In the Saddle

Some people enjoy LARPing and historical items. You take that a few steps further. Tonight, you have your eyes on a saddle so old, they even think it's haunted. You don't believe in such nonsense, but you might be proven wrong...

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'Tonight is THE night!' you tell yourself as you head for the stables with the dimmest light you could manage, just enough so you don't step on any unfortunate animals, but not enough to alert anyone else nearby.

You've been working at the farm for a few weeks now, and pulled your weight rather well too, if you might say so yourself. They expected a lot more complaining from your rich ass, raised in the big city, hydrated on cocktails around the pool, but they had no idea how much you found yourself loving the place. Among other things.

The smells, the animals, the sounds, the feeling of dirt under the manicure that you've already cut short as soon as you heard about your parents' plans for your summer...

Not to say you couldn't say no to them. Not only are you old enough to live on your own already, despite the struggles that cooking for yourself still raises, but you know exactly how low to lower your lip and scrunch your eyebrows at your parents to have them give up any ill will that they might hold against you. Deserved or not.

You didn't do it this time.

They thought it was because you were finally willing to take responsibility for your irresponsible choices, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

The true reason was waiting for you in the barn. Quiet, rugged from overuse, smelling like anything but the leather that it's made of: a saddle so old, nobody could tell how it even got there in the first place.

'Might as well be part of the ole land, at this point' their grandmother had said.

'I reckon it outlived five barns now,' the grandfather had said.

'Word is, it's haunted' their daughter had said. 'Don't go looking about the barn if ye hear any ungodly noises, hear me?'

There were no ungodly noises to hear, as you stepped closer and brushed your fingers all across its unkept seat... yet.

If all went well tonight and nobody went by the barn, same as both weeks you've been around now, some ungodly sounds might come out... out of your mouth, that is.

Despite its mysterious age, the saddle holds perfectly fine as you move it from its resting wedge and onto the saddle rack closest to the height you need for your plans. Smells like sweat, tobacco, horses and filthy things that you can only guess, and you can feel your body tingling with anticipation, as you muse about adding your own filth to it.

There's beauty in old things. You've always had a fondness to them, to the stories they might have lived through, the people who might have touched them. And old things in places as simple and unassuming as this, you can get to know them in ways that others might frown about... personal ways...

A horse whinnies in the pasture nearby and a dog barks with little conviction. You can hear the wind rustle the trees and grass around, but nothing human, nothing that could spoil your fun.

It's time.

Your night gown drops off you easily and the hay and dirt on the floor sticks to your naked soles. There might be something wet on the ground too, and it makes you feel dirty. A smirk pushes at the corners of your mouth. The barn smells like it should: dung, dried herbs, old iron, spent wood, grains and leather...

The saddle is rough against your belly as you wiggle your way on it. Not sitting, like one should, but bent across it, like a damsel kidnapped by some rugged wild west men, ready to rob some train, lose all their loot in the pub, and brawl over which one gets to show you a good time first, not necessarily in that order.

Maybe the one carrying you might not even wait until you stop anywhere...

You bite your lip as your breasts hang down, your attempts at adjusting your position without touching the ground, as you would on a horse, making them jump, gravitation pulling against them. Your heart takes off as your imagination mingles with reality, the saddle under you easing you in the scene. It's perfect like this, you know exactly what you want to hear, how to be held. Imaginary or not, you know you're in for a really good time.

Touching yourself over the saddle sounded much easier in your mind, but you've been eyeing this saddle for far too long to have come unprepared. There's something already inside you, just waiting for your instruction... at one press of a button...

Your smart watch is dead.

You could have sworn it was fully charged when you left your room in the farmhouse. You've been so meticulous too, made sure it worked on Bluetooth alone, if the signal was to fail you. There's a manual switch too..

If only...

If only you could reach around...

A rag and what could only have been another saddle fall from a rack above and miss you by a scrape of your head, taking off your hair tie. That's lucky. It could have taken off your conscience too, was it to fall any closer. Or worse? That would be a fun way to hit the news... good thing you wouldn't be there to see it.

You could get off, start the vibrator, and get back on before you hit the first orgasm. Would be harder to stop or control it, but that sounds rather exciting, now that you think about it. Your misfortune turned out for much better instead.

...

You can't get off.

Your toes can almost touch the ground, but your ribcage can't pass through the space between the racks. They must have misaligned when that saddle tried to end your career...

Oh, no...

"Well, I'll be darned..." a distinctly male voice vibrates in the silence of the barn, just as you were trying to turn around enough to see what's keeping that blasted rack from moving off you.

Fuck!

You got so distracted with your fantasies, you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings. You've never gotten caught before. Today was the day.

"You look rather... tight, miss?" the man speaks again, from right behind you.

The racks are blocking your view and the hair in your face and the darkness of the night aren't helping either. Moonlight doesn't reach in the back of the barn, where he is. You don't know his voice either. Who, and most importantly, why would they be here at this time of the night? Had he been here this all time? Watching you undress? Climbing in? Struggling?

He rests a hand against the rack that's holding you pinned, but it doesn't budge. You know he's moving behind you, but you can't hear any steps. Even if he was barefoot too, the floor should creak...

You do feel his hand caressing your waist, however, from right under your trapped ribcage.

"You could scream, ya know? I reckon someone would come help..." he says, his hand slowly following your hip and spine, his touch cold like the night air. You should be scared, but it makes you feel reassured somehow. Like you're some horse he's trying to befriend... a very caught-red-handed horse...

You want to point out that he could help you himself, since he's already here, but your voice cuts off when his other hand mirrors the first and his fingers dig into your ass, lifting you up for a closer look.

"What in tarnation?" he huffs and his breath travels all between your thighs.

He must've seen your vibrator and you'd like to tell him a thing or two about minding his own business, but he also found the button for it and your feet instantly raise and tremble as the stimulation hits you without warning. You hate to admit it but this entire situation... it works.

You curl against the saddle and jolt as you come before you can even remember yourself. The vibration keeps going as you do, and you can't help but whine in humiliation and ecstasy as you come again, right between the strangers hands, his grip unyielding as you shake. He must be enjoying it. Seeing you writhe like this. Helpless. Trapped.

"You alright there, miss?" he asks while you come a third time.

You can taste the amusement in his tone, but his voice is low, his every word pronounced just a bit too carefully... He's past just enjoying this.

There should be a remission time after you've come five times in a row, but you've never done that in front of someone else... your lower half entirely in their hands... Their eyes catching ever twitch of your pussy. You can't even tell if your heart is racing or just took off on its own at this point.

You're never going to hear the end of this, if word comes out.

"Please... stop it!" you manage to say between tears and gasps, too many emotions rushing for your attention at once while your ass is twitching so high in the air.

"Why, I thought you put that there plumb on purpose..." he chuckles but the vibration stops before you can start curling again. "Le'me give ya a hand then..."

A moan escapes your throat as you feel your vibrator pulled out of you, slow but deliberate, the orgasm you were heading for before he turned it off, revived within you. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his other arm, as it stands right between your legs, supporting your belly.

You barely register your toy hitting the floor as you writhe in the stranger's palm, his hold against you steady, despite your juices already spilled all between your thighs, much more still flowing out of you and all across his arm. You can feel him breathe against the curve of your back: cold but slow, heavy. It makes sense, a weak, rational thought passes your mind, but the animal, feral side of you is nothing but delighted to be met in kind.

Now that there's nothing inside you, your body frets, demands... there's nothing inside you...

"I reckon..." his voice is so low, he sounds like purring and your pussy throbs against his arm as the vibration trickles across your skin. "t'wasn't bein' stuck that ailed ya... and ya done made your problem mine, lass..."

He lifts your ass higher in the air, his hand still under you, your clit jumping to attention as it rubs against his wrist. You could die of embarrassment. But maybe... not just yet...

You try your best to keep from trembling and moaning as his other hand brushes across your innermost thigh and his thumb slips between the folds of your already tender pussy. It finds your entrance easily and he pauses by it, pressing to go in but not quite. Hesitant. He growls in a language you've never heard before and pulls his thumb away, straightening up and dropping you gently. He's no longer touching you. Worse: he's taken a step back.

After all of this?

Is he going to just up and leave you like this?

Would he at least set you free before, or will you have to endure the horror of being found in the morning, hopefully by anyone other than the grandma.

But you can hear cloth and metal, maybe leather?

"I won't force myself upon you, miss," he says while you can clearly hear him unbuckling his belt. "I never was that kind of man."

'Until now?' you want to throw at him, but find yourself reluctant to argue.

"I reckon we can help each other a smidgen, though," he says and grabs you once more, rougher this time, holding you up with an arm around your waist while he brings himself to you.

You feel his legs strap around yours while his cock slides right between your thighs, hard and impossible to ignore when it rubs tight between your lower lips and clit, hitting your belly.

On the outside.

"Just yell or make noise if you need me to stop" he says as his legs trap yours tightly and his hands grab each side of your waist.

It's not stopping that you need him to do. You can tell he'd fill you up to the brim and your insides throb wilder than ever at the prospect. Wanting. Craving.

He pulls away before you can say anything, adjusting his grip one last time before slamming against you, his tip teasing your clit as your insides cry in equal parts excitement and frustration.

The sounds of your wet flesh against his unrelenting thrusts fills the barn and your entire body shakes with them. You want to say something, but save from yelling, you worry he won't hear you, and he's chasing the breath out of you as it is.

Your core heats up, you barely keep from collapsing against the rack you're holding for dear life against. The pleasure. It floods from deep within you and your legs escape his grip as you shake under his thrusts. Your heels hit his ass hard and he grunts, his momentum disturbed.

He readjusts and is just about to resume when you finally manage to catch your breath enough to say "In..."

He pauses. He must've heard you but you weren't clear enough.

"Put it in!" you manage to say.

"Well I'd never refuse..." he readjusts his grip on you and pulls away just enough to make room for his cock to tease your drenching pussy. "... such a lovely invitation."

You can taste the smirk he says it with, even if he also sounds wistful, but have no time to even think of a retort before he moves inside you, your walls wrapping warm against him. Welcoming.

He swears, and whatever he mutters along with it comes out shaky as your insides throb against his advancing thrusts.

Demanding. Hungry. Still not full enough. Still not hard enough.

Your ass perks up, helpful, giving him all the room he could possibly need, your gspot pressed tighter against his length.

"Thirsty little thing..." he breathes out, his grip on you painful as he touches your inner ring at the same time as his hips come flush against your splayed ass. If his dick was made to order, it would still not reach as perfectly.

He seems to be enjoying the same idea for a moment, his grip loosening just enough that you can wiggle. Just enough that you can swing your hips against him. Urging him where your mind and voice are too taken with the thrill of a fullness you've never though possible, and the anticipation of what's to come.

He resumes thrusting, too gentle at first.

"Harder..." you manage to breathe out but you can't tell if your mouth managed to pronounce it. It felt more like a pleading moan... and once that was out, there is no stopping the others.

He thrusts harder with every single one of your moans, and every thrust breeds yet another moan, even more pleading than the other. More demanding... more pathetic.

If someone walked in on you now, you'd care for nothing, as long as you kept getting fucked.

Your throat is dry and you feel wet around your mouth but you can do nothing other than cry out in mindless delight as he slams harder into you, so hard that you could swear the whole barn might come apart above you. Your body holds. No, it craves for more. It craves for all. Insatiable.

His grunts behind you have long changed to moaning, his thrusts wild, unstoppable, unhinged. Pleasure that has been playing all across your body gets drawn to full attention, no longer just to the thrashing of your core, but to his grip, his voice, his mindlessness.

The ecstasy organizes. You feel it come together like a horde, savage and relentless in one goal only: ripping you apart. You're helpless against it. And eager. It's closing in.

He growls loud and helpless, his thrusts speeding up as your core clenches against him, your insides quaking as overwhelming pleasure threatens to tear at the very seams of your being. Unyielding. Unstoppable.

It's as if a vulcano breaks from the center of your very existence as you shudder and curl against the saddle, around his cock, in his arms, his fingers digging so tight into your hips that you could swear your skin gave, but the pain only peppers the ecstasy that takes over when his moan sounds delightfully ethereal alongside yours. You can feel your insides trying to squeeze him dry still, as he fills every last space left within you with his cum.

You lay limp from the saddle, his hips still flush against your ass, his cock still deep inside you and you both catch your breaths and minds from everywhere.

"Darn, sweetheart..." he whispers, slowly pushing himself to his feet. Your insides complain as he pulls out just as slowly, but they're too spent to put up any fight. "They'd need a locomotive to pull me out of you, were I still kickin..." he lets his hands brush across your back so slow and intent, it feels like a caress.

There is a mess of rags and saddles all around you, every rack destroyed, but the one you're still bent over, the old saddle tight against your belly. The whole barn looks like a tornado just went through it...

"Alas..." the stranger whistles sadly.

It's morning, and everything around you is increasingly visible, but when you slip off the saddle and turn to look at the stranger, there is nothing but darkness. Pitch, surreal, darkness.

You can feel his hands caress your legs as you pull away, but still nothing of him. The entire side of the barn where he's standing is nothing but strange, unrelenting blackness. As if the night itself is taking refuge there.

A rooster crows outside, announcing the new day, and, as its song travels across the morning dew, the darkness lessens, giving way to... nothing. The entire side of the barn is empty of even the smallest speck of dust. Not even your toy is there.

Everything around, but the barn itself and the saddle you got fucked on is in complete disarray, you included. There's bits of mysteriously old leather rubbed into your skin, the smell of it sunken into your pores. You can't explain what has gone on, but you can still feel its aftermath. You can see it too: your inner thighs are punctured, blood dripping slowly, mixing with juices that are not only yours.

The dogs bark by the farmhouse and the animals start fretting. Soon, the family and their helping will come out to tend to the farm's many needs. They'll ask questions that you have no answer to.

You need to get dressed before they see you... still dripping...