In The Stable

Janet loved horses, but with all of her years working diligently to get her MBA and climb the corporate ladder she never really had the time to pursue that particular passion. So when she found a long weekend between business meetings in Europe, she made plans to stay at one of her family's estates, a place near Brussels with a modest but lovely main house and a stable with a few prize winning horses. Perhaps she could even go riding, something she hadn't done for over twenty years now.

On her first day there, she went down to see the horses. The old and familiar smell of the stable filled her senses. All that leather, she had always loved the smell of it, surrounded her now. Along the wall hung a vast array of bridles, bits, saddles, crops — all of the finest quality, gently softened and worn through generations of use. Her mind drifted back to her riding days, the horse fitted majestically with straps and buckles, yielding to the rider's control of the bit in its mouth. The whole thing fascinated her and she gazed dreamily at the fine gear.

Someone was coming and Janet, lost in her dream, stepped back into the shadow rather than confront whoever it was. She watched quietly as the groom, tall and muscular, led one of the horses from its stall and brushed its coat. He moved with the confidence of years of experience. Turning quickly to the wall, he pulled down a black bridle and fitted the horse. Janet appreciated how the crisp white stitching on the black leather complemented the black horse's own small scattered flecks of white.

She was staring at the bit in the horse's mouth when she heard a voice right behind her. "Can I help you, miss?" asked the groom. She spun around, startled. He dropped the pleasantries and demanded "Who are you and just what are you doing in my stable?"

"I'm Janet Bayard. Paul Bayard is my uncle. You DO know who he is, don't you?" she snapped.

The man stepped back and looked her up and down, his eyes studying the curves of her body, lingering on her casually open blouse, and finally fixing on her brown eyes.

"Oh yes, Paul and I know each other well. So you're Janet. Paul said you might be visiting. My name's Kent." He stood close to her and she could smell the leather on him. "I was watching you admire the horse — and the equipment. Any questions I can answer for you?"

I can think of a few things you can do for me, mused Janet to herself, confident that she could have him like she'd had so many others. "Sure, do you ride much?" she asked.

"Pretty much any time I want. How much do you know about horses?"

"I know everything I need to know, and have the trophies to prove it."

Kent had little patience for this kind of arrogance. That kind of talk might work in the social circles, but they were far from city estates. They were far from everything, he thought, and smiled. He would enjoy this very much.

"Really? Lots of people know how to ride, but how much do you know about how the horse sees it?" he asked.

"Right. And who are you supposed to be, the horse whisperer?"

"You'd be surprised how much you can learn from a horse, Ms Bayard. For example, look at the bit in the horse's mouth. I know you were studying it before. It's not really that comfortable for the horse, yet the sense that they are about to be ridden calms them. Let me show you something," and led her to a small room in the back of the stable.

It was dark in the windowless room and Kent said "Just a sec and I'll get some light." Janet heard the door close behind them and it was really dark. The earthy smell of leather was stronger here than in the main stable, and it was getting Janet really turned on. A light came on.

She was momentarily shocked. All around her was the most breathtaking collection of riding equipment that made the stuff she saw when she first arrived pale in comparison. The dye work and intricate hand tooling on some of the pieces were like she'd never seen before. And there were some unusual items too, four steel rings in the floor, a bridle too small for a horse, and something that looked like a large sawhorse covered completely in padded, dark brown hide.

"Hold out your arms," said Kent coolly.

"What? No! Who do you think you are?"

"Ms Bayard, your reputation precedes you. If you think you're going to pop in for a quick romp with the hired help, you're in for a big disappointment. Today, you're going to see things from the horse's perspective. Now, hold out your arms."

Kent didn't wait for Janet to comply and quickly grabbed her right wrist and pulled her to the floor. With the speed of years of handiwork, he took a short leather cord and bound her wrist securely to one of the steel rings in the floor. Janet screamed and clawed at him with her free hand, but this only drove him harder. He forced her down flat on the floor with one strong shove and made quick work of the other wrist.

"You little shit, I'll have your job and your ass for this!" screamed Janet.

"Paul, your loving uncle, assures that my job will not be in jeopardy. He's heard enough and had enough of your 'adventures' and has enough power to keep me out of any danger, as you well know since he's covered your ass enough times. And as for your ass, Ms Bayard, I think I'll be the one having that."

"I swear you're going to pay for this! I'm telling you to let me loose right now!"

Kent ignored her. The struggle — and the sight of her bound body — only fed his hunger for more. Sure, yell if you like, he thought. You're mine now. He reached for an eight-inch hunting knife with a freshly sharpened edge.

Janet froze. "What the hell are you doing with that? You better not touch me!"

Kent said nothing. Janet was on her hands and knees now, her wrists bound to the rings in the floor. Kent crouched next to her and began to cut away her blouse.

Janet gasped and began to struggle and thrash about, but she was very aware of the cold, sharp steel blade and had to move carefully.

Kent grabbed her roughly by the hair and warned, "Settle down. We don't want any accidents."

"Screw you," Janet spat back. Kent hauled back and slapped her hard on the ass, then reached into her skirt to feel her lips.

"Hmmm. Ms Bayard, it seems that you're enjoying this as much as I guessed you would."

He was right, Janet realized. Her pussy was soaked and her body flush with excitement. The leather flooded back into her nostrils. She felt the blade slip under her waistband and in one motion cut away her skirt and panties. In another second, her bra was gone. Naked, except for her low cut boots, she pulled helplessly at the wrist straps.

"You were interested in this earlier, I seem to remember," said Kent as he took the bridle down off its hook. "I think this particular one should fit you fine."

"No, no, not that," said Janet, pulling back in shock. She screamed loudly as Kent held her hair tightly and forced the bit into her mouth, securing the leather strap around her head. Her muffled cries faded as he tightened the harness around her head.

"Now, on your hands and knees. Do it, now." But Janet only glared back at him silently, daring him to make her do anything. Her defiance only hardened his resolve, and she could see that it hardened his cock, too. Kent walked to the collection on the tack room wall and took down a long leather crop, worn and faded from use. He stroked the air swiftly with it, feeling the shaft flex and making sure that Janet heard it whistle threatening.

He's joking, Janet thought to herself. Kent traced the tool along her back and she squirmed. Still crouched on the floor, she tried to ignore him and pulled at the straps looking to break free.

The first stroke took her by surprise and she looked at him in shock. Three more followed in sharp succession across her bare ass, leaving her breathless. He rubbed the fresh redness roughly to make sure she got the point.

"Hands and knees, or the next set is much harder."

She thought hard about this, looking into his eyes. Kent returned her stare with conviction, lifting the crop to apply four more strokes. They seared and Janet tried desperately to avoid them. He reached around her waist with one strong arm held her fast, lifting her nearly off the ground and forcing her onto all fours. She was screaming wildly under the bit in her mouth as he counted another eight strokes that sent electricity through Janet's body.

Tears streamed down her face and her mind raced with pain, anger, and lust. Lust? How could that be, but it was true. She was naked on the floor except for her boots and a bridle, whipped by a man who could easily holder her tightly with one hand, but she'd be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of liking it. His commanding voice snapped her back into the moment.

"That's more like it. Spread your legs wider," and he tapped the insides of her thighs hard enough to make it clear what would happen if she didn't do it. Her ass still burning, she opened her legs almost reflexively. He ran his hand lazily along her ass crack, between her legs, and along her wet pussy. He strong fingers rubbed her swollen lips without mercy, and she cried out in passion through the leather. His finger returned lingering around her ass and teasing it with her own warm juices. She moaned loudly and he entered her slowly.

"No, no stop! You'd better stop this right now or... ," Janet managed to spit out though the restraints.

"Or what?" he said softly and stepped back. "Stay there."

This time, Kent reached for a long leather strap with clips at each end. He held Janet by her bridle and held her face close to his. She struggled uselessly in his grasp and he brought his lips close to her face, kissing her lips around the bit that cut into her mouth. Then he clipped the long strap to the small rings on each end of the bit and ran the lead along Janet's back.

"Head up, back straight," he barked and gave a tug on the rein snapping her head back.

She struggled against this new sensation, but any attempt to turn her head to challenge him was useless. She heard him shed his work shirt and jeans, and imagined his firm body, slick with sweat, behind hers holding the reins that held her in position. Determined to give him nothing, she tried to move away from him but too late. He was already kneeling between her legs. A hard slap across her ass rekindled her already warmed flesh.

"We're going to keep at this until you get it right," he said calmly. And he started administering a severe spanking, pulling hard on the rein and pinning his thighs against hers. In between strokes she could feel his cock brush against her ass. The pain —mixed with his fingers stroking the wet lips of her pussy — was driving her crazy. Each muffled scream sent a wave of electric satisfaction along his Kent's taut hard shaft.

At once it stopped and the room was quiet but for Janet's soft whimpering.

"Now we're going to go for a little ride," said Kent.

He pushed his cock against the tight hole of her ass. She bucked writhed to avoid it but he only pulled tighter on the rein, driving the bit harshly into her mouth. Pulling back to avoid the bit only drove her ass against his hard cock. He pushed into her slowly and she cried out in alarm. She had never been fucked in the ass before and the new sensation was sending waves of panic across her body. Out and then a little deeper, Kent filled her tight ass till he was fully inside her — pulling hard on the lead as he thrust deeply.

"Canter," he whispered and started to fuck her ass with short quick pumps of his hips. His free hand gripped her thigh, pull her body against his. Every few strokes of his cock he would stop, buried deep inside her, and massage her clit with his fingers. She squirmed helplessly as waves of pleasure racked her body. Then his cock started its long hard thrusts again and he pulled hard on the reins.

Janet's loud moans and cries filled the room and she began to rock with his pounding rhythm. In her blind abandon she had forgotten where she was, her mind focusing on the rising passion inside her. Suddenly, Kent stopped and withdrew and Janet growled spitefully into her gag, shooting him a look of contempt. She was panting, her body buzzing with desire, and she hated him for it.

"Even after that, you still act like queen bitch, eh?" He took a simple leather cord down from the wall and, holding her wrist very tightly, released the knot that held it to the steel ring in the floor.

Thinking she might break free, she jerked and pulled and tried to twist away, but he turned her arm behind her and lifted. She turned away and fell back toward the other ring. In a moment, Kent had crossed her wrists behind her back and bound them with the leather cord. He slipped off the knot on her other wrist and left her bound and lying on the floor.

"Get up" he commanded. "I'm not done with you yet."

She scrambled across the floor but there was nowhere to run. In two quick strides he was on her, hauling her up by her arm and forcing her toward the sawhorse. There were straps and fasteners all along each of the four legs and the length waist-high central beam was covered with thick padding and supple leather. Steel bolts secured it to the floor.

Kent focused on one ankle, applying the strap at the base of one of the legs quickly and securely while Janet kicked and bucked. He managed grab her other ankle, despite her vigorous struggle, forced her to straddle the beam and tied her to the other leg. The ankle bindings pulled her down tightly against the leather padding, her sex pressed against the leather.

Next he took a long, wide belt down from the wall and said, "Bend over against the beam, Ms Bayard." She felt his hand at her back, giving her little choice. He pushed her down against the long beam and secured her to it with the belt. Her hands still bound behind her, she cursed him through the bit.

"What's that? I didn't quite hear you," he mocked. He loosened the harness and slipped the bit and bridle from her head. Her face lay across the beam's soft leather.

Janet let out a blast of invective, but stopped and watched wild-eyed as Kent took the next instrument down from the wall. The simply-made wooden paddle was two feet long and made of cherry. He touched it against her ass and drew its length across her already tender skin. The cool wood finish against her hot skin felt good. The Kent drew the paddle back and struck her low on her ass.

With no bit in her mouth, Janet's scream tore through the room. She felt the heat of the single stroke radiate down her thigh. She also felt her hard clit slam against the leather bench and it sent shocks deep into her pussy.

Then he was in front of her, snatching her by a handful of hair and lifting her face against his stone-hard cock.

"Lick this cock," he ordered.

"Go to hell," she sneered.

"Let me give you a little taste of hell."

Kent raised the paddle and gave Janet slow, hard, repeated strokes — eight in all. Each blow drove her sex against the beam, sending waves of pleasure through her whole body. Tears streamed down her face, and she sobbed but at the same time felt the rolling orgasm wash over her, building with each punishing strike of the paddle.

He again held his cock to her lips and jerked her by the hair. "Open," he barked drew the paddle back again.

"No!" Janet cried but parted her lips.

"Now lick it."

Janet put out her tongue and ran the tip of it around his cock.

"Harder," he moaned. Janet flicked and darted at the taught skin of his shaft and watched as the head swelled even more.

He pulled again on her thick hair and pushed his cock between her lips. She sucked and licked hungrily and the sensation made him pull even more tightly on her mane. Kent held her head and fucked her mouth and lips in a long and slow rhythm. The two of them moaned. Then Janet saw him pick up the paddle again.

Her body raced but the cock in her mouth made it impossible to cry out. The first stroke slammed her soaked pussy onto the beam and she sucked harder on his stiff cock. Each strike with the paddle was a little harder, and Janet's head began to swim. Kent continued to force his cock into her mouth and paddle her ass harder. Her body was writhing wildly against the padded leather and she brought herself off again and again. Finally, Kent exploded and shot hot cum into Janet's mouth, his hips thrusting forward at a gallop. He continued to run his shaft along her wet lips as the echoes faded.

Janet watched as Kent dressed himself. She was too drained to yell any more, and what good would it do any way? She would make him pay dearly later. Right now, all she wanted to do was keep grinding her hips into the soft, thick padding.