Chapter 3: Nora’s Punishment

I had trouble with my niece as soon since I took her in to live with me in the summer of 1973. She was my sister’s child. I’m not going to go into the details of what happened in our family that caused her to need a new home.

I was fifty-three years old, a widower and I had worked as a carpenter all of my life. I had an old but roomy house in Maspeth, Queens, New York. My own two children were on their own by 1971.

Nora was nineteen years old; she was about five-foot-seven with lanky dark-blonde hair and she wore steel-rimmed glasses. She was slender but not too willowy; she had long, strong legs which she liked to show off by wearing short skirts or shorts. She was a very attractive young lady but she could be very abrasive and out-putting. Sometimes she seemed quite morose and she would mope around a lot.

She’s become such an arrogant little twat recently. I wondered if I ever really liked her as a person; she had been mouthy as far back as I could remember. I felt uncomfortable for having such negative thoughts about this girl I had been trying so hard to raise properly. But I was still responsible for her and often I had to face some difficult truths.

One day when she was out I did something that I shouldn’t have but my curiosity and my suspicions got to me. I knew it was wrong to snoop around and violate another person’s privacy. My justification was that I was gathering information that would ultimately help Nora.

What I did was search her room when she was out. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for but I indeed found it anyway. I found only two joints but in the lower drawer of a chest, I came across a substantial amount of cash, all of it in small bills. I had expected that a bank passbook would be more likely as evidence. The poor little bimbo, she’s too lazy or disorganized to even go out and open an account for herself.

I thought of actually counting it, but I decided against that. It was at least several hundred dollars. I pondered how she had obtained her stash. She hadn’t had a paid job in the last year; in fact, she had hardly ever worked. Selling drugs was possible but it didn’t seem likely. It would require more organization and people skills than she seemed to possess. Something else came to mind which would explain her frequent absences but I couldn’t prove it.

One thing I had noticed was the number of men who would phone in at almost any time of the day or night and ask for her. If I answered, sometimes they would hang up, but often they left messages for her. They would sometimes confirm their phone numbers. When I asked them what they wanted, they would sometimes laugh but they would never tell me.

Then it was the early summer of 1974 and I was trying to imagine how she’d use her first summer break from the City College of New York in Manhattan. I thought that she should go to summer school or get a job during this period; that was the proper way she should behave. Instead, I had little idea of how she was filling her time during that summer. Probably she was partying, drugging and screwing, and perhaps this other activity that would pay for all of the fun times.

I knew I had to figure out something constructive for her to do in the upcoming months, whether she liked the idea or not. But then I had to suddenly deal with a more pressing issue. And I had a tactic that might work.

What happened was that one day I came home at an unexpected time and got a big surprise. A young guy was standing in the living room and Nora was on her knees giving him a blowjob.

For a moment I surveyed the scene and tried to get my wits together. This guy only had his zipper open and his cock jutted out. Nora was a bit disheveled. Her blouse was pulled up and her bra was undone; her breasts were exposed. She was wearing a skirt and I saw that her underpants were off and lying on the floor.

She saw me first and dropped the cock out of her mouth. “Oh my God, Uncle Tony!” I saw that she had hot pink lipstick, obviously applied for this particular session. She said, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

The dude seemed quite nonchalant and undisturbed by the interruption. He said, “Hey Uncle Tony, what’s up?” Something about his attitude suggested that he wasn’t a boyfriend. If he had been that, he would have been more upset and embarrassed.

I’m not a big guy, but I’ve been in construction for years and I was sure I could take him if I had to. I just said, “You’re leaving now, you know that, right?”

He was still unconcerned as he got his pants in order. “Yeah, sure, I get it.” He quickly left and I noted that he said nothing to Nora on the way out. That was a big clue.

Nora hurried to get her clothes back together. When she put her panties back on, I got a glimpse of her bare crotch. On this day he was wearing one of her hot-weather college-girl outfits, although she wasn’t attending classes now of course. She had a short-sleeved, green and white blouse; it was short enough so it revealed her midriff. Her skirt was loose-fitting but short. It was cute with its blue flowery pattern. She was wearing chunky sandals with thick soles.

She threw herself onto the couch and glared at me. I sat opposite her in a chair; I got the first word in.

“Who was that guy?”

She shrugged and gave me a look of disdain. “Just a friend of mine.” I noted that she did not explain where she had met him.

I pulled myself together and called her on that. “I don’t think he’s a friend; he’s a customer. He paid you to blow him.”

I could tell from her expression that I had struck a nerve, even if she tried to deny it. “That’s ridiculous; what makes you think that?” She was practically daring me to make my case.

I did just that, “First, there’s the indifferent way he treated you. Then there are all those guys who call here and ask for you. And finally, there’s all that money stashed in your room.”

She pretended to be outraged, “Uncle Tony, you have no right to go looking around like that and invading my privacy.”

I smiled at the word “privacy.” She hadn’t even bothered to take that guy upstairs. “Maybe, but I felt like...” I was going to say, I need to protect you but I suspected I would get nowhere with that. I wanted to know more, so I tried to relax and be calm as I questioned her. “How did you get into this in the first place?”

She seemed to relax too and she was quite conversational as she described the details. “When I first got to City last fall – well, you wouldn’t believe the number of frustrated, horny guys up there.”

“True, I wouldn’t know about that.” Dating had changed a lot since I had been young.

“Yeah, even with the so-called Sexual Revolution – that’s been exaggerated. What’s happened is that now girls are going for the best guys and the rest of them are – well, they’re thirsty for some; you know what they want. They’re desperate.”

She must have taken some psychology and sociology courses; she was quite articulate on her topic.

She went on, “So when I got there, all of these guys were flocking around me. It was quite annoying. Then it occurred to me: I could dole out some things to them in exchange for favors and gifts.”

“You mean like cash.”

“All right, that did begin to happen.” She seemed amused by that. “But sometimes – I did get this guy to write a term paper for me last semester. I gave him, well, something in exchange for it.”

I assumed it was a handjob or oral sex but I didn’t need to know. I also didn’t know that this guy had somehow become her boyfriend recently, not a mere customer.

Nora was gaining momentum with her reminiscing. “And then, believe it or not, the paper he wrote for me resulted in a C grade. A damn C!”

“And you expect me to feel sympathy for you?”

“Uncle Tony, I know, but I was in trouble. I really needed help on that course. On the mid-term, I wound up with a D. And that little fucker got an A and then a B on his papers.” She shook her head. “I almost wish I could take it back, but I can’t.”

I thought, yeah, you can’t repossess a blowjob like you can a TV set.

Instead, I said, “So you’re just a studious little coed looking for, what - a buddy for study, is that what you’d call it?”

“Very funny.” Actually, he had become more than a buddy by that point, but I hadn’t met him yet.

Nora kept talking, “Jesus, Uncle, I’m not in high school now. I’m going to be dealing with guys up at the college, so that’s that way it is.”

“Dealing – that’s a good term actually. You’re dealing with them all right; you’re peddling yourself.”

She stopped talking and I could see her getting impatient. She was fidgeting like she was waiting for me to finish and she would be dismissed. I was curious to know how much she got paid and so forth, but I had the info I needed. She had heedlessly confessed everything to me.

I gave us a few moments to ponder the situation. Then I said, “This is totally unacceptable.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“I do when it comes to what happens in this house. And I’m sure you’ve used it before.”

She made a show of looking indifferent. I said, “You know, I could throw you out. You’re nineteen, fully an adult, and yet you contribute nothing to running this place. You don’t even help out with the dishes.”

I think she was a bit worried by that. “Okay, okay, I won’t bring them here anymore.”

“It’s a little too late for that. I have to take some action – discipline you so you don’t do it again.”

She sneered at me, “What are you going to do, ground me?”

I had a strangely upbeat feeling, something like joy, at the anticipation of how I was going to surprise her. Also, I was going to take her bitchy attitude down a number of pegs.

I tried to be neutral as I spoke, “It’s quite simple, Nora. You’re going to come over here. Then you’ll lie across my lap. I’ll lift up your little skirt, take down your panties and give you a long, hard spanking with my bare hand on your bare behind.”

I had indeed surprised her. “You can’t do that. And I’m too old for a spanking.”

“Did your parents ever do it?”

“No, never.” Actually, new boyfriend had already done it to her a couple of times, but she didn’t admit to that.

“There’s always a first time, and you’re never too old to start. When I’m done with that, I’m going have you bend over and I’ll whip your backside with my belt, a lot. I’m going to wear a new hole in your ass with that.”

I saw her squirm a bit on the couch. I imagined she had a twitch in her buttocks while considering that prospect.

“You can’t enforce that.”

“I already told you, it’s my way or the street. Or maybe you can support yourself out there with your present profession.”

Under her bravado, I could tell that she was nervous. Just to emphasize the point I said, “Believe me, I’m not going to go easy on you. Afterwards it may be painful to sit down.”

She said in a quiet voice, “You’re such an asshole,” but I let her get away with it. I knew I had won that confrontation. She folded her arms and looked around, maybe hoping this would all go away.

I said, “You’re probably wondering when this is going to happen,”

“Now that you mention it, I am wondering.”

“Right now would be ideal.”

She made a show of looking exasperated; then she got up and walked over. I had a good setup ready for her. My chair was armless; thus she would easily fit. There was a side table to the left where she could put her hands and brace herself.

When she was next to me, I immediately grabbed her and pulled her over me. Then I flipped her skirt up. Her panties were white and of a more generous cut than I perhaps expected for a young whore. As I grabbed the waistband, she said, “Don’t take down my panties.”

“As I said, you’re getting it on your bare ass.” She made a little sound like “oh” as they came down. Her feet were on the floor and, without prompting from me, she pressed her hands against the tabletop.

Then, as I looked at her, she said, “I think you’re some kind of pervert.” I didn’t bother to answer, but I continued to look. She had long legs and a high, compact backside. A few pubic hairs stuck up between her legs. She was not a beachgoer, so she had no tan lines and her skin was quite pale. I wondered what it would look like when I was done with her.

I rolled up the sleeve on my right arm, a bit of theater to show her I meant business. “Are you ready for this?”

She tried to put some poutiness in her voice but failed, “I’m never going to be ready.”