As I walked into the stables, I could hear the muffled groans of a slave beneath me. My companion, Lady Nora, smiled wickedly as we approached the poor bound and gagged man. Our plan was simple yet utterly brutal. We were going to train him to be the perfect saddle for us by riding him into submission.
I, Madame Marissa, was dressed in classic jodhpurs made of soft leather that clung to my thighs, emphasizing their strength and power. My riding boots clicked against the stone floor of the stables as I watched Lady Nora dismount from her own mount. She wore tight jeans-style riding pants, accentuating her curves and holding in the necessary equipment to ensure our safety while riding.
Together, we approached the helpless slave lying on the ground. With a combined weight of almost 300 pounds, we knew we could make him suffer immensely. We took turns sitting on his face, grinding our pulsating sex against his mouth as we rode him hard. Our hips dropped, grinding against his chest, while our asses slapped against his face in a rhythmic dance of torment.
As we rode him, Lady Nora's soft moans filled my ears. She was enjoying every moment of this. Her cunt was dripping with anticipation for when it was her turn to ride his face. The moans became louder as she took control, her hips grinding against his face as she found her release.
The sounds of our bodies in motion echoed through the stables, mixing with the moans and groans of the slave beneath us. I felt his body quivering under the combined weight of our asses as we sat down on him at the same time. His pleading eyes begged for mercy, but we were determined to make him our perfect saddle.
Finally, we dismounted from him and watched as he struggled to catch his breath. With one final cruel act, we both lifted our legs and stomped down on his chest, grinding our leather-clad thighs into his skin. The look of pain and fear in his eyes told us that we had succeeded. We had trained him well and turned him into the perfect saddle.
