I don't consider myself a bad girl, but I will let you judge for yourself. After reading my story, you might come to a different conclusion.
My name is Babette, but my friends just call me Babe. I am 25 years old and very aware of my sexy body. I sometimes wonder how many men have secretly jerked off with my picture in mind. I like to play and consider myself an expert at teasing. But I am not a slut, not at all. The truth is that I only had 2 (two!) real lovers in my life so far, one in college a few years ago, and one current lover. I will tell you more about my current affair later.
I better admit up front that I masturbate quite a lot. Sex fantasies really turn me on and touching myself is one of my favorite activities. I am very fond of horses and love to go riding. When I think it's safe I ride naked, like Lady Chatterley, one of my heroes. Should I get caught like this, I will get a good spanking or might even earn myself a trip to the barn for a whipping. But let me start at the beginning.
Luckily my parents are kind of wealthy, so I grew up on an estate complete with private horse stable. Once I got older I discovered the pleasure of grinding my pussy in the leather saddle and I began taking long rides by myself. But I had to be careful. My mom always insisted that I wear proper riding pants, you know, the tight beige ones that fit like a second skin over a girl's behind.
One day, I had a really wet orgasm and the stain showed on the front of my pants, between my legs. For some reason my mom saw it and I received my first whipping. She made me pull my pants down and I had to bend over a sawhorse. I got twenty lashes with a riding crop on my bare bottom. Each one made me scream out loud, believe me. But later that night, in my room, I looked at the welts on my ass in the mirror and masturbated until I had another orgasm. I discovered that the "afterglow" of a whipping was a real turn-on.
To prevent getting caught with stained riding pants, I began riding naked, taking off my pants once I was by myself in the woods. Besides grinding my pussy, I began using my fingers, leaning forward and reaching behind with one arm. For some reason I liked touching myself from behind, although that was more difficult. Sometimes I already had one orgasm by the time I reached my special, secret place in the woods; a little clearing with a big tree in the middle for shade.
I always had a blanket with me and sometimes I just took a nap there. But mostly I indulged in my sexual fantasies. For example, I used a leather strap to spank myself. It took some practice to land the smacks on my ass so that there would be some welts. Even though it hurt like hell I seemed to be unable to stop. The only thing that could relieve me was another orgasm. Afterwards I often thought myself stupid, looking at my bruised behind. But the glowing heat that lingered on my bottom was a pleasant feeling.
And then one day the unspeakable happened: I got caught. I hadn't noticed the man on the horse because I was so absorbed spanking myself with the strap. It was Mr. Darrell who owned a large estate close to ours. I had met him only twice before. My face turned red with shame and I didn't know what to say. He didn't seem shocked at all and asked about my name. I stammered "Babette" as good as I could and watched him dismounting his horse. The next thing he said I will never forget:
"Well, Babette, I know a thing or two about naughty girls. I consider it my duty to do you a favor. Hand me the strap. I will teach you what a real whipping is like."
He took me to a recently felled tree, and threw the blanket over it. I had to put myself face down over it, with my naked bottom displayed on the very top. I was afraid and nervous, but also kind of excited. Then the first smack exploded on my ass with unbelievable force! From the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Darrel raising the leather strap high over his head and lashing it across my bottom as hard as he could. The pain made me scream and after ten lashes my tears were blinding my eyes.
He whipped me methodically, not saying a word, sometimes left, sometimes right, sometimes squarely across my ass. I lost count after twenty, but I think he administered a full one hundred lashes this way. Then he helped me up, handed me a tissue so I could wipe away my tears, and gave me back my leather strap. He said good bye and rode off.
For a while I was afraid he would tell. But Mr. Darrell kept it for himself. It was our secret. From then on he watched me masturbating from a distance, through his binoculars. I only talked to him a few times after the initial whipping. On one occasion, I handed him my riding crop and bent over for him. I learned quickly that Mr. Darrell did not have a playful attitude when it came to punishment. He whipped my ass methodically, without saying a word. There were a few subsequent encounters where I got over his lap and he spanked me with his hand. Even that hurt like hell initially, but the rewarding afterglow was worth it all.
When I was in college I could hardly wait for the summer breaks. I missed riding my horse. And to some extent I missed my secret encounters with Mr. Darrell. Because my parents were often out of town during summers, I was able to ride naked even at home during my breaks. Yes, I did have a boyfriend in college at the time, my first lover. A sweet boy named Robert. Unfortunately he was not very experienced. He spanked me when I asked him to, but he thought that was weird. And then he usually came within two minutes and it was over with. I had to use my hand anyway.
More and more I fantasized about Mr. Darrell making love to me. In one of my fantasies, I see myself bending over the sawhorse in the stable and Mr. Darrell fucks me from behind, spanking my ass at the same time. At the moment I reach orgasm, he withdraws and sprays his cum on my flaming bottom cheeks. He spreads it evenly across my ass and then he picks up the leather strap. After a sound whipping of no less than fifty cracking lashes he takes me again from behind...and again.
One day I couldn't stand it any longer and decided to visit Mr. Darrell. I called him first and he was surprised to hear from me. I guess he thought that I was happy with a same age boyfriend.