Flanked

a story by Dan Standing

Part I

She’d heard the sound described as “noble thunder” but Hillary only associated it with dirt and splattered mud.

And today it was sounding like failure.

She swung the crop again, striking the rear of the horse so solidly that she could hear the crack over the sound of hooves striking ground. There was the temporary boost of speed she was expecting, but Hillary could tell it would not sustain. The exhausted animal’s speed dropped just as it leapt from the ground, and the rider heard and felt the familiar tells of hooves striking a crossbeam.

Before the horse landed Hillary knew they’d not made the jump. This was the third time in a row that day – and the third day since she’d arrived at the resort’s field – that she’d suffered failure at the course’s key jump. There was one more day left before the competition, and the stupid beast had yet to show it was worth all the money she’d sunk into it.

It was late in the day, and Hillary had noticed all the other riders were already retired to the club house – which bore more similarity to a resort spa than the sort of quaint country structure one may have expected in the expansive rural field. She led the useless beast, which was breathing hard and moving at a slow pace, to the fence where its caretaker was waiting.

“Feed it, wash it, and make it sleep, before I find more value in its parts than its abilities,” Hillary barked, dismounting and stomping off the practice field that would filled with competitors in two days time. As she left the man took a cold cloth to the welt left on the horse’s flank thanks to Hillary’s riding crop.

Inside the club house the mud encased riding boots of the blonde rider clomped across the tile. The building had gender-divided space for lockers, showers, and a spa. Hillary grabbed a towel and stripped off her grime covered riding gear. She dropped it in the space dedicated to her room number, where it would be cleaned and left outside her door before the morning.

Under the warm spray of the shower Hillary’s shoulder-length hair unfurled from the bun she kept it in under her equestrian helmet. In the field her shirt, jacket, and a nearly pointless sports bra confined her breasts. Droplets of water dripped from her dark nipples down the slight curve of her modest bosom. With her breeches and boots stripped off her long, smooth, athletic legs glistened in the moisture. One other item of hers was moist, wet, and smooth, but Hillary did everything to keep her hands from toying with the treasure between her legs.

She had other plans for it.

With the dust and dirt from the day’s riding washed from her honey-colored skin, Hillary wrapped a towel around her waist. Her bare feet, dainty and still damp on the tile, quietly padded her through the showers. Her nipples jiggled lightly at the end of her bare breasts as she made her way to the saunas.

Specifically, Hot Stone Sauna #3.

A hiss of warm steam rushed out of the door as Hillary opened it, but it was the sound of a voice within that truly heated her up.

“There you are. I was getting worried you’d done all your riding for the day and gone to bed.”

The female voice amidst the steam was low and creamy, summoning all of the sultry desire it could muster.

“No, I think the best riding of my day is still ahead of me,” Hillary smiled. She stepped further into the room and the mist parted before her, revealing the curvy beauty that was Lydia reclined on a wooden bench. The woman’s mocha skin was kissed with sweat. A towel was resting across her generous hips, and a pair of full breasts each the size of a honeydew hung across her ribs. Her nipples, as thick as her smallest finger and as long as paperclips, were hard and aching.

They’d been waiting for Hillary’s attention for some time.

“How was your day in the field?” Hillary asked, settling down beside her lover, her hand resting on an exposed thigh. Lydia moved towards her, body shifting smoothly and seductively as it fit against the other woman’s. Her wobbling womanly pillows rolled across her ribs. The underside curve of Lydia’s left breast was now gently brushing the top of Hillary’s right one.

“Very good,” Lydia smiled, her finger tracing the edge of the towel where it was folded over Hillary’s sweating skin, “I tried using the crop more like you suggested, and a few seconds were shaved.”

“Mmm…I’m glad to hear that,” Hillary purred, turning more towards the other woman. Lydia followed her motion, their pairs of hardened nipples now starting to press again each other. Hilary’s hand began to slide under the other woman’s towel, “But there’s something else shaved I’m more interested in…”

“What a tender sapphic moment to arrive during.”

The sound of a third voice in the room startled Lydia and Hillary, who immediately ceased their seductions. If it is possible to stumble from a reclined to upright sitting position they both managed to do so. Each sent a hand to secure the towel around their own waists, while shame for their obvious arousal sent another to cover their breasts.

Looking in the direction of the voice the sauna’s mist parted and both women saw a nude woman reclined on the wooden bench across from them. Although petite in height, her curves were broad. Her breasts were a few inches larger than Lydia’s, and her hips were wide with full cheeks beneath them. A wild tussle of curls sat between her thighs, colored like a strawberry whose color had faded under the sun. It was a beautiful compliment to her milk-white skin, and the curly locks that cascaded from her scalp to her shoulders held the same tone as her twat. She sat with her legs out and crossed at the ankles, with her thin but solid arms up and her hands behind her head. Her face held a smug expression, as if she was proud of something she’d done.

Or was about to do.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Hillary demanded. Her anger had driven away her arousal, and now her arms defensively crossed her chest without intent to hide her breasts.

“Why, I am the goddess Epona, and I can come and go many places whenever I please.”

“Goddess? Sure…goddess of what?” Lydia asked, taking a similar stance as Hillary’s defiance infected her.

“Among many things I am the Goddess of Horses and Mules, which is why I have sought you out. Well, specifically I have sought out Hillary here, but you have also raised my ire this day, Lydia.”

“How have we-”

Hillary’s response was interrupted by a strange sensation on the bottom of her feet. So jarring of a feeling was it that she ignored the intruder and paused to lift up her left foot to investigate. Both she and Lydia watched as a rim of metal began to form on one side of Hillary’s heel. It grew down the length of her foot, spread across her arch and was quickly moving on to her toes. It went the length of the big toe, and when it reached the very edge of the digit’s pad it turned, connected the end of each toe to the one next to it, before reaching the little toe and turning back towards the heel.

When all was done a flat U of dull steel approximately a centimeter in width and depth ran from one side of Hillary’s heel, around most of her foot, and ended on the other side of her heel. Only about an inch of space along the back of her foot was not traversed by the metal. Hillary could not move her toes, as they were all fused to the metal in a flat line. She knew the same thing had happened to her right foot; there had been the same sensation and it lifted her sole from the tile.

“What the fuck is this?” Hillary exclaimed. She kicked out her foot so the bottom was facing Epona. She held it for a moment before her leg became tired. The metal clacked against the floor with a dull thud.

“That is punishment,” Epona smiled. She then turned to Lydia, “Personally fitted horseshoes if you desire me to be specific. Tell me, Lydia, can you imagine any reason why your lover would be deserving of this?”

“No,” Lydia answered, a mixture of trepidation and anger on her face, “I have no idea what she could have done to deserve that.”

“Pity, you could have spared yourself, as you are guilty of the same action today. Oh well.”

Lydia’s expression quickly shifted to surprise as a buzzing took hold of the soles of her feet. Like Hillary she quickly lifted the right one up to see what was happening. As she’d seen on the other woman a band of metal was forming and tracing her sole. But, unlike Hillary’s experience, as it reach the joints of her toes it bent them up instead of holding them flat. Her left knee bent a little tighter, as the foot that had been resting flat on the tile also stretched to fit the shape being forced on it.

When the horseshoe had finished forming Lydia’s feet were held in place like she had on high heels.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Lydia cried out, lowering her foot and receiving a similar thud sound to that which had greeted Hillary.

“You both abused your animals this day with the crop. Hillary has done so for ages, but today she convinced someone else to do so. That could not be allowed to stand. Therefore, as a constant reminder of your past transgressions and so you will better treat your horses, I have given you permanent horseshoes. They cannot be removed, but will never oxidize or cause infection. As long as you forevermore refrain from mistreating your steeds this will be the extent of your punishments.”

“And, if we treat the horses well, you’ll return our feet to normal, right?” Hillary asked.

“No. When I spoke of forever I meant it. The judgement of a goddess is unquestionable. Now I bid you farewell and safe – and respectful – riding.”

In an instant Epona vanished – as if she had popped out of existence. So suddenly had she disappeared that for a moment clear air absent of mist was held in her spot, creating a perfect recreation of her form amongst the vapor. But that quickly vanished as the moist air filled in the vacuum.

“Holy shit, what has she done to my feet? They were perfect!” Lydia cried out, standing up.

Or trying.

Locked stretched up as they were, with no heel for support, Lydia’s feet provided the top-heavy woman practically no balance. She fell backwards hard onto the bench, her breasts swinging wildly and her towel becoming undone and slipping to the floor.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay, I have fucking metal rims attached to my feet!”

“I meant from the fall!” The true and honest concern in Hillary’s voice touched Lydia, who immediately pulled back her bared anger.

Yes, this was Hillary’s fault…but to hold her accountable for not knowing an angry goddess would dislike her recommendation was something Lydia really couldn’t do.

“I’m fine…at most my ass is bruised…” Lydia replied, her voice much quieter.

“That’s my job,” Hillary replied, a weak and forced laugh coming from her. The two sat in silence for a moment, their eyes locked, as they let what had just transpired sink in for a moment.

“Yours are flat, right?” Lydia finally broke the silence, “Why don’t you try standing this time? You’ll probably have it easier than me.”

“True.”

Hillary pushed herself up from the bench and stood with no issue. The pressure of her weight baring down on her feet was very uncomfortable. The unsupported parts of her soles slumped down around the metal rim. It didn’t hurt, but it was far from comfortable. Hillary shifted about until she was sure no repositioning of her weight would significantly improve the feeling.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m sure I can…of course, how well we’ll have to see…”

Moving about was far more inconvenient than standing. She could flex her toes slightly – the flesh fused to the metal stretching just a bit – but actual joint motion was impossible. Since she couldn’t bend her toes there was no natural gate to her steps. At first she had to lift a foot straight up before swinging it forward. It was like marching, dull thunks echoing from the tile each time she took a step. It almost sounded like the flooring would crack against the steel.

Her other choice was to barely lift her foot and practically slide it across the floor. This process was a little less awkward, but both woman twitched and gritted their teeth whenever Hillary accidentally scraped steel to tile.

After a few minutes of practice Hillary turned to her companion.

“Your turn.”

“Easier said than done…”

Hillary held out her hands and Lydia pulled herself up – and immediately stumbled forward. Both women collided, slick sweaty skin sliding against slick sweaty skin. Hillary’s towel, which had held fast around her waist so far, finally fell to the floor. Gasping, grumbling, and the sounds of metal clumping on the tile echoed through the room.

After a few moments the nude women managed to get themselves fully upright. Once she’d found her new center of gravity Lydia actually did have an easier time walking than Hillary did. Her feet were bent just as they would have been in many of her heeled shoes or boots, so the hardest part for Lydia was learning to not rest any weight on the back of the foot. Once she started to remember that, with each step she was able to improve her shaky walk around the humid room. Her leg muscles weren’t trained to distribute her weight in this fashion, so she quickly became exhausted and needed to lean on Hillary for support.

Although they were still wobbly, both Hillary and Lydia figured they could make it to Lydia’s room. It was closer to the spa than Hillary’s.

Leaving the sauna they covered their nakedness with two white robes, and began their trek. Thankfully the hallways were carpeted, so the horseshoes made almost no noise.

Only two thing garnered any stares. The first stares came from how close Lydia was holding onto Hillary. Completely naked under her robe Lydia was terrified of falling and exposing herself, and her arm was latched onto Hillary’s shoulders for balance. Almost no one knew of their sexual trysts, and such contact between them raised a number of eyebrows.

Any other stares came from anyone who saw the back of Lydia’s arched feet as she walked. Or the unusual sliding motions Hillary’s feet were making. But they ignored the looks they were getting with as much pride as they could and kept going.

Ever since Lydia stood up the second time the pair had been mostly silent. Their thoughts were almost entirely dedicated to walking and getting back to a room. It had been a stressful ten minutes since they left the spa, but as they began to round the corner to the last hallway Lydia finally voiced a question that had long been on their minds.

“I wonder why my feet are held up like this and yours aren’t?”

“I don’t know,” Hillary replied, looking up and down the hall. Then her eyes widened. “Actually, never mind, I think I do know.”

“What? Why?”

“I think you’ve had a delivery.”

Lydia looked down towards the door of her room. Sitting beside it on a bit of parchment were her riding clothes from the day, now cleaned and folded and delivered as Hillary’s would be before the morning. Next to them were her boots.

It was no secret that Lydia had started horseback riding much more for the fashion and show of it than actual competition. Her times around the course were famously high mostly because of this. So, while Hillary had bought a pair of riding boots with a flat bottom and bare aesthetic design, Lydia’s were ornately stitched with a high wedge heels to help her legs look as sexy as they could be.

“They match my metal arch!” Lydia exclaimed as she laid eyes on her boots.

“Epona said she wanted us to keep riding. She must have fitted us with horseshoes that we could fit in our footwear,” Hillary muttered. She was mad that she hadn’t realized that by now.

Very quickly Lydia let them into her room while Hillary gathered up the clothes and boots. Inside Lydia took the cleaned apparel and put it away while Hillary examined the bottom of her feet again in a wall mirror. The metal, despite all their walking, was as shiny now as it had been when new.

“See any way to get these off?” Lydia wobbled over and put her arms around Hillary’s robe encased shoulders.

“No…it is really like it’s just grown from me. Like a steel callous.”

“Yes, that’s how it feels to me,” Lydia said quietly.

Then her embrace tightened.

Both hands slid inside Hillary’s robe. One grasped a pert breast, while the other moved much further south. Her middle finger was just able to reach past Hillary’s shaved mons. Unlike Lydia’s labia, which were plump and pliable, Hillary’s were thin and tight. It made it easy for the taller, curvier woman to find her lover’s beautiful bundle of nerves. Right now the sinful skin was slick with sweat, but it would soon be slick from much more.

“What are you doing…?” Hillary sighed. She’s tried to sound resistant, but her weakening legs were proof of her weakening resolve, “We were just cursed by a goddess…”

“A hot one…” Lydia whispered into Hillary’s ear, letting her lips and tongue play over the lobe, “And while that was terrible there’s nothing we can do about it. I see no reason to change our plans for the evening.”

Hillary turned her head towards the hot breath that was teasing her ear and her lips met Lydia’s. She moved her body into the other woman’s, and hands pushed each other’s robe to the floor. The rough fabric dragged glorious across four rock hard nipples. Their skin pressed tight against each other, the lips of humid pussies nearly touching. Lydia’s breasts bulged out around Hillary’s tits, and her own diamond tips drilled into Lydia’s chest. The kiss was long and wet, tongues attempting to taste every corner of their mouths.

They stumbled to the bed, Hillary landing atop the succulent softness of Lydia’s curves. It was as if their shared punishment had lit the flame flickering between their legs at double the usual intensity. Most nights they’d pet and kiss and lick, Hillary’s face most often lost amidst the primally fragrant folds between Lydia’s thighs.

But tonight was different. It was clear to each of them that they needed to skip to the main event.

“Can you get it for me?” Lydia gasped when her lips were hers alone for a moment. Hillary moaned as she pulled herself away, only willing to do so because she knew there was more intense pleasure to be had. She went to the bureau nearest the bed, her metal-locked feet stomping as she tried to avoid tripping. From the top drawer she pulled a large strap-on dildo and a bottle of lube.

Lydia pushed herself up to a standing position, leaning her calves against the mattress to maintain balance. Hillary handed the treasures to her as they exchanged another deep kiss. Panting rapidly as they broke from this, Hillary crawled onto the bed on all fours and then waited while Lydia slipped on the silicon cock. It was designed with a smaller nub which slipped into Lydia’s own dripping slit. But it would only really do her any good if she gave Hillary a good drilling.

With the strap-on strapped on Lydia turned and kneeled on the end of the bed behind Hillary. The smaller woman was panting and biting her lip, doing everything in her power to not pleasure herself. Lydia opened the bottle and poured the clear, slick liquid onto the shaft – which was easily three times as wide as any of her fingers. Once that was done Lydia made sure to pour some onto Hillary’s back – eliciting another long moan – before discarding the bottle.

There was barely any warning. With one solid motion Lydia moved forward, the plastic penis pushing past pink pussy petals and penetrating deep before beginning to pump. Hillary let out the most primeval groan of pleasure imaginable. Lydia pressed her hands into the lube slowly dripping down Hillary’s back, and she ran her fingers over the other woman’s skin as she pumped. Her slick digits went up and down the other woman’s back and ass before reaching under and grabbing dangling breasts, pinching the rock hard nipples with thumb and forefinger.

“Oh God, yes…deeper…” Hillary moaned, her teeth almost cutting her lower lip. Lydia gripped and pushed forward, her hips smacking Hillary’s ass. The kneeling woman gasped herself, as the rubber cupping her own twat pressed hard against all the right places. She quickly began pounding Hillary, both of them getting more and more worked up until…

“Oh, yes……!” Hillary gasped out, her muscles tightening and holding her in place for a moment before she suddenly threw herself backwards against the strap-on, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

This was all that Lydia needed, and she also tightened up, but her cum was accompanied by a silent scream. Their orgasms were almost perfect, their toes desperately trying to curl and being achingly denied the only fault.

For a moment they were both still again, before Hillary began to slide forward in exhaustion. Lydia allowed her to slip safely from the rubber rod, and began to unbuckle it once her lover was clear. Gobs of lube – natural and store-bought – poured from Hillary’s loins, and nearly the same amount came from Lyida’s slit. However, hers was all natural.

Hillary was already full reclined on the bed. The stickiness around her hips was actually a comfort to her. Lydia placed aside the toy and curled up behind the other woman, spooning tightly against her. So close were they that a cheek of Hillary’s ass brushed against Lydia’s hot but satisfied pussy. With a free hand she pulled over them a sheet which had been folded into the corner to keep it dry. Neither woman was worried about the mess; that was what a cleaning service was for.

As they each settled into their sticky pleasure nest, and Lydia’s arms wrapped around the woman sharing her bed, both tried to ignore the metal gripping their feet that occasionally clunked against another foot’s horseshoe. On their minds was only of the pleasure they’d each just had…not what the consequences may be for them if they slipped up tomorrow on the last day of practice before the competition.

to be continued…