Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

"Push back on it. Slowly, slowly. Now a little faster. You do it all. I just provide the cock in this gait."

Santo was on all fours on the queen-sized bed, naked. Hamilton was mounted on him, just as he would be on a horse. He was fully clothed in the dressage outfit he had come from the next day's competitions wearing. Only the fly of his white breeches was open, and his cock was buried in Santo's ass.

It was Santo's first fuck, so they had reached this position slowly and with much preparation and gasping and groaning. But reach this position they had. Santo had had to remain as steady as possible, gasping for breath and eyes watering, as his virginal hole slowly opened to the ultrathick cock. He had done so, following each of Hamilton's commands, though, in total subservience to his master, without question or objection.

When Santo had returned from stabling the geldings after Hamilton's triumphant day of taking two blue-ribbon firsts and thus easily winning the Champion ribbon, he found Hamilton sitting on the sofa again, erect phallus rising from his open fly, smoking a cigar and sipping cognac. Santo moved to kneel and give Hamilton suck again, but Hamilton said, "No. Now we celebrate. Now you and I begin to train to meet the balance. Strip down for me please." He watched Santo strip. "Ah, very nice. Very nice indeed. To be young and ripped again. Now go to the middle of the bed and go on all fours, please."

Santo responded immediately and docilely. There was no question in his mind that he would give Hamilton whatever he wanted. As he went on all fours on the bed, he felt the white-gloved hands palming his hips and the moist tongue flick in between his butt cheeks, and shivered. His moaning started and didn't stop for more than an hour. He only lurched and thought of complaining twice—first, when Hamilton twirled the damp end of his cigar into Santo's ass and used it like a dildo and then when he began to work his thick cock inside.

The young groom panted and groaned at the inching of the cock inside, filling and stretching him, Santo trying to divide his attention between the feeling of being fully stuffed and possessed and the velvety feeling of Hamilton's gloved hands—one palming his belly and the other cupping his chin, all three points of contact holding Santo steady, on all fours, under the mounted older man.

It didn't take Santo long after Hamilton was fully saddled to feel the two of them merging, a balance starting to form. Hamilton was crouched over his pelvis, fully dressed, the formal dressage attire adding to Santo's arousal. He didn't actively pump in the fuck of Santo in this first taking of the young man's anal virginity to other men, though, until near the end, so much as he instructed Santo on fucking himself on the hard cock.

"Push back on it. Slowly, slowly. Now a little faster. The Trot, as I taught you. Now the Canter. There good." Hamilton was breathing hard too and speaking in a low growl. It added to Santo's arousal that Hamilton obviously was enjoying the fuck.

Only for the last ten minutes or so did Hamilton pump Santo's channel—and then it was hard and fast, at a gallop. Before that he gently instructed Santo what to do to fuck himself on the cock. "Now revolve your hips," he said at one point, touching Santo with the gloved hands. "The Piaffe, the prancing in place." And Santo did, almost collapsing on wobbly legs as he felt the bulb of the cock caress him on every inner surface of his channel. He ejaculated then. He ejaculated again, as Hamilton, groaning at the jerk Santo gave when he ejaculated, started to pump him hard and deep. Hamilton held out for several more minutes.

When Hamilton had ejaculated he let Santo collapse over on his side and lowered himself beside the young man, whose chest was heaving and thighs were trembling as loosely as rubber. Hamilton moved the gloved hands all over the younger man's body, moving one eventually to encasing Santo's cock and stroking it gently.

It was only then that Hamilton leaned down and took Santo's mouth in his in a long, lingering kiss.

When they parted, Santo whispered, "Are you going to fuck me again?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"Not today. But we will sleep together tonight. Tomorrow I will teach you the Passage and the Flying Change."

"Excuse me?"

"You know the basic gaits we will use now, the Trot and the Canter at first. These were when I had you do the pushing by yourself on the cock, with the Canter being the more rapid of the two. When I fucked you it was a gallop—although that is beyond the world of dressage. And the revolving motion of your hips. That was the Piaffe. Tomorrow I will add the Passage and the Flying Change—and the signals with the flick of the riding whip on which you are to do when."

"The riding whip?" Santo asked weakly. He shuddered. "Are you going to whip me?"

"No more than I have. No more than I use the whip on Hochkonig and Lowengren. Just to signal a change of gait—as long as you follow my instructions. My geldings as thoroughbreds. You are a thoroughbred yourself of another kind." He then took up the riding whip, which had been laying on the bed beside where they fucked, and moved it around on Santo's cock, which began to engorge. Santo's was panting again. Hamilton gave the cock a flick of the whip. Santo's gasped and jerked. That was all, though.

Hamilton flicked the cock harder, and Santo gave a little cry. "What did I teach you to say to the touch of the whip?"

"Thank you, sir," Santo murmured.

Hamilton wrapped a gloved hand around Santo's ball sac and the root of his cock and applied pressure.

"Thank you, sir," Santo whispered through clinched teeth in a gaspy voice. Hamilton released the young man's balls and moved the gloved hand up onto the cock and slowly stroked.

When he regained control, Santo spoke again. "You mentioned a bit and reins."

"Yes, a bit—not a horse bit; a bit men use in male-male sex, with a soft mouth piece—and reins."

"You will treat me like a horse?"

"Yes, I will mount you and ride you like a horse. We will have our own form of dressage. I will train you to be one with me, to merge with me, in a balance of strength, flexibility, and accuracy. This is not what you want from me?"

"Yes," Santo whispered, "that's what I want from you."

Hamilton stroked Santo to sleep with his white-gloved hands and then went and sat in the chair in the corner and smoked a cigar and drank cognac.

* * * *

Santo lifted his head at the slight pull on the reins attached to the bit in his mouth and waited for the flick of the whip. He had been instructed that the slight pull would warn that a change of gait signal was about to come. Hamilton and his other two horses had done very well on the last day of competition, winning him the Champion ribbon again—and thus making him the Grand Champion of the competition. He was in a good mood. He also, fully clothed in his dressage outfit, was mounted on Santo's hips on the queen-sized bed.

This was the second fuck. Today they would fuck into the night, Hamilton wanting Santo fully trained before they returned to Northern Virginia.

Santo was cooperating fully, taking whatever Hamilton wanted to give him. Santo was getting what he had been dreaming of for nearly a year—more than he had been dreaming of.

In the first fuck of the day, they had covered the Trot and the Canter and the Piaffe again, this time with the signals of the reins and whip that went with them—and once again Hamilton, overcome himself, had ended it all at the gallop.

Then they had rested. When he was ready again Hamilton put a docile Santo on all fours again and trained him to the Passage. In this Hamilton was no longer just a hard dick. Santo cried out as Hamilton suddenly thrust hard and deep. Then he held his breath as Hamilton paused there, deep inside him, leaning down and kissing him on the neck. Santo gasped at the long slide out, and then cried out again at the sudden, brutal, deep thrust—and the hold. "The Passage, a prance and then a hold of stance before resuming the prance" Hamilton whispered in Santo's ear. "Signaled by a tap of the whip on the right flank." Santo cried out again, as Hamilton repeated the pattern. Again and then again.

"The Flying Change," Hamilton declared. "I thrust twice, you push back once. Then repeat until I change the signal, which is a light flick of the whip on the left flank."

Hamilton didn't change the signal until they had both come for the third time.

As they lay on the bed, Hamilton moving his white-gloved hands over Santo's body, he said, "The job is yours. You train well. I feel the balance already. When we get back to Ash Creek Farms, I want you to move into the apartment over the stables. The groom job is yours—as long as you accept that this comes with it."

The arrangement was fine with Santo except for one catch. "Your wife and our families being so close. If either finds out . . . Pete got fired when you . . ."

"Pete was fired because I wanted you, because I was waiting for you to become a man," Hamilton answered. "And I wasn't the one who fired Pete. My wife did. She knew I wanted you. She is fine with this. She's the one who asked your mother to tell you I wanted you to go on this trip. Your family need never know about this."

"Then, yes," Santo answered with a sigh. He snuggled down, ready to drift off to sleep.

"Oh, no, young man. Dressage training is rigorous. Up on all fours. I feel like a gallop."