Over the Gate
Carol both loved and hated being on public display.
She knew that anyone coming down the country lane where she was innocently leaning over the gate would take their time passing her, taking in and fantasising over her legs and thighs and hoping for just a little movement that might display more of her shapely bottom. Indeed, sometimes Carol would oblige, apparently unaware of her actions.
But she had to stay there for 45 minutes. That was her husband’s rule. 45 minutes of humiliation before she was led back to the house and put over the stout kitchen table for him to finish her correction with his belt.
So there she stayed, hating the idea that people she knew would see her but somehow relishing the effect she knew her display would be having on the men who passed by.
Carol both loved and hated being on public display.
She knew that anyone coming down the country lane where she was innocently leaning over the gate would take their time passing her, taking in and fantasising over her legs and thighs and hoping for just a little movement that might display more of her shapely bottom. Indeed, sometimes Carol would oblige, apparently unaware of her actions.
But she had to stay there for 45 minutes. That was her husband’s rule. 45 minutes of humiliation before she was led back to the house and put over the stout kitchen table for him to finish her correction with his belt.
So there she stayed, hating the idea that people she knew would see her but somehow relishing the effect she knew her display would be having on the men who passed by.