From the Top Shelf - Private Lesson

I love to share selections from my library with you, and I envy writers who can produce a good spanking story. I find it difficult to write fiction, but I thought it was about time I tried again. Today's selection from the top shelf is one I wrote myself. I hope you like it.

Private Lesson

"As exciting as watching paint dry," one of her friends told her. Hannah didn't care. She loved the equestrian sport of dressage. True, it wasn't exciting or dangerous like racing, jumping, and polo. It was simply horse and rider moving as one, the rider's invisible signals guiding the animal through intricate patterns and movements. It looked deceptively simple. The truth was, it took a lot of hard work.

Hannah loved riding Curtain Call, her grey mare,  and Cally always seemed to know when it was important to perform well.  This day was one of those times. They were competing in the first show of the season, and Hannah was nervous. Would all their hard work be rewarded?

When the steward called their number, Hannah rode Cally into the ring, saluted the judge, then guided her mount through the compulsory three minute routine that each horse and rider would perform. The time flew by, and when it was over Hannah knew they had done well. So did her partner; Cally tossed her head when Hannah patted the mare's warm, damp neck and inhaled the tangy aroma of horse sweat.

As she left the ring, she passed Siegfried on his way in. He was riding his new Hanoverian stallion Kohl, and was concentrating on keeping the young horse focused. He ignored Hannah's cheery "Good luck!"

Siegfried. Her handsome German riding master. He was forty-something, an excellent rider, and a strict disciplinarian. Siegfried had very high standards: he expected his students to be immaculately dressed, their mounts well-groomed, and if they ever dared to arrive late, well... Hannah loved to watch him training a horse on a long line. The way he handled the long-lashed lunging whip as the animal circled around him always excited her more than she cared to admit.

Hannah had been delighted when she and Cally were accepted for private lessons. Siegfried bestowed this honour only on students whom he felt had potential.  She and Cally had worked hard all winter, and now they had put all that effort to the test.

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After leaving Cally in her groom's capable hands, Hannah walked to the secretary's tent where results for each class were posted. She scanned down the list for her class, expecting to see Siegfried's name first and then her own lower down. To her delight Hannah saw her name in third place. Siegfried's name was below, in fourth position. She had beaten him in the Novice class.

Beaming, Hannah rushed to tell her groom the wonderful news and to give Cally a big hug. She had scarcely arrived when she heard the sound of boots crunching on the gravel behind her. Turning around, she found herself facing Siegfried. He did not look pleased.

"So, your score is higher than mine."

Hannah smiled. "Yes, it was a fluke. I didn't expect to be in the ribbons."

Siegfried did not return the smile. "In Germany we have a tradition. When the pupil surpasses the teacher in a competition, the teacher gives the pupil a kick in the seat of his pants."

Hannah looked alarmed. Was he going to kick her, here in public?

"But that's only for the men. For the pupils who are women, we have a different tradition." That's when Hannah noticed Siegfried holding his dressage whip in one hand and tapping it against the palm of the other hand. He nodded curtly, spun on his heel and  quickly strode away.

Hannah blushed and wondered what he meant. Surely not... Everyone carried a whip; they were as much a part of one's outfit as spurs, top hat and gloves. She glanced around to see if her groom had overheard. She didn't think so. He seemed occupied with brushing Cally.

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When she arrived the following week for her early morning private lesson, Hannah was uncharacteristically unsettled. She replayed her teacher's threat in her mind, and wondered if he intended to follow through. He had probably forgotten all about it, and she was not about to remind him.

The lesson passed uneventfully in the indoor arena, although Hannah was distracted and Siegfried shouted at her when she failed to execute a relatively simple maneuver that they had practised hundreds of times.

"I'm sorry," she called, and tried again.

"Don't be sorry. Do it right! Why do I waste my time on you?" Then, as she and Cally performed the exercise correctly, "That's better. Enough for today." Siegfried left the arena and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. So, he has forgotten, she thought.

Hannah led her mare back to the barn and made her comfortable, then carried the saddle and bridle into the small room used for cleaning and storage. She hung the bridle on a hook, lifted the saddle onto a low sawhorse, and filled a bucket with warm water. The barn was deserted; the first group lesson wasn't for several hours. As she  rubbed saddle soap into the girth, she heard footsteps approaching. Siegfried's muscular frame filled the doorway. The shiny silver top of his dressage whip flashed.

"We have some unfinished business. You remember what I said at the show?" Hannah nodded, her heart racing wildly. He gestured toward the saddle. "Bend over." She did so, dropping her sponge and clinging to the rough legs of the sawhorse as if they would save her.

"What was your score last weekend?"

"I... I think it was 103."

"And mine was 97. That's how many points lower?"

How could he expect her to do math in her head in this position? "Oh, I don't know." Dear God, was he really going to do what she thought he was going to do? "Six."

"Six. So you'll get six."

Swish thwack! The whip whistled through the air and landed across the seat of Hannah's tightly-stretched tan breeches. She flinched, gasped, but did not move. Stay calm, she told herself. Courage. That's what he wants to see. Self-discipline.

The second stroke was harder, the sting sharper. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. Only four to go. This was an honour. She had done something significant, something unusual, and this was her reward.

Swish thwack! The third stroke was lower, but not harder. She jerked and groaned. Halfway there. You can do it, her inner voice soothed.

Siegfried remained silent, administering the remaining strokes calmly but forcefully. Hannah managed to get through them all without disgracing herself, even though tears were oozing through her closed eyelids.

When it was over, she slowly raised herself to an upright position, resisting the urge to clutch her blazing backside. Riding would be impossible for the next day or two. She looked up. Siegfried was smiling.

He reached out, took her hand in his and shook it briefly, formally.

"Good work. You did well."

Thank you, Zelle, for the beautiful book cover.