FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story was written by myself and my amazing pet Atlas86

***

In the darkness, it was difficult to make out anything beyond the flickering torchlight that hovered above their wooden cage. Dark, heavy wood, unbreakable with bare hands, let alone bound hands. It was a cage he shared with a dozen or so packed-in madmen. Thieves, con artists. Men charged with assault, rape, murder. It was a little-known fact that the city's prisons were kept so empty because of the slave ring, and the slave ring itself a lesser-known fact than that. Hosted once per month, in the darkest thicket a league from the city gates. Easy to move prisoners to, but far enough away not to draw unwanted eyes. It was difficult to hide such an assortment of international and interspecies buyers from the wary human populace, but somehow it had gone on for years untouched. Slavery was illegal in human lands, although his father hadn't seemed to care. His brother certainly didn't care, curse his soul. That stubborn, traitorous youth had taken everything from him. His titles, his lands, his fortune. Everything. His father's passing had been tragic enough, but to be escorted away from the funeral for conspiracy and high treason that he did not commit. When he got out of this cage and back to the city, then he might consider conspiracy and high treason. His brother, two years younger and flaunting a golden crown like it had his name engraved on it.

"Hey, quiet down in there!" A human in dark steel armour shouted, knocking the pommel of his sword against the top of their cage. Those that had been yelling and shaking the bars backed away slowly, crowding up the rear half of the cage he had taken for himself. If the guard had gotten one good look at his face, he would have let him out. There was no way this conspiracy had run so deep into the ranks. The torches were mounted so high that no real light shone into the cages, shrouding everyone in shadows.

"What are you going to do with us?" One man whimpered to the guard as he was about to walk away. The man took on a sinister visage, and knelt down next to the frightened prisoner.

"What am I going to do with you lot?" he replied. "I'm going to sell you. I'm going to sell all of you to whoever will pay the most. You could be miners, or farmers. You could be mercenaries or cannon fodder. Hell, you could wash underwear for orcs for the rest of your lives. All I care about is the coin."

With a cackle, the man rose and headed off towards the center of the ring, where a collection of traders were gathering. Each had brought a cage or two of their own people, looking to make some gold selling off their prisoners, criminals, vagrants, or their own mothers. It was difficult to make out who all was there, but some species were quite distinguishable. The heavy-set frame of an orc with a traditional horned helm stood out as a vast silhouette against the firelight. A stout dwarf stood next to their friend from the city guard. It was a menagerie of species, dealing dirty with their lives. The rest of the prisoners huddled up into the corner closest to the meeting, hoping to catch a glimmer of coin passing hands, or hear the exchange between the group to guess their fate. He stayed back, unconcerned. Whoever bought the lot of them would post his ransom as soon as he learned who he was. A relative outside the city would buy him back, and he could aid in his return to the throne, before the false rumors reached the further cities. He would be fine.

After a long exchange between the men, a series of handshakes and species-specific gestures broke the meeting. Even before he reached them, they could hear the jingling of a fat coin purse waving in their captor's hand. The men in his change began to murmur in fear amongst themselves. Except, as he drew closer, the realized that he was carrying two purses, both equally full. He perked up as he heard their swinging counter each other. Something wasn't right.

"S-So?" one of the men asked.

"You lot got off lucky this time. The elf needs more men for his plantation. Increased business in Twinkletown, I guess. However, I could care less about where you half-wits are going, when I made double off your little friend there," the guard bent down and sneered right at him, shaking the bag as if taunting him. "This one is something special, it seems."

"My ransom, no doubt. It took them long enough to realize I was put here under false pretences. Open the cage, and let me free."

The clink of keys joined that of money as the guard unlocked the cage and swung the door open. The other men dared not move, but he had no trouble crawling past them and out of the cramped cage. As he rose to his feet once more, his knees cracking from being in such an uncomfortable position, he stretched himself out and breathed a sigh of relief. From the shadows at the edge of the ring, he heard the soft sound of hooves in the forest grass, padding towards him. They sounded quite heavy and strong. Probably one of his uncles from the north, on one of their powerful drafts.

"Goodbye, my unfortunate companions. I hope the you fare well in the fields," he said, and turned towards the coming steed. He could make out the enormous beast in the shadows, with a man seated upon his back. However, something was off about this rider and his steed. Men from the north were more often than not thick with fat and muscle, not so lean and lanky as this. As powerful hooves carried the horse out of the darkness, he quickly realized that the steed was the man. A centaur, huge and powerful, stepped straight up to him with a leash and black collar in his hand. His body was thick with rippling muscles, both man and beast halves, and he had a bow and quiver slung across his broad back. He craned his head in sudden awe at the beast that stood before him, and it took little intuition to realize this was his purchaser.

A small amount of chuckling could be heard from the prisoners behind him as the ex-nobleman was approached by the intimidating beast. It took one look to see that this was a creature that could not be easily trifled with, and as he approached it was clear he was looking to take his purchase with him. The other prisoners seemed amused, knowing that he had gotten himself bought by one the centaurs from the tribes on the fringes of the forest. They were known for being secretive, and also feared for their strength, intellect and skill in combat. Stepping forward nervously as the four-legged horse-human slowed to a halt in front of him, the anxious man began to speak. It began to dawn on him that he was not being rescued, but had been sold properly to an owner.

"Please," he begged, "my name is Callum, I am a..."

His pleading was cut short as a large hand struck him across the face, the mighty centaur frowning with displeasure as his new purchase spoke out of turn. The man was staggered by the blow, and he found himself seeing spots of light as his dazed head tried to steady itself.

"I did not say you could talk, slave," the beast almost bellowed at him, the voice deep, rich in tone and powerful in force. It made the man stop in his tracks, the sheer respect that voice commanded making him feel instantly small and weak. Flexing his fingers, the centaur looked at the red mark he had left on that fleshy face. It glowed red, and he noted that this one seemed to be a bit weaker than the rest. It didn't take much time at all for the intelligent creature to deduce that this human wasn't a warrior, or a field-worker. That made him curious, but he didn't intend to speak to his new property in such unpleasant company. The small snickers coming from the onlooking prisoners were making his ears twitch,

Instead he deposited the collar on the ground, tossing it at Callum's feet. Steady once more, Callum looked at the piece of leather with wide eyes. Did the centaur seriously think he was going to put that on? The handcuffs had been humiliating enough when he had been taken away, and he could hear the soft laughter from the others. Despite the fact that they were also destined to be sold, it didn't mean they weren't amused by the arrogant human's misfortune. He stared at the collar for a moment, and then looked up to see the stern expression across the face of the centaur. It made him freeze; the look on those features made him very sure that he was not being asked, he was being told. Not wanting to risk another slap across the face, he dropped to his knees and picked up the leather strip in his hands. His thumbs ran over the surface, feeling the smooth yet strong texture as he turned it over. It had no distinct markings, but it was definitely strong.

"Put it on," the centaur said gruffly, and Callum looked up slowly. He had never been treated like this, not in his wildest thoughts, and he found himself reluctant to don the new piece. It was only a slight movement, but he saw the beast's hand twitch once again, and he found himself very quickly pressing the leather against his neck. Despite his distaste at being collared, he would do it to avoid getting hit once more. It was unlikely he would get far anyway, as all of the slave traders around him wore swords and other various weapons at their hips. He'd end up dead before he could reach the road.

His hands trembling slightly, he passed the end of the leather strip through the metal buckle, and slid it snug around his neck. The clasp's pin caught in the tough leather and latched, leaving it stuck there, where he could not get it off. It slowly dawned on him what had just occurred. He had been sold as a slave to a centaur. They were a primitive people, living in hide tents all their lives. They did not farm, or manufacture, and barely traded. There was a very limited number of jobs for a slave to have, and he was sure he didn't like any of them. Nevertheless, he was collared, and the massive beast held his leash. A firm yank sent him stumbling forward, falling into line at the centaur's side. His hands clutched instinctively at his collar, but that only earned him another harsh yank.

"Follow me, or I will drag you," the centaur ordered, and all he could do was whimper pathetically and nod. As he fell into step with the hybrid beast, he wondered how his life had fallen so low, so quickly. From prince to slave in a matter of hours, all thanks to his traitorous brother. He would get back at him one day, but for now, he could not escape his buyer's grasp. He had to go, else he be struck again and dragged there anyway. Surely he would not be allowed to ride on his back, and asking such a thing would surely have him punished. As they passed through the center of the ring, he could see a multitude of slaves being transferred from one cage to another, and from one owner to another. Very few were like him, collared and separate from the rest. A tall, lithe female elf caught his gaze, and looked at him knowingly as she stood before the large orc holding her chain. Her attention was drawn back as a heavy hand lowered her to her knees and wrapped around the back of her head. Callum looked away then, but he could hear her cries being muffled as he and the centaur walked out of sight.

They passed between the thick trees trees until the bustle of the slave ring had faded away. They broke the treeline a moment later, and emerged into the starry, moonlit night. A full moon cast its silvery glow across the plains that stretched out around the forest, until the mountains in the east peaked on the horizon, and the great forest to the south appeared as a black splotch against the lighter lands. Somewhere in those woods would be his prison, at least for a little while. They certainly won't arrive until morning if he was on foot, although it would have been a short few hours on horseback. He only hoped his captor didn't become impatient with his pace.

As they walked across the dew-soaked grass in silence, Callum took the time to examine the centaur. He was certainly a finely-bred stallion, if that was something that could be said about the creatures. His upper half was tall and strong, rippling in the banded muscles honed by shooting a bow ambidextrously. He had a hard, chiselled face, and a long mane of brown hair that flowed like silk down to his shoulders. Despite being a beast, his upper half was surprisingly hairless, and was instead covered in taut, fair skin that perfectly highlighted the musculature below. At his waist, a band of shaggy fur the color of dark chocolate separated the half that was man, and the half that was horse. The rest of his massive body was that of a chestnut stallion. As large as any draft, but smooth and sleek as a steppe charger, he surely could match either in speed and endurance. His muscles shifted beneath his well-kept coat as he walked, oblivious or uncaring of his captive's inspection. The hooves that carried him along the ground were huge, but without shoes as the horse moved along the soft earth. The only place left for Callum's eyes to wander was to the centaur's rump. Massive thighs rippled with movement as his hind legs pushed the creature along, and a long tail of coarser hairs swung back and forth with his gait. He was truly a remarkable specimen, that Callum would much rather have appreciated from afar.

He lost track of how long they travelled for. Any time he fell behind a quick tug of his leash put him right back in line. He didn't dare talk to the centaur, but he had so many questions swimming around in his head. It was still such a foreign concept to him, being sold. He had never had much love for the slave trade, and had never considered buying one himself. It had even crossed his mind in the past that he would make moves to outlaw it when he became the King after his father's passing. Yet here he was, being taken away by a hulking hybrid, with his brother sitting on the throne and a collar around his next. They passed through a lot of forest, picking their way through bushes, trees and grassy clearings for hours on end. Part of him was glad he had not been a lazy prince, the physical exercise was something he could handle. He didn't know exactly where the centaur tribes lived, only that it was on the outer edges of the forest, well away from his home. He had once been curious about them, as many people were; now, he would have been content to never know.

"We are close to my village," the centaur spoke suddenly, startling Callum out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the human head looking down at him, fixing him with a firm glare. Unsure what to do, he simply nodded. It would not do to anger someone that could kill him with a single blow.

"Listen carefully, I shall only say these things once," the beast continued, keeping up his stride as he spoke.

"I am Pholus, a warrior from the Arhen tribe. I have purchased you, and from this day forward you will be my slave. Understand this now: I have zero tolerance for disobedience. If I ask something of you, you will obey. If you do not obey, I will punish you. If you continue to disappoint, you will be of no use to me. If you are not useful to me, I will dispose of you. Am I clear human?" Listening to every word closely, Callum swallowed in fear and nodded. The deep, reverberating voice of his new owner was enough to make him quite sure of his seriousness.

"Good, good," Pholus mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. The pair continued to move through the forest, Callum somewhat glad he was having things explained, even if they were not in his favor.

"I am not in the habit of playing with words. If you obey, I shall not be cruel. You will have a small spot in which to sleep. You will be fed healthily. You will wear your collar at all times. You will do everything I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. If you make a mistake, I will tell you what you did wrong. If you make that same mistake again, I will beat you. If you disrespect me, I will beat you. If you disrespect anyone for that matter, I will strike you down. You will wake and rest at appropriate times, and you will ensure that you look alert and appreciative of the fact that I could be a lot harsher with you." The centaurs' words were blunt and direct, and Callum couldn't help but nod at them. He somehow knew that this centaur was one of his word, and even though the concept of being a slave was very displeasing, he knew there were far worse out there. Slave owners who enjoyed hurting others... now that would be quite terrible indeed.

"Aside from your obedience, you will also refer to me as Master at all times. Understood?" Callum nodded once more, but the centaur gave a small tug on his leash.

"When spoken to, you will reply respectfully," Pholus stated in his firm tone, and Callum shivered slightly as he spoke the words.

"Yes Master."

"Good. Now, follow me to my tent. Do not let your eyes wander from the the ground or from me. The camp will likely be empty at this hour, but will not have my new slave disrespecting anyone so soon."

As they rounded a dense thicket and back into looser trees, Callum began to see the glow of nearby firelight over the crest of a small hill. Its dull flickering bathed the tall trunks near to it with a radiant orange glow, overlaying the slivers of moonlight that penetrated the foliage above. Pholus, his Master, led him up the incline towards the light, towards his new home. Even the gentle hill made his tired thighs burn with fatigue, as he knew his destination was so close. He found it increasingly difficult to match pace with the perfectly fit creature. When they finally crested the hill, Callum's brow was caked in sweat, and the loincloth the guards had given him was tight and chafing his thighs. However, just down the hill lay a large collection of square tents dimly lit by a collection of scattered torches. This was the centaur's village, and it looked quite sizable. More than two dozen tents, which looked like they could fit a few of the large creatures. From the hill, the village looked deserted, and no lights shone from any of the interiors. He had a short moment to survey the entire village before a tug on his leash from the moving centaur nearly sent him tumbling down the other side of the hill. He followed his Master down into the center of the empty village, and towards the flap of one of the largest tents in the village. While most of the others were constructed of bleached animal skins, this one glittered with some kind of tiny gems. Two torches gated the flap to the tent, and the massive, pointed skull of what could have only been a dragon sat off to the side of the path. He was led right to the flap, which the large centaur pulled aside before stepping inside. Callum was momentarily stunned as he stood so close to the tent wall. From this distance, he could see that the entire thing was covered in the scaled hide of a great wyrm, probably the one whose skull adorned the grass next to him. His leash was yanked for him to step inside before the thick skin was dropped back into place, leaving them in near complete darkness.

While Callum couldn't see a thing in the darkness, the centaur seemed to know his way around the interior of the tent. With a few firm tugs of his leash, he was maneuvered into a small bundle of soft grasses that he imagined would serve as his bed.

"Lay down and sleep. In the morning, you will begin your new life. Take this time to make peace with your old life. You will find it easier to obey if you do not harbour thoughts of escape. If you were sold to me, it means there is no one in your old life that wants you."

His Master spent a moment to securely tie his leash to something over his bed, before striding away to the other side of the room. Callum could no longer see him, but he could hear the sounds of shuffling leaves and grasses as the large beast settled on his bed. He gave a tug at his leash, but unsurprisingly found it quite secure. He would have no chance to untie it and escape in this darkness, especially when his centaur Master was surely still watching him from somewhere in the darkness. With a sigh, Callum simply sunk down into the grass and curled up. He was surprised by how soft the flora was, and with the fatigue already spread throughout his body, he had no trouble letting sleep in. In the morning, he could explain everything to Pholus and have this whole situation straightened out. Closing his eyes, he rested his head in his hands and slipped into sleep. Everything would be better in the morning

****

Morning came rather slowly, the shade of the forest protecting the tent from most of the sunrise light. When he did wake, Callum found himself rubbing his eyes wearily. The long walk had made him sleep well, but the new bedding was not what he was accustomed to as an ex-prince. Grass, no matter how soft, was no substitute for fresh sheets of a proper bed. Remembering the events of the previous day as his mind came into focus, he sat up slowly, feeling the collar holding him in place. He couldn't help but rub at the leather with his fingers, the simple piece of neckwear a symbol of his capture. Looking around inside the tent, he realized it was still exceptionally warm. The centaurs were obviously quite skilled at their crafts, as their bows, furniture and tents were all top quality, even if they were primitive.

Now that more light was available to him, he looked over to where his new Master was standing, the powerful beast silently watching him from the other side. He knew immediately that he had been waiting for him to wake, and with his attention now at hand his owner stepped forward and looked at him with a firm gaze.

"Good morning slave," Pholus said in his usual direct manner, "I trust you had a good rest. Now that you are awake, you will begin your service to me. I said I will not repeat myself, and therefore you know what the rules are to your obedience. Am I understood?" The human nodded slowly.

"This will hopefully be a simple manner," the half-horse continued, scratching his chin, "I shall inform you of your tasks. You will be expected to serve as my personal attendant. You will tidy my home and look after its contents. You will cook meals when required, and if you are an inexperience cook, you shall be taught. You will clean, both the tent and my body. You will ensure that my coat remains clean and washed at all times. You will sharpen my arrowheads and polish my armour. I am sure this is all clear and easy to understand. General service, human."

Drinking it all in, Callum could only nod. What could he say? No? The centaur would beat him, he remembered it all clearly. At the very least, he was glad this creature was not one to fool around and he knew exactly what he wanted. Thankfully, it seemed he was only to be used for the same kinds of purposes that the servants and maids were back at the castle. That was a relief in many ways; he would not be forced to work the fields or mines, or given a terribly hard or horrid job. Even still, he wasn't very experienced in those matters, and hoped that the training they would give him was good enough. It dawned on him that he was already thinking about his new job, and shook his head a little as he remembered that he had to get free, to explain himself. Yet... how could he speak to his purchaser without risking punishment.

"Yes Master," he replied, accepting what he had heard. He had to keep the centaur happy. If he didn't... well, slaves were often disposed of quite quickly when their owners grew displeased.

"Now, let me show you around the camp. You will need to know where common facilities are if you are to be effective in your service," the centaur said, and busied his fingers with untying the knot that kept his slave bound in his bed. "However, first you must dispose of that displeasing covering you wear at your waist. You will not be given time to repair or launder it, nor will I give you the time to return to human lands to replace it. Best you simply remove it now."

Callum stared at the centaur for a long moment, as if he had suddenly started speaking native elvin. Remove his loincloth? Wearing it in the first place was barbaric, but to not wear anything at all was downright feral. He was a slave, not an animal. Pholus didn't seem anything less than completely serious, however, as he turned his stern gaze back on his slave as soon as the leash was firmly in his grasp again. He was seriously considering explaining his situation to the centaur at that moment, but he didn't think the beast would appreciate his complaints. Shaky hands reached to the waistband of his garb, and he heard a soft whimper escape his sealed lips as he thrust it towards the floor. The corner of the centaur's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk at such a speed that he wasn't sure if he had seen it at all, but could still catch the slight huff of the beast. Callum looked down his bare body to wear his meagre clothing lay uselessly on the bed. He was not under normal circumstances ashamed of his body, and his toned form had caused the female population to swoon whenever he walked by. Under the centaur, however, with his neck clad in a simple collar, it made him blush to stand naked before the creature.

"Better. Now, follow me," Pholus ordered, and gave his leash a tug towards the exit. He hurried after him, placing his hands in front of his groin to protect whatever remained of his modesty.

Emerging into the sunlight, the centaur camp was completely different from how he had seen it last night. Instead of scattered and deserted as it had appeared before, it was a bustling center of community. Centaurs or all shapes, size, and breeds trotted between the tents, going about their business. A small group of foals galloped by in a race, while their mothers watched them from down the row of tents. A semi-circle of older stallions sat down the way, passing an ornate pipe between each other. From the crest of the hill, a small hunting part had returned with their catch. He found his eyes wandering from tent to tent as Pholus led him along through the center of the camp, watching the centaurs as they went about his day. They ran into the foals again a moment later, who immediately began to look amongst each other and murmur while casting their gaze back at him. In fact, many sets of eyes seemed to be levelled on him as he was led through town. It seemed more like his Master was parading his new slave around than showing him around the camp, but finally they stepped up to an open tent. A few stallions were gathered around a long wooden table, where they worked busily to fletch the centaur's famous arsenal of arrows. They were larger than normal bodkin point arrows, tipped with traditional stone heads chiselled down to perfection, and fletched with the purest feathers he had ever seen.

"Pay attention, human, this is important," his Master began, drawing his attention away from the bustling fletcher's tent. "When you are picking up a delivery of new arrows for me, you must ensure a number of criteria are met by the fletcher before you carry them to my tent. Each tip must have a point that is exactly two fingers wide. Your hands are small, so use three fingers instead. No shaft should be warped or cracked, and be cut to the exact length of your arm. Each must be fletched with gryphon feathers, or else they won't fly straight. The lesser centaurs get arrows fletched with hawk. Test the resistance of the bristles to lateral movement gently. You should not be able to bend the fletching at all. If it feels soft and loose, have it replaced with the correct material. When all the arrows have been inspected, then you may bring them to my tent, and load them into my quivers. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Callum replied, looking back at the working fletchers. The bow and arrow was the centaur's weapon of choice, to the point where they didn't carry a close-range weapon at all. His father had told him a story from a battle in the southern lands, where he had fought with a tribe of centaurs. If an enemy had managed to close his distance shorter than a hundred lengths from one of the legendary archers, he would simply be trampled to death beneath their hooves. Callum knew he would never want to find himself under one of these beasts.

"Come human. The hunting tent is further down the path," Pholus called, punctuating his order with a yank on his collar.

He was taken to an assortment of tents, each one showcasing a different profession in the centaur tribes. He soon grew used to his nakedness, and realized that these beasts were not particularly concerned with how he looked. A few small mutters about his size made him flush red with embarrassment, but it soon became easier as he was escorted around. He saw the kitchen, and how to prepare the meat from the game that they hunted. He saw the blacksmith and the ways in which they and forged their armor. He saw the weavers stitching together the fabrics and leathers to make their various battle-wear. It was all very fascinating, and he found himself caught up in the interesting nature of it all, despite the fact he was expected to remember lots of things to do with his new life. It was hard coming to terms with the fact that he was a slave, but so far he had not been finding it unbearable. All that he could really think about was getting revenge on his brother for the treacherous crimes he had committed.

"Now that you have seen everything in my tribe, it is time we returned to my tent. I will tell you what you shall be doing there, and then I shall leave you. I have important duties of my own after all." Another short tug of the leash brought Callum back into his stride, and the pair of them crossed the town center again before slipping back into Pholus' private home. As he had been stripped of his clothing, the warmth inside was a welcome relief from the crisp morning air, and he found himself wishing he had some clothes to huddle into. He walked into the middle of the tent, able to better look at what was inside. Heavy metal armor sat on a rack against the wall, and a number of huge bows, impossible for any human to draw, rested in their own space. A number of quivers and numerous arrows were hung off hooks, ready to be taken out for hunting or combat. The centaur's bed was much bigger than what he had been given, and was covered in a number of cloths and softened with a layer of some natural material he couldn't recognise. A few buckets of fresh water sat by the entrance, and a small, protected fire pit cast that comforting warmth around the room.

He felt a small tug, the centaur pulling him over and curling his strong fingers around the leash. Fearful the centaur was trying to grab his neck, he resisted briefly, only to be struck across the face once more. Falling to the ground he clutched his cheek from the powerful blow, and the beast stood over him with a frown.

"Stand up," he commanded, and Callum obediently got to his feet, a little wobble as his owner grasped the firm knot that connected the leash to his collar and popped it free with a couple of twists of his fingers. The human was surprised as the leash hung loose in his Master's hands, and he reached up to rub the collar which was still around his neck.

"I have no need for a leash to keep you here," Pholus explained, placing it down on the table, "I know you won't run. Centaurs have great smell, and I will not forget yours. Even if you managed to slip past all the other centaurs here, you would be lost in the forest, and I would ultimately hunt you down and punish you severely." The slave swallowed nervously; that look he was getting was one that made him very afraid of what a 'severe punishment' would consist of. He gave a small nod and glanced over once more at the leash.

"Yes Master, I won't run from you," he said quietly, earning a small smirk from the taller male.

"Good human," Pholus replied, and surprised Callum as his large hand ruffled his hair. "Now, I must prepare to make a trip across the southern plains to a neighbouring tribe. You will not be accompanying me. Before I leave, I require you to assemble my travelling pack. I will require three kilograms of dried meat, my flask filled from the river to the east. I need my ceremonial quiver filled with arrows, fifty of them should suffice, and apply red banding three fingers' widths down the shaft from the tip, using the berry paint at the fletcher's tent. Ensure the straps on my bags are strong and undamaged. Make sure my quiver bears no scratches or markings. Do you understand my instructions?"

"Yes, Master," Callum replied.

"Repeat them back to me."

"Yes, Master. I need to get you three kilograms of meat, fill your flask, fill your quiver with fifty red-banded arrows...," he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Uh, check the straps on your bags, and make sure your quiver is spotless,"

"And tell me where the banding on the arrows goes," the centaur ordered.

"Three fingers' width from the tip," he replied.

"And what of the arrows themselves?" Pholus asked.

He had to take another moment to think about that question. That was the first thing the centaur had described to him, which now sat at the back of his mind. Surely screwing it up would lead him into big trouble, so he had to be sure everything he was doing was perfect.

"The arrowheads must be three fingers' width in size, the same as the red banding should be. The shaft must be free of defects and as long as my arm. The fletching must be from gryphon feathers, not hawk feathers. I should be unable to warp the fletching when I gently push on it if it is of the correct material."

Pholus stared at him critically. He immediately began to sweat, locked in the judgemental stare. Had he said something wrong? Was the centaur unhappy with him already.

"That is correct, human," Pholus said finally, prompting a sigh of relief from Callum. "However, keep in mind the gravity of this task. It is for a diplomatic purpose that I visit our neighbours, and surely you understand that custom runs deep for my people. If you do anything incorrectly, and my hosts are offended, it will be you I drag back to them for retribution. Do you comprehend the importance of this task, human?"

"Yes, Master. I am familiar with the subtleties of politics. The littlest things are the most important," Callum replied, and hastily adding a respectful bow.

The centaur only snorted. "Then go. I must speak with the chief before leaving."

Callum stepped back from his Master as the large beast turned and left the tent. For the first time, he was alone, unbound, and unattended. The thoughts of escape spread through his head, but then he remembered his Master's threat. He couldn't escape, even if he wanted to. It was finally setting in to his head. He would be a slave for the rest of his life. Attempting escape would end up with him beaten, or worse.

It was a surreal sensation, and he began to truly feel owned. He had absolutely no power, no method of escape, nobody coming to save him or negotiate his release. He had been sold, collared and put into the service of a centaur. As he slowly turned to begin his duties, he took comfort in the fact that his owner, while forceful in his punishments, did not mistreat him unless he stepped out of line. That much he could be thankful for; if he behaved himself, he would likely be okay.

His attentions turned to the task at hand. He quickly set about preparing the gear for his Master's trip, and that required him to memorize everything. If he messed this up it would not end well. The first thing he did was place cooked meat into the centaurs pack, folding it up in a cloth given to him from the cooks. He then took the flask mentioned to him, and left the tent to fill it up with water from the nearby river. He saw the watchful eyes of a number of other tribe members following him, and he was alert to all of them. As he disappeared behind the thick trees, heading to where the river lay, he realized he was out of sight of all the centaurs. Glancing around, he could not see any of them, and the thought of running popped into his head. Reaching the water, he knelt down and dipped the flask under, watching as the air escaped and water replaced it. A sigh left his lips; he knew he wouldn't run. They would track him easily, they were a proud hunting tribe. He would be easy to find.

Sealing up the flask he headed back, almost bumping into a large hunter who shoved him aside as he passed. It had caught him off guard, but he supposed he was a slave, and could not expect to be treated with much care from the others. Re-entering the tent he placed the water into the pack, and then got to work sorting out the arrows. That job took a little time, and he only just managed to finish loading the last arrow into the quiver before Pholus returned and took them off his hands. Slinging both the pack and the quiver over his shoulders, the massive centaur then grabbed his bow and stowed it behind the pack. Once he was ready, the hybrid looked down at his new slave with a small nod.

"You did as I asked," he said in a low voice, "that is a good start. You will wait here until I return, polish my armor and make sure everything is tidy. I will be having a guest visit upon my return, and I wish to make an impression."

"Yes Master," Callum replied automatically. It was starting to become second nature to call his owner by that name, and he felt inwardly uncomfortable about how easy it felt to just obey. Centaurs were strong, intelligent and blunt, and despite having seen them as little more than primitive horse-beasts in the past, he now understood just how wrong he'd been. With a final nod, Pholus turned and strode out of the tent, leaving Callum on his own once again.

With a sigh, he wandered his way into his bed and sunk down into it. He suddenly felt very lonely, knowing his Master wouldn't be back until much later. For the first time since he had arrived, he found the grass to be quite comfortable. Looking across the room, he saw a heavy-looking set of armor resting on a rack next to his Master's bed. Getting back to his feet, he strode over to large wooden stand and ran his fingers down the heavy leather chestplate. If he had put it on, it probably would have thrown him to the floor. Iron plates an inch thick were bound in long strips to the breast and down the center of the cuirass. It had already been polished to a mirror shine, and from a distance looked as if it had never been worn, but the buffing hadn't entirely hidden the dents and gashes in the iron from what had surely been from swords and claws alike. The dragon that made this tent had surely contributed to the damage as well.

Just behind the stand was a large cloth and a bottle of turpentine. Grabbing up the bottle, Callum was surprised to see the centaur having such an expensive, modern cleaner in his possession. It must have taken a lot for a species without currency to obtain something so expensive in trade, but it made sense why his plates were so shiny and clean. Holding the rag over the bottle's opening, he tipped a bit out until the fabric darkened with fluid. The thick odour of cleaner made him wrinkle his nose as he set the bottle to the side, and he kept the rag at arm's length while he began to slowly rub it down. In small, slow circles he drew the cloth, creating a rounded smear before wiping it down with a dry corner. The result was a small circle of iron that shone with a slightly greater radiance than the area around it. Centering the soaked spot over the armor again, he began his painstaking task. He knew his Master would make a point of checking his work meticulously. Until he had proven himself reliable, everything he did would have to be perfect. He feared his Master's punishments; being struck back in the slave ring had nearly knocked him out. To be further subjected to that strength would not be good for him, and if the centaur broke him, even by accident, he would be of no use to him.

It took him more than an hour to wipe and dry his Master's armor to a mirror sheen, and even then he was only halfway done. A coarse brush and soft wax were also tucked behind the rack, used to keep the leather clean and strong. With two fingers he reached into the small jar and scooped some free, and he began to rub it liberally into the thickened hide. Like spreading lard over a pie, he made sure a layer of the somewhat creamy substance covered the leather armor from top to bottom before taking the brush to it, pressing it down into the dappled skin. The light-brown leather shone in the light with its new wax coating, and when the brush had touched every inch to smooth and surface the coating, he finally sat back on his knees with a sigh of relief. He had never seen a better-maintained piece of armor in his life, even in the ceremonial set he had worn in the castle on special occasions. Somehow, the simple contrast of iron and leather looked more appealing than the ornate golden crest of his house gilded onto his black chestplate.

It was a simple matter to straighten the few belongings that his Master kept, making everything neat and tidy. He returned the cleaning supplies to the space behind the armor rack where he had found them. A straw broom in the corner near his bed allowed him sweep the floor clear of scattered grasses and dust, leaving it as spotless as matted grass. With his work finished, he returned to his bed and flopped down into it. He had nothing to do but wait for his Master to return. He was not allowed to leave the tent, nor did he really want to. He was sure the other centaurs would not appreciate his poking around, either. There would be something for him to do when his Master returned. He slid down into his bed and curled up once more. In a matter of moments, he had dozed off into a gentle sleep, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, he had forgotten his revenge.

****

Small noises slowly filtered into Callum's ears as sleep slowly left his body. He was somewhat confused by it all, until his thoughts slowly returned to him. He wasn't being woken by Pholus, yet he could hear his voice nearby. Without making any movements, he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light that filtered in from the tent as it was opened and the familiar centaur strode inside. What he wasn't expecting was another centaur, this time a female, following him inside.

"That's a big dragon head," he heard the female say in a low voice, to which his Master nodded and bowed slightly in reply.

"He was a big dragon," Pholus replied proudly, "everyone in my tribe bore witness to its ferocity. Took down many of our warriors, but I was the one to land the final blow. That granted me rights to his body, and I crafted my home and mounted his head as you see outside." The female stepped forward, running her hand over a piece of the freshly-polished armor before rubbing her fingers together.

"I do love a male who takes pride in their armor, it shows the calibre of warrior they are. In my tribe, the hunters can often be... lax in their care. We do come from a less fraught region, but even still..." she trailed off, gently brushing over his chestplate with evident admiration.

"I heartily agree, Lady Lysandra, although I cannot take all the credit this time. I had my recent purchase take care of it for me while I was out dealing with tribal matters." The powerful male gestured over towards his human slave, and Callum quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep as the pair glanced at him briefly.

"A human!" the centaur named Lysandra said with surprise, "what an interesting choice of slave. Evidently he does a good job of polishing, but is that all you bought him for?" Pholus snorted and shook his head.

"I'm a busy leader, as I'm sure you're aware. It takes my mind off things if I can have someone take care of the more menial tasks while I am off dealing with pressing issues. It's only logical." The female eyed him before nodding in agreement.

"I suppose so, although he doesn't seem to be doing much now. Did you wear him out with your chores?" Shaking his head, Pholus scratched his chin in amusement.

"He's simply dealing with the fact that he's a slave to a centaur, they all take some time getting used to it. I think he understands what's expected. He does the jobs, he gets treated well. He doesn't, he gets beaten. It's simple obedience training for a human, and I don't think this one's as foolish as many others. You can trust him not to cause trouble."

The female was evidently impressed by his attitude, her hands wandering forward to brush against his muscular chest.

"I daresay you carry yourself like a chief," she mused quietly, her voice dropping low as she slowly winked at him, "although I doubt you brought me here to talk politics. A busy man like you must be in need of a little relaxation when he can take it." A small glimmer of a smirk crossed his face, and he stepped forward to run a hand through her hair.

"It never hurts," he replied bluntly, before removing his hand and placing it on his hip.

"I said I came here to see the village, but..." she began, before he reached up and placed a finger to her lips.

"I know what you came for," he replied in a rich tone, "your father wants to size me up for a potential partnership." Lysandra looked away briefly for a moment, but then composed herself and gazed right back.

"You're as perceptive as I expected," she replied with a small smile, "yes, I am here to see if you will make a good stud."

"Then I'm sure you are perceptive enough to know what comes next," he said, as his finger fell from her lips and slid across a bare breast. She shivered and gave a gasp as his large hand cradled her, kneading her chest softly between his large fingers.

"More than that, I hope," she cooed, bringing her hand forward to rub down his chiselled chest.

"How many stallions have you been with, Lady Lysandra?" Pholus asked, guiding her slowly to his bed. His partner trotted onto the soft grasses, turning around she her haunches faced towards him, and she flicked her tail seductively up before letting it fall back into place.

"Father has let a few males court me, but he wasn't particularly impressed by any of them," she said, following him with her eyes while he came up beside her. "I wasn't very impressed, either."

From a covered basket next to his armor stand, he retrieved a long, treated condom of lamb intestine and handed it to her with a smile. "I will impress you," he replied, and staggered his hind legs so his growing shaft would lean towards her. He saw her eyes light up with delight, as her empty hand found his length and gave it a squeeze.

"You're right," she remarked, and pressed the condom against his growing head. Her fingers wrapped a tight circle around his blunt cockhead, allowing him to naturally grow into and expand the flexible material. Her fingers slid back over his previously extended flesh, making sure that the condom fit snugly all the way down his massive shaft. "I am impressed."

"Now, now, my lady," Pholus chuckled, flexing his cock in her grip before slowly sliding away. His huge cock bobbed heavily beneath him as he moved back to her haunches and ran his hands over her rump. "The night has only just begun."

Callum's heart was racing as he listened to his Master and his female scuffle together. He kept his eyes shut tight and his body curled up to try and pretend he was asleep, but was beginning to fail in his efforts. He didn't know why, but hearing them swoon and seduce each other made him want to watch. Maybe it was because it reminded him of his life back in his castle, but his cock was slowly swelling between his tight-pressed thighs. He tried with all his might to will the erection down, but it resisted him completely. Maybe while they were distracted he could steal a peek to satisfy his morbid curiosity. Very slowly, as if he was just struggling in his sleep, he rolled himself over and cracked one eye open. It didn't last long, however, as they both snapped the rest of the way open when he saw his Master's cock. It was easily two feet long, and its blunted tip was poised against the lips of the female centaur while the rest of his body rested against her back. His large hands wrapped around her back and cupped both her breasts, holding them firmly while she arched back against him. All the while, Pholus' massive haunches shuffled forward, and a grimace took his face as he suddenly pushed himself inside her. Callum was amazed that such a cock could exist, let alone a woman who could take it, yet there they were as his Master's entire shaft sunk inside her body to the hilt, and he got a glimpse of his heavy testicles swing up into her rump before they were briefly hidden from sight.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't make his presence known, or risk being punished. Not only would it put him in a poor position, it would also be incredibly awkward. He didn't want to look, and certainly was shocked by the fact the two big beasts were having sex with him in the same room, but it was that shock that kept his gaze fixed. Despite being half-human, there was nothing human at all about what each centaur had between their legs. As they stood there, Lysandra adjusting to the feel of that impressive length buried within her, the slave knew that they were equipped like the horses back home. Pholus was a stallion through and through, and the soft, shuddering moans coming from the female's lips were testament to that.

"You're so big..." she breathed, looking back to see his confident smile above her.

"I'm not in the business of delivering disappointment," he replied in that rich voice, running his hands over her breasts, "and you are quite the lady yourself. I daresay I haven't felt a woman like you in years."

"Oh, off with you," she said with an evident blush, "you certainly know what to say to make a mare feel good." Pholus gently rubbed his fingertips over her nipples and drew a hearty moan from his partner-of-the-moment.

"I can do more than talk," he told her with a brief smile, "but I do not want us producing foals before your father's approval. The protection will be necessary."

"I care not," Lysandra responded dismissively, flexing her inner muscles to grip his invading maleness firmly, "for now why don't you show me what you do to please a potential lover. I am ready."

"Such a strong female deserves all my strength. I will not hold back for you," he said, and tightened his grip around her middle. His forelegs clutched harder at her barrel as well, keeping himself firmly on her back. With a grunt, he drew himself back with his hind-legs, sliding his slickened shaft from her eager tunnel. She was a mare looking to be bred firm and heartily, and he would not disappoint. A firm breeding tonight might mean a full breeding later, where he wouldn't have to wear one of these foolish condoms. She would bear his foals later, or he would find a better mate. Such was life.

"Are you sure we should be doing this in front of your human?" she asked suddenly, just as his tip sat within the entrance to her tunnel once more. "He could be watching us."

"Would you like for me to move my baskets and armor out as well. He is my possession. An object. Do not let his presence disturb you," he said, rubbing a hand through her hair soothingly. "Do not worry about anything, my lady. Just focus on me, so you may make a proper judgement of my fitness."

"Of course. You are right," she replied. "Please, begin."

With her formal consent, Pholus replanted his hooves in the bedding to keep himself stable, and pushed forward with them as hard as he could. He grunted as his sensitive shaft was surrounded in her squirming tunnel. His mate's body clenched under him, her midsection tightening under his fingers as he held her tight. She seemed very enthused by the prompt fullness of his shaft inside her, and how large a male he truly was when forced deep between her lips. Her moan was soft and full of yearning as her body urged him onward, rippling her tunnel back and forth along his shaft as it slid back and pounded back into her once more. It was not only her duty to evaluate him as a mate, but also prove that she was capable as well. Most stallions she'd engaged with couldn't resist her movements, but this one didn't even seem fazed by it. His cock stiffened inside her and beat with his mighty pulse, but he did not moan, nor did he lose his pace in hesitation.

Pholus was not a vocal lover, but he could not deny it was hard to resist the ministrations of his mate upon his shaft. She was a very skilled breeder, be it through practice or natural instinct, although he didn't care either way. Pompous children could pine for the pure virgin, but he only needed a mind sharp enough to interest him, and a rump strong enough to bear his rigors. He frankly did not care how many males had shared the tunnel he now used, as a long as it stayed his when their courting was complete, should it be successful.

"Oh, Pholus," Lysandra moaned, beginning to back against him as he thrust forward. "You are quite the stud. Certainly the most impressive stallion I have had inside me so far." The larger centaur grunted in affirmation, his fingers continuing to dance across her firm breasts. It was the mark of a good breeder that could keep a female pleasured in multiple ways during copulation, and his constant attentions to her chest were more than satisfying. As his thrusts picked up in pace, she found herself moaning involuntarily from the sheer pleasure of it all, and the big male smirked at her enjoyment. He knew he would get a glowing review from her, and had no doubts that she would return to bear him a son or daughter when the time was appropriate.

Part of him wanted to spray his virility all over the inside of her womb, soak her in his genetic material and make a foal right there and then, but he was a proud tribesman and traditions had to be observed. Instead he took his hands off her nipple and instead curled his arms around her, holding the woman in place. Wet slaps echoed through the tent as his hefty balls slapped against her repeatedly, and his slick shaft plunged deep into her. Callum couldn't believe how large they were; twin orbs hanging in a sack that was almost as large as his own head. His eyes were glued to them as they swayed; a pendulum of thick, sweaty flesh that gracefully curved between his legs and connected firmly with Lysandra's body. He knew he should be disgusted, that he should not be watching such things, but he could not look away. He wasn't sure if he was impressed, or intimidated, but the prowess his new Master displayed at breeding this female centaur was incredible. He'd never heard any of the men in the court woo a lady like this, even the most handsome knights.

Ensuring he wasn't spotted, he watched on through feigned sleep as two feet of stiff, dripping horsecock was wedged between those soft cuntlips. It was a raw and primal kind of sex, with no real foreplay and a good deal of force. His owner was displaying his suitability, that much he had heard. As odd as it seemed in his own head, he somehow found himself thinking that the big male was proving himself more than capable of the task. Lysandra certainly felt that way, moaning and shivering as she felt that girth spreading her open and sliding right in to her core. She was a mare of depth and was sure she could take any male's shaft, yet this one was bottoming out inside of her. She could feel his delightfully firm glans grinding up against her inner barrier and that set off a whole new series of nerves inside of her body.

"I think you'll tell your father you've found a suitor," Pholus told her in his usual rich voice, "you'll go home and tell him that I am the stud that will plant a foal inside you. You'll do that for me, won't you my lady?"

"You provide such a convincing argument," she gasped, her body visibly shaking as she absorbed blow after blow from the large male's body. His weight and force drained her, making her inner muscles grow slack as she could no longer afford to keep clenching them. This would be when her mate would push deep, past her slackened cervix, and leave her with a womb brimming with the possibility of young. However, the extra layer around his impressed length was a reminder that he was not planning on filling her with seed. It was almost as if this mating was only to tease her into accepting him, at which point there would be nothing to stand in the way of his thorough filling of her body.

"How do you feel, my lady?" he asked tauntingly, his hands roaming up the sides of her body, but always maintaining that strong grip to keep him routed in his thrusting pace. "Am I bringing you sufficient pleasure?"

"Sufficient would not be the right word, Pholus," she growled, and gasped as the flared tip of his shaft suddenly burst into her womb. Her tunnel immediately and powerfully clamped down around him. His cock gave a powerful throb in response, and for the first time in her season, she felt the hot, resonating heat of a male spread against her core. "What of you, warrior? Am I a pleasing mare for you?"

"You are a wonderful mare, Lysandra," he replied through gritted teeth, as he put all his attention into slamming his aching shaft as deep and as fast as he could into his partner. He could feel his body tightening anxiously with the promise of a hearty orgasm on the horizon. His churning testicles were tightening with every impact against his mare's rump. His pulse pounded faster with every clench of her tunnel around him. She was a marvellously experienced breeder, but even she had reached her limit. The teasing, enticing ripples and voluntary clenching of her tunnel had fallen by the wayside as he overpowered her, leaving her unable to do more than try and stand while he had his way with her. He could feel the impending orgasm building in her as well, as her muscles clenched with greater frequency as they hungrily scrambled for pleasure.

"Pholus, I can't take anymore," she gasped, her body dripping with sweat and her forelegs starting to shake under the strain. "You are the first male to breed me so far into exhaustion, and my climax is fast approaching."

"Do not worry, my lady," he rumbled, and once again fixed his hands around her breasts. A powerful gasp escaped her mouth, and her passage gave its definitive clench around him. The pressure was firm, the tunnel walls textured and rippling, and he battered through it all as he kept up his pace. Fluids spilled from her lips as she flushed the last of her lubricants into her, making sure his final thrusts were effortless and effective. Her orgasm was in full swing. Her entire body shuddered and clenched beneath him, muscles going wild with bolts of pleasure running through her. Her cry of passion rang through his ears, and only inspired him to plough onwards into her. This would be his final moments of her for this night, but she would not let it be her last. Few males could match his virility, and none of them suited her father politically. She would be his mate.

"Prepare yourself, my lady," he said firmly, and redoubled his grip with both hands and forelegs as he drove himself as deep as he could inside her. His length gave a mighty throb of finality within her body, and his balls pulled up as they began to unload their contents. The tip of his condom ballooned outwards immediately with his building sperm, pressing against the back of her womb so she could feel its heat and volume. With every spurt of cum that left his body, he humped gently into his mate to make sure their connection was never broken, even if no sperm were supposed to touch her. He wanted her to receive the full experience of mating with him, so she would know and crave every aspect of it.

As the pressure inside her reached a peak, Lysandra gasped and lay back against his firm arms, letting the last few throbs of his pride trail off into her depths. Her breath was heavy and her legs felt weak, especially from his imposing weight. It was not her place to falter, however, and she remained strong; dropping a mate from one's back was a significant sign of weakness.

"That was quite the breeding," she breathed in soft pants, looking back to see her stallion looking down with a confident smile.

"You are a fine partner," Pholus replied with a courteous nod, "I am sure you and I will copulate properly quite soon." His forwardness was quite arousing the the determined female, who simply matched his smile and clenched her muscles around his firm length.

"You are a bold one, Pholus, I'll give you that. Yet you speak the truth, I shall return with my father's blessing. He cannot deny your worth." Lysandra gently rolled her shoulders, stretching them after having tensed for so long. She felt the big male slowly tense his own muscles, and she knew he was about to pull out. Planting his hind legs firmly, the masculine centaur began to slide his body backwards. It was a slow sensation, and the lady knew he was doing it rather deliberately. As each firm inch of his mighty shaft slipped from her folds, the pressure on her cervix grew as the over-inflated condom was squeezed tight trying to escape her tunnel. She moaned loudly as the swollen lambskin pulled firmly inwards, the copious liquids inside molding to the shape of her well-used tunnel as he withdrew from her. It took a few moments but eventually her battered muscles released their hold, and his entire erection popped free from her gaping sex.

Callum stared on from his bed as his Master's mostly-hard maleness emerged from Lysandra's body and swayed heavily between his legs. He barely managed to stifle a gasp as he glimpsed the centaur's filled condom, the stretched protective piece hanging heavily from his spent breeding organ. It glistened in the light of the tent, shining reflectively with the wet fluids that had been drooled all over the outside. What was more impressing, however, was what was contained within that elastic sack. Somehow, the condom was managing to hold what looked like a good two litres of ejaculate; thick, gooey centaur semen that had been captured by the unbelievably thin material. The sheer sight of it made the young slave blush red in the cheeks; he had just witnessed something beyond anything he could have ever imagined, and it was both intimidatingly impressive and embarrassing to have been laying so close. He didn't know whether to be disgusted or impressed, and was in a conflicted state between the two. He observed as Pholus stepped forward and gently pressed a kiss against the lips of Lysandra, who returned the gesture in kind before reaching down with her hands to help remove the used 'rubber'.

Pholus' spent shaft gave a twitch in her hands as she slid her palms up the side, feeling the spongy consistency of his semi-erect member between her fingers. When she reached the base of his shaft, where his folded sheath was beginning to swallow up his cock once more, she slid her fingers under the wrinkled entrance and retrieved the opening of the condom that had slipped inside. As short hiss escaped between his teeth as his sheath skin was stretched around her fingers, and left to lay in place as she slowly retreated with her prize. Her delicate fingertips tickled his shaft as she rolled the condom back down his length, the thing so stuck with cum and fluids that the suction on it was too strong to simply pull off. However, Lysandra seemed to have no issue with staying between the stallion's legs for an extended period of time. A smile stretched across her face as she was given the opportunity to hand the spire of maleness that had just been buried inside her, and her nostrils flared hungrily as they gathered up the rich, masculine musk from her partner. Her eyes wandered from the tip of his shaft, all the way down to the now empty testicles swinging between his thick haunches.

"There will be plenty of time to familiarize yourself with my body, my lady," Pholus said with a soft chuckle. "For now, remove my condom, and we can set you home."

"Oh, very well," she replied, a measure of disappointment in her voice. She returned her focus to removing the bloated skin, which came off much more quickly when she set her mind to the task. By now, his softening cock was working just as hard to free itself from the condom as she was. As the shrinking shaft lost suction on the walls of the condom, it became more a matter of keeping it from falling while his cock relieved itself of the covering. When she straightened up and returned to him, a tube of lambskin stretched dangerously far between her fingers.

"Here, allow me to take care of that, my lady," Pholus offered, and took the stuffed condom from her hand. Her eyes seemed to follow it eagerly as the liquid contents bounced and sagged as its container shifted. Pholus' deft fingers pinched the edges of the open condom and fitted them into a tight knot. He gave his future mate one last look at what could be filling her womb next time they met, before turning and trotting off the bed to the other side of the tent. He stood over Callum's bed, who was trying his best to pretend he was asleep with the centaur standing so close. "Human, I know that you are awake. Take this to the river and dispose of it. I will be escorting Lady Lysandra to the edge of our territory. I expect you to be back and in bed by the time I return. Do you understand?"

"I...y-yes, Master," Callum replied, quickly dropping his facade as soon as he knew it had failed. He rolled himself onto his knees and looked to the towering centaur, dangling his tied sack of sperm above his head. From the bloated tip, a drop of juices splattered onto the floor in front of him, denoting how slick with fluids the condom really was, inside and out.

"Dispose of this properly, human," Pholus said firmly, and lowered the ripe sack within his reach. "It is worth more than your life."

"Yes, Master," Callum replied, and after a nervous gulp, wrapped his fingers around the slick, fleshy lambskin. He was surprised by how heavy it was, and he almost dropped it then and there as it nearly slipped between his fingers. Reflexively, he slid his other hand beneath it to stop its descent, but immediately shuddered in discomfort as the hot, viscous contents molded over his palm. Like a sausage filled to bursting, the lambskin condom flopped in his palm and stopped, finally settled in his grasp. When he looked up again, Pholus was eyeing him critically, before turning back to his guest and taking her hand.

"Come, my lady. I will escort you to the edge of my territory, as a token of goodwill and protection on behalf of my tribe," he said, and led the exhausted mare out of the tent by the hand. Callum watched them leave, waiting until the tent was empty before he allowed himself another shudder. The fleshy sack he carried was so hot and slimy, and the scent of raw maleness was overpowering, even when held at arm's length. Once the sound of their trotting on the padded dirt faded into the night, he stood and carefully left the tent, carrying the overstuffed condom as securely and distantly as he could.

The trip to the river seemed to take longer this time as he delicately handled the cargo in he had been assigned to dispose of. His arms were shaky and his breathing heavy, and with each step he took he felt a little more nervous. He'd managed to slip from the village unseen, but it didn't make the situation any less surreal. All he could think about was the condom he was holding, despite trying to think about anything else to take his mind off it. It was heavy, that was his immediate concern; the centaur had filled it to the limit, and it was a weighty fluid. It didn't help that it was so viscous, nor that the outside was slick and slippery with the lubricating climax of a centauress.

It kept trying to slip between his fingers, the shifting liquids doing their best to escape his grasp. He most certainly didn't want to fail his Master, and wanted to ensure that he got it to the river and washed away safely so it left no marking anywhere. His nose wrinkled at the smell; despite being sealed up with a knot, the rich scent of centaur semen escaped through the pores of the condom and seeped into his nose. It brought back images of that enormous horse-like penis hanging between his owner's legs, being thrust deep into his mare. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was impressed more than disgusted at witnessing the act, but he knew it was just shock and surprise.

Reaching the bank of the river he stopped, looking down at the water with a sigh. He would have liked a drink but that would mean putting the condom down, and he also didn't want to drink from it after Pholus' seed had tainted the flow. He instead stood there for a while, inhaling the cool air while feeling the heat radiating from the package in his hands. The warmth was incredible, and as he looked down he found himself wondering just how hot it must have been coming out fresh. He tried to shake the image from his mind, but it was difficult to do so when it was all he'd been staring at for the past half an hour. He slowly brought it up to his face, lifting the swaying sack with both hands and gazing inside at the mighty deposit the proud centaur male had left within.

The lambskin was a gentle pink, but with it stretched so far, it was almost clear enough to see into. The moon was bright, and the thick fluid cast a dense shadow where it sloshed inside. There was only the smallest pocket of empty space left inside, which was used to show off how the thick cum moved about inside its container. He couldn't really see it, but he could imagine its pearly white coloration as if it was pooled in his bare hands. The scent that wafted off the tied condom was rich and overpowering. The flowery scent of a mare's oestrus sat as an undertone to the heavy masculine odour that took over his nostrils. It was such a dense odour that he thought it might stick to him, even as he was about to deposit the overblown condom into the river to let it wash away for good. He found it oddly intoxicating, enough so that he lost clear focus on his task. His arms kept lifting the weighty sack towards his face, higher and higher, until he realized his suddenly didn't have the best grip on it anymore. The surface slippery with female juices, it suddenly slid back out of his hands and down his arms. With a yelp of surprise, he tried to reel his arms in and wrangle the wriggling bag back into his grip. However, the lambskin stuffed full of cum didn't have enough room to withstand his attempt. As his arms closed to press the overstuffed condom against his chest, the poorly-contained fluids inside ruptured the condom's skin. In the blink of an eye, hot centaur semen had coated his chest and arms, while the burst skin fluttered through the breeze and into the gently flowing river a few steps in front of him.

He was suddenly aware of how thick and sticky semen was as it clung to his bare skin, allowing him to feel every inch of it spread across his body. It barely ran as it sat heavy over his body; a coating made from the contents of his Master's testicles. The smell was so thick it could gag him, as if a cloud of concentrated musk had escaped the condom at the same time as the cum. It burned his nose, and he wanted to do anything but breathe. Even breathing through his mouth did nothing to stop of the harsh stench of male centaur from invading his body, and made it worse as he could nearly taste the creamy, salty goo from its vapours. He had once been a proud prince of a mighty kingdom, and now he was naked on the edge of a river, half-soaked in the seed of an enormous centaur. He probably could have stood there in shock all night. He certainly wouldn't freeze to death. However, his Master expected him in the tent before he returned, and it would not be so far to the edge of their territory and back. He had to get cleaned up and back to the tent before his Master found out. Then his Master's words rang through his head, as if the massive beast were standing right there, whispering menacingly in his ear.

"Dispose of this properly, human. It is worth more than your life."

Despite the cold, he hurried into the river, cringing as the icy waters flowed over his tainted body. He tried not to think too much about what had just happened, and deeply regretted having wasted so much time inspecting the load. Thoughts of punishment aside, he couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he'd done. The thick, gooey liquid was a lot warmer than the cold water, and he felt somewhat uncomfortable as it washed away in slimy strands across the surface of the river. Using his hands he gingerly rubbed the water into his skin, trying to cleanse himself of that terribly potent smell. He had watched a centaur mating, and was now covered in the product of it. He couldn't help but watch as the milky ejaculate spiral away downstream, and continued to wipe at his chest and legs to get the sticky substance off.

There was no way he wanted Pholus to know that he had dropped his condom all over himself, that would most certainly get him punished. He flushed with embarrassment at the thought of facing the proud male and telling him he'd accidentally covered his front with the product of his mating. As he scrubbed at his flesh, he realized shamefully that the creamy fluid was also sticking to his own genitals. Burning with even more humiliation, he quickly grabbed his cock and balls to wipe them clean in the water. As his hand wrapped around his soft shaft, the slickness offered by the centaur's spunk make his grip slip around his length, and he shuddered slightly from the brief stimulus. He closed his eyes and quickly scrubbed it off, trying not to think about it while he did so. He had never had an interest in males, and certainly none in centaurs; it was just his shame and embarrassment making his cheeks so red.

Satisfied he was clean, he slowly climbed out of the water and trembled as a cold gust of air rolled over his skin and nearly froze him on the spot. Not wanting to stay in that situation for long, he quickly turned and began to sprint back towards the warmth and safety of his owner's tent.

Callum stumbled through the darkness, his bare feet plodding through the soaked grass back towards the camp. He had no idea how long the centaur would take, but he had wasted a significant amount of time cleaning the spilled cum from his body. He hoped he had gotten it all off. His Master had mentioned having a much better sense of smell than he had. Just because he thought he smelled like the river, didn't mean the centaur would think the same.

When he crested the slope, the silhouetted tents of the camp were in sight. There were a few centaurs cleaning up their shops and turning in at this late hour, but he could not see anyone trotting in from the far side. Either he had beaten the centaur back, or he was going to be in a lot of trouble. The grass beneath his feet grew hard and well-trodden as he slipped down onto the camp's main path, heading straight for the tent that sparkled onyx in the moonlight. He could see some light seeping out from the inside of the tent. It was only a few yards to the entrance; he was home free. Slowing to a walk, he realized how hard he had run and how loudly he was panting for breath. His chest heaved for each draw, demonstrating how desperately he had wanted to get back on time. It dawned on him how much he truly feared the centaur that now owned him. If the beast thought he was worth less than a used condom, it would be difficult to please him.

Slowly, he opened the tent flap and peaked inside. It was entirely empty, no massive centaur waiting to beat him to a pulp. He slid into the flap and threw himself into bed. His Master would not be far behind, and he would earn no love by dawdling. He curled up inside his grass nest, back facing his Master's far larger bed. Peaking over his shoulder at the pile of soft grasses, he could still see the image of the two beasts mating as it burned into his mind. He heard the sound of heavy hooves approaching from outside, and threw himself into another fake sleep. It hadn't worked the first time, but perhaps his Master would be tired after a long walk after a long, powerful mating.

The tent-flap rustled, and Pholus stepped into his tent. Looking down, he saw his slave curled up on his bed, his breath coming in heaving pants that could only signify a hard run. He gave a snort of amusement, but didn't get far in turning towards his bed before he noticed something peculiar. He had mated recently, yes, but the smell of his cum was strangely washed-out.

"Human, up," Pholus ordered. Callum rolled and leapt to his feet, heart pounding in his chest as he faced his Master. A scowl crossed the centaur's face, and it was as if he stood even taller than usual. Roughly, his Master grabbed his arm and put his nose to it. He stiffened as his sensitive nose roamed up his arms and across his arm. It didn't take long before he realized he had been found out.

"M-Master, please. I...I can explain," Callum stuttered.

He felt the grip on his forearm disappear, but had no time to brace himself as a firm palm met the side of his head. He flopped backwards into his bed, throwing grass everywhere as he flailed on his back.

"A slave that fails his Master does not deserve to be a slave at all," Pholus said, rearing up on his hind legs. "I will find someone better, before you become a bigger disappointment."

"It popped!" Callum cried, clutching his cheek. A smart bruise was already starting to boil where he had been struck. "I was just holding it next to the river, and it popped...Please Master. It was an accident."

Pholus grunted, and slowly sank back down to the floor. Callum gave a sigh of relief, even as the centaur continued to glare at him. "Very well, slave. I believe you. However, if you had simply threw it into the river like I had asked, this wouldn't have happened. I will not kill you, but you will be punished."

"Yes, Master," Callum said, a measure of worry creeping into his voice.

"Between my hind legs, slave," Pholus ordered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"M-Master?" Callum asked.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" the centaur asked coldly.

Stumbling through the remains of his bed, Callum hurriedly crawled around his Master's body and into the space between his spires of powerful muscle. It was hot so close to the centaur, surrounded by his aura of body heat. Not to mention the powerful scent of maleness that wafted from his body.

"I want you to stand between my legs and lick the sweat clean from my thighs," the centaur ordered, widening his stance above him. Callum simply froze in shock. Worse than being sold and owned by a beast, now he had to clean him with his tongue? The thought of the hot, salty sweat covering his tongue made him want to wretch, but he was in no position to refuse. His Master had tried to stomp him just moments before, and he was not looking to be in that position again. "Show me your respect for your superior, slave."

"Yes...Master," Callum replied, his voice shaking as he slowly rose to his feet. He hunched a fair bit, afraid of touching the enormous scrotum that hung above him. In front of his face, his Master's steaming thighs rose like great walls above him. Short brown fur covered the taut muscles that made up the massive slab of flesh, coated in slick, pungent sweat from the day's activities. His nose scrunched up as he was forced to inhale the rich scent of not only his exercise, but of his sex as well. Much of the heady odour in the air wafted down from his musky groin, with just as much sweat coating his balls as his legs. He only hoped that it didn't taste as strongly as it smelled.

Leaning forward, Callum's tongue warily extended from the safety of his lips. His Master would not wait forever for him to summon the nerve. Instead, he took a deep breath of tainted air, and pressed his face forward. He shivered as soon as his tongue pressed flat against his thigh, the somewhat coarse hairs feeling uncomfortable on his appendage. However, the rich, raw flavour of sweat that overwhelmed his tastebuds was the real cause behind his reaction. Hot, salty, and slightly bitter, the fluid poured down over his tongue and straight down his throat, not giving him the chance to try and restrict the amount that actually stayed inside his body. It was a dirty, disgusting, degrading job, and the size of the centaur's thighs made sure it would be a long one as well. Long strokes of his tongue rolled up and down the thick slabs of muscle, never pulling off its taut flesh and never getting a break from the masculine flavour of his Master.

Pholus stood tall and still as his slave lapped away at the crook of his right hind leg. He was well aware at how uncomfortable humans were around such natural matters as sex and bodies, and making him clean his body with his tongue was a suitable humiliation. It did not feel empowering to the centaur, however; it barely took any effort to overpower a human. It was simply amusing to hear his wet licks as they traded saliva for sweat. He didn't intend to kill his pet: it would be a waste of coin, but the threat alone was enough to improve his performance. If Callum did not live up to his expectations over time and with a little training, then he could always on-sell him to another owner. That was the best course of action, as centaurs were not fools who wasted gold so carelessly. Pholus, like most centaurs, had little love for currency but found it a useful tool to acquire items that were otherwise difficult to barter for between species.

Callum wrinkled his nose as his work continued, the mountainous slabs of muscle that belonged to his Master's thighs seemed to stretch on endlessly with his short brown fur. He was glad that back this far his owner couldn't see him, but he knew he could feel everything and that he was being judged on his every movement. He worked his tongue in long strokes from near the knee all the way up to the humid, steamy crease of the inner leg, and then used smaller, wetter licks to swipe up the sweatier flesh right inside that crook between the centaur's leg and the start of his low-hanging scrotum. The young man was well aware of this, and he did his best to stay away from that particular part as he worked. Flashes of that intense rutting with Lysandra crossed his mind, and although he did his best to shake them from his head he couldn't quite get rid of them completely.

"I have two legs, slave" Pholus growled, stamping his right leg in the grass.

"Y-Yes. Of course, Master," Callum replied meekly, and slowly pulled himself away from the stallion's thigh. Shuffling weakly, he turned around in the confines of his Master's hindlegs. He was faced with a fresh thigh to suckle, which he set to work on immediately. Even with the taste so heavy on his tongue already, each swipe seemed to be stronger and more degrading than the last. The smell never got any easier to breath, and the taste grew no better to stomach. As Callum's face grew as slick with sweat and saliva as his tongue, he only felt more and more acceptive of the fact that this was his life. Suckling on the inner thigh of his Master, as punishment for having his overstuffed condom explode over his body, after watching him rut a mare to their fullest enjoyment. He was a slave, and he was finally beginning to see that not as a slur, but as a title. It wasn't a jeer for the centaur to degrade him and make him submissive. It was his name.

As his thoughts drifted to his own predicament, his tongue began to run wild. Long, flowing strokes ran up the centaur's towering thighs, from the knee all the way up into the crook of his leg and groin. He was smart enough in his automatic servitude to stay away from his Master's unrivalled scrotum, but he was in no way able to avoid its influence. From so close, there was no denying the incredible musk that overwhelmed his senses. His nostrils burned with the rich, earthy odour of rarely-washed maleness, and the scent was so palpable he could taste it, even through the thick coating of sweat he was constantly swallowing. His head was soaked from the heat and from rubbing against his Master's body, more of the fluid the stallions than his own. As he had ultimately been unable to wash the scent of his Master's cum from his chest, neither would he be able to wash the scent of his Master's sweat from his face. He imagined that he would be smelling his Master in the air for a long time to come, no matter where the centaur was standing.

"That's enough," Pholus said suddenly, and Callum's tongue frozen in its tracks. He almost seemed surprised that he had stopped licking, and simply sat back on his knees while his enormous Master trotted away from him and into his bed. "Go to sleep,"

"Yes, Master," Callum replied softly, before turning to crawl into his bed. It had been a smashed and left in disarray after he had fallen in it, but it wasn't much work at all to shape it back into a comfortable little nest. Curling up on his grass mattress, it didn't take long for him to fall into a deep, satisfying sleep. It had been his Master's order, after all.

***

"Wake up, human," came the rumbling voice of Pholus, cutting through the man's dreams with its intensity. Callum slowly stirred in his bed, eyes opening partially to let in some of the light in the tent. It was a few moments before he realized that it was still dark, and that the light was from a small fire that glowed in the tent's fire pit. Yawning a little, he sat upright and took a guess that it was sometime between midnight and dawn, and wondered if something was wrong. Rubbing his eyes a little, he inhaled deeply as shuddered as the scent of Pholus' sweat filled his sinuses. He really did smell like the centaur now, and it was quite imposing. Looking over to the other side of the fire, he saw the big male laying down for the first time, resting quite casually by the flicking flames. It seemed odd to see his owner like that, but he knew that no matter how relaxed the bigger male looked, he was still easily capable of anything.

"Come," Pholus commanded, gesturing to the fire, "sit with me."

Surprised by the command, Callum hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet and cautiously walking over to the fire pit. He paused once he reached it, eyes adjusting to the glow of the flames, before sitting down on the floor and looking at the centaur with a slightly nervous gaze.

"Very good," Pholus mused, warming his fingertips by the crackling fire. The flickering light cast a rich, iridescent glow over the centaur's dark-brown coat, and Callum tried not to blush as he looked back at the thighs he had licked clean before his sleep.

"So... Callum, was it?" the centaur asked suddenly, surprising the slave with the question. It didn't seem like his Master to ask any questions about him.

"Y... yes Master," the man replied nervously, hoping he wouldn't say anything wrong. A moment of silence passed as both parties contemplated the situation.

"It is late, and I find myself somewhat unwilling to sleep," the horse-man mused, gazing into the flame with an expressionless face. "I find myself curious... curious about my new slave." Callum swallowed nervously; he wasn't sure if that curiosity was good or bad.

"You see," Pholus continued, "you are nothing like other humans I've seen... especially slaves. Other human slaves I've seen have rough hands, powerful legs... oh yes, you're healthy enough, fit enough by the measurement of your species, but you are no field worker, or soldier. That much is clear." The man's eyes widened at his owner's words, wondering if he might get his chance to finally explain who he was. However... he wasn't sure if that would help. Would the beast sell him for a higher amount, or use his position against him? It seemed more likely at this point that giving the centaur that knowledge could be more harmful than beneficial.

"I had planned not to speak with you like this," Pholus explained, flexing his fingers slowly, "I had no desire to know anything about a slave. If I were any other centaur, I would simply beat what I wanted to know out of you. Humans have fought beside us before, so you may consider this a betrayal of our truce with your race. We centaurs know humans are inferior creatures, without strong smell, sight, strength or hearing. The only reason you have survived so long is because you spread so fast and build so quickly. The orcs and dwarves are strong, and the elves are smart and graceful. I wanted none of them, I wanted a human. I wanted something that was wildly incapable of escape or survival on your own. Were you any other human, I would work you until you were sore every day. Humans are good for manual labor, especially farming, cleaning and cooking. You, however, have value. I know it, even if the slaver didn't. You're a nobleman, or possess some measure of wealth, I'm certain. So tell me, slave, who you are? If you do not, then I shall ensure you work hard for me for the rest of your life. You may despise me for buying you, and forcing you to serve my wishes, but I am also intelligent. Give me something I can use to bring profit or good fortune to my people, and I may find it in my heart to make your life much more bearable. I know you have value somehow human, do not disappoint me. If it means anything, you have my word that I will reward you for honesty."

"Yes, Master. My name is Callum, and I am the eldest son of the recently departed King of the human lands. My father was king, and I was his heir," he said quietly, staring into the flickering flames before them. He wasn't sure which was radiating more heat, the fire or the centaur next to him.

"You are a prince, and yet you were sold as a slave," Pholus replied, scratching his strong chin in thought. "Convince me."

"My father would tell me stories about the war long ago. He told me of his battles, and when he fought alongside a tribe of centaurs that were unlike any warriors he had ever seen. He never said which tribe he fought with, but their archers never let an enemy reach the line as long as they had arrows in their quivers," Callum's fingers meshed together idly as he spoke. He couldn't tell what the centaur was expressing, and was too nervous to look across to examine his chiselled face. He had been promised a reward for honesty, but would he be punished later if his Master didn't believe him, or if he didn't meet whatever expectations of value the centaur had in his head? Since he had arrived, he had wanted nothing more than to explain himself to the beast that had bought him, and now that he had the chance, he felt more nervous than facing a crowd in a packed city square. "He said they were the bravest warriors he ever had the pleasure of fight beside."

"Your description would match any tribe, human, but I know the battle of which you speak. I too was but a foal when I heard the elder speak of such a battle. How the line of humans, a hundred men abreast, charged behind our hail of arrows to breach the orcish lines and punch right through their forces to disrupt them. The elder praised the bravery of those men, and the king that led them. Many fell that day, but they did not fall in vain."

"So...you believe me?" Callum asked, looking over at the centaur.

"Yes," Pholus replied with a short nod. "I will believe your story. So my slave is a human prince. Why is that?"

"It was my brother, Master," Callum said. "Shortly after my Father's passing, he staged a silent coup. I was blamed for his sudden death, and imprisoned by the guard that he had paid off. Before anyone in the courts caught wind of my arrest, I was thrown in with a lot of prisoners to be sold to the slave ring. Selling criminals was a common way for my Father to boost the city's purse, as did many of the mayors of other cities around the kingdom. I was carried off and sold before anyone could try and come to my defence. He spread the lie that I fled with the guilt of my regicide, and with no proof against him, I was cast out of contest for the crown, and the throne defaulted to him."

"So it was your brother that did this to you," Pholus said matter-of-factly. "Stole away your perfect life and sentenced you to be my slave for crimes you never committed."

"The timing of his death was too perfect," Callum continued. "To die the night before a shipment of prisoners was to be sent off, so I would have no time to react or notify the public. I barely had enough time to come to terms with it when I was staring down at his cold body in bed before the guards came. I have no proof, but it would seem to me that my brother's hands will not be clean of that act, either."

"A difficult life royalty must have," his Master commented. "Humans are such strange creatures."

"You do believe me, don't you Master?" Callum asked.

The centaur sighed, staring deep into the flames for a long moment. "Yes, I suppose your story is believable. I will regard you as the former prince of humans. However, you are still my slave. I suppose, however, I did promise you a reward for your honesty, and I believe you are being honest."

"Thank you, Master," he sighed with relief. "What is the reward?"

The male hybrid rubbed his jaw for a moment, thinking over what he had heard in the flickering light of the fire. It all made a lot of sense, even if the circumstances themselves seemed very rare.

"I shall have a trusted advisor go and see if your claim is reasonable. I'm certain he will be able to investigate whether your story is accurate. If so... then I suppose I shall offer you this: I will kill your brother for his dishonourable murder, and give you back your seat on the throne... in exchange for a third of the gold in your treasury."

"A third!" Callum coughed, looking over at the beast to see his serious expression, "well... that's a lot..."

"And what are your other options?" Pholus asked quietly, "have you another army that could take back what's yours?" Thinking it through for a moment, Callum shook his head.

"No... I suppose a third would be reasonable then. We have a profitable city and it should not be of great detriment. Why would you do this though?"

The hooved male gazed at him from across the fire pit.

"We centaurs have long done what benefits our clan," he explained, "and taking a human city would not be difficult when the leadership is in disarray. While we are not fond of gold, it does have its place in the modern world, and even we can tell its value when dealing with other races. I could not have purchased you without it." He paused, and turned his gaze down towards the leaping flames.

"I do not trust you fully," Pholus admitted, "I do not wish to start another war, but I would not see you take back your crown and break your deal with us." Callum looked up and shook his head swiftly.

"I'd never do that, I..." he began but a wave of the centaur's hand made him fall silent.

"Your word means little," the bigger male replied, looking over at him, "it's a matter of deeper trust than that. You have no loyalty to me yet, I am simply your Master. You obey me because you have to. There is no proof that you would not turn on me the moment you tasted freedom." His words made the human think, and Callum rested his head in his hands as he thought it over. Despite Pholus buying him... he did not actually resent the centaur. It was strange but... he didn't really understand what he felt. Sure, the beast hit him, made him work... but when he considered the kinds of Master's he'd usually seen, the centaur was a saint in comparison.

"Make no mistake," the bulky chief finally noted, "I am still your owner and you are still my property. You will continue to do what is ordered of you every day until my scouts return from their investigation into your story. Hopefully by then, you will have earned my trust and can complete our deal. I am not an evil centaur; I do not wish to pillage your town and steal your gold. I wish for you to give it to me as thanks and reward, and put us in good standing with 'your' people. This would be what is best for my people. But if I cannot trust you, then I shall simply keep you as a slave, am I understood?"

"Yes, Master. I understand," Callum replied, nodding softly.

So that was that. If he could convince the centaur to trust him, he would be returned to his throne. It would be a sizable cost to the city, but it was a small price to pay in comparison to how his brother might rule in his place. He had never been a kind boy, and surely would not make a kind king, either. It was his duty, as the rightful heir of the land, to dethrone his brother, no matter what. It was just a matter of figuring out how to make his Master trust him. He looked over at the large stallion, focused with some intensity at the fire before them. It truly was surreal to see such human features mounted on his frame. He was sure the centaur would hit him if he mentioned such a thing, but he was curious to know how they came to be. One situation came to mind, but he quickly put it out of his mind. Such a thing was ridiculous. He needed something to get his mind away from that train of thought, but he had nothing in common with Pholus with which to talk about.

"S-So..." he muttered quietly. "Lady Lysandra seemed...nice."

Pholus snorted, as if his slave had told a joke. "Some people are put off by voyeurs, human," he replied.

"I...I didn't mean like that..." he said, a soft blush bleeding into his cheeks.

"You don't know her any other way," Pholus said matter-of-factly. It was strange. He didn't feel like his Master was judging him, or angry that his pet had watched them so intently. "But yes. She is quite nice."

"You're going to marry her?" he asked curiously.

"Should her Father approve then we will mate, yes. Nothing so needlessly official as your ceremonies. "The only thing binding her to me is my scent beneath her tail, and we need nothing more than that."

"But, what if another male doesn't know she's your mate?" he asked. "Wouldn't that cause problems."

"If he cannot smell me on her, his nose was chopped off long ago. The only males that would dare to attempt to thieve my mate would either be young and headstrong, or even larger than I am."

"I can't imagine a centaur larger than you, Master," Callum said.

Pholus huffed in amusement. "Flattery doesn't suit you, human. There are few stallions that rival me in size and strength, but they do exist. There are more suitable mates, but their distance makes them too impractical to mate with and keep contact with his mare's family. I am the most suitable mate for Lysandra on this side of the plains, and any male who thinks otherwise will have their turn as my mare, as well."

"H-Huh?" Callum asked in alarm. Had he heard his Master correctly?

"If they wish to fuck my mate, but are not strong enough to oppose me, then I shall fuck them instead," Pholus replied, as if nothing was amiss.

"Y-You've...been with other males before?" Callum asked, completely caught off-guard by the sudden turn their conversation had taken. Pholus, his Master, mounting a stallion. He had just assumed...It was something he had never even considered. Nevertheless, the thought of such an act made his face flush.

"I have not, no, but should the need arise I would have no qualms with doing it," he replied. "Pleasure is pleasure, human. We have no forged quandaries of morality when dealing with the same sex. You humans are so wrapped up in your protocol. Tell me, what is so wrong with a male touching another male? What is wrong with them enjoying each other's body for pleasure?"

"I...u-umm..." Callum stuttered. He had always been told that love was between a man and a woman. That pairs of the same sex were wrong and evil. But, when the centaur asked him so blatantly, he could not come up with a single reason to justify it. Was that so wrong? Was it wrong if they were happy?

A subtle smile spread across Pholus' face. "You understand now. Many of your petty human ideals mean nothing when they are dissected. We don't live with such high and mighty thoughts. We live, as often as we can, the way nature intended us to live. We run, we hunt, and we mate. If mating with a male did not feel good, why would anyone do it after it was first discovered?"

"I...suppose..." Callum replied reluctantly.

"Tell me, human. Have you ever had a mate of your own?" Pholus asked. "Have you ever felt the touch of a woman?"

Callum swallowed nervously and looked at his owner in surprise. Considering how he had been treated the past day, the centaur certainly seemed a lot more chatty than before. Still, this was a hell of a lot better than being beaten, so he kept the beast satisfied by responding swiftly.

"I have been with a few ladies, as have most princes. Someone in my... old position is often graced by women who are looking to gain from it. Sometimes they gave me gratification trying to become a prospective princess, but I never really had time for them beyond that."

Pholus scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"So it was always 'casual' intercourse," the hybrid mused, "but without even the promise of future matings. How very... noble of you." Callum flushed, but didn't reply. He knew he wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue, but he was no worse than many of the nobles who had women throwing themselves at them left right and center. Sometimes it was easy to just enjoy the offered pleasures and not think too hard about it otherwise.

"Have, ah...Have you been with anyone before Master?" Callum asked, blushing softly next to the big centaur. The conversation had clearly turned away from where he was comfortable, but he felt he had little choice in the matter. "Anyone besides Lady Lysandra, I mean."

"I have had my share of partners, yes. Like you, mares have thrown themselves at me for a chance of status, but I have not considered taking a mate until much more recently. Like you, I left them satisfied and sent them on their way...or maybe not like you," Pholus said, a surprisingly wry smile crossing his face.

Callum was stunned by the centaur's crack at him. He never would have expected a joke from his Master. "I...I assure you they were very satisfied," he replied, trying not to sound too indignant about the remark.

"Human females must be easily satisfied, then," Pholus replied. "You are nothing special, even though I have seen few humans without their armor or clothing."

The young slave felt quite indignant, but it wasn't like he could argue. He too had seen the occasional other naked male in the bathhouse, and had been outclassed on a few occasions. Regardless, he had more than enough to be happy with. He had no idea why he would debate this with a centaur who was packing at least ten times his size between his legs.

"If you say so, Master," he replied quietly, not wanting to push his luck. He seemed to have caught his owner in a good mood, but he didn't want to go spoiling it by causing a disagreement. Pholus fell silent for a moment, looking him up and down with those dark eyes. His human possession was more interesting than he'd first thought, and would certainly be a useful asset if his tale about being a noble was all true and confirmed. He didn't have much reason to doubt him at this point; Callum seemed intelligent enough to not risk angering him through lies.

"Are you comfortable here, human?" Pholus asked suddenly, catching him by surprise.

"I...y-yes, I suppose so, Master. The bed is soft enough," Callum replied, unsure of what kind of answer the centaur was looking for. He could say that the tent was a primitive, uncomfortable mess in comparison to his suite in the castle, but it probably wouldn't have gone over so well.

"That's good," the centaur said, casting a glance over at the small bed of grasses he had built. It was a little worse off than it had been when he first made it, but such messes were to be expected when a human dwelled in it. He wasn't sure if Callum had realized it or not, but he had been tossing and shivering in his sleep, as if he was suffering from a terrible nightmare. "A well-kept slave performs the best. If you have any concerns about your living conditions, tell me. If they are reasonable, I may consider them."

"Oh, thank you, Master," Callum said, following the centaur's gaze to his bed. "Umm...could I maybe have my bed a little bigger...and a blanket perhaps? It can get cold at night."

A small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped the stallion's throat as he looked at Callum critically.

"You humans really are vulnerable to the elements," Pholus commented, "so hairless and fragile. Without your furs and armors, castles and candles, you would all freeze in seconds come the winter." Callum listened closely, hoping that his Master would grant his request.

"Most slaves don't even get a makeshift bed," the horse-man added with a dismissive wave of his hand, "perhaps when your story is confirmed, then I will allow you some more comforts. Of course, if your story is false, then I shall have you sleep on the stone every single night, after I have beaten you properly for your disobedience." Callum gulped nervously, but knew his story was true.

"If you wish to keep warm in the next couple of nights, there may be another option available to pursue," the bulky male added, turning to look at the crackling fire with a blank expression. Callum leaned forward a little, hoping to hear of some way in which he could keep warm.

"What would that be, Master?" Callum asked, looking back to the fire. He thought he understood what he was hinting at, but shook his head. "With a bed made of grass, I'm not sure a fire would be the best idea, Master. I...I wouldn't be much good to you if I burned to a crisp." He afforded himself a chuckle, but it just ended up forced. Another uncharacteristic smile broke the centaur's visage.

"No, human. I am not referring to a fire," Pholus replied. "Although dragonhide is resistant to the flames, few other things in this abode are. I would not risk those on your comfort."

"Of course not, Master. You have a lot of beautiful things here," Callum said, looking at the finely-crafted bows and quivers hung in the glow of the firelight.

"No, my slave. If you want to keep warm in a bigger bed, then you may share mine," Pholus replied, his expression as straight as ever, while Callum's mouth fell open.

"S...share yours?" he stammered, unsure if he'd quite heard correctly. Yet it didn't seem like he'd made a mistake.

"Share mine," Pholus repeated, flexing his fingers idly, "I can provide you with the warmth you desire, so you don't freeze. I already told you my thoughts on the matter, and now I am simply taking it one step further. You are my slave, and I can do with you what I like. If you want warmth, then you have to earn it." Callum listened, and shook his head slowly.

"I..." the stunned human began, unsure how to respond to that, "that's just... I can't... it's wrong!" Pholus smirked and looked at him from across the fire.

"I told you before," the centaur stated flatly, "my species does not get caught up in the petty ideals of your own. There is nobody here except you and me, nobody to hear us, and all I offer you in exchange for something you are lucky to have the chance to earn is a little more service on your part."

"I...but...we shouldn't...it wouldn't be appropriate," Callum tried, as if he could convince the centaur to see things his way. He was a beast and he was a man, not to mention they were both male. He couldn't...could he? "I wouldn't even know what to do."

A glimmer shone in Pholus' eye. "All part of your training, human. You see, I could demand the same thing from you in the future, and you would have no choice in the matter. You are my slave, not just some household service. If I want you to kneel down and kiss my hooves, I would see a human's lips pressed against them. Consider this, human. Would you rather learn willingly, or be forced into learning?"

"I-I...but...but you have Lady Lysandra. D-Do you need me for...for that?" he asked, flushing quite brightly now.

"It will be a fair while before Lady Lysandra returns here, and only if her Father grants us his blessing. There will also be times in the future where she is not here, or I have taken you afield with me. It is a demand not out of the question, human, as no order is. I can demand anything from you, at any time. Now, however, I won't order you into my bed. You have asked for warmth and comfort, and I will provide it to you for that fee. This will be one of your few choices in life now, slave. I suggest you pick your answer carefully."

Callum averted his gaze and stared into the fire, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he did not want to be cold, that would eventually do him no favors as far as his health was concerned. On the other, he did not want to do whatever his Master was implying... although now that he thought about it, the muscular stallion hadn't quite explained what he wanted. He surely couldn't do to him what he'd done to Lysandra. Now that he truly thought about it in silence, he found himself wondering what exactly the centaur wanted from laying with him. Did he want him to lick more of that salty sweat off his thighs?

As soon as that thought entered his mind, the rich taste returned on his tongue, and he shuddered at the memory of it. He couldn't help but swallow, the rich, masculine taste filling his mind again. He knew he didn't mind it, it was more the 'knowing' of where he'd gotten it from that disgusted him.

"There are no other humans around," Pholus reminded him quietly, "no centaurs aside from myself. There is simply a Master and his slave, and I consider myself quite generous for even giving you the option. After my time with Lady Lysandra today, I find myself with needs that require taking care of, and if you do not wish to perform that task for your owner, I will simply venture out and find another centaur who will for the time being. If you question my reasons, then I shall simply say this: I would take pleasure in seeing a human like you go against their 'logic' and 'ideals'. I have no interest in you like I do Lysandra, but pleasure is pleasure and I will have it regardless. Only one choice will keep you warm at night.

"I can see you thinking about it," Pholus said, with the closest thing to mirth he could muster hinting in his voice. "You want to know what I would do with you. Trying to judge whether the comfort is worth my...perverse requests."

Was this a test? He could deny that he had been thinking about it at all, deny his Master's advances, and simply return to his lackluster bed, cold all winter. On the other hand, he could be warm and comfortable in his Master's bed instead. The amount of heat Pholus exuded was incredible; more than enough to keep him acclimatized during the winter. "No...No I won't...join you in your bed. That's...no"

Pholus smiled, and suddenly stood. Towering over him, he looked down upon his slave. "Very well then," he replied, and turned to leave. His tail flicked outwards as he strode away from the fire. Stepping silently into the soft fibres of his bed, he circled and padded down the spongy material before lowering himself into the grasses. Glancing at Callum from the shadows, he motioned towards the fire. "Put out the fire, slave, and go to bed."

He stared back at his Master for a long moment, just looking at the long, barrel body resting in the plush grass. The grass certainly looked soft beneath his heavy body. Shaking the thought from his head, he turned his attention to the fire. It had been a while since it was lit, and with the log hosting the flame nearly entirely blackened, the flames had died to a low smouldering. A small pot of dirt sat next to the fireplace, which Callum used to smother the flames. When there was nothing but wisps of smoke rising from the crisp and half-buried log, he stood up and made towards his own bed. He stopped after one step, hesitating as he looked at the small, half-torn, crushed bed of older, dead grasses that the centaur had gathered for him. It was good enough, he supposed. Better than sleeping on the floor, but his Master's bed looked so much more comfortable. So soft. With a sigh, he turned around and headed to where his Master lay. He stopped just outside the layer of grass and stood there awkwardly, looking down at his feet.

"W-Where should I go, Master?" he asked sheepishly. As much as the idea of laying with his owner made him feel uncomfortable, he didn't think he could hold out laying on his bed. The centaur had forced his hand; he wouldn't die if he slept on his own bed, but it would be very, very uncomfortable to do so for long period of time. Pholus looked at him, and gestured to the free space on the side of his soft bed.

Reluctantly Callum gazed down at the soft grass, eyeing it with suspicion. He couldn't really say no now, and he shuffled forward and placed his hands on the side. Slowly sitting down on the edge he turned and glanced at the centaur, seeing the beast gazing at him with a confident smirk. He had no idea what he was doing, but over the past day he'd come to realize that simply doing what his new owner wanted was the best way to ensure things went smoothly. If all went well... maybe he would be granted his freedom. He only hoped centaurs were true to their word: once his story was confirmed, maybe he'd see his old room again, and the body of his brother lain dead at his feet. That would be worth anything he had to endure in the service of the centaur.

"Lay down," the larger male commanded, "you may share my bed, once you have earned the right to be there."

"Yes, Master," Callum said, lowering himself into the plush fibers. He immediately felt the difference between his bed and that of his owner, the grass caressing his body from all sides as he sunk into it. When his Master lay in it, he made it look like the blades of grass were short, but that was really only in comparison to his body. Laying on his side, some of the grasses tickled near Callum's belly-button, and around his inner thigh.

"You look very small when you are so close, human," Pholus said, looking down at him with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Come closer, and run your hand down my side."

Holding back a nervous swallow, the young ex-prince reached out gingerly and placed his hand on the centaur's belly. The warmth was immediately noticeable, the beast's temperature a fair amount higher than his own. The fur was soft enough, perhaps a little coarse in places, but he had no doubts that this horse-man was significantly muscled. He had no wasted fats, only efficient, lean muscle that helped with the rigors of war and combat. As one of nobility, Callum didn't have as much knowledge of horses as, say, a farmer might, but he knew enough to tell that Pholus would put any of the beasts back home to shame.

Not wanting to disobey an order, he began to trail his hand down the side of his owner's body, feeling the hairs pass through his fingertips as the heat radiated around his palm. He knew that this kind of warmth would be more than enough to stave off the cold, but he was still very apprehensive about obtaining it. Eventually he pulled his hand back, gazing over that rounded belly with a mixture of awe and reluctance. He hoped he wouldn't upset the powerful male again by some mistake.

Pholus gazed down at his concerned slave with a satisfied gleam. Slowly, carefully, he could train this human to release his stigmas. Such thoughts ruin a slave's effectiveness, and he would not stand for a slave that was anything less than what he paid top-dollar for. He could verify his slave's story on that fact alone. No human was worth so much when they had so little experience serving. However, he surmised that he would end up having paid more for the entertainment of watching him squirm, and the satisfaction when he was finally finished.

"Keep rubbing me, Callum. If I tell you to move somewhere, or rub somewhere, you will do so. Understood?"

"I...err...yes, Master," he stuttered, and found his palm flat to the centaur's short-furred belly once more.

He had no idea what to expect, only knowing that before he would be allowed to return to sleep, he would have to do something that went against his core ideals. His hands ventured through the short fur, taking in every last detail they could as he sought to appease his owner. Perhaps if he was attentive enough in his rubbing, he would be spared any further embarrassment. At this distance, all he could smell was Pholus, the rich, masculine scent of a prime stallion flooding his node and surrounding the soft bedding. He couldn't ignore it, and it only made him feel all the more vulnerable.

After a minute or two the motions were automatic, his fingers running small circles through the muscular stomach of the one that had purchased him. It was a strange thing to consider, being owned by someone. Before he had almost owned an entire Kingdom, but he'd never truly thought of himself as an owner of any one individual. As far as the hybrid was concerned, he belonged to him like any other possession did. It was unsettling, but somehow he had come to terms with it.

"This is where I can find value for my money," Pholus mused, as if talking to himself, "having you follow orders that truly fall outside of your ideals and principles. It is one thing to make you cook, clean, and run errands. It is another to have you touch my body when you would normally never consider it. The more you obey, the greater value you are to me."

Callum's heart was beating a mile a minute as his Master spoke. Every voice in his head was screaming for him to take his hand away and return to his pile of grass on the other side of the room, but it was too late now. He had dared to see what his Master had planned, and now he was caught in a trap he could not escape.

"While you share my bed, I will be teaching you things you may never have considered before. You've made your choice, and I will grant your wish. You will have your warmth and comfort in my bed. Tomorrow I will dispose of your old one, and unless I have other visitors, you will sleep with me. Am I understood, slave?"

"I'll be sleeping with you...every night?" Callum repeated, his mind going blank as he said those words. Sleeping with his Master every night. Sleeping with a beast every night. Sleeping with a male every night. None of those things made any sense to him, and yet it was so perfectly straight-forward. "I...b-but..."

"Every night, slave," Pholus said. Reaching down, he placed his thick hand on Callum's head. "You are mine, and I have made my decision."

"I...we..." he replied...his own voice sounding scared and confused. "Y-Yes, Master."

"Good," Pholus chuckled. "Now, I want you to crawl down the length of my body. Bring yourself down close to my hind legs, reach in, and plant both your hands on my balls. I want to feel your fingers massaging my scrotum."

Callum froze. He had heard his Master correctly, but none of the words made sense to him. His Master wanted him to massage his testicles. Wanted him to pleasure him with his hands. He needed to put himself close to the source of the centaur's masculine odor, that exuded so heavily when he lay so close. It was an insane, ludicrous thing to ask of him, but he had no choice. He was in no position to refuse the centaur, not when so much relied on his Master liking and believing what he said. He didn't want to get punished again, but he didn't want to do this, either. A choice between praise and punishment waged in his head, but already his body was reacting. His independent mind was bearing witness to a slave's body, that only reacted to what his Master demanded. He was already shuffling down through the grass, nearing the darkened cleft between his Master's hind legs. No light reached there, with only the crest of his mountainous thigh visible in the night. Somewhere in that darkness, the true beast lurked. A beast of sex and pleasure.

By the time his head caught up with where his body was, his fingers were less than an inch from the darkness that contained his Master's genitals. He had just enough time to stop himself before his fingers met their destination, and left them lingering in the radiating heat of what could only be his Master's testicles. He could not pull back now, feeling Pholus' eyes burning into the back of his head. He wondered what they would feel like. He had seen them rocking back and forth into Lady Lysandra during their rut, and been within inches of them while licking the sweat from the Centaur's thighs, but had never gotten a truly detailed look at the impressive pouch of virility. Would it be smooth or wrinkled? Would it be stretchy and malleable, or would it be too full with the centaur's testicles and stretched to its limit.

"Think about it after you have begun, slave," Pholus said, making him jump in surprise.

Callum didn't think, he just reacted. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed his hands forward into the darkness. Immediately, his fingers sunk into the folds of hot, sweaty flesh, until his palm pressed flat against an orb larger than his hand. He shivered in revulsion as it dawned on him what he had done. He had touched a beast sexually, and a male beast at that. It was so wrong. He felt sick to his stomach.

"I have two balls, human, and you have two hands," Pholus stated matter-of-factly. "I expect them both put to work."

"Yes, Master..." Callum answered, slowly moving his second hand into place on the centaur's massive groin. He now had both the beast's testicles in his fingers, with his thumbs pressing together in the supple skin between them. He could feel the blood pulsing inside it, the heat exuding from it, and the sweat smearing over its smooth, supple surface.

"Rub me, slave," the centaur chuckled, looking down at the human between his legs. "Consider this part of your training. Now, work your fingers through my scrotum. Knead my testicles."

With both of his hands completely full of equine flesh, Callum felt a deep heat flush his cheeks. He was glad Pholus could not see his features, as he was so ashamed and embarrassed that he knew it would have shown quite badly. Perhaps that was what the centaur wanted, to make him feel this way. His nervousness got the better of him, and he froze in place with the two heavy objects resting upon his palms.

"What's wrong?" Pholus asked, almost with a sound of concern in his voice. Callum couldn't bring himself to say anything that might be insulting or get him punished, but he still tried to explain himself.

"I'm sorry... Master," he replied, stammering slowly, "It's... I'm... never..." He was cut off as his Master placed a hand on his leg.

"You chose this option," the hybrid reminded his pet quietly, "relax yourself, use your fingers and explore the body of a superior male to yourself. Nobody is here but you and I, and I want my body tended to by the slave I purchased.

Callum took a shaky breath, his trembling hands beginning the work his Master desired. The warm flesh offered him no resistance, molding perfectly to his movements as he slowly began to rub his palms back and forth across their firm surface. He kept his breathing slow and controlled, even as he detected the strong presence of his Master's musk permeating into his every breath. It was so rich and earthy; a true masculine odor that made him feel dizzy the more he inhaled it. It seemed that the more he worked his Master's testicles, the more his nose tingled in his dominant aura.

His fingers drew soft circles around the stallion's testicles, teasing their surfaces. Occasionally, be it a twitch or some other involuntary action, he would give them a soft squeeze as well, delivering a different stimulation to his Master's ample balls. He could feel them churning under his fingers, brewing up a new load of hot semen. He hoped he wouldn't have to be involved with its disposal, or with drawing it up. He would be quite glad to never have that hot, sticky fluid blasted over him again.

"Better," Pholus rumbled, shifting his thighs to better pronounce his enormous scrotum to his slave.

"Th-Thank you..." he replied, unsure of whether he truly wanted such a compliment. He didn't want to be good at this. He didn't want to think that the centaur was making a whore of him. The more his rubbed those sizable orbs, the less sure he felt about his predicament. He thought he had been saved from the rumored sexual slavery, but here he was, kneeling at a centaur stallion's thighs and massaging his balls between his fingers. A nervous gulp stuck in his throat, and it was loud and embarrassing to clear.

"A good slave follows his Master's orders, even if he is afraid of them," his Master said, the slightly twinge of breathiness edging into his voice. Still, being so close to his groin, he did not feel any increase in his pulse, or what was surely lingering just above his hands. Soft, loose flesh rolled through his fingers, the mighty male's sack more supple than the smoothest velvet. It was difficult to ignore, and as much as he wanted to try and close his eyes and think of other things, everything around him reminded him that he was fondling a horse-man's testicles.

"Humans have such... strange ideas," his Master said in an amused tone, almost as if Callum wasn't there. "They wear clothes to cover themselves, shy away from their natural functions, speak of them in hushed voices. If a race is ashamed of their breeding then they are hardly much of a race, I would think. Here our stallions stand proud and our mares can see their true worth in the open." Callum listened as his owner spoke, fingers kneading those oversized orbs with gentle motions.

"I decided that I would attempt to show you the error of your ways," Pholus added plainly, his body firm and unmoving, "to show you the ways of a superior species. Without your weapons and clothing and castles you are feeble and weak, and I can have you massaging my genitalia with little effort. No stallion here would bow to another so easily. Such a thing only occurs when competing for a mare, but there are some stallions who prefer the company of males. This is also natural, and not to be ashamed of like your species so readily believes. As your Master, I will show you your place, and you will learn what it means to be subservient. I am not interested in you like I am the fair Lady, but I am interested in watching you break."

"M-Master...I..." he hesitated, even though there was no place left for hesitation. He was already massaging the beast's enormous scrotum, and he didn't think it could be much more humiliating than that.

"There will be no more excuses or delaying, human," his Master said curtly. Shifting slightly, the stallion lifted his upper leg, leaving a space between his thighs. "This is where I have decided you will sleep while in my bed. You will sleep towards my hind legs, with my thigh as your pillow. You will keep your face buried in my testicles all night long, cleaning the sweat that builds up there. You will breathe my scent while you sleep, and come out smelling like your dominant owner. The centaurs in the village will know you are my slave, not because I hold your leash, but because you smell of your superior. Am I your superior, slave?"

"Y-Yes, Master" Callum stuttered, suddenly quite intimidated by his Master and his resolve. The lifted thigh let loose an entirely new, once-trapped pocket of musk and dominant scent that was pulled into his nostrils.

"Do I own you?" Pholus asked.

"Yes Master," Callum replied.

The centaur huffed a satisfied breath. "Good. When you understand that, everything else will come naturally. Now rest your head on my thigh, and press your face into my balls. I want to feel you licking until you fall asleep."

Callum's hands came to a stop, and fell away from his Master's scrotum. They felt heavy and soiled, coated in a layer of sweat that didn't belong to him. He moved his head forward, again as if automatically, and felt the heat of the two muscular thighs radiating on either side of his face. An even greater source originated from the sprawling scrotum that lounged against his Master's thigh just ahead of him, and he was moving towards it with his right cheek grazing over the short hairs of his inner thigh. It had not been long since he licked the sweat from this very spot, and now he was aiming for a higher, sweatier place. His senses tingled before he even made contact with the untouched underside of his Master's scrotum, and when his face was finally engulfed in the hot, supple skin, he was entirely overwhelmed by it.

His startled cry was muffled by the folds of flesh that wrapped around his face. He hadn't expected it to be so wet. The fur of his Master's testicles was almost soggy to the touch, but now it was more of a thick film that slipped off the humid skin and onto his own. He was immediately taken aback by the conditions between his Master's thighs, as the upheld leg of the centaur was slowly lowered, trapping his head between the hefty slab of muscle. He reflexively wriggled and squirmed, but even with the sweat to lubricate him he could not escape. He was trapped in his Master's balls, and would not be released until morning.

He knew that his Master would show him no mercy on this, nor do anything to ease him into the uncomfortable service. He had to do as he was told, or he would never get his crown back. If that meant sucking the big, steaming testicles of the stallion for a few nights, then he would endure. His sigh was trapped in the tiny air pocket provided to him by the fallen scrotum, and when he inhaled again it came back as an impure sensation. Hot, humid, and heavy, the taste of his Master was tangible in the air as it flowed with an agonizing viscosity through his mouth and down into his lungs. When the hefty air finally settled inside his chest, he couldn't help but cough and sputter as the taste lingered heavily on his tongue. He knew that it would be no better when he finally brought himself to begin his task, but to be so overwhelmed by just the musk wafting from the masculine sack was a precursor to how intense putting his tongue upon it would be. He took a nervous gulp, his mouth feeling dry in comparison to the flesh wrapped around him, and slid his tongue out from between his open lips.

There was no time between his tongue tip leaving the safety of his lips and his taste buds exploding with unexpected intensity. He wanted to cough again, but the supple skin shifted and fell into his open lips. He was smothered entirely, tongue lost in the folds of his Master's scrotum, while his nose was left open in an undersized pocket of musk to keep him from suffocating entirely. What little oxygen there was inside was so tainted with the centaur's unwashed odour that he wished he didn't have to breathe it at all. He'd never been subjected to anything so intense and encompassing before in his life. He forgot about the rest of his bare body, pressed up against the barrelled stomach of the centaur. It felt as if his entire being had been wrapped inside the folds of his scrotum. He wanted to cry out, to fight and beat his way free. He wanted to go back to his old bed and be cold. He didn't want to be forced into this degradation.

He didn't know if the centaur was asleep yet or not, but he highly doubted it. His Master would wait until he fell asleep first, or more accurately, passed out from inhaling the fumes for too long. For the first time, fear of suffocation flashed through his mind, but he knew that even the centaur would not want him dead quite yet. If he did, he would have many other ways of making it happen. He tried again to wriggle his tongue free from the passively clenching walls of skin, but all he managed was to deliver a stream of fresh sweat to his weakened taste buds. They accepted the taste with none of the drama before, only quiet submission. He was still repulsed by the flavour and the situation, but he had no choice. His head was getting fuzzy, and his watering eyes only spread the foul oil further. He had to keep them shut to keep the sweat from his eyes. It was nearly unbearable. Wherever he moved his tongue, a new, tingling rush leapt through him like a bolt of lightning, before everything settled back into a cloudy haze. When all the sweat had past over his tongue and trickled down his throat, there was only the dull taste of skin and saliva.

Then an idea came to him, piercing the fog in his head. If he licked all the sweat off the suffocating skin, it at least wouldn't taste so powerfully all night. It made so much sense to his musk-addled mind. He only had to suffer through a short few licks, and then he would be more comfortable. Fervently, he set to his goal. His tongue slipped back and forth, skin molding to its surface to make sure as much of its surface area could be worshipped. All around him, Pholus shifted. The thigh against his left cheek, using its weight to keep him firmly held inside his scrotum, slid forwards. The skin of his scrotum rolled forward, too, until a hefty testicle the size of his fist was resting across one side of his face. He barely seemed to notice the added weight, even as the slipping testicle landed upon his tongue. His licks rolled along its firm surface, removing the new sweat that had fallen into his reach. In order to better manoeuvre his tongue, he began to move his entire head within its small area as well. The heavy testicle rocked back and forth with his movements, opening new pockets of musk for him to gather up with his tongue and nostrils. He had forgotten about how much he despised the musk, the sweat, and the heat, and was more concerned instead with making the scrotum wrapped around his face a little less flavourful. The ordeal felt exhausting, and he wasn't sure whether the sweat that coated his body belonged to him or his Master. His muscles grew slackened, resting against the strong frame of his Master's body. For the first time he realized how comfortable he was, and how tired he felt deep inside. His breathing slowed, eased with the thick musk in the air, and he fell asleep in the embrace of the stallion's scrotum.

***

The next chapter will be coming soon :)