textfiles/sex/EROTICA/L/lgapples.txt

Little Green Apples

By late summer, being out of school wore thin. Katydids sang,
the asphalt glimmered hotly, and the hot muggy days took on a
sultry sameness, games, books and even afternoon TV palled;
idle young hands and imaginations sought novelty and usually
found it.  In Gina's small Virginia city in the late 50's, summer
activities were unstructured and not yet dominated by camps,
leagues and lessons.  Gina and her friends, in their 10th
summer, were still kids, but Gina's body was quickly moving
into early puberty, the boys still young and awkward but
emulating tough masculinity.

This era of do-it-yourself adolescence was ending and no one
knew it; yet it was not a time without its painful lessons.  Minor
errors of judgement might be scolded, but disobedience, "back-
talk", and major infractions of house rules earned, without
question or exception, vigorous spankings, paddlings or
strappings (only varying by implement and venue of
administration from household to household).  The kids were
candid (almost bragging) in admitting to each other when they'd
"gotten it" - no point in denying since the punishment was
usually audible for a block, especially in summer.  Gina's
parents were better-educated and generally more tolerant than
those of many of her friends, but when she strained even their
indulgent, the punishment administered was often compounded
for the past 3 or 4 complaints, accompanied with a shouted
lecture:  "...and THIS is for last week when you...."!

Mrs. Browning's old apple trees were an enticement to the kids
year-round, although her yard was off-limits.  The trees were
just the right height for climbing, with low-hanging twisted limbs
and a stout, gnarled trunk, Gina and her friends were in and out
of them constantly, playing at cowboys & Indians, cops &
robbers, pirates and other rowdy make-believe.  But in late
August, the three old trees were heavy with knotty green fruit,
nowhere near ripe, but tempting on hot afternoons to bored
kids hot and sweaty from running and climbing in the sun. 
There were other girls in the neighborhood, but they spent long
hours playing with paper dolls and coloring books and Gina,
always more interested in drama and role-playing,  often
sought the company of the boys, who "tolerated" a girl's
presence since she was imaginative and brought variety to
their action games.  On such a steamy August afternoon,
perched in the largest of Mrs. Browning's apple trees, Tom
Cassidy, Paul Zimmer, Teddy Roberts and Gina ate a
considerable number of Mrs. Browning's little green apples.


A couple of hours later, Gina and the boys began to lose
interest in the game.  In truth, Paul and Tom began to look a
little greenish themselves, and Teddy claimed to hear his
mother calling him.  Gina had begun to develop a dull stomach-
ache but really didn't want to go home.  Her aunt and uncle
were coming for dinner, her mom was cooking up a storm, and
somehow Gina lacked her usual hardy appetite.  In fact, her
stomach felt full and achy.  The memory of a dozen or so tart
little green apples gave her a queasy feeling at the moment. 
Gina found a comfortable place in the deep shade under the
grove of apple trees and curled up to rest.  Drawing up in fetal
position eased what was becoming a nagging stomachache. 
She dozed and pondered how to explain her lack of appetite for
mom's big company dinner...

She was awakened by her mother's unmistakable sharp call: 
"Gi-NA!! You'd better not make me call you again!"  Oh-oh -
how many times had her mother called her already?  She
nervously started to jump to her feet, but stopped still half bent
over by the cutting pains in her abdomen...oooh, what a
stomachache she had now.  She couldn't really straighten up
and her belly felt distended and painful.  "GI-NAH!!" yelled her
mother, "You'd better get here NOW if you know what's good
for you!!"  She knew what THAT meant...and she began to trot
the few backyards to her house, holding her tummy with both
hands.  "I'm coming, Mom!!"  She called, hoping to forestall her
mother's growing impatience.  "I didn't hear you before!" This
was almost true and she hoped it would defuse the anger she
heard in her mom's voice.

"H-hi, Mom,"  Gina faltered when she saw her mother at the
back door, flushed and sweaty from the kitchen, apron covered
with flour and cooking juices, and the big wooden spatula in her
hand - arms folded, with body language spelling trouble.  It was
nearly dinnertime, and Gina knew she was dirty, uncombed,
and crouched over with an obvious belly-ache.  Through the
open kitchen door she saw her aunt peering curiously out of
the kitchen.  Her uncle and their two kids, 8 and 6, would be in
the living room watching the news on their black & white 12"
TV.  "You get in this house and get washed up for dinner,
young lady," her mom hissed.  Your father is about ready to
whip you good!"  "Mom...I don't feel too good.  I - I've got a
really bad tummy-ache..." she trailed off.  Something in her
mother's look said that wasn't going to get her a lot of
sympathy.  Her mom reached out and felt her head.  "You don't
have a fever," she commented.  "You better not have been
eating green apples from Mrs. Browning's trees.  You kids have
been warned about that!"  "Oh, NO, Mom"- Gina denied
instinctively.   With a sudden jangle, the phone rang.  


Gina couldn't hear the conversation and her belly was
throbbing with pain.  She sat on the edge of a kitchen chair,
bent over and holding her abdomen.  Her mom was looking
daggers at her.  "Really," her mom nodded.  "That's exactly
what I thought but Gina sore they weren't!"  Gina's head shot
up, startled.  "Thank's, Ann, " said her mom, hanging up the
phone.  "Well, I guess you DO have a belly-ache, missy -
Paul's mother says he's doubled up with cramps too, and
admitted you kids were eating those little green apples all
afternoon.  Haven't you been TOLD to stay out of Mrs.
Browning's yard?!"  This last was delivered while she hauled a
groaning Gina to her feet and toward the living room.  She
forced her to stand in front of her dad, uncle and her two little
cousins.  "John, I don't know what I'm going to do with this girl. 
She's disobeyed, come home dirty and belly-aching when here
we have company for dinner, and on top of that, lied to me
about eating tons of those green apples from Mrs. Browning's
trees!"  Her dad looked more bemused than angry, but he
obviously felt the need to present a united front, especially in
front of relatives' kids.  "Well, Nancy...first things first.  Will
dinner hold while we take care of this?"  Gina's arm was in her
mother's vise-grip but she was curling over in obvious distress,
her face wet with tears of embarrassment, pain and fear.  "Oh, I
suppose - if it's not already ruined, it'll keep.  Excuse me, folks -
go ahead and watch the news while I give this child what she
needs!"

"Mom!  I'm FINE!  I just didn't hear you...I don't need
anything...ooooh!" Jerked upright suddenly, Gina moaned from
the griping pain in her stomach.  "Oh yes, you do, young lady! 
You need a good enema for that belly-ache and a good
spanking for your disobedience!"   As big as she was, Gina
began to whimper and struggle.  "Noo, Mom...No, No, No!"  It
was useless; she was being propelled bodily down the hall to
her room.  Her kid cousins were staring, but she was only dimly
aware of the kids.  Her mother pushed her over the foot of her
own bed.  The pressure of the bed actually felt good against
her throbbing belly, but not for long.  Still holding the flat
wooden spatula in her hand, Gina's mother couldn't resist
administering a few heated preparatory whacks to her daughter's
pantied bottom.  "MOM!! DON"T!!"  Gina howled.  "You stay
right where you are and get your pants down," her mother
ordered.  You'll get your paddling but I guess I'd better take
care of your stomachache first.  You better not move an inch -
I'm getting the enema bag!"  Gina wept as she obeyed her
mom, drawing her cotton panties down to her knees and then
lying with her hands holding her stomach and aching in dread. 
Enemas were an occasional, if dreadful, fact of life.  No one
called the doctor for tummy-aches when a quart of soapy water up
your behind solved most of life's ills, from her mother's point 
of view!


Her mom returned with the ugly red enema bag, obviously quite
full.  Gina protested tearfully, again, "Mommy, Mommy, I don't
wanna enema!"  Her speech had regressed to early childhood,
she felt so powerless and scared.  Her kid cousins were
peeking around the corner of the hall, her dad and other
relatives oblivious as they stared at the TV.  "All right," said
her mother, "Pull that skirt up so it doesn't get all wet."  Gina
obeyed, sobbing, "No...No...please, Ma!"  Her mother made a
great ritual of hanging the enema bag up over the poster bed's
finial, and greasing the ugly black enema tip with Vaseline. 
Gina couldn't look - her belly ached and she didn't think she
could stand what was coming.  With her little cousins avidly
watching, Gina's mom matter-of-factly spread her buttocks
wide and began shoving the dreaded hard rubber nipple into
her anus.  It HURT!  "MOM...STOP...OWWW!!"  She clamped
her butt together, but the tight resistance made it hurt more. 
"You'd better just relax and take it, young lady," warned her
mother.  The enema tip pushed painfully and inexorably up into
her rectum and Gina gave herself up to sobbing.  She heard
the awful click of the valve on the bag and the familiar pressure
of hot soapsuds entering her bottom.  "OOOOOOWWW!! 
Enough! Enough!"  Gina howled, but her mom was used to this. 
She'd get the whole bag full and have to hold it while marched
to the bathroom.  "Cut it out," her mom muttered
unsympathetically, "If you hadn't gorged on those little green
apples, you wouldn't be having to take this."  Gina bucked and
unashamedly...the pressure in her belly was
unbearable and she felt she couldn't hold any more...COULDN'T! 
When she felt she was going to burst, her mom clicked the
valve shut and pulled her to her feet.  She was NOT (Gina
thought with horror) going to march her to the john in front of
these kids, with the hideous red bag in tow and her pants
down!  But Gina's practical mother was unconcerned about 
appearances and propelled Gina, tearful and groaning, up the hall to
the bathroom, only releasing her once inside with completely
unnecessary instructions to "empty herself."  Gina groaned with
relief, expelling the terrible pressure.  Her stomach felt a lot
better...but now she was afraid to go out and face the
punishment ahead.

Her mother finally called.  "All right, that's long enough!  You
get on out here and get your whipping.  I've kept dinner for
these folks long enough!"  Humiliated, Gina crept out into the
hall, trying to summon courage and dignity.  Her father had
joined her mother at the door.  He didn't have the wooden
spatula in his hand.  He held his belt.  In the background, she
saw her two little cousins, grinning broadly from the living room
door.


Gina was desperate.  "Daddy,"  I still don't feel too good.  I'll
never do it again, OK?  It was really Mikey's idea, OK?  I..." 
Gina's dad looked sterner and sterner.  "Gina, you're making it
a lot worse for yourself.  Paul's mother told you mom exactly
who's idea it was.  Get over that bed, and NOW!"  Her face
collapsed in a grimace of tears.  She wasn't feeling like such a
grown-up right now.  An enema in front of her snotty little
cousins was awful enough...but every kid got those.  Now she
was...no, it was too much!  Gina starting sobbing and her dad
lost patience, taking her skirt by the waist and marching her
briskly back to her room and over the foot of the bed again. 
She'd pulled her panties back up in the bathroom, but down
they came again, her dad jerking them all the way to her
ankles.  Gina's hands flew instinctively back trying to cover her
bare behind, and were roughly and instantly removed with the
order to "keep those under your belly!"  She closed her eyes
and whimpered.  She'd only gotten her dad's belt across her
ass a couple of times and remember those times vividly.

SMACK!! Oh, not vividly enough!  The first whack was fiery and
landed dead center of her buttocks, followed by SMACK!!
SMACK!! SMACK!!  Gina's head flew back and she howled, no
words coming: "WAHHHH!"  SMACK!! "WAHHHH --- NOOO ---
Dad DEE!!"  SMACK!!  "Dadd-EEE! It HURTS!! Please!!"  She
managed to plead, but to no avail.  Her father pressed his left
hand on the small of her back, pinning her hands firmly under
her tummy, and administered, slowly and stingingly, 6 more
flaming whaps.  Every single smack seemed to ignite deeper
flames on her behind.  She was simply howling now, and the
howls continued non-stop until her father decided her bare
fanny was crimson and blistered enough for a lasting lesson. 
Her drew her immediately to her feet, her knees wobbling and
her backside stinging unbearably!  In a low intense voice, her
father delivered a warning lecture that was almost worse than
the spanking she'd just taken.  He fairly hissed orders at her,
describing in painful detail how much worse her next spanking
would be if  a) she ever disobeyed; b) she ever embarrassed
her mother in front of company and ruined a good dinner by
being late and c) if she EVER lied to cover her misbehavior. 
Knowing her little cousins were listening, Gina tried to swallow
her sobs, but couldn't stand up straight and knew how
ridiculous she looked half-crouching and holding her bare red
behind, panties around her shoes.  "Now you come out and
apologize to everyone," finished her father.  Gina's head came
up fast, unbelieving!  "Daddy, no...! I CAN'T!"  she started. 
"You want some more of this?"  he raised his belt.  Fresh tears
started down Gina's flushed cheeks.  She shook her head
silently and her father led her to the living room where,
chastened and stinging, in front of the entire family, Gina
apologized to her mother, aunt and uncle and snickering little
cousins and was required to sit wincing, her now swollen and
purpling backside on two "pity-pillows", through an endless dinner,
of which she was required to eat every last bite.

Gaetana

(Note:  The story told above, although embroidered as to names
and details (they never did cure me of that), is for the most part
painfully true.  I was encouraged to write it by several wonderul
people in this newsgroup.  Although it may not be to everyone's 
taste, I can assure you that it was even less to mine!)