"You stupid, bitch!" Eddy thundered. "You've just killed a good horse!"
Tina slunk down onto the bench. Eddy's cold hard voice echoed around the empty changing room. Next door Tina could hear the light hearted banter of the male jockeys. Eddy hadn't finished,
"I told you to ride him at the back. You knew he would get tired in a three miler... but oh no, you had to gallop off ahead."
Tina had enjoyed it. Leading the pack. Her horse out in front, the wind ripping through her thin silks as her horse galloped at 30 mph.
"Sir Duncan is furious with you, my girl...Willywonga is... or rather was ... the best horse he has owned; you might lose your job and then you'd be for it..."
Tears welled up in Tina's eyes, it wasn't easy being a conditional jockey, and she was desperate to succeed ... to compete with the men. But she had done wrong; she knew that she should not have raced ahead... but she was leading at the last... she was in sight of the winning post... it had been a bad jump from the moment Willy had taken off; she'd been lucky to escape with a few bruises, the horse had come off much worse. The screens had gone up and the vet had been called.
Eddy had been quiet for a few seconds. Tina looked up; don't let him see you're upset, she told herself. She took in his handsome, rugged features; the dark eyes that glinted underneath the rim of his Trilby: the eyes that made her feel so uncomfortable whenever she found him staring at her when she was mucking out the stables. She frequently blushed in his presence, but now it was Eddy who was red – red with rage. He came closer.
"In my father's day, my girl, you'd take a thrashing for disobedience like that."
Tina could feel his breath on her neck and it excited her. There was something magnetic about a powerful, authoritative man. She felt weak and puny and submissive. Eddy seized her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. He grabbed her riding crop off the peg.
"In fact, my girl, it's time you were taught a few lessons!" Eddy hissed.
"No, Please!" Tina pleaded – but she knew the plea was in vain – that Eddy had already decided on her punishment and there would be no changing his mind – just like that time when she had arrived late for work after over sleeping.
"Do you want to keep your job, or don't ya?" Eddy questioned.
"Yes, of course..."
"Then take a thrashing."
"But it's the twenty-first century – you can't treat people like this..."
"Oh, can't I?" Eddy retorted.
Tina found herself being dragged forward. She was still wearing her racing skills and jodhpurs; her black boots and clothes were splattered with mud. Eddy held her tiny frame by the collar of her silks; in an instance she was dangling like a martinet as Eddy lifted her off the ground. Then she was flung onto a large table. The padding that encased her breasts and chest cushioned her as she came to rest on the hard, wooden surface.
Suddenly, the whip was sailing through the air. It cut into her buttocks jerking tears from her eyes. A second stroke walloped the thin white of her jodhpurs and laced her backside. Then another cracking stroke rained down. The next lash of the whip bought forth an involuntary cry as did the fifth and sixth - she could resist the pain no longer,
"Please Eddy, STOP!"
She heard the whip crash land on the other side of the dressing room. Eddy marched from the changing room as if he were being guided by some greater power. At the door he stopped. Through her blurred, tear stained eyes Tina could make out the grin on Eddy's face... the bulge in his trousers.
The bastard had enjoyed it!
She laid still for a while; her jodhpurs lifeless and dangling, her buttocks red and raw. The burning sensation in her backside fanned through her thighs and up her back. She knew she was wet down below, that her pussy itched for relief, that the thrashing had awakened her sexually just as it had done in the stable. Through the agony was ecstasy: a feeling of pleasure mingled, like twine, with the pain she was suffering. It was some minutes before Tina moved. Slowly, she got undressed and stood naked before the mirror. She admired the neat branding the whip had made on her shapely bottom; the red raw lines that Eddy had cut into her skin.
Then she crept to the shower and turned it on; the warm water refreshed and invigorated and stung. She shampooed her long blond hair and poured body lotion over her small, pert breasts. She splashed it into her slit and let a single slender finger roam freely. The anger of Eddy's voice came back to her, the authority, the control; she could still feel his firm grip on her arm: she closed her eyes and relived the journey to the table, the whip – her whip – menacing and awesome in all its terrible power. Her body shivered with involuntarily spasms and she moaned as she thought about the unbelievable event that had just befallen her. She, Tina Edwards, an 18 year old farmer's daughter from County Donegal had been thrashed, just like the nuns had walloped her in convent school and her dad had spanked her when she was little ... and just like Eddy had thrashed her in the stable.
The warm water caressed her injured buttocks and sent a tingling through her nervous system as she frigged herself with greater urgency.
The hand on her back made her jump.
"Hi Tina, we just came to see you were alright, so we did." It was Barry the young Irish jockey Tina had heard laughing in the changing room next door. A flop of ginger hair hung over his cheeky eyes; beside him was the scrawny figure of Sean – another conditional jockey. Tina raised her arms to her chest to cover her breasts then quickly covered her vagina. The two lads laughed.
"Never you mind, Tina, we've seen it all before – least ways I have - anyways, we've been watching you for ages, so we have." Barry said.
