#76) Horses, Real and Rocking

I’ve had a lovely, long relationship with horses.
I always wanted to own a horse, but never did. My Grandfather taught me to ride at his farm when I was young, skills I kept honed during yearly summer visits. Then, when modeling in Los Angeles in my early twenties, I paid to take dressage riding lessons at a stable once a week. It cleared my head of all the psychic-debris which that career and that city created. I felt centered around horses that I didn’t feel anywhere else; I never stuttered when talking to horses.
I always wanted to own a rocking horse, but never did. My father, who came from wealth growing-up, had a rocking horse with real horsehair for mane and tail. I wish I had it now; as an antique, it was probably worth a small fortune. Over the years, I’ve had a few friends, both male and female, who were professional jockeys. I don’t know if you know, but jockeys get injured in their line of work a lot. What other profession is practiced with an ambulance following you as you work? To get back into shape post-injury, jockeys work-out on a rocking horse of sorts. It’s called an Equicizer, and the horse’s neck is made to plunge forward and back with hard pushing from the rider, to keep unused muscles from atrophy, while crouching in the stirrup irons.
But the very best horse, at least to my way of thinking as a woman of my age, is the one pictured here. It’s a rocking horse, called Neddy, for errant students at the girls’ school imagined by Asa Jones at his photo studio. At the http://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/ site, you can see models, like the comely Samantha (pictured here) assuming the proper position on the rocking horse. With white knickers pulled down to her thighs, and school uniform pushed up onto her lower back, she is ready for what comes next.
What’s next, of course, is a riding crop whipping administered to the hindquarters of the naughty student by her headmistress. Twenty strokes was agreed upon for passing notes in class, but that was before the headmistress notices something amiss. Girls are supposed to elevate their bared bums off the racing saddle for punishment. The adage that “buttocks ought to be taut in order to be taught,” has been oft-repeated, as has the admonishment, “Stick it out, girl! Arch your arse right out!” But, as you can see, Samantha is aroused by the attentions from the crop by her pretty headmistress. She can’t help herself, she lasciviously tries to rub her engorged sex across that polished wood, flat saddle seat. The headmistress notices this after the fifteenth lash, the girl didn’t seem to be suffering during the correction, was moaning more than yelping, there was incriminating evidence of girl-juice smeared across the saddle.
Poor Samantha realizes that she’s been caught when she is unceremoniously lifted off the rocking horse. The headmistress achieved this by taking Samantha by the ear. With this painful grip, the administrator could’ve led the co-ed anywhere. Samantha was hoisted across the vaulting horse, next to the headmistress’ desk in her austere office. This piece of furniture is reserved for harsher lessons. The riding crop is exchanged for a thin cane.
“Stick it out, girl! Arch your arse right out for me, Sam, you’re in for it now…!”

The business end of Samantha readied to feel the riding crop.

The lovely Charlotte on Neddy the horse after a razor strapping.

3 responses to “#76) Horses, Real and Rocking”

  1. I love this! I am really attracted to the idea of a female being made to present her bottom in this way… bare and sticking up for her discipline. I used to fantasize about something similar…a woman being made to straddle a street bike, her bottom bare for the strap. Yummy thoughts! XOXO

    Liked by 1 person

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