Savannah – story

Hello everyone,

I just finished another story for your reading pleasure.


Marie-anne imagined the dozen our so people cramped together in the sweaty, stinking bus that had left just before her. Alone, in the back of the jeep, with the wind in her hair and her private guide behind the wheel, she was glad not to be one of them. The faster jeep had quickly passed the crowded bus of tourists and left the well-traveled road. She was sure she would see a lot more wildlife than any of them, her guide had promised her as much.
She wasn’t sure what to think of him yet. Tall, ebony dark skin, handsome and with a decent grasp of English, probably her age or even younger; he seemed a good companion, but when he talked she wasn’t sure whether he was sexist, or just flirting. Her inner-feminist had growled when he had said ‘you must have a rich husband, if he lets you take private tours like this,’ as if a woman could have no succes of her own, or needed her husband’s permission for trips like this. She had told him clearly that she was not married, before realising that might’ve been just an awkward try of him to get exactly that information. There was more of course, but she just couldn’t tell when he was serious and when he wasn’t, his accent wasn’t helping either.
Despite that, the trip was heavenly, the stories he told interesting and the view wonderful. They were just passing through an open stretch of savannah when she emptied her first bottle of water. She had a dozen more, not wanting to dry out in the heat, and tossed the bottle aside out of habit – a woman of her wealth didn’t clean up her own mess afterall – watching it fall amoungst the grasses. Before the realisation that it might not have been proper to just throw it away could come to her, the guide angrily asked. “Did you just throw something out?”
“Yes, sorry.” She blushed. “I wasn’t thinking.”
The jeep quickly turned around and returned to the dropped bottle. The guide climbed out and handed it back to her. “Don’t do that again.” He said. “We have very strict rules about littering.” With a blush she accepted the empty bottle and put it next to her.

Several hours later, she had almost forgotten the incident. She felt more comfortable around the guide too, now that she’d got to know him better. She was already on her fifth water bottle, it was so hot. She had already stripped off most of her clothing, leaving only a short dress and a wide brimmed hat to protect her from the sun.
When the jeep jumped up from a ditch she reached for the bottle balanced on her knee. But instead of grabbing it she hit it with the tips of her fingers, sending it flying away. The car quickly came to a stop. “Get out.” The guide set.
“Go pick it up.”
Slowly she got off the jeep, she hadn’t left it before, in the middle of the wilderness. “It was an accident.” She said as her feet hit the dirt. But as she ran to the dropped bottle she heard the guide drive away. “Wait!” She cried, running after him with the empty bottle in her hand.
He hadn’t gone far, but she was terrified when she reached him again. “Don’t get in yet.” He said after she threw the bottle with the rest, he got out of the car.
“It was an accident.” She said, slightly angry.
“Of course.” He replied. “Do you think I’m stupid? Because I don’t have as much money as you do, or because I live in a third world country?”
“No.” She said. She did think his world views were a bit odd or old-fashioned, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
Still a bit of it must’ve shown on her face, as his eyebrows narrowed. “Whatever you think, we have our own way of dealing with women like you around here.” He said threatingly. “Put your hands on the car.”
“What, why?”
“I told you we had strict rules about littering. Or would you rather be left behind?”
With a blush she placed her hands on the car. Quickly the guide put his arm around her waist, keeping her in place, with his free hand he smacked her bottom hard.
“Ouch!” She yelped, pushing herself off of he car. “What are you doing?!”
He pushed her back until she leaned on her elbows, taller and stronger as he was, she had no means of escape. “Like I told you, we have our own way of dealing with misbehaving women.” He lifted her skirt and hit her a couple more times.
She wanted to scream, she had been right! He was a sexist, and a perverted one at that! But as his free hand pulled down her panties, baring her bottom, embarrassment flooded her anger and she just blushed, counting herself lucky they were far away from anyone to see. He really started spanking her now, his hand hitting her cheeks in turn, making her squeal and groan. The sting spread quickly trough her bottom, which was slowly turning red. It was hot too, especially under the sun, but his hand didn’t seem to tire. “I won’t do it again, I won’t do it again!” She said as her bottom truely started to glow.
And he let her go. It could have been worse, she told herself blushingly as she rubbed her behind. It had not been that hard… “Take off your dress.”
“What?” She gasped.
“Take it all off, then put your shoes and hat back on, that’ll be enough to protect you from the sun, but not from me. Or would you rather be left behind?”
She blushed deeply, but knowing she had no other choice she started slowly to undress. It could have been worse indeed, she thought. The guide didn’t watch her undress. Instead he walked into the bushes on the other side of the jeep. When he returned she was completely naked and he held a long thin stick in his hands. He did look at her then, apreciatively, and flicked the stick up and down, it made a swishing sound. “A good switching will do you good.” He said. “Put your hands on the car.”
She didn’t try argueing, but just turned around as he said. The switch scared her, but at the same time she was curious to how it would feel. She could harsly believe she could be curious about such a thing, but being naked and with her bottom hot and stinging she felt kind of… excited about all of this. Except that it was completely wrong of course.
“If you promiss me you won’t do it again I will use this only as a warning…” He suddenly said.
“I promiss, I promiss.” She quickly replied, her fear of the switch larger than her curiousity.
“Good.” He said and flicked the switch across her behind. She moaned softly as a thin sting spread across her bottom. A warning apparently meant no full arm length swings with the switch, but just a quick flick of the wrist. Each stroke painted a red line across her bottom, which quickly faded as the sting spread out. She had to remind herself how wrong of him it was to do this to her and that she was definitely not turned on. Her moaning was obviously because her bottom was on fire and for no other reason. Still, she did not beg him to stop this time, taking in all the punishment he had to offer, until her bottom was well red and sore. Some of the red lines no longer dissapeared and she had collected a good dozen of them, crisscrossing her bum when he finally stopped.
“Are you going to show more respect to the environment from now on?” The guide asked her.
“Yes sir.” She replied breathlessly.
“Good, then put on your clothes so we can be on our way.”
Marie-anne grabbed her dress, but felt somehow reluctant to pull it back on. Though she quickly climbed into the jeep, as not to be left behind.

There had been several hours left of their tour and she had felt every crack and bump on and off the road, seated on her sore bottom. She no longer had her full attention on the amazing fauna and flora, distracted by thoughts of what had happened. When they finally arrived back at the village she made her way to the guide’s office to pay the reminder of what the trip had cost. The bus of tourists had arrived as well, jabbering on about what they had seen. Despite what had happened she thought, she was glad she had taken the private tour. A small plaque at the service desk caught her attention. ‘Don’t forget the guide.’ It read. Well she had had plenty of time to think of his fee, though it still brought a blush to her cheeks and a feeling of disbelief for her own actions when she handed it to him. A small package: her panties folded together – they had been too thight over her sore bottom anyway – and inside a small card with the name of her hotel and room number. Perhaps she should’ve taken the switch with her as a souvenir, she thought as she turned away from him. Then again, perhaps he would bring it along…

About K.C. Perrin

Writing a story about a naughty girl is almost as good as having her bare red bum across your knee. View all posts by K.C. Perrin

8 responses to “Savannah – story

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