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The Revelation
The goddaughter, of incomparable beauty, imposing shape, highlighting her generous and well-proportioned breasts, her tight and marked waist, forming a beautiful contrast with her wide hips, her hips and buttocks of great volume and firmness, her thick, powerful and sculpted thighs, capable of subduing any mount with their sole pressure, and her defined and strong calves, which tense when she propels herself on her mount, riding on top of her bridled and saddled best man, took over his mind, controlling him in body and soul.
However, she sensed something was wrong, so riding on the shoulders of her submissive best man she approached the lady teacher: "Good evening Miss Teacher," the lady teacher 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 teacher 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 teacher 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, gently 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 these keys 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 keys.”
The professor narrowed her eyes, her smile never fading. “The question is not only who she is… but whether she is willing to give you the keys without resistance.”
The professor continued, “And even if she doesn’t know she has the keys, 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 keys, perhaps I can take them without her noticing.”
The teacher smiled knowingly. "Maybe… 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."
Last edited by caballito (2025-03-06 13:37:01)
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Branding horses (1)
The goddaughter asked: “Some words of yours left me intrigued. ‘If you feel that there is a barrier that prevents 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.’ What does it mean to be marked by another rider? What does it mean there is a stronger presence that is protecting a part of his mind? Maybe the love of another person?
The lady teacher answered: “Being marked by another rider means this horse has already handed over his keys to another rider, and she has exerted her influence over him. Depending on how strong this mark is, it could mean: The rider who marked him still has power over him and his decisions, His doors have been opened before and his will is already shaped by this rider, and/or the horse is loyal to his current rider, the lady who previously opened his doors, and he resists new riders.”
“On the other hand,” the lady teacher continued, “when there is a stronger presence protecting a part of his mind, it means something is preventing another rider from taking complete control over him. It could be: The love of another person, such as a mother, wife, girlfriend, or someone to whom he has given his heart; a deep emotional or psychological bond, which makes him resistant to new influences; and/or an inner conviction or strong self-identity, which makes him less susceptible to being ridden.” The lady teacher concluded: “If a rider tries to access such a horse, she may encounter resistance or discover that, although she has his keys, there are parts of his mind or heart that are off-limits to her.”
“In the case of your best man,” the lady teacher added, “another rider has his keys.”
The goddaughter, riding on her best man's shoulders, sitting in the saddle, stepping on the stirrups, leading him using reins, whip and spurs, said, "When you said my best man 'has been branded by another rider,' I thought of hot iron and branding on the skin, iron and fire, like equine horses and cattle."
The lady professor, riding her own human steed, replied with a knowing smile, "You are not so far from the truth. When a horse is branded by a rider, it is not with a hot iron on its skin, but with an invisible stamp on its mind and spirit. It is an imprint left on it by its rider, proof that it has been tamed, molded and guided under her command."
The goddaughter looked down at her best man, feeling the firmness of her hold on him. “So…” she said, her tone thoughtful, “does that mean my godfather bears my mark now?”
The lady professor nodded. “Yes. By accepting you as his rider, he has given himself to you, and your presence has been sealed within him. There may be other marks on him, but yours is now the newest and strongest.”
The goddaughter smiled with satisfaction and, with a slight movement of the reins, made her best man adjust his pace. She felt the power she had over him, the connection between rider and horse, the invisible bond that she now understood more clearly.
The lady professor added, “Although, there were cases.” The goddaughter, intrigued, asked, “Cases of what?” The lady professor added, “Of hot iron and skin.”
The goddaughter widened her eyes in surprise and curiosity. “Really? Cases of hot iron and skin?” She asked, leaning forward slightly as she continued to ride her best man.
The lady teacher nodded with a mysterious smile. “That’s right, it has happened. There are riders who, in their desire to leave an indelible mark on their horses, have used something more than invisible ribbons.”
The goddaughter felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. “And what happened to those horses?” she wanted to know, her voice reflecting a mixture of wonder and fascination.
The teacher looked at her intensely before answering: “Those horses could never belong to another rider again. The mark was their destiny.”
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Branding horses (2)
The goddaughter, as she rode her best man, felt an intense sensation of dominance run through her body. As she pressed her thighs and female organ against the sides and nape of her human horse, an idea began to form in her mind.
She imagined herself holding a red-hot brand of iron, heated in glowing embers, slowly bringing it close to the skin of her mount. The incandescent iron glowed with a hypnotic glow, and the air around her vibrated with anticipation of the moment when the brand would be imprinted.
“What do you think, friend?” the lady professor asked, noticing the look of concentration on her face.
The goddaughter smiled slightly, a spark of intensity in her eyes. “I am imagining what it would be like to leave my own mark. Something indelible. Something that makes him completely mine.”
The lady professor smiled knowingly. “Then you have understood the true meaning of possession.”
The goddaughter felt a shudder run through her body as she increased the pressure of her female organ against the nape of her best man's neck, and the pressure of her thighs against the sides of his neck. Her breathing quickened, and a satisfied smile spread across her face. The feeling of dominance enveloped her completely, and her imagination took her further and further.
She visualized the red-hot iron approaching the skin of her mount, the slight crackle of heat meeting the flesh, the mark being imprinted forever. She pressed even harder, feeling how her godfather, her faithful horse, submitted without resistance.
The lady teacher watched her with interest, noticing the sparkle in the eyes of her now student. “You're feeling the power, aren't you?” she whispered with a smile. “The certainty that he is yours.”
The goddaughter nodded slowly, enjoying the moment. “Yes,” she answered firmly. “And there’s nothing he can do about it.”
Agitated, the goddaughter asked, “How many horses can I brand with hot iron? What’s the record?”
The lady professor smiled mischievously at the intensity in the goddaughter’s eyes. “There’s no real limit,” she replied calmly. “It depends on how many horses you’re willing to claim as your own. Some riders only brand one or two, but there are legends of women who have branded dozens.”
The goddaughter, still pressed against the nape of her best man’s neck, took a deep breath. “What’s the record?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
The professor tilted her head, as if searching her memory. “It’s said that there was a rider who branded a hundred horses in her lifetime,” she whispered. “And they were all faithful to her until the end.”
The goddaughter felt a shiver run through her body. “A hundred…” she repeated in a murmur.
“But remember,” the lady teacher continued, “branding with hot iron is a final decision. There is no turning back!”
The goddaughter pursed her lips and pressed her thighs against her mount again. “Then I will choose well,” she said with determination. “But I will not stop until I leave my mark on all those who deserve to belong to me.”
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Branding horses (3)
The lady teacher said, “There is a cabin nearby, it has a bed, if you wish you can go in with your best man and I will watch outside preventing anyone else from entering.”
The goddaughter, breathing heavily, looked at the lady teacher with a mixture of excitement and determination. “Why are you offering me this?” she asked, still holding on to her best man’s reins.
The teacher was alarmingly conspiratorial. “Because I know how you feel,” she replied in a soft voice. “And because branding a horse is an exciting act it requires privacy… and determination.”
The goddaughter looked down at her mount, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her, beneath her thighs, buttocks and female organ. Her fingers tightened on the reins, and an idea crossed her mind. “Okay,” she said in a firm voice. “Take me to that cabin.”
The lady teacher agreed and took the lead, leading them through the trees to the small, solitary cabin. Upon arriving, she opened the door and looked at the goddaughter with a sparkle in her eyes. “Inside you have everything you need. I will keep watch out here.”
The goddaughter gracefully dismounted, but before doing so, she leaned into his ear and whispered, “You are mine alone now.”
She entered, pulling the reins of her horse, who followed her docilely, and she closed the door. The goddaughter looked around the room, feeling how emotion mixed with the power she had at that moment. Her horse stood still, head slightly bowed, awaiting her commands.
She slid her fingers along the reins and made him advance a little further towards the center of the cabin. To one side, the bed seemed to invite her to take complete possession of her mount; On the other side, the fire burned slowly, heating the iron that rested on the embers. “It's now or never,” she whispered to herself.
She approached the implements, observing the red-hot iron. She knew, after this, there would be no turning back. She smiled. If she had learned anything from the lady teacher, it was: a true rider must leave her mark on those who belonged to her.
The goddaughter looked at the different iron designs, looking for one that represented her essence in an unmistakable way. Her fingers caressed each design: some had initials, others, abstract figures, but none seemed worthy of being her personal mark.
Meanwhile, her horse, with its head down and heavy breathing, remained silent, completely submissive to its rider. “I must find the perfect mark,” she whispered to herself, “but if I don't find it…” She paused and stared at him, with an enigmatic smile. “I will throw you on the bed and take everything you are.”
Her horse gulped. He knew, no matter what her rider's decision was, she would be the one who would dominate completely at all times.
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The intimate encounter
The goddaughter said out loud, “Teacher, what do I do if I don’t find a brand to my liking?” The lady teacher replied, “In the village you can get a design to your liking to mark your horses.”
:
The goddaughter kept her smile as she gently caressed her best man’s cheek. Her eyes shone with a mix of excitement and absolute dominance. “Did you hear, my faithful horse?” she said in a melodious voice. “In the village I will get a design made just for you… so you will bear my brand forever.”
The best man nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off his rider. He knew, sooner or later, he would be sealed by her, becoming her property even more deeply.
She looked at him firmly and, with a calm but unwavering voice, ordered, “Lie down on the bed, face up, and look up at the ceiling. My time has come to take full possession of you… and all that you are.”
He complied with her order without hesitation, lying down as she had indicated. With a calm and confident gaze, she contemplated his absolute surrender, who is aware of the dominance she exerts over him.
In the stillness of the room, only his labored breathing could be perceived, who waited with expectation, and the firm decision in her gaze. Then she, with the determination of someone who claims what belongs to her, proceeded to assert her possession, marking her authority irrevocably.
Riding on top of him, crotch to crotch, she grabbed his male organ, milked it and placed it directly under her female organ, the feminine was on top of the masculine. Then she, with precise movements, made her femininity appropriate his masculinity, imprisoning it in her warm and welcoming inner walls. She felt his heat while he felt her heat.
He remained still, docile, as she moved up and down, back and forth, and in other directions, controlling the intensity, rhythm, speed, and cadence. With each movement, she reaffirmed her dominance, making it clear that he belonged to her without reservation. Her touch was firm but careful, like that of a rider who knows her mount well and knows how to masterfully lead it. She brings her lips to his and they exchange passionate French kisses.
The dim light accentuated her majestic shape as she leaned over him, marking each moment with her imposing presence. There was no rush in her actions, only the certainty of each gesture consolidated her power over him, sealing an unbreakable bond between rider and steed.
Their bodily fluids lubricated both of them, she reached climax several times, and when she decided, with quick and vigorous movements she made him ejaculate inside her, the warm semen, the seed, gushing out inside her. That is, she claimed what belongs to her, sealing her dominance with absolute certainty. Under her command, he gave himself without reservation, offering her his essence in an act of complete surrender.
Feeling his seed flooding inside her, she smiled satisfied and said: “Godfather, this is my wedding night. Since my adolescence I have had countless sexual encounters, but for my husband it is his first time. He is not the first nor will he be. He is not the first even on his wedding night.”
Then she separated their sexes, took over his sex, sucking him, giving him a blowjob. Her control made him ejaculate. She brought her lips to his, giving him a last and passionate French kiss. He tasted her vaginal fluids and his semen.
When she finally sat up, she looked at him with satisfaction, knowing that he now belongs to her body and soul. He, docile and devoted, kissed her boots as he awaited her next command, ready to serve his rider in whatever way she desired.
With a haughty, confident look, she bridled and saddled him, riding him with the same grace and firmness with which she had claimed him.
As she left, she had the look of one who has claimed and received what belongs to her. Her horse, docile and surrendered, advanced under her command, feeling on its shoulders the adored weight of its rider.
The lady teacher observed her with an enigmatic smile, as if recognizing the growth of a young rider who has established her dominance. With a slight nod of approval, she said to her: “I see everything is in order.”
The goddaughter, with a satisfied expression, nodded. “Yes, now there is no doubt who he belongs to.”
The lady teacher said: “I see you have taken what is yours. Have you decided how you will mark your steed?”
The goddaughter, with a satisfied expression, replied: “I will still think about it, but there is no doubt he belongs to me.”
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The Best Man's Decision
As the two riders rode into town, they saw the goddaughter's husband, the best man's godson, approaching.
The best man shuddered, he is one of her devoted worshipers, but his duty is to try to make her marriage last, to be preserved.
The goddaughter read his mind and asked: “Do you really want my marriage to last?”
He mentally answered: “Yes.”
She smiled and said: “It's funny, because ever since you met me you wanted to marry me and be my husband, and you ended up being my best man; anyway, you had an important part in my wedding.” Then, sensing his surprise, she said: “Do you want to know how I know your deepest desires? I am your Owner and you are an open book to me, I know you completely!”
She looked at him with that mixture of sweetness and power only she could conjugate, while he, shaken, tried to hold her gaze without success. His heart was beating hard, divided between the devotion he felt for her and the duty that tied him to another purpose. “You are my Owner…” he mentally whispered, with a trembling voice, feeling how each word spoken reaffirmed what he already knew deep inside.
She smiled with satisfaction and slid her fingers softly over his face, like someone caressing something that belongs to her. “That's right,” she affirmed with absolute certainty. “And you've known it from the first moment.”
The best man closed his eyes for a moment, accepting his destiny with the same devotion with which he had always served her. There was no escape, not even in his most secret thoughts, because she knew them all.
“Now tell me,” she continued, leaning in just to whisper in his ear, “if your true wish came true, what would you choose? Duty… or me?”
He replied, “My duty as best man is to give advice and see that your marriage lasts, but, belonging to you… I choose your happiness. I, choose you.”
She looked at him with a smile of triumph, knowing that, despite his words about duty, his heart and his will belonged to her completely. “Wise choice,” she whispered, sliding her fingers across his face delicately, like someone caressing a prized possession. “Because my happiness is to have you subservient to me… always.”
He nodded silently, his gaze reflecting the devotion that consumed him. His duty as best man was still on his mind, but his body, soul and essence were surrendered to her. “And since you are my horse,” she continued, taking the reins firmly, “it is time to keep riding you.”
He bowed his head in obedience, feeling the bridle holding him, the weight of his Mistress on his shoulders and body, and the sweet torment of belonging to her without reservation.
She smiles at her husband as she rides on the shoulders of her best man.
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The Husband's Devotion
The godson stood motionless as he took in the scene before him. His wife, majestic and imposing, rides on the shoulders of her best man with absolute elegance and dominance. Her shape is simply spectacular: tall, slender, with perfectly outlined curves that highlight her femininity with power and grace. Her long, shapely legs fit precisely around the neck of her human mount, while her firm thighs and crotch rest on the nape of his neck with dominant naturalness.
Her riding attire further accentuates her imposing presence. She wears a black cowboy hat with a leather band adorned with a silver buckle, projecting an air of authority and wild style. Her tight-fitting white blouse with delicate embroidery on the edges marks her generous breasts and narrow waist, enhancing her shape. A thick brown leather belt with a large gold buckle hugs her figure, further highlighting the curve of her hips and the harmony of her body.
Her tight, deep blue jeans mold perfectly to her firm, round rear, outlining every detail of her lush figure. Over them, she wears dark leather chaps, open at the sides, which reveal the perfection of her thighs and add an even more dominant and sophisticated air to her appearance.
On her feet, tall riding boots, black and with silver spurs, stained with the blood of her best man, shine with every movement. Her posture in the saddle is impeccable, with the reins firmly held in one hand and the whip resting in the other, ready to mark her dominance.
Her hair falls in silky waves over her shoulders, framing a face of mesmerizing beauty. Her gaze is penetrating, full of confidence and superiority.
She looks at her husband, and a satisfied smile appears on her lips. She knows the effect she has on him, she knows her image makes him shudder.
The godfather, her faithful mount, advances with a firm step, being ridden with pride under the weight of his rider. He knows that he belongs to her and that his duty is to serve him without reservation.
The godson, paralyzed by the scene, feels a mixture of admiration, desire and submission. His wife is a Goddess riding on top of her devoted worshiper, and at this moment, he understands that he could never equal her greatness.
Enraptured by the divine vision, he falls to his knees, kisses the leather of his wife's boots, leather, and licks the soles and high heels of her beloved boots.
His wife observes the scene with a smile of absolute satisfaction. Her husband, kneeling before her, kisses with devotion every inch of the soft and polished leather of her imposing riding boots, and licks the resistant soles marked by the road traveled, and the high heels that further enhance her height and her dominant presence.
He was ecstatic, intoxicated by the heavenly sight of his wife riding his best man with grace and authority. His lips brushed the leather with reverence, his labored breathing demonstrating his absolute surrender. And when he looks up, his eyes demonstrate the purest and deepest adoration.
Then, unable to contain himself, he lets out a neigh, an instinctive and primitive sound that springs from the depths of his being. It was not a simple gesture: it was his way of acknowledging his place, of accepting with total surrender that she is his Owner, his Goddess, his Supreme Rider.
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She exercises dominion over her husband and his best man
She looked down at him from her elevated position, the reins firmly in her hands and her impeccable posture on the shoulders of her human mount. Her smile widened, and with a touch of her spurs on her best man’s flanks, she continued her ride, knowing her husband, prostrate at her feet, would follow without hesitation, surrendered to her magnificence.
The best man saw his godson lie face downwards on the ground, he hesitated for a moment, feeling doubt invade his mind, but his goddaughter’s firm voice brought him back to his place. From her dominant position on his shoulders, she elegantly grabbed the reins, her impeccable posture radiating authority and grace. “Go straight ahead,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument.
He tried to resist for a moment. “But…” he whispered.
She clicked her tongue, her gaze flashing with determination. “He does not wish you to walk over him, he wishes for me to ride over his body on my mount. Remember, you are only an extension of my presence.”
The best man then understood his role. He was nothing more than the means by which his rider exercised her power, a tool ridden by her with glory and majesty. He took a deep breath and, with renewed determination, advanced without hesitation.
Below them, the godson, still lying face down on the ground, felt the shadow of his wife envelop him completely. His body trembled with emotion as he felt her weight on him, his mount advancing with a firm step, his Goddess elevated above him, unreachable and sublime. And in that instant, he knew her purpose was none other than to be the ground over which she reigned.
She ordered her horse to stop over her husband, she felt a wave of satisfaction as she saw how both men, her husband and her best man, submitted to her will. Her haughty gaze reflected the fullness of her dominion, the certainty that everything was in its place. From her saddle, she watched her husband lying on the ground, feeling his body just beneath hers, while her horse remained motionless above him. In her mind, thoughts of pride and possession crossed. "They both belong to me... one carries me being ridden by me, the other gives himself as ground for me to pass over. There is no greater proof of devotion than this." Her heart was beating hard, but not from insecurity, but from the euphoria of knowing that her influence over them was absolute.
The best man (horse of his rider/goddaughter) stood firm, feeling the weight of the decision in every fiber of his being. He knew he should not question her orders, but his instinct told him he was in a delicate position. He looked down, seeing the godson's body beneath him, and felt an internal struggle between his loyalty to his rider and his own conscience. "I am her mount… I must obey without question. But… is this man not her husband? Is it not my duty to watch over their union? And yet… her happiness is above all, and if she wants it that way, then this is my purpose." Finally, resignation took hold of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and accepted his role: he was nothing more than his rider's tool, and only her will mattered.
The husband, still lying in the shadow of his wife and his best man, felt a mixture of emotions overwhelming him. His body was glued to the ground, his breathing accelerated, his heart beating hard. The weight of his wife on him, even through her mount, made him feel small, insignificant and, at the same time, completely surrendered. "I am her ground… I am here to be the path on which she advances. I am not worthy of being her mount, but I am worthy of being the ground on which she stands glorious." He felt a strange peace in that absolute submission. There was no resistance in his mind, only a deep longing to serve her, to be whatever she needed. He looked up, and though he couldn't see her completely from his position, he knew her look was one of triumph. And in that instant, he understood: his happiness was not in possessing her, but in giving himself to her completely.
She spurred and whipped her horse, and he continued on his way. Sitting atop the saddle, she looked back and down, she saw her husband following her on all fours, his smile was serene, but in her gaze shone the glow of victory. Sitting elegantly on her mount, feeling the power in every spur and every touch of the whip, she enjoyed the absolute control she exercised over both men.
The best man, feeling the impulse of her orders, advanced with a firm step, his body serving as support for his rider. Despite everything, he could not ignore the scene behind them. His godson, her husband, crawled on the ground with blind devotion, dragging himself with the sole purpose of following his Owner.
The rider bowed her head slightly, looked down at him, and in a soft, melodic voice whispered in her mount's ear: “Your godson follows me, dragging himself along on all fours… I have my horse and my dog.”
The best man swallowed. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He shouldn't. He just moved forward, knowing that his duty was to be the foundation on which she stood majestically.
Behind him, the husband panted, his hands and knees covered in dust with each movement. But in his heart, there was no resentment. Only adoration.
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Kisses and a New Ride
Pausing her mount with grace and mastery, she fixed her gaze on the nearby rock and, with a simple command, her husband rose and climbed onto it, obedient and expectant.
With a light tug on the reins, she guided her horse to the rock, her face aligned with her husband's. She smiled sweetly, and her hands slid up to embrace him with absolute possession. Her lips came close to his, barely touching them, enjoying the contained trembling in his body.
But then, she felt the tension in her mount. An involuntary shudder ran through the best man beneath her. His breathing became erratic, his muscles tensed, as if an inescapable revelation passed through him.
With a deep connection, she penetrated his mind with a telepathic whisper, a voice he could not ignore: “What are you afraid of?”
She paused, lengthening her wait, enjoying the subtle trembling of his mount. “The taste of our bodily fluids that you left in my mouth in the cabin? The taste of my squirt or vaginal discharge and your semen?”
She felt him catch his breath. She smiled with delight and, with the certainty of a Queen who dominates her subjects, added: “He will drink them from my lips and tongue!”
And without further ado, she took her husband’s lips with her own in a deep kiss, sealing their dominance with an unmistakable exchange.
She kissed him firmly, guiding him in a slow rhythm, delighting in her husband’s absolute surrender. Her lips parted, his tongue explored with dominance and he, without hesitation, received everything she offered him.
He tasted the new taste in her mouth, a vestige of what had happened earlier in the cabin. He pulled away for a moment, panting, and in a trembling voice whispered: “Your lips and tongue have new smells and new tastes…”
She looked at him with a serene smile, with the confidence of someone who knows her will is law. With a finger she caressed his cheek and, in a soft but firm voice, she replied: “You will continue to feel them from now on… you just have to get used to it.”
Her words were not a request or a suggestion; they were an undeniable truth.
He did not protest. Deep inside, devotion and submission guided him. He kissed her again, drinking from her lips and tongue until there was not a trace left on her, until he had received everything in his own mouth.
She let him continue until she was completely satisfied. Then, with a slight tug on the reins, she straightened her posture in the saddle, observing him from above with a satisfied smile.
She, riding on the shoulders of her best man, looked up at her husband with a smile of triumph. He, from below, looked at her with devotion, feeling in every fiber of his being that she belonged to him completely.
The best man, who had remained silent, sighed with relief. The couple's union was still intact, although transformed. He knew that his goddaughter would always have absolute dominion, but her husband, despite everything, accepted his place with love and dedication.
She caressed her husband's face with her fingertips and, in a melodic voice, said: "You are mine. You always will be."
He nodded without hesitation, with a smile that reflected both surrender and happiness.
The best man, with a slight smile, took a breath and waited for new orders. The riding had to continue.
She said to her husband, “Do you wish to be ridden by me as our best man does? If so, I must bridle and saddle you.”
Her husband looked at her with a mixture of wonder and devotion. He knew either answer had to be the right one, for he did not wish to disappoint her. “If that is your wish, my love,” he whispered in a trembling voice.
She smiled with satisfaction and gracefully dismounted from her best man’s shoulders. With firm and confident steps, she approached her husband and, with a delicate, but undeniably authoritative gesture, she took the reins of his destiny. “To be ridden by me, you must first be prepared,” she said as she took out the bridle and the rest of the necessary implements. “I must bridle and saddle you properly.”
He nodded without hesitation, lowering his head in acceptance. Inside him, a mixture of pride and submission intertwined. He wanted to feel the weight of his wife on his shoulders, to show her that he could stand beneath her as his best man did, his strength at her service.
The best man watched in silence, understanding the ceremony was about to be repeated with the same rider and a new steed.
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Keys and Chests - Introduction
As the newlywed wife is riding on her husband, the lady professor riding her horse, tells her: "Use the control you have over your husband and your best man, and make them not understand any human language, just like equine horses, I want to talk to you and I don't want them to know what we are talking about, I already did this with my horse."
The newlywed wife, riding on her husband, closed her eyes and concentrated her will. She had a power over her horses, an absolute dominion that went beyond simple riding. With a firm and serene voice, she ordered them: "From now on, you will not understand human language. You will only hear meaningless sounds, like real equine horses. You will act on instinct and obey my orders without question."
Instantly, the eyes of her husband and best man clouded for a moment. Then, they blinked, confused. They tried to understand what was being said around them, but it all sounded like meaningless murmuring. They looked at each other, not understanding anything.
The lady teacher smiled with satisfaction and said: "Well done. Now we can talk without interruptions or unwanted eavesdroppers."
At this, the groom and best man became restless because they could not understand what the ladies were saying, feeling helpless and isolated, the lady teacher said: "Friend, calm them down by scratching their hair and clicking your tongue," the newlywed wife did so: "Tsk… tsk… tsk… tsk..."
Her 2 horses calmed down. The lady teacher explained: "They do not understand any human language, so they became nervous, but you calmed them down with your caresses and clicking your tongue. Now we can talk calmly." Then she said, “The men are horses and the ladies are riders. The horse hands over his keys to one or more riders, and the ladies keep these keys in their chests.”
The newlywed wife nodded, understanding the deeper meaning of the lady professor’s words. She stroked her husband’s mane, who got on all fours beneath her, and then looked at her best man, who also remained in his role as mount. “The keys represent the horse’s total surrender to his rider,” the wife said quietly. “His will, his loyalty, his very essence. By entrusting his keys to a rider, he surrenders himself completely to her.”
The lady professor smiled approvingly. “That’s right. And a wise rider knows how to keep those keys in her chest, protecting them and using them wisely. It’s not just dominance; it’s a bond of power and responsibility.”
The wife stroked her husband’s head tenderly and asked, “What happens when a horse hands over his keys to more than one rider?”
The lady professor laughed softly. “Ah, my dear, in that case, the horse belongs to all those who possess its keys. But there will always be a first rider, the one whose chest holds the deepest or brightest key of all.”
The goddaughter stopped riding her husband and began to ride on the shoulders of her best man.
As she changed mounts, the goddaughter gently slid her hands through her husband’s mane, giving him one last caress before gracefully climbing onto her best man’s shoulders. With innate skill, she adjusted herself in the saddle, stepped into the stirrups, and took a firm grip on the reins, ensuring she had complete control over her new mount.
The best man, back straight and muscles tense, felt the weight of his rider and knew he must respond with absolute obedience. He was nothing more than an extension of her will, a means to take her wherever she desired.
From her perch, the goddaughter smiled with satisfaction, feeling the world seem to bow before her. Her husband, on all fours, watched from below with devotion, awaiting her commands.
The lady professor, observing the scene, nodded with an enigmatic smile. "That's how it should be. The rider chooses her mount according to her desires and needs. And the horse... simply obeys."
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The Keys
The lady teacher gave a symbolic explanation about the keys: “Imagine the universal locksmith making the locks on the horse’s doors and giving the magic keys to the horse, which are magically duplicated each time the horse gives them, willingly or unwillingly, to one or more riders, granting them control over it.” Then looking at the proud best man beneath her thighs and the weight of his goddaughter, she continued: “Maybe I have one of the copies of your best man’s keys and don’t know about it. If you only knew how many keys I have from my students, my students’ parents, and my students’ other teachers! And I don’t use them all.”
The lady teacher continued: “Keys are mystical artifacts, symbols of dominance and total surrender. They are not physical objects, but manifestations of will and desire. Its origin lies in the deep connection between the one who gives the key and the one who receives it, reflecting the absolute submission of one being to another, the horse to the rider.” “The keys are duplicated the moment a horse, consciously or unconsciously, gives itself to its rider. It can be out of admiration, desire, loyalty or a deep need to be guided. The universal locksmith, an entity that governs the dynamics between riders and horses, forges the lock within the horse’s soul and the first key belongs to it.” “There is no fixed number of keys. A horse can give several to different riders or, in rare cases, keep them all. Some keys are created spontaneously without the rider or the horse noticing until they are discovered inside her chest.”
Intrigued, the goddaughter asked: “The chest?”
The lady teacher replied: “Yes, the chest, you have one and then I will explain to you about it.”
The lady teacher continued: “Horses have their own process of discovering keys: Some are born with their key already in their being, they are those horses that are naturally submissive or predisposed to give themselves to a rider when they find one, from a very young age, they feel the need to give their key to a rider that they consider worthy, these horses are usually predestined to be part of the stable of a powerful rider. On the other hand, others discover their key over time, not all horses are aware that they have a key, they discover it when a rider impacts them deeply, awakening in them the desire to give themselves, this discovery usually occurs at key moments, such as when a horse feels fascinated, hypnotized or completely surrendered to a rider, once it becomes aware of its key, the horse decides who to give it to, sometimes without even realizing that it has done so.”
The lady teacher continued: “The horse begins to give its keys from the moment it becomes aware of its submission and surrender to the rider, and its desire to be ridden. This varies from person to person, but generally begins in his adolescence or youth, even earlier with riders of his age and somewhat older than him, when he begins to feel admiration for a rider; and, generally, he does not finish giving his keys while the horse is still alive, it is said that there is no fixed age limit because as long as the horse wants to be ridden, it will continue giving keys. However, if over time he loses interest, his keys can weaken and disappear.”
The newlywed said: “I remember my childhood games, my relatives and my classmates got on all fours and I rode them on their backs, they gave me their key and I kept it in my chest?”
The lady professor looked at her with a knowing smile and replied calmly: "That's right. Since they were little, they gave you their keys without even understanding it, and you, as a born rider, kept them in your chest without any effort. Their surrender was instinctive, natural. Their bodies bowed before you, their knees touched the ground without resistance, and their backs offered themselves to support you. They didn't need words, because their actions spoke for them."
The newlywed gently stroked her best man's head as he carried her with devotion. She clearly remembered those scenes from her childhood: the children and men of her family getting on all fours, allowing her to ride on them as if it were the natural course of things. "Now I understand," she said with a smile. "It wasn't just a game. They belonged to me from then on."
The lady teacher continued: “Keys can be given in a variety of ways: Voluntarily, a horse chooses to submit and gives its key to its rider in a conscious act of devotion; unconsciously, a horse admires, desires or fears its rider so much that its key is generated and deposited in the rider’s chest without either of them realizing it; by transference, if a rider possesses the key of a horse and decides to give it to another rider, the key changes hands; and by defiance, a rider can force the surrender of a key if she subdues the horse in body and mind. Keys can only be received by riders, those with the authority, charm and determination to dominate them. Not all can be riders, and not all horses can resist giving up their keys.”
Finally, “All keys are the same, for they represent the surrender of the horse to the rider. They are differentiated by their brightness, which indicates the level of surrender and devotion of the horse. Dull or dull keys: Minimal surrender, barely a sign of interest. Moderately bright keys: The horse is aware of its surrender and accepts it. Very bright keys: The horse has completely surrendered, its submission is absolute. Horses can surrender several keys to different riders, but each key shines differently depending on the relationship with each one. The act of surrender is almost always subconscious, occurring in moments of admiration, fascination or desire to serve."
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The chests
The teacher continued explaining: “The chests are mystical artifacts, I would say, divine, they belong exclusively to the riders and serve as receptacles for the keys that the horses give them, either consciously or subconsciously. Each rider receives her chest at the moment she becomes one, which can occur at different times in her life. Some are born with her chest already in their being, while others discover it over time, when a horse gives her its first key. It is at this moment that the chest appears, generally in her mind or in a spiritual space unique to each rider.
The goddaughter said: “You just said: ‘Some are born with their chest already in their being, while others discover it over time.’ How is it in my case considering that I started riding since I was little?”
The lady teacher observed her with a deep look, as if evaluating each of her words before answering. "You were born with your chest already inside you, and you knew it from a very early age. There was no discovery, only reaffirmation. From a young age, you took the reins without anyone teaching you, you simply followed your instinct. Men bowed to you without you having to ask them, their bodies responding to your presence, their wills molding to yours. That is the sign of a born rider."
The newlywed smiled with satisfaction, stroking her best man's head as he carried her with devotion. "So, I always owned their keys and they always sought to give them to me, even when they themselves did not understand why."
The lady teacher nodded. "Exactly. And as time passed, you not only took their keys, but you also learned to use them. Now you know that men not only want to be ridden, but they long to belong to a rider who knows how to guide them."
The goddaughter looked at the horizon with a smile of certainty. It all fit together perfectly.
The lady professor continued: “Riders can receive keys when horses start giving them to them, which usually starts when their presence, charisma or dominance starts to be recognized by the horses, some riders discover it young, while others take longer to realize it. As for the end, there is no strict limit, but if a rider stops receiving keys, her chest stops growing and its doors remain static, her chest stops expanding and she is left with the keys she already had, if no keys shine and no new doors open, the chest becomes a reliquary of what was her power as a rider, some riders, upon losing access to the horses, look for new ways to reassert their control. Others accept the change and keep their chest as a symbol of their past.”
The lady professor continued: “A chest is unique to each rider and contains all the keys she has received. It is an object that cannot be seen or touched in the physical world, but exists in the mental and spiritual plane. Its size and complexity depend on the number of keys it possesses and how many doors it has opened.”
She continued: “Riders can be divided into two types based on how they obtain their chest: Those who are born with their chest; from birth, these riders possess a chest within their being, even though they are not aware of it until they receive their first key; they are those who naturally exert dominance over horses; the horses immediately sense their presence and hand over their keys to them without hesitation, sometimes even before the rider understands their own power; in some cases, the rider inherits her chest from a line of riders in her family, or she obtains it through her dominant and charming nature. And, for those who discover their chest over time, these riders may have been surrounded by horses all their lives without realizing their influence over them, their chest appears when they receive their first key, given to them by a horse that decides to give itself to them, once the chest is discovered, the rider begins to notice more horses giving them keys, and their power grows, they may need guidance from another more experienced rider to learn how to use their chest and keys correctly.”
She continued: “Each chest is different and changes over time: The more keys a rider has, the larger and more majestic her chest becomes, a small chest indicates that the rider is still starting her journey and has few keys, and a giant chest, with many keys, means that the rider has received the delivery of multiple horses, voluntarily or involuntarily. Regarding the number of doors opened, having a key does not necessarily mean that the rider has used her power, opening a door means that the rider has used the key to enter the mind and will of a horse, the more doors she has opened, the more powerful she becomes, because she learns to better control her horses, a rider with many doors opened dominates not only individual horses, but her entire stable with impressive ease."
Finally: “Each rider has a single chest, which holds all the keys she has received. The size of the chest depends on the number of keys received: Small chest: She has received few keys, she is in the early stages of her mastery, Medium chest: She has accumulated many keys and has remarkable mastery, Large chest: She has received so many keys that her power spreads widely. The finish of the chest reflects the experience of the rider: Simple chests: For novice riders with few doors opened, Ornate chests: For riders with more experience in controlling horses, Majestic and dominant chests: For riders with great power, who They have opened many doors and have perfected their control.”
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The Goddaughter's Decision
The goddaughter listened intently to the teacher's words, pondering their meaning. As her godfather, subdued under her domination, breathed heavily, she slid a hand over his neck, feeling his pulse quicken from the thrill of being ridden by her. "So, if I want full control, I must find all the keys he has given away… and decide what to do with them."
The lady teacher nodded with an enigmatic smile. "Exactly. You can try to retrieve all the copies and destroy them, leaving only yours. Or you could allow other riders to keep their keys, as long as their access is subject to your authority."
The goddaughter pondered this, tightening her grip on her godfather's reins, who instinctively lowered his head in submission. "First I will find out who else has keys to him. Then I will decide his fate."
The lady teacher watched her with interest. "You are a cunning rider. But be careful: some keys cannot be recovered so easily, and some riders do not relinquish their control without a fight."
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