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Flashback (1)
On the bus to the town where she would enjoy her honeymoon, the newlywed wife was traveling with her husband and her best man, during the trip she talked with a teacher who explained to her the dynamics of the town where the boys are the ladies' horses.
In the middle of the conversation, the teacher, with a firm voice and a knowing look, let her words permeate the atmosphere before continuing: “I have a student they call the young rider.”
The newlywed wife raised an eyebrow with curiosity and a certain challenge in her gaze. “The young rider?” she repeated, savoring the title on her lips. “Sounds interesting.”
The teacher nodded with an enigmatic smile. “She is a spectacular lady. She is beautiful, and she also has a strong character and a natural dominance over men. She rides, and the men practically lose to her and surrender to her, if you are not careful, she could take your horses away from you” she said, pausing to observe the reactions of those who listened to her. Her tone, full of admiration and warning at the same time, painted the image of a young woman of unmatched bearing, capable of unseating even the most devout.
The newlywed wife, still absorbed in the teachings on the art of riding, looked up, silently wondering how this young rider could restructure the hierarchy she valued so much. Her mind filled with possibilities, strategies and new knowledge that, in her world, translated into power and seduction. She felt a shiver of excitement run through her body. Had she found a possible rival or, perhaps, a Master from whom she could learn?
She looked at her husband, who lowered his gaze, and then at her best man, who seemed restless.
“I would love to meet her,” she said finally, with a defiant smile. “Perhaps I can learn something from her… or she from me.”
The teacher laughed softly. “Be careful what you wish for,” she warned. “In this town, hierarchies can change quickly.”
“The young rider is not simply a student,” the teacher continued. “She is a force of nature. Her ability to command her mounts, whether they are teachers or even peers who believe themselves unmovable, is legendary. Many of the men have seen how, with a single gesture, she could claim what they believed to be theirs.”
The husband, who until now had remained silent, felt a pang of unease mixed with admiration. He sensed that in this town loyalty was transformed into a kind of currency, and the presence of the young rider threatened to challenge even the most deeply rooted traditions.
“Imagine,” said the teacher, with a twinkle in her eye, “how the young rider, with her grace and determination, approaches your usual horses, claiming them with a skill that leaves everyone breathless. She could, in the blink of an eye, change the rules of the game.”
The newlywed wife smiled slowly, understanding each new lesson was a window to a universe of possibilities. Meanwhile, the atmosphere on the bus was charged with a subtle tension, a mix of respect, challenge and desire. The teacher’s words were not just a story, but an invitation to reinvent power, to challenge custom and to discover that, in this wonderful town, each ride told a story of passion and dominance.
The newlywed wife felt a chill run down her spine at the teacher’s words. “If you’re not careful, she could make you her mount,” added the teacher with an enigmatic smile.
The atmosphere inside the bus became even more intriguing. The husband and best man exchanged nervous glances, as if they understood the weight of that warning.
The wife, far from feeling intimidated, raised an eyebrow in curiosity and defiance. “Me?” she replied with a confident smile. “That sounds interesting. But I doubt anyone could turn me around that easily.”
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Flashback (2)
The teacher inclined her head with an air of wisdom. “Many before you thought so too. But the young rider has a special talent. It’s not just strength, but charisma, cunning, and a natural dominance over those around her. She doesn’t just call horses, she can tame riders, too.”
The husband gulped, imagining the scenario. The newlywed wife, always confident and dominant, could be subdued? The idea seemed impossible… and yet the teacher’s tone made it clear that it was no mere tale.
The wife, on the other hand, smiled with excitement. “I’m even more eager to meet her now,” she said. “It will be interesting to see what she’s made of.”
The teacher nodded, satisfied. “I have no doubt that their meeting will be… memorable. But remember, in this town, dominance is never guaranteed. There’s always someone who can climb on your shoulders if you’re careless.”
The newlywed wife narrowed her eyes, her mind processing the teacher’s words. Her confident expression remained, but deep inside, something stirred.
“Be careful!” the teacher insisted, her gaze full of warning. “She can envelop you, making you believe she has given you your horse, your own horse! But make no mistake… she doesn’t give anything up without reason. She can stop riding a horse to ride a rider.”
The best man felt a chill run down his spine. He had seen his goddaughter conquer others with her charisma before, but the idea of seeing her subdue a rider… it was a whole new level.
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Flashback (3)
The newlywed wife let out a soft laugh, though her eyes held a new gleam, a hint of defiance. “So she prefers to tame unruly mares rather than submissive horses?” she asked, unable to help but feel alluded to.
“Exactly,” the teacher said. “There is more satisfaction in riding a proud and strong rider, bending her spirit, making her yield to the new reality. It is a greater conquest, a sweeter triumph.”
The husband looked at his wife, waiting for her reaction. He knew she was not the type to be intimidated.
The newlywed wife tilted her head, with a smile that mixed intrigue and excitement. “This sounds… stimulating,” she said, a spark of defiance in her voice. “I can’t wait to meet this young rider. Let’s see if she is as good as you say.”
The teacher smiled, like someone who has planted the seed of something inevitable. “Oh, you will. And when you do, you’ll find out what it means to be in her sights.”
The teacher arched an eyebrow, amused by the newlywed wife’s confidence. “Or her in my sights,” the newlywed wife said with a defiant smile. “She could end up being my mare.”
A murmur ran through the bus. Her husband and best man looked at each other, surprised by her bold statement. Until now, the young horsewoman had been seen as an unstoppable force, but here was this new newlywed wife, confident that she could tame her rather than be tamed.
The teacher let out a soft, but not mocking, laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had heard such statements before… and who knew that reality was often different. “Interesting,” the teacher said, crossing her arms. “But don’t get too confident. She’s not like the horses you’re used to.”
The newlywed wife leaned forward slightly, her smile still on her face. “Everyone has a weak spot,” she replied. “It’s just a matter of finding it.”
The husband gulped. He knew his wife well and knew she wasn’t speaking in vain. But he also remembered what the teacher had said about the young rider. What would happen when those two forces collided?
The teacher nodded, as if accepting the implied challenge. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” she said. “But remember… if you’re careless, you might find yourself being tamed.”
The newlywed wife’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “This isn’t going to happen,” she said firmly. “If anyone ends up with the bridle and saddle on, she will be her.”
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Flashback (4)
The newlywed bride stepped off the bus with the same confidence that characterized her. The morning breeze caressed her perfectly-featured face: smooth, radiant skin, golden cinnamon-colored, with high cheekbones that highlighted her natural elegance. Her full lips, painted a deep red, curved into a smile that radiated confidence. Her almond-shaped eyes, an intense honey tone, shone with determination as her gaze swept the landscape with dominance.
Her long, wavy hair fell in an ebony cascade over her back, with loose strands framing her face, giving her a wild and majestic air. Every movement of hers exuded grace and power, as if the entire world bowed before her step.
As she reached the cabin, she prepared herself with precision. She chose a riding habit that flattered every curve of her figure: a white silk blouse, fitted, with gold details on the cuffs and collar, which highlighted the contour of her generous breasts and her slim waist. Over it, a black leather vest with fine embroidery, fitted to her wasp waist.
Her riding pants were tight and a deep burgundy color, designed to highlight her wide hips and strong thighs. The elastic material gave her freedom of movement, but without losing elegance.
However, the real jewel of her outfit were her boots. They were shiny, flawless black leather, fitted to her legs up to the knees. The high heels, at least 12 cm (5 inches), made her figure look even more imposing and dominant, stylizing her long, powerful legs. The design had fine gold details on the top, and the sole made a firm and dominant sound with each step she took on the wooden floor of the cabin. But what made them truly impressive were the silver metal spurs that adorned the heels, reflecting a defiant flash with each movement.
In her right hand she held a thin, flexible, black leather riding crop, while in her other hand she carried a short whip, both symbols of absolute control, she hung them on her belt.
She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. Her reflection showed an unstoppable rider, ready to ride with a presence that few could challenge, she smiled before adjusting her black leather gloves and setting out to meet her destiny.
As she stepped out of the cabin, the sound of her high heels echoed on the wood, immediately catching the attention of all the men present. The men's gazes were fixed on her, some in admiration, others in instinctive submission. The men's knees weakened as they watched her walk, and they fell to their knees before her, then crawled over to her and kissed her boots. “Let the young rider come!” she muttered to herself.
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The First Meeting (1)
The newlywed wife and the lady professor rode human horses into the village.
The group advanced until they reached a clearing where several ladies were gathered. They were all dressed in impressive riding outfits: elegant hats, whips in hand, and high boots that highlighted their presence. Among them, one figure stood out: the young rider.
Her posture was imposing, her presence undeniable. She wore a tight black suit that highlighted every curve, and her riding boots shone in the sunlight. Beside her, several human horses waited their turn to carry her, and one was already prostrate before her, ready to be ridden.
The lady professor bowed slightly toward the newlywed wife and whispered, “There she is.”
The young rider turned her head and her eyes met those of the newlywed wife. They assessed each other in a tense silence, full of defiance. “Welcome,” said the young rider with a calculated smile. “I have heard of you.”
“Same here,” the newlywed wife replied without losing her poise.
“We’ll see if you’re up to it,” the young rider added, elegantly mounting her human horse.
The lady teacher smiled, amused. “This is going to get interesting.”
The young rider said, “I heard you’re coming to spend your honeymoon here, this will be truly sweet where your husband, your best man and others will be at my, I mean, your beck and call.”
The newlywed wife didn’t flinch. She kept her stance firm, her gaze defiant. She wasn’t going to be intimidated. “That’s right,” she replied with a confident smile. “And I’m sure it will be an unforgettable experience… for everyone.”
The young rider smiled mischievously and slowly approached, her riding boots clicking on the ground with each step. “I’m glad to know you’re ambitious,” she said in a soft but firm voice. “But in this town, horses choose their natural rider.”
The lady teacher watched the interaction with interest, enjoying the duel of personalities.
The young rider looked past the newlywed wife and saw her husband and best man among the men present. Both looked down in respect and nervousness at the imposing lady. “You might want to try what it’s like to be a mount before assuming you’ll always be a rider,” the young rider added with a challenging smile.
The newlywed wife laughed softly and clicked her riding crop against her boot, a dry sound that caught everyone’s attention. “Interesting suggestion, but I doubt anyone here would want to see me in that position,” she replied. “In fact, I’m sure all of these horses wish I were the one to ride them.”
The men in the group, including her husband and best man, nodded instinctively. The newlywed wife’s presence dominated them as much as the young rider’s.
“We’ll see who rides who at the end of the day.” The young rider concluded, turning gracefully on her heels and mounting her trusty human horse.
The tension in the air was palpable. The competition had begun.
Last edited by caballito (2025-03-01 15:15:41)
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The First Meeting (2)
The young rider led her animal towards the teacher and stopped him right in front of the teacher, bowing her head slightly in respect. “Good morning, Miss.” she greeted with a confident smile.
The teacher, riding on her faithful human horse, nodded elegantly and responded with a slight smile. “Good morning, my dear. I see you arrive with great energy, as always.”
“Always ready to ride.” the young rider replied, gently stroking the head of her mount, who was breathing deeply, proud to serve her.
The newly married wife watched the exchange attentively. It was evident the young rider not only mastered her horses, but also had a close relationship with the teacher.
The teacher turned her gaze to the newly married wife and smiled. “I believe you have not had a formal introduction yet,” she said diplomatically. “Madam, this is our young rider, an exceptional lady with a natural talent for riding on top of men.”
The young rider smiled mischievously and looked directly at the newlywed wife. “A pleasure. I have heard of you.”
“Same here,” the newlywed wife replied, maintaining her firm bearing.
The two women measured each other with their gaze, each assessing the other, aware that this meeting was not just a greeting, but the beginning of a game of power and dominance.
The teacher observed the tension in the air and, with an amused glint in her eyes, commented: “This is going to get very interesting.”
The young rider smiled with a hint of mischief as she ran her fingers through the hair of her classmate, who now serves as the teacher’s faithful mount. “My classmate… now reduced to being the horse of his lady teacher.” she commented in a soft voice, but full of meaning.
The male, still in his firm position under the weight of the revered teacher, said nothing. He only lowered his head slightly, accepting his fate with docility.
The teacher gracefully patted her mount’s shoulder and replied with a serene smile, “I don’t see him diminished. Rather, he has found his true purpose.”
The young rider let out a light laugh and settled back onto her own mount, one of her teachers being her current animal. “That is true, Miss. Some are born to run free, others to be ridden.”
The newlywed wife watched the exchange with a mix of interest and analysis. Every word, every gesture, was a display of hierarchy and dominance.
The teacher turned her gaze to the newlywed wife and smiled knowingly. “I think our guest will quickly learn how this place works.”
The young rider fixed her eyes on the newlywed wife and her smile widened. “Yes… I wonder how many horses she will bring back when her honeymoon is over.”
The newlywed wife crossed her arms and smiled confidently. “Enough to prove that I am worthy of this land.”
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The First Meeting (3)
The young rider, a teenage lady, said: "I know all the horses who are from this village, and there are 2 who are not from here, can you introduce them to me?"
The newlywed wife immediately understood who the young rider was referring to. Her husband and his best man were the only men in that place who did not belong to the village.
With a defiant smile, the newlywed wife turned her body slightly, letting her cape flutter elegantly, and pointed with a slight movement of her whip towards where the two men were. "Of course. Come with me," she replied with a studied calm.
The teacher observed the scene with interest, as if she were a spectator in a silent duel between two rising forces.
The young rider moved the reins of her mount and made it advance smoothly beside the newlywed wife. The two women, one with the experience of a wife who knew how to dominate, and the other with the audacity of a young rider who conquered whomever she desired, advanced with the certainty that power was measured by who rode whom.
As they approached, the newlywed wife stopped in front of the two men. Her husband and best man looked at her with respect and expectation. “Here they are,” she said with a tone of pride and authority. “My husband and my best man. Two valuable horses who have proven themselves worthy of serving me.”
The young rider looked at them with her eyes, analyzing them with interest. Then, she looked at the newlywed wife with a mysterious smile. “Interesting. They look strong. It will be a pleasure to see how well they serve you… and how well they could serve me.”
The tension was palpable. It had been a simple comment, but the challenge was implicit.
The teacher, with her wisdom and elegance, intervened with a subtle smile: “Perhaps time and circumstances will show us who rides whom.”
The young rider nodded and asked: “How long will you be in the village?”
The newly married wife maintained her firm posture, with a slight smile on her lips. She knew every word in this village had a symbolic weight, and the young rider was testing her. “Long enough for everyone to remember us,” she answered confidently, sliding her fingers along the handle of her whip.
The young rider nodded, evaluating the answer with a shrewd look. Then, with a more playful tone, she added: “This sounds interesting. Perhaps, when they leave, some horses will wish to stay here… or perhaps they will go with new owners.”
The husband and the best man exchanged a quick glance, feeling the weight of the conversation without being able to intervene. They did not decide their fate, but the ladies who rode them did.
The teacher observed everything with a subtle smile. She knew this visit would bring intense emotions.
The newlywed wife was unfazed by the young rider’s insinuation. She was not going to give in easily. “Don’t worry, dear. My horses know who they belong to. But if you want to check… we’ll see who rides whom.”
The young rider laughed softly, enjoying the implied challenge. “I love this spirit. So, let’s make the most of the time.”
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The First Meeting (4)
The young rider explained: "This time you are coming with your husband and your best man because it is your honeymoon, and here you will spend and enjoy your first night with your brand new husband. On subsequent occasions you can come alone, or your husband alone or your best man alone, or you with your husband or you with your best man or your husband with your best man. You will always have horses available here."
The newlywed wife listened attentively to the young rider's words, without losing her majestic bearing. She knew that this town had its own rules, and she was ready to master them. "It is an interesting offer," she replied with a smile that betrayed confidence. "But tell me, young rider, when someone comes alone... who rides him? Who does she ride?"
The young rider held the newlywed wife's gaze with an expression of amusement and defiance. "It depends on who it is and how valuable they are as a horse... or as a rider."
The teacher, always observant, intervened with a tone of wisdom: “Here everything is a question of mastery and skill. Some come believing that they will only ride… and end up being ridden.”
The husband and best man remained silent, knowing that it was not their place to intervene. They were horses in this game, and their fate depended on the ladies.
The newlywed wife let out a soft laugh and replied firmly: “Then I will have to prove that I will always be a rider… and not a mount.”
The young rider smiled knowingly. “We will see.”
The young rider added: “Possibly at the end of your visit you will end up being a rider and I your mount or you being a mount and I your rider or neither being a rider or a mount of the other, we do not know this today.”
The newlywed wife looked at her with an intriguing smile, sliding her fingers along the handle of her whip. “Time will tell. But I assure you one thing… I am not one of those who let myself be mounted easily.”
The young rider laughed softly, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “I respect that. But here in this village, positions can change in the blink of an eye. Don’t underestimate the power of a good rider.”
The teacher watched the exchange with a subtle smile. She knew they were both measuring strength, testing each other’s limits.
The husband and best man were barely breathing. They didn’t know how this game of dominance would end, but they did know it wasn’t their place to intervene.
Finally, the young rider took the reins of her horse and caressed its head with a carefree air. “Whatever the outcome, it will be a sight to see.”
The newlywed wife nodded gracefully. “Then let’s make this visit unforgettable.”
“Let’s go!” said the young rider, “I’ll accompany you to the hotel and then, only if you wish, I’ll take you to see other interesting places.”
The newlywed wife nodded with a confident smile. “I accept the invitation. Let’s see what this village has to offer.”
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The First Meeting (5)
The young rider gestured for her to follow. The young rider rode on the shoulders of her faithful animal, who advanced with firm and obedient steps. The teacher, with a satisfied expression, watched as the newlywed assessed the situation, measuring every detail.
The newlywed wife snapped her fingers and her husband stepped forward to kneel before her. With elegance, she placed her boot on his thigh and then, with a fluid movement, climbed onto his shoulders. The best man watched silently, waiting for orders. “You come too.” The newlywed wife commanded her best man naturally.
The best man nodded without hesitation and walked behind her while the men of the village watched them in admiration. To them, the scene was a spectacle of power and dominance, where the ladies reigned and the horses obeyed.
The young rider smiled as she watched the newlywed quickly adapt. “You look good up there.”
“Always,” the newlywed wife replied confidently.
And so, riding majestically, they headed to the hotel.
The newlyweds entered the hotel with the best man, and left almost immediately. “There is only one matrimonial room for us, but there is no room for him,” the young rider asked, “Are there any vacancies in the hotel stable? There are those who like to be horses and be treated as such.”
The best man felt a slight chill at the young rider’s suggestion, but he kept his composure. He knew that in this town the rules were different and that his fate depended on the decision of the newlywed wife.
The newlywed wife, riding on her husband’s shoulders, turned her head slightly towards the young rider and arched an eyebrow with a playful smile. “Good idea. But he is my best man, not just any horse.”
The young rider smiled mischievously. “That doesn’t always make a difference here. Many godfathers end up in the stables, it depends on how their rider sees them.”
The husband, keeping his firm demeanor, did not intervene. He knew that the final decision was his wife’s. The godfather, on the other hand, gulped.
The newlywed wife slid her riding crop between her fingers calmly. “I don’t know if my godfather is ready for that… yet.”
The young rider nodded with a mischievous smile. “Do you doubt if he is ready… yet? Well, then let’s see what options we have for him. But if you change your mind, the stable is always open. For now, we must find accommodation for your godfather.”
The newlywed wife nodded, still with a playful smile on her lips, but understanding that the matter of accommodation had to be resolved before the situation took a more complicated turn. The godfather, although still feeling somewhat out of place, knew that he had to follow the protocol of the young rider and the wife. “That’s right, I don’t want my best man left out,” the newlywed wife said in a determined tone, as she cast a glance at her husband, who smiled knowingly at her. She knew she had to keep things in order, at least for now.
The young rider, with a mischievous smile, moved her horse forward a step and pointed to a small lodging nearby. “We can accommodate him there. Although I must say, it’s not the best place, but sometimes horses find comfort where they least expect it.”
The newlywed wife frowned playfully. “I won’t call him horse, he’s just my best man. But out of respect, he will be accommodated.”
The young rider, smiling playfully replied, “You don’t name him horse, but he is your horse, your animal.”
The best man, feeling that he could no longer escape the situation, stepped forward. He knew that the wife had decided the answer, and he had no choice but to accept it. “Thank you.” I don’t want to be a bother, but I accept the accommodation.”
The young rider, with a slight nod, replied. “Respect is key in these arrangements, and it seems you both understand that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my own horses to tend to.”
With those words, the two riders led their horses in front of each other and said goodbye with kisses on the cheek, accidentally giving each other a kiss on the mouth, the young rider said, “Later we will go to a spectacular place,” the newly married wife replied, “We will be there.”
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Meeting the young (lady) rider
The best man, feeling the need to clarify some matters and better understand the dynamics of that peculiar town, went out in search of the young rider. The cool night air enveloped him as he advanced through the streets lit by the street lamps. He knew that finding her would not be difficult, as the town always seemed to be full of riders and horses, but the presence of the young rider was special, almost dominant.
Arriving at the small meadow behind one of the cabins, he saw the familiar figure of the young rider, riding on an older man, a man in his fifties, with a relaxed countenance, but at the same time with the submission that only true human horses can show.
The young rider, noticing the presence of the best man, smiled enigmatically, without showing surprise. “It seems that you arrived just in time,” she said, as she adjusted the reins, allowing her “horse” to follow the rhythm of the quiet march.
The best man, with a mix of admiration and bewilderment, observed the control she had over the man. This man, with his age and his body weathered by the years, was not the typical “horse” one would see in these situations, but to the young rider, he seemed to be another extension of her will. “I can’t help but ask… is this what is expected here?” the best man asked, his voice wavering, as he watched the young rider guide her mount, giving him instructions with impressive ease.
The young rider, without losing her dominant stance, looked him in the eyes. “It’s not about what is expected. It’s about what each is able to offer and what they are willing to accept.”
The best man nodded slowly, understanding that the rules of this town were much more complex than he had anticipated. He knew that in this world of riders and horses, the power dynamics were shifting and often challenged the norms he knew.
The young rider watched him for a moment, then turned her gaze to the man beneath her. “This is an experienced horse. Sometimes older horses have much more to offer than younger ones,” she said with an enigmatic smile, as if inviting him to reflect on the true meaning of obedience and control.
The godfather, intrigued but feeling a slight discomfort, said no more. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable tension, an unspoken power in the air. He knew the young rider was showing him a side of the village that only those who dared to enter these rituals fully understood. “So, what do you wish me to do now?” the godfather asked, aware that he himself could be part of that world or be left out, but also understanding that the young rider seemed not to expect him to be just a spectator.
She smiled at him with a mixture of authority and amusement. “Come, join me.” There is much to learn, but first, you need to know who you can trust to be your rider.”
With those words, the young rider turned her mount and began to ride, guiding the fifty-something man with a firmness that made it clear that he was a horse completely under her control. The godfather, although still somewhat bewildered, set off, not quite knowing what to expect, but aware that he was being part of a much more complex and challenging experience than he had first imagined.
The godfather watched the young rider as she rode on her mount, a glint of admiration in his eyes. Her bearing was impeccable, commanding the situation with an innate grace, as if she had been born for that role. Every movement of her body seemed to be perfectly synchronized with her horse, making the scene feel almost otherworldly, a balance between power and subtlety.
But what caught his eye the most was the young rider's riding attire, a true masterpiece that reflected both her authority and her beauty. Her tight-fitting leather jacket highlighted her slender figure, perfectly fitted to her torso, with metallic details that sparkled in the dim evening light. High-heeled boots, which extended all the way to her thighs, were a dominant element of her outfit. The heels, strong and at the same time elegant, gave the impression the young rider was not just walking, but dominating the ground beneath her feet. The silver spurs sparkled, making it clear that even in stillness, she was always ready to move with firmness and control.
But what really took the godfather’s breath away were the small details that completed the ensemble: the riding belt, the perfectly fitted reins, and the whip, which seemed to be more of an accessory of power than a tool of common use. It was as if every element of her outfit was designed not only for comfort and functionality, but also to display the power and control she exerted over her mount, over others, and ultimately over herself.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” she said, noticing his admiration and knowing full well what she evoked in those who watched her.
The godfather nodded slowly, unable to help but feel a slight respect, almost reverence, at the young rider and her commanding presence. It was a sight he had never seen before, and although he understood the rules of the village, he now felt the magnitude of the control she had. Every detail of her costume seemed to have a purpose, from the spurs that indicated her readiness to move with speed and precision, to the whip that was not only a tool, but also an extension of her will.
As she rode, the godfather couldn't help but think about how this act of riding, of control and power, wasn't just limited to the physical act, but seemed to envelop her entire being, from the way she presented herself to the world to how she related to others.
It was a sight that left him speechless, completely caught up in the fascination of the young rider and the aura her presence, and her costume, emanated.
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The building
The young rider, with her imposing presence and dominance, rode into a building, followed by the best man who, captivated by her beauty, followed her like a dog.
Upon reaching the building, the best man noticed how the sound of crunching boots echoed on the ground, mixed with the soft echo of the horses' hooves. Inside, several riders moved with impressive skill, riding their human horses, creating a spectacle that was both fascinating and disconcerting. The air was charged with a unique energy, a mix of power, control and submission that seemed to dominate the space.
The place was filled with riders who, with natural grace, rode their human horses, some with serene faces, others with a defiant attitude. The best man, observing everything, noticed that the young rider, with her elegant bearing, led the group, displaying a confidence that left no doubt of her experience and skill. The horses, as she had promised, were submissive, but at the same time, there was an energy in the air that suggested each rider had their own style, a form of dominance that made the place even more captivating.
Suddenly, in the background, the godfather saw a familiar figure. It was the lady teacher, who, with her distinguished bearing, rode one of her horses with impressive ease. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, and although she seemed to be enjoying the ride, there was something in her posture that reflected the absolute control she had over her mount. “Ah, there’s the teacher,” said the young rider, noticing the direction of the godfather’s gaze. “She’s one of the best in the art of riding, and she also knows how to make her horses submit.”
The godfather, still surprised by everything he was witnessing, slowly approached, observing in greater detail the interaction between the teacher and her horse. She had an imposing posture, but at the same time there was a warmth in her expression that indicated her connection with those who rode for her.
When the lady teacher noticed her presence, she smiled briefly, nodding her head. Her gesture was a mix of respect and recognition, knowing that the godfather already understood part of the dynamics that were lived in that place. “What do you think?” - the young rider asked the godfather, while observing him with a smile.
The godfather, although captivated by the environment, could not help but admire how the women, and some of the dominant figures in the place, exercised such imposing power over their horses. It was as if the building was a kind of sanctuary where the rules of the town became an art, a dance of control and submission, where the relationships between human riders and horses blurred in a unique fusion.
This place, full of skill, confidence and an energy that only those who were deeply immersed in this tradition could understand, was, without a doubt, the beating heart of the town.
Seeing his goddaughter riding his godson, the godfather was perplexed, observing the scene in amazement. His goddaughter, with her impeccable bearing, controlled the situation with ease, while his godson, submissive, seemed to do nothing but follow her directions. The contrast between his goddaughter, who moved with grace and dominance, and his godson, who was completely surrendered to her will, was clear.
The godfather, seeing the scene, could not help but ask, still bewildered by the magnitude of what he was witnessing: “Who brought them?”
The young rider, with an amused smile, turned to him and, with impressive calm, replied: “It was I who brought them. As you can see, the power relations here do not follow the same rules as outside.”
Her tone was firm, but also full of a strange softness, as if she were revealing an ancient secret that only the initiated could understand.
His goddaughter was completely in control of the situation, and that was clear not only from her posture, but also from the way his godson, whom she rode so masterfully, showed no resistance.
The young rider continued: “This is a place where the rules of submission and leadership are understood, and here horses are not just animals, but those who accept their place. Not everyone can follow these dynamics, but those who do discover that respect, trust and power go beyond the physical.
The godfather, taking in the young rider’s words, couldn’t help but feel a mixture of fascination and wonder. The way she had spoken, with such absolute confidence, showed him that there was much more at stake than he had initially understood. This place, where power relations intertwined so naturally, was a world unto itself, and each of the participants had accepted the rules not just out of obligation, but by choice.
His gaze returned to his godson, who was completely in place, as his goddaughter rode him with the same skill she had shown with everyone else.
“Are you surprised?” the young rider asked, as if she was waiting for his reaction.
“It’s… surprising,” he replied, still unable to hide his admiration for the way everything was happening around him.
The young rider smiled, satisfied with the godfather’s response. He knew that although he had already begun to understand, there was still much more to learn about the village and its rules, rules that only those who accepted the power of the cavalcade could truly understand.
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The Goddaughter and her Godfather (1)
The imposing goddaughter is a woman of stunning beauty, she radiates a majestic and dominant presence that captures all eyes around her, she is a combination of elegance, dominance and a hypnotic charisma. Her mere presence commands respect and admiration, as if the world revolved around her. She has absolute self-confidence and total control over her movements, which makes any gesture of hers, no matter how small, cause an immediate effect on those who observe her.
When she moves, her gait is firm and sure, with the perfect cadence of someone who knows she is admired, desired and obeyed.
The strength and dominant posture of the imposing goddaughter, allow her to ride, with grace and authority, showing the naturalness, skill and absolute control, with which she subdues her mount, be it:
- Live mount, of flesh and blood: man, horse, donkey, mule, bull or ox, elephant, camel, etc.
- Mythical and fantasy mount: dragon, griffin, giant wolf, centaur, etc.
- Spiritual or supernatural mount: demon, incubus, angel or celestial being (divine mount).
- Technological or science fiction mount: android or riding robot, hybrid cybernetic creature.
- Artificial or mechanical mount: simulated saddles, exercise machines, mechanical toys, decorative and themed structures, motorcycles and bicycles.
Her domain extends beyond traditional boundaries, because she rides not only physical creatures, but also spirits, minds and wills. No matter what or who it is, if it lends itself to serve her, she will ride it.
Her body was the definition of powerful and feminine beauty, with proportions that highlighted her natural dominance.
Her dazzling physique: Her hair is long, silky and with a shine that reflects the light with every movement, shiny dark brown, with golden reflections under the light, it falls elegantly down her back and frames her beautiful face. Sometimes she gathers it into a high ponytail, which enhances her haughty bearing. Her goddess-like face, of perfect symmetry, with high and well-defined cheekbones, has cinnamon-colored, smooth and luminous skin. Her well-defined, full and sensual lips curved in a superior smile, and her large, dark, penetrating eyes, capable of seeing the soul of whoever looks at her, shine with intelligence and mischief. Her slender and elegant neck has a slight sheen of sweat after having ridden, reflecting her vitality.
Her shoulders are firm and well-defined, transmitting strength and authority. Her arms are thin, toned and elegant, with soft but defined lines, denoting a feminine but dominant strength, with enough strength to handle the reins and control her mount. Her hands, with long and thin fingers, are experts at holding the reins with determination, caressing or correcting firmly when she considers it necessary. Her nails are impeccable and perfectly groomed.
Her curvy and fascinating figure: Her generous and well-proportioned breasts are firmly enclosed under her outfit, highlighting her imposing femininity without losing elegance. With each movement, they seem to defy gravity, they are firm and perfect. Her wasp waist, extremely narrow, tight and marked, creates a striking and beautiful contrast with her wide and wide hips, making her more dominant and controlling. Her wide and rounded hips of great volume and firmness, the perfect base for her dominant bearing, give a regal and powerful air to her shape. Her buttocks are firm, high and round, accentuated by her posture and the way she sits on her mounts, standing out with each step and leaving those who see her ride breathless. Her thick and shapely thighs, powerful and sculpted, capable of subduing any mount with their mere pressure, show the strength of an experienced rider, each muscle is perfectly marked, making it clear that her dominance was not only mental, but also physical. Her defined and strong calves, tensing precisely as she pushes herself up onto her mount, exhibit the right tension to hold her firmly on her saddle. Her slender, imposing and shapely feet are shod in an outfit that enhances her dominant bearing, high-heeled boots and spurs, which increase her presence and power, complete her image of an unbreakable rider.
Her imposing, powerful and seductive outfit: The imposing goddaughter wears an outfit designed to highlight her irresistible figure, and to ride with style and authority: A tight, black, long-sleeved top, open enough to denote sensuality without losing its dominant air, with a cut just above the navel, revealing the perfection of her narrow waist and highlighting her curves. Short, tight, dark blue denim shorts, fitted to her shape and revealing the perfection of her incredible, shapely legs, which seem sculpted by the gods. Black, semi-transparent pantyhose, which enhance her attractiveness, cover her thighs and calves, accentuating her figure while revealing the texture of her perfect, brown skin. Black, knee-high leather boots, with a high heel and firm sole, which made her look even taller and more dominant, producing an authoritative sound with each step.
Every detail of her outfit was designed not only for the comfort of a rider, but to shock and dazzle, commanding respect and admiration from all present. With each movement, she made it clear that she was a goddess on earth, a mistress of power and beauty, and that there was no one in her world who could resist her absolute dominion.
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The Goddaughter and her Godfather (2)
The goddaughter, recognizing her godfather, approached him riding on top of her husband with a mixture of respect and excitement. Despite being the one who dominates in this space, she had always had a deep respect for him, as he had been a key figure in her life. With a calm and confident smile, she led her husband towards him, recognizing the importance of that moment.
The husband, with a mixture of awe and admiration, watched in silence. He knew the power dynamics in this village were different, and seeing his wife act with such authority and skill, a sense of pride grew in his chest. At the same time, he felt some jealousy, but not conventional jealousy, but a kind of awe at the skill and control she possessed. It was as if he, for a moment, felt himself not only in a different place, but in a reality where the rules were constantly being rewritten. But despite everything, he still felt connected to her, and this moment showed him once again how deeply he could admire her.
The goddaughter, as she gracefully dismounted, looked as if everything had aligned at that very moment. Her face showed a deep calm, an absolute self-assurance. She knew what she was about to do and there was no doubt in her mind that this was the next step on her path.
With skill, she bridled and saddled her godfather with quick, precise movements, demonstrating not only her skill, but also the control she had over the situation. For her, riding her godfather was not just a formality, but a way to reaffirm her place in this world, where power and submission coexisted in such a natural way.
The godfather, seeing his goddaughter dismount from her own horse to ride him instead of the horse, experienced a mix of complex feelings. On the one hand, there was a deep admiration for her skill, her control, and her ability to command even those who normally dominated. On the other hand, there was also a sense of quiet acceptance, of knowing oneself in one's place, knowing that, in this world, as in many others, there were times when submission was not synonymous with weakness, but with deep respect and trust. He couldn't help but feel honored to be chosen as his next horse, something he saw as a sign of his place in this power structure.
When the goddaughter finally climbed onto her godfather's back, all eyes were on them. The goddaughter stood with a posture of absolute authority, her eyes fixed on her godfather, who, like her, knew perfectly well what his role was.
The godfather feels a pride mixed with submission, knowing that his goddaughter has become an authority figure before whom he must bow, submitting to her without resistance, an expression of respect and acceptance on his face. Although he was in a vulnerable position, he felt no humiliation, but rather a deep acceptance of the dynamics that ruled this world. It was as if, in that moment, he had stripped away all pride and embraced the purity of the relationship between rider and horse.
The husband silently watches his wife with fascination and respect, knowing that she is an unrivalled rider. Although it was his wife who was on top of her godfather, he felt a rush of emotions. A sense of respect for the dynamics and the certainty that his wife was in control of the situation. She was, once again, in control, and he, as a husband, accepted her role without question. Far from feeling displaced, he felt more connected to her, as if in observing her power, his own role in the grand scheme of things became clearer.
The young rider, he watches approvingly, said nothing, but her eyes shone with a quiet satisfaction. They watch approvingly, acknowledging the goddaughter's absolute dominance in this situation. She had guided her goddaughter to this point, and now, watching everything unfold, she understood that the time had come for her goddaughter to take the reins, for her to be the one to set the next step. She felt proud of her goddaughter, but also a deep satisfaction at having shared with her everything she knew, and now, seeing her in action, she knew that she had reached a higher level of understanding and skill.
The goddaughter, as she rides on her godfather, feels a strange sense of power and calm. In that moment, she not only controls her godfather, but she also controls the space, the situation, and everyone who was present. The respect, admiration, and recognition that emanates from others makes her feel in her place, as if she were a natural force of this world, destined to dominate and be admired. Despite her youth, the control she has over her godfather and the way he accepts her without reservation gave her immense power, something that the goddaughter had learned to use skillfully.
In that instant, everyone present, including the godfather and the husband, recognized that what was happening was a natural manifestation of power and submission in this peculiar and fascinating world. The dynamics of power, acceptance, and respect flowed in all directions, and, although in many other places it would be somewhat disconcerting, here it was the norm, something perfectly understood and accepted by all involved.
Her every move is a statement of power, her every gesture a message of supremacy and control. She doesn't ask, she decides. She doesn't ask, she takes.
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The Goddaughter and her Godfather (3)
The bite in his mouth prevented the Godfather from speaking, suddenly he felt his Goddaughter breaking into his mind and taking over his mind, and then he heard her say: "I can go in and control your mind, I'm sending you telepathic messages, you can think and I will read your thoughts, you are an open book to me."
Her dominance over him is not only physical, but also mental and spiritual. The Goddaughter rides her Godfather in the traditional sense, and she also rides his mind (she has entered his mind and controls it at her whim).
Now she reads his thoughts as words written in an open book, nothing of him is hidden from her. She rides him essentially, she also takes over his consciousness of him, making him an extension of his desire for her. She understands every thought he generates. He feels not only her physical weight on his body, but also her mental weight within his mind.
The goddaughter has transcended simple physical domination. Now her mount cannot hide from her or in his own mind, for she has invaded his consciousness. He is hers in body and thought, he is a completely subdued being.
The godfather, the bit firmly secured in his mouth, felt a strange sensation run through his body. It was not just the weight of his goddaughter on his shoulders and back, but also something much deeper: she was within his mind.
Her mental invasion, at first, was a subtle sensation, like a rock at the edges of his consciousness. Then, his goddaughter's presence in him grew stronger, more intense. She was not only in his own mind; she was there, exploring his innermost thoughts, unravelling his memories, accessing emotions of him that he did not even fully understand. “You can't hide from me,” her voice echoed inside his head.
He tried to resist, tried to block out his thoughts, but it was useless. His mind was open to her, like the pages of a book she read with ease. “You are mine,” she whispered telepathically. “Your thoughts, your desires, your fears… they all belong to me.”
He felt a wave of heat run through his body. Never in his life had he experienced such absolute submission. His body was under his goddaughter's control, so was his mind. He couldn't think of anything without her knowing it instantly.
He felt his sensation of absolute submission: Total helplessness, his body is an instrument for his rider, his own mind no longer belonged to him. Pleasure and Terror Mixed, there was something fascinating in this mental invasion, it terrified him, but at the same time made him feel more possessed by her than ever. Her Voice inside him, she didn’t need to speak, her commands, her wishes, her will… it was all transmitted directly into his head from him. His identity was fading, he was no longer a godfather, nor a man, nor an individual, he is her mount. Her tool. Her possession.
The Last Step: Surrender his will to her. Suddenly, he felt a clear command, etched into his mind as if it had been written in fire: “Stop struggling. Surrender yourself completely.”
And in that instant, he surrendered completely to his goddaughter. His mind stopped resisting. He no longer had any thoughts of his own; only the thoughts she would allow him to have.
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The Goddaughter and Her Godfather (4)
Once the godfather stopped resisting, his goddaughter took absolute control. Her presence in his mind was no longer just an invasion, but a total possession. She dominated him completely. “You are now just an extension of my will,” she whispered mentally. “Think only what I allow you to think. Feel only what I allow you to feel.”
He nodded without realizing it, his body reacting automatically. He no longer needed verbal or physical orders. His goddaughter only had to wish for something, and his mind obeyed without hesitation.
The godfather's thoughts are controlled by his goddaughter. The godfather no longer has thoughts of his own, his mind only generates ideas when she allows it. If he tries to remember something without her authorization, a mental block prevents it. His memory can be modified by her: what she wanted him to forget, fades away; what she wanted him to remember, is strongly recorded.
The godfather's entire identity is completely reconstructed by his goddaughter. If she wanted to, she could make her godfather believe his only purpose in life is to serve her even before her birth.
The godfather's emotions are regulated by his goddaughter. The godfather feels no fear, happiness or shame himself. He only experiences the emotions she gives him permission to feel, if she wanted him to feel admiration, he would feel it, if she wanted him to feel humble and small before her, he would feel it with absolute intensity.
His body as a tool driven by her. The goddaughter does not need to give external indications. She only has to think about what she wants, and his body does it automatically, if she wants him to kneel, his body bends without him having to decide, if she wants to ride him for hours, his strength increases only because his mind tells him it is possible.
The goddaughter's voice inside her godfather's mind. Every time his goddaughter spoke into his mind, her voice was soft, yet unwavering, that of a Goddess dictating her will. “You are mine completely,” she said. “I decide what you are, what you think, what you feel, and what you do.”
He didn’t just understand it. He accepted it. And more than accepting it… he wanted it. With this level of control, his goddaughter didn’t just rule his body, she ruled his entire reality.
He could no longer distinguish between what had really happened and what she wanted him to believe. Everything he is… depends solely on her will.
The goddaughter has the power to implant false memories in her godfather just as easily as she can erase or reinforce real memories, altering his perception of him (making him feel a fictitious memory he actually lived), rewriting his past experiences of him (changing memories that already existed: if there was a time where he defied her, she makes him believe instead that he knelt before her willingly and begged for servitude; if he ever had an independent life, she makes him believe he was always her mount and that his only purpose is to be ridden by her wherever she wishes), and reinforcing his absolute obedience to him (implanting memories of him training his entire life to serve her, making him remember non-existent times when he was punished by her for disobeying her, making him forget he ever had a will of his own).
His past is rewritten at her will. A life dedicated to her. From his childhood, he would “remember” training himself to be worthy of her. He visualizes himself as a young man, toiling day and night, preparing for the moment when she would come into the world and grow up to claim her right over him.
Imaginary but intensely real punishments. When his mind would try to question his servitude, she implants the memory of a punishment: Him bound at the wrists and ankles, with no escape; Her, dressed all in black, with high-heeled boots and a whip in hand; Him feeling the burning on his skin, the whip cutting into his flesh, his blood pouring from the wounds, the humiliation of having defied his Mistress; her words echoing in his mind: “Don’t ever forget who’s in charge here;” The most terrifying thing is that those memories would never have happened in reality… but his mind accepts them as if they were as authentic as the air he breathes.
Fading of his own will. Any hint of independence from him is eradicated; if he ever had any desires, dreams or ambitions of his own, these thoughts disintegrate; only one undeniable fact remains in his mind: She is his owner, and his reason for existing is to serve her.
The Result: Total and irrevocable submission. For the godfather, there is no longer any doubt. His reality is what his goddaughter dictates. If he ever believed he was free, he would now see that as a lie.
She doesn't just control his body...She possesses his mind, his past, his present and his future.
Now his life has a clear purpose: to be the perfect mount for his goddaughter.
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The Goddaughter and her Best Man (5)
The Goddaughter riding on the shoulders of her submissive Best Man approached the Lady Professor: "Good evening Miss Professor," smiling at the word Miss referring to her, the Lady Professor replied: "Hello dear, I see you are enjoying the control of your Best Man," the Goddaughter replied: "Yes, but I feel as if I cannot enter a certain part of him."
Intrigued, the Lady Professor asked: "Is he resisting you?" "No, he totally submitted to me, but there is something or someone preventing me from having full control," the Lady Professor concluded: "My dear, perhaps it is another rider."
The Goddaughter frowned slightly, intrigued by the possibility. Another rider? Someone else with the power to influence her Best Man?
The lady teacher continued, “If you feel there is a barrier preventing you from fully accessing him, then there are two options: either he has been marked by another rider, or there is a stronger presence that is protecting a part of his mind.”
The goddaughter, riding on her godfather’s shoulders, pressed her thighs against his neck, feeling his absolute submission. “I don’t think it’s him resisting… I feel him completely surrendered to me.”
The lady teacher replied, “Then, my dear, we must find out who or what is interfering. If it's another rider… what will the goddaughter do about it?" the teacher asked with an enigmatic smile.
The goddaughter asked, "How could this lady rider have access to my horse?" the teacher replied, "he already gave her one of his access keys before you took possession of him, she may not even know she has this key considering the amount of keys that are given to her voluntarily or involuntarily by horses."
The goddaughter lightly pressed her thighs against her godfather's neck, listening to the teacher's answer. "That means before I claimed him, he had already opened the doors of his mind for another…" she mused out loud, a glint of defiance in her eyes.
The lady teacher nodded with a knowing smile. "That's right. Many horses give up their keys without even realizing their value. Some riders keep them unintentionally, others use them unknowingly… and a few do so with full knowledge of their power.”
The goddaughter leaned her body forward slightly, feeling the subtle tremor in her mount’s shoulders. “Then I must find this rider… and decide what to do about the fate of the key.”
The lady professor narrowed her eyes, her smile never fading. “The question is not just who she is… but whether she is willing to give up the key to you without resistance.” She continued, “And even if she doesn’t know she has the key, that doesn’t mean she can’t use it instinctively. Some riders leave their mark without even trying. Others, however, know exactly what they are doing.”
The goddaughter firmed her stance over her godfather, digging her spurs into his sides, feeling him shudder at her hold on her. “If she doesn’t know she has the key, perhaps I can take it without her noticing.”
The lady teacher smiled knowingly. "Perhaps… but what will you do if she does know and decides to use it before you?"
The goddaughter narrowed her eyes, a mix of defiance and curiosity shining in her gaze. "Then I'll have to face her… and decide who the ultimate rider is."
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