by Robert Price
I'm Harry, and some days, just to get away from it all, I like to go for a long walk in a forest park about 15 miles from where I live. If anyone wants to come with me then well and good, but I am just as happy to go by myself. On this particular day I was alone.
My favourite walk involves a long steep climb, lasting about 35 minutes, from the car park to the top of a hill where a clearing provides a great view over the surrounding countryside and the city in the distance. The climb is quite tiring, so I usually reward myself with a five-minute break to catch my breath and to take in the view before continuing downwards on a more circuitous route alongside a fast-flowing stream which empties into a tranquil lake close to the car park. The lake, complete with picnic tables, is the favoured destination for most visitors. The return journey from the clearing to the car park via the lake usually takes about an hour.
As I parked my car I was surprised to find the car park was virtually empty given that it was a warm sunny day. However, it was the first really nice day that summer, and hence the first real opportunity that people had to go to the beach. I assumed the counter attraction had proved too tempting for most.
I had not seen a single soul as I climbed away from the car park, so I was not expecting to see anyone else in the clearing. However, as I entered the clearing I realised I was not alone. There was a woman there. I could hardly believe my eyes, not because I was not alone, although that in itself would have been a surprise, but because she was stark naked. Not only was she stark naked, but she was tied to a tree. She was young, I would guess early to mid-20s, and was lying straddled over a trunk that for some reason had toppled over to an angle of about 45 degrees with the ground. Her arms were bound together at the wrist by a rope which was then looped around a branch further up, preventing her from sliding down the tree. Her thighs hung down on either side of the trunk, but her lower legs were bent upwards and bound together at the ankles on the upper side of the trunk by a second rope. This rope was also wrapped around the trunk, preventing her from either swinging herself off the tree or scooting up the trunk to unhook the rope attached to her wrists. A third rope was looped around her waist, forcing her belly down against the tree, thereby pushing her bottom up in a most beguiling manner. She was well and truly immobilised.
I approached cautiously, reasoning that wherever one found a naked woman tied to a tree one might also expect to find a large alpha male who might take exception to being disturbed. I attempted to scan the nearby trees, looking for signs of movement, but my eyes were repeatedly drawn back to the girl, and in particular her chubby little cheeks which, given the position she was in, seemed to be plumped up in an invitation to... well, do whatever took your fancy. It was the most erotically suggestive sight I had ever seen. Nothing on the internet could have prepared me for this. My heart was thumping, and you do not need to be a genius to know where most of the blood was being pumped to.
As I tiptoed closer, she eventually noticed my presence.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" she yelled quite aggressively. "Make sure you get a good eyeful. Are you sure you can see enough? If you gawk any harder your eyes are likely to pop out right out of your head."
In fairness, my mouth was gaping wide open, and there could even have been some drool trickling down my chin.
"Sorry," I muttered in embarrassment. "It's just I am not used to seeing naked women tied to trees."
"Well, when you've finished wanking yourself off, why don't you get that knife and cut these fucking ropes," she said, nodding to a hunting knife that had been driven into the trunk just out of her reach.
I relaxed slightly - the fact that she was asking for my assistance, rather than calling to an alpha male accomplice hidden in the thicket to come to her rescue, suggested that whoever had left her like this had, for whatever reason, departed the scene.
"Of course, right away," I said, resisting the temptation to give her firm young buttocks a playful smack. "What are doing tied up like that for anyway?"
"I'm fucking sunbathing. What the fuck do you think I am doing? Just cut the fucking ropes and stop asking stupid questions, you moron."
"Moron? I don't think you are allowed to use words like that anymore. I think you are meant to call me 'intellectually challenged' or something."
I was attempting to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect. She let loose with a diatribe of abuse, during which, inter alia, she questioned the marital status of my parents, accused me of habitual onanism and, most bizarrely of all, implied that somehow I was a woman's private parts - and fornicating ones at that!
She must have used just about every swear word she knew, although in truth she had a fairly limited vocabulary. I allowed her to burn herself out before speaking.
"Did it ever occur to you," I suggested, perfectly reasonably I thought, "that young ladies tied to trees in a state of undress should show their would-be rescuers a little more respect?"
"Respect? What sort of fucking respect do you want? I suppose you want me to suck your cock or something before you cut me down? Well you can go fuck yourself, you pervert. You put that thing anywhere near my mouth, and I swear I will bite it right off."
"Pervert? Me a pervert? You're the one tied to a tree with all your bits on show. It seems to me there is only one pervert around here, and it isn't me." I was beginning to lose my patience with her ungrateful foul-mouthed attitude.
"Just cut the fucking ropes, you bastard. Or do I have to wait until you cum off in your pants first."
That was it. I had had enough. I decided this young baggage needed to be taught a lesson.
"Okay," I said. "I will cut you loose in a few minutes, but there is something I need to do first."
I pulled the knife out of the tree. Then, making sure she was able to observe me at all times, I walked across to a nearby stand of trees and began to cut a thin switch.
"What are you doing?" she asked, beginning to sound anxious.
"What the fuck do you think I am doing?" I replied, using the sort of language she seemed to understand.
"Don't you fucking dare," she yelled as the penny dropped. "Lay a finger on me, and I'll report you to the cops."
"Oh, don't worry - it is not my finger I intend to lay on you," I replied as I tested the switch against my hand.
It was flexible and stingy, but it did not carry much weight. I discarded it and cut a thicker switch from a different tree which I then tested. Even just tapping it against my palm confirmed that she would definitely feel this one. I decided that, since I was there, I might as well cut six or seven spare ones. I had no intention of using them, but I thought it might help her to appreciate her predicament.
Returning to the girl, I tapped her gently on the behind with a switch. I loved the way her cheeks clenched in nervous anticipation each time I did, so I deliberately teased her for a while before starting her punishment.
Her attitude by now had changed considerably. She had stopped cursing and was promising to be good if I spared her. Unfortunately for her, it was too little too late. I was past the point of no return. My only thought right then was to make her dance for my entertainment. Her delightfully chubby little bum was going to have to pay for her foul-mouthed abuse.
Taking careful aim, I hesitated to savour the moment then I brought the switch down hard across the twin peaks of her ass.
"Yeowch!" she yelled, apparently caught by surprise at how much the switch stung. She wiggled her hips, clenching and unclenching her bum cheeks, and thrust her hips forward, pushing her pubic area into the tree, as she attempted to absorb the pain. I was so captivated by the way she squirmed that I gave her two more quick licks.
"Ow, ow, ow," she yelped, and grimaced between clenched teeth, trying to hide how much the strokes hurt, whilst resuming her erotic dance. I watched in fascination as three thin red lines appeared across her bottom.
The switch was obviously hurting, but she was stubborn and still glared at me defiantly. A red mist descended. I was overcome by a feeling of power. There was no way I was going to cut this foul-mouthed wench free before I had given her a good flogging. I decided she would be squealing and begging for forgiveness long before I was finished. Then it struck me: although I had no string to tie the switches together, I could still use them like a birch by gripping them tightly in a bundle. A few whacks with my improvised birch and she would be crying like a baby.
Gathering my spare switches together to form a 'birch' I again took careful aim and delivered a powerful stroke in much the same area as the first stroke. A broad red line appeared on her near cheek, whilst the switches had splayed out leaving half a dozen discrete lines on the other cheek. The effect was electrifying. She let out a scream and gyrated furiously.
I allowed her time to compose herself then I delivered a second stroke, carefully aiming for a slightly different spot on her near cheek. Her response was much the same. As intended, the new broad line on her near cheek merged into the existing line, whilst the thin lines on the far cheek criss-crossed the existing ones.
I had initially thought that two or three strokes might suffice, but her screams only served to spur me on. I was seized by lust. I must have given her half a dozen before I paused to take stock.
As I observed the scene, I noticed that her near cheek sported a series of broad angry red lines, whereas her far cheek was a mass of thin criss-crossed lines, leaving a few spots left untouched between the lines. I can be a little bit OCD at times, and one of the things I hate is asymmetry - it always looks so untidy. So, moving to the other side of the tree, I laid on another half dozen heavy strokes, systematically working my way down from the top of her right check to the top of her thigh. As the tips of my birch were now falling on already tender skin on her left cheek, she screamed her head off and bucked and twisted as much as the ropes allowed, fruitlessly trying to escape the kiss of my birch. I am not normally a cruel person, but the wiggling and squirming of her chubby little cheeks had awakened some sort of devil in me. She had to be punished, and punished severely, not just for her potty mouth but also for having such a sexy ass.
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