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Subject: Hypno-Horseriding
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DISCLAIMER
This is only a Hypnosis/Mind-Control story. It is fiction. A figment of my imagination. If you
think otherwise you need help in a professional manner. Please enjoy my imagination.
ITS THE WAY YOU SAY IT. (by Mesmer) (C)
Chapter I
Our riding instructor sat mounted on her chestnut gelding like a
princess from an Arabian Knights picture-book story. Her long, black
hair was worn loose and flowed evenly around both sides of her neck and
shoulders, touching just at the top of the shape of her breasts beneath
her white cotton shirt. Her breasts seemed full and firm beneath the
thin material as she sat watching us, her long, jodhpur-covered muscular
thighs ending at the bottom of her legs with her riding boots snugly
fitted into each brass stirrup. She held the reins lightly with her left
hand resting on the saddle's pummel, while her right hand rested gently
on her hip. And her name, she had already told us with a slight German
accent, was Helena.
I had taken the day off from my psychotherapy practice. Too many
patients with too many problems, all unnervingly similar to my own at
times. In fact, it was only through listening to theirs and helping them
with the best advice and techniques I could manage that it actually did
take my mind off my own.
It had been over a friendly drink with a fellow therapist that it was
suggested I take a day out and go to the riding school for a complete
break from my normal atmosphere, and you couldn't get much more away
from my normal clinical atmosphere than where I was right now, sitting
atop of a gray mare that acted like she would rather I sit astride a log
in a creek than across her back with my 85 kilos. I hadn't missed the
way her left eye had followed me all the way up and onto her back as I
clumsily mounted after three unsuccessful attempts.
Yes. I figured the old gray mare had my measure already. I had silently
made a deal with her that if she didn't embarrass me too much I would
agree not to let one little bit of my booted feet touch her skin in any
way by manner of encouragement to actually move forward when the time
came. She could choose her own pace, and her own direction. I just hoped
she liked being a part of the crowd of other horses and would simply go
along for the hell of it, rather than be the only horse with a rider on
its back to go its own way. So far it seemed to be working, except for
her flinching and shuddering from head to tail every now and then,
seemingly to test the gripping power of my knees, since I couldn't grip
with my feet, as per our deal.
Who knows, I thought as I listened to Helena go through her safety drill
like an airline stewardess on a plane. Maybe by the time the day was
over I'd have discovered how to out-psyche a horse-or be out-psyched by
one instead. I wondered where exactly that would come in handy in my
practice at the clinic. Not too many horses walked through the door
these days complaining of stress from inconsiderate riders or the rising
price of hay. Still, you never knew these days. Anything was
possible.
"Remember, if you need to in an emergency you can exit the horse from
either the right or the left." Helena was saying with a slight half-smile. "Try to remember to
tuck yourself up into a ball before you hit the ground. That way the
energy of your fall will be dissipated into the roll, rather than into
the direct impact of your bones breaking with the sudden stop at the
bottom."
And with that said she smiled at all of us in a very mysterious way. At
about this time I was seriously thinking of giving the gray mare between
my legs her dearest wish and remove her worst nightmare from her back,
based on the encouraging little safety talk from Helena that had
convinced me I had come up with the most stupid idea I'd ever had in my
life in wanting to go horse-riding. Now I was fairly certain I was going
to regret my decision. I just hoped that the hospital they would
eventually and most certainly take me too, since I didn't know exactly
how to tuck myself into a small ball of plummeting human, wasn't too far
away from the painkillers I could already see myself needing before the
day was over.
For some strange reason Helena's gaze kept returning to me. Why, I had
no idea. Maybe it was they way I sat on top of the gray mare. Or maybe
it was the look of pure disgust on the mare's face. Whatever the reason
Helena's gaze always returned to my face whenever she finished a little
spiel. I noticed it in between breaks of staring as hard as I could
between the ears on the gray mare's head, trying to penetrate her thick
skull and into her subconscious, if she in fact had one, with the
arrangement we'd silently made earlier, encouraging her not to break it,
and, that if she felt anything at all for humans as a whole, maybe she
could even stretch the friendship a bit and actually make me look good.
Maybe I was getting through. The mare had stopped shivering from head to
tail already.
"Your horses are trained to do your gentle bidding." Helena said next.
"And I stress the word 'gentle.' They've done this trip more times than
you can imagine. You won't have to be firm with them in the slightest.
Just lean forward or to one side or the other when you need to and your
horse will follow your guidance without too much effort on your part to
get it to do so. So, just sit back and enjoy your ride. I'll take the
lead and check on each one of you from time to time by riding back to
talk to you. When I do that the rest of you just keep going in the
direction you're heading at the time. Any questions before your destiny
unfolds before your very eyes?"
Christ, I thought as I leaned forward. A German with a sense of humour,
and a warped one at that. Between the old gray mare feeling more solid
by the second between my legs and my instructor's Nazi-type humour for
making me feel totally uncertain about the day's ending and my future
child-producing plans I wondered whether or not I should just stand up
in the saddle right then and there and simply hold my nose and jump
before the horse got up too much speed.
We all moved forward in a single line, one horse's snout seemingly
sniffing the rump of the one in front. I was last. I could just see
Helena's horse and her very straight back as she sat in the saddle at
the front of the line leading us to god knows where. I was glad we were
only walking. It gave me a chance to feel what it was like to have
something rocking and rolling between my legs. After about half a mile I
was getting the hang of it, my gaze focussed directly between the gray
mare's ears the whole time, desperately reminding her that her present
speed was fine. I wondered if it was possible for horses to get
headaches from being bombarded with thought waves.
A sudden blur and new shape suddenly filled my vision, causing me to
transfer my gaze from boring comfortable holes between my horse's ears
to looking into the deep, emerald green eyes of Helena as she swung her
prancing chestnut around and fell into a walking pace beside me. She was
smiling at me, or maybe laughing. I didn't really care. Her sudden
arrival had interrupted the unconscious communication I had spent so
much time establishing between my horse and I since I had
unceremoniously landed like a sack of spuds on its back. The old gray
mare was definitely accessing memories from her subconscious mind of her
younger days. She began prancing in her gait beside Helena's gelding. I
quickly sent her a flash thought about how she had nothing to prove to
me whatsoever, but it didn't work. I found myself trying to cope with a
new way of sitting and gripping with my knees as the mare hopped and
pranced as she re-lived younger days long-gone by.
In between trying to find the spot between my horse's ears that I had
come to know so well and glancing at Helena's smiling gaze I found
myself quite busy all of a sudden, not to mention having to rapidly
develop a new sitting style that didn't look too ridiculous as I rode
beside Helena. I tried to rest one hand on my hip like she was doing but
the new jostling gait knocked it off, leaving my grasping the pummel of
the saddle for dear life, just like the guy in the movie who was Billy
Crystal's character.
Helena was laughing outright as I fought for stability wherever I could
find it, which was absolutely nowhere on top of so many hundred pounds
of moving, quivering horseflesh, widening my groin with each second of
jostling movement as it pranced along as mutton dressed up as lamb.
Jesus, I thought, as I finally managed to sit in such a way that I
actually looked like I was comfortable. Of all the gin joints in all the
world, I had to end up with a horse undergoing its own ego-state
therapy, and with me sitting dumbly on its back.
"She's really quite gentle." Helena told me in a voice restricting
itself from coming undone altogether with uncontrollable laughter.
"On which part of me." I said dryly as my glance took in Helena's
rolling hips and thighs, gently thrusting forward and backward with each
prancing gait of her strutting horse. Her horse was strutting in such a
way so as to give the impression of Helena's hips being deliberately
thrust forward and backward in the very sensual manner they seemed to my
cris-crossing gaze.
Helena laughed out aloud again. "Just relax and settle into her stride."
Helena laughed as I gripped the pummel like a new-born baby. "Move with
the saddle. It's moving with her, so you may as well be a part of it."
"You mean just slide myself back and forth against the soft leather like
you're doing?" I said, annoyed that she was enjoying the misfortune of
another human being, figuring it was probably a trait inherited from her race.
I could feel her smile stop with her laughter. When I looked up I saw
her skin had crimsoned from her neck to her eyebrows and was still
rapidly spreading upward the more I stared at her. She held my eyes in
her own as they glared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Then she
smiled again, but a little more slowly this time. I could tell she was
trying to figure out if I had made a deliberate lewd remark or was
annoyed at her over something. Let her stew, I decided while trying to
adjust to my mare's new hopping, rolling step.
"Have you ever seen the movie....." she started to say.
"Yes!" I cut in. "As long as someone's having fun. That's the main
thing. You can have fun likening me to the jerk in Billy Crystal's movie
and I'll have my fun watching your hips and thighs make love to your
saddle. Deal?"
Again I felt the silence of her instantaneously ceasing smile, and again
I didn't care. This mare and I had some serious communication problems,
the result of which seemed to be the utter destruction of my testicles
and the ruination of any child-producing plans I might have ever
entertained. I stole a quick glance from between my horse's ears where I
had been stabbing her with calming thoughts to my German tormentor. Helena's face was as
crimson as it had been before, but now the colour had reached the top of
her forehead and had disappeared into her thick, black hair. Our eyes
met and while they met I quickly looked down at her jerking hips and
thighs and smiled as I looked up and met her gaze once more. She dropped
her gaze from mine instantly, knowing what I was thinking. Then, just as
quickly she recovered her former state of mind and looked back up at me
smiling, although her facial colouring still showed what her unconscious
mind was thinking.
I decided about then that if my horse was a woman I'd either slap it
silly or fuck it silly in an attempt to get it to get a grip on itself
and do my bidding, but it wasn't, and I was stuck with her just as she
was, and, just as she wanted to be with the chestnut gelding prancing
beside her. I wondered then if there were such a thing as a gelded mare.
That would take the sting out of her unconscious meandering down
memory-fucking lane.
Helena then suddenly reached over and grabbed my
reins, pulling the frisky old mare and her own horse to an abrupt halt.
I looked over at her as she released the reins and turned her face fully
to me. Her eyes seemed deep and milky. Probably inflamed with hate, I
decided, as I smiled sheepishly. For a few long seconds we just held
each other's gaze, neither smiling nor scowling, just simply looking at
one another.
"Where do we go from here?" she said finally.
"Well." I said after a few seconds. "We could turn around and go back
and let the others go wherever they wanted. Or, we could smile at one
another and consider the plight of each and then say we're sorry. Or." I
added. "You could continue to enjoy me looking like Billy Crystal while
I enjoy the thought of coming back in my next life as your saddle. Any
way's fine with me." I smiled.
Helena blushed again with a fresh batch of crimson beginning at her top
button, just above her breasts. Her eyes held mine in their thoughts,
whatever they happened to be, while my own turned more back to my last
statement and really began to imagine what it would be like to be her
saddle. Then I wondered if she could read my mind. She seemed to be
tanning beautifully right in front of my face. Then suddenly she reached
down quickly once again and grabbed my reins, then spun her horse
quickly around and led me off the track and in between several trees. My
mare followed so rapidly in her own turn that I had to grip the saddle
with both hands to avoid my worst nightmare.
After passing several trees Helena stopped. Then she turned her horse
around to face me, such that my old gray mare was staring right into the
eyes of her chestnut dreamboat, while I was doing the same to Helena. Her
face was still a new shade of crimson while I was left wondering what
the hell was going on. Maybe she intended to beat the shit out of me, I
figured as I held her gaze in my own. Then suddenly, her face relaxed
all over as she smiled. Her shoulders dropped and she released the reins
of her own horse.
"My saddle." Helena said softly, and then, to my utter disbelief she
began sliding herself back and forth against the pummel of her saddle,
looking directly into my eyes as she did so. Her lips parted slightly as
her hips slid sensuously back and forth, slowing as they reached the
summit of the pummel of her saddle, then rising a little before lowering once again in a
backward slide.
Jesus! My mind screamed at me. Then it became captured by the action of
Helena's hips. She shifted her hands and gripped the top of the pummel,
pulling herself a little more quickly back and forth. Her lips opened
wider and a soft moan began to arrive with each of her forward thrusts
and slides. Her eyes never left my own for a single moment. I felt
myself grow instantly to a sexual state I would have never thought
achievable on the back of a fucking horse. But there I was, barring up
beautifully, and sitting there like a bump on a log while my riding
instructor fucked her own leather saddle. I didn't know whether to be
insulted or more further inflamed by watching her doing what she was
doing and obviously enjoying what she was doing a whole lot more than I
was watching her do it.
"My...saddle!" Helena suddenly said, or breathed would be a more
accurate description of the way she said it. Then she said it again,
and again with each and every slide forward into and against the leather
pummel. "My...saddle!...Oooooh!...My...saddle!"
She was saying it faster and faster with each forward slide, slowing her
forward thrust and rising upward over the pummel a little with her own
forward sliding momentum. My body began to ache between my legs and it
had nothing whatsoever to do with the breathing, quivering horse between
them. I was downright uncomfortable and getting more so with each
passing second. Helena's eyes then took on a glazed look as they
appeared to look right through me, although the direction her eyes were
staring vacantly never varied from between my eyes. I felt like jumping
right on top of her horse and taking her at her peak, but then sanity
prevailed with the thought of being trodden on in my present state by my
mare's large hooves and being driven into the ground, cock-first, like a
stump-jump plough in planting season.
Then suddenly Helena's knuckles whitened as they gripped the pummel of
her saddle with a ferocity I wouldn't have imagined possible from a woman sitting
on top of a horse. Her mouth opened wide and her eyes glazed over
completely as she threw her head back and forth, around and around while
she continued to moan.
"Oooohhhh! Myyyy sssaaaaaddle! Oooooohhhhhh yyyyeeessss! Mmmyyyy
sssaaaadddle!"
She cried it over and over again as she threw her head from side to side
as her pleasure peaked, her long mane of black flowing hair splaying
everywhere about her face and head. Then she hunched forward quickly and
froze, like a statue, groaning in a voice I would not have recognized as
hers, sitting upon her horse and squealing her pleasure's peak and
passing into my eyes as she stared. And that was how she remained until
her breathing finally returned to normal and the knuckles of her hands
appeared to resume their original skin colour. It was only at that point
that I realized I had been breathing as hard as she, and, upon looking
down at my groin, realized that I had shared her pleasure with her
without knowing it.
I looked back up into her eyes. They were smiling at me in a soft, warm
sort of way. Then, without saying a word she grabbed her reins and urged
her horse forward and past me. Without a word from me my own faithful
mare spun on her heels like an overweight ballerina, nearly dislodging me in the process
from my precarious position on her back. I gripped tightly as the mare broke
suddenly into a trot to catch up to her dream boat. Whatever passion and
ardor I might have had was instantaneously crushed, along with my nuts
as my hips involuntarily danced and crashed musically against the hard
saddle to the theme of the nut-cracker suite.
I tried to yell stop, but I was already feeling the intense pain I
remembered from an over-affectionate cricket ball in my youth. The
words never reached my lips before the next allegro or crescendo of the
musical sonata rekindled the explosive energy in my groin as my balls began to
finally soften and disintegrate under the slamming of them into the
saddle as 85 kilos of me crashed downward while three or four hundred
pounds of aging female horseflesh came rocketing upward. The cymbals of
my mind exploded each time they met. My mind spun crazily each time
they did until finally the old mare who had discovered her missing
hormones somewhere or other along the trail caught up to the hairy rear
end of her dream boat and began to nuzzle its rump affectionately as it
fell into a slow walk behind.
Helena turned in her saddle and looked
back at me, smiling. It was the smile of a winner, No doubt about it.
Not only had she had a wonderful time fucking her saddle in front of me
while I had a good time without being aware of it, but she now enjoyed the
primate of all belly-laughs as I lay doubled over the pummel of the
saddle groaning: the saddle being the cause of all my pain and agony.
Whatever used to hang proudly between my legs I was sure would be now
instantly rejected, even by Big Mac's for hamburger meat, as well as any woman
who had ever or might ever have found me remotely sexually attractive.
And as she continued to remain turned in her saddle and laughing at me
in my pain, the unchosen words I was groaning to express my absolute
grief to the world made her laugh all the harder until the tears
streamed from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. They just came out
whenever I opened my mouth to scream my agony as I watched my old gray
mare nuzzle the hairy ass of her equestrian mind's delight and snort
happily.
"Mmmmmmmyyy ssssaaadddle!" I groaned, over and over again.
"Mmmmmmmmyyyy ssssaaaaaddle!"
End Chapter I
By Mesmer
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