by Mira Paul
I’d hoped Ricarda’s retirement would finally resolve my inner conflict. She was out of my life, out of the country, and I didn’t even have a way of reaching her. With Ricarda out of the picture, I could focus on being a cop, give myself completely over to my career without being a hypocrite. For a few weeks, it worked. I devoted my life to my job, putting in overtime, giving it my all without any interference. Then one evening, I came home to find a postcard from Morocco in my mailbox, with a photograph of an elegant hotel on the front.
Yvonne,
Morocco is perfect. I’ve set myself up at this lovely resort and spend my days lounging in the sun. While I miss the thrill of the job sometimes, I’ll admit it’s nice to have nothing to do but swim and relax. But I miss you, too, and nothing can replace our time together. I hope one day you’ll join me here. I’ll wait, even if that means waiting forever.
Love,
Ricarda
I ripped up the postcard, threw it in the toilet, and flushed it away. I didn’t want any proof that we knew each other, and I didn’t want to know where she was. I wanted to go to work, come home, read a good book, and repeat that every day for the rest of my life.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the postcard, the fact that she was waiting for me. I imagined Ricarda’s skin glowing in the sun. I imagined myself beside her, lounging by the ocean all day and playing in the bedroom all night. Eventually, my renewed enthusiasm for the police force waned. No matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t get over Ricarda. The thoughts of us living as expatriates, as fugitives, became more compelling than my life on the force, than everything I had spent my life working for. I thought of Ricarda before I went to bed, woke up with her on my mind. When it came down to choosing between her and my police work, I realized I’d made the wrong decision. I loved serving and protecting, and I was finally getting the respect I deserved, but none of that felt as amazing as the hours I’d spent with Ricarda.
Three months after Ricarda’s escape, I stayed late at work, tied up all my loose ends, and left a resignation letter on my captain’s desk. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was leaving, not sure I could trust myself to tell a passable lie. I took the bus to my now-empty apartment and picked up the two stuffed suitcases; everything that couldn’t fit had been sold. After handing in the key to the landlord, I took a cab to the airport.
After hours of flights and layovers and a struggle to explain to a Moroccan cab driver exactly where I wanted to go, I finally arrived at the resort Ricarda now called home. Bypassing the front desk, I walked straight onto the beach. My suitcases weighed me down, but I had to find her. There were rows upon rows of tanned, elegant, gorgeous women lounging on the sand. It was going to take me hours to find her.
“Yvonne!” I turned around. She’d found me first. I dropped my bags and stared as she ran towards me. She jumped into my arms and we kissed. I knew I’d finally made the right decision.
Breaking away, Ricarda took a suitcase in one hand and my hand in the other, and began leading me towards the hotel.
“I’ve been a bad girl, Officer.”
“And I finally have you.”
Her Equestrian Melody
by V.C.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” her lovely voice cooed.
The barn door was wide open. The sunlight shone right on my face. I didn’t know what time it was. All I knew was that it was summertime. I had been up for quite a while, naked, lying on a black cotton blanket, watching the night turn to day. I had been ridiculously eager for my mistress to arrive, dreaming about her throughout my slumber.
The barn was humid, smelling of sweet and musty hay. The Texas heat was starting to beat my horse stall and I was baking into the humidity, loving the sensually warm moisture that nestled in between my thighs and trickled down my back. This kind of heat inspired my face to flush.
I had worn my pony hoof cuffs and boots all night, which caused my hands and feet to swell slightly within them. I was neither aching nor throbbing in pain; my hands and feet were comfortably numb. The black vinyl spiked collar around my neck was starting to burn, making me anxious and restless.
When she arrived, I stood up immediately for my queen, neighing and panting over how fucking hot she looked. My Nubian goddess, the epitome of elegance and attitude.
Deliciously wicked were the best words to describe her wardrobe and overall dominance. Those eyes, hypnotically hazel, sweet, and vicious. Her dark blue latex-gartered dress was skintight, with corset-style lacing on the back and matching long latex gloves. It was short-skirted, long-sleeved, and shiny, hugging every inch of her voluptuous body. She loved to flaunt her muscular, killer legs, which were clad in a gorgeous pair of black latex stockings. And of course, the dress showed off those round and huge tits of hers, which were bouncing and jiggling with her every movement.
The sight of her body made me pant: hourglass-shaped, with well-defined arms and a big round ass. Her hair: gorgeous, Bettie Page style, as black as a stallion, full, vibrant, and bouncy with curls. It sported a black vinyl cowboy hat that sprouted long, thick, and authentic black horse hair at the top, which flowed down to her back, swishing back and forth as she moved. Her lips were as red and juicy as the forbidden fruit, and they tasted just as delicious and sinful. She wore eight-inch dark blue fetish boots, equally shiny, super high-heeled, and ridiculously captivating. She walked in them on tiptoe so naturally, a feat not many mistresses could conquer. I had heard it could possibly take months and maybe years for one to practice walking in them without breaking her feet or twisting her ankles. Rumor had it that Mistress learned how to walk in them in a matter of hours.
I trembled at the sight of those boots.
The whipping sound of her walking feet echoed in the air. She was holding horse reins and a narrow-tip riding crop with a diamond-encrusted handle. My stall door squeaked as she opened it, smiling down at me with that sexy wicked glare.
“Did you sleep well, my Melody?”
I neighed and nodded, knocking my horse hoof cuffs together to make the clonking sound she loved to hear. She smacked and patted each of my cheeks. The latex gloves felt so warm and supple against my moist skin, and they smelled good too. Mistress gave me a kiss on my lips, a kiss on my nose, sealing my future. I was in heaven.
“Are you ready for today?” She grinned.
I nodded quickly. God knew I was ready.
“You had better be. I have trained you long enough.”
She spanked my breasts with the crop, one at a time, watching them bounce as my nipples perked. The leather tip was small, adding more intensity to the sting. I yelped with each smack, already aching and wanting more. One, two, three, four, five. I felt red welts burning on my pale skin, ready to blossom in the garden of Mistress’s punishment. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. The warm and arousing pain made me shiver. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. I couldn’t get enough of the sting! Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. The burning sensation, so deep and so strong! Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. She could tell how intense the sensations were for me by the quiver of my smile. She pinched my nipples and continued on smacking a dozen more times while thrusting her warm and sensual latex-gloved hand upward against my hairy pussy. She raked her fingers through my trimmed pubic hair, pulling and tugging at it roughly like a plaything.
“What a hairy pussy you have, you hairy cunt!”
She forced her hand up harder and harder, and I wanted to sink and fall in ecstasy. My heart was pounding; she was already making me wet and juicy. The harder she thrust, spanked, and thumped that hand against my pussy, the faster and sharper she whipped my breasts with the crop. My nipples grew intensely hard and red. Splotches of red blanketed my breasts; they looked oh-so-gorgeous and more vibrant by the smack. If she spanked me any harder and longer than she did, they would have turned a luscious blue.
“How beautiful you are,” she moaned, staring at the love prints she
had coaxed from my skin. “And this cunt…I’ve trained it very well, I can tell…”
She gave it one hard slap, then inserted two fingers inside my cunt hole. I bit my lower lip, hard. The smoothness of the latex, the warmth of her fingers, the slipping in-and-out motion, slow and deep inside, then quickening, made me want come already. My knees smacked together, shaking.
Mistress gazed at me seriously, as if any sign of me writhing in pain would be the end of me.
“That’s a good girl,” she said, nodding. “You are taking things in much better.”
She continued the same motion, inserting a third finger inside of me. My legs shook and shivered. Three fingers was once quite a lot for me, but now I took it all in up to the base. She plunged them in and out of me in that smooth and gentle pace, then in seconds she became a fucking machine, pounding me faster and faster, plunging them in quite deep. She showed no mercy. I roared, and she growled and inserted a fourth finger, adding a bit of pressure to insert the fifth. I writhed in shock as my little pussy gradually allowed her entire hand to nestle inside of it.
“Ah!” I yelped.
“Ride it, bitch,” she hissed.
I felt her fist form into my cunt and my pussy throbbed around it. I closed my eyes, bouncing up and down on her fist slowly, feeling my pussy stretch.
“Oh God.” My mistress quivered delightfully, watching the way I moved and grinded my hips. “That’s my girl. Ride it just like that!”
I grunted, watching her mouth move to my chest as I obeyed her command. Her sexy mouth suckled on my right breast. Her free hand squeezed my breast as if she were a cat letting out her claws, making them bulge out. She sucked on my tit harder, swallowing my entire breast whole. I continued to ride, fast, panting, breathing heavily, stunned and amazed at my pussy swallowing Mistress’s latex fist. Mistress devoured my breast hungrily, and her saliva dribbled down to my waist. I grinded her fist into me faster and faster. She bit down on my nipples, pulling and tugging, making me shout in pain.
“Come for me!” she growled.
She pushed her fist deeper into me—oh yes! The intensity of it sent me over the edge and I exploded. The pleasurable currents swirled through me and my body grew weak and tired.
“Mmm, good girl.” Mistress smiled, pulling her hand out, kissing each throbbing red nipple, then putting the snap hook of the horse reins on my collar. She viciously smacked my ass with her crop many times and forced me down on all fours with a strong and rough pull of the reins. I whinnied and gagged when I made a soft thud into the hay.
“I think you really are ready, my sweet,” Mistress whispered into my ear, standing behind me. The heel of her boot pushed against my back, the tip of the crop rested on my butt cheek. She pressed down against my spine. I could feel a bit of her weight—a little bit heavy, but not enough to break me into pieces. I was strong; she had made me that way.
“You are going to feel like a princess pony today, my dear.” She tugged on the reins, forcing me to lift up my head so I could look straight into her eyes. “The finest latex dress: bumblebee yellow, short-sleeved, full on the front, the bottom cut out for easy access…you like that?”
She stomped her heel to the small of my back.
“Yes!” I cried.
“And your favorite steel horsehair butt plug, large…”
I nodded. She tapped the tip of her shoe against the back of my neck.
“And your pony bit head trainer with the red horse ears and lovely plumage.”
“Oh my God.”
“And, last but not least, your new pair of shoes, similar to mine, but hoof style.”
My jaw dropped.
“Yes, that’s right, black, hoof-style ballet boots…I know what you are thinking. I never made you walk in them before. Are you scared?”
I almost hesitated to nod. I couldn’t help it; I had to be honest.
“Too bad.” She laughed.
She smeared her pussy juice-covered hand all over my mouth. I sucked on it, tasting my come, its saltiness and creaminess. She thrust her hand in and out of my mouth, teasing my tongue with her fingers and kissing my forehead. She forced her entire hand inside me. I gagged, almost choked, and coughed when she kept it there and finally pulled out, spanking my ass cheeks with the crop.
With the reins she led me out of the barn, making me walk on all fours. We stepped into the plain dirt field, surrounded by a fence, with only a watering hose faucet, bunches of hay, and rope lying about. In the distance there was a field of grass, the country-style mansion that she had inherited, and a forest. The ground was scorching; I could feel it through my hooves.
A friend of hers was waiting. I called her Blondie because of her luscious and seductive Marilyn Monroe-style blond hair. She was dressed in a pink latex dress, white stockings, and white domme shoes. She never dominated or punished me. Her only job was to help me bathe and get dressed, but I imagined Mistress had her way with her any time, any place she wanted.
Blondie sat at the edge of a wooden table that held all the things made especially for me. There was a tray simultaneously buckled around her waist and hung from chains connected to her collar. I felt pampered and spoiled, knowing what was yet to come.
“Aw, doesn’t the pony look pretty today?” Blondie smiled sweetly, petting my head. “Her outfit will be a lovely contrast to those auburn red locks of hers.”
“One of the reasons why I chose the color.” Mistress winked. “Stand up, pony.”
I obeyed her. Blondie took off my collar, along with the reins and my hooves, putting them on the table. I wore absolutely nothing and beads of sweat covered my entire body. For a few minutes my fingers, feet, and toes ached. I cringed at the thought of wearing those hoof-style ballet boots. They appeared expensive and stunning, perfectly matching my outfit, but fuck, I was going to die walking in them.
However, I wanted to satisfy Mistress in every way. She was worth the struggle. I took a deep breath and exhaled. The less I thought about it, the more I desired to walk in them with absolute perfection just like my Mistress.
“Get down on all fours again,” Mistress commanded, sitting on the edge of the table. She put the diamond-encrusted handle of her riding crop into her mouth and sucked on it, plotting something in her dirty mind. I could always see it in those eyes. She stared at me as Blondie grabbed a hairbrush, a bottle of Mane n’ Tail shampoo, a bar of soap, and a sponge. Blondie placed these items on her tray, then took the watering hose and turned it on. She let the water spread into the ground underneath my palms and my feet to cool them down from the heat. The hairbrush ran through my hair, which was quite long, flowing past my ass. Blondie was so used to the length that it didn’t take her as long to brush it as it would if I did it myself.
I stared at Mistress. She had her legs crossed, gazing at me as if she were stealing a piece of my soul. I gulped, and she began to suck on her riding crop handle more passionately, suspiciously, trying to make it slick and wet. Blondie pulled my hair roughly as she wedged the hose between her legs, letting the cold water flow all over my body. It washed away my sweat and my sex stench, splashing against my pussy, my ass, my waist, my thighs, my neck, and my belly. She rubbed the bar of soap all over my body, making me neigh and giggle. She had a lovely way of teasing me while bathing me. Pinching my nipples like a naughty brat, rubbing my clit, tongue fucking my pussy, and tickling my pubic hair. After her teasing, she lifted the hose above my head. I moaned as my hair got drenched, lathered with the shampoo, her fingers massaging my scalp, then rinsing the shampoo out. The suds ran down every curve of my body. It was delightful and refreshing. I felt reborn.
“That’s enough of that now,” Mistress snapped. “Dress-up time.”
Blondie obeyed, taking a towel and wringing my hair dry. I noticed Mistress taking the handle of her crop out of her mouth, gripping on it tightly with one hand while holding the steel horsehair butt plug in the other. The horsehair perfectly matched the color of my real hair: a dark auburn, sli
ghtly curly, vibrant, and long. Mistress put the tip of the butt plug into her mouth and sucked on it. It was large, shaped like a teardrop, and the thought of the cold steel touching me was arousing. Not surprisingly, Mistress could fit the entire thing into her mouth, making it look so fucking easy and sexy as she pressed it against her inner cheek. I watched her, nearly drooling, entranced at how she sucked on it like a huge dick. Fuck, just when I was starting to get squeaky clean, my pussy was getting wet and dirty again.
“I can tell she’s getting horny.” Blondie smirked, patting my pussy and rubbing two fingers against my clit and my labia.
“Is she, now?” Mistress licked her lips, standing up. She looked down at me, dangling the butt plug above my head. “You want this?”
I neighed and nodded.
“I can tell you do, you pony slut.”
I tried to grab the butt plug with my mouth, eager, wanting, and waiting. She smacked my cheek with the narrow tip of the crop, her shoes whipping the ground as she walked behind me.
“Do you believe diamonds are a girl’s best friend, Melody?”
“Yes, I believe.”
“What do you think, Blondie?”
I didn’t hear her reply; all I heard was silence. Then, to my surprise, Mistress inserted the diamond-encrusted handle of the crop inside the hot, creamy hole of my pussy. I kicked my head back and screamed. Mistress grabbed hold onto my right ass cheek as she pumped it in and out of me. My pussy throbbed and pounded as my legs shook with pleasurable currents. Mistress’s supple and luscious tongue caressed my asshole, running in rapid circles, the tip entering inside. She thrust it in hard and my asshole took her tongue in. No matter how many times I’d been rimmed, having Mistress perform it was the closest thing to paradise for me. I loved how Mistress tongue-fucked my ass and my pussy with the crop handle in complete unison while humping her crotch gently against the back of my feet. I roared and moaned passionately, feeling the heat and the sun against my back. Blondie stood in front of me, putting a bottle of lube, a black spiked collar, and a shinier brand-new pair of pony hoof mitts on her tray. Mistress thrust the crop inside me faster and faster, spitting on my asshole. Blondie tossed her the lube and Mistress caught it. I grunted as Mistress fucked me harder; the bumpy-like sensation of the diamonds rubbing against my pinkness felt so good! Mistress smeared some lube on my asshole, keeping the crop in my pussy until it slipped out on its own. She grunted and grabbed my hair, pulling it hard to keep my head up high again. I whined like a bitch, closing my eyes as Mistress slipped one finger in my butt hole, then two, then a third.