From the Top Shelf - Uncle Henry, part 4

It's a new day, and Amanda and Lizzy are alone on the estate. Will they get up to no good and earn themselves another spanking? I hope so. Let's hope they behave themselves.

“Let’s go riding,” said Amanda at breakfast the next day. Uncle Henry had apparently left them to their own devices. He was nowhere in sight. That sounded good to Libby, and so they donned riding habits and headed for the stables. It was a sunny morning. Only a few wispy clouds remained in the sky, remnants of an overnight shower. There were several horses to choose from and the girls strolled from stall to stall, looking them over. Amanda picked a horse, then recommended one for Libby.

“I’ll ride Diablo,” she said, stroking a black stallion that pawed at the ground as if raring to go. “Why don’t you take Lucky?”

Lucky was a white mare, a seemingly gentle steed. Then Libby remembered something. “When we talked to Uncle Henry about riding, didn’t he say something about riding Diablo? Wait,” she said, “We’re not supposed to ride Diablo…are we?” She recalled a dinner conversation in which the subject of the stables had come up, and the available horses for riding. Uncle Henry had been very explicit that Diablo was off limits. Amanda had argued, but Uncle Henry had held firm.

“Pooh,” said Amanda. “What does Uncle Henry know? I’m as good a rider as he is, and I can handle him. You want to run, don’t you boy?” she said, patting its flanks. “Besides,” she said, turning to Libby, “Uncle Henry went into the city. He won’t know.”

Libby didn’t know about that. It seemed to her that Amanda was being either reckless or deliberately provocative. The strapping she’d endured in the study hadn’t been a bit of a deterrent.

The estate sat on considerable acreage that extended through fields and into rolling hills beyond. They began with a casual walk, advanced to a trot and then came to a broad field. Amanda wanted to let loose. “This is a perfect place to give the horses their head and let them run. What do you say? Shall we race?”

Libby had a feeling this was another bad idea. Diablo seemed jumpy. He snorted and pawed the ground, but Amanda appeared not to notice. “See, Diablo wants to run, don’t you boy?” With a shout she spurred the horse, and Diablo leapt forward. Lucky jumped, startled, and Libby had to hang on. But then she started after Diablo, following the stallion so she wouldn’t be left too far behind. Libby, not as accomplished a horsewoman as Amanda, held Lucky to a canter, content to keep Amanda in sight, but certainly not of a mind to race. The black horse sped across the field like a dark bolt. Libby watched, transfixed. Amanda appeared to be attempting to slow Diablo down but was failing at it. The horse was running away with her. Up ahead the powerful black horse ran full out. Libby’s heart caught in her throat as she saw Diablo jump over a log and Amanda come down with a hard bounce. She lost her grip, flew off the saddle and landed right on her face. The horse just kept on running.

Libby hurried to check on her friend. As she got there Amanda pulled herself up, spitting out grassy stubble and brushing herself off.

“Damn,” she said. Diablo was out of sight.

“Are you all right?” said Libby.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She sounded disgusted. “Here, let me ride with you. Did you see which way he went?”

“There.” Libby pointed to the far side of the field. Diablo had slowed down and at a fast trot appeared to be heading back toward the stables.

“Double damn,” said Amanda. “Let’s get back, quick.”

Amanda rode behind Libby on Lucky. At the slow pace, the return trip took time. Finally, they came in view of the house only to see a figure on a horse approaching.
“Crikey. Now we’re in for it,” said Amanda. It was Uncle Henry.

Libby braced herself for the angry scolding that she knew was coming, but to her surprise the first thing Uncle Henry did was to dismount and approach them with a quick stride, the concern plain on his face. “Are you hurt, Amanda? And Libby, are you all right?” He breathed a visible sigh of relief as Amanda assured him she was not injured. Then his demeanor turned serious.

“What were you doing on Diablo? The horse came back riderless, and George said that you had taken him out.” He put his hands on his hips, his eyes bored into Amanda’s and his mouth became fixed in a tight line. “Well?”

“We, er, I … look, Uncle Henry, I know how to handle Diablo,” she asserted. “He just … got a little excited and jumped over a log I didn’t see.”

“So I see,” said Uncle Henry. “Let’s go back to the barn, girls.”

To Libby that sounded ominous. Hell, this wasn’t her fault. Amanda had taken the horse out; she just rode along.

Back at the barn they dismounted, and Henry said, “Libby, take Lucky into the stable and give her to George. You may want to help George water her and brush her down.” Libby breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t in trouble.
“Amanda, you will accompany me to the tack room.”

A chill went up Libby’s spine. It was going to happen again, she just knew it. Then another thought hit her. I want to see. That had got her in trouble the last time, but Libby didn’t care. The whole episode had been a delicious thrill. She walked Lucky in and handed the reins to George. “I’ll be back,” she said. Now where was the tack room? Of course. It was at the front of the barn. She had walked right past it. Then she noticed a ladder that led to a second story where the hay was stored. She climbed the ladder and made her way back to the front part of the barn. When she figured she was over the tack room, she looked for a knothole. She needn’t have bothered. The floor slats had wide gaps. She lay on her stomach and looked through one. Perfect. She could see everything.

Uncle Henry stood in the center of the room. Amanda leaned back against a saddle that sat astride a saw horse. She affected a casual air, as if this were much ado about nothing.

“Damn it all, Amanda. I told you in no uncertain terms. You were not to ride Diablo.”
Amanda actually yawned, then waved her hand. “I’m all right. I was fine with Diablo until he jumped. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“You continue to provoke me, Amanda.” Uncle Henry’s face had flushed and Libby could tell Amanda’s attitude was the cause. It looked like she was baiting him. Then came the order.

“Turn around, Amanda.”

Amanda huffed, but did as commanded. Now she faced the saddle.

“Lie across the saddle,” said Uncle Henry as he strode over to the wall. Amanda was a vision in her jodhpurs. They fit her like a second skin emphasizing the round curves of each bottom cheek, the sinuous divide between them clearly delineated. She bent over thrusting her bottom out. Henry waited patiently, flexing a riding switch between his hands that he had taken from a peg on the wall.

She lay face down across the saddle, her perfectly formed derriere presented to Henry’s gaze. Amanda was a tall lissome girl with narrow hips, but her derriere was full and rounded, protruding impudently, the fleshy mounds encased in skin tight fabric and perched over the saddle in a provocative fashion, as if begging Henry to do his worst.

Uncle Henry moved to her left and tapped Amanda’s bottom with the switch…once … twice, then swish…thwack! His arm moved in blur and the leather flap on the end struck Amanda’s left bottom cheek.

“Ouch!” Amanda squealed. “That hurts!”

“It’s no less than you deserve,” he said, delivering another stroke to the opposite cheek.

Whap! Smack! Crack! Henry delivered several licks with a short flick of the wrist. Libby winced in silent empathy as the strokes of the switch seared her friend’s bare seat.

“Nhh … uhhh … ow!” Amanda whimpered and shuffled her feet.

“I doubt you really feel this, Amanda. Stand up.” Henry motioned with the crop.

“What? Why?” said Amanda, half rising.

“Take your pants down.”

Amanda stared at Henry and bit her lip. She stood there for a moment, then, by inserting her thumbs in the waistband and jerking her hips this way and that, she worked the skin tight jodhpurs down to her knees. Underneath she was bare.
“There! Is that what you want?” Her tone was defiant.

Henry merely said, “Back over the saddle, Amanda.”

Amanda let out an exasperated sigh, but obeyed.

It was a scene out of a Victorian drama -- the fair debutante in riding togs taken down to her knees, prostrated over a saddle with her bare backside sticking out, while her wicked uncle in a tweed jacket thrashed her with a riding switch. Henry’s arm rose and fell. The flap on the end of the switch thwacked across Amanda’s hindquarters with authority. Her bottom cheeks jiggled on impact. Blotches of red appeared on the white flesh. She wriggled her bottom in a lascivious dance, trying to shake off the awful sting as again and again the crop smacked her wobbling fanny.

Libby was transfixed with excitement. Her breathing became shallow, her face and limbs flushed and her hand stole inside her pants, inching toward that nub that begged for her touch. When she found it, she began to pleasure herself, but with a profound sense of shame. She couldn’t help it. It was too exciting to see her friend being punished. But mostly she fixated on Uncle Henry and imagined herself in Amanda’s place. She wondered how she would feel, prostrated over the saddle, offering up her behind for his attentions. Once he glanced upward, distracted, as if he had heard something, and Libby jerked her head back with a sharp intake of breath. Had he seen her? Please, not again. No, it seemed. He resumed the punishment and laid another half dozen strokes across Amanda’s quivering rear.
“Now,” he said, as he ambled over to the wall to replace the switch, “do you think you can obey me, or do you need more?”

Amanda had not moved. She continued to lie bottoms up across the saddle, breathing heavily. “You know what I need,” she said. It was sotto voce but Henry must have heard.

Uncle Henry leaned over and whispered something in her ear, but Libby couldn’t hear it. He stood straight again. Amanda rose and touched her backside, wincing and hissing as she rubbed and shifted from foot to foot. Libby moved as quietly as she could and made her way back down to the ground level where she returned to the stalls and pretended to help George. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything.

I'm afraid Lizzy was caught peeping again.