Now you know I like horses......

I sometimes make reference to equestrian matters in my posts, and not because I'm a rider, well here was an opportunity to fantasise about a different type of horse, no less exciting, to me least......P said he was going to take me to one of those 'institutions', you know, the sort where discipline goes on, usually involving role play, there are plenty of them on the net, I've no idea whether they exists in bricks and mortar, I suspect some of them do, at least to some extent.

Anyway, I asked him what I should expect from such a visit, banter can be a pleasant distraction and he doesn't do it too often. He said why don't I write down how I'd envisage my first day (my first day? how many days had he in mind?) and email it to him

This sounded interesting so I did, and sent it to him. He read it late in the evening.

You would book the gym for a 30 min private session in the afternoon, after we'd watched several other girls strapped and caned earlier in the day in the communal lounge and the gym. There would be many a tear shed and quite a commotion made by some of the naughtiest girls who had to be dealt with very severely, but overall could tell by the way they got up so respectfully after their discipline that they had learned their lessons.

Of course you would be holding my hand as some of the naughtier girls were crying out, both to comfort me and to sense my reaction to the proceedings. You would be aware of me nuzzling closer to you, my fingers fidgeting in our hands, you would lightly touch my bottom, others in the room would be doing similar, you would be pleased when I pushed it into your hands. you'd touch my thigh and stroke the inner part, lightly, even as the cane or strap was descending so sharply across the naked buttocks of the sobbing 45 year old girl prostrate over the big padded arm of the comfy three seater. I'd gasp inwardly as her strokes got harder, I'd feel your hand wander between my legs and be disappointed as you retract it when I tried to squeeze. You'd then pat my bottom and tell me it was time to change and you'd take me up to our room. Of course I'd come without question, just the slightest whimper.

You would make me change into a vest and boys' thin cotton PE shorts, a size too small, they'd make my cheeks look fuller and show my mound. You'd take my hand and we'd go down to the gym, we'd pass a few people, they'd look, observe my self consciousness, smile and walk discreetly past. You would collect a suitable cane from the gym master's closet and some lengths of thick dralon cord, lock the door behind us. I know you would see fear in my eyes, I know you'd like it, you would kiss me on the cheek and squeeze my bottom, no backing out, then you would guide me firmly into the hall where the vaulting horse stood.

I'd stand at the end of the horse and you'd order me to bend over it, I would have to put a toe in one of the hand grips to lift up a bit, then lower my body along the leather padded top, arms hanging either side. you'd push me a little further on, toes not touching the floor now, and then tie my wrists to the grippers each side and one long cord over my waist and fasten it low down. You'd ask if I was comfortable, I'd only whimper and you'd take it as a yes. I would feel you stand back and admire your work, making my bottom so vulnerable and available, lush, its femininity all the more alluring for the too tight little boy shorts that accentuated its contours. I know you'd enjoy reddening that bottom. You'd touch it gently, run your nail lightly down its crack, see the cheeks clench, ignore a light moan, you know I'd like more of that but it's not what we're here for, I know your going to cane my bottom, I know you'll have it wriggling on the end of the horse, have my cheeks clenching and have me begging you to stop but you won't stop. You won't stop until I tell you I've learned my lesson. It doesn't matter what lesson.

Then you'll stop.

But you wont untie me yet. You'll come round to the front of the horse, turn my head towards you to see my eyes, they're moist, you'll kiss one of them, rub my shoulders, my back, my upper arms, soothingly, but you won't touch my bottom. After a few minutes you'll slip your thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and yank them down over my bottom to my thighs, I'll gasp, which you'll like. I'll go to say something but you'll stop me, don't even bother. You'll tell me that although I said I'd learned my lesson that was just the point at which a girl is ready to learn her real lesson. Properly. You'll tell me you're going to cane me on my bare bottom now, it's already red but it's going to get much redder and you're going to put some lovely lines across it. I'll cry out and wriggle like mad and plead with you to stop but you won't stop until you're satisfied. Then, when I've got no wiggle left and I'm gently sobbing, you'll untie me, help me down and tell me to wipe away the tears while you go and put the equipment away. We'll go to our room.

Later we'll eat in the dining room. I'll be uncomfortable. You'll put your hand on my knee. We'll talk about nice things, and later after a drink in the bar, when the sting of the caning is finally starting to ease just a little, we'll go back up to our room and you'll make me come so hard I'll think my head's going to explode.

P said he would do some Googling to see where these places are located then he had another thought, he wondered if we could fit a vaulting horse into our spare room but he said it had made him feel quite randy and asked if I knew what time our son was due back. Unfortunately he was already overdue so we both went to bed with unactionable thoughts.

Ronnie

xx