Chapter 3
During the course of the next few weeks, Glenda went to visit Dr. Marsden faithfully. She would arrive when his office hours were over, and they would carefully lock the door to his office.
.Then, he would strip her white body naked, and check again for signs of the dreaded disease. He managed to keep it in check for several weeks.
Glenda felt better. She avoided being too familiar with Oscar (Did she detect a trace of hurt accusation in his big, green eyes?) and was more cheerful around the house, which pleased Phil.
After a while, though, the cure seemed to stop working. She found herself avoided Marsden's office, and refused to answer his telephone calls. She didn't know what was wrong with her. At first, he had thrilled her, but soon, she was bored and restless again.
To combat the growing sense of ennui, she threw herself into a number of activities, " to try and get her mind off of her terrible obsessions.
She helped out at the local hospital, and read to the blind. She went into New York two or three times a week, to shop at Bloomingdale's or Saks, or to go to the theatre. She started a yoga class, rode at the stable, and even decided to take up weaving. Often, at night she was so worn out by the day's activities, that she was to tired to even think of touching herself, and fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
One crisp day in late October, Glenda was getting dressed to go riding. She was a fairly skilled rider, and she enjoyed the sport immensely. She donned her tight riding breeches, and the snuggly fitting red jacket that showed off her rounded globes. She then pulled on the high, black leather boots, and put on the smart, velvet riding cap. She picked up her spurs, crop and whip, all waiting in a little bag, and she was off.
On the way there, she wondered who she would take out. She and Phil didn't own a horse, although he had promised her one, someday, if he got rich. Now, she alternated between two or three favorites. There was Misty, a smoky gray mare, gentle and tame, for the days when she felt really tired, or distracted. Then, there was Touchstone, a merry little spotted horse, with a lively gait, and affectionate nature. Finally, there was Mephisto, a gleaming black horse, wild and spirited. His glossy coat reflected the light, and he seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun, when she pulled up to the stable. He was a fierce beast, often mean, but she loved him dearly. Yes, today it would be Mephisto.
As she got out of the car, she saw Ralph, the lean and sinewy stable hand at Miss Joan's Riding Academy.
"Hi Mrs. Norwood, how are you?"
"Fine, thanks, and you?"
"Fine, just fine.' Your husband?"
"Oh, working too hard but he's OK."
"Who will it be today?"
"If Mephisto is free, I thought I'd take him."
"He's free all right!."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, he's been acting up. Threw a girl last week over by the pond."
"Broke her leg, too."
"Pity!"
"You sure that you want him."
"Quite sure."
"We'll send a man out a little ways behind you, to make sure that he behaves himself."
"Oh, if you think it necessary."
"I do."
Then Glenda walked over to the magnificent beast. He recognized her, and whinnied with pleasure. He stuck his face out towards her, looking for the treats she always brought him. She laughed, and drew from her bag an apple, two carrots, and a handful of sugar cubes.
His big, black eyes glowed, and he thrust his muzzle into her hand, chomping with delight. "Greedy!", she chided him, "one at a time, Sir! Learn some manners!". The horse kept on munching, oblivious to the admonition.
Glenda let him finish his snack, and then mounted his sturdy back with the grace and ease of an accomplished rider. "OK, we're off!" she said, lightly touching his haunches with her black crop.
He responded instantly to the movement, and trotted off into the woods.
The air was crystal clear, and the trees had turned even more now, swaying against the sky with the elegance of ballet dancers. A cool breezed tickled her nose, and goaded her on, to go faster and faster into the wind.
For some odd reason, she and the horse seemed at one. She could sense his fiery spirit, but it suited her own. She barely needed to touch him to get a response from his quick, energetic body. They rode together faster and faster, soon leaving Ralph's man far behind them. Soon, there was no distinction. Woman and horse merged, and blended into one, great mythical beast, so perfectly matched were their motions.
Glenda felt her body melting away, and becoming part of him. She was weightless, soaring. The earthbound body that had kept her down for so long had vanished, and she was reborn into the fleet, speeding beast.
As they rode, she began to notice a peculiar warm flush that started to slowly fill her legs, thighs, and cunt. She was mystified for a few moments, and then she realized exactly what was happening.
As she posted up and down in the hard, leather saddle, her cunt was being ground against its stiff, unyielding surface. The movements of Mephisto, swift, and sure as the wind, increased the pressure, and had brought her to the point of a boiling orgasm.
She was a little stunned, but kept riding. God, it was so good, so very good! She felt something other than human as the warmth kept spreading, and growing hotter by the second. Soon, her cunt was just one great aching void, poised on the brink of ecstasy!
If she had to die right now, she would be happy, and she increased her speed, so that the horse's haunches gleamed with sweat, and a fine layer of foam appeared at his mouth.
And then she felt it, sure and steady as the hot, driving rain on a summer night, the strong orgasm welled up, blotting out all light, all sound, all sense, and there was on the powerful galloping beat of the beast that bore her.
She let go of the reins for a brief moment, and then grabbed them again as she opened her eyes, and saw that the horse was racing dangerously near the ledge of a small cliff. She yanked them both to safety, shuddering in fear, and trembling with passion for the animal.
Her cunt was sopping, and seeped through the thin stuff of her panties, soaking the pants below. Her heart was pounding wildly, and her breath came in great, uneven gasps. She pulled sharply on the reins, cutting into the horse's mouth with the cruel metal bit. He reared up on his hind legs, and neighed to wake Satan, his namesake.
He did stop, though, and Glenda had a chance to still her throbbing heart, and quiet her tortured breath. She sat there for a few minutes, shuddering, and sobbing, sharing some unspoken but profound form of communication. She patted the swelling curve of his rump loving, and crooned to him softly, "There, there, my steed, my warrior, my prince. Shhhh, calm yourself now, there's a good horse!" He responded by turning around and trying to lick her face with his enormous wet tongue. If he had reached her, he could have washed the entire surface.
Glenda looked at him for a long moment, and then she said simply, "I love you, Mephisto." The horse returned her unwavering glance, and whinnied as if in reply to her confession.
Suddenly, Glenda felt like a fool, and, even worse, like a sick, depraved lunatic. Somebody should come and lock her away! She was an insult to decent people! First, she had let a cat suck her, and now, here she was, having orgasms during her riding sessions, and declaring love to a horse. Sick, sick! Oh God, she needed someone to give her tranquilizers, or something! Maybe she would go and see the analyst that Diane was always raving about...
She rode back to the riding stable very slowly, hoping to regain her composure. The breeze dried her wet face, and calmed her flushed cheeks. She tucked the hair under the riding hat as best she could, without the aid of brush or mirror.
When she finally turned down the curved path that led to the stable, she was greeted by several people, who were starting to worry about her. Among them was Miss Joan herself.
Miss Joan had run her riding academy for the past twenty years with a discipline that was as rigid as her posture. She had inherited it from her father, a trained and skilled rider himself, and now she dedicated her life to imparting her skill and knowledge to others. She was tall and thin, and wore her wheat colored hair in a tight bun. The tight lines of her severe black riding outfit emphasized the gaunt, lean lines of her body. Her mouth was prim, but her eyes were sparkling with spirit.
She greeted Glenda warmly, "There you are! We were just beginning to worry! I was going to send Ralph out to look for you! What happened, Glenda?"
"Oh, I'm all right. Just a little flushed, that's all. Mephisto and I went for quite a romp back there in the woods, didn't we, boy?" she said, patting his wet muzzle, and thinking to herself, 'If they only knew what we were doing!'
"He's really a dear, isn't he?" said Miss Joan. "People think he's nasty but he can be as sweet as a lamb! You just can't let him know mat you're afraid of him, right, Glenda?"
"Right!"
"Well, you're both all hot and sweaty I see!"
"Yes, I need a good shower."
"Glad you enjoyed him, dear, and do come back for a lesson this week."
"I will."
"Good."
"Good-bye, Miss Joan." Glenda got down slowly, giving her body time to reorient itself to being on the ground again. The last hour had transported her spirit so, that she was still dizzy, and her head ached.
"You OK, Mrs. Norwood?" asked Ralph.
"Uh, yes."
"You don't sound sure."
"Well, I..."
"Maybe a glass of water."
"No..."
"Some beer, maybe?"
"Yes, that would be very nice." and she stood inside the comforting shelter of the stable, with her face in her hands. Mephisto was nowhere to be seen, she noted, part in regret, part in relief. He was probably outside being washed and combed by some stable boy. She hoped that whoever it was would have the proper respect and reverence for that magnificent body, those sinewy, tense legs, that great arched backside, answered by the curved neck. He was a beauty, a true god among horses, Pegasus himself!
Ralph returned with a can of cold beer, and a pain of tall glasses.
"Thought I'd join you, if that's OK."
"That's fine Ralph, fine."
"Here, drink up!!" Glenda did, and felt much calmer, and more like her normal self.
"You're a really good rider, Mrs. Norwood, " he said.
"Thank you."
"I mean it. Not too many people can handle that beast."
"Oh, I really like him."
"I can see."
"He's really a special horse."
"Special horse for a special lady." She looked up swiftly to see if he was mocking her, but his good-looking face, with its dark brown eyes was quite serious. She regarded his tall, athletic body with cool appraisal for a moment, and then said, "What do you mean by that?"
"I think you know what I mean...Glenda." The way he said her name was a burning caress, and she got up, and walked swiftly towards him.
Instantly, they were in one another's arms. He was feeling her ass, her thighs, she tits, her belly through the fabric of her riding habit.
She felt for his- dick, and was greeted pleasurably by a rock like mass that squirmed under her fingers. It rose like a skyscraper in her hand, and she groped for the zipper of his trousers.
He was busy with her clothing, undoing the tight pants and jacket, tossing aside the velvet hat. "Leave on the boots, " he whispered, and so she did.
His jeans and plaid flannel shirt came off with ease, and he was naked underneath his clothes.
His hands went for her boobs, and wound around them, pulling at the taut nipples with his teeth, occasionally taking a bite from a swollen globe of flesh. He pushed her back on the soft, fragrant hay, and dove down for her pussy.
Glenda sighed as his tongue found its way between those wet lips, and lathered them with his spit. His teeth on her clit made her howl out loud: "More, MORE!"
"Get down on your hands and knees, like a horse, " he commanded, "and let me ride you, you beautiful white mare!!"
Glenda grew hotter at his words, and bent over to oblige him. He slipped his dick at the entrance to her gaping hole, dripping with this afternoon's juices. Then, with a sudden violent movement that made her gasp in pain, he rammed his prick into her, with full force.
After the initial pain, though, she answered his thrusts by snapping, thrusting movements of her own, and she brayed and whinnied like a horse or a donkey.
So intent was she on her role as equine beast she didn't notice that Ralph had picked up her short, hard riding crop from the floor where she had let it drop, and was holding it above her with an upraised arm.
The first blow stung her flesh like fire. "Oh Jesus Christ!" she shrieked, "What in the name of God are you doing to me?"
"Shut up, and let me ride you!"
"Stop it!"
"Shut up, I said!"
"STOP!!" But Ralph ignored her screams to halt. With his one free hand, he grabbed her mouth, and clamped it shut.
"You need a bit, baby!" he hissed. Glenda tried to bite his hand, but the new sensation of the wicked crop lashing her skin made her incapable of doing anything but feeling the pain.
"God," she thought, "When this is over, he will pay for it! I'll make him suffer and die for this! How dare he, the low-class pig, the bastard! I'll have his balls cut off! I'll turn him into a fucking gelding! No, that's too good for him! He should be flayed alive! Boiled in oil!'
So seethed her mind for a number of minutes. But she had to admit to a certain glowing warmth that was being ignited in her loins, not at all unlike what she had experienced on Mephisto's back this afternoon. It almost felt good, that burn, that sting.
She lifted her ass in the air, to draw closer to the instrument of her punishment. The burning was a slow, delicious fire, like the gooey hot insides of roasted marshmallows. Oh God, she loved it!
"So baby, you dig it now, huh?" said Ralph, finally releasing his firm grip on her mouth.
"Yes, yes!"
"You're gonna be a good little filly, right."
"Nnneigh."
"That's it!."
"Neigh! Nnneigh!"
Ralph contined his spanking. Her white legs, ass, back and thighs were covered with red, swelling lines, that crossed the surface of her white skin like some crazy tic-tac-toe board, scrawled by a drunk.
She was howling, and neighing like a horse, and the other horses around the stable heard her, and neighed in response.
Suddenly, she heard a sharp piercing horse-cry. She knew that it was Mephisto calling to her. He heard her, and recognized her voice. His cries were poignant, and filled with longing. She wished she could get up and go to him now, but Ralph's tool was deep inside of her now, and he held her fast.
The cries of the horse were unbelievably erotic; she felt bound to Mephisto in some strange, supernatural way, as if they had been mates in another life.
When she reached a climax, shuddering, heaving and braying with all her might, it was Mephisto's cock that she fantasized was inside of her.
Ralph felt the shudders, and knew she was coming. He tossed away the crop, and dug his nails deep into the flesh of her tits, bringing dew-drops of blood to the aching skin around the inflamed nipples.
He held on tighter now, for he sensed that his own moment of joyous release was fast approaching. He heaved and thrust, behaving himself like a wild stallion. He charged his head up in the air, and uttered deep, guttural noise. His shriek as he climaxed brought a strange noise from all the other animals, who responded to such animal passion. They were groaning, it seemed, in empathy. The hot bubble of his come escaped his prick, and filled the already soaking slash of the trembling woman beneath him..
Slowly, they drew apart, and remained motionless in the sweet-smelling hay. Bits of it still clung to their hair and skin, giving them both an odd, ragged appearance. Finally, Glenda realized that she had been away too long, and that she needed to be getting back home. Everyone had gone now and then, to' deep blue, and finally to black.
Glenda dressed in the enveloping darkness, and rode home as one in a dream. She could concentrate neither on the road, nor what awaited her at home, only the crazy events of the past afternoon. She didn't know what was happening to her, it seemed as if she were possessed by a spirit that was not her own, a spirit that made her do all sorts of odd, and unnatural things. That spirit knew no laws, no morality, no sense of decency; it was as wild and untamed as was Nature herself. Glenda shuddered, trying to ward off her gloomy thoughts.
Soon, she arrived at her own driveway. The light was on in the kitchen, which meant that Phil was home. He was probably worried, for her watch said that it was past seven.
"Glenda!" he exclaimed, "What on earth has happened to you?" She went ot the mirror without answering. She looked as if she had seen a ghost, or the devil himself. Her face was pale and ashen, and there were deep pits under her eyes. Her mouth was cracked and dry, and little pieces of straw were still in her matted, knotted hair. y
"I'm all right. I just had a rather rough ride."
"Look at you!"
"Phil, I'm all right!"
"You look as- if you been in an accident!"
"Phil!" Glenda turned away from him, and slowly mounted the stairs.
Once alone in her bedroom, she peeled off the clothes she had worn riding. They smelled of Mephisto, and her body heated with the memory. Sickened, she threw them in with the dirty things, at the very bottom of the clothes hamper.
Locking the door securely, she surveyed her aching body in the long, floor-length mirror that was on the back of the door of the closet.
Scratched, broken, bruised and bleeding, she looked a fright. She was about to don a long, concealing robe to hide her scars from Phil, when she noticed Oscar, sitting on the tall, blonde oak highboy staring at her.
Suddenly, without warning, the cat hurled himself upon her, muffling her screams with his furry black body. "Whatmmmrnmmm, " she choked. Meanwhile, his sharp claws were tearing at her already abused flesh, digging at ripping at the tender skin.
He clawed at her cunt, and sniffed and bit. It seemed as if the sharp, pungent animal odor had made its way to Oscar's keen nose and was driving him mad with passion. He simply would not let go.
She reached out one hand, and started petting his silken back. It appeared to calm him slightly, and lessen his grip on her defenseless body. She kept on petting him.
Then, in a sudden flash of understanding, she brought her hand down to his furry cat's penis, and squeezed. He responded instantly, putting his black paws around her neck in a feline embrace, and nestling his head in the hollow of her neck.
She pulled and stroked. Soon, the gleaming sheath emerged from its soft sleeve. Her hand went on and on, relentless, yet soothing, driving, but filled with love.
The cat's head lolled back, and its eyes had a glazed, almost drugged look. She cradled him with one arm, for he no longer could support himself, and jerked him off with the other. All the while, he purred with happiness.
As his body tensed slightly, she stepped up the rhythm. He came in a warm pool of liquid, all over her neck and breasts. She put his face there, and the gravelly tongue licked it all away. Gently, she released him, and he went to sleep on the soft eiderdown quilt.
She put on the fluffy terry-cloth garment, and headed for the bathroom. She met Phil on the way.
"Hi, I just wanted to see if you were OK, Glenda."
She looked at his sympathetic face. "Fine, fine. I need a shower."
"Ok, well, maybe I'll fix us some dinner. Hungry?"
"Yes, very."
"Good. Don't be too long."
"OK, " and she headed, without further interruption, to the comfort of a solitary, steaming-hot shower.