The Last of the Human Horses – Part 3

United Kingdom, 2012 AD

Steven ran through the last part of the field and nimbly dived into the water. As a skilled swimmer, the lake was easy for him to cross and he gained a bigger lead on the first of his chasers. A steep uphill run followed, then he lowered himself down through a rope and he lost a little ground in the final muddy section, but he could still cross the finish line in first position with a good margin.

That had been good practice. The military life suited him in many aspects: he was athletic and he loved to work hard, plus the camaraderie with his fellow soldiers was always a plus. There was one aspect he dearly missed though: women. It’s not that it wasn’t easy for an attractive soldier to find female company in the town where his military base was located, in rural Kent. Quite the opposite. But throughout his life he had always preferred the company of women not only in bed, and found their brain and personality way more interesting than men’s.

He literally adored women and he always chose girlfriends who were spoiled and demanding. However, sooner or later they all seemed to surrender that spirit and to conform to the European non-written rules of a patriarchal society, for his deep frustration. He wanted a woman whom he could love and worship to the point of becoming her slave every time she wished. He wanted to be loved, but also to always put her needs first. Why was that so difficult to find? All of his friends were getting married and having children. Most of them had a quiet and predictable life at home, and missed no opportunity for adventures with other girls, especially when abroad on a mission.

At 32 years old, simply incapable of settling for anything less than his dreams, Steven sometimes thought that he would never find his better half.

The communication he received on the following day seemed to confirm his fears: the battalion he belonged to was expected to depart for a long mission in the Middle East two weeks later. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He started picturing himself in a place where the only women with uncovered face were his few female fellow soldiers.

The first couple of months were pretty boring. The whole mission was essentially about guarding an oilfield. The ideals for which Steven had joined the Army had long been replaced by the awareness that their role was simply to protect the interests of powerful people and corporations.

Unfortunately it wasn’t safe to go out without weapons, so he dearly missed his long runs and cycle rides in the outdoors. At least they had an indoor swimming pool, where he started to train almost daily.

An interesting thing happened when he visited the library and found a beautifully bound book about an ancient Persian religion that, among the other things, promoted matriarchy as the best way to organize societies. He had always been an avid reader – and even dreamed of becoming one day a writer – but this particular book kept him glued like never before: for an entire evening and until about four in the morning. Once he finished the last page, he closed the book and left it right there on his bed, falling into the deepest sleep.

He dreamed…

He was in the desert at dawn, losing sight of the military base as he wandered deeper through the dunes. A sudden sand storm forced him to a stop. He could hardly see anything for hours. He slept again.

He was woken up by the worst smell ever. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the mouth of a camel, sniffing him! “What the hell…” He couldn’t finish his sentence when the camel’s rider, an old woman whose face was partially covered to protect her from the sun, harshly pulled the rope that she must have tied around his neck while he was asleep.

Was this a dream or what?? Oh my God… he must have wandered away from the base as a sleep-walker overnight! And his shorts and shirt didn’t really make him easy to recognize as a British soldier. He tried to run, but his legs were incredibly weak and he felt badly dehydrated. He managed a few steps though, only to feel the rope close down on his neck and start suffocating him.

The woman said something in her own language. He didn’t understand a word, but the tone was clearly authoritarian and he soon understood that she wanted him to get closer. She gave him some water from a dirty bottle and she slightly loosened the knot behind his head, then she whipped the camel twice and they started moving. Steven had to follow her through the dunes. He didn’t really have any choice, with his hands tied up behind his back and a tight rope around his neck. The other end of the rope was connected to the saddle of the camel, so he’d better keep the pace if he didn’t want to be dragged and suffocated! They kept going for at least two days, but at one point Steven started to have hallucinations, so he wasn’t really sure of how long he walked. The woman gave him just enough water to survive through the trip, and she always used a harsh tone when speaking to him. But the way she treated her poor camel was a thousand times worse: he had never heard of such merciless methods in modern times.

They eventually reached a small city. The woman stopped her camel while riding next to a small lake, so Steven plunged his head right into it to drink and get refreshed. Then he started looking around, and nothing he could see had one single aspect of modernity. He knew that some nomad tribes were still devoted to an ancient lifestyle, but also that they had satellite phones and other technology at their camps. Not even an old car? Some sort of radio?

The woman completely ignored him: she dismounted and was soon out of sight. It’s like she assumed that he couldn’t go anywhere, still tethered to the camel saddle.

Steven kept looking around and noticed women’s eyes everywhere. There were many men around too, but all of them kept their head low and were fully absorbed by some manual activity. The last doubt on the fact that women were in charge was canceled when he saw one woman riding a small carriage full of fruit… pulled by two men whose back she kept whipping with no mercy!

Carriages and other means of transportation on wheels seemed quite common in the town. He also saw some palanquins, probably for the wealthiest. But no man or animal was ever mounted. He had the impression that it was forbidden, because one day he saw a girl climb on the back of her brother to play – boys were kept submissive to their sisters, although not to the point of being slaves yet – and their mother immediately telling her to stop with an alarmed behavior, before looking around to check if anybody had noticed. Very strange. He couldn’t know that mounting any living being within metropolitan areas was a prerogative of the royal family.

Soon the old woman who had captured him came back. She took the other end of the rope and she said something, with a tone slightly nicer than usual. He was too tired to fight and he first wanted to understand where – and possibly when – he had been brought, so he followed her lead without creating any trouble.

He spent the following days in a cage, next to other captured men. He was clearly the only caucasian person in the whole town, but it didn’t seem to matter. All he could see was the most extreme application of the matriarchal principles he had read about in that book. It soon became clear that they wanted to sell him as a slave, because they started taking relative good care of him to make the product look at its best.

At that point it was evident that he wasn’t just dreaming. Yet he never panicked or felt sorry for himself. Perhaps he was under the influence of some drug – that could easily have been placed in the disgusting food he was fed with – or maybe some mysterious force was telling him that the answer he had been looking for was somehow getting closer. One way or another, he found himself accepting his new life with a mix of marvel and resignation, once he was sold. His days in the fields were boring, but perhaps not as much as his previous assignment at the oil field. He started as a fruit picker, but soon a supervisor noticed his strength and willingness to work hard and she assigned him to a transportation role. Sometimes he had to simply carry heavy bags of grain and cereals one by one on his own back, then transport them into a barn or load them onto a wagon. On other occasions he was harnessed to one of those fully loaded wagons, so he could pull them like a horse, harshly controlled by a woman through whip and bridles. It was harder than he could have imagined, yet – in his fantasies – he would have liked a lot more to be ridden and to feel the weight of his tormentor on himself.

At least he could observe more interesting scenes of domination – including human horses ridden on their shoulders – on the days when he had to transport supplies from the fields into a warehouse, because it was located on a busy road that people used to travel into the city. On one of these occasions, he was unloading the usual heavy bags from his wagon, while his handler – who had steered and whipped him with no mercy – kept seating on the carriage and giving him orders. With every bag, he had to cross a road where the traffic of pedestrians, camels and different types of carriage was out of control. He only had three bags to go, then he would be able to stretch his back and legs pulling the empty wagon on the way back to the farm. He heard the harsh flick of a whip against someone’s back too late to notice something launched at full speed in his direction: a mother with her two daughters was about to get even more late for school, when one of the two boys who were pulling her carriage at full speed bumped right into Steven. The bag of grain literally exploded in the impact and the three males found themselves on the ground. The carriage was four-wheeled and therefore stable enough to protect its passengers, but the women on board looked pretty scared and the Mom was simply furious! She started an intense argument with one of the supervisors and a small crowd quickly formed around them. Of course Steven could not understand a word, but he realized that the carriage was damaged. When the woman stopped yelling at the supervisor and harshly led him towards her daughters, he understood that she wanted him to carry one of them: she only had two slaves, and the carriage was useless, so she needed a third slave to proceed on slave’s shoulders. If they had told him that one day he would be used as a human horse by a woman, it would have been an immediate turn on for him. But something was wrong: he could feel an unbelievable rage brewing inside his chest, and he soon found himself fighting fiercely against the woman and many other people who immediately rushed to help her. Punches and whiplashes hit him. He tried to defend himself but he didn’t fight back: he would never have hit a woman, yet now he would have let them kill him rather than being used as a human horse. Why in the world? He felt like possessed.

He seriously thought that he was about to be lynched, when a sudden scream froze everybody. Steven identified its source in an attractive woman in her low 40s sitting on a palanquin carried by two huge slaves, who were immediately ordered to kneel down and let her dismount. She must have said “Stop!” and she was now looking at Steven with a puzzled expression, only to cause everybody else in the area to look at him in an almost incredulous way. What was going on? Finally she approached him very slowly with the most friendly face ever, she caressed his face to keep him quiet and prove that she meant no harm, then she touched the back of his head… and smiled…

 

Ashmeera, 324 BC

Queen Maryam had opened the largest quest ever witnessed for the last of the human horses. She promised a lifelong income and great honors to whoever would find him, mentioning the appearance in her dreams of a Goddess who had revealed the existence of only one left in the world. “He must be out there, I can feel it!”

Six years of unfruitful research had not demotivated her yet. Then one day a messenger rushed into her throne room unannounced… struggling to breathe and trying to say “Th.. f…. h… They fou…. hi… Oh, my Queen… They found him!!”

The Last of the Human Horses – Part 2

Her mother’s hug was everything Marjan needed to finally burst into tears, letting her emotions out. “Oh, Mom… I was so scared!”

“Where did that happen? I’m going to make sure that those rebels are slaughtered one by one with no mercy!”

“I’m afraid you won’t like my answer…” the Princess had to admit.

“What do you mean honey?”

“I was almost at the end of the path to the mountains, but I was enjoying the speed too much and I didn’t want to proceed uphill, so I took the right turn into the valley.”

“Oh no, how many times have I told you not to…” the Queen stopped herself. She was just incapable of being mad at her youngest daughter. “Never mind, sweetheart. I’m just happy that you are safe. Does that bruise on your ankle hurt?”

“Yes, a little.” The expression on her face immediately gained her another long hug. Then the Queen left her in her bedroom and said: “Just get some rest, my little Marjan. I will see you later.”

“Ok. Bye for now, Mom…”

The meeting with the doctor brought the worst possible news: “He will survive, my Queen, but his tendon was badly damaged and he will never walk without a stick or some sort of crutches.”

“What are you talking about? He’s my last human horse! Can you imagine a Queen or her daughter riding a horse who proceeds with a limp?”

“Sorry, my Queen. I was just seeing it from a medical point of view. You are right, he’s useless. In time he may be able to proceed on all fours indoors at a decent speed, but he will always feel pain even when doing that, and therefore he will never be as effective as he used to.”

“My last horse, damaged forever. And all he could generate was two daughters and one son without the rung. There must be a solution! I don’t want to go down in history as the Queen who let the human horses become extinct!”

The tradition of human horses serving the royal family dated back to the foundation of the matriarchal society, almost two centuries earlier, when Queen Adileh created a personal harem of slave boys and found one to be particularly suitable to serve as her human horse. He was neither the strongest, nor the fastest when running on his own, but once mounted by his Queen he became formidable. The Queen was a keen rider and she decided to have many human horses at court, but even much bigger and stronger men could not match the speed and endurance of that particular boy.

It was soon found that his same extraordinary devotion to the royal family was common to all males with a particular physical trait: a sort of “rung” on their skull at the back of their head, that could only be detected by touching it through the hair. No one could find any credible scientific explanation. But it was known that humans never use the full potential of their body, because their brain is designed to limit it, as a sort of natural precaution. Apparently, the devotion of these males was such that they could employ every drop of their physical and mental energy to serve the royal family. It was almost dangerous and it had to be managed carefully: they would have willingly died even to obey the least important order.

Even more puzzling was the question of how they recognized a member of the royal family: they wouldn’t let anybody else use them, not even under a direct threat to their own life. They were mighty and rebellious, but it was sufficient for the Queen to show them her hand and they would instantly kiss it and fall on their knees in front of her, ready to be used with no limit. Some more understanding about this aspect was only obtained two generations later, when one of the Princesses didn’t inherit a trait common to every Queen and Princess before her: a little but well visible birthmark on the back of one of their hands. No human horse, as these special slaves became known, let this particular Princess ride him without a direct order from the Queen or one of her sisters.

At that point the research of any scientific explanation was abandoned. However, the mystery of the human horses became the perfect legend to legitimize the power of the royal family through the years, through a divine interpretation: as long as the birthmark was on her hand, there was no doubt that a Princess has been chosen by the Goddesses to become Queen and rule over the whole Kingdom.

Queen Elaheh looked at the doctor again: “We need to find a solution.”

The fact that she could ride human horses was constant proof of her divine right to rule. And only one of her three daughters was born with the birthmark that made her entitled to reign.

“I can’t believe there are no human horses left. There must be one out there, perhaps in the most unexpected place or even out of my Kingdom. And I won’t have peace until we find the human horse meant to serve Princess Marjan, our future Queen!”

The Last of the Human Horses – Part 1

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 hesitation – 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 long legs seemed so delicate, compared to the tough and darker one of the human horse she was sitting astride. Her Mom 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 the Princess land almost entirely on his own head and arms, protecting her knees and feet, yet she 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 on his feet, 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 cross 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 get 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?

The Transformation – Part 2

Allison could not stop crying, but at least she had enough control to do it quietly, so she could avoid waking up her older sister and self-proclaimed owner. Her buttocks and sides were marked by Mallory’s stick – to the point of bleeding in some areas – and her back was intolerably sore from sustaining her rider’s weight for the longest time ever. Several times Allison had thought she would collapse out of exhaustion, but the merciless lashes had made her so desperate that her body had somehow found the strength to keep going.

What hurt the most – however – was Allison’s heart. She felt betrayed by her sister, the person she had trusted and loved the most in her life. Mallory had first taken advantage of her transformation to start riding her like a beast of burden, and then gradually showed a sadistic attitude and the intention to turn her into nothing more than a slave. This whole situation was so hurtful and hopeless.

Mallory had not even bothered to take any of the tack off her. The harness that sustained the stirrups was uncomfortably tight around her chest, and Allison was tethered to a tree through her bridles, expected to sleep standing like a donkey. Her new legs allowed it, but the turmoil in her heart did not. And those bleeding wounds could have used some fresh water. Allison knew that the river where they had got drinking water was only a few minutes away from the area where they were camping. She looked at Mallory, who seemed deep in her sleep by the fire. This was her chance. It took Allison at least 20 minutes to untie her bridle from the tree, using her teeth as much as the tight bit allowed her. She finally succeeded, and started walking slowly on her four hooves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mallory’s voice made Allison freeze.

“Ehm… I’m just… my wounds hurt, they need water… I was just going to…”

“You are not going anywhere without my permission. You’d better get used to acting like property, or I’ll teach you another lesson! Aren’t you broken yet, after the way I treated you yesterday?” Mallory took the stick from the ground and sat up, looking like she was about to stand up and hit her.

Scared and hurt, Allison could not think straight. She took a couple of quick steps back, and ended up hitting a tree with her wounded back. “Ouch!” she screamed, getting distracted for a second. That’s all Mallory needed to try and grab her, but a last-minute reflex allowed Allison to move her head enough to prevent her from grabbing the reins. At that point, nothing was left in her terrorized mind except one thought: “Run!”

Allison ran and never looked back, trying to ignore Mallory’s voice yelling threats at her. She kept galloping for at least an hour, feeling so light! She realized that she had never run without any weight on her back since the transformation. Freedom felt so amazing. But soon she started thinking: “Now what?” She was all alone, looking half-human and half-donkey, wearing nothing except her stirrups, thin saddle, bit and bridle. She could barely drink with the bit in her mouth, let alone eat. Her only hope was to find a wizard or a witch that could turn her back to human form. But she didn’t even know where to start!

By sunrise, Allison was so terrified that she seriously considered going back to Mallory and begging for forgiveness. She would have probably done exactly that, if she wasn’t completely lost. She kept wandering until she reached a stream. She started drinking and sobbing at the same time, feeling lonely and completely hopeless.

“What’s wrong, you poor creature?” a sweet female voice interrupted her thoughts. Allison literally jumped from the surprise, and took a few quick steps away. “Don’t be scared. Do you need help?” The voice belonged to a chubby yet pretty woman, who must have been about 6 months pregnant and was washing some clothes in the stream. She looked harmless and she was alone, so Allison timidly approached her, hoping she would be willing to help her. The first thing the woman did was to take Allison’s bit off her mouth. That was encouraging.

The two women spent the next hour sharing their respective stories, while Elizabeth – that was the woman’s name – washed her clothes and packed them in two large sacks. When they started walking towards her farm – where the woman’s husband would hopefully be able to help them find the witch – Allison immediately offered to carry those heavy sacks for her. Yet it soon became apparent that Elizabeth’s pace was getting slower and slower. “My belly is getting heavier every day. Who knows, I might be having twins! Thank you so much for carrying my laundry, sweetheart.”

Allison gave in and decided to trust her: “Why don’t I give you a ride on my back?”

“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet of you. I don’t know if I can climb on your back in my current state though…”

“Ok. Let me try something.” Allison knelt down on her front legs, like a dressage horse. Her stirrups were now low enough to touch the ground, so Elizabeth could straddle her without having to push herself up. The woman easily found her seat, placed her feet in the stirrups and immediately kicked Allison: “All right, let’s go!” Surprised by the sudden order, Allison immediately got back on her hooves and started walking. She immediately realized that Elizabeth was significantly heavier than Mallory, and her weight seemed to sink a little further into her sore back at every step. “You are so comfortable to ride, with your narrow and flexible back. I feel like a Queen. Let’s go a little faster now!” Elizabeth ordered, adding two slaps on her mount’s butt. That didn’t hurt much, but made Allison fear that the woman would gradually get as demanding as her own sister had. She saw little choice but to obey though, even when Elizabeth decided to put the bit back into her mouth to give her more accurate directions towards the farm. Soon enough, Allison was clearly no longer giving a pregnant woman a ride out of compassion: she was being ridden like an animal. Elizabeth was not particularly harsh or cruel, but her matter-of-fact orders – through bridles, kicks and slaps – were exactly what any beast of burden would have received. She also seemed completely indifferent to the strain that her significant weight was clearly causing on Allison’s human back. By the time they reached the farm, after a long uphill ride, Allison was completely exhausted and didn’t even notice the open-mouthed farmer greeting his own wife, as she finally stopped her mount with a tug of the reins.

“Who… what are you riding, Liz?”

“Seamus, this poor woman was transformed into a donkey, and gave me a delightful ride home. She is looking for help” she told her husband. Then she grabbed a handful of Allison’s hair and pushed her head down, saying: “Let me dismount, sweetie…” Allison correctly guessed the meaning of her order, and humbly kneeled down again to allow a comfortable dismount to the pregnant woman, who started leading her through the bridles while walking alongside her husband.

“I think I know where that witch lives” said Seamus, raising Allison’s hopes. “It would take two days of travel to reach her with our carriage, but there is a problem: our mule is sick! It might even die if I don’t give it a few days of food and rest. And I really need to carry all that wool to the market and sell it.”

“Hmm… perhaps we could hitch Allison to the carriage! She is tiny, but stronger than I expected! Between myself and the wet clothes, she probably had almost 200 pounds on her back. What do you think, sweetie? Would you be our donkey for a couple of days? In exchange, we will take you to the witch and try to persuade her to turn you back into a woman.”

Allison did not really see a choice, so she nodded her consent. The bit did not allow her to talk.

A few minutes later, Seamus had connected longer bridles to her bit and had found a way to fasten her harness to the shafts of his carriage. Now he was loading it with what looked like a mountain of wool. As soon as he was done, he called her wife: “Let’s go Liz, there’s no time to waste!” Seamus and Elizabeth took their seats on the carriage, and Allison’s senses exploded in pain: “Yah!” he yelled while hitting her with a thin long whip. Allison started desperately pulling the heavy carriage, struggling to get going. “She might be too small for all this weight” Liz suggested, but Seamus didn’t seem to listen: “Yah! Yah!” the whip hit Allison’s buttocks over and over again, and soon they were moving. Once Allison gained some momentum, the task of pulling such a heavy carriage didn’t seem impossible anymore. But it was definitely hard work, and Seamus’ vicious whip reminded her at regular intervals that she was supposed to give them her best effort.

Allison started wondering if leaving Mallory had actually improved her situation. Elizabeth had seemed sweet and compassionate, but she had started using her like an animal as soon as she was on her back, and now she was witnessing her husband’s cruel handling without any apparent concern.

“Come on, Seamus! Be more careful” she told her husband at one point. But she was only complaining about all the potholes the man was hitting with the carriage’s wheels, which made her back hurt. “You know what? I have a better solution” she added. “Stop the carriage.” The bit pulled harshly into Allison’s cheeks and the donkey-woman stopped, thankful to get a little break. Elizabeth stepped off the carriage and approached Allison. She disconnected the long bridles from Allison’s bit, and placed her original shorter ones back in place. Then she hit Allison’s side with a short riding crop, which she must have thoughtfully taken with her. “When I do this, it’s you command to kneel and let me mount you” she said. How quickly she had gone from chatting with her by the river to teaching her new commands! Allison’s increasing concerns didn’t stop her from obeying, as she really had little choice but to trust her new masters. They continued their journey with Elizabeth riding comfortably on Allison’s flexible back, while the donkey-woman kept pulling the carriage with Seamus and the wool. Elizabeth was not as harsh as her husband with the bridles, and her riding crop didn’t hurt as much as the long whip. But her weight seemed to sink a little deeper into Allison’s back at every step.

When they reached the market two days later, Allison was beyond exhausted. Her back hurt so much that she couldn’t help but sob and cry several times, but the pregnant woman didn’t seem to notice and continued her comfortable ride on her back, without dismounting for hours at a time. She also hit her with the riding crop every time she slowed her pace. After some time, she realized that it was more convenient for her to hit Allison on her shoulders and neck, instead of turning back to target her buttocks. However, when they stopped for the night Elizabeth nursed her and then curled up to her to sleep. It was probably a way to use her as a warm pillow, but it was the first human contact Allison received since her transformation, except that of her riders’ buttocks and thighs on her back. She felt very grateful.

Seamus successfully sold all of his wool, and bought a new mule with part of the proceedings. This meant that Allison didn’t have to pull the carriage anymore! But when she saw that Elizabeth was about to climb on the carriage, next to her husband, she surprised herself by nuzzling the woman and then kneeling down in front of her. “It looks like someone wants you to have the most comfortable ride” Seamus said, laughing. “She seems to love you!”

That’s when Allison became Elizabeth’s personal mount. The woman rode her every day and kept pushing her limits of strength and endurance, always using the whip with abandon. She kept demanding that Allison kneel down for her to mount and dismount more easily, even after she gave birth to a beautiful daughter. The donkey-woman started spontaneously kissing her owner’s feet every time she was made to kneel, to demonstrate her submission and affection. It was clear that she still had human feelings, but she soon stopped talking and increasingly acted like a small farm animal. The topic of finding the witch to have her spell reversed was never raised anymore. Elizabeth’s occasional demonstrations of affection were what Allison lived for.

Years later, Seamus and Elizabeth hit some financial difficulties. So when a young woman made a generous offer, they saw no choice but to sell Allison to her. The woman paid the agreed amount and immediately mounted the donkey-woman with a confident attitude, landing heavily on her back. “Oh, yeah. No other animal could be this comfortable…” she said.

“What is your name, young woman?” Elizabeth asked.

“My name is Mallory, and it was great to do business with you. I feel like I was meant to own this little mount!”

“She has served me very well. Please treat her as she deserves.”

“That’s exactly what I will do. Goodbye!” Mallory said, hitting her step-sister painfully several times with a dressage whip, until she was galloping for her life. Life was good once again.

The Transformation – Part 1

The following tale is a spur-of-the-moment idea inspired by “A Change of Heart”, a short story by Balance published here, which I recommend to any ponygirl enthusiast.

“Mallory, how about you don’t ride me today? I will still carry all of our supplies: I am strong enough for that. But my back is still human, and your weight makes it very sore. It hurt so much last night that I could barely sleep!” Allison was starting to sound desperate and look exhausted, one week after her transformation.

“Oh, stop it! You will become stronger with practice, as I keep riding you all the time. After all, there must be a reason why that witch turned you into my donkey!”

“She never said that I was meant to be yours. And I am not a donkey!”

“She definitely improved you with this transformation, but the truth is that you were already mine as a person. Ever since I was a little girl, I have always wished to have a personal servant. When Mom and Dad adopted you – younger than me, and so eager to make me happy – I knew that my prayers had been answered.”

“How can you say that? I have always let you boss me around only because I love you. And I have always looked up to you as my big sister, and taken care of your needs in any way I could, but I am not your servant!”

“Open your mouth” Mallory said in response, smiling as Allison instinctively obeyed, letting her sister pull the bit harshly into her cheeks and fasten the straps. “See, you do everything I say without even thinking. You always have. You were clearly born to be my slave. I am actually surprised you have waited so long to turn into something useful like a beast of burden!”

As Allison started sobbing, Mallory added: “Don’t worry, it’s supposed to be uncomfortable. If it hurts when I pull the reins, you’ll react faster and serve me better. Don’t you want me to be happy with you, slave?” Before the bridle, Allison had felt she was just giving her sister a ride. Now, she was being ridden. The difference was very clear.

Mallory stepped with a foot in the stirrup and swung her other leg over, avoiding the sacks of supplies slung over Allison’s body, and landed heavily with her bubbly ass on her sister’s soft back. Allison’s groan clearly expressed her pain and discomfort, but Mallory smiled with satisfaction as she felt her own ass sink delightfully into her mount’s sensual back. She harshly pulled the right rein to make Allison turn in that direction, then she started her at a walk with her heels and immediately spurred her to a brisk pace with a couple more kicks.

Mallory was simply ecstatic with how things had turned out. Only one week earlier she had felt completely exhausted and hopeless: she and her sister – traveling merchants – had been robbed of their donkey and part of their merchandise during the night, and were traveling on foot while carrying those heavy sacks to the next town for a market. A witch had appeared out of nowhere, just while Mallory was expressing her frustration against Allison, blaming her for not waking up during the theft and asking her to carry some more sacks, even though she was already the most burdened. “You two don’t look very happy today” had said the witch, trotting along on a little pony. girl_to_donkeyMallory had explained their unfortunate situation, and the witch had left them with an evil smile and a cryptic sentence: “I may have a solution for you, but someone is going to pay a price. You will see…” The two sisters had reached the market and made some good sales, but they had decided to sleep in the woods again – instead of lodging at a hostel – to save money and buy a new donkey soon. In the middle of the night, Allison had woken up and screamed: “Oh my God, what’s happening to me?” Her feet had turned into hooves, and her lower legs were all furry. She looked at her upper body and touched her head, finding it to be still human, except her ears that were now much bigger. And all of her clothes had disappeared! Mallory tried to comfort her, and promised they would look for the witch or some wizard who could help them reverse the spell.

By morning, Allison’s arms and hands had also transformed into furry legs and hooves and she could only stand on all fours, with her back perfectly parallel to the ground. Allison’s stomach, breasts, back and head were still human; everything else looked like a small donkey. As they got on their way in the morning, Allison quickly realized that her new body was much stronger, and she offered to carry most of the supplies, then all of them. Mallory started seeing the advantages of this new situation, and soon started complaining about her feet being tired from all the walking of the last few days. “Right now I am kind of envious of those hooves you got!” she told her sister with a smile. Allison had felt sad for the entire morning, but she smiled back and said: “Perhaps I could try giving you a ride?” That’s how it all started.

Allison now realized that while her new legs were pretty strong, her back was still human and quickly getting sore beneath her rider’s weight: Mallory was an attractive young woman, but she was tall and she had always had curves, so she must have weighed about 140 lbs. They kept proceeding as rider and donkey for the rest of the day. On the following morning, Mallory loaded all the supplies on Allison’s back and then mounted her without even asking, as if it was already their new normality. “Ouch, my back is so sore!” Allison exclaimed, as soon as her back received Mallory’s weight and bent under it. “So are my feet. I don’t want to walk. Come on, let’s go!” Mallory replied, slapping her human donkey’s ass with her hand for good measure. Humiliated and scared, Allison obeyed. And she let her sister use her like a beast of burden without further comments for the following two days, until Mallory decided to hire a saddler to have her sister fitted with bit, bridles and stirrups. “You are pushing this too far! And why have we not been looking for the witch?” Allison tried, but Mallory’s answer terrified her and prevented any further resistance: “If you are not happy with how I treat you, I can always leave you somewhere in the woods. What do you think any stranger would do to you, donkey?”

Mallory specifically asked the saddler to put no actual saddle on Allison’s back, but only a thin sheet of leather to protect her own ass and thighs from her mount’s sweat: she absolutely loved feeling Allison’s soft and flexible back bending under her at every step. And her sister’s resulting pain only added to her pleasure.

Now – a week after the transformation – Mallory was getting more demanding every day.

“Faster, faster!” she said a few minutes into their morning ride, kicking Allison’s moving thighs with her heels. The woman’s torso, still human, was too narrow to be reached by Mallory’s feet like a horse’s. “You know what? I’m tired of having to kick you. I should get some sort of whip, like a riding crop, or maybe one of those long and thin whips that are used for dressage horses. I bet you would stop being so lazy!”

Allison – who was carrying her sister and their heavy supplies at the best of her abilities, working very hard and enduring constant back pain – started crying and sobbing, wondering if this nightmare would ever end. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tug of the reins, that made the bit painfully sink into her cheeks.

“I have an idea. It should work for now. Stop here, and stay absolutely steady” Mallory ordered. The she removed her feet from the stirrups, got up on her knees on top of Allison’s back, and finally stood up on her. “Don’t move. I’ll kill you if you drop me!” Allison could hear some noise from the tree above them, but she had no idea what was going on. Then Mallory squatted slightly from her standing position, and let herself fall down and land astride her mount, who screamed in agony as her sister’s full weight hit her back. Mallory placed her feet back in the stirrups, grabbed the reins and took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

One moment later, Allison felt the most acute pain of her entire life, as her rider hit her one, two, three times with the thin flexible stick she had managed to get off a tree.

Allison had never gone beyond a brisk walk since her transformation, and she never thought she could go any faster, overburdened as she was with her older sister’s weight and all their supplies. But the pain from the stick made her stop thinking. She just reacted like an animal, trying hopelessly to escape whatever was hitting her back, thus offering her sadistic rider – comfortable on her back – a desperately fast trot. She could have even galloped, if she had only had Mallory on her back without all of those heavy sacks.

“Yah! Yah!” Mallory kept yelling, hitting her every few seconds to maintain the pace. She felt so powerful, so aroused by all the bouncing against her sister’s flexible back, so entitled to be served, so excited to abuse Allison as much as she liked. The world had finally recognized their natural roles, and she was now the owner of her own personal slave. Life was good.

The Retreat – Part 3

I am starting to wonder if I can make it through this. I am so exhausted. Men are not meant to be ridden all day like beasts of burden, after all. Or are they?

Either way, the fact is that my back has been hurting constantly for the past couple of days, which makes it hard to sleep. And once I finally fall asleep, Alyssa wakes me up at least once in the middle of every night, so I can carry her to the bathroom on my back. Her pale thighs are so sexy as she seats on the toilet, and I wish she ordered me to dive in and clean her, but she keeps using toilet paper instead. She just doesn’t seem interested in any form of intimacy with me – or any man, for that matter. The only part of her body that I am allowed to lick is her beautiful feet and long toes. I do it with passion and enjoyment, but it feels like she only cares about having them clean at all times.

As a rider, she has gradually become more demanding since we got here. But there is something else: I feel like she’s suddenly embraced a gratuitously sadistic side in the past week, as my constantly bleeding ribs can testify. It all started after that night with Anne and Laura. Alyssa had promised to lend me to them, but – as I expected – she came with me and offered to stay. Something must have happened on that night to upset her, but it’s hard for me to figure out: they immediately blindfolded me and put earplugs into my ears. I was just steady on my hands and knees for hours, while their bodies sat and moved on me in so many different ways that I can’t recall them all. I know for a fact that – at one point – one body was laying with its back on my back, while the other two sat and moved on top of it. Oh, I wish I could have witnessed that scene…

bikiniMy thoughts are interrupted as I see something strikingly new. It’s actually one of the most politically incorrect scenes I have ever witnessed in my life: a pretty blonde girl is wearing nothing but cowgirl boots and hat and a confederate flag bikini, while walking towards a fit black woman. She kicks her hard in the ankle, and the woman immediately kneels down on one knee. The white girl mounts heavily, yanks the reins harshly, and the slave obediently stands up, keeping her neck bent forward to provide her rider with a comfortable saddle and placing her hands under the soles of her boots as stirrups. The rider looks very young and attractive, with the attitude of a true spoiled brat. And the carrier looks selflessly and genuinely dedicated to pleasing her. I have never seen anything so unfair, yet so intoxicatingly exciting!

(Note – I am not a racist: I would find it hot even if it was the other way around. I just think interracial S/M can look very erotic…)

Alyssa must be just as impressed by what just happened, because I immediately feel her spurs jabbing me to trot in that direction. A few seconds later, we are riding next to the new couple as the group starts a long morning ride and Alyssa makes her acquaintance with Jenny, whose spurs seem to constantly torture her black female carrier.

“My family has owned black slaves for centuries. I don’t see why I should deprive myself of the same comfort and pleasure…” Jenny says in a heavy Southern accent, when Alyssa asks about her relationship with her carrier.

“She is gorgeous. I would love to try riding her, one of these days” Alyssa responds.

“Well, I would love to ride your stud here. And I am not just talking about his back and shoulders! Do you realize how handsome he is?”

“Oh yes, I know. But I am not interested in him that way. So you could do anything you want with him.”

“Ok, that’s it. This is just so perfect. Let’s swap rides right now. I can’t wait to feel him between my legs. And you can do anything you want with my slut here.”

“That sounds great. But I recently swapped rides with another girl and ended up slowing down the whole group. Sally was not happy. So maybe we should wait until the afternoon…”

“I have a better idea. Let’s go faster for a little while to gain a head start, so we will have already swapped mounts by the time the group catches up with us!”

I can’t hear Alyssa’s answer, but it must be positive because I am immediately attacked by her spurs and riding crop at the same time. Jenny probably does exactly the same, because I can hear her “Yah!!” followed by an immediate grunt of her carrier, who is surprisingly able to keep up with me even though I am running for my life! Alyssa’s spurs keep jabbing me every few seconds to make sure I don’t slow down. I can hear her laugh with excitement and that makes me happy: I still love this girl, even though some of her recent behaviors have disappointed me. It’s my first time galloping under her though, and I wish Sally or Anne had taught her how to do it without bouncing heavily on my neck at every step.

Ten minutes later I am back to a walking pace, and the rider on my shoulders is Jenny. She is significantly lighter and more petite than Alyssa – whose weight is clearly testing the strength of the black girl next to us – but I soon realize that Jenny is by far the most sadistic rider I have ever served. Even as we go at a leisurely pace and she chats away with Alyssa, she enjoys hitting me every few seconds with the sharpest spurs I have ever felt, while yanking the reins at the same time. The result is that I don’t actually increase my speed, but I obey her orders by taking a single big step as if I wanted to start galloping, immediately followed by landing on the other foot and slowing down. It’s almost like a jump. Jenny is clearly enjoying rubbing off her crotch against my bent neck through her thin bikini, and that little trick seems to be enhancing her pleasure. It also gives me a lot of pain and it unnecessarily consumes plenty of my energies, but I am captivated by her selfish and demanding attitude, as well as by her very sexual approach to riding me.

As she keeps chatting with Alyssa, I learn that my new rider is the 19 year old daughter of a rich farmer in West Virginia. They are aware that slavery was abolished a long time ago, but she met Coleen – the black girl – on a S/M website and had her move in with her as a 24/7 slave shortly thereafter. She doesn’t really believe in white supremacy, but she likes playing with that concept since her slave happens to be black. And she’s been actively looking for a male white slave to own. Jenny clearly likes me, and I seriously wish I could be hers. At the same time I find her a little scary: she is the most sadistic rider I have ever served, at only 19 years old. How long until she literally rides me to death?

“You are so young. How come you are already such an expert rider?” Alyssa asks, while whipping poor Coleen to keep up with us.

“My sister is 8 years older than me, and she has always been into S/M. She is incredibly dominant. Seriously, I am compassionate compared to her!” Jenny laughs. “When our parents passed away in a car accident, she inherited the farm and acted as a total bitch with our employees. When they involved the unions, she fired all of them. Then she invested in advanced machinery to limit the number of workers necessary to run the farm, and she started turning some of the slaves from her S/M hobby into 24/7 free labor. They work incredibly hard, in exchange for basic food and shelter and the pleasure to serve her.”

“Wow, that must be a great life for you two!”

“The transition was hard, and we had a couple of rough years. But things are great now. We have more slaves than we need. And my sister and I use some of them as human horses to ride for miles every day in the fields and monitor the work. She also taught me so many different uses for our slaves! They can improve every single aspect of your life, if you are creative and merciless enough. Coleen is my only female slave, and the first that I acquired for myself, after borrowing from my sister a lot through the years. I like her because I can feel her struggle as my human horse. It’s so rewarding to push her to complete exhaustion, and then beyond her limits…”

“That sounds amazing. I would love to learn some of your tricks! I mostly use Steven as my pony, chair and foot cleaner. I know some of the ladies here demand intimate services, but on this trip I am fully realizing that I only want that from other women.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that myself, Alyssa. I’m straight. But you are welcome to take advantage of Coleen. Why don’t you keep her for a few days, while I make full use of your Steven?”

“We have a deal!” Alyssa replies with a high-pitched voice. I slightly turn to my side for a second, and I see a bright smile on her face. She looks ecstatic, and I am very happy for her. Apparently there are things I can’t do for her, irrespective of how hard I’ve been trying to be a perfect servant. I also get to see Coleen’s face between her thighs. She looks scared, and I wonder if she’s going to make it as Alyssa’s rider for a full day: she looks strong, but Alyssa is probably taller than her and just slightly lighter. I can see lots of spur marks in two areas of her abdomen – where Jenny must have hit her – and more fresh marks below them, where Alyssa’s longer legs must be reaching when she jabs her.

“All right, I’ll see you later! Taking a little deviation with my new stud…” Jenny tells Alyssa, interrupting my thoughts with a sharp yank of the reins that makes me turn 90 degrees, followed by one, two, three vicious jabs of the spurs. I start galloping into the woods without even thinking, immediately losing sight of all the other riders and carriers on the beaten track. But Jenny doesn’t have enough. As we reach an open field, she spurs me one more time and then starts whipping me continuously with her riding crop while yelling “Yah, yah!!”

I am literally flying now. I have never run so fast with a rider on my shoulders. My muscles ache, but it’s nothing compared to the pain Jenny is inflicting on me, so I keep running all out. This girl is starting to terrify me, but at the same time this is the most amazing time of my life! She is an extremely competent rider and she doesn’t bounce on my neck at all, but she squeezes it hard to stick to me as one body. The feeling of her soft inner thighs pressing against my face is absolutely amazing. I have never felt so abused in my life, and I absolutely love it. Jenny is just unreal!

After a couple of minutes at this unsustainable pace, Jenny suddenly pulls the reins and I feel the bit dig cruelly into my mouth. I slow down as quickly as I can – hoping she won’t fall off – but she points her feet forward and I feel her weight press hard into my neck through her crotch. She definitely knows what she is doing.

As soon as I come to a complete stop, she orders: “Down!” It’s the first time she talks to me, and I feel lucky to be addressed by such an amazing Riding Goddess. This teenager could be my daughter. Yet I am already completely under her spell.

I kneel down – breathing heavily – and I lower my head even further to let her slide down on the back of my head, just as I’ve been taught. She jumps down so quickly and with such agility that I don’t have time to remove my hands from under her boots, so she steps on them. I am hurting everywhere at this point, but I can’t wait to find out what she has in mind for me. I could really use some sexual relief as well…

Jenny looks at me, grabs my hair and walks with her bikini bottom into my face. “Smell your new owner, slave!” she says while rubbing her crotch against my nose, and I immediately get turned on, despite my exhaustion. “Starting today, your only purpose in life is to please me” she adds, with a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

“Now, you are going to stay on your knees and bend your head back, looking at the sky.” As she says that, she pulls my hair to force me into the position she just described. This actually feels good for my neck, after I kept it bent forward for hours today under the weight of my riders.

Jenny shows me how to cross my arms behind my back the way she wants, grabbing the left forearm with my right hand and viceversa. Then she painfully steps on my forearms with one boot, swings the other leg and lands with her crotch on my face, facing my back. I immediately realize with immense pleasure that she took her bikini off. Several times she pushes into her feet to lift herself, then she lands heavily onto my face. I lick her as much as I can, but her full weight and sudden landings don’t help.  Then she starts riding me back and forth, rubbing her wet pussy all the way between my chin and my forehead. I can hear her moan with pleasure, but she is probably getting tired of moving so much because she kicks my back with her spurs, which I interpret as a signal to rock back and forth to help her movement. That really gets her going, and I can soon feel the sweet taste of her orgasm in my mouth.

Jenny stops moving, and remains sat with her full weight on my face for a minute or two. She even lets her feet dangle freely. The bottom of her thighs are covering my eyes, so I can’t see anything. My mouth is in heaven, but my neck and shins hurt like hell at this point.

Then she opens her thighs and she looks into my eyes. “Open wide!” Before I have enough time to understand her intentions, I feel her warm pee flowing into my mouth. Fortunately a dominant ex-girlfriend taught me what to do a few years ago: I press my lips against Jenny to seal them, and when my mouth is almost full I close it enough to be able to swallow, but not completely so that her nectar keeps flowing though my lips. She has a lot, and I keep swallowing while we look into each other’s eyes. It’s absolutely magical to see her expression of complete satisfaction, as she uses me in such a humiliating way. At one point she farts while peeing, and immediately giggles about it while still maintaining eye contact with me, her human toilet. Once I have swallowed every last drop, I start licking and cleaning her. She enjoys my tongue as her toilet paper for a few seconds, then she places her boots back on my forearms and lifts herself up from my face. “Wow, you didn’t miss a single drop! I am completely clean. You are fucking perfect, slave! I am so going to own you!” Then she lowers herself again, but this time she is sitting closer to my forehead. “Now lick my ass. I feel like it needs some cleaning after that fart you heard…”

A few minutes later, I still have the taste of Jenny’s pee and asshole in my mouth as she rides me like the wind. It takes me at least 15 minutes at full gallop to carry my newly found Goddess along the trail until we catch up with the group. For the entire time she sits comfortably on my neck and shoulders in her confederate flag bikini, squeezing my face between her soft white thighs, while constantly spurring and whipping me to maintain speed even as I get more and more tired. I have never been ridden so hard for so long, yet I absolutely worship her and by no means I resent her selfish and cruel treatment. The more she hurts me, the happier I feel because that allows me to serve better. And the idea that she is fully relaxed, pleasured and clean – thanks to her use of my mouth – makes me feel so compelled to be the most comfortable and reliable beast of burden in the world. I think I might be falling in love…

Of course I am completely exhausted, once she slows me down by the tail of the group. It’s literally hard to breathe, but her spurs keep me in check and I maintain a walking pace. Unsurprisingly, the last rider of the group is Anne, astride her girlfriend Laura.

“Hi there. My name is Jenny. How are you?”

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Anne. And this is my girlfriend Laura, who’s starting to get seriously tired but she’s been doing an amazing job!”

“Yes, she is. You two are the same size! It’s impressive. And I love how she rubs your bare feet while using her hands as stirrups for you. I should try that with my Steven here, though I would miss the spurs so much…”

“Oh, that’s ok. They have stirrups with spurs, in case you want to ride barefoot while still using them. I don’t like them though. Laura is motivated by her love and adoration to me, with no need for unnecessary pain. Anyway, did you say he’s your Steven? I thought he was Alyssa’s…”

“Yes, we just swapped rides. But I am enjoying this stud so much that I am planning to do everything in my power to keep him!” My heart is leaping with joy.

“Do you know Alyssa well?” Anne inquires. Then she gently kicks her mount with her heels and says: “Come on, babe. You can do it. Keep carrying your Princess, and go a little faster now. You don’t want my beautiful feet to walk, do you? Show me what you’ve got!”

Jenny replies with a giggle: “Oh my God, you two are so cute! I just met Alyssa this morning. She really liked my black female slave, and I was immediately attracted to this handsome man, so the swap was definitely a win-win. How about you?”

“We met last week. She must have realized that she really prefers female mounts, because she insisted in swapping rides with me. She promised to be gentle, so I eventually gave in. But as soon as I lost sight of her, she was much more dominant with Laura and made her cry. I galloped on Steven all the way to the head of the group to make them slow down and wait for us, yet she had already managed to force Laura to reach the group by the time we got back to them. I was so mad…”

“What did you do about it?”

“Nothing right away. But that night she showed up with Steven, thinking that I would share Laura with her and we would use her together. I think she is very attracted to me. But instead I forced her to be the soft human mattress on which Laura and I loved each other for hours. It was the sweetest revenge. We even rode her face, both of us. And we did all of that on top of Steven, who was blindfolded and wearing earplugs. So the poor bastard was sustaining the weight of three of us, without even knowing what was going on!” Anne concludes with an evil laugh. Why does everyone keep talking about me as if I wasn’t there? They must be really getting used to considering us nothing more than beasts of burden. While I feel bad for Alyssa, the scene that Anne described will be stuck in my mind for a long time. I just love sensual domination between women…

That night is the first I spend with Jenny. By the time we reach her bedroom, I am experiencing a new all-time peak of exhaustion. Nobody has ever abused me so thoroughly, while making me literally fall in love in the process.

Jenny looks at me, kneeling on the floor beside the bed after carrying her all the way there. “You are a mess: sweat and dirt and blood everywhere. But before I go for a shower and send you to the stables to get cleaned up, I have some more use for you. Put this towel on that chair, and then your head on it, looking at the ceiling.” I know what’s about to happen, and seconds later I am swallowing Jenny’s piss for the fourth time today. She has never done it in a toilet since she saw me for the first time, and I hope she won’t anymore.

I obediently lick her clean, then I do the same with her ass as she moves a little forward and offers it to me. After a while she stands up, sits on the edge of the bed and orders: “Take my boots off.” As I do that, she immediately pushes her feet into my mouth, one at a time while the other rests on my chest or shoulders. I bathe her feet and toes for at least 10 minutes, until she dismisses me with a playful but harsh kick.

“Go get cleaned up, slave. You might get lucky and sleep in my bed tonight…”

I am over the moon. Never in my dreams I thought I would get this lucky. “Oh, wait!” she adds, as I am about to leave her room.

“Come here, and look at me in the eyes,” she orders while pushing me back on my knees and placing a foot on my crotch. “You will be mine, forever.”

And that’s the beginning of the next chapter of my life.

The Retreat – Part 2

“Good morning, Ladies. And welcome to your first day at Windham Stables! You have signed up for a one-of-a-kind experience, together with the partners at your service. Rest assured: we will take your interest in lift / carrying – whatever your current level of experience – and transform you into nothing less than Riding Goddesses.”

Sally looks absolutely gorgeous as she walks in the middle of our small circle, making eye contact with the girls as she speaks. I find myself craving her attention, but it’s clear that in her eyes I am nothing more than a human chair. At least I can face her though, because Alyssa figured out a new way to use me on all-fours: my right hand is lifted from the ground and holds the elbow of my straight left arm, so that my right forearm is parallel to the ground and serves as a convenient footstool for her bare feet. Of course it doesn’t bother her that most of her weight is sustained by my left hand: she is becoming more selfish and demanding by the minute, which makes me very excited and – in all honesty – a little bit concerned.

“As new arrivals” Sally continues “you received a booklet with plenty of information, as well a map of the property with description of every riding trail. But let me mention a few key rules, before we join the larger circle with every other guest. First, men are expected to always obey women. It’s that simple, and it admits no exceptions. It even applies to the occasional ponygirl, whose status is superior to that of ponyboys, who must obey her. In case you are wondering, no male riders are accepted here. Second, each man belongs to a main owner for the duration of the retreat. Her orders will always come first for him, and they will prevail on anybody else’s with only one exception, which I will mention in the next point. Third, the schedule allows for about 50% of time you will spend riding your primary carrier, and 50% in which you have the option to swap rides with other women. We strongly encourage swapping, but it’s not mandatory, so please be respectful of everybody’s choices. And here’s the exception to the second rule: if you do accept to lend your carrier to another woman, she becomes his primary owner for the duration of that session, and her orders will prevail on yours for that time. Any questions?”

“Sally, what type of orders does that include?” asks Melissa, a pretty brunette perched on the back of a tall guy who looks like a basketball player. “I am interested in riding different men, but I want to make sure that whoever uses my boyfriend doesn’t break him!”

“We respect all riding styles, so you can’t ask a typically aggressive rider to go easy on your man. But don’t worry, we constantly monitor everyone’s behavior to make sure the whole experience is always safe and consensual.”

“What about orders that go… ehm… beyond riding?” asks Tiffany, a black cheerleader sitting on a huge white guy.

“That’s all left to your own initiative. If you wish to swap men outside of our riding sessions, you can do that. But the three rules I mentioned earlier still apply, so you should expect your man to obey any order from the other woman.”

Sally answers a few more questions, then we hear a horn being blown from a large patio. It’s time for the morning circle! I am curious to see how many other couples are here.

Alyssa maintains her position on my upper back, as I take away my footstool arm to start crawling at her order. All the other riders must be sitting right in the middle of their men’s back, leaving less available space, because Sally steps with her leather boots on my back, placing her hands on Alyssa’s shoulders for balance as she stands on me: “I hope you don’t mind if I hitch a quick ride!”

“Of course not!” Alyssa replies with enthusiasm. “It looks like you have a thing for Steven though…”

“Well, I think he’s very attractive. And I prefer a strong lean body, rather than huge bodybuilder types…”

“That’s totally fine with me. We are just friends, and I will have no problem lending him. And a great rider like you will make him so much better for me! So please feel free to use him any time you want… as long as you find someone else to carry me!”

“Sounds like a plan!” I hear Sally say with excitement, as I struggle to carry the two women on my hands and knees. I am still somewhat surprised to be treated like a disposable animal, but it sounds like I will get used to it very soon!

Alyssa keeps sitting on my back for at least one more hour, as we join the morning circle and then go to have breakfast. There are about 20 couples taking part to the ponyplay retreat, plus five resident riders – including Sally and Amber – and a number of resident slaves that seem to take care of everything from the kitchen to the stables.

As we start the morning ride, Alyssa feels heavier than usual on my shoulders. It must be the jet-lag, or perhaps the rich breakfast that she enjoyed earlier this morning. Of course I could only smell it – while serving as her chair – but I was then fed and equipped with riding tack at the stables, while Alyssa went back to her room like the other girls.

As she was preparing me, the resident slave at the stables read a check-list for my first day, based on the preferences Alyssa expressed this morning through a form:

  • Arms tied behind back
  • Chest harness
  • Stirrups with embedded spurs
  • Backpack with drinking water for the rider
  • Bit and bridles, plus riding crop for the rider
  • Assigned to his owner for the morning, then available to share in the afternoon

She treated me harshly, kicking my ankle whenever she needed me on my knees, then riding me all the way to Alyssa’s room and leaving me by the front door, waiting for my owner to make use of me.

Alyssa is barefoot today, but her kicks are more painful than ever: those spurs embedded in the stirrups are very sharp. Part of me starts resenting her for unnecessarily hurting me so much, but then I look at her adorable feet and I think that they can do anything they want to me. I am also uncomfortable with my hands tied behind my back, as if that changed my balance. But I don’t have much time to adapt, as my owner puts me through my paces and chats away with other riders on the way.

Sally is leading the group on a trail in the woods, riding alongside another resident Mistress whose name I could not catch. They are mounted on two slender but strong men, part of the seemingly unlimited supply of available slaves.

As we keep going, I hear Alyssa make conversation with other riders. She literally offers every one of them to make use of me any time they want.

Now she is talking to a voluptuous woman in her 50s, astride a man who must be half her age. She is probably the heaviest rider on the entire retreat, and definitely the most merciless I have seen so far, as her spurs and riding crop seem to constantly torment the poor man even when there is no need to convey any order. The prospect of being ridden by her terrifies me.

“Nice to meet you, Alyssa! My name is Roseanne.”

“Hey Roseanne, nice meeting you too! Isn’t it a perfect day to ride our slaves?” This is the first time Alyssa refers to me as her slave. She is totally getting into this!

“Indeed it is. Junior here is a little out of shape though. We’ve been here for two weeks and he is starting to get worn out. I should probably lend him to lighter riders more often…”

“Yeah, I’d be happy to help with that. And of course you could use Steven here!”

“That would be lovely. My Junior is a little high-maintenance though. You should be prepared. He is my stepson, and he is never been very smart. He used to make my daughter’s life a nightmare, until she took martial arts classes and she started kicking his ass. As long as you hurt him, he transforms from a wild animal into a docile donkey…” she says with an evil smile, following by more spurring of Junior’s already bruised abdomen.

“So you turned your stepson into a slave for yourself and your daughter?”

“Well, not exactly. My daughter gradually turned him into her servant. Then she left for college – shortly after my husband passed away – and we concluded that the best way to handle the son of a bitch was for me to learn how to dominate him. And, well… it’s been a hell of a ride since, if you see my play on words!”

“Well, I am glad it worked out for you. I can’t help but wonder if his submission is truly consensual though…”

“Oh, it’s fine. I may seem harsh with him, but he needs the discipline. He used to be a scumbag and an addict, and now at least he’s doing something useful!”

I look at Junior’s strong body, struggling under his cruel and heavy rider, and I am not sure he feels the same way. But who am I to judge? I can definitely agree with the right of any dominant woman to have a man at her service. And – together with the obvious reactions to his pain and strain – I can also see a sense of accomplishment in Junior’s behavior: his neck is bent forward to make a comfortable saddle for his rider, and his hands are placed underneath the soles of Roseanne’s boots, serving as natural stirrups. I can definitely see that he doesn’t even try to slow down her legs as they kick him with those cruel spurs. Perhaps he has actually found his purpose in life.

The grim prospect of Alyssa and Roseanne swapping carriers is postponed for now, as the bit pulls between my teeth and I obediently slow down. I soon realize that Alyssa wants to wait for the last rider in our group.

“Hey, thanks for waiting! I love chatting while riding, and my girlfriend here is getting too tired to talk back to me. By the way, my name is Anne.”

“Nice to meet you, Anne. I’m Alyssa! Your slave here seems to be doing a great job!”

“Thanks! She is not as strong as most boys, but she compensates with extreme dedication to my comfort and pleasure. She worships me as her girlfriend, and she loves my weight on her. But don’t call her slave, please. That’s not what she is to me. Her name is Laura.”

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed every carrier here was submissive.”

“Well, she definitely submits to my will. But I like leveraging her affection to me to get the best performance out of her, instead of using cruel tools. No judgement, of course…” she says, probably after realizing that Alyssa is using spurs on me.

“Oh, I understand. I was never an aggressive rider either, but I must admit that I am enjoying trying everything out at this place, and my Steven here never complains, no matter how dominant and cruel I get. I am curious to see how far I can go with him, and I have plenty of time to find out!” She talks as if I wasn’t even there!

“Come on, babe. We are about to lose the others. Carry me faster, I know you can do it for me!” Anne orders, gently kicking her carrier’s abdomen with her bare feet for encouragement. As Laura gains speed with a subtle groan, for the first time I get a glimpse at them and I am truly impressed: the two girls are about the same size!

Anne is pretty and feminine, with the typical colors and complexion of a Dutch or Danish girl. She must be 110 lbs or so, and she is riding with no gear or tack, only wearing cotton shorts and a tank top. Her carrier must be struggling under her weight, but she is clearly prioritizing Anne’s comfort over her own: her neck is completely bent forward to create a natural saddle that fully sustains Anne’s butt, and her hands are not only holding the rider’s feet as natural stirrups, but they are also rubbing those pretty feet at the same time. I can’t help but find it highly erotic: every molecule of Laura’s body is lovingly dedicated to providing comfort and pleasure to the woman astride her, no matter how hard it gets.

Alyssa seems just as impressed: “We should be friends. And I would love to swap carriers with you. I promise I will be gentle with her…”

“I appreciate the offer, Alyssa. But I rarely lend her. As I said, she is not a slave, and the rules here demand that any rider be obeyed no matter what. So I mostly keep her for myself.”

“Oh, I understand. But those rules only apply to the afternoon sessions, when the lending is official. Why don’t we just swap rides right now for a while, and we stay together so you can keep an eye on her? I am very curious to feel a female carrier beneath me…”

“Hmm… that’s tempting. And I wouldn’t mind trying your carrier. But you are taller than me, thus probably a little heavier.”

“All right, let’s do this. We try just for a little while – you can get Laura back whenever you want. And tonight I’ll lend you my Steven with nothing in return. Perhaps you could enjoy a ride on his back together with your girlfriend, giving her a break from being at your service…”

“Well, that’s really tempting! Ok, let’s do it. But we are both barefoot, and I don’t want to get my feet dirty.”

“Let’s have our slaves – ops, carriers – kneel down next to each other.”

As we follow their orders, Laura and I start feeling feet stepping on our thighs, hands and arms. I am not exactly sure how they are doing it, but I obediently keep my head down, and soon enough I feel Anne’s weight straddle my shoulders and neck. The girls have swapped rides without touching the ground with their pretty feet.

Laura groans as she lifts Alyssa and starts walking beneath her, and I have a feeling that the small difference in weight is not what’s troubling her. Anne probably has the same thought, because she says: “Laura, honey, I really want you to serve Alyssa with the same dedication you have for me. And I want you to do that because it will make me happy. Understand?”

Laura’s reaction is immediate. She relaxes her bent neck – letting Alyssa sink comfortably in the natural saddle of her shoulders – and she grabs Alyssa’s feet to provide them with the same support that her girlfriend was enjoying a minute ago, while also starting to massage them.

Alyssa reacts with a “Oh, yes… I love this!” and she rewards her new mount with a kick in her abdomen that Anne would probably consider a little too hard. “Go girl! You are at my service now…” I can’t believe how much she is enjoying riding that girl!

My attention soon moves to Anne though, because her gentle approach is clearly reserved to her own girlfriend: first she pushes my head down so much that my chin is almost touching my chest, then she kicks me sharply to start our ride. I wonder if she realized that the stirrups she is using are equipped with razor-sharp spurs.

“I can’t even see the others anymore” she tells Alyssa after a couple of minutes of more riding. “Do you mind if I go ask them to wait for us?”

“Yes, but be careful: Steven can be pretty fast!”

She barely finishes her sentence when I feel the spurs painfully dig one, two, three times into my abs. I break into a trot – leaving Alyssa and Laura behind – but Anne doesn’t seem to have enough. A few more kicks and I am running for my life. It’s my first time galloping! Anne is not only lighter and more petite than Alyssa, but also a surprisingly competent rider! As we reach the end of the group she slows me down a little bit, but we keep passing everyone until we reach Sally in front, then I feel the bit pulling harshly into my mouth.

After talking to Anne, Sally asks Lindsay – the resident Mistress riding next to her – to slow the pace of the group until she’s back. Then she pulls her left bridle so hard that her slave’s teeth become visible, until he has made a 180 turn. “Follow me!”

I don’t have much time to understand, before my mouth is subjected to a similar torture and Anne spurs me on to follow Sally. We are galloping again, this time going in the opposite direction of the riders that we pass along the way.

As we reach the end of the group, I am surprised to already see Alyssa’s smile. Somehow she got Laura to almost catch up! I can imagine how… since I see her kicking the girl beneath her at least twice in just a few seconds. Laura looks exhausted, but Anne doesn’t seem bothered: perhaps she is enjoying the thought that her girlfriend is working hard, only to obey her order to please Alyssa.

“All right, are you two ok now?” Sally asks Anne and Alyssa.

“Yes, we should be good. Thanks for waiting for us!” Alyssa replies first.

“No problem. Next time wait until a break to swap rides though. I’ll see you girls shortly. We are about to stop for lunch!”

About 20 minutes later I am on all fours, serving as a human chair for both Alyssa and Anne. Laura is laying on her back right next to me, as a soft and warm footstool for the girls’ naked feet. One more time, they have managed to move around without touching the ground. I feel lucky to be serving these two natural Goddesses.

Suddenly Anne orders Laura to get up on all fours as well, and both girls move from my back to hers. It’s only a temporary test though, that Anne and Alyssa seem to enjoy with plenty of laughter. Then they are back on me – to my satisfaction – and I hear Anne give an unprecedented order: “Laura, honey. You deserve a break. Come sit next to me.”

It’s hard to think, when the weight of three women is on your back. But based on what I can feel and hear – and judging by the position of the six legs dangling from my body – Anne is in a sandwich between Alyssa and Laura – facing her own girlfriend – while both girls touch, massage and kiss her. They are obviously keeping this a little limited in front of the other riders, which makes me truly look forward to the evening, when I am supposed to be lent to the girls. Something tells me that Alyssa will end up joining us…