Chapter 1

The tourists are oblivious, the authorities ignore it, the city folk have forgotten it, but if you venture top into the hinterland on the second Sunday before Carnival fever strikes the country, you just might see it. A race like no other. A race that even the priests place money on. It makes fortunes and breaks them just as easily. Officially it is the Brazilian Triple Crown Trotting Race but everyone who knows just calls it The Triple.

It is a race unlike any other, for there is no set distance, no photo finish, the winners are judged on three very specific criteria. The first is endurance, how long the horse and rider can maintain the strict trotting pace required. The second is the fastest lap time achieved and the third? The third is how deeply the rider is impaled by her mount. Yes, The Triple is a belly riding race. The belly riding race.

Most competitors train for just one result and of course this means that there are three winners each year. Of course there are a few who attempt to win twice, most fail but over the years a very few have succeeded, and those who bet on them won fortunes that added to the legend of the Triple. Everyone bets, some win, some lose, a few bet big and lose everything, few of those losses are remembered by anyone but those who lose, after all, it is winners people want to remember, to dream of emulating. For most people a few thousand dollars is a lifetimes wage, so to win hundreds of thousands is almost unimaginable.

Ray Youngson was the second son of a Texas Oil Magnate who had paid his dues in the family business, completed University, took stock of his likely future, wished his father and brothers well, then high tailed it south of the border, actually south of several borders, until he found a place where he could carve out his own future. It took him three years to be certain he was on track, then he headed home, spent time with his family and his childhood sweetheart, then hightailed it back south, taking Margaret, his new wife with him. Nine months later Jessica Ann Youngson was born. Her parents loved her, but Ray wanted a son, so Margaret did her best, it took them another six years before Ray held his son in his arms and listened to how sorry the doctors were, that there was nothing they could have done. Ray named his son Price, because he cost Ray the one thing he never imagined losing.

Living far from the few real cities and even further from Texas, Ray engaged a series of nannies, nursemaids and tutors to ensure his son and daughter received a proper education, later he would use his money and influence to ensure Price attended his old University. Ray loved is son, he loved his daughter, but she was so alike her mother in looks it hurt him just too much, so he did his best to ensure she was well looked after and simply buried himself in his work.

For a long time Jessica’s world was the Haccienda where they lived, she got used to people leaving her, others arriving to replace them, to her it was natural, she had nothing to compare her life to. Everyone looks for consistency, Jessica found it in the stables, in old Juan who taught her to ride then in the horses she claimed as “hers”. Those she kept, even as she outgrew them, adamantly refusing to simply sell them on to an unknown future. By the time Jessica celebrated her fourteenth birthday she was the undisputed princess of the stables, a princess who was resigned to her father once again being away on her birthday. The gold credit card he left for her was nothing compared to how much she wanted to just have him hug her and wish her a happy birthday, a kiss on the cheek would be good, even a pat on the head, an act that would incite her instant fury from anyone else, she still wished for it from her father’s hand.

Two years later her birthday present proved beyond doubt that her father would indulge her without limit, so long as he could distance himself from her. Hrist stood before her, proud and strong, his coat brushed until it shone in the mid-morning sun. His ears twitched as his new mistress spoke. She had waited a long time for this day, had wanted it sooner, but Juan refused, that in itself was so unique as to drown any attempts to circumvent his refusal.

Now sixteen, Jess, she had decided that Jessica Ann was no longer acceptable, Jess wasn’t just the spitting image of her late mother, she had inherited her father’s iron will and his need for independence. The on the lawn that morning Jess was determined to hold Juan to his word and leave nobody in any doubt as to her new desires.

Juan nodded to Eloa, the young woman grinned and beckoned to Jess. Already naked, the birthday girl approached her new stallion with a calm determination, she let Eloa guide her as she worked her way into the complicated set of straps that formed the ‘sling’ part of the saddle, taking time to stroke and talk softly to her newly named stallion, who stood patient as any fully trained horse should.

Eloa adjusted the harness with the practised skill borne from long experience of how painful a badly adjusted harness could be, but it was Juan who made the final check, who asked once more if Jess was sure she wanted this. The old man ignored her sharp retort, smiled at the fire in her eyes and administered the shot that would keep the stallion’s shaft hard until late afternoon. It was Eloa who bent to guide the horse cock as it extended towards the juncture of her mistress’s wide spread thighs, whose fingers parted the plump labia and sought out the slowly emerging clit. Jess felt the warmth of her stallion’s cockhead for the very first time as it pressed against her sex, she expected it to hurt soon, hoped it would open her without tearing, but was resigned to suffer that if needed. The cockhead pressed harder, Jess patted her stallion and rotated her hips, trying to screw herself around the still growing shaft, She cried out as her sex was forced open, the veil of her maidenhood ripped apart as the shaft began to impale her. Juan nodded, watching with pride as his princess conquered her body’s instinctive need to protect itself and escape further pain. Eloa pinched the younger woman’s clit hard, knowing the fresh sharp pain would be a welcome distraction.

Right there on the Hacienda’s front lawn the age old tradition of the belly rider played out, many more eyes than just those present watched, soon all would know that a new belly rider had taken the shaft.

Jess tried to keep relaxed, to breath normally, she made no attempt not to cry out when needed, the pain demanded to be acknowledge and screaming served to vent the pain. Finally the stallion was fully hard, his cock throbbing within her now, she could feel his pulse, feel every vein, feel especially the cockhead and the flare which now anchored him deep inside her. Eloa busied herself checking each strap then waited as Juan coaxed the stallion to step forward slowly at first, then a slow walk. Jess knew the motion of the horse would signal the start of her fucking, knew it, had seen it when Eloa rode, but experiencing it was different, the pain was still there, a thing to be fought, conquered, but the feelings, the sensations, those were beyond her dreams, for Jess it was a unique moment in her life, for the first time she felt utterly connected to another soul, it was a feeling so intoxicating that for some time the pain simply ceased to exist, overwhelmed by the intensity of the bond she felt with her stallion, her lover, her mate.

To many people a belly rider was simply a sheath for a stallion’s cock, the woman somehow ceased to be a woman, became just a living, breathing sheath for a stallion’s pleasure. Jess had no intention of following that particular tradition, she intended to be much more, so much more. As much as she felt bonded to her lover, she intended to use his cock as a way out to a life of her own. The streak of independence inherited from her father was fast developing into a three lane freeway.

Jess surrendered to her first orgasm before they had completed a circuit of the lawn. Juan continued to lead the stallion only until Jess had recovered from her trip to nirvana, then he nodded to Eloa who grinned and turned her lithe body around to mount. Once astride the stallion Eloa needed only to apply a little pressure to ease the horse into a slow trot that increased the sway of the sling and the rhythm of the cock shaft fucking back and forth inside Jess’s body.

Twice more Jess writhed and moaned as an orgasm took her body and mind away to nirvana, then soon afterwards Eloa slowed the horse as the stallion’s pace became erratic, he pranced a little, then his hind quarters bunched and his back arched as he thrust hard and repeatedly, driving his powerful cock deeper inside Jess who was already very aware of his cockhead flaring out, stretching her deep inside, his shaft pulsed and Jess felt cum pump into her for first time ever. She knew that her body couldn’t contain the quantity the stallion was going to fuck into her, she knew her body would bloat as the pressure forced it deeper before the seal of cock and cunt broke and the excess spurted out to splatter her thighs and the ground beneath. All this she knew, but knowing and experiencing are very different. Jess welcomed her lovers cum, she tried her best to contract her muscles, to milk the cock that stretched her, he was her lover now, his cum was her right.