Cabbage Tree

I rolled up early to the caravan and camping ground. First in gets the best sites and all that sort of thing. When I got there the best site was already in used. A young woman was pitching a tent under a couple of tall cabbage trees. A nuisance, as that was the site I'd wanted, but first come and all that.

I took the site opposite the cabbage trees and dumped my caravan and locked it in place. Then I looked at the trees, looked at the young woman and decided I'd better give her a fair warning. I wandered over.

"Hi. I'm Ash. Um, you know they usually reserve this particular site for caravans."

That was as far as I got before she interrupted.

"I'm allowed to camp here," she snapped. "Push off."

"I just wanted to warn you that it's not really a good site for a tent," I told her. "Those two trees behind you are cabbage trees and they're infested with spiders. It doesn't matter on a caravan, but a tent might have a few problems."

"I see," she said, smiling sweetly. "So I should push off somewhere else and let you and your caravan have this site? Fuck off, asshole."

Well, she can't say I didn't warn her. Looking up at the trees I could just spot the guide threads left up by some golden orbs. Five that I saw, and there could be others. Not my problem.

I strolled back over to my site and finished setting up. I also tested my little fire extinguisher. I had a suspicion I might need it later. With everything set up to my satisfaction I went for a walk.

That evening, as dusk settled down over the camp, I took out my binoculars and checked the spaces between the cabbage trees and other nearby trees, looking for any activity. And there was plenty of it. By manoeuvring around and getting them between me and the rising moon, I was able to spot several golden orbs starting to spread their webs.

A fascinating spider, the golden orb. He comes out in the evening, running along his guide thread, and spins an enormous web across a clear area between two large objects, like trees. Then he sits back and relaxes for the night. In the morning he comes back out, snaps the restraints on the web and it just curls up into a little tangle, complete with his catch for the night. He then drags his meal home and hangs it in his tree for when he's hungry. If you've ever walked unexpectedly into a web while walking down a path at night, blame the golden orb.

With just the ones I spotted I figured a certain young lady was going to have her tent surrounded by webs for the night. No problem, as long as she stayed inside the tent, as they'd been gone in the morning.

I could tell she'd retired to her tent already as it was lit up and I could see her moving about inside it. Quite a nice tent, it was, reasonably spacious and with flaps that zipped shut.

Not wanting to be caught staring and accused of being a perve I gave her tent one quick scan, winced, and waited.

I didn't have to wait long. I heard a sudden frantic squeal, followed by a couple more. I left my caravan and headed over to the tent. This is not to say that I just walked over there. First I got the fire extinguisher and a broom. The broom I waved in front of me as I walked, clearing away a couple of golden orbs. Bad luck for them, maybe, but they could always start again.

Reaching the tent I could hear cries of distress emanating from it.

"Excuse me," I called. "but do you have a problem?"

A problem other than the dozens of huntsman spiders crawling over the tent. While those two trees had more than their fair share of golden orbs, they were a minor pest compared to the number of huntsman spiders infesting them. Strictly speaking, they should be fumigated, but in these green times. . .

"There are spiders in my tent," came the wail. "How do I get rid of them?"

"Um, very many?" I asked.

"Three of four and they're enormous. What do I do?"

"Well, seeing there's only a few you should probably just stay put," I told her.

"Oh, fuck you, arsehole," came the reply. (That woman certainly had a low boil-over point.) "If you're not going to help just go away."

With those kind remarks the tent was unzipped and, ignoring my advice to stay put, the woman came charging out.

"What the hell have you got a fire extinguisher for?" she wanted to know. "I have spiders, not a fire."

I just smiled and jabbed my finger a couple of times, indicating her tent. She turned around.

"Oh my fucking god," she said in a very small voice. She'd just discovered that she'd traded three or four spiders inside her tent for fifty or sixty outside it.

She turned to look at me to find I was now jabbing my finger downwards. She went very still and looked down, and was not pleased to find that the spiders on her tent were the minority.

"You know," I said chattily, "I did try to warn you about the spiders. Those two trees are notorious for them. That's why the owner prefers to have a caravan there rather than a tent."

"But what do I do?" she wailed, almost dancing on the spot as she tried to make sure no spiders came near her. "Can you get rid of them?"

"I can, temporarily," I said, "but you'll still need to shift your tent tomorrow or the same thing will happen. Also, I wouldn't recommend you sleep in your tent tonight. A have a spare berth in my caravan that you can use, but there'll be a slight penalty, because you were excessively rude earlier when I just wanted to do you a good turn."

"And what would that be?" she practically snarled at me. "Let me guess. You want me to sleep with you."

"My, my, you do have a low mind," I murmured. "I said you could have the spare berth, not share mine. No, I thought that as you acted like a rude little girl I'd treat you that way and smack your bottom. That's all. Deal?"

I received a killing look and she was about to tell me no deal when a spider ran across her bare foot. She squealed and shouted "deal", almost crapping herself on the spot.

I turned on the extinguisher and sprayed the ground around us, resulting in a lot of curled up little corpses.

"It's a CO2 extinguisher," I told her. "Useful for things like this in an emergency. Freezes them. However, I don't have enough to do your entire tent, inside and out, so I suggest you leave it to the wildlife for now. They'll be gone on the morning. Come on."

We crossed the clear area and back to my caravan. I didn't invite her in immediately. Instead, I asked her to turn around, slowly, while I checked her clothes. Good thing I did. There was a very large huntsman on her back. Those things may look small when safely dead, but they look bloody enormous when they're sitting on you. A quick squirt and out unwanted passenger fell off and we entered the caravan. Once inside I broke the bad news to my guest.

"Um, I hate to have to mention this but that dress you're wearing almost brushes the ground. There could be spiders inside it. You really need to take it off and check."

Oh, boy, I really scored a couple of points there. She went pale and was about to just rip her dress off, then froze again.

"I was going to bed," she whispered. "I've nothing under it."

"I promise not to look," I told her, and she gave me another nasty look.

We both knew that I was lying. She turned her back to me and swiftly stripped off the dress. A quick check from my viewpoint and I was able to give her the all clear but she dropped the dress and jumped back. I kid you not. Those little bastards had got everywhere. She was lucky not to have been bitten, even though the huntsman is not very toxic. I finished of the little blighters that had hitched a ride and shook her dress out to make sure it was clear.

While my caravan was roomy, I wouldn't by any means call it spacious, especially as I had made up both beds. I'd guessed that I might wind up with a visitor, courtesy of the spiders, and had prepared accordingly.

Now I tossed her dress onto one bed and sat on the other.

"Before you put your dress back on," I said, as she hurriedly grabbed for it, "why don't you bend over my knee so that I can attend to that little matter of paddling your bottom."

She spun to face me, clutching her dress in front of her to protect her modesty, already shaking her head.

"You don't really think I'm going to let you smack my bottom do you?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, smiling blandly. "A deal is a deal and I did risk life and limb rescuing you from a horde of poisonous spiders."

"They were huntsman spiders. They're not dangerous. They were probably more scared of us than we were of them."

If those spiders had been more scared than her, I wouldn't have needed to spray them. They'd have all died of fright.

"Whatever," I said, dismissing the spiders with a wave of my hand. "The fact remains that you were very rude to me earlier, and when I came over to rescue you. You deserved a spanking and you know it and agreed to it."

I patted my knee, indicating that she should be bending over it, desperately trying not to laugh at the look on her face.

"I'm sorry I was rude," she mumbled. "I didn't realise what you were trying to do."

"What's your name? Mine's Ash, in case you've forgotten."

She blushed. That meant she had forgotten, if, that is, she had even bothered to listen when I told her.

"Melanie," she said, still not looking at me.

"Well, Melanie, consider it from my point of view. You were rude and I was annoyed and hurt. You were rude again when I went to help you but did I leave you there? No, I didn't. I ignored the gratuitous insults and stayed to help. Surely having the spanking that you agreed to is not too much to ask?"

She really needed to learn to control that temper. She went red and almost told me what she really thought, only just managing to control herself. She probably reminded herself of the spiders if I tossed her out in the cold.

"I was upset when I agreed to that. It was under duress. I don't want to be spanked. I won't do it."

"OK," I said.

Melanie looked at me suspiciously.

"OK. That's it? You're not going to try and make me bend over and get spanked?"

"Nope. You agreed, but if you decide to go back on your word because you're scared of getting your bottom paddled there's nothing I can do about it. If I force you to have a spanking it just becomes a straight assault, not a timely lesson on learning to mind your manners."

She looked at me. She was feeling slightly guilty and furious with me.

"I don't want to be spanked," she repeated.

"So you said," I replied, leaning back against the pillows.

"It would hurt," she pointed out.

"If I do it properly, but why worry. You've already chickened out."

"I didn't chicken out," she protested. "I just made a decision not to go through with it."

"Of course," I said. "Ah, perhaps you'd better put your dress back on, after all."

"Besides, how do I know you won't try and molest me if I did let you spank me? You're a man after all."

"You've probably made a wise choice. I saw your pretty little tush and I wouldn't take any bets on me not molesting you once you're bent over my knee. Better for you to play it safe."

It's hard to argue with someone who keeps on agreeing with you when you know they don't really. You feel as though you have to come with more arguments to bolster your case. And then they agree with those as well and you feel like an idiot for continuing.

"Why did you make me say you can paddle me if you're not going to do it," Melanie finally demanded.

"Because I fully intended to," I told her. "I thought that there was a good chance that you'd keep your word, but like I said, I'm not going to compel you."

She was really glaring at me now, furious at herself for being in this situation and furious with me for putting her in it. Somehow or other she just knew that the whole thing was my fault.

She just sat there for a while, glaring at me, while I just relaxed. If I had a slight smile, what of it? I wasn't laughing out loud at her.

Melanie finally capitulated.

"Alright," she snapped. "I'll take the spanking. But that's it. Nothing else. And if I say stop you have to stop."

I sat up again and patted my knee. Fuming, Melanie got off the other bed where she'd been sitting and approached me, still clutching her dress to her. As soon as she was within reach I plucked the dress from her hand and tossed it aside. She gasped, hurriedly shifting her hands to try to cover herself, and seemed quite eager to lie across my knee, even if it was only for modesty's sake.

I must admit I was surprised. I really hadn't expected her to bend over for a spanking. I mean, would you? Bend over for a spanking or expect a woman you've barely met to do so? I guess I would have to put it down to a temporary derangement caused by shock. Post traumatic spider syndrome, perhaps.

Unfortunately, a true gentleman couldn't take such an advantage of the poor woman. Fortunately, it seems that I'm no gentleman. I promptly gave a spank to the pretty little tush presented to me.

Melanie squeaked, I grinned and repeated the process. I wasn't spanking hard, just sharply enough that Melanie knew she was being chastised. Her bottom started to build up a nice little flush and, while she wriggled, squealed and protested, Melanie didn't actually tell me to stop. I was gaining the distinct impression that she was enjoying herself.

With the spanking going so nicely it seemed to me to be time to see if the molestation would proceed the same way. I started off by having my hand linger on her bottom, stroking it lightly between spanks.

Then some of those sharp little slaps started going off course, accidentally slapping against her mound, which made the stroking a lot more interesting and raised some vigorous protests. I gave a perfunctory apology, but somehow those little accidents increased, and while Melanie wriggled some more, and called me a couple of rude names, she still didn't tell me to stop.

It seemed to me that if things were going to go past the simple molestation stage I had better settle down to some serious molesting. I stopped the spanking and just started playing with Melanie. One hand massaged her mound, eased fingers between her lips and teased and tantalised, arousing her baser instincts, while the other hand closed over a breast and squeezed it, playing with the nipple until it hardened.

"I said a spanking and nothing else," wailed Melanie.

"You did," I agreed.

She gave a squeak as a finger found an excessively sensitive spot, then pointed out that I wasn't spanking.

"Quite right," I said, and lifted her off my knee and onto her feet.

I don't know how to describe the look on her face. A whole range of emotions seemed to cross it. It appeared she didn't know whether to be cross, disappointed, relieved or what. Not that I saw her face for long. I was busy turning her around and bending her forward over the second berth. Then my hand closed over her mound again.

"What do you think you're doing now?" Melanie demanded. "I haven't said you could do anything else."

By now I was parting her lips and was pressing my erection between them.

"Well you didn't say I couldn't," I explained, "so I thought I'd just keep going. Now press back against me."

With that I gave a hard thrust, pushing firmly into her passage. She was hot and wet, tight but yielding, and I pushed solidly home with that initial thrust. Helped, I'll admit, by Melanie pushing firmly back against me.

For some reason she seemed a little upset.

"Oh, my god. I didn't say you could do this. You're fucking me. I never agreed to this. You shouldn't be doing it."

"Will it help if I do this?" I asked, starting to slap her bottom in time to the thrusts I was making.

She squealed loudly. "No. Stop it," she shrieked, and I came to a halt, hand resting on her bottom and erection firmly inside her.

"Stop which?" I asked carefully. "The spanking or the fucking or both?"

She went dead silent and didn't say anything. After a few moments I started rocking against her again, driving in deep, but slowly, feeling her push back against me.

"I'll stop the spanking. OK?" I murmured.

I could see her swallow and she gave a little nod. I pulled back and thrust in hard.

"I didn't hear your answer. OK?" I said, and she swallowed again and gave a small "OK".

With that I set to work with a will, and she responded beautifully. Arms around her, holding her breasts and helping keep her in place, I drove into her hard, fast and often and Melanie pushed back against me, enthusiastically meeting my driving need.

It seemed to me that Melanie was naturally submissive. Once a cock was plugged into position she was amenable to anything asked of her. (That submissiveness was probably why she'd agreed to the spanking. She'd known that the spanking was simply a prelude and had obediently done as expected of her.)

I pulled her away from the bed and down onto all fours and she went without a qualm, her bottom busy bobbing, making sure she kept up a proper rhythm. I rolled over onto my back, taking her with me. A tug on one leg and she rotated on top of me until she was facing me, and all the time she was busy sliding up and down my pole, eager to do her duty.

To finish off I rolled her onto her back, covering her. Her legs rose and closed around my waist and her hands were clawing at my shoulders as I drove down into her, pounding harder and harder, both of us reaching for our climaxes. I came first, and I let loose inside her, driving down with everything I had. Fortunately, I was able to last long enough to trip Melanie's own climax, and I was relieved to hear her scream and shudder beneath me. (I always feel I've let the side down if I come before my partner. Not but that I'm willing to try again on those occasions.)

I was buggered. Let me rephrase that. I was well and truly fucked. I scooped up Melanie and tucked her into my bed and crawled in beside her. Right now sleep. We would worry about tents and spiders and should I have ravished her in the morning.