The stable was gloomy, and the dense aroma of horses pervaded the air. The groom’s erect member was both long and broad, and Mr Collins found himself gagging as the man thrust it vigorously down his throat. He grasped the other man’s firm thigh to steady himself with one hand, while with the other he rubbed at his own diminutive organ, which hung limply from the front of his breeches. For some reason he always found it hard to maintain an erection, even when enjoying another man’s member in his mouth.

With a grunt the groom withdrew his manhood from Mr Collins’s throat and pumped at it energetically, before spending a large quantity of thick white ejaculate all over the clergyman’s face. As he felt the emission run down his cheeks and drip onto his garments, Mr Collins finally reached his own climax, and a few feeble spurts of thin liquid dribbled out of his member onto his leg.

Without a word, the groom tucked his wilting manhood back into his breeches and held out his hand. Mr Collins removed a banknote from his pocket and handed it to the man, who took it with a contemptuous sneer before turning his back. Mr Collins stood up, brushed the hay from his knees, and left the stable.

Once in the open air, he took out his handkerchief and wiped the groom’s emission from his face, then dabbed at his garments until the last vestiges of cream were removed. Satisfied that there were no remaining tell-tale droplets, he made his way towards the house. He was due with Lady Catherine at two o’clock, and she did not like to be kept waiting.

OoooOoooO

What Mr Collins had unfortunately failed to observe was that Lady Catherine had returned early from her morning ride and had seen the entire incident from the corner of the stables, at first with horror, then increasingly with anger. This was not the behaviour she expected from those to whom she extended her patronage, especially not members of the clergy. She slapped her thigh angrily with her horsewhip. Mr Collins would need to be taught a lesson.

OoooOoooO

Since she had graciously granted him the living of the parish of Hunsford, Lady Catherine de Bourgh had been generally satisfied with the conduct of Mr Collins. He was appropriately grateful for the great honour which she had bestowed upon him and missed no opportunity of voicing his appreciation in a gratifyingly servile manner. He had listened attentively when she had recently informed him that it was his duty as Rector to find a suitable wife, who could manage his household for him and assist him in the conduct of his duties.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” she had told him, “that a clergyman without a wife is liable to become the subject of gossip. And that is something which I refuse to countenance.”

Mr Collins had agreed with her eagerly and had initially set out on his quest for a wife with considerable confidence. He had almost immediately thought of his cousin in Hertfordshire, who had five unmarried daughters, one of whom would surely prove suitable. Regrettably, his suit had been unceremoniously rejected by the one he selected, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and he had been forced to retire to lick his wounds and think again.

Lady Catherine had not been impressed when he told her of his failure, and he was now forced to cast his net in a different direction. In the meantime, he achieved relief of some sort at the hands (or more accurately the mouth) of Lady Catherine’s groom, whose sexual services he procured for a small consideration on a regular basis.

OoooOoooO

Mr Collins was mildly puzzled to see his patroness still dressed in her riding habit when she admitted him to her presence in the drawing-room of Rosings, as she was normally more formally attired during their meetings. Perhaps unwisely, he failed to make the connection between this and the stables where he had recently been satisfying his unnatural desires.

“So, Mr Collins, I hope you have some better news about your hunt for a wife,” said his patroness sharply.

“I believe so, your Ladyship,” said Mr Collins obsequiously. “Although Miss Elizabeth Bennet unaccountably saw fit to turn down my generous offer, I believe that her friend, Miss Lucas, will be more amenable. Miss Lucas is the daughter of Sir William Lucas, a very respectable gentleman who also resides in Hertfordshire. While I do not believe her dowry will be great, she is a plain and sensible girl who was most appreciative when informed of your Ladyship’s generosity in granting me the living of Hunsford.”

“She seems suitable,” concurred Lady Catherine. “I suggest you proceed to immediately make a formal offer. I always felt that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was an unwise choice. Her outspokenness is not an attractive trait in one whose social position is by no means secure.”

Mr Collins smirked and gave a little bow. As heir presumptive of the Bennet family home of Longbourn, he was looking forward to taking possession in due course.

“Thank you, your Ladyship,” he said, and turned to go. But Lady Catherine raised her hand.

“Pray wait one moment. There is one further matter I would like to discuss with you,” she announced. You may have been wondering, Mr Collins, why it is that I am wearing my riding dress.”

“I thought perhaps that your ladyship was preparing to take some exercise once our meeting was over. I did not wish to detain you any longer.”

“On the contrary, I concluded my exercise shortly before this meeting. I had in fact come straight from the stables when our interview began.”

Mr Collins suddenly felt his heart sink into his boots, and he had to steady himself on the side-table to prevent him from collapsing onto the floor.

“I see from your expression that you know what I am talking about, Collins,” she hissed, suddenly allowing her anger to show. “Yes, I saw you with my groom in the stables. I saw what you and he were doing, and how your encounter ended. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m very sorry, your Ladyship,” stammered Mr Collins. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Is that your only excuse, you repulsive toad? You, Collins, are a filthy beast,” snarled his patroness, slamming her riding-whip down on the table so hard that Mr Collins almost soiled his breeches. “I fear I made a dreadful mistake in appointing you as Rector of Hunsford. Heaven alone knows how many people you have already corrupted with your disgusting habits. Have you not heard of the punishment Our Lord meted out to Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Her voice rose to a crescendo. Mr Collins fell on his knees, whimpering.

“Please forgive me, your Ladyship…” he snivelled.

“Oh, do stop grovelling, you pathetic creature. You need to be taught a lesson, Collins, a serious lesson. The Lord will doubtless punish you in the next life. I, however, intend to do so in this one.”

Lady Catherine strode over to the door and turned the key. Then, slapping the riding-whip repeatedly against her thigh, she walked over to Mr Collins, who was still sniffling on the floor.

“Take your clothes off, Collins,” she said calmly, as if instructing her maid to remove the tea tray.

“I, I beg your pardon, your Ladyship. Surely you don’t mean…”

“Of course I mean it, you nincompoop. Would I say it if I didn’t mean it? Take off your clothes. All of them.”

Mr Collins stood up and slowly removed his clerical garments, watched by Lady Catherine, whip twitching in her hand. At last he stood naked in front of her, his hands cupped over his diminutive genitals. Lady Catherine took the riding-whip and cracked it hard against his bare thigh, leaving a long red weal.

“Take your hands away, let me see you,” she snapped.

Mr Collins obliged. His small member dangled feebly between his legs.

Lady Catherine laughed.

“Is that all you have to offer?” she snorted. “Poor Miss Lucas. If that to be your contribution to her connubial happiness, maybe she too will have to seek satisfaction from my groom.”

She sighed sarcastically.

“Nevertheless, that is her problem. Now go to the desk, Collins, and bend over.”

Mr Collins shuffled over to the writing desk and did as he was ordered, leaning over and presenting Lady Catherine with a view of his pale posterior. Lady Catherine raised her riding-whip and brought it down with a sharp “thwack” on his cheeks, at which he let out a strangulated yelp, like a frustrated foxhound which has just observed its pray escape down a hole.

Thwack, thwack, thwack went the whip on Mr Collins’s rump. Soon there were red welts all over it, some of which were starting to seep blood.

“I should have done this to you long ago,” panted Lady Catherine. “Maybe this will persuade you to keep away from my servants with your filthy habits.”

Mr Collins, however, found himself getting a perverse pleasure from his punishment. Every time the whip descended on his posterior, he winced with the pain, but at the same time it was curiously enjoyable. He could even feel his small member becoming erect, and he began to worry that he might spontaneously spend his seed all over Lady Catherine’s carpet. The thought of how angry she would be only increased his arousal. He reached down and began to play with himself.

Lady Catherine observed his hand rubbing at his member.

“Dammit, Collins, what are you doing?” she exploded, stopping her thrashing for a moment. “I do believe you’re enjoying this. Is there no end to your depravity?”

“I’m sorry, your Ladyship,” whimpered Mr Collins, “but I don’t seem to be able to help myself.”

“I can see a simple thrashing will not be enough,” said Lady Catherine. “Get down on the floor, on your knees. And keep both hands on the floor!”

As Mr Collins did as he was instructed, whimpering slightly at the pain in his red-raw buttocks, Lady Catherine went to the desk and picked up an object which looked like a horse’s tail attached to a wooden handle.

“My late husband had this made from the tail of Fanny, his favourite mare,” she explained. “Poor Fanny expired following a fall during the Boxing-Day hunt some years ago, but Sir Lewis wished for a memento. It is intended for use as a fly-switch, but I think it looks much better as a tail. Do you not agree, Collins?”

“Why, yes, your Ladyship, but …”

“Then let us see whether we can restore it to its former glory,” said Lady Catherine, rubbing her hands up and down the shaft of the fly-switch. She walked round behind Mr Collins, and placed the metal tip of the handle, which was fortunately quite slender, against the entrance to his back passage. Then with one smooth movement, she pushed the handle deep up into Mr Collins’s behind.

Mr Collins let out a squeal of pain and surprise. While this was by no means the first object to invade his back passage, it was certainly the longest and most rigid. He could feel the hairs of Fanny’s tail dangling down and tickling against his thighs.

Lady Catherine let out an amused snort. “Fanny’s tail suits you very well,” she said. “I am sure if my groom were here now, he would know how to ride my new gelding. But as it is, I will have to do it myself.”

Throwing one of her legs over Mr Collins’s back, she settled herself onto him.

“Normally I prefer to ride side-saddle,” she observed, “but no matter. Come, Fanny, let us see you trot.”

She took up her whip and lashed at Mr Collins’s leg with it, which made him yelp again.

“You’re a horse, Collins, not a hound,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, “let me hear you neigh.”

Mr Collins, now thoroughly humiliated, let out a feeble whinnying sound, and began to shuffle on all fours around the drawing-room, with Lady Catherine on his back exhorting him to gallop faster, all the while lashing at his bare legs with her whip. The sensation of her firm thighs pressed against his body was curiously exhilarating, and he could also feel the handle of the fly-switch moving around inside his back passage.

Eventually, it all became too much for him, and he collapsed in a heap onto the carpet. Lady Catherine stood up and laughed derisively as he rolled over onto his back, snivelling pitifully. Then she laughed even more.

“Have you no, shame, Collins, look at yourself, your pathetic member is still hard,” she scoffed. It was true: between his legs, Mr Collins’s small manhood was standing up if not exactly proudly, at least larger than it had been for many years. If the truth were known, being ridden around the room by Lady Catherine had aroused Mr Collins considerably, and he felt that the smallest touch would cause him to lose control of himself.

Lady Catherine put her riding-boot on his chest and pushed down hard, the heel pressing into his stomach.

“Well, Collins, have you learned your lesson yet?” she snarled. “Do you know how to control yourself in public now? Judging by the state of your manhood, it appears you have not.”

Mr Collins was about to reply, when Lady Catherine nudged her riding-boot with a derisive motion against his member. The feel of the hard leather against his shaft was the final straw, and he spontaneously spent his load, spilling several loops of white emission over Lady Catherine’s boot.

This was clearly the final straw for Lady Catherine as well. “Now look what you have done,” she snapped. “Lick my boot clean, you repulsive, degenerate brute.”

She put her riding-boot down by Mr Collins’s head, and without a word of protest, he began to lick up the streaks of sticky man-juice. The smell of the leather was almost as exciting as the taste of his own emission, and he carried on licking for several moments after he had cleaned it all up.

Lady Catherine sighed. “Get up, Collins, and get dressed,” she ordered. “If I hear a word of gossip from the servants that you have been up to your tricks again, you will be dismissed from your living, and I will see that you never get another post in Kent again. I pity Miss Lucas, I really do.”

OoooOoooO

On their wedding night, some eighteen months later, the new Mrs Collins was somewhat surprised when her husband handed her a riding-crop and requested that she should beat him on his bare buttocks with it before they went to their nuptial bed. However, as the consequence was that he made love to her several times that night, she concluded that it was a small price to pay to ensure her own satisfaction. I am pleased to report that neither she nor her husband found any need to seek further entertainment from Lady Catherine’s groom, or indeed anyone else’s.