In tangents to her orbit - Story by Unferth

… in tangents to her orbit…

They said this sort of morning happened about five hundred years: the full moon setting in a blue- green western sky just as the sun painted the east orange. It was as if the world, suspended in space between the two of them, stood poised at a fulcrum at the start of spring. The croaking call of a distant ptarmigan, mingled with the continuous chatter of the stream and its tributaries as they tumbled together down the mountainside, seemed to be conjuring light from the night. He wondered if the bird, or one of its ancestors, had carried the berries up here: in the valley below the stream vanished into a mass of blackthorn, foaming white with blossom. He walked briskly down towards it, anxious to keep warm.

There were tracks amongst the bushes: perhaps red deer hid here, or ate the leaves in the summer. The path led him in, amongst the sickly-sweet scent of the bushes with their white froth of buds and flowers, which hid from his sight the young river. But the streams’ song seemed louder as he walked. He followed the track as it plunged unexpectedly down a muddy gully between scarps of rock into a halflight that still waited the dawn.

Then he saw why the stream seemed loud. The water poured over a lip of grey limestone, glowing gold in the first rays of the rising sun, and then falling as a mass of white, surging and frothing in the plunge pool below. Despite the cold he stopped. His journey, started in the cold predawn light an hour ago, could wait for a moment in such a place.

The boulders strewn at the edge of the pool were cold: carved into smooth flowing curves by years of frost and flowing stream, and tattooed by the fossils of shells from prehistoric seas. This one – half in, half out of the water – curved inwards like a bone, with a mat of brown-dry ferns overhanging the pool. It seemed natural to kick his boots off, sit with one leg either side and refresh his feet in the ice-cold stream and suddenly, she was alive: sporting, frolicking in the foam, the stream surging around her arms and her thighs, her back ice-slippery with streamwater. She sprang from stone to stone, not seeming to notice his weight, then splashed deeper, beneath the waterfall, the cold of the water, fresh from the snows above, stabbing him like a knife. His hands fumbled for hair – soft hair now, and not the harshness of dead vegetation - trying to keep his balance against the power of the falling water and the ferocity of her frisking in the waves. Then she turned to the deeper water, towards the outlet of the plunge pool, standing up so her stone-hard, cold muscular body pressed cold against him, yet his fingers felt her flesh burn from her exertion. She dropped again to her hands and knees to play in the sandy shallows at the far side of the pool, then suddenly twisted round, and galloped – there was no other word – back beneath the force of the waterfall, writhing in the whirling water until he lost his balance, and lay breathless in the cold river…

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There was no breeze to disturb the summer heat in the valley. He’d been hoping this last couple of hours - as he’d walked, the forested hillside to his left had grown less - that his journey was at last taking him out of the mountains. But another horizon, more wood-wreathed peaks, had appeared beyond; beyond, he assumed another valley with another river, and the sun continued to rise higher in the sky, its brightness penetrating even the tall pines to bake the forest floor.

So it must have been nigh-on noon when he arrived at this other river. There had been streams to cross before, sometimes cut deep into the soil before now: usually a jump, sometimes to a convenient rock or islet in the middle of a stream. But the river that came down from the left was almost as wide as the one he was following – perhaps seven or ten paces to the other side. He followed it down the hillside, hoping there would be an easier crossing at the confluence. The pines gave way to blackthorn bushes: interlaced branches, full leafed and laden with green berries. Here, at least, was shade. And then the bushes gave way to bright, burning sunshine, and, at the end of an emerald green sliver of grass, the merging of the two rivers.

He walked out, into the sunshine, between the brown, limpid pools of the two rivers, and then jumped down onto the sandy continuation of the crest between them. The river that blocked his way here was narrow, but deep. He would have to wade. The wet sand gave slightly as he sat astride the ridge to roll up his leggings and take off his boots. This movement was not of the sand – although her goosebumped flesh beneath his palms still had the texture of the sand. The current seemed blessedly cool as she slipped into the muscle of water formed at the meeting of the flows. She turned to the right, stood up in the main current of the river so that the flesh of her back pressed against him; he gripped her hips tightly with his thighs, and his hands slipped under her arms to her breasts. Swift and smooth, she cut a swathe through a mat of floating pine needles, leaving them bobbing and dancing in her wake before crossing to the shallows at the far side of the tributary river, and returning to her hands and knees, and waited one with the damp sandbank again, for him to dismount. He hesitated one moment, indented the ridge of sand with his fingertips, expecting it to spring back again like flesh….

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A month ago these woods would have been perfumed. Perfumed with honeysuckle, and glowing emerald green with oak leaves. Now they smelled of the musk of the waning of the year: yet they still glowed: glowed with the bronze of oak leaves, flickering in the failing sunlight as the breeze disturbed the branches, or scrunching under his boots. The honeysuckle berries glowed too: he knew better than to eat those, but there’d been plenty of haw and sloe to sustain him as he journeyed. The hunger of spring was well behind him in this fruitful autumn.

The sun, too, was falling into a mass of colour. Soon it would be dark, and he’d have to find a place to light his fire, and to make his bivouac for the night. Ahead of him the valley – already broad and shallow became yet wider. Wraiths of mist rose ahead of him, glowing gold and red as they caught the setting sun’s rays.

Here was a stand of bushes, overhanging the river bank, and ripe with fruit. He picked his way around, enjoying the tartness of the berries as he followed the edge of the stand into the wood, and then back, down and round where the mists rose from the river. The river seemed wider, the opposite bank invisible in the fog, as if his journeying with the river had brought him to the edge of a lake. Perhaps tomorrow he’d see how big it was: in any case, tomorrow he’d continue his journey round the perimeter, whether that took an hour or a month.

Just downstream of the bushes an oak tree had fallen. He found himself wondering what storm could have brought it down; the trunk, supported in the river by four branches, seemed to be washed smooth, with detritus – grass, old leaves and twigs – from the storms of last week still clinging to it and to the twists of honeysuckle stalk. Yet the branches, well above the waterline, still held coppergold leaves. He could see them, still shining in the sun above the rivermist. He would sleep tonight in the scar left by the tree roots. He would harvest the straight blackthorn shoots for a shelter, and light fire – the first since the start of his journey – against the rising moistness in the air, and against the white light of the full moon.

But first he sat astride the fallen trunk, shuffled and leapfrogged along until he could peer into the river; perhaps there would be trout in the shadow of the branches that he could tickle for his supper. It was as if the sap still in her remembered the storm that brought her down: swaying and rocking from side to side, backwards and forwards. His hands fumbled for the honeysuckle stem that twisted around her – not that he needed a bridle to stay seated: whatever wind had brought her down here, kept alive in her thoughts, she contained in her own strength. Nor did the bridle give him any control. Her memory of the storm dictated her movements. Even the mists swirled around her, pricking his skin, yet she stayed, anchored to the lakebank as she reared and plunged, sometimes out of the water, sometimes almost completely submerged, soaking him to the waist in the cold river. Her moving became increasingly violent, imagining, no doubt, the building up of the storm, until at last he could grip the smooth skin no more, and he found himself, still clinging to the honeysuckle, in the water beside her…

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Cold. The fire glowed still, all but dead, but still the only colour in this world of white. It had been a long enough job on this shortest of days to collect firewood amongst the salt-marshes. His hands still bled from the thorns. And he had not collected enough for warmth through this night. Snow, driven by an ice-cold wind, stung his flesh. He stood up. The sky was scattered with stars, like frozen shards of ice. The blowing snow was just spindrift, a thin layer of biting ice particles, swirling angrily in the gale, yet no more than waist- high, piling into drifts around any irregularity in the ground. Yet, standing up, he could see the dim shapes of the hills he had journeyed down, and the other way the sea, flickering with reflected starlight. Here his journey would stop.

He was glad of that. He’d already lost the river, which had split into a morass of creeks, mudbanks and tidal rivulets. Some were frozen, so the scrambling down and across, although exhausting was easy. But others, more frequent as he neared the sea and salt, had not been: he was filthy with stinking mud, and the shrieking laughter of the seagulls had accompanied each fall. He’d found himself wondering if he could trap and roast one over his fire.

The pond he’d bivouacked near had been frozen. The wind had whipped the ice clear of snow, except for one drift. Even as he watched, he could see it move as the wind blew its load of spindrift across the crest.

And so he mounted her pure-white back, and felt her anger surge within her. Not anger at him: anger at the cold that froze her so. She punched at the ice, ineffectually, then reared, brought both fist smashing onto, through, the ice of the pond. She surged forward, pounding the frozen surface. His feet and knees, soaked from her splashing, numbed as he pressed, as tight as he could into her waist: he tried to dig his fingers into the flesh of her shoulders, and saw with alarm the cuts to his hands, made as he gathered firewood earlier, open up and bleed. And still she moved into the water, pummelling, rearing and plunging to shatter the ice that bound the river. Her own fists were bleeding: the blood swirled in the water and splattered the snow as she advanced. He leaned forward, lying flat across her back, wrapping his legs around her, and gripping her wrists as they plunged again and again into the numbingly cold water. And suddenly she stopped.

He had never controlled her. Yet she stopped. Watched as the two bloods – his and hers mingled, then flowed under the ice in some current through the centre of the pond. Then she turned, and bore him gently back to the riverbank.

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Adiranthe 13 - Final

Eleria smiled to herself at the rather inglorious picture her former captor made, forced to all fours, saddled and bridled and just waiting for her. Glaring, but what could he do about it? She held all the power and she knew it.

She stepped forward and took the reins, swung her leg over and sat down in the saddle. Just as she did so, Kardan did indeed try to move, she felt his strong muscles bunch under her in what would have been an attempt to throw her off backwards. But the magic prevented him. Oh, this was glorious!
"Bad pony," Eleria laughed, "I said stay still!" She smacked his backside hard. She felt his muscles gather again, but to no avail. He tried to curse her through the bit.

She slid her feet into the stirrups, settling her weight easily in the ornately tooled saddle, and took up just the right tension in the reins. It was almost like being astride a real pony, in a way that just a bare back horsey ride from a friend would not have been. In the saddle she was comfortable and secure, that and the bridle giving her total command. It put her utterly in control.
She could feel his greater strength waiting tensely beneath her, all restrained energy, wanting to get rid of her, but unable. Fun!

"Lets put some of that energy to good use!" Eleria sang, "forward, pony!" She jabbed the spurs against his thighs twice, lightly, mockingly, even though the verbal command would force him through the magic of the silk.
He began crawling forward under her! Somehow his obedience was surprising, even though she knew he literally had no other choice. She sat, feeling the gentle swaying movement through the saddle.

She reined him almost automatically as they neared the turn into the passageway, just as she would her real pony, Dapples. In other words, quite a gentle command, not force. Unfortunately the steed she was riding took no notice. So she used the reins to quite literally pull his head around. It wasn't that hard. And for good measure, she dug her right spur hard into his hip, causing his back half to instinctively move away from that leg even as his head was pulled around. Before he knew it, he was turning, under her control, without the silk having compelled him. He growled at her and tried to slow, and she laughed and forced him forward down the corridor. Between silk strips and spurs, he could literally not disobey.

"You might as well settle into a nice steady gait here," she told him. "There's a long way to go especially at your turtle like pace."

The Goblin King was, of course, not feeling very good about himself. Anger and humiliation warred within. To be defeated, robbed and ridden by this slip of a girl...! And worse, to have her make him obey her this way! The ignonimity! And yet, he knew he could not escape what was happening to him. What options did he have? To wait and see if he could catch her off guard when she was not using the silk to control him? perhaps throw her. She had lured him - he hated to admit it - into a false sense of security once before. So now he would pretend his obedience, and eventually she would give him an opportunity. He told himself that, as he carried his rider submissively through his own domain.
She wasn't that heavy, and of course he was stronger than she, but it was still hard work, he was breathing faster as he moved along, and she heard it.
"Aww, is this hard work?" Eleria said tauntingly. "Lets try a canter, shall we?" And Kardan found himself cantering awkwardly, more awkwardly than agile Eleria had, shuffle-jumping his hands forward, then his knees, then his hands, in an embarrassing parody of a canter. "Faster!" Eleria called, this was fun! Her spurs found his thighs again, once, twice, and poor Kardan was going all-out underneath her as she bounced lightly in the saddle. After only a short distance it robbed his breath quickly, and even through his trousers, his knees were beginning to feel sore. He didn't want to admit it but he would have loved to stop.

But she wouldn't let him! It wasn't until his breath was burning in his lungs that she finally pulled him up with the reins. She laughed to hear him panting under her. She lifted herself up a little in the stirrups, and bounced her weight on his back several times, letting him feel the impact of her weight right through his body, before forcing him on yet again, at a walk now, reveling in his breathlessness.
"Keep going, little pony," she mocked, "we're not even in the caves part yet!"

In a short while, she reined him firmly around into a different passage, this one didn't lead to the caves that would take them outside, but rather to an area where the Goblins resided.
As she had hoped, a Goblin came skittering along, and she reined her human steed to a halt. "Rear up!" she hissed, pulling hard on the reins, and he did, with her balanced easily in the saddle, then came back down again to all fours when she pushed her weight forward.
The Goblin stopped and its eyes practically boggled out of its mis-shapen, pallid head as it took in the scene.
"On your knees, filth!" commanded Eleria, and she took Kardan's magical necklace from where it hung round her neck, and held it up menacingly. The stunned beast fell to its knees, bewildered by the strange scene.
"I have defeated your master," she said, and it looked down at its sweaty, horse-bridled, humiliated King. Kardan glared at it and his muscles bunched, trying to grunt something through the bit at the goblin, but Eleria pulled his head back hard, ruining the attempt. She ordered the goblin, "You will bring my real horse, the dappled grey, out to the surface and wait for us there. If you do not, your miserable life will be worse than your master's here."
The goblin stammered and hesitated.
Eleria held up the necklace once more, as if to wield its powers. "Now!"
It ran.

Eleria sighed. "Being King is hard work," she said, relaxing in the saddle. "Now carry me to the surface, slave."
Growling unintelligibly through the bit, Kardan obeyed.

During the arduous trek through the halls, tunnels and caves, the Goblin King tried a couple of times to throw his rider. The first time, he tried lulling her into that false sense of security, acting tired and obedient, then when he thought her guard was down, attempted to throw himself into a bucking fit. Sadly for him, the command of the magic prevented him. The second time, he thought her distracted as she gazed at the weird, strange twisted beauty of the caves around her, but again, to no avail.

Finally they reached the area of cavern where the very first showdown between them had happened, where Kardan had lain in wait and held up his stone in the darkness and practically blinded her with magical light. By this time, the Goblin Breath was truly near exhaustion, his muscular frame trembling and wet with sweat; it  was quite a feat for anyone to carry a human weight that long.

"And thus it ends," Eleria said, half to herself and half to him, still in the saddle, as if he really were just her horse. "We have come full circle. This is where you meet adventurers who come to explore the supposedly empty Adiranthe, fight them and rob them... you are a thief too, really, aren't you, Goblin Breath? Shame you tried to enslave me. You weren't ever going to get away with that."

She dismounted him, and commanded the silk to keep him there on his hands and knees until nightfall. She removed first the saddle, then the bridle. He worked his jaw, relieving the ache that came from wearing it so long.

"Do not ever come back here, little pony slave," he growled at her. "I shall recover, and so will my magic, and you would not escape my wrath." The recovery part was true, for as well as the resources that lay beneath the ruins of Adiranthe, he still had the sorceress, whose powers he would use to enchant a new crystal to control the magics of the underground domain. "And you will always remember how I did indeed enslave you, and how you reacted to me, despite your fire."

"Ooh, the boy is trying to salvage his wounded pride," she taunted back, even though that last part had a small basis in truth. "Goodbye, Goblin Breath." And she walked away.

She found her way through the traps that she had come through to get here, having to tell herself to be careful; still high from her victory and a little shiver from the come down from adrenaline.
Finally she reached the surface, and held her hand to her eyes, shielding them from the unaccustomed sunlight, looking around.

She saw a pair of figures, one smaller than her, one bigger and much more solid and four legged. A pang went through her heart. Dapples! She rushed forward, and indeed, it was the goblin she had intimidated, with her dappled grey pony.
"Good. You are wise to have obeyed me," she told the goblin sternly when she reached them, one hand on the magical, crystal necklace round her neck. "Now go, and do not try to follow, or it will be the last thing you ever do."
The goblin bowed its head and scuttled back to whichever tunnel it had come from. She watched until it had disappeared.

She felt a firm nudge - ok, more like a head-butt - and warm breath on her shoulder, and turned. Dapples regarded her curiously with his dark, liquid eyes, as if to ask her what the hell was going on.
"Oh, Dapples, are you ok? Did they do anything to you?" She looked over her grey pony with concern, but he seemed fine. Overcome with emotion suddenly, the thief-girl threw her arms around her pony's neck, glad to have his solid warmth, glad for contact that did not involve battle.
The horse snorted, as if to show amusement at his owner's nonsense. Eleria laughed through her little wave of emotion. "Oh, Dapples, we're rich. You're going to live in horsey luxury." And not feeling like riding right now, she collected her gear and led her grey pony away from the ruins of Adiranthe, talking to the animal about the riches they had won.


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Adiranthe Ch 12 by Paladin

The name was just getting so unwieldy lol so has been shortened. Enjoy this, its Paladin's last turn at Adiranthe (with only the tiniest bit of guidance from me) before I take the reins again for the final turn.

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Kardan’s smile vanished, “I had hoped this foolishness was over. Since you arrived you have struggled against me and been defeated everytime. As much as I have enjoyed hearing your cries of submission and pleas for mercy I thought I’d tamed you enough pony.”

Eleria scowled as she thought of the times he had used his greater strength to dominate her and then to force her to yield to his demands that she carry him on her back. “I’m far from tamed,” she spat back, “and the only cries for mercy will be from you!” 

Kardan leapt up from his throne, one hand lashing out to grab her but Eleria was already springing backwards and the Goblin King’s hand swept through empty air. 

Eleria grinned at the surprised look on his face. She half turned and placed a hand on the small of her back. “You see this, Goblin Breath? Tonight was the last time your butt will ever sit here and this,” she slid her hand across her silk swathed rear, enjoying the way his eyes followed her movements. “This will be the last thing you see as I walk out of this kingdom of yours.”

Before he could move after her Eleria turned, dived forward, landed on her hands and used the momentum to spring up driving her heels into the startled Goblin King’s chest.

Kardan was thrown backwards, rolling until he crashed against his throne. He was up again in seconds and there was no sign of a smile this time.

“You crept into my kingdom to steal what you could, you were caught and told the conditions of your slavery which have been more than generous,” he growled.

“You use your 'kingdom' as a trap for adventurers! You’ve used me as your plaything, riding me like a pony at your pleasure and you call that generous.” 

“Compared to what I will do to you from now on, yes,” Kardan moved slowly towards her.

Eleria tried to circle around him but the Goblin King swiftly cut her off. He moved with a quickness that belied his size. 

“Now little pony I will break you to my will. If you think I’ve used you for my pleasure so far then you're mistaken... There are many parts of my kingdom that I’ve yet to see from the comfort of your back. You will learn love your saddle and your position under me and as for an end to your slavery that will be many years away if ever.”

Eleria’s eyes flashed with anger and she felt the enchanted silk shift and tighten around her body making her feel stronger and surer. “You’re wrong Goblin Breath. Not only will I be free of you by the end of this day but you will carry me out of this pit of a kingdom with a saddle on your back and a bit firmly between your teeth.”

Kardan roared with laughter, “I’m going to enjoy hearing you beg little pony while I sit on your chest so that I can see the defeat in your eyes.”

Eleria nodded, “just remember you’ve framed the terms of this challenge.”

Kardan paused a moment, taken aback by the firm tone in her voice. Shaking it off he rushed her intending to overwhelm her in one moment.

Eleria dived under his arms, sprang to her feet and lashed out, kicking at the back of his knee. The Goblin King crashed to the ground but managed to half-turn and throw a huge backfist that only Eleria’s magically enhanced reflexes enabled her to avoid. 

He got to his feet and closed on her once more. Eleria slapped away each attempt to capture her. 

Kardan sped up his attacks, trying to stun her long enough to get a firm grip on her so that his greater weight could come into play. 

Eleria’s confidence grew as she easily evaded him and she began striking back in earnest. She slipped under a wild swing and struck him in the ribs as she slid past. Eleria sprang up to her feet with blinding speed and launched a side kick at the turning Goblin King’s chest. As he’d done in the past Kardan caught her foot diffusing some of the impact but before he could take advantage Eleria twisted and leapt up, her free foot striking him a stunning blow. She landed low and as balanced as a cat.

Kardan stumbled back, shaking his head to clear it. He was breathing hard and the collection of short, sharp blows he’d received were taking their toll on his stamina. Her feral grin as she watched him trying to recover nearly drove him forward into yet another wild attack. Of course that was what she wanted. 

Kardan watched her cautiously. How was it that she was suddenly moving so swiftly and hitting with a force she’d never demonstrated before? 

Eleria rose gracefully from her crouch. She stretched as if unconcerned by his presence and Kardan found himself staring as the tight silk emphasised the muscles and softer curves of her body.

‘Silk!’ The Goblin King gasped as the answer hit him. ‘The little wench had found a way to use the power of the magical silk against him.’

“This game has been diverting but it’s over now little pony,” he growled.

Eleria sniffed and stood with her fists on her hips. To emphasise her defiance she raised one hand and gestured for him to come forward, if he dared!

“You will stand there without moving!” Kardan commanded as he imposed his will on the magical strips of silk.

The Goblin King broke into a rumbling laugh as he watched the thief-girl’s panic as she realised she was trapped. She struggled to break free of the magic as he approached and Kardan savoured the moment as he approached slowly. His little pony’s eyes filled with tears as she realised she was helpless.

Close enough now he took a fist-full of her black silk bodice and pulled her closer to him, enjoying the feel of the silk and her equally soft skin against his hand. He ran his free hand slowly down her back, pausing as he reached the gentle curve he’d so recently ridden. Kardan laughed, “this, little pony and this,” he slid his hand down around the curve of her backside, “are mine and I will have the pleasure of feeling beneath me any time I command it.” 

Eleria looked up at the Goblin King her eyes remarkably dry of tears and a crooked smile on her face. “There’s something you should know about your magical silk.”

Kardan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion but he was too slow to react. Eleria trapped the hand holding the silk and caught his elbow with her free hand. She yanked hard on the elbow twisting him off balance then swept his foot. Kardan crashed to the floor. 

The Goblin King gasped as the silk strips slipped from between his fingers, reforming into Eleria’s bodice. The thief-girl planted a foot on his chest and Kardan could feel the enhanced strength in her legs pressing down on him.

“Ready to start begging for mercy?” Eleria asked.

Kardan grabbed her ankle and tried to twist her foot away from him but Eleria simply pressed down harder. Changing his attack the Goblin King tried to spin and sweep Eleria’s weight bearing leg.

Eleria reacted instantly, springing backwards onto her hands and then over onto her feet. She tutted and waited with her hands on her hips for him to clamber back to his feet. 

As he got up Eleria rushed in and caught his hands, intertwining fingers. She waited until he’d gathered his senses and began to squeeze and push. So many times she’d looked up at him as he’d used his height and strength to dominate her now the tables were turned. Eleria allowed him to struggle briefly before driving him down to his knees. 

She giggled in a girlish way as he glared up at her, mainly because she knew it would drive him mad.

Kardan suddenly dropped onto his backside. The sudden change tipped Eleria slightly forward but it was enough. The Goblin King rolled onto his back and as Eleria flew forward he thrust his legs up. 

Eleria was shot up to the high point of an arc and then slammed down to the floor on her back. She barely heard the air blast out of her lungs. With a growl Kardan rolled and came to a stop firmly seated on her chest. “Enough games wench.” He raised himself up and dropped his full weight squarely down on her chest, his weight forcing out what little air remained in her lungs. His shins bore down, grinding into her arms. 

The Goblin King shifted his hips as if trying to find a comfortable spot astride her breasts. Then he brought his knees in and began squeezing the sides of her head. “Feel like begging yet little pony? I hope not because I’m not finished with you yet.”

Kardan slid forward until his thighs framed her face. He grabbed a hand-full of hair and forced her face into his groin, again depriving her of the air needed before she could mount a resistance. 

Eleria could feel her captor’s excitement as he ground her face into his groin. The magical silk had protected her from injury but they hadn’t been able to stop her lungs from emptying. Now she was dazed and struggling to focus. She gasped for air as Kardan’s thighs tightened. ‘Work damn you,’ she ordered her body but nothing changed. She could feel her awareness fading and knew that if she passed out now she would awaken stripped of her advantage and helplessly at her captors mercy. Her Master’s mercy she corrected herself because she knew Kardan would crush all resistance from her after this rebellion.

If her body wouldn’t respond perhaps the magic in the silk would. She sent the last fading remnants of her will into the silken strips. Her legs jerked then acted without her muscles. They curved up and kicked out throwing the Goblin King off her.

Eleria gasped for air and pushed herself over onto her side. She could see Kardan slumped over by the wall but he was already starting to stir. ‘Up’ she ordered and her body slowly obeyed.

Eleria swayed but she could already feel the magic seeping back into her muscles.

Kardan roared and lurched to his feet. He swung about and charged at the thief-girl. He could see she was unsteady on her feet and hoped a final charge would drive her back to the ground. 

Eleria stumbled, seemingly unable to steady herself, unprepared for the ferocity of the Goblin King’s attack. Kardan threw himself at her. As his arms swept out and around to engulf her dazed expression hardened.

Eleria turned into his charge, dropping her weight and grabbing at the nearest arm. Her technique was far from perfect but subtlety was not needed. As his body connected with hers she pushed up with her hips and pulled hard on the arm in her grip.

The impact threw Eleria to the ground but the Goblin King crashed, out of control, destroying his throne. Eleria pushed her self up on one arm and watched in amazement as her opponent stirred. She got up and staggered over, kicking broken pieces of throne out of her way. 

The Goblin King shook his head and glared up at her, “I will crush you,” he said but his voice was hoarse and unsteady.

Eleria stepped over his prone body and without warning jumped up. Her full weight landed on Kardan’s chest and as his head bobbed forward she drove her fist into his jaw. The Goblin King went limp.

Eleria got up and retrieved Kardan’s jewel inset spurs. With a thiefs instincts she moved around the room evaluating, selecting and discarding. She chose only items easy to carry but of the highest value. A section of wall caught her attention, “too easy,” she muttered. Within moments a panel slid aside and a dragons hoard of gems trickled through her fingers. “Why live like a noble for a few months when I can buy my own castle?” She glanced over at the unconscious Goblin King, “let’s consider this payment for all my troubles shall we?”

As she walked back towards the shattered throne her eyes fell upon the exquisitely tooled saddle that had so recently been strapped to her back. A king would pay a fortune for his spoilt daughter to ride in such a saddle. Eleria looked over at Kardan, but first it would be put to a better use.

Kardan awoke to find his head buzzing and his jaw aching. The thief-girl! He tried to look around but found himself unable to  move. Kardan realised he was staring down at the floor between his hands. He tensed his shoulders and pushed until the tendons stood out in his arms but he remained where he was.

“The interesting thing about your magical silk,” said a voice from beyond his view, “is that even a few strips seperated from the main group can still be controlled.” Eleria crouched down and lifted his head, “which means that with a few strips of silk I can control you.”

Kardan struggled again but the magic held him fast. 

“I don’t expect you’ll beg for mercy and I don’t have the time or inclination to force it out of you. Instead I intend to leave your kingdom, much wealthier than when I arrived, and you will carry me the whole way.”

Eleria stood and collected the saddle. She briefly held it so that Kardan could see it and then dropped it onto his back before cinching it place. The Goblin King trembled with unexpressed anger. 

Eleria crouched back down in front of him, in her hands she held the bridle. She raised an eyebrow and tapped the bit with one finger. “You can voluntarily open your mouth or...,” she left the threat unspoken. 

The Goblin King growled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Eleria laughed, “naughty pony,” she chided, “now open your mouth!”

Kardan struggled but could not overcome the magic that bound him and in short order the bit was placed between his teeth and the bridle fixed in place. Eleria looped the reins over his head and studied the scene critically, “something’s missing,” she snapped her fingers.

Eleria sat down where Kardan could see her, “I can’t ride a naughty pony without spurs can I?” she asked innocently. She bound the spurs to her heels. “What do you think?” She spun one of the rowels and laughed. “Time to go pony.”

Beneath the ruins of Adiranthe. Part 11 (by Paladin)

Editors Note - you should read the last parts of Chp 10 before the first part of this :) Paladin takes it in a cute direction, I thought. Go Eleria!

*****

The Sorceress wore an emerald chemise which gave her freedom of movement and outlined her figure. She’d removed all jewellery and had unbound her hair. The blond sauntered to the middle of the chamber and stood waiting with her hands on her hips.

Eleria stood opposite her and although she wanted to punish the sorceress for her humiliation in the feast-hall she didn’t want to take all her frustrations out on the woman. She also didn’t want to reveal to Kardan the extent to which she could now control the magic of the silk strips.

“A test of strength to begin?” the blond suggested. She raised both hands, palms outwards. Eleria shrugged and matched the gesture. Their fingers were quickly entwined. 

“A pity you’re feeling so weak,” the sorceress whispered. “In fact you already know your rightful place is on your knees.”

Eleria shook her head as if struggling against a compulsion to obey.

“Begin,” the Goblin King commanded.

The sorceress began squeezing and trying to use her slightly greater height to force Eleria’s hands back. Eleria gasped as she felt herself slowly being forced back and down. She tried to step back and circle around to give herself some room but the sorceress cut her off and with a wide grin applied even more pressure. Eleria collapsed to her knees with a sob as the blond woman towered over her. 

“Submit now and I’ll not hurt you too much,” the sorceress licked her lips as she looked down on Eleria. “Continue to struggle and I will punish you, then I will sit astride your face until you’re ready to beg to submit to me.” The sorceress moved close enough for Eleria to feel the woman’s thighs touching her face.

“There is a third choice,” Eleria growled. She gathered her strength and surged to her feet. In a single move she rose to her toes then drove the sorceress down to the floor. The woman wailed as her fingers were bent backwards.

Kardan’s laughter echoed around the chamber.

Eleria broke their fingerlock but before the sorceress had recovered she caught the blond’s wrist and stepped around and behind the kneeling woman. Eleria pushed the blond forward and sat enough of her weight on the sorceresses’ back to keep her there. She then twisted the wrist she’d captured until it was high up the other woman’s back.

The sorceress screamed in pain and tried to dig the nails of her free hand into Eleria’s leg. After a brief struggle Eleria trapped that wrist as well. She rocked her hips forward and rode the blond to the ground. 

As Kardan had once done to her she sat in the small of the sorceresses back and pulled the woman’s arms backwards, stretching her like a bow. Now it was the blond’s turn to sob in agony. 

Eleria continued to hold the sorceress in that position until she felt her opponent’s struggles grow weaker. She knew if she held her here the woman would submit, after all she had when Kardan had done it to her, but that wouldn’t be enough after all the woman’s taunts. Eleria released her opponents arms and the sorceress collapsed to the ground.

Eleria stood the reached down to take a handful of blond hair. She dragged the woman to her feet. The sorceress threw a weak punch which Eleria easily blocked. She then whipped her arm around locking the blond’s elbow. Eleria then straightened her own arm. The sorceress screamed and rose up onto her toes to try and relieve the pressure.

Eleria released the lock, stepped in close and spun, throwing the sorceress over her shoulder. The blond landed hard on her back the wind driven out of her. Eleria slowly walked around her opponent, making it clear to Kardan and the woman on the ground that she was fully in control.

The sorceress tried to slowly rise but Eleria placed her foot on the woman’s chest and pushed her back down to the ground. “Submit?” she asked.

The sorceress spat at her, “I don’t submit to gutter trash thieves.”

Eleria smiled and removed her foot, “so glad to hear it I didn’t really want this to end too quickly.”

Eleria again dragged the blond to her feet then waited. The sorceress grabbed Eleria around the waist trying to crush her to force the air out of her lungs or to smother her with her ample breasts. 

Eleria allowed the woman a moment of hope before allowing the woman to take her full weight on her arms. The Sorceress snarled, squeezing harder, thinking Eleria was weakening.

Eleria laughed and swung her legs around the woman’s body. She kicked hard behind both knees and the sorceress dropped to the ground. Eleria pushed hard off the floor and drove the blond backwards landing heavily on top.

Eleria quickly pinned the sorceress's wrists to the floor and straddled her chest. “Well?” she demanded.

Her opponent tried to look away but Eleria caught another handful of hair and pulled her head back around. “I quit the battle,” the sorceress answered.

Eleria looked to the Goblin King who shrugged gestured to indicate that he would leave it in her hands. Eleria looked back at the sorceress. It wasn’t enough she decided.

Eleria slid forward until her thighs framed the blond woman’s face. She repaid the earlier slap with one of her own! “This challenge is to a submission, you don’t get to quit it. You submit or to quote you will be made to beg to submit.”

The sorceress bucked but quickly gave up when she realised Eleria couldn’t be so easily unseated. “Lord Kardan she cried. “Surely you can’t mean for this guttersnipe to treat me like this?”

Kardan considered the scene before him for a long moment before answering. He loved the sight of the sorceresses body helplessly pinned beneath Eleria as much as he loved the dominant pose Eleria held with her silk clad behind firmly placed on the sorceresses chest and throat, her shins pressing down on the blond’s arms and her own hands resting on her hips. It was not an image he would quickly forget.

“As much as it pains me to do this my dear sorceress but you did in fact frame the conditions of this challenge yourself and my pretty pony, who appears very comfortable astride you by the way, has every right to demand your submission. I would suggest, that unless you have some some strength in reserve to allow you to escape, that you carefully consider your position under my pony and remember what you threatened her with could easily be visited upon you.”

The sorceress glared up at Eleria, “you wouldn’t dare.”

Eleria laughed and ran her fingers through her hair to show her complete control of the sorceress and her disdain for any resistance she might show. She bounced on the blond’s chest, enjoying each groan and grimace, using her thighs to ensure the sorceress was forced to look up at her.

Eleria paused, “once I would never have considered it. I would much rather have beaten your pretty face black and blue but right now I’m not above humiliating you with your own threat, in fact...,”

Eleria shifted forward and dropped her butt on to the sorceresses face, smothering the woman’s snarl of outrage. The blond’s struggles were short-lived and she went very still. It was an unusual feeling to be in such a commanding position on top of another woman. 

Eleria had no doubt that she would have been utterly humiliated if it had been done to her and knew that for someone so used to dominating others it would be an even more intense defeat. She moved back onto the woman’s chest. 

The sorceress looked up at her without a trace of her usual arrogance. “Well?” Eleria demanded.

“I submit,” 

Eleria gave her an amused look, then moved as if to sit astride her face again.

“Please,” the sorceress cried, “please I beg you to accept my submission.”

Eleria laughed and patted her beaten opponent’s cheek. She stood and ordered the sorceress onto all fours. Eleria stepped over the blond and without taking her eyes off Kardan she slowly lowered her weight onto the woman’s back. The sorceress made no protest even when Eleria caught up her hair and drummed her heels against her thighs.

Eleria rode her slowly towards the Goblin King’s throne and only reined her in once they were right in front of Kardan.

The Goblin King watched it all with an intensity that reminded Eleria that her objective of distraction was certainly being achieved. 

“Sorceress you have been fairly overcome in combat and have submitted, you are now bound to my service for one month. Do you accept this?”

“Yes Lord Kardan.”

“And to seal this,” Eleria added as she dismounted. She placed her foot on the sorceresses head and pushed it down until the woman’s lips met Kardan’s boot. 

The Goblin King smiled, “you are dismissed sorceress.” The kneeling woman vanished. “And now, what to do with you my victorious pony, hmm?”

Eleria collected the sorceresses emerald necklace and placed it around her own neck. She sauntered back up to the waiting King and placed her arms around his neck. Eleria gave him a light but soft kiss on the lips. She backed away from the throne.

“Now, now we fight for my freedom.” she said.

Christmas Story - By Unferth!

"Christmas" - By Unferth

**************

“Shall we dance?” She had stretched, ever so slightly onto her toes, so that her words came as a breath in his ear, her perfume sweet to his nose. As he hesitated, she brushed her lips against his “or perhaps you’d like to hold me as I dance or” – she pirouetted, graceful even in her high heels, so that she stood finger-tip apart from him, head tilted in question “would you just like to watch me?”

He looked away, awkward. He’d not been surprised when she’d said earlier that she was a dancer, she’d moved with a lithe elegance, the black of her dress catching the flaring and flickering as she lit candles in the flat. “I’m afraid I can only manage Gangnam Style – and that badly!”

Her head tilted again as she smiled– he couldn’t decide if he found the mannerism irritating or endearing. “We should put some music on, anyway.” She dropped his hand, turned and quickly traced the rack of CDs with her finger. He couldn’t see the title, just the red sleeve and smiling santaclause on the cover before she opened it, pulled out the CD and left the open case on the TV, and kneeled down to the CD player beneath. He watched her hemline rise – he still couldn’t see if the sheer of her thighs came from stockings or tights – and her skirt pull taut over her buttocks. “I don’t have any PSY” She turned, dropped her hands to the carpet “but Gangnam Style it is. You sit astride me!”

From the speakers, a keyboard played a simple waltz rhythm http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjmGbI-Mnys

“I’ve never danced Gangnam to Saint Cliff!” Gingerly, he stepped over her, eased himself gently into the small of her back

“Me neither” she twisted her head round, so he could see her smile “Do you mind sitting a bit further back? Don’t want to damage myself”

“The child is a king…” he felt her rock beneath him, backwards and down, “…The carollers sing…” and forwards again, “..the old is past…”; back again: her bottom must have been pressed against her heels: his knees bent, his thighs nestled into the wide gold belt round her waist, and he rested his fingertips on her shoulders so that the straps of her dress peeped out between his fingers “…there’s a new beginning…” as she pivoted forward again, he felt her muscles tense beneath his fingers. “…Dreams of Santa…” his hands slid over her, so that her shoulders cupped in the palm of his hands ”… dreams of snow…” and, as she rocked forward again, he let her lift his feet off the carpet, let his fingertips flow across the warm sculpture of her shoulder bones. “…Fingers numb…” with his weight fully supported on her back, he could better feel the satin of her skirt as it slid between her hips and his thighs,”… faces aglow” He moved forward as she did, then, gripping her tightly between his knees leaned forward further, so he was almost laying flat on her back, his hands gripping her arms just above her wrists.

“Christmas time, Mistletoe and Wine…” He’d expected her to rock backwards again, “…Children singing Christian rhyme..” and was slightly unbalance as instead she swayed her hips. “…With logs on the fire…” from left to right in time to the singing: “…and gifts on the tree..” he heard her sharp intake of breath as he momentarily squeezed harder with his knees “…A time to rejoice in the good that we see”

“A time for living, a time for believing…” He was ready for the change this time, sitting straight, his palms on the cool smoothness of her dress back, his fingertips on the warmth of her skin “…A time for trusting, not deceiving…” his feet brushing the floor as she rocked, slowly backwards, then forwards again “…Love and laughter and joy ever after…” He wondered if, in the next verse “…yours for the taking, just follow the master.” he’d be able to kiss the nape of her neck, just beneath the knot of almost-black hair.

“Christmas time, Mistletoe and Wine Children singing Christian rhyme…” Then he realised, as he enjoyed the sensation of her hips, swaying beneath him in time to the chorus, that the back of her neck was stationary. “…With logs on the fire and gifts in the tree…” So he leaned forward, squeezing her waist, gripping her wrists, and gently touched the vertebra of her neck with his lips. “…A time to rejoice in the good that we see” Her gentle moans of pleasure as he kissed again counterpointed, in a dusky contralto, the melody of the song.

***

“I’ve set the CD so that it only plays one track at once” she explained, in the silence after the choirboy’s solo. He stood up: she stood up, stretched, then wrapped her arms around him again, pushed her body into his. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? Again? But this time you can have reins! Its not proper Gangnam without reins.” She stepped back, reached to the back of her head and removed one, two three hairclips, and waves of hair cascaded down her back. As she turned quickly on her toes, to put the clips next to the CD box on the television, her hair flowing in the candlelight, seeming black against her pale skin, rich chocolate against the black of her dress, and casting a dark shadow across her belt. She tilted her head again, laughing. “Why don’t we up the stakes? If you can stay on my back as I dance, you choose the next track. If you can’t, I get to choose?”

“I don’t know which track is which”

“Ah, but I do! And it’s my flat, so I’ll make the rules up to give myself some advantage!” She dropped to her hands and knees again “Come on, think of a number from one to – er twenty, I think. But not three. Cliff was three.”

“One”

He sat astride her again as she pressed buttons under the TV. Then those chords http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzczoqLBWAY “A good choice! If I was standing up I’d have my air guitar out.” Then suddenly her head was shaking, her body writhing in time to the music. He couldn’t catch her hair, and the smoothness of her back offered nothing, so he hooked his fingers into the gold of her belt, braced his knees into her waist with his feet and hung on as her upper body thrashed and shocked to the music.

“What will your daddy do…” She paused: the only movement was her breathing, heavy from her exertions “…When he sees your Mama…” and he took the opportunity to lean forwards, grab handfuls of her hair “…Kissin' Santa Claus?..” and pulled it tight, hoping that the reins she’d offered would control her ” “ …Ah ah” “Ah ah” – she sang along and as the music picked up the tempo again – she’d evidently caught her breath - “Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?...” not headbanging now – his hold of her hair stopped that “…Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall?...” but rocking, twisting “…Do you ride on down the hillside in a boggy you have made?...” shaking and singing, suddenly rearing “…When you land upon your arse then you've been Slade.”

How she turned so quickly after he’d fallen of her back he didn’t know. He managed a rueful smile “I’m not sure that’s quite the right lyric”

“I threw you!” the singer’s cry of “Merry Christmas” became her cry of triumph!

***

The gold belt joined the hairclips on the television: her hemline dropped ever so slightly “Can’t give you too many things to hold on to! Ready for the next round?” She dropped to her hands and knees again, her dress more fluid now that the belt did not restrain it. “And it’s my turn to choose. Lets have thirteen!”

“Unlucky for someone” He sat, carefully on her back, gathered handfuls of her hair, and gave her ribs an experimental squeeze with his knees as she pressed the buttons on the CD player. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCEZEOYdfwo

“DaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDa” her hair held her head still, but her shoulders shook violently to the music until the straps of her dress pulled to guitar tightness… “DaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDa” and at the cymbal splash, she arched her back. “Santa Claus is coming to town” And suddenly her head reared towards him: instinctively, he grabbed hold of her, almost letting go of her hair, then feeling the softness of her breasts push against his hands as she dropped back to all fours “Santa Claus is coming to town” This time, his face was filled with her hair, her perfume: he scrabbled with his feet to stay seated. “You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry, you’d better not pout, I’m telling you why.” He was more – or less ready for her this time, holding her shoulders through her hair, letting his legs take much of his weight, and able to enjoy the sensation of her back pressing against him…

“He's making a list…” She moved more gently now – perhaps tiring: he slipped forwards slightly, watching as the dress rucked and crinkled above her waist “…And checking it twice…” and pinned the hank of her hair to the back of her neck with his hand…” …Gonna find out who's naughty and nice…” and squeezed her with his knees, and very gently tapped her buttocks. “Santa Claus is coming to town” That gave her energy! “Santa Claus is coming to town” But he was ready: keeping his balance. Another tap on her arse – definitely not tights! And this was a dance he understood. He would choose the next track!

Chance Meeting - Epilogue (Paladin)

Chance Meeting Epilogue

A small crowd waited across the lobby for the next elevator to arrive. I walked out of the breakfast lounge and paused at the fringe. A few of the business men glanced my way but without my suit I doubted many placed me as the one who’d left with the blond they’d all been salivating over. 

Now thoughts of my blond pony girl were far more interesting than contemplating the opinions of overweight middle management types. My blond had fought then submitted to me on the mats. Even now I could hardly believe the ease with which she’d slipped into the role I’d offered her. If the wrestling had been the opening of her mind, then riding her back to my room had been a revelation. 

I had physically exhausted my blond pony and then forced her on with the deliberate intent to break her will. As I’d repeatedly dropped my weight onto her oil slicked back and slipped up her spine she’d gone beyond play, beyond fantasy and had finally given me her power and control. In that moment I had felt the intoxicating power of knowing she’d surrendered completely and would obey any direction, any whim I cared to indulge.

I’d held that power in my hand as firmly as I’d held her hair and then I’d released her. That strange mix of submission and freedom had flooded her senses. 

It was really too soon to be thinking back on last night, my body was responding far too quickly.

A hand touched my arm, startling me out of my memories. A girl around nineteen or twenty stood next to me. It took me a moment to recognise the red hair of the girl who had encountered me mounted on my blond. Without the cocktail dress and make-up she looked younger than she had. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt zipped down to show a hint of a blue sports top and her hair fell down her back in a long, single braid.

“Did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?” I offered her nothing.

She looked around but no-one was paying us any attention. “I know it was you in the elevator.”

“Do you?”

“Well you were wearing a suit and sitting on top of a blond’s back at the time but yeah I’m pretty sure.”

I smiled as the doors opened and moved forward. The redhead caught my arm again. “This one’s full, you should wait for the next one.”

“It’s not that full.”

She shrugged, “okay I don’t mind carrying this on in a small room full of other people.”

I frowned but let the doors close. “So what is it you want to know?”

She moved a little closer, “did you ride her all night?”

“For a fair portion of it, yes.”

“Did she end up being your pony thing?”

“My ponygirl slave, yes she did.”

“She was weak anyway.”

“Really?” I looked her slowly over, noting the tone and shape of her body.

“Yeah, I’ll bet I could have kicked her ass and made her my slave easily enough.”

I smiled but said nothing. Although the thought of the two of them fighting it out for dominance was a pleasant tingling thought.

“What did you make her do?”

“Apart from wrestling her and riding her?”

“Yeah did she have to, you know” she glanced around.

“No she didn’t have to but when she submitted to me it was a natural way of showing she accepted my dominance.”

“You couldn’t dominate me,” she challenged. Slowly she unzipped her sweatshirt. The blue sports top ended just below the curve of her breasts, revealing a toned stomach and tiny lycra gym shorts. “I’m supposed to be going to the gym but,” she left the sentence unfinished.

I decided in an instant to see just how far this girl’s bravado would take her. 

“Take off your sweatshirt.”

She hesitated for a moment then pushed it back off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She placed her hands on her hips and stared defiantly at me. She was a little shorter than my blond and more obviously muscled, plus she has the absolute certainty and confidence in herself that only comes with youth.

Riding her would be so challenging but that would make victory even more exciting.

“Get down on all fours.”

“Here? But we’ll be seen.”

I shrugged, “the blond was brave enough to risk being seen.”

It was amusing watching the conflict cross her face. She didn’t want to be embarrassed but overriding that she didn’t want to think that my blond ponygirl was stronger or braver than she was.

Slowly she crouched down, almost as if she was reaching to get her sweatshirt. Then her knees touched the polished marble floor. Without realising it I was holding my breath, watching her intensely. She lowered herself until she was fully kneeling, then with an exhaled breath she rocked forward. The sound of her hands landing seemed overly loud but there she was on all fours in front of me.

Her back looked strong and the natural curve of her spine promised a yielding but powerful seat. The soft curve of her breast contrasted with the firmness of her stomach and the muscles in her shoulders and arms. She was built to be ridden!

The elevator doors slid open.

Before I could hesitate or change my mind I stepped over her and dropped my weight heavily onto her back. She gasped but recovered so quickly, her back literally thrusting back up under me. 

I caught up the long braid and drummed my heels against her thighs. She sprang forward and I clamped my thighs along her sides to steady my balance. We hit the entrance to the elevator in such a rush that I had to lean back and check her forward motion with her long braid. 

As the doors closed she spun without warning. I wrapped my legs around her waist and squeezed. She reacted by spinning the other way, then bouncing her back up and down.

Power. She was all power and attitude. She stopped facing the doors. The reflection showed her chest heaving with the exertion but the look on her face was undaunted. 

I could feel the muscles tensing under me. I pulled her head back, “save your energy pony, you’re going to need it.”

She resisted, moving restlessly under me despite the tight grip I maintained on her head. “I’m not your pony yet,” she growled.

I laughed. This girl would fight to the end. She wouldn’t submit just because she was tired or unable to throw me. I would have to impose my will on her at all times, any let up and she would take her chance. Adrenaline pumped as I looked to the battle ahead.

“Oh you’ll get your chance to prove that.” Keeping a tight grip on her hair I reached out and pushed a button. She quickly tried to move out from under me but I’d expected that and just as quickly had my weight centred on her back again.

“Where are we going?” She demanded. Then she paused, “did that blond slave put up as much of a fight?”

“Up to the roof. Why so determined to better her?” I asked genuinely interested.

Some of the tension went out of her and I let a length of braid slide between my fingers. “When I first saw you siting on her back I didn’t know if I should be amazed, shocked or if I should call the police. I mean you don’t usually see a girl in her underwear being ridden in an elevator. Then you made her talk and you seemed so powerful. I wandered what would make her want to be under you like that. Then she gave me a look and I knew she was telling me to back off cause you were hers.”

“I’m surprised you even cared,” I interrupted.

She nodded, “I’ve always been too competitive but right then I just wanted to give that blond slave the beating of her life. I wanted you to watch while I beat her down and made her cry and admit that I was the better, stronger girl and that you should be trying to ride me.”

I drew in a deep breath, I really didn’t know what to say and at that moment my heart was pounding.

“Why are we going to the roof?”

“Lots of space and pads and the first classes don’t start until midday today.”

She moved and my legs tightened instinctively, “just seeing if you were awake,” she laughed. “I’m not going to let you win,” she added.

“I’d be very disappointed if you did,” I replied.

“We’re nearly there. I want you to tell me something like you told that blond.”

I understood what she meant. I reached forward and ran my hand up her neck and lifted her chin. “I’m going to ride you pony. I’m going to dominate and control you and when you’re begging me to stop and let you rest I’m going to keep riding you until your muscles are quivering and shaking.” 

She was trembling under me and I could tell from the look in her eyes it was with excitement not fear. I whispered into her ear, “I will ride you until you collapse under me and then I will put you on your back and sit on your chest. That way I will be able to look into your eyes while you’re submitting to me. Once you have admitted that you’re beaten and that you’re my obedient ponygirl slave I’ll let you up and then I’ll ride you and you’ll obey my every command.”

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. I grabbed at her braid and tightened my legs as she exploded out into the sunlight. I whooped and brought my hand down firmly on her backside. the battle was on!