Stable Girl to House Girl

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

It was an auspicious evening. Dusk was almost done. Chilly outside and an open fire burning in the living room. Jenny, my wife, arrived home with one of the stable girls in tow. Robin, an athletic piece, five feet five, slim waisted with small perky breasts and a round bottom displayed tonight in tight blue jeans that showed off her full tapering thighs and shapely calves. Her feet shod in short riding boots. She carried a backpack which she discarded.

It was at about 6pm when they came in, into the kitchen where I was preparing dinner.

"This is Robin." said my wife.

"Hello, Robin. What's happening with you?" I asked. I had seen her about the yard. The young woman before me, a rather plain face, with blond hair cut short, was about 18 or 19. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, as if she had been crying. I let my gaze wander over her, and not for the first time, wondered whether an old geezer like me had anything to offer these young stable girls. It's not that I imagined for a second that they would be interested in me for my person, but a number of them came from deprived backgrounds and were rather vulnerable. They might wish to curry favour with my wife who employed them or might even be open to a monetary arrangement.

My wife spoke, "what's happening is that she's up to her pretty little neck in it".

I glanced round at Robin who seemed to shrink under my gaze. "Oh, what have you been up to, young lady?" I asked casually, returning to my cooking.

The girl spoke for the first time. "Don't know." she peeped.

"Jenny?"

"We've finally found out what happened to those bits of tack that were going missing. Robin, here, has been supplementing the wages I pay her by helping herself to them and flogging them off." said Jennifer.

The girl spoke, her voice a whisper. "I'm sorry, Mrs Mason, I'm so sorry, Jennifer."

"Well, you soon will be." replied my wife, stern in the face of the girl's obvious contrition.

"Police coming?" I asked applying a husband's late-to-the-game logic.

"Well," replied Jennifer, "Robin and I have discussed it and have agreed to deal with this 'in house'."

"What does that mean, exactly?" I asked.

No body spoke.

"Robin?" said Jenny.

"Yes". Her big eyes looked from me to Jennifer and then back and finally down at her feet.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't know, Mrs. Mason."

"I rather think you do. What we discussed."

"Can't you just do whatever it is you're going to do to me. Please, just do it to me."

"No. Tell Mr. Mason what we agreed on."

Silence.

"Well, perhaps the police would be the better course of action, if you are not going to cooperate." My wife is an uncompromising woman.

"Please, can't you just do it?"

"No."

Silence.

From Robin, "I'm... I'm going to..."

"Yes. Just tell me, dear. It'll be our secret." I encouraged.

"...receive a spanking." this in a mumbled voice.

"Sorry I didn't catch that." I queried.

"Receive a spanking." she said. Audible but miserable.

"Look at my husband when you speak to him." commanded my wife.

Nothing.

Jenny said, "This obviously isn't working. we'll..."

"No, I'll do it" said Robin. She slowly raised her head turning to look at me and said with the humiliation etched on her face. "I'm here to be spanked."

"Goodness." I exclaimed; my interest piqued. I could see why the idea of spanking one of the girls might appeal to my wife, but what of the girl? I supposed, from her point of view, that she must have some compelling reason to avoid the authorities. A sufficient reason that she would allow herself to be treated like a misbehaving brat, to be demeaned in a humiliating situation with risky possibilities. As the implications began to sink in, I started to feel stirrings.

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It also turned out that Jennifer had offered to feed the youngster before the evening's business was to be conducted. It seemed that the motivation for the thefts was that our nubile little visitor was extremely hard up. So, I stretched the meal to three. Jennifer and Robin set the table and we sat down to eat.

Despite her obvious nerves about the impending ordeal, Robin appeared ravenous digging into her food with a trencherman's appetite. We ate. No topics of conversation appeared to present themselves. We ate in silence. And then after a few minutes, conversationally, "Mr. Mason will be giving you your spanking, young lady." said my peerless wife. This news was met to a whinny of disbelief from the condemned girl who suddenly had the look of a woodland creature caught in a trap and by a silent hurrah from me. I must admit that the scenario that I had so far had in mind is that Jennifer would take Robin into the living room, put her across her knee, pull down her jeans and warm her panties. I thought my involvement would be limited to listening to proceedings at the door. My mind was now racing at the prospect of getting my hands Pendik Escort on her youthful hindquarters. I mused on their contours, currently perched provocatively on one of our kitchen chairs, - shapely rather than plump, proportionate. And, I suspected, soft and firm. I was now suddenly concerned over whether her jeans would be coming down and even, if the gods were smiling on me, her panties too. It all depended on my darling wife.

The girl remained silent at the prospect of a man attending to her behind. A man three decades her senior and who, she must be aware, by virtue of his age and sex was more than likely to have designs on the backsides of young stable girls, and other things besides. Her appetite had deserted her. The puffiness had returned to her eyes.

As we ate, I asked Jenny how she proposed we proceed. "Keep it simple. You can take her into the living room, bend her over and give her a few dozen on her bottom. A hand spanking should be sufficient. How does that appeal?". On balance, it was a disappointing reply. No mention of panties coming down, the use of a hairbrush or riding crop or a move to our bedroom which would certainly be more comfortable for our purpose and had amenities the living room couldn't provide.

Hiding my disappointment, I looked at Robin and asked her "how does that sound?". She continued to chew her food half-heartedly but said nothing.

"Mr Mason asked you a question." said Jenny, "Answer him."

"Don't know." she said, not looking at me.

"Well, I expect we will find out shortly." I said, smiling at her. She continued pushing her food around on her plate, her appetite completely gone.

Soon, it seemed the meal was over and Jennifer, helped by an increasingly nervous Robin, stacked the dishwasher. As my thoughts turned to what was to come, I watched Robin closely going backwards and forwards from the table her buttocks working under the jeans. As she bent to fill the lower tray in the machine, I got a glimpse of the bottom stretched taut as it would be for her punishment, assuming, as I did, that my life's helpmate would not allow me to have her across my lap with the potential for clandestine fumbling. At one point she dropped some leftovers and squatted down, quickly, to retrieve them. The picture of her rounded bottom resting on her heals and her thighs spread wide turned my incipient erection into something more substantial. No chance of having her across my lap now.

Jennifer ordered the girl through to the living room and stayed back to issue my instructions: bending over rather than across my knee, jeans down, but panties left in place; my hands resting on buttocks, permitted - hand between thighs, strictly prohibited; initially 12 swats per cheek and then review the situation. My wonderful wife.

I joined Robin in the living room. She stood there, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her crotch, shifting her weight gently from one foot to the other, her face now pale with misery, awaiting her fate. Although Jennifer knew, all too well, my porn fuelled proclivities, neither she nor I had any experience of applying corporal punishment to young females. From here on we would be playing it by ear.

I turned my attention to our guest, "Robin, please remove your riding boots, undo the belt of your jeans and pull them down below your knees." Nothing happened. "Please sir" she said - I don't know where the "sir" came from. I suppose I have a certain authority being considerably older. But I was rather chuffed that our visitor had shown respect so naturally. "Can Mrs. Mason please be here?" I explained gently that I was carrying out the punishment and that Mrs. Mason was in the next room and could hear everything that went on. "If I'm going to just be in my panties then I think a woman should be here." she said meekly. I said I was afraid the terms were not negotiable and repeated the request for her to lower her jeans. Just then Jennifer appeared in the doorway. This seemed to appease the young lady and I watched with keen attention as she reached for her belt.

The speed and lack of ceremony as she undressed was a disappointment. Boots removed, the belt was undone and then button fastening popped and zip fully lowered. She pushed the garment off her hips and down her legs so that it pooled around her calves. Into view came a pair of rose-pink, bikini cut, cotton panties covering her lovely little bottom. My wife had had a similar pair, long since discarded. I savoured the memory. "Let me." I said and stepped behind her to help, crouched to lift one leg and then the other out of the jean leggings and flung the jeans to one side. This was the first time I had had my hands on her. Grasping the soft flesh of her calf sent electricity through me and as she had to put a hand on my shoulder to keep her balance, I took the opportunity to closely inspect the twin mounds of her behind. I felt no embarrassment that she felt my breath on the girlish flesh of her thighs and bum. Her nether regions gave off a sweet scent but beneath that there was the sour odour of dried sweat, presumably the result of riding and Anadolu Yakası Escort working with the horses all day. Perhaps she had found an opportunity to sweeten herself up before coming here, knowing what might be in store for her backside and anticipating the possibility of an intimate inspection.

We were making progress. "Bend over, please, and touch your toes." I asked, and she did just that, taking a stance like a swimmer on the blocks for a race. A chance maybe to hide the shame that had become visible on her face.

The white tee shirt that encased her little titties rode a little along her back as she bent. It left a good deal of lower back flesh bare between the base of the white tee and the waistband of the pink panties. At the top of the panties I could see the start of the dark crevice which separated her bum cheeks. A secret place I longed to investigate. I took the opportunity to adjust the bulge in my trousers to a more comfortable position but I'm sure she must have been aware by then of the clear manifestation of my interest in her young body.

"Please, Mr. Mason, not too hard." Her words were barely audible.

"Don't worry, it won't be too bad. Just a few smacks on that naughty bottom of yours and it will all be over. We'll get through it together, sweetheart." I said so only she could hear.

"Thank you, sir." she whispered.

Aloud, I replied that the aim was to punish, that she had cost Mrs. Mason a great deal of money (not really) and that she could expect hard and thorough retribution.

"Robin, I'm just going to rearrange your underwear a tad." I announced, stepping behind her to get access to her panties which had become bunched up around the cleft between her buttocks. I slipped the tips of my fingers under the leggings of her panties and teased out the material to cover her bottom cheeks evenly. In doing so my knuckles gently grazed the soft skin around her bottom cleft causing her to flinch and start to straighten up. I immediately put a hand on the small of her back pushing her back into position. A position that showed off her backside so gloriously. I took the opportunity to inspect the crotch of her panties between her legs, at least from the outside, for moisture. No. I wasn't expecting signs of arousal, but I thought her nerves might have caused her to have a little accident. No. Dry as a bone.

"If you try to straighten up like that during the spanking or attempt to avoid or protect yourself from my hand the punishment will have to be restarted." I said. I hope she took this as kindly advice.

I looked round at my wife to indicate I was about to start. Her hand had found its way to her crotch which she was scratching though the layers of skirt and panties. An impatient nod indicated I should make a start.

"Ready to receive your punishment, dear." I said. It wasn't a question.

I stood to one side of the bent figure, raised my hand and brought it down hard on her left cheek. For me it felt sensational. The palm of my hand slammed into the fabric of her underwear and my fingers on the soft smooth ass flesh. Robin made no sound. I raised my hand high again and brought it down on the right cheek. I laid on four more smacks on each buttock. With the last one I left my hand resting on the fabric of her panties, the area now warm to the touch.

"Darling, I can't really tell what effect I'm having with her panties in the way." I said hopefully.

After a moment or two Jenny said. "OK. They can come down now."

Rejoicing silently, I hooked my fingers under the waistband. Robin immediately squealed and straightened. I gave her bottom a spank to show my displeasure.

"No, no, dear. Remember what I said would happen if you started playing up during the punishment, young lady?" I said. My wife chimed in. "Make it clear to her that she will get a proper thrashing with a riding crop on the bare bottom if she gives you any further trouble". I did not relay the message as the poor girl must have heard it clearly enough.

There are two ways of getting control of a young filly: gentling her or breaking her in. I felt that I favoured the first approach and my wife the second, although she would never show cruelty to a dumb animal.

Robin was very tense, but she said nothing. I put my hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently back into position. This time she grasped her ankles - presumably it is easier to stay bent over if you have something to hold onto. "Now, Robin, I'm going to lower your panties. I'm afraid that if there is any resistance then Mrs. Mason will go and find a hard hairbrush for me to use on you. Not to mention, there are plenty of riding crops round here, purpose made for a good thrashing although I hope it won't come to that." I very much hoped it would come to that.

She said nothing.

With the miserable young thing back in position, I gave her a gentle tap on her posterior and then reached again for the waistband of her panties. There was no resistance this time. Slowly I pulled them down, across the fleshy expanse of her bottom, down to mid-thigh where İstanbul Escort I let them sit. Her bottom was white with the slightest hint of pink. It was obvious that I was not having much effect. Perhaps a hairbrush might have to be the answer.

"Spread your legs so that you keep your panties above the knee, sweetie." I said, and she obeyed meekly. Maybe she did not realise my motive for the request. Maybe her nerves and shame had got the better of her. For not only did this ploy expose a larger area of her ass to my hand but assuming I'd get the chance to move from my side position behind her I would be able to see the treasures that lay between her legs.

I returned to the locus of punishment, raising my hand high and bringing it down with a satisfying crack on her left cheek. A momentary indentation and a pink imprint showed in the gorgeous round flesh. I gave the left cheek a couple more and then the same treatment to the right. With the last smack I got a reaction, an "oww". Not much, but a start. The bottom was turning rosy. Bearing in mind the rules laid down by my good lady I rested my hand on the conveniently sited ass. My fingers could have easily dipped into the crack or drifted down between her legs. How I yearned to feel her girl parts, but I felt sure she would raise objections and the fabulous privilege of meting out punishment would be revoked.

"20 on each cheek." came the command from the lady wife who had by now had raised her skirt and had her hand in her panties.

I raised my arm and laid into Robin's behind with a vengeance. "Eoww, Eoww, please sir not so hard." was the satisfying reaction from the girl. I redoubled my efforts seeing her skin starting to turn dark pink. So far, my enjoyment had come from humiliating the girl and exposing her charms with all that might offer to a man with an indulgent wife. But now I was getting the bit between my teeth.

Inflicting pain on the girl was a pleasure, a pleasure to be savoured, a pleasure in its own right. When it came to young fillies, my experience as a horseman might be that gentling them was the best way to bend them to my will. I suspected with stable girls that breaking them in hard might be preferable.

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"Please Mr. Mason, no more." She pleaded. My blood was up, and I had no intention of easing off.

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I laid them on hard. We both started grunting; me with effort and her in pain.

Finally, I relented. No tears had come but my hand was stinging. It gave me some inkling of how her bottom must be feeling.

I stood back and Robin relaxed. But she did not rise.

"Is it over?" She asked, miserably.

I ignored her and guided Jennifer back into the kitchen for a quiet conflab. She had to reluctantly withdraw her hand from the warmth of her panties and I took it, raising it to my lips to taste the familiar sweet and sour of a gash that had spent all day at work in the same panties without an opportunity to clean herself up or change.

I then told her that my hand was sore, and I could not continue.

The wife raised her eyebrows. She may have been wondering why I didn't use the other hand. I was about to suggest we got a brush or slipper or something hard, to beat the girl with, when she offered to take over. After a moment's consideration I acquiesced. I was intrigued to see what would happen.

As we re-entered the living room Robin looked at us with an obvious question in her face. She had stood up. She had pulled her panties up.

"What did we say about rising during the punishment, Robin?" Jennifer said, her face stern.

"Bend over. We will start again. This time I will attend to you." She said.

Robin turned and stepped towards her. She sank to her knees. "Please, Mrs. Mason. Please, Jennifer". She put her hands on my wife's hips and hugged her, pushing her face into Jennifer's midriff. Was there some history here? A spanking did not seem to merit this sort of nonsense. Not that I wasn't enjoying it. Did Robin know something about the severity of the chastisement that was coming?

"Up." Instructed Jennifer.

Reluctantly, the girl withdrew her face from my wife's skirt and released her hips. She rose slowly.

"Resume your place." Was the next command.

Robin complied.

"Bend."

More compliance. She even went so far as to pull down her panties to mid thigh.

Jennifer approached the bending girl for the first time, I was fascinated to see the youngster's reaction. She appeared to thrust out her posterior slightly and spread her thighs a little stretching the panties which lay across them. Was there some attraction here to my wife or was she just relieved that the hand on her nether regions would be a female one? I wondered whether this was the first time that my wife and Robin had had been intimate. My excitement mounted as I saw Jennifer, instead of laying her hand chastely across the bottom cheeks as I had been told to do, boldly moved her fingers between the girl's thighs, apparently covering her privates. I had not even had a chance to so much as get a sight of those delights and my wife was already making free, feeling her up, well, at least, resting her hand over the opening of the girl's cunt. This was what I surmised from my lowly position to one side.