...“Post. Show me what you can do.”

Slender shoulders back, spine set with a slight bow, Melanie Anne Grayson lifted on well-shaped, smooth tanned thighs, then lowered herself over the steel-hard erection of the man who directed her action. She was proud of the fact that her perfect, surgically pert breasts barely quivered with the controlled descent. Her wet pussy lips separated with hungry abandon to consume the breadth of his impressive girth, as well hung as any of the unruly stallions that he trained. A slashing sting across her buttocks called forth a gasp of angry surprise. Her gaze flew to his.

“With the motion. When I thrust, you should be correctly aligned. Angle of the hips, use your delightful body. No, don’t open so wide. Lock your thighs to mine. Use the muscles you were given. Grip my cock with your pussy. Squeeze. I want to feel your cunt sheathing me like a tight glove all the way in. And keep your shoulders back. Tits displayed. Control your movements, move your hips and thighs. Focus on fucking. If you can’t control yourself now and follow directions, how do you ever expect to handle a powerful horse like Merciless. Head up. Look at me.”

“Merciless” should have been the name of the devil on which she was now mounted. The man who had her split wide open for his pleasure. Melanie panted as she attempted to adjust, to move, to realign. She wanted to scream at him, to fuck him hard and fast, to force him to submit to her demands. She wasn’t used to taking orders—she was the one who typically issued them. But, damn him, he had something she wanted. Badly. So instead, she forced herself to soften and yield to his directions. She’d show him self-control. She would not let him win.

Again, she lifted up, her thighs clasped against his rock-hard thighs, her vagina expanded and folded around his immense cock, pressing, feeling every inch of his thick tool invading her. A powerful thrust buried him inside her, and she groaned at the hot, drugging sensations that invaded her.

“Ride!” he demanded.

The friction of his passage inside her sent her nerve endings into overload. She lifted and dropped, again and again. The throb from the discipline of the crop served only to heighten her desire for a fast, hard ride, spurring her on. It was the kind of ride her usual bed companions couldn’t seem to give her.

She rested her hands against his broad, muscular chest, felt the strong beating of his heart beneath her palms. Her fingers played with the thick pelt of ebony, silky hairs covering him like a mat of lush mink. A brief flare of rebellion possessed her, and she rose up and slammed back down. Another swat of the crop from behind flared across her flaming ass, causing her to groan as the strange mixed sensations spiraled through her. It was pain. It was heat. It was sharp pleasure drenching her. Again, her attention flew to the Horsemaster for guidance.

“What did I do wrong now?” she complained, wanting to rub a hand over her ass to ease the tingling throb left in the crop’s wake. It also felt like the Horsemaster’s cock had doubled in size inside her cunt. And it felt so good to be filled so completely.