Date: Sat, 28 Sep 2002 13:53:09 +0100 (BST)
From: rimboy <rimboy2@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: the riding master - part 1

This is a fantasy story involving man on man sex and s/m. It is not my
intention to shock or offend, so if you are under 18 or it is illegal to read
such stories where you live (you have my sympathies) please exit now.
Otherwise, enjoy, remembering that this is fantasy and includes sexual
practices that are unsafe in the real world.

It was unusual for my father to want to see me. Since my mother left he
had left me mostly alone. I'd been at school, of course, an exclusive,
expensive school just about as far from home as possible and vacations
had been spent with friends or abroad. There was Christmas, even my
father couldn't avoid me then, but otherwise we hardly saw each other
from one month to the next. I got a generous allowance every month,
he'd agreed to, and paid for, almost anything I'd ever asked for, but now
we were virtual strangers, embarrassed in each other's company, always
searching for something to fill the looming gaps in conversation whenever
we did meet.

But now I was home. School finished, the future undetermined. It was the
beginning of what turned out to be an idyllic summer, an almost endless
succession of clear, cloudless days. A summer when I would learn more
about myself than I ever had at the staid, expensive, pointless schools my
father had paid for. But then I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Here I was,
home without the prospect of leaving for the first time since my mother
left when I was 11. Now I'm 18 and I'm walking down the impressive, wide,
deeply-carpeted staircase that will lead me to my father's study. A room I
have not entered, I realise with some amazement, since my father told
me that my mother would not be coming back and that I was to leave
the only home I had ever known for boarding school the next morning. It
had been a cold, snowy February day six years ago.

I knocked on the door. I don't know why, but I just assumed that that is
what I should do when being interviewed. That's what it felt like, an
interview. A brisk 'Come in' from inside, I turned the handle and entered.

My father stood, back towards me, looking out of the window across the
park. It was a picturebook scene. A clear, sunny June morning. The park
was green, shadowy under the trees, dotted with the occasional deer. My
father was a wealthy man; the house was large, Georgian, and exquisitely
tasteful. A minor country home and one most certainly never open to the
public, my father would never allow that. The park was extensive, well-
managed and carefully groomed. My father was not a man who liked
things out of place or untidy. My father turned.

 'I should like you to meet Saul Powers, Ryan'.

I realised that my father was not alone. A tall, broad-shouldered, blond-
haired man was seated in a chair, facing away from the door. He stood
as my father introduced him. I remember first his eyes. They were green: a
pure shade of piercing, almost emerald green. He didn't smile as he
extended his hand. His grip was firm, dry, and cool. His touch seemed
directly linked to my cock. It moved as he shook my hand and his eyes
never left mine. For the first time in my spoiled, lonely life I felt a direct,
powerful connection with another person. By the time he dropped my
hand I was painfully aware that I was fully erect in my tight jeans. Saul
showed no signs of being in anyway affected. I had to concentrate to
bring my attention back to what my father, who had turned back to
gazing out of the window, was saying.

'Mr Powers is here to teach you how to ride Ryan. You know my interest in
horses; I want to build up an important stable. I want you, eventually, to
take it over. You need an interest. According to your school you have
shown little special aptitude for anything at all. We shall try horses. Mr
Powers here will teach you'.

Horses? What on earth was my father thinking about? Why should an
eighteen-year old boy be interested in horses? My anger at my father's
complete lack of feeling for what I might want, why could he not at least
have talked to me about this and not just declared that it was so, for the
moment clouded my intense, physical, sexual attraction to Saul Powers.
But even I, angry though I was, could not fail to read my own sexual
meaning into the idea of Mr Powers being my riding master. Despite my
anger I almost grinned at my father's unintended innuendo.

At eighteen I am a virgin. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but it is true. It was
not, even by my own critical standards, that I was unattractive. Far from it.
I had thick, dark lustrous hair, a smooth olive skin that tanned effortlessly
and evenly and a slim but muscular frame that had needed little training
from me. I had inherited my good looks from my Italian mother, who, I was
told, I should never mention again in my father's hearing. Several boys
and one teacher at school had made various sexual plays for me. I don't
know why I had never taken them up. Of course I had sexual yearnings.
Intense, long-lasting, embarrassing erections. I masturbated frequently,
sometimes even incessantly. I knew from the showers at school that I was
well endowed. Very well endowed. My cock grew larger, my balls were
bigger and hung lower than those of almost all the other boys at school
but I had never felt the urge towards another person. Not, that is until Saul
Powers. Even in my rage against my father, the most insistent thought I
had throughout the interview was that I must get back to my own room
where I could indulge in a prolonged, passionate and ultimately
extremely messy bout of masturbation.

But that was not, apparently, going to happen. I dragged my attention
back to what my father was saying

'You will go with Mr Powers now. Your training will begin immediately. I am
going away tomorrow on business, when I return in a month's time I
expect to see results'.

He shook Saul Power's hand. Murmured something I couldn't catch at
which the tall, broad-shouldered man looked at me and then nodded
brusquely.

'Come with me Ryan', he said, guiding me out of my father's study and
striding me out of the hall, and across the wide expanse of gravel towards
the stable block and staff quarters

To be honest I hadn't been in this part of my father's estate for years. There
had been no reason to. The staff had been efficient but distant
throughout my stays at the hall over these past years and they had
changed frequently. There had been no time to make even a cursory
friendship and, as I have suggested, my interest in horses was non-existent.

I entered the tack room, next to stables, behind Saul. I was still
uncomfortably aware of my erection, still aware of my intense attraction
to the man. But immediately something else caught my senses. I breathed
deeply. The smell seemed to catch my erotic mood. A smell of leather,
sweat, straw. Deeper notes of animal warmth, a sharp tang of horse piss.
Mr Powers turned and faced me, my glance automatically went to his
cock, and lingered over the bulge too long before I met his eye. A look
almost of amusement passed over his face before he spoke in a calm,
deep authoritative voice which seemed to take control of all my
thoughts.

'I am aware Ryan that you have not been consulted over this. You have
apparently no interest in horses at all. But you will learn to ride and you will
ride well. I will not tolerate laziness or failure, or cruelty to the horses
themselves. You will obey me as if I was your father. I repeat you will obey
me and you will learn to ride. Do I make myself understood?'

'Yes sir', I managed to murmur.

'Speak more clearly boy' he said.

'I said yes sir', I repeated.

'Good', he turned away, picked up a collection of clothes and placed
them on the tack table in front of me.

'Training will begin immediately. Take off your clothes and put these on'.

The smell of the tack room, Mr Powers' deep, resonant voice, his powerful
masculine presence meant my erection was harder than ever. How could
I undress in front of this man? I thought. But, at the same time, a new
thought occurred, one I had never felt before, a kind of coquettish
thought. I wanted this powerful man to find me attractive; I wanted him to
desire me.

I started to undress. I was aroused, my nipples hard, my smooth, olive skin
almost goosepimply with erotic charge. Saul didn't turn away. He
watched as I stripped down to my ribbed white trunks. My cock bulged,
reaching across my hip to one side. There was no disguising the fact that I
was hard, and aroused. As I blushed red, a small wet patch on my trunks
grew bigger and my big, balls churned visibly in the thin cotton, close-
fitting trunks.

For a second a definite smile played round Saul's mouth and eyes,

'I said strip boy. Everything'.

I felt humiliated, but also like I thought a whore must feel. I slipped my
fingers into the sides of my trunks and pulled them down. I stepped out of
them and stood, legs slightly apart, and looked Saul Powers in the eye. My
9-inch cock slapped up to hit my stomach. My balls, released from their
tight confines, dropped low then pulled back firm, a bead of pre formed
on my cock tip, then dropped, as if in slow motion, to the rough cobbled
floor.

Saul Powers looked at me. He looked at me fully, piercingly, and without
any signs of embarrassment or desire.

'Good. You will shave off the hair around your cock and balls and ass. If
you don't do it successfully, I shall get someone else to do it to you. Do you
understand?'

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out, I nodded and my
face reddened again.

'It is better you are shaved for riding. You will feel the horse more',
explained Mr Powers.

He handed me a pair of soft, chamois leather pants and I put them on.
They fitted perfectly, my cock bulging obscenely inside them, they laced
at the back and I had to turn while Saul Powers, pulled them tight and
tied the lace.

'Get dressed boy. Then come over here'.

And so the lessons began. I learnt to care for a saddle and the tack; I
learnt to groom my horse, to talk to it, to wash down the stable, to polish
the leather. Finally after 3 days I learnt to mount the horse itself.
Surprisingly, remarkably, I had an aptitude. I could see that Saul Powers
thought so too. I liked the animals, I found the tack room smell deeply
erotic, what's more, I took to being in the saddle as though I had been
riding all my life.

My training took up several hours each day. The rest of the time was my
own. I masturbated furiously, incessantly, copiously. I shaved my groin
every morning, not knowing whether Saul would check or not. I found this
so erotic that sometimes I would cum just from the stroke of the razor. I
woke painfully erect, I jerked off through the morning and evening. In front
of mirrors, teasing my sensitive nipples, playing with my ballsac, exploring
with my fingers the tight, wet, warm hole between my legs. And all the
time I fantasised about Saul Powers, what he would do to me, how I could
please him, what his huge cock (undoubtedly huge in my fantasy) would
feel like between my lips or inside my ass.

I was so erotically charged, so permanently horny, that I began to grow
tired of my bedroom. I masturbated in the parkland, in shutdown rooms of
the East wing, and then finally, in the stable block itself. I had discovered
the attic, below the eaves, where straw used to be stored. The smell of the
stable and tack room permeated up and I was able to strip and
masturbate for hours. I did. Sometimes taking up pieces of leather tack to
use. A bridle to slip over my chest and chafe my nipples, a saddle to sit
astride as I came, a crop to flick at my full balls, a leather strap to tease
my tight, firm ass.

One day after class I watched Saul drive off into town in his car and went
over to the stable block as usual. I collected some stuff and started to
climb up. But something was different; I heard a noise, so I replaced the
tack, then climbed up stealthily to see who or what it was. I peered round
the brick dividing wall in the attic and what a sight. It was Martin. Martin
was one of the stable lads. Saul's assistant really. A tall, good-looking lad. I
had not had very much to do with him. We had spoken 2-3 times. Like me
he seemed to adore Saul.

He was totally naked apart from his work boots. He stood in profile. His
large cock, almost as big as mine, hung heavily erect. He had what
looked like clips on his nipples and as he turned I saw his cock was tied
with a leather string or cord. In his hand he had a small, leather many-
stringed whip which he brought down with some force on his swollen cock
and reddened balls. I got my cock out and started jerking it. It was an
erotic scene, but then he turned his back and bent down to get
something out of the black leather bag that lay at his feet. He had a fine
body. More muscular, older, developed than mine. No body hair, shaved I
assumed. As he bent his balls swung low. The cord was tied to something
that dragged them low. This was exciting. I could barely breathe with
erotic charge. But it was not all, for I saw then something that really made
me jolt. The whole of his ass, thighs and back were covered in a criss-cross
pattern of fine red welts. Some older ones had turned to the purple black
of bruises but others were obviously freshly made. He took a long, black
phallus shaped thing from his bag, greased it from a tube, then placed it
on the floor and squatted over it. After a moment's adjustment he sat on
the black cock and it slid up his whipped ass, a sigh of pleasure came
from him as he began to slide up and down on the dildo, faster and
faster, whipping his cock and balls with the small whip. His cock swelled,
his whipping became more frantic and his squatting more deep until
eventually his cock exploded. Shots of creamy white cum jetted across
the floor. I counted 8, no 9, before he stopped. He fell back onto the floor
and sighed. The phallus still up his ass looked lewdly huge, stretching his
asshole. He gradually eased out the huge black thing, sniffed, then laid it
down. He started to undo the clips and cord and then to collect his things.

I had not come. I went back down and hid in the tack room until Martin
had left then I went back up. His cum was still there. I scooped some up
with my fingers, sniffed it, it smelled so cool, so sexy, that I licked my
fingers. I was horny beyond imagining at what I had witnessed. I went
back down, stripped and got up onto the saddle, I started to jerk off.
Imagining the clips, the weighted cord, the dildo and, most of all, the
whipping. I came with a tremendous force. Jets of thick cockcream
landed across the saddle, floor and wall opposite. I slumped exhausted
but still hard. I wanted more; I wanted to try a whip on myself. But then I
heard a car; I jumped down, and got dressed quickly. I cleaned up as
best I could and was just opening the tack room door as Saul Powers was
coming in.

'What are you doing here boy?'

'I thought I left something, Sir, but I was mistaken'.

I tried to slip past him and walk away.

'Come back here now boy'.

He raised his voice to me for the first time. I stopped, went back, he closed
the door. He strode over to the tack table and saddle bar. To my horror I
noticed two large gobs of white spunk still drooled down the saddle. He
followed my eye. Ran his fingers through the semen and sniffed it.

'Come here boy'.

I walked over, dreading what would come next, but also rock hard in my
jeans.

 'Is this your semen boy?'

'Yes, sir'. I stammered, blushing from head to toe.

'Lick it up'.

I couldn't believe my ears.

'I said, lick it up'.

There was no question but that I should do it. His command, shocking
though it was, was suddenly exactly what I wanted to do. I bent and
licked the still warm spunk from the leather. Then he stuck his fingers to my
mouth and made me lick those. After several seconds of exploring my
mouth with his fingers he stepped away.

'I shall punish you for this boy, I shall punish you very hard. Do you
understand?'

'Yes sir, I am really sorry sir'.

'Too late, boy, to be sorry. Be at the old barn at 9 this evening. If you are
late the punishment will be much worse'.

I walked back to the house and, despite my fear at what was to come, I
couldn't wait to get to my room. Once there I stripped, and used my cock
harshly until I experienced one of the most intense, copious orgasms of my
young life.