by Bryan Caine
By mid-afternoon on the sixth day, having been riding since dawn at quite a fast pace over easy country, the constant rubbing of the horse’s back into the apex of her thighs and the feel of Tom’s strong stomach beneath her palms finally conquered her feminine shyness – but only after she had wrestled at length with her high moral standards. These somehow seemed to matter less when the two of them were alone in the wilderness; it was as if they were the only people left on earth and could formulate their own code of ethics.
She let her hand rest on his belt as they rode along, but then allowed it to slip slowly downwards, in a gentle search for his penis. She did not have to look far. Almost immediately below the belt she discovered a lump and her heart thumped as she realised it was the tip of his cock, which was clearly erect. Thus encouraged, she moved her fingers down a little further and pressed them against the shaft. Tom said nothing, but he throbbed beneath the denim and her grip as she tightened her fingers around the bulge. It felt as enormous as she had imagined it to be whilst beneath her blankets over the last few nights.
They rode along in silence and she became bolder, feeling and crushing his rod all over, her chaste principles completely if temporarily abandoned. She didn’t care if she did feel angry with herself afterwards. She pressed herself tighter against the horse’s back and squeezed her thighs against its sides. At last, with tremendous difficulty, she managed to undo Tom’s brass-buttoned fly, and feverishly plunged her hand inside to feel his bare thighs and that truly promising member. She pulled it out and blissfully rode along massaging him slowly but firmly in the warm open air. She found that if she kept her hand tightly wrapped around it but completely still, the movements of the beast beneath them caused it to pump up and down in her fist. Tom didn’t make a sound, until suddenly he emitted a taut groan and Belinda felt his hot seed spurt between her bunched fingers and trickle over her hand and wrist. She milked him gently until he was coming no more. She then gathered up her torn and dirty dress at the hem and, reaching in front of Tom again, dutifully wiped him dry. She then gripped his shoulder with one hand, slipped her other under the dress, and teased herself furiously until she bit her lip and shuddered to her own wonderful orgasm.
They rode on, and not a word was said.
To Belinda’s disappointment nothing was said that night either, apart from the normal conversation, and he once again left her untouched at bedtime. But the next day – and each of the following days – she repeated the performance, first masturbating him as they rode along and then finishing herself off behind him. How strange, thought Belinda, that he hadn’t even offered to spank her. Perhaps that phase of her life was finally behind her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realised that here was the first decent man she had met in a long, long time and that she, the highly principled music teacher, instead of appreciating his goodness had acted as the filthy defiler.
At about five o’clock on the tenth afternoon they rode over the brow of a hill and there was Tom’s ranch below, in a grassy plain with a river flowing through it against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains.
Tom dismounted for a minute to admire the view and to point out, quite unnecessarily, his homestead, a big log cabin with many windows and a porch that was bigger than her room in Liverpool. Other buildings were scattered about the immediate area, and of course there were cows everywhere. It all looked completely magical as the sun started to set behind the mountain peaks, making the snowy tips glow ruby red.
Tom looked at her firmly. ‘Belinda, before we join my wife,’ he said in his easy fashion, ‘there’s something I just got to do. Would you mind coming back down the hill a way to those trees? I would prefer that my wife doesn’t see this.’
Belinda’s heart leapt so hard it nearly knocked her off the horse. Oh heavens, she thought, he is actually going to make love to me as a farewell present. But now that she was within sight of his home and about to meet his wife, who would clearly be as wonderful a woman as he was a man, her passion had faded and her righteous standards had restored themselves in her heart and soul. Her uncharacteristic passions and behaviour during that long horseback ride were now fading as fast as any nightmare upon awakening. And yet she felt she could not refuse him, for amongst other things, he had taken her about a quarter of her way west and had also offered her a civilised job with his wife for as long as it suited her to stay. She had little option.
‘Whatever you say, Tom. I’ve loved your company, and you probably saved my life by getting me away from that Indian area. I will come with you.’
Before she had finished the sentence he was leading the horse, with her still on it, back down the hill. He stopped by a clump of trees and tied its rein to one of them. Belinda’s heart was thumping as he looked up at her legs; she had lifted her skirt up high to let the breeze in.
Then he held out his hand and helped her down. He stood facing her with his hands resting on her waist, and she gazed up into his eyes.
‘Belinda,’ he said carefully. ‘I sure enjoyed what you did to me every day as we rode along.’
She smiled at him, the warmth of her clitoris increasing with a combination of anticipation and the memory of his fine cock in her hand.
‘Trouble is, I oughtn’t to have let you do it, me being happily married and all.’
Belinda was about to reassure him it was nothing, but he continued.
‘So I figured, the best way to stop me feeling all bad about it is for you to admit it was your fault, because I sure wouldn’t have started nothing like that on my own, and then for me to make up for it by punishing you. Please do that for me, Belinda, or I’ll never live with myself.’
He spoke with such sincerity – and what he said was true. She had been the one to start it, and if one more whacking in her life could help a thoroughly good man like Tom feel better, then she would just have to take it. Anyway, the six hundred mile ride was worth a lot more than some of the miserable payments she had received in Liverpool for being beaten without any tender feelings being involved.
‘I’m sorry, Tom,’ she whispered nervously. ‘I played on your masculine sensuality. It was a cheap trick and I had no right to make you feel bad or to jeopardise your happy marriage.’ She looked down and added softly, ‘If punishing me will make you feel better, Tom, then so be it.’
Tom nodded grimly and pulled his riding crop from its sheath on the side of the saddle. Belinda felt her bottom contract at the sight and thought of it.
‘Stand by the side of the horse, please,’ he commanded firmly. ‘Face the saddle and lift your skirts.’
Belinda was quite happy to expose herself to him. Her bare vulva caught his eye, but he looked back at her face immediately as she turned obediently. She was taken a little by surprise when his strong arms wrapped around her thighs, but then he heaved her up and lay her across the saddle so her head was dangling over the other side and her rump was high in the air. She was reasonably well balanced, but caught hold of the stirrup for extra security. She felt the breeze play around her soft buttocks, and then Tom said gruffly, ‘You ready?’
She nodded, although he could not have seen that from where he was standing. She heard a swish and gave a little short scream of expectancy… but nothing happened.
‘It’s all right,’ said Tom, ‘I was just testing and getting the feel of my own strength. I don’t want to be too hard on you.’
And with that the crop stung across both buttocks with exceptional viciousness. He clearly did not know his own strength if that was meant to be reasonably gentle.
‘Say you’re sorry, Belinda,’ he drawled.
‘Sorry!’ she cried as the pain surged through her body and then receded to its red-hot source.
The riding crop again whistled through the air and landed in exactly the same place across her bottom. That hurt.
‘No,’ she screamed, ‘I’m sorry!’
This little ritual
was repeated ten more times to a total of twelve. Each strike was in almost exactly the same place, with her pleas for clemency getting louder each time. The Indians had terrified her, but even they had not hurt her so much as this strong man with his unerring accuracy. But in spite of the pain she resolutely stayed in position until he had finished.
Expecting a thirteenth stroke, she flinched as she felt his hand touch her bottom gently and heard him say, ‘Get down now.’
She slid stiffly off the horse, letting her dress drop back into place, and stared at him red-faced and with tears in her eyes. She half hated him and half loved him.
‘This is all your fault,’ he said solemnly.
‘Yes, well, it was,’ she retorted sulkily. ‘But now I’ve been punished accordingly.’
‘No,’ he said, and patted the front of his denims to demonstrate his giant erection. ‘I mean this.’
The heat from Belinda’s bottom immediately rushed to her vagina.
‘First time I’ve seen a beautiful woman as bare as that since I got married, let alone had the close contact of whacking her backside. Now you’ve gone and filled me with craving.’ He undid his belt and then his jeans. ‘I can’t go home like this,’ he continued, ‘so you better give me some relief.’ He pulled his penis out into the open.
Belinda had felt it yet never actually seen it, but it was as handsome as she had imagined it to be.
‘Lead me over to that tree,’ he said a little hoarsely.
Belinda, suitably chastened and obedient, meekly took his penis firmly in her hand and used it to guide him to the large tree he had indicated. She stood with her back against the rough trunk and pulled his cock closer until it was pressing at her mons Veneris through the flimsy dress. Suddenly consumed with desire she feverishly hoisted her skirts high above her waist once again. Tom gripped the backs of her thighs, lifted her off the ground, and squashed her stinging backside against the knarled tree.
The tip of his penis probed at the highly sensitised lips of her vulva. She tried to suck him in. He moaned and pressed more firmly. She felt the pattern of the bark imprinting itself on her tender bottom, and gave a scream of absolute bliss as she felt his incredible instrument ply its glorious way past her clitoris to fill her until she felt she would surely burst. He kissed her fervently and fucked her with great passion, his bodily spasms increasing with each smooth thrust. Her head lolled from side to side against the tree. Tom panted and strained, and Belinda mumbled deliriously as she squeezed her thighs around his hips and jerked up and down on his erection.
When they came they came together, and she felt as if the combined force of the two orgasms had forced her right through the tree. And then they slumped together down the trunk until Tom was kneeling, and she felt him pulse the last vestiges of sperm into her.
Before they moved off down the hill Tom half-turned in his saddle.
‘Belinda,’ he said like a shy boy. ‘I sure hope you understand I did everything I could to be faithful to my darling wife.’
Belinda felt a surge of sentiment and fought back the tears as she whispered, ‘Of course, Tom. Of course I do.’
As they moved away Tom reached back and squeezed her leg; a simple and heart-warming act that filled Belinda with immense affection for the man.
This new heaven continued to augur well when Tom introduced his wife Rachel. She was a big blonde in her thirties, and so beautiful that Belinda fully understood his faithfulness, even if it was only partial. She was a bright and cheerful woman; a real farmer’s wife, except there was nothing homely about her face or her figure. Her blondeness was emphasised by a long pale blue dress, and her hair was delightfully curled in a most expensive way. The whole home was equally stylish; everything simple, nothing pretentious, but all of the finest quality.
Rachel greeted Belinda warmly, and expressed shock and sympathy as Tom repeated Belinda’s tragic tale from her landing in Virginia right up to her night with the Indians. He also told her that he had asked Belinda to consider staying on as housekeeper, and that his business trip had been eminently successful. So successful, he went on, that he had to carry on riding straight after he had eaten to tell all his neighbours to start rounding up and sorting out their stock for the big drive east that was going to make them all rich men. He would be away for another two days or so. Rachel was disappointed but did not complain, and she was bright and chatty in an intelligent way all through dinner, with Belinda feeling human once again having bathed in hot scented water and dressed in a fresh wine-coloured dress that Rachel had dug out for her. When Belinda agreed to accept the position as housekeeper Rachel clapped her hands with delight and beamed brightly at her throughout the meal.
When the finely cooked steak and potato dinner was over Belinda and Rachel cleared the table while Tom sat by the log fire pensively smoking a cigar. Eventually he rose, gathered his hat, kissed Rachel warmly and bade farewell to Belinda, saying he would see them both in a few days.
Belinda sighed contentedly, but received a terrible shock when Rachel closed the front door and turned back to her. The warm smile was gone and there was a somewhat sinister glint in her eyes. ‘Is something the matter, Rachel?’ she asked in bewilderment.
‘What makes you think I need a housekeeper?’ she sneered, making Belinda blink in astonishment.
‘B-but…’ stammered Belinda, ‘Tom told me you needed help… and he offered me the job.’ She was truly alarmed by this turn of events. Rachel pulled a dining chair out from the table and coldly told her to sit. As she respectfully obeyed Rachel pulled out another chair and placed it in front of the first, but did not sit herself. Instead she stood close to the confused Belinda, staring down at her.
‘You want to know why Tom gave you a job?’
Belinda shook her head, and then nodded; she didn’t know what she wanted. She started to speak and then judged it best not to. Rachel ignored her anyway.
‘A few months ago me and Tom got drunk here one night, and he got me telling him all my dirty little secret thoughts. Know what I mean?’
Belinda nodded. She knew of such thoughts, but did not know what form Rachel’s took.
‘I told him that back east before I met him I used to have a certain bit of fun every now and so often. And while I loved him and my life on the ranch dearly, I sure did hanker after some of that fun.’
Belinda wondered what the ‘certain bit of fun’ was, as she looked up at Rachel’s full bosom and deep cleavage bulging attractively from the low-cut dress. Moreover, what did it have to do with her?
‘You see, Belinda, I’m a normal healthy woman, and I have my needs – especially when Tom’s away on his long rides.’
‘What…’ Belinda hardly dared ask, ‘what sort of needs?’
‘I adore beautiful women,’ Rachel answered confidently.
Belinda’s jaw dropped.
‘I adore spanking beautiful women,’ Rachel qualified her particular penchant.
Belinda was utterly speechless. She had been spanked many times of course, and two of her regulars in England had been women… but Rachel?!
‘So you see,’ continued the confident woman without respite, ‘that is why my husband offered you the job; to be my beautiful plaything.’
Belinda’s head was in a spin.
‘Well?’ demanded Rachel. ‘What d’you say?’
Belinda was actually relieved that she wasn’t having to face the wrath of a jealous wife, and she had no desire to swap this warm and comfortable ranch for the hostile night outside. She looked up at her domineering host and nodded.
Rachel’s eyes lit up triumphantly. ‘Excellent!’ she breathed, and went to a corner of the room. She moved aside a casual table and lifted a floorboard. She reached in and retrieved a short cane made of tightly rolled black leather. As she returned to the uncertain Belinda she also picked up a wooden hairbrush from another small tabl
e and, from a drawer, a leather strap that looked as if it were made from one of Tom’s belts.
Rachel sat on the vacant chair before Belinda and put the instruments on the dining table. They sat facing each other with their knees almost touching through their long dresses.
To begin with Rachel simply stared at Belinda, until the latter became embarrassed and lowered her gaze. She sighed sharply, making Belinda look up again.
‘Show me your legs,’ she ordered quietly but firmly.
Belinda nervously gripped the dress and, staring solemnly at her mistress, gathered the material up to her knees.
‘I said show me your legs!’ hissed Rachel, and Belinda hastily and wisely bunched the rustling skirts up around her narrow waist so that her white knickers were on display as well as her legs. Rachel breathed slowly and savoured the beautiful sight. Her bosom swelled even more precariously over her dress. She reached forward and pushed the young woman’s legs apart. Despite her trepidation a thrill coursed through Belinda’s body. She felt a powerful attraction to this strong and beautiful lady of the house, and the implements on the table took her breath away.
Rachel started to explore the silky insides of Belinda’s thighs, staring deep into her plaything’s eyes as she did so. Belinda luxuriated in the sensual attentions, favourably comparing sitting in the warm with a bisexual hedonist to hanging from a frame in an encampment of murderous savages. She moaned softly, closed her eyes, and leaned back as far as the upright chair would allow. Rachel’s hands drifted further along her thighs towards the crisp white cotton and the succulent promise hiding within.
‘This what you liked Tom doing to you?’ she coaxed, and when Belinda opened her eyes to answer she saw that Rachel had a hand resting on the leather strap.
‘He didn’t touch me anywhere,’ she whispered desperately.