The Rider and Other Stories
By Nymph
Synopsis: Lust, love, and loss. Eternal joy and eternal damnation in five parts.
Reptile
Desire was a reptile coiled sensuously deep in the dark recesses of Corinna’s mind.
It started slowly...a fluttering in her stomach that caused her to bite her lip. Closing her eyes to focus on her body instead of her work, the raven-haired woman furrowed her brow, trying to divine the source of this unexpected longing. White knuckles gripped the edge of her desk as a pang of yearning flooded her.
It was primal, a deep animal instinct in the lower reaches of her mind. Normally so controlled and contained, the snake was uncoiling, luxuriating in its own sense of self.
The analyst could feel her nipples stirring, points of fire rubbing raw against the fabric of her undergarment. Corinna’s eyes quickly scanned the office around her. It was oddly silent, as if the normal bustle of business had paused in honor of her need. She fumbled nervously at the buttons of her blouse as she reached under the cup of her bra to caress the needy nubbins of flesh.
Pinching her tight nipples set off a string of firecrackers through her breasts, down her spine, and into her clit. She could feel her pudenda swelling against the increasingly sodden confines of her rainbow panties. Every inch of her throbbed.
The animal inside was tearing through her own sense of propriety, asserting itself by wrapping around the gray tendrils of her mind. The snake squeezed and writhed against the walls of its prison.
With a flaring need, Corinna cast caution aside and tore open her carefully manicured business attire. Shedding the trappings of professionalism like a snake shedding its skin, she heard a moan escape from her lips as she hefted her breasts. Her bra dangled from the edge of her computer monitor unnoticed as the woman caressed the underside of her tits. Massaging, squeezing fingers circled the aching bits of pale creamy flesh. With an impish look, Corrina impulsively bent her head to lap at the soft skin just above her nipples.
Slowly the animal extended its range, feeding on the civilized portions of Corinna’s mind. The reptile’s mouth expanded and began to swallow. It took everything, intelligence, personality, hopes, dreams…all subordinated to the creature’s stirrings.
The woman pushed her computer chair aside to hike up her skirt as her breasts swung freely. Trembling fingers hooked the band of her panties to peel them off her wet and swollen cleft. Helplessly, the gray-eyed woman caressed the supple skin of her thighs, fingernails leaving ragged trails of flaming desire in their wake. Trickles of lust coated the pink skin there. Dropping her brown skirt in a pool at her feet, Corrina started to rub her ass and cunt against the arm of her chair, and mewled with want.
Almost fully engorged, the snake strained to feed on all of Corinna. Moment by moment, it pushed itself to consume more and more of her upper mind. The beast within grew stronger, and stretched sinuously throughout the nethers of her soul.
Corinna continued to mark her office furniture with her need, and was contemplating the merits of her stapler, when she froze like an animal trapped in the headlights of a onrushing truck. The last gasp of her conscious mind noted a pair of amber eyes coolly taking in her performance.
Elizabeth, the blond customer service manager, was walking toward her with an evil knowing smile. As the snake slipped its jaws over the last of Corinna’s mind and the dark-haired woman fucked herself on the edge of her desk, one final word croaked from her lips before she gave into the power that was consuming her:
“Why...”
Conversation
Garters framed Kimberly’s ass and cunt perfectly. Straps of nylon pulled taunt over her pale flesh as the lithe girl bent over the kitchen table. The dark haired woman was nude but for the wisps of silk and fabric painting her long perfect legs.
I had the best spot in the house for her presentation, seated as I was directly behind her curvy bottom and bare cleft. With one hand rubbing Kimberly’s back to soothe her, I leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to her pussy.
I could taste her brassy scent in the air as I spoke of all the things that we would do together. Gradually, I was able to explain how wonderful the virtues of submission could be. A pussy, after all, can only desire and want...and needs to be shown perfect pleasure.
Kimberly’s pussy and I shared a secret that evening. Her mind, with its doubts and fears and lack of confidence, was an obstacle to perfect pleasure. But if her slit listened to me...we could both find joy.
I watched as my girlfriend’s labia swelled and parted with need. A glistening coat of dew marked its assent. My lips and tongue sealed the covenant with a kiss.
Pearls
It was a moment captured in amber, frozen in time. The clattering sounds so much like raindrops pattering on a metal roof. The sight of those delicate objects bouncing pell-mell across the hardwood floor. And of course, Chloe’s hand outstretched, clawing empty air, trying to hold back the inevitable.
Chloe Marie Anderson broke her pearl necklace. The petite hay-colored blond sank to the ground in tears.
At first, the woman wept at the loss of her precious jewels which hadn’t left her neck in so long. She crawled across the floor, shredding her black nylons, to gather as many of the pearls as she could. A snuffling, gurgling sound filled the air.
Soon though, she slowed and realized what was happening, which made her weep even more. In a brief moment of clarity, it dawned on Chloe that she was herself again. Her chains had been broken and she was free. Tears at the horror of breaking her necklace was replaced by tears at the thought of what had been done to her.
The golden skin of Chloe’s hand contrasted with one of the iridescent gems as she held it aloft. Her ice blue eyes went wide as memories of a different time seeped into her waking mind. She knelt there, with mascara oozing down her cheeks, as she swam in the eddies of the past.
Her pink tongue eased gracefully over the creamy white thighs of her lover. Chloe’s eyes darted upward to ensure that she was performing appropriately. The blond has never been this close to another woman’s sex before.
As she inched closer to the prize, a rich, earthy scent wafted into her nostrils. Chloe drank in every molecule of that heavenly, tangy aroma. With a nervous hand, she spread the lips of her partner. The pixie cooed with delight at the gleaming coral pussy in front of her.
Closing her eyes, she took the plunge. Probing flesh dove into the open flower underneath her. She swirled across the folds of the other woman. A rush of pride flooded her as the dark hair woman began to sigh and rub her open sex across the waifish woman’s face. A sparse matte of pubic hair tickled her nose as she teased her partner’s clit from its sheath.
She paused and glanced up with a heavy lidded gaze, “Am I doing this right, Mistress?”
It was like a movie. As she held the pearl, Chloe could remember what had happened that day but it was disconnected, flat and lifeless. Something was missing.
Shaking her head in frustration, she grabbed another pearl. Her eyes reflected in its luster.
The stiff leather of the collar was tight about her neck. Her nipples, stiff nubs hanging from apple-sized fruit, grazed against the fabric of the bedspread as she tested her bonds. Her wrists were bound together over her head in a tight slipknot.
A blush spread over her cheek as Chloe glanced over her shoulder. The sight was displayed through a gauzy curtain of yellow hair covering her eyes. Her legs were open and ready, held in place by the spreader bar. Cool air drifted over her gleaming, creamy cunt, fanning the flames that were crackling through her body already.
The spectacle of Mistress Veronica wearing a glass strap-on had that effect on the slave.
Chloe’s lips curled around the dong as Veronica entered her. It felt as if her pussy was trying to pull the intruding object ever deeper into her body. Every muscle clenched at the frictionless glass. Veronica’s hand grasped Chloe by the shoulder as she increased her pace and began to fuck her pet in earnest.
The blond bit her lip as a plaintive moan slipped out of her enflamed body.
With each pearl, Chloe filled in gaps. Twenty-four months worth of gaps. She saw herself lapping water out of a dog dish marked with her name, cumming amongst a crowd of people on the dance floor of the Paradisio, and giving a lap dance to the woman who owned her. Memory upon memory lay within the white surface of each pearl.
She clutched the jewels to her breast. She could see what had happened to her, but the memories were lacking emotion. This thrall was clearly feeling joy, but Chloe was denied that part of herself. Each pearl filled in a piece to the puzzle. She found them all save one.
Who was Veronica? How had she been taken into Her service? Did she give Chloe the necklace?
She had to know. Chloe sniffled as she rummaged through her bag to find her cell. Dexterous fingers manipulated the memory menu. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she highlighted the name marked ‘V’.
Would this stranger take her back now that the necklace was broken?
The blond hit the call button and waited…
Contract
Belinda smiled down at the creature tied spread-eagled before her. Pammie’s eyes were scrunched shut and her rich curly brown hair was matted with sweat. The poor baby was straining—every muscle in her body corded and ready. The bound girl arched her back as if to offer her breasts and pussy to Belinda.
Belinda twirled a finger through the locks of her own red-rimmed mound in satisfaction. The hours of whispered seduction and buzzing clitoral stimulators certainly seemed to do their work. Pammie was a coiled spring ready to explode. It was time.
The corseted domme took out a long quill feather pen.
Settling down beside Pammie, the red-head purred softly, “Now my dear girl, you’re almost ready, just listen to these few last things that I have to say...”
The domme dipped the tip of her pen into Pammie’s sodden cunt, drawing out a dollop of wetness. Bending over Pammie’s gently rounded tummy, she wrote—‘This cunt belongs to Belinda’ directly above her mons. Belinda whispered this directive in time with her writing and glowed as Pammie twitched, moaned, and writhed underneath the scratchings of the pen.
Another dip of the pen, rubbing it along the inner edges of Pammie’s swollen lips until the tip was dripping. Belinda wrote a second incantation into Pammie’s twin globes. ‘These titties are Belinda’s.’ Pammie shuddered as her own juices seeped into her skin and soul. Her moans began to crescendo with a helpless need.
Belinda dipped her own finger into her cleft with a satisfied sigh as she watched Pammie dangle in the proverbial wind. With a final motion, she slipped the long quill feather pen into Pammie’s sex a final time. Pushing the tip deep to scratch along the ridged roof of her cunt, the domme drew out another generous helping of ink.
The redhead kissed her captive deeply on the lips as she wrote on Pammie’s forehead: ‘This SLUT is the property of Belinda.’ Pammie’s blue eyes snapped open with a keening arousal as that message oozed into her captive mind. With a final flourish, Belinda rubbed some of her own wetness underneath Pammie’s flaring nostrils.
“Pammie, breathe deep the scent of your owner and become the pet you were meant to be.”
Pammie sniffed, imprinted and came.
The Rider
The dappled roan moved at a slow walk. Horse and rider traveled effortlessly under a gray featureless canopy of clouds that covered them like a shroud. The landscape around them was a muted palette of whites, browns, and grays. The depth of winter portrayed in a tableau of stark, blasted wastes.
It had been a long journey.
The mare was the latest in a long string of horses for the rider. Carrying her through the years on a single-minded quest. A pilgrimage, thus far, that seemed futile. The woman wore the miles etched on her face. Tanned skin hardened by the wind and the rain. Vibrant blond hair now faded into muted grays.
She never stopped searching. For her.
The rider had crisscrossed the continent looking for Cassie. San Francisco, Carthage, Dodge City, Durango, even the big cities of New York and Boston, had the seen the boots of the searcher. In her darker days, she admitted to herself that she might only be looking for an earthen mound marked by a tangle of red roses at this point. She had never ridden this far out into the wilderness though. Whispers, hints and dark rumors reached her from the unlikeliest of sources. Perhaps this would be the answer she sought.
The keep appeared suddenly, almost as if it materialized out of a thick bank of fog. Wide stone walls looked as if they were designed for another time and age. Seeing that the heavy open doors were open, the rider guided her steed into the courtyard. She dismounted, wincing at the ache in her bones, and tied her mount to a post.
As the shadow of night began to fall, the woman entered the lodge inside the walls of this odd bastion of civilization. Flickering torchlight lit her way down a hall of cherry wood. Stopping and smiling softly, the rider detected a hint of jasmine and sandalwood in the air. It lifted her heart and reminded her of happier times—a time when she didn’t smell of leather and horse.
No one answered her calls, so she proceeded to explore her surroundings. As she moved up the long hallway, she saw a door on her left. It had a window of stark iron bars built into it. With her hazel eyes glancing about her, the woman opted to sneak a peek inside.
The vision shocked her. Two women were inside, gleaming in a sheen of sweat. A dusky, dark-haired beauty clasped the head of her pale-skinned lover as she supped from a pair proffered breasts. The rider gasped audibly as the young blond woman took the dark one’s long brown nipples into her greedy mouth. The lovers took no notice of her however, and could not be disturbed.
With some regret, the rider pulled away, but not without feeling a twinge of electricity running through her own body. It was a feeling that she hadn’t felt in years as age, miles and sorrow inured her to such things. Some inexorable feeling pulled at her; this wasn’t her place.
She continued down the hall, pausing at a similar door on her right. Here, the barred window framed something almost unimaginable. A woman with curly red hair performed for her partner – clad only a harness of leather and metal. The redhead’s eyes rolled back in her head as she clamped down on the bit and bridle held by the other woman. Her body was flush with need and rivulets of moisture trickled down the beauty’s thighs. The rider could taste the scent of cunt on the air through the door.
That feeling welled up again, calling the rider like a siren to the end of the hall. She actually started to ache now. But for once it wasn’t the ache of travel, instead she felt a keening fire of passion twittering in her stomach and nipples. Picking up her pace, the rider saw more visions of sapphic desire on display. A supple petite girl fucking a woman with a strap on, twins wrapped around each other as they feasted on pussy, an Asian woman binding the breasts of a fresh-faced farm girl – the rider passed on all of these sites moving inexorably towards the open door.
Her desire grew with each step and crested as she entered the room at the end of the hall. The rider couldn’t believe her eyes, there she was, Cassandra, as beautiful as she was when they parted so many years ago. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Cassie, baby, is it really you?”
The raven-haired girl named Cassandra whispered, “Yes Ellie...I’m here…but you shouldn’t have come. I told you not to come.” Ellie, the rider, stepped forward into the room with a mixture of joy and disbelief. She failed to notice the heavy door swinging shut behind her.
“You haven’t aged a day…how is this possible?”
Cassie, hearing the click of the door, sighed and smiled. “Everything is possible here…look at yourself.” Ellie looked at her hands with shock. The wrinkles that marked the ravages of hard weather and hard booze were fading. A flower that withered was being born anew. She could feel the desire in her body and knew that the years were melting away.
Riding leathers and stiff twill morphed into a pale peach slip and stockings. Ellie trembled as she walked on uncertain feet towards her long lost lover. Desire was overwhelming now. The object of her quest was so close and so real that she had to take Cassie. Fuck her, love her. Share some of the torrid flame cascading to life in her soul. The why’s and wherefore’s of what was happening didn’t amount to much in the face of the dam bursting inside of her.
Ellie wrapped her young golden arms around Cassandra.
Cassie was irresistible. Ellie took her into her mouth. Their tongues jousting together as if playing parts in a long forgotten symphony. Ellie could see the tears sparkling in Cassie’s eyes.
“What’s wrong…what’s happening?”
“You fool. It’s too late. You’re trapped with me forever. Ellie, my dear rider, you’ve crossed beyond the boundaries of life and death. We’re only here to perform for them. They like to watch.”
Ellie barely listened as she fell onto the bed with her partner. An eternity making love to the one you loved couldn’t be such a bad thing. Could it?
The cries of passion soon bursting out of Ellie’s mouth hid the slithering, yammering sounds from the opposite side of the door.
Elsewhen, a wiry hare feasted on the early spring greens of the forest. To it, the bleached white bones of a horse and rider were barely worth noticing. It had been a long winter, and the hare was ravenous. It would be mating season soon.