Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents

by Rider
January 2005

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Her belly hunger sated, the Rider stood and rolled powerful shoulders. She had heard this area was blessed with hot springs and made a mental note to ask about them tomorrow. Her journey had been long. Both her body and soul were still restless. She needed …needed…something. Maybe hot springs would ease the tension that ran through her taut physique.

The Rider sighed. She knew what she needed. It had been a long time since she had loosed her dark side, and it prowled almost painfully just below the surface. She could feel her mood growing dark, like a gathering storm.

Eyes followed as the Rider climbed the staircase to the room she secured. “Second on the left,” the innkeeper called up after her.

The room was welcoming. It had been well prepared. Rider didn’t move to light the lantern that sat in the center of a small dining table. The blazing fireplace was enough to illuminate a large copper bathtub sat before it. The oval-shaped tub already was filled with steaming water. A large, soft towel was draped across the back of a chair that sat next to it.

Rider sat in the chair to pull off her muddied boots. She stood again and unbuttoned the tight vest that covered firm breasts. Her nipples hardened in the night air, as the leather slid from her shoulders. The Rider closed her eyes and struggled to contain the beast that licked its fangs and threatened to unleash with her nakedness.

There was a light, tentative knock at the door. When the beast prowled, the Rider’s senses sharpened. She had heard the footsteps and anticipated the knock.

“Come,” the Rider growled. She didn’t turn to greet the visitor, but stood rigid next to the tub, her back to the door. She didn’t need to see. The Rider lifted her head and sniffed. ‘A wench’ the scent told her. She closed her eyes to calm the beast, as she worked the buckle free and pulled the wide belt from her breeches.

“M-my lord!” The feminine voice hesitated. “Please forgive the intrusion. I-I forgot to leave you a bar of soap.”

“Set it in the chair,” the Rider growled. The Rider’s hands shook as they worked the buttons on the leather breeches free.

The wench hesitated, watching the sculpted muscles flex across the Rider’s broad back. A stylized horse’s head with a flowing mane was branded on the right shoulder. Under it in cursive script: “The First Seal.”

“Put it on the chair,” the Rider hissed through clinched teeth. She peeled the leather breeches from her legs. Modesty wasn’t one of her virtues.

The wench dropped her gaze to the floor and hurried forward.

The beast sniffed again and howled in the Rider’s head. The wench was in her moon cycle. It could smell the woman blood. A lightning quick hand closed around the girl’s wrist as she reached to deposit the soap on the chair. She slowly lifted her eyes to take in heavily muscled thighs leading to slim hips and a nearly shaved pubis. A sculpted abdomen was adorned with a jeweled naval stud and a gold ring pierced the left of two sun-darkened nipples.

The wench cried out as the iron grip bruised the tender flesh and ground the bones of her wrist together. The flirting smile that flashed earlier at Lady Aria was now a snarl. The larger woman sniffed the air like wolf and fear struck the wench as she watched the dark, velvet brown eyes pale to eerie amber. But there was something that flickered across the piercing glare. The wench stood frozen as she watched the jaw work, then the wicked eyes rolled back and slowly closed.

“Get out of here, before you get hurt,” the Rider hissed.

The girl relaxed. It was only pain she was in danger of…not death. She did not fear pain, but this did not seem the time to share that knowledge. She softly pried away the fingers gripping her wrist, and left the trembling Rider to fight her private battle.

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(Chapter 2) --

The Rider stood trembling, the click of the door’s lock echoing in her ears. The beast had been denied again, but it was just a matter of time.

She stepped into the tub and sank into the steaming water. The Rider leaned back and called on the meditation techniques she had learned could help quiet the restless beast. She focused her thoughts on beautiful things – the muscular arch of Wind Walker’s neck and ripple of muscle under his satin white hide as he galloped, tail flung high in the wind. She thought of the sun trickling though the trees as she rode a forested mountain trail in the spring. She thought of …of…

A single tear found its way down the Rider’s tanned cheek. She thought of Antonia. The dark curls and that impish pout would be forever emblazoned on her heart. Rider smiled at the memory of the first time those tear-filled blue eyes turned on her and branded her soul. She chuckled as her mind lovingly unfolded and caressed the memory of the day that took them both by surprise.

The Rider had been contracted for a season by one of the northern Amazon tribes to train a raw herd of horses and a group of earnest young Amazon warriors on the finer points of horsewomanship. She used several veteran mounts to school the young riders, then worked with them to train their own mounts. The group – for the most part – was attentive and respectful of both the horses and the instructor.

Except Antonia.

Toni the pony, the other warriors called her, primarily because of her small statue among mostly large warriors. Well, she wasn’t really unusually small. It’s just that the others were a pretty brawny bunch.

But the nickname was also earned somewhat because of her sexual exploits. Seems the girls of the village had a hard time denying the cocky warrior with killer blue eyes and short, dark curls. She was like a pony stud, trying to breed every mare in the herd when the stallion’s back was turned.

Rider thought the name was appropriate because ponies – compared to horses - are known to be obstinate and a little too smart for their own good.

The summer day was hot and sweat trickled between the horse master’s shoulder blades as she softly cracked a whip to urge on a young stud circling on a long lunge line. She used the heel of the whip to brush away the beads of perspiration gathering along her fine brow and threatening to drip into her eyes. Then she heard the frantic call.

“Horse master! Come quick. It is the young bay. Something awful is wrong!”

Rider quickly released the stud into the corral and ran toward the stable. What greeted her made her blood boil. The young colt stood trembling and wheezing, his head drooping to the floor. White flecks of dried sweat from a hard ride dotted the colt’s dark brown hide and he was sweating anew from the pain of his intestines trying to twist and knot. His sides were raw. Someone had been liberal with their use of spurs.

It took 12 hours to pull the colt back from the brink of death – dosing and walking and dosing and walking. Twisted intestines were a common and fatal condition in horses. With each hour that ticked by, the Rider’s anger went from furious to a cold and dangerous quiet. When at last she determined the colt would survive, she turned to interrogate the tired young women who had been assisting her.

“Who did this?” The Amazons shifted uneasily. The Rider had picked up her riding crop as she paced before the group and was slapping it against her boot. It was evident things were not going to go well for the culprit.

The Rider screamed. “Who is most worthy of your protection? This noble animal or a stupid, thoughtless warrior?”

But the questions were rhetorical. Antonia’s absence was conspicuous.

The oldest of the Amazons – not more than 16 years - stepped forward. “It was Toni, horse master.” She turned to a younger girl. “Tell her, Risa. This colt may have had his wind permanently broken by her arrogance.”

The Rider stopped pacing. The younger girl hesitated under the master’s glare. “It was Toni, horse master. She was bragging that she could break the bay quick by just riding the buck out of him. She twitched him to get the saddle on and rode him out of here bucking. The colt was done in when she returned several hours later, but she just put him in the stall. She said he had learned his lesson.”

The Rider’s eyes traveled to the barn wall where the twitch hung. It was a torturous device unless used by an experience equestrian – two wooden bars tied together on one end and left open at the other to create a vise. It was commonly used to pinch a horse’s upper lip so that the pain would distract the horse from some other task such as doctoring a painful wound.

The decision was made. The Rider plucked the twitch from the wall and headed for the Amazon village.

She found Toni in the commons area, flirting with a young blonde Amazon who – by the looks of things – was succumbing to the pony’s charms. The girl’s eyes grew wide when Rider strode up behind Toni and grabbed culprit by her dark curls.

“Hey!” Toni scowled. “That hurts! Let go!”

Rider wrenched the Amazon’s head back so she could see her face. “I’ll let go when I’ve ridden all the buck out of you,” Rider growled, tightening her grip on the curls and dragging a stumbling Toni to the horse master’s hut.

Rider shoved Toni roughly into the hut before slamming the door shut. Toni stood in the middle of the hut, rubbing the back of her head after the Rider released her. Her arrogance was failing her in the face of the master’s fury. She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Silence seemed to be the best policy for the moment.

The Rider circled her, her voice low and tight. “I’ve just spent the last 12 hours trying to save the colt you nearly killed by ‘riding the buck out of him.’ Now we’re going to see how you like the same treatment.”

“Strip,” she ordered. Toni lifted her chin in defiance. Rider’s eyes narrowed and her hand found the riding crop on the table next to the twitch. THWACK! The movement was so quick, Toni flinched before her mind had time to register the whip smacking loudly against the tabletop.

It took only a second to shed her vest as the Rider paced, slapping the whip against her boot. Toni hesitated. She figured she had a beating coming across her back. That was the Amazon way.

“I said STRIP!"

The boots and pants were next. Toni stood uncertainly, her eyes downcast. Her mind swirled with what may come next.

“Feel kind of venerable when you are naked, don’t you,” the Rider growled as she circled the girl like a predator looking for a weak spot. “Sort of like a young colt who isn’t trained enough to know what you want from him.”

She grabbed Toni by the wrists and lashed them together with a strip of rawhide “If you are smart, you are a little scared right now,” she growled. “About like that colt was when you lashed him to the saddling post.”

Toni was terrified. Never had she felt such power rolling off one person.

Rider dragged the bound girl to the hut’s center post, bending her over so that the top of her right shoulder pressed against the rough wood and then tying her hands low on the post to keep her in that position.

Toni shuttered as she felt the Rider’s firm body lean over her naked back to tie her hands. She’d never been this helpless…tied tightly to a post in an awkward position with her ass in the air. She had to spread her legs apart to keep her balance.

She closed her eyes as she felt the Rider move away, and she squeezed them tight against the sting of the whip she was expecting next. After a moment and no whip biting into her flesh, she opened her eyes. Behind her, she could hear the horse master plundering through a cabinet.

“Let’s see. First you tied him.” The Rider’s voice again was a dangerous purr in the girl’s ear. She felt something slide along her breast and she struggled to move away from it. But the weight of the Rider’s leather-clad body pressed her shoulder and cheek harder against the large square beam. She was trapped.

“Then you twitched him.” Toni’s eyes widened as she felt the vise close on her tender nipple. She bit her lip to hold back the cry of pain. The Rider pressed closer and Toni’s eyes widened as she felt the phallus press against her naked hips.

“Did you reassure him, acquaint him with the saddle slowly so that he would relax and take it willingly?” The thick tip of the cylinder pressed against her dry cunt. “No. You worked the twitch so that he wouldn’t feel you mount.” The Rider squeezed hard on the vise and twisted it as she rammed her thick cock deep into the girl’s virgin womb. It was true Toni had bedded many, but never had she herself been penetrated.

The horse master pulled out, then rammed in again, drawing another wail as the hard member tore at her bleeding sheath. Toni’s tears awoke something dark in the Rider and drove her on. Her hard thighs slapped against soft cheeks as she worked the twitch and pumped. “Then you rode him hard before his young muscles were loose.”

“No, oh gods, please,” Toni begged. Each time the Rider rammed, the movement jammed her bruised shoulder into the hard wood. Her nipple was growing numb in the vise.

“What did you do when the colt tried to get you off his back? What did you do to push him on?” THWACK. Toni jerked as the crop came stinging across her cheeks. She tried to move to the left or right to escape the punishing ride and the sting of the whip that began falling rhythmically across her back and buttocks.

But there was no escaping the Rider’s strong grip. She released the twitch to hold firmly to the slim hips with one hand while she worked the whip harder with the other. The white buttocks were striped red, welts crisscrossing the tender skin.

Her bruised breast throbbed and her shoulder ached, but Toni slowly became aware of a different throbbing. The phallus was moving in and out easily now, lubricated by the juices she suddenly realized were dripping down her thighs. She found herself anticipating …no, inviting… the sting of the whip on her raw flesh.

Sweat poured off the Rider as she pumped. She could smell the girl’s arousal. She felt her own sex throbbing with each slap of the crop and every sob of her student. What was driving her now was more than anger. Toni wailed as the whip cut deeper into her flesh and, at the same time, she neared a climax like she’d never experienced. Rider felt the girl shift to open wider and pull the phallus deeper as she neared the edge.

Her nostrils flared at the scent of the Amazon’s passion when she pulled out of the sopping pussy. Toni cried out at the loss. Without thinking, the Rider drew her fingers through the dripping sex, put them to her mouth and sucked greedily.

When the Rider leaned in to growl in her ear, Toni realized that somewhere along the way the master had bared her upper body. The salty sweat of the Rider stung the girl’s welted back as their bodies pressed together.

But the lesson was not over.

“And when the colt thought the ride was over, you drove him on.” The Rider’s breath was hot on her neck. Toni’s eyes widened as she felt the slick phallus press against her tight anus. She’d never…oh, god…She cried out and begged the pain was so great. Toni thought she would pass out. Blackness began to swirl around her as a strong arm wrapped around her waist to hold her up as the hard phallus slid in and out of her hole. But the pain began to turn in to something different when Toni felt the Rider’s other hand move between her legs and roughly fondle the length of her still swollen clit. The stroke of the Rider’s fingers matched the thrust of her hips. Toni felt the pressure building as she again neared the edge of ecstasy. The Rider’s breathing quickened and her strokes grew steadily faster, harder. They became one – rider and mount – moving together toward the rapturous peak.

Toni cried out first, her body bucking as the climax ran through her. Her cries took the Rider along as she rammed into the puckered orifice.

Her anger suddenly sated, Rider held tight to the panting body under her as the aftershocks rolled through them. Her own heart felt as if it would pound its way out of her heaving chest. She pulled out gently, quickly divested herself of the apparatus and freed Toni’s hands. Rider pulled Toni’s limp body into her lap as she settled them both in a nearby chair. She tucked the girl’s head under her chin and tenderly rubbed the imprints of the rawhide from Toni’s wrists.

Both women were quiet except for Toni’s occasional sniffs. The Rider was still marveling at how the whip had spurred her libido to overtake her anger. Toni was shocked at the power this women exuded and how it had taken her to a climax like none she had ever before reached. Neither had experienced passion in this manner before.

It was then that Toni finally turned watery blue eyes up to gaze into soft brown ones. “I’m truly sorry. Will the Bay be OK?”

Rider took a moment to answer. She was lost in those baby blues. “Uh, yeah, he’ll be OK.” She looked away and cleared her throat. “I, uh, don’t really know where all that came from. Are you alright?”

Toni softly grasped the strong chin and pulled those brown eyes back to her. Soft lips caressed the Rider’s, a pink tongue licking lightly to request entrance. The conqueror was conquered. They were both breathless when they pulled apart. Toni smiled and caressed the Rider’s tanned cheek.

“It’s a lesson I won’t soon forget.”

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(Chapter 3) --

It was that memory and more from the next few years that Rider took with her as she rose from the cooling tub, dried herself and slipped naked into the bed. It had been a long time since the Rider felt the luxury of a very clean, relaxed body and soft cotton sheets. She needed this respite to rejuvenate both body and soul.

Closing her eyes, her thoughts ran over the many times they made gentle love, as well as the times Toni seemed to purposely get into trouble so she could suffer the Rider’s punishment. She stroked each memory lovingly as she drifted off to sleep, hoping to hold these thoughts in her dreams throughout the night.

But the Beast never sleeps. And the Beast remembers, too.

The Rider’s sound sleep grew restless. The brand on her shoulder itched as sweat began to soak the sheets that were tangling around the constantly shifting limbs.

It had been two weeks since Antonia and a brawny Amazon called Raynan left for a distant farm to bring back a mare the Rider had left for breeding. She should have been back after a week. It wasn’t unusual for the mischievous Pony to be a day, even two, late because something sidetracked her. But Rider was getting worried. She rolled some venison jerky in a light blanket she flung over her shoulder and tied to her belt. Other than her weapons – her bow and quiver of arrows, and several knives – she would travel bareback and light. After a moment’s consideration, Rider grinned and picked up her favorite riding crop…not that Wind Walker would ever need it, but she fully expected to find the errant Toni the Pony dallying with some barmaid and in need of a new lesson. Their relationship wasn’t exclusive by any means, but Toni should be putting her responsibility to return the mare promptly ahead of her own adventures.

‘No saddle?’ the stallion pranced when he observed his master with the bedroll over her shoulder. This was a real treat…a chance to really stretch his legs without that hot, itchy saddle! ‘We can leave the mouth nasty behind, too,’ he offered.

The Rider chuckled. “No, I don’t think so, my lusty steed. I don’t trust you should we meet someone on the road with a mare in season. I’ll need that bit in your mouth to make you mind your manners.”

The horse snorted. ‘And who makes you mind your manners?’

The Rider laughed. “You are incorrigible. Now give me your head.” The horse lowered his head to accept the bit and let Rider slip the bridle over his ears. She ran her hands down his powerful neck, then sprang onto his bare back. Not bothering to open the gate, the Rider and the Wind circled the paddock once and sprinted straight across to jump the fence and thunder down the open road.

The pair made very good time and the sun was high above them when Rider leaned back, signaling her steed to slow to a trot. It was warm, beautiful morning, and Rider squinted toward the sky as Wind Walker slowed. They were near a sparkling lake and the woods were heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. But something was amiss.

The hair on the back of the Rider’s neck began to rise as she observed a half dozen vultures circling near the lake. ‘Probably just a animal carcass,’ she told herself. But something pushed the Rider see for herself. She nudged a spooked Wind Walker toward the lake. He pranced nervously and snorted. ‘I smell death. I smell evil.’

“I need to see,” she told him. They pushed through the woods until they found a trail that led down to a clearing. A thin wisp of smoke still rose from the charred remains of a fire and the clearing was littered with the makings of a simple camp.

Rider’s heart jumped to her throat. Disbelieving, she slid off her agitated steed and walked slowly to the nude figure lying lewdly twisted in a dark pool of blood. The air was so heavy that Rider felt like she was swimming, struggling to move forward. She knelt next to the silent figure, praying she would find that the familiar hips, the creamy skin, the dark curls belonged to a stranger when she turned the face toward her. Rider reached with a trembling hand to grasp a battered shoulder and turn the woman over.

The figure fell limply to rest flat and turn vacant blue eyes up toward the heavens. Wind Walker startled and the vultures scattered as a high keening sound rose from the Rider’s anguished form.

“Oh, baby, no!” The Rider’s hands flew over the cold form. One arm jutted grossly to the side, obviously broken in several placed with the bone protruding at the wrist. There were long cuts all over the delicate breasts and blood pooled along the thighs and buttocks. Teeth marks littered her fine shoulders. She had been cruelly brutalized. The face was bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition. But there was no mistaking the eyes were those of her mate. A cruel slice across the smooth abdomen gaped to reveal vital organs. A large knife still protruded from the center of her chest. It had been the deathblow, slicing into and silencing a pure and valiant heart.

“Please, goddess, no!” The Rider sobbed as she begged life to return to her young lover’s body. She moved quickly away, retching the contents of her stomach onto the ground and still heaving when there was nothing more to purge. With an angry scream, Rider pulled the knife from its evil purpose and flung it toward the trees. She gathered her love’s body into her arms and held her for hours, murmuring sweet words of love and begging forgiveness for failing to be at her side to prevent this.

The sun was riding low and turning the gathering clouds a blood red when the Rider was finally aware of the soft nose nuzzling her cheek. ‘Your mate is gone, my friend, to walk the long journey where there is no pain or suffering.’

Rider’s breath hitched. Wind Walker was right. She must honor her passing. Then she would seek revenge for the violent death of the one who had touched her heart.

She rose with Toni’s limp figure in her arms and walked into the warm waters of the lake. She carefully bathed the blood from every inch of the creamy skin, and kissed the full lips for the last time. She found Raynan’s body in the nearby woods as she gathered wood for a funeral pyre, a sword wound through her back and a long slice across her throat from which her lifeblood had poured out. She laid the Amazons atop a huge pile of wood that would burn hot and long.

Rider touched the ravaged face of her beloved one last time before she lit the blaze and stepped back. The fire illuminated the dark forest and cast eerie dancing shadows as the tears she thought she had exhausted again flowed freely down her soot-covered cheeks. She shed her leather vest and smeared the still hot ashes of her lover’s pyre across her muscled chest and shoulders.

The Rider began to chant. The words that rose up to her lips were a language she had never spoken and whose meaning she didn’t understand. The trees swayed as the Rider gave voice to the ancient tongue older than the crystal lake she stood by...older than the mountains beyond.

Her right shoulder burned … a searing pain she welcomed. She could smell her own flesh as the skin burned from the inside out, etching a distinct icon. Rider felt her senses sharpen so fine she could hear the blades of grass rustle under the small feet of a field mouse. Her sorrow turned to cold anger and a power flowed through her. She smelled the sweat and vile odor of the violators. She saw their faces in the flames. She saw their deaths at her hands.

The fire had burned low when the sun began to rise on the human figure that turned wicked eyes - amber like those of a jungle cat - toward the day’s dawn. The ancient tongue spoken in to the night’s darkness was translated in the morning’s light.

“…With the opening of the first seal, a voice like thunder said, ‘Come and see.” And I looked, and behold, a white horse. A crown was given the Rider, and she rode out to judge and conquer.”

The figure bent to retrieve the nearby clothing, and revealed to the heavens the fresh brand of the Beast, red and raw upon the right shoulder – the stylized equine head and flowing mane with “The First Seal” written below.

The Rider shrugged into her vest and gritted her teeth against the pain of the leather rubbing the newly burned flesh. She picked up the smooth staff that had been her beloved’s protection. It would serve in her revenge.

The seal had been broken and the Beast prowled the earth. Its vessel known as the Rider stretched and scented the air. She turned toward the road, facing south. The trail of the violators was still fresh.

“Stand!” she ordered the pale stallion who skittered away as she approached. She laid a hand on the muscled shoulder and the power flowed through her. Equine eyes turned fiery red and clouds of condensation poured from his nostrils as hot breath met the dewy dawn. The Rider mounted in a quick leap and they became one Beast…one judge…one executioner with one singular purpose.

The Beast would not rest until retribution had been made.

____****____

(Chapter 4) --

The blacksmith’s fire suddenly blazed as a chill wind blew through the stable. The back of the burley man’s neck prickled as he looked up to see a dark figure and pale horse at the barn’s entrance.

“My horse needs a night’s lodging, and I need two things: a parcel of rawhide ties and a short bull whip.” The smithy eyed the woman warrior standing before him. She was attractive in a handsome sort of way, but her eyes were cold and hard. He shrugged. “The whip will cost you.”

The Rider threw a bag of dinars onto the smithy’s anvil. The man nodded and strode quickly into his supply room to get the items.

Rider walked down the long corridor. A familiar nicker greeted her as she neared one occupied stall. It was her mare Toni had been sent to retrieve. Stabled in the next two stalls were Toni’s young bay gelding and Raynan’s grey.

“Staying long?” he questioned amiably when he returned. He watched her eye the horses that had come in last night. “Fine horses, those. You interested? A couple of men brought them in. Looking for buyers, they said. They’re probably down at the inn.” He shook his head. “Don’t want to know how that scruffy looking bunch came by such fine animals.”

The Rider’s eyes closed tight for a moment before turned back to the smithy. “These horses were stolen from me…among other more valuable things. I’m staying only long enough to do justice,” the Beast growled.

The pale horse nodded and snorted. ‘Do your deed, my friend.’ She laid a hand on the stallion’s neck, a quick gesture to reconnect for a moment as the gentle Rider before she unleashed the Beast. Velvet brown eyes closed in concentration. The smithy shifted uneasily as he watched the woman’s body began to tremble. He saw her lips curl in a snarl, and when she looked up, wicked amber eyes narrowed before she moved like a panther toward the center of town, Toni’s staff in one hand and the bullwhip looped over her shoulder.

Ominous clouds gathered overhead, prematurely darkening the late afternoon as the Beast entered the inn. It was a ragged hostel with a dirt floor and scarred furniture. The clientele were largely in need of baths and clean attire. The Beast breathed in the scent of rancid wine and soiled humanity.

‘They are here.’ The Beast’s eyes checked off each of the faces shown the Rider in the flames of her beloved’s funeral pyre. Six vultures of mankind, six crimes, six punishments to be meted out.

Several of the men noticed the figure at the door, and nudged the others. They laughed and eyed her like a barroom wench, assured of their superiority because they were male. But the laughter faltered as she walked directly to them and stood before them, eerie yellow eyes flicking from man to man. But it was only a fleeting moment before their arrogance was renewed. After all, they were men. They had just proven it with the two Amazons they happened upon in the woods. They leered at her taut body as she shifted the staff to her left hand. One of the six - a thin, dark-haired man - recognized the staff and his eyes widened.

“I find the six of you guilty of violating innocents with your filth – assault, rape, torture and murder. Stand and meet your punishment!” the Beast snarled.

Several of the six shifted their eyes away, glancing around the inn to see if the other patrons had heard the warrior’s declaration. Mostly being part of the cowardly criminal element themselves, the other patrons moved back. Whatever fight coming was not of their concern, except maybe to provide them a little entertainment.

Another of the six - a man with a scraggly blonde beard and long, dirty hair - fixed a belligerent glare on the warrior woman.

“Well, now, aren’t you something…coming in here and interrupting our festivities and making accusations. You need a man to teach you how to be a proper wench,” he leered.

The Beast licked its lips and the amber eyes glowed. “You are scum that must be scraped from the butt of humanity,” the Beast shouted. “Stand vermin, and witness your apocalypse.”

The dark-haired man darted for the rear door. A blink of the eye would have missed the Beast’s quick grasp and unerring throw of the 10-inch dagger sheathed between the Rider’s shoulders. The man’s reach for the latch fell short as the deadly blade found its mark in his black heart and pinned him to the door.

“For the knife you put through a pure and valiant heart, I mercifully sentence you to the same!” the Beast thundered.

That was enough for the five remaining villains. The man with the long, dirty hair shoved the table, upending it in the path of the Beast. The crowd drew back as he rallied his comrades.

“Five men against one woman? Not very good odds for you,” he taunted the Beast as his group tossed furniture out of the way and circled the Rider.

The Beast cocked its head as if considering the man’s words. “It was fair enough for you two days ago, scum.”

“Yeah, but having to share with these guys, I don’t think I got my fill. You don’t look as tasty as that little curly haired Amazon, but a cunt is a cunt. I just hope you scream and beg as loud as she did,” he sneered.

The howl that erupted from the Beast chilled the veins of every warm-blooded creature within a mile of the inn. One of the five threw a knife meant for the Rider’s back, but the Beast felt it moving through the air and turned to catch it with one hand before flinging it to stick in the floor at the Rider’s feet. The staff was a blur as it cracked knees and bashed heads until the five men lay crumpled on the floor.

The Beast held the staff aloft and declared loudly to any still watching: “I find these men guilty!” The staff pointed to each in turn as his crime was cited: “Guilty of assault, guilty of torture, guilty of rape, guilty of murder and guilty of compliance. I sentence each to pay the same punishment they exacted on innocent women.”

When the villains began to regain consciousness, they found themselves stripped naked in the night’s chill and bound in various forms of restraint in the yard outside the inn. A large fire burned bright in the now twilight sky, illuminating the yard and casting devilish shadows. A thin, long knife with an ivory handle and a hatchet glowed hot in the fire’s edges.

Three of the men hung by their bound hands from the exterior eves of the inn, their feet barely brushing the dirt below. Another man was seated at a rectangular table taken from the inn, and bound at the elbows and wrists so that his arms were stretched out before him. The last man was bent over and bound face down to the end of the table with his legs tied to the supports of the table.

A crowd gathered on the edges of the fire’s light as the Beast paced before her accused. They glanced away if she turned toward them, the fiendish eyes too terrible to look upon.

“Punishment is due from these festering boils of mankind.”

The Beast stepped to the man hanging from the eves, his crime playing through the Rider’s head like a nightmare. “Your crime is compliance. You watched and did not intercede as your friends brutalized and murdered. For that crime, you will watch them each be punished. It will be the last thing you see, because you will then pay with your sight.”

She stepped to the next hanging man, closing her eyes to the nightmare that told his story. When they opened again, the Beast declared: “You murdered the Amazon known as Raynan by slitting her throat. Before I am done, your friends will be begging for such a merciful death.” One quicksilver movement and the man gasped. The Beast howled in delight as the blood spurted from the long slash across the villain’s neck and splashed onto the Rider’s chest.

The Beast uncoiled the short bullwhip and licked the man’s blood from it as he gurgled his last breaths.

“Three of you are guilty of torturing, beating and raping the Amazon known as Antonia. FOR THE PAIN YOU INFLICTED, YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME FOURFOLD,” the Beast screamed. The whip sang through the air and cut into the back of the remaining hanging man. Thirty cruel lashes the Beast delivered until his chest and back were bloody stripes. Then she moved to the seated man and delivered the same. The naked man – the one with the long, dirty hair – screamed vile curses with each blow to his bared buttocks and legs.

The eyes glinted golden as the Beast walked to the fire and picked up the knife now glowing red from the heat. It paced before the fire, savoring the punishment to come next.

The Beast leaned over the naked man and licked its lips. “You were the first to violate her. Nothing but a WOMAN, you told her!” The Beast stepped back and grabbed the man’s genitals, squeezing them. “I sentence you to live as a woman!” The red-hot blade sizzled as it severed the flesh and seared the vessels closed. The Beast held the genitals aloft for all to see as the man’s screams filled the air. Another flick of the knife separated the penis from the scrotum and the Beast fit the severed member over the hilt of the whip. “Then you raped!” The villain screams increased as the hilt of the whip, covered by his own penis, was rammed into his anus, splitting tissue and tearing intestines. “How does it feel, rapist? Do I hear you asking for more?” The Beast laughed wickedly as its arm pumped and pumped until it was clear the man had fainted from the pain. The cruel device was left protruding from the man’s battered hole. Living the rest of his life minus his manhood would be a better punishment than death.

The Beast picked up the hatchet and the staff that was lying nearby before moving to the seated man. He shook, but uttered no words. “You were the one who clawed at her breasts, and gnawed at her shoulders as you took your turn. For that deed you will never chew again without pain, and you will never lay a hand on a woman again! Two quick chops and the man’s hands were severed. His screams were silenced by two quick blows of the staff to either side of his head, breaking both jaws. He slumped unconscious across the table. The Beast bent to pick up the severed hands and flicked them into the fire.

The last man was crying and begging as the Beast approached. Urine and feces dripped down his legs as his fear overtook him. “You were the third. She was nearly unconscious, so you sliced her belly to renew her screams of pain.” The Beast held the blade that had emasculated the villain’s friend up for him to see before slowly eviscerating him. The man wailed as the Beast reached inside the wound and pulled out warm intestines to spill onto the ground.

The Beast returned to the first man hanging from the eves. The man closed his eyes tight and trembled. The contents of his stomach he had vomited dribbled down his naked chest. “Do you close your eyes to the judgment exacted against your companions?” the Beast growled. “Then we must pluck out the eyes that offend you so that you will never witness such violence again.”

The warrior grasped the man’s head with both hands and used her thumbs to quickly gouge the man’s eyes from their sockets as he screamed and struggled.

The crowd had thinned and retching sounds came from several points in the darkness. The Beast surveyed its handiwork and grinned an evil, leering smile. It strode to the center of the yard and raised its arms to the dark heavens.

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(Chapter 5) --

The sheets were soaked when the familiar nightmare finally released the Rider. She lay in the bed panting with the exertion of her memory. It had been a long time since the Beast had fed on her dreams. Perhaps it would be sated for a while.

The memory was years old. And in the time since, the Rider had spent long days under the care and instruction of a Zen master to perfect techniques to calm and contain the Beast.

The Rider rose and dressed quickly. The day was just dawning as she left the room to ride the Wind in search of the hot springs and some quiet meditation.

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The End - 'Rider's Story' - by Rider

Rider's Index

Main Library Stories

Lodge Entrance