English Pub Landlady Ep. 02

Things in the pub had pretty much gone back to normal after the lock-in incident which was entirely caused by my husband, Harry, getting all macho and speaking his mind. None of the regular customers mentioned what went on that night as I specifically warned them not to, on pain of being barred. This doesn't stop them trying to get a look up my skirt to see if I've left my underwear off again. The most that they have seen lately is a flash of stockings and knickers. If I lean across the bar they may just have been able to see an areola peeking out above my bra line.

-

As I mentioned before I am the Landlady of a pub in a little Dorset village. Like most villages in England there is a church which hardly anyone worships in. But it is so much a part of the history of the place that if anyone talks about pulling it down there is a public outcry.

Falling down is a completely different matter. The church is always trying to raise money for one repair or another.

One evening in the pub someone mentioned that the vicar was trying to raise money for repairs to the church roof. They said that the pub should run some sort of Charity event.

I thought to myself, "Here we go again. Some bright spark is going to come up with a really stupid idea and then someone else will have an even more stupid one. In the end we will wind up with a collection box on the bar which by the end of the year will contain less than a pound."

The conversation went like this.

"What we need is a really big raffle with a fantastic prize."

"Like what?"

"Like a car."

"How many tickets do you think we would need to sell to cover the cost of a car?"

"Oh yeh! I didn't think of that."

And then someone did come up with a reasonably good idea. Yes, I know, I was shocked too. What they suggested was that we sell tickets at a fairly high price, say ten quid each. But that we had a prize that didn't have much of a monetary value but that everyone would want. Maybe we could get a local business to donate something. I pointed out that, apart from a few farms, we were the only business in the village and that a load of cow shit or a packet of peanuts would hardly constitute a great prize.

Then the clever bloke came up with the idea that as Harry and I had our days free we could donate ourselves.

I said, "What?"

But evidently, the idea was that whoever won could get us to do whatever they wanted for one day. We would have to leave it vague like that to sell more tickets as everyone would have a different idea of what they wanted doing for the day. For instance, old Tom would love to have me do his housework for one day and have Harry do his garden.

I'm not keen on housework and Harry's a crap gardener but I thought that in principle it could work. I said that it would only have to be between 10 in the morning and 4 in the afternoon as we did have a pub to run and that we would need to know well in advance what day it was going to be.

Before I knew it, a date was set for a Thursday in one month's time. Someone knew someone who could do the tickets and posters for nothing so that was OK. The winner would be drawn here in 3 weeks.

Over the next couple of weeks ticket sales went pretty well and by the time of the draw we had sold eighty. A lot of people crowded into the bar that night and it was decided that as everyone trusted old Tom (and as he hadn't bought a ticket) he should pull the winning ticket out of the hat.

I was quite relieved when the winner was announced as Farmer Ted from Yew Tree Farm. He always seemed like a nice old chap although someone did once tell me that his wife ran off about fifteen years ago. I only hoped that he didn't want any housework done.

When I asked a few people what they thought we should wear on that Thursday they all suggested our normal working clothes.

-

On the day Harry drove us round to Yew Tree Farm. Ted was waiting to swing open the gate for us. When we had parked, Ted told Harry to wait in the farmhouse and he would find him something to do in a bit. He guided me towards the barn. As I trod my way carefully across the yard in my high heels, Ted told me that the farm wasn't as big as it was in its heyday. Back then he said that they kept all sorts of livestock. Now he had a few ducks and chickens as well as some pigs and goats. The goats were mostly for milk production.

As we entered the barn, Ted explained to me that he wanted to show me a family heirloom. Right by the back wall there was something covered with an old brown cloth. When we got to it Ted pulled off the cover to reveal what looked like a big old horse saddle mounted on a low wooden frame. The whole thing looked really ancient. The leather on the saddle was worn shiny smooth with so many years of use. The frame was old but really sturdy. It appeared as if it could hold any amount of weight.

I asked him what it was.

He replied that in the family it had always just been called The Hoss.

I said that it must be at least two hundred years old.

He told me that if I leant over I could just see a date on the other side.

As I stretched to see, Ted gave me a gentle push so that I lost my balance and fell over the saddle. Before I knew it he had pulled a great old leather strap across the small of my back and had fastened it so that I couldn't get up again.

I cried, "What are you doing?"

"The poster said 'anything I wanted' for the day," he replied.

With that he undid the long zip that went down my skirt and pulled it off. He lowered my black silk drawers over my stockings and lifted one foot out to leave them round one ankle. Then he knocked my legs apart slightly and secured each one with two other ancient straps. He whipped round the front and did the same with my wrists.

I spoke to him gently, "Ted if it's just sex you want, wouldn't we be more comfortable in the house?"

He shook his head and explained, "No, I can only do it like this. It's a family tradition. My father could only do it out here and my grandfather could only do it on The Hoss too. I remember my old Granddad telling me that if you had a Hoss and a willing wife with a fat ass you could pay your workers less money and they would never leave you."

Now that I was in no position to go anywhere it was as if he finally had someone to talk about it to.

He went on, "It's always been the way with us that the farmer's wife gets strapped to The Hoss to supplement the farmhands wages."

I asked him what the women thought about this.

"Well," he said, "Father always told me that if Mother didn't get strapped to The Hoss at least once a week she used to get really grumpy. In the old days there always used to be a lot more farm workers and the farmer's wife was alway pleased to do her bit to help out.

"My old Grandfather told me that on the day after Christmas every year his father used to put on what Grandfather called 'An Unnatural Entertainment' for all the local farmers which involved Grandfather's mother being strapped to The Hoss but he never told me what actually went on in it.

"Grandfather said once that his mother told his young wife that she always looked forward to 'The Entertainment'. She said that it was the old country way and some sort of Pagan Fertility Rite. Her opinion was that on that day she got her best fucks of the year. But when Grandfather's wife saw the old lady's performance for the first time she said that she would never ever be able to take that sort of thing but she was happy to do her bit with the farmhands. So that's the way it's been ever since."

He continued, "It was her that had the globe added."

I asked, "What's the globe?"

Ted told me to look down. In front of The Hoss there was a very large wooden ball.

Ted explained, "It's quite clever, no matter where you stand you can't get close enough to put your dick in the woman's mouth when she's strapped to The Hoss.

She had it put in after some young scallywag tried it when she had been left strapped to The Hoss all day as was traditional on the feast day of Saint Wite. She told Grandfather's mother about it and she was so angry she had the young fellow horse whipped and dismissed. She said it just wasn't right and not even in 'The Entertainment ' had she ever done anything like that. There is only one place for any penis or any spunk she said."

Ted went on, "All the women in the family have maintained a strong sense of what's right and what's wrong. My mother always used to proudly say that no woman on this farm has ever sucked a cock."

Ted then went round to the front of The Hoss and undid the buttons on my blouse. He slid his hands inside my bra and flipped my tits forward so that they ended up hanging straight down.

As he walked towards the corner of the barn he said, "These days most of what's done in farming is mechanised."

He came back wheeling a small contraption, it had a red frame with a large glass bottle in it. There were four tubes coming from the top, each of which had a sort of cup arrangement on the end. There was also a small electric motor fixed to the frame.

As he pushed it nearer to The Hoss I said, "What the fuck's that?"

He told me that they use it for milking the goats.

"Well you won't get any milk from my udders," I said.

Ted laughed and said, "No, it's not for that."

He flicked a switch and the machine made a soft vacuum noise.

"I'm a bit busy today so I don't know when I'll get around to you. When I do, I don't want to have to warm you up first.

"This will sort you out," he explained.

With that he put the cups of two of the tubes onto each of my nipples. The gentle vacuum made them stay attached. He then clicked another switch and went to leave the barn. As he did so he wrote something on my ass with a thick felt tip marker. After a slight delay the machine went into a steady rhythm, left, right, left right. Sucking each nipple in turn. I must admit it wasn't in the slightest bit unpleasant.

I just stayed like that with my body strapped over The Hoss. After about ten minutes I realised what Ted meant about warming me up. The action of the goat milker was setting up a hot-line from my nipples and my clitoris. My fanny was getting more and more moist. I was rather hoping that Ted wouldn't be too long in coming to claim his prize. I even thought that I could let Harry have a go afterward. The saddle of The Hoss was so comfortable that I couldn't help thinking of the generations of farmers' wives who had been strapped to it. If they could do their bit to service dozens of agricultural labourers every week, surely I could let a nice old farmer have his way with my fanny.

"Mind you," I pondered, "it's quite clever of all those wives to come up with traditions that made them look like they were helping the farm when in reality most of them were just dirty bitches."

It wasn't long before I could hear something behind me.

"Good," I thought, "it must be Ted."

I was aware of a pair of hands being placed on my corset and then a stiff cock entering my wet slit. He wasn't hanging about. He set up a steady pace which he kept up for quite awhile. I thought that the old boy had some stamina. Eventually, he shuddered, clutched the old leather strap, and sent quite a full load of cum to mix with my juices.

As he pulled out, I said, "Right, you can let me loose now, Ted."

He didn't say a word as he left the barn.

I thought, "The crafty old bugger's going to come back for another portion later. That means I'm going to be stuck for ages while he recovers."

Within minutes there was a pair of rough hands on my hips.

"Ted's got his strength back quickly," I thought.

As a penis thrust into my snatch I knew instantly that this wasn't Ted. This one was a completely different shape. It had much more of a bend in it and it was exploring a lot of places that Ted had missed. The effect was amazing.

It suddenly dawned on me that maybe neither of these blokes was Ted. What was going on? I'm sure Ted said that he worked alone. Harry? No, I know Harry's work and these two weren't down to his standard. The sucking of the goat milker and the attention of the bent dick made me give up caring about the whos and whys. I just let myself get lost in the moment.

Thankfully, after number two had had his use of me, I was left to rest for quite a long time. I've never been one for nostalgia but I started to wonder if I would have liked the job of a Victorian Semen Receptacle like Ted's Great-grandmother. Would it be better to be strapped down once a week for a busy pay-day or just left on The Hoss for the use of anyone who passed by. And what on earth could have gone on in her Christmas Special that made perverts come from miles around to see it. Still, as long as she enjoyed it, who am I to judge?

-

I was brought round by another sneeky fucker who had crept up behind me. He was in and out before I had time to decide if I liked it. After that there was a steady stream of takers (with varying degrees of expertise).

Then there was quite a long lull. A little bit of exhaustion set in and I must have drifted off to sleep. When I awoke I was aware of heavy rain on the barn roof and of the fact that the constant suck suck of the goat milker was making my nipples move closer to that fine line between pleasure and pain.

Subconsciously, while I was dozing I remembered something that a really old lady, called Alice, in the village had told me once about Ted's parents. Evidently, during WWII Ted's father wouldn't let any Land Army Girls near the farm. Instead he would drive his truck up to the Italian Prisoner of War Camp and pick four of the POW's and bring them back to work on the farm for the day. It was a fairly normal arrangement.

The Italians weren't famous for trying to escape and the farmer was required to see that they were well looked after. What was a little unusual was the fact that Ted's Dad always insisted on having four completely different ones everyday. He used to say that this was to ensure that they all got a share of what was on offer: in the way of food and other perks. It took me back to what Ted was saying about his Mother getting grumpy if she wasn't strapped to The Hoss regularly.

Anyway, I was pulled out of my daydream by the sound of wet boots stamping across the barn floor. No surprise this time. What was a surprise was the two hard strokes of what felt like old fashioned thin school cane. Jesus, that hurt! I heard the cane hit the floor and I immediately had an absolutely massive penis slipped into my gash. Not only was it long and thick but it had a set of bollocks on it that would have made Farmer Norman's Prize Bull jealous. The owner had both hands gripping fistfulls of my corset and he was going at it like a steam train. I probably would have enjoyed it but for the two burning stripes across my poor bum. Everytime his nuts crashed against my clit so the pleasure was cancelled out by his stomach causing ripples to roll up and down my slightly plump rump reigniting the pain of the cane strokes. But I guess he wasn't too worried if I was enjoying it or not. He just went on and on and on. When he reached his climax it was like having a fire extinguisher directed up my twat but a lot warmer.

As he pulled himself out of me he sort of grunted, "Good."

It must have been the landlady in me but I replied, "Thank you very much."

I could have kicked myself. After he stamped out of the barn I just went limp.

Then what felt like an age later I saw Ted out of the corner of my eye. He came in from the side and switched off the goat milker. The cups just dropped off my sore nipples. He stretched forward over the globe and kissed me gently on the forehead.

"Sorry, I meant to get here earlier."

He laughed and said he knew it was just past 4 o'clock but was he too late to collect his prize?

I told him to piss right off.

After deftly releasing my straps he helped me down off The Hoss. I thought that I wouldn't be able to walk for weeks but its saddle had held me so gently that I was able to get to a chair just outside the barn door with no problem. My knickers were still around one ankle. Ted sat beside me. I looked down at my still exposed nipples. They were about an inch long and sore as fuck.

I said, "Jesus, Ted look at them. You could hang your hat on them if they weren't throbbing so bloody much."

He said not to worry they would probably shrink back a bit later. He handed me a tube of some sort of ointment.

I said, "What's that for?"

"I put it on the goats teats when they get sore," he replied.

"Perhaps I should have turned the vacuum down on the milker," Ted added.

Now he tells me!

"Anyway," I asked him, "who were all those men?

"I thought you worked alone."

He said, "That's farming for you, you don't see anyone for months and then you get visitors all day when you're busy. I didn't know who most of them were myself."

Ted thanked me for today, even though he didn't get a turn. It was great to see The Old Hoss used again. It brought back some happy memories. His wife liked to keep up the old ways. She really loved The Hoss. On paydays sometimes she would get so excited that she would cum as soon as he tightened the straps round her ankles.

He had a bit of a tear in his eye as he said that they had to let the last four farmhands go fifteen years ago. That's when his wife answered an advert in the paper for a job as a cook on a cattle station in Australia looking after the needs of 20 stockmen.

Ted turned to a little table that was next to his chair and picked a small white enamel bowl, turned back and placed it between my feet. In it was warm water that had some herbs floating about. There was also a piece of natural sponge.

"My granny's recipe, my mother and my wife swore by it."

I squatted over it and started to clean the dry spunk from around my, formally, private parts.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" asked Ted.

"I never ever ever drink coffee," I replied.

"Tea then," he said.

I just shook my head as I put my tits gently back into my bra. Hoping that the nipples would stay inside the half-cups for once.

As I buttoned up my blouse I thought, "They won't be needing a work over for a while."

I walked slowly back to where we had left the car. Harry was sitting behind the wheel. I carefully got into the passenger seat.

"So, what have they had you doing all day?" I growled at him.

I hoped he was going to say shovelling manure.

Harry started to get a bit upset. He said that it had been horrendous. Ted had taken him up to the hay-loft and made him strip naked. He then tied him to a post with his hands behind his back. From there he had a perfect view of his poor wife being abused by lots of strangers. He said that he felt so guilty because he knew it was wrong for him to get an erection every time she was humiliated but he just couldn't help it. Each time they stopped it eventually went down but as soon as they started again his hard-on would return. He couldn't touch it so it was just there throbbing painfully through each one of my ordeals. He said it was complete torture for him and that I didn't understand what he'd been through.

I said, "Just take me home."

When we got back to the pub I told Harry that I wouldn't be down in the bar that night and that he would just have to manage on his own. I went upstairs to run myself a bath. As I was undressing I remembered that Ted had written something across my ass. I couldn't quite twist around enough to read it in the mirror so I put my mobile phone on the dressing table in video mode. I bent over to get my bum into full frame.

When I played it back I could see my red and gaping snatch as well as the two dark pink cane lines. Ted had drawn an arrow down to my little brown starfish of a bum hole and written over my white ass DEFINITELY NO ENTRY. How sweet that he had remembered. After 'School Cane Man' had finished with me I was a bit worried. I thought if anyone else had come in for a fuck I would have been buggered (literally).