Teasing the stable-hand (M/F story)

The 20-year-old stable-hand Philip was bent over his work when he noticed approaching footsteps, as well as the smell of a very lovely perfume, which was massively out of place here in the Earl's old barn. "Hello, Philip! What are you doing?" a sweet, feminine voice called out. He looked up and saw the Earl's oldest daughter approaching.

"Hello, Lady Anna," the young man said, giving her a respectful bow. "I am just repairing this saddle."

She rolled her eyes as she approached him, pouting slightly. "How many times have I told you to drop that 'Lady' nonsense and just call me Anna?"

"Forty-three, I believe, Lady Anna," he said, still maintaining the same respectful tone of voice.

"Well, stop it, then!" she said, slapping his shoulder teasingly and fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I want us to be friends, and good friends don't talk to each other like that."  She stepped closer, her face inches away from him. "Don't you want to be my... friend, Philip? I'm VERY nice to my friends."

The fragrance of her perfume, combined with those deep blue eyes which now gazed into his own, made him slightly light-headed. He watched her rosy lips part slightly, and at the back of his mind, Philip wondered how it would feel to kiss them. They would probably taste like the sweetest strawberries. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then turned to the saddle. "I should probably finish my work, Lady Anna."

Lady Anna was a tall, red-headed woman of nineteen with porcelain skin, currently clad in a simple, scarlet summer dress. Ordinarily, Philip would have gladly sacrificed an arm to have the attention of a young woman as kind, charming, and beautiful as her, but she was also the daughter of a rich, powerful nobleman, and he suspected that the man would disapprove if he found a stableboy in his employ flirting with his beloved daughter. That might quickly lead to unemployment – or worse.

And that assumed his understanding of the situation was correct. Was she just being friendly, and he was misreading her? He was pretty certain he wasn't, but being wrong could be costly. Or maybe she had a well-hidden cruel streak – maybe she was just trying to trick him into acting indecently, then get him in trouble for it? He was a muscular, good-looking lad, but he didn't think there was anything so special about him that it warranted the attention of an actual Lady.

Unfortunately, no matter how formal and respectful he acted toward her, it didn't seem to discourage her. In fact, it only egged her on further, to see if she could crack his armour. As he focused on his work, she stepped up behind him, leaning against him and putting her head on his shoulder. He shivered gently as he felt her rest her body against him. "It looks awfully complicated, Philip. You must be very skilled if you're able to fix it."

"It's not as hard as you believe, Lady Anna," he said gruffly, trying to discourage her from talking to him any further, while remaining respectful toward the high-born lady. "The seat needs to be re-stitched, and one of the stirrups is damaged."

He continued to look at the saddle, trying as hard as he could to focus on the work ahead of him, instead of the beautiful woman who was now standing next to him. He was trying to figure out whether the stirrup could be repaired, or whether it was necessary to replace it, when she stepped in front of him and leaned forward to stare at the saddle. "Wow! How interesting."

Still trying to focus on his work, the absent-minded stableboy reacted instinctively, swatting the seat of her scarlet dress. "Out of my way," he scolded, the way he would if one of the girls from the village had come to disturb him while he was working – which they occasionally did. She jumped out of his way, and he continued working.

It took a few seconds before Philip fully comprehended what he'd just done. Once the realization finally struck, a cold shiver ran down his back, and he slowly turned his gaze toward her. She was standing a few feet away, staring at him, her eyes almost as wide as his own, while both hands protectively clasped her bottom. After a few seconds, her shocked expression was replaced by a grin. "Well! Finally, a reaction out of you – and WHAT a reaction! Wow!" She rubbed her backside theatrically.

"Lady Anna, I am SO sorry that -" he began, a horrified look on his face, but she cut him off.

"If I had known you'd respond like that, I'd have done that a LONG time ago." She giggled. "Do it again."

The Christmas Present (M/F story)

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes on Christmas morning, Jeremy noticed that his girlfriend had gotten out of bed before him, and had thoughtfully let him sleep in. He put on a t-shirt and some sweatpants and smiled contentedly as he left their bedroom to look for her. He wondered if Rosie had started on breakfast, or was waiting for him so they could make it together. He always wanted to start Christmas Day with a cup of cocoa.

He found Rosie in the living room, holding one of her presents and pulling the paper away to have a look. When she glanced up and saw him, she squeaked and blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to peek at my presents – it was an accident, I promise."

He grinned as he watched her, overjoyed as he realized that she wanted to start Christmas Day with some playtime. Wearing her pink pyjamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, and with her long, brown hair in pigtails, she presented an adorable sight as she pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He knew she would look even more adorable over his knee, yelping with a pink bottom.

 

He tutted, eventually managing a good impression of a disapproving frown. "That was very naughty of you, Rosie. I expected better of you. I think you have to be punished." He stepped forward and gently grabbed her wrist, and started dragging her toward the couch. As she protested and promised to be good from now on, while not making the slightest effort to resist or escape from his grasp, he grinned and once again thanked his lucky stars that he'd found a girlfriend that loved being spanked more than anything else in the world.

Pushed too far (M/F story)

Geoffrey had been employed in Count Landon's stables for some years now, working for Matthew the stablemaster. Geoffrey was a beardless youth who had entered his twenties a few days ago, and was only a stableboy, with no fancy title. However, when he first arrived at the mansion, he had been surprised by the way that the Count never spoke down to even the lowest of his servants, treating them with an undeserved and unexpected amount of respect. He would often ask how Geoffrey's day was going, or enquire about the health of his parents. When the Count wanted to go for a ride, he always notified Geoffrey an hour or two in advance, so that the young man would have ample time to get the horses ready. And if Matthew was away – for example, if Count Landon wanted to buy some new horses and needed to send an expert to carry out the purchase – he treated Geoffrey as if he was the interim stablemaster. Two of the Count's younger sisters acted the same way.

The third sister, however, was quite another matter.

Lady Laura was the youngest of the family; a petite, beautiful, red-headed woman of 23 who was usually impeccably dressed in the loveliest of gowns, and could look lovely if she smiled – though she rarely did. She was arrogant, and had a cruel streak that she rarely revealed in front of her siblings. It never bothered Geoffrey that she never asked about him or his family, but she would show up at the stable telling him that she wanted to ride NOW, and then be surprised and offended that he did not have a horse ready for her at all times. She would scold him as cruelly as she could, then stomp off to bother someone else. Geoffrey wanted to tell someone, but Matthew would only shrug disinterestedly if he brought it up, and he didn't think that the Count would be happy to hear the stableboy complain about his darling little sister.

It was a sunny Friday morning, and Geoffrey had been feeling good about his day, until he looked up to see Lady Laura approach him. She was wearing her riding dress, carrying her riding crop, and giving him a look of contempt, as if he was something she'd just stepped in. "Geoffrey, I'm going riding now."

"Of course, Lady Laura," he said, giving her his most respectful bow. "I'll start preparing Goldie."

She frowned. "Why is my horse not ready for me?"

"Because, Lady Laura," he said, his voice respectful, "I was not aware that you wanted to ride this morning."

"Look outside – it's a beautiful day. Why wouldn't I go riding?"

Geoffrey wanted to point out that it had been a beautiful day yesterday, and the day before that, and she hadn't wanted to go riding then, but he suspected she wouldn't appreciate hearing it. "I'll have her ready as soon as I can, Lady Laura."

"Very well, I'll be back in five minutes," she said, as she turned to leave.

"Milady," he said, summoning his patience to remain polite, "there is quite a lot I need to do to get your horse ready. It will probably take about half an hour."

She spun around, staring at him. "Half an hour? I thought you said you would get started right away?"

"I will, Lady Laura," he assured her. "But I need to clean her hooves, brush her down, fasten the saddle and the -"

"Take a nap in the corner, you mean," she said dismissively. "Well, I'm not as easily fooled as my brother. It shouldn't take five minutes to slap a saddle on her, never mind thirty. I expect you to have her ready when I return. You don't need to worry about her hooves and things like that, surely."

"Lady Laura, I really don't think you understand -" he said, a slight hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"How dare you!" She was glaring at him now. "You waste my time and insult my intelligence?" She lifted the crop and started to swing it at his head. As the blows rained down, he took a few steps back to put as much distance between himself and the angry noblewoman as possible.

It took a second before he realized that he was backing toward the stall of Jackson, one of the angrier horses – a horse that was facing away from him, and had probably been stressed by all the shouting going on.

He threw himself on the ground just in time, hearing the hooves whistle past. If he'd been half a second later, those hoofs would have struck his head, inflicting a very serious injury  – probably a fatal one. As he lay on the floor, dusty and with a sore jaw from striking the ground, his heart beating from his near-death experience, he heard giggling, and looked up to see Lady Laura laughing merrily at his misfortune.

And this was when he'd finally had enough.

In a flash, he was on his feet and at her side. It's possible that when she saw the look on his face, and felt him grab her wrist, that she realized she'd pushed the servant too far this time, but if she did, she made no effort to apologize or placate his wrath. She protested indignantly as he dragged her over to a stool, then gasped as he sat down and pulled her forcefully over his knee.

On stableboys and princesses (non-story)

I've always been a fan of role reversal - stories where someone who SHOULD be in authority, gets spanked by someone who should be obeying them. Students spanking teachers, secretaries spanking bosses, etc. I'm also a member of a google group on the subject, though they mostly post children spanking their parents - which is not my favourite pairing, though I have written one or two stories like that (check the tag "Role reversal" for my role reversal stories).

Somewhat recently, I wanted to write a story where a stableboy spanks a princess, and I started wondering what the justification could be. I came up with three scenarios: it could be for mutual enjoyment, for punishment, or she could insist to an unwilling stableboy. Not wanting to choose between them, I decided to write all three - though the stories changed slightly as I wrote them. While the women in these stories are noblemen's daughters, none of them are actual princesses. Their spankers are stableboys, though.

 

The secret in the hayloft, about mutual enjoyment, was uploaded last week. I'll upload the second about punishment today ("Pushed too far"). I'm hoping to upload the third one next week, but I developed a cold yesterday, so I don't know how much energy I'll have for writing.

The secret in the hayloft (M/F story)

It was interesting to me just how many of the young women at the mansion found Caleb to be the most attractive man around. There was nothing glamorous or interesting about his work as a stableboy, and it meant that when he was around, the musk of sweat was often mixed with the stench of horse , which was not the most fragrant of smells. However, he was quite good-looking – made even more so by the roguish smile he had long ago perfected. And many of the maids and kitchen staff were very interested in a man with a strong physique, built up by years of manual labour, who was good with his hands. And if the rumours that were whispered in the corners of the mansion were true, Caleb was VERY good with his hands.

And as the youngest daughter of the Count, it would just be my duty to investigate those rumours, wouldn't it?

On one particularly fine Friday evening, when the moon was full and there was a delightful breeze in the air, I had concealed myself in the stables. I found myself here because I had observed Caleb wandering with a young woman – presumably, his next conquest – and had decided to head to the one place I knew they would eventually end up. Assuming the rumours were true, of course. I had been there for about half an hour when I heard his voice, accompanied by feminine giggles. He entered the stable, leading a lanky, redhaired girl I recognized as Maggie, the gardener's assistant. There was a blush on her cheek, and her attempt at a demure air did little to conceal her eagerness. His smile was friendly, confident, and lascivious, as if he considered himself close to getting his wish.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, giggling again. "I shouldn't be here."

"I can take you back to the house, if you wish," he offered gallantly, but she shook her head, smiling.

"I can't believe this," she repeated. "Is it true what they say about you?"

He shrugged, as if it was all the same to him. "That depends on what they say."

"You know," she insisted, but he made no sign of understanding her. "That you like to take young women across your lap and ...that you ..." She blushed, stumbling over her words, unable to complete her sentence, but there was a nervous grin on her face.

He smiled, offering her his hand. "Care to find out?"

With no hesitation, she took his hand, and he led her up to the hayloft. From here, they would be safe from unwanted eyes – they could watch the entrance, but no one would be able to climb the ladder to spy on them without them noticing.

Unless, of course, the spy were to climb it BEFORE they arrived, and then conceal herself. Say, about half an hour before.