English Pub Landlady Ep. 04

Ever since I purchased the ******** Inn I have allowed myself the luxury of having Tuesday night off. A little me time. I usually add some fragrant oils to a hot bath, light a few scented candles and luxuriate with a good book. Sometimes I get so relaxed I flick the bean underwater - but that's my business.

On one Tuesday early in April we went to Dorchester, I needed to buy a few things including some new books. I always pop into the Lingerie shop in Antelope Walk, the two ladies keep some really kinky knickers under the counter: but you have to ask.

As we were leaving the town we pulled into Tesco for some groceries. I was feeling a bit naughty, not horny, just naughty so when we got back into the car I made Harry work my nipples over while shoppers slowly drove by looking for a parking space. Then I made him put his hand down my drawers and wank me off. He thought that it was really unfair as his chastity cage was very painful. I said it would earn him Brownie points which meant the cage could come off sooner.

It had been my intention to remove it once I had achieved both my two objectives in the Caribbean but I was convinced that the embarrassing incident had in some way been his fault.

As we drove home Harry said, "Don't forget that I haven't had my pocket money this month."

I snapped back, "Don't forget you still owe me $1000."

I felt like a complete bitch. I've always loved to torment him but just lately I've been a bit nasty too. It's really not like me. I know what the problem is; I'm not planning anything. Normally, I'm thinking of some scheme to make him squirm or some occasion that I need naughty underwear for. I'm sure something will crop up soon.

In the evening I had my run bath and was just about to step in when I remembered that I had left my new books down in the bar. I slipped on one of my silk dressing gowns. I went downstairs and sure enough the Book Shop carrier bag was on the bar. I know you're shocked. You don't mind me being finger fucked in Tesco's carpark or on the London Underground but now you know I don't use a reusable shopping bag you think that I'm despicable. So shoot me.

As I retrieved the bag it occured to me that there was no-one in the bar. I leaned over to make sure I wasn't seeing things when I spotted old Tom sitting at his usual table in the corner. Next to him sat Harry. They had their heads together and were in serious conversation. When Harry saw me he started to polish the table which was quite funny as he didn't have a cloth in his hand.

"Where is everyone?" I said.

"Wheaters," said Harry.

"They go there on the first Tuesday of every month."

You lazy bugger, no wonder you didn't want me to change my evening off.

"What's that?"

"It's a secret society."

"How come I haven't heard of it?"

"It's a secret society."

I hate it when he tries to be clever.

"How come you're heard of it?"

"We're men."

Oh, that sort of secret society. Like the Women's Institute but with silly costumes and dirty songs. The Women's Institute may be like that too. I don't know, I've never felt the need to go.

"Who the hell are they, and what on earth do they do?" I asked, slightly intrigued.

"The Ancient Order of Saint Wite," said Tom.

"They preserve the memory of Saint Wite."

"I vaguely remember hearing of her somewhere," I said.

Tom replied, "The Wheaters are doing a good job then."

There were only two men in the bar and they were both smart asses.

"You didn't join up then, Tom?" I questioned.

Tom quickly said, "You don't join, you get touched."

"I forgot it was on and I'm sat here now so I can't be bothered to go," he added.

Tom was clutching an empty glass.

"Would you like a drink, Tom?" I foolishly asked.

"That's very kind of you," he replied.

"Harry, get Tom a pint; on the house," I called.

"And get Patch a packet of crisps and a bowl of water." The little dog had been staring at me and sniffing the air expectantly.

I thought that Tom had probably had enough of a look at my left nipple so I pulled my dressing gown back into place and went back to my bath.

A few nights later Farmer Ted was leaning on the bar waiting for me as I walked in.

"I found the book," he said looking around to see that no-one was listening.

"What book?"

"THE Book. The one that all the Farmers' wives wrote down in what was permitted on the farm."

"What's in it?" I asked.

"Don't know, I'm not allowed to open it," he replied, as if it was obvious.

"Why not?"

"I'm a man. Only women are allowed to read it."

"Then you're buggered," I said.

He looked around again before whispering to me, "You could have a look."

"Why me?"

"You were the last woman to ride the, you know."

"You must have felt their spirit."

"I felt a lot of things that day but none of them were spiritual?" I told him.

I must admit I was intrigued by the thought of seeing the book. I had thought of those women a lot since hearing about and experiencing some of what they did. I would love to know exactly what they allowed and what they prohibited. I think that was partly why I had been feeling so listless lately. After that day my life had been slightly flat.

I have no complaints about what happened. I am a firm believer in the country way that if you say you will do something you must stick to it. I said that I would do whatever the winner wanted for the day and I fully expected to do so.

"OK drop it in here and I will have a look at it," I said.

Ted said, "No no, it mustn't leave the farm."

"Alright, I will come to the farm tomorrow afternoon! Is that alright with you?"

"Thank you," said Ted.

When I got to Yew Tree Farm, Ted was waiting for me.

"It's a nice day. Do you want to sit in the garden?" he said.

"Sure, anywhere but the barn," I laughed.

"Do you want tea or coffee?" asked Ted.

"Tea please, I never ever drink coffee," I replied.

Ted brought my tea in a huge mug. He had the same size mug of coffee.

He unwrapped something which was folded in vellum and laid an ancient book on the table. He moved his chair a little backwards like he thought he would turn into a pillar of salt if he even glimpsed inside.

I carefully opened the book a few pages in. Each page was covered in fine writing some of which had been crossed out and amended several times in different hands.

At first glance it appeared to be the sort of recipes/medical cures/horticultural tips that any farmer's wife would have collected over many years.

Each entry started with the words 'AS IS THE CUSTOM' giving it a sort of authority.

The words were archaic or strangely spelt but it didn't take me long to follow their meaning.

I was drawn to a method of returning a woman's vagina to its normal size by squatting over a copper bowl containing steaming water and Alum Salts. Quite useful I would have thought on pay-day.

There was a way of preventing babies using a natural sponge soaked in white vinegar pushed up the spout before mounting the hoss.

There was also a potion to ensure a boy child.

Not really witchcraft but not really science either.

I turned back to the very first page. These were more like rules and regulations.

I will pick out a few of the highlights (I have translated the dialect words and standardised the spelling for you).

AS IS THE CUSTOM

The only persons that are permitted to abide on the farm are.

The Farmer.

The Farmer's Wife or his widow if he be dead.

The Farmer's Son and his wife if he have one. Or widow if he be dead.

The Farmer's Grandson and his wife if he have one. Or widow if he be dead.

No other women shall abide.

The field workers - all shall be male.

AS IS THE CUSTOM

All human consummation copulation procreation and fornication shall be conducted at no place other than the hoss.

Any wife or mother or matron or widow or bride shall be harnessed fast to the hoss.

Ted coughed to get my attention.

"There will be plenty of time to study the book later," he said, wrapping it back in its vellum abruptly.

"It is getting late and there is another matter I want to discuss with you."

I had thought that maybe the books could have been bait to get me here. Ted knew that my curiosity would get the better of me.

"And what is that?" I said.

"We both hold each other's secrets now."

"I suppose we do."

"There is another secret that I need to share with you,", he said.

"Is there?"

"But I will need to hear your word on it."

My curiosity got the better of me again.

"You have my word on it", I said as solemnly as I could.

"This year I am the High Man of the Wheaters."

I tried not to laugh.

Instead I said, "That must be a great honour for you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Ted said, "I need to call in the favour."

"What favour?"

"The one you owed me for not telling Harry that you knew he'd paid to watch you ride The Hoss that day."

"But that's just something you say," I replied.

"That is not the country way - if you say you will do something then it should be done."

He had me there.

I knew I was going to regret this but I asked him what the favour was that he wanted.

"Well,'' he said, "every year we commemorate the feast day of Saint Wite on the First of June. Because I am the High Man, it will be held here."

"We hold a short ceremony and then there is a game of chance and then there is a prize."

"It's up to the High Man to supply the prize."

"The prize has to be something of an erotic nature. Last year they had some under-fed woman dance in front of the winner and thrusting her bum in his face. It was all a bit tacky."

"What exactly are you asking?" I said.

I tried to control what I was feeling. I wanted him to ask but I didn't want him to know that I wanted him to ask.

"Well, as you know, in the past there has been a connection between Saint Wites' Day and the Yew Tree Farm Hoss."

"I wondered if you would sort of, well you know."

"What you want is for me to be strapped to The Hoss and let the winner of your game do what he wants to me?" I asked.

"And, although you are asking me, because I owe you a favour, I can't really refuse. Is that it?"

"Yes, I knew you'd understand," he said looking relieved.

In my mind I was already making plans. This could be what I was waiting for.

"You would make it clear where my limits are?"

"Yes," said Ted.

"If I did this would you let me study the book when I wanted?. Not as a favour but because I now have some mystical connection with all of the Farmers' Wives?"

"Yes," said Ted.

By the time I got home I was already planning my part. I wanted to be a bit theatrical. What does one wear to be fucked at a Secret Society?

I was thinking of a Christopher Leigh, Hammer House of Horrors sort of thing. I couldn't really see myself in sacrificial virgin white. But I wanted it to be slightly Gothic.

I got onto the interweb. Some of the stuff was quite disturbing. I finally settled on a black leather corset that laced up the back. It had quarter-cups which would give a little uplift but still make me feel like a dirty bitch. It had eight really wide suspenders for extra effect.

I went for black fishnet stockings. The shoes were a problem. Everything I considered didn't look very Gothic. I eventually decided to go completely overboard. Black leather boots that came up over my thighs that had really dangerous stiletto heels. Then I thought about knickers.

Nah!!!!!

When it came, I tried it all on. Wow! Didn't I look like a slut? I nearly sent it back. Then I tried it on again a few days later and decided that I wanted to look like a slut. Then I tried it the following week and decided that I was a slut.

Over the next week or so I went back several times to read parts of the book. Ted showed me where it was kept hidden. The farmhouse door was never locked so I didn't always see Ted. What intrigued me was the detail in it. Every tiny aspect of things like the wages ceremony, wedding celebrations and the feast day of Saint Wite, was covered. How it should be conducted, what was allowed and what was taboo. And even the special occasions when what was taboo wasn't taboo.

There was even a section about 'The Entertainment'. I'm not sure most of those goings on would be legal even today.

I can't remember any of these things in the Thomas Hardy novels that I'd read.

After each visit I went into the barn and rubbed my hand over the worn leather saddle. Somehow I felt as if I was communing with all the women who had gone before me. My 'sisters' if you like.

The first of June finally came round. I was so keen that I was ready far too early. I put on my black silk robe over my outfit and went to sit in the garden. I was pleasantly warm. I shouted to Harry to bring me a drink. I was expecting a gin and tonic but ten minutes later he arrived with a very large jug of Pimms complete with all the fruit.

"Harry, what is that?"

"You like Pimms."

Actually, I love Pimms. Harry won't drink it.

"Sorry, don't drink it if you don't want to," he said.

Like that's going to happen.

I sat there thinking about what was to come. Eventually, I had nearly drunk the whole jug when Harry called, "Don't be late for your meeting." I hadn't told him exactly where I was going. I think he believed that I'd finally given up the will to live and joined the Women's Institute.

I poured the last bit into my glass and drank it down in one go.

Grabbing my keys I rushed out to the car.

Really hoping that I didn't get breathalysed, I drove carefully. Dressed like this I would probably be charged with soliciting as well as drunk driving.

I parked the car and went straight into the barn. Ted was waiting there.

"No rush, plenty of time," he said.

He was wearing a long black cape with a large hood. On the left breast it had a yellow circle with a red cross on it. Inside the red cross was a white cross. I was trying to think where I'd seen it before. Then it clicked. It was the Dorset Flag. Yes, now I remember, the cross of St Wite.

"I made you a drink," Ted said as he plonked two great mugs on the table.

"Thanks. How is this going to go then Ted?"

"You mustn't see the Wheaters. As soon as they are assembled they will let me know. I have to strap you in place. Then I will give them the signal to come in."

"The clerk will announce the order of business. He will ask if there is anything that needs to be discussed. There rarely is, but if there is the custom is to do it under an open sky."

"The game of chance will then take place. The winner will get the opportunity to give you one with everyone watching. Only after they have all left will I be allowed to unstrap you."

"Are you OK with that?"

"Can hardly wait," I said.

We just chatted generally but just as the subject of the book came up a trumpet sound outside.

Ted said, "Drink up girl you're on."

I picked up a mug and took a big gulp.

"This is coffee, Ted!"

"Oh, sorry, I forgot."

Typical man. He remembered that I don't take it up the bum but he couldn't remember that I don't drink coffee.

I slipped off my dressing gown.

"Fuck me! That's going to go down well," said Ted

I lay over The Hoss. Ted tightened all the straps.

He then asked, "Goat Milker to warm you up?"

"Oh, yes please but could you turn the vacuum down this time?"

"Anything you wish, my lady," he laughed.

As nipples started to be gently caressed by the cups and the soft left right action began, I wondered what sort of picture I was creating from the back, with the leather corset above my round white bum and the stockings and thigh boots. How much of my slit could be seen? I thought about asking Ted to take a photo but I didn't suppose he had a camera in his cloak.

Ted rang a handbell three times and I heard the barn open. There was swishing of capes and the sound of something like sleigh bells as the Wheaters filed in.

After a little shuffling of feet a deep voice boomed out, 'Brethren, we are gathered."

"Our course for today is three-fold."

"First, things that are to be considered."

"Second, the divination of who fate favours."

"Third, to the victor go the spoils."

"Are there things to be considered?"

A second voice said, "There is an urgent matter for our consideration."

"Then let the open sky be our witness. We set a limit of one hour for this business."

I could hear more shuffling and bells. Then there was silence.

Charming, leave a girl with her fanny on fire while you all chat.

I could still taste the coffee in my mouth. It's not that I don't like coffee, it's just that I avoid it. It has an effect on me. It makes me want to pee. I never tell anyone about this, I just say I don't like it. The only person I've ever told is Harry.

I was beginning to wish that I hadn't had all that Pimms now. My bladder was feeling pretty full. The urge to go was building.

I tried not to think about it. Then I squirmed around to get myself in a better position to keep it in but the straps and the pipes on my tits limited my options. This could get embarrassing. I came here hoping to have kinky sex. Now I was hoping not to pee on the floor.

I couldn't hold on much longer.

I was just trying to delay the inevitable.

Squeezing everything I could, I gritted my teeth.

At last I couldn't hold out any more.

I lost control and just let it go with full force.

I don't know how far it went but there felt like an age between it leaving me and it hitting the barn floor.

Splashdown was quite loud.

Then a voice boomed out, "Seventeen minutes, seventeen minutes. Who had seventeen minutes?"

"I have nineteen."

"Does anyone have closer than nineteen?"

"No?"

"Brothers, we have a Champion."

The bastards had pretended to go out but had just sat there and waited to watch me piss myself. Not only was I the prize but I was the game of chance too. I felt like I'd been set up again. How did they know that I'd have to pee so quickly? They could have sat there for hours.

There was a round of applause.

"Brother approach the trollope and take her."

Deceived, humiliated, called a trollope, the smell of my piss on the floor with my tits being sucked by a piece of agricultural machinery. I should have been outraged but in stead I was as horny as fuck. As he thrust his cock in me I could hear the squelching. He was intent on getting full value from what fate had bestowed on him and I was glad.

He banged me for all he was worth. I could feel the excitement rising in my whole body.

Just as I was approaching what I knew would be a monster orgasm; he lost his load.

Like a child at Christmas who got a good present but not quite the one they really wanted, I felt let down.

Then he said, "In the spirit of fraternity, the next six brothers with the nearest times may share my prize."

Had I been deceived or had I been blessed? Who the fuck cared.

They all tried to prove that they were better than the last man. It was great.

After the fourth one had had his go something strange happened. I felt the next brother take his place. I was aware of a cold metallic object against my gash. It didn't try to enter but just bumped me about a dozen times and then was gone. Harry, I thought how the fuck did you get in here? I didn't have time to dwell on it. The next man was in and I was riding the magic carpet again.

This bloke was really stretching me. I thought that there was a danger that my clitoris would split in two. It was the first time that I'd ever experienced a two speed orgasm. The left slide of my clit convulsed at a different rate to the right, sending two separate shuddering waves through my body.

He was gone all too soon and a mere man took over.

I learned, that night, that members of The Ancient Order of Saint Wite can't count. I must admit that even I lost count too.