Saraya's Bet Part 3

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The town Parade was the biggest occasion of this rural region! Much music, noise, and shouting was going on. Girls and women were dancing and laughing raucously, everyone was drinking, and horses were being ridden through the streets. Occasionally one of the riders would ask their horse to perform a piaffe or similar move, only sometimes with success; many of the horses were sidling and shying at all the noise. But this was normal.

Three of Miguel's friends now rode their horses onto the main street. Miguel dragged his "pony" out of the pickup truck and led her along behind them. People laughed and pointed as they saw the pretty girl tacked up with stirrups, half-saddle and bridle! Saraya felt absolutely, totally mortified. She had always kept herself aloof from everyone, thought of herself as something better than the usual country peasant. Now she'd always be known as the horse girl... strange, clownish, bizarre. She would never be able to live it down!!

"Git on her back!" someone yelled and others laughed and shouted their agreement. Miguel gave an exaggerated bow and turned to Saraya.
"Put your hands on that rail there" he ordered. She obeyed, feeling dumb, but knowing there was no real alternative. "Bend your knees and bend over a bit!" he commanded.
She did so and closed her eyes, bracing herself as she bent, her hands tightening on the fence rail she held. The next thing she felt was him grab her shoulders and jump nimbly onto her back from the side!
She staggered under him for a moment, his rough mounting action unbalancing her momentarily before she managed to recover. Miguel laughed, holding on. "Not the strongest horse I've ever ridden!"

He wriggled around, finding the best position astride Saraya's back which was bent in piggyback position, settled his butt against the padded saddlebag attatched to her waist belt, and slipped his feet into the stirrups. Some people who were watching clapped and cheered them and many laughed at the somewhat comical sight of a girl being ridden like a horse! Saraya closed her eyes in shame.
Miguel now took the reins and pulled them taut; Saraya felt the bit's pull in her mouth. "Move away from the railing," he ordered, touching spurs to her thighs.
Saraya took her hands off the railing, firmed up her torso under him as best she could, and moved tentatively away from the rail, sidestepping a little before finding her balance under him. He felt heavy, but she found she could actually carry him this way.
"Good, my horsey, gooood," he crooned mockingly. She might be feeling awkward and uncomfortable, but the position was quite comfortable for him and he was enjoying himself, he felt dominant, powerful, amused at her predicament, all at once. "Now we ride!" And he lightly spurred her forward.
Slowly she moved forward in an awkward, unsteady walk.

Miguel sat her back as she walked, feeling her move under him, enjoying the feel of her between his thighs. It was definitely fun! With his feet high off the ground, she really was carrying him, although like last time he could tell that it was difficult for her.
Just for the fun of it he lifted himself up a little in the stirrups before easing himself back down again. She stopped, and he realised he'd accidentally pulled on the reins and maybe unbalanced her a little too. Concentrate, he thought to himself, loosening the reins and kicking her on lightly. The spurs (and the quirt he carried) felt good too in a strange way. He didn't really intend to cause skin damage or anything, but the power they gave him felt good in their own way.
He rode her slowly forward through the noisy street, towards where a few men on horses were. Gradually her movements became more confident as she found the best way of carrying him.

Everyone who saw them laughed and pointed and yelled out comments, "Look!" "He's riding a chick!" "There's a dude riding on a girl like a horse!!!"
Soon Miguel and Saraya were the center of attention.
They were pretty near two guys on real horses, the men had managed to get their horses to concentrate enough to do that stationary trot-dance on the spot that resembled a piaffe. Nearby came the sounds of traditional guitar music from someone's CD player, almost flamenco style, popular for the "dancing horse" stuff.
"Hey Miguel!" "Cute horse!" "See if you can make HER dance!" and similar calls came from the people around them.

Saraya groaned through the bit, carrying him like this was hard enough. She knew she couldn't dance properly with him on her back. And she didn't WANT to dance with him on her back in front of everyone, either!! Being ridden in front of everyone was already bad enough! She stopped, refusing to move.
"Come on, horse," laughed Miguel atop her. "See the dance the other horses are doing? Like a shuffle. You dance like that now." And he tightened the reins and spurred her lightly at the same time. She shook her head, prancing and tossing and sidling around, so he repeated the command, also bringing his quirt whistling down across her backside.
Saraya yelped but kept fighting him, pulling back against the reins, wanting to do anything except just submissively give in! Her hands yanked at his legs, trying to pull them away from her torso and destabilise him.
WHACK! WHACK! The quirt came down in earnest now, quickly followed up by a jab of his blunted spurs to her thighs. The men watching the activity laughed and cheered Miguel on, wanting to see the rider break in his feisty "pony"!
Saraya's efforts to pry the strong legs from around her sides were proving useless, and the sting of his 'aids' was fast becoming too fiery to ignore... There was no other alternative but to obey! With a shudder and a groan Saraya began an awkward prancing on the spot, trying to lift her feet high. That felt almost impossibly difficult to keep up for long - so she tried a sort of shuffle-trot instead, transferring her weight from one foot to the other with a small bounce in each step although the "up" foot never totally left the ground. This was still hard, but possible. Without her knowing it, she was moving in a similar way to the real horses' piaffe.
"Ha! Yes, like that," Miguel encouraged her as he felt the soft little bounce. "Move those feet pony!" And he brought the quirt down across her backside again.
The sting was fiery, even through her shorts and Saraya obeyed without thinking, adrenaline charging through her body in response to the sharp command. She performed the bouncy shuffling trot on the spot, shifting her weight sharply from one foot to the other, left, right, left, right, her heart rate and breathing coming hard and fast with the intense exertion.

The onlookers laughed, "hey, she's doing it!" And indeed she was, dancing next to the two real horses. Miguel laughed and held tight, feeling the impact of each soft-heavy bounce through his backside, her movements were jouncing him softly up and down on her back with every step. It felt good. He leaned into her a little more. "This is good, pony," he hissed in her ear, "keep going! Dance!"

A minute or two more of this, and sweat began to run down Saraya's flanks as she kept up her shuffling trot-on-the-spot dance. It was exhausting! Already her body was starting to ache and protest intensely at the heavy weight astride her. She tried stopping for a moment, but her rider would not let her, pushing her on with the aids. She gasped. She couldn't stop, he wouldn't let her! Her feet picked up the pace again, her tired back still bent under her rider.

Miguel was enjoying the ride, the feeling of her rhythmic "trot" felt really good, and his very public dominance of one of the snootiest, proudest girls in town had everyone laughing and cheering. Her flagging strength somehow made it more enjoyable to push her on. Each time she slowed or tried to stop to catch her breath, he urged her on, even though he could hear her gasping for breath, feel her body tiring.
Finally the girl stumbled a little and he reined her to a halt.
"Okay, okay, easy pony," he said with a laugh. "You can rest."

To be continued!