_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. 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. 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. 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... AHH!...climbed that t-tree... OOWWW!! We-we wouldn't... 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!