Chapter 1

The finale of the book that changed my life centred on Carnival, specifically the main character achieving her ambition to belly ride with one of the Samba Schools taking part in Carnival. Living in the USA I knew that my chances of belly riding in public were exactly zero. Unless of course I wanted to be locked up with the key thrown away.

Laura thought differently.

As you know by now, my social skills are ... Ugly. I much prefer to be in my workshop or under Spirit, rather than out in the Lauraverse trying to be polite and not obviously count the minutes before I can get back home, lest Laura apply her exasperated elbow to my frustrated ribs.

That is why we have an unspoken pact. Laura does not tell me in advance when we have to go out, in return I try my best to behave when we do. The big red block on my wall planner was getting way to close, annoyingly so because I was struggling with a new prototype and taking my frustrations out on Spirit, so far he was humouring me, accepting my increased need to feel his cock as deep inside me as I dared as we trotted through the fields, summer sun warm on our bodies, orgasms sweeping away every tiny frustration, clearing my mind, and when Spirit slowed, pranced, throbbed and pulsed deep inside me, his cum filling me up, overflowing, perfect. Just perfect.

But it didn’t stay that way. Spirit is a stallion, my stallion, we have a level of trust built on years of daily contact, he listens to me, obeys a touch, a soft word, I listen to him too, except that day I wasn’t. Frustration in the workshop led to my taking out those frustrations on Spirit’s cock, riding hard, fast and deep as if to drive the frustrations out of my body.

Actions have consequences, my failure to pay attention to Spirit cost me. My stallion is smart, too well behaved to play up, he made his point another way. Belly riding means the rider is suspended under the horse, naked, only the straps of the sling covers the riders body, so when the horse decides to walk s-l-o-w-l-y through the largest patch of nettles on the entire property...

I screamed, ok, so I came too, but mostly I just screamed, nettles dragged across bare skin hurt, bound beneath Spirit I had no choice but to endure. Yes, he will obey a light touch, a soft word, but I had ignored him, so he was ignoring me. I was learning my lesson, I swear he turned around and backed up just to ensure every tender part of me got stung. Well, every part exposed, I was after all face up and pressed against his belly.

Finally my stallion was satisfied I’d learned my lesson, he ambled out of the nettles, taking his sweet time, as if just one squeak from me would have him turned and back in there for another lesson.

My problem was I knew I deserved it. I’ve always insisted that communication between us had to be a two way street, I broke my own rule, had just been punished for it. So now I couldn’t hurry back to get released and showered and treated. That would be cheating, so we rode on, heading further away from the house, the stables, I let Spirit’s stride dictate the swinging of the sling, relaxed my arms and legs and allowed him control. I was determined to pay attention to Spirit, despite the way the nettle rash was blossoming. It felt like fire ants crawling, biting their way over my entire back, from my shoulders to my ass, worst was that it wrapped around and covered my inner thighs and every intimate inch of skin between them. Being filled with horse cock stretches my sex, my labia, adding nettle rash is just plain evil... !!

I swear it was the first time I ever cried whilst cumming. The stinging must have heightened my sensitivity, everything, every sensation was more intense, more detailed, just more. Afterwards I wondered if pain added to pleasure was like turning a black and white scene into full colour, right then I was too busy crying, cumming, whispering to Spirit, repenting my sins, whilst working my muscles, doing my best to squeeze myself around his cock, draw him in deeper, give him as much pleasure as he gave me, until finally he came. Being filled with his cum felt like absolution.

When we finally returned to the stables it was Deke who helped me out of the sling. Spirit had already ‘dropped out’, his cock sated, retracted. Deke glanced at my back, my inner thighs. He grinned. Never said a word though. Unlike Laura and later Mirella.

Deke helped me remove the sling and harness so I could lead Spirit into the wash room. Yes wash room. One of my few indulgences. Built in a part of the otherwise mostly unused end of the barn makes it easy to get to from the stables at the other end. Inside it’s like a shower room for horses. I had a sprinkler system installed that replicated rain, warm rain, as well as a couple of shower heads with adjustable heads and long hoses. The rubber like floor sloped just enough to drain the water. I was busy washing my stallion and myself when Laura entered. Deke only helps out when needed. For some reason seeing me douche myself with a hose still makes him blush, so he rarely gives me the chance. Spoilsport... !!

Now you might think Laura would take one look at my back and start demanding answers. That’s not the case. Laura is the undisputed mistress of the Lauraverse, but, her domain does not include workshop or stables, those are mine to rule. So Laura’s approach was as a lover, concerned, but not demanding. If I wasn’t showing concern, Laura would do her best to accept it.

That acceptance waned once we got inside the house. With Spirit washed, dried and happily munching on his feed, water checked, a last kiss on his muzzle. He had forgiven me, I know because when I kissed his muzzle he stuck out his tongue for me to suck, snorted, did the lippy thing, then dived into his feed bucket.

Entering the house, Laura headed for our bedroom, summoning Mirella to join us. I never got consulted, just half guided, half forced onto the bed, face down. Not that I was complaining, anything that includes ‘Laura’ and ‘bedroom’ has to be a good thing.

As I was already washed and clean, they resorted ointment, both of them at once. I know they cared, I understand they were being gentle. But please. How would you feel if two naked women were caressing you with featherlight touches and some stuff that basically served as lube... ?? I did too... !! I was so wet, so fast, so fucking frustrated at their attentions. I attacked Laura, humping myself on her thigh, kissing her hard and deep. I was ravenous, lost in mindless lust.

Mirella understands payback.

She applied her hand to my ass VERY forcefully, I swear CSI could lift her fingerprints from my ass, I came, screamed into Laura’s mouth, clung to her, shivering as I slowly melted my way down the mountain into Laura’s loving embrace.

Mirella stood besides the bed. Her expression ... Well, how would you describe the fiery latin version of inscrutable... ?? Yes, that...

I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t spank me again. The first had hurt, was still hurting, the second would do too, but it would do more, it would see Mirella dragged into our bed, not to sleep, to fuck, to make love, not a step to be taken lightly. Some cookies once nibbled, can’t be put back in the jar.

Laura as always, was way ahead of me. I’m not exactly sure how she can look both wanton and imperious simultaneously. “Kitchen, bitch.”

Laura’s command cracked like a bullwhip. I was looking at Mirella. For a moment her eyes flared, like she wanted nothing so much as to proudly display the mark of that lash. “Si, Donna Domina”.

Mirella’s giggles echoed as she headed downstairs to the kitchen. Laura snorted, “Donna Domina, indeed. Cheeky little witch.”

We ate well that evening, Mirella’s food was good too.

The next morning we ran as usual, except I was still suffering the nettle rash so my usual smooth stride included assorted shivers and twitches. Laura just grinned and push the pace a little harder. I think she and Spirit talk.

Four miles later and breakfast consumed I loitered over a second cup of tea whilst around me our usual routine disappeared in a cloud of Laura. The Whizz was in tornado mode, something was up...

Mirella was conjuring food like some culinary sorceress. Wait. Mirella IS a culinary sorceress, I own the house, but the kitchen belongs to Mirella. Hampers and cool boxes appeared, then disappeared as Deke did his gulag forced labour thing. An act he is slowly perfecting for those times he allows Mirella to order him around.

Then Patricia turned up, Alpha at her side as always, well, except that right now she was here, so she was naked and at his side. Rules. On my property Alpha is the master, Tricia is his bitch. Welcome as she is, her presence means Laura has excelled herself again. I just sipped my tea and waited.

Laura had hired a horse box, not a trailer, a whole huge truck style horse box. Deke rode shotgun, the rest of us settled into the lounge part, the seats fitted with belts, whilst further back Spirit, Lady and Thief were safe and sound, quietly munching on hay nets as we got started. It was going to be a long trip, two days just to get there.

No. I’m not telling you where, not geographically, except obviously within the USA. Our destination was, I found out later, what is apparently known as a ‘Ren-Faire’. We however were not just visiting, thanks to the Whizz we were taking part. Talking of which, it seemed that each of them had a part to play, Laura and Patricia were apparently ‘Ladies’, whilst Mirella was apparently a ‘Lady’s maid’. Deke and Alpha were doubling as servants and security. That just left the driver and me. The driver was going to leave us, his truck given over into Deke’s care once parked, and had plans to visit family, at Laura’s expense, until it was time to head home.