The old cabin (M/F story)

 When I was a boy, my best friend was the daughter of one of my mother's friends. The girl's name was Jasmine, she was a year younger than me, and we played together pretty much every day.

 

One day, when we were in our teens, Jasmine came to me and told me that she had something to show me, but it was something I had to keep secret. Intrigued, I gave her my word and followed her to an old cabin that her parents owned.

 

The cabin had an attic, where she told me that we would hide and wait. I asked her what we were waiting for.

 

"You'll see," she said.

 

About half an hour after we arrived, I heard someone approaching the cabin. Jasmine placed her finger on her lips to silence any questions, and a man in a blue coat and a woman in a green dress entered the cabin. I recognized the man as Jasmine's uncle Jacob, but I had never seen the woman before.

 

"You'd better fetch it at once," Jacob said in a firm voice, and the woman walked over to a wardrobe. She retrieved an old riding crop, holding it toward him with her head bowed. He grasped the crop and nodded toward the table. She walked over to it, raised her dress to her waist, and leaned forward over the table.

I must have made some sound of surprise at the unexpected sight, because Jasmine immediately clasped her hand over my mouth, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Luckily, the two below seemed to have been too preoccupied to hear me.

 

The thin white fabric that clung to the woman's backside did little to hide the pale white cheeks, but the man still stepped forward and lowered her panties to her knees. He ran his palm gently over her bottom with a satisfied mutter, then stepped back and raised the crop.

 

With a snap, the crop contacted with her small, white bottom. I expected some cry of pain or a wriggle, but she kept her mouth closed, her head down, and her backside still. He raised the crop again and again, moving from cheek to cheek as he spanked her soundly.

 

Every touch of the crop left another small mark. Slowly, the once-pale cheeks turned pink, then red. Tears were rolling down her eyes, but she never asked him to stop, nor did she move out of position.

 

After a while, he walked forward to rub her bottom. "You're handling this very well, Theresa," he said in a soothing voice.

 

She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. "Thank you, sir," she said in a slightly quivering voice.

 

"I think ten hard strokes, and we are done here."

 

"Whatever you think is best, sir."

 

He stepped back, raising the crop again. This time, he slammed it down with considerably more force, causing her to cry out. First the left cheek, then the right, then the left again. Soon, he helped the crying woman to her feet, rubbing the back of her head with one hand and her sore bottom with the other while she sobbed on his shoulder. When she had calmed down some, she pressed her lips to his in the most passionate kiss I had ever seen.

 

"Thank you, sir," she said. She placed the crop back in the wardrobe, and the two of them left. The woman was gingerly rubbing the seat of her dress, but there was a look of bliss on her face as she dried the last of her tears.

 

We waited a few minutes to make sure they were gone before we headed down.

 

"That was…" I tried to come up with something that could describe what I had just seen, but I just shook my head, unable to put my feelings into words.

 

"He brings that woman here every Friday at this time," Jasmine told me. "He calls her Theresa, but beyond that, I don't know who she is."

 

I walked over to the wardrobe, wanting another look at that crop. I picked it up and held it in my hands. It felt so unreal that just a few minutes ago, this thing had been used to beat a grown woman's naked bottom. I tapped it against my palm.

 

Glancing up, I noticed that Jasmine was looking at me with an intense expression I had never seen before. There was an almost hungry look in her eyes as her gaze went from my face to the crop I held in my hands. I got my second shock of the day as she stepped over to the table and began to raise her skirt.

 

"What are you –" I stopped myself. A silly question, really – it was obvious what she was doing.

 

"I brought you here without telling you what was going to happen. I could have warned you, so you were prepared." She glanced at me over her shoulder, and there was a glint in her eye as she said, "That was very naughty of me… sir."

 

She bent over the table. Her red skirt was raised to display a pair of scarlet panties. I was about to lift the crop to spank her when a thought occurred to me. Did I dare?

 

"Maybe we should get those panties out of the way," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "Don't you think?"

 

"Whatever you think is best, sir," she said, echoing the words of the older woman as she lowered her head to the table with a blush on her face. Needing no further encouragement, I stepped forward and placed my fingers in the waistband of her panties. Slowly, as if uncovering some great treasure, I gently pulled them down to reveal the soft, pale flesh of her naked bottom.

 

Just like I'd seen Jacob do, I placed my hand on the bared cheeks before me and gently rubbed them. It felt heavenly to touch her soft, womanly flesh like this. "What a beautiful, pale little bottom," I said, trying to sound as confident as possible. "But it won't be pale for long, will it?"

 

She breathed heavily, but didn't answer. I stepped back and lifted the crop, gently smacking it down on her bare buttocks. I thought it was best to take it slowly and carefully – the last thing I wanted was to overdo it and scare her into stopping. I gave her a few more strokes, slightly harder than the first one.

 

"How was that, Jasmine?"

 

"Oh, have you started?" she replied dismissively.

 

I smiled. Telling myself she would regret her words, I began to apply the crop with a little more force. Like Jacob had done, I struck her left cheek, then her right cheek, making sure to cover her bottom from the upper to the lower parts.

 

"Oh!" she cried out when the crop landed on the lowest part of her bottom, where it met her thighs. I chuckled as she squirmed. It had never occurred to me before that spanking could be fun, but I was certainly enjoying myself – and it's clear that she was too.

 

Her rear end had become quite pink at this point. We were still far from the scarlet marks that Jacob had inflicted on Theresa, but I didn't want to push my luck. I stepped forward, rubbing her bottom again. She sighed contentedly.

 

"Maybe a few more strokes to finish this off?" I suggested.

 

"Whatever you think is best, sir," she repeated.

 

I gave her six more strokes – three on each cheek, and significantly harder than the rest of them. She was breathing heavily when I stopped, and there were tears running down her face, but she had a joyous look on her face as she rose to her feet, and she rushed forward to hug me. As we looked into each other's eyes, it was clear that we would find a way to do this again as soon as possible.