Second part of a great story by guest-writer Stefan Lowry. Enjoy!
For the first five minutes, Decca rode in silence, carefully directing the slave via bridle and spurs. In the fields nearby, and on the hillside in the distance, she saw other women – perhaps 60 in total – riding their own men. A few hundred yards to her left, a pair of women had dismounted to chat and relax. They sat on the back of one male, resting their boots on the face and genitals of another. For the moment, however, Decca simply wished to be alone with her prospective purchase. She could feel his muscles moving with every step. He trotted forward at a steady speed, immediately responding to the slightest pressure from the spurs or the reins.
Much as Decca had enjoyed riding her older brothers, this was an entirely new experience. The strategically positioned ridge on her saddle was already beginning to exercise its effects. She could feel pleasure rising through her body, spreading out from her clitoris, through her loins, upwards and outwards. She tried to ignore the feeling, for the moment. There was no avoiding it. She was bound to cum, whether she wanted to or not, but she wanted to get the measure of the slave before giving way to her arousal.
She leaned forward to get a view of the muscles on his chest and abdomen, and received a mild shock. The slave, already well endowed, was fully erect. This was not especially unusual. Slaves did get erections, at all times of day or night, and women had no real reason to be surprised by the fact. Still, although Decca was not a virgin, this was not something she had vast experience with. It was the fashion nowadays for many women to keep their slaves fully naked, both for humiliation and the pleasure of the female owner. The two slaves in Decca’s family, however, and her two enslaved brothers, were normally allowed to wear simple clothing. So, her mount’s state of excitement made an impression on her. She tried to bottle down her glee.
‘Slave,’ she said, trying to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. ‘I want to speak to you. I’ll loosen your bridle, and you can take the bit out of your mouth, for the time being, at least. I’ll steer you with my spurs, if necessary.’ She duly unfastened the straps around the slave’s head, allowing bit and bridle to fall loose around his neck.
‘I can’t help noticing your… arousal. I mean, the fact that you’re erect. Don’t worry, I know slaves can’t help it. You won’t be punished. I want you to speak freely now. Is there any special reason for your excitement? Or is it just a reflex?’
The slave hesitated before replying. Once again, his voice was pleasant, deep and melodious. He sounded mildly embarrassed, however. ‘If you please, Mistress, I enjoy being ridden. Most slaves see it as an everyday duty – and an honour, of course. But I’ve always taken pleasure from it. I hope that doesn’t offend you, Mistress.’
‘Not at all. If a slave takes pleasure in his work, he’ll do it better. And you’re an excellent mount. I can tell that already. So, it’s just the fact of being ridden that’s making you erect?’
Once again, there was a slight hesitation. This time, when the slave spoke, there was a note of caution, even shyness in his voice. ‘Not only that, Mistress. If you please, when I saw you – and forgive me for speaking so directly – I noticed that you were very beautiful. While I enjoy being ridden by any Mistress, the prospect of being ridden by you was very - ’ he hesitated again, seeming to search for a suitably respectful word. ‘Was very gratifying to me.’
Listening carefully, Decca struggled to repress her delight, her developing excitement. The warmth in her crotch was getting more pronounced by the second. Still, she tried to sound calm. ‘So. I’m glad you find me attractive. You needn’t be afraid. I’m not one of those “modern girls” who whip slaves for no reason. You didn’t say anything wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. As you know, I‘m considering the possibility of buying you. If I do, you’ll be at the disposal of my mother and me, but for all practical purposes, you’ll be my personal slave. Would that please you?’
‘It would delight me, Mistress. I can think of nothing better.’
For Decca, this reply was almost too good. The combination of the slave’s beauty, his obedience, his willingness to serve, and – best of all – his obvious attraction to her, was almost overwhelming. Meanwhile, the ‘special’ saddle was doing its work efficiently. She was going to cum, and much sooner than she’d intended. Beneath her jodhpurs, the sheer nylon of her pantyhose was already wet. Still, she struggled heroically to control herself. ‘That’s the correct attitude. I’m pleased to hear it. Tell me, is there anything else that you especially enjoy doing for your owner? Again, you can speak freely.’
The slave seemed to think for a moment. ‘Well, Mistress. The sister of my last owner used to order me to clean her shoes with her tongue. Often, when she was actually wearing them. I enjoyed that. And my owner… took pleasure from walking on me in high heels. Sometimes, this was done as a punishment. But I must admit, I enjoyed it. Forgive me, Mistress, if I’ve spoken too bluntly.’
‘Not at all. You like being trampled? I thought slaves hated it.’
‘Most do, Mistress. But I’ve always liked it. I don’t know why.’
‘It sounds like you were an ideal slave. I must admit, I like trampling too, and if I buy you, you’ll develop a close acquaintance with my heels. I’m puzzled, though. If things were so good with your original owner, why did she sell you?’
The slave hesitated. He seemed unused to being spoken to so directly by a superior being – by a woman. ‘If you please Mistress, my first owner was a businesswoman. She had a factory in Manchester, making beauty products. I don’t know the details, but the business failed, and she was forced to sell me and her other three slaves. It’s not for me to say, but I think she regretted having to sell me.’
‘I’m sure she did. Did you have any other owners after that?’
‘No Mistress. I was put up for auction two months ago, and a buyer for Cleveland Manor selected me.’
‘That’s good. I don’t want a slave with too many previous owners. Well, I’ll have more questions, but they can wait for now. See that tall oak tree over there? Take me towards it, and I’ll dismount for a few minutes.’ The slave obeyed. A few moments later, the he knelt down below the tree. Decca climbed down from the saddle and stretched. She had dismounted just in time to avoid cumming, but the heat in her loins was there, refusing to dissipate. And the slave was still erect. Around 300 hundred yards away, a woman was sitting on a man’s back, sipping hot coffee from a Thermos. The day was cold and bright. ‘Lie on your back, on the floor.’
The slave instantly obeyed. Lying on the ground, he looked even taller, and his muscles glistened under a thin veneer of perspiration. Carefully, Decca placed one boot on his abdomen, then lifted herself up to stand on him. His stomach was hard and firm beneath her. The excitement in her clit started to increase again. The slave’s expression was calm and untroubled.
‘Does that hurt?’
‘Not at all, Mistress.’
Decca stepped forward so that she was standing on the slave’s chest. She then extended her right boot towards the slave’s face. ‘Lick the sole of my boot. Grovel. Lick it like the slave you are.’
Decca rather surprised herself with her own words. The phrases were flowing, not really from her brain, but from a very different part of her anatomy. She needed, as a sexual imperative, to humiliate this man, and judging by the enthusiasm with which he put his tongue to work, he was only too happy to oblige. His erection seemed even harder than before, if that were possible. He licked and sucked at Decca’s boot, actually swallowing some of the dirt and grass from her sole. Suddenly, Decca needed to be in the saddle. ‘That’s enough! Mounting position – now!’
She stepped off the slave, being careful to tread on his swollen cock as she did so. The slave moaned, possibly in pain, or pleasure, or both. He immediately knelt. Decca mounted him, and he rose effortlessly, as before. ‘Now, slave, a fast canter. Keep up a good pace, or you’ll feel my spurs in a way you won’t enjoy.’
The slave immediately increased his pace. Decca controlled him with her legs, not particularly caring about direction for the moment. The heightened speed increased the vibrations through the saddle. Decca adjusted her seat so that the small ‘ridge’ was perfectly positioned. With each step of the slave, a jolt passed through her loins and into her body. Not a huge movement, as Severin was too skilled to unbalance her, but enough. She felt an orgasm building. She spurred the slave to go faster, and the act of spurring – hurting and dominating the man on whom she sat – was itself a powerful source of excitement. She spurred again, and again. The slave was now almost sprinting. She raised herself in the stirrups, and allowed her body to fall back down into the saddle with a thud. Again. And again. And again. The fire increased inside her, and the pleasure came. It overwhelmed her. It was the most intense orgasm of her life. An orgasm based on dominance and humiliation. On the sweet knowledge of her own power over this degraded, possessed human being. On the supremacy of woman over man.
She screamed as she came. Nearby, two young women, riding middle-aged men, laughed and cheered.
For the next two hours, Decca rode Severin around the large estate: over several hills they went, through meadows, over streams and brooks, along bridle paths. Aside from his saddle, and the thick work-boots he wore, the slave was, of course, naked. Despite the cold weather, he was not troubled. His vigorous exercise, beneath the woman who was dominating him, was quite enough to keep him warm. Indeed, he maintained a thin sheen of perspiration on his tanned skin: if he had been clothed, he would have been uncomfortably hot.
The pair passed numerous others as they went. Young women riding older men, older women riding younger men, the long and the short and the tall. Some riders were clearly experienced, sitting confidently in the saddle, directing their slaves almost effortlessly with whip, bridle and spur. Other riders, especially the youngest girls, were less steady. They smiled nervously, evidently enjoying themselves, but with less confidence in their equestrian skills, Luckily, the novices had all been placed on experienced mounts, so the slaves were able to anticipate their riders’ hesitant directions.
All in all, Decca and Severin must have passed at least two hundred couples. Evidently, Cleveland Manor was even larger than Decca had originally thought. Amid all the variety of race, colour, age and experience, there was only one constant. Everywhere and always, the female was in command. Everywhere and always, the male was dominated and enslaved. Of course, that was true throughout the world, but nowhere more overtly than on this estate. The scenario pleased Decca immensely. And she was beginning to imagine that, albeit in his very different way, it pleased Severin too.
They passed an interesting scene on a lane about a mile from the paddock. A pretty brunette, with slightly oriental features, was disciplining her mount. The latter was crouched on all fours, and the girl had placed her boot on his neck. She was whipping him, hard, with her riding crop, and the slave’s back was covered in welts. The girl, even younger than Decca, looked up and smiled, while the slave, a man of about fifty, groaned in pain. The previous day, the scene might have disturbed Decca. Now, she found herself yearning to join in the beating. A few minutes later, the beautiful scene still in her mind, Severin moving powerfully beneath her, she came again. After about three hours of hard riding, she saw a woman and slave approaching from behind a hill. The slave was the handsome blond boy whom she had rejected in favour of Severin. She recognized the rider as Carla, the woman who had been administering a beating to a slave in the stables a few hours before. She greeted Decca cheerfully.
‘Hello! Beautiful day, isn’t it? Good riding weather.’
‘It certainly is. I’m having the best ride of my life. I’m Decca, by the way. Is it Carla?’
‘It is. Oh, you saw me giving some discipline earlier? Well, the pig deserved it. They’re all pigs, of course, but at least this one is a competent mount.’ As if to illustrate the point, she grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked his head back, hard. ‘Listen, I’ve got a hip flask. Want a shot of vodka to keep out the cold?’
‘Thanks! I’d love one.’
‘Let’s dismount for a bit then. I want to stretch my back.’
The two women dismounted, and the men got on all fours, ready to be used as seats. ‘Listen,’ said Carla. ‘Your slave is very handsome. I’ve been dying to sit on him since I saw him. May I?’
‘No problem,’ replied Decca, politely. She sat down on Carla’s slave, whose name was ‘Blondy’. Meanwhile, Carla sat on Severin’s back, crossing long, muscular legs. Carla was strikingly pretty, perhaps five years older than Decca. The latter watched as the older woman dominated Severin. Politeness decreed that Decca accept it, but she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
‘So,’ began Carla, offering Decca her flask. ‘Are you here to buy? There’s an excellent range here. It’s the best stable I know, and I know quite a few.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Decca, as she struggled with complex emotions. Seeing a woman sitting on Severin aroused her, even as it filled her with jealousy. ‘And I think I’ve made my decision.’ She stretched out her leg, and, with a symbolism she hoped Carla would understand, rested her boot on the side of Severin’s head.
‘This one, then? I absolutely don’t blame you. I admit I’m a bit disappointed. I was just hoping you’d be dissatisfied so I could snap him up. I’m looking for another stud for my stable, and he fits the bill in every way. Your decision’s final, I suppose?’
‘Yes, 100 per cent.’
‘Fair enough.’ Carla laughed. ‘I’ll never poach on another woman’s territory. Message received. And – you can take your boot off his head now, if you want.’
This broke the ice, and the two women laughed and relaxed. They spent the next thirty minutes chatting, comparing their experiences at the Manor. Carla, it transpired, had been there for three days, but had still not decided on a purchase.
‘I am lucky enough to be quite wealthy,’ she said, ‘and I do have three slaves. But they’re really working animals, and I’m looking for a pleasure slave now. Of course, I also want a good mount, so that’s why I came here, rather than a simple stud farm. Pure sex slaves are spoiled, anyway. Much better to get a stallion that knows how to work.’
‘Yes,’ said Decca. ‘I quite agree. Severin here is going to be kept mighty busy. When I’m not riding him, my mother will find plenty for him to do.’
‘Will she?’ asked Carla, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Decca laughed.
‘Oh, but not in that way. I’m afraid intimate duties will be strictly my preserve.’
‘So I see. But – excuse me giving a word of advice. Try not to get too attached to him. However pretty he is, he’s just a man. Not a “person” in the real sense. And who knows what new laws are coming. I’m sure you watch the news. There’s talk of giving women the right to euthanize disobedient men, for example.’
‘Sure, but since I’ll be his owner, the issue won’t arise. And I don’t think the government will allow any woman to damage another’s private property.’
‘Well, that’s true. As long as you remember, he – or rather, it – is nothing more than property.’
‘Oh, I’ll remember that. And I’ll make sure he does.’
And, as if to reinforce her point, Decca stamped down hard on Severin’s hand.
The women talked for a few minutes longer, then Carla rose from Severin’s back. ‘Well, great chatting to you, Decca, but I think I’ll be heading back. I want to get a couple of hours rest, but I’ll see you at dinner. As for buying, I think I’ll give Blondy here a chance. I think he’ll satisfy me, and if he doesn’t, I suppose he’ll wish he’d never been born. Win win.’ The two women mounted their respective men, and rode off in opposite directions.
‘How’s your hand, slave?’ asked Decca, after they had been travelling for ten minutes. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘A little, Mistress.’ He sounded nervous and respectful.
‘Good. It was meant to. I don’t want any misunderstandings, for your sake as well as mine. I’m not as sadistic as most women my age. I don’t enjoy extreme cruelty. But you shouldn’t imagine being my slave will be a holiday. I believe in the absolute superiority of women over men. The simplest command from any woman is your law, and that goes double for any command of mine. It’s best you understand that now.’
‘I do Mistress. With all my heart.’ Severin spoke with evident sincerity, even passionately. Yet again, Decca felt the now-familiar excitement growing.
‘If that’s the case, there’ll be no problems. Now, canter towards that large tree there, and set me down. There’s something I want to do. Something that I’ve always fantasized about, but never actually done until now. Something that I need. Tell me, have you drunk a woman’s urine before?’
Deca astonished herself, not merely with her words, but with the confidence with which she delivered them. Where was the shy young woman of yesterday? Of even a few hours ago? There was something about this place, about him, that was bringing out a level of dominance within her she had barely even suspected. And she loved it.
‘Yes, Mistress. I have done that. For my last owner and some of her clients.’
‘So, you know what to do. Kneel down with your head back.’
The slave obeyed. A moment later, Decca had lowered her jodhpurs and pantyhose, and positioned her crotch above the slave’s face. She was on fire with arousal, fighting the impulse to cum. Carefully, Severin placed his lips around her vagina. A moment later, she released her bladder, allowing the piss to flow into his mouth, but moderating the flow just a little, giving him time to swallow every drop. When she had finished, she ordered him to lick her clean, which he did expertly. She stood, and adjusted her clothes. Suddenly, unbidden, the slave prostrated himself before her. He covered her boots in kisses, and, grasping her right boot gently in his hand, actually raised her foot, and placed it on his head.
‘Forgive my presumption, Mistress’ he said, in a voice both passionate and strangely resolute. ‘But I declare myself your willing slave. I grovel before you. I beg you to complete my happiness by buying me, by ruling over me forever. I know, as a slave, I have no right to say this. But I must. If I don’t tell you now, I may regret it forever.’
For a man, this was indeed an almost unheard-of outburst. Under normal circumstances, it would call for a severe punishment, but Decca supposed the scenario wasn’t precisely ‘normal’. She looked down at the handsome, utterly submissive figure on the ground. She could feel the contours of his skull through the sole of her boot. Immediately, she placed her hand inside her jodhpurs, against her crotch, and touched herself. A moment later, she came, in an explosive, almost unbearable climax.
It took a while for her to regain her composure. When her orgasm finally subsided, she realized she still had her boot on the slave’s head. In her passion, she had been pressing down hard, actually grinding his face into the ground. No matter. Good, in fact.
‘Yes, slave,’ she said, exhausted - but immensely happy. ‘I declare you my property, my chattel. I will rule over you forever. Your Mistress, your owner, your queen.’