Fox Hunt

"Some Women (Oh the shame!) like ramping Rigs,
Ride flaunting in their powder'd Perriwigs;
Astride they sit (and not ashamed neither),
Drest up like men in Jacket, Cap, and Feather! "

A Looking Glass for the Times -- Thomas Ellwood, c1670

I heard the baying of the hounds, the excited shouts of the whippers-in, and the huntsman's horn. I stepped out of the open barn door just in time to see the horses thunder past, hooves pounding the hard-packed dirt of the road. One by one, they gracefully sailed over the wooden gate at the end of the lane. These were Thoroughbred field hunters, so much more elegant and fine than the plodding draft horses that were my charge. The scarlet jackets of the riders proved this to be a fox hunt; hare hunters wear coats of green. I shook my head at the pointless pursuit of a quarry that was inedible. I know they say fox are vermin, and it controls the population, but I've seen the faces of the riders, their excitement in the chase – 'tis a blood sport, and cruel, and I found myself rooting for Brother Reynard, hoping he had the wits to quickly go to ground and end their fun.

It was a cold November morning, the sky thick with rolling grey clouds; not a good day for a hunt, not at all. If the fox was fortunate, the storm would break, and the hunters would all turn back to his Lordship's manor. There they could stable those fine horses, warm themselves before the fire, and curse the weather and their luck. A chilling wind picked up, and sliced through my thin coat. It was going to be a bitter winter. I pulled the collar the best I could up around my ears, and was turning back to the shelter of the barn when I heard another horse approaching.

The rider was leaning forward in the saddle, whipping the straggling beast with a riding crop to urge it to catch up to the hunting party. Imagine my surprise as the horse neared, and I could see that the rider was a female – not sidesaddle as a proper lady rides, but riding astride, like a boy, or an American cowgirl. Now, I am no expert in such matters of etiquette and high society, but in the opinion of this humble stableman, it just seems more sensible to be balanced with one leg on either side of the animal. But I'm sure the lady's mother would have been scandalized.

The horse made it to the end of the lane, but would not jump the fence. It wheeled around abruptly, almost unseating the rider, who let loose with a string of curses I've never heard a lady utter. Thinking to appease her, I ran to open the gate.

"You there," she called, "that will do no good. Come here."

I doffed my hat, respectfully, as I changed direction and trotted toward her. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss, I just thought..."

"Well then, that's the trouble. I don't believe you are being paid to think," she snapped.

"Yes, Miss," I replied, humbly, my hat clutched to my chest.

"Something is wrong with my horse – tend to it," she said, swinging down from the saddle. I realized this must be Lady Jessica, his Lordship's niece, whom I had heard was visiting from London. Sweeping the cap from her head, she released a tumble of hair, bronze shot with gold. Her features were elegant and regal, as befitted a lady of her station, and her eyes were coolly grey. I couldn't help but admire her fine trim figure; she wore a ladies' riding jacket, dark blue with a red hunting collar, with brass buttons and a close, masculine cut; a pair of tan riding breeches that hugged her thighs like a second skin; boots of polished black leather...

*WHAP* I felt the sharp sting of her riding crop through the thin sleeve of my coat. "What are you gawking at, man! See to my animal!"

"Y-yes Ma'am!" I stammered. The horse paced nervously (poor beast, it too had recently felt her crop), and I could see that its gait was slightly off. I lifted its left foreleg and could see that there was a sizeable stone in its hoof. I relayed this information to her Ladyship.

"Get me another mount," she demanded.

"My apologies, Lady Jessica..." Why was my mouth so dry? Why were my knees shaking? "Lord Edward stables his riding horses close to the manor house. The draft animals kept here are farm animals, only suitable for cart or plow."

Her full pink lips drew into a tight line of anger and she closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them again, they were a more threatening grey than the storm clouds overhead. With clenched fists and through clenched teeth, she hissed, "Then tend to my horse," and strode across the field toward the barn. I followed, leading the animal – and, I must admit, quaking in my boots.

And it began to rain.

By the time we reached shelter, the sky had opened, and it was pouring. The wind picked up, we were both drenched, and the dirt road had turned to mud caking on our boots. I shut the barn door behind us and lit a lamp; at least inside it was snug and dry. I hung my wet coat on a nail, secured the horse to a hitching post, and set to work with the hoof pick. Her Ladyship also peeled off her sodden jacket and hung it on a tack hook on the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I admired her neat waist and high proud breasts, the damp white fabric of her blouse clinging to her skin. I determined that the hoof was not so tender or bruised as to prevent the animal from carrying her back to the manor house, and wiped my hands with a rag. There was a loud crack of thunder and the rain pounded mercilessly against the roof. I checked the nervous animals in the stalls, speaking soothing gentle words, when I felt as if I was being watched.

Lady Jessica sat on a hay bale, long legs stretched out in front of her. "What is your name, stableman?" she asked.

"Alfred, my Lady."

She lazily removed her kid riding gloves, one finger at a time. "Well, Alfred, my boots are filthy. Come assist me."

I went over to her, knelt at her feet, and began to wipe her boots with the rag.

"No, no, that will never do," she scolded. "Do it properly, take them off."

I'd never removed a lady's boots before, and was not sure how to manage such a thing. Finally, I straddled her right leg, facing away from her, grasped the heel and began tugging.

"Oho, you would turn your backside to me?" she laughed, planting the sole of her other booted foot against my rump and shoving hard. Her right boot suddenly came loose, and I was sent sprawling, face first, into the straw. Embarrassed, I started to scramble to my feet, but as I rose to my hands and knees, Lady Jessica ordered sharply, "Don't move." What could I do? I froze.

I remained motionless, on all fours like an animal. It was humiliating, but for some reason, also strangely exciting to be unsure what would happen, what it was she wanted of me. The next thing I knew, she was standing over me, her muddy left boot planted on one side of me and her stockinged right foot on the other. With no warning nor ceremony, she bent over, reached beneath my belly, unbuckled my belt, and yanked my trousers straight down to my knees. I protested in shock, "Milady, what are you doing?!?"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped, "surely you know you deserve this..." I heard a swish and again I felt the sting of her crop, but this time against my bare buttocks.

*WHAP* "That's for thinking on your own instead of doing as I bid you."

*WHAP* "That's for not having a suitable mount ready for me."

*WHAP* "That's for rudely presenting your arse to my face."

*WHAP* I'm not sure what the rest were for – perhaps the storm, the stone in her horse's hoof, the fact that she had missed her day of hunting, or maybe just her generally irritated mood. I writhed, I squirmed; the crop burned and stung. "My Lady, please, I beg you!" I implored.

"What, too much for a big strong draft animal like you, Alfred?" she said dryly. "I think you can take this...and much more." She reached underneath me, and grasped my dangling member, which to my dismayed surprise, was growing stiff – and even stiffer in her hand. She laughed, and gave it a few quick tugs. "Ah yes, I think you might even like the kiss of the crop!" She struck once more for good measure, and my traitorous prick leapt to attention in her grip; I cringed at her peal of laughter.

She sat back down on the hay bale. "Now come over here and try again...do it right." I clutched my trousers and started to get to my feet. "No, no, no, naughty boy," she admonished, clearly amused at my predicament. "Crawl."

What could I do? I crawled – awkwardly, since my pants were still around my knees. And I kneeled at Lady Jessica's feet and served as her personal boot jack. "Very good," she said, "now you're learning. I do believe I could take you back to London with me and have you trained as my lady's maid." I could feel my temper start to rise, but I dared not answer back.

She stood up, looking down at me, and her expression was unreadable. I stared back up at her, not believing my eyes, as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. "My Lady, please...be discreet!" I begged. I had no idea what would happen to me should Lord Edward discover me with his niece, and I didn't want to find out.

There was a loud rumble of thunder again, and the wind howled outside. "Oh don't worry, Alfred, no one is likely to find us here," she said demurely, as she removed her blouse and tossed it aside. She slid her breeches down over her hips, then her bloomers, and my jaw dropped. She looked like a statue of a goddess, all white marble curves. Her white satin corset nipped in at her waist and flared out at her hips, and her full breasts spilled over the top. Below the waist, except for her silk stockings (which she was calmly removing) she was naked as the day she was born.

"Miss, I have duties I must attend to..." I tried again, half-heartedly. But I remained on my knees, gazing in rapt attention at the neat thatch of hair at the junction of her alabaster thighs.

She pushed me on to my back. "There is only one duty you must attend to at the moment." And she knelt over my head and my mouth watered, like I was a starving man at a banquet. I cautiously cupped her smooth buttocks in my hands, and when her Ladyship did not protest, I pulled her down and buried my face in her sweet snatch. She smelled faintly of leather and lavender and musk; I offered my tongue in service to this Venus, this Diana, this goddess whom I worshipped, greedily lapping at her juices that flowed like nectar. I nibbled the hard little button at the top of her slit, rolled it around on my tongue, and was rewarded with her sounds of pleasure. Obligingly, I sucked her tiny pink pebble and she ground her puss against my mouth. Her head dropped back, I could feel the muscles in her thighs trembling with tension. She moaned loudly, pulling my hair, and I could feel her wetness on my chin as she climaxed.

She raised herself up off my mouth and slid down the length of my body, straddling my hips. So beautiful she was above me in the lamplight, her hair spilling over her shoulders in loose waves. She expertly guided my throbbing cock to her entrance, and in one smooth motion, sheathed me to the hilt. I gasped at the sudden heat that enveloped me; she reached behind her and squeezed my ball sack, commanding my full attention immediately.

"Alfred, do not spend in me. Do you understand?" she demanded, giving another quick, tight squeeze to make sure I was listening.

"Y-yes Ma'am!" I yelped, a little bit farther away from the finish line than I had been just moments before.

"Good boy," she breathed, and she began to ride me. She unbuttoned my shirt and lightly ran her nails over my chest, then she pinched my nipples hard until I moaned in pain and pleasure. Maddening things she did to me, bouncing up and down quickly, as if on a trotting horse, my prick sliding in and out of her in short quick stabs; then grinding down against my cock, rotating her hips, shifting back and forth until I felt her shudder and a gush of her juices as she came on me, her quim squeezing my cock, and I was right there...

"Lady, please," I warned, "I am so close..."

I felt a rush of cool air on my hot skin as she lifted off of me and I groaned in frustration. Lady Jessica knelt between my legs, bending my knees, and began stroking my aching member in her delicate hand. "What a handsome cock you have, you are hung like a horse..." she cooed. I looked down and watched her stroke my shaft, mesmerized; my whole body tensed, I felt so on edge. I couldn't help but thrust my hips, fucking her silken fist, the head of my cock was swollen and purple and weeping drops of fluid. Lady Jessica sucked her middle finger into her mouth, wetting it thoroughly; then, smiling wickedly, she pressed her wet finger to my arsehole and wriggled it right in, while still stroking, stroking, stroking...

And I saw stars, and roaring in pleasure, I shot jet after jet of white foam onto my chest, and my belly, and some of it spilled onto her Ladyship's hand, dripping down her fingers. She held that hand to my mouth and raised one elegant eyebrow; in response, I dutifully licked her fingers clean.

Lady Jessica moved away for just a moment, then spread out a saddle blanket on the floor and lay down next to me. We could hear the storm still raging outside. She stroked the side of my face gently, then toyed with my hair. "How do you feel, Alfred?" she asked gently.

I lay there, unable to move – panting, heart pounding, still shaking. "Oh, wonderful, my Lady," I managed. "That was...amazing..."

"Well, that's good," she said. She rose up with that wicked grin, holding a halter, and I felt her shove the bit between my teeth. "What game shall we play now?"