Charles Richards - A Kingdom Of Love

Myrna's whip cracked between the pony's legs and he slowed to a walk.

Joan found herself standing next to the seat she had been in earlier in the day, and she sat down to watch the show again.

Myrna was an incredibly compelling figure in the gloom of the dark tent as she spun on her heel to follow the pony's walk. His pace quickened again to the snap of the whip in the air and his coat seemed to sparkle electricity in the dark. Blue sparks clung to his gunbarrel colored coat and shone brightly.

The woman looked like a leather crop handle as she revolved in the center of the ring. Her fingers toyed down the front of her leathers and unfastened the buttons one by one. Her face cast a leonine glare into the shadows where Joan sat and she swelled her breasts with contempt.

She pulled the tails of her deerskin shirt from her waistband and ran her red-nailed hands across her golden abdomen.

Despite her reserve Joan's breath quickened a notch. So did the pony's trot.

Myrna flared the bells of her slender nose, shook her head and stepped up the pace with a nick of the whip on the pony's shiny flank. The animal snorted with the cruel flick and Joan felt contemptuous of Myrna. But she could not deny a flicker of interest in Myrna's charms.

Myrna stood planted in one place now with her body seeming to rock in a rhythm to the pony's clip-cloping hooves. She clutched the whip handle in her teeth while her arms struggled to get out of the snug fit of her leather coat. Her torso was bare beneath the garment and it seemed to Joan that her body was shiny with sweat.

She was like a pagan princess carved out of jade as she stood glaring at Joan with her bare breasts heaving and gleaming. They were as pendulous as Amanda's and swung from her chest like tropical melons.

Joan felt her mouth desire a taste of the sweet water in the melons and stood up without hesitating to unzip her clothes.

When Myrna saw the movement, a leer of sadistic pleasure swept across her face and she peeled her lush hips out of her leather pants.

Joan rolled the leopard spotted garment off one shoulder at a time.

Her breasts were no match for Myrna's in weight but they had a greatly sensuous beauty all their own. Strawberry nipple tips crowned the gentle mounds of her young, eager, sexy flesh. She finished rolling one leg of her costume off as Myrna cast aside her own pants with one hand while she ran the other deeply into the lush dark growth of the furred vee between her legs. She watched the girl roll the other leg of her leotards off and approach her. Myrna was forced to admit to herself she admired what she was.

In the dim tent light Joan's slim body was elven. The sensuality of animal creatures glowed from within Joan and her lithe form radiated a feline grace.

The way she carries herself is so pussy-after-a-dish-of-cream, thought Myrna viciously, wondering how Joan would look with some horse cock stuffed well into her. If there was a chance, she'd damn well find out.

As Joan approached Myrna she felt her cunt heat up with expectation.

She felt the hot slick crease between her legs moisten and the lips pout open as if for breath. Without speaking Joan bowed her head slightly as she reached Myrna and suckled her mouth onto the plum of the woman's breast.

The suddenness of the move surprised Myrna but she recovered herself quickly. Her right hand still held the whip and while Joan kissed and sucked her tender nipple, she ground the handle absentmindedly into her thigh as she spoke.

"I thought you said you liked to watch," Myrna's voice was contemptuous of Joan for what she took to be submission.

"I like to do this, too," Joan breathed heavily, as she took her mouth from Myrna's nipple to answer.

"What don't you like, my dear?" Myrna asked sarcastically.

"Cruelty," Joan replied with a level gaze at the woman.

Myrna laughed in her face.

"I am not cruel, my dear. My love is to administer discipline-not punishment. You misunderstand my actions."

"You may call it discipline, Myrna. But that's not what it looks like to me. Put down that whip if you're telling the truth and let's make love. We will soon know each other well enough to judge."

Myrna threw the whip aside and said scornfully, "I don't need a whip to tame you, pussycat. I can do it with my tongue!"

"We'll see," said Joan evenly and resumed mouthing Myrna's breast. She let the weight of her head hang from the pendulum's end and encircled Myrna's waist with her arms. Myrna allowed her knees to collapse and followed Joan's weight down until their bodies reached the earth.

Joan's mouth still hungrily tongued the hard nipple on the end of Myrna's big breast, and now she let a tiny growl seep between her lips.

Myrna heard the purr and her eyes closed while her head lolled back on her shoulders. Her own hand came up her ribcage and cupped the swelling gourd to Joan's eager lips.

Joan took the areola completely between her lips and lashed the nipple with her tongue. When the nipple was as hard as it could be she sucked it soft then switched her head to the other breast. Her tongue seemed to lick tiny flames on Myrna's vibrant flesh, and she was rewarded by the sound of the woman's groans.

The growl that hummed from her own lips was the same kind of sound she had made earlier as she had vibrated her mouth over Justice's cockhead.

But Myrna's breasts were immense in proportion to the whole of Justice's staff even though his man cock was large under normal comparisons. The turgid knobs of Myrna's nipples were only tiny buttons though, and Joan had to pout her lips in a tiny 'O' to feel the rubber hard flesh. When she could not draw the sweet water taste her mouth hungered after she made her growl a snarl, then began to devour the whole of Myrna's breast.

The increased sound startled Myrna with its fury. Suddenly the kitten had turned cat and was mounting an attack on her breast. But still the pleasures increased even though the sounds coming from Joan's mouth were fearful. Myrna shivered. When she understood she no longer held the upper hand with Joan, her mind cast about for some way to change this ranking sexual order. She whistled shrilly.

Joan heard the clip clop of the pony's hoofbeats change and she sensed him coming toward them. Not wishing to be caught in any situation in which she could not face the onslaught, she rolled off Myrna and onto her back beside the woman.

The pony came looming out of the shadows until he stood just before their legs and stopped. His breathing was heavy from his run and his nostrils steamed warm drafts of air onto Joan's naked thighs. The saucers of his huge, dark, melancholy eyes regarded her from the top of his muzzle.

"What's his name?" Joan turned her head and spoke to Myrna with a ragged breath.

"Clyde." Myrna's voice came out of a deep valley of breath heaving in her passion-gorged tits.

"Oh, why did you give him such a name? He's so much more noble than that."

Myrna sneered a laugh.

"Down, Clyde! And roll over." Her voice boomed the command and the horse obeyed instantly. Joan feared she would be crushed by his weight and tumbled backwards over her head and to her feet.

"So, you're a tumbler, too," Myrna snorted shortly when she saw Joan's move. "Perhaps we should give you to the Wolfgang Flyers."

"No, thank you. Why did you have the pony lie down?"

"I'll show you, pussycat," Myrna said, heaving herself to her feet and stepping to the prone animal's middle. The pony was lying on its side with its legs outstretched. Myrna took both fore and hind legs up and rolled the little horse to his back. When she was satisfied with the positioning she stepped back and simultaneously barked the command,

"Hold!" to the animal.

The pony's rear quarters were wide-spread and Joan could see the skin sheath of his cock grow like a ridge out of his belly. If Myrna had hoped to shock Joan she was disappointed.