Ultimate shoulder rides

Why did I ever agree to this madness? Yes, the silverbell laugh, of course, her delight when I agreed. But I've made myself the lowest slave now, just a farm animal for my wife and her lover.
He spurs me on mercilessly - yes, you read that right: my wife's lover is sitting on my shoulders, 85kg, more than I weigh myself, an experienced, experienced rider who knows exactly how to use the last bit of my strength squeezes out of me. Yes, he presses his heels deep into my flanks, unfortunately he also has pointed spurs. And he doesn't care, soon I'll be bleeding from my sides again. No more sweet, magical thighs that I want to caress, no!, no!, now there are more cruel hard thighs that mercilessly squeeze my head, my neck. I curse the day my wife met him, I quarrel with my fate, my role as a cuckold slave, their cuckold slave.
Arrrgh! arrrgh!! The pain in my flanks explodes, stitches in my brain, then he brutally yanks the bridle in my mouth backwards, the corners of my mouth seem to tear open, I feel like I'm choking on my own tongue. Yes, he wants to hurry me up, I can feel the bulge in his pants on my neck, he enjoys, he gets horny at my torment.
“Hussa, yeah, that's fast, that’s fantastic, my darling" laughs my wife from the cart.  "hey, give him something sour, that he doesn't get lazy and sluggish". Fortunately, the path is now slightly downhill, I run as much as I can. No more thinking, no more quarreling, no lamentation - I just have to make sure I step right, keep the hellish pace, obey the rhythm of my rider so that I don't stumble. No space for feeling, thinking, acting, just run, run, run, keep away, don't lose balance. I am now only an animal, a mount, a hard-ridden pony, sporting equipment to the delight of my tormentors.
But finally I can't take it anymore, just no breath, no strength, my back hurts like hell, I can't stand up under the weight of my rider. I stand. Arrrrgh – hard and deep, the spores tear my skin open. I roar in pain - but I can't walk a step anymore. I collapse, fall to the ground, my rider descends from me, cursing.
But there, silverbell voice, sweet words are whispering next to me: “you are a great horse, such a wild ride, I enjoyed the wind in my face, we just have to keep training, you are getting better and better, you bring me such beautiful things, that I would never have dared to dream of...”
And then I hear her kisses --- and quite, quite by accident she climbs onto my wrecked body lying in the dust, stands on my torso, puts one foot on my head, presumably to be the same height as her lover, to enjoy the endless French kisses even more, to then completely forget me as the soft ground under her feet...
This break also comes to an end, but the rest was essential for my survival. A cheerful silver voice can be heard, penetrating my roaring ear as if from afar (last she stood with her full weight on my skull for a long time): "We'll pick up Trixi now, she lives just around the corner. And then we drive home comfortably, I think our pony can take it easy now. And you know how much Trixi loves riding" (2)
to be continued...

Thanks a lot, Max, for Your praise.
It makes me really happy.
And You spur me on to put the next two parts online, before leaving for a week...
Thanks again!

Today Trixi rides me deep on my neck, my neck is stretched out and she sits right in front. This is painful for me and very exhausting in the long run, and I won't be able to lift my neck tomorrow.
And at the same time I have this horrible taste in my mouth, salty, bitter, ammonia, --- a used urinal, a man's urinal (oh, if only it had been the delicious nectar of my beloved goddess!), only a piece of rubbish, worthless than a slave.
Trixi is comfortable on me, she enjoys it audibly and noticeably. Actually, I'm already totally exhausted for today, exhausted, but first of all, my wife has trained me really consistently in the last few weeks: not a day without a long ride on me, hardly a day on which she hasn't tested my limits.
And secondly, I've just had a longer break, or what I can call a break:
first of all, I freshly made my wife's bed, which used to be our marriage bed. Then the champagne I bought yesterday, placed by the bed with two glasses and in the cooler on our beautiful inlaid table. In addition, the freshly bought roses and the canapés that were quickly obtained and then arranged in an appetizing way. Then – for afterwards – I cooked her favorite soup, seasoned carrot-ginger with cardamom. And especially for him a thick steak fried, well-done, and wrapped in aluminum foil, along with my well-known and beloved rosemary potatoes. Fetched the most expensive and almost oldest red wine from the cellar, a Bordeaux from 1985. And finally the latest ritual that the two of them introduced: I get on all fours, he sits on my back and rides through the apartment like this, fetches her finally off in the bathroom, puts her like a fleeing prince in front of himself on his horse and, with more or less great detours, finally rides into the bedroom, where they both jump off and into bed. Then I'm dismissed - today, however, repurposed as Trixi's personal mount.

Trixi sings at the top of her lungs, today she loves the change of pace: spurs on my flanks, weight even more forward and "gallop" is the command that forces me to run. Then she reins me in, rides relaxed at a walk, then another short sprint. I understand their commands better and better and react more and more intuitively.
(If only it didn't have that disgusting taste in my mouth...)
It has to look beautiful to the people we meet.
Some look away, not daring to even take a look. Others clearly shake their heads and say something incomprehensible but certainly nothing friendly. Still others, especially women, look rather jealous.
And now the three boys who are addressing Trixi out loud.
Have I already described Trixi to you? She looks amazing in her cropped leggings with a vertical stripe that really shows off her full hips. Short cowboy booties with generously dimensioned spurs fit snugly on her calves. She has taken off her sports bra, I can only imagine how eye-catching her large bust size in a tight shirt must be for the young men. And her blond hair she lets loose, it flies in the wind when I gallop. She's not slim, but her curves are at their finest, as a woman can be built.

"Beautiful woman, one can envy you for this horse" calls the first of the three men. "I would also like to ride out like that" the second. Trixi replies quickly: "Below me, or next to me!?" He laughs: "No, I would like to sit on the horse myself!" Trixi is really in a great mood today. And she seems to like the three. "If you want, I can lend it to you. Then show me if you can ride! If you can inspire me, there's a reward!" She laughs out loud. "If not, I'll force you under my thighs." He grins: "I gladly accept this challenge. But you have to know that I have been riding horses since I was a child”. "Ok, deal!" "Ok, let's go." "But then I want to too," calls the third. "Of course, you all get your chance - gladly" is Trixi's answer.

What a horrible day! Should I actually be loaned out to complete strangers so that they can impress Trixi with their riding skills!?
(And I still have this horrible taste in my mouth. I taste my wife's lover's sewage, his trash - just good for me.)
Aaaaarrrrrgh! Trixi senses my hesitation and reacts immediately. Aaaaarrrrgh – her spurs dig even harder into my sides, I have to obey. I'm far too tired for a revolution today anyway. So – down on my knees, Trixi dismounts and hands over the reins. What else awaits me with these riders? (4) 

((- a stop now, at least for one week  ---   but be patient – I have more ideas…))

@ Viennapony

Congratulations for a fantastic story which encompasses all the greatness and misery of submissiveness, and ponyslavery, especiallyfor for those who live it out of love for a beautiful cruel and dominant woman ! You describe it all so precisely, with so much force and such a convincing power, that one could believe you lived it, or maybe you still live it for real      .... !!!

You describe very well how exhausting it is to be a horse, or a pony, or more realistically, a donkey, especially in those  very harsh circumstances. More importantly you remind us that once you have elected to become the slave of this very unique adored Mistress, you must relinquish for ever all rights and dignity, and live only with one goal in mind : Her happiness, at the expense of yours ! You're no longer a human ! As Her slave, you're Her toy, Her mount, Her thing, depending on Her changing whims. You'll be Her horse, but also that of Her lover ... She will appoint Her lover as your master, and rider, and probably as your main sadistic torturer ( I love his splendid ritual to carry his "fiancée" to the bedroom, both on your back and you on all four, after you prepared their meal and the bed ...), you'll abjectedly beg him to quench your thirst with his urin .... 

And you will be happy, if you are a true masochist, whose greatness it is to thrive in misery ...

Enjoy your holiday, dear Viennapony !
ps : I wrote this text using the pronoun "you" all along as if you were the true hero of your story. Let's rather asume that it was a mere figure of speech!

hi Viennapony, thank you for such great story, how much of these has actually ever happened to you? I know you are a real carrier, you must have a lot of riding experience, we all want to hear about them. And PLEASE continue the story, we are all very very eager to know what happens next

It was Amir's idea that got me back on my feet. A cocktail of formic acid, serotonin, and acetylcholine is just what I need, he said. The corresponding vegetable source grows in abundance here on the trail, and Amir also had a pair of light gloves with him, the devil knows why. Quickly and skillfully, he tied a thick, dense wreath of nettles and placed it around my neck and shoulders. He also braided Trixi's crop so that it looked like a thick, bushy fox's tail. I'll tell you: when Trixi sat on my shoulders and pressed the stinging nettles firmly to my skin with her strong thighs, I was immediately alert again. It burns like fire, but after half an hour has passed I've almost gotten used to the excruciating pain.
Amir then said goodbye, but before that they exchanged phone numbers. I think I will probably meet Amir again in my life. Or should I say: I'm afraid? But ridden he is really fantastic….

If only Trixi wouldn't keep pressing herself firmly into the stinging nettles on my neck. Everything swells, the wheals burn like fire, her pants rub more and more painfully with every step. Her thoughts seem to be somewhere else, not a word, not a command to me. No, now she sighs and moans a little, letting my steps rock her, her abdomen pressed tightly against me. "Most beautiful beloved..." I now hear softly, "ahhhh you...", her pelvis rocks harder, "...take me, push me...." - surely I'm not meant by that! - She tightly presses her thighs around me and opens them wide again, rhythmically, gradually getting faster. I run, staring straight ahead, fixed on the ground, head pressed down, I run, and to structure the torment of always going on, I count steps: 200 – 80 – 90 – 300 – 10 – 20 with the I mark the hundreds with my fingers so as not to miscount.
"Faster, faster" she gasps now, "faster" - and that now means me too! - because not only does her pelvis push my neck, no!, but also her legs, thigh pressure, spur kicks and - yes! Led hard, hit hard! – the nettle crop drive me on. Now I’m panting, too, in a continuous run, with this woman in ecstasy on my shoulders, “faster, faster” her spurs are pounding, “faster, faster” hisses the whip, “faster, faster” demands her pelvis, I run, pant, pant , “Faster, faster”, the blood rushes in my ears “Faster, faster”, “Faster!” Ahhhh, ohhh, convulsive tremors run through my rider’s whole body, “ahhhhh, ahhhhh” she slowly relaxes, brakes me, pulls the reins back, going step by step, "ahhhhhh, was that good", I stop, feeling her wet crotch, hope for calm and inertia for the rest of our excursion, for a slow, enjoyable rest of the way home.
"Hey, you lazy nag, do you want to go on vacation? Nothing there, you can laze around later, now take me to your wife, we still have something to discuss. Come on now, or should I walk myself? Hüa hott, I'll show you!" Once more that day I collapse, but now Trixi whips me upstairs merciless with the stinging nettles, and a second time, a third, until we finally, finally reach our house. (I should better say: my wife’s house, of course I signed it over to her as well as all my possessions.)
Trixi slides down, I'm crouching on the floor, whimpering, crying, I can't hold back my tears of despair and exhaustion. "Lazy bitch" scolds Trixi and gives the reins to my wife, "You, we have to train him a good bit better! I made a great acquaintance there, I have to tell you! But that one over there mustn't give up so quickly, I think we're far too forgiving, patient, nice to him." That's a dig at my wife. "Don't let his whining fool you, those stinging nettles worked after all, maybe there should be thorns in them, --- but then we need leather pants!" Trixi giggles. Then she kicks me hard in the trembling flank. "Asshole, wimp, wimpy thing! So you want to serve us women!? Ha!” There is contempt and anger in her voice. And another kick.

Oh dear - how will my wife react? Just got out of the house she seems so wonderfully relaxed, satisfied, full of pleasure and joy, a smile on her lips, which she licks with her tongue as if she had just enjoyed something infinitely good. (Maybe my dinner that I prepared for her and Pjotr?)
Trixi is her best friend, she borrowed me this afternoon to make Trixi happy and have fun and now Trixi is so angry and mad at me. I'm starting to feel ashamed. I disappointed my wife, I embarrassed her in front of Trixi. My dear goddess, my one and only! I clasp her feet, cover her with kisses, put her slipper on my head, unworthy me, useless slave, forgive me, mistress, forgive my dear wife, forgive my weakness! I will take any punishment --- if only your face doesn't darken when bad thoughts come through me! Mistress, goddess, I will give everything, I will take everything upon myself, if you can only keep your good mood! And I crawl to Trixi, kissing her feet as well "Forgive me, dear Trixi, forgive me if I made you angry, forgive me, I gave everything I could!" (6)

Great story.

The protagonist's wife and her friend animalized the husband. I don't know if the wife did it first, or if they both did it together at the same time, or if Trixy did it first, but the result is what matters: 2 women owning a slave used as a human horse.

The slave acknowledges the situation of him kissing the feet of his two Mistresses.

This slave does not sleep on a bed in a room in a house or apartment because he sleeps on hay in a stall in a stable.
-Dog collar around his neck or horse bridle around his head, the bit is inserted into his mouth only when he is ridden and driven.
- Dog leash or horse reins attached to a post inside the stall or to the ring attached to the stall wall.
- Door of the stable stall closed, so the cold does not affect the human horse, he cannot get out and no one can steal it.

Yes, nobody can steal it because domestic animals are valuable, especially pets like dogs and horses, noble animals who contributed a lot to our evolution as a species.

War has been declared between Trixi and Amir, I would love to see her defeating, bridling, saddling and riding the defeated man, so female friends would ride animals, wife on top of husband and Trixi on top of Amir, even the protagonist could accompany the Mistresses while he was riding his wife's lover or riding Amir's cousin (the time for revenge had arrived).

These are my fantasies, but the owner of the story is Vienna pony.

Now it's Pjotr's turn again.
It had to be the Wachau, steep paths from the riverbank to the heights of the Danube valley - this will be another cruel day for me. My attempt to suggest Lake Neusiedl instead was pathetic. derisive laughter. What?, so flat?, dead flat!, you probably want to lounge around only if you pull a puszta wagon with all our friends in it, etc.
Now they both take turns at the steepest parts, so as not to get out of breath themselves; I first carry one a few dozen meters, then have to run back to lug the second of the two up. But after all they have the whole day to enjoy, my backpack is full to the brim with goodies, fruit, water and wine, only for them of course for a wonderful picknick, where I have to serve.
You already know what I will get to drink. This morning his pee was strong, concentrated, very sour. "We have refined your Bordeaux with a lot of love for you" laughed my beloved wife like silver bells. “Try and enjoy – then we want the exact sommelier description from you!” Well, her gold water was definitely milder, softer, but there was a pretty disgusting, fishy, slimy aftertaste, disgusting, really disgusting! (You know, what I mean?)

Phew, getting up is tedious. Today Pjotr wears tall, heavy riding boots with a short whip stuck in them, long curved spurs with sharp points, leather-trimmed black breeches that beautifully show off his knees, thighs and buttocks, a thick sweater (he has no plans moving a lot or exerting himself and its quite cold today). He sits straight and upright, in perfect balance on my shoulders. I've seen pictures of him riding me, no wonder my wife is crazy about him, a really handsome, big, strong man who knows exactly what power and dominance is his place.
But now I carry him and the backpack as well. ‘Often I won't be able to get up anymore’, I think; I focus on keeping my lumbar spine stable and crouching to lift my load straight up. Unfortunately, Pjotr doesn't have the momentum that relieves him like Amir, that was something completely different. But no, no, no!
I don't want to long for Amir; Pjotr, you deserve that I do my best for you today! Yesterday you encouraged my wife against Trixi, finally gave me the much-needed rest (I know you wanted to protect me for today) and even drove Trixi home by car.
Pjotr, you are very decent, I want to serve you, see you satisfied, I belong to you, almost like my wife, Pjotr, I .... Ahhhhhh, the spurs, AUA!, Pjotr, yes I obey, I'm yours, kick me, hit me, drive me, ... Pjotr, you my master!, ouch, Pjotr! - catch balance, - Pjooootr, mercy!, owuua, - shit, i'm slipping,...just about caught.... Ahhh, that jolt in my back... let me catch my breath... dear, dear Pjotr, sir, my master, ouch, ouch, ouch, now it's ok again... ...
I can feel Pjotr's sit bones, how he pushes through my shoulders in the pelvis, I feel his strong, masculine, powerful thighs, look at his knees - wonderful man, I'm proud to be YOUR slave! ... ... finally, finally I'm with my wife, I can put Pyotr down --- and yet it almost seems a shame to me , now at this moment no longer his noble horse under HIS dominion, to be HIS will, now that he gets off my shoulders, yawns, scratches his crotch, looks back and says patronizingly: "Not bad at all my little one, that was actually quite steep” (7)

That would certainly be a nice picture! A handsome rider on the shoulders of a bridled, two-legged riding horse! I wouldn't even ask myself if he's letting himself be ridden voluntarily, or if it's a man on a riding slave I'm watching. But the whip shows a lot, the spurs on the riding boots are not to be overlooked and keep a tired two-legged friend in motion.

He probably has a somewhat serious expression on his face, is concentrating and wants to make a good impression on everyone who sees him as a rider. He wants to arouse longings, wants strong men to discreetly (or turn around and indiscreetly!) grab his crotch and envy this riding horse for its rider! Maybe some viewers can't help but kiss his riding boots, some will secretly want to film this wonderful couple.

I could well imagine men doing horse things for women! That they ride, let themselves be pulled in a carriage, even in groups, carried in palanquins, I think all these things are wonderful! Perhaps there are even strong women who would do the same as the stallions and be ridden by women! This further completes the beautiful picture!

Why shouldn't a man ride a horse? A strong stallion with a rider on his back is also a beautiful image. We can see it in Pjotr, even his horse is doing well, although he is an energetic rider! So: men should ride too!

I'm actually more of a dreamer being ridden by a young, pretty lady! That would certainly be a nice picture! But I have to admit, after all these stories, I would also ride a strong stallion, I would also make sure that he didn't fall asleep and that he did his job ... that's when the whip cracks on the bare fur!

So, those were my thoughts on your question, dear Viennapony!
Max

Congrats ViennaPony!

Trixi is an excellent man's rider, but the horse's Mistress is his wife.

Horse's wife rides her husband and allows others to ride him: her lover, her friend Trixi and others whom she wants to lend her horse.

Was Trixi allowed to lend her friend's horse? If the answer is NO, horse's wife had reason to get angry with her friend.

Ulla soon got over her initial shyness. She now sits relaxed on me, laughs and chats with my wife, naturally uses her heels to encourage me, she rides as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a human to be her horse, at least 15kg lighter than herself. (I didn't think this could happen so quickly.) Uwe, her husband, films with his cell phone all the time. What is he thinking? Surely he wouldn't want to... ride... on me...???

Person? Am I still human? No, meanwhile I already feel like an animal, a beast of burden, a farm animal - property, property of my wife, I can be loaned out, could be sold, I (what does "I" actually mean, there is no longer any consciousness as a person in fact!!??) am a thing, only a thing. And now I'm walking under Ulla, trying to keep my balance, concentrating on my steps, my breath, how I put my feet on the path, I'm conditioned to implement the rider's commands immediately, react to heels, to thighs, don't hear any Words, only the sound of Hüa, Hott, Hey, and – crazy – I actually want it, freed from thinking, I want it in such a way, to never, never, ever stop being like that…
If only those damn nettles didn't hurt so bad... like hell, this is real cruelity. Oh my beloved wife, why did you do so?

Pjotr goes ahead without offering my wife any more comfort. After all, he might as well try to carry her! But in the end he's just a lazy macho asshole.
Will my wife ever understand this? Apparently she's still having enough fun in bed with him at the moment - let's see what will happen after Prague (I have to grin, this gift to you, to both of you for the next few days is a poisoned one on purpose. Only that you lend me to Trixi this time, and Trixi explicitly takes over all of my wife's possession and ownership rights to me, worries me a bit. This means to be at Trixi's disposal for a full three days. And I'm sure Amir will turn up there as well...)

Hü, hott, arrgh, ouch!--- no thinking is not allowed, my rider immediately notices that I am distracted, she kicks me roughly, kicks me really hard and hard with her hiking boots, so that I become completely a pony again, a mount, her mount. How quickly a person becomes a slave owner when the circumstances are right! Ulla has certainly never lived this character before in her life. But I'm not allowed to think, not to philosophize about being human or about people in general; I am a mount, all I have to do is run, only get my rider to the finish, obey whatever the orders are.

Thank God, the path is almost always flat now. Ulla's enormous weight is now very pressing. Ulla has been riding me for more than half an hour without a break. And she insists on a good pace. My breathing is almost at the limit again, she should be able to hear me panting by now! And then there was this constant drooling about the bit for the reins. My t-shirt is already wet. How long, how long is it until the parking lot!!?

The break comes unexpectedly. Pjotr says rudely, because apparently he's a bit angry about the situation: "Slave, I have to pee." I know what that means, I'm grateful for a break and yet I fear its aroma, I stop, look at my angel questioning what will she command!?
"It's okay, of course, it should be." was her answer.
She feels clearly: now it's finally Pjotr's turn again.
“Short break, dear Ulla. By the way, you ride fantastically, if I may say so.” Ulla dismounts and hobbles to the next tree stump.
Piotr takes me aside, lets me kneel in front of him, unzips, unwraps his male organ. The closeness of the others doesn't bother him in the least. I obediently enclose his manhood with my lips and it's already running, I swallow and swallow and swallow, hot, salty, bitter. After he's done, he pulls his nose up, and finally spits his snot in my mouth. Oh, he's really in a bad mood already. I'll have to be scared when he's back on top...

"Wow" Ulle marvels, "Boaahhh" whispers Uwe, - what Pjotr did to me did not go unnoticed. “He drinks piss, really!?”
My wife cheerfully explains: “Well, our little animal sweats a lot and has lost a lot of minerals. Urine is simply perfect, everything is in it for good regeneration, in the ideal mixture of salts and minerals. We've only had the best experiences.” “And the taste? ugh! Brrrr, just imagining it, uaahhh.” “Apparently got used to it well. But honestly, why should we even ask about it? It saves luggage, he doesn't have to carry water for himself, it's also the best thing for his health, we protect nature, and for us, especially for Pjotr, it's just incredibly practical. Not a droplet flies anywhere, everything is totally clean and perfectly disposed of. Incidentally, I usually use a funnel for myself in the forest so that there is no mess. That also works very well, I always have it with me”. silver bells, loud laughing silver bellls.

Uwe's eyes begin to shine. He's actually getting a little braver now, a little less passive. "How much of it does the little horse need a day?" "Well, we both usually give everything we have." "Ermm" clears his throat Uwe "I - ermm - I just - ermm" his voice is occupied, - it is funny to see how nervous he is, how he stammers "... I should also, I, --- I, ... I could contribute something to the - ehmm - nutrient supply of the little horse!"
Now it's out. Uwe's face has turned red, he's sweating; I'm still on my knees, so I can see the big bulge in his cycling shorts.

So he's also a slave owner, I think, someone who gets aroused by having power over others, by degrading, humiliating, enslaving fellow human beings. And the shy ones are often the worst when they get the chance. (However, I have to be honest - I'm the perfect counterpart when it comes to women, I long for their domination, for my submission. And I'm no less horny about surrendering to their power. That's how everything fits together in the world ...)

But surely my wife will never allow that. I am confident. I got to drink Trixi's golden nectar only very rarely and only from a glass. And here to hand me over to a complete stranger as a urinal? That's probably out of the question, never, never, she'll never do that... (10)

Again a lot of very interesting thoughts in your latest installment :
Yes, when a human is being ridden, his brains transfer to some kind of "pony universe", in which all usual values are turned upside down! No more thinking/rationalizing/conceptualizing! All these are replaced by one overwhelming obsession : Obey, maintain required pace, and therefore understand the lightest helpers used by the rider, to speed up, or down, go right or left, just to prevent to be given more painful indications with spurs or crop ...
When being ridden, the "horse" does need to speak at all ! In vanilla ponyplay, the riders, especially the beginners, sometimes think it nice to talk to their horses .. The horse will not reply ... He might soon be unable to, what he's got to do is to maintain the pace, and it is usually already hard enough to require all his pony mental strength ! So, the rider will also soon stop talking to the beast under her/him.
Piss drinking ? I think indeed it is rather smart : There are plenty of salts in it, and, we all know that we must give salt to our cattle to prevent dehydration in summer ! Even more to running horses !
Last, yes, I believe a lot of people will adapt very quickly to using a slave or slaves. THey are not especially wicked : They belong to the 50% of mankind who are rather on the sadistic side,   The other 50% being naturally on the masochist side. Usually it does not go so far as what you describe in your fantastic story Viennapony ... Unfortunately (?????)

I bet UWE will be allowed to offer some more drink ....

THKS again

We don't know how this story will continue, but Uwe has expressed an idea, a thought! To be honest, I don't wish our two-legged horse had to ingest that old man's urine too! On the other hand, Pyotr's urine is certainly another delicacy! Of course, none of these yellow liquids can match the delicious taste and the pleasant smell of his wife, this divine woman!

What would certainly also be very good for him, and also helps with building muscle mass, is high-quality protein! Of course he has to make some effort to get this important food!

But let's wait it out calmly, but with great interest!
Max

His strong thighs enclose my neck tightly. I feel the rough leather, the insert on the inside of his thighs, breathe in the smell of leather. I see his bony knees in the jodphurs, male, dominant, and transitioning into his massive hamstrings, I adore this man! The high riding boots also fit snugly against my body, Pjotr rides me with minimal small movements. My head is stretched out far, Pjotr presses his pelvis deep on my neck, not just superficially on my neck. His sit bones twitch demandingly on my collarbones. We are a single unit, rider and pony, very closely knit together. Pjotr, I love you for that!
My head is empty, my brain seems to have been sucked off, --- the center of my life, the only meaning and purpose of my existence, my wife wants me gone. I feel infinitely lost, alone in a cold universe, her harsh words, her icy voice reverberating in me. I'm grateful to at least feel Pjotr, to still be able to serve him, to be useful to him. Oh Pjotr, that one day I would practically love you - who would have thought that...

Crack, arrrrrghhhhh! Pain explodes in my flank! A bright flash goes through my head. Involuntarily, completely reflexively, I run faster, wanting to escape this pain through speed. Ooooouuuuuch - now the other side. Pjotr only made a tiny little movement, moved his lower leg a few centimeters outwards, and then hammered his heel with the spur into my side all the harder and more brutally. The sharp metal pierces the light fabric of the T-shirt, penetrates the upper layers of the skin, tears it, bores into the subcutaneous fatty tissue. Bloody lymph oozes from the wound, I can feel it running down my flank. Crack, arrrgh, again and again Pjotr kicks with all his might. Yes, he is angry, angry with my wife, and now takes it out on me. I run, blazing pain, no more thought of closeness and love. Rough now also his pelvis. The stinging nettles that are still on my neck are shifting, new stinging hairs are appearing, pain, terrible pain now also in the neck. My eyes flicker from the exertion, my breath wheezes, the taste of urine in my mouth; Torment, unending torment is my destiny.

At the first collapse Pjotr jumps off, pulls down my pants and hits me. Strikes with his whip, hard, precise, accurate, fast and merciless. As if insane, he beats me, welts, bloody welts cover my whole body after a few seconds, especially painful on the buttocks. My wife looks on impassively, her face expressionless, her eyes pitiless; she simply allows Pjotr to let off steam.
I stagger up, trying to stay upright, begging Pjotr to stop and continue riding on me. Tip over, fall to the ground, prostrate in front of him, kiss his boots and beg. He lifts his boot, I try to lick the soles of his shoes as a sign of my submission. Just stop, Pjotr, please, please stop with these beatings! My wife stands by, an interested but emotionally completely uninvolved look, almost like a scientific experiment: how long will the two go on like this?
Pjotr spits in my face, pulls me towards him by the reins and mounts again. "I belong to you, I belong to you, I belong to you" circling in my head, I can't think of any other thoughts than: "I belong to you!"

In the second collapse, my wife reacts. She immediately makes me kneel on all fours as a bench and pushes Pyotr onto me so that he sits on top of me, almost perplexed. In the next second, she kneels in front of him, opens his pants and frees his male organ. And a second later she's already sucking, licking and sucking, saying "sorry" to him in her own way. It doesn't take long for her to come to my head, point her finger at me to open my mouth, place her lips firmly on mine - no, that's not a tender kiss! Surely not! – and lets the contents of her mouth flow into mine. I don't care about anything now, I obediently swallow this cocktail as well...
And the next moment my wife completely ignores my existence as before.

We're finally at our car (no, wrong, it used to be mine, now it's exclusively my wife's of course!) and this horrific day is ending. I'm driving, my wife is in the back seat with Pjotr. He has accepted her kind of apology, they sit tightly entwined, cooing newly in love, exchanging kisses and caresses, as I can see in the rear-view mirror. I'm dying of hunger, the two of them ate the entire contents of the backpack I carried the whole day by themselves. I was only left with two portions of semen... The infernal pain in my flanks, shoulders, buttocks and back are now easing a bit, on the dreary stretch of the motorway I can finally think about what my wife said.
And finally, finally, it fell like scales from my eyes, I see my mistakes clearly, recognize my error. I was far too fixated on Uwe. I was disgusted with him, it was torture for me to become his 'slave without limit'. But Uwe is completely unimportant! Uwe doesn't matter! My wife always has to be the center of attention. It was HER wish that I didn't want to follow. The topic wasn't Uwe's desire, topic should have been, that MY WIFE liked watching Uwe use me. HER joy in it, HER silver laughter to the ripple of his pee, HER satisfaction in owning me entirely, THAT alone would have mattered.
And if I only thought of my wife with enough love, then HER pleasure would be such a reward for me that I would accept everything else, whether with Uwe or any other person, with joy, with the greatest happiness.
Oh how unloving I've been. Now I understand. I will ever find my fulfillment when my wife enjoys. Whatever is pleasure for her. Dearest, most beautiful, noblest, mistress, goddess! Forgive me, forgive me! I'm not worthy of you, but give me one more chance, please, PLEASE! I want to be your slave forever, totally, without limits. Rule me, rule me, use me; everything, everything, everything you do, what you command (and ONLY what comes from you!) is GOOD, gives meaning and purpose to my existence!

Finally, we have arrived home. I try to explain myself to my wife, lie at her feet, talk incessantly, share my new perspective on the day; but she was too hurt by me, I was too careless, I offended her dignity too much, my ignorance was too cruel for her. "Not today," she finally says, "and tomorrow Trixi will be responsible for you for three days. If you claim to love me, then show her your devotion. She has all rights to you; what you do to her, you do to me, what you don't do to her, you don't do to me. Always remember. And then we'll see. But you will have to give me a clear sign that you have learned something, I will think about it with Pjotr.”
If I had known at the time what this reflection would lead to, I think I should have drowned myself in the Danube immediately. You, dear readers of my story and my life, you will find out later. However, now it's Trixi's turn, and she not only borrowed the little carriage, but also made an appointment with Amir for the second day (and the night before). Tomorrow, however, her aunt by marriage is coming to visit, an old horse fanatic... (12)

"Didn't you want to fullfill all my wishes ? Didn't you woo me with that ? You ungrateful liar !" says the disappointed Goddess to Her unworthy slave ...
And  how does the slave react ?
He thinks : If I only thought of my wife with enough love, then Her pleasure would be such a reward for me that I would accept everything else with joy with the greatest happiness"!!! Including being lent as a horse and then a pissoir ( and more ) to a foreign male !!
All is said in these two sentences, Viennapony ! You're doomed for ever to be happy by proxy only, a terrible proxy, according to which HER happiness is both the only cause of your dreadful suffering, AND the only possible source of all your earthly blisses !

Keep your proxy happy Viennapony ! ( And tell us more about it, of course !! .... !

esel

Total and absolute dehumanization.
You exceeded limits I did not imagine.
The protagonist is not human, he is not a human horse either, it is evident that not even equine horses reached that point.

Please continue narrating Vienna Pony, your devotion to your wife is total.

We wait for the turn of the Great Goddess Trixi.

Again, I'm harnessed to the carriage, occupied by two people, a third is riding on my neck, they all together weigh a good 200kg. At least this time it seems to be less of a problem when the carriage jerks; the enthusiasm of the two new guests about me as a mount is simply too fresh, too new and great. But the sun is still burning, even though it is already afternoon, my whole body is tired and battered, only the whip and spurs and my absolute will to please Trixi keep me going. There is no end in sight to the torture and my suffering...

Trixi came very early this morning. The night had been terrible for me, my beloved wife continued to let me feel her contempt and disappointment. I was no longer allowed near her, I was not worthy of caressing her tender feet, not worthy of cleaning her pubic area, not worthy of her divine nectar. I was just allowed to warm Pjotr's feet with my lips, - and how grateful I was for this tiny remnant of familiarity! And of course, I remained responsible for his liquid waste during the night and in the morning; He didn't want to get up again just because my wife was mad at me.

The handover to Trixi was funny, because obviously Trixi wanted to protect herself. As like with a car rental, she documented all of my injuries, took lots of notes and detailed photos of the scabbed sides, the partly blue-black, partly bright red welts on my buttocks and back, and the sore neck with the clear traces of nettles. My wife just laughed: “It’s (she actually said “it” not “he”) completely yours at this time anyway. You can treat him like your property. You only have to return it the day after tomorrow evening, in whatever condition, and from then on it will belong exclusively to me again, even if it may be difficult for you to return it.”

My thoughts are confused: Dear wife, how can you give me away just like that? I want to serve YOU, only YOU! Am I myself, does really my “I” matter to you that much? Oh, I already know the answer: my “I” actually doesn't matter, I'm like an object, an item, a thing in her complete control, she can play with me, love me or throw me away, borrow me, sell me , just as she likes it. My own thoughts and feelings are without any relevance, they don't actually exist, I really learned that yesterday.
But why she is now living it out so brutally!? How tender and compassionate she was with me the night before last when Trixi delivered me in a bad condition! No, no, no, she impressively showed how incredibly important my well-being is to her, how deep her love for me is! I can't do her wrong, she only wants the best for me! She still has to punish me now, for my wrongdoing, for my ignorance and unkindness yesterday. BECAUSE she loves me, she corrects me, goes through this effort, I am sure now!
Well, I'm man enough to bear this punishment bravely, yes! I will serve Trixi devotedly because you want it that way, Dearest,Goddess! There will be no lamentations afterwards. I will make you proud of me again!

Trixi tried out the new power over me straight away: for a long time she had wanted to urinate directly into my mouth, without a glass or funnel. My beloved wife giggled, happily agreeing, even though she hadn't allowed this closeness before. Trixi was already sitting on my head over my wide opened mouth. The pressure in her bladder was powerful, she had held everything back in the morning, I could hardly swallow fast enough, her warm nectar, tasting bitter and intense, flowed into me for what felt like minutes. And how much she enjoyed it when I cleaned her thoroughly with my tongue and then kissed her dry!

Then we set off, Trixi on my shoulders, my beloved wife and Pjotr and their luggage in the car, a short distance to the next bus stop for the start of their journey.
Then Trixi was alone with me, parked the carriage at her house and rode a few laps around the area. She was so happy, enjoyably relaxed, relaxed and yet energetic, energetically full of positive energy, which was completely transferred to me and my already great motivation, so that my initial fears about seeing Trixi again were completely gone.

Finally, at the agreed time, Ximena, her aunt by marriage, arrived. Ximena comes from Mexico, has been an enthusiastic rider since early childhood and now pursues this hobby with great fervor even after her marriage here. Trixi didn’t reveal anything until this moment, she had just told her that she should bring her Mexican spurs with her, that there will be a very special mount that needed to be properly ridden, a unique opportunity that would never come again in her life, and that she (Trixi) is curious to find out how she (Ximena) would like this riding adventure.

Now, Ximena is standing there, an impressive woman in the prime of her years, her hair hanging long, hardly any silver threads in it, medium height, of strong stature, with a fantastic balance of voluptuous bust and impressive buttocks, a woman who is perhaps few years under sixty in age and, I have to say it, a woman simply to kneel down on.
She wears a white, airy blouse, black, shiny, tight-fitting riding leggings, high western boots and attached to them are fearsome spurs with long, long thorns that look extremely sharp. Ximena looked at me, irritated, noticed the stirrups (Trixi hadn't put on the bridle yet), looked questioningly at Trixi, who nodded brightly at her, looked at me again, questioningly and still didn't seem to understand. Trixi hit me lightly in the back of the knees with the crop. I finally understood, kneeled to the ground and invited Ximena to sit up. (13)

Last edited by viennapony (2023-09-11 12:00:54)

Vienna Pony, excellent storytelling!
Now, I would love to be in the place occupied by the horse now, being dominated by 3 dominant and wonderful women now.
You are lucky because it is very difficult to be ridden by a lady rider (we hardly find one of them) and you have three, and at the same time!
Congratulations and thank you very much.

Hallo serveHER
thanks a lot for Your very very motivating feedback!
you give me the motivation again to try to continue writing.
The next chapter will follow soon...

Amir was skeptical. He feared an evil fall from me. But Trixi pushed and begged until he agreed to the experiment. (Of course I wasn't asked for my opinion on this.) So, in the end they both actually tried to ride me at the same time. At Amir's command, I leaned forward on a pile of wood, supported myself with my arms and offered my back to climb up. Amir sat forward on my neck, his weight resting almost entirely on my shaking arms and hands. Then Trixi climbed in and hugged him tightly from behind. Now I should straighten up a little and then take a few steps. But I couldn't get myself off the woodpile and maintain my balance without support; Amir's weight was just too far forward to lift him freely in that position. Trixi was extremely disappointed.
It would be terrible if she addressed this disappointment to my beloved wife, if she had to report that I failed, if my divine, wonderful wife were to be disappointed by me again. I cried with exertion and with anger at the futility of my feeble attempts.

Then they swapped. Amir, with his incredible equestrian skills, stood in the stirrups, let himself fall far back with his full weight, while at the same time firmly holding the reins, which opened my mouth painfully, and actually forced me to detach myself from the stack. Staggering, I took a few dozen steps along the path with this double burden. It was hell because Amir's weight was hanging on the reins in the corners of my mouth the whole time. An orderly descent seemed completely impossible to me; I would never, ever have been able to slowly sink to the ground under this weight. A fall would be an incalculable risk for all of us, that was clear as day. I was far too immobile to turn around and go back to the pile. So I looked ahead looking for a way out finally found the next pile, which fortunately soon came within reach. With the last of my strength, my pulse racing, my lungs wheezing, I staggered to the pile of wood; I was finally able to support myself again. Trixi laughed brightly, clapped her hands - oh, she seemed like my adored, beloved wife at that moment, nothing is sweeter than a beautiful woman's bright laughter. Comfortably they stayed and sat for a few more moments, which seemed to me like an eternity under this weight.

>>> My beloved wife, how much I miss you! You and Pyotr should take such a ride! Oh, if only I could get strong enough to carry both of you at the same time. You can hold each other closely and enjoy every journey and every excursion together. How much you will like this, my beloved wife! Oh, I would like to suffer for your joy. Help me, Amir, to achieve this goal, Amir, make me a stronger, better horse <<< – this had been my thoughts as every muscle ached, my arms and legs trembling with the effort. Crazy stuff, right!?

Amir also laughed and elaborately designed a saddle construction for such a 'double ride'. His words: Hard training would definitely be worth it for me. I am an amazing, almost brilliant natural talent as a riding horse. My potential must be fully exploited.
>>> Dear Amir, yes, get such a saddle, train me, train me so that I can provide such service to my wonderful, divine wife. Amir, you are wonderful. <<<

But then I heard this: “If we can rent it out and seriously offer this ‘double ride’ option – we can double the price! I'm sure our mount will soon be able to carry young couples from China over longer distances. And as a mother-child pony, it’s also easy to market.” – this were his words. I noticed more and more: Amir kept more and more often talking about renting; the topic clearly fascinated him.
But inside I was laughing at him. My wife will never, ever rent me out just for the money. I had recently disappointed her so badly and hurt her deeply - unforgivable! How ashamed I was! – and that was why, just because of that, she had given me up to her best friend. But once she's back, I'll be hers again; She will protect me against such plans and fantasies of Amir, I am 100% sure of that. So I didn't let myself be alarmed in the slightest, and voluntarily kissed Trixi and Amir's shoes as a sign of my thanks for their great training to me.


In the afternoon they took the carriage, sat tightly hugged in the cushions and enjoyed the ride. I didn't understand everything in their discussion, but I got this much: when Amir calculated the rates for hourly and daily rental of me as a mount to relevant interested parties (who he obviously knew well enough), Trixi had to admit at some point that it wasn't her herself but her best friend is my actual owner. Amir cursed and said so loudly that I could hear it clearly, “then we need at least €500 a day in income if this is going to be worth it. But a few additional slave services must be possible.” Trixi answered lively and a lot but lowered her voice. But it was already clear to me: Trixi was definitely not lacking in tried-and-tested ideas in this regard. I was afraid that she would show Amir that evening how well I function as a living toilet, for example...

>>> Oh, my dear, kind-hearted woman who always worries about me: Please come back quickly. You won't allow this! You will save me from such ideas. You will never, ever, ever hand me over to complete strangers just for money. Forgive me: my idea for Prague was devious. I wanted you to soon realize what a hollow macho Pjotr actually is. I thought, you're going to miss me and my services very soon, you're going to argue with Pyotr, you're going to end your vacation early, you're going to own me all by yourself again. Oh, my love, did I misjudge that? How much I miss you today! Come back with Pyotr too, I want to serve you both with all my devotion. Have a double saddle made, train me to serve as a faithful mount for both of you! But please come back, come back, come back, my beloved, my Goddess! <<<

With such worried thoughts, I pulled the carriage with the two of them, actually an easy job. But Amir, in a good mood again, affably invited the two women coming towards me to ride on me. They had looked extremely interested, whispered, pointed their fingers at our team and laughed broadly... (16)

Trixi reacted angrily. “Please don’t forget that this little horse still belongs to me,” she snapped at Amir. “You don’t need to impress anyone here.” Amir responded quickly: “But you also must remember – we both get some of the money I can make with this little animal. Darling – this is how we treat ourselves to luxury for two!”
“These two are funny,” I thought to myself. “My wonderful wife, my beloved goddess, my owner for now and for all eternity, she will never rent me out for idle money. But the two of them did the math without the landlord. All empty talk, such businesslike fantasies. I'm definitely not going to let that worry me. This spooky will be over by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

Instead of answering Amir, Trixi hit me hard with the whip several times; her bad mood simply needed an outlet. The two women looked a bit irritated and worried. “Don’t worry,” shouted Trixi, who had noticed this very well. “This breed of horse needs a firm hand; The beast is always lazy, always unwilling, with too much stubbornness, so it doesn't do any harm to use the whip a little more often."
And then Trixi fled forward, so to speak, wanting to demonstrate who was making the decisions here. “Please, try it. Sit on his shoulders. The pony can easily carry and pull at the same time. It's a fantastic experience, I can promise that. A unique opportunity that you will not find anywhere else in the world. Pure enjoyment. And I guarantee that this is completely ok for our horse, there not the least reason to feel guilty or even feel unwell!”

The younger one approached with interest, age perhaps mid-twenties, weighing around 50-55kg, willowy, medium height, tastefully dressed in white tight stretch jeans, branded sneakers, a colorful silk blouse and expensive accessories. “Please, please, just go up, take the animal under your thighs!” Amir had already loosened the stirrups so that they were hanging down my side again. She carefully placed her left foot in the stirrup, put weight on it, swung herself over my shoulder, landed hard on my shoulders, looked for the stirrup with her second foot and then carefully adjusted herself on top of me. “And, Nora, how is it!?” called the second, older woman. "It's a bit strange, I hope I don't hurt him, he seems so fragile and frail..."

Ever the gentleman, Amir pulled Trixi onto his lap and then invited Caro, the second woman, to ride in the carriage. Trixi no longer protested, because in this way she not only enjoyed Amir's closeness and the rising hardness in his lap, but she was also able to discreetly prevent Amir from having too good a view of Nora's tight ass in the stretch jeans that was now moving gracefully to the rhythm of riding. For me it wasn't just the one-sided load on the carriage that was unpleasant; I also had first to find good movements together with Nora, who was clearly not an experienced rider and often counteracted the smoothness and logic of my movements.

But once again the following perception became apparent: at first Nora was unsure, but at the same time she was very cautious and careful when riding. But after just a few dozen steps, she shifted confidently into her position and began to ride me more and more actively, with encouraging commands, ever harder use of her heels and vigorous hair-pulling. The fact that I am a human soon obviously no longer mattered, I am not a human being, I am just a riding animal - perhaps less than that, since with an animal one often seeks tender closeness to the unfamiliar, foreign flesh and blood. For me, on the other hand, this “caressing factor” seems to be completely absent.

Very soon, however, I felt a different kind of tenderness: Nora pressed her pelvis more and more intensively on my neck, tried to make rubbing movements, and she became more and more successful in positioning herself in the stirrups. Unfortunately, Trixi seemed to notice this, and now - suddenly in complete solidarity among women - she drove me with the whip to gallop faster and faster until Nora screamed loudly with joy.


I came to a stop, panting and covered in sweat. Before Nora had even dismounted, I collapsed, a heap of flesh and trembling muscles on the floor, covered in red welts. But now it was Caro's turn and she shouldn't wait. Trixi beat me mercilessly and kicked me until I staggered back up. Caro no longer had any concerns about making me her riding slave, she just wanted to experience the same pleasure as Nora quickly, quickly, quickly. A few years older than Nora, she was also significantly heavier - or was this impression just due to my exhaustion? Her short dress highlighted her long, shapely legs in opaque tights, the tight-fitting brown boots with high heels reached just below the knee.
I now had these knees clearly in mind, wonderfully beautiful knees, adorable in the perfect proportions of the joint, the attachment of the thigh muscles, the swelling calves. How I would like to kiss those knees, crouching in front of her, and then work my way down to the soles of her boots...
Despite my wheezing lungs, my rattling breath, my welts burning painfully with sweat, I could still indulge in such thoughts. Well, maybe it was these thoughts that made it possible for me to get up again and continue to function under this rider.
Because Caro rode no less demandingly than Nora, but she no longer needed any adjustment period. Here it was immediately clear that I was a piece of sports equipment, an object of her pleasure and desire; I felt all too clearly that it no longer occurred to her that I was a human-like being.
Needless to say, Nora then rode in the carriage.

Fate had not been kind to me. The fact that we met these two women, both marketing experts in their professional lives, who got along excellently with Amir and animatedly discussed his plans in the carriage, turned out to be a fatal turning point for my life. But I don't want to get ahead of myself, dear reader, who will hopefully be inspired by this story. (17)

Hallo Max, i am happy about any response to my story. I really appreciate your careful reading and thinking.

And i'm curious what your input would be. I am very interested in all your ideas.
Feel free to enrich my story with your ideas.

But I would like to talk to you about a preview of my planned sequels and the characteres

Maybe you can write to me directly at

viennapony@yahoo.de     for an exchange of our ideas?

This would be fine!
best greetings - Viennapony

Caballito,
I agree with you -
but unfortunately the protagonist doesn't know this yet.

He still firmly believes in his wife's unwavering solidarity and loving loyalty to him -
despite all the games they are playing.
Because they were still in a fundamental agreement, also from his side.

But you are right - and he will have to learn, suffering, painfully...

(sorry, the story is developing quite slowly, I know, but i hope to continue soon, or Max will continue...)

I think we have a little misunderstanding, dear Viennapony.

I can't continue writing your story, there are a lot of actors with their own special characters. I think it should remain your story... unless another writer enjoys it and wants to contribute.

I just wanted to write an small “interlude,” another story. The rider is also called Amir. I already have a name for his riding slave: his name is Burkan.

But to be honest: the story doesn't come easily to me. But I promised and I'm sticking with it...
Max

@viennapony, very very very nice story here, what happens now? the story must continue!

Could you please tell us how did this pony became pony? I am sure he wasn't born a slave pony, he might have had a normal life as an honorably man, so what happened to make him the way he is? His wife must have ridden him a lot, so how did this happen? why she doesn't like to ride him as much as before? was he ridden too much? when was the first time she lend him to someone else to ride? we need to know these very important parts of the story, please tell us! thank you so much for such fascinating story!