Country boy (m/F story)

In the passenger seat next to me, my mobile phone made some final sad, tired noises before shutting itself off, completely out of power. I swore under my breath; I was relying on the GPS, so I wasn't entirely sure where to go now. I started berating myself for not charging my phone before leaving, and for not buying a proper map. A young, defenceless woman, lost in the wilds, with no way to contact anyone – at least, 32 qualified as 'young' in my eyes, and these backwater roads could very well be considered the wilderness.

Of course, if I'd paid attention to where I was driving instead of scolding myself, I might have spotted the glass bottle in the road before it was too late.

I managed to get the car under control, but I quickly realized that the left front tire had suffered some damage. Stopping the car on the side of the road, I got out and confirmed my suspicions. There was a jack and a new tire in the back of the car, but I had no idea what I should actually do with them.

Ordinarily, I would have looked up some how-to guide on my phone, but the battery was flat. I had my laptop, but there was no wi-fi here. I thought about using my phone as a hotspot, which would allow my laptop to connect to the internet, and actually congratulated myself on my cleverness before realizing the obvious flaw in the plan.

I bent over, staring at the ruined remains of the tire, while going through the facts. I was out in the wilderness with a flat tire which I had only the vaguest idea how to replace. I had no food or water with me, and no way to contact anyone that could help me. Even if I somehow managed to get the car rolling again, I had no idea where to go.

I don't know how long I remained there, hoping that staring at the tire would magically fix it, but in the end, I decided I had no option but to just give it my best shot, hope that I could stumble my way through replacing the tire, and then pray I could find civilization – or at least someone who could direct me to it. The worst part of it was that it was all my fault. "Christine," I said loudly to myself, "this time you really DO deserve a good spanking."

"Now, that I'd like to see," a cheerful voice exclaimed behind me.

Wide-eyed, I spun around, spotting a lanky young man in dirty jeans and an old, worn shirt, grinning at me. I guessed him to be eighteen or nineteen. With a blush, I realized what a sight I had presented to him, bent over at the waist, thrusting my jean-clad backside in his direction. From the way he smiled, it seemed he'd enjoyed the sight, despite the fact that I was more than a decade older than him.

"I'm Ken," he said, shaking my hand. "I was walking to town when I spotted you and your car. You looked like you needed a hand."

 

I introduced myself and told him about my troubles, and he nodded soothingly. "I'll take a look at the car and see what I can do. But what's this about a spanking?" he prodded.

I hesitated – this wasn't really something I wanted to discuss with a teenager I didn't know, but he seemed like the sort who wouldn't stop asking until he got an answer, and I was entirely reliant on his goodwill. "My dad bought this car for me when I was young," I told him. "He tried to teach me how to replace a tire, and told me to always make preparations when going on long drives. I'm sure that if I'd done something so stupid back then, or if he'd realized that I wasn't paying attention while he was trying to teach me, he really would have put me over his knee. Don't know why it popped into my head, really," I said as calmly and as persuasively as I could.

Not a word of it was true; I'd bought the car myself, five years ago, and my dad had never spanked me – in fact, growing up, I had never been spanked at all. The first person to ever put me across his knee was a boyfriend I had when I was 23, and only after I nagged him about it for quite some time.

My last boyfriend, David, absolutely would have decided to spank me for doing something like this – and if he hadn't, I would have asked him to. I realized early in my life that I was a woman who benefited greatly from sitting gingerly from time to time. However, he'd broken up with me five months ago, which partially explained why I was now doing stupid stuff like this; a severe lack of consequences had a detrimental effect on my behaviour.

"I see," Ken said, not seeming entirely convinced by my explanation. To my great relief, however, he dropped the subject, and began to work on the car.

As I watched, he retrieved the jack and new tire, then began to lift the car. He replaced the tire, moving with an ease and confidence I hadn't really expected to see in someone so young. I offered to help him, but he declined. "You told me yourself you don't really know how to do this. It would be faster for me to do it than to explain it." In a few minutes, my car was once again driveable.

I thanked him profusely, incredibly relieved to see my problem solved so quickly, but he brushed it off. "I'll drive you to the closest town," he told me, and I sat down in the passenger seat with a thankful heart.

He started to drive. After some minutes, he suddenly picked a side road that seemed old and rarely used. I frowned; this didn't seem like the right way, but as I had already admitted I was completely lost, I didn't want to seem foolish by commenting on it. He noticed my reaction. "You're right, this isn't the road to town. I've got something I'd like to discuss with you first, if it's OK." I nodded, though I was slightly annoyed that he hadn't asked before taking the detour.

We reached an old, disused sawmill, and the area looked like no one had visited it in at least a decade. Leaving the car, he sat down on an old tree stump. I exited the car as well, wondering what he was up to now.

"I think you were lying to me," he said, folding his arms and attempting to glare at me, though the grin somewhat spoiled it. "I don't think you were referring to being spanked by your father with that comment you made – I think you meant something entirely different." I blushed, and he raised an eyebrow, confident that he'd scored a hit. "However, I quite agree that you deserve a spanking for your silliness." He patted his lap meaningfully, and his grin widened.

Part of me wanted to laugh at his display, but I managed to stifle that side of me. There was something adorable about this teenager putting on the air of a strict disciplinarian to a woman almost twice his age. Perhaps I should scold him and tell him to cut out this nonsense – boys do not speak to adult women that way. Or could just get in the car and drive off; he was too far away to stop me if I did that, and I could probably find my way to town on my own.

On the other hand, Ken was right; I had lied to him, and I'd said myself that my actions warranted a good, hard spanking. It was also far too long since I'd been over someone's knee, and the next offer could be a long way off – I was not inclined to look the gift horse in the mouth. Added to this was the element of curiosity; could this teenager, barely old enough to grow stubble, really give a woman like me a proper spanking?

Well. Only one way to find out.

I moved toward him with quick, confident steps, swaying my hips slightly as I walked. As I placed my weight on his waiting lap, knowing that his dirty jeans would leave stains on my cutest shirt, I tossed my hair disdainfully, wordlessly daring him to do his worst. Laying across his thighs, my jean-clad bottom wriggling teasingly in his face, I hung my head and bit my lip nervously – despite my show of bravado, I was wondering just how this would turn out.

For a few seconds, Ken sat there, seemingly stunned by the fact that his offer had been accepted. Coming to his senses again, he began to rub my cheeks with a firm palm, squeezing gently. I could tell that he liked what he saw and felt – either that, or he was carrying a rather large flashlight in his front pocket.

After a few seconds of groping, he lifted his hand and smacked it down in the gentlest pat I'd ever received. He delivered a few more hesitant slaps, and I wondered whether sighing in frustration would encourage him or drive him off. "How's that?" he said.

"Oh, you've started?" I said sweetly, rolling my eyes.

His eyes narrowed, and I could tell that his pride was injured – which was my intention. He lifted his hand again, delivering a firm spank that made me wince. As his palm continued to land, I started to shift, a moan escaping my lips.

"Not so dismissive now, are you?" he said with a grin, continuing to spank my rear. I smiled; for a beginner, he was a remarkably quick learner.

His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering hard swats that made my cheeks jiggle. I closed my eyes, a satisfied grin spreading across my face. It had been far too long since I felt a firm hand on my backside.

Just as he was beginning to hit his stride, and I felt myself floating away on a sea of bliss, he stopped. I was about to give him a frustrated grumble, but I received a pleasant surprise. "Stand up so I can take your trousers down," he told me. I immediately obeyed; things were getting interesting. In retrospect, maybe I should have shown some shame or hesitation before letting someone I'd just met undress me, but I'd already accepted his offer for a good spanking – rather enthusiastically, in fact – and in my opinion, real spankings did not end while your trousers where on.

He started to undo and unzip my jeans, though there was something hesitant about his movements that suggested that despite his show of confidence, he didn't have a lot of experience in getting women's clothes off. I had an impish idea to pat his head and tell him in a sweet voice that he was doing very well, but managed to resist it – it might either cause him to lose confidence, or enrage him, and neither outcome was ideal in a spanker.

My jeans were now around my knees, and he grinned at the sight of my small, pink panties – and the damp spot at the front. I blushed, but managed to return his grin as I bent back over his thighs. He rubbed his hand gently in circles on my slightly pinkened cheeks, and I squirmed, enjoying his attention.

After half a minute or so of gentle caresses, he continued to spank me. The inexperienced young man had now developed a rhythm, delivering firm slaps while moving from cheek to cheek. I wriggled, the occasional yelp escaping my lips.

It was at this point that Ken began to scold me. "Going out for a long drive without food or water?" He tutted, shaking his head in disapproval. "Not bringing a map because you're relying on a phone – and then not charging it?" He delivered a salvo of extra-hard spanks that made me squeal. "Not to mention driving out in the country with no clue how to replace a tire. Out here, even a young child would know how do to it."

Once again, the imp in me wanted to make a comment, but this time, I didn't manage to hold her back. "It's a good thing I met one, then," I said, smiling innocently up at him.

He stopped with his hand in the air. For a few seconds, he stared at me, stunned and speechless. However, he regained his senses and delivered a set of spanks hard enough to make me howl, and I would have squirmed off his lap if he hadn't wrapped his arm around my waist.

"What did you say?" he said a calm voice, though there was something about his tone that made me tingle.

"Nothing, sir. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean it," I said submissively, eager to placate him.

"That's better," he said with an air of smug superiority, as his hands grabbed the waistband of my panties. Part of me wanted to protest, either sincerely or insincerely, but I had longed for a proper, bare-bottom spanking for so long, I couldn't make myself do it.

I felt my panties slip slowly down my thighs, blushing and fidgeting at the shame. I was lying half-naked and upended over the lap of a teenager, who was caressing my bare bottom. It was so deliciously humiliating.

He continued to spank me, tirelessly covering my entire rear end with hard, crisp spanks. I was now squirming with every stinging slap, and could feel tears at the edges of my eyes.

His hand cracked down on my unprotected bottom with great force, the echoes of the smack ringing out, and a distant part of my mind was grateful that were so far away from any potential listeners. I howled and kicked my legs, reduced to a crying child by the hand of a teenaged boy.

"Stop! Please, I've had enough," I pleaded. And to my immense relief, he did; he started to rub my bottom gently, then helped me up. He flinched as I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his neck – after all, he'd probably never comforted a recently-spanked woman before. Fortunately, he quickly picked up the basics, hugging me close and rocking me gently from side to side. I would have preferred it if he'd whispered something soothingly while running his fingers through my hair, but I didn't really have the presence of mind to hold an introductory class in spanking aftercare right now. He'd certainly passed the 'delivering a spanking' part of the curriculum.

We sat there for some time before I calmed down. Eventually, we were back in the car, and he drove toward town, grinning as he watched me squirm in the seat next to him. Occasionally, he would peek down at my bare legs – I'd pulled my panties back up, but my jeans were folded in the back seat, and I wasn't going to wear tight trousers until my bottom cooled down. I blushed, but didn't discourage him; it was a little too late to try to seem modest.

When we reached the town, he stopped at a grocery store, telling me to wait – an entirely superfluous command, since I had intention of going anywhere in my underwear. He emerged a few minutes later with a loaf of bread, some bottles of water, and a map, which he handed to me through the window.

"I wish I could help you with the dead phone, but these should solve your other problems," he said with a smile.

I grinned back up at him. "Well, you've already helped me with my biggest problem. Thank you – for EVERYTHING."

He placed his hand on mine. "Well, if you're ever in the area and... need a hand... be sure to call me," he said, writing down his phone number.

I smiled up at him, but as I drove off, reflecting on the extraordinary event I'd just experienced, I wondered if I would ever see the teenager again.