From the Top Shelf - the Fordham Hunt

I don't know about you, but I love 'horsey' stories where girls in riding jodhpurs get their just desserts  (and wouldn't mind a little of it myself), and here's one from Janus called The Fordham Hunt by S.T. Rogers.

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.

I feel like having a brisk canter around the field right now. Won't you join me?