I'm a young 23 year old aspiring writer. I spent the summer staying at my family's cabin in the middle of the mountains and woods try to finish the first draft of my first novel; my parents had decided to tour Europe this summer so the place was all mine. It was pretty isolated... the nearest neighbor was about a mile away. One very hot night in July, I went down to the foot of the nearby lake with a bottle of wine and a blanket, just intending to relax and let my mind wander after a long day of writing and maybe fall asleep under the gargantuan moon. I also grabbed my dad's pistol, which I always carried with me when I walked at night, after a terrifying near encounter one time with a black bear mother and her cubs.
Around midnight, I had to take a crap, so I walked the 100 yards or so back to my cabin. As I got near the cabin, I noticed the door was open a crack and a light was shining from the living room. I approached the house, trying to minimize the noise of crunching dirt and the like. I peeked in the door and saw what appeared to be a young male with a flashlight fishing through my stuff. I wasn't quite sure what to do for a second, but I then realized he seemed to be unarmed... and I wasn't. So I took a deep breath, opened the door quickly, fired the gun into the air and yelled "Freeze asshole!"
The person dropped to his knees in terror and froze. I flipped the living room light on and walked in. "Stand up fucker and put your hands behind your head."
He obliged. "Please don't hurt me!" he said, like a scared 5 year old. His eyes appeared to be tearing up and his whole body shaking.
I shut and locked the front door and gave him the once over. He appeared to be a 13, maybe 14 year old boy. He had light brown, almost blond hair and the most amazing baby face: perfectly smooth, red cheeks. He was shirtless and actually had some decent chest muscle definition for his age. His underarms had no noticeable tufts of hair. He was wearing gray cotton shorts with a large wet stain, which was dripping down his leg into his sneakers. I'd literally scared the piss out of him.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"I... I... didn't think you were home," he stuttered.
"Well that's fucking obvious," I yelled.
"Don't fucking move. I'm gonna call the sheriff."
"No!" he cried. "Please."
"Why the fuck not?!" I said, jabbing the pistol at him.
"This time, they'll send me to juvie."
I scratched my head. "So this isn't your first time?"
He shook his head like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I stood there for a second pondering the situation.
"What's your name?"
"Scott," he said warily.
"Well Scotty," I said, intentionally using the juvenile form of his name, "here's the thing. I can't let you get away with this shit, especially if it's not your first time. So... I'll give you a choice. Either I deal with you or I call the sheriff and let the fuckers in juvie deal with you, if you know what I mean," I add with an evil wink. "So what'll it be, Scotty?"
He gulped. "I guess you."
"Ok, go into the bedroom," I said, pointing to the half-opened door with the gun, "and keep your hands on your head."
I followed him and locked the bedroom door behind. I reached under the bed and pulled out my box of sex stuff. It had dildos, vibrators, handcuffs, gay porn mags (no internet up here), a belt, diapers, nipple clips... pretty much anything you could possibly think of. Suffice it to say, my boyfriends over the years had quite the diversity of fetishes.
I grabbed the handcuffs, put the key in my pocket and told Scotty to put his hands behind his back. He did. I snapped his hands into the handcuffs, like the expert I was.
I reached into his front pocket and removed his wallet. I opened it up and was surprised to see a driver's permit. His date of birth indicated that he would be 17 years old, which shocked me. His boyish looks and hairlessness made me sure he was 13 or 14.
I spun him around and untied the string of his shorts.
"Wwwhat are you doing?"
"Duh little boy," I said in my most patronizing voice, "you went pee pee in your shorts so I have to take them off." I rubbed the front of the wet shorts, getting a nice grope in. "Doesn't feel like there's much there, eh Scotty?"
He blushed madly. I lowered them, revealing his white (and now, quite yellow) Hanes briefs. I was surprised to see a boy of his age wearing tighty (formerly) whiteys but given his boyish looks and their wet state, it seemed fitting.
"Bend over and touch your toes."
"Uh I can't," he muttered. "Cuz of the cuffs."
"Oh yea," I said, "just bend over then."
"What are you going to do?"
"Just do it!" I barked.
He did.
"You see, Scotty, you need to be spanked for going potty in your undies like a little pre-schooler. And most of all, you need to be spanked for breaking into my house." I stood behind him and grabbed the waistband of his Hanes. "Or maybe whipped with a belt. I'm not sure yet." I felt his body shudder.
(to be continued)