Femdom Tales

Original stories about female domination: the world as it should be, through the fantasy lens of an authentic slave.

The last of the human horses

Kingdom of Ashmeera, 330 BC

Princess Marjan loved the feeling of her black hair gently caressed by the wind, especially when generated by the forward motion of a ride in the woods. A firm flick of the riding crop on her mount’s sweating muscles triggered a further increase in speed on the straight path. Comfortable on the small saddle, with her feet safely set in the stirrups, she used the small but nasty whip again and again to ride even faster, while feeling perfectly confident despite her Mom’s frequent remarks that she was a reckless rider.

A fork was approaching, so she expertly pulled the right bridle and slightly shifted her own weight to allow an effective right turn without too much slowdown. It was very subtle, but she could sense the hesitation of her human horse to follow her order. “You bastard!” she thought slightly bothered, and once the curve was finished she repeatedly dug her sharp spurs into his abdomen, both as a punishment and to make him reach the maximum speed. That right turn was not a usual choice – hence the horse’s behavior – and it led the Princess into open grassland out of the woods.

The human horse was now launched at full gallop, his skin hit by the sunshine and by his rider’s relentless spurs. He was almost naked, completely shaved, and he ran with a form and posture that clearly revealed a lifetime of experience in such a role. A leather harness was tightly fastened around his chest and sustained both the stirrups, dangling in front of his abdomen, and the small leather saddle behind his neck where the Princess had been sitting for the past hour. She liked riding her mother’s slave, although she couldn’t wait to receive her own human horse one day, provided that suitable males could be found again. “You should thank me for keeping the old guy in shape for you!” she used to tell her Mom with a teasing smile. About 45 years old, the slave could easily have been her father, but Princess Marjan treated him like a disposable animal and was always his most demanding rider. A flourishing young woman, she looked beautiful in her light dress and ankle boots. The spotless skin of her tanned legs seemed so delicate, compared to the tough and darker one of the human horse she was sitting astride. Her sisters used jodhpurs and long riding boots for protection when going for a ride, but she wanted to be different and special, like in most other things.

At that speed, the fall was as sudden as ruinous. The horse expertly managed to make her land almost entirely on his head and arms, protecting her knees and feet, yet the Princess felt some pain on her left leg and an incredulous disappointment: “You worthless slave!” To her further surprise, the horse pushed her off his back and onto the grass, just to immediately jump back on his feet and run away for a couple of steps. “What the…”

Then she saw their attacker. The struggle between the two men was the nastiest thing she had ever witnessed. She was used to seeing blood on her horse’s abdomen after a ride, due to her generous use of razor-sharp spurs, but this was different. She couldn’t even remember how she got up on her feet, but there she found herself: in the middle of that seemingly infinite grassland, watching with repugnance as her slave eventually managed to suffocate the other man, using the leathers of his own stirrups.

Once sure that the attacker was dead, the human horse struggled to get up on his hands and knees and he looked at the Princess, the bit still tight in his hardly breathing mouth. Furious and scared, she hit his face with her riding crop with all her strength. It was enough to open a cut on the slave’s cheek, and to make him instinctively move back into a sitting position.

“How dare you make me fall off? I’m going to kill you!!”

Then she saw it: a long arrow still jabbed into the slave’s left thigh, with the feathers damaged by the following struggle. He hadn’t fallen by accident!

A million questions started to hit her. Why did that man attack them? She looked around. Nobody else in sight. Then she realized something disturbingly obvious: it must have been her that the attacker wanted! She vaguely remembered her Mom mentioning a group of rebels trying to overthrow their long established matriarchal society, and probably having caused the birth defects that made all new slaves bred by the Kingdom unsuitable for riding and other advanced tasks. But she had never paid too much attention.

“Let’s go… now!!”

She unceremoniously climbed on the saddle and tried to find the bridles. The human horse humbly handed them up to her, only to feel the bit immediately pulled deep into his mouth from both sides.

“Up, slave! Now!!” The Princess kicked and whipped with no regard, almost in panic.

The human horse had to summon all his energies and devotion to the royal family to get up, with a scream of acute pain. The arrow was not letting too much blood out, but the pain was so acute that he could only walk with a very visible limp. No matter how hard the Princess hit him with her crop and spurs, it was nothing compared to the pain in his leg. He couldn’t manage more than a fast walk through his agony.

Princess Marjan was very aware of the gravity of her situation, but the idea of walking didn’t even touch her for a second. She would have ridden her slave to death, if necessary. He was born to serve her family. Although very clever and sensitive, she was spoiled beyond belief and, at just 19, simply too young to accept even the most reasonable and temporary limit to her power.

It took them hours to go back to the castle through the woods. Once they reached the first courtyard inside the walls, two guards finally saw them and rushed to help. The exhausted and bleeding slave fell on his knees and let the guards take the Princess off the saddle, before seemingly passing out on the ground.

“Call the doctor, now!!” one of the guards yelled.

Was the last human horse going to make it?

Filed under: Short stories

The au-pair girl (2/2)

Everything kept going as usual on the following day, until after dinner when Elizabeth announced: “Hey kids, won’t you show me the progress you’ve made as horse riders?”

Of course Laura was sent upstairs to get ready. She wore a training outfit, made by tiny shorts and top, then fastened the saddle on her back. She remained barefoot and put a couple of volleyball kneepads on. So good that she’d packed them back home, in case she had a chance to play in the UK! Of course she had in mind a much different kind of game.

She expected the following hour to be quite demanding, but the awkward goodnight of the previous day made her feel very willing to please her charming hostess.Laura did her best to make the whole family have fun. Even though the kids hadn’t made relevant improvements lately, she crawled at different paces and made them appear a perfect pair of cowboys to her Mum, who watched everything from the couch and applauded with gusto. Laura felt barely aware of her young, innocent riders. Everything she wanted was to make Elizabeth happy.Her back was a bit tired though, after more than one hour playing no-stop with the kids taking shifts on it. Then Elizabeth ordered them to bed. “Henry, Lindsay… go brush your teeth! Come on!” She was very good at making her orders appear like inevitable, without any chance of negotiation. The kids obediently stepped upstairs, chatting about how much fun they had this time with their friend Laura: the girl definitely had a place in their heart at this point.

Laura approached the stairs. “I’m going to put this stuff off” she told Elizabeth, referring to the saddle and kneepads.

“Not so fast” the woman unexpectedly replied. “My ankle is still aching, and it was very hard to climb the stairs on one leg yesterday, even though you helped me. Therefore I’m thinking… perhaps I could just ride you upstairs!”

“You mean on all fours, like the kids?” an astonished Laura asked.

“Yes, of course. I’m not that heavy, and you’re a beautiful athletic girl. I’m sure you can do it, and I bet it will be fun!”

Laura felt a bit worried… and overwhelmingly horny! She entered a trance similar to the night before, perhaps even more acute, and silently got on her hands and knees while staring at Elizabeth’s legs and feet, without a word.

The woman slowly approached her little horse, with an unseen bright smile. She was amazed by Laura’s clear fear and excitement, and felt her own crotch getting warm and wet. “Quiet, little horse” she joked, caressing Laura’s hair with her hand. Then, without any warning, she resolutely mounted astride her and immediately put her naked feet in the stirrups. She settled her full weight on the tiny saddle, enjoying the feeling of the cute girl beneath her.

Laura instinctively bent her back a little, like to welcome the lady’s weight and to become more comfortable for her. This definitely took Elizabeth’s sadism out. “Ok, let’s make some training before you make me fall along the stairs. Giddy up horsie, carry me around the sofas!” she ordered with commanding voice, but still kind and thoughtful, digging her soft naked heels into the girl’s thighs like to spur her.

Now Laura could finally address her tension into physical effort, so she welcomed her order like a relief and started crawling with good will. Elizabeth must have weighed about 150 lbs, roughly 20 more than her, and Laura could definitely feel it. But she was in shape, she could endure. And she was determined to please Elizabeth, whatever the cost. This whole situation was completely unexpected until two days before, but Laura was now lucidly aware of the big crush she had on her host. The two women made a few laps in complete silence, except Laura’s hands stepping on the floor and the girl’s breath taking an increasingly fast pace.

Every time she crawled beside a full-body mirror Laura felt somehow shocked and, at the same time, incredibly aroused by what she saw. Her proud athletic body was clearly struggling, the muscles of her arms especially tense and shiny with sweat. Meanwhile, Elizabeth sat blissful astride her as if that was perfectly natural. The two women had approximately the same height, but Laura was thinner and crawling on all fours like a beast of burden! Therefore, their sight recalled one of those overloaded mules from third-world countries seen on TV, or even better a kid’s pony briefly ridden by an adult just for fun. On the following lap, Laura noticed the most exciting detail at all: the sharp contrast between her own tired and serious face, focused on the ongoing effort, and Elizabeth’s relaxed expression and amused smile. It was so unfair… yet so exciting to be abused this way by such a lovely woman.

Just when Laura felt like slowing down a bit, Elizabeth broke the silence: “Come on, now go faster little slave!” she yelled. The woman’s sudden attitude caused an electric shiver across Laura’s spine. Now she was getting afraid: how much did Elizabeth intend to push her? And how the hell did she dare referring to her as a slave? She soon realized that her biggest concern wasn’t about that though: she just didn’t want to disappoint her charming, beautiful rider. She was completely, irreparably into her!

A couple of strokes by Elizabeth’s bare heels, although not painful at all, succeeded in leading Laura into a sort of trot. Now her hands were scratching against the carpet and her muscles were quickly getting exhausted, but the worst was going on with her back: although supposed to be a former skilled rider, Elizabeth didn’t care helping the trot with her feet in the stirrups, but let her ass bounce on the tiny saddle at every step. Elizabeth’s full weight kept painfully hitting the center of the girl’s spine every second, and nothing made her think that this torture was going to be over soon: Elizabeth wanted her to maintain the pace until further orders, and even started slapping her shoulders and ass. “Faster my horsie. Giddy up! Make me proud of you, or next time I’ll use real whip and spurs!”

When Laura was completely exhausted and felt close to a ruinous fall, Elizabeth somehow knew it. “Ok, slow down sweetie. You’ve been great.” She let the girl carry her around for a couple of laps on a slow pace, caressing her sweaty hair and switching back to a kind tone of voice.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, honey. You just gave me the most overwhelming orgasms of my life!” Elizabeth whispered.

“Are you serious? But how…” Laura replied, panting beneath her. The girl’s arms were trembling with tiredness, but this slow pace was already a relief compared to the previous unsustainable trot.

“I was already aroused by you getting on all fours without any hesitation. Then my crotch rubbing on the saddle made the rest. You’re amazing, my little slave!”

“Why do you keep calling me that way?”

“Don’t be upset, honey. You’re so adoring and submissive to me, and I find it so beautiful… Few people have the self-confidence of giving up so quickly. It takes a very special girl to do what you did. That’s why I clearly feel that you’re my little slave. And you can’t imagine how much I already love you for this…”

Those last words made Laura’s heart almost explode with happiness. She couldn’t reply, she would be Elizabeth’s slave and whatever else she wanted!

“Now stop, my darling. It’s time to go to bed” Elizabeth said, but she didn’t show any aim to give her relief by standing up. She remained comfortably sat instead, and continued: “Before I let you carry me upstairs, you need to show me one more skill: rise on your legs, but keep your back perfectly horizontal for me to keep riding.”

Laura did as instructed and suddenly realized how hurt her knees looked, despite the kneepads.

“Very good. Now walk around this way, just one lap, then climb the stairs and carry me up… my little slave.” She said the last two words after a brief pause, with a sadistic smile.

Of course Laura did as instructed. This was a bit easier to perform, especially because her exhausted arms could take some relief, but the pain on her back was still severe: Elizabeth’s full weight had been insisting nonstop on her spine for more than 30 minutes!

“Ok, now get back on your hands and knees” Elizabeth commanded, once they reached the upper floor. Laura obeyed with slow movements, but when her hands landed on the floor Elizabeth’s ass painfully sank into her back.

“Now you think I’m going to get up, uh?… I know you’re tired, my beautiful little pony. But believe me: in a few seconds you won’t want me to be anywhere else in the world” Elizabeth stated with a slow and horny voice. Then, without either a word or a single glimpse at her young guest, she simply dismounted and walked into her own room, closing the door.

Laura didn’t know what to do. She remained on her hands and knees, astonished. And she realized what Elizabeth had just meant: she suddenly felt lonely, useless without her beloved rider on her back. Was this a test or something? Ten minutes later, she started considering the option of getting back to her room. Perhaps she had offended Elizabeth in some way, or she hadn’t simply been a good enough slave for her. “Oh God… am I really thinking of myself as a slave? And this came up so naturally!”
Elizabeth opened the door in that precise second. “Very good. You didn’t move at all.” she said. Completely naked, she walked towards Laura and fastened a collar to her neck. Then she hooked a leash to it and let the girl slowly follow her into the bedroom. That was going to be an unforgettable night, the beginning of a new life for the young Laura. Completely hypnotized, she hadn’t even realized that Elizabeth’s bandage was suddenly gone and the pretty lady was walking just fine. She wasn’t going to walk much in the following weeks anyway…

Filed under: Short stories

The au-pair girl (1/2)

An au-pair (plural: au-pairs) is a foreign-national domestic assistant working for, and living as part of, a host family. Typically, au pairs take on a share of the family’s responsibility for childcare as well as some housework, and receive a small monetary allowance for personal use.

The title comes from the French term au pair, meaning “on a par” or “equal to”, indicating that the relationship is intended to be one of equals: the au pair is intended to become a member of the family, albeit a temporary one, rather than a domestic servant (source: Wikipedia).

Every summer in Laura’s teenage life had been approximately the same: beach-volley tournaments, perfect suntan, glancing love stories…

This time she wanted something radically different. Just turned 19, with a diploma and many dreams in her pocket, Laura wanted to bet on her own future and study international business. The first step was to become more fluent in English language.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford more than a couple of weeks in a British or Irish college. The island of Malta was an option as well, but she knew the beaches would have been too tempting there. Either way, two weeks were definitely not enough! And she didn’t have the heart to ask any money to her mother, a divorced high-school teacher.

Then a friend introduced her into a circuit for au-pair girls. It was perfect! She could spend the entire summer in England. Albeit it wasn’t London but a small town in Leicester, she had complimentary room-and-board and even a small salary. In exchange, she was supposed to help with some domestic chores and babysit the kids of her host family. The salary paid for almost half of the English course, so the remaining part and the return flight from Italy were sustainable with her budget, with even a few nights out likely to be affordable.

Laura arrived on a cloudy Saturday. She realized how expensive trains were in the UK. She hadn’t considered any budget for that at all! “Ok, a couple of nights out less” she thought. After all it was her first time abroad on her own. She had only travelled with the volleyball team she was captain of, so far.

Her host family picked her up at the station. They greeted her with extreme kindness and took her out for dinner. “An unexpected benefit, already!” Laura taught with relief, given her tight budget. During the dinner she studied the people she was going to spend the following three months with.

Elizabeth was very pretty. She looked like the mother from a lovely TV commercial, very British and sweet with her red hair and childlike white skin. She must have been 35, Laura assumed. Unfortunately she wasn’t in perfect shape: probably some 30 lbs over her ideal weight, Laura reckoned like the sporty girl she was. Elizabeth’s husband appeared like another stereotype with his huge belly, the one of a guy who has swallowed rivers of beer in his life. His name was William and he was in his mid 40s, a quite uncommunicative man in contrast with his extroverted wife. About the kids… well, Laura decided that they looked exactly like Edmund and Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia!!

“Ok, I definitely watch too much television” Laura thought, laughing at herself. The kids’ real names were Henry (11 y.o.) and Lindsay (9).

Laura settled quickly and spent a couple of pleasant weeks. She used to attend the language school in the morning, managed some chores in the early afternoon and then played with the kids for hours. One or two dinners per week with some friends from the school were enough: she had little money and didn’t like them so much.

While her husband was always out, supposedly for work during the day and with his friends at some pub at night, Elizabeth was a constant presence in Laura’s days.

One afternoon, Henry was acting the prince and Lindsay the endangered princess. Which other role could Laura play, with her strong body of volleyball player, than Henry’s horse? It was fun for a while. Laura crawled on all fours across the house with the boy on her back, who “faced many challenges on his road to the castle” including some journeys along the stairs, while never dismounting for a good forty minutes. When he finally rescued the princess, Laura seriously started thinking about a way to end the game: now Henry was still astride her, while Lindsay sat on the girl’s shoulders with both her legs dangling from a side!

“Ok kids. Now your horse is feeling very tired. Let’s go to play cards, ok?” she said while carrying her heavy load towards the living room. Elizabeth was just there on the couch, so the girl counted on her support.

“What a lazy horse” she said instead, laughing at her. “Come on, giddy up!”

Of course the kids liked it. “Giddy up, giddy up!” Henry kept shouting while slapping Laura’s butt. The girl was a bit upset, but made some circles around the living room at a faster pace, with the result that Lindsay pulled her hair to remain in balance upon her neck. After a few minutes, it was finally over: Elizabeth called the kids off for dinner.

Two days later, almost forgetful of that weird ride (even though her knees were still aching), Laura felt astonished when Elizabeth gave her children a pony saddle as unsolicited present.

“You know, Laura… horse riding is very popular in British tradition” the woman commented. “I used to be myself a pretty good rider as a teenager! Unfortunately my husband doesn’t allow the kids to attend a riding school, so I thought a strong and kind girl like you might be an ideal replacement. Moreover, think about the perfect shape you’ll earn before starting the new volleyball season!”

It proved more manageable than expected. Laura was ridden just a few times by the kids, who gradually got bored and switched to other games. Moreover, the saddle prevented them from riding their human horse together: a clear relief for Laura, given that their combined weight was comparable to that of an adult person!

On the following Saturday Laura came back home late, after a dinner with her friends from the school. She saw Elizabeth asleep on the couch, in front of the TV. “What a beautiful woman” she thought. So bad that she clearly hadn’t the happy life she’d surely dreamt about.

“Hello, dear” Elizabeth whispered, catching out the girl’s sweet stare. “I was waiting for you: today I had a minor accident and I can’t climb the stairs without some help.”

Step by step, they went upstairs together. Elizabeth had a bandage on her ankle and didn’t put that foot on the ground, so at every step she briefly pushed all her weight on Laura’s shoulders through the arm she kept on her.

The girl was strong enough, and of course willing to help her hostess. Moreover, she found out that she loved the contact of Elizabeth’s smooth skin and scented hair: she was almost disappointed when they reached the woman’s bedroom and they had to separate.

“Jesus, where do I have my mind? I forgot to check if everything is shut down in the kitchen. Honey, would you be so kind?” Laura nodded with a bright smile and rushed downstairs. Having a few moments alone, she realized her feelings about those last moments: she was definitely aroused!” As a volleyball player she saw naked teammates all the time in the changing rooms, but she’d never felt attracted by a woman before.

Of course everything was fine in the kitchen. Laura even checked for the kids in their room: they were sleeping like young angels. Then she headed back to Elizabeth’s to let her know that everything was fine. She gently pushed her bedroom door, which was half-close… just to find out that the woman was naked except for a pair of tiny underpants. Laura found her body still beautiful, the overweight well distributed and the soft skin simply enchanting… and was literally hypnotized by her buttery, full, amazing breasts.

She caught herself shivering and couldn’t recall any word, while Elizabeth appeared perfectly relaxed. “Was everything all right?” she asked.

“Ehm… yes… sure, m’am!” she replied.

Instead than discharging her overwhelmed young guest, the woman kindly asked her for some help in wearing a pajama short. “You know, with this aching ankle I’ve turned so clumsy!” Now she was sitting on the bed, with her feet on the ground in a couple of cute slippers. Laura felt like possessed. Without a complete control of herself, like in a trance… she got on her knees in front of Elizabeth, took her slippers off and put the woman’s feet on her own naked thighs, then slowly pushed the shorts along her smooth legs.

The woman looked at her adoring guest, down at her feet. She knew the girl had entered subspace. She was completely at her mercy. However she decided not to push her further. She lightly kissed her cheek and said “Good night, honey. Thanks for being so kind.”

Laura was delighted and felt somehow relieved: she could finally run away from that thrilling situation she couldn’t really understand… but she immediately felt disappointed: the last thing she wanted was to get away from Elizabeth.

Filed under: Short stories

The dairy ponyboy (2/2)

While four-legged ponyboys were all comfort and easy control, two-legged ones could go much faster… but clearly required a skilled rider! Emily thought so while leaving the convent astride her new slave’s shoulders. She didn’t feel very confident yet, but she hadn’t dared to bother Sister Helen.

“You’ll be perfectly in control. Ben is very well trained, one of our best. He’ll sense if you’re losing balance and compensate with subtle movements of his shoulders” the nun had said. “Remember, my dear: from now on, he lives to serve you. He knows it’s the only chance to save his soul, thus he would let you ride him to death rather than disappoint you. So don’t show any mercy, and be always in control. Otherwise he could be tempted to lose the right way again!”

Emily mentally reviewed the events of that incredible morning while letting her new slave carry her home. She was a bit scared, being so high from the ground, but the shoulder saddle was very comfortable and the slave’s head between her thighs actually gave her a good grip.

She gradually took some confidence and started enjoying the ride. Being carried was so beautiful! Then she decided to make Ben strive a little more… and feel who was the boss! “Don’t be ever afraid to hurt him. The harder you hit him, the better for both his salvation and God’s happiness… not to mention your own satisfaction!” Sister Helen had told her with a bright smile. “And be cruel right from the beginning, even when it appears most unnecessary. He must live in constant fear of you, and always see you as the instrument God chose for his merciless expiation. Keep him in this status, and you’ll be enjoying the perfect slave.”

All right, slave. I’ve been riding you slowly so far just because I wanted to, but I can be your worst nightmare if I want. Let’s start having some fun. Emily dug her boots into the boy’s flesh with all her strenght, forgetful of the razor-sharp spurs Sister Helen had ordered Ben to fasten to her boots.

The ponyboy immediately broke into a full gallop, and his rider found herself on the brink of being unsaddled.

Emily managed to remain on saddle just by grabbing Ben’s hair with her hand. She regained her balance, and turned her sudden adrenaline from the escaped danger into excitement towards the ride. “You want to play hard, uh?” she said, and repeatedly spurred the boy again. Sister Helen was going to be proud of her.

Soon Emily started feeling the exhaustion of the boy’s muscles beneath her. It was a beautiful feeling. She let the slave slow down for a little while, then used the bridles to lead him toward a tree, out of the beaten track. “Down!” she ordered harshly.

Without even looking at him, Emily dismounted and took a thin branch from the tree. She wanted a whip to beat the shit out of him! Then she turned around, and for the first time ever she looked at his face…

She suddenly felt overwhelmed by guilty and sadness: he was almost young enough to be her son! His abdomen was marked and bleeding because of her spurs, his body trembling from the fatigue of carrying her… and, worst of all, he had an expression of pure terror. This was so unfair and wrong… What a monster have they turned me into?

“Are you all right, darling? Is that boy giving you any trouble?” A young pretty nun was addressing Emily with these questions from the beaten track.

“I’m all right, thanks” Emily replied, after a few seconds of hesitation. Actually she just wanted to be alone and assess her new feelings. “I stopped by to make a whip out of this tiny branch.”

“Nice idea. These sinners never get beaten up enough” the nun replied. “Can I ask you some help?”

“Of course. What can I do for you?” Emily asked. The nun was leading a large carriage, so much filled with goods from the convent that she barely had a spot to sit.

“I’ll show you.” She whipped the ponyboys and they desperately started pulling the heavy load, showing Emily that one of them was visibly limping. The nun harshly pulled the bridles and made them stop again. She was totally unconcerned with their fatigue. “He fell down and got injured, the idiot! Of course I’m forcing him to keep going… but I’m moving too slow. Would you mind helping me try another solution?”

Needless to say, Emily had to swallow her sad feelings and walk towards the nun, leading her slave by the reins. Sister Elizabeth, this was the young nun’s name, managed the whole thing in a few minutes: Ben was harnessed as replacement for the injured slave, while the latter got fastened to the rear: he would follow the cart or be dragged through the beaten track.

Emily’s slave still had the shoulder saddle on. “Ok, we’re done and ready. I’m afraid I don’t have enough space here for both of us to sit, so I should ask you to mount your slave as he pulls the carriage” the nun said.

Ben knelt down and Emily sat astride him. He remained still, waiting for orders. Emily looked at Sister Elizabeth, ready on the carriage, and she unwillingly said “Up, slave!” Of course he promptly obeyed.

Their trip begun. Sister Elizabeth repeatedly slashed the slaves’ bare back with a long whip, until the heavy carriage started moving and they reached a brisk trot. Then she kept regularly whipping them to maintain the challenging pace she wished.

Emily remained passively sat on Ben’s shoulders, adding her weight to his unbelievable effort and feeling him whimper every time one of those savage slashes hit his bare back. Does the nun want to kill these guys?

This was too much for the young woman, who 24 hours before had never seen a ponyboy. She broke down and cried… silently at first, then louder and louder… until Sister Elizabeth overheard her siccups and stopped the carriage.

They were terribly late for the town market, so the nun swiftly climbed on another slave’s shoulders and the ride could continue that way, with the two women riding aside on the slaves’ shoulders and talking.

“Why are you upset, darling?” Sister Elizabeth asked.

“I feel just terrible” Emily said. “I was enjoying my ride at first, but when I looked at his scared face… I asked myself what the hell I was doing… and that’s the exact moment when you called me from the beaten track.”

“Oh, poor girl. I know it can be hard at the beginning. But sometimes the ways of God are a bit mysterious. You just need to have faith! Yes, he can be scared, but that’s part of his redemption process… and you might feel sorry and guilty, but you’re just an instrument of God and you must go on!”

When Sister Elizabeth’s carriage reached its destination, the two slaves were simply finished. Emily spent some time with the nun, to help her with the fruit stand and catch up with the lost time. This way Ben could rest a little, but his muscles were so exhausted that when Emily finally mounted on his shoulders again he simply couldn’t stand up. Emily hesitated for a moment, then looked at the nun and knew what to do: a couple of harsh hits with the spurs into his abdomen summoned hidden energies and the slave lifted her up.

In the following weeks, although still upset by her mixed feelings, Emily couldn’t help but love having Ben in her service. Her grandma was happy again, the dog had become a quiet domestic animal and Emily’s life was much easier: Ben pulled the carriage, took the bins from it and served the clients. The young woman didn’t even need to get off the carriage anymore! She just drove it and took the money from her clients. She whipped Ben when needed, of course, but never showed the sadism and cruelty of her first time on his shoulders.

The worst moment of every day was when she took the harness away from him every afternoon, because of his scared and exhausted expression.

One day, for the first time ever, he talked to her, just as soon as she removed the bit from his mouth. “Why are you so upset, my Mistress? I keep doing my best, but your face is never happy…”

“Oh, no. You’re doing great, but I feel so sorry about the way I’m treating you!”

“Please, don’t be sorry. I never believed the whole story of expiating my sins. I endured my training at the convent waiting for the first chance to escape… and I could have run away from your stable from the first night…”

“Why didn’t you?” Emily hesitantly asked.

“Because I heard what you said to Sister Elizabeth, despite the effort of carrying you on my shoulders while pulling that heavy carriage. And for the first time in my life I felt that someone cared about me. I’m here because I want to serve you, to make your life easier and to please you for the rest of mine. I’m here because I love you!”

Emily broke down and cried, hugging the boy and getting her pretty dress wet with his sweat. “How can you love me? I just use you as a beast of burden!”

“Please, never stop doing it. You deserve this. You’re the most beautiful and thoughtful human being I’ve ever met, and the harder you whip me the better I’ll serve you. Please, let me stay in your service… and don’t be sorry anymore… just smile at me at the end of the day, and I’ll feel proud and strong enough to carry you across the whole England!”

Ben didn’t spend another night in Emily’s stable.

She still uses him as ponyboy and whip his back mercilessly, now with an untroubled smile on her face. He sleeps on the floor at night though, beside her bed, and she’s found kinky new ways of using the young slave. Life is beautiful, for both of them… because love can have very different forms… and the nuns were right on one thing: sometimes the ways of God can be a bit mysterious.

Filed under: Short stories

The dairy ponyboy (1/2)

England, 1839. Dog carts are widespread and represent a precious resource for those families who can’t afford an equine or oxen as means of transportation. Meanwhile the RSPCA, a charity fighting for the five freedoms of animals, defines it an untolerable cruelty and pushes the government for a ban (true historical references here and here).

Life used to be pretty hard in the British countryside, but Emily didn’t complain. She considered herself lucky, after all: her parents had died ten years before when she was just 16, so she could have become one of many orphans in some institute. Instead, her elderly aunt Jane had welcomed her as employee at her dairy farm.

Along her way home, Emily looked at the small dog pulling her carriage. “Oh… I wish we could afford a horse, or at least a donkey… I’ve just made the last milk delivery and now it’s going to take one hour until we reach home. Come on, you little bastard! Go faster!” she yelled, using the reins to encourage him.

Just that morning, aunt Jane had wished them a good day from the doorstep (see picture above) and said: “Treat my little dog fairly, niece. I’m afraid he’s really getting old.”

Emily could realize how hard the dog’s life was, carrying her and so many gallons of milk for several hours every day… but she was just tired… and life was too hard to take care of others but herself.

Mrs Hutton, her hateful neighbor, suddenly overtook her and was soon a small dot at the horizon. She drove a two-dog carriage and used to whip the poor animals mercilessly (see picture below).

When Emily finally reached home, she found aunt Jane choking back tears.

“We’re completely ruined” the elderly woman said. “The government has just issued something named the Dog Cart Nuisance Act. Dog carts are banned! The whole town is talking about it. How are we going to survive?”

In the following days, Emily and her aunt’s other two employees did their best to deliver most of the milk to the best customers by walking. But they couldn’t reach more than 60% of them and this was going to kill their backs. They had to find a solution.

One night, while walking back home after the last delivery with an empty bin fastened on her back, Emily saw a definitely new thing: a two-wheel carriage driven by a nun… and pulled by a young boy!

“Are you all right, darling?” the nun asked, after stopping her human horse with a harsh move of the bridles. “I’m Sister Helen… and you appear exhausted. Would you like a ride home?”

Emily was hesitant, but her tiredness won and she climbed on the carriage, taking a seat beside the young nun. After a couple of minutes spent fully realizing the whole thing, Emily was simply astonished: Sister Helen, without ever losing her carefree smile and while lovely chatting with her, treated the boy harshly like a beast of burden and whipped his bare back as though she intended to kill him! Of course he ran for his life, carrying the two women at a very respectable speed.

“Don’t be upset, young woman” Sister Helen said, like reading her mind. “He’s an orphan, grown up in the streets and destined to a life of crimes. We welcome many of these boys in our convent and teach them discipline. They need pain and struggle, so their sins will be forgiven after death. Give it a try!”

Although still baffled, Emily took the bridles and was soon surprised by the sensitivity the human horse demonstrated to her commands. Then the nun handed her the whip.

“I don’t know, Sister. How can I feel right by enslaving a human being?”

“You’re already doing it. Whose efforts you think are making your trip home so fast and comfortable? Furthermore, you’ll do him a favor: he needs to suffer and expiate. Come on, hit him!”

Emily thought a Sister couldn’t be wrong. She slashed the young slave once, twice… every time harder… until he was on a desperate gallop. The two women burst into laughter, enjoying the breeze from the forward motion.

“You see. It wasn’t that difficult!” Sister Helen said.

“You’re right. And I actually like it!” Emily replied.

After a while she led the human pony into a slightly slower pace, just to save his energies, but she kept whipping him regularly to maintain the desired speed. Once they reached the farm, Emily handed the bridles back to the nun and thanked her warmly.

“Wait a second before you get off” Sister Helen said. “Let me show you something. Boy! Step-position, and honor our guest!”

The boy pulled a small lever to block the wheels, got on his hands and knees beside the carriage and humbly kissed one of Emily’s boots.

The woman, at this point already a bit accustomed to being served by the young slave, used his bare back as a step and comfortably got off. She couldn’t avoid to notice the red marks on his back and shoulders while stepping on them, but everything (incredibly) appeared almost normal by now.

“Let me make you a proposal” Sister Helen said. “We have so many orphans and you clearly need some help here. I suppose you’re among the families hit by the dog carts ban. Would you like to take one boy? Of course slavery is not really legal… so you should adopt one as your son and use him exactly as you have just used mine. God would be very grateful!”

“I don’t know what to say. That would be so helpful for us! On the other hand, are you sure it wouldn’t be misperceived? I mean… think of the neighborhood, what will they say?”

“Don’t worry, my darling. Everyone will know you’ll be doing that on our behalf. We’re making similar deals with other deserving women, so human-led carriages will soon be common around. Just come over tomorrow, early morning. I will wait for you at the convent.”

Sister Helen smiled, then she hit the ponyboy with her whip and took the road.

Emily was a bit afraid about what had happened in the last 30 minutes, but… more than that… she felt overwhelmingly excited!

On the following morning, she woke up before sunrise and told her aunt that she would go to pray at the convent. “I know I will miss some deliveries this way, but we’re going to be broken soon anyway… perhaps God has a better solution” she said.

It was a two hour walk. Emily surprised herself wishing to have a human pony in her service already.

She reached the convent and found the main door open. Inside, she saw a beautiful and silent cloister. An elderly nun appeared at a window. “I’m here to see Sister Helen” Emily shouted.

The nun just nodded, without speaking a word. Emily kept waiting for about 10 minutes, then she finally saw Sister Helen approaching… and felt even more incredulous than the day before: the nun was riding a saddled boy, who obediently crawled on his hands and knees beneath her considerable weight.

The human pony had a bit in his mouth and wore a couple of kneepads. He was completely naked, except for a couple of tiny shorts. His body was actually mostly hidden by the nun’s dress, but Emily could understand exactly how that worked because a second human pony was crawling beside Sister Helen’s, without any rider on his saddle.

The nun harshly pulled the bridles, stretching his slave’s mouth and making him stop. She had no whip this time, but a sudden sparkle revealed a couple of razor-sharp spurs fastened to her boots. “Hello, my darling. Hope you had a safe trip here. Mount on your slave, I’m taking you for a complete tour inside the convent!”

Emily hesitated for a second, then she remembered the explanations from the day before and gently sat on the small saddle, putting her boots into the stirrups. It was very comfortable… and it became even more so when the boy, feeling that she had settled her full weight on him, bent his back a little to let her ass comfortably sink into him… adding further arousal to his already excited new rider.

Emily weighed about 130 lbs, while Sister Helen must have been at least 170. Their slaves clearly struggled to carry the two women, but they appeared extremely determined to please their riders… whatever the cost…

They rode across the cloister and entered a huge garden. Then they took a steep track, which led on a small hill and supposedly down on the other side. Sister Helen wanted to maintain a good speed despite the slope, so she repeatedly dug the spurs into her slave’s thighs. Of course it worked. Emily didn’t have any tool but the bridles… nonetheless her human pony kept crawling just beside Sister Helen’s, maintaining the same pace: the boys were clearly trained to let the nuns chat while riding in parallel.

Emily had never felt so well in her entire life. The muscles working beneath her arse were overwhelmingly turning her on… and she felt like a princess, served and in charge for the first time in her life. She wished she could spur her slave as well, just to feel his body react under her. An unknown sadism was arising inside the young woman.

Once beyond the hill, the two riders found themselves surrounded by bucolic scenes of deep submission.

Emily was literally open-mouthed. Here a young nun rode a two-legged slave on his shoulders, keeping his head under her dress. He walked in circle around a large vegetable garden where several boys were working, while his rider cracked the whip against those whom she judged weren’t behaving properly.

There two elderly and fat nuns rode two four-legged slaves in parallel and kept chatting, exactly like Sister Helen and Emily were doing.

On the other side, three boys pulled as many ploughs through a large field. On each plough sat a young nun, who whipped her slave mercilessly.

Emily felt overwhelmed. The whole thing appeared so unfair… yet so exciting… or perhaps just exciting because of its unfairness! Sister Helen carried on explaining the different scenes, but Emily’s eyes were definitely more attentive than her ears. After all… which explanation did she need?

That place was the waiting room of Heaven for the nuns, while a very special Purgatory for those boys, meant to save them from an eternity in Hell. A beautiful win-win deal… of which, at this point, Emily undoubtedly wanted to be part!

Filed under: Short stories

Letter from a penitent ponyboy

Thanks to Qjo Jotaro for the amazing drawing that inspired the following story… which is dedicated to every woman waiting for her man to realize her actual huge worth. Enjoy!

Looking back to my previous life, well… it wasn’t bad at all.

I used to be an executive. My smartphone could barely last one entire day before needing a battery charge. I was successful, busy, constantly on the edge. And terribly lonely: somehow I had closed the world outside… including my beautiful wife. Oh God, I miss her so much!

Then one day, a weird message hit my mailbox. A secret society invited me to join a meeting in Malaysia, where my most intimate sexual desires would be fulfilled. That message wasn’t the usual spam. My own fantasies were described so accurately that I wouldn’t have been able to do better.

I’m submissive since I was a pimply kid. Every woman I dated has enjoyed long and marvelous sessions of oral adoration, which were just a test to discover their own nature. Yes, I enjoy giving pleasure much more than receiving it. Don’t misunderstand what I’m going to say, but I believe I married Alice because she’s the most naturally dominant woman I’ve ever met.

That e-mail message really struck me. Suddenly, every activity was boring, nothing of my real life appeared special compared to the perspective of a total submission to demanding Goddesses.

That was already a difficult time in my life indeed. I was sick of everything and everyone. Even the relationship with my wife had turned dull. Of course I had really little time for her… but I earned a very good salary, allowing her to indulge in a wealthy life… yet she couldn’t satisfy my wishes: it seemed she purposely ordered me to perform the things I dislike the most, when using me as her slave-toy. “What damned kind of slave are you?” she asked me once. “I’m in charge, you don’t have any right to criticize my orders. You’re supposed to want just what I desire!”

Oh, she was so damn right! And I was such a dumb asshole!! At that time, I thought she was just planning to displease me and earn a good divorce… I was a jerk, a paranoid selfish jerk.

Today I know much more about slavery. The secret society I joined didn’t give me any choice. Once I entered their territory in the Malaysian Borneo, they turned me into the most neglected kind of animal. It was about eight months ago…

Women rule the small village I live in. They’re considered like Goddesses by every neighbours, who don’t actively follow the same femdom lifestyle but still provide them with every goods they need. Can we call it a feudal system? Anyway, the village is called Olympus. About 30 superior ladies live here, pampered and served in every way by an army of 200 slaves. Half the slaves are submissive women, who enjoy a lifestyle similar to that of ancient ancillas. About one hundred male slaves are continuously abused and tortured by both Goddesses and ancillas.

One week ago, I really thought I couldn’t bear any more.

I was on my hands and knees, carrying the beautiful and nasty Clarissa (see the drawing above). She’s the youngest daughter of the Goddess I’ve been assigned to. Clarissa usually rides me on the shoulders and tortures my abdomen with her sharp spurs. God knows why, today she wanted to try the especially comfortable saddle designed for her fat Mum. Yes, of course Clarissa is far lighter… but she didn’t let me wear neither knee-pads nor padded gloves!

Soon my knees started bleeding on the ground, as well as my flanks under the strokes of her stick. She even kept demanding a faster pace!

Meanwhile she must have felt so comfortable… She was cross-legged: I could gather that from the feeling of her left boot-sole upon my naked back, while her right leg gleefully swung and made her sharp spur ring threateningly.

You know what? I really thought I was going to collapse and drop her, which is often punished with death. Yes, I felt close to the end. Yet I was so excited, so proud of being useful to this merciless young lady, so glad that my exhausted body could work and serve beneath her. Yes… I think I’ve finally realized what true submission means.

Every time I think the end is coming, I can somehow find the strength to endure. I made it. Perhaps it was also the way those plebeians stared at her as she rode me, so adoringly… anyway I understood even more deeply how lucky I was as Clarissa’s means of transportation… so I summoned up some last energies… and I was able to enter the steep track and carry her up to the Olympus…

I think the girl’s purpose was to put me on probation: that ride happened after a long period of me being treated even worse than usual, including being lent as public transport pony and plow puller. And after that ride, instead, I was properly fed and taken care of.

Clarissa has chosen me for a very special race. I’ve got a confirmation today, after the seventh straight day of merciless training beneath her, because I heard her chatting with a friend while riding me. I’m proud she wanted me. I know I’m a strong and willing slave, but I thought she would prefer a younger guy. On the contrary, she seems to enjoy riding a human horse who is nearly double her age: I’m 35, while she must be between 18 and 20.

I also found out why she’s carrying on using that weird saddle, very comfortable but far from ideal for controlling me properly during a race.

Well, I should be mad about it, but who am I? Her life is far more important than mine!! Here’s the explanation: the saddle, actually more similar to a small couch, turns into a protective bubble for the rider in case of accident… like a very special airbag… This is particularly important given the race rules: slaves are ridden blindfolded, along the steep and tiny track to the Olympus. The final two miles run beside a precipice!

Clarissa must weigh about 120 lbs. When she gets on me, I only feel pleasure… pride for being the only thing between her superior body and the dirty ground… pride for making her life pleasant through the relentless effort of my strong muscles. Nonetheless, after hours of being ridden and dozens of harsh strikes with her whip, I can’t describe the pain I go through. Those are the moments that really put me to the test, and that surely turned me into a better slave.

Perhaps this letter I’m writing, during a silent night at the stables, is becoming more and more incoherent. The point is that I’m going to be ridden in that race tomorrow… and I found out that half the ponyboys usually die during it…

Yes, I’m scared to death.

I’m not afraid to die for the fun of a superior woman. And Clarissa has been so kind with me this evening! She came to the stable, talked to me for the first time ever… with encouraging words for tomorrow… then even caressed my hair as she peed her marvelous nectar into my mouth (of course I didn’t miss a drop)…

I’m just afraid not to see Alice anymore. Now I would be the husband and slave she deserves.

The letter ends here. Jake never took part to that race: his owner and wife, who had been monitoring his improvements after arranging his invite to join the Olympus, asked him to be sent back to the US.

Today Jake is back to work at a tech company, but recognizes the value of a proper work-life balance.

Every minute of his free time is lived as Alice’s slave. Unconditionally. He’s also submissive to his own former secretary, a pretty girl who has become Alice’s full time slave during his “vacation” in Malaysia.

Sometimes happiness and fulfillment are so handy. You just need to realize how lucky you are, fellow slave!

Filed under: Short stories

A bloody race (2/2)

Michael’s summer was a continuous exhausting practice.

Every morning he woke up early and swam about 3 miles in the swimming pool: that’s the best sport for getting a strong and resistant back. Then he harnessed himself with kneepads, gloves, saddle… everything to make his owner’s ride safe and comfortable.

Jessica wanted him to be ready at 9:00 am, waiting for her on hands and knees in the stables. She didn’t need to enforce that order: Michael worshipped her and was never late… while of course she didn’t care and sometimes made him wait even one entire hour. One day it was about 11:30 and Jessica hadn’t shown up yet. Michael got up on his knees for a while, just to give his wrists a short rest, then got back to the default position. Jessica arrived 10 minutes later. Without a word, she mounted him in reverse position and slashed his naked ass with a narrow whip for what seemed an eternity, until it got purple and started bleeding. Then she dismounted, just to mount him again in the correct direction and start their usual ride with this sentence: “Next time you’ll think twice before disobeying my orders. You’re meant to fulfill even absurd wishes, as long as they come from me. Don’t you ever raise on your knees without permission again!”

Michael never found out if she was just sensory or had placed a surveillance camera in the stables, but he never dared anymore…

The morning ride used to last three or four hours. In the first couple of months, Jessica was focused on two aspects: strength and blind obedience. For the first, she made him drag weights (while always sitting on his back, of course) and, as soon as other female vampires joined her in the castle, bear long double-riding sessions. For the second, she rode him blindfolded across a thin track surrounded by sharp stones: every time he didn’t perfectly understand the orders she gave through the bridles, he got hurt by the stones. Furthermore, she spurred him to run into obstacles like trees or rocks. He learned not to slow down until his face hit the obstacle: he wasn’t meant to think, but just to trust her and obey, no matter what.

Michael’s afternoons were quite similar to the mornings, but gym session preceded the afternoon rides instead of swimming.

After a couple of months, his already athletic body had become a war machine. This result was also helped by a high-protein diet, useful also because Jessica drank his blood on a daily basis: usually in the evening, before letting him go to sleep in the stables.

Like mentioned before, the castle soon became populated by several female vampires. Each of them had her own slave, so the stables became full as well. In late August, Michael shared the stables with another 18 human horses. Slaves weren’t allowed to talk, and they were anyway so tired that falling asleep was immediate after those hard days. But one day, when he got awake, Michael found Camille nuzzled to his arm. She was one of the few female slaves, strong but very pretty. Ponygirls were trained for a different competition: Michael always saw them mounted by heavier women, who used every possible means to make them proceed beyond complete exhaustion. “That fat bitch!” Camille exclaimed one night referred to her owner, while entering the stables on her hands and knees. The signs on her body witnessed merciless spurring on her naked boobs and several whip slashes even on her face.

That night Michael held her in a strong, warm hug. Soon they started whispering during the night, so he learned that Camille was being trained for an endurance race, whose score was calculated with a complicated formula involving ridden miles, time before collapsing and weight difference between rider and horse. The lighter she was compared to her heavy and cruel rider, the higher score she could gain with the same performance. This involved a strict diet during the last days before a race, with Camille being also bitten and drunk by multiple vampires to lose as much weight as possible. Then of course she needed to retrieve energy for being ridden, so a huge amount of painful drugs were injected into her veins at the last moment. She had already survived six of those races in three years…

Michael didn’t know yet that his own destiny was going to be even worse.

Some clues came from the last part of his training: Jessica started working less on pure strength and much more on resistance. She started biting him also during the day, and each time she drank some more blood from him. Then, just when he was very weak, she immediately spurred him and demanded long rides. Sometimes she also ordered him to completely abstain from food. For the first time ever, because of this treatment, Michael experienced a collapse beneath his merciless rider.

Of course Jessica had pushed him to that point on purpose. But when it happened, she didn’t dismount. Instead she whipped his shoulders and neck savagely, until he summoned up some unexpected energy and got up on all fours, pushing her back up. “Good boy” she said, in a rare moment of speaking directly to him. “You’re my best slave ever. This year I’m going to win!” Then she bit his neck and drank some more of his warmer-than-ever blood, while rubbing her pussy on the saddle and gaining a sweet orgasm. At that point Michael passed out. Jessica rested for a few minutes on his back, then she got up and woke him up with some harsh kicks.

They were about one mile from the castle, in the woods, and she didn’t want to walk. But she needed at least to quench his thirst or he would have been useless: so she pulled his hair and, for the first time, she pissed into his mouth. He could manage to swallow most of it, thanks to a couple of breaks she made when his mouth was completely filled. Once it was over, his tongue predictably had to clean her up and thus gave her another intense climax.

A few days later, Camille was being ridden by her merciless owner around the track, inside the walls of the castle. Oksana – this was the name of Camille’s owner – lazily spurred her with a couple of sharp chilean spurs: she wouldn’t even make the effort to dig ordinary (and less dangerous) spurs into her ponygirl’s flesh… and her lazy attitude and lifestyle was witnessed by her 170 lbs, which crushed Camille’s back every day…

After a while, another vampire started a slow ride beside her for some chatting. Her name was Joanna, she was a blonde beauty and rode a muscular black guy. “You know, my dear Oksana, I’m really proud of this slave. Last year I rode him to my first victory! But I’m getting tired of him… somehow it was better when I didn’t win, so I could pick a new slave… I love hunting!”

After a while, Camille almost collapsed. Oksana dug the spurs into her slave’s breasts, causing a desperate moan. Then she said to her friend: “Actually this poor girl is right. Because of our chat, I’m riding her even longer than usual today. But I love hurting her so much anyway!!”

“Listen, if you want” Joanna replied “we can exchange slaves and have some more riding. My slave can carry you for longer, while I would love to try mounting that girl.”

They did it. Camille was exhausted and would have preferred to rest, but being ridden by Joanna’s 130 lbs was already a relief. Furthermore, this way she could learn more about Michael’s destiny: why was Joanna implying that only the race winners were not replaced by new slaves?

Those final 30 minutes under Joanna’s orders were hard but provided her all the details. Fallen in love with Michael, Camille realized that she definitely needed to do something…

The race Jessica had entered was in fact an actual massacre! Female vampires from all over the world rode male humans on all fours through a desert. Slaves couldn’t eat anything and were allowed to drink only their riders’ piss, while the women’s only source of nourishment was the ponyboys’ blood. Of course just a few slaves survived, and even those were killed and drunk out in a final party… except only for the winner.

Camille thought about that for the entire night, spent beside Michael as usual. The issue was that Michael would have never agreed to escape: while she was a forced slave (since female vampires’ hypnotic power doesn’t work on women), Michael truly worshipped Jessica and would have willingly died for her.

Camille’s unique chance happened just four days before the race: once a week, Oksana used to ride her up to her room in the evening for some amusement. This time Camille, while crawling along the corridor beneath her, noticed that Jessica’s door had been left open. Of course she carried Oksana into her own room and fulfilled every order of the cruel vixen. She cleaned her fat feet with her tongue, licked her dirty asshole and gave her pleasure in many ways. Oksana gained her fourth orgams and ended the session by painfully biting the slave’s thigh… internally, where much warm blood flows…

Five minutes later, Camille was discharged. She set off for the stables on her hands and knees along the corridor, like she was supposed to. Though scared and so weak, she couldn’t miss this last chance. After all, what did she have to lose? Her desperate life as human horse of a much-heavier-than-her hateful spinster?!?

Therefore she did it: she entered Jessica’s room and stole one of her cowgirl outfits.

When Michael recognized his owner’s boot kicking him during the night, he felt very scared. This is probably why she didn’t notice a different voice ordering him: “You’ve got five minutes to get ready, slave. Your Goddess wants a night ride.” This was Camille’s first time as a human horse rider. She felt clumsy and frightened, but she needed to act a realistic Jessica… so she made a large use of spurs and whip against the muscular body beneath her.

Fortunately, she weighed exactly like Jessica.

While acting as Michael’s demanding and cruel rider, as soon as they got far from the castle and the adrenaline started leaving her, she felt an incredible pleasure… although she had suffered the same kind of abuse for years… or perhaps also because of that!

She truly loved Michael, yet she started thinking that a proper boyfriend should behave as a humble slave every time his woman desires.

Camille and Michael are now back to a normal life. They work, have a large house and Camille has recently got pregnant. But every time she wants, he turns into her willing slave. There’s no need for hypnosis, when you’re in love.

That night, Michael recognized Camille after a couple of hours. Yet he obediently kept carrying her for miles and miles…

Filed under: Short stories

A bloody race (1/2)

What happens if you marry a beautiful woman and she suddenly becomes a star? Very simple – Michael used to think – you find yourself alone before you can even realize it.

Yes, he had earned a rich divorce. But his brand-new house, surrounded by woods and wildlife in the middle of a forest, was so silent and cold! Thirty one years old, former executive at a large corporation, Michael had relegated himself into a lonely life…

Then one day he rescued a girl in the forest, where she was lying unconscious and hurt. He carried her on his shoulders for almost three hours, until they reached home.

Now Jessica – this was her name – was in front of him on the couch…

Michael was literally enchanted by the young woman. Red haired and blessed with a perfect skin, Jessica was not as stunning as his ex-wife Nicole, but she had a sort of special charm he couldn’t resist to.

After a couple of days, she already behaved like a spoilt bitch in his own house. The pretense was her hurt ankle, but he couldn’t have avoided to grant every wish of hers anyway. He was like hypnotized. Soon she explicitly started treating him like a slave: “Now go get a basin with hot water, and wash my feet! You’re the clumsiest rescuer I’ve ever seen.”

Ten minutes later, Michael was servicing her orally on his knees, while Jessica savagely pulled his hair and scratched his shoulders with her long nails. “Yes, this way… suck my clit with your lips… now delve with that tongue into me… yesss!” When Michael’s skin began to bleed under her nails, she could no longer stop herself: she lifted his head up and bit his neck deeply.

Jessica was hungry and really enjoyed the warm blood of the terrified guy. She barely managed to stop before the point where she would have turned him into a vampire as well… as she had better plans for him: Michael was handsome and strong. Jessica had been observing him for weeks, before taking the decision. Then making him carry her for miles on his shoulders, while she pretended to be unconscious, had been his graduation exam.

Jessica let him fall on the floor and looked deeply into his eyes. He was weak and in pain right now, after loosing so much blood, yet he stared at her more adoringly than ever. She put a naked foot on his throat, pushed a little to get his attention and said: “You’re gonna be the best human horse I’ve ever ridden, honey!”

They left twelve hours later. Jessica rode Michael on his shoulders for almost five hours through some beaten tracks, until they reached a huge castle surrounded by nothing but woods and mountains. Michael wasn’t harnessed in any way: he just had to use his hands as improvised stirrups for his young vixen’s naked feet. “Don’t worry, boy, I’ve got everything you’ll need at the castle.”

The day after, Jessica had already kept her promise. Michael was on his hands and knees, provided with kneepads and padded gloves. The girl put a heavy american saddle on his strong back and filled his mouth with a tight bit. She wore a simple set of blue jeans and white top, and cowgirl boots with razor-sharp spurs. In her pretty hand, a thin whip threatened Michael’s hips.

She gracefully swung across his back and took a comfortable sit, putting her boots into the stirrups.

Michael could easily handle her 120 lbs. He shuddered at the pleasure and excitement of this explicit situation: he felt completely lost for this girl, he just wanted to make her happy, whatever it took! Of course Jessica was excited as well. It had been months since the last time she had ridden a human horse: her former ponyboy hadn’t performed well enough…

The girl harshly pulled the bridles to get her slave’s full attention, then made him turn around. Once he reached the desired direction, she repeatedly dug the spurs into his flesh. His muscles’ immediate response made her more hopeful than ever about the upcoming race, while she enjoyed a fast gallop around the track.

Every autumn, female vampires from all over the world compete in the most merciless desert race ever conceived. Human ponies are their only means of transportation and source of nourishment for seven endless days… (continues)

Filed under: Short stories

Adelle’s favorite doll

The following story is inspired by the popular TV series Dollhouse.

Eliza Dushku is undoubtedly its beautiful star, but according to my criteria the character played by 41 y.o. Olivia Williams is way more charming: she’s mature, self-confident, cynical, conscious of her own power.

Needless to say, what follows is pure fantasy. The reference above is purely inspirational and represents just a tribute to those two attractive actresses.

Echo and Adelle DeWitt

“You’re so young and pretty, my dear Echo. And you’re proving to be so valuable to the company!” Adelle was enchanted by the shaken girl sitting in front of her. Echo had fulfilled so many assignments that Adelle was now wondering whether she could keep the girl for herself after all…

Everything had started a few weeks before, when Adelle had asked Topher to program Echo’s brain and make the girl her own willing slave. Nothing more than a test… of course very consistent with the woman’s sexual preferences. But Echo had been such an amazing submissive lover that Adelle now couldn’t give up enjoying her services between one mission and another.

This produced a side effect: having been fed with the same personality so many times, now Echo behaved as a slave in front of Adelle even during the doll-phase, when her brain was supposed to be erased.

“I’m not that valuable, my Goddess” the girl answered. “I’m so bad compared with the perfect slave you would deserve.”

Once again, Adelle’s sadistic nature prevailed: a few minutes later, Echo was on her knees under the table, her face plunged between Adelle’s thighs. The woman kept the girl’s hair with a hand and spurred the pretty slave by digging her sharp heels into the girl’s back. “Oh, yes… your tongue turns me on like I’d never experienced before!”

After that episode, Adelle called a quick meeting with her closer co-workers.

“My dear associates, I think it’s time for Echo to get an early retirement. She’s by far our top performer and I don’t want to put her life on stake anymore. Furthermore, she’s recently proved to keep trace of her past personalities, which might turn out to be a huge risk for our business. Can you imagine a client learning details of a past mission from her? That would be a nightmare for our reputation of extreme confidentiality.”

Some people tried to object, but the decision was already taken. “Of course I know Echo can’t be restored into her past life straight away” Adelle continued. “While waiting to find out the best solution, she’ll be a guest in my house. This way I’ll be able to keep a constant report of how much she remembers from the past missions. That will represent a precious source of information for programming the future dolls more carefully.”

Everybody knew why Adelle was suddenly so caring with the pretty girl, but no one dared making further objections: Miss DeWitt was very influent within the organization and had often proved to have no scruples.

Adelle DeWitt watched everyone leave her office. Once the door was shut, she looked under her desk. Echo had been licking her shoes for the entire meeting, silently and relentlessly as instructed. “You’re coming home with me tonight, my beautiful little doll.”

What follows is the diary kept by Mrs DeWitt as a top-secret report of Echo’s behavior…

Week 1. Echo’s first week in my house has been highly satisfactory. I had no doubt that she could bear everything while properly programmed, but she’s performing even better as a doll. I’m actually thinking she might have been naturally submissive in her ordinary life, even before we kidnapped her.

On the first few days, I kept making her lick and massage my feet and service me orally (her ability and dedication to give pleasure is extraordinary). Then yesterday I decided to test her further. I came home and I found her moving around naked, on all fours: she’s never even tried to walk as a human being since my order.

“It’s been a long tiring day at work, sweetheart. I want you to take care of me. Undress your Goddess and clean her up with your magnificent tongue, everywhere.”

Sat on my bed with Echo knelt down on the floor, I was looking for every slight sign of hesitation. She didn’t show any. First she licked my leather boots clean, took them off and massaged my tired feet. As soon as she started sucking my sweaty toes, I was already in heaven. Then she nuzzled with her face and hair all over my legs and thighs, until she reached my bush and started her marvelous job with a devastating slowness. I moaned and yelled and scratched her shoulders with my fingernails… but she didn’t speed up: she was relentlessly and methodically following my order of cleaning up her Goddess.

Once she felt my climax, Echo gently took my hand and asked me to stand up. Then she sat on the floor and plunged her own nape on the bed. Her face was willingly waiting for me to sit down on it…

I must confess that I had wiped off my ass negligently that day, on purpose. Yeah… I can be so sadistic sometimes! But now, before sitting down upon that pretty girl half-my-age, it was my turn to hesitate for a little moment. Then of course I did it. Comfortably sat on Echo’s face, her tongue licking my ass clean with complete devotion, I looked at that perfect young body under my soft thighs and I couldn’t resist anymore: I stood up, took my favorite riding crop, sat back on her mouth and started whipping her abdomen, thighs, pussy as she kept licking me…

I didn’t know it was possible to gain a climax through an analingus.

When I finally got up, Echo humbly went back to her default position: naked, all fours, on the floor. Once again, I looked at her younger perfect body at my disposal and my worst sadistic instincts came up. I must weigh at least 30 pounds more than her, but I didn’t even try to be gradual or kind while sitting full-weight on her back. I took a comfortable position, with my naked ass enjoying the smoothness of her back and both my legs dangling from the same side. I could feel her struggle under me, but also her extreme desire to please.

First, I asked her to alternatively bend and arch her back, just for my amusement. Being gently moved up and down by that small sexy body was so relaxing! Then I slashed her buttock with my crop and said: “Carry me to the bathroom, slave.” She was already tired and definitely overwhelmed by my weight, which must have crushed her hands and knees onto the wooden floor, but she let me ride her this way along the corridor and we reached the ordered destination.

“Now wash your dirty mouth while your Goddess takes a break” I said. While she removed the taste of my ass from her tongue, I sat on the toilet and peed. I initially just wanted to close the day with her tongue serving as toilet paper, but I suddenly decided to push her a bit beyond. Once most of my pee had exited, I managed to interrupt its flow and I stood up. “Get on your knees and sit onto your own calves, my little slave.” I stood up, got closer, caught her hair with my hand and put her mouth between my thighs. “Open your mouth, and feel privileged. No one else has ever tasted it after just a few days in my service.” She swallowed every drop, looked at me adoringly, then without any order she gently licked my pussy clean.

Impressive. Over any expectation. I don’t know what else to say: it looks like I’ve just found the perfect slave!

Week 2. During these last days, I’ve made one main addition to the training program of my little slave: I started pushing her hard on the physical side.

After the satisfying experiment done last week, I wanted to test her longer as a beast of burden. So I provided her with a pair of kneepads and I put on her back a real pony saddle, made in leather and complete with stirrups. As soon as I took place upon my little ponygirl, I was already dying with arousal. I put my boots in the stirrups and fastened a couple of small but sharp spurs on them, then I gently brushed Echo’s long hair and split it into two braids, to be used as bridles.

As I said before, I should be about 30 pounds heavier than her… so I could clearly feel her struggle beneath my comfortable ass, even just after those few minutes on the spot. That was such an exciting feeling! Only very sadistic or submissive people can understand what I mean: having full control on a human being, reduced as a beast of burden for an older and heavier woman… I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasure of it deeply for a short while.

Then I pulled the left of my very special bridles: she understood (smart girl!) and turned around on the spot. Once she was headed towards the door, I dug my spurs into her flesh… and our ride started. She managed to carry me very well, putting every inch of her strength into the task and following every order very promptly.

After a couple of tours around the house, I led my little ponygirl into my private garden. Here I turned way more demanding: I started digging the spurs into her thighs often and harshly, and I slashed her buttocks with the crop every time I wanted a further effort.

Yes, of course at this point she was almost finished. I could feel her struggle to keep the requested pace, and see her bleeding thighs and scratched hands. But I kept spurring her for a few minutes, before slowing her down by pulling her hair. Even while allowing a little break, I always kept my full weight on her beautiful saddled back.

“Bend your back, sweet ponygirl” I said. I enjoyed the feeling of sinking a bit into her. At this point she probably expected me to order some bend-and-arch, or perhaps she was too tired and devastated even to think… Anyway, I decided to rather keep her steady in this very uncomfortable position. “Don’t you dare move your back. Your Goddess is very comfortable.” Then I took my feet away from the stirrups and I put them beside her head, so she could lick my boots. This shifted more weight towards her exhausted arms, but she carried on serving me this way for around 10 minutes before collapsing.

She even improved her endurance as a ponygirl during the week. Yesterday I rode her for more than one hour no-stop! But this time I didn’t give up when she finally collapsed: yes, I stood up and let her take a brief rest, but then I removed the saddle and I mounted her again. “Now I’m really beating the shit out of you” I said. Sat on her naked pretty back, I put my thighs on her shoulders so my boots could dangle by the sides of her head, then I grabbed her hair very tightly so I could have control and keep balance. Now I wanted to get Echo’s very last drops of energy, so… yes, I dug my spurs into those naked, small, beautiful boobs of hers!

This final ride, with Echo’s extreme pain and struggle, turned me on like never before. So that night I made her give me pleasure savagely and intensely for such a long time that I’m not able to give any measure. Finally satisfied, I ordered Echo to lie over the floor, on her back. I looked at that astoundingly beautiful body. She was mine.

The scratches my spurs had made on her thighs and breasts were very visible. Full of gratitude for the marvelous gift that little slave represented in my life, I stood over her and massaged her clit with my naked foot, until she reached an overwhelming climax.

While Echo squirmed and moaned on the floor, I promised myself I would give her pleasure more often. She had really deserved it. And I decided I would start sharing this incredible little slave with a couple of my girlfriends…

Finally calm, Echo looked straight into my eyes from the floor and swiftly whispered: “I love you, my Goddess.”

Mrs DeWitt’s diary ends here. It’s been found on her night table, not far from the dead bodies. The elements we currently have endorse the following thesis: Adelle made Echo service her together with another two women (traces of the girl’s saliva have been found on the intimate parts of every body), until Echo killed them all in an attack of jealousy.

One of the most surprising aspects is the way she killed them all: using some kung-fu techniques that had supposedly been erased from her mind a few months before.

By now, the young girl has disappeared with no further clues.

This strictly classified report ends here.

Filed under: Short stories


Everything started a few years ago, when I wrote The Women’s Planet

My name is Steven and, well, I’m passionate about women!! More precisely, I consider those women who are able to gain control over men like Goddesses on Earth. And I believe feminine charm and self-confidence is worth even more than just beauty.

After the first story mentioned above, which remains located in a sister-blog, I wrote two more stories about female domination: My sister, my Goddess and From slavery to Eden. They’re fairly long and you can access them from the “Long stories” right menu.

The purpose of this new blog is to publish short exciting tales “on-the-go”… as events and suggestions from real life drag me into a fantasy world where submission to superior women is the rule. Hopefully this will help me write and publish more often!

Hope you’re going to enjoy it! Every comment will be more than welcome… and if you wish to contact me, why don’t you look up StevenPony on Fetlife?

Filed under: Notes



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