Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Redbud - Two Absurdities or Breaking `em in.

   [I considered "Two Analogies" - but these stories are so absurd I
couldn't risk the disapprobation.  To all the readers who have written with
ideas and comments, thanks to you all.  It gives writing these stories a
little extra kick.  I'll get around to some other requests shortly.  As
always, be forgiving of poor grammar, cliches, typos, etc...  hope I didn't
miss any pronouns.]

   Absurdity, the First

   "Aren't they beautiful?"

   The teenager watched the herd safely behind a dusty fence.  "Wow."

   "You sure you want one of your own, son?"

   "Yeah..."

   "I know..." the wrangler sighed.  "It always happens.  You get a certain
age and it's all you can think about."

   "When did you get yours?"

   "`Bout your age, Son," the gravel-voiced wrangler answered.  "She was a
beaut', but you think about what your givin' up, boy.  You got your
freedom. You can roam.  Thank about that, boy.  You can roam - go wherever
you want, anytime you want, however you want.  Once you break one of `em,
they don't ever want to leave your side."

   "Not me..."

   "Yeah." The man chuckled.  "I used to think the same thing."

   The teenager was absent-mindedly rubbing his rigid cock through the
crotch of pants.

   "That'll go down with age, boy."

   The teenager blushed furiously.  "Sorry..."

   "Nothing to be `shamed of." The wrangler smiled briefly.  "We all been
there.  That's just the way God made us.  It's why you're here."

   "So...  what do I do?" asked the boy.

   "I `spect you been practicin'?" the old wrangler asked.

   "All the time," said the boy.

   "Yeah, I remember those days." The wrangler lifted a coil of rope from
his leather chaps.  "You take this rope.  You go out there, spot the one
you want, and don't you take your eyes off her.  She's gonna' act like
she's not interested in you.  You just keep on her.  You gotta' drive from
the herd.  They like to do everything together.  They can't piss without
doin' it together.  But you just find one you like.  You keep on her and
you'll get her out o' the herd."

   "They're all pretty."

   "There are some fine ones," the wrangler answered.  "Neater, cleaner
creatures you'll never find -a fine herd.  You sure you want one?"

   "Yeah..." the boy absent-mindedly rubbed his crotch.

   "Here ya go," the wrangler handed him the rope.  "You better stick with
the young ones.  The older ones'll throw you off.  The young ones buck
harder but ain't so sly.  Once you mount `em, you gotta' stay on `em. 
Don't let `em throw you off or you'll lose `em.  And, whatever you do, boy,
don't let `em break you first.  They don't respect that.  If she don't
respect you, she ain't gonna' stay with you.  And lastly, there are
different ways of breakin' `em.  Some think the best way is to break their
spirit, tear `em down with fear, pain and intimidation.  I don't approve of
that.  I ain't never seen it work.  You gotta' show `em whose boss once you
mount `em, true, but a good rider builds a trustin' relationship.  You
gotta' learn to think like'em.  They wanna' know that you understand `em,
you see?  If they think you understand `em, then you don't have to use
force or fear to train and communicate with `em."

   The boy nodded.  "I won't hurt her," he said.

   "Good," said the old wrangler.  "`Cause if I sees ya' doin' it, I'm
gonna' step in.  And you don't want that."

   The boy took the rope and mounted the horse.

   He rode out into the range.  The old wrangler watched the dust rise up
after him, shaking his head, then turned back to his work.  He knew the boy
would come back with one.  He was a good kid - tall, strong, and
determined.

   The kid sidled up to the herd slowly.  They were skittish when they saw
him approach.  They were wild and beautiful.  Some were blonde.  Some were
brunette.  Some had hair as black as an Oklahoma midnight.  These were the
ones he liked.  They were sleek, muscular and lean with youth.  They hadn't
been softened by domestication.  Just like the old man said, wherever they
went, they went together.  They spoke a language he couldn't understand and
they were always talking.  But he liked the sound of their voices.  He
walked his horse slowly round the parimeter.

   `Don't let `em know your interested,' was the old man's advice.  `I
don't know why, but that get's `em..  They don't want you interferin', but
they don't like being ignored.  I personally think it's `cause their vain.
If you act uninterested, that piques `em.'

   There she was.

   She was young.  Here hair was black and rich, falling down to the small
of her back in a long braid.  That's the one he wanted.  Her gait was
strong, upright and graceful.  Her skin was lustrous, healthy, smooth, and
sleek.  Her flanks were muscular but curved and well-proportioned.  Her
breasts were firm and her small nipples rose upward, promising health and
breeding.  Her lips were full, her neck was slender and her eyes sharp and
intelligent.  He wanted this one.  His cock ached.  He rubbed it again, the
way teenaged boys do.

   Over the course of the day, as the sun softened, the herd relaxed.  The
sleek, dark haired one that he followed grew less skittish.  He slowly
began to separate her from the herd.  She would wander off with a favorite
companion, and sometimes that taxed his patience, but over time he began to
guide his horse between them.  By late afternoon, he had her by herself. 
He was enthralled by her sleek beauty.  The tuft of black fur at the Y of
her legs made his breath short and shallow.  Her breasts made his mouth
water.  He dismounted slowly and slowly approached her.

   "That's it," he said quietly.  "Don't be scared."

   She watched him warily.  Gotta' use their language, he said to himself.
He reached out and gently touched her hair.  She was nervous but didn't
bolt.  He gently touched her shoulders and smoothly palmed her waist and
flank.  His cock ached but he waited.  He had dreamed about this moment. 
Her nose was small but strong and her lips were crisp.

   She began to relax as he continued to palm her flank and stroke her
shoulders.  She was slender but he could sense the strength in her limbs.
Slowly then, he slipped on the tackle - a gold necklace, wrist bracelets,
and ankle bracelets as he gently ran his hands down her legs and massaged
her calves.  As he stood, her back had arched pleasurably and her small
nipples had hardened, lifting upward from their proud areola.

   He wanted desperately to take them in his mouth.  He had to break her
first.  He massaged her back and kissed the small of her neck.  Gently, he
persuaded her to her hands and knees.  This was the most dangerous part. 
With one hand kneading the small of her back, he reached through the
opening of his chaps, unzipped his jeans and freed his cock, finally.  She
mustn't turn.  He reached for the bridal, a beautiful chain of pearls, with
the largest in the middle.  Then, slowly, cautiously, one hand still
massaging her back, he looped the pearls over her head and pulled the
largest into her mouth.  At once, she began to struggle.  She was strong!

   She pulled against the reins, fought him, angry at being muzzled.  `They
don't like to be muzzled,' he remembered the old wrangler saying.  Even as
she fought the reins, he spread his knees, lowering his cock, and mounted
her.  His first thrust opened the lips of her sex, lodging his head just
inside them.  She was moist and slippery, just as he had hoped, and she
arched and mewled when he penetrated her, suddenly still, breathing hard,
panting.

   The boy could have swooned.  The feeling almost overwhelmed.  The
enclosure of her wetness, the soft friction of her insides licking and
massaging the head of his sex, nearly made him forget the danger.  She was
beautiful.  Her narrow hips, her finely defined spine, the flare of her
waist and the site of his cock penetrating her at the divide of her legs.
He couldn't believe, finally, that it was `him' that was breaking one of
these sleek beautiful creatures.  He had always heard about it and now it
was `his' turn.  This beautiful creature, the one that he had pursued for
so long, might actually be his.

   She began to struggle again.  He almost slipped out.  He pulled back on
the reins and drove himself forward.  She squealed, froze, and then groaned
as the barrier inside her broke and he sunk deeply into her belly.  He felt
his own breaking welling up in his thighs.  She sensed it, bucked and
twisted her hips and sex around his cock.  He pulled back on the reins,
pulling her head back, arching her spine and pushed his cock as far inside
her belly as it would reach.  She groaned, the pitch rising with the depth
of his penetration.

   How long he rode her as she bucked and strained would be bragging rights
some other day.  By the end of it, she was in a lather, her skin covered
with a sheen of sweat.  He thrust hard, in and out.  She bucked and moaned.
And then, finally, he saw her spine arch, her legs abruptly widen, felt her
thrust her sex back against him, and suddenly hold stock still.  He
continued to ride her hard, thrusting in and out of her belly.  She let out
one, then another, then a third short, guttural groan and he broke her.  He
knew it.  He broke her.  Her, sleek, beautiful body convulsed around his
cock.  She grunted with each grip on his cock.  Hot urine, or something
else spurted between her legs, ran down her thighs and his, and dampened
the dust between her knees.

   He slowly released the pressure on the reins until her head bowed,
shoulder blades raised.  She was exhausted, broken, breathing hard.  His
achingly rigid cock was still buried deeply inside her.  She was his now.
He admired her beauty, her flawless muscular hips.  He took the rein in one
hand and reached under, finally, to weigh her breast, `his' breast, and run
the hard nipple between his fingers.  She groaned and pushed her breast
unto his hand.

   He stroked her shoulder , leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck.
She could trust him.  He would be kind, but the moment he had dreamed of
for so long could not wait any longer.  She was his now, he could enjoy
her. And he did.  He took her hips in both hands and thrust deeply, holding
himself, anticipating his release inside her, the pleasure of it.  He
groaned loudly, as if he wanted the world to hear him, then could wait no
longer.  He thrust quick, quicker, then cried out, holding himself against
her, as he released himself in her belly with spurt after spurt.  She as
his now.

   When he stood, he was amazed at her beauty and amazed by his fortune. 
He helped her to stand, keeping himself behind her.  His cock was already
hardening again.  He would ride her many times today.  Later, he could
brand her with a clit ring. She belonged to `him'.

   Absurdity, the Second



   "Aren't they beautiful?"

   The teenager watched the herd safely behind a dusty fence.  "Wow."

   "You sure you want one of your own, sweety?"

   "Yeah..."

   "I know..." the old cowgirl sighed.  "It always happens.  You get a
certain age and it's all you can think about."

   "When did you get yours?"

   "`Bout your age, sweety," the husky-voiced cowgirl answered.  "He was a
beaut', but you think about what your givin' up, girl.  You got your
freedom.  You can roam.  Thank about that, girl.  You can roam - go
wherever you want, anytime you want, however you want.  Once you break `em,
they get mighty jealous, need attention, get whiney when they don't get
it."

   "Not me..."

   "Yeah." The woman chuckled.  "I used to think the same thing."

   The teen-aged girl was absent-mindedly biting her lips as she imagined
them.

   "You'll get over that with age, girl."

   The teenager blushed furiously.  "Sorry..."

   "Nothing to be `shamed of." The wrangler smiled briefly.  "We all been
there.  That's just the way God made us.  It's why you're here."

   "So...  what do I do?" asked the girl.

   "I `spect you been practicin'?" the old cowgirl asked.

   "All the time," said the girl.

   "Yeah, I remember those days." The cowgirl lifted a coil of rope from
her leather chaps.  "You take this rope.  You go out there, spot the one
you want, and don't you take your eyes off him.  They're all gonna' act
like they're interested in you, especially your age.  But you just gotta'
keep on the one you want.  You gotta' drive him from the herd `cause they
ain't too bright sometimes.  They like to do everything together.  They
can't piss without havin' a contest.  But you just find the one you like.
You keep on him and you'll get him out o' the herd."

   "They're all handsome."

   "Yup, there are some fine lookin' ones," the cowgirl answered.  "Could
wish they were a cleaner and neater creature.  You sure you want one?"

   "Yeah..." the girl absent-mindedly bit her lip.

   "Here ya go," the cowgirl handed her the rope.  "You stick with the
young ones.  The older ones are harder to train.  The young ones buck
harder, makes for a good ride, and ain't so thick-headed.  Once you mount
`em, though, you gotta' stay on top.  Don't let `em take you for a ride. 
You gotta' show `em whose the rider.  And, whatever you do, girl, you don't
let `em go until you know they're broke.  And one more thing, there are
different ways of breakin' `em.  Some think the best way is to break their
spirit, tear `em down with fear, pain and intimidation.  Some of `em
deserve it, but I ain't never seen it work.  True, you gotta' show `em
whose boss once you mount `em, but a good rider builds a trustin'
relationship.  You gotta' learn to think like'em.  They wanna' know you
understand `em, you see?  If they think you understand `em, then you don't
have to use force or fear to train and communicate with `em."

   The girl nodded.  "I won't hurt `em," he said.

   "Good," said the old cowgirl.  "You don't strike me as the kind that
would."

   The girl took the rope and mounted the horse.

   She rode out into the range.  The old cowgirl watched the dust rise up
after her, shaking her head, then turned back to her work.  She knew the
girl would come back with one.  She was a good kid - fit, strong, and
determined.

   The girl sidled up to the herd slowly.  They watched her, slyly,
secretly.  She knew, but they were proud and beautiful and she wanted one
for herself.  Some were blonde.  Some were chestnut.  Some had hair as
black as an Oklahoma midnight.  These were the ones she liked.  They were
sleek, muscular and lean with youth.  They hadn't been softened by
domestication.  Just like the old cowgirl said, wherever they went, they
went together.  They spoke a language she couldn't understand but they were
always talking.  She liked the deep murmur of their voices.  She walked her
horse slowly round the parimeter.

   `Don't let `em know your interested,' was the cowgirl's advice.  `If
they think you're interested, they won't stop pesterin' you.  They don't
know the difference between a howdy and a how would ya' like me?  I
personally think it's `cause their shallow as rain in a desert .  Use short
commands they understand.  Their kind don't understand big words like
disapprobation."

   There he was.

   He was young.  Here hair was black and rich, falling down his broad back
in a loose and wild mein.  That's the one she wanted.  His gait was strong,
upright and purposeful.  His skin was healthy, weathered and sleek.  His
flanks were muscular and well-proportioned.  His belly was flat and
chiseled.  Her chest was broad with rich brown nipples.  His lips were
full, his neck was strong and his eyes sharp and intelligent.  But most of
all, his sex hung swinging, beautiful, partly hiding the heavy sack behind
it, half tumescent with his youth, the bulb of him just breaking out from
the uncircumcised tip, promising health and breeding.  She bit her lip. 
Her sex felt warm and her stomach tingled.  She wanted this one.

   Over the course of the day, as the sun softened, the herd relaxed.  The
sleek, dark haired one that she followed grew less self-absorbed.  She
slowly began to separate him from the herd.  He would wander off with a
favorite companion, and sometimes that taxed her patience, but over time
she began to guide her horse between them.  By late afternoon, she had him
to herself.  She was enthralled by his sleek beauty.  The growing
tumescence, like nested fruit between his legs, made her breath short and
shallow.  Was the tumidity for her?  Did his sex fill with juices every
day? -slowly hardening?  - until he was rigid, full, ready for release? 
She wanted it.  He made her mouth water.  She dismounted slowly.

   "That's it," she said quietly.  "Don't be scared.

   He watched her disdainfully.  Gotta' control him, she said to herself.
She reached out and gripped his cock.  He jumped but didn't bolt.  She
gently touched cupped his balls with her other hand and smoothly stroked
the length of him.  "That's it," she said.  "You need that, don't you?" She
had dreamed about this moment.  His nose was proud and his lips had grown
moist.

   He began to relax as she continued to stroke his cock.  His breathing
changed.  He was young but she could sense the power in his limbs.  She
wanted that power.  She wanted to feel it inside her.  Slowly, she slipped
on the tackle - starched link cuffs, a necktie, trouser cuffs around his
ankles as she gently ran her hands down his legs and took his cock into her
mouth.  The round flanged of his cock burst out of its skin, fully
engorged, ready.  He was long and wide.

   She desperately wanted to taste him, but she had to break him first. 
She massaged his balls, kissed and sucked the end of him, then gently
persuaded him to lie down on his back.  This was the most dangerous part.
With one hand around the base of his cock, she reached under her skirt and
pushed aside her panties, finally.  He was still dazed, subdued.  She
reached for the bridal, a beautiful gold chain with a large pearl in its
middle.  Then, slowly, cautiously, one hand still massaging his cock, she
looped the chain around the base of it and pulled.  The pearl pressed
against his urethra.  At once, he began to struggle.  He was strong!

   He pulled against the reins, fought her, angry at being controlled . 
`They don't like to be controlled,' she remembered the old cowgirl saying.
Even as he fought the reins, she spread her knees, lowering her sex until
she felt the tip of his at her opening, and mounted her.  Her first thrust
just opened the lips of her sex.  She gasped.  Just the head of the male
was inside her.  He was rigid and stretched her, just as she had hoped.  He
bucked, wanting to penetrate, breathing hard, panting.  She road him
upward, lifting her herself on her knees, keeping just the tip of him
insider her.  She yanked on the bridal.  He froze.  She wanted to let him
go, to feel his strength and lust consume her, take her, possess her, but
first she had to teach him who controlled who.

   But she could have swooned.  The feeling almost overwhelmed.  She
swivelled her hips, the lips of her sex, just over the round width
penetrating them - eyes closed, head thrown back.  The feeling of him just
inside her, the soft friction of his skin licking and massaging the inside
of her sex, nearly made her forget the danger.  He was beautiful.  His
narrow hips, his finely defined abdomen, the power of his hips and the site
of his cock penetrating her at the divide of her legs.  She couldn't
believe, finally, that it was `her' that was taking one of these sleek
beautiful creatures insider her.  She had always heard about it and now it
was `her' turn.  This beautiful creature, the one that she had pursued for
so long, might actually be hers.

   He began to struggle again.  She almost let him slip out.  She pulled on
the reins and drove her self downward.  She moaned, tried to catch her
breath, gasping at the feeling of his rigidity so deeply in her belly.  She
finally exhaled, grinding her sex against him, almost overwhelmed by the
sensuality of a fullness she had never felt before.  He froze, then groaned
at the feeling of his rider.  She felt her own breaking welling up in her
thighs.  He sensed it, tried to bucked and twist his hips and sex inside
her.  She pulled on the rein, forcing his head back, causing him to arch
his spine and push his cock as far inside her belly as he could reach.  She
groaned, the pitch rising with the depth of his penetration.  But he
couldn't release.

   How long she rode him as he bucked and strained would be bragging rights
some other day.  By the end of it, he was in a lather, his skin covered
with a sheen of sweat, listless.  After that, she rode him hard, making him
toss his head from side to side, writhing and moaning.  Finally, she took
her first orgasm riding a cock.  She screamed, not caring who heard her.  A
cowgirl.  Her voice came in choked, convulsing sobs.  She was finally
taking what she had wanted for so long.  She held his reins tight while the
small of her back arched and snapped with her spasms.

   And then, finally, she smiled and touched his lips.  He had frozen.  He
started to move again and she shook her head, tightening the reins.  When
he stopped moving she carefully loosened the rein and gently rose and fell
on his cock.  He began to move again and she tightened the rein, shaking
her head.  There was the look of desperation in his dark eyes .  She smiled
and touched his lips again - calming him.  She pulled down her shirt and
lifted his hands to her nipples.  He squeezed them.  Carefully, she
loosened the reins once more and began her slow, glistening, rise and fall
along the length of his cock.  He held stock still this time and she
continued to loosen the rein, riding him gradually faster and faster.

   She could feel the juice rising from between his thighs.  She thrust
herself down, grinding hard against him, warning him not to move with a
look.  He let out one, then another, then a third short, guttural groan and
he broke.  She knew it.  She broke him.  His, sleek, beautiful body arched
and convulsed under and inside her, fully surrendering its juices to her
belly.  She moaned with the feel of each spasm and spurt inside her. 
Finally.  Hers.  And she came again, just as she knew she would.  His
fluids spilled from between her legs, squeezed out by her contractions-
they sweet syrup ran down her thighs and his, dampening the dust beneath
them.

   She slowly undid the reins.  He was exhausted, broken, breathing hard.
His rigid cock was still buried deeply inside her.  He was hers now.  She
admired his beauty, his flawless muscular hips.  She took the rein in one
hand and reached between his legs, finally, to weigh his balls.  `Her'
balls now.  He groaned and meekly drove his cock upward, wanting more.

   She stroked his chest , leaned over and licked the hollow of his neck.
He could trust her.  She smiled, nodded her permission, and ground herself
against him.  He began to thrust quick, quicker, hard powerful thrusts that
she relished, that she wanted to feel.  The ride was quick.  She cried out
with him, holding herself against him as he released himself into her belly
with spurt after spurt.  He was hers.

   When she stood, she was amazed at his beauty and amazed by her fortune.
She helped him to stand, keeping herself behind him.  His cock was already
hardening again.  She would ride him many more times today.  Later, she
could brand him with a penis piercing.  He belonged to `her'.