textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/trespass.txt

			_Trespassing_
     
    Michelle and I didn't expect to find a house out in the mountains;
    we thought there wasn't a living soul for miles and miles. But
    standing in front of us was a small cabin made of reddish-brown
    wood. I turned to go back the way we came, but Michelle's
    attention was caught by something amazing: an apple tree growing
    off the side, almost bursting with dozens of fiery-colored apples.
     
    "Come on, Michelle," I said. "It's not our tree. Let's head back
    to the campsite."
     
    I was particularly concerned about a large sign pinned to the trunk
    of the tree, that read: "PROPERTY OF A.N. ROQUELAURE." It seemed
    pretty clear that someone wanted their privacy. Michelle turned to
    me and smiled contemptuously, her green eyes large and bright. "Head
    back if you want, Christine. I'm starved, and I'm going to get
    myself an apple."
     
    "But it's trespassing!"
     
    She laughed and started towards the tree.  I should have known to save
    my breath. Ever since we became friends sophmore year, I had always
    been in her shadow--she was the assertive and outgoing one, while I
    was always quiet and shy. When she wanted something, nothing could
    stop her. Easy to see why: when you're as drop-dead gorgeous as 
    Michelle, you get used to getting things your own way. Her hair was
    deep brown, spilling down her back in thick waves, and her deep green
    eyes set off her tan, rather exotic complexion. But the thing that
    really drove guys crazy was her beautiful body--long legs, full
    breasts, a perfectly rounded backside. It was a shame none of them
    could see her now; in her tight jean shorts and white T-shirt, she 
    looked absolutely incredible.
    
    I know it's just sour grapes to complain about Michelle's looks.
    After all, I'm pretty enough in my own right.  Feathery blonde
    hair and blue eyes--"youngish" looking, as everyone tells me.
    I work out all the time, and my body looks pretty good (if I
    do say so myself!) But I can't help it. Every time I look at
    Michelle, I feel a hot flush of jealousy.
     
    That was how I felt as I watched her snatch at one of the tempting,
    dangling apples. It was just a bit too high. So she grabbed the
    nearest branch and clambered up the side of the trunk, knocking down
    the sign and generally making a tremendous racket.
     
    "For God's sake, will you hurry up?" I hissed at her. "I want to
    get out of here."
     
    "Oh, lighten up, Christine. There's nothing to worry about."
     
    "That's not entirely true," said an unfamiliar voice.
     
    A man had appeared at the doorway! He had sandy hair and a stern,
    grim smile. "Ladies, if I'm not mistaken--and I'm not--those are
    my apples you're helping yourselves to."
     
    I said timidly, "Look, Mister, my friend didn't mean any harm. She
    just wanted an apple for the hike back to our campsite. She's
    very sorry. Aren't you, Michelle?" I nudged her with my elbow.
    
    "No. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the police," the man said.
    
    We were stunned. The possibilities flashed through our minds--a police
    record! When we graduated from college, we'd have a dark spot on our
    transcript that would haunt the rest of our lives. Michelle was
    still shocked, so I took the inititiative. "Please, Mister, don't
    call the police. She didn't mean any harm. She's just a little full
    of herself sometimes...she thinks she can get away with anything."
    
    The man appraised my friend slowly, running his eyes up and down
    Michelle's curvaceous form. "Yes, I'm familiar with the type. I
    tell you what." He paused. "I give you a choice. Either I call
    the police, or *both* of you get a good paddling."
    
    Once again, we were stunned into silence. Could he really be serious?
    But then I heard Michelle's voice whispering in my ear: "Please,
    Christine, I *can't* have a police record. I just can't. I'm
    going to broadcasting school after college...let's do what he
    says, please!"
    
    This was the first time Michelle had ever asked me for anything.
    Usually it was me who wanted things from her, not vice-versa. It
    was such a pleasant feeling that it overcame my better judgement,
    and I heard myself saying, "All right, we'll take the paddling."
    Even as I said the words, my face flamed with humiliation: to
    be spanked by this total stranger, for doing absolutely nothing?
    
    But he had already grabbed our arms in a vise-like grip. He led us
    inside and pushed us against the far wall. "Turn around," he
    commanded. We did as he obeyed, our hearts pounding. It was
    sparsely furnished inside, reminding us how isolated we were
    from civilization--he could do anything to us, and nobody would
    know! I heard Michelle's breath catch in her throat.
    
    Then I felt his rough hands encircling me from behind, grabbing
    the front of my jeans shorts.  I couldn't believe it--was he
    going to--
    
    "Wait!" I said helplessly. But I felt him unsnap the top button, pull
    the zipper down, and with a hard tug, yank the shorts down around my
    ankles. I stood in my underpants, my face flushing even darker than
    before. He did the same to Michelle, pulling and pulling at her
    shorts--they were even tighter than mine--until she too stood only
    in her underwear.
    
    "Now then," we heard his voice from behind us, "I'll leave to you to
    pull down your own panties." Michelle gave a little cry of disbelief,
    and the man laughed at her. "Fine, have it your way. I'm sure the
    police will be *very* sympathetic to a couple of spoiled co-ed
    trespassers."
    
    Then--I couldn't believe it--Michelle grasped the cotton sides of
    her underpants, rolling them down to her ankles to reveal her
    slender, perfectly curved backside. She shut her eyes tightly, as
    though humiliated beyond belief. Slowly, I reached for my own
    panties. I hesitated a minute, trying to savor the sensation of still
    having some protection between my skin and the terrible man behind
    us, but a minute later I was pulling them down, my bare bottom
    completely exposed! I had never been so embarassed...although I
    was somehow glad that Michelle was right next to me, experiencing
    it too. After all, this entire mess was her fault.
    
    A noise rustled behind us, and we saw the man lifting something
    out of a box. I heard Michelle gasp--it was a large, wooden paddle,
    with a long handle and a smooth, oak-stained surface. The sight
    of it made me a little desperate, I think, for I suddenly realized
    that I wasn't a little girl, and I should't have to be spanked.
    I wanted to pull up my pants *now.* But when I opened my mouth,
    nothing came out.
    
    "Bend over, and put your hands on the wall in front of you," he ordered.
    
    We did, placing our palms squarely on the wood. The position arched
    our backs and pushed our backsides into the air--right where he
    wanted them. He said, "Now, I really advise you to keep that position.
    You're going to want to move, but *don't.* If your hands move off
    the wall, it's going to be even worse for you."
    
    I could tell from his voice that he was facing my direction--I was
    going to get the first spank! I looked over my shoulder, and saw
    him bring the paddle back then forward, putting his weight behind
    the blow. <WHACK!> I felt a hot shock of pain as the paddle
    connected hard with my bare backside. "OOO!" I exclaimed, although
    I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't say anything. I couldn't help
    it! The impact of the spank almost pushed me flat against the wall,
    and I thought wildly to myself: That was only the first one, and it
    hurt like nothing I've ever felt! What will I be feeling a few 
    minutes from now?
    
    But then he was swinging the paddle again, this time at Michelle.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hard wood connect with
    her exposed bottom. The sound of the impact was like an exploding
    firecracker. "OWWW!" she cried, and I could see her eyes fill with
    tears.
    
    Before I even had time to think, I received another hard spank.
    The pain flamed through me; he was really swinging that paddle
    at us, and we really felt it! He gave us a third blow, and
    a fourth one...and it hurt so badly that we were willing
    to do anything to make him stop, just for a second. But
    there wasn't anything we could do. First he spanked me,
    then Michelle, and his blows didn't get any lighter but seemed
    to come even faster and hurt even more. Michelle began
    squirming around frantically, as though she could escape
    each stinging crack of the paddle. But it never once missed
    either of us. The man spanked our left cheek, then our right,
    and even landed a few hard blows on the tender flesh of
    our thighs. But mostly he spanked us right on the lower
    portion of our backsides, and the pain grew more intense
    as he paddled that particular spot. I began to cry, almost
    panicking from the pain.
    
    And Michelle started pleading for him to stop. I couldn't
    believe it--proud, arrogant, beautiful Michelle, reduced to
    begging--but the spanking we were getting was hard enough
    to make anyone break down.  "Please Mister!   OOOHHH! I'm
    so sorry! I didn't mean to take your apples...please, please
    stop! No...OOWWW!!" I turned my head, and was astonished
    at how red her bottom had become...it was a dark raspberry
    color all over, and even her thighs were lightly reddened.
    I know my backside felt exactly the same way--it sure felt
    like it did!
    
    "Ohhh!  I'll never do it again, I promise...OOWWW!!" Soon she
    was sobbing too hard to even talk. Tears drenched her beautiful
    face, and every time the paddle struck her, her sobs grew louder
    and more desperate.  I was sobbing too!
    
    But then Michelle made it even worse for us.
    
    Looking back, I really can't blame her. Michelle was used to being
    admired and complimented for her looks. She wasn't used to the
    indignity of bending over, her jeans and panties around her ankles.
    Most of all, she wasn't used to the scorching pain of a paddling.
    That's why, as if unable to endure a single spank more, she took
    her hands off the wall and flung them over her glowing behind.
    
    The man stopped. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked in a low
    tone.
    
    Michelle had to gulp down her sobs to even reply.  "I'm sorry...it
    hurts too much...I can't stand any more!" Her hands were still placed
    protectively over her buttocks.
    
    "I told you to keep your hands on the wall. You disobeyed me, and
    you're going to have to be punished for it!"
    
    "Oh no...*please,* mister..." We were still bending over, but we
    looked over our shoulders to see him undoing his thick, leather
    belt from around his waist. This time, though, it was me who
    pleaded. "Sir, she's had enough! We'll never trespass again...we
    promise!" Ignoring me, he made the belt into a loop. "A few
    licks from this should teach you to disobey my orders," he
    growled. "Put your hands back on the wall this instant."
    Michelle looked like she was about to disobey again, and he
    snapped, "I mean *now.*"  She quickly put her hands on the wall,
    once again leaving her bottom exposed, and he let the belt fly.
    
    Michelle really shrieked as the first blow from the belt snapped
    across her sore and stinging flesh, and her whole body jerked.
    <CRACK!> <CRACK!> It was even louder than the paddle...but when
    she had been whipped long enough to satisfy him, he told Michelle
    to stand up. She couldn't, though...she could only face the wall,
    the tears streaming down her face, as she held her hands behind her.
    
    I started to stand up. "Hold it," he said. "You're getting a taste
    of the belt too." I whimpered. "Quiet!" he ordered, and once again,
    I was to be punished for Michelle's actions. He swung the belt
    with full strength.
    
    <CRACK!> Ohhh, nothing ever hurt like that in my life!  The leather 
    seared in my backside, biting into the skin even more than the paddle.
    "Michelle, you are such...a...bitch!!" I yelled through my tears.
    If you h-hadn't...<CRACK!> AHH!...climbed that t-tree...<CRACK!>
    OOWWW!!  We-we wouldn't...<CRACK!> OOOHH!!!"
    
    When my punishment was finally over, I was almost blind with pain.
    Michelle was still facing the wall and crying, and in addition to
    the dark color caused by the paddle, the belt had left a number
    of small welts all over her bottom. I rubbed my own swolled
    rear and realized I had my fair share too!
    
    "Go home," the man ordered, putting the belt away. We wanted to, but
    we hurt bad enough with our skin exposed to the air, without our
    tight jeans shorts rubbing against us. We actually *wanted* to
    keep our shorts off. I managed to get us both out of the cabin,
    carrying our shorts and panties in my hands, just to get out of
    there--before the man changed his mind and decided we needed
    more punishment!
    
    But eventually, about an hour on the way back, we managed to pull
    our shorts up so we were decent. Walking itself was so painful,
    though, that we were still sniffling by the time we returned to
    the campsite.
    
    At first I felt like giving Michelle a spanking of my own, just
    for getting us into the mess, and making me get a whipping with
    the belt on top of everything else. But ever since that day,
    she's been a lot easier to be friends with. I've heard people
    say that a spanking would do her some good...I wonder what they'd
    say if I told them they were right!