A Tale of two Sisters – Janus

A delightful story set in the North East of England during the 1930’s

It all started for me half a century ago. This is a tale of two girls; Nina and Rose. They were my cousins. Nina, who worked in an office, was quite attractive but not a beauty, and rather broad around the hips. Rose, on the other hand, was a very pretty girl, possessing lovely chestnut hair with auburn tints, and a good well-rounded figure.

As a young man back in the thirties, I used to spend two weeks summer holiday with my widowed aunt and the two daughters, in a north-east seaside town. I became moderately intimate with Nina and we indulged in some petting, but it was frustrating for me because, despite some passionate sessions, she always kept her head and her modesty, and would never permit so much as a touch below the waist. She was certainly no prude, but in those days a girl could be ‘ruined’ by an unwed pregnancy without an urgent marriage - and such a contingency formed no part of my future plans.

Rose attended a girls’ high school. She was on holiday and thus naturally, was more of a day-time companion for me. My Aunt Ada was soft with her girls and Rose, especially, was badly spoiled. She was volatile and ebullient, contrasting with her slightly staid sister; she insisted on having her own way, was saucy and rude to her mother, short-tempered, and apt to indulge in petulant tantrums. My aunt had given up trying to cope with her. I had dark thoughts of doing the job for her - given the opportunity!

One particular fortnight proved to be an unforgettable one. On the second night of my holiday it was fairly late and Rose had been told several times by her mother, who did not approve of late nights, to go to bed. As usual, defeated, Aunt Ada retired leaving Rose to stay up and, mainly, annoy me. I was trying to read and Rose, in a mischievous mood, was deliberately provoking me. She kept pushing my book and giggling at me. Several times I got up and gave her a playful slap on the seat of her skirt and eventually I grabbed her, sat down, and pulled her across my lap. I expected a struggle but, to my surprise, she offered no resistance and lay, quite submissive, as I pushed the skirt of her dress up over her hips.

I had had girls sit on my lap before but I had never had one face-down in this position - and very enjoyable it was. I sat, gloating over the adolescent chubbiness of her bottom, which was tightly covered by her navy-blue school knickers.

I doubt whether I had ever heard the term ‘masochist’ at that time. I certainly knew nothing about it and her passivity surprised and excited me. I was on the point of giving her a smack when my aunt called from her bedroom, “Rose, will you get to bed - now!” She may have heard our little scuffling. In any case, it was probably as well that she called out, for obviously spanking is a noisy business -something that, in my naivety, I hadn’t considered.

Rose was on her feet in a trice. I had a sudden idea. She had been decidedly docile over my lap - and well, you never know your luck. Before she reached the door, I whispered; “If you want that spanking you know you deserve, then come for a walk with me in the morning.”

She gave me a startled glance and was out of the room without a word.

After breakfast the next day, and Nina’s departure for work, I remarked casually, “How about a stroll along the cliff, Rose? It isn’t warm enough to lie on the beach.” The unsuspecting Aunty Ada beamed and said it would be good exercise while I noticed little dots of colour appear in Rose’s cheeks. After some hesitation, she said “All right, Chris.” My heart leapt.

I haven’t visited that part of the country now for fifty years and for all I know it may be built on, but in those days the area was unspoiled country and the cliff path was a pleasant lonely walk. We seemed to have it to ourselves. To my delight there was not another soul in sight when we reached the place I had in mind, a large, almost flat, smooth stone probably left over from the dry-walling which is typical of the area. The open air is not to be recommended for purposes of chastisement but this isolated spot seemed ideal for my unseemly purposes. We had it to ourselves, although there would certainly be more people about during the afternoon. It was open country and there was an unobstructed view in every direction. If the sound carried there was no one to hear.

”Right, my girl, how about just here!”

”What for, Christopher?” she asked, innocently.

”You know what for. That spanking you got out of last night.”

”Eee, I don’t know. Man, that’s silly. Spankin’ is a punishment.”

”Yes it is - and you deserve it the way you talk to your mother. You are disobedient and rude.”

Her round, pretty face was very pink as she gazed at me with limpid blue eyes. “Am I naughty, Chris? Do I really deserve it?”

”Yes you are naughty and this is way overdue. Come here!”

The imperative tone has its uses. Slowly and with apparent reluctance, the trembling teenager came to me. I grabbed her arm and she allowed herself to be gently pulled down across my thighs, lying with her head right down and her legs trailing to the grass. As on the previous night she was docile and passive, and allowed me to ease the weight of her warm body in order to push the skirts of her under-slip and her dress up over her hips.

In those days, girls dressed like girls and wore skirts. Again I was presented with the alluring sight of her young buttocks covered by those navy knicks; the broad rounded thighs and shapely sun-tanned calves. Oh how I was sorely tempted to pull her knickers down but I dared not. I didn’t think she would tell her mother if I pulled them down - but suppose she did? There would be a terrible scandal and I would never be invited back to the house again. And of course I was too diffident to ask Rose if I could.

I gave her a slap, not too hard; she did not move. Emboldened, I gave her another, fairly hard - then another, still harder, and still she made no move. I said , “You’re a very naughty girl aren’t you, Rose?”

She whispered , “Yes, I suppose I am Chris - please make sure no one’s coming?”

”Not a soul in sight. Now, keep still.”

I administered another fifteen heavy cracking smacks upon various parts of her rump, until she was squirming and wincing. Never, as long as I live, will I forget the pure libidinous joy of that first time I ever spanked a girl.

I had been very fortunate. Lucky that by pure chance I had discovered Rose’s penchant for getting her bottom smacked; lucky that we had this quiet spot with no-one else walking along the path. To me , at the time her response was puzzling. Undoubtedly she got a sexual thrill from having her bum walloped. but at that age she didn’t understand that any more than I did. To me, too, spanking was supposed to be punishment. I’d previously had no idea that girls enjoyed it. But both Rose and I had clearly got sexual satisfaction from the experience. But she had to rationalise it. It had to be punishment for misbehaviour; and she was never deliberately naughty in order to get a spanking, that would have been too obvious. It was just fortunate for me that she was a naturally recalcitrant girl.

I couldn’t wait for another suitable occasion. But I didn’t have to wait too long. Only two days later Aunty Ada was annoyed at breakfast because Rose was doodling on the table-cloth with a pencil. When she tried to take the pencil away Rose, in a fit of petulance, threw it across the room.

”You can pick that up!” snapped her mother.

”No!” replied Rose

”Don’t you say no to me, my lass!”

”No!”

”You saucy little baggage! Now pick it up!”

”No, I’ll not!”

To my amazement that was the end of the matter. Rose remained where she was, the pencil remained where it lay. In hindsight, I believe Rose was putting on a show for me, but in any event that was all the excuse I needed. When after breakfast I told Rose she ought to take another walk along the cliffs with me, she licked her lips and put her tongue out at me.

”Cheeky brat!” I said.

Her mother was in the kitchen and Nina had left the house. Rather pink in the face , Rose grinned and said slyly, “So I’m going to catch it again, am I?”

”Yes you are. The trouble with you is you’re spoiled.”

Surprisingly, she nodded. “Me Mam’s too soft. Me Dad wouldn’t’ve spoiled us. He was strict. He used to use the tawse.” I was ignorant in those days. I knew all about the cane but I had never heard of a tawse.

”It’s a leather strap split in two. So it’s got two thongs. Gosh, it hurts like hell! Me Mam’s still got it.”

”So why doesn’t she use it on you?”

”Eee, she’s too easy. She never touches us. Nor Nina when she was younger. I’ve been strapped at school though, but not much. It’s beastly!”

We took our little walk as far as the flat stone but we had to wait because there was another couple behind us. Once they were out of sight the countryside was quiet. The only signs of life were the wheeling, swooping sea-birds, a few cattle behind the dry-stone wall, and the distant short, urgent blasts from a destroyer that was leaving the River Tyne.

She came across my lap without a murmur and I pushed up her dress. She was still wearing the same type of navy school knickers. This time my hand hovered uncertainly - oh but those knickers were tantalising - and this time the temptation was totally irresistible. Rebalancing the weight of her soft, shapely body, I started to ease her knickers down gently, taking my time, giving her every chance to protest, but she merely turned her head, smiled, raised her hips to assist the descent of her underwear, and whispered “Ooooooooo - cheeky!”

I was feeling bold, bad and a little scared. Even if her mother found out there could be no question of her going to the police. But my imagination was overworked. Just supposing...This could certainly be called sexual assault and at that time youths could be sentenced to a birching, and that was a fearful thought.

The birch was a dreaded implement. To many people these days it sounds barbarous. Yet I sometimes wonder whether it was such a bad thing. It was a scandal in any family; it was utterly degrading, humiliating, and extremely painful. I doubt whether many offenders would go back for a second dose.

Even while the dire possibility of being flogged was running through my feverish mind, my pretty cousin was naked from the waist to the knickers around her thighs, and I was caressing her smooth white rear; very yielding but firm-fleshed. And obviously she was not finding the situation unduly embarrassing or shameful. That was the first time I had seen a girl’s nether parts bare and I was trembling with licentious delight. Oh Hell!! Another couple were appearing in the distance. Hastily I bundled Rose off my knees. “There’s someone coming!”

”Bloody hell!” she muttered. Pulling her skirt down to cover her knickers she squatted on the grass.

”You needn’t swear,” I admonished her.

”That word’s nothing,” she giggled.

”It is coming from a young girl. It’s very naughty and you will be getting a few extra spanks for that.”

We had to wait until the couple had passed us and were out of sight. Spanking a girl in the open is decidedly risky but we had nowhere else to go. There was no-one else to be seen and Rose again came across my lap quite willingly. Indeed, I was amazed at her docility; at the time I certainly was an ignoramus. She wriggled, rubbing her thighs together as I fondled her uncovered hips, the plump, gorgeously enticing, rounded, satin-skinned cheeks and the inviting cleft. I was experiencing a strong urge to put my fingers into that dark little chasm, but I decided ‘better not.’

Suddenly she giggled and turned her blushing face round. “Eee, man, you’re cheeky,” she said, “I can feel something sticking in me.”

”What did you expect?”

It was embarrassing but there was nothing to be done about it, and Rose was not naive. Her thighs were writhing and I could feel moisture on my trousers. She was randy as hell! I said , “I’m going to do it really hard, this time.”

”Oh I dunno about that, Chris. You really think I deserve it?”

”You damn well deserve it after that display this morning. You’re bad tempered, disobedient and defiant. And you swear!”

After another good look round, I brought my open palm down good and hard upon the soft, fleshy side of her buttock. She winced. I slapped hard , she was wincing and crying out. I smacked with regular blows upon the sides and middle of her writhing nates. She was moaning and beginning to weep loudly.

SMACK!- Oooooh - SMACK! - Aaaagh - SMACK! I must have given her twenty to thirty really hard slaps. It was certainly a noisy affair but only a few cows were within earshot. Even at that stage it was a very strange business to my mind; I had given her a really good hiding.

When I stopped I twisted her over so that she was sitting on my thighs. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed her tears away. She wriggled a little, her skirt still rucked up to the top of her thighs, then sat, totally unconcerned by her immodesty, for her knickers were still round her knees.

”I’m goin’ to tell Mam,” she whispered reproachfully,” You bloody ‘urt me!”

”And I suppose you are going to tell her about the way you’re sitting on my lap showing me everything you’ve got?” Well, in for a penny in for a pound! I simply could not resist lightly touching the softness within the little pubescent triangle of brown hair. It was wet and tempting - but I refrained from any actual sexual interference. I was pretty certain she would not dare say anything about this to my aunt.

Nor did she - but I had a shock when I talked to Nina on the following Sunday afternoon.

Nina had started her summer holiday,my aunt had gone to Newcastle, and Rose was in her bedroom, leaving me and Nina alone. We were lying on the hearthrug, indulging in a wet, juicy, open-mouthed kiss. I began to pat her bottom. “Nooo” she whispered. Putting her hand up behind her she grasped my hand and pulled it up around her waist.

”I only want to touch,” I protested.

”No, Chris, I’m tekkin no chances after what I’ve heard about you,” she said with a sly grin. Then she gave me the shock of my life. “And who said you could spank our Rosie on her bare bum?”

For a moment I was taken aback then I muttered guiltily, “She told you about that?”

”Course she did. We’re sisters. We tell each other everything, me and Rosie.”

”Oh but she let me do it.”

”Mmmmm. Tekkin ‘er drawers down and walloping ‘er bare bottom?”

”She agreed she deserved it.”

”Don’t worry, Chris, me Mam won’t find out.”

”I reckon she wanted it. Come on , give us another kiss.” We kissed, bruisingly, then drew apart as Rose suddenly walked into the room.

She grinned mischievously. “Been givin’ our Nina a bit of a poke, have you, Chris?”

For a few seconds there was dead silence. That might not seem all that outrageous these days but 50 years ago decent, well brought-up young girls would scarcely have heard that expression, let alone use it. I was genuinely shocked and horrified. Then Nina gasped; “Rosie! How dare you!”

”Dirty minded little brat!” I snapped.

”Bet you’d like to all the same,” Rose replied defiantly.

”Our Mam would go mad if she knew,” Nina said.

”Yaaah she’d only tell us off!”

”You deserve to get your bottom smacked again for that,” I remarked.

”Yes,” Nina joined in, “ how about givin’ ‘er a damn good hiding while our Mam’s out?”

”Nina you rotten beast!”

”You don’t seem to mind it too much,” I said. “Anyway I think you’re begging for it. That was disgusting.”

”Do I really deserve another walloping, Chris?” She turned to me, her eyes lowered and her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. As our eyes met the pink suddenly blazed crimson.

”Yes, you do,” I replied. This was beyond my wildest dreams - even her sister wanted to see me spank her. “Look at the way you were carrying on this morning! Saucy and downright insolent. How your mother stands it, I don’t know.”

”Yes, you’re right,” Nina joined in. “Cheekin’ Mam - and you swore at her!”

”I did not!”

”Oh yes you did. You told Mam to bloody well shut up. That’s very nice coming from a 18 year old girl!”

”And now she’s using obscene language,” I said, “I think she should have another spanking,Nina.”

”So do I. She can be a little bitch at times -“

”Don’t call me a bitch!” Rose replied hotly.

”All right, litle devil then. Anyway you need a good hidin’. Give her a good spankin’, Chris.”

Waiting no longer, I commanded Rose to go to her room. The feeling of power was marvellous. “And you better be waiting with your knickers down!” I added.

Her blue-grey eyes were very round, her tongue licked her lips and a crimson tide once more crept into her pretty cheeks. “Yes, Chris,” she murmured meekly. “Don’t be too hard on me. I’m sorry I’m a bad girl. And I shouldn’t have talked about poking Nina.”

”What are you wearing underneath today?” Nina suddenly asked her sister.

”Cami-knicks”

”Eee that’ll be nice for you, Chris,” Nina tittered. “Do you know how cami-knickers work?”

I had no idea how cami-knickers ‘worked’. I followed Rose into her bedroom. Nina came in, also, to watch. We were going to have an audience and the thought got me very excited. This time, I decided, we’d have a change of position. “Lie on your bed, Rose. And pull your dress up!”

She looked at me uneasily; she was obedient but apprehensive. She lay prone, at full length on her bed, with her legs slightly parted. I realised immediately the significance of cami-knickers, they are a very sexy garment. Nina was watching with evident, lascivious eagerness. She was so wanton - she didn’t seem to care what I did to her sister. Yet I mustn’t touch her! I unfastened the buttons with quivering, fumbling fingers, my heart beating wildly. Relieved that I had been able to cope with them, I pushed the intimate garment well up over Rose’s hips.

Staring down at seductive curves of her now familiar, fine, fleshy buttocks I was nearly drooling. I had to swallow repeatedly. There was no indication of redness from the previous spanking. I looked up at Nina. This was really a new experience, having her present. Her dark brown eyes were round and shining and as she gazed at her sister’s glorious white derriere, the pink tip of her tongue showed between her lips.

I thrashed Rose even more severely than before. I smacked, hard and systematically, upon every portion of that beautiful posterior. She jerked and wriggled, wincing, gasping and moaning, but she remained stoically in position. I had a hard, betraying bulge in my trousers but I could only ignore that!

I beat her forcibly and determinedly, producing large inflamed areas upon the sides of her writhing behind, upon the middle, upon the upper parts near the waist, upon the lower parts where it curved outwards from the thighs. She was crying , but I continued relentlessly upon the upper parts of her thighs. SMACK! “Ooooohhhh no, Chris, n-no more..oh, owww, stop..please!” She howled at every slap, crying like a baby in between. She was squirming and roling until she rolled on her side.

I straightened myself, breathing hard through my open mouth. My hand was stinging like fire. Almost the entire area of that delicious bare bottom, and the tops of the thighs, were stained a fiery red. I had to wipe my slavering mouth with my sleeve.

When I looked at Nina I saw that she was gazing, her face very pale except for one glowing red spot in the middle of each cheek. Rose was lying, sobbing, squeezing her burning bottom with her fingers.

”Eee, man,” said Nina, “that was some spankin’!” Her hand was overtly pressing her skirt into her groin. I was wishing I could relieve my own needs.............

”Yes,” I said to Nina,” and I can see how much you enjoyed watching it. How about allowing me to smack your very delightful arse?”

She giggled. “You don’t know how delightful my arse is - nor you’re not going to! I’m not like Rosie - she loves it! I’ll go and get some cold cream for her bum! God that looks sore!” As she gently creamed her sister’s crimson, burning skin, Rose was still weeping. Poor Rosie! Yet she had been literally asking for it.

What a pair they were. It was beyond my youthful comprehension at the time, but Rose really did get some strange aberrant sexual thrill from having her backside walloped. And Nina was just as salacious as her sister despite her own reluctance to be touched. She loved to be a voyeur at her sister’s punishments but she simply would not trust herself in intimate situations.

Durign my second week there, Rose had another furious breakfast row with her mother which resulted in an egg being knocked to the floor after an altercation which also involved Nina and again her mother refrained from any physical response, but maybe my Aunt Ada was more in tune than we thought. “Cheeky young besom!” she said angrily, “Somebody should give you a good smacked bottom!”! It sounded like an open invitation and Nina and I exchanged glances across the table. Unexpectedly Rose suddenly had an attack of contrition. “Sorry I was so rude, Mom,” she muttered. “I’ll clean up the mess!”

She didn’t believe that was going to save her bottom, surely!

Having done the washing up, my aunt, probably glad to get out of the house for some peace and quiet, said she was going shopping and why didn’t the three of us go to the beach? But this was not part of anyone’s plans for the immediate future.

”I suppose I’m getting another spankin’?” Rose licked her lips, almost smiling.

”You can count on it,” I answered. “Using that language to your mother! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

”I am, Chris, I’m sorry. It just comes out.”

”You’re still going to get a damn good hiding!” I said, and suddenly I was becoming ambitious. “Rose, where is that tawse you mentioned!”

”Noooo!” For the first time there was fear in her voice.

”Oh yes,” said Nina with wide eyed enthusiasm, “ that’s what she’d ve got from our Dad. It’s in Mam’s wardrobe.” With obvious growing excitement, she said. “Bet you’ve never seen a tawse, Chris. I’ll go and fetch it.”

”Noooo,” Rose cried, her eyes wide. “He’s not touching me with that!”

”You’ll get what just what you deserve, “ I said. “ Now get upstairs!”

It was up to Rose. I could do nothing against her will but, to my joy and thundering excitement, she didn’t argue, just sniffled and walked slowly upstairs. I followed her into her bedroom , and Nina entered , carrying an implement I had never seen before.

”This is the tawse, Chris.” She proffered it and I grasped it curiously.

It was brown leather, pretty thick; although not limp like a belt, and heavier than one, its two thongs bent quite pliantly between my hands. This, I thought, was a splendid instrument. But - was I going to be permitted to use it? I thought it was likely that the culprit might not be entirely averse to another spanking, but with this formidable piece of leatherware? I noticed that Rose was eyeing it, unsmiling but with a strange expression, almost of fascination; she flinched when I brought it hissing down with a crack on her bed. I could try anyway - who could tell, with a strange ambivalent creature like Rose?

”How long do you think your Mam will be, Nina?”

”Oh, a good hour. She’s pretty slow, shopping. Chris, are you going to give our Rosie a good tawsing?”

”Nooo,” said Rose again, pleadingly. “Spank me, Chris. Oh God, I don’t want the tawse. I’ve not had it since poor Dad died. It’s awful!!”

”It’s just what you’re going to get, my girl!” I said, boldly.

Rose tried a desperate ploy. “If I’m going to get it so should our Nina. She hit me at breakfast, twice.”

Nina paled. “Not on your life!” she said hurriedly. “I’m not being beaten!”

”But you think Rose deserves it?”

”Aye I do. She chucked that egg on the floor!”

”But you did hit her twice. Come on, Nina, one stroke of the tawse for each blow. It’s only fair.”

I perceived that Nina was in a quandary. She undoubtedly wanted to see her sister thrashed, but she clearly feared for her own bottom. After an agonising pause she finally said “All right, but only two strokes.”

How did this thing compare to a cane? I made a wild guess. “Six strokes for you, Rose.” My heart was pounding as I waited for a reply. If she refused at least she would take a spanking. Nina suddenly tittered, she was staring at the tumescence thrusting through my trousers. I felt hot all over with appalling embarrassment. “I can’t help it.” I mumbled. There was nothing I could do about it.

”Ooooooo you are a bad lad, Chris!”

”Well how do you expect me to react,” I demanded, “thinking about thrashing the bare bottoms of two pretty girls?”

”Oh nooo. I never said bare bottom. I wouldnt dare risk it,” she gasped. “Just look at the state of you and before any girl is naked!”

”Come on, Nina, “ I said. “Surely you’re not a coward! Your little sister, two years younger, is going to take six on her bare bottom and you won’t even take two?”

Still she hesitated. The difference between these two was becoming increasingly apparent. I still could not understand it, but although she was clearly scared, Rose got a real thrill out of being whacked on her bare bottom , whereas to Nina it was merely a painful punishment and horribly embarrassing. Yet her prurient interest in her sister’s chastisements, and her encouragement to me to punish Rose, showed that she too was affected by the same strange tastes.

”Come on, Nina,” said Rose encouragingly,” just keep your thighs together. If you won’t do it, I won’t!”

”Oh, all right,” she grudgingly conceded. “I’ll get my knicks down - but only two strokes, Chris. And no touching me with that - thing of yours!”

Red-faced, I promised. “We’ll get yours over first, Rose. Take your knickers down - or are you wearing cami- knickers?”

”Cami-knickers. Er..undo me,” She turned her back. God, she intended to get undressed! This was getting better and better. I unbuttoned her dress and she shrugged out of it, letting it drop to the floor. Her waist-slip followed. She wore no stockings and her legs were tanned - as that so provocative rump was going to be. To my joy, she unlooped her cami-knickers and stepped out of everything. She stood, nude except for her bra. She was adorable. I admired her pubic triangle and suddenly felt that I was in the naughtiest and most sexually arousing situation I had ever known. I realised that my entire body was trembling.

”Now,” I ordered. “Bend over. Right over!”

Obediently, she swung right over and stood with her fingertips just touching her toes, legs a little way apart. I couldn’t understand her. It was a very humble and abasing posture and grossly indecent in front of a boy who already had a painfully stiff erection. I could see everything she’d got. She was completely wilful, apparently getting a kick out of lewdly exposing herself in front of me and her sister.

Only six strokes but that was doubled with two thongs. I knew I certainly would not have wanted to take her punishment. I intended it to hurt. I brought that vicious tawse fairly sizzling down...

Rose gasped loudly as the leather swished and cracked squarely across her taut, resilient bottom cheeks.

Again the wicked instrument fell with an explosive report, the two thongs flattening themselves, biting into girlish buttocks. The girl winced loudly and her body jerked.

WHAP! “Owwwww” It was a throaty quavering cry and Rose jerked upright. “Oh God, Chris, please no more!”

”You’re getting three more. You’re bad tempered, foul mouthed and disobedient! You’d better lie across the bed!”

Rather to my surprise, because she could have refused, she obeyed and lay with her behind curved over the edge of the bed. It was glowing deep red and she was weeping quietly, with short, quick, indrawn breaths.

Again I raised the tawse, held it high and brought it swishing down with all my weight behind it. She uttered an agonised yell and her whole body twisted.

WHAP! “Oh,oh,ohhhhhhhhhh!” She was now crying piteously and I was breathing hard.

She shrieked at the final blow, squirming onto her side then went back onto her tummy and her hands went behind her, squeezing the reddened skin, which was swelling into broad weals. After a moment she stood up, slowly and stiffly, completely unconcerned about her glaringly exposed private parts. Her mouth was wide open, her face bore an expression of anguish. Tears were trickling over her cheeks and her hands were still clasped to her bottom. I suspected that she had derived little if any pleasure from that thrashing.

Not so her older sister.Nina was standing with a glazed expression, her breathing fast and light, her cheeks pink with pleasure at the sight of her sister’s whipped bottom. I broke the spell.

”Right, Nina. Your turn. Two whacks.”

Nina came out of her trance, her face suddenly pale. She looked very scared. “I-I don’t want to...I-I’ve changed my mind.”

”Oh Nina,” Rose wailed. “You must. You promised. Look what I suffered.”

Nina bit her lip. “All right. I suppose I have to. But I’m not undressing like Rosie. I’ll just take my knicks down.”

She pulled her underpants down and let them drop, pulled up her skirts and without being told, bent over and gripped the edge of the bed. I gazed , enraptured , at that sublime posterior, the deep shadowed cleft large and magnificently rounded - sheer poetry. God, how I wished I could caress her bottom cheeks; I suspected they were extremely erotogenic. But I had given my word.

She was brave however. She lay perfectly still whilst I brought the thick strap down twice with all the weight of my shoulders behind it. I loved its fierce swing, which was entirely devoid of consideration for the soft sensitivity and succulent tenderness of teenaged female flesh, and even more ardently I adored the tawse’s deafening sonic impact with the smarting buttock mounds. Nina jerked and groaned at eachbut that was all. Her eyes were filled with tears as she straightened herself and her hands were under her skirt, squeezing and pressing. She seemed like a cat on a hot tin roof.

”Oooo, Chris, “ she said through her tears “ I never thought I’d agree to this, when we met you off the train in Newcastle’”

And neither did I. The climax to a special and wonderful holiday!!

THE END

My thanks to Author  Christopher James

SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE

When an attractive IT account Manager falls foul of her Customer, a severe punishment leads to a very intense sexual encounter! Click on the accompanying pictures to go to a bonus video gallery!  Please enjoy.

I was angry. No, I was furious, absolutely livid with rage! Not only had the new computer system been delivered several weeks late, when we did eventually get it the hardware had faults, the programs were full of errors and some of the promised functions didn’t work at all. For three weeks my computer department had struggled with these manifold problems and meanwhile the business was being adversely affected, orders were not being shipped, invoices not processed.

The people who supplied the system had worked hard to rectify the problems. We had expected things to go less than smoothly; none of us are exactly innocents and we had made provisions to avert some of the worst effects of the introduction of the new systems. Certainly, a call from me to the supplier’s Managing Director had got me all the high-level attention focused on the problems that I could have wished for. What was really annoying me, though, was that during all this time the salesman, or I should say saleswoman, who had sold us the system was noticeable by her absence.

As Chairman and Managing Director of this organisation I, of course, took part in the selection of the new computer system. Quite naturally I let my departmental managers worry about the technical aspects - that is what they are paid for - but the contract and commercial negotiations were up to me. In the course of these protracted discussions I encountered Karen Briggs, our ‘account manager’. She is an attractive girl in her mid-twenties, probably with a degree in an obscure subject from an equally obscure university, but overall a typically tenacious sales type on her way to the top. She certainly knew when to treat us all to a flash of her shapely thighs to divert attention when a tricky technical point came up and she was entertaining company over the several lunches and dinners needed to bring negotiations to a head. I must admit that her tenacity in pursuit of the business began to irritate me but in the end her firm won out on technical merit ...

Around here my word is law. When I say ‘jump’ the only question allowed is, ‘How high?’ So, getting tired of waiting for Karen to put in an appearance I summoned her to a meeting at my office. She was going to get a piece of my mind and a lecture on my view of professional sales ethics and be made to understand what I expected from an ‘account manager’ who dealt with my firm. If she was lucky that would be all she would get. But time would tell.

A few minutes later than the appointed time, Penny, my personal assistant, announced my visitor and ushered Ms. Briggs into my office.
”Thank you, Penny.” I waved her away. “You can get off home now. But please make sure that everyone knows we are not to be disturbed.”
Karen was smartly dressed as ever, in a pale blue business suit with, underneath, a crisp white blouse, primly buttoned to the throat: the uniform of her calling. Complete with Gucci briefcase, she breezed into my office, offering her well-manicured hand in a limp facsimile of the traditional businessman’s greeting.

I ushered her to a chair and, from my stronghold behind my polished rosewood desk, I spent the next thirty minutes in lecturing her on my views. Occasionally she tried to break in and offer some remarks which might excuse or explain. I reminded her that she was there to listen and to learn and that, at this point, her opinions were of no value and of less interest. So I carried on, speaking calmly, not raising my voice, making each point clearly and crisply. I must confess that I was particularly pleased to note that this calm and unemotional approach seemed to be having quite a chilling effect on my victim.

”So,” I concluded, “my firm has already lost a large amount of money due to the system you sold to us. You, for your part, seem to have lost interest since we placed the order and that is just not good enough. There will be a claim for damages against your company - a very substantial claim - and your selling methods and personal conduct will be very relevant.” Of course, such a claim was highly unlikely to succeed and I had no intention of pursuing one but quite obviously the threat impressed Karen. I licked my lips as I saw her flinch and the colour drain from her cheeks which had become flushed with embarrassment as I warmed to my lecture. I pressed home my advantage. “Unless,” I added, “you care to make some form of personal restitution?”

Her face, framed by her short blonde hair, was now deathly pale. Her tongue played nervously over her dry lips while haunted blue eyes darted from left to right avoiding direct contact with my stern glare.
”What do you mean, res-restitution?” she stammered. Her usual poise had quite deserted her.
In a matter-of-fact voice, as if I were proposing the most obvious and natural solution to a mutual dilemma, I mounted my favourite hobby-horse. “Corporal punishment would probably do you a lot of good. And, my dear, it would also square things quite admirably.”
”My God!” she said. “But that’s gross - obscene!”
”Not at all,” I said. “Only what you deserve. Don’t you agree?”
”Well -“
As she hesitated I reached into my desk drawer and tossed my favourite tawse onto the desk in front of Karen’s wide-eyed gaze. Her face bore an expression which contained a mixture of apprehension, intrigue and downright disbelief as she eyed the black leather instrument which lay menacingly on the polished desk. Quite obviously she was amazed at the prospect but nevertheless her hand reached out timidly to stroke the strip of leather.
”You - you want to spank me with that?” she finally stammered.
”Yes.”
”It’s - no! - it’s not on. No way!” But she didn’t sound very convinced about that.

It was time to drive home my advantage. “So you’d rather lose your job?”
A very curious sort of half smile flitted across her tense face. “Well, if you put it like that ...”
”Oh, I most certainly do put it like that!” I said. “You deserve to be punished and punishment is what you’ll get - one way or another.”
Cowed, backed into a corner, she tried to hide behind bravado and bluster. “Do your worst then,” she spat. “But you really are the worst kind of grubby creep!”
I ignored that. Always concentrate on what matters, and what mattered right then was that I had won. Or nearly won. “Get ready then,” I urged.
”I am ready, creep!”
”Oh no. This is a bare bottom affair.”
”What!!”
”Yes, Karen, of course. On your bare behind.”
She hesitated for a long time. She was on the verge and it could go either way. I imagined the thoughts that must be racing through her mind, balancing a bare assed beating against a bleak future without the job that meant money and status and security. Then her shoulders straightened. “Creep!” she murmured grudgingly through clenched teeth. But from her expression I could tell that I had her beaten.

As if she were in a dream, she got to her feet and reached behind to release her skirt, drawing down the zip, sloughing the garment down her legs and stepping out of it. She had fine legs, very shapely, clad in blue stockings that were held taut by a pastel blue garter belt. My eyes lingered on the scrap of blue nylon lace that concealed, just barely concealed, her pussy.
She hesitated again. “I’ll tell you when to stop,” I barked at her. “I want you naked!”

She stirred herself again, still in a state of shock, took off her jacket and began to unbutton the blouse. Then the blouse was sliding off her shoulders and down her arms to join the skirt where it lay on the floor. Again she reached behind her to unclip the pastel blue bra that matched her other undergarments. Her firm, ripe breasts tumbled from their captivity; ample gourds of creamy flesh, tipped by rosy nipple buds which bedded in wide aureole, spilling into view.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs and over her feet, dropping them to join the heap of her discarded clothing on the floor.
”That will do.” I stood back, taking time to run an appreciative eye over her creamy pale body. She crossed futile arms across the swell of her breasts in a vain attempt at modesty but dropped them to her side in obedience to a motion of my hand. I let my gaze dwell on the downy blonde fluff that barely covered her pubis before lifting my eyes to candidly admire her breasts yet again.

I was pleased to note that the colour had really mounted to her cheeks. She was blushing a deep, deep red of embarrassment and humiliation.
I came out from behind my desk and picked up the tawse, flexing the supple leather beneath her astounded gaze. Clearly she could not yet quite believe that this was happening to her, did not know whether to run or stay, still did not quite know whether she would allow this to happen to her.

I did not give her time for further inner debate but got down to work! I made her bend over the edge of the desk with her head cradled in the crook of her folded arms. Her bare and delectably rounded buttocks were thus presented for punishment, thrust pertly in the air to receive a proper, old-fashioned pasting. Her breasts dangled heavily beneath her and swayed gently from side to side with her breathing.

I stood behind my recumbent victim and let my hand run luxuriously over the silk smooth skin of her firm posteriors as I made minor adjustments to her positioning. Then ‘thwaaak!’I unleashed the tawse, smacking the leather squarely across the plumpest portion of her bum.

She almost jumped upright with the shock. A gasp of pain escaped her lips and a grimace of pain contorted her charming features. A distinct red area formed on the white, almost translucent, buttock flesh.
I drew back and ‘whaaak!’, again the supple leather connected with Karen’s taut bottom. She shuddered, which made her dangling titties dance delightfully. I laid on harder and really punished her as her quivering bum flesh took on a deep red hue. Soon her entire rear end was glowing hotly red while her whole being became centred on the pain in her bum. At first she suffered silently but as the strokes loaded pain on pain she began to groan and whimper.

Suddenly, just as I was getting into my stride, there came a sharp knock at the door. I put up the tawse but motioned to Karen that she was to stay where she was, bent over the desk with her throbbing arse in the air. I slipped out of the office, pulling the door to behind me.
It was Tom, the manager of the computer department. We exchanged a few words and he gave me a quick briefing on the current situation.
A few moments later, having fixed a grim look on my face, I entered my office again. Karen was still bent over the desk, her fiery bum cheeks aglow and did I detect the telltale shine of the track of a single tear on her left cheek?

”More grief with the damn computer!” I remarked sorrowfully. “You really are in for it now!”
I took up the tawse once more and really began to leather poor Karen’s defenceless arse, slapping the leather hard against her bum cheeks, relieving my frustrations on them. Karen jigged from one leg to the other, whimpering and groaning while her pretty face contorted with pain.

Finally I grew tired of this exercise and tossed the well used tawse onto the desk in front of the poor tortured girl. Again I told her not to stir and moved into her line of sight so that she could see just what was going on. I locked the office door, making quite a production of the elaborate use of the key and sliding home the bolts top and bottom - I didn’t want any more interruptions. Then, very deliberately and without any undue haste, I began to remove my own clothes. Soon I was naked with my male member standing heavily erect and jutting fiercely out from below my belly.

”What is it now?” Karen asked nervously as, head still cradled on her arms, she watched me strip for action.

”No questions. Your place is to obey and not to ask foolish questions.”

Once more I stood behind her and made her part her thighs so that the entrance to her cunt was revealed in all its pinkly moist glory. I ran my hands over the hotly glowing globes of her posteriors kneading the flesh until she yelped. Then, placing the head of my engorged manhood between her pussy lips I thrust home to embed myself deeply in her cunt which, not greatly to my surprise was sopping wet and ready to receive me. She half twisted herself round to face me, a look of disbelief on her face. The words of a half-hearted protest died on her lips as my belly slapped against her bum cheeks and Karen let out a low moan which could have been a groan of pain but was more likely a gasp of pleasure.

I remained quite still with my prick clasped in Karen’s sex. I reached around her to seize a dangling breast in each hand and roughly kneaded the yielding silky sacs. I squeezed hard on the ripe flesh, mashing her tits against her rib cage, then, moulding the plastic flesh I drew my grasp down until I held her by the nipple buds between thumb and forefinger. Despite herself Karen was becoming increasingly excited by this treatment, her nipples were lust engorged berries in my grasp, her pussy flooded with her juices which welled around the throbbing root of my penis as she wriggled her silk smooth nates against me and purred lustfully.

Still motionless and fixed in her up to the root, I pinched both nipples as hard as I could, increasing the pressure, harder and harder. Deep in her throat Karen moaned at the pain I was making in her abused tit flesh, but the muscles of her cunt clasping on my prick and the squirming of her bum against my belly told me that she did not want me to stop.
With a parting squeeze, I let go of her bosom and instead grasped her hips firmly. I began to fuck in and out of her sex. Slowly I withdrew along the length of her sopping wet tunnel feeling her cunt walls lovingly clasping my erect length until just the tip penetrated her pussy. Then, equally slowly, I pushed back in, reaming her sex to probe her cunt womb deep. In and out of her sex I fucked while my hands dug roughly into Karen’s fair skinned flesh.

It was quite obvious by her reaction that my victim was beginning to thrive under this treatment. Each inward thrust brought a yelp of pleasure as her bum thrust back at me to aid and deepen my penetration. Her eyes were tight shut and her tongue played moistly over her lips. Now her moans were quite clearly moans of pleasure as my male hardness filled her up. She was on the brink of a glorious, shuddering orgasm, within a few strokes of the abyss.

Suddenly I left off fucking, allowing my tool to slip from her oozing hole with a slight ‘plop’. It hung at my groin, shining with a liberal coating of Karen’s love juices as Karen gasped and a sigh of quite obvious disappointment escaped her lips.

”On your knees.” I ordered. Obediently she raised herself from the desk and knelt before me. I presented my still unsatisfied erection to her lips and ordered her to lick it clean.

Eagerly, her eyes still glazed with lust, she reached up to cradle my scrotum on one hand, feeling the generous weight of my seed purse. With her other hand she delicately steadied the shaft, putting out her pink tongue to lick the crown with relish, laving it with her spittle before running her tongue over the ridge of the glands and thence down the entire length to bury her nose in my pubic beard. Then she was licking the heavily erect shaft as if it were a giant lollipop, adding her saliva to the musky coating left by her own sex cavern.

I let her carry on for a while, enjoying the sensations her tongue produced in my manhood, watching her blonde head bobbing about. Then I stopped her and grasping the sides of her head, thrust my entire length into her mouth until the crown hit the back of her throat. She gagged, then opened her throat and with bulging cheeks accommodated herself to receive me.

”Suck me!” I began to fuck in and out of her mouth just as I had used her cunt, while her carmined lips sucked wetly at my shaft. The girl sucked bravely as I violated her mouth, forcing her jaws open with my prick, ramming my meat into her throat.

When my seed boiled in my balls I did not think of holding back but with a grunt of animal lust let it rush along my excited length to erupt into Karen’s mouth. A copious jet of hot cream boiled out of my pulsing weapon to hit the back of her throat and fill her mouth to overflowing. I pulled my prick from her flooded mouth as she fought to swallow down my spending, flecks of come trickling at the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

I directed my member as a second and a third jet of creamy jism spurted from me to splash squarely in Karen’s face and over her heaving tits. Her tongue lapped around her lips as the thick cream slithered down her face to pool at her collar bone. Absently, her hand spread the semen over her body and massaged it into the flesh of her bosom.

She had understood by now that she must not move until she was told. She just knelt there with my seed drying on her face and chest while I got dressed again.
”Now Karen, I think it would help customer relations if we met more regularly. You will have lunch with me here every Wednesday - plan to spend at least two hours. Now get your clothes and get out.”

Her response, although unexpected and surprising from one whom I had counted inexperienced in such matters as we had just then explored, was nonetheless highly gratifying. Still kneeling, a slight smile playing about those enticing, lips she quietly replied:

”Thank you, er, Sir, for showing me my errors. I shall look forward to our meetings in the future.”
And the girl actually meant it! She even managed a cheeky wink as she got to her feet and used my private bathroom to clean herself up.

When she had gone I picked up the phone.

”Tom, thanks for letting me know that everything is up and working. It’s great news. What say you and your team meet me for drinks in Rubens Bar in fifteen minutes? I was a little busy when you came up but now I think we’ve all got something to celebrate!”

THE END

My thanks to Author Larry Stern

The Fordham Hunt – Janus

I do hope you like this story, and for all those who like to see a pretty girl in her riding gear I have included a little bonus at the end. Please read and enjoy!

Alan was in a foul mood and no mistake. Penny, my beloved nineteen year old 'accomplice' , was standing in the corner of the room, her riding breeches around her knees, facing the wall and whimpering quietly.

"Well?" The one word was addressed to me. "Can you explain what happened today?"

It was difficult to know where to begin. However, the expression on Alan's face made me realise I better start somewhere - and soon!

Falteringly, I began my story.

We'd been at the bi-monthly Fordham Hunt. It was one of the few rural events that Penny and I looked forward to, us both being city girls at heart. I think it was the dressing up more than the actual hunting that turned us on; there is something about the riding-uniform that makes the heart race - whether you're wearing it or just looking at it. And after you've spent almost a fortnight mucking out the stables it feels great when you're able to dress up to the nines, even if only for a couple of hours.

"You look fantastic!" Penelope (or Penny, as she preferred to be called) had come up behind me as I stood before the full-sized mirror in our bedroom.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I replied.

We both stood for a while and admired ourselves in the glass. We looked resplendent from head to toe. Black riding hats and blazers - white cravats and breeches (skin tight of course) and knee-length riding boots.

"Do you think there will be any good-looking spunks at the hunt today, Pamela?" Penny asked with a sly grin.

'Spunks' was her latest in-word. It was a derivation of 'hunks' and I think she picked it up from watching one of the current ubiquitous Australian soap-operas.

"I really wouldn't know, my dear. I attend the hunt to savour the thrill of the chase, not to ogle the gentlemen present." I said this with mock snootiness and we both fell into a fit of giggles.

"Are you two ready yet?" Cilla called from downstairs.

"Yes, Cilla!" we replied in unison before descending.

Penny and I had been employed at Elwood stables for over a year; firstly on work experience and then as fully fledged employees. Alan and Cilla were husband and wife. Our employers, they were in their mid-forties and had run the stables for the best part of twenty years. Penny, my best friend from way back in our schooldays, had a crush on Alan (as did I) and teased him regularly - so much so that he had, on several occasions, threatened to put her over his knee and give her a 'damn good spanking'.

I knew for sure that this would have done nothing to improve her behaviour. Penny had confessed to me on several occasions while we were esconced in our bedroom late at night that she would like nothing better than for Alan to carry out his threats. "Can you imagine it?" she would whisper throatily, "Over his knee with your knickers down..." Then her eyes would glaze over and she'd drift off into her own little fantasy world. I couldn't blame her ; I had fantasised about a similar scenario myself.

Still I think Alan took Penny's teasing in good spirits. Secretly, I think he was chuffed to have two pretty young women working for him (Penny was nineteen and I had just turned twenty) - especially when he knew both of us fancied him! He had the kind of mature good looks that makes girls swoon.

His wife, Cilla, generally turned a blind eye to our flirting with him, but occasionally I thought I saw a flash of temper cross her face. She was a strict looking woman; rather like the prim, middle-aged school-ma'am you remember from your youth, with her raven hair drawn up and tied in a severe bun. She was quiet and solemn too - as though she kept all her feelings wrapped within herself. For that reason I think Alan was glad of our presence; Penny and I gave him a little light relief with our flirting and our youthful exuberance.

It turned out that there were some great looking guys at the hunt and it was all Penny and I could do to concentrate on our riding. There was one chap in particular that Penny had her eye on; Captain Tyrrell, the son of a local landowner. I had to admit that he was rather gorgeous.

"And he's rich," enthused Penny. "Absolutely loaded from what I hear."

"So how is the spider going to catch the fly?" I enquired.

"This little spider has a plan," she replied and promptly wheeled her thoroughbred away from the chasing pack. I could only wonder what the girl was up to as I turned to follow her.

Penny rode towards the copse on Mare's Tail Hill just as the sound of thunder filled the gloomy air. We both pulled up under the trees and dismounted as the rain began to come down in angled sheets.

"Well," I said eventually, " I don't think you came up here just to get out of the rain, did you? What have you got in mind?"

She responded to my question with one of her own.

"Pamela, do you think I've got a nice bottom?"

Penny put her white-gloved hands on my horse's stirrup for support and bent forward at the waist. "Well, go on then, have a good look and tell me what you think," she urged.

Somewhat bemused by her request, I used my riding-crop to flick the back of her blazer up and had a good look at her backside. Encased in those riding breeches, I had to admit that her bottom was gorgeous and I told her so.

"And I'm no lesbian!" I added hastily.

"That's not what I've heard," she teased.

I wasn't standing for her impudence so I raised my crop and brought it down across her pert rear with a satisfying thwaaack.

"Aooowwwwwwww!" she cried, unconvincingly, and wiggled her bottom suggestively.

I was in two minds whether to give her another smack when she shot upright and turned to face me. She still had that mischievous grin on her face as we stood facing one another.

"Well, come on then. What have you got in mind?" I asked.

She explained that she had been trying for ages to catch the eye of Captain Tyrrell.

"Well he's here today, isn't he? He's riding with the hunt. Why don't you use your girlish charms to ensnare him. Isn't that what you usually -"

Penny interrupted. "But you don't understand," she said, pouting. "There is so much competition, I don't stand a chance. Have you seen how many pretty girls are out riding today. And all of them doing their utmost to attract his attention. Not only is he gorgeous but he's filthy rich into the bargain. Oh Pamela, I just have to have him."

Just then a rumble of thunder shook the heavens. I nearly jumped out of my skin and I was so glad Penny had brought us to the shelter of the trees. Penny didn't even flinch - so wrapped up was she in her lewd thoughts about young Captain Tyrrell. She lowered her voice confidentially:

"I've got an idea...."

By the time we rejoined the hunt, after taking a short cut through various storm-gullies, phase one of Penny's plan was about to be put into action. First of all she caught up with Captain Tyrrell and rode close enough alongside him to attract his attention; fetching him seductive sidelong glances all the while. I was riding slightly behind and to the left of them and I could see him take the bait - his head was fixed in her direction and he wasn't even looking where he was going - quite a risky thing to do when galloping in driving rain.

Little did he know that Penny, my darling young friend, was merely warming him up.

When she felt the time was right, Penny began to pull up slightly and drop back to the rear of the pack. The young Captain followed suit and I followed them - I didn't want to miss any of the action.

Riding within the hunt, Penny had kept her shapely bottom firmly in the saddle. Now that her only observer was Captain Tyrrell ( and, of course, myself) she felt confident enough to put the crux of her plan into action. She rode slightly ahead of him and stood up in the saddle in a jockey's stance; head low and bottom up high.

I giggled at the gasp of astonishment from the young Captain when he was confronted with the sight of Penny's bare bottom cheeks framed in the split oval of her riding breeches.

Back at the copse, I had (on Penny's instructions) cut a long gash down the backside of her breeches with a penknife. Then I had pulled the sides apart sufficiently to allow an almost perfect view of the whole of her bottom - her panties being pulled up tautly between her cheeks - prettily framed by the straining white material.

I had questioned the logic of what she was doing and whether she realised the implications of her little stunt if it were to go wrong.

"My bare bottom is for Captain Tyrrell's eyes only," she smiled. "If anyone else happens to observe it, I can explain it away by saying that I fell from my horse whilst you and I were split from the hunt and my breeches were torn in the process. You'll back me up, won't you, Pamela?"

"I don't know about that. I want you to know I thoroughly disapprove of your actions, young lady," I replied, tapping my riding-crop against my thigh. I was trying to look severe and failing. It was impossible to suppress a grin. She was a sassy lass and no mistake.

And thus it happened that on the occasion of the 385th Fordham Hunt, Captain James Tyrrell got a splendid view of my nineteen year old friend's bare posterior in all its girlish splendour. Penny kept glancing back at him as she thrust her bottom high in the air and it bobbed up and down with the motion of her steed.

In her eyes was the intense and serious expression that young ladies give only to the man they have chosen as their potential mate. Poor Master Tyrrell's eyes were torn between her straining nether regions and her pretty face.

Penny kept up her teasing for all of five minutes and Captain Tyrrell seemed only too happy to keep pace behind her while she was showing off for all she was worth.

Suddenly, as I wondered how long Penny intended to continue with her caprice, a huge bolt of lightning rent the air and struck a tall, decaying cedar tree to the left of us. The horses were startled and the hunt was halted as each rider struggled to control his frightened mount. All, that is, except poor Penny whose thoroughbred, Jasper, refused to yield to her attempts to control him. The terrified horse took off wildly in the direction of nearby Fordham - not before careering through the rest of the static riders and giving every last one of them an explicit view of Penny's naked backside.

The scene was so incongruous that I couldn't help but laugh as I set off in pursuit of my wicked little friend. Up ahead I could see the village of Fordham growing nearer. In the mid-distance was Penny, still trying to gain control of her frightened mount.

Jasper was having none of it.

I realised , with some dismay, what Jasper was going to do. From past experience, I knew that whenever he was unnerved, he bolted for home. He was heading back to the safety of Alan's stables and taking his unwilling, bare-bottomed, rider with him.

Jasper approached the low wall that flanked the road into Fordham and cleared it in one smooth motion. It occurred to me that Penny might try to jump clear but I soon realised this would be impossible to do safely. The horse was simply galloping too quickly.

Having some experience of jumps, I decided to attempt the wall myself for to dismount and find a gate would have taken far too long and, besides, I knew that Pandora, my mare, was perfectly capable of clearing it.

Once over, I followed Penny and her runaway mount into the village High Street. Cars were forced to veer out of the way of the rampaging animal as it headed for the refuge of the stables. Pedestrians looked on in astonishment as the bare-bottomed girl on horseback galloped past.

I saw several people, probably tourists, take photos of Penny in her shameful predicament. At one point, Jasper pulled up as a car swerved in front of him near the fountain in Oswald Street. A grubby little man, grinning from ear to ear, raced up behind Penny and took a photograph of her behind as she strained and bucked, trying to control her steed. He must have got a spectacular view. And to top it all, she turned towards him at the precise moment he took the shot so he captured her hapless, red-faced embarrassment as well as her naked bottom!

If I hadn't been so concerned for my friend's safety, I would have dismounted and shoved his camera where the sun doesn't shine. Meanwhile, as I expected, Jasper sped into Cockspur Lane and turned into Elwood Stables. I wondered what on earth Alan and Cilla would make of it all.

"So this is how you repay my kindness!"

Alan was furious. He paced to and fro muttering under his breath. It was now almost three hours since Penny had made her undignified arrival at the stables. She was standing in the corner of the living-room, facing the wall. Her mutilated breeches had been yanked down to her knees by Cilla, and she was whimpering like a chastened schoolgirl.

"Where would you two have been if I'd not taken you off the streets of London and given you a job here? You enjoy full room and board and a decent salary...my wife and I treat you well enough, don't we?"

He paused and went to the settee where he picked up Penny's riding-crop. Somehow I began to sense that his little tantrum was just for show; you can tell when someone is genuinely angry. In fact I'd have said he was more excited than irritated. I think Penny sensed this too and had picked up on his excitement - her moanings and whimperings were more of titillation than fear. The room was charged with an unspoken eroticism and even Cilla, who stood impassively beside her husband, looked to be suppressing some kind of innate thrill.

"One hour ago," he continued, " I received irate phone calls from Captain Tyrrell and other members of the Fordham Hunt describing Penelope's disgusting behaviour; displaying her naked backside to all and sundry and to Captain Tyrrell in particular."

He turned his attention to me.

"As for you, Pamela," he said, "I expected a lot more. After all you are the elder and I thought you had a sensible head on your shoulders. And don't look innocent with me! Captain Tyrrell's gamekeeper informs me that he plainly saw you cutting Penelope's breeches at Mare's Tail Hill. But when you arrived back from the hunt, you had the audacity to lie to me. Some nonsense about Penny tearing her breeches in a fall."

He angrily swished the riding-crop through the air. "I have been far too lenient with you two for far too long," he said. "It's high time both of you received a sound lesson in behaviour befitting young ladies."

He turned to Penny. "Get over here, girl!" he growled.

Penny turned and waddled towards him - her legs hampered by the breeches around her knees. Alan pointed to the heavy coffee table in the middle of the room. "Kneel!" he commanded. I looked over at Cilla as Penny took up her humiliating position on the low table. As usual she was suppressing any outward emotion but I could tell by her eyes and posture that she was filled with eager anticipation.

"Now," said Alan, rolling up his sleeve, "when you display your bare bottom in future, it will be to me. And I will deal with it thus..."

He brought the whip down on Penny's trembling buttocks with a mild thwack. Penny gave a startled grunt and threw her gloved hands back to protect her exposed flesh.

"Take those hands away at once, my girl," said Alan. "And while you're at it you can get that bottom higher. Come on, girl, don't be shy! I want that bottom as high in the air as you can possibly get it."

Penny obeyed immediately, pushing her head low so that her cheek touched the cold wood, arching her back and pushing her rear out and up until Alan grunted approvingly. Cilla came over and adjusted Penny's breeches; pulling them lower towards her riding boots, then raising the tails of the girl's blazer so that her bottom was fully displayed. The whiteness of her full bottom was emphasised splendidly by the framing effect of her black blazer and riding boots.

"That's better," said Alan, swishing the crop to his side and bringing it down again on Penny's backside.

"AOWWWWWWWWHHH!"

I shuffled uneasily as Penny cried out; I knew it would be my turn soon. I felt a mixture of ecstasy and trepidation and knew that my face was flushed with both. Hadn't I fantasised about this very situation? Hadn't Penny too? Despite her cries, I sensed a thrill in Penny that went beyond a normal reaction to physical chastisement. Her eyes caught mine and despite her play acting I knew instinctively that she was actively enjoying her punishment.

Alan brought the riding-crop down again...and again....and again, ignoring Penny's crocodile tears and childish cries. She was moving her bottom suggestively, grinding and bucking her hips in response to every blow. It seemed as though she was urging him on; pushing her backside up and back to meet the whip.

Alan's face became flushed with exertion - but nowhere near as flushed as my younger friend's bare arse. Cilla stood with her arms crossed, a slight smile playing on her thin red lips. She gave a nod of approval as each blow struck home and Penny's bottom quivered with each impact. Perhaps she was savouring our comeuppance for all the times we had flirted with her handsome husband.

Stopping eventually, Alan drew the back of his hand over his brow. "Right," he said, "Get to your feet, my girl!" He pulled Penny off the coffee table. My friend made a half-hearted attempt to pull up her breeches but he merely laughed.

"I haven't finished with you yet , young lady,"he said. Holding Penny by the arm, he moved to the armchair, sat thereon, and unceremoniously threw her across his knee.

"Consider yourself lucky," he said, "that I don't take you into the centre of the village and do this in front of everybody. The entire population has seen your bare bottom already today so it wouldn't come as a shock to see it again!"

Penny commenced kicking her legs in horror at such a suggestion, but Alan coolly began to spank her bottom, ignoring her protestations. With one of his large hands he held both her wrists against the small of her back whilst he belaboured her quivering backside with the other.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she protested indignantly.

"Be quiet, girl," ordered Cilla. "One day you will thank my husband for showing you the meaning of discipline."

Alan went on to give Penny the soundest hand-spanking any nineteen year old girl has ever received; relentless and thorough. When he finally finished, my crestfallen (but highly aroused) friend was sent to stand in the corner - ordered to hold up the tails of her blazer so that her tanned backside was fully on display.

Then, of course, it was my turn. Being the elder, I was dealt with even more thoroughly. The air in the room still seemed charged with primitive and carnal emotion as Cilla ordered me to the centre of the room and, I must confess, I found it quite intoxicating; as though some destiny was being fulfilled which had been suppressed and put off for far too long.

Firstly, Cilla ordered me to pull my breeches down to the tops of my riding boots. "Now," she said firmly, "get your panties down. Stand with your legs wide apart and bend over!"

I did as ordered. Cilla produced a thin cane whilst I adopted the position; clasping my booted ankles and pushing my vulnerable bare backside up and back. It was difficult to hold this position as Cilla applied the cane , but I did my very best while she belaboured my bottom and I blubbered in pain.

She eventually tired of this position and I was made to lie flat on my back on the coffee table with my legs straight up in the air. Alan held my boots to provide some stability whilst he applied the riding-crop to my brightly flushed buttocks. As with Penny, he made a show of strength but pulled each stroke so that the actual blows were more stimulating than painful.

My final humiliation was to be placed over Cilla's knee and given a hand-spanking that made Penny's ordeal look like a slap on the wrist. I found this to be the most exhilarating part of the punishment session. So much so that, despite my best intentions, I had the most exquisite orgasm I had ever had as I ground my hips against my punisher's thighs. My crotch kept brushing against the suspender straps beneath the thin material of her skirt and the mix of shame and sublime pleasure pushed me almost to boiling point. I tried to make my orgasmic cry of pleasure sound like a cry of discomfort, but I don't think it worked and really I didn't care. I had been opened like a book for all to read and nothing would ever be the same again.

When it was over, Penny and I were made to stand in the centre of the room while Alan and Cilla made tea; our breeches still down and our blazers held high above our waists.

They sat casually on the sofa sipping their tea and chatting as we paraded our naked charms in front of them. At one point Penny made to rub her glowing cheeks. She was immediately reprimanded by Cilla and told, "Keep your hands where they are." When they had finished their tea we were finally allowed to go to our room.

In all, I think our combined punishment lasted the best part of two hours. Afterwards, in our bedroom, we applied cold cream to each others bottoms and talked about the day's events. We agreed that it had been the most unusual day we'd had since arriving in the countryside.

And the most exciting.......

The events I have described occurred seven years ago. Penny and I are in our mid twenties now and have long since moved back to the city. We both went to college and have good jobs. Penny is a solicitor and I am a secondary school teacher. Today, Saturday, I will go into town and meet Penny at the usual place. We will go into a restaurant and chat as we always do when we meet.

But the most important aspect of the day will be utmost in our minds as it has been every Saturday since we left the stables. We will go to the station and board a train bound for Fordham. We will take a taxi from the station and arrive at Elwood Stables ten minutes late.....as we always do. Alan and Cilla will be 'angry' that we are late and we will be suitably apologetic. But they won't be satisfied with an apology.

And then the real business of the day will begin - just as it did seven years ago when we returned from the Fordham Hunt.

THE END

BONUS: Click here to get a free picture gallery featuring a cute girl in and out of her riding Jodhpurs