Spankmanship (continued)

30Mar13

stable croppingOur story began here.

Sylvia had decided against kneeling up in the back of the Range Rover as Mary drove her to the Lodge. Instead she sat up front lifting the full weight of her bottom of the seat with her arms either side of her thighs; a position that caused the housekeeper much amusement. Even for the short drive there it was a trial for both Sylvia’s arms and bottom, and as the pulled to a halt outside the Lodge, she had never been so happy to get out of a car.

The Lodge had once been the gatehouse to a local manor that had long since burnt to the ground. But it was large enough in its own right, with a great gabled roof that tower into the sky, so that it could still impress. It was cut from grey dressed stone that probably matched the grand house it served, but red brick features here and there gave away its mid-Victorian origins.

The more modern stables were around the back and Sylvia could see that a great many riders had gathered that morning for a jaunt around the district, some of whom were only still coming back.

A good proportion of the horsewomen were young with model-like looks and tight spray on jodhpurs that set-off prominent jutting bottoms that were almost obscenely set upon their saddles. In her view as a trophy wife, Sylvia had been derelict in her duty in not competing with such girls and she flushed with shame.

“Oh Samantha, how are you, I thought you had given it a miss like poor Chloe,” one impossibly wise looking woman-child said in an almost archaic public school oily voice.

Sylvia turned and saw a Nordic natural blonde beauty leading a horse across the yard and addressing another woman still astride her mount.

The second girl, Samantha, was an equally cute blonde who looked as if she had been born in the saddle. Sylvia noticed that the girl’s bottom was scarcely served by the paper thin strides that stretched across her whip-welcoming behind.

“No, I was just a little tardy is all,” Samantha replied with disdain.

Her accent was a little off as if she had only recently obtained it.

“Ooh, Willy won’t like that,” the first woman said as if she were kissing the air. “Third Sunday in a row isn’t?”

Samantha blushed and steeled herself to reply before saying, “If you must know, Willy has promised me three dozen across my bare bottom in the tack-room before lunch… I am to say to anyone who enquires that…” she coughed, “You are invited to watch.”

Having very reluctantly made the invitation, Samantha sucked in her cheeks defiantly and her whole body became taught as her mount, but this only served to emphasise her high cheekbones and the jut of her bottom.

“Oh I wouldn’t miss it darling,” Samantha’s friend said enthusiastically, “As a matter of fact, the same thing happened to Chloe last night. It was so jolly. It’s why she missed the ride today, if you know what I mean?” The girl patted her ample rear end and made a hissing sound as she mocked a wince. “She won’t be sitting down to pee for a month if I am any judge, let alone sit a horse.”

“Lucky her, I say,” Samantha said ruefully, “Willy says that if I am late for a Sunday ride again he’ll pay me out with four dozen before the ride.”

“Without jodhpurs no doubt, that is his way as I recall,” the woman said mischievously, “I haven’t forgotten last time.”

Samantha out did herself with a blush.

Sylvia listened to the exchange with rapt attention as she scanned the crowd for Gerald.

“And who have we here?” the first woman said as she cocked her head to regard Sylvia with a look somewhere between boredom and disdain.

“I’m… eh… Sylvia Peters,” Sylvia said feeling awkward.

“Well hello eh-Sylvia Peters, it’s nice to have a new face, isn’t it Samantha? I’m Elisabeth Strident and this is Samantha Willoughby-Gates,” Elisabeth said with as much insincerity as she could muster. “Oh, you’re not Sylvia Peters as in Gerald Peters are you?”

“I am rather,” Sylvia said falling into step with the dialectal idiom.

“Oh what have I been saying?” Elisabeth spluttered, “You must think me… I’m so sorry; I thought you were an interloper or one of those weekend hangers-on.”

“No I… well I was just looking for my husband,” Sylvia replied, relaxing a little.

As she spoke her hand slipped unconsciously to her sore bottom and she winced. It was an act that neither of new acquaintances missed. Samantha affected not to notice as she swung down out of the saddle, but Elisabeth raised both eyebrows conspiratorially and followed Sylvia’s gesture with her gaze.

Sylvia blushed.

“Oh I…”

“No need to explain, we both know Gerald rather well,” Elisabeth said archly.

Sylvia glowered and felt a pang of anger.

“No need to take on,” Elisabeth said quickly, “It’s nothing like that… we are both married I assure you. But I thought… aren’t you a civilian in all this?”

“I’m… not sure I know what you mean?” Sylvia blushed to her ears now.

“Really, well why don’t you stay and watch Samantha…” Elisabeth began.

“Oh… oh… yes, I am going to get 36 strokes on my bare bottom in the tack room, please come… I mean… oh, you’re invited…” Samantha broke in with a panicked voice, “Oh you won’t tell Willy that I didn’t… that Elisabeth prompted me, will you?”

Sylvia was taken aback while Elisabeth smirked.

“Oh you naughty girl,” she said, “Ooh what is this worth I wonder?”

“Oh don’t dob me in Elisabeth please, you have no idea…” Samantha begged.

“I won’t say a word if you tell me what would happen if I did,” Sylvia said, determined to find out more.

“Oh… oh alright,” Samantha said with a pout, “Afterwards.”

“Me too, not that I don’t know, but it will be fun to watch you squirm,” Elisabeth screwed her face up in a rather fetching way as she teased Samantha.

Samantha responded by poking her tongue.

*

Sylvia waited for all the riders to return until eventually she saw Gerald trot into the yard on the back of a great bay stallion. For a moment he looked younger, like a cavalry officer from a by-gone age or even… she gave herself over to a cheeky grin and giggled… or even a knight on horseback, she thought.

He smiled when he saw her, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he swept down from the saddle.

“I just thought…” she began to explain.

He didn’t allow her to finish but stooped to take her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth.

“Shall we go home?” His voice rumbled somewhere in his chest.

She gave a small nod, but then shot a glance towards a stable-like building that she assumed was the tack room.

“Um…” she bit her lower lip as she plucked up some courage.

“Oh…” he grinned, “You want to watch our errant Samantha get her due?”

“I just want to understand… I mean, who are these people and how… why…?” Sylvia was excited at this glimpse into yet another part of Gerald’s life.

“A curious cat, eh,” he soothed, “Come on then, let’s go and see.”

He took her arm and led her across the yard, occasionally nodding to this person and that as they went, mumbled greetings on his lips as people acknowledged him.

“Are all these people…? I mean, do they all…?”

“Most of them, some more enthusiastically than others,” Gerald told her, “There are other… pursuits, we are all mutually…” he rocked his head back and forth ever so slightly as he grouped for the words, then finding them he said, “…understanding and not to say discreet.”

“But are they all spanked?” Sylvia whispered as she looked around at the now crowded yard.

There were a ridiculous number of beautiful blondes now, they whole Lodge yard was starting to look like a pop video, she thought, and there far too many jodhpur-encased bubble-bottoms, not to be spanked. Sylvia stroked her own chestnut brown hair, glad now that she had never been tempted to bleach it.

“It is such a cliché isn’t it,” Gerald chuckled, knowing what she was thinking.

“How do I stack up I wonder?” Sylvia replied.

Gerald paused to kiss her.

“You do just fine,” he said.

Then with one final look back at the yard, they both entered the tack room where matters were already well in hand.

Elisabeth was standing back with one hand on her chin as if she were regarding a great piece of art.

The art in question consisted of Samantha who was now denuded between her waist and boot tops as she was bent over a saddle stand towards one corner of the room. Her bare bottom, magnificent enough encased in jodhpurs, was breath-taking in its smooth spherical simplicity as it curved uppermost over the cold hard leather rest.

Sylvia could see Samantha looking dejectedly back over her shoulder at the scene behind her; embarrassment, excitement and nervousness all written in her eyes.

There were a dozen other people in the room, strangely by a small margin, most of them were women and unlike the gathering outside, only half of them were blonde.

The men were mostly Gerald’s age, including a very tall rust-haired man brandish and riding crop, who was the only person there who even came close to competing with her husband with his sheer presence.

“Willy, I presume,” Sylvia whispered to Gerald, on whose arm she now clung to for dear life.

“David Willoughby-Gates, Willy to his friends,” Gerald said in a warm voice as he exchanged a nod with the man.

“They’re married,” Sylvia exclaimed, “I thought…”

“What? That she was just his bimbo?” Gerald scolded her.

Well yes, she thought, but said, “No but… I just thought…”

You can shut up now Sylvia; she could have kicked herself.

“It’s alright, I keep a couple of fillies stabled in London myself,” he teased.

“Jane, an old friend, who is… mostly platonic,” Sylvia said ruefully, “And Marianne, French I think, who has been fulfilling my duties for me. I asked Mary Granger.”

Gerald cocked one eyebrow and studied his wife for any sign of annoyance.

“Since when have you been taking such an interest in me?” he asked.

“Since far too recently,” a shamefaced Sylvia said. “Sorry.”

“You are apologising to me for only just finding out about my mistresses,” he chuckled, “The world is turned upside down.”

“Good,” Sylvia said emphatically with a childish nod, “I like it better this way.”

He laughed again and gave her hand a small squeeze.

“Do you, I mean,” Sylvia winced, “Do you spank…?”

“Oh yes, both of them,” Gerald gave her a tight smile, “Jane, only sometimes; we have a history. As for Marianne, she gets an apartment and a car plus, eh, a small fortune every year and I get full use of her rear end.”

Gerald watched Sylvia carefully as he spoke, studying her for the least sign of pain or regret.

“Good, I hope you thrash her raw,” Sylvia giggled.

A good mask or… Gerald mused as he continued to quietly watch her.

“Speaking of which, it looks like the fun is about to start,” Sylvia said excitedly as she hugged his arm.

They both turned to regard Samantha now straining over the saddle stand her bottom more elevated than ever. Wily had moved behind her and was caressing her proffered behind with the loop end of the long thin riding crop.

“Have you anything to say before I carry out the punishment?” he said as he allowed his whip to teasingly touch her most intimate places.

“Ah,” it was a sigh on her lips and she swallowed as she struggled to compose herself. “I am truly sorry Sir and I deserve to be severely punished.”

Sylvia remembered Samantha’s consternation when it even appeared that the woman had not obeyed Willy to the letter in issuing an invitation to the punishment. She wondered how severe things could get and was strangely thrilled at the idea. For some reason she was put in mind of the cellar and the threat hanging over Tatiana’s head.

“So be it,” Willy intoned.

The crop flicked out and left a stinging line across Samantha’s crupper.

It did not appear overly harsh, but the helpless blonde shrieked anyway; her rapid blinking and the confusion that suffused her face suggesting that the strike had been more surprise than agony.

There was ripple of applause at the opening of the scene, as if a performance was underway, which in a sense it was.

The second stroke was greeted in silence, but Samantha elegantly pumped her thighs so that her bottom rolled delightfully in place.

Then without preamble, Willy placed three more strokes until five neat strawberry lines crossed Samantha’s bottom and she was breathing heavily. The sixth diagonally placed gave her bottom a five bar country gate design.

Samantha squealed for this, but the audience again applauded.

Over the minutes that followed Willy inverted the design until his wife had 10 parallel welts embossed with a cross on her bottom.

“Now it gets interesting,” Gerald said appraisingly.

Sylvia looked at the scene with fresh eyes and hugged ever more into her husband, who patted her arm and gave her a wink.

Meanwhile, Samantha was crying softly and her bottom looked decidedly sore. But as Gerald predicted, things did indeed get interesting.

From thereafter, each stroke drew a blubbering wail from the hapless horsewoman and she squirmed and moaned in erotic misery over the saddle stand.

“I wonder if you will be late again,” Willy said sternly as he continued to ply his trade.

“No Sir,” Samantha gushed in anguish, “Oh no Sir.”

“I trust you are grateful for this instruction?” Willy pressed her.

“Oh, oh, oh… yes Sir, ah-ha-ah-ha,” she sobbed unconvincingly.

Sylvia had lost track of where they were on the stroke count, but Willy began again, so perhaps it didn’t matter.

“That is sufficient for now I think,” Willy said finally, “Now you can go and stand in the corner like the naughty girl you are while I serve our guests some drinks.”

Sylvia watched as Samantha gained her feet to cast an embarrassed and miserable look around the room. It was dreadful, Sylvia thought as she licked her lips a little, but she loved it; especially when an obedient Samantha walked meekly to the corner where everybody could feast their eyes on her quite exquisite exposed bottom.

“Oh what fun,” Elisabeth said gently clapping with glee, “Don’t you think?”

Sylvia shook herself and blushed as she realised that she was being spoken to.

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly.

“Of course my own husband takes me to task sometimes, but never quite so publically,” Elisabeth said tartly and sucked in her cheeks.

Sylvia shot a glance at Gerald and wondered where she stood in this regard.

Gerald only winked.

To be continued.



8 Responses to “Spankmanship (continued)”

  1. 1 Kia

    Makes me think that munches should be held at stables 😉

    This story keeps getting better, and curiosity about whatever may be happening in the cellar continues to grow.

  2. You definitely know how to write series. This one rocks. When I think I have read it all, it becomes more interesting. Merci ! (and I can’t wait to read about the French mistress, obviously).
    S

  3. 3 Svetlana

    This was delightful. Sylvia’s apprehension as a newcomer is very convincing. “How do I stack up?” is something you can’t help thinking in such a situation, and not only with respect to looks.

  4. 4 Pecan nutjob

    I was expecting some more action, such as the husband fulfilling marital duties on her in public. 🙂

  5. 5 paul1510

    Damian,
    excellent as usual. 😉
    Brings back memories of following hunts, as a photographer, I might add. 🙂
    Paul.

  6. 6 darwinian

    The very descriptive dialogue between the characters and build up to the very public whipping is as good as the act itself, A story that will run and run (I hope). Thanks.

  7. 7 sissy dawn

    I love ALL of your stories !! Thank you so much for your web site and it truly is one of the best !! Is there a short cut to your older stories ? Please let me know…

  8. 8 DJ

    Well I am glad you are all enjoying it – I wonder about the cellar too – i wonder what is down there.
    I am glad also that you picked up on the uncertainty of the characters.

    welcome sissy dawn 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: