The very fashionable Lady Jane Wentworth was not the type of female that beat around the bush. Although she had been in the bush country of Africa many times and was quite comfortable hiding in the tall grass watching the mating habits of various wild animals. Lady Jane never took a gun with her to her voyeuristic adventures. She merely photographed the society of the wild and dangerous for her extensive private collection. She was most direct and scrupulously honest in both her verbal communications and her external attitudes with both friends and acquaintances. Sometimes deep inside her sheltered core, she was conflicted because of her shattered persona that constantly pulled her back and forth between the comforting light and the excitement of dark hidden desires left frustratingly unspoken.
A good example of one of her weaknesses was the way in which she had allowed the delivery postman to use a rather heavy black belt to punish her posterior when she slowed him down on his appointed rounds. She never hesitated to hand the belt over to him for his corrections and generally assumed the position with little or no prompting whatsoever. It gave valid insight to her submissive nature generally disguised by her absolute directness.
She even counted accurately and with a firm voice at the handsome postman's instigation thanking him profusely for his attention to duty. The loss of her father at an early age had precluded her beloved forebear continuance of the much needed corrections and her dithering mother was far too busy with demanding tea arrangements to be in the least concerned about such matters.
Jane considered herself to be most fortunate to have a personal postman of mature years. His name was Jeffrey Summers and he had been doing this same route ever since returning from the war over two decades ago. His marriage had been a complete bust and his pretty wife had taken great pleasure in cuckolding her soon-to-be former husband with various lorry drivers and unemployed wastrels with humiliating lack of discretion. The last straw had been the pair of black bin collectors who had made a sandwich of the succulent Samantha in full view of the back-yard neighbors.
Jeffrey was sorely tempted to beat his wife into sullen submission and good behavior but he was far too much in love with her to be so cruel. He just smiled and told it was time for them to both "move on" and gave her most of the money he had saved up during their thrifty life together. She was last seen getting into a red Jaguar with a seedy-looking type with a ridiculous ascot. There was some degree of speculation as to the identity of the man but Jeffrey was not in the least bit interested.
The first time the subject of Jane's program of leather belt corrections arose, it was at Jane's insistence after she shamelessly delayed the work-obsessed Postman with her silly questions and flirty behavior. She handed it to him and took up position over the hallway calling-card table with nimble agility and even lifted her well-pressed skirt to offer a better target.
"I have been very bad in delaying you, Mister Postman, and you must give me a fair dozen to make me more respectful of your duties."
Initially, Jeffrey was reluctant to humiliate the young girl in such a manner but he saw the need for it and even pulled down her pretty white lace knickers to give it "on the bare" as she was a full grown adult woman and it would be more appropriate in the circumstances. Cook and one of the serving girls were watching from behind the kitchen door with great delight because of the sting of Jane's sarcastic comments on the quality of their work efforts. In all honesty, they both had erotic thoughts about the fine-figured postman who was in trim shape for a man of his age and position.
After several sessions of such corrections, Jane had encouraged Jeffrey to remove her to the untended Guard station at the front entrance for the spirited spanking ministrations. With complete submission on her part, he quickly added a soothing application of salve to all throbbing areas and if she was sufficiently lubricated, he would attend to an insertion of his long-deprived shaft into her nether region and required her to recite either a poem she had memorized or say a prayer with proper diction and inflection of tone to hasten his loosing of seed.
On one such occasion, Jeffrey was enthusiastically pounding Jane's pretty bottom when she complained about his metal buttons. Since he was the utmost gentleman in such affairs, he thoughtfully removed his lower garments and opened his shirt to give the girl the benefit of a fabric-free copulation.
It was at that time Jane noticed the heavily-muscled postman was covered with a thick mat of hair all over his body. It was black like shadows on a moonless night. The stuff was so profuse that below the waist the only bit of visible skin was the long, thick cock that stuck out like a flagpole waiting to be hung and put to use. When he mounted her now bare back, she could feel the tickling sensation all over her skin and she closed her eyes and visualized a great frenzied gorilla of the most vicious category having his unstoppable way with her willing flesh.
The soft-hearted postman called Jeffrey was inhaling the fragrant scent of Lady Jane's pretty pussy and thinking what an absolute treasure he had discovered hidden in this isolated rural estate. He tried his best to be modest in his resolute pounding but the squirming girl demanded he take her with no thought to her sensitivity or dignity. He followed her wishes to mollify her but he secretly only wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her wet red lips.
.... There is more of this story ...