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It was a lovely morning as I heard a commotion in the village and went outside to see who had arrived. There were horsemen galloping through the village at breakneck speed; before I had time to take in anything of what was going on, a rider had leant dangerously out of the saddle and swept me up on to his horse. As I caught my breath we were out of the village and into the forest which covered the land right across to the river.

Lifting me up from the horse's neck the rider turned me to face him and started to strip off my clothes. He was controlling the galloping horse through thickly wooded country with only his knees; both hands were unfastening my clothes and dropping them one by one behind us. I could do nothing to hinder him as I was hanging on to him and the horse for dear life. If the horse stumbled or one of us fell we would be killed for certain; my life was more important than my clothes, whatever was to befall me later.

When he needed to strip my skirts away he took them over my head and released one arm at a time to free them. This time I helped him out of sheer fear as the skirts were covering his face and he was not only riding bareback through the forest at full gallop, but he was blinded by the cloth over his eyes. As my skirts flew up and behind us, I realised that the rest of the band were following us and one of them caught the discarded clothing as it flew from my captor's hands. I began to wonder where we were going at such speed and what would happen when we got there.

I need not have wondered about my fate when we reached our destination, because the next trick of my captor was to stand up on the back of his horse and strip off his own baggy trousers which were thrown to the winds as my clothes had been. I had never seen a naked man before and I stared at the hairy belly and protruding truncheon before my eyes. Absurdly, my thoughts were of how funny he looked in his brimless hat which widened as it went up, but with no trousers on. The rider sank back smoothly to bestride the galloping horse again and I felt his body pressed against mine. His weapon was now rubbing on my private forest and the lips it concealed. The sensation was exquisite, much more so than when I pleasured myself. Of course, as a girl from a farming village I was well aware of the facts of life and I knew what happened between men and women, though I had never even kissed a man. It seemed that the pleasure would never stop mounting as the movement of the galloping horse rubbed our bodies together. I had no immediate fears, except that of sudden death from a fall, as my captor would not be able to do anything while this mad ride continued.

How wrong can you be?

I felt the head of his manhood pressing into the lips of my private parts which were, by now, thoroughly wet with my own pleasures. It pushed up and down in the damp and slippery slit, hitting my pleasure spot each time it ventured to the head of the valley. As my excitement rose, my private lips seemed to swell and open and the head of my captor's member slid easily inside. The bouncing of the horse agitated our connection and raising me to new peaks of pleasure until my captor suddenly pulled me hard against him and I felt a tearing pain deep inside my body. Then the pain vanished in the pleasure and the sheer feeling of completion as he buried himself deep inside me.

On went the mad ride with our bodies conjoined; verst after verst we galloped until the agitation of our mount finally caused my captor to come to his climax and send spurts of hot liquid deep into my womb. I was lost for some moments as my body responded in like fashion and the world around me became distant and vague.

When I recovered my composure and was again aware of my surroundings, I realised that the horse was slowing and we were re-entering my home village. Stopping outside my cottage, the rider dismounted without losing his connection with me and carried me into the building. There he laid me carefully on the bed and finally withdrew from our coupling.

"Sleep a while," he said gently, "You are now a proper Cossack's wife. Tomorrow we will go to kneel at the altar before your family and I will become a proper civilised Russian lady's husband."

Brightly dawns our wedding day, / Joyous day we give thee greeting.

The Mikado.

A verst is a Russian measure of distance, a little over half a mile.