Ultimate shoulder rides

Suzanne and the Succubus (3)

This scene has a surreal air, a mix of black humor and dreamlike mysticism: Suzanne watches, intrigued, as the Succubus remains firmly on her mount, she is riding astride the man who is her horse in the dream. Suddenly, a dry sound breaks the atmosphere: a slap. The man who is ridden by the Succubus tilts his head slightly to one side, as if something invisible had hit him.

Suzanne frowns, perplexed.
“What happened?” she asks, looking at the Succubus.

The Succubus, always with her mischievous smile, laughs softly as she caresses the reins of her human horse.
“Oh, that…” she answers in an almost casual tone. “My horse’s wife, in the real world, just slapped him.”

Suzanne opens her eyes in surprise.
“Really? Why?”

The Succubus leans forward slightly, as if sharing a secret:
—She's tired of the snoring that won't let her sleep. But this blow doesn't wake him, at least not here.

Suzanne, increasingly fascinated, insists:
—Why doesn't it wake him?

The Succubus gives her a look loaded with meaning and says, in a slow voice:
—Because he doesn't want me to stop riding him. He doesn't want to leave this dream. Here, in his mind, he is free of everything that binds him in the real world: his heavy body, his daily life, his frustrations. He prefers to remain my horse, even if it means enduring blows that other men would not tolerate.

Suzanne, thoughtful, looks at the man who continues to advance, his breathing heavy, his body firm under the weight of the Succubus. This exchange leaves her thinking about the nature of dreams, the power of subconscious choices and what people are willing to sacrifice for an alternative reality.

The Succubus, amused by Suzanne's amazement, gently pulls on the reins and taps her human horse's sides with her spurs.

"Let us continue on, my dear. There is much more to learn about the power of dreams and the true nature of dreamers."

Suzanne, still intrigued, guides her own human horse to follow the Succubus. Dreams, clearly, have much more to show her.

The sharp sound of another slap breaks the dreamlike silence again. The Succubus's human horse, panting and face scarred by the invisible impact, stumbles for a moment. However, it struggles and regains its balance, panting deeply and continuing to faithfully obey the commands of its lady rider. The Succubus, completely unfazed, maintains an upright and graceful posture, with her hands firm on the reins and her feet planted firmly in the stirrups.

Suzanne, still on the shoulders of her own human horse, watches the scene with fascination and some disbelief. Finally, she breaks the silence:
—How much can a man endure to remain being ridden by you?

The Succubus, with her characteristic air of authority and mystery, slightly tilts her head towards Suzanne, her eyes shining with a glint of ancient and mischievous knowledge. Her smile, that perfect mix of mockery and wisdom, appears, as she answers in a soft but intentional tone:
—That, dear Suzanne, depends on how deep your devotion is... and his desperation.

She pauses, as her eyes focus on the man walking under her weight and she slightly adjusts the reins of her human horse, who continues to advance with evident effort, but not daring to stop.
—There are those who give up easily, who prefer to wake up at the first sign of discomfort. But there are others... others who will endure anything. Hunger, thirst, pain, fatigue, even humiliation, they choose to stay in this state because here they find something they can never have in the real world: purpose, escape... and sometimes the privilege of being useful to someone like me, because their greatest longing is to be ridden by me.

Suzanne watches the man with a mix of fascination and compassion, and frowns thoughtfully, but does not interrupt. The Succubus, sensing his thoughts, continues:
—This man you see here is no stranger to suffering, in his reality, he is a nobody, his real life weighs more on his shoulders than I do. His body betrays him; his life bores him. But in his dreams, I am his reason for enduring. Every blow, every gasp, every staggering step, is not a punishment for him... it is a reminder that he is serving something greater than himself, his will to serve me surpasses any physical limit.

The Succubus, always precise in her words, strokes her human horse's head, letting her long, manicured nails gently brush against his hair.
"How much can he hold on?" she repeated in a lower voice, almost a whisper. "As long as his mind allows. Because the body may break, but sleep... sleep keeps him here."

Suzanne and the Succubus (5)

When Suzanne took the Succubus's hand, she felt a sudden dizziness, as if the very rules of space and time had ceased to make sense. In the blink of an eye, they were both in the real world of the human horse. The room was dim, barely lit by the faint moonlight filtering through a half-open window.

There, on a simple but comfortable bed, lay the man who in the dream world had been a slender and strong young man. In reality, his body told a different story: about 40 or 50 years old, with a prominent abdomen, a bald head, and his breathing now calm and regular. He was lying on his chest, just as the Succubus had ordered him in the dream, with a slight smile of satisfaction drawn on his face.

Beside him, his wife slept soundly, an expression of peace on her face. One of her legs rested on the man's back, as if, in her unconsciousness, she were exerting a gesture of possession or dominance.

Suzanne, intrigued, couldn't help but comment with a smile:
—It seems like she's riding him now.

The Succubus let out a soft laugh, a sound that seemed to mix amusement and pride.
—It's ironic, isn't it? In her dreams, he belongs to me; he takes me where I want to go. But here, in her world, she's the one who has that power. Although...—she paused, looking at him with calculating eyes——is it her power or is it mine, transferred through him?

Suzanne looked closely at the scene, trying to understand the dynamics the Succubus was implying. There was something deeply symbolic in what she saw: the man, who seemed more like a packhorse in dreams, was now in a resting position that also evoked submission and service, although this time towards his wife.

—Why did you choose someone like him? —Suzanne asked, breaking the silence.

The Succubus looked at the man, then at Suzanne, and answered with a calmness that suggested years of reflection on her role in the world of dreams and reality.
—Because it doesn’t matter what his appearance or his age is. It matters what is his devotion, his desire to belong. That desire transforms him, here and there.

Suzanne nodded slowly, though there were still unanswered questions in her mind. How much of what the Succubus said was true? And how much was simply a display of her masterful manipulation? But in that moment, watching the man’s wife sleep peacefully, she decided that at least some of what the Succubus did, at least for that night, had brought peace to someone else.

The peaceful atmosphere of the room was interrupted by a sudden movement. The man’s wife woke up, her eyes half-open as if something in her subconscious had prompted her to act. Slowly, but with almost instinctive confidence, she straddled her husband, who remained asleep, his breathing still even and not snoring.

With a sleepy but strangely playful expression, the woman riding her husband began to jump slightly on her husband, moving as if she were riding an imaginary steed. Each movement was light, almost a reflection of something rooted in her dreams or her subconscious. Suzanne watched the scene in surprise, while the Succubus smiled mischievously, as if she knew exactly what was happening.

“It seems she has her own dreams too, don’t you think?” the Succubus said in an amused whisper.

Suzanne didn’t know whether to laugh or feel strange. The scene had a surreal air, as if the bond between the man and his wife was deeper than either of them had imagined. After a few moments, the wife stretched, arms reaching toward the ceiling, and climbed down from her makeshift “steed.”

She walked to the bathroom with confident but still sleepy steps. Suzanne and the Succubus watched in silence, each interpreting the scene from their own perspectives. Upon returning, the woman settled back into bed, this time in a more relaxed position, and soon fell back into a deep sleep.

“Is it always like this?” Suzanne asked, still processing what she had seen.

The Succubus laughed softly, a sound that seemed to fill the room with an air of complicity.

“Sometimes the spirit of riding is transmitted even to those not in my dream world. Call it an indirect influence.”

Suzanne nodded slowly, sensing that there was something else she didn’t quite understand. But for now, the room was once again filled with the quiet symphony of both husband and wife breathing, wrapped up in their own worlds.

Isabel (1)

Isabel is in control while she rides, she doesn't need to use reins and spurs when her horse goes where she wants. Isabel, wearing a blouse made of soft, stretchy fabric which is tight to her body, in a sky blue tone, which showed off her generous breasts, fitted to her torso to prevent it from rising with movement, but with long, puffed sleeves, which ended in cuffs with gold buttons, the high collar of the blouse added a touch of formality.

High quality black leggings, designed to give her mobility and comfort while she rode, the stretchy fabric contoured her legs, ensuring a perfect fit, showing off her magnificent ass, her wide hips and her powerful thighs.

That is, the blouse and leggings show off the curves of Isabel's body.

Black knee-high boots, with high heels and leather details that give her a sophisticated air. The reinforcements on the inner sides ensured a good grip for the stirrups.

Short dark brown leather jacket, with wide lapels and a belt cinched at her waist, perfect for cool mornings.

A brown toned sling backpack crossed over her torso, keeping everything she needed for her high school/bachelorette/college classes out of the way as she rode. She wore a pair of light brown leather gloves to protect her hands and improve her grip.

Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, keeping it neat and away from her face during the ride. Subtle makeup highlighted her eyes and lips, perfect for an academic setting.

She prepared her horse for riding, she inserted the bit into his mouth, she put the bridle secured with straps on his head, she placed the cinched saddle on his body, he felt in heaven as she bridled and saddled him like an equine horse while he was a human horse.

Grabbing the reins tightly she stood before him and smiled, he bites the bit, she says to him: “uncle, you can't talk now because animals don't talk; besides, if you did talk you would lose your charm.”

Pulling the reins she made him come closer, and she said to him: “uncle, the only thing you're missing is a horse mask to cover your face so you can be 100% equine” she laughed and rode him.

Once comfortably riding on the saddle, she shortened the reins and tied them to her belt, so she had her hands free while riding.

On the street her horse moved forward while she rode it comfortably sitting on the saddle and stepping on the stirrups, with the cell phone in her hand, talking on the cell phone and/or chatting with her admirers.

The scene was a captivating spectacle which combined elegance, dominance and an evident connection between Isabel and her "human horse." Riding down the street, Isabel, dressed impeccably, radiated confidence and authority, while her “horse” showed pride in its role, executing its task with dedication.

Isabel rode with grace and absolute control, sitting comfortably in the saddle she had precisely placed. Her posture was perfect: back straight, chin slightly raised, and her attention divided between the road and the cell phone in her hand. Despite being busy talking or chatting, her countenance reflected tranquility, as if she had complete confidence that her “horse” would accomplish its task without needing further direction.

The “human horse,” bit in his mouth and bridle perfectly adjusted, moved with firm and sure steps. Each of his movements showed an effort to maintain a constant and balanced rhythm, ensuring that Isabel was comfortable at all times. Although he could not speak because of the bit she had placed, his body language conveyed pride in being part of this unique dynamic.

Some men, seeing Isabel's confidence and control, would lower their gaze or bow their heads slightly in recognition and respect,
almost as if they were witnessing an authority figure in action.

Isabel would occasionally give gentle directions with her boots or a slight movement of the belt to which the reins were attached. Although she seemed distracted by her cell phone, she did not fail to supervise the performance of her "horse," throwing him a quick glance or a satisfied smile from time to time.

On one occasion, Isabel joked, speaking in a low voice:

"Man, you're doing so well that you could win a prize for best human horse."
Although he could not respond, the slight movement of his head and the renewed effort in his walk showed that he had heard and appreciated her words.

When someone dared to greet her or ask her a question, Isabel would raise her hand in a polite but firm gesture, indicating that she was busy and that it was not time to stop. However, her charming smile left everyone with a feeling of having been recognized.

Some men, shocked by the scene, tried to approach to offer themselves as possible "horses" for her. Isabel responded with a mix of humor and mastery:
"Thanks, guys, but I already have the best horse. You could learn from him if you wanted to."

The dynamic between Isabel and her "human horse" was so fluid and natural that it seemed almost choreographed. The combination of Isabel's elegance, her "horse's" dedication, and the reactions of the witnesses created an unforgettable spectacle that reflected Isabel's control, grace, and magnetic personality.

https://www.deviantart.com/louferrox/art/Stablework … ay-1126342329 

Isabel (3)

When Isabel met one of her teachers on the road, the dynamics changed noticeably. Her stately bearing and the firmness with which she handled her “human horse” left no room for doubt as to who was in control in the scene. Although the teacher was an authority figure in the classroom, in this context outside the classroom, Isabel’s presence and control completely transformed the interaction.

She gently pulled on the reins, bringing her “horse” to a halt with impeccable precision. Isabel’s imposing figure, gracefully mounted, stood out while her “horse” remained motionless, as obedient as a statue. With a calm but imposing gaze, Isabel slightly lowered her gaze to her teacher, who, aware of the symbolism of the scene, slowly bowed to his knees in front of her.

The teacher, recognizing the dynamic and the respect he had for Isabel, crawled on all fours to her with an implicit reverence in his posture. Without exchanging many words, he approached on his hands and knees, demonstrating a gesture of deference and admiration. Isabel, with a slight smile, naturally observed her teacher crawling towards her, as if this act was part of a known and accepted routine between them.

The sound of the murmurs of the witnesses grew as the teacher, with a solemn and respectful gesture, bowed his head and kissed Isabel's boots, a symbol of respect and perhaps of a peculiar dynamic that they shared. The shine of the black leather of the boots stood out against the contrast of the pavement, and the kiss sealed the recognition of Isabel's dominance at that moment. She, calm, with a slight smile and an expression that mixed authority and understanding, thanked him with a slight nod, while maintaining her upright and majestic bearing on the saddle, allowing her teacher to kiss her boots without haste, like a queen who accepts the loyalty of one of her subjects.

Despite the unusual nature of the interaction, both Isabel and her teacher seemed comfortable in their roles. This made it clear that, although the dynamics in the classroom were different, in that context she was in complete control, and the teacher accepted it without question.

After this gesture, Isabel would resume her path with elegance, gently releasing the reins, giving a signal to her "horse" using her spurs to continue forward. Her teacher would stand up, thanking her with a nod, and she would continue on her way with the same elegance and confidence that characterized her, leaving an impression lastingly engraved in the minds of all witnesses, a reminder of the confidence and dominance that Isabel projected in every aspect of her life.

Isabel, riding haughtily on the shoulders of her first mount, reaches the last stretch before going inside her school/university. From her elevated position, her gaze scans the surroundings with precision until she fixes on one of her teachers (single, married, secular or religious), who seems distracted, but upon noticing her attention, stops and bows slightly, understanding what is about to come.

The scene takes place in a place full of activity, where Isabel, with her unmatched bearing, dominates both the situation and those around her. While she remains seated on the shoulders of her faithful "horse", issuing orders with complete naturalness, her authority is evidenced when she chooses a teacher to be her new mount.

With a firm and elegant movement, Isabel gives the order to stop the "horse" that has served faithfully until that moment. She scratches his hair, looks at him with an enigmatic smile and says in a solemn but authoritative tone:
—"Good job. Now, rest. From here, I will ride this teacher."

The professor, a respected and dignified figure in his usual environment, is now completely devoted to the role Isabel assigns him.

Isabel (5)

Mounted comfortably on her new “mount,” Isabel strides with authority through the halls, the reins held firmly in her hands or tied to her waist, depending on her need. Her boots echoed subtly in the stirrups as the professor walked with firm steps, respecting and obeying every direction she gave.

Along the way, Isabel maintained a relaxed but stately posture, checking messages on her cell phone, greeting other students with a slight nod, or even stopping momentarily to interact with them.

If her destination was farther away or involved a change of section within the campus, Isabel simply selected another professor. With almost choreographic precision, she would bridle and saddle her new horse, then dismount from the current mount and, without touching the ground, move directly to the next one. The previous professor would bow in farewell, while the new one assumed his role with a respectful bow.

—“Good job,” Isabel would say to the previous one, “you may leave for now.”

The new teacher was immediately prepared, and within seconds, Isabel was on the move again.

When she arrived at spaces like the cafeteria or the playground, Isabel remained mounted while socializing. Her classmates would gather around, chatting with her while her mount waited patiently, perfectly still.

If there was something Isabel needed to pick up, she would simply give a soft command for the teacher to crouch low enough, allowing her to reach the items without dismounting. This fluid command reinforced her authority and the peculiar dynamic she had established.

At the end of her day, Isabel would leave the school/university riding on the shoulders of the last chosen teacher, always with the same confidence and style that characterized her. As she moved forward, students and staff would watch her, some with admiration and others with curiosity, but all recognizing the unique aura Isabel projected.

Her first mount of the day stood watching as Isabel set off on new adventures, maintaining her usual elegance and absolute control.

Isabel, moving down the street, felt the familiarity and absolute control she had over her surroundings. As she moved towards her destination, her first "horse" slowly approached her, having watched from a distance as she moved with ease on the shoulders of her new mount.

Noticing the presence of her first "horse", Isabel momentarily halted her current teacher. Effortlessly, with a light pressure of his reins, the teacher stopped and stood in wait. She turned her head towards her first "horse", smiling with a hint of satisfaction as he approached with his head bowed, acknowledging his place.

"You will be back with me for a moment," Isabel said in a serene tone, knowing her dominance over him had never been in doubt.

With fluid grace, Isabel began to move the reins of her current mount, guiding him to the side as she adjusted the reins of her first human horse. Deftly, she tied them to the belt of her jacket, making sure they were firmly fastened before continuing to ride.

The first horse, now in its new role, settled in and leaned slightly to ease the transition. Isabel placed her hands on both horses' heads and moved from one horse to the other, she gently climbed onto the shoulders of the first horse, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as she felt the familiar support and comfort of being in her place.

With both mounts under her control, Isabel began to ride again. To her left, the professor remained perfectly aligned to her stride. Meanwhile, her first horse remained in position, moving forward at the pace Isabel dictated. The people watching saw the scene as a testament to Isabel's absolute mastery: a synchronized gait, unhurried, but with complete confidence.

Isabel didn't seem to need to do anything but be there, simply in control. Her reins, now fastened to her waist, allowed her to handle both horses with a dexterity many could not imagine.

As she rode away from her school/college, students and staff stood back with a mix of respect and admiration as they watched her advance so imposingly, with her first teacher watching her from a distance, now part of her domain. Isabel, as always, held her head high, her gaze fixed on her target as she rode, the wind lightly moving her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

Interactions with her "human horses" were always fluid, effortless, as if she herself were the embodiment of control and grace.

Isabel (7)

On another occasion, Isabel was wearing a black wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, a white crop top, black leggings, socks and white sneakers, and was walking down the street. The boy who was being carried on his father's shoulders recognized her and told his father how to get to her.

Once in front of him, Isabel said: “I decided to walk today and I gave my horse a rest. Who is the nice gentleman?” The father replied: “Excuse me, Mistress, for interrupting. Don't call me a gentleman because I'm a horse to you.” He said this as he put his son down on the ground.

Isabel laughed, a warm and playful laugh and said: “First the son and then the father.” The son said: “I want to be her horse.” Isabel added: “Not now, first you must be prepared, study hard and be the best student, forge your path and be a successful man; You can't be my horse if you don't do it," the father said, "I am a successful lawyer."

Isabel smiled and said, "Your son was on your shoulders," the father, kneeling before her, replied, "I carried him and he was carried by me, I was a man carrying another human. On the other hand, if you were sitting on my shoulders and neck, you would ride me and I would be ridden by you, I would be a horse being ridden by a rider." Isabel saw father and son kneeling before her and said, "Kiss my shoes."

Isabel, with her characteristic air of authority and charm, observed the scene before her with a mixture of surprise, amusement and authority. Her gaze moved from the father to the son, both now in positions that reflected respect and admiration for her. The contrast between the little boy, full of dreams and energy, and the adult, submissive, serious and willing, brought a playful smile to her face.

With a slight movement, Isabel adjusted her wide-brimmed black hat and stepped forward, her white slippers standing out against the pavement.
"Kiss my slippers," Isabel repeated in a voice that was both soft and firm, filled with a tone that mixed defiance and humor. "That is a gesture of absolute devotion, and it is not given lightly. Are you sure about this, gentleman... or should I say, 'horse'?"

The father, still on all fours, looked up and replied confidently,
"I am sure, Mistress. I want to demonstrate my respect and my willingness to serve you, if you will allow me."
"Well," Isabel said calmly, "it seems you understand what it means to be a true horse."

The boy, fascinated by what was happening, looked at his father with admiration and curiosity, while Isabel leaned forward slightly, assessing the sincerity in the man's words. Then, with a graceful movement, Isabel extended one foot slightly, letting the reflection of the light on her white slippers draw attention.
“Good,” Isabel said, her tone maintaining an air of authority, though her smile revealed her amusement. “Do so, then. But remember, a true horse never gives up, and always keeps its head high… even when under the command of its rider.”

The father nodded and, reverently, determined to prove his point, bowed his head and, with a gesture of respect, kissed the white slippers Isabel was wearing. As he did so, Isabel looked at the boy, who was watching her with wide, awed eyes, who seemed to be processing each moment as an important lesson about his own desires and future goals.

“Do you see this?” Isabel said, addressing the boy with a mixture of warmth and firmness. "If you truly wish to be my horse one day, you will have to demonstrate not only strength, but also dedication, respect, and discipline. But first, listen to your mom and dad. All in good time."

The boy nodded enthusiastically, while Isabel gently withdrew her foot, letting the moment settle in both their minds. Then, with a graceful gesture, Isabel adjusted her hat again, stepped forward, and looked at the man who still remained on all fours.
"That's dedication," she said, raising an eyebrow and observing the boy. "But, as I told your son, being my horse is not just a matter of desire. It's a matter of preparation, of forging yourself into someone worthy of carrying me. It's not enough to be successful in a profession, you also need discipline, respect, and determination."

The boy, with eyes full of admiration for Isabel, nodded seriously. His father, still on all fours, raised his head slightly to look at her.
"Mistress," the father said, "if my son wishes to be worthy of you in the future, I wish to prove that our family is committed to it, beginning with me."
Isabel gave a soft laugh and shook her head, slightly amused by the scene.
"First, stand up, successful lawyer," she said firmly, though her tone held a gentle edge, with a tone that was both an instruction and an invitation. "Your intention is clear, and that says a lot. But remember, being a horse is not just a matter of will, it is also a matter of purpose. Now, help me teach your son the value of effort and respect. Your son needs you on his feet to continue learning from you."

The father stood up slowly, with an expression that was a mixture of respect and pride, while Isabel extended a hand to lift the boy and place him in front of her. She crouched slightly, placing a hand on the little boy's shoulder, and said to him in a tone full of warmth and conviction:
"Listen to your mom and dad, study hard and work with discipline. If one day you become someone really strong, respectful and successful, perhaps we will meet again, and then, who knows what will happen."

The boy nodded enthusiastically, while Isabel straightened up and adjusted her hat. She then looked at the man and boy once more before continuing on her way, leaving a mixture of fascination and determination in them.

Isabel, raising her chin slightly, looked at both of them with a radiant smile.
"Well, gentlemen," Isabel said as she turned to continue on her way. "I hope to see you again, but remember, little dreamer: the real journey begins now."

And with that, Isabel continued on her way, leaving the father and son with a scene that would undoubtedly remain etched in their memories for a long time.

Isabel (9)

Without losing her elegance, Isabel climbed back into position, sitting gracefully and confidently in the saddle. She adjusted the reins in her hands and glanced at the others, with a smile that reflected pride and absolute control.
"Let's move forward," Isabel ordered firmly, causing her human "horse" to begin moving at the rhythm she dictated, while the others observed the scene, impressed by her presence and natural authority.

Isabel, sitting comfortably on the saddle, exhibited an imposing posture as she rode with firmness and elegance. Her figure was a perfect mix of control and grace, with her high-heeled boots planted firmly in the stirrups, her legs displaying strength and authority.

She held the reins confidently, guiding her human "horse" with precise movements of her gloved hands. In her other hand, the whip rested as a symbol of her absolute control, ready to set the pace if necessary.

The spurs on her boots, discreet but present, gave a soft jingle with each light touch she gave to indicate directions or increase her pace. Isabel's every gesture was calculated, her communication clear and effective, displaying her mastery as a rider.
"Faster," Isabel ordered in a firm voice, using a slight movement of the reins along with a gentle brush of the spurs.

The human "horse" obeyed without hesitation, advancing with sure and rhythmic steps, aware of her rider's expectations. Isabel maintained a serene expression, but her gaze reflected satisfaction and pride in her mount's obedience and dedication.

As they moved forward, Isabel slightly tilted her head under the brim of her cowboy hat and smiled, enjoying the scene that she herself dominated with her charisma and natural authority.

Isabel, with her imposing figure and elegant posture in the saddle, watched attentively as the four equine horses advanced in front, with powerful and fluid movements. Behind them, their “human horse” was trying its best to keep up, its muscles straining under Isabel’s weight and the demands of the march.
In a firm but condescending tone, Isabel spoke:
“Do not try to match one of them, the animal is superior to you.”

Her voice rang out as a lesson rather than a rebuke, as she gently pulled on the reins, forcing him to adjust his pace. The equines moved forward naturally, their manes blowing in the wind, while the human, determinedly, tried to show that he could keep up.

Stepping firmly in the stirrups and holding the reins gracefully, Isabel made a slight movement with her spurs, indicating that he should continue without hesitation. Her gaze alternated between the horses in front and her human mount, a mixture of expectation and authority in her eyes.
"Go on," she added with a hint of irony in her voice, "though I will always remember that equines do not need words to demonstrate their loyalty and strength."

The "human horse" nodded with effort, accepting both the challenge and the lesson implied in Isabel's words, while she remained firm and dominant, enjoying her ride in a mixture of control and majesty.

They reached a vast plain, the four equine horses unleashing all their energy, galloping with strength and grace, their hooves resonating like a rhythmic drumbeat against the ground. Isabel, riding firmly on her "human horse," pulled the reins with precision, bringing him to an abrupt stop.
"Successful lawyer," she said in a clear and firm voice as she looked at him from her elevated position, "I stopped you because you might be able to gallop in competition with them; but, as I told you, the animal is superior to you."

Her tone, although calm, carried an air of undeniable authority. Isabel adjusted the reins, making sure her "human horse" remained still. The breeze caressed her cowgirl hat and the edge of her white top, while her boots touched the stirrups with a natural elegance.

The "human horse" was breathing hard after the effort, his pride contained after Isabel's words. With his gaze fixed on the equines that galloped in front, he understood that, although physically he could try, his nature would not allow him to match the majesty of those animals.

Isabel, maintaining her haughty demeanor, caressed the reins and added:
"I admire your determination, but you must also know when to accept your limits. Not everyone is born to gallop like them, but that does not make you less useful."

With those words, Isabel slightly turned the reins, indicating that he should advance again, but at a more controlled pace, while the equines continued to gallop freely in front, as a visual reminder of the lesson taught.

Student and teacher (1)

Student Isabel wore a striking and elegant outfit, which highlighted her bearing and authority. She wore a black cowboy hat, with silver stitching details that reflected the light as she moved. Her white long-sleeved blouse was tight-fitting, highlighting her figure, with open front buttons up to her chest, revealing a red scarf that she tied around her neck.

She wore a black leather vest that added a touch of rustic style, perfectly complementing her dark blue skinny jeans, which enhanced her silhouette. The boots she wore were black with high heels, adorned with small silver buckles on the sides, which sparkled with every step she took.

In addition, Isabel wore a wide brown leather belt with a large engraved silver buckle, which added an air of authority. In her hands she held the bridle and wore black leather gloves, which fit perfectly to her fingers, completing her imposing appearance.

The outfit combined practicality with impeccable style, showing Isabel as a figure of strength and elegance.

Isabel walked with a firm and elegant attitude when a professor approached her. With a marked bow, the man bowed and kissed Isabel's boots, a gesture that seemed full of devotion and respect. She watched him with a mixture of authority and calm, as she took the bridle she carried with her.

Without saying a word, Isabel proceeded to place the bridle on the professor, adjusting it carefully, as if the gesture were completely natural. Then, with fluid and confident movements, she placed the saddle on his shoulders, making sure it was firmly fixed.

The professor, docile and silent, accepted each action with an almost ritualistic disposition. Isabel climbed gracefully onto the saddle, placing her boots firmly in the stirrups and taking the reins with skill.

Mounted on her peculiar mount, Isabel advanced towards the entrance of the school/university. The students and staff who saw her could not help but give her looks full of wonder and curiosity. Isabel, however, held her head high, projecting an image of absolute confidence and control.

Arriving at her destination, she dismounted with the same elegance with which she had ridden and gave the professor one last look before thanking him for his “service” with a slight nod. The man remained silent, admiring her as she continued with her day, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Student and teacher (3)

At the end of the classes Isabel and Lucy stayed for a few minutes. "Masterful entry" said Isabel. "I saw you riding using the same style" replied Lucy, "I know, it's more fun when your human horse has a horizontal back just like an equine horse" said Isabel, "it's ideal for short distances" added Lucy, "it's true, because it's better to ride on shoulders when you ride long distances and/or long times" Isabel specified.

They both shared a smile, recognizing the complicity in their experiences. Isabel, with her wise look, added: "The difference lies in control and comfort. When you ride on shoulders, you have greater freedom to move and maintain the rhythm during the long trip. However, for shorter distances and fast situations, a horizontal back can be more stable and offer greater safety, as well as closeness to your rider."

Lucy nodded, fully understanding the dynamic. "It's fascinating how riding techniques can be adapted to the circumstances. It's always a challenge to find the perfect balance between control and comfort. Although, as you said, there's something undeniably special about the feeling of having someone under you, in whatever form, being ridden by you."

Isabel settled back, watching Lucy with a thoughtful look. "Every type of riding has its charm. But what really matters is the connection and understanding between rider and horse, human or equine. When both are in tune, there are no limits."

Lucy smiled, knowing that they had found something special in their way of riding and sharing that unique space. "That's what makes it all even more interesting, isn't it? You never stop learning."

Lucy said, "Isabel, you just said: a horizontal back can be more stable and offer greater security, as well as closeness to your rider." Then she added, "with your rider? We are riders!"

Isabel smiled at Lucy's comment and nodded gracefully. "You're right, Lucy. We, as riders, are not dependent on any rider, but are the ones who guide, control and command." Then, thoughtfully, she continued, "It's a simple, yet powerful truth. We master horsemanship and all that it entails. Whether on an equine or human horse, the skill, control and relationship we create with our mount is what really matters."

Lucy laughed softly, acknowledging the logic behind Isabel's words. "You're absolutely right! Sometimes, language can play with us too. As you say, we're not just riders, we're the ones who command and make sure everything is in its place."

They both shared a knowing smile, understanding the importance of their role as leaders on horseback, whether in the equestrian tradition or in their peculiar way of riding on shoulders. Lucy added, "So, more than riders, we are the true commanders of our path."

Isabel nodded, her gaze filled with determination. “Exactly, Lucy. And the most important thing is that there are no limits to what we can do. As long as we have control and understanding, we can master any terrain.”

“When do we ride together?” Lucy asked.

Isabel looked at Lucy with an intriguing smile. “Perhaps one day, when the time is right,” she replied, as if considering the possibilities of sharing a journey together. “Each of us has her own style, but riding together could be a unique experience. Perhaps on a long ride, where we can experience the freedom of the road and the synchronization of our skills.”

Lucy, with a thoughtful expression, nodded. “It would be interesting to see how our skills complement each other. Who knows? Maybe fate will lead us to share such a journey, where we can master the road together, each with her own style, but connected in control and complicity.”

The two shared a look full of complicity, knowing that the future could bring opportunities for a trip together, where trust and skill would merge into an unforgettable experience.

Lucy and Isabel plan to ride together, "how many men would each of us need to carry to ride on our shoulders, without the men getting tired and the trip being comfortable and safe for everyone?" asked Lucy.

"We should not overload them so that the breaks are not excessive, I consider: 1. the one being ridden, 2. one rested and ready to be ridden in the next turn, 3. one that is between tired and rested, and 4. the recently ridden horse, tired but following the other 3 so as not to lose sight of them" answered Isabel.

Student and teacher (5)

Isabel rides on the back of her human horse with impeccable posture, as if her entire being is in perfect sync with the man carrying her. Her body is upright, yet relaxed, allowing her mount to move with agility while she maintains control of the reins. Isabel wears a tight-fitting outfit that highlights her athletic figure, with a blouse that highlights her slim waist and pants that hug her toned legs. Her high-heeled shoes add a dimension of grace and sophistication, while her long brown hair, tied in a ponytail, moves gently to the rhythm of the steps of the man carrying her.

The man carrying her maintains a posture of respect and obedience, his shoulders and back firm as he moves forward, responding deftly to Isabel's movements. He advances with confident steps, keeping the rhythm she sets without losing his balance, and seems to be perfectly in tune with his rider. Isabel, for her part, holds the reins confidently, her fingers firmly intertwined in the ropes as she directs the man in a natural manner, almost as if he were an extension of her own body. The scene conveys a sense of power and harmony, with Isabel as the absolute leader who rides her human horse with unmistakable grace.

Isabel seems to prefer a freer and more dynamic style, suggesting that she rides on the shoulders of her human horse, maintaining control of the reins. This style is more comfortable for longer distances, as the rider can move freely and keep pace while riding on the shoulders of the human horse. Isabel's shoulder-length stance allows her to have a high degree of flexibility and freedom of movement. Furthermore, this style is likely chosen by Isabel to take advantage of the potential of a longer ride or during situations where she needs to maintain a more upright and active posture.

Lucy, for her part, rides her own human horse with the same authority and elegance. She is completely in control of the situation, her body upright, with a look of concentration and calm. Lucy wears a tight blouse that highlights her slim figure, and pants that fit her legs perfectly, allowing her to move fluidly while maintaining balance on her mount. The black cowgirl hat she wears on her head, combined with her high-heeled boots, highlights her imposing presence.

The man leading her advances with firm and quick steps, obeying each of Lucy's instructions, who holds the reins with grace and skill. Her legs are slightly bent, slightly to the sides of the man's torso, which gives her an air of security, as if they were both a single entity in motion. Lucy keeps her gaze fixed ahead, guiding the man as he advances with an upright, but relaxed posture, almost as if he were waiting for any order she gives him.

The scene in which Lucy rides her human horse conveys a feeling of total control, of mutual trust and respect, in which she exerts her leadership effortlessly, while her mount obeys each of her movements. The harmony between them is evident, making the image of Lucy on her human horse a reflection of power, beauty and grace.

Lucy, on the other hand, seems to prefer a more stable and comfortable posture, suggesting that she rides in the horizontal back style of her human horse, with her back arched or maintaining a more straight and level alignment. In this style, the "human horse" keeps its torso parallel to the ground, and the rider can sit more comfortably and stably on its back. This position is ideal for long journeys, as it provides better support and balance for the rider, minimising the risk of discomfort or fatigue on the journey.

In this instance, Lucy's horse crawls on its hands and knees as she rides on its back.

Emergency (2)

The father rushes into the emergency room, a nurse holds him up, she told the doctor: "my uncle is in bad shape at the park, I think he had a stroke." Two nurses rush out, one nurse attends to the father telling him to rest until he can breathe again, a doctor approaches her and says: "you have to come with us, you can ride on me if you want."

Isabel, still somewhat agitated but grateful for the quick response of the medical staff, quickly gets off the father and makes sure he is okay and says: "don't worry, I'll bring your son," before turning her attention to the doctor who offers his help.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with a calm but firm expression, repeats his offer:
"You have to come with us, and if you prefer to ride on me to get to the park faster, no problem."

Isabel, assessing the urgency of the situation and recognizing that it might be faster to accompany them that way, nods. Wasting no time, the doctor crouches down and offers his shoulders.
“Are you ready?” Isabel asks as she places the bridle she still carried with her around the doctor’s shoulders, making sure she has control.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.” he answers with determination.

Isabel, dressed in her signature outfit of white hat, sunglasses, crop top, and blue shorts, expertly climbs onto the doctor’s shoulders, who quickly stands up, maintaining a firm and stable stance. Her feet, wrapped in white knee-high socks, fit perfectly behind the doctor’s back as he begins to run into the park. Isabel uses the makeshift reins to keep her balance and direct the pace.
“This way, to the north entrance of the park!” Isabel says, leaning forward slightly to guide the doctor.

As they move forward, people who see them stop and stare in amazement. Some murmur to each other about the singular scene, but all sense the urgency of the situation and do not interrupt.
The doctor, showing stamina and dedication, runs with Isabel on his shoulders, covering the distance quickly. She directs him with clarity and confidence, using slight movements of her legs to adjust the pace when necessary.
As they reach the park, the two nurses who had left earlier are already tending to Isabel's uncle. She nimbly climbs off the doctor, thanking him as she joins the group tending to her uncle.
"We made a good team," the doctor says with a smile, breathing deeply after the effort.
"Thank you for your willingness. We really appreciate it," Isabel answers seriously, focusing on her uncle's recovery.

Isabel, still worried, but with a calm beginning to return, calls out to the boy who had offered his help earlier:
"Come, little one. We'll go to your daddy to make sure he's okay."
The boy, eyes shining with determination, nods and quickly approaches. Isabel smiles softly at him, thanking him for his willingness to help in such a tense situation.

Emergency (4)

There are 2 options, Isabel said: 1. I ride the doctor, and the child sits next to my uncle on the stretcher carried by the nurses; and, 2. I ride my uncle who is on the stretcher, while the nurses carry the stretcher with my weight and my uncle's, and the child is carried on the shoulders of the doctor.
"If we add the option of one nurse carrying the uncle while the other nurse is ridden by Isabel?" One nurse intervened, "What would be the best option?" the other nurse finished.

In option 1 Isabel, with her characteristic charisma, carefully climbs onto the shoulders of the doctor, who, with professionalism, makes sure that she is well balanced before moving forward. She settles herself by placing her feet behind his back to maintain good support.

In option 2 Isabel, showing trust in the nurses, climbs onto the stretcher and carefully sits in the saddle on her uncle's belly, who remains stable. She adjusts the reins to keep her balance as the nurses lift the stretcher. The scene is striking: the nurses move slowly to ensure the safety of the stretcher and the two passengers (Isabel and her uncle).

In option 3 Isabel, showing a mix of gratitude and determination, climbs onto the back or shoulders of one of the nurses, who makes sure she is well positioned before starting to walk. The second nurse carries the uncle, using an ergonomic method that distributes the weight safely and allows for quick movement.

Isabel says: “Although I personally like option 2, option 1 is ideal for long journeys and option 3 for short journeys. The walk to the medical post is short; “So, one nurse will carry my uncle while I ride the other, chatting with my uncle and laughing with him along the way.”

Isabel, with a confident smile, adjusts and prepares for her decision. The walk to the medical post is short, making option 3 ideal for this situation. While one of the nurses carefully and safely carries her uncle, she climbs on top of the other nurse, riding him with ease and ease, as if it were part of her routine.
As they move forward, Isabel, with a cheerful and relaxed laugh, begins to chat with her uncle, who is now stabilized, but still recovering. As they move forward, she makes sure that her uncle is comfortable and calm while she maintains her own upright posture, enjoying the closeness with him.
The nurses, well trained and balanced, make sure that both uncle and Isabel are safe during the ride. The atmosphere is light and cooperative, with a touch of humor and comfort that lightens the situation.
In this context, option 3 is not only practical and efficient, but it also allows Isabel to stay connected to her uncle while dealing with a situation that could have been more stressful. With each step they take towards the medical post, the group keeps moving forward, making sure everyone is well taken care of and that the trip, although short, is as comfortable as possible for everyone involved.

Upon arrival, the boy meets his father. "Will you take me home?" asks the boy, "We'll walk, I'm tired and all the muscles in my body hurt, they gave me medical leave to stay at home for 3 days" answered the father, "I don't weigh that much" Isabel intervened, "And what have I galloped?" smiling replied the father, "I understand you dad, Isabel is a good rider and being her horse is wonderful" said the son. The father is surprised, and smiling says to Isabel: "Is there something I don't know?" Isabel smiled nervously.

The boy, with a mischievous smile, looks at his father as he mentions what he just said. The atmosphere is light and full of good humor, despite the medical situation they just went through. Isabel, somewhat nervous, blushes slightly at the comment, but keeps her smile, feeling a mix of amusement and a touch of discomfort at the revelation of what the boy has said.
The father, still surprised, takes a moment to assimilate what he has heard, before laughing softly. "Well, it seems that you have a very particular way of seeing things, Isabel," he says, without losing his kind tone. Despite what the boy just said, the father seems to understand that there is a relationship of trust and humor between Isabel and his son.
Isabel, still nervous, shrugs her shoulders with a light laugh, avoiding giving more details and relieved that the father has taken it so well. "I just try to do what I like, and there are others who also try to do what they like," she answers with a smile, while looking at the boy, who still seems amused by the situation.

Emergency (6)

The doctor told Isabel that her uncle would stay all night and she could leave. Her aunt arrived: "Forgive me, aunt," "Don't worry, daughter, you and your uncle like to dance a wonderful dance while you ride him, and this dance is for 2 people, there is nothing to forgive, when he recovers you can continue dancing together."

Isabel looked at her aunt with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Her aunt's answer was unexpected, but at the same time comforting. "Do you really think so, aunt?" Isabel asked, still processing her aunt's words. "Because sometimes I feel that things between my uncle and I are a little… different than what people expect."

The aunt smiled softly, knowing that there was something special about the relationship between Isabel and her husband, and the way they cared for and supported each other, even in such unusual times. "Those dances that you share are nothing more than a way of caring for and understanding each other," she said tenderly. "And if it does you both good, then there's nothing that makes it wrong. Each of you has your own way of feeling happy and balanced, and the important thing is that you respect each other."

Isabel took a deep breath, relieved by her aunt's words, but still a little surprised by the open perspective she had on her relationship with her uncle. "Thank you, aunt," she finally said, feeling that, perhaps, there was something deeper in her bond with her uncle than just a physical or caring interaction. It was a way of connecting and sharing unique moments, something that few people could fully understand, but that she deeply valued.

"When he recovers, it will be as always, enjoying the dance that you both know how to do so well," the aunt replied, giving Isabel a hug, who smiled as she felt the warmth and support of her family.

Isabel approached the father and his son and said, “I have a lot to thank you for, you supported me when my uncle got sick, I rode and made the big horse gallop,” the father said, “Don’t worry, we are here to support each other,” she nodded and said, “My uncle will have a week of medical leave. How will I get to school/college and how will I get back home?”

The father smiled upon hearing Isabel’s concern and said,
“Well, if you need help, my son and I can take turns being ridden by you. It won’t be a problem.”

The boy quickly chimed in, excited,
“I can carry you too, Isabel! I love being ridden by you.”

Isabel laughed softly at the boy’s enthusiasm, though she still seemed worried. “It’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to cause you any trouble. Besides, I don’t know if it will be fair for me to ride you every day.”

The father shook his head, speaking calmly.
"Isabel, this is not a bother. You are very important to us. If my son and I can help you, we will be happy to do so. Also, I assure you that I am more than willing to serve you and take turns with him. Just tell me what time you need to leave and what time we will return."

The boy added with a big smile:
"It will be fun, Isabel! Besides, my dad is strong and so am I. Between the two of us, we can easily be useful!"

Isabel smiled, touched by the generosity and enthusiasm of both of them.
"Thank you very much. I don't know what I would do without you. If it is not too much to ask, I will accept you for this week, while my uncle recovers."

The father nodded, determined.
"Then, it is settled. We will make sure that you arrive on time and return comfortably. Now rest, Isabel. We will take care of everything."

Isabel thanked again, relieved to have such reliable support in these difficult times.

Isabel said to the boy, "Your dad can be ridden by me, but I don't think you can yet."

The boy frowned, visibly disappointed, and replied enthusiastically,
"But Isabel, I can! I've done it before in the park, remember? I can be ridden without any problems, really."

Isabel smiled sweetly, trying not to discourage him, and explained,
"I know, and it was very nice of you. But taking me on longer journeys, like to go to school and back, takes a lot of strength and endurance. You're still growing, and I don't want you to overexert yourself. Your intention means a lot to me, but I'd rather you stay helping in other ways for now."

The father intervened with a reassuring smile.
"Listen to Isabel, son. She's right. You're still growing, and it's best for you to take care of yourself. But you can accompany us and help in other ways. What do you think?"

The boy nodded a little regretfully, but understood the explanation.
"It's okay, Isabel. But I promise that one day I'll be as strong as my dad and I'll be able to be ridden wherever you want."

Isabel laughed softly and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"Thank you, little gallant. I'm sure you will one day. In the meantime, you are my great support with your company and your enthusiasm."

The boy smiled widely, happy to continue being an important part of Isabel's life, even if he couldn't be ridden by her for now.

Emergency (8)

"Daughter, go rest, your mother, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins ​​and I will accompany your uncle until the people at the post office tell us to leave. Your mother brought you clothes, ask them to give you a room and change your clothes," said Isabel's father and offered her a backpack.
"Take the backpack, carry it and follow me," Isabel ordered the other father.

Isabel walked imposingly to the nurses' station, followed by the father and the son, one step behind and one step to the side. She talked with the nurses who showed her a room. Upon reaching the door, Isabel said: "the child stays in the hallway," she entered with the father.
Isabel said: "Open the backpack and tell me what's inside."

The father opened the backpack carefully while Isabel observed him with a firm posture, radiating authority. Her tone did not admit discussion, but was both elegant and serene.
"Let's see," the man said, looking through the contents of the pack. "There's a light white blouse here, probably for riding. A pair of tight shorts, a short jacket, tall riding boots, a hat, gloves... Oh, there's also a bridle, reins, and what looks like a small whip."
Isabel nodded in satisfaction at the inventory.
"Perfect. Now tell me what else is there."
The man continued to check.
"A casual dress, a long skirt, t-shirts, comfortable sleep pants, and some flat shoes."

Isabel crossed her arms and smiled slightly.
"Good, now lay everything out on the bed for me in order: riding clothes first, then the other clothes."

The man complied, arranging the clothes carefully as Isabel watched his every move.
"Anything else in the pack?" she asked.
"A few toiletries, a bottle of water, and a small notebook with a pen."
Isabel nodded.
"Perfect. Now leave the room and wait outside with the boy. Don't touch anything, and when I come out, I'll be ready to talk about how we're going to proceed."

The man obediently left, closing the door behind him. As he waited in the hallway with his son, they exchanged knowing glances, both reflecting on the way Isabel commanded every situation with a mix of firmness and grace.

Isabel came out imposingly, wearing a hat, sunglasses, a white blouse fitted to her divine body, a short jacket, gloves, tight shorts and high-heeled black riding boots. She ordered the father: “Put the clothes I didn't wear and the ones I took off in the backpack.” He entered the room and she asked her son: “How do I look? Amazing, aren't I? Tell me what you think.”

The boy looked at Isabel with admiration and a wide smile on his face. His eyes scanned her impeccable attire and imposing bearing, from the elegant hat to the high-heeled black boots that flattered her figure.
"You look amazing, Isabel!" the boy exclaimed enthusiastically. "You look like a professional cowgirl, but more elegant and powerful. It's like you're going to conquer the world on your human horse."

Isabel smirked, adjusting her hat and lowering her sunglasses a little to look directly at him.
"You think so, little one? I like your opinion. You're observant and have good taste. Now, make sure you always remind me of that."

The boy nodded seriously, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes. "I will, Isabel. Always."

Emergency (10)

Isabel bridled the father, first inserting the bit, then tying the bridle on his head, finally inserting the reins.

Isabel, with a confident and determined smile, looked at her father and ordered without hesitation:
"Let's go."

With a slight inclination of his head, the father immediately understood, kneeling before her, he was mounted and lifted her with ease, placing her on his shoulders. Isabel, upright and firm, enjoyed the view from that height, with her imposing posture.
"Now yes," said Isabel, looking around as her father held her firmly, "we are ready to continue."

The son, observing everything from below, remained waiting for any further instructions. However, his attention was completely focused on Isabel and how her presence dominated the scene.
"Remember," Isabel said looking at the son, "my role is that of the leader, you follow my orders."

With dad in motion, beginning to walk with firm steps, the image of Isabel riding on his shoulders projected an undeniable authority.

Isabel commanded the son: “carry the backpack.”

The boy, obeying immediately, took the backpack that was on the bench and carefully carried it. As he walked behind her, his attention was completely focused on Isabel, who still stood tall on her father’s shoulders.

“Come on,” Isabel said firmly, her authoritative voice filling the air, as her father advanced with long, confident steps, carrying Isabel in complete comfort.

“Remember what I told you,” Isabel continued, looking back at the son as he followed at her pace, “the backpack is only a burden, but your role is much more important.”

The son, understanding the seriousness of her words, nodded and continued walking behind, making sure the backpack was properly fastened to his back as they moved towards their destination.

Isabel, imposing and determined, held the reins of the situation with total control. As she rode on her father's shoulders, she used the reins with skill, and the movement of her spurs generated a sense of authority over him, who advanced without hesitation, obeying her every indication.
"Today you will see my house," Isabel said with a satisfied smile, her voice resonating in the air with confidence and determination.

As the father walked, she guided him with the reins and applied an occasional touch with the whip, keeping the rhythm steady.
The son, carrying the backpack, walked behind, following closely as he watched how she controlled every movement. Isabel's control, on the father's shoulders, was elegant and secure, and the surroundings seemed to respect her authoritative presence.

With each step they took, Isabel felt more in control, directing not only the path, but also the emotions of those around her, like a born leader who not only gives orders, but also knows how to make others follow them with respect.

Arriving at Isabel's house, the boy received the key to the door with a mixture of respect and some excitement. With firm hands, he inserted it into the lock and carefully opened the door. After a brief moment, the key was returned to him, and without hesitation, he closed the door once Isabel passed.

Isabel, riding with the elegance that characterizes her, entered her home with an undeniable presence, her figure standing out at the entrance. The boy closed the door behind her, following the protocol Isabel had established.

Entering, Isabel descended from the father's shoulders with an agile and fluid movement. She headed straight for the armchair, where she sat with a posture of comfort and authority. The house looked familiar and welcoming, but the air Isabel conveyed inside made everything around her seem grander, as if her presence filled every corner.
With a calm gesture, Isabel settled into the chair and, with a determined look, looked around. Her house, her space, was now under her total control.

Isabel, with her usual firm and authoritative tone, looked at the father and said: "Monday and Tuesday you rest, on Wednesday you come to me with your son to take me to my school/university and back. Maybe longer, it all depends on what the doctors decide regarding my uncle's health."

The father nodded, recognizing the clarity and determination in Isabel's words. There was no room for doubt, he accepted the orders without question. The son, also silent, remained at the side, ready to follow Isabel's instructions, as always.

Isabel, satisfied with her plan, leaned back in her chair, watching as her words shaped the coming days. Her gaze reflected confidence in her decision and a subtle control over the situation.

Isabel, in a firm and confident tone, gave the orders precisely. "The washing machine is nearby, wash, dry and iron the clothes I wore, wash the shoes by hand," she indicated.

The father and son, accustomed to following her instructions, set off without hesitation. The task was clear, and both knew well what their role was at that moment. Isabel settled into the armchair, watching as her orders were carried out with the same discipline she imposes on everything.

The father, with Isabel's shoes in his hands, looked into her eyes, waiting for a signal. Isabel, sitting in the armchair, nodded firmly, indicating that she could proceed. The trust and mutual respect between them was reflected in that simple exchange, while the father began to kiss and wash the shoes carefully, just as she had asked.

Once the task was completed, Isabel, with a determined and calm attitude, looked at the father and son and gave them permission to leave. "Thank you for your help today," she said in a firm but cordial voice. "You may go, I'll take care of the rest." The father and son nodded, respecting Isabel's order. The father, with a respectful gesture, approached her to make sure she didn't need anything else before leaving. Finally, they both left Isabel's house, leaving the young woman with her task and her thoughts.

Dreams (2)

Isabel entered the boy's dream, she saw him riding a rocking horse, she was wearing a riding outfit, a white crop top, black leggings and high-heeled white boots up to the knees. In the dream, the boy, seeing Isabel, smiled shyly. He was playing, enjoying the feeling of rocking on his rocking horse. Isabel approached him with a smile and asked him softly: "Can I?"

The boy, excited by her presence in his dream, responded enthusiastically: "Yes, of course!" and he threw himself on the rocking horse; without hesitation, Isabel approached and rode on the boy who was on top of the rocking horse, accompanying him in his game.
Together, she on top of everything, they began to swing slowly, enjoying the moment, in an atmosphere of peace and tranquility. Isabel looked at him sweetly, watching how the imagination of her young friend took him to worlds full of fun, and she felt grateful to be able to share with him that moment of purity and joy.

Isabel asked him, “Do you like the experience?” The boy turned slightly to look at Isabel with a thoughtful expression, nodding slowly as he absorbed her words. Isabel, with a warm smile, continued, “Remember that studying and preparing yourself will not only give you tools for the future, but will also help you become a better person, someone capable of making wise decisions and being happy in life.”
The boy, still rocking along with the rocking horse, seemed to reflect on what she was saying, understanding the importance of her words. Isabel added, “No matter what you face, you will always have the strength within you to move forward. Be brave and perseverant.”
With those words of encouragement, the boy smiled, feeling a little more confidence and determination in his heart. Although he was in his dream, Isabel’s teachings left an imprint on his mind, inspiring him to prepare for a bright future full of possibilities.

Isabel closed her eyes and when she opened them again, there was only her and the rocking horse. She asked, “Where are you?” he replied “close to you,” the voice came from the rocking horse and she said, “it’s your dream, to be ridden by me.”

As the gentle rocking intensified, Isabel closed her eyes, then felt a slight transformation in her surroundings. The rocking horse was no longer a toy, and instead she felt something larger and more majestic holding her up. She opened her eyes and to her surprise, she discovered that she was riding a beautiful equine horse.

Isabel felt the saddle, with stirrups and reins, fit her body perfectly, giving her the support she needed to stay firm and comfortable on the horse. The bridle and reins fit gently but securely, allowing her to feel control and connection with the animal.
As the horse moved forward with a firm stride, Isabel felt safe and in tune with her mount. The feeling of being in control, but also of letting the animal's trust carry her, gave her a mix of freedom and protection.

The new transformation was immediate, and suddenly, Isabel found herself comfortably installed on the shoulders of a bridled and saddled young man, about 20 years old. The change in position was fluid, and although her surroundings seemed to transform, she remained calm and serene. The young man, strong and agile, moved with a firm and sure step under Isabel's weight.
The scene stopped abruptly when Isabel gently pulled the reins, stopping the young man immediately. Her eyes narrowed, the sweetness of her voice contrasting with the force of her gesture as she removed the bit. The young man stopped, seeming to understand the gesture without the need for words, calmly observing Isabel as she softly asked:
"What is happening? Whose dream am I in?"
After talking while riding him, Isabel realized that the boy's dream was to be a rocking horse to give her happiness, an equine to be ridden by her, and a young adult to be ridden by her.

Stalls (1/1)

As she left school, Teacher Lucy entered a nearby stable, then unlocked the door of a stall and entered, she found one of her suitors named Cornelius just as she had left him, bridled and saddled, the reins tied to a hoop on the wall, she untied the reins from the hoop.

“Don’t look at me like that because you willingly put yourself in this situation by kissing my boots and being ridden by me”

Lucy, with the elegance that characterizes her, grabbed the reins and led her horse to the center of the yard, moving calmly as the animal’s hooves softly echoed on the ground. She stopped the horse in the center and watched it with a calm smile, enjoying the moment when both she and her animal were in perfect sync.

“Cornelius, I know you are happy being my horse, if you were not happy you would have asked me to free you”

Carefully she adjusted the reins, stepped on one stirrup, climbed onto the horse’s shoulders deftly and stepped on the other stirrup, a natural action for her. As she nodded to the animal to move, she thought about everything that had happened that day, reflecting on the positive impact her activities had had and the strengthening of family ties.

The well-trained horse walked calmly while Lucy rode on his shoulders, keeping control safely. All around them, the silence was only interrupted by the soft sound of the wind and the crunch of the earth under her animal’s feet.

The guardian opened the gate “your horse is lucky” he said.

Lucy smiled at the guardian’s words. She looked at her horse and nodded. "Yes, he is lucky," she replied, "but he brings me luck too. A good horse is always a blessing, especially when you have a relationship of trust and respect."

The keeper watched the way Lucy drive the animal, noticing the connection they had. "It's clear that you are both in harmony. The way you control him is admirable."

Lucy gently stroked Cornelius's hair and then smiled at the keeper. "It's important to treat animals with care and love. They sense what's in our hearts, and that influences how they respond."

The keeper nodded, understanding the message. "And in some ways, that is reflected in human relationships as well," he added.

Lucy, after a moment of silence, nodded thoughtfully, looking out at the horizon. "That's right. Everything in life is based on respect, trust and mutual care."

With one last glance at her horse and a smile at the keeper, Lucy began to ride the animal out into the field, enjoying the peace that moment brought her.

Lucy, upon arriving home, gracefully dismounted from the horse and led him into the stable, he followed her docilely as Lucy took hold of his reins. There she left him in his stall tying the reins into the hoop, then removed his bit, “How was your day Cornelius”, he knelt before her and said, “Wonderful” as he kissed her boots, “When you wish to be released you only have to ask”, “I know Mistress, but I prefer to be reduced to the condition of an animal for your delight”. Lucy lifted her foot allowing Cornelius to lick the soles of her boots. She then retreated making sure her horse was comfortable and well fed.

She then calmly and quietly made her way to her room.

Entering, she slowly removed her riding boots, hung her hat and left her outfit on the saddle. She breathed deeply, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of her personal space. She walked over to the window and looked out where the sky was just beginning to turn orange with the last rays of the sun.

Lucy lay down on her bed, closed her eyes for a moment, and allowed the stillness of the day to wash over her. She reflected on the day, on the interactions she had had, the lessons she had shared, and the special connection with the people around her.

With a peaceful smile on her face, she settled under the sheets and let the silence of the night accompany her as she rested.

Really Beautiful Indeed ;; Thks Caballito

It's true, dear friends.

I browsed DeviantArt for several months until I found this user (gegeler1) who seems to post dozens or maybe hundreds of images per day.

Searching and finding him/her on DeviantArt is a delight.

caballito

I can understand very well that you particularly like shoulder riding, dear Caballito. But when I look at some of the pictures a little more closely (by the way: thank you again!), it has a certain appeal, at least for me, to help a young lady, for example, to reach the top books on a high shelf. Then to disappear with your face into her "sweet prison" ... well, I certainly wouldn't resist to avoid that!

There is a beautiful picture there...
Max

Four riding styles:

- Piggyback riding
https://www.deviantart.com/gegeler1/art/6-160-1129679684 

- Shoulder riding
https://www.deviantart.com/gegeler1/art/6-167-1129679624 

- Bent over riding
https://www.deviantart.com/gegeler1/art/6-151-1129679800 

- On all fours riding
https://www.deviantart.com/gegeler1/art/6-143-1129679871 

Up until now, I haven't believed in magic... until now, anyway. But when I look at the files you're sharing with us, I have serious doubts!

OK, it's not magic of course, but there's someone who knows the technical possibilities of AI very well, not just when it comes to text processing, but also in the area of ​​images. What I'm seeing is really impressive!

I ask myself: what does this guy put in there that keeps creating new, slightly different images? But then I say to myself: Max, just enjoy the images, what they show! To understand the background... that's not enough for you!

By the way: you don't have to understand everything!

Max

This lady is like a composition, everything fits together.

This extremely friendly smile is like an invitation that you just can't resist. This is to show that the rider wants to have fun, but that her horse won't miss out either. It's simply an irresistible sight.

The saddle that she is holding in her hands, the total anticipation of what is to come. This goddess has dressed in white for her ride, her horse can feel her slender legs and thighs on his body as he carries her, can see how the riding boots are placed in the stirrups.

The rider makes a spirited impression, it won't be a calm, leisurely ride. The riding whip will ensure the necessary speed.

What would I do if I saw such a sight? Guess what!

I would forget everything, bend my knees and back and ask her to ride me.

Max

The Abusive Teacher (1)

In a region where men average 160 cm (5’3”), Marta Cibelina is 170 cm (5’7”) tall; that is, she is 10 cm (4”) taller than her admirers whom she calls her “horses.”

On the other hand, if she wears 2.5 cm (1”) platform shoes with 13 cm (5”) high heels, her height increases to 183 cm (6’); becoming 23 cm (9”) taller than her worshipers, whom she calls her “horses.”

Consequently, if a man is standing before her, he will look up at the giantess, while she will look down at the tiny man.

She is also taller than her “horses”, with light skin, black hair, an imposing figure highlighting her thick hips, formed buttocks, a thin waist, generous breasts, thick thighs, a beautiful face highlighting her red lips.

She usually wears a white crop top, a black leather jacket, black gloves, tight jeans (blue, beige, brown or black) and high heeled boots up to the knees (black, white or brown).

Marta Cibelina was known among her classmates not only for her imposing presence, but also for her sense of justice.

The reason why she calls her admirers “horses” was because a teacher, 155 cm tall, (5’1”), known for giving derogatory nicknames to students, began referring to her as a “mare” for being a majestic female, underestimating her dignity. She found out and decided to confront him to teach him a lesson that would not only vindicate her position, but also teach the teacher a valuable lesson about respect.

The witnesses decided not to say the place where the events occurred, it could have been in the playground at recess time, or in the classroom during class time. She faced the teacher with confidence and determination, carrying the bridle with bit and reins, and the saddle at her feet. Her calm but firm attitude left everyone speechless. When trying to hand the teacher the harness, she challenged him in a calm but firm tone “You call me ‘mare’, teacher. Very well, but remember that mares are ridden. Here are the tools necessary to prove your point, or I will ride you myself.”

The teacher, surprised and aware that his behavior had crossed a line, tried to calm things down. She said: “You don’t dare? I will dare.”

He gave in, standing still, totally defeated by her. Marta Cibelina, standing proudly in her high-heeled boots that amplified her height, not only symbolized power, but the dignity of all her classmates. As she saddled and bridled the teacher, each gesture of hers was a message: respect is not asked for, it is demanded. She slowly bridled him and tied the straps of the bridle, she continued: “Now, the saddle.”

She saddled him and secured the saddle with the girth, then she, 183 cm. (6’), walked holding the reins while he followed her, 155 cm. (5’1”).

The students, witnesses of the event, watched in silence. For them, Marta was more than a companion; She was a leader who had given them a voice and strength in a situation of inequality. No one said anything, no one defended the teacher or prevented Marta Cibelina from bridling and saddling him because he had offended her by calling her “mare” and no one liked it because no one deserves this lack of respect, least of all Marta Cibelina.

Thus Marta Cibelina, in an act of justice and empowerment, responded to the offensive nickname by transforming the situation in her favor. Her height and physical presence (the difference in height and the detailed description of Sable highlight her imposing figure. This physical contrast between her and her “horses” amplifies the metaphor of control and leadership), enhanced by her clothing and style (bold and modern, she symbolizes strength and authority. Details such as high heels and knee-high boots reinforce her dominant character), reinforce her dominance (the bridle, bit, and saddle are not only literal objects, but also symbols of control and domination. These elements give an ironic twist to the nickname “mare,” transforming it into an assertion of power).

Furthermore, the passive reaction of the spectators reflects a tacit acceptance that Sable’s actions are a justified response to the initial grievance. This detail reinforces the idea that respect is crucial and that actions have consequences.

The Abusive Teacher (3)

Marta Cibelina took a few steps and stopped, turned around and said: “Words have weight, and today you will learn the value of yours. Here, I am the one who defines the terms.” As she adjusts the reins with her slender hands, she thinks about how this act will be remembered as a lesson in respect, then she continued speaking: “So “mare”, right? Mares ride and I will ride you,” she stepped on a stirrup, jumped, crossed her other leg over his shoulders and stepped on the other stirrup, she settled on the saddle and led her “horse” using reins, whip and spurs.

Thus, this act is not only one of justice and empowerment, it is also one of leadership and control, Marta Cibelina not only responds to the offensive nickname, but redefines it, taking absolute control of the situation. By “riding” her offender, she says the term “mare” and makes it a statement of her own power.

When Marta finally rode him, she did so not with humiliation, but with a pedagogical calm that underlined the lesson. She led the teacher around the environment (classroom or playground), her reins in one hand and her imposing presence marking each step. The teacher, in his submissive position, understood the impact of her words and his responsibility as an educator.

In this regard, the description of Marta Cibelina, her height, physical presence and attire (including knee-high boots, high heels and an impressive figure) highlights her physical and psychological superiority, which reinforces her dominant position. The bridle, bit, reins and saddle not only have a literal role, but also visually and symbolically reinforce the hierarchy between the characters. The final scene, in which she rides the offender, leading him as her "horse," completes the transformative irony.

Her face radiates confidence and a slight amusement, as if she enjoys the symbolism of the scene. The smile never leaves her face, a mixture of satisfaction at dispensing justice and the pleasure of having absolute control.

Silence dominates the playground or classroom, broken only by the slight sound of spurs placed on Sable's boots as they move against the stirrups and the soft but firm orders she gives to her "horse." The faces of those present oscillate between surprise, admiration and a mixture of fear and respect for Sable. No one dares to intervene, aware that her actions are a just response. Some cross their arms, others whisper among themselves, but no one questions what is happening.

Marta Cibelina, with her imposing figure of 183 cm (6') thanks to her high heels and platforms, towers even higher over the shoulders of the one who dared to offend her. Her black hair flutters slightly in the breeze while her red lips curve into a smile that mixes satisfaction and defiance. Her gaze, direct and penetrating, inspects her surroundings, observing the reactions of those present.

Marta Cibelina, to the slow rhythm of her horse's steps, takes a turn around the courtyard, enjoying the weight of the moment and her absolute control. When she stops, she casts a last glance at the witnesses, as if with her presence she reaffirms the importance of acting with respect and responsibility.