The Centaur's Bride

[Word Count: 4987 Words]

The Centaur's Bride

She entered the gigantic hall and spotted him and his men immediately. They occupied the far right of the receiving hall, meant for guests. The courtiers and the other members of the royal family gave the group a wide berth, seemingly disturbed by their presence, yet no less fascinated by the encounter with these legendary creatures. The centaur prince paid them no heed. He stood, with his back erect and his head held high, piercing eyes fixed upon the entrance. On her. She could feel his gaze boring into her very soul as he studied every minute part of her. Shifting a little self-consciously under his unabashed stare, she returned the favour.

The human part of his body was stunningly impressive. His chest was broad and the arm muscles well-defined. She spotted a six-pack abdomen at the juncture where his torso merged with his lower half of the body. A set of matching warrior bracelets decorated his wrists, with sharp pikes sticking out. He also wore a large silver pendant in the shape of a warrior axe that reflected the sunlight streaming into the castle. Although he looked slightly forbidding, with his high forehead and thick eyebrows drawn in concentration, the centaur prince was actually quite handsome, she decided. Black curls framed his face, softening his strong military stance slightly. The high cheekbones complemented his sharp Anglican nose. His lips were wide and when he parted them to whisper to one of his men, two rows of white pearly teeth flashed at her. From her distance, she could vaguely see that he had laughter lines etched around the mouth. That surprised her, for she'd always thought of centaurs as a violent race, with no inclinations towards humour, except for maybe the bawdy kind..

Her eyes travelled over his taut hindquarters, down his flanks, tracing his strong hind legs bulging with muscles.  The brown fur covering the part of his body below the torso looked well-combed, as if someone had lovingly groomed the centaur before his appearance at her father's court. From her angle, she could not see his tail, but she imagined it to be as long as a horse's. His hoofs clipped-clipped against the stone floor as he shifted his weight from one side to the other constantly. She'd read somewhere that centaurs did not enjoy walking on stone floors as they hurt the hoofs terribly. Centaurs were more used to the soft grass and mud in the wilderness. Looking at him, she knew that he must be extremely uncomfortable. In some perverse corner of her mind, she was glad that he was suffering a little. After all, he was making her suffer by taking her away from her family and everything familiar to her.

Their eyes met, and she caught sight of a fleeting, mocking smile, so swiftly gone that she thought she had been imagining it.

Her eyes swept past the prince to the ten other centaurs in the room. They flanked her future husband. Some were armed with crossbows and longbows, while others had lances meant for short-ranged attacks. From the way they stood in a protective circle around their leader, it was clear where their loyalties lay.

“Yvonne, my sweet child,” King Magnus greeted her with his hands outstretched. His eyes were puffy and swollen, with dark eye rings rimming the edges. She'd always been his beloved daughter and to have to send her off with the centaur prince was a terrible blow to him. They'd all hoped against hopes that the centaur prince would choose a commoner instead. After all, Yvonne wasn't the most beautiful woman in the selection of candidates presented to the centaur. As it was, once the prince laid eyes on her, he'd asked the King for her hand in marriage. He could not be persuaded to accept an alternative girl.

Yvonne hastened towards her father. She reached out and accepted King Magnus' proferred hand. Bending low and kissing her father's ring, she allowed one drop of tear to fall onto the ground. “Father,” she uttered, perhaps for the last time, “Thank you for bringing me up. I am forever indebted to you. May this small sacrifice bring many years of peace between the centaurs and the humans.”

“Child, I know not what to say. Except that I hope that someday, I will see you again.” He put his hands under her elbows and guided her to a standing position.

“Prince Zenith.” The King spun on his heels and addressed his potential son-in-law. “I present to you my favourite daughter and your future wife. As my daughter has expressed, we hope that with this marriage, our kinds will have lasting peace and will not return to the bloody violence of the long past.”

Prince Zenith inclined his head slightly. When he spoke, his rich, crisp voice filled the entire hall. “Fear not, King Magnus, for I will assure you of that. Thank you for gifting me with your daughter. I swear upon my life to take excellent care of her. She is free to return if she wishes to visit. Rest assured, King Magnus, that today will not be your last meeting with my wife.”

A quiver skipped down the princess's spine. Already, he was claiming her as his. 

The King sent Prince Zenith a half-smile. “Thank you for your generosity, Prince Zenith. My family and I are truly appreciative of such a magnanimous gesture on your part. Will you be staying the night so that we can hold a farewell feast?”

Prince Zenith shook his head. “While we would dearly like to accept your gracious offer, Your Majesty, my father expects me to return within three days. It takes at least two days of hard, ceaseless riding to arrive at Xa'vannah. I presume that the princess will require rest-stops in between. We must leave by this evening if we do not wish Her Highness to travel uncomfortably.” Then he paused, as if he remembered something important. “One more thing. We understand that you wish to send a party of soldiers to escort my wife to Xa'vannah. But that is unnecessary. The soldiers I have brought along today are the finest ones amongst all centaurs. Adding more people to our party will only impede our progress. It is imperative that I reach Xa'vannah as soon as possible. I would advise you to send only one handmaiden as a companion, and no more.”

King Magnus contemplated the centaur prince's suggestion, and eventually nodded imperceptibly. “As you wish, Prince Zenith. Daughter, will you go upstairs to pack?  Our guests will be taken to the Main Hall for refreshments.”

Yvonne sank in a deep curtsy and once again lifted her father's fingers to her lips. “I shall do as you say.” She gathered the folds of her ivory gown and departed, all the while conscious of the centaur prince's eyes trained on her.

“Shall we?” She heard her father ask as she rounded the corner to climb the steps up to her bedroom for the last time.

“Let's,” the prince replied, his voice oozing calm and confidence.

~~~

The next two days passed like a blur for Yvonne. Prince Zenith was worried that a carriage would slow down their journey, so Yvonne and her handmaiden, Bernice, each rode a horse. Both horses were thoroughbreds, assured to be the fastest in the King's stables. The King also had the stable hands prepare the most comfortable saddles for the two women. Yet, nothing could have prepare them for the exhaustion that set in just after two hours of being in the saddle.  By the second night, Yvonne and Bernice had developed saddle sores that had them slathering a huge amount of the Court Physician's cream to allay their discomfort

They had set up a camp in the forest near  Xa'vannah and were expected to reach Yvonne's new home by mid-morning. Throughout the journey, the prince had been nothing but the epitome of politeness. He rarely spoke to her, but when he did, it was always in the manner of a stranger speaking to a new acquaintance and not as a husband speaking to his wife. She couldn't say the same for his companions, though. Although they didn't bother her, they feasted upon Bernice with lusty eyes and often made bawdy jokes in front of the ladies. Prince Zenith never partook in such activities, neither did he rebuke them for it. She felt grudging admiration build up within her for the centaur prince. Although she resented him for selecting her, and making her leave her life as she knew it, he had the hallmarks of a capable and effective leader.

As she got ready for bed that night, Yvonne felt chills travel down her spine. Tomorrow, they would reach Xa'vannah. Tomorrow, she would be his wife in the truest sense of the word. She gulped, drew the covers of her thin blanket over her and squeezed her eyes shut. During the journey, he had been galloping in front of them, leading the way. She wasn't so innocent to not know the functions of that flesh between his hind legs

Just after the Selection, the Court Physician's wife, Salmah, had given her a quick idea of what was to happen between the couple. “It is an understatement to say that a man's root is small compared to a centaur's,” she'd told Yvonne, sandwiching the nervous girl's hand between her gnarled ones. “Centaurs' lower bodies take after the horses. Although their members are not as long as a stallion's, they are definitely twice as big as a human male's.” Salmah produced a pink paper packet, tied securely with a string.  “This is dragonsblood. Take this a few hours before your virginity is to be broken. It will deaden the pain and heighten your arousal. A centauress gave this to me at a Centaur market many years ago but I've never found the occasion to use it. Sexual pain is quite common in centaur intercourse, and dragonsblood will be more freely available in the markets there. But, I suspect that when you first arrive, you will not have time to visit the markets before he deflowers you. Remember, Your Highness, if you do not take dragonsblood, the pain will be excruciating.”

Her fingers found the packet hidden underneath her underclothes and gave it a squeeze. She desperately hoped that it would worked.

Just as she was about to drop off to sleep, she was woken up by the sudden sounds of an siege. “Die, you centaurs! Die! How dare you befoul our lands! You deserve death for all the pain you inflicted on our lands!”

Another voice, a woman's this time, filled with anger, pierced the air. “I saw a young woman with you. You have abducted her, haven't you! Return her to us, you filthy animals!”

Yvonne rushed out in her translucent nightgown and was horrified to see a group of farmers attacking the eleven centaurs. Some held fire torches and were swinging them dangerously around; others held rakes, aiming them at the centaurs. Despite having kept watch, the centaurs had been unable to detect the danger due to exhaustion.

“Jamiah! Korsa! Protect the princess!” Yvonne heard Prince Zenith holler, when he spotted her.

“No, m'lord! We're not going to abandon you!” She saw Jamiah brandishing his axe, getting ready for battle.

“Do you disobey the orders of your future king?” The centaur prince knew just what to say to ensure compliance from his men. The two backed away from defending Prince Zenith and rode towards her, disgruntlement clearly marked on their faces.

“Please,” she begged as they blocked her attempts to run to the front line. “Let me talk to them. They're mistaken! They think you're here to – ”

“Oh, we know what they think!” spat Korsa bitterly. He didn't elaborate more, but they all knew the history behind the centaurs' bad reputation. “No. We cannot allow you to risk your life.”

“Please, just let me go! I need to speak to them before anyone loses his life! I'm sure they'll listen to me.” She tried to run around the two but Jamiah picked her up as easily as if he were carrying a child.

“What part of 'no' do you not understand? Do you honestly think that these people will listen to you? Look at them! They're a mob! They're crazed. They cannot think! You'll lose your life!”

Yvonne struggled against his hold but to no avail. She threw a desperate gaze to the front line, but saw no violent behaviour on Prince Zenith's part. His crossbow was slung casually around his torso, but he made no move to use it.

“Listen to me. We're from Xa'vannah. There is an ongoing truce between centaurs and humans. We're truly sorry for what we have done in the past, but – ” Before Prince Zenith could finish his sentence, someone hacked at him. He sidestepped the attack, but not quickly enough. The axe slashed across one of his forelegs. The other centaurs stepped forward, bowstrings taut and lances straightened. Prince Zenith raised a hand to stop them.

“No!” Yvonne struggled free and tumbled onto the ground. She dashed towards the fallen centaur. All that her father had worked so hard to build... Her sacrifice... This hard-earned and hard-won peace and prosperity might just go down with the centaur prince. If he died, the centaur king might declare an all-out war against the humans again.

She saw the axe glint in the firelight. “Stop, please!” Yvonne threw herself in front of her husband-to-be. Astonishment spread throughout the crowd, soon replaced by scorn. “You're with the centaurs? Traitor!” one of the leader bellowed. “Strike her down too!” he ordered.

“I am Yvonne, daughter of King Magnus.” Yvonne drew herself to her fullest heights and stared down  the farmers with their raised pikes aimed at her. “I am also betrothed to Prince Zenith, whom you have just struck down. A truce has been arranged between the two kingdoms – ”

“A truce! Blah! Have you any idea what happened during the Ten Years War? Centaurs marched in here, plundered our lands and murdered our men. They raped our wives and daughters and killed our children in the most brutal, unforgiving manner. And you expect us to let it just pass?” A lady stepped forward.

“What is passed is passed, Madame. More bloodshed cannot – ”

“I am sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I apologise for all the atrocities committed by the centaurs,” Prince Zenith interrupted, breathing heavily. Although the wound was not mortal, it caused him deep pain. “If my death can serve to help avenge your dead, then I am most willing to die on their behalves. But, before you do that, know also that you humans were not the only casualties in this war. We had our fowls slaughtered too. The bodies of our soldiers and womenfolk were dismembered and strewn all over the battlefields and villages. Centaurs do not reproduce as readily as humans. Within ten years, you will have doubled the population you had previously. But for centaurs, it will take another century.” Prince Zenith bowed deeply and repeated, “I apologise for all that we have done. If my death serves a purpose, you there, please, by all means, strike the axe through my heart.”

Yvonne started trembling in fear for the centaur prince. What if... What if...

A murmur diffused through the mob. Then, surprisingly, as sudden as the crowd appeared, it retreated. “Count yourselves lucky this time,” someone threw that last sentence at them.

The company didn't move until they saw the torches reach the far end of the forest. Yvonne sagged in relief and fell back against Prince Zenith's chest. His arms came up automatically to catch her, gentleman that he was. “Are you all right?” Concern lined his every word.

“I am all right, but you're injured!” She pushed against his chest and tried to examine his foreleg. Without the light emanating from the strong torches, she was unable to assess how badly hurt he had been.

“Fear not, my lady. We centaurs are tough!” He flashed her a grin, the first since they saw each other. His eyes travelled down her body and dilated. Yvonne flushed, suddenly aware that all she was wearing was her nightgown and her underclothes.

“You could have been killed!” she changed the subject. His eyes whipped back up to her flushed face.

“So could you! Didn't I assign Jamiah and Korso to protect you?” He twisted around. She reached out her hand without a thought and guided his face back in her direction.

“Please, do not punish them. They tried to perform their duty but it was I who struggled free” She laid a soothing hand on his arm.

The other ten centaurs by now were surrounding the two of them. Bernice stood by the tent. “My lady,” Jamiah addressed her, “We will take care of our lord. It is late now. Please, rest.” It was an indirect dismissal, politely given, and yet it hurt her. It was a reminder that she didn't belong in their group, not yet anyway.

Yvonne sighed. Eventually, though, she hoped to gain their trust enough to be included in their circle. Tonight's incident showed her a totally different side to the centaurs and their prince. She was beginning to respect them more and more. Curtsying, she turned and disappeared into the comforts of the tent with Bernice.

Throughout the rest of the night, however, she found that she was unable to fall asleep. The night's events replayed in her mind, but the attack was not its focus. It was the hungry, lewd expression she'd seen flash across the prince's face that she was ruminating on.

~~~

Prince Zenith had not been too badly injured, but their pace was slightly slower compared to the past two days. Still, they reached well before dinner. Yvonne was very kindly received by the Centaur King, who looked a lot like an older version of Prince Zenith. She retired after the audience with the King for a bath in preparation for the night's wedding feast.

Just before the start of the wedding reception, Yvonne poured the powdered dragonsblood into a wine cup, swirling it around to dissolve it before downing the blood-red concoction.

If pressed to, Yvonne would be unable to recall any details about the wedding reception. The anticipation of the night so occupied her mind that it was unbearable. When, at the end of the wedding, the guests goaded Prince Zenith into carrying her into the bedchamber, her body was so much on fire that it was all she could do to prevent herself from moaning when she felt him hoist her over his shoulders.

Upon entering the bedchamber, Prince Zenith headed straight for the high bed. They'd raised the bed, Yvonne observed dreamily, to the same height as his member. It would make for an easier fuck, for sure.

She gasped. How did that dirty word come into her mind? But, the more she recited it, the more she liked it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Prince Zenith gazed upon her, frowning worriedly. “M'lady,” he brushed her cheeks in a feather-light touch. “Are you all right? You look a little flushed. Is it the wine?”

She started giggling.

A strange look crossed his face. “I had not thought that I was so repulsive that you needed to get yourself inebriated in order to stand to consummate our marriage.” He stepped away and turned towards the door. “Do not worry, I will not touch you if my caresses revile you.”

He had almost reached the door when he felt her grasp his sensitive member from the side. His head swerved to meet her smothering gaze. She was whispering something; he couldn't catch it. “What is it, m'lady?” He drew closer.

Fuck me...

Prince Zenith could feel his shaft swelling. He gave a tortured groan as her amateur fingers started pulling at his hot shaft. No one, not even his loyal guards, knew how he'd selected her. He'd been sitting behind a veil, watching the girls parade in front of him through a peep hole. The moment he saw her, a vision of him pinning her to the bed grasped his mind. He had swelled to his largest since his initiation to sexual copulation. At once, he knew that this was the woman he wanted as his wife.

He turned, careful to avoid stepping on her feet. “M'lady – ” he began.

“Call me Yvonne...” she pleaded.

“Yvonne,” he tasted the name on his tongue. It felt good to finally be able to call his wife by her name. “Yvonne, are you sure you want this? It will hurt – ”

“It's all right,” she assured him. “Dragonsblood...”

Understanding dawned upon him. Dragonsblood... No wonder she appeared so drunk. He had been mistaken. She was preparing herself for tonight. For him. A smile played upon his lips as he set about consummating his marriage.

She stood uncertainly in front of him, her virginal wedding gown billowing around her knees. “Get that off you,” he instructed. She fumbled with the buttons and the hooks until he, growing impatient, ripped the gown at its seams. The gown fell in pieces, revealing her bare skin underneath. His manhood hardened  as he caught sight of her triangular thatch. “All in good time,” he promised himself. He wanted to make this a good experience for her.

The centaur lifted her and urged her to wrap her lithe legs around his torso. Pushing her face close to his, he stuck out his tongue tentatively to lick her lips. She gasped. He took advantage of her surprise to insert his tongue to probe the soft interiors of her mouth. Giving a guttural moan, he played with her tongue, encouraging it to respond. While engaging her mouth, he also pressed her mons against his hard torso, rubbing it and exciting the virginal hole. His ministrations caused her to groan, lending him even greater access to her mouth.

He laid her gently onto the bed. Pushing her feet up and spreading them, he exposed her slit. It was glistening with need, but he knew it was still not wet enough to accept his man-root. Lowering his mouth, he gave her nub a flick with his tongue. She trembled as indescribable pleasures coursed through her veins. “More,” she moaned. “Please, more.” Grinning with self-satisfaction, he proceeded to cater to her request. She cried out involuntarily as one hand shot upwards to pull at her taut nipples, and the other to massage her breasts, causing her body to rocket off the bed. The centaur's tongue deliberately travelled down her parted lips. In one fluid motion, he buried his tongue into her womanhood. Salty dew washed over his taste buds. The tip of his nose was high enough to reach her nub so as his tongue thrust in and out of her soaked nucleus, he used his nose to rub against her pleasure kernel. Although the centaur couldn't see Yvonne's expression, her stifled moans were enough to encourage him to continue teasing her delicate parts.

When he deemed it time, Prince Zenith heaved himself onto the bed. He wanted her to guide him into her. “Yvonne, find my man-root. Push it into your hole.” She slid down a little as her tiny hands searched his underbelly for the well-hung staff. It wasn't long before she found it, now distended to its fullest. Instead of guiding it into her haven though, she started massaging the sensitive shaft.

Not that he was complaining. Although still a virgin, she had instincts of a hussy, and knew just how to get a reaction out of him.

“The head, please, touch the head,” he half-begged, forgetting that she was unused to such terms. Yvonne tipped her head quizzedly at him. “The tip of my manhood,” he explained tenderly. Her hand found its way up the shaft to his mushroom-like knob. He shuddered as pleasure cascaded over his entire body. “Squeeze it hard, please, Yvonne. And rub the eye, right at the tip of my cock,” he pleaded. She obeyed and tightened her grasp on his member, simultaneously using her thumb to tease the eye of his engorged pole. He clenched his teeth as a loud wail of pleasure threatened to burst from within. She slid off the bed and disappeared beneath his belly. A warm, wet mouth enveloped the tip of his sheath unexpectedly. He bucked, shoving even more of his excited member into her welcoming mouth. Her tongue encircled the head, paying particular attention to the eye. All the time, her hands attended to his shaft. He felt one hand travel further down to his balls sacks and squeeze. The combination was sweet torture. Her mouth teased his head, the right hand massaged his balls, and the left pumped his shaft vigorously.

He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to come. He needed to shove his man-root into her drenched hole. He needed it now!

His hind legs backed up, and she cried in frustration as he shook himself free from her ministrations. He grabbed her and dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed, any semblance of gentlemanly air had dissipated, to be replaced by a bestial lust.

Clambering onto the bed, his forelegs supporting the rest of his body while his hind legs positioned themselves between his wife's leg's open embrace, he blindly poked at her wet hole. He saw her lips lift in a knowing smile as she sensed his desperation. Yvonne reached between his hind legs and grasped his throbbing pole. A drop of pre-cum adorned the tip of his member and she spread the drop all over the eye. He bucked again, anxious to lodged himself into her.

Still, she refused to guide him in.

“What's the magic word?” Her fingers continued to torture the tip of his cock.

“Please!”

She shook her head, still teasing. “Wrong!”

“Now!”

Negative, again. He gave a roar of frustration. “I want to fuck you so badly, it's driving me insane! Stop playing silly games!”

“The word,” she whispered, as she granted his wish, “is fuck.”

The centaur felt his staff gradually being swallowed by her soft folds. “So tight,” he gritted the words past his teeth, keeping his passions in check. He was huge, and she so tiny. What if he hurt her? The prince hit a barrier and paused. “Am I hurting you?” he panted. She gave no response, and he glanced down to see a tear-drenched, ashen-white face looking back at him. Her teeth cut into her bottom lip, blood staining the tip of her teeth.

“I am hurting you!” He made a move to withdraw, but she held him down in a tight embrace. “I am your wife, and I'm willing to go through anything to mate with you. The pain will pass. After all, your children will come down my woman canal too. And they will be much bigger than you will ever be!” She attempted a feeble smile as her hands urged him to go ahead.

He nodded. Although his concern for her was strong, he was glad she didn't make him stop. He didn't know if he could, given his lust-blinded mind. He braced himself and then shoved through the barrier. She cried out in utter pain. The centaur stalled, letting her get use to his presence. His fingers found her nub and played with it. He leant forward and licked her ear, rimming the outside with his tongue before pushing it into the depths of her hole. She never knew her ear to be so sensitive! Slowly, she recovered. It didn't hurt so much anymore. The nub treatment was starting to have an effect on her. Her mons discharged even more juice, wetting his huge man-root so that the woman canal could accept more of his thrusting.

Slowly, he began to move. She felt her inner muscles suckle his equine organ tightly as he rocked in and out of the tight centre. The more he teased her hub, the more engorged her bulb grew, and the wetter she became. She thrashed about on the bed, moaning and pleading feverishly as his pace increased. No longer did she feel pain. Only ecstasy remained.

The centaur could no longer contain himself. Although he was only half-embedded in her hole, the muscles closing around his staff was milking his resolve to take it slowly. Her musky scent filled the entire bedchamber, only serving to heighten his arousal.

“I'm ready to explode,” he murmured into her ears. Without a word, she pushed her hips against his body in an offering.

“Fuck. Me.” She gazed deep into his eyes.

The restraint he'd put upon himself from the time they entered the bedchamber was lost. He pounded into her, their lovemaking rough. Her hips lifted to meet his every stroke. They pushed into each other, faster and harder. She came first, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as spasms overtook her entire body. Watching her come served to hasten his own imminent orgasm. He quickened his thrusts, bringing his fingers to her nub to lift her into throes of another orgasm. As she came a second time, he felt her muscles enfold his member. “Ugh!” His shout echoed around the bedchamber. Groaning, he planted himself deep inside her, spilling his seed high into her womb.

As their bodies recovered from the night's exertion, Prince Zenith lifted his bride and arranged her gently on the bed. He knelt down beside the bed and laid his head next to her face on the pillow. “Sleep, my beloved,” he whispered, watching her eyes flutter close. “for my insatiable body will want you again in a few hours time.”

The centaur's bride made no response, as she fell in a dreamless sleep.