Ultimate shoulder rides

Advancing Through the Streets

Diana advances with grace, majesty, and authority through the streets, upright on her human mount, elegantly and firmly dominating the animal that carries her. Her figure is elevated by the beast, which carries its weight with devotion and submission. From her throne of leather and human strength, she dominates the scene.

Her bearing is regal, her presence impossible to ignore. Every step of her human horse resonates on the ground, marking the rhythm of her majestic journey and her triumphant advance through the crowd, who, upon seeing her, cannot help but stop and admire her.

From her elevated and privileged position, Diana observes the world with a mixture of haughtiness and satisfaction.

Diana looks down on the male passersby with a slight smile, enjoying her superiority, her absolute dominance. Her legs and feet, firmly planted in the stirrups, secure her position, while her hands skillfully handle the reins, guiding her beast's every movement with absolute precision.

The men, shorter than her even when she walks, must inevitably raise their gaze, even more so, to contemplate and observe her with awe, fascination, and reverence, captivated by her dominant figure and her impeccable control over the creature carrying her, to contemplate her in all her glory.

Some men lower their gaze in a sign of respect, others follow her with their eyes, admiring her beauty, her bearing, and the power that emanates from her presence.

The animal carrying her obeys without question, completely subservient to her will. Diana, with her riding crop in hand, needs only a gesture to remind it of its duty. A brush of her spurs against the sides of her mount is enough to adjust the pace to her desire, whether to advance gracefully or halt with imposing presence.

With each subtle tug of the reins, her mount obeys without hesitation. Should its pace slower than she desires, a firm touch of the whip or the pressure of her spurs reminds it of its duty. Diana needs no words to govern her beast; her mere presence is enough to make it understand that her sole purpose is to proudly and diligently lead it wherever she commands.

Murmurs of admiration and awe spread among the people. Some women secretly envy her, longing to possess her confidence and power. Men, on the other hand, gaze upon her with fascination, knowing they can never equal her. Diana is not only tall in stature, but also in authority. She is the master of her path, the sovereign of her own kingdom, and her mount is just another symbol of her absolute dominion.

The streets become her domain, her empire. The crowd parts as she passes, giving her the space she deserves. She is the sovereign of this stage, a Goddess elevated above the others, a modern rider who doesn't walk: she rides.

Beginnings

Diana began riding bridled and saddled horses as a child, under the guidance and supervision of her mother. Recognizing her daughter's strong and dominant nature, her mother taught her the importance of fully controlling her mount. From an early age, Diana not only rode on the shoulders of her relatives and acquaintances, but also learned how to properly prepare them for their role as beasts of burden.

As she grew older, her mother instructed her in the art of human horsemanship, showing her how to position the bridle and bit so that her mount would obey her every command. She learned to adjust the saddle precisely, ensuring its seat was comfortable and stable. From a young age, she had the privilege of choosing her human horses, who obediently submitted to being saddled and ridden by her.

By the time she reached adolescence, Diana was already an accomplished rider, capable of guiding her mount with absolute skill. With whip in hand, reins firmly fastened, and spurs in her boots, she perfectly dominated her human horses, who, once bridled and saddled, could only move at her own pace. From then on, she never stopped riding, perfecting her technique every day and ensuring that her supremacy was never questioned.

Physical Education (1)

Diana's physical education uniform also highlighted her imposing bearing and slender figure, allowing her to move comfortably and easily while still commanding her presence.

It consisted of a short-sleeved or sleeveless polo shirt, white or navy blue, fitted to the body, outlining her slender silhouette and allowing her movements to be agile and confident. The lightweight fabric subtly revealed the definition of her arms and shoulders, reflecting the strength and confidence she conveyed even in her athletic attire.

For her bottoms, she wore tight, dark athletic shorts that reached mid-thigh, revealing her shapely legs. These shorts, although simple, highlighted her wide hips and athletic muscles, accentuating her dominant posture.

Her legs were protected by long socks or knee-highs, usually white, which complemented her outfit with a touch of elegance and style.

On her feet, she wore comfortable and durable black or white sneakers, ideal for both physical activity and her customary rides on the shoulders of her human mounts. In her later years of school, when she was taller and consolidating her authority, she occasionally replaced her sneakers with platform and heeled sneakers, further elevating her figure.

Thus, dressed in her physical education uniform, Diana remained the image of superiority and control, standing out among her classmates not only for her athletic prowess but also for her imposing presence, especially as she advanced through the school, perched on the shoulders of her mount.

Physical Education (3)

In physical education classes, in addition to the traditional shoulder-carrying exercise, another even more demanding physical activity was practiced: the all-fours carrying exercise. In this variation, participants had to get on all fours, resting on their hands and knees on the ground, to carry another classmate on their back. This test not only measured the horse's strength and endurance, but also the rider's balance and mastery.

For Diana, this exercise was another opportunity to reaffirm her natural position as a rider. While other students took turns being both mount and rider, she always occupied the top spot. She was never asked to kneel or serve as a mount; on the contrary, she was the one who chose whom to ride.

When her turn came, the teacher or a classmate would get on all fours in front of her. With confident and graceful movements, Diana would climb onto her mount's back, positioning herself with precision. Her legs were on either side of the animal's torso, her hands rested on her own hips, and her back remained straight, projecting authority.

From her elevated position, she looked down at the others with a slight smile, while her mount, sweating from the exertion, tried to stay steady under her weight. Some of her classmates, when mounted by others, stumbled and fell; but when Diana rode, her mount did its best to hold on as long as possible, eager to please her and demonstrate its strength.

Even the teacher, though an authority figure at school, recognized Diana's natural dominance. When she chose him as her mount, he accepted without objection, dropping to all fours to receive her on his back. Diana enjoyed every moment, knowing that her position was above all others, whether at school or anywhere else.

Physical Education (5)

The Rodeo: The Test of Mastery

The most exciting part of these games was the rodeo, a test of skill where the horse tried to shake off its rider, who had to demonstrate his skill to avoid falling.

In the shoulder-mounted event, the horse tried to shake or tilt its rider to unbalance it, while the rider used his balance and control over the saddle to stay on top. Diana was adept at holding onto her mount, using her legs and hands to gracefully hold on. When her horse moved abruptly, she laughed with amusement, feeling in control of the situation.

In the four-legged rodeo, the scene became even more intense. The horse jumped, thrashed its back, and tried to tilt to throw its rider off, but Diana masterfully dominated. She firmly pressed her thighs against her mount's back and, if necessary, used her hands to grab onto her horse's collar or shirt. Some tried to endure to the end, but inevitably ended up exhausted, surrendering to her dominance.

At the end of the game, no matter how intense the test, Diana always emerged victorious. Her tired and sweaty horses acknowledged her superiority, as she, with a satisfied smile, dismounted or simply waited for her horse to kneel before gracefully dismounting.

The First Mount

It was a cloudy Thursday afternoon, at exactly 4:30 p.m., when the school had already begun to empty. The classrooms, once filled with voices, now fell silent, and only a few straggling students could be seen in the hallways. It was then, in the school's backyard, that Diana decided it was time.

She wasn't improvising: she had been reading to her mother, Liliana, for weeks, learning not only horseback riding techniques but also the signs of character. Professor Gerardo, although seemingly unwavering, was already showing signs of submission when she spoke to him: he lowered his gaze slightly, paused before correcting her, and at times seemed to be waiting for an order.

Diana arrived punctually, dressed in her adapted riding uniform: a tight-fitting white blouse, a short riding skirt reinforced with shorts, knee-high socks, and leather boots with spurs that thudded firmly on the cement. She carried a small bag containing her implements: the bridle, the reins, a short, fine leather whip, and a padded saddle.

Professor Gerardo was already waiting for her, standing nervously, but with no intention of fleeing. She didn't greet him with words. She simply walked up to him, looked him in the eye, and said, "Are you ready to be truly useful?"

He nodded silently.

First, she placed the bridle on him. She adjusted the bit firmly, guiding his face with gentle but determined hands. Then, the reins, which she held delicately as they circled his body, precisely positioning the saddle on his shoulders and back. She tucked the straps under his arms, fastened the cinches, and checked the fit.

He knelt of his own accord. Without hesitation, she placed one hand on his head and the other on his shoulder, and she ascended gracefully, settling into the saddle. She is light, but her presence weighs more than her body: it was her authority that now dominated him.

With a touch of her spurs against his ribs and a tug on the reins, the professor rose and began to advance, slowly, still clumsy in his four-legged gait, but willing. "Firm," she ordered. "Keep your balance. Breathe with me."

She set the pace. Each step of the professor became more confident. Diana guided with the reins, corrected him with the whip when he faltered, and with the pressure of her spurs directed his course.

For half an hour she rode Gerardo through the courtyard, then down the central corridor. There were no shouts or harsh commands, only confident instructions, calculated gestures, and a solemn silence that spoke volumes. Finally, when she stopped, he knelt again.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, dismounting.

“At peace,” the professor replied.

She smiled. She had done it. Her first mount was tame. Not by strength, but by temper, wisdom, and natural mastery.

And so began the legend of Diana, the young woman who rode the most feared man in school and made him her first faithful horse.

Thanks Stpt!

I'll do it, I'll do it.

She's currently in her early twenties and has all the power to climb onto the shoulders of one or more human Harley-Davidsons, ride them, and dominate them at whatever speed she desires.

I say several because if a human Harley-Davidson tires, she'll replace him with another one she's objectified.

Diana, the Imposing Young Horsewoman

Diana is a young woman in her early twenties, and her mere presence turns heads as she passes. Her long, dark hair falls in soft waves down her back, framing her face with harmonious features and tanned skin—a warm, wheatish hue that glows in the sun.

Her dark, captivating eyes have a hypnotizing depth, as if they hold secrets or invitations. When she smiles—and she does often—her perfect smile, with its white, straight teeth, radiates confidence, joy, and a seductive natural superiority.

With a slender yet firm figure, her body reflects strength, grace, and dominance. Her generous breasts harmonize with a narrow waist, known in her homeland as a "wasp waist," which gives way to wide, imposing hips that define her shape with overwhelming femininity. Her powerful, elevated, and firm buttocks and thick thighs support her body firmly as she walks or rides, projecting power with every step.

Her shapely, smooth, and perfect calves complete the set of dreamy legs. Both her hands and feet, though delicate and finely proportioned, countless times kissed by her slaves, animals (males animalized by her) and objects (males objectified by her), have a singular beauty—as if lovingly sculpted. Her gait is majestic, and some swear that her feet never touch the ground, but move forward as if floating, guided by her haughty and resolute nature. In reality, she walks all over males who throw themselves to the ground like stepping stones for her to walk on.

Tall, with an upright figure and dominant posture, many men barely reach her shoulders. That's why, when she walks through the town's crowd, she stands out like a beacon among the waves: impossible to ignore, the center of attention, the owner of the scene.

And, as is natural for her, she usually wears her riding habit: tight pants that shape her thighs, high heels and knee-high boots that reach below her knees and further stylize her already imposing figure, and a fitted jacket that highlights every curve of her torso. She often also wears a hat or dark glasses, giving her an even more unattainable air.

Diana doesn't just walk... she rides.

And wherever her shape is, there's always the world that stops to admire her.

Diana arrives riding at any establishment (mall, store, office, etc.) (2)

Diana stopped just before entering the establishment. She turned slowly, her deep and penetrating gaze falling on the young man who was still holding the reins tied to the ring, paralyzed between emotion and bewilderment. She smiled a smile that disarmed any defense.

"I wish to ride. Will you carry me around?" she asked in a soft but firm voice, this voice that didn't ask, but rather marked a destiny.

The young man blinked, as if emerging from a trance. He swallowed, straightened, and nodded with a mixture of pride and humility. It wasn't simply a "yes" to a request; it was the acceptance of a sacred mission.

Diana took a step toward him and naturally placed her hand on his shoulder, like a queen choosing her guide. Everyone around them held their breath. The mere contact with her was a consecration.

She bridled, saddled, rode, and led him using reins, whip, and spurs, while she sat comfortably in the saddle and stepped into the stirrups.

They entered the establishment together. He walked while she rode on top of him, clearly aware that he wasn't leading: she was the one being led, and her presence directed him. Every corner of the place seemed to light up as she passed by. Conversations paused, glances shifted out of respect or fascination.

Diana observed everything with elegant calm, absorbing every detail as if the world belonged to her. And in a way, it did: wherever she went, the focus shifted to her.

The men who saw her riding her guide knew they weren't witnessing an ordinary scene, but an almost ceremonial act. To be chosen by Diana, even if only by a few steps, was enough to change the course of a life.

Diana's entrance to the venue was a soft glow of golden light, as if the outside world had been left behind and only Diana's presence remained. The air was charged with palpable anticipation. Every step her horse took resonated on the polished wooden floor, creating an echo that announced her arrival, although she rode with the lightness of someone who knows she doesn't need to make a sound to be heard.

The young man she rode still held the reins of her mount, now tied in his hands, which she had previously tied, as if he had been chained to a mission of honor. Diana rode with the confidence of someone who knows she was being watched, not to satisfy vanity, but to mark her presence. This calm yet determined gaze captivated every corner of the room.

Those present moved aside slightly as she watched her pass, almost as if the space itself became larger in her presence. She was no ordinary woman. Her poise and elegance commanded respect without her having to raise her voice. The crowd remained reverently silent, admiring the figure of the young rider who now crossed the threshold, but never ceasing to observe her, as if her figure were the last beacon in an ocean of doubt.

With a slight flick of her wrist controlling the reins, Diana guided the young man to a central table, where a pair of elegant chairs awaited. He wasn't just at her service; his presence was also part of the ceremony. She looked at him with a discreet smile, while he tried to hide the emotion on his face, even more nervous as he realized the magnitude of the situation.

Diana sat down with almost superhuman grace. The chair adapted to her figure as if it were her personal throne, and when her hands rested on the table, the eyes of the others were fixed on her fingers, which seemed to give orders effortlessly. She didn't need to move the world for everything around her to move with her.

A glass of wine was brought to her, but before sipping, Diana looked up, as if grateful for the atmosphere created, as if everything that happened in that place was simply an extension of her will.

“Thank you for being ridden by me,” she said to her companion in a soft but commanding voice. It wasn't just a thank you. It was an acknowledgment of his role in that moment, his role as her faithful horse.

Diana rides away from any establishment (mall, store, office, etc.) (1)

As soon as they crossed the threshold and the sunset light enveloped them in warm golden tones, Diana stopped. Her figure stood out elegantly against the orange and pink sky. She turned slowly, her long, dark hair moving like silk as she turned. She looked him straight in the eyes, with that mixture of defiance and charm that made her irresistible.

"My horse isn't here," she said in a soft but authoritative voice. "You'll have to take me."

The young man opened his lips slightly, surprised and flattered at the same time. His heart raced. Those words were more than an order; they were an appointment, a gesture of trust, a promotion.

She didn't ask permission. She approached confidently, positioned herself behind him, and placed a firm hand on his saddled shoulder. That was all she needed to say: "Get down." And he understood.

The young man crouched down without saying anything, sinking into a squat. Diana, unhurriedly and with all the grace of someone who knows her every move is being watched, lifted one leg, swung her thigh over his, and straddled his shoulders, her boots perfectly positioned in the stirrups on either side, balancing herself elegantly.

With one of her hands, she gently took his reins. Her other hand rested on his thigh, holding the bag of her recent purchases. The scene was as unusual as it was imposing. The people around her stopped for a moment, helplessly drawn by the powerful and surreal image of that tall, majestic young brunette riding her devoted human steed.

"Come on, take your rider."

And he, his chest puffed out with emotion, began to walk with a firm step, leading Diana through the crowd that looked at them with amazement, curiosity, and, in some cases, silent envy.

Diana, seated elegantly on the young man's shoulders, strolled through the town streets as if she were the Queen of an undeclared celebration. Her upright posture, slightly raised chin, and calm but attentive gaze made her presence felt obvious. From her height, she towered over the crowd, like a beacon that all eyes could not help but follow.

Her high-heeled boots rested firmly in the stirrups against the young man's sides, and he moved carefully, making sure not to stumble or lose his rhythm. Not out of fear, but out of respect. Carrying her was a sacred trust. He felt the weight of her body proudly, like a banner that set him apart from the rest.

Children stopped with their eyes wide open. Some women murmured to each other, some with admiration, others with envy. And the men... the men looked at her with that mixture of fascination and resignation, knowing that none of them were in the position the young man occupied.

An old woman, seeing her pass, smiled mischievously and murmured to herself: "That's how you walk when you know your worth."

Diana, without looking directly, noticed every gesture around her. She knew everyone was watching her, but she didn't need to prove anything. She had already conquered the moment.

As she reached the central square, the young man stopped briefly. He was panting slightly, but didn't dare ask for a break. Diana, however, gently patted him on the shoulder.

"You've done well," she said with a serene smile. "But the journey isn't over yet."

And with that, he resumed his pace, leading her between the market stalls, the fountains, the benches lined with young couples, and the street musicians, who even improvised a melody as they watched her pass.

That walk became a scene many in the town would remember: the dominant and majestic figure of Diana, riding her loyal human mount, strolling naturally through the streets, as if the world had been created to be observed from above.

As they continued their tour of the square, the young man advanced with a determined stride, although his legs were already beginning to tire. But he wouldn't stop. Not while Diana, majestic, remained seated on his shoulders, with the grace of someone who knows she's in her rightful place.

And then, suddenly, they saw him.

A few steps away, in front of a bench, stood his father. A man with a serious face, a well-groomed mustache, and hands folded on the cane he usually carried. Upon seeing his son, he first frowned... but all he had to do was look up and see the young brunette on his shoulders, so haughty and confident, for his eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"And your allowance?" —the father asked in a firm voice, without taking his eyes off him.

The young man took a deep breath and, without pausing, replied with a mixture of pride and daring:

—Invested in her.

Silence fell for a second. The father watched him… then he looked up at Diana, who looked down on him with a smile that didn't ask for approval, but didn't need it either. Her bearing was so imposing and elegant that any critical comment would have seemed ridiculous.

Then the father gave a short, somewhat husky laugh and nodded with a crooked smile.

"Well done, champion."

And with that, he stepped aside to let them pass.

The young man walked with renewed vigor, feeling his father's approval give him strength. Diana, for her part, turned her face slightly toward him and whispered:

"Congratulations… you raised him well."

And as they walked forward, amidst the looks of astonishment, envy, and admiration of the others, the father watched his son disappear with her into the crowd, with the air of someone who understood that on that day his son had ceased to be just a boy... and had become something more.

Diana rides away from any location (mall, store, office, etc.) (3)

While the father put the cell phone back in his pocket, the mother walked slowly over, her gaze fixed on him. She seemed to have something on her mind, something she'd been observing from afar. With a serious tone, but with a hint of curiosity, she said:

"I saw you talking to our son and her," she began, pointing with a subtle gesture to the distance where Diana was riding on top of him. "Then, I saw you desperately called her cell phone twice to talk and see the screen. What's going on?"

The father, without turning around, simply took a deep breath, as if everything had become clear in his mind. He looked at his wife with a wry smile, but with a touch of sincerity in his voice:

"She's different..." he replied with a calmness that denoted that he had already processed what was happening. “She’s not just a strong presence, but there’s something more to her, something that knows how to guide our son. She has a way with him… and it’s clear he respects her, in a way I’ve never seen before.”

The mother stared at him, her face reflecting a mixture of intrigue and bewilderment.

“So you’re excited to see her?” she asked, without breaking eye contact.

The father didn’t hesitate to answer:

“Yes, in a way…” he said in a gentle tone. “It’s as if he was made to be by her side. I… I’m happy to see my son has found someone who understands him so well.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “What surprised me was how she has this ability to make him soar, to see himself differently. And how, in turn, he also shows her respect… in a way that even I have trouble fully understanding. It’s something beyond what I imagined.”

The mother, visibly thoughtful, remained silent for a few seconds. Finally, she said with a slight, if somewhat cautious, smile:

"It seems you're right. It's not just about what you see, but what lies behind that relationship. I hope he knows how to value what he has... and that, if she guides him, she does so with good judgment."

The father nodded, looking at his son and Diana in the distance. No more was needed.

The mother observed the situation, understanding more than words could express.

The mother looked at him with a nostalgic smile, and with a soft twinkle in her eyes, she said: "Does it remind us of when we were young?"

The father was silent for a moment. Then, he lowered his gaze, as if a distant memory had touched his heart. He smiled tenderly and replied: "Yes... although she has an even stronger character than yours." He laughed softly.

"And you were more stubborn than our son." "She laughed back, giving him a playful shove on the arm.

They both looked at each other. Past and present seemed to meet for a moment in the figure of Diana and her son. History, somehow, was repeating itself, but with new nuances, with other tones... and with an air of deep respect between the protagonists.

His mother sighed. "Let's hope that if they're anything like us... it lasts a long time."

His father nodded, and without saying anything else, they both stared into the distance, where Diana, tall and imposing, elegantly guided her son through the center of town, while the people looked at them in awe and admiration.

As Diana rode atop him along the cobblestone village street, Diana, elegant and confident, with her steady gait and her gaze always raised, turned her face toward the young man she was riding. With a playful smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, she said, "Your dad is handsome."

The young man, somewhat surprised, blinked twice before laughing shyly. He hadn't expected that comment, but coming from Diana, everything had an unexpected touch, even the simplest. "Really?" he replied, half amused and half intrigued. "Did you like it?"

Diana didn't respond immediately. She raised an eyebrow and smiled even wider, as if her silence spoke louder than any words. Then, softly, she added, "He has good eyes... like yours. And he's attentive. I like it when someone knows when to speak and when to look silently."

The young man glanced at her, noting how her presence commanded effortlessly, how everything about her seemed to have purpose and weight. Then he joked, "No wonder he hung up the phone with a silly smile. You unwittingly cast a spell on him."

Diana laughed. A soft, feminine, charming laugh. Then, quite matter-of-factly, she said, "Maybe it wasn't unwitting."