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Apple Pie

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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.”


“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?”

Marie again hastily pulled up her panties and brushed her skirt back into place.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Where would I like you to do what?”

“Ravish you,” said Paul with a sigh. “You obviously think I should, so I’m only too happy to oblige, but I wasn’t sure where you’d like it to take place. I don’t know your preferences yet.

I was thinking my first choice would be to lay you on the grass just over there so we could enjoy the sunshine while the ravishment takes place, but it occurred to me you might prefer me to bend you over the bench and have me take you right here.

Oh, and I’d prefer to strip you naked before the ravishment, as I think it’d be more fun that way.”

“You’re mad,” stated Marie. “Quite mad. Why don’t you just take me inside and drag me into your bedroom?”

Paul shook his head.

“I considered that,” he said, “but that would make it look as though you were agreeing and that just makes it a seduction rather than a ravishment, so that won’t do. No, it’ll be much more fun out here in the open.”

To Marie’s astonishment Paul reached for the side of her skirt and flicked open the button and gave the skirt a tug. She snatched for it as it slid down, only to find Paul’s hand in the way as her panties went down for a third time.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she squealed, irritation and indignation flaring.

“I just told you,” came the reply. “I’m stripping you naked before your ravishment. Lift your arms.”

It wasn’t a case of her lifting her arms so much as having them forcibly lifted by having her top pulled up and over her head. A stunned Marie now found herself with skirt and panties pooled around her ankles and her top on the bench next to Paul.

“You may find it’s a good idea to step out of your skirt and panties,” Paul said as he reached around to undo her bra.

“Why?” asked Marie, not believing this was happening. All she’d wanted was a few apples and now she was standing naked in front of her previously unknown neighbour. How had this happened?

“If you change your mind about being ravished they’d trip you up when you try to run,” pointed out Paul. “I’m just thinking of your safety.”

Marie watched as he reached down, lifted her foot slightly and freed it from the tangled clothes. The second foot followed and Marie found herself naked.

“Come over here,” Paul directed, leading her towards the grassy sunlit stretch he’d indicated earlier.

Marie went with him, unsure about how far he was actually going to push this. She thought he’d already pushed it too far taking her clothes off, but it was oddly exciting the matter of fact way he seemed to assume that he had the right to do so.

Paul, it seemed, was going to push it quite a bit farther than Marie had expected. Quite how it happened, she wasn’t sure, but she found herself lying on the grass with Paul next to her, a hand on her breast, playing with it.

When his hand drifted down and covered her mound, Marie decided that enough was enough. If Paul wasn’t going to call a halt, she would.

“OK, I think that’s far enough,” Marie told him, trying to push his hand away from where it was doing sinfully delicious things to her. “Let me up, please.”

Paul ignored her, transferring his attentions back to her breasts, bending over her and suckling gently, teasing the nipple while he did so.

This time Marie managed to get a handful of hair and pull at it, while telling Paul to quit doing that. His answer was to roll over on top of her, settling between her thighs, and Marie was shocked yet again to find that Paul had found time to shed his trousers.

“You can’t do that,” she said, her voice breaking with a gasp as Paul demonstrated quite conclusively that he could indeed do that. His erection slotted into her gap as though coming home, and Paul was not backward about advancing fully into her.

Marie lay there, not knowing what to say or do. It appeared that when Paul said ravishment, he meant exactly that.

Pressing full length along Marie, Paul started dropping little butterfly kisses on her face, running down the line of her throat and finally settling on her breasts. Moving from breast to breast, Paul patiently fanned them into eager life, while remaining surprisingly still where the use of his cock was concerned.

Marie twisted under the little kisses, finding out just how sensitive her breasts were to male attention. Meanwhile she was acutely aware of his cock inside her, just holding her transfixed.

Vaguely puzzled as to why he hadn’t actually started the serious work of ravishing her, Marie was twisting slowly from side to side as Paul switched from one breast to the other. His mouth and teeth were causing strange sensation to start rippling through her, but the strangest sensation was his cock, just filling her, seeming to swell inside of her but otherwise just holding her down.

Watching Marie’s face, Paul could see frustration growing there. It might be ravishment, but she was expecting it to proceed and it wasn’t happening.

Marie had gone from nervous to scared, scared to angry, angry to excited and was now moving from excited back to angry. What did Paul think he was doing? If he was ravishing her he shouldn’t just be lying there while his cock just sat in her like a big fat sausage, doing nothing. Irritated, Marie pressed her hips up against him, hinting that he should get on with the job.

She was gratified to find the pressure instantly returned. Not so pleased that when she relaxed to let him have his way, Paul relaxed as well, seemingly content to just fill her. Irritably, Marie pushed up against him again, feeling him respond. This time she didn’t stop, but after relaxing a little pressed firmly up again.

I’m conducting my own ravishment, was the thought that crossed her bemused mind. Paul was making her do all the running, just matching what she did. The thought faded away again as desire moved through her. The feeling of Paul pressing into her was exciting her, and Marie found herself pushing against him steadily, finding a nice smooth rhythm, not too fast, not too slow.

Exactly when the situation changed, Marie did not know. It seemed to her that one moment she was moving dreamily under Paul, relishing the gentle movements of his cock inside her, then the next moment she was being ravished strongly by Paul, his cock no longer gently pressing but pounding out instructions to her.

Those instructions, Marie found, could not be gainsaid. Her body leapt to obey them, eager to take direction. She wanted to be mastered, she found, and Paul was now attending to that want, as to a large number of others that her body was suddenly craving.

The action had now taken on a vigorous intensity as Paul repeatedly drove himself into Marie. Marie’s frantic attempts to meet him resulted in her lifting her bottom high off the ground as she thrust up to meet him, sinking reluctantly back down as Paul withdrew, preparatory to another stroke.

“Oh, god, I’m going to come,” thought Marie, gasping as she concentrated her efforts on meeting Paul.

“Oh, God,” she screamed, as she felt the climax rushing upon her.

Then she was just screaming, or trying to, as she found Paul’s mouth covering hers, swallowing her screams while her body swallowed his cum. Vaguely she could feel the hot liquid foaming inside her as she shuddered though her climax, holding tightly to Paul who was hammering her remorselessly.

Lying there, drifting back to awareness, Marie became aware of Paul lying next to her, watching her.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“You asked me to,” pointed out Paul.

“What?” Marie sat bolt upright, noting with satisfaction that Paul’s eyes seemed almost hypnotically drawn to her breasts as they bounced under her sudden movement. “I did no such thing.”

“Of course you did. I realised what you wanted as soon as you mentioned me ravishing you. You couldn’t very well ask me to, but I can accept a hint.”

Marie was speechless. She had a nasty suspicion that anything she said, Paul would promptly twist. She’d wind up finding out that she’d ravished his defenceless body before he was finished.

“May I have the apples and go now?” she asked, trying desperately to project an aura of quiet dignity.

“Certainly,” said Paul, “but you may want to get dressed first.”

“Did you mean it when you said I can get apples any time from now on?” Marie probed.

“I did. There’s far too many for me. I usually have a couple of the mothers from the school come by and pick them for apple pies for the school fete, but they’ve moved since last year.”

Marie gave him a nasty look at that comment, but continued.

“There’ll be no penalties such as a spanking or anything else?”

Some things, Marie felt, were better spelt out clearly.

“Of course not. I’ve said come and help yourself at any time and I meant it. I couldn’t very well spank you for accepting a freely given invitation. But don’t let it worry you. I’m sure I’ll be able to find some other reason to spank you.”

“And I don’t need any reason to ravish you,” he added quietly.

Quietly enough that Marie chose not to hear it. She quietly reached for her clothes. The pies had to be finished, after all.

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