cruelhorse riding
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Take note of all that is right and proper in the New Order. The slave is naked. The Mistress fashionably attired. The slave is exhausted and dirty from his task. The slave’s knees are unprotected from the rocks and rough terrain. The Mistress&
When I ride, I RIDE. When I buckle on the spurs, I make sure the rowels are sharp as a razor. And I USE them! The damn things aren’t there for decoration! I ride until they collapse beneath Me from utter exhaustion. I use the boots on them until
I know you’re exhausted. Ready to drop. But I want TEN more runs up and down the stairs. And you’d better not fail Me…or We start ALL over again!
Word of advice… NEVER! Ever tell ME you have a horse that can’t be broken! So sorry for your loss.
How My mount shows its appreciation for each jab of the spur and each lash from the whip during the nearly two hours I rode it without break in the blazing sun. Three times it collapsed…feigning exhaustion. Yet three times, the boot got it back
This one failed Me in the steeplechase. It failed to make a jump. It balked, even under the heavy whip. Time and again I beat it with all My might, drove in the Spurs with every ounce of passion I could summon. To no avail. I’ve no use for such
The exhilaration, thrill, power of bringing the snorting, sweating beast beneath Me to heel!
We’ve lulled away the morning. Kissing tenderly. Exploring each other’s bodies. Enjoying long, full body massages. But even with all that…We have needs still unmet. The thirst for power. To exert Our dominance…our station. And no better way
