Sophie and the Riding Crop

A temporary job leads a girl into an interesting situation 

By Julie Baker

My name is Sophie Wilkinson and I was born in Pickering, North Yorkshire in March 1993. My father is a farm manager for a large estate and I grew up as very much part of the local farming community. I went to school locally and did well in both sports and my academic studies. I wanted to be a vet and was offered a place at the School of Veterinary Medicine at Glasgow University conditional on my grades in my A levels. I worked incredibly hard and was delighted when I was successful.

Based on the opinion of others I know that I am a pretty girl as well as being good at my studies. I don’t feel it is boastful saying this as it is no credit to me; it is how I was born. My hair is naturally thick and blonde and I wear it short, just above shoulder length. I am tall and slender with long legs but well toned as a result of playing lots of hockey and tennis. My bottom and breasts are firm and my skin tone is very fair. I am lucky that my skin is also soft and my complexion flawless. I know that I have been very fortunate in this department. My personality doesn’t fit with my angelic looks though. I am adventurous and rebellious by nature with a keen appetite for risk. I’m easily bored and I am generally up for trying anything new. This includes all matters sexual although I do not go in for casual relationships. I have had a steady boyfriend since my second year at University and I do not cheat on him at any time. I flirt with other boys and experiment with them but that is as far as it goes.

I started at University in the autumn of 2011. I settled in well and was able to cope with the work load without too much difficulty. My parents are not particularly wealthy and consequently I was having to manage on my student loan and not much else. I therefore worked out that I needed a summer job. My father suggested I apply to the local grain merchants to see if they were looking for temporary staff to help over the harvest period. I got an interview with one of them and was taken on as a grain sample collector. This involved driving around the local farms collecting grain samples which were then tested in the firm’s laboratory to assess quality for the various markets available. I discovered afterwards that this firm generally took on girls only, because they have a better accident record when driving the vans, and pretty ones, as they are more popular with their mainly male farmer customers.

Being a veterinary student was also in my favour as potentially I could work for them for several summers, given the length of my course. There was a fair bit of training required and getting to know the farm locations and the farmers themselves was seen as a distinct advantage for sample collectors who were able to return year after year. We were given a driving lesson each year and there were strict Health and Safety rules in place. We were issued with a long metal grain spear for sampling the grain bulks but we were not allowed to climb ladders holding them. We could only use the spear when sampling grain bulks in sheds. We were not allowed to enter any grain silos and farmers were generally encouraged to take their own samples for us to collect for analysis.   So the summer of 2012 was my first harvest as a sample collector. I worked for two of the firm’s farm salesmen and quickly settled into a routine where I would, more or less, see the same farmers each week. There was not much cheer around as the harvest that year was difficult and low yielding due to a lack of sunshine. The farmers were good with me, though, and the firm I worked for must have been happy as they asked me back for the following year.   The following year, 2013, was a great summer and I was getting to know the farmers much better by this stage. There was one farm just outside Malton where I seemed to get a particularly good welcome. It was quite a large arable farm where they also kept horses and it was run by two brothers, while their parents lived on the home farm just outside York. The elder brother, Simon, was married with two small children and they all lived in the main farmhouse. His brother, John, was about five years younger than him which made him similar to me in age. He lived in a small cottage on the farm and looked after the grain drying and storage operation during harvest while his brother looked after the combining. I therefore got to know John but rarely saw Simon.

John was an incredibly good looking bloke. Dark, strong and blessed with a lovely, ready smile. He flirted with me endlessly and was always, in jest, threatening to report me to my boss for various minor shortcomings. I was careful not to give him too much encouragement and I completed the harvest without getting myself in deeper with him. There was no doubt, though, that there was chemistry between us and it wouldn’t have taken much for our relationship to have developed further.

Which brings us to harvest 2014. I was again taken on to do the sample collectors job and I couldn’t help wondering whether I might be heading towards deeper complications with my friend John. I loved my boyfriend and I was going to have to be very careful that I didn’t ruin everything by getting carried away. I should explain at this stage that typically I did this job for five weeks which took me through from early August to the beginning of September. This meant, so long as there were no unforeseen complications, that I would visit John’s farm five times which would enable me to collect samples of all of his crops as they came off the fields.

Summer 2014 was generally warm and sunny although there were a few cool, wet days during the harvest. I liked to look good even when doing this occasionally mucky job. I generally wore my tight fitting blue jeans irrespective of the weather. They had a little bit of stretch in them which enabled them to be skin tight and leaving little to the imagination. I varied my top half from a tee shirt in warm weather to rugby shirt and jumper on colder days. Some sample collectors wore wellies to keep the grain out of their feet but I preferred to wear trainers that I took off if I had to climb up onto a heap of grain to collect my samples. I could then dust off my socks, replace my shoes and not have the discomfort of any grains, which are surprisingly hard, lodged in my trainers.

We are now getting to the crux of the story. To best explain what happened that summer with John, I think it is best to divide up my account into the five visits that I made to his farm in 2014.

Week One.

Having said it was a sunny summer, my first visit to see John that year was on a day that was cold and wet. I did feel a little nervous when I turned into the farm but John wasn’t there. I gathered the next week that they had all taken a day off due to the weather and the prospect of many weeks of hard work to come. I looked into the grain shed and saw the heap of winter barley, combined, dried and left in a heap ready to be sampled. I took my shoes off, climbed the heap, got my samples, replaced my shoes, jumped in the car and got on with the rest of my day.

Week Two.

The next week the weather was much better and as I pulled into John’s farm I could tell that it was all go. The grain dryer was working and John was dashing across the yard as I pulled up.

“Hi Sophie, how are you doing?” He greeted me.

“Fine, John, thanks. Have you had a good year without me about?” I replied.

“Just about coped. You’ll need to improve your performance this year, mind,” he replied. “I’ll be phoning your office if there are any mistakes!”

“You can’t do that to me,” I said, laughing.

“It’s in your hands, Sophie. If you are not up to scratch, it’s that or I’ll have you across my knee!”

We both laughed and then got on with sampling the oilseed rape that he had cut that week.

Week Three.

Another lovely day and I turned into the farm looking forward to seeing John again. He was so handsome and he did make me laugh, which must be a winning combination for any girl. That day we had his oats to sample. These were stored in the inside grain bins which required us to climb up stairs and ladders so that the samples could be obtained from silo tops. John knew I was not allowed to do this so the routine was that he would take my sampling spear and I would follow him with my sample bags. We climbed up and between us we filled four sample bags with the oats. He went back down first with the spear and I followed him down with the samples.

The last section was down a short ladder, and half way down one of the samples slipped out of my grasp and burst open on the concrete floor below.

“Ooooow, now that is naughty, Sophie. Very careless!” He said. “looks like it’s a call to your boss or I’ll have to smack your bottom. That was the deal!”

“Very funny,” I replied. “My error, admittedly, but I’ll soon scoop it up and put it in to another bag. Keep calm and you’ll have to find a better reason to get me into trouble!”

“OK, let you off this time but if it happens again you’ll not be getting the choice. I’ll be going straight to the spanking option!”

We both laughed and I left the farm shortly afterwards with my samples.

Week Four.

Last week of August, and the day that I next called on John, felt more like November. There was no part of me that felt even vaguely warm and my hands were loosing their feeling. However, I had been chuckling to myself since my last visit about John’s threat to give me a spanking and the devil in me thought that I might try him out. They had been combining their milling wheat which was now dry and sitting in the grain shed. I could sample this myself so I took off my trainers and climbed up onto the bulk with my grain spear. I took six samples which I held in one arm as I came back down to floor level. Half way down, I deliberately dropped one of the samples which slid gently to the base of the grain heap. The seal came slightly open and a bit of the wheat spilt out.

John must have known that I had done this on purpose but he said absolutely nothing.   I should have anticipated what happened next but I didn’t and I assumed at the time that John had chosen to ignore my signal. I gathered up the six sample bags and turned away from John to put them in one of my plastic storage boxes. As I bent over I got the most almighty shock as one of my trainers crashed into my bottom with a large crack. I couldn’t believe the sting that the shoe delivered and I let out a sharp cry of pain. Instinctively my hands went round to my bottom both to protect it from any further blows and to try to rub away the pain.

“Christ that hurt!” I said as I flashed a glare at John. I had tears in my eyes but I couldn’t decide how to react.

He burst out laughing and soon I was joining in.

“You asked for it, Sophie. Don’t blame me!” He said. “Next time it will be the riding crop and that will be much more painful. You’ll need to be more careful!”

With that, we returned to the van, me carrying the grain spear and him carrying my box of samples. He cheerily bade me farewell and I went on with my day’s work. When I got home I went straight to the bathroom and peeled off my jeans and panties to look at my bottom in the mirror. The impact had been mainly to my left buttock and I could clearly see the shape of the sole of my trainer imprinted on my skin. It was red, then a little bit of darker bruising appeared over the next few days. My bottom was tingly to touch on the first day but within a week my skin had returned to its normal pale and unblemished condition.

Week Five.

I knew that something quite extraordinary might happen as I turned into John’s farm a week later. It was the first week of September and I was due to return to Glasgow the following week to resume my studies. It was a scorching hot day and I had been thinking about his riding crop remark all week. I had butterflies in my tummy as I parked the van. I knew that I was in control as John wouldn’t do anything to me that I had not in some way given him permission for. But I know myself well and I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to resist taking this situation to the next level.

To start with all was normal. John emerged from the drier shed and greeted me as normal. They had finished harvest a couple of days before and there was only the feed wheat left to sample. This grain had been transferred to the bins for long term storage so we repeated the procedure that we had followed for the oilseed rape earlier in the harvest. The choice was mine. Did I drop a sample on the way back down or did I keep tight hold, complete my duties and leave the farm without further incident?

I let one of the bags go and, as before, it burst open on the concrete below.

“I’ll go and fetch my riding crop from the house, Sophie,” John said in very measured tone. “You knew the consequences of making a mistake. Go across to the stable block on the other side of the yard and get yourself ready. You will be receiving ten strokes from me using the riding crop and the riding crop is only effective when applied to bare skin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, John,” I mumbled.

I turned and walked across the yard with my heart thumping in my chest. I had not been in the stables before. It was a long low building with a wide access half way along the front. At the back were four stalls, three of which were occupied by horses. To the left were stacks of small bales and I could see that some of these were hay and some were straw. To the right of the door was a sort of rest-cum-office area with a couple of easy chairs and an old desk with a basic plastic chair for doing paperwork. Behind the desk was a notice board with a selection of paperwork and rosettes stuck to it.

I had to think quickly. I could make a run for it or I could stay and see where this took us. I’m no quitter so I resolved to tackle the situation with gusto. John clearly wanted me to lower my jeans and panties but I resolved to go one better. A complete strip! That would wake him up when he came back with his crop. Shoes, socks, jeans and tee shirt came off in no time and I placed these neatly folded on the end of the desk. With slight hesitation my bra came off next and then I lowered my panties to the floor. I added these and my bra to the pile on the desk. I was totally naked in this man’s stable with only a vague idea of what was coming next.

Predictably I felt very exposed and decided that the best tactic was to be sitting down when John returned. The two easy chairs looked very grubby and dusty so I decided to sit at the desk. I pulled out the chair and saw a mixture of dust and what looked like partially dried oil smears. I could imagine this getting onto my bottom and being hard to remove as well as not helping towards the look of virginal purity that I was hoping for! So in the end I sat on one of the straw bales. I hunched up as best I could to hide my more private parts but I knew that when John returned he would know instantly that I was totally naked.

He was probably away for about five minutes but it felt much longer. When he came back into the stable he was carrying a riding crop in his right hand.

“Can I hold it?” I asked.

John handed me the crop.

“Holy fuck!” I blurted out.

I stared down at it for a few moments, light in my hands. It was about 60cms in length with a black handle, a flexible grey shaft and the traditional triangular shaped black leather flap at the other end. I gave it a couple of practice flicks and tried to imagine what it was going to feel like on my skin. To me, it felt like a fearsome piece of equipment designed to ‘encourage’ a horse but now it was about to be used on my bottom.

“Don’t worry,” said John, reading my thoughts. “I know how to use it and it will only be the leather flap that touches your skin. It will sting plenty but you won’t be left with any deep bruising.”

I’m not sure if this was reassuring or not.

“OK, Sophie, are you up for this?” He continued.

I nodded without saying anything.

“Good,” he said.  ‘You will need to bend over something and the straw bales are probably the best option. Are you OK with that?”

“Yes, that’s fine, John,” I replied.

He set to work moving the bales around and in no time he had created a platform two bales high for me to rest my upper body on. Without being asked I stood up and walked round to the front of the bales revealing my full body to John for the first time.

“Do you want something to lie on, Sophie?” He asked. “The straw might not be too comfortable.”

“No, I’ll manage, thanks.” I replied.

I was now stood with my back to John and the bales were just above my hip height. I could feel bits of straw stuck to my bottom as my skin was clammy on such a hot day. I brushed them off with my hands as best I could. By standing on tiptoe I just managed to be able to get my upper body onto the bales and my legs were just in contact with the floor. I clamped my legs together and presented John with my tight bottom ready for the punishment that was to follow. I could feel the prickly straw digging into my tummy and breasts but I knew that I wouldn’t be noticing this when John got to work on my naked bottom.

“Are you ready, Sophie? Ten strokes of the riding crop coming your way! I want you to stay still as I need to be accurate with the crop. Please feel free to rub your bottom between strokes if you think that helps.”

He didn’t wait for a reply and I could then feel the end of the crop resting on my bottom. When contact was lost I braced myself for the first blow. What a cracking noise that first one made as leather met with bare skin! The sting was slightly delayed but hit me soon enough. I let out a sharp yelp and without thinking my right hand shot round to rub my right buttock where the crop had landed. I took a couple of deep breaths and resumed my position. One down, nine to go. I wasn’t sure I could take all ten if the pain was going to be that intense each time.

John was leaving about 20 seconds between each strike. The next one landed on my left buttock but this time I did not cry out or shift my position. They kept on coming, alternating between each side. By the time I was up to 7 and 8 my bottom was getting very sore as the crop was inevitably visiting the same spots for the second time. By then I was taking the chance to rub my bottom at every opportunity and my breathing was becoming deep and laboured. By the end I was gently sobbing.

John left me where I was after he had finished. After a couple of minutes I had calmed down and I then felt John’s rough hand gently brushing the skin on my bottom.

“Shall we make love?” He asked.

“No, I think we’ve gone far enough, John. My loyalties lie elsewhere, I’m afraid. Interesting experience but I think I’d better get dressed and get out of here.”   With this I got up and faced him. My front was now covered in bits of straw and I tried to look over my shoulder to see what state my bottom was in. Predictably red and I was feeling a bit of a mess.

“Do you want a shower, Sophie? There is one in the corner and we have fresh towels.”   Brilliant, what a great idea. I could cleanse my skin and in a way it would cleanse my mind also. I was conscious of John watching me as I walked across the stables to the shower room but once inside I felt great. Buzzing from the thrill of the spanking but also loving the attention paid to me by John. I got a proper look at my bottom in the mirror and it was certainly very reddened. John had done a very professional job on me! I had a long hot shower and then wrapped myself in the towel so that my breasts and bottom were covered but my legs were free.

I re-emerged into the stable and John was sitting in one of the easy chairs by the desk.  He said nothing. I decided to give him one last treat. I could have picked up my clothes and returned to the shower room to get dressed but instead I dropped the towel to reveal my naked body to him once more. I replaced my bra and put on my tee shirt. I then turned to show him my spanked bottom as I pulled up my panties. Jeans next, and then socks and trainers. I went over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and then turned and left. He didn’t speak and didn’t follow me.

I collected my samples and spear from the grain shed, got back into the van and drove off. What an experience! I felt vibrant for days afterwards and couldn’t wait to be back with my boyfriend. I didn’t tell him about what had happened but it made me excited and wanting more erotic adventures in the future. The marks on my bottom faded after a week and life returned to a more normal rhythm back in Glasgow. I occasionally think about lovely John on the farm back in Yorkshire but I have never made contact with him since that day and the following summer I got a temporary job at the local veterinary practice. I didn’t want to risk the sample collecting again and where that might have led to.

The End

© Julie Baker 2016


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