The Cavallo and the Trainer

by Kanashii
- do not use without the author's permission.



Prologue: ‘The Awakening’

It was a dark secret with him, something he just always liked to do. Perhaps it was the first time as a boy wrestling playfully with a girl in the farmlands of Avellino and he pinned her down feeling her warm soft body struggling between his legs that caused the first stirring of the fetish. But if he had to pick a time when it grew in him like a powerful flame that could not be consumed, it would be the day he and his friend, Paolo had come upon two local schoolgirls. They were friends the four of them, and after the chatting, flirting and talking the girls playfully grabbed and wanted to play fight him and Paolo. He had declined at first, content to watch Paolo and Lucinda wrestling the way young teenagers often do.

At one point Paolo had pinned her down sitting on her back, and Lucinda had actually picked him up on all fours so that she looked like a small fiery pony beneath him. Paolo had just laughed and said “So you want to be my little horse? Ok, give me a ride” and had playfully swatted Lucinda’s shapely ass as he clung his thighs against her. Lucinda got into the role and with a spirited whinny tried to rear and actually walked for several meters as Paolo rode on her back laughing.

It had shaken him to his very core as he watched that sight, had aroused the beast so deeply inside him that he though he would ejaculate right there and then in his pants. His brain was not even thinking logically as he tried to say in a light hearted voice to Sophia, “Do you think you are as strong as your friend? Maybe I should ride you, eh?” but his voice had come out almost choked with arousal.

Sophia had shaken her head no, trying to seem bashful. But Lucinda always the extroverted one had yelled out to him, “Sure Furio, you come here, see if you can stay on!” and at that point she had reared up and flung Paolo off of her back.

Paolo just laid there laughing, “Yeah Furio, you ride her. She is a feisty pony”

Lucinda grinned at him in a playful challenging way, “You see if you can stay on. Paolo is not much of a rider.” And she laughed flinging her head and long dark hair back almost like the mane of a spirited mare. Her eyes had caught the bulge in his pants and it fueled her on even more.

Almost gingerly at first he straddled her body and lowered his weight onto her. His hands hesitant of where to grab, of what to do.

“I won’t break Furio!” Lucinda chided him, playfully taunting him on. “I have seen you ride your uncles horses, hang on the same way!”

Gone was any uncertainty at that point, he wanted this more than anything, had to feed the inner fire that wanted to grow within him. With confidence he now sat deep on her back, picking up his feet, his thighs clenching tightly against her side. It felt so wonderful to feel this warm female underneath him, the heat of her body, the way her ribs expanded and contracted between his thighs, the way his cock seemed to fit perfectly against her narrow back. He could feel her muscles tightening to support him, and her struggling to hold him only aroused him more. “Ha! Go! Move my horse!” he commanded in a stern voice and squeezed his thighs against her.

She moved for about 10 feet beneath him on hands and knees as he rode her, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He could feel her tiring now, her muscles trembling and she laughed playfully and tried to throw him the same way she had thrown Paolo. She reared up, but he was faster and shifted his weight harshly against her throwing her back to all fours. “Ah, ah. Bad horse” he rebuked her. “Behave.” He squeezed his thighs again, even harder as he would to a real horse. He knew it has caused her some discomfort as he felt her breath grunt out of her for a moment. “Move, move, lazy horse.” He shifted his weight on her back, “Before I get a stick and whip you with it.” She trembled with the strain to hold him now, but obediently walked on beneath him as he rode her.

That fast he came, felt his cock finally explode with the passion and the fetish within. He bit his lip to keep from moaning aloud, but he was certain Lucinda had known he had come. She kept walking a few more seconds, as though giving him the respect and privacy of his secret then finally in exhaustion she breathed deeply, “Ok, Ok, I am tamed and broken. Let me up Furio, please?” She turned her head and their eyes met, sharing the secret with one another. He knew she would never say anything of that day, and neither would he. But the passion and the fetish for that thing burned deep, and it always would.

Chapter 1: The Fantasy

Ever since that day in Avellino Italy nearly 24 years ago he had been consumed with want of having a female pony girl. A real one, more than just a woman to playful ride once in a while, but someone who was as into the fetish as he was. At first he thought he was an odd man, someone with a strange desire and evil secret that no one else had ever heard of, but over time his own need had found out that there were thousands of men and women all over the world with the same fetish as him. Wanting to be or have a human pony. Once or twice he had tried to have a prostitute play his games with him, but they often did not understand it was not sex he wanted but something different, they could not understand the level it was deep in his heart.

The other thing that made him guard the secret fiercely was the fact that he was a made man in the Camorra, the Naples Organized Crime families. One did not go around and advertise such strange fantasies around fellow made men; they would think him strange or worse. So he fought even harder and buried the desires even deeper. One time he had visited Germany and met a woman he had corresponded with who was into the same fantasies and fetishes as him. She wanted to be used and trained as a human pony and he was more than happy to spend a blissful weekend up in Stuttgart training and riding his human pony, but it only served to fuel the want and desire in him even more. She had a life to get back to, and he had his own dark secrets and life to return to back in Naples.

He had never met anyone else in Italy who shared the fantasy. If they did, they never traveled in his circles, and he always had a strict code he had to adhere to as the constant bodyguard and enforcer for the Parelli family. But at night as he slept, as he allowed his thoughts to coalesce into fantasies he vowed that he would someday have a pony girl he could truly own. Not just for a weekend, but one that he would truly own and control, one who would live the lifestyle he wanted them to live. So for nearly 15 years he simply lived in the dreams of his fantasies where he trained and rode and drove women as his personal steeds.

But now he had come to America, at the whim of the Parelli family. To the land of freedom, the land of kinky expression, the land of wants and needs and lust fulfilled. At first it was hard enough for him to simply try and learn this new culture, the language and do his duties as an enforcer and hit man for the Mazzarone family. It would not be until he bumped into a few other fellow illegal Italian enforcers who showed him the wonder of the internet and all it held, that his fetish that had long been held in check would be allowed to come back to the surface and consume his soul once again like a roaring fire.

The beauty of him being here in America secretly was twofold. For his Boss and Crime Family, it meant he was under the radar of the law. He had no fingerprints on file, no prior information. He was a ‘blank slate’ and so could do a lot of the dirty work that the other Mazzarone soldiers didn’t want to do, or was too risky for them to do. The worse that could happen to him if he was caught was to be deported back to Italy, and there were many Italian officials under the corrupt bribes and thumb of the various Italian Organized Crime rings. But for him, it meant he could also do things he could never get away with in Italy.

Each day as he earned money for his bosses, as he earned fear and respect from the people who had run afoul of the Mazzarone crew, he saved and planned to truly live out his dream. He could kidnap a woman keep her hidden in a place he had set up and truly break and train her as his personal horse. If she didn’t work out, he could always simply kill her, and keep up the hunt until he found the perfect one. And if he did find the perfect one, and he ever had to leave America, he could still kill her and hide the evidence. He had killed many times and killing held no guilt for him.

At first he thought of maybe contacting one of the various women who were looking for a ‘Master’ through some of the BSDM and “pony” sites, but he decided that would be far too risky. People who were that bold to advertise on the Internet often belonged to various bsdm clubs or had close knit circles of friends. If they disappeared it would be too obvious, and he needed someone who could never reveal his true identity and who he was and who he worked for. His other reason for not pursuing someone from the internet sites was simple. He wanted someone who was not jaded. He wanted a woman whom he could tame and break and train as he wanted, just as someone would obtain a raw horse and train them and mold them into what they wanted.

Each day his heart grew a bit lighter as he did his duties and now began to discreetly search for the his true fantasy, to bring it to life as he wanted. His heart and soul soared like an eagle at finally being allowed to plan and dream for what he had always wanted.

He was not inexperienced, back in italy he had ridden his uncle’s horses several times, he knew how horses were handled and trained. He had even been privileged enough to spend a summer on a very rich farm which raised and trained the fiery Andalusian horses, those horses that could perform the graceful ballets of caprioles and piaffes and the elegant Spanish walk with their riders in perfect synchronicity on their backs. He would teach his female human pony the same graceful moves; only he would be astride her back, feeling her warm body working beneath him to please him, to obey him. And he would be able to allow his full arousal to wash over him.

Chapter 2: The Hunter and the Hunted

Sarah had noticed him the first time when she had stopped in a local café for some coffee. Usually here in New Jersey one did not go around making eye contact with people, but she happened to glance up and there he was in a corner, sipping some coffee with two other rough looking men. She had to admit he was handsome in a rather dark way. He was tall, at least six and a half feet tall, but it was strong muscle. He had dark shoulder length hair that he kept neatly and tightly held back in a short pony tail. His face was clean shaven but hard, there was an edge to it. His eyes locked on her a moment and she felt something slide briefly down her spine. His eyes seemed to be both drawing her in and also intimidating. Even though the glance between them was brief it seemed to Sarah as though they had been staring at each other for a good minute.

She gulped and quickly looked away back to the paper she was reading. Occasionally she would try and discreetly glance under her eyes to see if he was looking at her, but he was not. Instead he was talking in a low voice with two other men; all three of them were dressed in dark shirts and expensive black leather Italian jackets. By the final time she looked up they had moved on and were no longer in the café.

Sarah chided herself for staring at strange men, men who were probably either thugs or gay, she figured. She never seemed to have any luck with men. At 36 she was still single, and mainly stayed focused on work with horses or at the comfort of her home. She always guessed it was because men did not find her attractive. No, she was not the size 3, skinny model that only weighed 98 lbs and had an iq to match. She had a pleasant face, had medium length auburn hair and light skin that belied her distant Irish heritage. But on the few times she did go out with friends of female coworkers the men usually doted on her skinny blonde coworkers and not on the “plain Jane” Sarah.

She was fairly new to the area herself; she had lived most of her life in Pennsylvania where she had worked with several of the horse farms up there, working as an Equine veterinary assistant. Sometimes she enjoyed the quiet honest presence of the horses far more than their snobby rich owners. Working on farms for most of her adult life had given her a strong body, and even though she was only around 5’5 she could easily toss a 100 lb sack of oats over her shoulder as though it was nothing. She was not ashamed of her size 16 body, even if it rarely got the time of day from men, and those men who did proposition her thought that she must be so desperate for sex that she would screw any old idiot. She sighed briefly and buried her face back in the paper. No, she definitely had morals; she had standards and for her arousal had to start between the ears not between the legs.

She had gotten an opportunity from her boss to take some advanced Equine classes and training here in Oceanport New Jersey at the Mon mouth Race track and she had decided to take her up on the offer. Thankfully she was only going to have to be staying here for 5 months; Sarah certainly preferred the calmer quieter life of the country than the hustle and bustle of the big city.

The second time she saw the strange man was 3 days later. She had been sitting at the bus stop on her way to the race track to her work studies when she bumped into him again.

“Is this bus for race track?” he had asked her in broken English in an accent she couldn’t identify.

The voice had startled her and she had looked up and there he was staring down at her. Again she felt something slide down her back, both cold and yet something else, a strange heat inside her. They were closer to each other this time; in fact he was but a few inches from her. She could see the intimidating eyes were actually an intriguing shade of blue-grey that reminded her of impending thunderstorms. Again her eyes traveled down the planes and angles of his face. He was an impeccable dresser even in casual clothes and she could detect just the faintest hint of a masculine cologne she couldn’t identify.

“Um…” she fumbled for a minute, caught completely off guard. “Yes.” She knew she could feel a blush on her cheeks, “Yeah, this bus goes to the race track.” Embarrassed now she quickly tried to bury her face back into the book she was reading about racing injuries in thoroughbreds.

“You worka with the horses?” he had now boldly sat down next to her, as he glanced at the book, “Or you just bet on them?”

Again his strange accent intrigued her. He seemed both a gentleman and yet with something dark hidden beneath the surface as well. She was thrown off by his bold manner, but yet it was not rude or pushy.

“I work with them.” She could not meet those eyes, she just could not. “I mean I am here only a short while, I work for a veterinarian back in Pennsylvania and I am studying stress injuries in racing and high performance horses.” ‘There you go again girl, giving out way to much information to people,’ she chided herself fiercely in her mind, ‘all you had to say was a simple I work with them, not tell this man your life story’.

The man was not even looking at her anymore; he had just nodded and was now glancing around at something else. ‘See, you scared off another one. Stick to your books and your horses, they are more safe for you.’ Her mind admonished herself.

“I go to track too,” he said suddenly once again catching her off guard. “My, how you say, boss, he have horse there.” He nodded once as if discussing the weather.

“Oh.” She said and glanced back up at him. Sitting next to him she felt suddenly very small and vulnerable. Even though she was a strong woman, one with some meat on her bones, she suddenly felt very small next to this strong intimidating looking fellow. Instead she said, “What’s the horse’s name? I might know it.” Again her mind groaned at her like a strict headmistress, ‘Will you shut up, Girl! Stop talking to him! He has no interest in you, and these people here in New Jersey and New York are dangerous. Do you want to get robbed or worse?’

Again the strange but handsome man glanced around as though watching something interesting for a moment than said, “I not sure, I only seen horse one time. I think its name was ‘Storm’ something, I not know.” He said almost apologetically. His eyes had gone from intimidating to almost soothing and they had drawn her in. It was almost as if he was showing a briefly vulnerable side to himself to her for just a brief moment. “My English is not so good, eh?”

‘Ok, now see. Just say you have no idea and turn away. Go back to reading, leave him alone. Feel the warning bells inside you? Heed them!’ her mind ordered. What she said aloud was, “I know only one horse that has Storm in its name. Is it ‘Poseidon’s Storm?”

“Yes!” he said and flashed a smile for a moment that was so genuine it made her see him in a whole new light. His eyes had gone from their dark grey to an almost lighter shade of blue, “Yes, you see, you know. That is horse’s name, Poseidon’s Storm.”

“Storm is a good horse, a good racer. She has a lot of heart.” Sarah said sincerely. “She is not the prettiest horse there, but then I always believed what is in the soul and heart is more important than what is on the outside.” She said as she placed the book on her lap.

Why oh why, was she feeling so amenable to this strange man with his strange accent?

Again his eyes seemed to cut through to her very soul like a knife, almost as if for a heartbeat he could sense every inner struggle Sarah ever had fought with herself.

“Yes, very true.” He said, and this time he did not look away, this time the eyes locked on her and it was almost as if time stood still for a moment. “Outside not count, it is what is in here…” he briefly touched his heart. “Ah, I not know word for it, I say coraggio, but maybe you not understand. Forgive me; I not know English word for it.” He seemed sad and apologetic a moment.

“Sorry, I don’t know any other languages.” She briefly apologized and blushed deeper.

“Is Italian.” He said, “That is where I from, from Italy. Maybe in time my English get better, eh?” he said with a small smile.

“What part of Italy?” she asked closing the book on equine injuries and slipping it into her backpack.

“Southern Italy,” he said rather elusively, “Ah, here come bus. Was nice talking to you, eh?” and that quickly he had stood up and got in line with the other people waiting to head to the track.

Sarah sat up front and thought about the strange Italian the whole trip down to Monmouth track. A part of her was thankful he had ended the conversation abruptly and a part of her wished she could know him more. Oh, she was so confused, so flustered.

‘What would he want with someone like me? He dresses nice, he’s from Italy. We have nothing in common. Best to just put him out of your mind.’ She faced the cold hard facts and then went back to studying her veterinary journals.

He sat in the back of the bus watching her, his mind’s eye judging and thinking and studying. Could this be the one? She seemed so uncertain of herself, so self conscious. He could almost sense she thought herself unattractive, but yet he found her very attractive. What American men found ‘sexy’ were far to skinny, like most Mediterranean men he liked women who were strong, who had substance to them and strong sensual curves on them. His boss Tony’s office was in a strip joint called the Pink Martini, and the dancers and prostitutes there were far too skinny and empty headed, in his opinion. He had been teased once by some of the other made men when he announced that he liked his women with some meat and muscle on them. ‘It gives you something to hold onto and enjoy.’ He had been sincere and they had looked at him like he was nuts. These American men did not know what they were missing, but even better he could see that this one, this woman was searching for something.

He sat on that bus and watched her up ahead of him, marking her with his eyes deep in his heart and mind. She would resist of course at first, would fight him and would be terrified of him. But he would tame her, he would gain her trust, she would learn indeed that he found her attractive and even better she knew about horses. So her training would have some ground work already laid out. A small dark smile thinned his lips. He would find out soon enough if this hunt would prove successful or if she would be a dead end.

She thought she had put him out of her mind, but every once in a while the strange Italian would invade her fantasies while she was working down at the track or even worse when she was alone in the small cramped apartment she was renting. Sometimes her fantasies had him whisking her off to Italy and other times they were darker fantasies of him making love to her roughly. But either way, no matter how much she tried to deny her feelings of the mysterious stranger he always invaded her thoughts. For the next three days she almost hoped and prayed she would seem him at the bus stop but she did not. She stopped in the café a few times and did not seem him there either. She finally decided he had just been good fantasy fodder and resigned herself that she would probably never see the man again.

Finally on a Tuesday as she was sitting on the bench with her I-pod playing Sting and the Police’s “Every Breath You Take” into her ears, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was him, the Italian man! With a blush she smiled and quickly turned off the I-pod as he leaned up near her. “Hey! I though it was you.” He smiled warmly down at her.

Next to her on the bench was some stoned drunkard who was swaying and mumbling at her and with a rough move the Italian suddenly grabbed his shoulder and whispered something darkly in the man’s ear. The man paled and suddenly left the bench and the Italian sat down next to her. “You got to watch for those ones, eh?” he said.

She smiled and blushed, noticing that she and the Italian were nearly touching one another. So close she could feel the heat of his body and that subtle scent of his cologne and his maleness. “Thanks.” She just mumbled a moment; she was both impressed and scared at just how easily he had made the fellow leave, the dark look that had come into the Italian’s eyes as he had grabbed the fellow. “I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to see you anymore.” She said and felt stupid as soon as it came out of her mouth.

He shrugged a moment, “I was doing some things, you know, work. I no get to the track all the time, but I am glad I bump into you again too.” He smiled his half crooked smile again and she felt herself unconsciously calm down in his presence. “You said you no live here, that you here only training?” he asked her.

‘Oh geeze, he had been listening to what I said!’ her heart nearly reeled. “Well I am only staying here a few months. Then back to Pennsylvania to work on the horse farms down there.”

Again his eyes seemed to pierce her soul as though seeing into the deepest parts of her. “You husband or boyfriend come down with you here, or are they waiting for you back home?”

She shook her head a moment, “No on either account. No boyfriend, no husband.” She tried to joke, tried to make it sound nonchalant.

“Someone as intelligent and attractive as you, I would think would have many suitors yes?” Again he seemed to miss nothing.

She half shrugged and tried to look away, to not be pulled in by those piercing eyes of his and that voice that caressed around her soul both dangerously and yet arousingly. “Nope, sorry. I guess I am just too much into my work with horses and studies, I just don’t get out much.” She groaned inwardly, ‘Oh great, now I’ve made myself sound like a complete loser and idiot!’

“Hmmm,” he seemed to pause a moment and his head tilted slightly as he regarded her. It reminded her of a powerful guard dog. “Well, I tell you what. We both new to area yes? Maybe we have coffee someday in that café or maybe we have a lunch at the local sandwich shop, you know just to talk.” He smiled warmly.

Her expression must have been one of confusion, fear or both because he actually chuckled in a lighthearted way. “I not a, how you say, serial killer or something. We be in public, yes? Just coffee, I not asking for anything else. I just thought you know we talk about horses and all…” he let the sentence hang tantalizingly.

“Yeah, sure.” She gulped as her words stumbled over themselves. “Ok, that would be great. My name is Sarah by the way…” she extended her hand towards him as one of her books on equine anatomy slipped from her grasp.

“Furio.” He said as he warmly shook her hand at the same time he scooped up the fallen book and gently handed it to her.

“Foor-Eee-Oh?” she said quizzically. Maybe it was his accent, but his name sounded totally alien to her ears.

“No, no.” he chuckled and his eyes were light hearted. He dug around in his leather jacket for a moment for a pen and after uncapping it, he took her hand in his large warm and strong one. He took the pen and actually wrote out F U R I O, on her skin.

“Furio?” she said as she tilted her hand to look at what he had written. Her body seemed suddenly very warm, way to warm for her comfort and her skin seemed to tingle from where he had touched her.

“Yes, si, Furio.” He said the name again and it still sounded like ‘Fooreey-O’ to her ears but she figured it was from his thick Italian accent. “Bus is here.” He said and stood up. “I will be here tomorrow, Sarah. If you want we set up maybe a date for coffee, eh?”

She just numbly nodded feeling like a foolish woman with a hot lustful crush on some foreigner. But isn’t that what she was indeed feeling? This time she walked behind him as they boarded the bus, and she couldn’t help but study him. His strong frame, the confident way he walked the nice expensive Italian shoes and thin black Italian leather jacket. She was almost certain he knew she was studying him. “Furio” she silently mouthed the name.

He sat up front this time, knowing she was studying him. That she was wrestling with her inner thoughts of going out for a cup of coffee or sandwich with him. This pleased him immensely and he couldn’t help but smile as he idly watched the New Jersey scenery pass by outside. He knew in his heart she would say ‘Yes’ to his seemingly innocent offer, and he also knew this was indeed the one he wanted. During the whole trip he idly made the exact plans of how he would obtain her, kidnap her and make her his.

The next day once again they met up at the same bus stop, and as he knew in his heart she indeed decided she would go to the café to have a cup of coffee with him and they could talk horses. He set up the meeting for Saturday afternoon; he had many things to get ready in preparation during the next 2 days.





To be continued.