Bondage-and-discipline horse riding!

from Free_Dom_Fighter - Sunday, August 18, 2002
accessed 4233 times

A true-life tale I wrote to someone back in January (2002), while I was still stranded in Africa.   ...It ain't exactly one of the world's greatest literary peices, but if you like it be a pal and post something here.   ...Or better yet, if you're female just send me naked pictures of yourself.  We'll call it even. ;-)

MY FANTASTIC AFRICAN BONDAGE-AND-DISCIPLINE HORSE-RIDING EXPERIENCE


Some people’s fantasies and nightmares happen at the same time. This happened to me once, on my dad’s 45th birthday--January 3, 2002--definitely a day to remember.  I’ll start from the very beginning...

Once upon a time, in a magical city far, far away known only to hardcore geography buffs, called Addis Ababa (the capital of Ethiopia, that is--for those of you who fancy your geography softcore), my dad and I woke up at 8:01 AM to yet another day. The thought of getting up ANY earlier that morning did not cross our minds since we’d just finished sparring into the wee hours of the morning over a merciless Scrabble match (a long-standing tradition for us, which naturally ended in total obliteration for the birthday boy).
My dad had just turned 45 that very morning so I was trying to explain to him, as gently as I could, that he’s now in his 50’s if you round it off. Somehow he didn’t seem to agree with this stroke of mathematical genius; but even so, ignorance no matter HOW blatant was not going to get in the way of our plans for that day that we’d been scheming and plotting over for nearly a week. The time had come for us to perform an ancient ritual that is somehow truly primitive yet truly sophisticated and TRULY manly! THAT’S RIGHT!--We suave folk were going horse-back riding!! And our planned destination was up the more than 3000 meter high mountains surrounding the city!! “BRING IT ON!!” we both shouted to psyche each other up.
Off we trekked for a stable my dad had once heard of named (total truth here): “Balderass”  ...(slogan: “If you’ve got a BALDER ASS than our rough horses, you ain’t man enough to ride ’em!!”). So, we were trying to hitchhike there without really knowing exactly where it was--naturally we ended up hopelessly lost. Then SUDDENLY(!)--just as we were contemplating giving up all hope and sanity, and dejectedly walking off, faces downcast, into the wilderness to become nomads where we’d eventually end up trading superfluous body parts for a little toilet paper--someone who happened to live right near Balderass picked us up. Pyewf! Finally we were on our way there!
Now, before I write any further, I think I should explain something: My personal horse riding experience up to that point was mostly limited to being walked in big circles at children’s fairs on horses with highly padded saddles and insurance policies. So once we got there and went to choose from the 100’s of horses they had at their massive stables (talk about some serious horsepower!), panic started to set in big time as I walked down their aisle, hands shielding my face, trying to protect my eyes from their spooky-looking horses with names I could only imagine like “Vertebrae Pulverizer” or “Shell-shock Inducer”!

          “Do you have any really calm, obedient, sleepy horses?” I asked, bottom lip quivering. “A really, really easygoing one.”

          “No problem!” gushed the manager. (Literal Translation: “Once our horses are through with you, you won’t be PHYSICALLY ABLE to worry about your problems, SUCKER!”)  “NOOO PROBLEM!” he said again, just to rub it in.  (This did little to comfort my lip.)

Blood pressure soon subsided, however, when they brought out 2 very fine-looking beasts, which they described to us as “very quiet” horses. (Naturally, we later found out that unfortunately this had nothing to do with how LAW ABIDING they were; it just meant they were mute.)
So off we went with a friendly Ethiopian guide guy leading the way. As we soon found, the next twist in our little adventure was that our guide had an English vocabulary consisting entirely of 2 words: “UP” and “DOWN.”  He wouldn’t stop saying them, either! I mean, well, that’s how he was trying to explain how to properly ride while the horses were trotting--you’re supposed to move YOURSELF up and down, instead of just letting the horse whack you around. This, in theory, would’ve helped me a lot if I could’ve mastered it since the “saddles” we were using consisted entirely of something that felt like some kind of metal-reinforced cardboard! Since my dad has a bit more blubber than me, the Pain Factor was SLIGHTLY less concentrated for him, but we both still had what I’ve come to affectionately refer to as our “Bondage-and-Discipline Horse Riding Experience”!
Seriously! I had METAL SPIKES spurring into my right leg and butt-cheek the entire time! Naturally, I wished that I was the one with the metal spurs; but unfortunately, as in real life bondage-and-discipline, I had little say over the treatment of my various private parts.
Seriously! These saddles had absolutely NO padding as far as I’m concerned. All I wanted to do the whole time was just fall off my horse and curl up by the side of the road, to give some time for a certain body part of mine to recuperate, while our guide would just be peacefully trotting ahead chanting “UP down UP down,” which didn’t nearly capture the violence of the experience!

...Seriously!!

(If I sound like a wussie, that’s because I am.)

And did I mention that my sadistic horse was possessed with a downright evil desire to wreak revenge on me for riding him, by slamming his head upwards whenever I needed to lean forward!?? Well it’s true!! And I have the split-open lip, throbbing head crater, and horsehair aftertaste in my mouth to PROVE it!! Also, besides violence my horse’s 2 other favorite hobbies were: 1) leaving humongous, majestic public outhouse droppings the size of John Candy’s head, and 2) pretending not to understand any of my commands:

          GUIDE: UP down, UP down ...
          ME: Okay! Whoooooa horsie, slow down there! Hold your horses, horse!! STOP, dammit!
          WICKED HORSE: (speeds up, of course!)
          ME: WE’RE ALL GUNNA DIE!! STOPPPPPPPP!!! HEEL!! SIT!! AUGHHHHHH!!! HELP!!!
          GUIDE: ... and UP down, UP down, UP down ...
          ME: (WHHHACK! CRUNCH!)

(--That last part was the sound of getting hit in the face again, then having my “manhood” fold directly in half after one particularly nasty bump, then ME folding in half in pain!)
My dad and I eventually decided, while comforting our various private parts after the ordeal was finished, that in order to stand the pain our guide must’ve either been a eunuch or was secretly a woman. The gods of fertility and horse riding, we learned, are very, VERY close relatives!

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT,” I can now hear all my dear environmentalist readers out there shouting at me in abundance, “enough about all that already!” ...“We don’t wanna hear about you; we wanna hear about those big, majestic, hot-blooded, intense, fertile animals you were with! Did you develop a spiritual bonding with them?? Did you feed them properly and frequently?? Were they provided with adequate toilet facilities?? What type of women do they like?? Did you discover your inner child and develop a passionate relationship with naked Mother Nature on the mountaintop?? Do you ever daydream about them when you’re all alone??”    ---Well, slow down a second there! Let me just first say that I think you’re really, really creepy! Having that out of the way, however, I think it IS about time to change the subject a bit and start writing about the whole other side of the story: The Fun Factor! We actually had heaps of this stuff! After 20 minutes or so past the outskirts of the city the view changed quite dramatically as we started up the mountain! So, I was roving far above Addis Ababa on my blizzard-white horse, with zero people or civilization around! And did I mention the view already?--Talk about incredible! This was it! We were riding through Eucalyptus trees (brought by the king of Ethiopia from Australia about 100 years ago) surrounded by golden plains, cool jagged rock crags, a concave African sky, an incredible panoramic view of the entire city below us, and of course wonderful views of the big, majestic butts of the horses in front of us.  Glorious!!
Once we got to the top of the mountain, there was a big open field where we could gallop through grass and nasty thorn bushes at breakneck horsepower to our hearts’ content, and nearly kill ourselves in the process!! Nevertheless, this was definitely one of the highlights of my entire life, and definitely a lot of kickass fun! Galloping was so cool, and since by that time I could do the “Up-Down” thing a little better, the only time it would be painful for me was when I’d pull the reins and get whacked in the face again by my stupid horse, then have to wrap my arms around his neck to keep myself from catapulting off. It was quite the experience though, to say the least, galloping side by side with my old man on the edge of the mountain with the entire city in the valley below us!

When the ordeal was finally over and we made it back to the stables mostly intact, tears began to passionately flow as we smooched our horses one long last kiss goodbye. It had been such a magical time being knocked around for over 2 hours, so we were getting quite emotional over it all. Off we headed for the horizon...and never looked back.
It was then time to hitchhike home, so the 2 of us were soon “all thumbs” out on the street. We eventually got a ride out of there with about 10,000 condoms--that is, in a condom transport van, which naturally made for plenty of jokes about how very, very “protected” we felt in there). :-)  Before we got home, however, we made a quick detour at our local Pizza Deli Roma to thoroughly pig out on Tuna Pizza Jumbo, and to enjoy their wonderful extra highly padded chairs!  Aaaaaaaaahhhh!
Over the next few days, the intense pain in several of our body parts refused to let us forget about what a great time we’d had. Perhaps one day horse-riding adventures like this one will become a tradition for us, like having Scrabble championships, making Toblerone chocolate sandwiches, getting stranded in weird countries, or seriously exaggerating when writing stories. Only time will tell. One thing’s for sure though: All in all, it was a superlatively fabulous adventure! If you ever happen to be in the area (for example, if you’re on a plane that’s highjacked by prank-loving aliens who take a poll of where all the passengers would least like to stop and it’s unanimously Ethiopia so that’s exactly where they take you [that’s how I originally got here]) and you have some spare time slotted for Authentic African Adventure, you might just want to check out Balderass Stables.

... Just make sure to pack lots of Styrofoam in your underwear.