Peter In The Woods

[peter2BeSpanked]

Peter In The Woods
by peter2BSpanked

On a sunny summer day, Peter was walking along a winding country road in the foothills of some majestic mountains, feeling that his back-pack was far too heavy for this hour of the afternoon and he should think about finding a place to stop and set up camp for the night. The hillside that the road had been cut into was too steep to climb up to see where he was but, way below he could see a stream that meandered along the bottom of the valley. The view was amazing that every so often he just had to stop to take it all in. But he was getting tired.
As a rule, Peter didn't think he was a particularly lucky fellow. The other always guy got the girl. The other team always scored the winning point in the dying seconds of the final, and of course, he'd lose a bundle. But when it came to hitch-hiking, Peter, it seemed finally found his match. He'd successfully thumbed his way around most of North America and never suffered terribly long waits even in places that are notorious for being bad. Wawa, Ontario, was just a blur as his trucker buddy flew along the Trans Canada Highway toward Thunder Bay. But he never suffered long waits between rides until he hit this country road where he'd spent the last 2 nights sleeping under the stars which is okay. But he was thinking that a bath would do him a world of good, if he could only get to one. One more day of walking and it'd be pretty tough to stay the same side of the street with him, let alone ride in someone else's car.
There were no cars or trucks or ever farm houses to get some water from. He wondered just where he'd walked himself into.
He looked down at the river just a few hundred feet below, but couldn't see any kind of road leading down to it. So he decided that it would be simple to climb over the low stone wall and walk down to cool off in the cold mountain water and clean up a bit. Maybe make camp down there and spend the night.
Peter hopped over the wall and began walking down the steep slope. It was so steep that he had to run to keep himself upright.
A flock of sheep grazing on the hill are surprised by his abrupt appearance. His flailing arms and legs along with his stumbling gate caused the sheep to flee in all directions, bleating madly.
Suddenly, the young man lost his footing, and he tumbled head over heels to the ground in a heap. Peter looked up and discovered that he'd made it to the bottom of the hill in pretty good shape considering the fall. He stood up and walked over to the stream.
The water was swiftly flowing and so created little rapids along its course bouncing over and around rocks and trees.
Peter kicked off his boots and undid his trousers. He pulled them down and off with growing anticipation of the refreshing water hitting his skin. He rolled the pants up and put them beside his boots. Then he stripped off his shirt and made for the water.
He checked to see how deep it was at the edge and judged that there was enough water to jump into.
So, he leaped into the water.
Pain instantly ignited every cell in his body. The water was ice cold and moving quickly. He realized that he was in trouble and tried to get hold of a rock to climb up onto but his hand slipped. In a moment of panic peter thought that his impetuous swim might cost him his life. He swam as best he could and made it to the shore. He grabbed at shrubbery growing by the river to aid his exit from the water. He could barely feel his fingers.
Once on shore he realized that he'd lost his boxers in the stream. Standing naked at the water's edge he looked for his clothes and saw that he had been taken for quite a ride down stream. Shaking and nearly blue, Peter ran for his clothing and put them on. He opened his pack and pulled out a sweater which he also put on.
Looking around he saw plenty of wood so he gathered enough for a small fire and set about to lighting it. It took several matches but he was successful. Being in the Boy Scouts had been good for one thing. Peter had learned how to build an excellent fire.
He settled down beside it as the evening shadows got longer and darker.
Soon, Peter was asleep beside his fire, dreaming of something wonderful, when a sharp poke on the shoulder woke him up.
Peter was startled and he jumped up to his feet and almost fell into the fire.
A shadowy figure was aiming a flashlight at him and he was unable to make out who was holding it.
“What are you doing on my land?”
It was a woman's voice. “Thank goodness,” sighed Peter.
Peter's eyes began to adjust to the light conditions and suddenly noticed that the woman holding the light also had a rifle tucked under her arm.
“I'm really sorry if this is private property. It was late and I got stuck on the road up there.7” he said earnestly.
“Don't worry about that,” said the voice behind the light. “You left your fire burning while you were asleep.”
“I, I fell into the river. The water is freezing, I mean liquid ice and I just had to get warm.”
“But you were sleeping with an open flame still burning.” She paused for a moment then lowered the beam of light. “Sparks could have set the whole valley in flames, or maybe just you.”
The woman walked toward Peter. “I own this land and I saw your fire from my window.”
“I didn't see a house.” He said.
“Its in the woods back up there.” As she spoke, she used the rifle as a pointer. “I'd like you to come up and spend the night at my home.”
“Oh I couldn't do that. I don't want to impose upon you.”
“Oh, but you already have, but lets not let that get in the way.” She pointed to the fire. “Please put that out. I will wait in the car.” She turned around and walked back into the darkness.
Peter pulled a collapsing pot out of his pack and filled it with river water. He poured it over his fire and it died in a plume of thick smoke and sparks. He got another pot full and repeated his actions. Then he stirred the now steaming pool of water with a stick.
“Okay that's done.” He looks up and a set of headlights illuminated the entire area. Peter picked up his pack and walked over to the car.
The passenger door opened was opened from the inside and by the dome light, Peter got to have a brief look at the woman who was driving.
Long dark hair, and the best he could guess was that she might be 40 but he couldn't be sure.
“Get in,” she said.
And so he did. He pulled the door shut and the car shot off like a bullet.
“Wow!” he said.
“Now you'd best be quiet for a few minutes.” She said, as she added pressure to her right foot.
The road twisted this way and that way and she clearly knew every inch of it. Even in the deep black of a moonless night, we were approaching 50 miles an hour through the trees.
After a few minutes she let up on the gas and we slowed for a tight corner. This, it turned out, was the driveway to the farmhouse. The lights were on inside.
The car came to a stop in front of the house. “Okay were here,” she said. “You can get out now, and bring your stuff.”
She led Peter up the stairs onto the broad porch and through the unlocked front door which led into the kitchen.
Peter thought , “She must be very trusting of her neighbors. On second thought, there are no neighbors, so why lock the door.” He smiled to himself that the clever thought.
“You can put your bag down there.” The woman said pointing to the corner. “Are you hungry?”
Peter had to admit that his stomach was growling. He hadn't really had a substantial meal in the past two days and is cookies ran out that afternoon.
“Yes I am actually,” he replied to her.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“That would be excellent, thank you.”
“I think I have a jar of peanut butter stashed somewhere. Do you want some milk?”
“Yes please,” he said smiling.
As the woman was preparing sandwich she looked over her shoulder and said, “Did I mention that my name's Lydia?”
“Oh, yes you did. And my name's Peter.”
They chatted while she made the sandwich. He told her where he'd been and how he came to be on the 'road to nowhere' that her farm was on.
She didn't respond but he knew that he had been heard so he just sat quietly and waited.
Finally, Lydia turned around with a sandwich on a plate and she brought it to the table. She put it down in front of him, then she went over to the fridge, opened it and withdrew a glass bottle full of milk. She pulled a tumbler from the drainage tray and filled it with the cold, frothy liquid.
“It's natural milk so it'll taste different to ya, but its good.” She said smiling as she put the glass down in front of the young man.
Peter was well into the second bite of his sandwich when he decided that a swig of milk would be perfect to wash it down.
He picked up the glass, and was pleased to feel how cold it was. The anticipation was building as he swallowed the bite already in his mouth and brought the glass to his lips. He tipped it back and took a good long drink. Suddenly, as if a light went on behind his eyes, he stopped drinking. Instead of going into his mouth, the milk was now coming out, landing on the table in front of them. The glass left his fingers and dropped to the floor shattering instantly. Its remaining contents covering the floor below his feet.
“Oh my God!”, He exclaimed! “What the hell is that?” He coughed and spat on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Cried Lydia.
“You call that milk!” He blurted looking up at her.
“I most certainly do. And look at the mess you've made!” Lydia could not believe her eyes. The kitchen had become a disaster zone in less than the blink of an eye. Her tidy table top was covered in milk. The half eaten sandwich had been knocked from the plate and was now sitting in the middle of the spilled liquid. The floor around the table and Peter's feet was awash in milk and shards of glass were scattered everywhere.
Peter stood up quickly pushing his chair back with his knees. “Oh shit. What a mess,” he said as the chair fell backward onto the floor with a bang. “I'm really sorry. Holy crap.”
Lydia stood back from the table and folded her arms together. “You have quite a mess to clean up before bed.” She walked over to a narrow door and opened it exposing the broom closet. “You'll find everything you need right here. I'll be back in a few minutes. The garbage can is under the sink. I'm going to go upstairs and make your bed. When I get back, the kitchen had better be clean.” She walked out of the room. Peter could hear her go up the stairs.
As she passed by she gave Peter a look that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He knew he was in serious trouble so he went about cleaning the kitchen.
She was right. Everything he needed was in the closet. He mopped up the milk off the floor and put the broken glass into the garbage can. There was a box of rags on the floor so he took two and use them to mop up the milk off the table. He squeezed the milk out of the rags into the sink and washed it down the drain. He looked around to see if he had missed anything. The soggy sandwich was still sitting on the table. “Damn!” he said aloud. He went over to the table and picked up the soggy mess that was his sandwich and through it into the garbage. Once again, he wiped off the table with the rag. This time however, he squeezed the milk into the sink and tossed the wet rag back into the box in the closet. He managed to close the door just as Lydia returned.
She scanned the room for signs of the accident. “Where's the sandwich?”
“I threw it out,” he said. “It was soaking wet.”
“You threw out perfectly good food after spilling perfectly good milk.” She was incredulous. “You are an extremely wasteful young man. I won't have that kind of willful disrespect in my house. Do you understand?” She looked at him with icy eyes. “Well, do you?”
Peter was caught off guard by her anger. He hadn't given the food a second thought. But now he was wishing he had.
“Looks to me like you need to learn a lesson, young man.” She reached up and took Peter by the ear. She pulled him out of the kitchen down the hall and up the stairs to the second floor. His ear was on fire. She had him in a vice like grip. At the end of the Hall she opened a door and led him through it into a bedroom. “This is your room. When I come back I expect to find you with your pants down.” She let go of his ear and walked out of the room pulling the door closed sharply behind her.
Peter was aghast. He was sure he'd walked into some kind of nightmare. It had to be 3:30 in the morning and he was exhausted. All of this sudden activity was really quite confusing. Just then the door opened and Lydia came in once again.
“You still have your pants on.” She stood in the doorway and waited.
With a sigh, Peter undid the belt that secured his blue jeans. He thought about his underwear that was still floating down the river. He opened the button at his waist, and pulled the fly down. He pushed his pants down past his knees and pulled them off each foot.
“Now put them on that chair,” she said pointing to a small chair in the corner of the room.
Peter folded his pants and walked over to the small chair. He put his jeans down and turned around. Lydia was standing beside the bed holding a rather large wooden hairbrush.
Peter's stomach flipped and he felt the color drain from his face.
Lydia sat down on the bed and pointed to her lap with the hairbrush.
Peter was in a trance. He had no voluntary control. It was almost as if he could see himself walking across the room. Feeling like it was an otherworldly experience, he leaned down and rested his body over her knees.
Lydia wrapped her arm around his waist. She held him securely. She let fly with the hairbrush.
At first Peter's otherworldly feeling absorbed every blow, but then the realization that it was the here and now took over. Lightning bolts... Each slap of the hairbrush felt like Peter was being electrocuted. The shock of pain which emanated from his bottom surged through his entire body. He realized with some embarrassment that he was hollering like a little boy.
Lydia kept increasing the barrage of punishment.
Peter was beyond control and he began to ball, tears streaming from his eyes.
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
“All right Peter. I think you've had enough for now. I want you to get into this bed and stay here until I come and get you in the morning. Do you understand?”
All Peter could do was shake his head in acknowledgment. His bottom was on fire.
She released her grip around his waist and Peter slid off her lap onto the floor, where he landed on his hands and knees. Lydia stood up and walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Peter remained in that position for a few minutes while he gathered his thoughts and his composure, then he sat down on the floor. “What the hell is going on here?” He thought to himself. Shaking his head in disbelief he stood up, removed his shirt and climbed into the bed. The smell of the fresh linen was a treat to his already overwhelmed senses. He pulled the covers up around his neck and fell asleep.
Peter opened his eyes to see the brilliantly blazing morning sun shining through his bedroom window and the smell of baking so he roused himself quickly and got dressed. He really needed to pee. The bedroom has three doors. There is the the one out to the hallway, so one must be a closet and the other a bathroom. He tried both doors and they were both closets. “Oh, well” he thought. I'll use the one in the hall. He tried the door handle but it wouldn't budge, it was locked! He looked around and discovered that he had very few options. With no bathroom available he had to think quickly. He rapped hard on the door and called out to his host. “Lydia.” He put his ear to the door but couldn't hear a reply so he called out louder. “Lydia!” He waited a few seconds and still heard nothing. The urination urge was becoming unbearable. He was crossing his knees trying to hold it in. It was at that moment that he remembered the window. He rushed over and unlatched it. He grabbed the handles and pulled up but the window didn't budge. His eyes bugged out at the horror of his discovery. “Oh, My God!” Sweat started to bead up on his forehead. Then he saw it. Sitting in the corner, on the other side of the room tucked beside the small dresser was a vase. Seeing it there only made the urge to pee that much stronger. In a desperate rush to beat the flow of his his own urine he dove over the bed, crash landing onto the floor beside the dresser. He grabbed the vase with one hand and fumbled with his pants to get them down. The vase and urine met in perfect harmony. Peter's relief was instant and he let out a sigh.
Just then, the bedroom door swung open and Lydia appeared holding a tray.
Peter was so startled, he dropped the vase. Urine and broken china were everywhere; on the floor, on the dresser. He just stood there, dick in hand feeling mortified.
Lydia was horrified at the sight. “What are you doing!?” She put the tray down on the bed and rushed over to the corner where Peter was standing. She looked down at the wet mess of broken china. “My Grandmother's vase.” She looked at Peter.
He saw a tear in her eye. He tried to cover himself and pull up his pants as Lydia knelt down to begin picking up the pieces. But she stopped short as the smell of Peter's urine reached her nose. “What were you thinking?” Lydia stood up and confronted Peter. “look what you've done? That vase belonged to my Grandmother young man. And for your information she died over forty years ago.” She looked back down at the mess. “I'm glad you have your pants off because I'm going to blister your bottom.” She started to walk away but turned at face him at the door. “Why didn't you use the bathroom?”
Peter felt a moment of hope. “I tried to door but it door was locked. I was desperate.”
“Locked? This door doesn't have a lock.” She paused for a second. “Clean up the mess. Put the pieces of the vase on the dresser. I'll get you a towel.” She walked out the door.
Peter looked down at the floor and then up at the ceiling. “What next?”
“Next, you wash the floor young man.” Lydia was standing at the door with a mop and towel. She tossed the small towel at Peter. “The bucket is in the bathroom, down the hall.” She put extra emphasis on its location. “When you are done, eat your breakfast and come down to the kitchen.”
Peter nodded.
She left the room.
He looked over at the tray Lydia had left sitting on the bed. Sitting on it was a half-spilled mug coffee and a plate of hot cakes with syrup on the side in a little bowl. “Oh my God!” he said again. “I am so screwed.”
He went to work cleaning the floor being careful to pick up every piece of the vase no matter how small. He noticed that the floor looked better after his cleaning efforts and after looking at the vase thought he could put it together again with the right glue.
He put the cleaning tools back in the closet in the hall and went back into the bedroom. He walked over to the window and tried once more to lift it. The latch was still open so he took hold of the handles and gave it a good heave. The window flew up the sash and crashed to a stop at its peak with a resounding bang. The glass did not break although by the sound it made it could have.
The breeze rushed in suddenly and the bedroom door slammed shut.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. He impulsively rushed over to the door to see if it locked itself again and in doing so, let the window slide down. This time the glass did not survive. The window pane shattered and crashed to the floor.
Peter suddenly felt like he'd lost control of his faculties.
Just then, the door burst open and Lydia came in. “What the hell is going on in here? Oh...”
She walked over to the window and touched the broken glass. She turned around to face Peter. “That was original glass! This house was built in 1863. You've been here for less than 6 hours and you've done more damage to it than this house has ever seen...in the whole life of this house, Peter!”
He felt about 2 feet tall and there was nowhere to hide.
“I thought I was just going to feed you and send you on your way but now you have to work off a pretty substantial debt.” She put her hands on her hips and stared at the debris. “You know where the broom is.” Lydia walked past Peter and out into the hall. He heard her run down the stairs and out the front door. He looked out the window but there was no sign of her. His window was facing the opposite direction.
Peter went out into the hall and fetched the broom and bucket again. He peered over the banister to see if he could tell where Lydia had gone but there was no sign of her. He returned to the bedroom and picked up the pieces of broken glass off the floor. He pulled the last shards of glass from the window frame and added them to the debris already in the bucket. As he finished, he heard the front door close firmly. Then he heard Lydia's heavy footsteps.
“Peter!” he heard her call him from the main floor.
“Yes Lydia, I'm here.” he called back.
“Are you finished cleaning up the glass?”
“Yes Ma'am.” he answered.
“Then you'd better come down here.”
Peter felt his knees go weak. “She whipped me good for nothing last night, what's she going to do this time?” He felt his stomach do a flip.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes Ma'am, I'm coming.” He said as he walked out of the bedroom. Each step he took felt exaggerated in time, almost like he was walking on a cloud of befuddlement. At the top of the stairs he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath to settle his racing heart.
“I'm waiting.”
She sounded angry. Peter walked down the stairs. At the bottom he felt that she'd called him from the room to the right. He appeared at the door.
Lydia was standing in the middle of the room red-faced and holding a long strap. She pulled a chair over to the center of the room and placed it just so.
“Come here.”
Peter walked over to her.
“Drop your pants.”
He pulled his pants down past his knees.
“And the underpants.”
Peter gulped and pushed his boxers down.
“Kneel on the chair.” As she spoke she took a step back and let the strap hang at her side.
He got up on the chair and grabbed the high back firmly.
“If you move you'll fall on your face. Do you want to fall on your face Peter?”
“No Lydia, I don't.”
“Then be sure you don't.”
Before Peter could get another breath in Lydia swung the heavy strap and landed it squarely on his bare bottom. He hollered and jerked spasmodically sending the chair over on its back. He managed to free his hands just before hitting the ground with his face.
“I told you not to move didn't I?”
Peter was slightly stunned, not only by the fall but by the searing pain he now felt across his butt.
“Get up and pick up the chair.”
He did as he was told.
“This time, when I tell you not to move do you think I mean it?”
Peter nodded. He got back up on the chair and held on. He didn't have to wait long for the second blow.
Or the third, or the fourth, or the fifth...
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, His eyes were watering and he could barly stand the pain. Just then he remembered to breathe. He let out the air he'd been holding in his lungs for ages and took a deep breath. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one...
“Oh, God is it ever going to stop.” he thought. It was becoming too much to bare and then it stopped.
He allowed himself to take another breath and it was true, she'd stopped.
He turned his head to look at her. Lydia was standing behind him, the strap was lying on the floor.
“You've had enough.” she said. Lydia walked over to a armchair and sat down.
“You can pull your pants up.” She said almost as if it was an afterthought.
Peter slid off the chair and stepped down onto the floor, then he leaned over and pulled his pants up over his very painful ass. He turned to face Lydia. “I am truly very sorry for the damage I've caused.” He took a couple of small steps toward her. “What if I worked in the garden or out in the fields for you. I'm much less likely to break anything out there.”
Lydia looked up and him and breathed a sigh. “What do you mean? Let you loose in my fields! I don't know about that. I don't think I'd ever be able to repair the damage.”
“No, honestly, I have experience working in gardens so I wont be a menace.”
“You're such a pathetic little thing, how can I refuse?”
“Thank you Lydia. I wont disappoint you.”
“You'd better not.” She said smiling. “Did you eat your breakfast? No of course you didn't, silly me.” She climbed out of the big chair and started walking toward the kitchen. “If you're hungry you'd better come with me.”
Peter followed her gladly, his stomach rumbling the entire way.
After eating a hearty meal and a few directions from his new boss, Peter was out in the vegetable patch doing some serious weeding. It was backbreaking work but he enjoyed the feeling of contributing to the farm and there was a promise of lunch.
As the sun rose higher in the sky the heat in the valley rose with it. Pretty soon, it was over 90 in the shade, and Peter was feeling parched. He hadn't brought any water with him when he walked out here thinking that the stream would be nearby, but there was no stream in sight on this side of the property. He looked around and saw that he was completely alone and getting very thirsty. Finally, he thought to himself, “Oh well. I'll just head back to the house and get some water.” He put the tools down in a pile together and started walking back along the road he walked in on when he had a thought. “I could cut thorough the woods about here and I'd save myself a lot of time.” Lydia had mentioned something about avoiding the woods but to him it was clearly a shorter way to get back to the farmhouse.
He entered the trees through a break brush and started threading his way through the heavy undergrowth. It was tougher going than he'd expected but he was sure this would be a good shortcut. He became aware of an ominous humming sound surrounding him. He realized that covered in sweat with no shirt on, he was bait of mosquitoes. Sure enough he was engulfed by a cloud of blood sucking harpoon bearing insects. He couldn't swat fast enough or outrun the throng of buzzing assailants.
He didn't look where he was running he just ran trying to find a way out of the thicket. At last he saw a small clearing in the distance and headed for it. As he reached the edge of the trees the mosquitoes thinned with every step. He slowed slightly just as he broke through into the sunlight. With a sigh of relief he wiped the bloody sweat off his forehead and looked down. He'd heard that three leaves and red berries meant something.
Something bad!
In an instant, Peter's brain registered the familiar look of Poison Ivy and the fact that he was standing knee high in a field of the stuff. “Shit!”
Peter tried to see if there was a way out of the field that didn't take him straight through the heart of the Ivy patch but there was none. Resigned to an itchy fate Peter made his way across the clearing. Through the woods on the other side he could see the farm house through the trees. He took a few breaths and started to run through the last bit of forest. He crashed and bashed his way through the undergrowth and broke through into the farm yard. A gentle breeze was blowing which felt momentarily pleasant. That ended as he became aware of the unpleasant nature of the sensations erupting all over his body. He looked down at his legs and torso and was horrified by the sight of blistering skin, pustules and a nasty rash running up his legs as well as with hundreds of mosquito bites. Suddenly, his brain was overloaded with stimulation and Peter screamed.
Lydia heard the shrieking from the kitchen and came racing outside to see what had just died a disgusting death only to find Peter standing in the middle of her yard, bright red from head to foot.
She ran over to him and was about to touch him when she realized that he was in really disgusting shape.
“Oh God! Lydia. Help me!” Peter cried as he stood there quaking.
Lydia could only think of one immediate answer. She ran over to the house and grabbed the end of a long hose. She turned the handle on the spigit which started the flow of water through the hose. She aimed it at the boy and let it go. He was immediately drenched by the cold water.
Peter screamed again. “Cold, cold, cold oh God its cold!”
Lydia yelled back at him, “It's well water from a mountain stream, of course it's cold. But I'll bet you feel better now than it did the second ago.”
Peter was turning front and back around and around to get the water flow to cover his body.
“Okay, stop, stop! Please stop!”
Lidia turned off the water and dropped hose on the ground.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Peter wiped the water away from his face. “I was really thirsty so I came back to get some water.”
“And?” She inquired.
“I took a short-cut through the woods cause it was so hot.”
“You went through the woods when I specifically told you not to. Well, that's your fault. I can't say I feel awfully sorry for you,” she paused. Sort of thinking it over in her mind. “But I do feel bad about what you're going to go through.” She got a pail of water and put some disinfectant soap in it and brought it out to Peter. She tossed him a cloth. “You wash down real good with that and then come on into the house. You're a mess!”
Peter couldn't agree more. He dropped the cloth into the bucket and gave it a good swishing around before he brought it out and applied it to his skin. As the antiseptic hit the bites and scratches on his torso, he realized that this was going to be an exercise in tolerance. He willed himself not to make a noise as cloth load after cloth load went over his entire body. He pulled down his shorts and saw that the poison ivy had reached a long way up his legs. It was looked like he was wearing a pair of white underpants. The rest of his body was red and ugly.
He finished washing and walked over to the hose. He turned it on and picked up the end and just let the cold water cascade over his entire body. It felt heavenly.
Lydia appeared in the doorway and watched Peter hose off. She was impressed at his condition, strong broad shoulders and a straight back, not to mention his adorable pink bottom. She was smiling as her turned around and saw her in the doorway.
“You look like you could use some calamine lotion.” She held up a bright pink bottle and shook it at him. “Come on in. I'll help you put it on.”
Peter dropped the hose and turned off the water. He looked back at his shorts and underpants lying on the ground but decided against picking them up. “I'll maybe burn them later.” he thought. Then he turned and walked up the stairs into the house.
Lydia was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Come on in here,” she called out to him. “I'm in the kitchen.”
Peter walked into the kitchen and took Lydia by surprise with his nakedness.
“Well my goodness. I guess I should've expected that.” She said looking at him. “Come on over here.”
She held the bottle calamine open on the kitchen table and had a small pile of cotton balls beside it. “Come and sit over here.” She pulled a kitchen chair around for him to sit on, which he did.
She took a couple of cotton balls in her hand and doused them in the lotion and quickly applied it to Peter's back and shoulders. It felt cold but the relief was almost instant.
After a while the painting was over and Peter was completely covered from head to toe in the pink liquid. As it started to dry Peter could feel it tightening over the surface of the skin which actually intensify the itching feeling. He could resist no longer. He scratched both of his arms as hard as he could.
“Stop that immediately!” Lidia demanded. “I just gone through all the bother of putting that on you and then you go and scratch it off.” She shook her head at him. “Now I have to fix that.” She poured more calamine onto the cotton and applied it to his arms. “Now, to not scratch! If you do I get really upset with you and you know what the consequences are that.”
Peter shook his head in acknowledgment.
Lidia stood back and looked at the bright pink man standing in the middle of the kitchen and started to laugh. “You are such a sight! I wish I had a camera. But you're safe because I don't.” She laughed again and Peter laughed to.
“Could this get worse?” He asked her facetiously.
“Yes it could.” She answered with a smile on her face. It could get much worse for you, later.
She walked out of the room leaving Peter to contemplate her last statement.
A couple of days went by. Peter's afflictions had healed for the most part and he was back to doing chores in the garden. Lydia decided that the time had come for the two of them to sit down and have a talk about his little trip through the woods. She called him from the foot of the stairs. “Peter can you come down here please?”
Peter was in the guest room upstairs but luckily the door was open and he heard her call. He put the book he was reading down on the chair and walked out of the room. He saw her waiting for him at the bottom.
“Come into the living room.”
Peter walked down the stairs and followed her into the parlor.
“Sit down on the chair Peter.” She pointed at the chair that was sitting in the middle of the room.
Peter walked over to it and sat down. He gave her his full attention.
Lydia stood in front of him. “When I told you to stay out of the woods I gave you that warning for a reason. Did you think I was trying to trick you? Did you think I was trying to make you walk a lot further than necessary just because I'm a cruel person?”
“No, of course not Lydia.” he blurted.
She put her fingers to her lips,”Shhhh. Not a word.” She said. She walked over to the fireplace and reached behind the wing-back chair beside it. She withdrew a long heavy wooden paddle. It was like something you'd find it a frat house, but without the writing on. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you a lesson that you will remember for a long time to come.” She let those words sink in for a moment.
“Stand up, turn around and pull your pants down.”
Without question, Peter stood up and did as he'd been ordered.
“Put your hands on the seat of the chair.”
Peter leaned over and took hold of the wooden seat. A shiver ran down his spine. In his peripheral vision he could see her change position, moving to his left. He didn't have time to wonder what was going to happen next. The paddle made instant contact with his ass that sent a shock-wave of pain through his entire body before it centered on his bottom. He caught his stomach before it leapt from his mouth by gritting his teeth. Suddenly, there was another hard smack upon his flesh. And then another. And another.
And another.
And another...
He lost count. He didn't care how many there'd been. He only wished it would stop. And yet, there would be another.
And another.
And another.
And another...
His knees began to buckle. His eyes were wet but he was unable to tell whether it was from crying or sweat, as his entire body was drenched head to foot.
At last Lydia stopped. “You think you've learned your lesson?”
Peter sank to his knees and put his head on the chair seat. “Yes Lydia. Forever, yes.”
Lydia knelt down beside him and put her face close to his. “Was that a proposal young man?”
Peter opened his eyes and saw her smiling at him and suddenly, he couldn't imagine living another day without her. “Yes Lydia. I think it is.”
She kissed him gently on the cheek. “We'll see sweetheart. We'll see.”

[Often123]

Well, that was an unexpected ending. Lydia will be keeping Peter in line for the rest of his life, but he won't have to wory about sitting very much. Bravo. Are youi planning another chapter?

[peter2BeSpanked]

There could be another chapter somewhere down the long, twisted road of time. We'll see...

[Often123]

I sincerely hope so!