I was looking for a real life tale about riding and riding crops when I found this one. I did not write it. I don’t know who did. I suspect it might have some appeal to women who ride. And no, I do not have the prequel.
When I was 14, my family moved from New York City to Southern California. I grew up loving horses and was given riding lessons in New York. After we moved to L.A., I was thrilled to discover a stable down the road from our house. I worked there every day during the summer and after school and on weekends during the year. That first summer I was given my first cropping by Jeff, the gorgeous foreman. After that, Jeff found every possible opportunity to crop and spank me.
I continued to work at the stable all through high school and college. Even after I quit working there, I would return occasionally to visit, and Jeff would always find some reason to punish me. He never cropped me bare, but made up for the protection of my clothing by striking hard and always on the same place, right at the crease between bottom and thighs. Sometimes he would pull my jeans and panties off after cropping me, and give me a hand spanking. He never touched me elsewhere, and we never had sex. However, I usually had a tremendous orgasm just from the cropping or spanking.
Well, I went home to L.A. for Christmas this year, and I had called Jeff a couple of weeks before to let him know I'd be in town. We set a date to meet, Saturday the 23rd. I hadn't seen him in over three years, and was very anxious to do so. I borrowed my dad's Volvo and drove the 40 miles to the stable from Dad's house. The stable owners were gone for the holidays, and all the other employees were gone for the weekend. Jeff was the only one there, and when I got there he met me at the car, picked me up and gave me a hug and spun me around in the air. Then he put me down, winked at me in the old way, and proceeded to show me around the stable. We looked at all the horses and he showed off some trophies they had won since I had quit working there. Jeff told me, "You know, we've never found anyone who could plait manes and tails as well as you could." I was pleased and flattered and told him so. Then he said, "But I remember you were very slow at it, and I had to teach you a lesson about taking too long. In fact, I'm not sure you were ever thoroughly punished for that! What do you think?"
I shivered in anticipation. "No, Jeff, I'm sure I didn't really learn that lesson." I put my hands behind me and rubbed my soon-to-be-stinging bottom. "That's what I thought!" He unclipped his crop from his belt. "Come over here." He sat down on the nearby hay bale. I stood in front of him, my hands still on my bottom. "Well, Miss Katie, what are you waiting for? You know the routine." I went to his right side and draped myself over his lap. He grabbed my right wrist and pulled it up behind me, holding it tight at the small of my back so I wouldn't be able to cover my bottom. I held my breath and waited. "All right, Miss Katie, this is gonna sting!"
He raised his crop high, held it there for a few seconds, then brought it down hard across the very lowest part of my backside. I gasped. I had forgotten how much that crop hurt! He raised it again, and brought it slashing down, right on the same burning stripe of pain. "OOWW!!" I heard him chuckle and say, "I told you it was gonna sting!" Again his crop whistled into my sore butt. "OOOWWW!!! Damn, that hurts, Jeff!"
He stopped for a moment, and I tried to catch my breath. "Miss Katie, I think you've forgotten that we don't swear here. I believe you're going to regret that little outburst." Oh God, I HAD forgotten that swearing at the Rocking L Ranch was expressly forbidden. A first offense resulted in a warning, and a second offense meant being summarily dismissed. How could I have forgotten? Jeff himself had drummed this into my head and backside that very first summer.
The thrice-struck welt burned and I tried to squirm to relieve the pain. This only served to remind Jeff of his current purpose in life. Once again he raised that wicked crop and slammed it down into that same tender weal. I caught my breath, but before I could yell Jeff brought the crop down again, and yet again. "OOOOWWW!!! JEFF, PLEASE STOP!!"
To my surprise, he did. He rubbed the crop along the length of that throbbing weal at the base of my bottom. I winced and squealed as he continued to side the crop over the stripe. I started to realize how hot Jeff had made me by cropping me the way he used to. I arched my back and pressed my bottom up against the crop. Without warning, he lifted the crop and slashed it down again, and again, and again, and finally, the last time. I was sobbing with pain and sexual excitement.
Jeff released my wrist and allowed me to get up. I thrust both hands behind me and tried to rub the tremendous pain away. He watched me for a few minutes, amused by my antics. After I calmed down a bit, Jeff said, "Come here and stand in front of me, Miss Katie. And keep your hands at your sides." I stood in front of him and clenched my fists at my sides to keep from rubbing my bottom. He said, "Have you learned your lesson about dawdling over plaiting manes and tails?" I nodded, sniffing, and replied, "Yes, Jeff, I've learned!" "Good. Now we have your swearing to deal with."
"Oh, Jeff, please! I'm sorry I swore, really I am! Please don't crop me anymore! My bottom is so sore already!" Jeff grinned at me in his usual insolent manner. "You think you're sorry, but you're not as sorry as you will be! And don't worry, I won't crop you again. Now unbutton your Levi's."
I unbuttoned my 501's and put my hands back by my sides. Jeff took my wrist and pulled me back over his knees. "Lift up a little, Miss Katie." I put my hands down on the floor and pushed my bottom in the air. Jeff put both of his hands in my waistband and pulled my jeans and panties together down to my thighs. "All right, now give me your hand." Once again, he held my right wrist at the small of my back. He used one finger to trace the throbbing 10-stroke welt at the bottom of my backside. "I'm very disappointed that you forgot the number one rule here at the Rocking L, especially since I have had to correct you for this before. By the time I'm done, you won't be using that kind of language around here. Now, are you ready?"
I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and mumbled an assent. I felt him raise his right hand, and then felt the blazing pain across my right cheek. I let out a muffled yelp, then his hand came crashing down again on my left cheek. He began spanking me hard and fast, alternating cheeks. I squirmed and kicked, but there was no avoiding that hard leathery palm blasting away at my behind. "Shame on you, Miss Pottymouth! You're a very bad girl!" Harder and harder his hand fell, covering every part of my flaming bottom. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Well?" I couldn't speak, being caught up in an unbelievably intense orgasm. "You bad girl! Answer me!" When I could finally get enough breath, I shrieked, "YES! YES! I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN!" To my enormous relief, Jeff finally stopped spanking me. He reached down to my clothes, told me to lift up again, and pulled my jeans and panties back up. Then he allowed me to get up off his lap, and discreetly turned away while I rearranged my clothing.
"Well, Miss Katie, do you feel like going for a gallop now?", Jeff said with a wink. "I always said you had an exceptional seat!"
The END, well sorta!!!