Miss Spencer was our next-door neighbor when I was growing up. She was a spinster, whatever that was. She taught English at the High School and all the parents in our neighborhood liked her. She not only volunteered for many neighborhood committees and organized neighborhood block parties and the welcome wagon, she looked out for the neighborhood kids in the summer. She was about Mom’s age. As a kid, I recognized that they weren’t movie stars, but I thought both of them were pretty, especially when they dressed up. Mom was a brunette, Miss Spencer a blonde. Miss Spencer was taller than Mom. Besides looks, which were important, Mom and Miss Spencer had different personalities. At least to a little kid, Miss Spencer always seemed happy whereas Mom seemed worried most of the time, sort of frazzled. Miss Spencer seemed calm, like she could handle whatever came.
Her business taking care of kids in the summer thrived. Kids could stay right in the neighborhood if Miss Spencer took them, for the summer, so pick-up and drop-off was close to home. Most kids she took could walk to Miss Spencer’s house in a pinch. She was very dependable and didn’t complain if parents were a little late picking the kids up. Parents could even, if they planned it, leave their kids with Miss Spencer for a couple of days and get away. So, in the summer there were generally three or four kids at her house during the day, and, since most kids were only children, maybe an extra kid that night, or very rarely two. Mom loved her. She made Mom’s life much easier.
Since we only saw Dad every once in a while, having Miss Spencer next door was very convenient for her. Once, Mom even left me with her when she took a vacation to New York City by herself. I really didn’t mind. That’s all Mom could talk about for a couple of months after she got back and I loved staying with Miss Spencer.
The first year that Miss Spencer took care of me during the summer, Mom emphasized one thing to me before she took me over to her house. Unlike Mom, Miss Spencer believed in spanking unruly children. Mom never spanked me at all, but Miss Spencer had Mom sign a release to allow spanking. Mom thought about this, and we talked about it. She emphasized Miss Spencer expected to be obeyed. Mom further told me she expected me to obey Miss Spencer. All this emphasis made me a little scared when I was taken over to her house the first day of the first year I stayed with her in the summer. She was, after all, a High School teacher, and I was in elementary school. I knew how mean the High School kids were and so I was pretty much in awe of anyone who could control them. Despite the dire warnings, it didn’t turn out that way. Miss Spencer, who I had known slightly all my life, was confident I would enjoy the summer and we would become great friends. Two other kids from the neighborhood stayed with her that summer, Katy, who was two years older than I, and Heather, who was my age. I wasn’t really enthusiastic about playing with girls all summer, but Miss Spencer pointed out that there were plenty of boys who had a couple of sisters and no brothers, so she thought I would survive.
In any case, Miss Spencer had something for us to do every day. I made a wallet for Dad, as an example, and a candle for Mom and potholders and salt and pepper shakers that Mom used every day after. I think she still has them, at least she did years later when I finished college. Crafts like that only took up a portion of our day. Miss Spencer was different from Mom in another way. At home, Mom took care of all the cleaning and meal preparation. At Miss Spencer’s we took care of ourselves. We made our own lunches under supervision, cleaned up after ourselves, and did all sorts of little chores around the house. With all that, we still had plenty of time to ourselves to play or read or just watch TV or play with our phones or video games. Sometimes we’d go to museums, or the library, or take tours of factories and the local newspaper and all sorts of other fun things that’d I’d seen on TV but didn’t have much experience with. Miss Spencer didn’t spank us at all, ever. During that first year, she never even threatened to. I asked her about it and she just smiled and said as long as I behaved, I had nothing to worry about. Given Mom’s admonitions, Miss Spencer’s comment had quite an effect on me. I behaved. I was a good boy generally, understand, but I was careful to be on my best behavior at Miss Spencer’s. The girls were too, we all behaved.
In addition to the inside of the house, Miss Spencer had a garden in her backyard where she grew vegetables of all sorts. Having grown up in the suburbs of a big city, none of us had much to do with gardens but all of us learned a lot about them from Miss Spencer as we learned about a lot of things.
Katy was our leader that first year, she was oldest and had stayed with Miss Spencer the year before, so was experienced, but she was very nice. I liked her a lot. Heather, on the other hand, liked me more than I liked her. You could tell, it wasn’t anything I could point to, but her interest in me was evident. She coupled this with a tendency to be bossy which I didn’t like at all. She was always explaining to me the right way to do things and how I ought to act towards women and how she was equal, whatever that meant, and how much I generally didn’t know and she did. She was a minor pain in an otherwise fun summer vacation from school.
When school started up, I missed Miss Spencer and Katy and even Heather. I didn’t talk to Katy at school, except to say “Hi”, she was always with the big kids. I saw Heather more, but she wasn’t in my class, and when I did see her, I was actually glad. That school year I went over to Miss Spencer’s a lot on Saturdays. She gave me little chores to help her around the house. Mom used to ask her what her secret was, she couldn’t do anything to get me to help. But I did all sorts of things to help Miss Spencer, like pulling weeds and taking out the garbage and other little tasks that came up. Miss Spencer would laugh and say that’s how kids are. When she got me alone she did tell me that it was a little disappointing to hear that I wasn’t helping Mom out much, after all Mom had me and a job. After that little talk, I did more around our house, the little chores that I did routinely at Miss Spencer’s, like pick up after myself. I started taking out the garbage when it needed it rather than waiting for Mom to tell me to do it and hoping that she’d just do it instead of telling me. I even took the carrier to the curb on pick-up days and brought it back to the garage in the evening. I did Miss Spencer’s too. I even started helping to clean up after supper, Miss Spencer had pointed out that I knew how to do that since she had taught me. In this way, Miss Spencer helped ease Mom’s life as well as make me a better kid, more aware of the feelings of others.
I grew up like this, with Dad on the periphery of my life, but with things revolving around Mom and Miss Spencer. The cast of kids at Miss Spencer’s changed. I was the only constant. After the first couple of years the kids were always younger, so I was always the leader with an assortment of boys and girls for my followers. I was a good kid, a little nerdy I guess, and not very popular in school, but my life was very pleasant. I liked it when Miss Spencer referred to me as her assistant. That made me feel important and so I took my responsibility seriously. I taught the other kids how to wash and put away the dishes because Miss Spencer didn’t like the dishwasher, for example and all the other chores and craft she came up with to keep us busy. I did see her spank a couple of kids in those years. One never came back to the house, so we started out with four and ended up with three for the summer. One, who, at the first, just didn’t want to do anything, straightened up and started doing his share.
When I got in High School, I quit going over to Miss Spencer’s except to help her now and again. She always had cookies and lemonade and other treats. She didn’t buy much in the store, but seemed to make everything from ingredients. It was really good.
I got through High School OK, but I was never a particularly good student. I went to the state college because they had to take all the high school graduates of accredited state high schools and because it gave me a huge tuition discount. School was difficult and lonely and I had to work, but I got through in six years owing no money.
Mom got remarried during my first year at college to some guy who lived in California. Dad lived in Louisiana. Which left me with no home in the state. I was worried I would lose my home state discount so I wrote to Miss Spencer and explained it all and asked if I could use her address as my home instead of one of my parents. She said she was happy to do that. It was just natural that I started going over to her house for holidays and when I drove back to my hometown on a weekend off. I kept in touch with Mom on the computer, but I wrote Miss Spencer a couple of times a month and she always wrote back. Being an English teacher, she thought writing letters was important. I don't know about that but I can tell you both of them got me over a lot of humps.
While I was in college, Mom, at her age, had another kid, which really surprised me when she announced it was coming. That kid was added to a couple of step kids of her husband, so they had a five person family, which was pretty big. Mom did get to stay home and so she was very happy every time I talked with her, which was quite a change from when I was growing up. As it was I remained a worry in her life, but became pretty much her only worry. She worried that I was lonely, that I’d do something silly, or one of a thousand things she saw on the news that weren’t going to happen because I was too busy and didn’t have the resources to screw up some kids had. I was a little lonely, I didn’t have many friends at school, and between work and classes almost all my time was accounted for.
Miss Spencer kept on with her life. Mom was in her early 40’s so I guess Miss Spencer was too, but she didn’t talk about herself much in her letters, which were always anticipated and enjoyed. We wrote a lot about what I wanted to do in life and we talked a lot about our summers spent together. I told her how scared I was first meeting her, scared she was going to spank me and be generally mean. She expressed some surprise, she said I always seemed to enjoy coming over, which I agreed I did. She kept all my letters, I wrote her from college, which was quite a number. She showed me later.
During the time I was downstate, Miss Spencer got promoted to assistant principal and then, a year later, retired from school, and quit taking in kids. She told me that there were just too many regulations to follow and, while she enjoyed teaching and kids, it wasn’t worth the aggravation. I put two and two together and decided changing rules on how children were disciplined which was drifting away from corporal punishment, had caused her ‘retirement’. In fact they even passed a law against it and had crusades against “child abuse”. Miss Spencer wrote she didn’t really need the money, but she did miss the company. I guess we were both a little lonely my last year in college.
Anyway, time passed, and after I finally got my degree in Journalism I resolved to relocate back to my hometown rather than California because I was worried about my limited resources. Miss Spencer invited me to stay at her house while I got settled and I accepted her generous offer. I did drive out and see Mom in California. She had a whole new life there and, while she was very glad to see me it was obvious I was just a visitor in her California home. Her husband seemed nice. Their kids were a little too rambunctious for my taste and loud.
All in all, I was ready to head home when I headed back to Miss Spencer’s. Pulling up in her driveway, in my old neighborhood, brought back a lot of pleasant memories. It really made me feel like I was home again. She came to the door looking pleased to see me, and peaceful. I was really glad to see her. It was winter and her house was empty except for her, and she showed me to one of her spare bedrooms and I moved what stuff I had in. My car, 10 years old, but still ticking with 200,000+ miles sat in her driveway. We talked all that evening about my experiences and my plans. The first order of business was a job to get money coming in. I’d saved some, but not enough to live for very long waiting for the perfect job. I told her I decided to major in Journalism; which, in retrospect wasn’t the best decision I’d ever made it wasn’t as difficult as some majors. Surprisingly she said she’d always thought I’d make a good teacher. I wasn’t so sure. My last few years had decreased rather than increased the amount of patience I felt. She cautioned me about taking just any job, recommending that I wait for the right opportunity, but I had become accustomed to providing for myself and was conscious of the need to start bringing in money. After the news on TV, I went to my room and slept like a baby.
Miss Spencer had a Wi-Fi hot spot and a desktop computer to connect her to the Internet. I was used to the Internet connecting me to all manner of resources and information, so connecting my laptop to it using her network was one of my first orders of business. I not only had a printer to use with my so I could print resumes and other things I needed without relying on stores, everything worked pretty much like it had at college.
Which was, to be honest though, mostly why I got the Internet hooked up as soon as possible. I looked forward to being able to access porn again. I’d gotten so I really enjoyed it in college and everybody did it and I missed it. It was great to get up and running and great to entertain myself again.
I went looking for work every day. I wanted something a step up from a fast-food joint, but a job that gave me some flexibility when a better opportunity presented itself so I ended up working at a grocery store in the produce department. It was dull, but I made some money. Miss Spencer encouraged me not to take the job and continue looking for a better opportunity, but I was adamant. She tried to turn down my offer to pay rent saying my company was payment enough. We ended up deciding on $300 a month, and I determined to buy plenty of groceries.
For a month, everything worked exactly as planned. Then came the night which changed everything, it was a Monday, I think, I was looking forward to my two days off that week from the grind of the produce department, when Miss Spencer came to me looking very serious.
“Do you have everything you need on the computer?” was the opening. I was a little puzzled and replied in the affirmative. Then she asked me another strange question, whether I remembered a conversation we’d had that first summer I’d stayed with her. I was perplexed and told her so.
“Really, you don’t remember us talking about spanking and how I said you had nothing to worry about as long as you behaved?”
This conversation, I thought, was turning very strange. She then confronted me with a history of all my visits to porn sites since I moved in. I turned red and then a little mad, what business did she have examining what websites I visited? She didn’t let it get further, “Do you call that behaving?”
Caught off guard I stammered out something which didn’t even make sense to me. She grabbed me by the collar and dragged me into the living room and sat down in her big overstuffed chair where she had pre-positioned a paddle with a ribbon on the handle (!) on the arm, waiting.
She sat down and her skirt rose up just a little and I thought during the confusion that she has pretty legs. I was having those thoughts, which were causing the beginnings of an erection, and totally confused, when she picked up the paddle and said, “Take down your trousers.”
She had never acted like this in all the years I knew her and I couldn’t figure out what to do until she raised her voice, and said, “Now!”
Without fully comprehending all this, I did it. Then, with my trousers around my ankles and my erection hidden by my hands as it kept growing, she motioned to her lap. In a daze I did it, I laid across her lap. I felt her pull down the back of my briefs and heard her say, “You will behave in this house, or you will get what you deserve”, and she smacked my butt with the paddle. I whimpered, “No.”
“Yes, it’s what you deserve, so quit whining”, and she hit me again with the paddle. I yelled out a little louder.
She said, “I thought you’d whine about it, here”, and she shoved something soft and silky in my mouth that muffled the rest of my groans and even nascent cries as she spanked me good and hard.
All this time my erection was rubbing up and down on her lap and as it grew to its maximum size, but she kept spanking. I was crying, a grown man, crying. I couldn’t believe how the spanking was making me feel. Even in this state of turmoil I realized she must have felt my hard on, and that had to stop her, there was absolutely no way she could miss it. But she didn’t even pause, she just kept paddling until finally I couldn’t control my erection any more and I just started spewing cum, while crying. This caused her to paddle harder and harder until the spasms quit and I had come like I had never come before. It was the first time I’d come without masturbating, to be honest.
When I was totally spent she ordered, “Get up. Take those panties out of your mouth and pull those trousers up with your hands and go back to your room and think about this. If you don’t meet my standards of behavior in this house, you can leave, or you will be spanked until you do meet those standards. Do you understand?”
I looked down at the panties in my hand that had been in my mouth. Panties, I couldn’t believe it. It was obvious I had been crying and her lap was all wet with my sperm. She was sitting holding the panties and looking calmly directly into my eyes.
“Yes, Miss Spencer.”
I started back to my room.
“And you can do the wash tomorrow and clean this mess up.”
“Yes, Miss Spencer.”
“Good. I think we have an understanding then.”
She must have heard me masturbating that night but I couldn’t help it, I tried. I woke up in the morning with my butt still blazing and thinking about the evening before. I masturbated again.
Miss Spencer came to my room with a laundry basket and announced, “Time for breakfast, my laundry is in this basket for you to do. That will be the first thing you do after breakfast.”
I helped her with breakfast and the cleanup without saying a word. She went back to I my room with me and made sure I got the soiled panties that had been in my mouth, and then I put them and the clothes I was wearing the last evening, in the basket for the wash.
Miss Spencer followed me into the garage, and watched as I loaded the washer. As I was about to finish, she looked at me and said, “Don’t you know to separate delicates from regular wash?”
I didn’t know what she was talking about. “No, Miss Spencer.”
She then proceeded to lecture me on exactly how the laundry should be done, what soap to use for what load, which items to wash together, what temperature for the water for each kind of clothes and which items could dry in the dryer and which she preferred hung outside. Her slip and panties that she was wearing along with the panties I had in my mouth were ‘delicates’ which required all sorts of special handling and soap and were hung outside to dry. She showed me the rope line that was attached to a pulley so I could hang the items up with clothespins from the window right beside the washer and use a pulley to move them out into the yard and take them in the same way. She described exactly how to do all the laundry and named several other items that were not in that load which should be hung up. It was both humiliating and exciting to be laundering women’s underwear. Which caused me to go back in to the house with a hard on, which was very noticeable. Miss Spencer ignored it while she praised me for listening so carefully to her instructions.
Her invitation to come in the kitchen for a snack was more an order than an invitation, she announced it and turned around and started walking. I followed, though I wasn’t looking forward to sitting on a hard kitchen chair, it had been uncomfortable at breakfast. She went to the pantry and got out a cushion and threw it on the floor by the chair she was going to sit in with the comment, “Most children were more comfortable sitting on the cushion instead of on a hard floor after they had been spanked.” I started to ask her why she didn’t put the cushion on a chair, but I thought about it and I just sat down. It was more comfortable than breakfast, though a little strange sitting on the floor. She said, “Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute” and left the room.
I was thinking both how strange this perspective of things was and of memories it brought back to me. Miss Spencer was back in a moment with a kit of some kind. She got me some lemonade and cookies from and commented, “I don’t suppose these will ruin the lunch of a boy who has been good this morning.” The snack was good and I was ready for it. I started on it, savoring the cookies when Miss Spencer took off her shoes and commenced to give herself a pedicure with me watching inches from her foot. I instantly got an erection as I understood what she was doing and I was mesmerized. I couldn’t look at anything else as she carefully applied the nail polish remover with little cotton balls then filed each toenail to a perfect length and put little cotton balls between her toes and applied bright red nail polish. Once again, I couldn’t help it. I was prisoner of my erection and watched every detail while her voice droned on in the background. I was snapped out of my reverie when she said, “Well, you certainly are paying close attention. Would you like to help?” I nodded my head but kept my eyes focused on her feet. “Good, why don’t you blow on my toes to help dry them?”
It was like I was drugged, an “OK” gurgled out and I leaned forward on my hands and put my mouth close to her toes and started blowing.
She giggled and said, “That’s very good”, but she moved her feet away so I had to lean further forward to keep it up. I did this for a few minutes and the sexual tension was overwhelming. She’d pull her foot up and wiggle her toes every couple of minutes and say, “Not dry yet”, and advance her feet toward my face, not quite as far as she had before, until I was completely on all fours in front of her. She teased me. I know she did it deliberately, but I couldn’t stop or say anything as she moved her feet from side to side and watched me crawl to keep on blowing.
“They’re dry, it’s been half an hour” snapped me out of the scene. I felt like it had been both an instant and an eternity and my mouth was dry as I rocked back.
“Now take the cotton balls from between my toes and put them with the rest of these in the trash and I’ll let you put everything back in its place in my pedicure kit.”
“Yes Miss Spencer”, even to me my voice sounded strange.
I carefully took the cotton from between the toes and the cotton she had used for the nail polish remover to the trash and came back in front of her and without giving any sign anything was unusual. She showed me how all the items fit back in her kit and zipped it up and put it back on the table. She put her hands under her thighs and started swinging her feet. “Would you like to put my shoes and socks back on for me?”
“Yes, Miss Spencer.” I got down on my hands and knees as she handed me one of her socks and pointed her toes and held her foot up for me. I put the sock on with some difficulty, which she didn’t comment on, then we did the other foot. In silence I then put her shoes back on her and laced them and tied them.
“That was very good. See, you can be a good boy when it pleases you. If I can teach you to be a good boy all the time, it will be better for both of us”, and she got back up,
“Well, more chores need to be done,” and I took my cushion and glass and put them up. I was in this sexual fog all afternoon, desperately wanting to ejaculate.
That afternoon Miss Spencer supervised everything I did, never giving me a second to myself to masturbate. She explained the right way and wrong way to do everything, and how she liked things. We had supper that night and I cleaned up while she sat at the kitchen table talking to me and watching everything I did. After I was finished, she stopped me from going to my room, instead suggesting that we enjoy some time together in the living room. I was totally caught off guard, still trying to understand the spanking, and process the pedicure and thinking about masturbating, but agreed out of what was becoming habit as much as anything. I thought things were getting pretty weird, but not totally unpleasant. Miss Spence ordering me around was oddly intoxicating.
I followed her into the living room where she sat down in her chair. I was going towards my usual place on the sofa, where I’d sat since I moved in after college, when Miss Spencer stopped me with the suggestion, “Come over here and sit on the floor by my chair, like you used to do. Remember how much fun we had?”
I paused and hesitated just a second. Miss Spencer was pointing to a place by her feet in front of her chair. I looked where she was pointing and hesitated a second more. I looked at her bare legs and sensible high heel shoes and felt a beginning arousal. She was smiling and I was so excited I couldn’t refuse. I walked over to her chair and sat down on the floor. She rubbed my hair and said, “That’s a good boy. This brings back great memories, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Miss Spencer.”
She told me how much she missed the days when I was young and obedient. “In fact, I think you were the most obedient child I watched any summer. You were so sweet and wanted to please me and do everything right. I loved it.”
”Yes, Miss Spencer.”
Then she started talking about ‘the bad habits I’d picked up away from home’, but she was sure since I was such a good boy at heart she knew she could get me back on the right track.
She crossed her legs and her foot was almost in my face. She rocked it back and forth, as she turned on the TV. I watched it, almost hypnotized.
This went on for a few minutes. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her foot thinking she must be noticing but she acted like nothing was strange. “I’m going to take my shoes off and relax, is that OK?”
I swallowed. “Yes, Miss Spencer.”
I sat in a daze as she took first one shoe then the other off and then her socks and put them in her shoes in the far side of her chair and crossed her legs again and began dipping her now bare foot up and down. I examined it closely. Her pedicure was perfect, the polish was red and I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t. I stood it as long as I could.
“Miss Spencer?”
“Yes?”
I knew this would be a significant step, but I was too excited not to tell her, “You have very pretty feet”, gushed out.
She smiled and said, “Thank you” and wiggled her toes right in my face. “That was very nice and polite. I like that.”
Her attention seemed to go back to the TV and mine back to watching her hypnotically rhythmic foot, dangling just inches in front of my face.
With my eyes transfixed on her foot the sexual feeling contined to overwhelm me and I cleared my throat, “Miss Spencer?”
“Yes.”
“Could I kiss your foot?”
There, I’d said it. I couldn’t help myself though I wanted to masturbate and that need just took over my mind. I didn’t know what to expect and I looked at her ready for anything. I figured the worse that could occur would be another spanking, and that had some attraction.
“I don’t know. Oh, I guess if you really want to, I suppose that’s all right. You do think they’re pretty, and you have been a good boy today.”
I leaned over and kissed her foot closest to me, and, once started I couldn’t stop with a little peck, as its closeness and memory from this morning’s pedicure washed over me. I hungrily licked it and sucked on her toes and licked between them. She offered the other foot and I did the same, she rubbed her soles all over my face and I stuck out my tongue as she rubbed it from heel to toe. This went on for several minutes until she pulled her foot just tantalizingly out of reach and encouraged me to get on my hands and knees and crawl after it. When I got over to the other side of her chair and she picked up her shoes one at a time and put them in front of my face encouraging me to lick them, smell them, and kiss them. I was in heaven.
She laughed a little tinkling laugh, “My, my, that’s more than just a simple little kiss on my foot”, but she kept moving them, and me, around, getting me on my knees in the air as she held it up, taking me down to the ground where she used her other foot to keep my hands from supporting me as I laid my head flat on the floor and kept on kissing and licking. She got one foot in under me and gestured for me to turn over and started fondling my penis with her foot, as I lay with my head flat on the floor and her other foot inside my mouth while she pulled it in and out and traced my lips with her toes. For the second night in a row I had my greatest orgasm of all time. She kept her foot in my mouth shoving it in and out, in and out, through the whole thing. I shook and groaned for several minutes with her moving her foot in my mouth, and then tantalizingly on my lips and back to my mouth. It was absolutely crazy.
When I was still and obviously finished, Miss Spencer got up and said, “Get up and get all this dirty laundry and put it in the basket for you to do tomorrow. And clean yourself up.” But she said it with a smile.
She went down the hall toward her room. I’d put my pants and underwear in the laundry basket and gone into the bathroom to take a shower. I was drying off when Miss Spencer came in without knocking. I looked at her open-mouthed as she said, “Here, put these on, they’ll be better for you, and put these with your laundry, you’re responsible for this mess, after all. Then come back into the living room.” She’d changed into a knee length night-gown and threw some panties and the slip she had been wearing on the floor and held out a pair of pink ruffled panties until I took them, then she turned and walked away.
I looked at the panties and first resolved not to wear them, then decided a confrontation was out of the question and there would be a confrontation if I didn’t wear them, because she expected to be obeyed. I felt the fact that she had allowed me to kiss and fondle her feet had compromised me in some way.
So I just put the panties on and put her soiled delicates into the basket and returned to the living room where she was back sitting in her chair. “Come on over here and sit down”, and she motioned me back to the floor in front of her chair. Her feet were, again, inches from my face whenever I looked up.
I sat transfixed for a couple of seconds as I realized her nightgown left much of her legs bare and the rocking back and forth with her legs began again. I wasn’t entirely comfortable, though, things were just too bizarre.
I cleared my throat, “Miss Spencer?”
“Yes?”
“Why do I have to wear the panties?”
She looked at me. “You seem to like making a mess all over yourself and causing me similar problems and that means lots of laundry. If we’re both wearing the same type clothes that will make only one load, and, with the type laundry it is, since you will be hanging it on the line, there will be no need to run the dryer.”
It sounded strange but logical. I’d never considered those things. I couldn’t think of why it might be wrong, but, to be fair, my hard on was interfering with my thinking so I just said, “Oh. Thank you Miss Spencer.”
“You’re welcome” and then she switched the TV back on with the remote and went back to watching it while I watched her feet which she constantly moved from place to place, changing her position, a couple of times actually brushing my nose. I remained enthralled until after the news.
“Go ahead, I know you want to, and you’ve been such a good boy, kiss each of my feet once, just once now, and go to bed.” She shook her finger at me smiling.
I leaned over and didn’t touch her foot with anything but my lips and kissed her feet, one and then the other. “Thank you Miss Spencer.”
“You’re welcome” and she got up and went back to her room. I went back to my room and masturbated over and over. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t think of anything but Miss Spencer’s feet and Miss Spencer spanking me. I was afraid of making too much noise, but I couldn’t help making some, I just lost control. I couldn’t think of anything else but Miss Spencer.
I’d made all sorts of plans for my two days off, the first day had gone without anything I’d planned getting done and the second one was starting. Miss Spencer sent me back to my room before breakfast to take my pants off asking, “What’s the point of the panties if not to make the laundry more efficient? Do you think I just like you in panties?”
I didn’t want to answer that, so I just went back to my room and took my pants off. I ended up eating breakfast, cleaning up and doing the laundry in just the panties, with a raging hard on. Miss Spencer just watched and made sure I did everything correctly. Pinning the wash to the line almost caused me to cum, but I managed to control myself. I came in and Miss Spencer headed back to the living room and her chair. She didn’t have say anything as I took my place at her feet.
We sat there a few minutes her looking at some papers from the mail, me mesmerized by her feet. I screwed up my courage and said, “I had some errands to run on my off days.”
“What could you have to do that you consider more important than home maintenance?”
“I just had some personal errands.”
“I’d planned on you polishing shoes today. You do know how to polish shoes don’t you?”
“Yes, I was in an Honor Guard in ROTC, and I learned how to polish everything.”
“That’s what I had planned for you today”, she said, as if that closed the discussion, and she went back to her papers.
I cleared my throat and continued, “I have to go back to work tomorrow.”
She replied, “I let you have your way when you told me about it, but I wasn’t really in favor of you getting a job. Do you like your job?”
“No, Miss Spencer, it’s dull and dealing with the public is never fun, it’s certainly not worth the little they pay me.”
“Give them notice tomorrow, there is plenty for you to do around the house. For example, today I want my shoes polished”.
With that she put the papers into envelopes, got up, went to her room and came back wearing flip-flops and carrying a couple of pairs of shoes. One was the sensible brown shoes that had a couple of inch heel and laces to tie. They were not the surprising pair, though. I’d seen them before. The surprising shoes were a pair of boots that came up over her knees. They must have been three feet tall, black leather with five-inch heels. “You can polish them on the kitchen floor while I work in the kitchen”. She turned around to go to the kitchen leaving me to follow her. I had an erection to go with the shoes. She just assumed that all talk of me running errands was ended, she’d made her decision and that was it, and I was in a sexual daze and in no state to contradict her.
I asked her where she kept her shoe polish and brushes and soft cloths and cotton balls.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I don’t have most of that, we’ll have to go to the store to get it. She started for the door, got her keys from the hook before and I pointed out all I had on was a t-shirt and panties. She laughed, “You can’t very well go like that, can you. Do you have a pair of shorts?”
“Yes, Miss Spencer.”
“Well, let’s go get those on, that’s all we have time for, you can go barefooted and we can take my car.” She looked at me.
OK, I thought, I’ll go in just shorts and a t-shirt like a little kid. I went back to my room to get them and she followed me and watched as I put the shorts on over the panties. They were gym shorts and had an elastic waist and no pockets. Dressed, after a fashion, I followed her out the door and to her car and she drove us up to the local discount department store.
I followed her as she pushed the cart and I showed her what we needed. I explained spit shining to her. We got all we needed and she said, “As long as we’re here, we might as well make it a trip”, and went over to the women’s department and bought a bunch of pairs of panties, different colors and styles, some with ruffles, some not, but all very feminine and childish. I was completely embarrassed and had difficulty hiding my erection especially when she held the first pair up and asked if I thought they’d fit me. I didn’t think anybody heard, but I answered in the affirmative. She didn’t act like anything was unusual about this though, just commenting that I would need plenty of panties due to my ‘bad habits’.
I mumbled, “Yes Miss Spencer’, and we went through the automatic check-out line, thank God, and back to the car. I had the shoe polish equipment I needed and I clutched in my lap the bag of panties. I had to use all my control to keep from climaxing in the car.
When we got back home, Miss Spencer said, “Fold up your shorts and put them back in the dresser, you hardly had them on at all. These panties are all the same size, so try one on and make sure they fit before you take all the tags off. Then fold them and put them in your dresser.” She then showed me how to line them up so one could see the different colors and styles.
It was embarrassing taking off my shorts and the panties I was wearing and exposing my hard on, but she just stood there watching and waiting while I tried on a plain white pair and she had me turn around as she examined me and finally approved of the fit. I put my yellow panties back on, but it didn’t really hide anything, my erection was as obvious as a gorilla in a room full of teddy bears. I remember the metaphor exactly. It would add texture to the whole scene as I masturbated later.
All this time, after I had gotten dressed in my panties again and cut all the tags off my new panties and put them in the drawer she kept talking about her shoes and what she had planned for our day. When I was finished she made me rearrange everything in the dresser so the panties were in a drawer by themselves. I did all this with a raging boner which she couldn’t have missed, she kept talking and I kept answering, “Yes, Miss Spencer.”
That’s how I agreed to take my ‘boy’s underwear’ out of my dresser and store them in a garbage bag in the garage so we’d have plenty of room in the dresser. Of course, I wound up with no underwear but the panties in my dresser.
After we had finished everything we went back to the kitchen and I spread a newspaper on the floor and started polishing shoes. She sat over me, at the kitchen table, swinging that foot in my face and watching me. We took a break for lunch, which consumed another hour or so with the cleanup, but other than, that I polished her shoes while she talked to me about how good boys acted, what things were like when I stayed over at her house in the summer. It was all just background noise to her feet. It took me a long time to finish those boots, but they did look spectacular when I was finally done. She was very pleased, smiling and inspecting the shoes. She tweaked my nose with her foot, complimenting me on the good job, and I couldn’t hold it anymore. I had an orgasm right there, without touching anything. She sat, smiling, watching, and waiting for me to finish. Then she said, “Well, I guess that is right on time. Let’s get you cleaned up, and put your soiled panties in the laundry.”
She asked me if I wasn’t glad we bought plenty of pairs for just such times as these, and, honest to God, she had a smirk on her face.
“Yes, Miss Spencer.”
The next day I tried to give notice to the grocery store, but they just accepted my immediate termination, promised to send me my final check and I was finished with my career in groceries before it really got started.
It turned out, as she’d said, there was plenty to do at Miss Spencer’s house. She carefully cleaned and maintained every facet of her house and car. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate for me to say I cleaned and maintained everything under her supervision. Somehow, in that first month after I quit my job the garbage bag containing all my boxers disappeared, I think into the trash. I still don’t know how it happened, I must not have been paying attention, only in a sexual haze and doing what Miss Spencer asked, and took them out myself. Or she did it without me noticing. It was no great loss to tell the truth, though. I had plenty of underwear, albeit panties, due to Miss Spencer always buying more for me when we went to the store and she saw some cute ones she liked. I had panties all colors, with teddy bears and Minnie Mouse and unicorns and everything adolescent or even younger girls wore. I, of course, wore panties all the time, mostly by themselves, under shorts whenever we went out which wasn’t all that often.
One day she suggested I sell my car since we didn’t really need two cars as she could drive us everywhere and she was tired of looking at it. I put it out front with a “for sale” sign and phone number on it. For a couple of days people came to the door asking about it, and finally Miss Spencer said I was asking too much so I lowered the price until it was gone a couple of days later. It was bought by one of the people who had first looked at it. I felt some of my independence left with that car, that I was tied more closely to Miss Spencer, which, to tell the truth, didn’t seem all bad.
Miss Spencer spanked me a couple of more times in the coming weeks. To be honest, I enjoyed it. I’m ashamed to admit each time I provoked it deliberately. After the third time she told me the next time she’d change to a switch. As soon as my butt healed totally, I provoked another spanking, and, true to her word, that time she supervised while I went into the yard to cut one from her trees. It hurt like hell, but I reached a new high in my orgasms. A switching does take longer to heal, but, even today, I still provoke her deliberately from time to time because just laying over her lap with her panties stuffed in my mouth and getting switched is so erotic I have some of my best orgasms. After a good switching she always has me examine the stripes on my ass in the mirror and makes me promise to be good in the future, and she shakes her head and says, “Boys”, and smiles.
I worship her feet almost daily. My favorite position is lying on my back, with my erection in full view, with one of her feet on my forehead pinning me to the floor and the other just above my lips so I have to stick out my tongue to touch it. She runs first one foot and then the other, just lightly touching my tongue and telling me how good it feels. She told me once that it almost made up for any errors I made she enjoyed it so much. I often came in my panties while she did this. She’d just shake her head and tousle my hair and talk about boys being boys.
We do her pedicures once a week, on Wednesdays, and I always help.
She didn’t ever wear the boots at first. I’d still polish them once a week and she finally did wear them when I asked her to. She was taller than me anyway and she towered over me in the boots. I enjoy bowing down in front of her and crawling on my belly and licking her boots. We do that every now and again as a special treat and I look forward to it. Those orgasms are especially good too.
One evening at bedtime after my bath she came into my room with a pink chastity device. Without asking or anything, she put it on me carefully checking it for security and locking it up, before telling me were going to do something different before bed. Then she took me to her bedroom, grabbed my ears, lay down on her bed and moved my head to her pussy, while she still had her panties on and said I could kiss her goodnight if I wanted. I kissed her pussy through her panties for a couple of minutes until she had me stop, had me take her panties off, grabbed my ears and put my face back in her pussy and let me kiss and lick it for quite a long while. I know she had a couple of orgasms and she told me how much she liked it and what a good kiss goodnight it was. We lay in bed, with my face between her legs, and her playing with my hair while she told me that she knew how much boys liked to be nasty, but she wanted our kisses goodnight to be different. She knew that if I were locked up, and I knew I was going to be locked up all night, it wouldn’t be nasty, instead it would be beautiful, and, knowing that, she’d have more fun.
I agreed, “Yes Miss Spencer.”
That became the bedtime ritual. After my bath, she’d manipulate my penis into the device and lock me up and I’d kiss her goodnight the way she showed me and she’d leave me locked up all night so I couldn’t masturbate. Then she’d tell me to brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash and she’d tuck me in and kiss me on the forehead.
In the morning when we were all up and going after breakfast, when she could supervise everything I did, she’d unlock me after checking to see I had shaved carefully and put up the device and key.
She didn’t like hair on me, even though she had plenty of hair on her pussy. She started supervising the application of a depilatory a few times a month to keep me perfectly smooth. She bought some clippers and cut my hair herself, to the skin on the sides with a shock of a couple of inches on the top. She called it a regular boy’s haircut and thought it made me look adorable.
A couple of times she wouldn’t unlock me saying she wanted to see what it was like to have a good boy that day, but a couple of times of this seemed to be enough, so now she unlocks me every day, saying she liked a real boy better. She kept a little charm key on a gold chain around her ankle, but where the real key is kept, I still don’t know to this day.
I wear panties, and t-shirts and go barefoot around the house, adding shorts when we go outside when the weather was nice, which it is mostly. On cold days I wear jeans and flannel shirts and a coat and hat with ear flaps and galoshes outside to do chores like take out the garbage or shovel snow off the walk. I mow and edge the lawn or work in the garden in my shorts and t-shirt and my one pair of tennis shoes while she sits in the middle of the yard on a lounger and watches everything I do, moving it so I can get to the place she covered. She likes to have everything done right, and I like everything to be right for her.
She still lets me kiss her feet almost every day as long as I have been pretty good. If I haven’t been pretty good, she switches me. Miss Spencer and Mom talk all the time, and I call Mom every couple of weeks. Mom constantly tells me I need to find a job. I honestly don’t know why, I have a wonderful life.
momma's boyReport
momma's boyReport