#4171 






                     COSTUMES AND PUMPKINS 

                             by

                          Joe Doe


A 29-YEAR-OLD TAX ATTORNEY MODELS HER HALLOWEEN COSTUME -- A 
SCHOOL UNIFORM -- FOR HER NEIGHBOR, A RETIRED HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER. 
 
 

Ding Dong! 

John Watson crawled out of his recliner and slowly ambled toward 
the front door.   

DING DONG!  DING DONG! 

"I'm coming...," he grumbled.  Whippersnappers today were in such 
an all-fired hurry!  "This had better not be some damn salesman," 
he muttered under his breath as he opened the front door. 

The old retiree was surprised to find a teenager dressed in a 
school uniform standing on his doorstep.  The girl was wearing 
a white shirt, tie, blue blazer, and very short blue skirt with 
white socks.  She appeared to be about 18, but it was hard to 
tell, since she was looking at her shoes as if she couldn't bear 
to make eye contact. 

"I'm not interested in buying candy, and I don't have any 
newspapers or soda bottles to give you," the old man said, 
gruffly. 

"It's me, Mr. Watson -- Linda from the City Council," the young 
woman said, still staring at her shoes.  "Don't you remember that 
I asked you if I could stop by later and get your opinion on my 
Halloween costume?" 

Watson literally did a double take.  Certainly the gangly teenager 
in front of him couldn’t be Linda Johnson.  Councilwoman Johnson 
was a 29-year-old tax attorney, not a teenage schoolgirl.  The 
teenager and the lawyer did share the same trim, athletic figure, 
but the minuscule skirt revealed quite a bit more of Linda's legs 
than he had ever seen before.  Not that he was complaining.  
Although he was retired, he still appreciated the female form.  
"That's a wonderful costume, Linda," he said, appreciatively.  
"Why don’t you come in so I can have a...uh...closer look?" 

"Yes...sir," she said, her voice betraying her nervous 
embarrassment.  As she entered the house, John scratched his 
head in amazement.  The retired high school teacher had known 
Linda for years; in fact, they had served on the city council 
together for two terms.  So why was she blushing, fidgeting, 
and biting her lip?  Why was she acting like a naughty girl 
sent to the principal’s office? 

He closed the door and slowly ran his eyes up and down Linda's 
attractive form.  The hair color was the same, although he had 
never seen her wear a ponytail before.  The voice did seem faintly 
familiar, although the nervous teenager's tiny voice and docile 
tones were a far cry from the cocky attitude Linda normally 
projected.  It didn’t seem right.  Linda Johnson was opinionated 
to the point of arrogance.  But the young girl standing in front 
of him couldn't even bear to make eye contact!   

He gently put his hand under the schoolgirl's chin and raised her 
head until their eyes met.   

She was not wearing any makeup, and the costume made her look 
years younger.  But there was no doubt about it.  The teenager 
nervously shuffling her feet was definitely his 29-year-old 
neighbor. 

The transformation, not only in looks but in manner, was absolute 
and complete.  The insolent and overbearing attorney was now an 
awkward, flustered schoolgirl!  What on earth...? 

She anticipated his questions by handing him a note: 

      DEAR MR WATSON, 

      LINDA ADMITTED TO ME THAT SHE WAS THE ONE WHO SMASHED THE 
      PUMPKIN IN FRONT OF YOUR HOUSE.  I KNOW THAT YOU ARE A 
      FIRM BELIEVER IN OLD-FASHIONED DISCIPLINE, AND YOU HAVE 
      MY PERMISSION TO TEACH THIS NAUGHTY LITTLE MINX A LESSON 
      SHE WILL NEVER FORGET! 
  
               LINDA'S MOM 

The preposterous signature, "Linda’s Mom" made him smile.  Was 
this some sort of joke?   

He examined the note thoughtfully.  At the last city council 
meeting, Linda had been shocked when a group of parents sang 
the praises of "britches-down spankings" for their college-age 
daughters.  And she had been aghast when John confessed that 
he had paddled his own two daughters straight through graduate 
school. 

She had been uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of evening 
and, John noted to his satisfaction, unusually polite.  He was 
pleased but surprised when she deferred to his "experience" and 
even called him "Sir" twice.    

He had been dumbfounded when she pulled him aside afterwards to 
ask if she could drop by his house to get his opinion on her 
Halloween costume for this year's party.  He wasn't in the habit 
of doing favors for snotty young know-it-alls, but the thought of 
seeing Linda dressed up as nurse or a policewoman was not without 
appeal, so he agreed.  He had spent several hours that night 
fantasizing about what costume she might select.  Her final choice, 
though, had exceeded all of his expectations. 

He pocketed the note and, in his most authoritative voice, informed 
the embarrassed "teenager" that he needed to check for "dress code 
violations."  He grinned broadly as the nervous, blushing 
schoolgirl obediently skipped back and forth in her short skirt.  
Her face turned the most delightful shade of pink as he ordered 
her to turn slowly...slowly...slowly under his amused gaze.  He 
could tell that she hated flouncing around in her short skirt, but 
he offered his mortified neighbor no quarter.  The spectacle of the 
red-faced young woman nervously tugging down her skirt as she 
desperately tried to hide her white panties was simply too 
entertaining to rush.  

He considered bending her over the kitchen table, but decided that 
the childishly humiliating "over-the-knee" position would be more 
appropriate.  It would be awkward and embarrassing for her, to be 
sure, with her lovely hips grinding against his crotch with every 
spank.  But she was there to be punished.  The fact that the 
punishment would be unspeakably shameful and ignominious would 
only strengthen the effectiveness of the lesson she needed to learn. 

Linda blanched as he patted his knee three times and beckoned her 
forward with a crooked finger.
 
He relished the sensation of her weight pressing directly 
against his bulging crotch.  And he smiled knowingly as she 
looked nervously back over her shoulder at him, her face a 
mask of anxiety and anticipation.
   
He knew that she could feel how much he was enjoying her 
predicament and did nothing to hide his pleasure.  Why 
should he?  Why shouldn't a fine, upstanding citizen derive 
satisfaction from doing his duty?
 
Using both hands, he carefully folded her skirt up to reveal her 
snug white underpants.  Over the years, he had never missed an 
opportunity to sneak a glimpse of Linda's bright, lacy lingerie 
whenever she bent over or reached up to get something off a shelf.
   
The plain white cotton underpants were a marked contrast to the 
expensive silk panties she usually wore.  John was secretly 
pleased to see the successful career woman stripped of her 
sophisticated frillies.  The plain cotton panties underscored 
the new reality that she was no longer a successful and financially 
independent career woman, but a spoiled teenager in need of firm 
discipline. 
   
She flinched as he playfully patted her panty-covered bottom.  It 
was not a love pat.  It was a pat of ownership.
   
Yes, he thought, the childish underpants suited her new role 
perfectly.  As he examined her panties more closely, he noted 
a wet spot in the gusset.  He mustered all his acting ability 
to disguise his delight, as he began to press his finger down 
on the wet spot. 

"Disgusting!" he said, his voice oozing contempt.  She squirmed 
helplessly as his probing finger wormed its way between her thighs. 
"Shameful," he muttered.  "It's obvious that a good fanny-tanning 
is just what you need."

She let out a soft whine. 

"I want you to reach over and get me the hairbrush that's in the 
end-table drawer, you little brat.  This spanking is long overdue, 
and it's high time we got started."  

He smiled as he watched her bottom clench defensively.  And then 
he sighed, as she shifted her weight to reach for the hairbrush.  
She rummaged in the drawer for for a moment before withdrawing the 
the ominous brush.
  
She gave it an anguished look.  She had never realized a simple 
hairbrush could be so heavy...or so scary.  Of course, it was no 
longer just a hairbrush; it was a tool for bringing her to heel.  
The proud attorney was about to learn respect for her elders in 
the most shameful and humbling manner imaginable.
 
She examined the smooth "business end" of the brush carefully.  It 
had been manufactured by THE HAPPY HAIR BRUSH COMPANY, and a tiny, 
happy smiley face engraved in the wood stared mockingly up at her.
 
"I'm going to enjoy getting to know that cute little fanny of 
yours," the smiling brush seemed to say.  "I'm going to enjoy 
teaching you a lesson you won’t soon forget.  I'll make you 
dance, and squirm, and kick, and cry, and plead....  Yes, I'll 
have a good time toasting your buns."
 
John cleared his throat in mock impatience, and Linda obediently 
handed him the instrument of her shameful correction.  He smiled; 
the sassy barrister was now obedient and compliant, and she hadn't 
yet received a single spank.
 
He relished the sensation of Linda squirming over his lap as he 
playfully ran his finger across the waistband of her underpants.  

"Please, sir...not on the bare!" she squeaked.  "I know I've 
been...."  She paused as she searched for the right word.  "I 
know I've been naughty!  I'm sorry I was naughty!  But...I 
have...um...never been s-spanked before!" she confessed. 

She looked back over her shoulder with the most plaintive 
expression imaginable.  "I-I know I deserve to be...p-punished, 
sir," she said, softly, her voice cracking with desperation.  
"But, please!  Please let me keep a little bit of dignity."
 
Her voice was so whiny and pathetic, and in such a marked contrast 
to her normal tone, that it was hard not feel a twinge of sympathy. 
(At the meeting she had seemed appalled at the notion of young 
women in their twenties being spanked bare-bottom.  She had argued 
that it was an unspeakable humiliation, indecent and disgraceful.  
But other members had replied that it was the disgrace and shame 
that made it so effective.) 

"If you’ve never been spanked before, then this is long overdue, 
young lady," John said, in a patronizing tone.  "As for whether 
or not your panties come down, that is MY decision, not yours.  
But I MIGHT be willing to spare you...." 

Linda looked up.  Her expression had brightened, her eyes filled 
with hope.  "Please, sir," she begged.  "Please let me keep my 
panties.  I'll be a good girl!  I'll do anything!" 

"Perhaps an examination of the offenses will help us determine 
whether your panties stay up...."  He paused for dramatic effect.  
"Or come down.  Your mother obviously believes a spanking is in 
order, and I have to say that I agree with her.  The way you argued 
with and interrupted THE ADULTS at the meeting as we discussed the 
benefits of corporal punishment, even though you obviously had no 
experience in the matter, was impertinent and disgraceful."

"I didn't mean to be...insolent, sir," she said, apologetically.  
"I just think an...adult girl is too old to be spanked on the 
bare."  

"Even now you persist in arguing, although we've established your 
utter ignorance," John countered.  "Every time you open that sassy 
little mouth of yours, Missy, you dig yourself deeper.  Your 
continued impertinence suggests to me that you are a brat who 
needs to be taken down a peg or two." 

She stiffened as he teasingly pulled on the waistband of her 
panties and SNAPPED! it back against her skin.  

"No...that's not what I meant, s-sir.  I'm sorry I was...sassy!  
Please, just let me keep my underpants on.  Please!" 

"As I said, your offense will determine your punishment," he 
replied, judiciously.  "For example, I happen to know that, on 
the day my pumpkin was smashed, you were on business in London.  
Can you explain to me how you smashed my pumpkin from half way 
around the world?" 

Like most liars, Linda initially said nothing, but squirmed 
nervously over his knee.  In her eagerness to confess to some 
"crime," she had never considered when the said crime had taken 
place.  He considered the situation; she hadn't smashed the 
pumpkin, and, as a member of the city council, it was hardly 
inappropriate for her to express her opinion.  All Linda had 
done was write an obviously bogus note and put on a Halloween 
costume.  Did she really deserve to be placed in such a shameful 
and compromising position?  Did this accomplished and respected 
attorney really deserve to spanked like a bratty and disobedient 
child? 
  
John smiled as he once again teasingly ran his finger over the wet 
spot in her underpants.  She flinched at his touch and let out a 
tiny, plaintive moan. 
  
There was no doubt about it.  The fraudulent note had been accurate 
in one respect.  This randy little minx needed to be taught a 
lesson.  "The more serious offense is your rather pitiful and 
transparent attempts at lying," he lectured her.  "Perhaps such 
antics are tolerated in the courtroom.  But I know how to handle 
clever young ladies who try to bend the truth into a pretzel.  Your 
brazen deceit and disrespectful attitude will earn you a solid dose 
of hairbrush justice, with real kicking and real tears."

He chuckled.  "I can certainly see why you would want to keep your 
panties on, given the disgraceful dance you are about to perform.  
Of course, we still need to determine whether your panties stay 
UP...or come DOWN."  He tauntingly ran his finger under the 
waistband.  "I certainly agree an underpants-down spanking is a 
shameful and ignominious punishment, particularly for a 
sophisticated professional woman.  The humiliation of standing 
in the corner with your panties around your knees while I drink 
my beer and watch the game will be almost unbearable...particularly 
if one of the neighbors should decide to drop by.” 

He chuckled softly to himself as the proud barrister twisted and 
squirmed over his knee helplessly.  It was clear to him that the 
brilliant but impulsive attorney hadn't fully thought out the 
ramifications of her decision...such as a visit from the neighbors. 
  
Linda's early arguments had been impassioned, but abstract.  But 
now she was beginning to understand just helpless she really was.  
"I've called your mother, and, since it's getting so late, she 
agreed that you can stay over tonight," he explained in a 
patronizing voice.  "When your corner time is over, I'll give 
you your bath and put you to bed.  I think you'll find my bed 
is very comfortable and plenty big enough for two.  I think 
there are some old pajamas in the basement that you should be 
able to squeeze into.  They're pink and white and have little 
dancing bears all over them.  I'm sure you'll look simply 
adorable."
 
"Bed?" Linda said, her voice rising with astonishment.  "Dancing 
bears?   A BATH?" 

"Of course," he said, as he once again ran his finger over the wet 
spot in her panties.  "A dirty little bird like you needs a good 
scrubbing.  Don't worry, I'll be gentle....  But thorough," he 
added, as he once again wormed his finger between her thighs.  He 
watched with amusement as she modestly squeezed her thighs tightly 
together.  Clearly the thought of his giving her a bath horrified 
her.  But he knew her dignity would vanish once the hairbrush began 
warming her fanny, and she'd soon be kicking and crying like any 
other well-spanked little girl. 

In a few minutes, her modesty would be a thing of the past.  Her 
shapely fanny would twist and squirm, and her helplessly kicking 
legs would reveal all.  The carefully concealed secrets of her 
delicate feminine anatomy would soon be displayed for his eager 
inspection.
 
"Now, I just might be willing to spare you the indignity of having 
your panties shucked down, AND corner time, AND bath time.  I might 
even let you sleep on the couch...."  He once again paused to 
heighten the drama.  "On one small condition."
 
She looked back hopefully.  She was saved!  The assertive and 
confident barrister had half-hoped that her punishment would 
turn into a negotiation.  She was an expert at twisting men 
around her finger, and she knew that, whatever his terms were, 
she could quickly turn them to her advantage.  She felt triumphant, 
but also, perhaps, a trifle disappointed.
 
"Anything!" she said, anxiously.
 
"I want you to tell me who REALLY smashed the pumpkin, name and 
phone number, so I can call the parents right now!" 
   
Her jaw dropped. 

He smiled benignly.  "If you cooperate, I'll let you keep your 
panties up.  But, if you defy me, I'll give you a fanny-tanning 
you'll never forget." 
 
Linda stared dumbly back at him.  Even if she wanted to frame some 
unlucky innocent, she didn't know the name of anyone to accuse, 
much less a phone number.  And, even if she did come up with 
something, how could she ever explain it?  Moreover, when she 
was caught in her lie, that would only make her punishment worse. 

She stared at him, her mouth agape.  The eloquent attorney had 
finally been rendered speechless.
 
He shook his head in mock sadness.  "You'll have plenty of time to 
think about your answer, young lady.  After I warm your fanny, I'll 
give you a 'time out,' in the corner, with your underpants around 
your knees."
    
She flinched as he ran his hand over her soft curves.  "After your 
corner time, I'll finish the rest of your spanking by hand."  He 
waited almost a full minute to allow the realization of what was 
about to happen to sink in.  He smiled as he watched her butt 
cheeks squirm and flex as she imagined the hairbrush SMACKING 
her tender fanny.
  
As with most naughty little girls, Linda's shenanigans had earned 
her more than she had bargained for.
   
He smiled as he inserted his pudgy fingers into the waistband of 
her underpants and began to tug them down.  Her lovely curved 
pumpkins were milky white now, but, in a few minutes, they would 
be a hot, devilish red....



Edited by C. Lakewood
