Morning On Horseback
===================

The riding lessons she took as a child finally paid off, and she took
great delight in flaunting her experience.  He was a city boy, and a
middle class one at that.  Behind the steering wheel of a mustang, he felt
fine.  Behind the reins of one however, his experience consisted of
watching John Wayne movies on Sunday afternoons. She laughed at his clumsy
handling of his steed and delighted in her advantage.  She took every
opportunity to rub in her superiority.  Toward the end of the course, she
took off and left him behind, dashing ahead for the stable.

When he finally brought his horse in, she was standing beside her mount
with a smirk on her face.  He was determined to remove that smirk.

He grabbed her wrists and quickly wrapped the  thin leather strap around
them.  Then he deftly spun her around and, in one swift movement, lifted
her up and placed her, face down across the saddle.  He reached under the
horse, and took hold of the leather strap and tied it around her ankles. 
She quickly discovered that she was unable to move.  He brought this fact
into clear focus by bringing his hand down sharply across the seat of her
jodhpur covered bottom.  The tight cloth of her jodhpurs gave little
protection and she let out a squeal as the sting sank in.  She struggled,
but found herself tightly bound across the horse.  

For his part, the horse simply looked over his shoulder, and stamped his
hoof in amusement.

He smacked her several more times before circling around the horse and
looking her in the eye.
  
"I'm only going to give you one chance to apologize, and this is it. 
Simply say you are sorry, and we'll let it go at that."

She simply glared at him. (Actually, she tried to glare, but didn't pull
it off too convincingly.  The smile that kept turning up the corners of
her mouth pretty much ruined the effect.)

"You will be sorry, my dear.  Rest assured." He said before circling back
around the Arabian.  As he reached up and unbuttoned her jodhpurs, she
began really struggling and screaming for him to stop.  He simply pulled a
handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in her mouth saying "We
wouldn't want to attract the attention of the stable boy."  He was thus
able to yank down her pants without dissent.  Bare assed over the
stallion, she waited.  She could hear a little rustling of the hay behind
her, and she could feel the coolness of the leather saddle beneath her. 
She could also feel the cool air of the stable caressing her bareness. 
She struggled against the deliciousness of the restraint.  

With the suddenness of a thunder clap, she felt the hot sting of his hand
as it made sharp contact with her flesh.  Her cry was muffled by the
handkerchief in her mouth.  Again he struck. And again.  She writhed
beneath this barrage of pain, and yet she was acutely aware of herself
rubbing against the saddle leather.  The combination of sensations was
producing the most wonderful result.  But he didn't give her much time to
ponder this.  He delivered a series of stinging strokes that blotted all
other thoughts from her head.  She struggled to catch her breath.
He circled around once more to face her.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!" she said.  Or rather, she tried to say. 
The kerchief reduced her words to vague pleading mumbles.

"Hmm?  I'm afraid I can't understand a word you're saying.  No matter. 
I'm not interested in what you have to say now."  He smiled at her as he
walked over to the wall of the stable and took a horse brush from it.  It
was like a regular brush, but a little larger, and a little heavier.  He
slapped it against his hand a few times while looking her in the eye
before circling back around to the other side of the horse.

Under normal circumstances, the first blow would have brought a cry from
her, but once again, the kerchief reduced it to a muffled moan.  With
every stroke, she tried to kick free, but she succeeded only in shifting
around a bit.
  
After ten stinging slaps of the brush, she was ready to apologize.  She
was ready to do anything.  But he wasn't finished yet.  He returned the
brush to the wall and, as he did, noticed the riding crop.  He looked at
her and smiled as he picked it up.  Her eyes widened.  She shook her head
and tried to plead with him, wordlessly.  But he just kissed her on the
forehead and went back around the horse.  It was then she noticed some
movement in the doorway.  Her eyes grew wide as saucers as she realized it
was the stable boy.  How long had he been watching?  She tried desperately
to tell her riding partner about his presence.  She tried to speak.  She
tried to wriggle free of her bonds.  She was rewarded only with the crack
of the crop across her already sore backside.  It produced a line of
stinging fire across her bottom.  She could see the stable lad smile as he
leaned against the doorway, but only for a moment, for with the next two
swats of the crop, her eyes filled with tears and her world became a blur.
 But even though she couldn't see the lad, the knowledge that he was
watching her spanking, watching her submission, was mortifying.  And yetx

Through it all, the intensity was building, and the next swish and crack
of the crop brought it all into focus at once.  The leather beneath her,
the strap around her wrists and ankles, the man with the crop behind her,
the stable boy in front of her, all came crashing together in a mind
numbing orgasm that seemed to last forever.

When she regained her senses, he was releasing her wrists and ankles from
their bondage and easing her off the stallion and into his arms.  The
stable boy was nowhere in sight.  He removed the handkerchief from her
mouth, but before she could say "I'm sorry." he placed his lips against
hers.  Then there was nothing else.  No stable, no horse, only them.  Only
that kiss.