104 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
104 lines
5.8 KiB
Plaintext
Morning On Horseback
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The riding lessons she took as a child finally paid off, and she took
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great delight in flaunting her experience. He was a city boy, and a
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middle class one at that. Behind the steering wheel of a mustang, he felt
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fine. Behind the reins of one however, his experience consisted of
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watching John Wayne movies on Sunday afternoons. She laughed at his clumsy
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handling of his steed and delighted in her advantage. She took every
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opportunity to rub in her superiority. Toward the end of the course, she
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took off and left him behind, dashing ahead for the stable.
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When he finally brought his horse in, she was standing beside her mount
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with a smirk on her face. He was determined to remove that smirk.
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He grabbed her wrists and quickly wrapped the thin leather strap around
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them. Then he deftly spun her around and, in one swift movement, lifted
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her up and placed her, face down across the saddle. He reached under the
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horse, and took hold of the leather strap and tied it around her ankles.
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She quickly discovered that she was unable to move. He brought this fact
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into clear focus by bringing his hand down sharply across the seat of her
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jodhpur covered bottom. The tight cloth of her jodhpurs gave little
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protection and she let out a squeal as the sting sank in. She struggled,
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but found herself tightly bound across the horse.
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For his part, the horse simply looked over his shoulder, and stamped his
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hoof in amusement.
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He smacked her several more times before circling around the horse and
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looking her in the eye.
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"I'm only going to give you one chance to apologize, and this is it.
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Simply say you are sorry, and we'll let it go at that."
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She simply glared at him. (Actually, she tried to glare, but didn't pull
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it off too convincingly. The smile that kept turning up the corners of
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her mouth pretty much ruined the effect.)
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"You will be sorry, my dear. Rest assured." He said before circling back
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around the Arabian. As he reached up and unbuttoned her jodhpurs, she
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began really struggling and screaming for him to stop. He simply pulled a
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handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in her mouth saying "We
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wouldn't want to attract the attention of the stable boy." He was thus
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able to yank down her pants without dissent. Bare assed over the
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stallion, she waited. She could hear a little rustling of the hay behind
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her, and she could feel the coolness of the leather saddle beneath her.
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She could also feel the cool air of the stable caressing her bareness.
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She struggled against the deliciousness of the restraint.
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With the suddenness of a thunder clap, she felt the hot sting of his hand
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as it made sharp contact with her flesh. Her cry was muffled by the
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handkerchief in her mouth. Again he struck. And again. She writhed
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beneath this barrage of pain, and yet she was acutely aware of herself
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rubbing against the saddle leather. The combination of sensations was
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producing the most wonderful result. But he didn't give her much time to
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ponder this. He delivered a series of stinging strokes that blotted all
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other thoughts from her head. She struggled to catch her breath.
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He circled around once more to face her.
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"Ok, ok, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she said. Or rather, she tried to say.
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The kerchief reduced her words to vague pleading mumbles.
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"Hmm? I'm afraid I can't understand a word you're saying. No matter.
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I'm not interested in what you have to say now." He smiled at her as he
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walked over to the wall of the stable and took a horse brush from it. It
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was like a regular brush, but a little larger, and a little heavier. He
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slapped it against his hand a few times while looking her in the eye
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before circling back around to the other side of the horse.
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Under normal circumstances, the first blow would have brought a cry from
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her, but once again, the kerchief reduced it to a muffled moan. With
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every stroke, she tried to kick free, but she succeeded only in shifting
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around a bit.
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After ten stinging slaps of the brush, she was ready to apologize. She
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was ready to do anything. But he wasn't finished yet. He returned the
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brush to the wall and, as he did, noticed the riding crop. He looked at
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her and smiled as he picked it up. Her eyes widened. She shook her head
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and tried to plead with him, wordlessly. But he just kissed her on the
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forehead and went back around the horse. It was then she noticed some
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movement in the doorway. Her eyes grew wide as saucers as she realized it
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was the stable boy. How long had he been watching? She tried desperately
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to tell her riding partner about his presence. She tried to speak. She
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tried to wriggle free of her bonds. She was rewarded only with the crack
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of the crop across her already sore backside. It produced a line of
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stinging fire across her bottom. She could see the stable lad smile as he
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leaned against the doorway, but only for a moment, for with the next two
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swats of the crop, her eyes filled with tears and her world became a blur.
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But even though she couldn't see the lad, the knowledge that he was
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watching her spanking, watching her submission, was mortifying. And yetx
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Through it all, the intensity was building, and the next swish and crack
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of the crop brought it all into focus at once. The leather beneath her,
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the strap around her wrists and ankles, the man with the crop behind her,
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the stable boy in front of her, all came crashing together in a mind
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numbing orgasm that seemed to last forever.
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When she regained her senses, he was releasing her wrists and ankles from
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their bondage and easing her off the stallion and into his arms. The
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stable boy was nowhere in sight. He removed the handkerchief from her
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mouth, but before she could say "I'm sorry." he placed his lips against
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hers. Then there was nothing else. No stable, no horse, only them. Only
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that kiss.
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