all his doing. “And Candace isn’t a hussy!”
“I’m fed up with arguing, Paisy. You’ll come with us!”
“You’re so - ahhh!” I turned on my heel and stormed into my room, throwing myself face down onto the bed and letting the angry tears stream from my eyes.
I should have known it; the moment I finally made some real friends, that asshole boyfriend of my mother would ruin everything. Just because he had “go to Africa to improve his CV”, big headed monkey he was. He could have waited a year if he had really wanted to.
After they had revealed their plans, I had simply been miserable. But then I had met Erin online in a slightly naughty chat room, and we had immediately clicked. Her parents had gone to Alaska, something about truck driving and fishing, and she had refused to go with them and instead found a roof over her head on a farm in Louisiana. She had been compassionate about my fate and immediately asked her landlady if it would be okay for me to join them. The landlady, Bridget, had agreed, with the stipulation that I help out on the farm a few hours each day. She had even offered to arrange for me to finish my schooling.
I didn't have to think twice. True, I knew nothing about farm work, and I wasn’t very keen on animals, but how bad could it be?
Why couldn’t my mother simply accept that I was grown up and let me do my own thing? I punched my fists into the mattress, fed up with the injustices of life.
This hadn’t been the last fight, but I might well have saved all the energy, because it didn’t change anything.
So I found myself on the passenger seat of a dented moving van after sneaking out in the dead of the night, finally on my way to Louisiana after having plundered the savings account my mother kept for me, watching the scenery fly by, dreading my future and ignoring all attempts at conversation from the disheveled looking driver. He was rather shady, but you probably had to be to not ask questions when a nearly-eighteen-year-old wanted to move at two in the morning.
I had left a short letter for my mum, wishing her luck and a good time in Africa. I didn’t include my address, and I shut off my cellphone as soon as I had texted Erin that I was coming. I was a runaway!
The drive took ages, and the air grew steadily hotter and more humid, the aircon in the van fighting a losing battle. When we arrived I was sweaty, and it was almost dusk. Bridget’s farm was far out in the countryside, I realized, and commuting to school would take up a lot of my free time. Just brilliant!
I looked at the building, a typical one-story farm house. It wasn’t big, and the grey paint coating the wood had seen better days. Bridget and Erin had obviously heard the van approach over the gravel road and were waiting in front of the wooden porch. I shuffled my way over to them, trying to delay the inevitable. I knew that I should probably be trying to make a good impression, but I was so tired that I just couldn’t care.
I gave the people I was going to live with the once-over. Bridget appeared a few years older than my mum, which made her something over forty. She was about my height, but had thirty-five pounds more on her frame, straight, greying hair that touched her shoulders, thin lips, and she wore a summer dress that was at least a size too small and rather short for a woman of her age and build. Erin, in contrast, looked not a day older than her sixteen years, in a pair of khaki shorts and a skin-tight yellow shirt that made it obvious that she had hardly any tits. In fact, with her blonde hair cropped as short as it was, she looked more like a young boy than a girl. I had expected someone like me, with a taste for clothes, or a cheerleader personality, with all the exuberant chats we’d had. The last bits of my excitement went up in smoke. This was going to be just awful, I knew it.
“You must be Paisy,” Bridget exclaimed with somewhat exaggerated joy, “I haven’t seen your picture yet. My, you’re quite the woman!”
Before I could avoid it, she had pulled me into a tight hug. I tried to wiggle out of it, but suddenly her hand was on my bum and pressing my lower body tight to hers. I hated touching, I didn’t even like hugging my own mother, but this was almost indecent.
“It’s so good to have you here,” she gushed into my ear, “when Erin asked me to take care of you, it was never in question. She’s been dying to have another girl her age around, I can understand her being bored with just plain old me here to talk to.”
She finally let go of me, and I let out a relieved breath. I could still feel the imprint of her hand on my bum cheek and the uncomfortable feeling of her chest pressing into my own.
I tried to greet Erin with a simple handshake, but she would have none of it and mimicked her landlady’s antics. Perhaps this was some kind of custom here. She was a few inches smaller than me, and quite wiry. Try as I might, I couldn’t extricate myself from her embrace either.
One hand snaked behind my neck and pulled my head next to hers. “This is going to be such a fun year, just wait and see,” she trilled, “I’ve been thinking of all kinds of things we can do together, we’ll never have a moment of boredom!”
She let go of me, and I mumbled something along the lines of, “I’m sure it will.”
“Erin, take our guest into the house. She’ll be tired from the long drive, the driver and I will take care of her things.”
Erin took my hand and pulled me up the steps to the porch. I wanted to protest, but, truth to be told, I was tired.
After having followed her example and slipped off my shoes on the porch, I was pulled through the door. The interior of the house was quite old fashioned, but not ugly. The floor was a dark kind of wood, and the furniture, made from a different kind of wood and bleached almost white, contrasted nicely. We stepped through a small corridor with clothes hooks and a shoe rack into a large living room, with wooden pillars and large beams holding the ceiling. A huge red couch dominated the room, and in front of it stood the biggest flat screen TV I had ever seen. So much for old-fashioned country folks.
Erin must have noticed the change in mood that one object of modern technology brought on, because she giggled.
“I convinced Bridget to buy it for her forty-eighth birthday, before that, she had one of those tiny old things that could only receive ten channels.” She sounded excited, and I couldn’t help myself and smiled in understanding.
“Let me show you around, I know that you’re tired, but I really want to give you a small tour so you know where everything is. Tomorrow we can have a look around outside.”
I eyed the couch, it did look inviting. But if I sat down now, it would be all the harder to get up again. So I voiced my agreement, and Erin grabbed my hand again and led me through the door in the far wall into a corridor.
“This is the kitchen,” she explained, opening the first door to the right. It was nice, quite tidy and with a lot of free space. Nothing fancy, a long work top, a gas stove, a big fridge and a small table with four chairs.
“And this,” her voice almost turned into a whisper while she turned me around and opened the opposing door, “is Bridget’s room.” I only got a glimpse of a large room with a four poster bed before she closed the door again.
Then I was dragged a little farther, and she once again started with the door to the right. “This is my hobby room,” she declared with pride in her eyes and pushed open the door. It was big, with white walls and ceiling, huge windows and a white rug. A dark chair stood in the middle, surrounded by all kinds of photo equipment. A large wardrobe took up most of one wall, and the opposite wall held some indeterminate furniture covered with cloth.
“You’re a photographer?”
“I want to be. If you want, I can take pictures of you some time.”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh, wait until you’ve seen some of mine, I bet you’d look brilliant in front of the camera.”
And again we turned around. “This is just the washing room, and at the back are the stairs to the basement.” She pointed into a narrow, windowless room. “Though the only thing down there is a colony of mold that has probably developed some kind of intelligence by now. We rather use the barn to store things, it’s less damp.”
I nodded, listening to her fast explanations almost making me dizzy. Finally, we arrived at the last door at the end of the corridor.
“And this is our room,” she told me, opening the door with a flourish and gesturing for me to enter.
I did and took a look around. I was a bit girly, teddy bears on the boards, a unicorn statue next to the computer on the writing desk and such. It also wasn’t all that big, and when I look at the queen sized bed in the middle of the back wall, a weird thought shot through my mind.
“Why, of course. Don’t you like it?” Her face took on a bit of a pout.
“I - just - there’s only one bed. Where will I sleep?”
She giggled and looked at me as if was being silly. “In the bed, of course.”
“You’re funny,” she declared. “Also in the bed. Or do you prefer sleeping on the floor?”
I shook my head. “But I thought - I thought I’d have my own room.” The feeling of despair from earlier was once more crashing down on me.
“The bed’s big enough for both of us. Don’t worry.”
“Can’t I just sleep on the couch?” I asked, my tone almost pleading.
“I’m afraid not. Bridget has a habit of watching TV late into the night, and she doesn’t want us to do the same.”
I hung my head. Whatever I had envisioned beforehand, this was going to be worse.
Just then my bladder announced its presence. “Ehm, Erin, I need to go to the loo.”
“Oh, of course,” she giggled, “how ignorant of me. It’s right through there, it’s got a connecting door to our room and Bridget’s.” She pointed to a door to the left of the entrance that I had missed, and I quickly made my exit.
Pulling the door closed behind me, I rested my forehead against it for a moment and took a few deep breaths. I didn’t know if could bear this for a whole year. But I had to try, what other options did I have?
Trying to lock the door, I had to look twice. “Erin,” I called, “there’s no key. How can I lock the door?”
“You can’t,” her muted voice replied, “the locks have been broken for ages.”
Things were getting worse with each minute. I always locked the door to the bathroom. But I couldn’t wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, I pulled up the lid, pushed down my jeans and panties and sat down. The moment my bum hit the seat, a torrent sprang free and splashed loudly into the bowl. It felt wonderful to get rid of the pressure.
But then I saw some movement from the corner of my eyes. The door opened and Erin stepped inside, a roll of toilet tissue in her hand. Without a care she walked closer, coming to a stop right in front of me and holding out the tissue to me. “Sorry,” she piped, “I just remembered that I used up the last of it just before you arrived.”
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. My cheeks were burning as I took the roll from her fingers while the stream of pee splashed into the toilet. “Thanks.” I whispered, meekly.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed, staring between my legs completely unashamed, “you really needed to go, I can see that!”
“Erin!” I hissed.
“What?” She seemed genuinely surprised at my tone of voice.
“Could you please give me some privacy?”
“Oh,” she giggled, just as my bladder was finished emptying and some last drops leaked out, “sorry. Of course.” And then she patted my thigh and told me to “have fun!”
I groaned, my whole body flushed with embarrassment. Did this girl have no sense of modesty? And then I had a terrifying thought. What if her landlady was the same?
I hastily wiped myself and pulled up my trousers, not wanting to provoke another run-in.
When I stepped back into Erin’s room, the next shock was already waiting for me. She was lying on her bed, on her back, thumbing through a book. That in itself was not unusual. The thing about it was, she had taken off her shirt and was now completely bare above the waist. Her lack of breasts was obvious, and her tiny nipples stood erect on her dime-sized areolas like pinboard tacks.
“Erin!” I exclaimed. “You’re naked!” I quickly turned away from her.
My answer was a giggle. “You’re just so funny, Paisy. I’m not nude, I’ve just taken off my tee. We had more than hundred degrees today, and I’ve been sweating like mad. I need to cool down, and nobody can see me inside the house anyway. I do it all the time.”
“And I’m nobody?” I asked.
“Oh c’mon, don’t be a prude.”
I sighed. What I kind of people did I have to put up with?
Then I heard the rustling of fabric, and Erin’s melodic voice told me, “You can turn around again now.”
She was finally coming to her senses, it seemed. I turned. And gasped.
“Now I’m naked!” She had sat up, resting her upper body on her extended arms, and her legs were spread, slightly parting her pussy lips and exposing the pink folds between them. I couldn’t see a single hair between her legs!
I hurriedly turned around again, accompanied by a giggle that sounded like glass beads tinkling against each other. I felt hot all over.
“Erin,” I pleaded, “please put on some clothes.”
The bed creaked, and suddenly her hand was on my arm. I tried not to flinch away.
“You really are that prudish, aren’t you?” Her question was filled with astonishment. “It makes you uncomfortable.”
“Yes,” I affirmed, “it does.”
“Your bad!” She suddenly shouted and bounced back onto the bed, giggling like mad.
I just stood, dumbfounded. She really didn’t care about modesty.
My desperate search for words that could express my state of mind was interrupted by my landlady’s voice. “Erin, Paisy, we’re finished with the luggage and dinner’s ready.”
“Coming, Bridget!” Erin shouted back, and to my continued astonishment, she jump from the bed and raced out through the door just like she was.
I think I was gaping like a fish, and after a few seconds, Erin’s had popped back into the room. “You coming?”
“I - yes, I’m coming.” And so I followed her, naked and unconcerned as she was, into the kitchen, expecting some kind of comment on her state of undress from her landlady, but that didn’t come.
Instead, she looked me up and down and sent me a wide smile. “You know, if you’re feeling hot, you can always follow Erin’s example; don’t mind me. You must be boiling in those long trousers.” She was just setting the plates on the table, and when she wasn’t looking, I shook my head in disbelief.
I had been dumped into my very own nudist colony, or so it seemed.
“You really should get rid of the pants,” Erin immediately picked up the ball.
“I’m quite comfortable like I am.”
I hadn’t completely finished that sentence when Erin’s arm shot under my t-shirt and her fingers dipped into the cleft between my breasts, and I gave a startled yelp. She pulled it back out just as quick, never even giving me the opportunity to protest. Her giggling enraged me, but when she held up her fingers, I could see moisture on them.
“You’re lying,” she accused me, “and lying is bad. You’re all sweaty between your boobs.”
“And what if I am, hussy?” I hissed back at her.
“Now now,” Bridget intervened, “that is not a tone of voice I want to hear in my house, guest or not. As a punishment, you’ll take off your t-shirt!”
“But -” I really couldn’t believe what was happening. My new landlady forcing me to undress in front of her and her other lodger. “Please! I didn’t mean it like this!”
“It’s too late to take it back now. Take it off, so we can start eating. Otherwise it will be no food for you today.”
I felt close to crying, and for a few seconds I pondered if going to bed hungry was the way to go. My stomach took my decision away. I hadn’t had anything decent the whole day, and it grumbled like a bear. Dejectedly, I pulled the t-shirt over my head and folded my arms in front of my breasts. I knew that it was futile gesture, as soon as we started eating I would have to expose them, but I clung onto the little decency I still had.
Erin guided me to the chair at the head of the table and sat down at my right. Bridget put a big casserole with macaroni and cheese into the middle of the table and sat down at my left. I couldn’t look into their faces.
“Enjoy,” Erin piped, piling a huge load on my plate, “it’s my favorite, though Bridget’s a brilliant cook. The cheese is from a local farmer.”
“Thanks,” I answered, my voice mostly a whisper.
And then the moment had come, and I had to pick up the cutlery. A quick stolen glance around showed that they were at least not staring at me. And once I started eating, all thoughts about my nudity fled my mind. As famished as I was, the macaroni were the best thing I had ever tasted.
“It’s brilliant,” I gushed, “I think I do have a new favorite. I could take a bath in it.”
“Thank you,” Bridget sounded relieved, “I’m glad you like it.”
Erin giggled. She seemed to do that a lot. Teenagers, I thought and sneered inwardly. I had expected someone more grown up.
“I’d like to see you take that bath. Now that would be messy.”
“Well, it would probably take me days to get rid of all the cheese.”
And then I almost choked on the macaroni in my mouth, when Bridget said, out of the blue, “You’ve got pretty tits, Paisy, you’ve really got no reason to hide them.”
I fixed my eyes on my plate and pretended not hear her, and did the same when Erin chimed in, “She’s right, you know. They are absolutely gorgeous. Just the perfect size for your build.”
The next few bites went into my mouth and down my throat mechanically. I felt my face blushing profusely.
“Paisy!” Bridget’s tone was sharp, and I looked up with hesitation. “If someone gives you a compliment, you should give your thanks. We’ll have to see about the punishment before you go to bed.”
“Punishment!” I was slowly reaching boiling point. “What am I, a little child? I’ve played your little game with the t-shirt, but this stops now!”
This stopped her in her tracks, and I felt a deep satisfaction well up inside chest. But then her eyes narrowed, and her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. It hurt, but before I knew what was happening, she had bellowed, “Erin! Fetch the spoon!” A mighty yank pulled me out of the chair, and somehow I ended up across her lap.
“No! You can’t do that!” I shrieked, kicking out with my legs. A yank on my hair had me protest in pain, and when I tried to move my legs again, she had moved her right leg from under me and was pinning them between hers.
“No!” I protested again and started to wriggle.
“Keep still,” she hissed in response, “or I’ll let you up and you can go sleep in the barn. Give me your hands so I can hold you in place.”
Something changed in me. Yes, the idea of sleeping in the barn was less than appealing. But being spoken to this way did something to me, and I halted my movements. I lifted my hands behind my back and felt them gripped by her larger, stronger one.
“Thanks honey,” I could hear her say, “now be a dear and pull down her pants.”
“Nooo!” I wailed, but a giddy, exciting dread that I didn’t really understand kept me motionless.
My protest was futile. I felt Erin’s small hands nestle with the button and fly, and moments later the jeans were pulled down over my buttocks, exposing my pink panties to the world.
Then a loud crack filled the air, and agonizing pain shot through my right bum cheek. A moment later, another crack, and my left cheek exploded in pain. Tears started to stream down my cheeks, and I sobbed and cried out as swat after swat landed on my behind.
“I won’t have anyone talk back to me like that in this house,” Bridget admonished while keeping up a steady, painful rhythm, “and I don’t tolerate ungratefulness. You will behave as long as you are under this roof, and you will follow my orders like any good young woman should her betters’, is that clear, little lady?”
“Yes,” I wailed, “I’ll behave. I’ll be good. I promise!”
The slaps ceased and her grip on me released. I stood up, sniffling, my backside a mess of pulsating pain. Bridget’s hands turned me towards her.
“There, there,” she said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek, “it’s all over and forgotten now. Just be a good girl and we won’t have to repeat this. Give me a kiss and then continue eating.”
I hesitated a moment, but then I felt her fingers, which were still resting on my hip, tighten, and so I bent down gave her a quick peck on the lips. It felt strange, her lips were rather soft, and I smelled her perfume. A light slap on my bum made me yelp.
“Now get back on your chair, you haven’t even finished half of your serving.”
Shuffling around her legs, I bent down to pull up my jeans, but a touch on my back interrupted me. “Keep them where they are for now,” Bridget ordered, “it will remind you of the punishment.”
As if the pain wasn’t enough of a reminder by itself. But I complied and sat awkwardly down on the chair, wincing as my panty-clad bum made contact with the hard wood. Something white was suddenly filling my vision, and I tried to pull back, but then I recognized it as a paper tissue.
“Here, blow your nose,” Erin’s voice came from behind it, and she pressed it to my nose, “the spanking did quite a number on you.”
It felt decidedly strange and demeaning, being treated like a small child, as if wasn’t even able to blow my nose on my own. But I didn’t want to risk a further punishment and dutifully snorted into the tissue.
“There,” Erin whispered, wiping away the remnants of moisture, “all clean again.”
Erin threw the tissue into the garbage can below the sink. When she walked back, she halted her steps next to me, and I could feel her eyes roaming over my body, making me feel even more uncomfortable as I had already been.
“Your panties are nice.”
“Thank you, Erin.” Now I was sure that she was teasing me, but even if it almost hurt physically to be polite, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of snapping at her.
“But they are completely wet at the front!”
I looked down and noticed that she was right. The front was completely soaked through, making them cling to my mound like a second skin. Would the chain of embarrassments ever stop?
“Did you pee yourself?”
Who did the impertinent little worm think she was? That’s what I thought. What I said was, “No, I did not pee myself.”
“Then you got aroused by the spanking?”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe she was playing me like this. The dread in me mounted, because she was right. Something had to be wrong with me, because I did get aroused by the spanking, even though I couldn’t imagine why.
“No,” I protested, albeit softly, “I did not get aroused.”
“Hm, either you peed yourself, or you got aroused. You can admit it, I also get aroused when I’m spanked. So what is it?”
“Please,” I begged, looking at my landlady, “don’t let her talk to me like that.”
“And why ever should I not?” Bridget’s eyes twinkled in amusement, making it clear that she was enjoying my predicament far too much to put a stop to it. “As long as Erin is polite, she can say whatever she wishes. We live in a free country. And she asked you a question, you should answer her.”
“I - I don’t know,” I stuttered, “perhaps I did pee myself.”
“Only one way to find out!” Erin exclaimed. It felt like watching a movie when she bent over, deftly ran a finger over my moist slit and stuck it into her mouth.
“Oh my god!” I inadvertently blurted out.
“No, definitely not pee,” she giggled, “I’m so happy that you can enjoy the spanking too.”
“But I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Not so much when it happened,” Erin told me with a smile, “but it would feel far worse now if you weren’t turned on.”
Thank god, the rest of the meal went by in silence. I focused on the pleasant taste and the warm feeling of a full stomach and emptied my glass of water.
Once we were all finished, Bridget took a look at the wall clock. “Holy Deity, it’s after ten already. Now off with you both into the bathroom while I do the dishes. And don’t dawdle.”
So I traipsed after Erin to her room, but just as I stepped through the door, I finally became aware of a thought that had been nagging me all the time. “My things!” I exclaimed. “I don’t know where my overnight bag is!”
“Bridget!” Erin shouted, “did you bring in Paisy’s overnight bag?”
We waited a minute for an answer, but Bridget came into the room herself. “Which overnight bag?”
“A black bag, like a sports bag, only a little bigger,” I told her, biting my lip and fearing the worst.
“Well, I didn’t see anything like that,” she told me, a bit apologetic. “Where did you put it?”
“It was behind the passenger seat.”
“Oh my,” she sighed, “we only unloaded the back. It’s probably still there. We’ll have to give the company a ring first thing in the morning.”
A tear trickled down my face. It was all becoming too much, and the floor dropped out under my feet. “It’s got - it’s got my purse inside,” I sobbed, “and my money. Everything! My diary! My mobile! My laptop!”
A pair of thin arms wrapped around me and pulled me to the bed. I was all too happy to follow the lead and plopped bonelessly down onto the mattress.
“It isn’t that bad,” Bridget tried to soothe me, “I’m sure we’ll get it back soon. And meanwhile you can borrow from Erin what you need.”
I hiccupped. Erin’s arms went around me again and pulled me close, pressing my head into the crook between her neck and shoulder and rubbing my back while my body shook with sobs.
“You’ll look after her?” Bridget asked her.
“I will. Do you mind if we forego showering this evening and do it in the morning?”
“Of course I don’t. Just keep close to her, this is really getting to her.”
“I will, Bridget. Good night.”
“Good night, honey. Good night, little Paisy. Sleep well.” She switched off the light, and I continued sobbing in Erin’s embrace. She kept softly rocking me, and some time later I fell into an exhausted sleep.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/spanking/staying-with-erin.aspx">Staying With Erin</a>