A Spoiled Equestrienne Gets Her Way.
by Horsey Boy
Let me introduce myself. My name is Carlos. I live on a large cattle ranch in an Argentina. Actually, I'm not Argentinean though. I adopted this land as a retirement home of sorts, giving up my native English for Portuguese. I led a life of, well, crime and so cannot easily cross some borders, but do not feel too sorry for me. I've made a vast sum of money, tax free, and now wish only to enjoy it with my jet-set friends in privacy. My ranch goes on for miles across the hills and plains, and I have a large house an air strip, and several large outbuildings, including a stable of horses for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of my guests. Attached is a large indoor arena where I can ride my horses out of the glare of the hot December sun. Beyond the large staff of this working ranch, and actually it is run from a nearby town, there is a small staff who maintains the estate, it's grounds, buildings and provide for my security and privacy. They are very devoted, as they have been in my employee from before, when I ran the illegal enterprise that provided my funds. They were born to a life of struggle and poverty and now thanks to me, they live comfortably, have a
secure future, and are able to provide for their families.
---
A pretty young woman is visiting, again; Stephanie. She stops by for a few weeks at a time, only to drift off by air or boat to other adventures. Stephanie is young and attractive; of twenty-nine years with very light blond hair cut to a medium length and curled at the collar like a skater's, piercing steel blue eyes, medium breasts, and just a little more than average definition in her athletic derriere. She is self confident, well sometime haughty, well educated and worldly, speaks English, French, German, Spanish, and now almost Portuguese, and is acquainted with the so-called finer things in life. These attributes have allowed her to live a life of drifting between sailboats and estates and penthouses. Being a moocher of artistic degree, she doesn't have to actually *do* anything to earn her hosts' hospitality. They let her come and go just for the excitement provides. I have never been disappointed; she has an active libido and a strong interest for the exotic to, well, pretty kinky. Interestingly, she is not in need of the money. I had a background check run during her first visit, and she has her own means. She claims to come from a royal lineage, in France (of course), and she was meant to live well. (This isn't true, but it would be impolite to say so. Besides, I've found she has a definite weakness for being address as "Duchess Stephanie" after a few glasses of red wine.) She loves horses and likes to wear equestrian clothes, and occasionally likes to wear other symbols of class, privilege and power. I have come to think that I am her equestrian host since we ride nearly every day. We have ridden together often enough that she knows the reasons I let her ride ahead go beyond good manners. Her derriere is wonderful to behold in tight breeches; it's firm cleavage forming a sort of letter "B" on the dark leather of the saddle. Her active libido and her taste for symbols of social power lead very naturally to a fetish for control and domination. After most rides I am asked help the Duchess with her jacket, and then her boots, in the traditional way, with me astride her leg and her other foot on my rump. Sometime the little charade goes on throughout the afternoon and into the evening. She wears a demeanor of coolness, distant and regal, while I brush her riding boots. She is wearing them again of course.
---
Her exotic passion for domination sometimes crosses the border into sadism. Here is my weakness; I find this very erotic and have told her so, but to please be a little subtler when she "gets into that mood". Let me give you an example of how far it can go: she likes to drive my silver Tahoe truck across the local roads, unimproved dirt tracks really, and she loves splashing through the small stream they cross. She says she likes the big powerful truck, that it made her feel invulnerable. The topic moved easily from overcoming road obstacles to intentionally running over things. I encouraged this talk and the driving conversations became a sort of a driving game that we both found erotic. More than a few snakes and armadillos met their fate under the wheels when Stephanie drove. On one occasion a bent old shepherd in dirty clothes seemed to go out of his way to make her wait by wandering slowly right down the middle of the road in front of the truck while she crept impatiently behind. As if to say, "you may be wealthy and beautiful, but you will still wait for me!" After a few honks on the horn were ignored, she turned to me and smiling with her teeth, her blue eyes shinning, asked if it would be all right with me if she ran him down. Looking sternly for just a second, she said it would serve him right. Then again smiling, that besides, she wanted to see what it really felt like! It was obvious that the idea excited her. I told her we were too close to the estate and that the truck was too well known. Perhaps another time, I said. "Well.. OK" she said, and smiled another big white smile. Her smile faded to a distant and self-absorbed look, she gently biting her lower lip, her upper lip still curled in smile, and she gunned the vehicle around the old man, saying to no one
but herself "I'll bet you don't even know it's your lucky day".
---
As I have said, her fascination with me seems to center around riding my horses and her sadistic appetite makes it's presence felt here as well. Once when we were riding through a big field Stephanie said she thought it would be interesting to ride her horse over someone on, trampling and crushing them under her.
"Hmmm, kind of like a fox hunt?" I asked. "Talley Ho!?"
"No," she said smiling; I don't want to chase them, that's too much work." "I just want to have them lying helpless in the dirt." "I'll look down my leg and boot at them and then rein my horse and ride right over them (throaty giggle)".
I had to admit her that this painted an interesting picture, Stephanie in the saddle in her snug breeches and shiny boots, looking down at me. She laughed behind her smile and said, "ohhhh darling,.. don't temp me!". The image stayed with me as we rode on. We discussed it at some length, she using the opportunity to tease me. I told her I would find a way to arrange a trampling.
---
On occasion I must fly to Rio to visit my banker. I normally turn this into a three of four-day trip with shopping, dining, sports, and gambling. This time I take Stephanie along, happy for the company. We fly down in the Citation, with Marco, my pilot, driver, majordomo, bodyguard and companion in the left seat, me in the right. Also in tow are two accountants, an attorney, and two bodyguards. (Rio has a very high crime rate!) Arriving in Rio, we rent a pair of Audi's and tear off into the town. After two half-day meetings to review my investments with dour men in suits we are turned loose on the city. After a day of doing all the tourist things (again, but this time with a new pair of eyes) we dine at a restaurant with a balcony overlooking Sugarloaf and the harbor. The next day we will stay in bed until late morning, then an afternoon of shopping (something nice for my companion) and another dinner with a view.
---
Stephanie enjoys the shopping. Marco has phoned ahead and each shop someone meets us at the curb as we pull up. The shopkeepers fuss over Steph and she loves it. "I feel like a princess" she whispers. We visit an exclusive equestrian clothing and tack store and she tries on every boot. The storekeeper has sized us of as spenders and is calling Steph "mad'am" and savoring over her every comment, trying desperately to sell a pair of boots that cost well beyond the local per capita income. She plays him to the max; saying she is unable to decide and letting him push and pull several dozen pairs of boots over her feet. Finally she asks him if he thinks a particular pair are "pretty enough to kiss?" The man says "Oh yes! Ma'dam", and actually kisses the boot she is wearing on the toe! Clearly enjoying this she thanks him and curtly asks him to help her with the other boot so that she can try walking in them. As he is coaxing it up her calf he gives it a quick peck as well, laughing and ensuring her they were indeed pretty enough to kiss. Smiling shyly, she tells him that she likes his style, and asks if he would like to show her some breeches as well! Finally she is dressed in beautiful black field boots with a brown leather accent stripe at the top, a pair of very snug, very expensive
tan breeches, and a checked blazer. I decide that I will wait until later to ask her if the shopkeeper's continuing customer service skills contributed to her choice in breeches.
---
The cars wheel up to an exclusive hilltop restaurant and as a group of eight we find a table overlooking the harbor. Stephanie is still sporting her new equestrian clothes and feeling a bit full of her self. She tries to strike up a conversation with the waiter, but he treats her coolly. If it's her clothes and attitude, what did he expect working here? The drinks were late, the dinner late, and the waiter completely unhelpful. More than that, he openly displays disdain and disgust. It was really spoiling a fine evening. Finally the beef arrives; cold! Obviously it sat in the kitchen. Stephanie has been drinking red wine on an empty stomach and now she is getting angry. I'm getting angry as well. She tells the waiter he just blew a HUGE tip, more money than he'd made all evening combined. And that he is a pig and deserved nothing! There were some other words spoken low, and then the young man began shouting, telling her that at least she was dressed like the spoiled bitch that she was. She snapped back that unlike him, she could afford to do both; to dress like a bitch and act like one. The other diners had stopped eating to watch the show, a waiter being told off by a pretty young woman in equestrian clothes.
"Spoiled rich bastards! All of you!" the waiter shouted" You come in here
and delight in showing off. You love to have poor people around, to spit on! And you especially! You spoiled little Princess, dressed in your fancy horse riding pants!" he gesticulates at Stephanie." Why don't you just ride right out of here on the same high horse you rode in on! All of you!"
Stephanie is drunken and fearless. Her face has hardened with anger. With one lovely eyebrow raised, one blue eye boring in on him she tells him:
"Just be careful what you wish for, dear, because maybe I might just do that! I very much do enjoy riding my "high horse" as you say, and might enjoy riding him right over top of you! That seems a fitting way do deal with your type, as well as a fitting reward for your rudeness."
The waiter was beside himself! He grabbed the wineglass out of her hand and flung the red liquid across her new blazer and all of us. Both bodyguards are on their feet. "Gentleman"
I said, stopping them in their tracks. By now the restaurant staff surrounded us. The Matre'd and the manager had arrived and told the waiter that this was absolutely the last straw, and that he was fired. The manager lead him away, controlled by a promise of a little extra money if he left quietly. The Matre'd looked at our meals, at the other waiters, and snapped his fingers.
"Madam, Gentlemen, please let me apologize for this man's rudeness. Please allow us to pay to
clean your clothes, and of course, anything you'd like from the menu is on the house, please...."
Soon Stephanie is slicing into a perfect fillet when she spots the waiter, now in street clothes, walking out the door. He looks over at our table. Stephanie raises her glass of
Merlot in toast. The man glares back and leaves.
---
On the way back on the plane she was still a little drunk and quite giddy. She talked about all the clothes I'd bought her and laughed about how people had acted. It had been so easy to
make everyone had kiss her ass just to get a little money. (The shopkeeper did indeed repeat the little scene with the boots while she tried on pairs of jodpurs and breeches.) She told me she especially enjoyed getting the little waiter fired. She told about toasting him, to his being paid off and shown the door while she dined and drank.
Then she came closer and whispered; "what did you say to the driver?"
"Was it about my little waiter? Where did he go? Did you do something?
For me? Beat him up maybe? Kill him!? "
She was clearly enjoying the idea and knew without a doubt that I had sent my chauffeur out in response to his outburst and insults.
"Well,... he may have been a little ruffled but none the worse for wear. Actually he's on
the plane with us. Right under you in fact, in the cargo holds. I though you might want to continue the conversation you two started in the restaurant."
She looked puzzled at first, but was soon grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"What conversation exactly" she asked?
"Why the one about you riding your high horse", I said. " Would you
like another glass of wine?"
---
The next morning was nearly afternoon. It was clear and sunny. After a light brunch we went to the stable and saddled up The Chestnut for Stephanie to ride. The Duchess was dressed in her lovely new tan breeches, her new footwear, the black field boots, and calf high and with a darker brown accent at the top. On top she wore a red sleeveless sweater that showed her tanned arms and discretely displayed her nipples. She wore black leather gloves and matching helmet, and carried a crop in her right hand. The Chestnut is her favorite, big and strong with good definition. A gift from a police captain who had been in my debt, the big gelding
shows a lot of "horse sense" gained from his extensive training and years with the border police. He is calm and affectionate, but still young enough to run tirelessly. But of course
it was his parade gait that attracted The Duchess's eye. When coaxed, he holds up he head and tail and steps high, carrying her along like he were a Lipanzinner stallion.
---
I opened the big door and held it while she rode into the indoor arena. My arena is one of the things that make's life livable. It's very hot here in the summer but the arena is air-conditioned. This morning however was merely warm, and the sparrows chirped and fluttered through the sunbeams streaming through the open windows and the top of the arena. Our guest was already waiting. The waiter was tied to one of the 4x4 post that defines the gate into the ring. He was facing toward the inside of the ring with his back to us, his head and shoulder bent forward. His arms are behind him, bound at the wrists and his ankles tied to the post.
Further, there was a piece of lumber tied under his armpits and to a ring in the post, the end result that he couldn't stand erect. Instead he slumped forward, bent at the knees and
hanging by his shoulder such that his face was at about the level of one's chest rather than eye to eye. Except for the white tape over his mouth he was dressed only his cotton briefs.
---
At my suggestion Stephanie rode slowly into the ring, from behind his right shoulder. Stephanie rode in at a slow walk, The Chestnut clopping casually past the prisoner. I had closed the door and now stood outside the ring, behind the Waiter's left shoulder. Through arrangement she did not even mush as acknowledge his presence. Once in the ring Steph coaxed The Chestnut into a slow trot, the sound of hooves crunching out the hollow staccato rhythm of the gate. He and I both watched Stephanie as she posted effortless around the ring, the saddle rising eagerly to meet the seat of her sexually explicit breeches. The waiter was watching her
intently. Each time she rode around, she passed directly in front of us, and each time rode a little closer. Soon she passing mere inches from the man, making him tightens his
stomach and shy back each time. After four or five such passes she reined to a walk and pulled The Chestnut to a stop directly in front of him, her breeches filling his view as the waiter's eyes were almost exactly level with the seat of her saddle. She shifted her weight slightly, finding a more comfortable seat, and placed her gloved hand with crop lightly on her thigh.
"Well hello there" she purred. "Did you every think you would see me again?"
"And look, I'm riding my high horse just for you. It certainly makes me higher than you,
doesn't it? So do you like the view?"
With that she sat up in the saddle slightly and she urged her mount to take a side step toward the man. Now the waiter's chin was almost in contact with her upper thigh, and he looking wide eyed at her hips. Almost in contact that is, because he had tightened his stomach and
pulled back his shoulders as the big horse moved in. As he strained to stand upright, she took her crop and placed the tip under his chin, lifting it until their eyes met. His eyes were wide and questioning, filled with fear and confusion, his complexion pale. She was glowing, her hair tied into a blond pony tail protruding from beneath her helmet, her smile bright
and her blue eyes gleaming. There was the unmistakable look of sexual arousal in those eyes and of thrill and triumph in her smile.
"So...... do I look like you imagined?, ... riding my High Horse?"
"No please let me talk" he managed through his gag.
"Please, I'm sorry I said those things. I'm sorry. Lady, please let me apologize to you", he pleaded.
"It's a too late for that I'm afraid." she said coolly.
"Much too late. Now your here and I own you! You are my helpless prisoner...."
"And now I'm going to use you for my kinky pleasures!"
She took the crop away from his chin and cracked it sharply across the face. His head jerked back, and tears welled up.
"Please lady" he begged "please, I'll do anything you say!"
"You don't like my crop?" she asked. "...... Did it make your cry?"
Suddenly her mount whipped it's tail and stomped it's back foot, THUMP! in response to some itch or fly. Steph bounced up with his movement and shifted her weight back, automatically adjusting. This caused the prisoner to pull his head and chest back. Stephanie saw the man flinch at her mount's sudden movement and she smiled, her voice a tone of mock concern.
"You're not afraid of horses are you?"
"Are you afraid of getting stepped on? Or maybe of getting kicked?"
"Here, this isn't dangerous. Here let me show you..."
She squeezed her legs together and the horse took one step forward, then another. After several of these steps, taken one at a time, the prisoner was looking directly at the side
of The Chestnut's big rump. Steph pulled back on the left reign, gently, slowly, and nudged the horse with her left boot. The big horse turned away from the prisoner, until the prisoner was looking directly into the horse's hock, his tail held up proudly, exposing the powerful gluteus muscles and the dark anus. She stood in the stirrups and turned around to look back at her prisoner-toy, her gloved hand leaning on the beast's rump.
"Now THIS is dangerous!" she said playfully.
"This is exactly how you can get kicked!"
With that she took her crop, and turning and leaning back in the saddle, stroked The Chestnuts big gluts with the leather loop on the handle end. He raised his head, attempting to see what was behind him, but she deftly held him in posture, tickling his rump again. He struck at the
annoyance with his tail, whipping the helpless prisoner directly across the face. The prisoner squinted from the sting on the horsehair whipping his eyes, and in an attempt to protect him from another whipping from the tail. Stephanie laughed a low quiet laugh and used the crop again to tickle, and The Chestnut stomped a back hoof and whipped the prisoner across face two more times.
"This is fun.... It looks like it hurts, too."
"Your horses are just too well trained!" she scolded me mockingly,
"They just won't kick with me in the saddle!"
"Keep tickling" I suggested, "And try it little lower."
Steph leaned back further, her crop now reaching the horse's rump on the middle of his powerful gluts. This was too much. WHAM! The horse kicked hard with his left leg, catching the prisoner in the right thigh. The man let out an OWwww!, and inhaled sharply through the nose, then bent forward slowly in pain until he was leaning forward, hanging on the rope.
"I think perhaps that is not a good place to be" she laughed, and pulled back on the reins.
The Chestnut stepped back as he had been commanded, one full and one half step until he could back up no more, pinning the prisoner against the post with his muscular rump, and threatening to break his prisoner's back or neck. The prisoner struggled and squirmed his way back up, using only his stomach muscles since his hands were tied behind him. This took ten terrifying seconds, and in the process he put his face squarely in the horse's anus.
At this Stephanie giggled: "Is it smelly?"
Finally the horse took a step forward and prisoner stood again upright, his weight on his good leg. There were only about twenty centimeters between him The Chestnut's rump. The horse's tail brushed gently against the prisoner's chest. Stephanie was alternating between holding
the horse and talking softly to him, and turning around to look at her prize. She looked forward, and continued looking straight ahead as she again reined the big horse back until it leaned against the man and the post, almost sitting on him. The horse's big rump pressed the prisoner hard against the pole. The Chestnut nickered and Stephanie told him it was OK. The horse stood there for a moment resting its weight on one leg and the man. Then it pulled it's tail up and out of the way, holding it even higher than normal, putting his the base of his tail in the man's face. His chest was being crushed and couldn't breathe; Stephanie and The
Chestnut were slowly suffocating him. The prisoner lowered his head, letting it lie on top of the horse's tail. The Chestnut now realized this was the human, and he didn't like being touched this way. As the prisoner gasped for air, the horse raised his tail higher than ever, putting its anus right in front of the prisoner's face. The anus puckered out and the horse let out a long, loud fart. This set both Stephanie and I laughing uncontrollably, and The Chestnut once again stepped forward, letting the prisoner's head fall and allowing him
to draw in air sharply through his nostrils. The man choked and tried to unsuccessfully to control his breathing, but he had no choice but to stand directly behind her and smell her horse's fart.
Still laughing, she said "peeewwww!" "Come on Carlos, let's get away from that cloud."
---
Stephanie turned her heels into The Chestnut's flanks, quickly but gently. He lifted his head and moved forward slow trot. Again she posted slowly around the ring, pretending to ignore the man as she clop-clopped past him. The horse soon shook off his tension and paid attention to his rider.
"Think it's time to lower him down a notch?" she asked.
"As you wish, Duchess Stephanie."
I climbed up in the wooden railing behind our waiter, now looking a bit groggy, but getting on top of the pain from the kick and from being pinned. His eyes were tearing and there was a vivid red line across his face from Stephanie's crop. He looked back at me and I could see less intense marks left by The Chestnut's tail. Streaks of horseshit crossed diagonally across his face. Speaking with great effort through the gag he managed "please mister,. untie me,. this is enough". I reached out and took a rope from above his head and pulled a knot loose. The rope wound up through a block of pulleys so that I could support his weight with just one arm. I let the rope slip slowly through my gloves and he sank down, lower and lower until he
was resting on his knees. I retied the rope and looked down.
"Steph, would you like to show our rude waiter your new boots?"
Reining to a walk she said "If you'd like".
She walked The Chestnut over to the kneeling prisoner and stopped in front of him, making him a captive audience of her new boots. She coaxed the horse once again to take a side step toward the man; placing the stirrup and her boot almost in contact with his face. He cowered back from her, straining to turn his face away.
"These are the pretty boots we bought in Rio, Do you like them?"
"There ones I wore to your restaurant last night!"
"They were rather expensive, but they feel wonderful...and they make me feel, ... well special"
"Smell them! They're clean ... I love the smell of new leather!... Don't you?"
Stephanie was looking down at him while she spoke her expression one of detached fascination. She pulled her boot out of the stirrup and placed the sole on the front of his face. She began to push the boot down on his face, harder and harder forcing his head back, he making a "uuuummmmm" sound as she increased the force. Soon she was pushing down hard enough to rise out of the saddle, almost standing in one stirrup and his face. After a few seconds she sat back down, and in the same motion kicked her boot out, dragging the sole sharply across his face, her heel gouging his cheek, nose, and mouth.
"See, they're brand new, not even the bottoms are dirty!"
---
Stephanie was looking down at the prisoner, her lips and eyes displaying no emotion. She had that far away look again.
"This is fun dear, but I'd like to do it now. Can we get on with it?"
"Aw please Duchess Stephanie" I whined "Just a few times around."
She smiled a condescending smirk and rolled her eyes. "As you wish." I walked over and Steph moved The Chestnut away a few paces. She looked at me, still smirking and snorted a short laugh. I untied the rope that held the prisoner upright and he fell forward on his face, his arms still bound behind him. I stood over him and stood with one boot on his lower back, untying and removing the board from behind his arms and untied the rope holding his ankles to the post, his ankles themselves though still bound. Then I took the rope and passed it under his armpits, tying it in a loop so the knot was in front of his chest. By now the prisoner was becoming a little more interested and raised his head to watch. Stephanie saw this and began to watch him. He looked up at her and their eyes met. Her expression changed from the
cold detachment to a wide malicious grin. I walked over with the rope and she swung her stirruped boot out so that I could tie it off. I looped it through the ring where the stirrups attach to the saddle frame and made a slip knot, handing the free end up to Steph. If she pulled the end sharply the rope would come loose. I kicked the prisoner in the rump and pulled him up, first to his knees and then kicking him once again, to his feet. I stood beside him and in a matter of fact tone I explained what came next:
"She rides... and you walk. If she rides faster... you run. If you fall... she keeps
riding. Get the picture?" The prisoner nodded gravely.
Stephanie gently nudged her mount and he moved off at a slow walk. The short rope went taught after about two steps and the prisoner jerked forward. He managed to keep his balance and went hobbling along behind her, favoring his leg that had been kicked. The Chestnut's hooves made a muffled clip-clop clop-clip clip-clop clop-clip as he walked slowly, the saddle making a few squeaks in protest to her shifting weight as she found her seat. She looked straight ahead, her ponytail bouncing gently and her lovely derriere moving slowly forward and back with the motion of the saddle. She kept this pace for two full laps of the arena, looking back now and again to smile at the man, telling him once:
"see, it's not so bad."
The prisoner watched her back intently, and the back of the big horse also. The rope was rather short, making him work hard to stay back from the big horse's feet and still to maintain enough slack in the rope to maintain his balance. Soon he was beginning to breathe a little harder. As she neared me on the third loop, she kicked the big horse's flanks once with her boots, and then again a little more firmly, and he broke into a slow trot. The sound changed into the regular clop-clop clop-clop clop-clop, The Chestnut picking up his feet, head and tail high. Stephanie posted along effortlessly, her ponytail bouncing up and down, her bottom rising then falling to meet the dark leather of the saddle.
"How are we doing back there?" she called back gaily.
The man was nearly running now, and being jerked by the rope more often. Dirt kicked up by The Chestnut's feet landed in his face. Twice he stumbled, only to regain his balance again before going down. It was then that the horse chose to drop a load. Without missing a step, he held his tail higher and his anus opened wide, the big green horseshit emerging. It broke off chucks, hitting the ground in six large pieces, the hot moist chunks rolling and breaking apart, and some bouncing up so that the prisoner kicked them with his shins. The man grimaced at the smell and he made a "ugggggh" sound. Stephanie choose to ignore it all and posted on. They circled the ring probably a dozen times before the prisoner finally fell. Gasping, he stumbled and pitched forward, landing hard on his chest. The rope went taught in an instant and the horse broke his gate, startled at the sudden pull on the rope. Steph leaned forward with a soft "whoa". As soon as she had the horse again under control, Steph turned quickly several times to watch her prisoner dragging along in the dirt behind her. His face was a grimace of pain and he let out a few muffled moans. At that she turned and looked back again, biting at her lower lip, her eyes wide with fascination. He tried to rise up on his elbows
and knees, maybe to put a foot down and jump back up, but he just fell down again and dragged. She rode past me, starting the prisoner's third lap since falling and approached the other side of the ring and the trail of fresh horseshit. Stephanie looked at the horseshit in her path, and then at me with a laughing smile, showing off her straight white teeth. By now the prisoner had ceased his struggling and was only barely able to hold his face a few inches above the ground. She tightened one rein with her gloved hand and rode just outside her original track, now well marked by hoofprint, riding neatly past the steaming road apples, dragging the man directly across them. Stephanie slowed The Chestnut to a walk and rode up to where I stood in the center of the arena, stopping three meters or so past me with the
prisoner lying at my feet.
"So, did I do it right?" she asked between breaths.
"You know, it was raaaather fun after all."
The prisoner was lying face down, breathing deeply and moaning. He raised his head to look at me, his face was red and there were pieces of dirt and shit in his hair, face, mouth, and chest. "Perfectly" I said.
---
"Shall I do it now!?" she asked eagerly, her eyes wide.
"Enjoy, Cheri."
Stephanie turned back and pulled the rope, releasing the slipknot, and letting the rope fall in the dirt.
"Be a sweetie and untie the other end of that, would you?"
I had a hard time untying the knot, now pulled very tight. I gave up and cut it, pulling the rope from under him. Steph turned The Chestnut with his flank toward us. Looking down she
said:
"Hmmm, ... he needs to be able to look up at me,... can you turn him over on his back?"
I put a boot under his hip and rolled him onto his side, then kicked him over onto his back. His chest was raw and bleeding, with dirt ground in. Stephanie reined The Chestnut around and rode slowly over to the prisoner, stopping so that she was above his head, the horse nearly
perpendicular to him so that her boot was positioned nearly over his face. As the horse towered over him, the prisoner tensed his muscles and rolled his head back, looking up, keeping his eyes on the big horse's flank.
"Well my little plaything, do you have any idea what comes next?"
Their eyes met, his filled with fear and dread, hers calm but determined.
"no" he rasped.
"Oh now come on, let's see if you can guess..... Think back. I've already told you once, remember? Remember what I said last night when you intruded on our dinner, Remember when your when you threw the wine at me?
"No,.... you don't want to guess?"
Smiling: "You know what? I think you remember.... I think your just afraid to say the."
The big horse was shifting his weight, stomping his feet and biting at itches while she spoke, the prisoner flinching with each movement, but this time she took no notice.
Feigning frustration: "So you won't guess?..." She licks her lips:
"Well, then (giggle) I'll just have to say the words for you,... (giggle)... I'm going to be riding my "high horse" some more this morning... and I'm going riding right over you...."
"He's going to trample and crush you under those big hooves..... and after our little game
with the rope,. I'm almost certain that I'm going to have an orgasm while he does it..."
Grinning: "So Mr. Waiter,... tell me,... what do you think of that?"
"Please lady, I'll do anything. I can get money. Lots of money, please just let me go."
Laughing: "But I don't want money, I have money. "I just want to trample someone with my horse... and here you lie."
Quietly: "Now you know how the cat's toy feels."
Stephanie kicked the horse softly, the prisoner's eyes drawn to the movement. The horse walked slowly past the man's head about five steps and snorted. Stephanie reined him around, turning toward the prone man, kicking the horse's flanks lightly with her boots, commanding him forward, horse and rider advancing toward the helpless man lying in the dirt on his back, he looking up at her with his arms and ankles still bound. She rode directly at the man in front of her, steering to see him directly between her horse's ears, aiming her mount at the man's chest and advancing toward him at a slow walk. With a soft: "whoa" she stopped the horse only half a meter away. The Chestnut dipped his big head, looking straight down at the cowering form. She reined the horse's head back up and then lightly kicked her boots again. "Step.... step....clucking her tongue . step." The prisoner gasped as the big horse picked its feet up stepped over him, one hoof thud at time, until Stephanie was once again towering over him. Once again she was looking down the line of her thigh and boot and into the man's face, but this time he was under her horse! She was biting that lower lip again, her two front teeth showing. She looked directly into his eyes and said:
"This is very dangerous you know... you could be seriously injured..."
"He will step on you if I tell him to. ... ... ... step right on you..."
"It's a bit unusual, I know, but I've fantasized about doing just this for years. I guess you could say I've been seduced by the dark side of the force." she said smiling at her own joke.
"I'm a bit suprized at how much it turns me on really, ... the power of life and death,... your death,... being crushed in the dirt while it sit above you,.. feeling it each time my horse steps on you,... feeling it through the firm leather seat of my saddle, ... feel each
step with my bum, ... right through my tight breeches. Urging him on with my legs and calves, . silently commanding him to step on you again and again with my expensive riding boots."
"And now, Mr. Waiter,... if you don't mind... I think I'll just sit here and savor the moment."
Stephanie's nipples are now quite visible through the summer sweater, and she has shifted her posture so that her weight meets the saddle at the crotch, sitting on her pubic bones rather that on her thighs and bottom. Her nostrils are flaring slightly and she is gazing intently down into the prisoner's eyes.
She took a deep breath and sighed: "Tough luck baby... chao"
Stephanie sat up and pulled on the reins. The horse wheeled around as
commanded, placing a front hoof on the prisoner's chest. "UUUUFFF!" he exhaled sharply. Smiling through her teeth and laughing under her breath, she continued reining and kicking her horse until he stood on the man's chest with both forelegs. Stephanie leaned forward and out to the right until she could see the horses dark hooves standing on his chest. The man looked up in silent terror, unable to lift their combined weight to breathe. After looking down at him for a moment, she stood in the stirrups. Grinning through clenched teeth, she bent her knees and sort of jumped in the stirrups with a grunt, pressing down hard in the stirrup with her boots, the man letting out a short "UGGGG". She did this several times, pausing to look down. She stood for a few more seconds and then dropped hard into the saddle, her butt
quivering upon landing. She kicked The Chestnut gently, and the beast moved forward, stepping off the man with the front hoofs, but stepping on him with the back, first one on a thigh (the sore one) and then on his stomach and again in his chest. Steph as leaning back for balance, sitting back on her butt. One big rear hoof cast a shadow over the man's face, but he turned his head at the last instant and it lands only a grazing kick. Stephanie rode on past him for about six paces and stopped, and then turning around in the saddle, looked back with a slight smile to see the damage she had done.
The prisoner was now on his side, curled into a fetal position, groaning his eyes shut tightly. She reined the horse around, and facing him back down the same path, kicking him again, directing the horse to once again slowly toward the man; clip-clop clip-clop. Hearing the approaching hoof falls the prisoner opened his eyes, looking up just in time to watch she her bearing down on him. This time the horse stepped over the man with both front feet, but failed raise the left rear hoof high enough, forward kicking him sharply. This rolled the man on his back again, and the remaining right rear hoof came down on his crotch. Just as the hoof
planted, the prisoner looked up to see Stephanie looking down at him, watching him passing beneath her. The step was slow and deliberate and the big horse put all his weight down as he stepped off. OHHHHHH! he groaned. She wore a cool determined expression that screamed of
arousal.
After again riding away for ten or twelve steps, she turned and rode around the man in an arc, and then turned to ride alongside him, approaching from his feet, Just as the horses head was even with his legs she coaxed The Chestnut into a piaffe. The horse trotted smartly in place,
head and tail held high, feet prancing. She maneuvered him slowly forward, riding alongside the man whose eyes were now wide with terror at the image of the dancing horse! Stephanie was riding on her crotch, leaning forward, and breathing deeply. Though coordination was becoming difficult, she pulled the left rein,directly for him. Now the prancing horse and cumming rider pounded over the man. The big hooves were finding him almost constantly now, and his body jerked and pulsed with every blow. The piaffe brought her off of the man, and still in orgasm, she quickly pulled on the reins and kicked, backing the horse over him. He stepped directly
on the man's face with a back hoof, planting it there and stepping back with the other on his chest, The man's only response was tighten his muscles and curl his toes. The horse backed
completely over and off the man, standing at his feet. She once again commanded "piaffe".."piaffe" using her crop on the horse's rump, but only to make a snapping sound, not to cause pain. This time standing slightly in the stirrups, the cleavage of her snug breeches just brushing the saddle, "piaffe.... piaffe". The big horse performed a perfect piaffe,
stomping slowly across the man from feet to head this time, the hooves pummeling him, clop-clop-thud-thud, the waiter's body jerking violently with each blow. She held the reins close, keeping the horse on top of him for as long as it would last, until she had once again trampled completely across the man. Stephanie stopped the horse, talking quietly to him, praising him. Still breathing deeply, she turned him around so she could again see what damage she had done. The rude little waiter was crushed all right. There was no doubt about it. His legs, and shoulders were bent and broken. His body was covered with deep bruises and horseshoe shaped cuts. His nose was flattened over to one side, it being the centrepoint for one large
hoofprint across the forehead. Both she and The Chestnut were breathing deeply and covered with a glistening sweat. She wheeled the horse to face me and looked at me, her
eyes shining, her lips pursed. She kicked again with her new boots and rode calmly over the man one last time, shifting her posture slightly forward and then back as the horse stepped on him, and continuing over to me, standing speechless by the gate.
"Thank you darling for a wonderful ride,.. but if you don't mind, we're going for a walk to cool off".
"Be a dear and open the door for us, would you?"
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The End?
This story was read 
times since Nov 24 , 1998.
