Captured Part 1
By
Barelysubmissions
need2serv2002@yahoo.com
Copyright 2011 by Flint,
all rights reserved
*
* * * *
This
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
nudity,
spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for
the
purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be
attempted
in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or
view
such material, please leave now.
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Chapter 1
Matthew Taylor was used to the adventures at his grandmother's house on
the lake.
Secluded and in the woods, there were a lot of places to explore. The
11-year-old blonde-hair kid usually left after breakfast, took a sack
lunch and didn't come back until almost dark.
He didn't play with many other kids. Houses were too spread apart. Most
of the kids where his grandmother lived were, in the words of his
grandmother, "hillbillies."
He noticed a few of the kids, including a tomboy who lived down the
dirt road from his mother that everyone in the community called
"Boone." He had no idea what her real name was. He remembered she
smiled at him once when he saw her walking an old coon hound.
Among his favorite activities while exploring in the woods was
skinnydipping in a creek down the road from his grandmother's house. It
was part of his grandmother's property and surrounded by barbed wire,
so he never worried about privacy.
He usually hit the creek after playing out in the hot sun. It was a
chance to relax and cool off. This July day, things were a little
different. It was muggy from the start.
He decided to head to the creek right from the start. He stripped off
his shirt, shorts, underwear, shoes and socks on a rock hidden next to
a tree. There was an old tire left nearby that he always leaned against
the tree to keep his clothes out of site.
He plunged in from the old dock his grandfather had made and enjoyed
the cool water covering his body. He tried to see how far he could swim
in the creek. It was a little smaller than a river, but he could never
swim all the way across. There was a floating bouye out in the middle
of the lack. He would swim back to it when he tired.
He must have been swimming for about an hour when he decided to swim
for shore. He was dripping from head-to-toe as he climbed out of the
water and went looking for his towel, clothes and sack lunch. He moved
the tire to retrieve his clothes.
They were gone!
He tried not to panic. What was he going to do? He couldn't possibly
cross the road naked to get back to his grandmother's house. Someone
would surely see.
He also looked around frightened, wondering who possibly could have
taken the clothes.
"Hey boy! Lookin' for your clothes?" came a voice of a person hidden
behind a bush.
He did his best to cover his private parts.
"Don't cover 'em up boy," the voice said. "I ain't never seen a pecker
and balls before."
That made him feel even more embarrassed.
"Who...are...you?" Matthew said.
Coming from behind the tree was a brown-haired girl with a short
haircut, wearing a T-shirt and overalls. With her was a black and tan
coon dog.
"Name's Willadean Marie Boone," she said. "But folks just call me
Boone. And what might your name be?"
"Matthew...Matthew Taylor," he said, chattering partially from fear and
partially because he was dripping wet.
"My clothes, did you take my clothes?" he asked.
"Why of course I did," she said rather confidently. "And your food,
too."
"Why?" Matthew said, suddenly irratated.
"Because I wanted somebody to play with," she said. "I wave at you all
of the time, but you never stop to play. So today me and Bullet, here,
we followed you."
"Well, can you give them back, now?" he said.
"We've got to go get them, first," she said.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"They're in my secret place," she said. "You follow me. I'll make sure
no one sees you."
He had no choice to comply. He did his best to keep up with her as they
walked down a narrow trail. It wasn't easy. It seemed like every tree
limb and bush caught his body during the hike down the path.
"I'm going to be all scratched up," he thought.
Some of the branches were briars. He also felt an insect bite or two.
To make matters worse, he was in his bare feet, and they were a bit
tender.
Suddenly she dissappeared. He stopped, and wondered where she could
have possibly run off to.
The suddenly, he felt a branch sting his back side. Then another.
"What you do that for?" the boy asked. "That hurt."
"Why that's the idea," the girl replied. "My grandma always tells me
she's goin' to tan my hide. She makes me pick a switch when she does. I
just wanted to tan someone else's hind."
"Please don't do it again," he pleaded.
"If you bend over and let me do it five more times, I'll stop," she
said.
He shrugged his shoulders, bent over. He felt his buttcheeks spread
apart.
Then he felt her hands open and shut his cheeks.
"What are you doing?" he protested.
She giggled. "I can see your butthole."
"I can also make your butt talk," she said as she moved his cheeks to
words.
He couldn't feel more embarrassed.
He was relieved when she finally went to hitting him with the switch.
And true to her words, she whacked him a good five times.
Then they restarted on their journey. He saw the barbed-wire fence as
they reached the end of his grandmother's property. She pulled up the
wire to make sure he had enough room to crawl between the strands. They
then continued through a field of high weeds that went up almost to
their belly buttons.
"This is my grandma's land," she said.
Finally, they reached the end of the journey. Her secret place was a
storm shelter.
(The End)