Legend holds that a rider on a black stallion rides mercilessly through the fields of Royn. For two hundred years, this rider has carried off men and women, young and old alike, its reasons mysteriously unknown. The rider itself has never been seen. Only the stallion, the Phantom Stallion, has any grip on legend. But a rider it has, and a blade it carries as can be defeated by no mortal. Of those it has removed from society, all have this in common: a bloodlust for flesh. Young couples, passionate in bed, vanish, their moans of pleasure becoming terrified groans as the blackest of shadows rolls over as a plague. And then silence. A married man or woman, caught in a steamy affair with street trash, gone, as if wished away. And once, long ago, a couple, newly wed, gone. The only difference was not their lust for what they did not rightly possess, but their passion. Passion, it seems, drives the rider. A passion of the dark revenge.
“For every shadow and lie hides a blade, that blade be death. Revenge it seeks on all whose lust could enchant such a blade. Ride it shall and seek to find all the lost souls. For once it fabled lost the love of life, for life was not so kind. Lover still an affair it seemed, far from touch, too far to be seen. Yet saw it did, the Rider there! Oh watch, young child. BEWARE!
I was walking one night. It was late, the ground slightly damp and cool. I, carrying a torchlight and a notepad, had ventured out into the dark forest to be alone. This was land seldom explored, for it belonged to the Rider. This night, it was rampaging through the town, clearing out all those adulterous prostitutes, leaving a highway of black through the Governor’s Halls.
Walking silently through the dark mirky wood I came to a fallen stump beside an old game trail and sat down, trimming the light so it set a dim glow of orange to the surrounding oak. My pants, slightly tattered, hung on a twig which I snapped off to use as a writing utensil. I was poor and alone, an orphan from birth with little hopes of more than a street maiden. I would likely die of the Rider’s hand, having no one to look after me besides these greedy lustful women. I was outcast by society but had hopes of greater love. All seemed lost so I ventured out. Out, being the only place to go, was the Wood.
Thunder rolled, though it never ceased. It grew and grew until the trees around me shivered as if a hand itself individually shook each one at its base. A black hurricane barreled past, blowing my lantern out and my notepad clear across the country I’m sure. Then silence. All was still. Nothing, not a single breath of air, seemed to move. A gust of wind. There! On my cheek. Surrounding me, spinning.
A horse's snort on my neck: hot. Hotter than bonfire on Christmas eve, it blew down my neck; the wind of its nostrils paralyzing as is slowly fell down my back. I couldn’t move, stranded there on my log. The forest to hide, yet no place concealed. Then a footstep. Another. And a whisper, soothing, still. Almost…peaceful?
I dared not move. A hand rested on my tense shoulder. It was covered in black leather and surprisingly rather small. So this, the rider as I assumed, did exist. And, least of all, had touched me. I knew I was dead, yet surprisingly sat peaceful. Through the trees the moon broke, soft and pale at first; then, striking something silver behind me, it immediately threw light all about. Not bright, just dim. Enough to see as though it was twilight.
A black boot, high up the wearer’s thigh, stepped onto the log I sat on to my right. It breathed, a long low sigh. I closed my eyes, trying to picture what else it looked like, as no one had ever actually seen the rider: just its blade.
*Schliiiiiiinnngggg!!!* There it was! Deep in the log buried to my left rested the sword of fairytales. Long, broad, and sharp as to cut through the toughest of metal. One hand on my shoulder, the other came to rest at the top of the recently thrown sword. The long fingers thumped its handle, a single ring, a simple gold band on the left finger, cracked down the side.
The Rider stepped over the log after a long moment. I, still paralyzed, did not move. The stallion stayed behind me, never moving a muscle, breathing all the same down my neck, warming the chills I must have had. Before me it stood. Tall, covered in all black save the gold ring and the clasp around its neck holding forward the massive hood. The clasp was a diamond the size of a strawberry. I dared not meet its eye 'till its long finger reached and lifted my chin.
In my lap fell a letter, to which I opened. It read:
“For long I have watched, always waited, for a man to prove wrong my darkest nightmare. I have lived to make theirs true, after mine was brought forth. Long have I wished to love, for I once did. That man is foul and long since lies with his filth in piles of ash. As for you, I have watched, and your heart in place I know to be. You come here in search, yet for what I hope I truly know. For you, young soldier, are my hearts long awaited prize. I hope I may be the same.
I looked up, the rider sitting on a log that happened to appear sometime in front of me a mere few feet away. The black robe lifted an arm to the hood and slowly peeled it back. It spoke softly. “I know who you are, Derek, and I have long watched you. Your heart is kind, and you are rather handsome. A treasure.” With that the hood fell, along with it the black hair of a woman. As it fell to her waist, it changed from black to blonde, her robe to white. “I have waited to see you falter, yet lust not you do. I give you my heart, your life. It is yours. I long for you.”
I sat speechless. The rider was a beautiful maiden of my age, seemingly timeless. At that she stood and walked to me, her hips swaying under the long robe, it opening more at the top to reveal her large breasts. I stood and took her hand, looking into her dark blue eyes and pale skin. “You are beautiful.” I whispered.
“Aloya.” She whispered her name in my ear, the breath hot as she teased me. Her hand graced my tattered shirt and it vanished, revealing my tight stomach and tanned chest. “Better.” She purred as she pulled me in for a passionate kiss, grinding my hips into her moist groin.
She gently bit my lip, teasingly, as her robe opened and fluttered away onto the leaves, revealing the body of a fabled goddess. The diamond on her neck remained, glowing in the moonlight. “Last you have to do is complete me, and we are forever bound.” She whispered in my ear, slipping off my pants as she lay on the soft leaves.
Opening her legs, I was in a frenzy. My pants gone as with everything beneath them I rolled on top of her. The stallion looked down at us; she waved, motioning it away. I kissed her breasts and traced her smooth face. So delicate for something known for such fury. Her hand gripped my shoulders as I kissed lower and lower on her stomach. They fell, groping to please me as I began to tease her with my tongue.
Tightly she grabbed my testicles, massaging each one. Instinctively I spun my body so our two sacred ends were opposite. She began to lick each one individually, lusting over me. Her tongue swirled each one, then the tip of my throbbing cock. I began to prepare her to take me. My tongue flicking between her legs, making her moan. Savoring the new tastes. Her hips rotated as she squirmed in pleasure.
I was hard and throbbing in her mouth. Desire for more consumed me as I pulled out and decided to go for it. Slick from the oral attention, I began to push into her tight virgin hole. Slowly at first until I was inches in. Then deeper and harder I thrust until I could see no more of my pride. She threw her head back and looked beautiful in the moonlight. Her hands ran down my sweating body as she begged for more. I kissed her breasts as I grunted with each thrust into her tight soft womanhood.
Each moment I came closer to fainting from the pleasure. Each thrust deep and long into the warm, tight, wet abyss. Her hands were amazing. So soft and knowing exactly where to rub. My nipples, so sensitive, teased. My rear she grabbed and freely played with. My testicles her new best friend, each getting special time.
They tensed up as I came close to orgasm. She began to moan loudly and shake. She clenched down on me, sending me over the edge as I loudly groaned and fired deep inside her. Our juices swirled in a pool as they flowed out of her, and I massaged them into our skin. She took me again in her mouth, instantly making me desire more as I began to swell. I just lay back and thrust. Her tongue swirled over the head as the bulging veins tickled her throat deep down.
Each of her moans vibrated my already sensative nerves. All I could manage was panting and begging her for more. She then pushed me on my back and straddled me, sitting down on my crotch. She began to ride me like her stallion. I began to buck my hips in rhythm, my hands resting behind my head. “Harder!” she demanded. “I ride that beast, I know you can do better.”
And with that I did. No horse could ever give a better ride than I gave her. In a few moments she was screaming in delight as I thrust deeper and harder into her dripping pussy. I had given into lust, as had she. We passionately kissed, her gripping my shoulders firmly and I gripping her rear, holding her on. She let out a wild moan and at that clenched down on my cock, sending me into an even greater frenzy. Her breasts bounced wildly as her bright blue eyes stared into mine, begging me not to stop. Her scent was wild. So free spirited and hungry for so much more. I came once more deep inside, all the excess dripping down my weary cock as I pulled out.
We lay there that night continuing to explore eachothers bodies beneath the moonlight. At dawn, she covered herself once more in the black robe. As if by magic another appeared on the back of a second black stallion. “We are now one.” She said, then threw on her black hood and seemed to vanish from sight beneath all the shadow. I, too, covered myself, and rode off with her.
Beneath the trees we rode, far, far away from the little town. On to new adventures and a new life.