Investigating a series of mysterious break-ins, Jim is beaten up by the karate skills and powerful thighs of an upper-class horsewoman
SPOILER: Jim becomes a private detective and is hired by Sir Humphrey Smthye-Jones to investigate a series of break-ins at Bristlingdown Manor dating back over 100 years. Scouting the boundary of the estate, Jim encounters an arrogant upper-class horse rider, Lady Helen Windthorpe, who beats him up with her karate skills and forces him to worship her using her powerful thighs
Lady Helen Windthorpe was originally inspired by ‘The Mistress’ by Chris Achilleos.
The following story contains descriptions of sex and violence. If you are offended by this or if you are under the legal age of consent in your country do not read on.
(c)JIM P 1995
I still had not found a full time job after being made redundant after 15 years as a software designer. I had even relocated house 3 times because of the firm, no wonder my kids Bobby and Jackie were screwed up. I was even more pissed off when I found that no-one would give you a full time job if you are over 35. Many of my former colleagues resorted to contract programming since companies would recruit these on short term contracts since they were cheaper to employ than full time staff. Many left my former company one Friday to re-appear Monday morning as a contractor on the same job. I refused to bow to this sort of exploitation and vowed to find something different.
I had a spell as a contract camera operator, based on earlier experience as a trainee. However, I screwed up any chance of renewing my contract after I drunkenly tried to assault one of the female presenters (JIMP#2).
I was feeling so down that despite my vow never to get drunk again I became a frequent visitor to my local. It was during one of these visits, that I met an old man who used to work at my company 15 years ago before he was laid off. He told me that he had a small private detective agency, that he wanted to retire and that I could take it over if I was interested. I thought about this for a few days before finally deciding to take the chance at a new career.
The clients tended to be men or women who thought their partners were being unfaithful and involved following the suspect around trying to photograph them in compromising positions. There were also a few cases of investigating corrupt councillors which didn’t make me too popular with the local council. After a while this began to get boring and I wondered whether I had made a serious mistake.
Then one day I was sitting in the small office I had rented over a newsagents when in walked a big brute of a man in a business suit and dark glasses. If this wasn’t Britain but America I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he had wore a gun. I was worried, perhaps he was sent by some offended councillor to sort me out. Nervously, I asked ask whether I could help him, but he ignored me and glanced all around my office. He then left the office only to re-appear a few minutes following a well-dressed gentleman in an obviously expensive designer business suit. “Mr. Priest?” The man asked. “Jim Priest. Sit down and tell me how I may help you” I replied. The man took a seat and introduced himself “My name is Sir Humphrey Smthye-Jones. I wish to employ your services in the investigation of a rather worrying matter”.
I offered him some coffee that he accepted and asked him to explain his problem. “Over a period of many years, there have been a number of strange occurrences at Bristlingdown Manor”, he explained, “There have been several break-ins with plenty of mess being made but nothing was ever taken. Then several of my domestics were caught rummaging through my possessions”. “You should have called in the police” I told him. “I did but as nothing had been taken they were not interested” he replied. “Perhaps someone is looking for certain items of value, perhaps with a buyer in mind” I told him. “I have plenty of priceless items, but none of them were touched. No, I think there is more to this than that. I have looked back through the family archives and have found similar incidents dating back to over 100 years ago” he tells me.
Starting to become intrigued, I ask “Is there any particular item of special importance that some collector may want bad enough to resort to stealing it?”.
“Mr. Priest, my family has collected many things throughout our long history. Any one of them could be sort after” he replies. “But has there been any pattern in what these people have been searching for?. Are they really related or could it be coincidence?” I enquire. “I doubt if it is coincidence. I think you should come to Bristlingdown and look at the archives yourself” he tells me. Since this sounds a whole lot better than tracking unfaithful partners, I agree to take on the case and make arrangements to visit Sir Humphrey’s home.
Being the school holidays, my spouse, Sue, persuades me to take our son, Bobby, along with me to keep him out of trouble at home. He is 14 now and seems to be mixing with the wrong crowd. I was amazed at how large the Bristlingdown estate is when after driving alongside a high wall for several miles we found out that it was the perimeter of the estate. We were stopped at tall iron gates at the entrance of the estate by a private security guard who asked who we were. After consulting his notes to see that we had been invited, he allowed us through.
We drove down the driveway to the house that was at least a mile in length. The estate was amazing, acres and acres of parkland and woods with deer and horses roaming freely. “Dad, look at those walls. Is like a bloody fortress innit?” Bobby exclaimed as we neared the house. He was right, the central part of the huge estate had been walled off. We were stopped at a huge iron gate in the wall by another security guard who showed us where to park the car in an area set aside outside walled area. We were then escorted through the gates and led up to the impressive manor house itself. We were met at the door by the bodyguard that was in my office the other day and he led us through the house to meet Sir Humphrey in his study. I remarked about the wall around the house and the security. “My great grandfather built the inner wall in the 1800’s upon return from his expeditions to India. He was an explorer you know. He was obsessed with making the manor secure and it was he who introduced the guards, secured the perimeter around the estate and walled off the central area around the house and its gardens”. “Sounds as if the old man had something to hide or something of great value that was worth the security” I remarked. “The security has been stepped up over the years particularly after a break in, but somehow despite it all they still get it, whoever they are.” He replied. “And what was your great grandfather protecting?” I asked. “I honestly have no idea, Mr. Priest. Maybe that is something you should find out for me” he replied.
Sir Humphrey led us to his library and showed us the family archives. These were a large collection of dusty diaries that I immediately sat down and started working my way through carefully making notes as I did so. After about an hour and a half, Bobby became bored of helping. Needing a bit of fresh air myself, I drove him to the perimeter of the grounds and got him to start checking to see it was really as secure as Sir Humphrey claimed. I parked the car and walked with him along a bridleway that ran outside of the grounds down one side of the perimeter checking for breaches in the walls. I walked with Bobby for about half an hour and then I left him to return to my car.
As I was walking back, I could hear the sound of hoofs approaching from the direction I was walking. Within a minute, I saw a woman on horseback approaching. She reigned in the horse in front of me blocking my path. She was wearing a red riding jacket that seemed to contour a very shapely body. A black riding helmet sat on top of an attractive oval face with a slender nose, a generous mouth with lips that were a bit on the thick side. Her eyes were hidden behind a large pair of dark sunglasses with round lenses. She looked to be in her early or mid-thirties. Her long legs were covered with tight fawn coloured jodhpurs over which she wore high heeled soft black leather boots that came up over her knees and which were tied below her knees by brown leather straps. “What are staring at?” She said in a plum upper case voice “This is a private bridleway. Get off it immediately”. “Actually the sign by the road says this is a public bridleway” I replied, not caring for her snooty attitude.
She got down from her horse and tied it to a tree. She then removed her riding hat allowing long light brown hair to cascade down her back. She then removed her riding jacket to reveal a thin black halter, strapped around her neck, her large braless breasts plainly visible through the flimsy material with her nipples jutting through the fabric. She must have been at least a 42DD, the sight of virtually naked melons aroused my manhood. Around her neck she wore a necklace, her shoulders were bare and slender and most of her arms were covered by long black leather gloves that came to a few inches below her shoulders. Around her waist was a black beaded belt. She walked towards me with her riding crop held ominously in her hands. She stopped in front of me, legs astride with one hand on her hip and the other by her side holding a riding crop. She was a magnificent sight especially given that she was much taller than me, probably 6’5″ compared with my 5’8″. “On your knees common scum and worship me” she spat.
So she is into S&M is she, whips & chains and all that stuff. Well that does nothing for me I like women who can really dominate a man without the need for weapons or toys. “I told you to get on your knees and pay homage to the superior classes” she told me. This really pissed me off. Anger flushing my face I shouted “Go screw yourself Miss high and mighty”.
She raised the crop and swung it towards my head. I moved out the way and it barely missed my head. She swung it again, but I managed to grab her hand and pulled the crop away with my other hand. “Not so tough now you have lost your little toy, are you?” I sneered still holding her gloved hand. She smiled and swiftly brought her other hand down on the side of my neck in a chop. Caught out by the pain lancing in my neck, I let go of her hand. “Haiii!” she yells and I see one of her long legs kick up high, catching me under my chin. My head is snapped back brutally and my teeth are knocked together with a loud clunk. Slightly dazed I she her turn slightly to one side, lift a leg bent at the knee and snap it straight whilst giving another yell, the top of her foot smashing into my face. I feel blood spurt from my nose and I clutch my aching face.
The pain in my face is soon forgotten as I feel a hard kick in the pit of my stomach driving my breath out of my body with a loud whoosh. Instinctively my upper body folds forward in response to the blow, only for her to yell again whilst unleashing a vicious kick at my head as though it were a football. My head snaps back so hard, I see flashes of colour and stagger backwards a few steps.
I shake my head to clear my vision but I have hardly recovered when I see her step forward, spin and land the sole of her boot against the side of my neck. The blow knocks me sideways but I have hardly time to think before I feel the sole of her foot crushing my throat in another deadly kick. I stagger around coughing and spluttering, clutching my neck. “Haiiii!”she drops me with another high kick that nearly takes my head off and I hit the ground hard on my back.
I don’t know how long I lay on the ground, my back hurt from the fall, fazed and still coughing badly from the kick to my neck. Eventually I got my act together and looked up to see her standing over me laughing. “Now you see the natural superiority of the upper classes. Lick my boots slave” she demands. There is no way that I’m going to give in to a stuck up bitch like her. Seeing her crop on the ground I roll towards it and pick it up and get to my feet only to see her leg lash out, powering her foot deep into my belly. I bend double in winded agony and just about see a knee pump upwards to smash into my face. I felt as though I had been hit in the face with a hammer. I straightened up, clutching my bruised and bloody face. I saw her move towards me and in desperation I lashed out at her with her crop. She deflected the blow with one hand and started hacking at my arm with the other until I dropped the crop. I throw a punch at her face, I couldn’t see how she could avoid it. She blocks the blow with her arm and kicks me in the shin, which hurts like hell. “Haaii!” her fist punches into my sore stomach and I am winded once more, powerless to prevent the heel of her boot smashing hard into the side of my face. The blow rattles my brain and I see explosions of light and blackness. She then slammed her foot in my face with a reverse roundhouse kick so powerful that I am forced to stagger several steps backwards, my face burning in agony. Crouching to the ground she swings out one of her long legs, kicking my legs out from under me like a scythe. I land on my back heavily and for a moment I can only concentrate on the pain in my back.
“Had enough you common piece of slime?” I hear her sneer. Looking up, I see her standing by my head, legs astride, hands on her hips, laughing at me “Kiss my boots before I turn you into mincemeat”. Realising that there is no way I can cope with her karate, I reluctantly roll onto my stomach and start kissing the foot of her boot. “This is all your class is good for” she sneers. Her attitude still annoys me, I know I can’t fight her standing up because of her karate but she is quite a slender build that I bet I can wrestle her on the ground. I grab her ankles and yank them hard pulling her feet off the ground. She falls back heavily and quickly I climb upon her and try to pin her arms. It is like trying to ride a bucking bronco, I try to pin her but it is a battle. I strain with all my might and slowly her arms are forced to the ground. With my face so near hers, I can’t resist kissing her on her mouth. “Bastard” she spits at me and takes me completely by surprise by head butting me.
Dazed by the blow, she manages to roll me off her and delivers a chop to the side of my neck. I see her trying to get up and dispite my aches and pains I throw myself at her grabbing her neck with one arm around her throat. She struggles and then pistons her elbow back into my stomach. Whilst I am winded she turns around, breaking my hold and claps her hands on my ears. For a while I am stunned by the blow and fall to the ground clasping my ringing ears.
As the pain recedes I wearily get to my knees, suddenly she is behind me and locks my neck with her crop tight across my throat. “Stand up, you common bastard” she demands. With the crop choking me I have no choice and get to my feet. I decide to give her some of her own medicine and drive my elbow back hard towards her stomach. Sensing my motion, she tries to move out of the way but my elbow manages to give her a glancing blow. I hear her grunt in a very undignified manner, at the same time she drops the crop freeing me.
I grab her arm intending to twist it behind her back, but she reverses the hold, bending my arm upwards. She brings her other hand to my shoulder and forces me to bend forwards. I then see her knee drive upwards smashing into my stomach expelling the air from my body. At the same time I feel a hard chop on the back of my neck and my legs buckle from under me.
“Oh no you don’t” I hear her say “I will teach you for attacking me”. Still with my arm bent behind me as I lean forward she pulls me upright. She moves back a pace holding my arm out straight perpendicular to my shoulder, locked by her arm around my elbow. She pivots to one side “Haiii!” her legs lashes out burying her toe deep into my body. I crumple up and fall down on my hands and knees battered and beaten.
For a while I just lie there panting heavily regaining my breath. When I eventually look up, I see her feet in front of me. Despite my humiliation I feel a longing for this woman and genuinely want to worship her. I caress the soft leather of her boots with one hand while I start kissing it. I feel her slender ankles as I kiss her feet. I move my hands to her calves as I kiss her shins. The soft leather feels marvellous in my hands. I slowly work my way upwards, caressing and kissing her boots moving to her jodhpur covered legs. I am kissing the outside of her thighs when she demands “Kiss the inside of my legs, slave”. I start kissing the leather patches on the inside of her legs and move to her crotch and start nuzzling it.
Suddenly she clamps her legs shut trapping my neck between her thighs in a strong grip. I realise that I underestimated this woman, she looked so tall and slender and she is squeezing my neck so tight that I can hardly breathe. Instinctively my hands are on the outside of her thighs and through her tight jodhpurs I can feel a slight bulging of firm muscle. “I have strong legs from training horses” she tells me “I crush the resistance out of them like this”. I feel a mighty surge of power flow through her thighs crushing my neck blocking off all of the air. She holds firm for several seconds, my head is swimming and I feel faint. Before I can black out she relaxes the hold slightly. “I think it is about time you told me who you are” she says.
My throat is still constricted and I have trouble croaking “Priest, Jim Priest”. “Well, Priest Jim Priest, what is your purpose wandering around here” she asks.
I suddenly realise that this may not be the chance encounter it first seemed, maybe she is involved somehow in the break ins. Obviously, I paused too long thinking about my reply because she clamped down hard with her thighs and rose on tip toe to apply more power. My throat is crushed in her leggy embrace, my head is in whirl and I feel myself slipping towards blackness. Just when I think I am about to pass out, she relaxes the hold. “Answer me or next time I will break your neck” she tells. I am pretty certain her legs are not strong enough to do that, but I know she could squeeze me unconscious. “Sir Humphrey … looking at security … to stop break ins” I struggle to say, my throat still held tight in her legs.
Satisfied with my response she lets go of my neck completely. Propping myself with my hands against her legs I rest to regain the use of my throat. I run my hands up and down her jodhpurs. In my mind I replayed being crushed between her strong thighs, and I felt my cock stiffen.”I like women with strong legs, I really love to see yours” I tell her truthfully. “Remove my boots then slave” she demands. With hands shaking with anticipation I remove her boots. She then climbed out of her jodhpurs and removed her blouse. She was wearing absolutely nothing at all under those clothes except for her long gloves and a small necklace of a black ivory image of a large breasted Indian goddess with many arms & legs.
I move towards her and cup her large boobs in my hands and start kissing them passionately, my rod stiff with desire. Her stomach is firm and flat and I kiss it several times. I move on down to the objects of my desire. I am not disappointed. Her legs are long and at first glance a bit thick around the thighs. Another look and feel soon confirms strong outer thigh muscles that had crushed my neck so successfully. She raises herself on tiptoe to emphasis the muscularity of her legs. Her outer thighs thicken into unmistakable slabs of strong feminine muscle. I am now really aching for her and I kiss and caress her thighs with fervour. I notice her calves, long and full shaped with well-defined diamonds of muscle. I kiss her calves worshipping their sexiness and strength. I kiss the shapely muscle at the back of her legs and move around to her thighs. Once again I worship her strong thighs, getting so turned on that I am almost about to cream myself when she stops me and tells me to remove my trousers and pants.
In eager anticipation, I strip off and lay on a small area of grass at the side of the bridleway. She gets on top of me and rolls on a condom onto my stiff prick. She mounts me and starts to ride, fully in control and controlling the tempo. She slid back and forth slowly at first, picking up speed as her moans became louder and faster. I managed to lean forward to kiss and caress her boobs, but after a while this became tiring and I lay back to enjoy her movements. She rode me for what seemed to be ages slowly working herself into a frenzy. I could not keep up, I came long before she reached her peak, but she ignored this riding on into her climax. Finally she collapsed on top of me and lay in my arms quietly after her exertions. As she lay there I kissed her gently and asked her name. “Lady Helen Windthorpe” she responded softly.
After a while she got up to get dressed. I started to follow but she leapt into the air and delivered a punishing kick to my face, whilst yelling “Haiii!”. I dropped to the ground on my knees shaking my head which was reeling after the blow. Ensnaring my neck in her thighs she looked into my eyes and told me “You will get up when I tell you and not before. Understand?”. With that she gave a squeeze with her strong legs and I croaked an agreement. She released me and I sat on the ground watching her put back on her jodhpurs and boots as my head cleared. She turned away from me to put on her blouse and jacket. Quietly I stood up and approached her, intending to grab her from behind and teach her a lesson. I was almost upon her when she turned slightly and kicked backwards driving her foot deep into my middle. The force of the kick was so powerful that I felt my feet leave the ground and my body slammed heavily into the ground. She followed up with a stomp to my face and the world went black.
Darkness gave way to a light so bright that it hurt my eyes, silence gave way to loud rustling. As my eyes regained focus I saw Bobby kneeling over me. “Dad, are you all right?. What happened?” He asked. “Nothing, I’m okay” I replied. “Nothing!. Come on, you’re naked, your face is a bloody mess and you were knocked out” he shouted at me. “Muggers” I replied. “Since when do muggers strip people naked and leave their wallets intact” he replied. I realised that I could not save myself from further embarrassment and had to tell Bobby the truth in case he encountered the rich bitch, well maybe not all of the truth!.
Featured painting by Chris Achilleos Copyright does NOT belong to us.