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Message-ID: <39942asstr$1040231417@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "ReadyOne" <ReadyOne@DROPMEameritech.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 18 Dec 2002 01:49:56 CST
Subject: {ASSM} Cindy and the Cobbler (M/F, spank, pett)
Date: Wed, 18 Dec 2002 12:10:17 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Cindy and the Cobbler (M/F, spank, pett)
Copyright (c) ReadyOne 2002 All rights reserved.

Cindy and I were down in Brown county when this
happened, camped out at a place adjacent to a state
park that a friend of a friend owned.  It was a nice
spot inside a grove of older trees.  A couple of large
windfalls had gone down near the edge of the clearing
and a couple of the larger branches had been bucked off
and left next to them to make a nice place to sit.

We listened to the quiet, not that the forest is quiet.
Part of the forest's attraction to me is listening to
the birds sing against the background of the insects.
The trees will rustle their leaves or even groan a bit
in the wind.  Somehow, that says peace and quiet to me
even if it can get noisy.

In the morning we had walked a big loop trail where
horses and hikers competed and an occasionally road
crossing offered car driver an opportunity to score
pedestrian points.  Actually, it wasn't bad at all.
The horse people were very polite and the only car we
saw was one we spotted from the top of one of the
lookout towers we had climbed up to eat our lunch.

When we got back to camp at mid afternoon I decided to
make up the apple cobbler.  I brought out the Dutch
oven and the filling and the Jiffy Mix and was almost
ready to add the water to make the dough when somebody
who will remain nameless yelled and stuck out her
tongue at me.

"Hey Dummy! Not yet, Stupid!"  I looked across to the
tent where the voice had come from.  Her sweet sing-
song voice floated across to me, "You-'re for-get-ting
some-thing"

I thought but I just didn't get it.  I had the can
opener.  I'd greased up the Dutch oven.  What else
could I possibly have forgotten?

"You gonna give me trouble, woman?"  I yelled back.

"Think hard Sherlock.  What do you do with the Dutch
oven when the cobbler's in it, Einstein?"

Then the  realization hit me like a ton of bricks.  The
fire.  I hadn't started the fire, let alone gotten the
coals ready! Damn.  And to be called out it by my
camping partner! Most embarrassing.

Now I pride myself on being able to do lots of things,
including cooking.  But bratty Cindy had punched a hole
in my pride and it was quickly deflating.

So I laughed.  After all, she was right.

"Why thank you, Madame" I replied, bowing toward her
and doffing an imaginary hat.  Graciousness in defeat
was the hallmark of a gentleman.  "I really appreciate
your interest in me and your kind assistance in
resolving my problem."

"Any time you want to enroll at Cindy's Camp Cooking
Class I'll be glad to take you on as my personal
student.  I've had good success teaching basics to the
mentally challenged, and I'm sure I can help you too,
Moron."

"Why thank you again, Ms.  Cindy.  I sure appreciate
all the good things you do for me, ma'am.  I promise
you this here cobber will turn out fine with all your
good advice.  I'd be happy to share it with you later,
if you would care to break bread with little old dumb
me."

And with that I packed up the mix and got my hand axe.
There was still a lot of deadwood around the windfalls
so I had a very nice fire going in the ring pretty
quick.  Miller time, while the wood burned down a bit
to give me some coals.

I washed my hands and then sprawled out against the big
log to enjoy my work.  The afternoon was just starting
to cool when I finished so the warmth of the fire was
welcome.

Cindy came over, sat down on a small log, and leaned
back against the mighty but fallen tree.

"Come sit here beside me and enjoy this blazing fire,"
she invited.

I moved my carcass next to hers and put my arm around
her.  She nestled into the crook of my shoulder.

"I just love a good fire" Cindy sighed.  "Life is good
to just sit beside it next to someone I can enjoy it
with."

We sat quietly for a while just enjoying each other's
company.

Then a case of the hands started to develop.  Cindy
would nestle in a bit, then reach out and gently stroke
my arm or give it a gentle squeeze and then snuggle in
again and put her head on my chest.  Then she'd find
some place else to lay her hands, or try again to get
more of her body in contact with mine.

Romance was in the air.  I cradled her in my arms
cupping a breast in my hand, just holding her.  I
played with her hair and stroked her cheek.

"You're so nice.  I just like being held.  I feel so
secure."  Cindy said in a dreamy voice.

"What do you see in the fire, Cindy?  Any interesting
shapes in the frames and branches?"

 "There's a square like a cabin, and on the far side
that small branch with flames on it reminds me of a
horse's mane.  And over there could be a face and a
pitch fork like some demon was visiting in our fire."

"Maybe that's your boss checking up on you" I joked.

"My boss may be a devil some times but she is
definitely not out here with me on my break!"

"Actually, Cindy, I was thinking your real boss might
be not even be human.  You're very impish.  In fact, I
could promote you easily from imp to little devil.  So
who I see is the lord of the underworld coming to see
how evil his pretty little gremlin has grown."

"I'm not a gremlin.  I'm sweet as an angel could ever
be and I've proved it.  Are you complaining about the
heavenly experience I gave you up in the lookout tower
after lunch?"

"I concede.  You can certainly be an angel of joy when
you want.  But the rest of the time, which is also most
of the time, you are a bratty sassy little devilish
imp."

Cindy did a good innocent little girl routine.  "Who?
Me?  Why never me!"

I tightened my arms around her and rolled her down to
lie across my lap.  Cindy was big enough to put up a
fight, so I threw a leg over hers and took her hands
behind her back.  I held them in one hand and started
rubbing on her jeans with the right hand.

"You sure were being a smart ass about the way I cook."

Cindy said nothing.

"Admit it.  You called me a half dozen names and
insulted me a couple of times for good measure."  She
started to squirm and wiggle hard, but I held on to
her.

"It's time to take responsibility for your actions,
Cindy.  Confess and take your spanking and be
forgiven."  I started kneading her ass cheeks firmly
through her jeans.

"I just called it as I saw it," she finally answered.
"Your mother's IQ was lower than her shoe size, and you
inherited."

That was too much.  The girl sealed her fate with those
words.  I raised my hand high and began.

Whack!

I get go as hard as I could across her jeans.  It
probably hurt my hand more than it hurt her.  She had
the jeans and the panties for padding, not to mention
the natural padding on her beautiful female bottom.  My
poor bare hand didn't have anything.

"That does is, young lady.  Your punishment will go
long and hard.  You evil brattiness must be purged!"

"Oooo, what a promise!"

I pushed her off my lap as I stood up.  Since I still
had her arms behind her back, it was easy to raise her
up to her feet and turn her to face away from me.  I
reached around to her front and fumbled for her belt.
It was easy to undo after I found it and the fly
buttons came undone one, two, three.  Her jeans fell to
the forest floor almost of their own accord.

Cindy struggled by trying to twist and turn and pushed
her backside hard up against me for leverage against my
arms, but all that did was to just make things easier
for me.  I hugged her tight up against me and soon
finished my work.

She, of course, was also bringing my cock to attention
inside my jeans by wiggling her butt against my crotch.
I assume that was intentional, as sex can be used as a
defensive weapon.  Maybe she thought that she could get
me horny enough and then I would rush though the
spanking quick or maybe even skip it altogether.  I
discarded her implied offer without even considering
it.  She wasn't topping -- I was.

When I picked her up in my arms and started to sit back
down I fell hard on the log from her added weight.  She
almost escaped as I recovered but we ended up with her
across my lap fanny and her arms pinned behind her
back.  She still wiggled a lot so I could only manage
to snag one of her legs with mine, however I decided
that was good enough.  We were now ready for me to
slowly paint her bottom a shade of red that would match
the brightest red in any fire.

My hand started gently to warm her up, and I mean very
gently.  Almost love pats.  If she wanted this
spanking, which I'm absolutely sure she did, then part
of the punishment would be a bit of frustration because
there was no bite in those first slaps.  I ramped up
very, very slow, but eventually the blows started
stinging when they landed.  When I got to where I had
her full attention, I paused to lecture.

"You deserve this punishment, Cindy.  You've been a
brat and you know what the consequences are of being a
brat.  Brats get spanked.  It seems the only way to
communicate with a brat is to speak with your hand
since brats never seem to hear when you speak with your
mouth."  I'm pretty good at improvising patter, and I
drew out the rest break.  But the time came to resume.

I started by lightly rubbing and then started circling
around the target with a finger.  When I had zeroed in
I applied very gently pats again, alternating between
cheeks in a nice slow rhythm.  Before long my swats
were landing even harder than before I had stopped to
lecture.  Cindy jerked when each one landed and I could
tell she had to work at not crying out.  When I'd
pushed a while, we took another break.

"You need to learn civilized behavior.  You keep acting
like a child who has no social skills at all.  What
makes you possibly think that people will put up with a
smart mouth like yours?  You are too old to be treating
people like you do.  You've grown up, for heaven's
sake!  You're acting the way a kindergartner acts.  Get
a civil tongue in your head, woman!  Learn to practice
your manners all the time, young lady!"

I worked on her some more, repeating the process of
scaling up to blows that left an impression, however
brief, of my hand.  I also started grouping swats
together and not strictly alternating cheeks.  The idea
was to make her totally unsure of when or where the
next swat was going to land.

"Cindy, Cindy, Cindy..." I started a sorrowful voice.
"This is hurting me more that it hurts you.  You've
disappointed me greatly.  I'm hurt that you would
behave so mean to me.  I find it so hard to accept that
you would try and hurt me like you did.  I think the
world of you, Cindy.  I want to be proud of you, Cindy.
And it just hurts me so much when you let me down like
you did.  It tears me up inside to see you act so
poorly.  I just ache from how torn up your behavior has
made me.  Oh, Cindy!  How could you have broken my
heart so bad!   Why do you torture me by being such a
brat?"  This was guilt, as well as I could manage
without the experience of a Jewish mother.

I waxed elegant with a lot more than I've recorded
here.  My hand was hurting and I didn't mind taking a
break to rest it.  But still, it looked to me like
Cindy was ready for more and could go on a lot further.
So I started playing with her bottom, teasing as best I
could, marking my spots, and gently resuming my
smacking of her backside.  It didn't take long to get
the sting going again.

"When will you start being polite to me?  You should
have pointed out to me my mistake without calling me
names.  No one likes to be called names, not even you!

"Suppose I called you names?  Here, see how you like
being called a pain in the ass, a shrewish bitch, a
mean mouthed measly manic, phony foolish flighty
female, a terrible untrustworthy trickster, a stupid
dim-witted incompetent idiot, an ignorant inelegant
ignoramus, a nasty insulting brat!"

It went on like that for quite a while.  I took a
couple of more rest breaks, resting longer and talking
longer, each time.  Her bottom was red all over, but
she hadn't really started crying.  I wasn't sure what
to do.

Some girls say they are very frustrated when they just
can't start crying and they want their spanker to get
them past the block.  Others take it as a challenge not
to give in to the urge to scream.  Honestly, I couldn't
tell about Cindy.  I resolved to talk to her about it
later.  Communication is essential.

I watched her bottom ripen.  Not only had it turned
red, but also her secret garden had started to bloom.
I could see the lips swell and the moisture gather
between them.  When I noticed she was turning on, I
switched from punishment mode to erotic mode.

Of course I did what I could to help her along.
Between the swats I rubbed and fingered.  I think I
found a point where the endorphins flowing in her body
from being turned on offset the pain from the spanking.
In the end, it was my hand that totally gave out.  She
could have unquestionably taken more.

The only good ending for this spanking was to make
Cindy cum.  I concentrated on her clit, and took my
other hand to go after her g-spot.

"Talk to me, Cindy.  Tell me how it feels.  Tell me
what you want."

"Oh I'm close, God I'm close.  That's it.  You're on
the right spot.  Keep going, now, keep going.  I'm
gonna cum.  I'm almost there...  Almost there...  I'm
ready...  Right there...  Now!   I'm cuming!   God, I'm
cuming!  It feels so good.  Oh you make me feel so
good!  Don't stop!  Keep going!  God you're good!"  In
addition to hearing her hot words, her body also spoke
volumes to me as she started to shake and buck across
my lap.

When she calmed down I let go of her completely.  She
rested for a bit before slowly getting up off my lap
and reaching down for her jeans and panties.  I stopped
her as her started to pull them back up.

"Stop right there, woman! We aren't finished yet."
Cindy froze.  "Waddle over to the tarp and start mixing
up the dough for the cobbler.  And if you can stand to
have those jeans pulled up, then I didn't do a good
enough job on your butt and I'll put you over my knee!"

Cindy went and started the shortbread and I went to
rummage in my things for a bottle of lotion.  As she
kneaded the dough, I gently rubbed the lotion over her
bottom and kneaded her cheeks.  I stopped to open the
cans of apples for her when she started to line the
Dutch oven.  While she finished assembling the
masterpiece I took it over to the fire and heaped the
coals up over it.

"May I please try to put my pants back up, Sir?"  Cindy
asked when I came back from the fire.

It had been a good experience.  "I think that your tone
of respect shows that you've learned your lesson.
Buckle them up if you can and we'll swap stories of
memorable spankings while the cobbler bakes."

"Oh no, I won't even try to buckle them.  I'll just
hold them up so I can walk over to the tent and get my
sweatpants on!"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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