Horse Tale

I was looking for a real life account of riding to the hounds and getting cropped in the stable and found this fictional story. I suspect it was written by a man. I will keep looking for the real life account. Meanwhile…I need a post for Wednesday.


When I was 14, my family moved from New York City to Southern
California.  I grew up loving horses and was given riding lessons in New York.  After
we moved to L.A., I was thrilled to discover a stable down the road from
our house.  I worked there every day during the summer and after school
and on weekends during the year.  That first summer I was given my first
cropping by Jeff, the gorgeous foreman.  After that, Jeff found every possible
opportunity to crop and spank me.

I continued to work at the stable all through high school and college.
Even after I quit working there, I would return occasionally to visit, and
Jeff would always find some reason to punish me.  He never cropped me bare,
but made up for the protection of my clothing by striking hard and always
on the same place, right at the crease between bottom and thighs.  Sometimes
he would pull my jeans and panties off after cropping me, and give me a
handspanking.  He never touched me elsewhere, and we never had sex. However,
I usually had a tremendous orgasm just from the cropping or spanking.

Well, I went home to L.A. for Christmas this year, and I had called Jeff a
couple of weeks before to let him know I’d be in town.  We set a date
to meet, Saturday the 23rd.  I hadn’t seen him in over three years, and
was very anxious to do so.  I borrowed my dad’s Volvo and drove the 40 miles to
the stable from Dad’s house.  The stable owners were gone for the
holidays, and all the other employees were gone for the weekend.  Jeff was the only
one there, and when I got there he met me at the car, picked me up and
gave me a hug and spun me around in the air.  Then he put me down, winked at me
in the old way, and proceeded to show me around the stable.  We looked at all
the horses and he showed off some trophies they had won since I had quit
working there.  Jeff told me, “You know, we’ve never found anyone who could
plait manes and tails as well as you could.”  I was pleased and flattered
and told him so.  Then he said, “But I remember you were very slow at it, and I
had to teach you a lesson about taking too long.  In fact, I’m not sure you
were ever thoroughly punished for that!  What do you think?” 

I shivered in anticipation.  “No, Jeff, I’m sure I didn’t really learn
that lesson.”  I put my hands behind me and rubbed my soon-to-be-stinging
bottom. “That’s what I thought!”  He unclipped his crop from his belt.  “Come
over here.”  He sat down on the nearby hay bale.  I stood in front of him,
my hands still on my bottom.  “Well, Miss Katie, what are you waiting
for?  You know the routine.”  I went to his right side and draped myself over
his lap. He grabbed my right wrist and pulled it up behind me, holding it tight
at the small of my back so I wouldn’t be able to cover my bottom.  I held my
breath and waited.  “All right, Miss Katie, this is gonna sting!” 

He raised his crop high, held it there for a few seconds, then brought
it down hard across the very lowest part of my backside.  I gasped.  I
had forgotten how much that crop hurt!  He raised it again, and brought it
slashing down, right on the same burning stripe of pain. “OOWW!!”  I
heard him chuckle and say, “I told you it was gonna sting!”  Again his crop
whistled into my sore butt.  “OOOWWW!!!  Damn, that hurts, Jeff!” 

He stopped for a moment, and I tried to catch my breath.  “Miss Katie,
I think you’ve forgotten that we don’t swear here.  I believe you’re
going to regret that little outburst.”  Oh God, I HAD forgotten that swearing
at the Rocking L Ranch was expressly forbidden.  A first offense resulted in
a warning, and a second offense meant being summarily dismissed.  How
could I have forgotten?  Jeff himself had drummed this into my head and
backside that very first summer. 

The thrice-struck welt burned and I tried to squirm to relieve the
pain. This only served to remind Jeff of his current purpose in life.  Once
again he raised that wicked crop and slammed it down into that same tender
weal.  I caught my breath, but before I could yell Jeff brought the crop down
again, and yet again.  “OOOOWWW!!!  JEFF, PLEASE STOP!!”

To my surprise, he did.  He rubbed the crop along the length of that
throbbing weal at the base of my bottom.  I winced and squealed as he
continued to side the crop over the stripe.  I started to realize how
hot Jeff had made me by cropping me the way he used to. I arched my back
and pressed my bottom up against the crop.  Without warning, he lifted the
crop and slashed it down again, and again, and again, and finally, the last
time. I was sobbing with pain and sexual excitement.

Jeff released my wrist and allowed me to get up.  I thrust both hands
behind me and tried to rub the tremendous pain away.  He watched me for a few
minutes, amused by my antics.  After I calmed down a bit, Jeff said,
“Come here and stand in front of me, Miss Katie.  And keep your hands at
your sides.”  I stood in front of him and clenched my fists at my sides to
keep from rubbing my bottom.  He said, “Have you learned your lesson about
dawdling over plaiting manes and tails?”  I nodded, sniffing, and
replied, “Yes, Jeff, I’ve learned!”  “Good.  Now we have your swearing to deal

“Oh, Jeff, please!  I’m sorry I swore, really I am!  Please don’t crop
me anymore!  My bottom is so sore already!”  Jeff grinned at me in his
usual insolent manner.  “You think you’re sorry, but you’re not as sorry as
you will be!  And don’t worry, I won’t crop you again.  Now unbutton your

I unbuttoned my 501’s and put my hands back by my sides.  Jeff took my wrist
and pulled me back over his knees.  “Lift up a little, Miss Katie.”  I
put my hands down on the floor and pushed my bottom in the air.  Jeff put
both of his hands in my waistband and pulled my jeans and panties together
down to my thighs.  “All right, now give me your hand.”  Once again, he held my
right wrist at the small of my back.  He used one finger to trace the throbbing
10-stroke welt at the bottom of my backside.  “I’m very disappointed
that you forgot the number one rule here at the Rocking L, especially since I
have had to correct you for this before.  By the time I’m done, you won’t be
using that kind of language around here.  Now, are you ready?”

I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and mumbled an assent.  I
felt him raise his right hand, and then felt the blazing pain across my
right cheek.  I let out a muffled yelp, then his hand came crashing down
again on my left cheek.  He began spanking me hard and fast, alternating
cheeks.  I squirmed and kicked, but there was no avoiding that hard leathery palm
blasting away at my behind.  “Shame on you, Miss Pottymouth!  You’re a
very bad girl!”  Harder and harder his hand fell, covering every part of my
flaming bottom.  “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?  Well?”  I couldn’t
speak, being caught up in an unbelievably intense orgasm.  “You bad girl!
Answer me!”  When I could finally get enough breath, I shrieked, “YES!  YES!
I’M SORRY!  I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”  To my enormous relief, Jeff finally
stopped spanking me.  He reached down to my clothes, told me to lift up again,
and pulled my jeans and panties back up.  Then he allowed me to get up off
his lap, and discreetly turned away while I rearranged my clothing. 

“Well, Miss Katie, do you feel like going for a gallop now?”, Jeff
said with a wink.  “I always said you had an exceptional seat!”


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