A New Ridding Academy (FFF/FFFFF)

[goodgulf]

A New Ridding Academy

Having recently moved to the area, Shirley was overjoyed in finding that there were a pair of nearby ridding academies that could cater to her love of equestrian sports. While their properties seemed to abut each other one was about ten minutes closer to her home by car. Both the Hearst Ridding Academy and the Getty Ridding Academy had comparable stabling fees, but the instructional fees at the Getty Ridding Academy were roughly ten percent lower than those of the more distant Hearst Ridding Academy.

'Closer and more affordable.' Shirley thought. 'There's really nothing to think about.'

Within a week, Shirley's mare, Starshine, was stabled at the Getty Ridding Academy and Shirley was there to exercise him. She wasn't looking for instruction, not until her beloved Starshine had adjusted to her new home, so was planning on riding the trails at random.

When one of the other riders, Patty, offered to ride with her and 'show her the paths' Shirley accepted at once. An hour of ambling and the occasional trot found the pair far from the stables.

"So are you planning on entering any of the meets?" Patty asked. "There's a steeplechase chase coming up next month with only the barest entry requirements. Not real ones, just something to keep out the beginners who think that being able to stay in the saddle for five minutes means they can do show jumps."

"Not next month." Shirley answered. "Starshine still has to adjust from the move get back into condition before I could even think of doing something like that. There's no way I'd push her until she's ready."

"Of course. There are other meets after that one." Patty said with a nod.

Then Shirley drew her horse in.

"I have to ask you something. These meets, are they open ones?"

"Of course they are." Patty answered. "Otherwise, what's the point? You can only improve by competing with others. If we just competing with the others in the academy, well, that would be playing with ourselves, wouldn't it?"

Shirley paused. She wasn't sure if Patty was talking sports or masturbation there and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. To keep the pause from becoming too long, Shirley decided press on with her original subject.

"It's just that there's another academy near here. I checked them out and their prices were higher so I was wondering..."

"If their training is better?" Patty guessed. "No, the Getty and Hearst academies mostly split the prizes with some of the people travelling in winning the odd prize or two, here or there. I'd have to check the stats to be sure, but I think that we use our course we have the edge and when we their course they had the edge, and since we switch it all comes out even."

"Um, then how..."

"How can they charge more for everything but basic stabling?" Patty asked with a laugh. "I thought that question would come up. I could tell you, but it's better to show you."

"Really?"

"Really." Patty assured her. "If I just said it then you might not believe me but seeing is believing."

"So what is it?" Shirley pressed.

Patty checked her watch.

"It won't happen for about an hour. That's plenty of time to get to where we can see it. Come on, it's this way." Patty said.

Shirley followed.


An hour later the forest trail they were on came to the edge of the woods.

"I thought you might ask so I was guiding us this way." Patty told her.

Reaching down, Patty lifted a pair of binoculars from her saddle.

"These are polarised, like the military ones." Patty said, lifting them to her eyes. "Let's see if... Okay, take them and count six fence posts from the red barn."

"Um, okay." Shirley said, still wondering what she was supposed to see.

She found the barn and started counting off fence posts, then gasped.

"You've seen them." Patty smirked.

Shirley adjusted the glasses, bringing the sight into better focus. The top rail of that fence was about waist high and six girls were bending over it. Two had their riding breeches up, one had her beeches down but her panties still up, while the remaining three bottoms were bare. Naked at the waist and bending over that railing. Shirley knew she was seeing it, but she didn't know what she was seeing.

"We should go." Patty announced. "Come on, we'll ride over there and I'll explain things to you."

"But what in the world...."

"We need to go." Patty said firmly. "Now. Come on, or I'll leave and you'll have to find your way back along."

Shirley knew that she would eventually be able to find her way back to the stables, but she didn't want to push Starshine on the first day. Reluctantly she turned and followed Patty.

They road for over twenty minutes, with Patty ignoring Shirley's questions, before they stopped by a stream. As they allowed their horses a bit of a drink, Patty finally answered Shirley's questions.

"What was it? Isn't it obvious? It's why the Hearst Riding Academy charges more than the Getty one." Patty answered.

"But why were those girls lined up?" Shirley pressed.

"For spankings." Patty paused slightly as Shirley gasped. "That's right, those girl were going to be spanked. The Hearst Academy charges more because it administers corporal punishment when needed."

"But... What... How... Is that even legal?" Shirley sputtered, trying (and failing) to think of another reason why those girls would be bending like that.

"Of course it is." Patty said with a sigh. "They get a release signed. Woman who want the 'special attention' that the Hearst Riding Academy offers sign it themselves and teens get their parents to sign."

"Um, but..."

"And 'teens' include 18 and 19 year olds." Patty continued. "Some of which get surprised when they discovered what their parents signed off on. Some don't know until they are told to report to the rail."

"Um, but, er, that's incredible! If I hadn't seen it..."

"Seeing is believing, which is why I wouldn't tell you about it." Patty said smugly. "And it's not like it works or anything."

"What?"

"If it worked it would be one, but it doesn't." Patty elaborated. "They don't spawn Olympic champions. They don't even dominate us and we don't spank. We don't even have a swear jar."

"But... But... God this is too weird. Okay, what's a spanking offence over there? Why did some of the girls have their riding breeches up while were bare?"

"As to that, I have no idea. No, I'm serious! I don't know their rules. Why would I? Well, that's not quite right. I do kind of know one of their rules." Patty revealed.

"What?" Shirley asked.

"If they catch you watching they invite you to join in." Patty revealed in a soft voice.

"What?" Shirley exclaimed in disbelief.

"They do." Patty nodded. "That's why we used polarised field glasses and left before any spanking started. When it's about to happen they send out riders to everywhere that there's a clear line of sight and 'invite' any spectators to join the girls at the rail. Rumour has it that if you say no they try to herd your mount in."

"Rumour?" Shirley asked.

"Well the only ones who know for sure are the ones who were invited, and most of them aren't blabbing about it." Patty informed her. "They might confide in a friend and then that friend might pass along vague stories without saying who was caught, but no one brags about something like that. I mean, if they wanted to prove they were tough enough to take anything like that then they would join the other academy, wouldn't they?"

"Um, I guess..."

"So now you know the big secret. That they charge more for a technique that doesn't actually work. I think we should head back to the stables now."

"Um, yeah, sure. Of course." Shirley answered.


That night, Shirley wondered if she had joined the wrong academy. If she would have chosen differently if she had known why the other academy charged more. Filled with familiar feelings of guilt, she raided her well-hidden porn stash, returning with some well-thumbed pocketbooks. One dealt with a swim coach who used a paddle to motivate his girls' swim team, another with gymnastic coach who used a hairbrush to motivate her girls' gymnastic team, and the third with a husband / wife team who used various means of corporal punishment to motivate their girls' baseball team. All had wonderful covers and some nice interior art (usually one picture a chapter), and all had fuelled Shirley's fantasies for longer than she cared to admit.

All the books followed the same basic plots: if a female character was described in any detail she would either get spanked, spank someone, or both. Most of the girls only had a fire lit at one end, but in each book there were some girls who came to enjoy their spankings. In two of the teams had 'mascots'; a younger girl (usually the sister of one of the girls on the team) who insisted on being treated as one of the team and ended up with a token spanking, but in the third book the mascot ended up with a hard, bare bottom spanking, to teach her not to ask for another spanking. And of course, in all the books the spanked team ended up winning the championship.

Shirley had long wondered if there would ever be a book written about a ridding team that was spanked. She had never seen one, but now she had stumbled on one that existed in real life - and they weren't even a winning team!

Shirley had sometimes wondered if she could have made the Olympic team if she had been "properly motivated", but that motivation had never come. Never. She had had a bit of fun at sleepovers, but those smacks were only that - fun. Given in fun and taken in fun. There had been a couple furtive and aborted attempts at self-spanking, but those had never gone anywhere. Her bum had barely been pink when she stopped, and there was no one lecturing her on becoming a better rider as she landed those hesitant pats.

Closing her eyes, Shirley pictured herself as a whiny 17 year old, no a 16 year old, dropped off at the Hearst Riding Academy by her demanding parents who (in this fantasy) actually cared if her riding improved. About not know about those special rules until she was ordered to report to the rail and then....

At fourteen Shirley had almost made the state team. Maybe that was the proper age to picture herself. Caught slacking off by some older girls, they frog-marched her to the rail where some older girls were already waiting for their spankings. They forced down her ridding breeches and...

No, she was the team mascot. Going around and insisting that she was a Big Girl and big enough to go over the rail, until some of the older girls got tired of her and decided to teach her a lesson. They stripped her naked and carried her to that rail, kicking and screaming, in front of everyone. And when they were done she was sobbing and had a hot, burning bottom and ....

It wasn't the first time Shirley had found release in a circle of fantasies like that, but this time the fantasies were realer. Less generic. There was that red barn and the actual railing to work with and that made everything more real. More satisfying.

Later, as she was drifting off to sleep, Shirley made a decision. There was no way that she would agree to a signed form that would let someone decide on arbitrary punishments for her. The Olympics were long gone, even if they had ever been in reach (and Shirley didn't think they had been). Worse, the technique just didn't work. No, Shirley knew that she and Starshine would be staying at the Getty Riding Academy.


Shirley tried to resist the temptation. She really did, but two weeks after Patty showed her that railing Shirley had ridden back down that trail. It was slightly earlier in the day, and she secured Starshine to a tree well before the place they had watched.

"If they try to get watching girls to volunteer then they can't mind if I join the party." Shirley mumbled to herself. "Only this way no one will see Starshine so if they don't get a good view of my face they won't know who I am."

Anonymity was important to her. As long as no one knew her then this couldn't come back to haunt her.

Sneaking closer, Shirley was behind a tree when four sullen looking girls walked over to the railing. They were muttering to themselves a bit as they undid their riding breeches. When their riding breeches were down at their ankles they all turned to face the rail. Eyes straight forward, they lowered their panties and bent bare butt over the rail.

Shirley took a deep breath.

'It's now or never.' Shirley thought, embracing a false dichotomy. Ignoring the fact that if she chickened out today she could always come back later.

Screwing her courage, she darted to the fence bent over the rail. Facing away from the girl next to her, Shirley hoped she passed for one of them. Just another girl at the fence, one who hadn't been told to bare her bum.

Then she heard footsteps. People moving.

'Oh god.' Shirley thought, praying for the first time in years. 'Please don't let any girl bend over on this side of me. Please leave me a free side so I can turn my face and not be seen.'

She could hear people moving, but not what they were doing. She wanted to glance back didn't dare.

Then a hand came down on her backside. It wasn't hard, but it was firm. Firmer than any of her attempts at self spanking.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Came a woman's voice from behind her.

'I'm busted!' Shirley thought. 'They know I don't belong here.'

Then a hand was tugging at the back of her riding breeches.

"Elaine said that every girl sent to the rail would get it bare today, so what's this? What's this?"

"Um..."

"Straighten up! NO! Don't look behind. You know the rules. Eyes and face straight ahead."

Shirley was manhandled into position, then her bottom was bared. Her riding breeches and panties, both taken down. Then she was forced to bend again, once more over the rail. This time she was offering her bare bottom for punishment.

Then came a second surprise. Arms reached through the lower part of the fence. Arms grabbing her wrists and applying leather to them. Leather that went to a strap that led to her ankles. She was trapped. She couldn't leave if she wanted to.

Shirley was hyperventilating when the women behind her left.


Shirley was calming slightly, until the girl on the rail beside her spoke in a low voice.

"Whoever you are, you picked a bad day to crash the party."

"Um, what?" Shirley squeaked.

"I know who Elaine sent here and I don't know you so I'm guessing you're thrill seeker. Someone who wants to feel what a little spanking feels like. Well, this was the wrong day to crash the party."

"Um, how do you..."

"I'm Vanessa by the way. I won't ask your name, but you so picked the wrong day."

Shirley stayed silent for as long as she could. When she could stand it no more she whispered back:

"What's wrong with today?"

Vanessa sighed.

"We in charge of mixing the feed and we got it wrong." Vanessa admitted.

"You got it wrong." Muttered the girl at the far end.

"Someone got it wrong." Muttered one of the girls in the middle.

"What. Ev. Ver." Vanessa said. "But the mix was wrong and if it hadn't been spotted then some of the horses might have gotten sick. And no one, no one at all, ever wears anything if it involves endangering the health of a horse."

Shirley gasped.

Horse, show horses at least, were delicate animals. The right mix of grains, pellets, and supplements were needed to keep them at their best. Too much starch, too little starch, too much or too little anything and a horse might get sick. And here she was, trapped. Tied over a fence with four girls who had gotten the mix wrong. Gotten it so wrong that someone could spot the problem with their naked eye or by smell.

Which didn't bode well for her. Anything like that, anything that would demand that all the girls had their pants done, wasn't something that Shirley wanted. She tested the bindings and discovered that they were depressingly secure.

Then footsteps came again. Footsteps, and voice.

"Okay girls. You know what you did and you know you deserve this."

Shirley heard a loud SPLAT sound from the other end of the line moments before pain exploded on her backside. Real pain, pain that was everywhere that the strap had kissed her. She barely heard the other smacks that sounded the start of the other girls' punishments.

"NO!" Shirley protested, her dream of a firm hand spanking banished.

Not that anyone listened to her.

After the second smack, Shirley threw herself against her bonds. Her bottom wiggled obscenely as she jerked her ankles this way and that, all to no use. The only way that Shirley could get away was if the fence broke and the rails were too sturdy for that to happen.

Shirley might have been the first to start wiggling, but she wasn't the last. With their legs secured to their arms, none of the girls could kick and when they tried their kicks turned into wiggles that jerked their bums an inch or two this way or that way.

Shirley felt her tears welling after the fourth blow. By the tenth she was sobbing openly, but her tears did nothing to sway the woman swinging the strap. The other four were later with their tears, possibly because they knew that the spanking wouldn't stop until it was over.

Focusing on her pain and helplessness, Shirley had long since lost track of the blows. She would have been stunned if anyone had told her that she had only taken 30 licks from the strap. A hundred, two hundred, even five hundred would be a more believable number than a mere 30. Her first clue that the strapping had ended was when she noticed her left wrist being freed and realised that her right one had already been released.


On a distant ridge, someone looked through a telescope and sighed. He had no idea what faults they had been punished for but thought that the sight of the five well strapped bottoms was one of the most beautiful ones that he had ever seen. He hadn't been able to see much of the strapping (the women with the straps were in his line of sight) but the results were plan to see. He longed to touch and fondle those red hot bums but could only touch himself.

Which he did.


Shirley's sobbing slowly faded as the other girls began to rise from the bench.

"Get up." Vanessa said.

Shirley ignored her, so Vanessa gave her bum a few pats. Not smacks, just pats to get Shirley's attention.

"I said get up." Vanessa repeated, still patting Shirley's bottom. "If you're not up and gone in a few minutes then someone will check on you. Then they'll see that you aren't enrolled here and ask you questions. You don't want to answer questions, do you? Then get up. Get up!"


He didn't know why that one girl was spanking the other girl, but seeing it was too much for him to take. He lost sight of the tableau as he reached for a kleenex.


It was hard, but Shirley forced herself to rise. The pain, the stiffness, dealing with it was easier to bear than allowing someone to know her name. She faced away from the other girls as she painfully raised her underwear and riding breeches, then stumbled over to where she had left her horse.


"Looks like she's going." Elaine commented as she watched from the barn. "I wonder who she is. Well, whoever she was she picked the wrong day to claim a place at the rail."

Not that they often had strangers bending over that rail, but six to eight times a year they would find a stranger bent over the rail. Often that was the only time they saw the stranger, but sometimes it would lead to a new enrolment in the Hearst Ridding Academy.


Limping off, Shirley eventually reached Starshine and spotted yet another hole in her plan. She knew that she hadn't kept her face away from Vanessa for the entire strapping and the other girl might recognise her, but that had been a risk that Shirley had envision. This however... The only way to get back to the stables was to ride and Shirley's backside was in no condition to fit into a saddle. Even the most gentle gait would bounce the saddle far too much.

She ended up hiking to the stream, a journey that took far more than twenty minutes. As Starshine drank, Shirley cooled her backside in the water then cleaned up her face. When she finally looked presentable she forced herself to mount Starshine and, riding her high in the saddle, return to the stables. For the first time in years, Shirley took advantage of the stabling service; allowing someone else to unsaddle Starshine and rub her down.

After rushing home, Shirley allowed herself to cry again. She had read about throbbing and stinging and burning, but nothing in her book prepared her for this. Her bum hurt! Really, really hurt! Looking at it in the mirror Shirley was sure that she could a bruise or two beginning to form.

Later that night, after she was in bed (laying on her stomach, of course) Shirley's mind drifted back over the days events. She hadn't found the strapping to be fun, erotic, or in anyway enjoyable - at least not at the time. Now, in looking back, with the sting in her bottom at a manageable level, Shirley was beginning to feel differently. She pictured how she must have looked, focused on the feeling of helplessness, of being made to do it, and reached for herself. She finished almost at once but didn't stop and suddenly knew the meaning of the phrase "multiple orgasm".

Later, as she drifted off into a content sleep, Shirley wondered if she would ever do it again. She knew that she would never join the Hearst Ridding Academy, that she could never publicly embrace this desire, but wondered if she would ever find herself bending over that rail again.

Goodgulf

[goodgulf]

This story was inspired by a photo I stumbled across. Four or five nude women were bending over a fence rail, possibly for a caning, switching, or strapping - it was a lone photo from a set and it wasn't labeled. I started thinking about how I could arrange something like that in a story and this was the result. I didn't quite get them naked (and the people in this story probably lacked the all over tans that were shown in the photo), but I did get them bare bum over a fence rail in a semi-plausible way.

Goodgulf

[ct_switch]

Outstanding! I was hoping they would get it with the switch or a dressage whip, but the story was great! I'd like to "crash" a party like tat, myself, someday... it would take quite a bit of courage.

Keep Up the Goodgulf Work!

[goodgulf]

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I thought about heavier instruments decided that they would scare a first timer off. That while a strap was one thing, the moment Shirley felt a whip that she would "reveal" that she wasn't supposed to be there.

This way she still thinks that only the girls at the rail know she wasn't supposed to be there - as if the stables wouldn't keep track of how many girls they had sent to the rail and noticed the extra bottom!

Goodulg

[william7]

Great story, it makes me think about the old saying "be careful what you wish for". It is interesting to contemplate how things might have happened if she hadn't chosen the "wrong day". If she ended up turned on in the aftermath of a severe strapping, what might have happened if she had received a gentler punishment?

[goodgulf]

She would probably have sneaked back a few more times.

And she wasn't turned on by punishment per se, she was turned on by the memory of it. When it was happening it was too intense for her to enjoy but once it was over she started remembering it in rose coloured glasses.

Goodgulf

[champagne]

Very Interesting story. I was brought up riding hosre and understand her curiousity. I wonder the man on the ridge was anyone husband?

[goodgulf]

The male on the ridge was partly there in case I decided to write a sequel - and because if there was a place like around where I lived I'm sure I'd be able to find a ridge that overlooked the punishment area.

He also exists to represent unknown watchers, something that Shirley hadn't considered. If there were other watchers then they might have seen her face. He might have seen her face and might meet her later.

And thank you for taking the time to respond to this story. It's always nice to get feedback.

Goodgulf

[henry999]

Yes, very good tale. Unusual and inventive.I had a go at a story (Pocket money spanking) but if you don't get feedback it makes you think it was crap. Anyway, this is brill, many thanks

[goodgulf]

I've posted stories that received little or no feedback and I've never thought that they were crap. Since I don't get paid for this, I write first for my own enjoyed and if people like then people like. If not, I still enjoyed it.

The thing about writing is that it's craft. The more you write, the more you horn your craft.

And thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. If you enjoyed this story you might head over to the blog section. I've been trying to post daily, and mixed with my ideas about writing are a number of very short stories.

Goodgulf