by Angela Stone
"...And this is the tack room, where there is space for your tack, grooming kit and other bits and bobs, the rugs are all stored next door in a heated room to ensure you never have to put wet rugs on your horse the next day." The man speaking was Robert and he was showing a potential new 'livery' the facilities. The woman had two horses and needed to move them and he felt she would fit in well. Why did he think so?
Well, stood in the corner of the tack room with her hands atop her head was Amber. The twenty year old was curvy in all the right places and her cream jods framed a shapely bottom, one that was waiting for his ministrations just as soon as Karen had been shown round. Amber being there was also a test of the potential new customer and one that she passed by completely ignoring the girl, although Robert did notice the woman's lips form an O shape and see the woman's cheeks redden as she spotted the errant figure.
Hmmm, said Robert to himself. I wouldn't mind making your other cheeks red too! Aloud he added, "So, shall we go and see the paddocks?" and they left the tack room.
Once they had left Amber sighed with relief and relaxed, removing her hands from her head shaking out her aching arms. She didn't dare leave the corner though but was confident she would hear anyone approaching and be back in position in time. Amber was the typical 'horsey' girl. She had a lean but muscular body from all the hard work that goes with horses - and that's before the actual riding. She had one part of her that she hated though and that was her bubble-shaped bum. She felt that it stuck out like a shelf and was far too large but pretty much everyone else disagreed. Amber had one other problem and that was her temper. She would never hurt the horses but she could still lose it with the ferocity of a small hurricane. Today's tantrum had resulted in a crop being snapped into little pieces and thrown across the yard. Robert was actually amazed she had the strength to break it, but break it she did. This was why the minx was stood in the corner of the tack room, waiting for what she knew would be a hard spanking!
A while later, hearing footsteps, Amber stuck her nose back in the corner and put her hands back on her blonde head. Robert entered the tack room alone. The new woman was bringing her horses next week and had responded well to Robert's probing questions. All in all he suspected that the idea of being spanked appealed to the new girl and he was looking forward to finding out for sure. Meanwhile he had the cool, but gorgeous, Amber to deal with.
He stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorjamb, appraising his quarry. She looked good, really good. Her jods framed her shapely bottom and also showed a most appealing visible panty line. Robert could tell that Amber had proper panties on, none of those thongs that he hated. He almost laughed aloud as he remembered the snooty woman from the local riding club when her jods split as she was jumping a rather large fence. She had been wearing a thong and let's just say, very little was left to the imagination as she completed the course of show jumps!!
Robert walked behind Amber and gave her an almighty slap, one that covered both buttocks and made the girl jump in shock.
"Did you move while I was gone?" Robert asked lightly. "You must have done, I know I would have." His tone was friendly, conspiratorial almost. It worked!
"I did put my hands down for a while Robert but only for a minute, they were aching." Amber wasn't sure whether Robert had somehow seen her and she knew from bitter experience that lying to him was a painful mistake to make.
"Hmm," Robert said. "Something else we will have to deal with!"
He took hold of Amber's elbow and led her across the room, over to where the wooden horse which was used for cleaning saddles on, was positioned. He draped a towel over the wood and then pulled her jods up as far as possible, ensuring that they were nice and smooth and showing her panty line even more. This done, he positioned Amber over the horse, her feet off the ground and her hands dangling from the far side, leaving her bottom at the highest point. Happy with what he had to work with, Robert turned and selected a nice stingy crop from a selection that was available in a special pot which was used to store them. It was black, the exterior was plaited leather and the end had a nice square 'slapper'. Robert knew there were two ways to use a crop on a naughty behind, he could either flick the implement and just let the leather on the end do its work or he could use it more like a cane, leaving lovely red marks across both buttocks at the same time. This time he planned on using both techniques.
"Stay put," he warned Amber before stepping back and flicking the end of the crop so that the slapper only impacted on her right buttock. It stung, a little like a bee sting Amber supposed, but she stayed silent, knowing there was a long way to go yet. Again the crop landed, on the left side this time. Robert couldn't help but notice that he was removing some dust from Amber's backside, clearly she had been sat in one of the stables at some point that morning, probably with her horse Artisan. This noted, Robert proceeded speeding up the flicks of the crop, covering as much of her bottom as he could without being able to see his palette. Amber was breathing hard and making 'ooh, ah, ooh' noises fairly regularly. Robert knew that he was starting to get through to her but there was still a way to go.
"Stand up," he suddenly demanded. Amber struggled her way from the wooden horse and almost put her hands back to rub, catching herself before doing so. "Hands on head," Robert barked and Amber automatically complied. Happy with her obedience, Robert deftly undid her jods and pealed them down until they rested, inside out, by Amber's feet. He then assisted the short tempered girl back into position on the horse. Before picking up the crop he ran his hands over the pantied-bottom, smoothing the material out. He could see some angry red marks peeking out from the first round with the crop.
This time the crop was used more like a cane. Robert measured his position carefully so that the slapper on the end of the crop would impact on the middle of the furthest cheek. Happy with everything, he raised his arm and brought the crop down sharply with a thwicking sound. It landed across both cheeks, the end landing exactly where intended. This time Amber shouted out from the very first stroke!
"Of course it hurts," Robert said with a laugh after a particularly loud contribution from Amber. "This is what happens to little girls who throw tantrums!" He brought the crop down again, hard.
"Oh god," Amber sobbed. "I am so sorry, I will never, ever, ever do it again! Just please stop!!" she begged.
Instead Robert switched sides, intent on sharing the punishment evenly between the bouncing cheeks. Ten more times the crop lashed down, burying itself into pliant female flesh, leaving its print behind. By now Amber was sobbing and had lost the ability to speak. After the last stroke, Robert put the crop back and stepped back to admire his work. Peeking either side of those pale blue panties were both red stripes and square blotches. A couple of the strokes had landed low and they showed up starkly against the background of milky skin. Satisfied, Robert sent Amber back to her corner, jods still around her ankles and hands on her head.
It was soon break time for the staff and the six grooms headed in for a well earned cup of tea. They all glanced at Amber in the corner but knew better than to comment, lest they joined her. Once the tea break was over and the staff had all headed back out to the yard, Robert told Amber to get dressed. He watched as she winced and moaned as she pulled the tight garment back over her swollen and sore bottom. Once she was dressed, Robert gave her a brief hug, reminding her that she simply had to learn to control her temper. He knew that the rest of the day was going to be hard for Amber. Her tight jods would hold in the heat and allow the itch and burn to sink in slowly. This in mind he told Amber to go and tack up Artisan and meet him in the indoor school in 15 minutes. He knew that half an hour working on sitting trot transitions would ensure his lesson was not forgotten for a very long time.
"They say that it comes in threes and that was certainly true of Diane's week. First of all she had split up with her partner of five years, Don. Then her temporary job in a local office had ended suddenly, six weeks early, due to them losing a big account and, just to top it all off, a letter had arrived that morning, giving her a month's notice to quit her rented flat. Her landlord was returning from abroad and wanted to move back into his flat!
Diane was a pretty sensible and strong person but it was all just too much and she broke down and cried. Five minutes and a fair few tissues later though, she pulled herself together and set off to take full advantage off all the new opportunities life was offering her... You can't keep a girl down for long!
Prioritising was easy for Diane. She knew that she needed a job, to afford to live somewhere and being single wasn't so bad, was it? There was plenty of room in the bed now, no lack of hot water, or queue for the bathroom and it was so much easier to keep the flat clean too. In fact the only thing Diane found she was missing about Don was... he was an excellent spanker!!
Now thirty, Diane had been into being spanked for as long as she could remember. She accepted this about herself quite freely and had always asked her partners to spank her. Some had, some hadn't, and one had fled never to return but, hey, he was no great loss.
Don had been her most successful relationship to date and the break-up had taken her by surprise. There had been no real problems, they just drifted apart until they realised they had become more like brother and sister than anything else. One day he had just looked at her and said he was leaving. Diane had just nodded sadly then sat and watched as he packed and left.
After washing her face and letting down her long brown hair to draw attention from her puffy eyes, Diane set off to the local shop for a paper and the other vital thing a woman in crisis needs... chocolate!
Half an hour later, she was to be found poring over the jobs section of the local paper, the houses section set neatly aside for part two of the plan. Diane methodically circled anything she could remotely do but there were not many options and most of them didn't pay very well either, or were too far away.
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