Paddled in the BoondocksbyChristopherDB©
Copyright 2011 Christopher D.B.
Driving for a while east of the city on a two lane state highway, I easily found the turnoff I was looking for onto a secondary road. Several miles later and just past a cluster of grain silos, I found the next turn which led down a narrow winding road. I had no GPS system in my old car and hadn't bothered to look up the location on any internet map before I left my apartment, as the directions she had given me were quite clear.
It had been about a month ago when I was on an overnight four-wheeling trip with a buddy and his friends where I was introduced to Julia. A stunning brunette who I quickly learned had a taste for dominating her boyfriends. When I had told her that was a fantasy of mine, Julia and I soon found our selves conveniently away from the others for a spontaneous session of female domination.
I had cleaned and worshipped her muddy boots, had my bare ass whipped with her belt, and was then teased and denied of sexual relief. Rough as it had been, submitting to Miss Julia, as she insisted on being called, had been my fantasy come true and was more arousing than I could have imagined. Unfortunately our session was soon over and the next morning she departed before I could give her my phone number.
Early this Saturday morning I had received a call from Julia. It seems she managed to get my phone number through some others who had been on that trip. Oddly enough one of the first questions she asked me was whether or not I had dated anyone in the weeks since we had met. When I told her the answer was no, she asked if I still had an interest in being dominated. Of course my answer was yes, and then she insisted that I drive out to the country and visit with her for a few hours.
My anticipation had been building over the miles to the point where it was tough to concentrate and I was constantly glancing at the directions I had written down. Julia had told me during our initial session that she owned a pair of thigh high spike heeled boots and I hoped she would be wearing them.
Over the crest of a hill I spotted the number I was looking for on an oversized rural mailbox protected from baseball bats with a rusty metal cage, and I made my final turn into a gravel driveway.
There was a modest white farmhouse here, set back from the road, and in the large side yard I saw an elderly man and woman working in a garden. The man was driving a small ancient tractor that was pulling a tilling machine, and the woman was unloading flats of seedlings from the bed of a rusty pickup.
I was somewhat surprised to see anyone else here, but as they gave me a casual glance and half a wave, I now realized why Julia had asked what my car looked like. She must have told the old folks that company was expected. It occurred to me that they might be her parents and Julia lived here on their property.
Following the directions, I stayed on the gravel driveway which continued past the house and small pole barn which I could see through the open sliding door was used as a workshop. At that point the drive narrowed and entered a wooded area. I passed a small pond on my right, the far bank of which was nicely cleared and had a picnic table and a blackened fire pit close to a small fishing pier.
After rounding a sharp bend in the road I entered an open spot in the woods where a mobile home was parked. While the gravel drive continued on, perhaps circling to the far side of the pond, Julia's yellow jeep was parked here so I pulled up beside it. Although the jeep sported the cocky spare tire cover I had seen before, 'Jeeps are for girls,' there was something different about it that I could not place.
The mobile home was old and similar to one that a friend of mine had rented several years ago in college. A ten by fifty, he had called it, and this one had the same angular front end, jalousie windows, and round porthole on the front door. The big difference was that this trailer looked as though it had been well cared for over the decades and may have even been recently painted. A large wooden deck had been built out front and sported some lawn furniture and a covered barbecue grill was off to one side.
No sooner had I stepped out of my car when the front door opened and Julia stepped out on the deck. She was as beautiful as I remembered, with her long wavy dark hair looking freshly styled and her face wearing a provocative smile. Dressed in a low cut red tank top with narrow black lace trim, a denim miniskirt that was well above her knees, and what looked like the same black rubber riding boots I had licked nearly one month ago.
"Get inside, Eric" she ordered.
"Yes, Miss Julia," I answered and hurried up the short flight of steps and onto the deck. Julia followed me inside and closed the door behind us.
"Strip naked, fold your clothes neatly, and place them next to the door," she commanded. There was evidently no time for small talk and our session had already begun.
Casually glancing around as I removed my clothes, I saw a few mounted deer heads on a living room wall and an empty gun rack by the front door. The sparse furnishings looked rugged but comfortable, and there was a noticeable lack of any personal clutter. I quickly assumed that this was not where Julia lived and that this trailer served as a hunting lodge and weekend retreat for friends and family members of the elderly couple who were probably planting their garden at this moment.
Julia leaned a hip against the counter which separated the living room from the small kitchen and ordered me to kneel in front of her.
"You remembered to address me as Miss Julia," she said. "Do you remember what my number one rule is?"
"Yes, Miss Julia. Do as you say," I replied.
"Very good. You said you hadn't dated anyone since we last met. You by chance gotten laid?" she asked. My response was no.
"I suppose you've jerked off a few times," she said mockingly, lightly brushing the toe of a boot against my hardening cock. "You been jerking off at work?" she demanded to know.
"No, Miss Julia," I answered truthfully. Around the waist of her denim skirt was the same wide black leather belt with twin rows of large chrome grommets which she had whipped me with on our last encounter as punishment when I confessed to masturbating in the restroom at my job. Exciting as it had been to live my fantasy of being punished by a dominatrix, the whipping had been very painful. I was willing to submit to more punishment but at the same time dreaded the thought of her removing that belt.
"Were you thinking of me when you were jerking off?" she asked, grabbing a handful of my hair.
"Yes, Miss Julia," I answered.
"You thought of me every time you played with yourself? You didn't look at any porn?" Julia questioned. "I find that hard to believe."
"Sometimes I thought of you, Miss Julia. Other times, yes, I did look at porn," I confessed, though I assumed that would be an offense I would soon be punished for.
"You were pretty eager to come out here all this way to spend some quality time with me," Julia said in an accusing tone. "Have you been pining for me?" I responded,
"Yes, Miss Julia."
She reached for something on the counter behind her, saying that she had some pine for me, whatever that meant. When she ordered me to stand up and walk into the kitchen I saw that she was holding a small wooden paddle, presumably made out of pine.
Julia pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and told me to bend over the back of the chair, my hands resting on the seat.
"This is a special paddle," she explained and stood beside me, holding the paddle down low so I could see it from my vulnerable position. It was about the length of a ping pong paddle, but narrower and much thicker, as if cut from a piece of one-by-four. The corners were heavily rounded and a single large hole had been bored in the face of the paddle to cut down on air resistance. The light wood had a soft glow as if sealed with a thin coat of varnish. Though the design was simple and could have been made with a minimal amount of tools or skill, I had no doubt that in Julia's hands it would hurt as much as her belt, and possibly more.
"An ex-boyfriend of mine made this for me years ago," Julia explained. "It was a gift and he quickly regretted giving it to me. It's small enough to fit in a purse so I often have it with me. Consider yourself warned." She walked slowly behind me, the rubber soles of her boots quiet on the linoleum floor.
"Every boyfriend of mine since then has learned to fear this paddle. If you want to spend any quality time with me I think it's only reasonable that you and this paddle are properly introduced," she said as she rested one hand lightly on the small of my back.
I knew what was coming next but there was no way I could have mentally prepared myself. The thick, heavy, yet aerodynamically enhanced paddle landed squarely on the left cheek of my ass with a loud smack. Gritting my teeth I gave a low grunt, knowing that she would be angry if I cried out.
Expecting the next swat to land on the opposite cheek, I was painfully caught off guard when she struck me again in exactly the same spot. It was only after several more swats that I was somewhat relieved to be repeatedly paddled on the opposite cheek of my buttocks.
When Julia started spanking me on the left butt cheek again, the blows came quicker and felt harder. After she had paddled me for what was probably just a short time, I found that I couldn't take it any more. No safe word had been agreed on, as I thought would be customary, but I knew of one that seemed to be common.
"Mercy! Miss Julia," I cried out.
The spanking stopped abruptly and she gave a heavy disappointed sigh.
"Can't take it. Huh, bitch?" Julia said, though I don't think she expected an answer. All I could do was shake my head and squint back the tears that had started to well up in my eyes.
"There are dirty dishes in the sink. Wash 'em," she ordered firmly.
Grateful that the paddling was over I quickly embraced the menial task. Liquid soap and a sponge were by the kitchen sink and an empty drying rack was on the counter. Perhaps she had planned in advance to have me do this chore.
There were only a handful of dishes in the sink. What looked like the remnants of a supper and breakfast for one person. As a bachelor I would know. So it seemed that Julia had spent the night here. She had wandered into the living room but I didn't dare look over my shoulder to see what she was doing.
Once the dishes in the sink were finished I turned my attention to the stove where two dirty skillets sat on cold burners. Although I had not been ordered to do so, I took the initiative and washed the dried film of egg from one, and some type of sauce with bits of remaining ground beef from the other.
I wiped down the counter and stovetop when I was finished. Julia seemed to be a neat cook so there wasn't much splatter, but I wanted to do a thorough job as well as stall for time since as long as I was working it seemed I wouldn't be paddled.
"You've done enough," Julia said. I turned around to see her standing by the end of the counter. For just a moment I was disappointed that she hadn't worn her thigh high boots and began to wonder if she really owned such a pair. That's when she raised the paddle in one hand and pointed at the chair, which was still pulled out from the table. "Bend over that chair again," she ordered.
My ass was still burning and I'd have done just about anything to not be paddled again. Standing where she was, Julia was effectively blocking me in the kitchen, the front door out of the trailer behind her. A quick glance and I noticed that my clothes, which I had folded and placed neatly on the floor beside the door, were now gone.
"Let's go!" Julia said, slapping the face of the paddle against the palm of her other hand. "Do as I say," she said slowly.
Trapped and naked, I had no choice but to take my position bent over the kitchen chair. I heard the sound of her boots as she walked up behind me and remembered the warning that my friend Mike had given me. It was he that had introduced me to Julia on that overnight trip and he told me not to pursue her because she was crazy. A loud and painful swat of the paddle landed on my ass.
"Does that hurt?" she asked sarcastically.
"Yes, Miss Julia," I obediently answered.
"It's a spanking. Spanking is a punishment, so it's supposed to hurt," she explained nonchalantly. "Submissive boys like you think it will be fun. I take discipline and punishment very seriously. You will obey me or suffer."
With that she began to paddle me again. I don't know if she was swatting me harder or it was the fact that my backside still hadn't recovered from the earlier spanking. Either way, it hurt much worse, and it didn't seem like she would ever stop.
I cried out for mercy, knowing that Julia would be angry but thankfully she stopped spanking me. She gave a heavy sigh of disgust and told me to stay where I was. I heard her walk over to the kitchen counter and pull something out of a drawer, which made me very nervous.
"Put your hands behind your back," she ordered. I then heard the sound of duct tape being peeled and torn from a roll. Julia crossed my wrists over one another and secured them together behind my back with several strips of the heavy tape. "I have another task for you, Eric," she explained. "I'll have to get some things together first and I can't have you playing with yourself while you wait."
Then Julia had me stand up and walk through the living room and down the short hallway. The first door on the right was a small bedroom and she directed me inside.
"I'll be back in a little while," she said, and then I heard the sliding door close behind me.
The bedroom was very small. There was only room for a set of heavy bunk beds constructed of a two-by-six frame bolted together, then maybe a few feet of space clear on one side of the bunks. The opposing wall had a built-in closet with drawers below. One small window was on the exterior wall. My friend in college who rented a similar trailer had used this small bedroom as his study room, placing a desk where the bunks were in this room.
Looking behind me I saw that the sliding door to the hallway was ajar by a few inches. I had expected it to be closed all the way and possibly locked. There were the sounds of her rummaging through some cabinets in the kitchen, and then I heard the front door open and close as she apparently went outside.
The bunks only had mattresses on them and no sheets or pillows. This room must not see regular use. There were several tackle boxes on the floor under the bottom bunk, and a disassembled fishing pole with an open face reel.
Testing the tape that bound my wrists behind me, I found it secure though there was a hint of stretch when I pulled at it gently. An escape may be possible, though without my car keys or clothes I'd end up running naked through the woods. Perhaps there was an old pair of heavy coveralls in the bedroom closet that I could pull on. Being that this was the hunting lodge they would most likely be camouflage, which could be handy. There may also be a pair of heavy shit kicker boots. The elderly couple might be willing to help me if I could make it to their house by the main road.
Then again, was it necessary to escape? If Julia intended to keep me here for the day, alternately paddling me and assigning chores, I could probably endure that. I briefly wondered why she had chosen to hold our session here. She might have roommates or live in an apartment with thin walls. Perhaps she lived in the farmhouse with her parents. The old mobile home in the woods was a comfortable and discrete location where anything could happen and no one could hear me scream for help.
The closet had sliding doors. I thought I should at least take a peek inside and check for some clothing, so I backed up to the closet, found the recessed hand hold and slid the door open a few inches. Turning around I saw sheets and blankets stacked in clear plastic bags on the closet floor. Empty hangers hung on the rod above. I would have to open the door some more for a better look. Then there was the sound of the front door opening. Julia was back.
I couldn't get the closet closed before she slid open the door to the bedroom. Thankfully she stayed in the hallway and simply ordered me to go into the living room. The spankings I had gotten had been brutal enough. If she found out I had been snooping in the bedroom closet, a punishable offense, I didn't even want to imagine what she'd do to me.
Julia momentarily held my bound wrists and I briefly felt cold steel as she cut the tape loose.
"Put your shoes and socks on and then step outside," she instructed, and it was then I noticed that my shoes and socks had been taken out of hiding and were now back by the door.
Outside I saw that a garden hose had been uncoiled from somewhere and run out by her jeep, where a bucket and some rags were now waiting. I was not surprised when she ordered me to wash her jeep.
Although I felt awkward being outside and essentially naked, I was glad to have another duty to perform as opposed to being paddled, and washing the jeep would take longer to accomplish than cleaning the handful of dirty dishes.
Although the sun was shining, the clearing we were located in was surrounded by tall trees so it I was relatively cool in the shade. Light mist from the hose, carried by the wind as I hosed off the jeep landed on my bare skin chilling me further. Once I started scrubbing the vehicle down with soapy water I started to warm up from the physical effort.
It was then that I realized what was different about Julia's jeep since the last time I saw it. On the trail she had put a set of oversized knobby tires on it. Play tires, she would have probably called them. Now the jeep was fitted with what looked like all season radials on aluminum rims.
Her jeep had full doors but was fitted with a black convertible top. I wasn't sure if the plastic rear windows needed any special care against scratching. Daring to catch a glimpse of Julia, I saw she was sitting on the deck in one of the lawn chairs reading a book. I recognized the author, Janet Evanovich, as one that an ex-girlfriend read all the time. Julia seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the small patch of sun that shone on the deck.
The jeep didn't seem like it had been off-road in a while and had been fairly clean when I started washing it. It would have been nicer for me if it had been coated with mud and taken a while to clean. I didn't dare to work too slowly. Perhaps I would next be required to put on a coat of wax or vacuum the interior. I spotted a small shed with an open door partially hidden around the back end of the trailer. Most likely that was where the hose had been stored and it wouldn't be too surprising if there was a small shop vac in there.
The washing was only half completed when I heard the rumble of an engine approaching on the gravel driveway. I thought that Julia might order me to go inside, but instead she just casually flipped a page in her book and pushed back a lock of hair. The old man I had seen earlier drove up on the small tractor. Though I tried to get out of his view, I'm sure he saw that I was naked and no doubt my ass cheeks were still a dark red because they still stung.
He turned off his engine and got off of the machine. Paying no attention to me at all he simply walked up onto the deck.
"Julia, honey," I heard him say to her. "I got a call from Daryl. He said his latest batch of wine is ready. On your way back to town you might want to swing by and pick up a couple bottles." She agreed that was a good idea, and then the old man told her about some other dude that had recently cut down a tree and might have some wood split already that she could take for her fireplace.