Rachel had a habit of getting Dee into trouble, but this really was a whole new level of peril. Dee could barely believe she was crouched behind a tree like an errant child, desperately hoping the farmer would not find her. ‘Just nip under the wire fence right after you cross the brook,’ she could hear Rachel’s voice in her head as though her trouble-making friend was right beside her. ‘Make towards the big chestnut tree where the woods start to thin out a little, and you’ll find lovely morels growing everywhere, ripe for the taking!’ If only Rachel were here now, thought Dee. If only Dee weren’t here!

Sadly for Dee, Rachel was not in the woods to share in the mischief she’d inspired, yet Dee was not alone in doing some hunting among the trees that day. Just as Dee had paused to take pleasure in the burgeoning bag of fungi she was collecting, she’d heard an angry voice...

‘Young lady! I know exactly what you’re doing, and you won’t get away with it!’

Dee ran, dropping her precious loot as she fled. She darted away from the farmer and deeper into the woods, leaping sideways behind a tree and curling as small as possible, hoping not to be seen. 

She could hear from the farmer’s footsteps that she’d thrown him off the trail. She tensed as she listened to the crack of his boots getting closer, then relaxed as he moved further away. Then, in time, she strained her ears to be sure: silence.

Dee peered around the tree. The farmer was nowhere to be seen. Furtively, she stood up, slowly curling forward from toe to toe like a deer quietly trying to evade a hunter. 

Dee headed back towards the path, attempting to avoid the route by which she’d arrived, as though wanting, somehow, to be a different person entirely from the woman caught scrumping morels.

‘GOTCHA!’ Suddenly, the farmer jumped out from behind a tree and seized her by the wrists. ‘You’re not the only one that can hide!’ he added gleefully.

‘Let go of me!’ Dee shouted. ‘What are you doing?!’ 

‘I am taking you to the Police station, young lady,’ the farmer announced in a thick country lilt. She looked at him, inches from her face, he was calm now, and his square features made him seem quite invincible. 

‘Police station!’ Dee retorted, ‘for picking some mouldy old mushrooms! You’ll look ridiculous!’

The farmer was unmoved.

‘You know very well those mouldy old mushrooms are the finest morels. Restaurants pay me a tidy sum for foraging them from MY land. I saw you making off with some a couple of days back but couldn’t quite get to you. The Police are very interested in speaking with you, young miss.’ 

‘That wasn’t me, though!’ Dee realised she sounded desperate. ‘That was Rachel! My fr...’

‘Of course it was you!’ interrupted the farmer, unconvinced, ‘and today I’ve caught you red-handed!’ 

Dee was seething at Rachel. ‘But, I ccc-- I can’t go to the Police; I’m a school governor!’ she pleaded.

‘All the more reason for them to teach you not to steal then!’ said the farmer, warming to his theme.

‘OK,’ said Dee, trying to calm herself, ‘I’m sorry. I thought these morels weren’t known about and would go to waste. I didn’t mean to take from you, really! I’m not some serial poacher! There must be another way for me to put this right?!’

‘Not anymore,’ the farmer said. ‘It isn’t like the old days when my father would deal with the odd stray housewife-poacher himself; we can’t do those kinds of things nowadays.’

‘Those kinds of things?’ Dee was aware she hadn’t entirely hidden the intrigue in her voice.

‘Well,’ the farmer continued, ‘in the past, a countryman would have pulled you over his knee and given you some good old-fashioned discipline right on the spot.’ The farmer reflected on it with particular relish.

‘What! Spanked me?!’ Dee was slightly forcing the shock. 

‘Yes, young lady, taught you a short sharp lesson you wouldn’t forget in a hurry.’ 

There was a distinct pause. The farmer stood intently, making no move to break the silence but looking calmly and firmly at Dee’s eyes, seeing every flicker of emotion. Dee spoke first.

‘Very well!’ she said. ‘If it means you won’t take me to the Police, you may sp.. spank me; if you insist.’

‘I rather think it’s you that’s insisting, young lady. But you obviously need a spanking, and I happen to think you’ll learn the lesson better here than in the Police station.’ 

Without taking his eyes off Dee for a second, the farmer reached out to the tree on his left and pulled a large leaf from a branch. He held it against the bark. ‘Stand here, facing this tree. I want you to hold this leaf in place with your nose while I get ready. If it drops, you’ll be spanked even harder. Now, put your hands on your head.’

‘Put my hands on my head! You can’t treat me like a child! And I’m not being spanked right here, certainly. We might just be seen from the footpath!’ Dee protested.

‘That’s exactly how, and this is exactly where I will deal with you. If you prefer to be treated like an adult in more discreet surroundings, we can go to the Police station.’

Dee gingerly placed her hands on her head and pressed her nose to the leaf. She suddenly felt smaller, with nervous anticipation rising in her stomach. Her ears strained for any hint of someone on the footpath in the distance, but she didn’t dare move.

‘You’ll stay there until I’m good and ready!’ instructed the farmer. ‘Don’t let that leaf drop now!’ Dee winced.

Dee could hear the farmer’s footsteps as he readied himself. She was torn between trying to decipher the preparations he was making and desperately listening for sounds of walkers on the woodland footpath. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself some minutes before, crouching behind the tree, tracking footsteps with her ears. It seemed to take an age then, and it seemed to take longer now, but eventually, the same silence descended. 

‘I’m ready for you now, young lady!’ She started at how close the farmer’s voice was to her ear. ‘I’ll have you over my knee, where I can control you properly.’

‘Look, these ARE different times, as you say. I’m no housewife, much less a poacher. I’m sure there’s something else I can do to make amends,’ said Dee hopefully, turning to see the farmer perched on a fallen tree trunk.

‘Yes,’ replied the farmer sharply, ‘you can come with me to the Police station. This is your last chance, Police station or spanking, which is it to be?’ 

Dee felt herself pout. ‘Spanking!’ she said irritably.

‘That’s no way to talk!’ scolded the farmer. ‘Please, will you spank me, SIR?’ The farmer rehearsed on Dee’s behalf. ‘Well?!’ he implored after the shortest of pauses. Dee cleared her throat; it was SO humiliating.

‘Please, will you spank me, Sir!’ She blanched as she’d made the ending sound just a little sarcastic.

‘I can see I have my work cut out instilling some respect into you, missy.’ The farmer firmly but gently put his hand around her wrist and pulled Dee towards his knee. She draped herself across his lap, pretending it was a reluctant fall. He adjusted her position with a stout hand on her hip. 

‘Now, I gathered up those mushrooms you were pilfering. You’d eleven in that bag, so I’ll spank you in sets of eleven strokes. You’ll count them and then say “thank you, Sir!” at the end of each set. Do you understand?’ The farmer had a disarmingly matter-of-fact tone.

‘How many sets?!!’ Dee protested.

‘Never you mind how many sets, but the sooner I see some improvement in your attitude, the sooner my work here will be done.’

Dee felt the farmer’s hand on the seat of her jeans. He gave a gentle and somewhat dispassionate squeeze of each cheek as if assessing the ripeness of some fruit. Then he pressed his forefinger lightly into the centre of one cheek as though marking the target. His hand withdrew. Spank! Spank! Spank! Dee was so startled it was the third spank before she started counting. ‘One, err two, no! Now three.’ The farmer continued to spank her until she counted to eleven consecutively. He paused. ‘Thank you, Sir!’ Dee exclaimed, almost in protest.

The Farmer gently stroked each cheek. She imagined him as a bomber pilot lightly running his fingertips over a map of the target. Once again, she felt the pressure of his forefinger. Then she felt it withdraw. Spank! Spank! Spank! This time Dee was sharper with her counting, if far from crisp. He paused after eleven spanks as she let out a relieved ‘thank you, Sir!’ 

For the next set, Dee had the counting off pat and could focus on the farmer’s steadily-heavier rhythmic spanks. She squirmed a little as the action became firmer, but he quickly corrected her back into place, clamping her hip with a strong grip. 

Just as it was dawning upon Dee that she’d lost count of how many sets of eleven she’d endured, the farmer loosened his grip and gave Dee an instructive pat on the bottom. She took it as a sign to get up and thanked the farmer for his understanding as she straightened herself. 

‘I’m not done with you yet!’ The farmer sounded amused. ‘This will be a PROPER spanking, and you can take those jeans off now.’

‘What! Now look...’ Dee’s complaint was swiftly cut off.

‘One more quibble from you, young lady, and we’ll be straight down that Police station with no further discussion.’

Quietly furious, though unsure whether she was angry with herself, the farmer, or Rachel, Dee removed her boots and peeled off her jeans. Somehow she felt ridiculous in her socks, so she took those off too and dropped them onto the pile, feeling the softness of the leaves and sharpness of the twigs beneath her feet and regretting not choosing some of her more elegant underwear.

‘You can fold your clothes properly, young lady,’ the farmer admonished, ‘and arrange your boots neatly. You’re not at home now.’

Dee wanted to let out a howled protest, but the farmer was in no mood for contradiction. Dee obeyed and tidied her mess.

The farmer patted his knee and gently pulled Dee towards him. As she dropped onto his lap, she was sure she caught a glimpse of something, someone, on the distant path. She twisted to try and see more, but the farmer took that as a sign she needed clamping more tightly and held her in a way that made it impossible for her to see. 

He ran his hand over the seat of her panties, checking his work. Dee felt goosebumps race across her legs as they were caught by a cool breeze. She strained to hear noise from the footpath, but that was futile. 

Spank! Spank! Spank! The spanks were sharper now and more direct. The farmer worked around Dee’s cheeks; she could feel them starting to glow. She’d forgotten to count! ‘One, two, three...’ she began.

‘That’s right, young lady, I won’t be pausing until you’ve counted out eleven properly,’ the farmer’s voice was calm but determined.

‘Eleven. Thank you, sir!’

Dee’s mind was racing. What if someone were on the path?! Even if their view were somewhat obscured, a vain hope, they’d hear her counting and thanking the farmer. If they knew her, they might easily recognise her voice. But there was little time for contemplation. Dee had to keep counting, or she’d be extending her own spanking. That was four good sets on her panties now. She was howling and wriggling pointlessly. The farmer had her well under control.

‘Right!’ said the farmer crisply, ‘up you get, you can take off those panties.’

‘This is an outrage!!!’ Somehow, Dee had known perfectly well this was coming, but she was, for a fleeting moment, rather pleased at the sense of genuine shock she’d managed to confect in her tone. But as she got to her feet, the farmer gave a wry smile – Dee’s acting had not been quite as convincing as she’d imagined – unceremoniously, he hooked a finger into either side of the waistband of her panties and pulled them down in a swift, smooth movement. Dee’s face was shot with a crimson blush as she opened her mouth to protest but could find no words. Her hands rushed to try to restore her modesty, but the farmer was pulling the panties at her ankles now, and, resigned to her fate, she steadied herself with a hand on his broad shoulder as she skipped while her panties were whisked from under her.

‘Fold these neatly,’ the farmer instructed, ‘and add them to your pile.’

Dee knew better than to argue and complied, no longer bothering with futile attempts to diminish her nudity. A slight breeze arose, causing Dee to feel even more exposed and making it harder to hear if people were approaching. Furtively, Dee stole a glance towards the path. She was sure she could make out someone in the shadows. But before she could focus adequately, she felt the firm hand of the farmer pulling her back to his lap.

The embarrassment was excruciating now. Dee could feel the roughness of the farmer’s jeans as her delicate flesh pressed into them. She’d been fighting feelings of sexual arousal, but a crease in the denim of the farmer’s jeans was pressing right next to her clitoris; she wanted to scream in pain and pleasure. Yet she was desperate not to draw the attention of anyone who may be nearby. Dee felt the cool breeze on her legs and the rising, burning sensation in her bottom. She felt the farmer’s hand clamped firmly on her hip. He examined each cheek with his hands, softly running his fingertips across her glowing flesh, then massaging more deeply as if detecting something about her that not even she quite knew. 

‘It feels to me like you’re long overdue a proper spanking,’ said the farmer. ‘I’ll wager this is not your only transgression, young lady,’ the farmer added as he gently kneaded each cheek, reading them as though they were runes.

Dee blushed as each recent infraction played in her head. Getting back late to a remote hotel with Rachel after a friend’s wedding and stealing a bottle of vodka from the drinks store to keep the party going in Rachel’s room. Bumping into that parked car and letting Rachel talk her into not leaving a note, ‘It’ll be insured!’ It occurred to Dee that Rachel was twelve years her junior and, if anything, she ought to be influencing Rachel, not vice versa. But as these little incidents raced into Dee’s mind, she felt the farmer’s forefinger withdraw and knew it was time to start focusing on her counting.

Spank! Spank! Spank! Dee winced. She was getting used to the pain, but this was more direct than ever. Free of any protection, boy, did it sting! She focused on counting. ‘Ten, eleven. Thank you, sir.’

In the pause, as the farmer gently moved his hand across her cheeks, as though warming it on a brazier, Dee came to a strange realisation. A part of her desperately wanted the next set of spanks to start. Could she really be enjoying this? At the beginning, she’d been intensely frustrated with her predicament. But the focus and the pain of the spanking, along with her helplessness, had brought a strange relief. If you’d asked Dee as she set out on her walk, how she’d feel if she were caught and given a bare-bottomed spanking within sight of the path, she would hardly have been able to imagine a worse occurrence.

Yet now it was happening for real, she felt strangely more secure and peaceful than she had since, well, forever. She was electrified; her head felt like it was drifting up towards a cloud, her pussy was pulsating with guilty pleasures. As she pondered this, she had a moment of confusion. Dee’s emotions rolled into indignation as she tried to resist her surprising relish at her submission. If she were honest with herself, she would realise this anger was directed inward. How could she be enjoying this?! But at that moment, she blurted at the farmer, shouting: ‘this isn’t right at all, a grown woman getting a bare-bottomed spanking.’ Yet a frisson passed over her skin as she heard herself say those words. ‘Baring my bottom is completely uncalled for and outrageous!’

‘Count yourself lucky, young lady!’ Frustratingly, her appeal had merely amused the farmer once more. ‘A few years back, if my father had caught you here, he would not have let you keep a stitch of clothing on for your punishment. “They’d strip my woodland bare of morels given half a chance,” he’d say, “so that’s just how they’ll be punished”.’ 

‘I’ll bet he didn’t do that to the men?!’ said Dee, pleased with the speed and wit of her challenge.

‘Ha! The men weren’t so lucky!’ chuckled the farmer. ‘They were usually quicker at escaping than the women, but they couldn’t escape a blast of salt from my father’s shotgun right in their backsides as they ran off!’ It was a couple of days before you’d see the women sitting down in the local pub after my father took them in hand. But the men drank on their feet for at least a week after a salty blast from Old Bessie, his favourite gun!’

Dee daydreamed about those women and a somewhat older version of the farmer spanking her entirely naked. She was horrified, how could he?!, yet wholly absorbed by the thought of it.

Dee was soon brought back to the moment. ‘Ten.’ Spank! ‘Eleven.’ Spank! Dee could feel the pressure of each spank ricocheting across her cheeks now, reverberating between her legs. ‘Thank you, Sir!’ Her tone was more respectful.

The farmer returned to reminiscing: ‘if I catch you trespassing around here again, I’ll spank you the good old fashioned way, understand?’ Dee’s stomach leapt in nervous excitement as she contemplated that less as a threat and more as an invitation. She found the thought simultaneously awful and awesome. Would he really?! Would he dare?! How would THAT feel? Dee was fighting off an orgasm; the embarrassment of letting go in front of the farmer would be mortifying.

The farmer’s directed forefinger brought Dee back to attention. Spank! ‘One.’

Dee was no longer wondering when her ordeal would end. But following yet another ‘thank you, Sir!’, the farmer patted each of her cheeks lightly. ‘Now I think you’ve learned a lesson, young lady. Let’s have you back against that tree for some cooling off time.’ Meekly, Dee stood up. She assumed her former position facing the tree and didn’t need to be instructed to place her hands on her head. She knew this was expected, and the obedience gave her the most profound satisfaction. As the farmer put another leaf under her nose, she felt fleeting indignation. She was being a good girl, after all! But in truth, Dee relished the focus. Her head felt like it was swimming several feet above her body.

Dee could hear that the farmer was quite still. She felt as though his eyes were examining her warmed cheeks. She wondered how they looked. She heard the farmer step towards her, and he ran his hand lightly over each cheek, sending waves of pleasure across Dee’s skin which almost took her over the edge. Dee listened intently as he returned to sit in the fallen tree. ‘Let’s have you back over my lap, young lady. I’ve something for those sore cheeks.’ 

Dee was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that she wouldn’t be spanked yet more. It was the strangest of conflicts. She kept her hands on her head as she turned and stepped over to the farmer’s side. And she kept them there as she stooped towards his lap. The farmer helped her down into position. Once again, Dee felt the roughness of the farmer’s jeans against her. She tensed both cheeks sharply as he gently applied some cooling cream, which contrasted starkly with the warm wetness between her legs. Dee breathed slowly and deeply, desperate to hold off her climax. She clamped her thighs tightly together, praying that her arousal wouldn’t be exposed. Once the farmer had spread the cream liberally across Dee’s bottom, he patted it lightly. ‘You may dress now.’ His voice dropped to a gentle whisper. ‘You’re free to go.’

Dee found her feet once more and revelled in the curious pleasure of dressing in the woods. Suddenly, as though waking in a snap from a deep sleep, Dee’s angst about the path gripped her again. Could she see someone over there? She had a distinct feeling it was not only the farmer’s eyes that were trained on her throughout her punishment.

Realising the futility of her concern Dee focused on dressing. The dampness of the cream on her bottom was exhilarating under the dryness of her panties. Dry, that is, except for the gusset, which became saturated in moments as she put her panties back on. Her jeans felt like steel as she tried to manoeuvre them over her tender bottom. She allowed herself an extra hole when doing up her belt.

She gave the farmer a last ‘thank you, Sir’, bowing just a little as she delivered it. The farmer nodded in acceptance.

As Dee turned to leave, the farmer said, ‘You’re forgetting something.’ As she looked towards him, Dee was gripped by anxiety at what else she may have done wrong, but the farmer held out the bag of morels. ‘Go on,’ the farmer encouraged, ‘I only sell to the chefs those that I’ve picked with my own hand. They’ve to be just at the right point for them.’

‘Thank you, that’s kind,’ Dee said as she took the bag, adding a ‘Sir’ after a pause she instantly wished had been shorter.

Dee had intended to walk back along the footpath to assess whether her embarrassing punishment could have been seen. But when she reached the path and ducked under the wire fence, she was gripped by the urge to walk straight out of the woods. Was that a figure on the pathway ahead? Dee’s pace quickened. But what would she do if there WERE someone ahead and she caught up with them?

As she emerged from the woods onto the roadside, Dee was relieved that no one was around. She walked down the country lane towards where her car was parked, and a woman emerged around the corner, making for the footpath into the woods. They exchanged smiles and nervous hellos as Dee placed her rolled-up coat on the driver’s seat for cushioning and lowered herself into her car. Gingerly, Dee slid down the back of the seat, transferring the weight onto her tender cheeks slowly. Her coat elevated her, and she felt strangely childish as she adjusted her seat forward a little and moved the mirrors. Part of her wanted urgently to drive off. But she found her hand moving away from the ignition, down to the button of her jeans, and into her soaking wet panties.

Dee checked her mirrors; the lane was still deserted. As soon as her fingers found her clit she was quivering, her skin flushing. She tried to imagine how the farmer might have touched her. In no time, Dee was starting to orgasm, roaring with a groan she could not hold back. She unclamped her eyes, breathing heavily, and urgently looked around to see if anyone was approaching. All seemed clear, and she straightened herself, trying to regain control. Dee was shocked at her wanton behaviour.

It was time to leave, and Dee knew precisely where she needed to go: Rachel’s.

As she drove, Dee was conscious she did not have a plan for what she’d say to Rachel. But a curious confidence came over her. She felt more focused and purposeful than ever.

As Dee opened the front gate, she could hear Rachel’s car ticking as it cooled from a recent drive. Nursing her cheeks briefly with one of her hands, Dee mused that she knew just how the engine felt: hot and worked over, thanks to Rachel! Quietly furious with her friend, Dee headed along the side of the house for Rachel’s back door.

Dee went to knock, but her hand froze in mid-air. With a flick of the wrist, she gave a regular knock, not the rat-tat-a-tat-tat,tat-tat, that she always used to signal to Rachel that it was her. This brought Rachel to the door with a pleasing look of surprise on her face at seeing Dee. And was that a flicker of guilt Dee detected in Rachel’s expression?

‘Everything OK, hun?’ Rachel enquired. It sounded strangely forced.

‘No, it most certainly is NOT!’ Dee replied, delighted with her indignant authority as she firmly placed a forefinger on Rachel’s shoulder and pressed her backwards into the kitchen stepping in after her. ‘That lovely little spot for gathering morels that you mentioned... well, the farmer caught me in the act. And I am about to pass on to you, young lady, the painful lesson he gave to me. You’ve got me into trouble one too many times!’

Dee fixed an unflinching glance on Rachel. Instinctively, Rachel looked to her right and bit her lip nervously. Dee’s eyes followed Rachel’s gaze to a laptop on the kitchen table. It was playing a movie.

As Dee looked at the screen, her eyes widened.

***To be continued***