Marie, young and single. Vivacious and pretty. Reasonably intelligent and now, thanks to an unexpected inheritance, finally striking out to live on her own.
With the help of her inheritance, Marie had purchased a small house in the suburbs, close enough to public transport to allow an easy commute to work and also in fairly close proximity to quite a nice beach.
Marie quickly started to make friends around the neighbourhood, getting acquainted with young mothers in the area as well as single women. Boyfriends had never been a problem, she didn't need to go looking for them. She might have had to beat the undesirables off with a stick occasionally, but she could always find a partner willing to take her out.
One of Marie's hobbies was cooking, baking in particular. She loved making pies and cakes and was quite good at it. When one of the mothers she had become acquainted with suggested that Marie might like to do a couple of pies or cakes for the local school fete, Marie agreed at once.
The fete was on the coming Sunday, and Marie had agreed to have two apple pies delivered to her friend's place on Saturday evening. The disaster that befell her on Saturday morning wasn't really her fault.
She had been warned when she moved in that the oven was sometimes faulty. It had an intermittent fault that caused it to fail to switch off at the programmed time. The problem had not occurred since she'd been there and Marie had almost forgotten about it.
The problem brought itself forcibly to her attention when she got back from going shopping. She had stayed at the shops a lot longer than intended, chatting and enjoying a cup of coffee with friends. Walking into her kitchen, the smell of burnt pie promptly assailed her.
Horrified, Marie had rushed to the stove to find it still full on, having decided that this was the time it would ignore the programmed off time. Marie was quite sure that it was deliberate. The stove had seen her go out and deliberately decided to be perverse.
Whatever the reason, Marie now had two charcoal pies in place of the apple pies she'd expected. She sighed and started over, after first ventilating the kitchen to get rid of that burning smell.
Marie promptly hit an unexpected snag. The pastry was no problem but she had no more apples. She was preparing to go down the street to get some more when a vague memory nudged her. She recalled that when looking the place over she had noticed the place next door had a couple of fruit trees in their backyard, and she was certain that one of them was an apple tree, and cooking apples at that.
Going outside and checking, Marie found that she was correct. The tree nearest her place was an apple tree and it currently appeared to have quite a bit of ripe fruit on it.
For some reason or other, Marie had never got around to meeting that particular neighbour. She'd dropped by to introduce herself, but the man hadn't been home. She did recall, from talking with other people in the street, that he was never home on Saturday afternoons. He always went to watch the football.
Choices, she mused. She could waste an hour going down to the shops and buying more apples or she could jump the fence, pick enough for the pies and hop back over the fence. There were so much fruit on the tree that the man would never notice she'd raided it.
Marie was fit and healthy. She grabbed a bag and it was the work of a moment to jump the fence and only another moment to climb the tree. Happily she set to work to select enough apples for the pies.
With the abundance of ripe apples on the tree Marie didn't need long to fill her bag. She was preparing to descend when a voice spoke from below.
"You know," she was told, "a pretty young woman shouldn't really climb apple trees wearing short skirts."
Horrified, Marie looked down to see a man standing under the tree and looking up at her with interest. Her heart quailed for a moment, trying frantically to remember if she was wearing a thong that day. Relief came as she recalled what panties she was wearing, but still that man could undoubtedly see them clearly. A gentleman, she decided, would have looked away, not continued to stare and smirk.
"Pass me the apples. It'll make it easier for you to descend."
Reluctantly, but realising the suggestion made sense, Marie passed down the bag and then followed it quickly.
"I'm Paul. This is my place. And you are?"
"Ah, I'm Marie. I'm your new neighbour," Marie told him, pointing to her place. "You're supposed to be at the football."
"Really? Remiss of me. Maybe it's because the season finished last week. So, would you care to tell me why you're here stealing apples? Not that I begrudge you the apples, I've far too many. As far as I'm concerned you can have as many as you like."
"I promised I'd make two apple pies for the school fete tomorrow," Marie said quickly. "Unfortunately, I burnt them and I had no more apples. I thought you wouldn't miss a few."
"And I'm sure I won't miss them either. You're not too good a cook, I take it. Do you think you'll be back for another lot?"
"It wasn't my fault they burnt," stated Marie hotly. "The stupid oven timer is defective and didn't switch off. I'd forgotten it does that sometimes."
"Uh-huh. If you say so. Well, in a second you can take your apples and have another attempt at baking your pies. First though, I think a little penalty is called for in your rudeness in sneaking in and stealing the apples instead of just asking."
"What do you mean, a penalty? You just said you had so many you'd never miss them," protested Marie.
"And neither I will. But good manners dictate that you should have at least asked. Bad manners, on the other hand, should always have a penalty, or people just won't learn the correct thing, now will they? Don't worry. It won't be anything too onerous."
Marie glared at Paul, not trusting his smiling face one iota.
"We might have different ideas about that. What do you intend doing?"
"Well, it's a nice warm day, bright sunshine, pleasant garden and a nice bench here between the trees. I thought I'd just sit on the bench for a few minutes and enjoy nature while I paddle your backside to remind you of your manners."
"What?"
"I said, it's a nice..." Paul started, but Marie interrupted.
"I heard, I heard," she squeaked, flapping her hands at him. "What on earth makes you think I'll let you spank me?"
"How about the fact that you shouldn't have been here stealing apples in the first place? I'm quite sure you wouldn't want me letting that little story get out. It could place you in a bad light, now couldn't it?" said Paul, letting a touch of coldness creep into his voice.
Marie blinked.
"You're angry, aren't you?" she said, finally seeming to realise that Paul wasn't exactly dancing with joy over her little escapade.
"Not angry, but definitely displeased," murmured Paul.
Placing one hand on Marie's back he started walking towards the bench. Marie realised that she had to either accompany him or kick up a fuss. She gulped and went with him. He wouldn't do much, she assured herself. A few smacks on the bottom and that would be that. She could handle that.
Paul sat on the bench and directed a nervous Marie across his knee. She was still assuring herself that it would be all right, a few quick spanks and done, when she felt her skirt lifted away from her bottom and her panties were quickly pulled down.
"Wait," she shrieked. "What are you doing? You can't...."
Anything else Marie cared to say was lost as a hand came down firmly on her bare bottom and she squealed in shock and indignation. To her chagrin, Marie found that quick spank was followed by a few more, and they weren't just the mildly disapproving smacks that she'd envisaged but proper spanks, and they smarted.
Squealing her outrage, Marie kicked and wriggled, trying to put a stop to the outrage. Kicking, she quickly found, was a bad mistake. It exposed her pussy when her legs were flying back and forth and Paul had been quick to take advantage.
A spank came down and landed quite firmly on her mound. There was an instant apology from Paul, stating that had been unintentional. Unintentional my eye, Marie thought. He hadn't just slapped her pussy but very neatly cupped it when he did so, and you don't do that by accident.
"Enough," she yelled. "Will you damn well stop it? I've got the message already."
"Are you sure?" Paul asked, sounding genuinely interested, but not stopping while he waited for the answer, Marie noticed.
"Yes," she cried. "I'll admit I should have asked and I'm sorry I didn't. Are you satisfied?"
"Apology accepted," murmured Paul, swinging her back onto her feet.
Marie hastily pulled up her panties, glaring at him.
"You're an animal," she raged at him. "A bully and a brute. I suppose I should consider myself lucky you didn't ravish me as well."
"I did consider it," admitted Paul, "but I thought it would be the height of bad manners and a little bit hypocritical seeing I was teaching you a lesson for bad manners. However, seeing you've brought the subject up..."
To Marie's surprise he reached up her skirt and her panties went sliding down again. Lifting her skirt he thoughtfully considered her naked pussy, then looked up at her.
"Very nice indeed," he told her. "I have to admit that you look eminently ravishable. Where would you like me to do it?"
