A current story being created for a friend on DA M/FF

[Dustysmate]

New Money:


New money - that was the issue. She wasn't "one of us", the old, established families muttered. There was resentment.

Oh, the workmen welcomed her trade; she made sure to employ locals to remodel the Hermitage, and she always shopped at the local shop, chatting to Mrs T when she bought her organic veg and almond milk. Girls from the village were well paid to look after her stables and the sleek horses that she rode in her manege in the lower paddock.

But she was different. In her 50s, she was, like her horses, sleek and fit, she exercised, yoga, the gym and her figure as she rode around the village was not like that of the WI ladies locally.

And she dressed SO differently. Leaping out of her Rangerover, people would wonder how she managed such vertigionous heels so gracefully. Long skirts and blouses emphasising her waist; expensive brands; Gucci, YSL and Hermes. On the horse, her jodphurs were white and tight, her blouses concealed an impressive bust. The women resented her, the men were somewhat more ambivalent.
"She likes the stable girls".
Mike supped his beer, listening to the conversation on the neighbouring table as the men salaciously discussed the new arrival. in the village.
"Yeah, she's a dyke, only interested in women". Mike idly observed the font of this announcement, a ruddy-faced, portly man in his 50s who was already 4 pints in beforre the evening had really started.

Taciturn, he wondered why this mythical creature had so inflamed the conversation and considered the likelihood that the object of their ruminations had done anything to justify the rumours and flights of fantasy.

He sighed, finished his beer and took a refill out to sit beside the pond in the dying amber light of the May day.

Gazing at the ducks hopefully edging closer to him, his thoughts were interrupted by the slow, rhythmic pace of horseshoes on tarmac. The source of the noise was a horse and rider slowly, languidly walking down the road. The pair were evidently relaxed but had clearly been working hard; a slight steam rising from the horse's flanks and the rider's blouse, moist with her sweat, clung to her torso, outlining the firm curve of her breasts.

Mike nodded and the rider raised the crop in her right hand in acknowledgement, before steering her horse into the gateway of the Hermitage as his eyes surreptitiously followed her muscular thighs...
Mike took a long swallow of the bitter, amber fluid, his senses full of the woman he had just witnessed guiding her horse home. Planting his glass, unfinished on the wooden surface of the table he stood, stretching his body, stiff after the day's work and strolled to the footpath that skirted around the rear of the mysterious woman's property...

The object of his thoughts slid from the saddle, landing lightly on the gravel outside the stable. She handed Pagan's reins to the young woman who had approached on hearing her return.

"Thank you Tracy" She smiled, still feeling the euphoria from an exhilarating ride and the odd frisson she had felt on being under that appraising gaze minutes before. She shivered, noticing Tracy's eyes dropping to her sodden blouse.
"It's chilly" She grinned. The young woman giggled, blushing slightly, her free hand coming to her own, more modest, bust.

Christine "smoothed" her blouse, accentuating the way in which her erect nipple was evident, her eyes meeting and locking with those of the stable girl. Tracy's lips parted, her own eyes going wide.

Christine tapped her assistant's thigh softly with the tip of the crop. "Rub him down, make sure he's comfortable, then you can finish for the day". She turned, abruptly and headed for the open french windows to the house, Tracy's attention following her jodphur clad arse as she departed...

Mike looked down at the pictures he had quietly captured on his phone from the path, grinning at the image of Tracy's slightly shocked expression as her mistress caressed her leg with. the whip.
She leaned back in the chair, her back arching, thrusting her nipples up and brushing them gently with the fingernails of her left hand through her thin top.

Sighing, her right hand slid down her flat belly and into her jodphurs. Beneath her fingertips she could feel the satin of her knickers and, as she slipped further down, the heat of her sex. Pinching one erect nipple, she started to rub softly on her clit, easing her thighs apart and closing her eyes.

"Hello Tracy, what are you up to?". Startled, she sat bolt upright, trapping her hand inside the waistband of her jodphurs.

"M M M Mike! You scared the shit out of me!" She tugged desperately at her right hand, but the angle of her belly had abruptly changed and her wrist was piniond beneath the waistband of the tight leggings.

"Having a little fiddle, were you girl?" Mike chuckled, but moving quickly to sit astride her knees, stopping the young woman from changing position to free her hand.

"Fuck Mike, get off," Tracy hissed, wriggling beneath his bulk, her small left fist beating ineffectually at his broad chest. "If Christine catches you here, I'm in deep shit.

Mike's grin broadened as he seized her thin left wrist in his calloused hand, bringing it forceefully down alongside the right.

"Let me go you twat", Tracy muttered, squirming as his weight pushed her fingers deeper into the satin of her knickers. His left hand pinched one erect nipple, tugging and twisting it. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"Oh fuck Mike, stop, I've got work to do" She groaned, as her treacherous nipple responded by swelling further. He bowed his head, teeth nipping at the other nipple.

"Tell me why you were frigging." He demanded, his right hand deliberately rubbing her left against her now inflamed cunt.

"It's Chr...Christine... she keeps flirting; it's driving me nuts! Tracy was breathless, cheeks and chest flushed, her mind whirling, her speech now coming in spurts.

"You want to fuck her?" Mike grinned, returning his attention to her engorged nipples..."Or do you want her to use that crop on you? To spank you? To domme you? To bite your nipples and call you a good girl" The rythmn on her clitoris was insistent, his words intoxicating, Tracy started to pant.

"Fuck Mike, you dirty basta..". she spasmed, her words cut off as she shuddered suddenly, lips and eyes wide.

Mike stood up, towering over the girl smouldering on the chair, her eyes glazed. "make us a cuppa, I've got an idea".

"Bloody hell Mike, what are you doing?" Tracy tugged at her wrists. "We're not playing these games NOW!"
He pulled the leather strap, garnered from a nearby saddle a little tighter.
Tracy squeaked as her arms were yanked closer together around the back of the old wooden chair. Her jodphurs already around her ankles, she could do little to stop him tugging off her boots and then the tight leggings. He slid the narrow leather belt from its keepers and put it to one side before sliding her white satin knickers off her generous arse and down her thighs. She writhed as her captured her ankles, using the belt to fasten them securely together before tying them to the crossbar.

He raised the glossy material to his nose and sniffed the damp satin; evidence of their further play after the tea that Tracy had made him.

" Bloody hell Trace, you had some fun didn't you!" He grinned and the girl blushed, watching as he scooped up her mobile phone.

"What're you doing Mike? My mum's making spag bol tonight, I need to be back"

He scrolled through the unlocked 'phone, reviewing the numerous pictures, until he came to an album cover that looked promising. Inside, Tracy cavorted both naked and clad in lingerie. He showed the screen to the girl, who blushed even more. "Which one will interest your boss the most, d'you think?"

His fingers worked quickly, enlarging an image of her arching her back, tits thrust forward, and found a WhatsApp conversation with Christine. Adding the image and ignoring her Tracy's frantic pleas, he pressed send.

Sitting on the edge of her extensive bed, Christine was preparing for the evening. An open exhibition at the local gallery had attracted her attention and, knowing no-one locally to join her, she had determined to rock up and see what passed for a social life in Broadway.

Standing, she was straightening her stockings and was about to step into her stilettos when the WhatsApp alert drew her focus to her phone. Distracted, she was hopping on one patent heel as she tried to make sense of the app, before sitting heavily down again, glossy lips parted in surprise at the image in front of her. She immediately recognised her young stable hand's beguiling face and her eyes were inexorably drawn to her enticing breasts pushed forward to the camera.

Christine stared, dumbfounded at the image. She had flirted with the young woman but never more than that; hinting at a desire that, upon reflection, Christine was unsure of. She looked at the proffered tits again, nipples swollen and slightly pink, her own nipples swelling at the thought of the young woman sending her such an inappropriate image. She checked her watch - would Tracy still be finishing up in the stable?

Suddenly resolute, she stood, sliding on the second shoe and smoothing down the sheer silk of her blouse. The naive landscapes could wait; she threw an Hermes scarf about her shoulders and strode purposefully out of the room.

At the foot of the oak stairs she noticed her crop dropped loosely into one shiny riding boot. Smiling mischievously, she slid it out and tapped it against the dogtooth of her skirt as she stalked to the back of the house...



Her footing was slightly unsteady as the spike heels of her Louboutin's slipped between the cobbles of the stable yard at the rear of the house. Entering her expensive stables, she regained her easy, commanding gait as she strode between the stalls to the only illumination - the office at the other end of the building. Pausing only to nuzzle Pagan, who regarded her with equine curiosity, she paused in the doorway.

The sight before her was beyond her febrile imagination; the young woman who had been taunting her seemed welded to the office chair; her arms behind her back, her ankles bound underneath the crossbar. The breasts that had attracted Christine were exposed; Tracy's bra, still fastened, had been hiked up her chest to reveal them.

Tracy was in even more significant disarray, her eyes were wide and wild above a wide band of equine strapping around her mouth and, from the bulge in her cheeks and the fact that her squeak of horror at this turn of events was entirely unintelligible, something had been stuffed within.

Christine's eyes drifted down the sweat covered body, alighting on the exposed lips of the woman's cunt. Tracy writhed, inadvertently exposing herself more, light playing off the sheen of perspiration that covered her.

"Dear god, Tracy", she gasped," What have you been up to?" She slapped her phone down on the desk.

Tracy tried to make herself understood, but the garbled, muffled explanations and pleas were useless. Christine reached out one elegantly manicured hand stroking the side of Tracy's face before suddenly gripping a handful of hair and pulling back her head.

Tracy's eyes widened again, her back arching and her muffled protests becoming more frantic.

"How did you know?" Christine demanded, her free hand revelling in the smooth sweaty skin of Tracy's breasts.

The helpless woman's denials and entreaties were virtually silenced by whatever had been used to fill her mouth and she struggled to move her head with her hair gripped in the obdurate talons.

Hiking her split pencil skirt, Christine straddled Tracy's bound legs thrusting her silk clad breasts into the impotent woman's gagged face, rubbing Tracy's sweat into the fine material.

In the shadows of the stall opposite the door, standing behind Pagan, Mike paused the video recording on Tracy's phone. Propped upon the wooden ledge, it had recorded , in high definition, every element of Christine's approach to the squirming stable girl.

Quietly sliding out of the stall, he repositioned the phone to capture the doorway to the office and pressed send again before restarting the video and easing himself into the dark stall alongside the office door.

Christine's phone alerted her to a new WhatsApp message and Mike watched her reach for it on the desk and glance briefly before her own eyes widened, lips parted and her head whipped around in horror to see the little blinking light on the phone across the width of the stable. Distracted, she disentangled herself from her prey, her eyes straying to the incriminating video and, as she hurried across to Pagan's stall, Tracy's illuminated phone.

Only at the last minute did she fully process the implications and start to realise the immensity of her mistake...

With a gasp of horror, she backed away from the alluring light of the recording phone, realising it was nothing more than bait. Her reverse momentum was abruptly halted as she drove hard into a broad, muscular chest.

Pagan's canvas nose bag was brutally pulled over her head and, as she gasped, she suddenly smelled horse and hay. The strap tightened around her neck, the thick, rough material stifling her cry of alarm.

Mike buckled the strap then gripped the thick leather, using it as a makeshift handle to control the startled woman whose arms were flailing wildly. His fist twisted, constricting the strap around her neck and forcing her to bend forward to avoid its bite.

"Please no", Christine choked out , her plea distorted by the filthy canvas. Mike hauled her back upright until she was teetering on her tip-toes; almost lifted out of the patent leather of her shoes. Her fists beat in a futile gesture as he drew her back, his lips alongside her left ear.

" Shut up", he growled into her ear, his voice dark, threatening. " Cross your wrists behind your back"

" No, no , no" Christine writhed in his obdurate grip, trying again to hit backwards.

He sighed, manhandling her into the office and thrusting her against the edge of the desk. He grinned at Tracy's expression of terror as he let go of the hood and rapidly captured Christine's flailing hands, yanking them together in the small of her back.

He'd placed some of the saddlery to one side and now he selected a short leather strap, wrapping it tightly about Christine's wrists over the silk cuffs of her blouse. He paused, a single hand weighing down on the squirming woman's back, crushing her down onto the desk, her dogtooth-clad arse wriggling as she tried to kick him.

"How bloody dare you", Christine muttered between frantic, panicked gasps from under the nose bag. "Undo me right now".

Her breasts crushed against the laminate of the desk, it was difficult to draw breath - the hood was hot, damp, smelly. Her wrists were welded together and her bottom was up - vulnerable. She imagined this brute being able to lift the tight skirt and expose her La Perla knickers.

THWACK! A meaty hand, smacked down upon her arse, eliciting a stifled scream, "Owwww!"

"Shut up", the growl was deep , full of menace

The dishevelled woman found herself abruptly yanked upwards, her captor's meaty hand using the nosebag strap as a point of control, she teetered in her vertiginous heels.

One button on her blouse had given up the fight while she was face down on the desk and she was aware of the cool air on her breasts as the sheer silk gaped open. Unseen by the hooded woman, Mike's eyes were drawn to her half exposed breasts as she struggled for breath and squirmed in his grip.

He shoved her back against a post, lifting the strap over a hook firmly embedded in the wood, watching her writhing intensify as she gasped for breath.

Her voice, beneath the canvas had lost it's arrogance and coherence, "Please, let me down, don't, please"

A calloused palm mashed her left breast, weighing it, squeezing roughly, before finding her engorged nipple and rolling it between finger and thumb causing it to swell further as she gasped "Fuck, no, don't"

"I'm gonna loosen the strap, you gonna be a good girl?"

"Please, yes, I'll be good" she whimpered.

His fingers fumbled with the buckle before raising the strap, revealing her red lips.

Mike glanced at Tracy as he scrunched her damp knickers up and raised them. Her eyes were wide, her mouth fighting the effective gag as he griined a wolfish smile.

Christine's nose wrinkled,; " What IS that smmmmmphgnnn!!" Her voice abruptly cut off as the sodden satin was crammed unceremoniously between her lips.

"NNNNMMMgnnnn" Her protest was effectively stifled by the wad of fragrant material.

Mike moved with casual ease, grabbing the rubber bit he had taken from the tack store and threading Christine's scarf through the rings to pull it tightly over the pantygag before knotting it off at the nape of her neck. Seizing her two erect nipples, he twisted them cruelly, eliciting an anguished wail that was comprehensively silenced by the humiliating gag.

Tugging the hood back over her jaw, he re-secured the helpless woman to the post.

"just got to get a couple of things, I'll be back in 10"

…………….
……….
With her frantic struggles, Christine had become more dishevelled – her own sweat mixed with that of her helpless stablegirl rendering her blouse semi translucent and revealing the outline of her lace and satin bra beneath the thin silk. Her pencil skirt had ridden up, revealing her stocking tops, and she had lost one of her expensive shoes. Panicked whimpers emanated from beneath the thick canvas nosebag that hooded her, stifled though they were by the pungent satin gag held in place by Pagan’s chewed rubber bit.

Unaware of his stealthy approach, she was shocked to feel Mike’s fingers suddenly slide up her thigh and caress the naked flesh between stocking top and satin knickers. Her squeal muted by her humiliating gag (she had come to realise, with horror, how she had been so effectively silenced), she twisted to try to avoid his invasive touch, but the fingers slid easily inside the soft material, finding the soft folds of her cunt lips.

“See, I wasn’t all that long?”, He chuckled, as she writhed beneath the intrusive fingers. Her protests, voluble, yet garbled, caused him no hesitation.

“Now we need to get you more comfortable” Her hopes lifted as he again unstrapped the nosebag before lifting it from her head.

Her eyes blinked in the unaccustomed light, hair in disarray, sweat-slicked and clinging to her face. Her lipstick, immaculate thirty minutes previously, smeared, imprinted on the satin that protruded from beneath the hard rubber gag pulled tightly between her lips by her exclusive headscarf. A Marks and Spencers label nodded jauntily as she shook her head, her tongue trying to push the panties out.

Her gaze flicked wildly from place to place; her phone, with Tracy’s, on the desk, indecent images of each on the illuminated screens; the girl herself, as helplessly bound before, eyes wide and shocked; on the desk a black canvas bag she hadn’t seen before…

“Oh this?” Mike’s voice drew her attention to the man standing to one side, the hated nosebag in his hand, “I’ve brought some toys from my van” He grinned, “a couple things to make it easier to get you across the yard..”

Her eyes followed his hand, mesmerised, as he reached into the bag, a small metallic clink presaging a delicate chain that he raised up in front of her. At either end of the glittering, fine metal links were a couple of odd shaped metal contraptions.

“This’ll encourage you to follow me like a good girl”, he dropped the chain on the face of her phone before rummaging in the bag again.

“A collar for you”, the item was a broad piece of odd shaped, thick, black leather, narrowing to a strap and buckle at either end. He held it up to her throat and she automatically raised her chin as he pulled it in tight before realising she couldn’t now drop her chin, she couldn’t even open her mouth; the rough leather hard against her jaw. |She felt him buckle the strap, her teeth now forced to bite on her stallion’s bit, her protests now even more guttural.

“Ah, you’ve found out what it adds then?” He brushed her hair away from her face gently. She tried to shake her head but found even that movement restricted.

A louder chinking was audible as he withdrew a heavy metal chain from the bag, fastening it to a ring on the front of the collar and clipping the smaller chain to it, about a foot from the clip.

“Have you worked out what these are yet?” He addressed the overwhelmed woman who, unable to speak or shake her head, just blinked her eyes and whimpered. His grin broadened “Nipple clamps!” Her eyes widened again, the whines becoming more intense, as he peeled back the blouse and scooped one full breast from its flesh-coloured bra cup, pinching the nipple to make it more erect. He paused, looking deeply into her pitiful eyes before allowing one clamp to bite into the base of the distended nub.

“That was surprisingly loud considering you’re chewing on young Tracy’s knickers”, he muttered before turning his attention to the other breast as Christine thrashed about trying to avoid him.

His hand gripped the edge of her blouse and he tugged it roughly open, revealing Christine’s left breast and the stiff nipple distorting the fine material of her bra. He slid his hand inside, his calloused palms scratching across the sensitive flesh before unceremoniously hooking the breast out and gripping the swollen flesh between finger.

“ gnn nmmm gnn nnmmmmmm!” Chistine’s pleas of “god no, god no” were unintelligible, though Mike and a strong suspicion of their meaning as he allowed the jaws to close on her left nipple.

Christine now stood stock still, realising that the heavy chain would cause the light chain to pull on her already aching nipples with the slightest movement. Mike took the end of the heavy chain and softly pulled back. As the chain tautened and lifted, the smaller chain was lifted too, tugging on the captive’s swollen nipples and to relieve the pull she took an almost involuntary step forward.

“Good girl”. He paused, glancing at Tracy, “ now to get you both up to the big house”

[AmyRu]

Epic work!!!!

[Dustysmate]

Epic work!!!!

Thank you Amy

[Dustysmate]

“It’s a good thing there’s loads of straps in your stable, Chrissy” – Mike dropped a bundle of leather and brass onto the desk. Christine winced at his casual shortening of her name, looking out of the corner of her eyes from her position jammed against the wall where he had casually looped the cruel chain. “I’ve just found the ideal thing”… and he disappeared again before returning with the yard’s 4 wheeled trolley in which had been deposited one of her old dressage saddles.

The contents of the ominous black bag seemed to be never ending. The item he withdrew was thick and black with a wide circle at its base. Tracy’s eyes widened and she recommenced her struggles, muffled bleating from beneath the swathe of horse bandage that sealed the lower half of her face. He drew the broad, rubbery circle to his lips and lasciviously licked it, staring at the thrashing woman as he did so, before pressing it onto the leather saddle. Where it stuck. Quivering slightly. The thick shaft protruding about 6 inches into the air.

Mike flicked Christine’s right nipple, “Dildo – that’ll give her something to think about on the cobbles”

Tracy tried to resist him as he unbound her from the chair, but there was little impact in her struggles as he strapped one ankle then the other to her thighs before lifting her squirming body effortlessly over the dildo saddle. Slowly, he lowered her, grunting disconsolately into her gag as the shaft made contact with her parted, slippery lips, slowly impaling her on its girth.

A saddle strap circled her waist and pulled her arse down towards the trailer, pinning her down onto the intruder. Her eyes rolled as she twisted and fidgeted to try to make the discomfort at least bearable.

“Now we need to encourage you to be a very good little pony, eh?” Mike addressed the horrified Christine, sorting another long strap from the bundle before releasing the chain from its hook and brusquely turning her so her back was to the handle of the cart.

“Hold that” he pushed the handle into her bound hands before looping the thin strap around her waist and letting the end fall to the floor between her feet.

“Ah”, he retrieved the prodigal shoe from the floor and re-sited it on her foot before abruptly tugging her tight dogtooth skirt up her thighs revealing her monochrome striped satin panties as they accessorised the round curve of her arse. Without a pause, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and drew them down her legs, noting her desperate attempts to close her thighs and prevent him.

Dangling the damp satin from one finger, he brought the glossy material to his nose, inhaling deeply, then looked down at her nakedness. “Tidy job on the shaving Chrissy” He reached out and slid the panties up the woman’s labia causing Christine to stiffen and arch her back.

It took a moment to lift them over her face and knot the loose material in her hair hooding her with the dampest spot over her nose. Her eyes, peeping through the leg holes were wild; desperate.