Spanking In The Woods: Stranger Spanks Cheeky Young Woman
This is a fictional story that is only allowed to be read from the age of 18
Table of Contents
Three Girls Relax And Drink In The Forest
The sun burns through the treetops, casting a golden glow of light and shadow over the forest floor. My sneakers crunch on the gravel path as I drag the heavy cooler, stuffed with clinking beer bottles and a cheap rosé.
Beside me, Charlotte skips along, her blonde curls bouncing, yapping about some guy she met last week. Her tight denim shorts cling to her hips, showing off what she calls her “perfect” bum.
Nineteen, like me, but she acts like the world’s hers—a spoiled brat who always gets her way. Behind us, Rachel strolls, phone in hand, texting and giggling at an Instagram meme. Her sunglasses sit crooked, her crop top barely covering anything.
We found this clearing by chance—a small patch circled by tall pines, with an old picnic table, its wood splintered and mossy. Perfect for hanging out, drinking, and enjoying the summer heat. Charlotte’s idea, and as usual, she pulled us along.
“Come on, it’ll be awesome!” she said. The cooler thumps onto the table. Charlotte pops a beer, foam spilling over her fingers, and she licks it off, giggling.
“Cheers, girls!” she shouts, raising her bottle. Rachel and I clink with her, the first sip tasting like cold summer. We flop onto the bench, which creaks under us.
Charlotte stretches her legs, her flip-flops dangling from her toes, and rants about her latest TikTok trend. Rachel scrolls her phone, showing us memes. I lean back, the sun warming my face. The forest smells of resin and dirt, a soft breeze rustling the leaves.
Testing The Limits: Young Lady Gets Herself In Trouble
A twig snaps. Loud. My eyes shoot toward the sound. A man steps from the trees’ shadows—tall, broad-shouldered, maybe mid-thirties. His dark T-shirt stretches over his chest, jeans low on his hips.
His face is sharp, a three-day stubble on his jaw, his eyes dark and piercing, locking onto us. He’s hot, insanely hot, and my stomach flutters. Charlotte spots him next, sitting up straighter, tossing her hair, and pushing her chest out. Typical. She flashes a glossy grin.
“Hey, what’s up?” she calls, her voice oozing confidence. Rachel lifts her head, sunglasses slipping, and eyes him curiously. I pull my knees up, hands gripping my beer bottle tighter. Something about him screams authority, quiet but unyielding.
“This is private property,” he says, his voice deep and firm, with an edge that allows no argument. He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You don’t belong here.”
Charlotte laughs, a sharp, mocking sound. She sets her beer down, foam sloshing over the rim. “Oh, really? Says who?” Her eyes gleam—she loves pushing limits. She leans forward, elbows on the table, her bum wiggling slightly. “It’s just some woods. Chill.”
The man raises an eyebrow, his mouth twitching faintly. “I say so. This is my land. You’d better leave.”
Rachel snickers behind her hand, but her eyes dart between Charlotte and the man. I feel a tingle, part nerves, part fascination. Charlotte stands, hips swaying as she steps toward him. She plants her hands on her hips, head tilted.
“And if we don’t? What’re you gonna do, huh?” Her voice is sweet but defiant. She edges closer, flip-flops scraping the ground, her bum jutting out, daring him.
Stranger Pulls Young Woman Over His Knee In The Woods
The man moves fast—faster than I expect. In two strides, he’s on her, grabbing her arm and yanking her close. Charlotte squeals, half-shocked, half-angry, and tries to pull free.
“Hey, what the hell?” Her voice cracks, but his grip is like iron. He spins her around, sits on the bench and pulls her over his knee in one smooth move. My heart races, eyes glued to the scene. Rachel gasps softly, her hand grabbing my arm, but she stays quiet.
“You want to test boundaries?” he says, his voice calm but mocking. “Let’s see what happens.” His hand smacks her shorts, the loud slap echoing through the clearing.
Charlotte squirms, legs kicking wildly, her flip-flops flying off—one lands left, the other right, in the grass. “Let me go, you jerk!” she yells, but her voice breaks as his hand hits again.
He yanks her shorts down, the fabric sliding over her thighs and bunching at her ankles. Her pink panties show, tight and sheer, outlining her bum.
“Oh my God,” Rachel whispers, nails digging into my arm. I can’t look away. My mouth’s dry, pulse pounding. Charlotte twists, hands reaching back to block him, but he’s stronger.
With another tug, he pulls her panties down, baring her bum, pale and perfect—until his hand smacks again. The slap’s louder, sharper, and Charlotte cries out, a high, desperate sound. Her legs jerk, toes clawing the air, but he holds her easily.
“You two,” he says, eyes fixed on Charlotte’s writhing body, “watch closely. This is how you handle a brat.” His hand slides over her bum, fingers tracing the reddening skin before squeezing lightly.
Charlotte whimpers, cheeks flushed, tears glinting in her eyes. He grins, a predatory, smug smirk, like he’s enjoying her humiliation.
“Thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you?” he says, voice dripping with scorn. “Wrong.”
Spanking In The Woods: Attractive Man Spanks Cheeky Teen (19)
His hand smacks again, leaving a red mark on her bum. Charlotte wails, voice breaking into sobs.
“Stop! Please!” she begs, but he chuckles softly.
“Oh, now you’re begging? Too late.” His fingers brush her skin, slow and almost gentle, before he hits again. My face burns, a weird mix of schadenfreude and heat rushing through me. Charlotte, who always gets her way, lies helpless over his knee, her perfect bum red and bare, crying and squirming.
Rachel breathes hard, eyes wide. “This is… wild,” she whispers, her voice more fascinated than horrified. I nod, unable to speak. The man glances at us, eyes glinting.
“You two behaving, right?” he says, not really asking. “Or you’re next.” His hand lands on Charlotte’s bum again, and she screams, legs kicking harder, but he holds her steady.
The sun beats down, the forest quiet except for Charlotte’s sobs and the rhythmic slaps of his hand. I see sweat beads on her forehead, her fingers clutching his jeans. Her bum glows deep red, each strike making her flinch harder. He keeps talking, voice calm, almost amused.
“Learning anything, little one?” he asks as his hand hits again. Charlotte nods frantically, tears streaming, smearing her mascara.
“Yes, yes, I get it!” she stammers, but he shakes his head.
“Not quite,” he says, leaning to the side. He grabs one of Charlotte’s flip-flops from the grass, its pink sole dusty from the dirt. He holds it up, turning it in his hand like he’s inspecting it. “Let’s see if this drives it home.” Charlotte’s eyes widen, she shakes her head, voice breaking.
“No, please, don’t!” But he ignores her.
Spanking And Tears: Punishment With The Flip-Flop
The flip-flop whips through the air, the hard plastic smacking her burning bum. The sound’s sharper, higher than his hand, and Charlotte screams, body bucking. Her legs kick wildly, toes digging into the ground, but he holds her tight, arm like a vice around her waist.
“That hits better, doesn’t it?” he says, voice thick with mockery. The flip-flop smacks her bum again, leaving a sharp, red stripe.
Charlotte howls, tears dripping onto the forest floor, hands clawing at his jeans. He strikes again, the plastic cracking against her skin, and her sobs turn to choked whimpers.
“You see, girls,” he says, glancing at us as the flip-flop lands another blow, “some need a harder lesson to learn.” Rachel gasps, nails digging deeper into my arm, and I feel my heart pounding, cheeks burning.
When he finally stops, Charlotte’s face is wet with tears, lips trembling. He lifts her off his lap, her shorts and panties still tangled at her ankles. She stumbles, yanking them up, hands shaking. The flip-flop drops back into the grass, its pink sole gleaming in the sunlight.
“Get out,” he says, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans. “And don’t come back.”
Charlotte staggers away, not looking at us, steps shaky. Rachel and I grab the cooler and follow, my heart still pounding. I glance back one last time. The man stands there, arms crossed, smirking.
What remains is the memory of Charlotte dancing with her bare bum over his knee.
