Turning the Tables at the Stables: A Futa (Phallogyne) Flasher

Gilly was in the stables rubbing down a mare when she heard slow footsteps stopping behind her.  She stood up straight and turned to see a buxom, narrow-waisted woman tightly clad in proper riding gear: white blouse, black tie, helmet, and faun-coloured jods that were wrapped around a pair of large, lazy looking hips.  She had her leather-gloved hands on those hips and her head was cocked to one side, suggestively.

No gaff for this girl, not on your life: for her jods had a gigantic bulge between the legs where the “sailor flap” buttoned up tightly with eight big, black buttons.  A girl ought to know better than that, thought Gilly, she ought to keep such a thing cinched back between her legs where it won’t provoke people.

“I’ve heard,” the woman said to Gilly in a low, confident voice with the poshest of English accents, “that you’re the one to come to if a girl wants to ride.”  It was pretty clear she wasn’t talking about horses.

The nerve of those cowgirls down the hill, thought Gilly, always spreading lewd rumours about me just because of that one time they caught me all tied up by that adorable little riding instructor, and damn the insolence of this woman in assuming those rumours are true.  These rich bitches and their posh outfits and their fantasies about stable girls!  And those fucking cowgirls are probably laughing about this right now, wondering how I’ll handle it.

I’ll handle it, alright, she thought.

Gilly blinked at the woman and paused.  She smiled, batted her eyes a little.  “You want to ride?”

The woman took another step towards her, held out a finger and gently stroked Gilly under the chin as if she was offering an apple to a horse she liked.  “I certainly do,” she said.

Damn this presumptuous bitch, thought Gilly, smiling coyly.  “Well, right out back of the stables I should think,” she gestured for the woman to go ahead of her.

The woman smiled at her with wry confidence, turned, and went towards the door where Gilly was gesturing.  Walking behind the woman, Gilly noticed what a big, round, firm ass she had, which she had no problem sashaying back and forth with the utmost pride.

Without missing a step, Gilly silently grabbed a short length of rope from a peg on the wall as she passed by it.  Then, when both women had just stepped through the door to the yard outside, Gilly wound up and gave that complacent fat ass a tremendous whack with her bare hand.

“OWW!” cried the shocked woman, reaching back with both hands.  In a trice, Phoebe had her wrists bound together.

“So you like to ride horses, do you?  Well, I like to milk cows.  And I haven’t squeezed a nice fat teat in the longest time.”  Gilly pushed the protesting woman up against the wall of the outside of the stables and calmly popped the buttons of her bulging flap, one by one.

A gigantic cock flopped out swaying, dangling, with a great pair of plums to match.

“Hey,” cried the woman, spluttering in rage and confusion, “I’m in charge here, I always take the lead, you…”

“Shut the fuck up, wiener bitch,” said Gilly, and pressed her lips to those of the woman, pushed a tongue deep down her throat.  She seized the dangling cock and squeezed it hard, pulling on it.

Instantly, the cock began to stiffen.  The woman groaned helplessly into Gilly’s mouth as she continued to kiss and tongue her laughingly.  Then Gilly broke off the kiss, still squeezing and pulling the helpless, bucking cock.  The woman’s large breasts heaved up and down under the crisp, white shirt.

“How dare you!” she groaned, obviously deeply ashamed and delighted at having been taken prisoner like this, “no one has ever dared to …” Gilly silenced her with a smack on the face.  It felt to Gilly then like the woman was about to come.  There was nothing, thought Gilly, like a true submissive who had mistaken herself for a dominant.

“Listen up, sausage girl,” said Gilly, with a voracious smile, “I don’t much appreciate your presumption in just walking up to a girl and thinking she’s going to let you ride her just because you wave your fat dick in her face.  Do you understand me, dairy cow?”

“Dairy cow?  How dare…”

Gilly smacked her again.  “Do you understand me, cow?”

“Y-yes, I think so…”  The woman was positively ecstatic with humiliation.

“You are going to give me milk now, and you’re going to do it because I’m telling you.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Better.  Any objections?”

“No ma’am.”

Gilly bent over and swallowed the cock, big as it was, whole.  She sucked it mercilessly, squeezed it with her lips and tongue, until the poor woman bellowed and squirted, shooting a hot stream of cum down Gilly’s laughing throat, blubbering in gratitude all the while.

When Gilly was done with the woman she buttoned her fat dick up for her in her breeches again, gave her a tender kiss, but left her hands tied behind her back.  “It’ll give those cowgirls down the hill something to think about.”

“But how in the world will I explain this to them?  What will I say to…”

“You can tell them anything you like, sugar, they’ll know you’re my filly now, and they won’t lay a hand on you except to untie.  Now you get on down there, I have work to do.”  Then Gilly stepped towards her with a menacing smile, and put a hand lightly on the woman’s bulge.  “And if you don’t step lively, I’ll unbutton your horse dick again and then even I can’t answer for how they’ll handle you.”

“Blawwk!” expostulated the woman in some alarm, and went trotting swiftly down the hill, gorgeous big ass and all.

She was followed by Gilly’s laughter.