My name is Audra. I am a 16-year-old young woman. I live with my mom Diane in the Brentwood area of LA. People tell me that I am very beautiful. I have long dark auburn hair and an aerobically fit body, 5 ft 2 in., 110 lb. Like, I’m a small chick, ok? So sue me.

Diane and I are fortunate that we live a very upscale life-style. Diane makes a shit-ton of money and provides me with everything I need and almost everything I want. I attend an exclusive and very expensive private school and drive a new Jag convertible that Diane gave me for my sixteenth birthday. Life set me up to become a rich snob, but I’m not into that whole deal. I was born into a rich family. That makes me lucky, not entitled. My friends come from a wide range of backgrounds. I love them, and they love me. That makes my world go around.

One Thursday afternoon, I found myself sitting across from Becca, an on-again and off-again friend at Yogurtland in Westwood. I was looking fine, dressed in a cute little sundress and sandals, my hair curled into ringlets. And Becca was so fucking cute. She was tiny, short of five feet and had this little 95-pound Marilyn-Monroe-Betty-Boop-type bod! I mean, it was fucking banging, dude. Becca was the daughter of Diane’s always down-on-her-luck friend Mary Beth.

I didn’t know quite what to expect. As I sat there with Becca I felt at home with her, as if no time had passed since we had last seen each other. She looked up at me with her big, brown doe-like eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

She shocked me by straight up by asking me if I would go out with her. I had only recently started dating, mostly with boys, and I had never been asked on a date by a girl before. I took my time answering, but there was something about the way she looked at me like she was somehow hungry and innocent at the same time. That look made me want to say yes. I had already been with a couple of boys, and I already knew I was bi-curious, but being flat-out asked on a date by a girl was new territory for me. And Becca...was different. She was young like me, 16, and despite her experience in a much broader and more varied world than mine, I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, mixed with balls-out bravado.

Becca’s mom was a druggie who sometimes found work in the film industry, and sometimes not. There were rumors that she had done a little whoring to make ends meet. I could even imagine that some of that was in Becca’s background, also, and that made me sad.

As I was slowly making up my mind about the date, she spoke of her dreams and her fears, and I found myself doing the same. There was a connection between us, one that bridged the socioeconomic divide between us. We talked about school, about our families, and about the world outside the bubble I had been living in all my life.

As the sun set, Becca reached across the table and took my hand, her small, delicate fingers wrapping around my own. "I know what everyone says about me," she murmured. "But I promise, I'm not like that."

I didn't know what to say. But sitting there with her, looking into those eyes, I wanted to believe her. "Okay," I whispered. My heart was racing. "I like you, Becca, you're sweet. I'll go out with you."

The date was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves. She took me to a dive bar down by Venice Beach…very diverse crowd. The  neon lights were glaring, and the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and the kinds of desperation always found in bars. She held the door open for me, her hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the smoky haze and the leering glances of the patrons. We flashed our fake ID’s, drank cheap wine, and danced to the pounding beat of the music.

In the light of the small dance floor, I could see the way her hips moved in time with the bass. We kissed, lightly at first. Her kisses were gentle, almost tentative, and yet they set my body alight. Her hands explored my curves, her fingers tracing the lace of my bra. I knew that tonight would be one for the books.

We ended up back at her mom's place. Her mom was out, if you know what I mean. Out and about. The apartment was def downscale, but neatly kept. The lights were down low and the scent of cheap candles filled the air. Becca looked at me with a puzzled expression and, for a moment, I thought she was going to back out. But then she leaned in, her breath hot against my neck, and whispered, "I've never done this before."

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, her voice barely audible, "I've never been with a... a rich girl."

It was almost like an accusation, and it hung in the air, seeming to suck the oxygen out of the room. I was not prepared to answer for the sins of the upper reaches of the SoCal bourgeoisie. I swallowed hard. My heart was racing. "It's okay," I assured her. "I've never been with a 4-foot 10-inch girl. Especially one as pretty as you." We both giggled.

And then she was on top of me, her hands exploring my body with an energy that thrilled me. She kissed me hard, her tongue pushing into my mouth. The little thing really wanted me. She kicked off her sneakers, removed her little crop top, and peeled off her faded jeans. I swear to God, she looked like a miniature Marilyn Monroe.

As the night progressed, she showed me a side of herself that I never knew existed. It was a tender, caring side that seemed so at odds with her tough exterior. Her touch was like the softest silk, and the way she whispered in my ear made me feel cherished.

Then, out of nowhere, she had a paddle in her hand. “I want to spank you,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to make a rich girl cry. I want to make you cry, Audra. Is that ok?”

I was a bit startled, bot I said "Oh, okay, I'll give that a try." Becca's paddle came down, leaving a warm, tingling sensation that spread through me. She paddled my rich ass enthusiastically, but she was such a little thing that it didn't hurt THAT much, but my bare skin was warm and tingling! With each hit, I felt more pleasure than pain, with my body responding in ways that I had never expected. And I was wet.

"Is that enough? Does it hurt too much or do you want more?,” she asked with surprising tenderness.

I nodded my head yes, my eyes watering from the sensation. "Please more, Becca. I don’t know why, but I need more."

With that, a tear poured down her little face. “Oh, Becca,” I said. "Please don't cry."

"Wait, I can do it,” she exclaimed. “Mom has a big wooden spoon in the kitchen." She ran to get it and returned in a flash. The tears were gone and she was ready for action.

"Roll over, bitch, your ass is mine," she said in her little voice. Now this had turned a little weird, but I was down for it. And then she spanked me again. That spoon was hard, but once again she was so small that being whacked with it was hardly even a proper spanking. But she was giving it her best effort. She screeched, "Take it! You deserve it, bitch, don't piss me off!" I shoved my face into a pillow so she wouldn't see me laughing. The little thing was trying to be a domme!

Finally out of breath, she relented. I leaned over and put my head on her shoulder. "That was awesome, Becca. It felt really good. But it really hurt, too! I lied."

She looked at me with her eyes glistening and whispered, "I'm sorry, Audra, spanking such a pretty girl got me carried away!"

My ass was burning some, but no real damage had been done, but her attempt to spank me had made me super-horny.

I managed to push her onto her back and began to kiss my way down her little body. My lips traced the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and I could tell her desire was building. I took my time. My kisses grew more urgent as I approached her pussy. My feelings for her were racing through my mind. She was strong and brave and sweet and sexy. And I loved all of that.

Then my tongue finally found her little mossy cave. She gasped, her back arching off the bed. I was gentle at first, but as she grew wetter and more aroused, my licks grew more insistent. I teased and tormented her with my mouth. Her pleasure seemed exquisite, and she begged for more.

"Please," she moaned. "Please, Audra, I need you so much in every way." Seconds later her bangin' little bod tensed up, then shuddered as she erupted in a delightful orgasm that made her face glow. God, she was beautiful!

Well,,, this night was epic. Then the little bitch pulled out a strap-on from her mother's drawer, and I couldn't help but stare at the size of it. "It's not so big," she assured me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I’ll be your bitch tonight. Give me a good fuckin’ Audra. Don’t hold back because I'm little!!"

With trembling hands, I buckled the strap-on around me. She knelt beside the bed, her eyes locked on mine, and I knew there was no turning back. "Ready?" I asked, as gently as I could.

I took a deep breath as she coated the tip of the dildo with lubricant. I leaned over her, with my breasts brushing against hers, and whispered, "This is going to be amazing." And with that, I began to press into her, inch by delicious inch, filling up her little pussy.

Each thrust sent shock waves through both of us, and I found her meeting my rhythm, eager for more. Her hands were everywhere—on my hips, my breasts, my throat—guiding me, pulling me into her.

As I fucked her, I was overcome by a need to please her. I decided I could love this girl! Being Becca's lover was a role that fit me, one that brought me a sense of peace.

I gave her quite a pounding. I almost burned up from the sexual energy that built inside me. And then I came, then she came! When it was over our bodies were sticky with sweat from the warm California night. I lay there panting, knowing for certain that this was just the beginning, that there would be more dates, more falling in love with this fierce little vagabond.

The next morning, Becca drove me back to my car in her rattle-trap old Buick. Few words passed between us. Words weren't necessary. This sweet, gentle, 95-pound class warrior had spanked my rich ass, and I had fucked her hard, and she had changed my life, had changed me, and I was falling for her fast.