Suspicious Activity

The whole thing was so totally unfair. None of it was my fault. Not really, anyway. I mean, they tell you to look out for suspicious behaviour and report it. I mean, don't they? That's all I did.

There's this old farmhouse just out of town, built right where the woods start. When I say old, it was almost derelict. Nobody has lived there for years. Then this old guy comes along and buys it and spends a fortune doing it up. Well, he spent a lot anyway, even doing up the old barn, which was stupid, as he didn't appear to have any animals. And he stuck up a fence all the way around the property and posted keep-out signs. That's suspicious all by itself. Who does that sort of thing way out in the middle of nowhere which is where I, unfortunately, live? Nobody, that's who.

I told the Sheriff (who just happens to be my uncle) and he laughed at me. Said I had a very vivid imagination and should try to turn it down. The new owner was just a harmless old man who wanted some privacy. Harmless? Just one look at him and I knew he was an Arab and probably a terrorist. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he an Arab, dressing up in those funny clothes they wear. What was worse he now had several younger men staying there. If someone didn't do something we were going to have a terrorist incident in our town.

Seeing my esteemed uncle, the Sheriff, wasn't interested, it seemed that the person who was going to have to investigate was going to be me. I spent some time scouting out the place but I couldn't see anything. I wasn't going to see anything, either, unless I could get closer. So I got closer.

They hadn't really done a very good job with the fence. There were several spots where you could climb a tree, scamper along a branch, and drop down on the other side of the fence. Tracing around the fence line I found I wasn't even going to have to do that. At one point the fence crossed a culvert where a small stream had been diverted under the road. The stream was currently dry and all I had to do was cross the road, walk into the culvert on that side and cross under the road and out the other side, inside the fence line. I did have to bend over while I went through the culvert but it was dead easy.

I made my way through the trees until I was a lot closer to the house. I was considering sneaking up and listening under a window to see if I could hear anything when this big bruiser came out of the house. I hid behind a tree and hoped he'd go away.

Did he go away? Did he what! He marched straight up to the tree I was behind and grabbed a hold of me, by the ear.

"Listen, kid," he said as he marched me towards the main gates. "You're trespassing. See those keep-out signs? If you could read you'd find they say KEEP OUT, and this means you. From now on they especially mean you. Now, take a hike."

He opened the gates and very rudely pushed me out onto the road, slamming the gate behind me, leaving me rubbing a very sore ear and glaring after him as he walked away.

Well, it was obvious to me that they had something to hide and I was now more determined than ever. Kid, indeed? I'd show that big lump who was a kid. The obvious thing to do was sneak back at night when he wouldn't be able to see me coming. The sooner, the better, as they wouldn't be expecting it.

That night it was through the culvert to do some more snooping. I mean, through the culvert to continue my investigation. Talk about a fiasco.

I came scrambling out of the culvert and a hand closed over my arm, holding me tightly.

"How about that. We meet again, kid," growled that blasted bruiser.

He'd been standing right next to the culvert and heard me scrambling through it. For that matter, he'd probably spotted me on the road and seen me vanish and guessed what I was doing. It seemed that what I was doing was getting thrown out on my ear.

Not immediately, it turned out. He dragged me into the house, acting like a cat that's bring a dead animal home. All puffed up and pleased with himself for being such a mighty hunter.

He hauled me into the front room and the old guy dressed like an Arab was there.

"Look what I found," he said. "This is the second time I've caught this silly kid snooping around the place."

"Petty thieves are a blot on the landscape," growled the old man. "What's wrong with you, kid? Can't you find a decent job?"

"I'm not a thief," I snapped. "Neither am I a kid. I have a job. I was just investigating some suspicious characters when this goon grabbed me."

"Really?" the old guy said, turning to glare at the bruiser. "There are other people wandering around out there?"

"Ah, I think you'll find she means us," the bruiser said.

"Us? The kid's a loon," growled the old man.

"I am not a kid," I snapped. Why did they keep referring to me as though I was a child? "I'm eighteen. That makes me an adult. You should check the laws of the country you're living in."

"Eighteen?" asked the old guy, oozing disbelief.

"Yes, eighteen. It's not my fault I look younger."

"Don't worry about it, kid," said the bruiser. "You'll be happy to look younger when you're older. If you live long enough."

"Get rid of the brat, Fred," snapped the old man. "This time make sure she won't bother us again."

What? That didn't sound good, especially when added to Fred's last comment. My mind started conjuring up some pretty nasty scenarios and I was damn near wetting myself. His hand tightened on my arm and he started dragging me through the house.

"Um, the Sheriff is my uncle, you know," I very quickly pointed out.

"No, I didn't know that. Does he know you trespass, even after you've been warned?"

"If anything happens to me he'll raise holy hell. I've already told him all about you people."

Fred stopped pulling me through the house and stood there, looking at me. Looking around I could see we were in the kitchen. If Fred would just let go for one moment, I'd be out the back door and gone.

"Well, I see no reason to involve the Sheriff in our little problem," he told me. "I think I'm quite capable of dishing out an appropriate punishment."

With that he pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and sat on it. At the same time he jerked on my arm, propelling me across his knee.

"It seems to me that you're the type who doesn't learn that they're doing the wrong thing without a little bit of negative reinforcement," he told me.

With that he flicked my dress up and pulled my panties down.

I'm like, "What? What? What do you think you're doing?"

He spanked me. As though I was a kid. I was across his knee and getting spanked. I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. Unfortunately, my bottom was believing it, big time.

His hand came down and literally bounced off my bottom and it hurt. I protested and his hand came down again. I demanded that he stop and he lay another resounding spank on my poor bottom. I screamed at him and got spanked. I pleaded with him (even though it was against my nature) and got spanked.

What was worse was the fact that he was laughing at me.

"If you'd just stayed away like I told you," he said, sounding very cheerful, "you'd have missed out on this. I'm just as glad you didn't as I'm enjoying this."

My bottom was on fire by the time he decided to call it quits. He rested his hand on my bottom while he continued to lecture me.

"You will keep away in future, won't you?" he said softly. "There's to be no more trespassing and snooping. If I catch you here again I'm very much afraid that you'll be in real trouble."

To my consternation his hand slid off my bottom and down between my legs, cupping my mound and squeezing gently. My eyes almost popped out my head I opened them so wide and I couldn't help giving a shocked gasp.

"I want you to fully understand what will happen if I catch you trespassing again," he told me, his hand rubbing slowly back and forth. "It won't be a spanking, but you'll find yourself without panties anyway."

"You wouldn't dare," I gasped.

The rotten swine just laughed and squeezed my pussy again.

"If you really think that, come on back."

"I still say you wouldn't dare," I said belligerently. "That would be rape and you'd be arrested."

"No. You'll find it's not considered rape if you deliberately walk into a situation where you know the man will grab you and have sex with you. That changes it into a sex game - consensual rape, you might say."

He had to be kidding me. Consensual rape? There was no such thing. Was there?

He tipped me back onto my feet and I hastily pulled my panties up, wanting to swear at the feeling of the material against my bottom. Damn him. That spanking had hurt.

He escorted me to the gates, closing them behind me and telling me not to come back.

"Or do if you want to. I'll be waiting for you."

I stalked off down the road, furious and swearing vengeance. I just knew they were up to no good. Look how they'd treated me just because of a little bit of curiosity. It was only the thought of his threat that stopped me turning around and sneaking back in, just to show him.

When I got home I hopped on the computer and googled consensual rape. There were a number of stupid examples but the one that stood out was in sex games. I was amazed. People actually arranged for their boyfriends to rape them? What a pack of weirdo's.

Still, it put a new light on what he'd threatened. If I sneaked back some night would he really rape me if he caught me? Not that he would catch me again as I wouldn't use the culvert any more. I suspect that they had it bugged and that's why he was able to catch me.

I finally came down on the side of him not actually having sex with me. I might be risking a spanking or being charged with trespass, but that's as far as it would go. Too much risk of calling attention to himself if I screamed rape and he wouldn't want that.

The next night I waited until it was a lot darker. Finally there was only one light on in the house and I just knew I could sneak up on that window and look inside and see what was going on. This time I went up one of the trees that overhung the fence and dropped down safe and sound on the other side.

I stood there, poised to run if I saw any movement, but all was quiet. Slowly I relaxed and, keeping a watch around me, I sneaked through the woods and up to the lighted window. The window was slightly open and I could hear the sound of voices. I put my ear up against the space to listen.

I recognised the first voice. It was the old guy, that Arab.

"Do you think that idiot girl knows we have motion activated infrared cameras?" he was saying.

"No, or she wouldn't be waiting outside our window for Fred to grab her," came the reply.

I was up and running and promptly fell back, landing on my (still sore) bottom, as I barrelled straight into a wall that hadn't been there earlier.

"Um, you're Fred, right?" I mumbled looking at the man mountain looming over me. He looked an awfully lot bigger when you're in the dirt at his feet.

"That's right, we've never been properly introduced, have we," he said. I'm Fred and you're?"

"Ah, Samantha," I muttered. "They call me Sam."

"Couldn't keep away from me, could you, Sam," he said, sounding abominably cheerful.

"You lay one finger on me and I'll call the police," I said quickly.

"Two things. First, it's not my finger you have to worry about now, but you already know this. Second, if you want the police just call out Fred and here I am."

"What?"

"Fred. Me. If you want a policeman, here I am."

"You're a cop?"

"That I am. On detached duty, for my sins, providing protection for a couple of environmental scientists who have been harassed by greenies. You're not a greenie are you?"

"No. Why would greenies harass environmental scientists?"

"They don't toe the official Green agenda. They like to present other explanations and probable scenarios, and it makes them most unpopular. Some idiot started making threats so they're up here taking a break."

I now felt like a complete idiot. Scientists with a police bodyguard. I was an idiot. A nasty thought struck me.

"Um, does the Sheriff know?"

"Naturally. I reported to him the day I arrived. This is his jurisdiction."

He knew and hadn't told me when I'd reported them as possible terrorists. My own uncle and he'd fobbed me off. Ooh, I was so going to have words with him.

While we were talking Fred had grabbed my arm and started me walking back towards the gates, presumably to throw me out, again.

"Why," I demanded, "didn't you tell me you were a cop the first time? I wouldn't have had to do all this investigation."

"It's called snooping when someone like you does it and what business is it of yours, anyway. We're trying to be private. That means we don't go around telling everyone our business."

We were passing the barn at this stage and I was quite surprised when Fred stopped, pushed open the barn door, and pushed me inside. Before I had a chance to say anything he followed me in and switched on a light. Then all I could say was, "Wow!"

Now I knew what they'd been doing when they renovated the barn. It was a bachelor's pad, basically one enormous room that was divided into kitchen, lounge, and bedroom. When I say divided, there weren't any walls, just spaces between different sets of furniture. Taking a guess I assumed that the door at the rear of the barn would be the bathroom.

I looked around, quite amazed at the way it had been set up. I knew some guys who'd kill for a place like this. Then a thought struck me.

"Why did you bring me in here?"

"A bit of privacy while we get on with your punishment."

"What do you mean? What punishment?" He surely didn't mean what he'd said earlier.

"We discussed this earlier," he reminded me. "I believe we agreed that it would be consensual rape. Do you want to take your clothes off or would you like me to do it?"

"My clothes are not coming off," I retorted. "I'm leaving and you can't stop me."

It turned out I wasn't and he could. He just picked me up and carried me over to the bedroom area and dumped me on the bed.

"I assume from your answer that you want me to undress you," he said, getting right to it.

It had been a pleasant day, weather-wise, and the night was calm and cool. I'd dressed accordingly, with a t-shirt and a light jacket. I had also intended to climb a tree and swing from the branches like a monkey and, again, I had dressed with that in mind. Jeans, tight jeans, I had decided were an appropriate for climbing a tree.

Fred had my jacket, t-shirt, and (blast him) bra off without any problems. All he had to do was haul those things up over my head. No buttons or zips to undo. Just peel and toss. Likewise, my sneakers he just peeled off my feet. I was going to have to undo the laces before I could put them back on. Then came the jeans.

If I'd been watching him trying to peel the jeans off someone else I'd have been rolling around the floor laughing. My jeans were really tight and if you don't know the knack they're rather hard to put on or take off. No. Come to think of it, even having the knack they're rather hard to put on or take off. Without the knack they're damn near impossible and Fred was finding this out the hard way.

He'd flicked open the button and unzipped them with no problems. After that he grabbed the waistband and pulled them sharply downwards. His hands went down and the jeans stayed right where they were. He took a firmer grip and pulled harder, then said a rude word very loudly. His grip had slipped again and he broke a fingernail while the jeans hugged my bottom and swore we'd never be parted.

The situation probably wasn't helped by the fact that I was sniggering at his efforts. Yes, I know it was me he was trying to strip, but it was funny watching him.

"I take it you haven't had many opportunities to help ladies undress," I said sweetly, being rewarded with a rather nasty look.

He put some thought into the situation before he made his next effort. He pushed me flat on my back on the bed, took the waistband on either side and pulled, shaking slightly as he pulled. It seemed as though he was trying to shake me out of them. Unfortunately, this time he was having some success. Inch by inch he managed to peel those jeans over my hips until my bottom finally popped out of them. Smiling triumphantly he went to pull them down my legs and couldn't do it.

I could have told him that wouldn't work. The jeans were just too tight to double down my legs. You had to take them by the bottom of the legs and pull so the whole leg came loose as a unit. He did get them off, but it must have taken him around fifteen minutes and he was looking somewhat hot and bothered by the time he was done.

Now I know I should have been scared and worried after being stripped by a man who had ill intentions towards me but after that little debacle how could I? I was throwing little looks at him and giggling and you just don't have time to be scared while you're laughing.

My giggles dried up when he started stripping himself. Dressed, he was a large man. Undressed he seemed to be a very large man. He had a lot of beef and muscle on him and if he had any fat I couldn't see it. He wasn't big like a muscle-builder, rather he was big the way a bull was big. Everything natural, but a lot of it, and all of it packed into the right places. A little too much packed into one place, it seemed to me.

He settled onto the bed next to me, his look seemed to be daring me to try jumping off the bed and running. I was tempted, how I was tempted, but he was bigger and faster than me and I'd just make a fool of myself. That I wasn't prepared to do.

I honestly thought he'd just grab me and take me and my nerves were screaming run, and I had to literally force myself to stay there. His hand came down lightly on my tummy and he started touching me. It was not a case of him glomming hold of my breasts or my pussy. His hand started making lazy little circles on my tummy, soothing me, reassuring me.

Slowly but surely the circles grew larger. I could feel his hand brushing the underside of my breasts as it passed, then it would be drifting over my mons, fingers rippling through the curls there. (Not many curls, but some. I was wondering whether I should have shaves. Silly idea. I wasn't expecting anyone to be running their fingers through my hair. Not that hair, anyway.)

The next time his fingers passed through those curls he gave them a little tug. "Soft and silky," he said softly. "Feels nice."

I had to admit that it felt nice from my side, too, although no way was I admitting it out loud. I kept my mouth firmly closed.

At the top of the next circle is hand passed over my breasts. At least, they would have passed if he hadn't promptly stopped moving his hand, closing it over the first breast he came to and squeezing it. After that his hand went back and forth between my breasts, stroking first one and then the other, then back again. He wasn't failing to pay attention to my nipples, either. I could feel them hardening under his touch, little electric shocks running through me when he tweaked them.

His hand finally wandered away from my breasts but the respite didn't last long. His mouth came seeking them, finding them, tasting them. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from giving a cry of shock when Fred started sucking on a nipple. I should have saved myself the pain. I'd no sooner choked down that cry and his hand landed downstairs, closing upon my mound, and I gave a small scream before I could stop myself.

Things rapidly got worse. Fred was playing with both my pussy and my breasts, stroking one and tasting the other. I was squirming under his touch. They say if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Well, let me tell you, I was most definitely feeling the heat and I think I'd prefer to be in the kitchen - or the lounge room, or the bathroom, or anywhere, but on this bed where my body was being heated by a man with a blowtorch.