FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Beastmaker's War

LAND

Sayn felt a twinge of homesickness as she looked out across the gentle hills and rough grass of the Great Plains. It was, after all, her homeland. Her earliest memories were of trundling alongside the colorful wagons of her tribe's caravan as they moved through those rolling hills and that tough grass towards a new campsite. Her first name had referenced that very grass. It had been years since she left - leading an army into the 'civilized' lands of the city-states to the west, camping in the mountainous regions that separated them in some places... with forests and mountains and tall city walls all around, she'd almost forgotten what it was like to just look ahead and see the horizon disappear into a green line.

The Grass Desert, some called it. An enormous expanse of rough grass, where little else could grow. Small streams and lakes dotted it, oases in the green desert, each surrounded by copses of trees and bushes. The nomadic tribes who survived here moved from oasis to oasis, knowing that if they stayed in one place for too long, the water would run out and they would thirst. They hunted the various kinds of herd-beasts that shared the plains with them, and built their wagons from their hides and the trunks of the slender trees that grew around the lakes. The wagons all had slanted roofs, designed to catch the rare rain that fell on the Great Plains and redirect it into waiting clay reservoirs.

In an ideal world, she would have returned here to rally her people, uniting them so that she might lead them towards greatness. But this was not an ideal world, and her old life was a chapter that was forever closed. Her tribe was gone, and the scattered survivors would have spread their story to all the rest. She hadn't MEANT to kill them... she'd just been so angry, raging through her tears, and in that first burst of power, she hadn't known how to shut it off... how to control them. Her beasts had torn the bullies that tormented her daily to shreds, and she had laughed, thinking herself in a wish-fulfilling dream. But the dream had turned into a nightmare when the beasts - flint-shard teeth reddened with blood - turned on the rest of her tribe.

She didn't know if her parents had survived, or been amongst the fallen. She had fled the site of the massacre as soon as she realized that she wasn't about to wake up from this particular dream. She nearly went insane, then - alone, in the middle of the plains, surrounded only by blood-scented beasts that she had created herself from wood and stone. She still wasn't sure if Cybra had saved her from insanity, or if the odd little creature was, in fact, a RESULT of her mind irreversibly fragmenting. Either way, it was the only beast that hadn't participated in the slaughter - probably because she had created it to be cute and fluffy, rather than ferocious. Its coat of soft wool had been her pillow, and she had hugged it for comfort in the cold, cold night that followed.

Angrily, she shook her head to clear it. There was no point in dwelling on the past. To her own people, she was a Kinslayer - outcast and exiled. Any tribe that saw her coming would flee, lest they be tainted by her presence. Already, most of the tribes had migrated towards the eastern and southern reaches of the Great Plains, away from the area she was normally active in. She would not be leading any army of her kinsmen back to join her war - not now, and not ever.

However... her people were not the only nomads who eked out a living on the Great Plains. There were other tribes. Feared ones. Those were who she sought - the Centaurs. When she was a little girl, they had been the bogeymen that scared children into obedience. Don't stray far from the cooking-fires at night, or the centaurs will take you! When fetching water, don't carry more than you can run with, or the centaurs might catch you! She had suffered nightmares about them, like most of her peers. But now, she was one of those nightmares - she knew well the fear she had planted in the minds of her opponent. Recruiting the night terrors of her childhood to join her on the path of conquest seemed eminently appropriate.

Of course, finding a centaur tribe in the middle of the rolling, line-of-sight-obstructing hills of the Great Plains was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Finding a SPECIFIC tribe was harder yet. Fortunately, she wasn't limited to using her own two eyes, and she'd planned on this in advance. Her strikeforce had spread out throughout the plains, moving quietly, swiftly and tirelessly through the grass as they scanned for the telltale signs of passing centaurs, and meanwhile, a full dozen lightweight fliers were soaring through the sky, following up on any tracks the ground-bound scouts located while flying grid-pattern searches the rest of the time. She WOULD find them - and soon. In the meantime, all she could do was to try and keep her mind occupied so that she did not slip back into those unpleasant memories.

"Say, Cybra..." she asked, glancing down at the sheep-like creature who was padding along by her side, looking bored. "When you were searching for a consort for me, how come you never brought a centaur?" It returned her glance, lifting one carefully-sculpted eyebrow. "Well, I DID consider it. They'd be useful allies, certainly, or we wouldn't be here right now, looking for them. And it's not like it'd be hard to find one who might be interested in courting you." "So... why not, then?" She was getting the feeling that Cybra was trying to hide something from her - it was certainly acting evasive. Where, exactly, did a fragment of her own subconscious get off trying to hide things from her?

The wooly creature sighed, rolling its eyes. They made a raspy sound as the shiny pebbles moved over the carved, wooden eye-hollows - a sound she'd gotten very accustomed to hearing. "Well, I kinda' figured there's be a certain disagreement of personalities. A cultural gap, if you will. Look, Sayn... you enjoy being dominated. Getting overpowered. Being tied up. Letting someone else take charge. And that's fine. But even when you're indulging in all that, you're still in control. You CHOOSE to let yourself be dominated. And choice is very important to you - it's a core part of your personality. Centaurs... aren't so big on that."

She blinked, a sneaking suspicion making its way through her brain. "Wait... are you saying, all those stories are true? I know their reputation, but it's not like humans have ever been shy about making up spine-chilling tales about anyone and anything different from them. I mean, have you heard some of the stories they tell about ME?" Cybra just shrugged. "Sure I have. And you're absolutely right about just how evenhandedly humans tend to treat other creatures. But in the centaur's case, well, they never NEEDED to make up stories."

Her mind raced, trying to adjust and adapt her plans to this revelation, letting Cybra continue to fill her in as he explained to her what he'd learned when he was scouting them out for a potential Consort-candidate. "The centaurs are, just as the stories say, all about the rape. Whenever they raid a poorly-defended village, or a merchant caravan, or, yes, a tribe of human nomads, women are their first and main target. If a man takes off running in one direction with a sack full of gold, and a woman takes off running in the opposite direction, a centaur will ride down the woman ten times out of ten. Of course, at that point, he'll probably put an arrow in the man's back. Centaurs, it seems, have little use for living men."

Cybra looked up at her, as if to gauge her response - though, really, why would he need to? He knew her thoughts inside and out. "But... why?" she asked, hoping that the answer would give her some idea of how to get a handle on this situation. SHE was safe, certainly - she had enough beasts with her that even the largest centaur tribe on the plains wouldn't want to pick that particular fight just for a single woman... but if she led them into the heartlands of the northwestern city-states, it would be like releasing a fox in a henhouse. Centaurs were superlative bowmen, and highly mobile, but lacked the technology to challenge decently-fortified cities. Thus, most cities near the frontier HAD decent fortifications. But inside the heartlands, there were hundreds of small peasant villages, lacking even the most rudimentary log barricades, safe in the knowledge that the local lord would protect them. Once the centaurs were on the other side of the wall represented by the frontier towns and fortresses, she wouldn't be able to STOP them from taking advantage of such a cornucopia.

The little creature seemed to chew on the question for a while, then shrugged. "Lots of reasons, I imagine. Starting with the fact that they don't have a lot of females of their own. Well, you've probably heard the myth of their origins, right? Thenares, the God of War, created them specifically to be the perfect horse-archers. They were designed to be soldiers from the word go. So, of course, they're mostly men. They've only got enough females to keep their species going, and barely that. We're talking an 8-to-2, 9-to-1 ratio of males to females. Which, of course, also ensures that only the very most successful warriors have any chance to mate at all. Good way to ensure a powerful bloodline, no? Add to that the fact that the females are only in heat for 'bout a month and a half each year, and that the males ALWAYS are in heat... well, frankly, I suspect ol' Thenares made 'em that way to give them some extra incentive to get into fights."

She gritted her teeth, hoping that the intense hatred she was currently feeling for the old war-god would somehow reach him in whatever place the gods had gone to when they left the world. Pushing that futile attitude aside, she then mulled the situation over, looking for angles. "Say... with all those horny guys walking around and no females in sight... why don't they just 'entertain' each other?" It was a simplistic, yet rather pertinent question. Her rapid education in the fields of diplomacy, statesmanship and military strategy had also allowed her to pick up on a certain pattern: Anywhere that featured a lot of one gender and none of the other, homosexuality rapidly became rampant. Prisons, gender-segregated schools and armies tended to be heavily affected. Some military forces fought tooth and nail to prevent it (usually futilely), while others embraced it as a way to boost 'team spirit'.

Cybra, however, just shrugged sourly. "Officially? Their God told them not to, so they don't. Apparently, he figured that the strongest males would also be the most popular if his chosen warriors started swingin' that way, thus distracting them from impregnating the females with super-tough foals. Unofficially, Thenares was at least smart enough to know that in a battle between 'divine commands' and 'really horny males', the later has a severe strategic advantage. So he made them unable to get off on it. Not sure how. Something in their design, I guess. From what I managed to gather when I was here, quite a few young centaurs wind up TRYING it, purely out of desperation, but it just doesn't work for them."

Sayn grimaced, rolling her head around on her neck to work out a few kinks. "Great. So they were carefully crafted by a god who was, simultaneously, misogynistic and homophobic. Good times." But she had enough data now to begin formulating a revised recruitment-strategy. By now, the whole thing was probably quite deeply embedded in their society, a 'rape culture' as one might fairly call it... but the root cause remained a severe gender imbalance, and that was something that could, perhaps, be corrected. And that imbalance explained other things, too, which would give her some additional tools for the negotiations. A plan was beginning to take form in her mind, and she leaned down to pull a sheet of parchment and a stick of charcoal out of her saddlebags. If she was going to make this work, she had to get a message to Lucravia as soon as possible.

But that alone might not be enough. "Say, Cybra..." she asked, as the plan continued to evolve in her mind. "Back when you were scouting for a suitable Consort for me, how did you do actually DO that? Pick out someone who would be 'right' for me, I mean?" It looked back up at her suspiciously as it answered. "Well... I just kind of COULD. It's something like intuition, I guess?" She nodded, pulling her lower lip as she thought about it. "Well... do you think you could apply that intuition to somebody else?"

Sayn shivered slightly as she crested the last hill. Ahead, the centaur encampment sprawled - she'd already seen it from above, through the eyes of her flying constructs, but it looked even bigger from here. It was to be expected - the Mykene Tribe was, after all, the biggest one around, by a long shot. It was also quite young - technically speaking, anyway. Decades earlier, three lesser tribes had decided to merge in response to the increasingly formidable fortifications employed by frontier towns, and while this alliance had not been without a price - namely, only one of the three clan-chiefs had survived the merger - it HAD been effective. These days, centaurs were mostly limited to preying on the caravans of merchants and human nomads, but the Mykene alone sported enough numbers to challenge fortified villages... as long as they were clever about it.

They knew she was coming, no doubt. Their scouts had spotted her miles out and darted away to report. There was no overt military force waiting to meet her, however, as she'd halfway feared - instead, a single young centaur was emerging from the cluster of animal-hide tents to greet her. She remained seated on her riding-beast, putting her roughly on eye-level with him as he cantered up to her and nodded politely. "Greetings, traveler. What brings you to our camp today?" She couldn't entirely conceal a grin. Such refreshing directness was a welcome change from the officiousness of the griffons.

"Well, I came here to discuss some matters with your chief... you wouldn't happen to know if he's busy at the moment, would you?" The young man lifted an eyebrow, seemingly considering his next words carefully, and Sayn used the time to study him more closely. From the waist up, he looked like a handsome, well-muscled young man. He was of a wiry build, and his skin was tanned reddish-brown by the beating sun of the Great Plains. His face was eye-catching - high, sharp cheek-bones and a narrow, sharply-defined nose that somewhat resembled a beak. His hair was wiry and jet-black, tied back - appropriately enough - into a ponytail. Below the waist, however, was the muscular body of a young colt, chestnut-colored and speckled with splodges of white. His hooves shifted slightly on the flattened grass, indicating that he was a bit more nervous than he let on.

"My father is, indeed, occupied at the moment. He is standing ready to lead our warriors in a counterattack if your intentions should prove hostile. A sensible response, I'm sure you'll agree - you do, after all, originate with the local human tribes." She grinned despite herself at his grave seriousness - only amongst the centaurs would this be considered diplomacy. But it really suited her better than the normal kind, she realized. "Oh, certainly, I cannot blame you. After all, I might have come looking for revenge on behalf of my people, whom your kind have preyed on for uncounted generations. But no, not this time. If I'd come to fight, I would've been leading a large army, instead of just having a hundred or so of my beasts concealed in the surrounding hills, ready to pounce if you should prove ungracious hosts."

The young centaur - who was, apparently, the chief's son - looked around with suddenly-haunted eyes, and she managed to restrain herself from laughing this time. It really wasn't a laughing matter, after all - she was bluffing with her own life (or worse) on the line. She DID have beasts concealed around the place, but little more than a dozen of them. All the rest had peeled off to join Cybra in his search or head towards Lucravia on her messenger's trail, as soon as they'd spotted the centaur's camp. Even her fliers were gone - they made up the bulk of Cybra's search-team, and she'd only kept a single one to keep eyes on the situation from above.

She leaned forwards, supporting her elbows on the large (and tooth-filled) head of her riding-beast. "So, if I tell you that my intentions here are entirely peaceful, and that I bring an offer that can greatly improve the situation of all centaurkind, do you suppose your father might suddenly become less busy?" His roaming eyes refocused on her face and narrowed, as if he was trying to read her honesty - or lack of same - in her expression. Then he shrugged. "Perhaps. I will go and ask him. Please, do not move from this location - several of our best archers are already aiming at you, and they might get... nervous." She froze at those words, but then quickly corrected herself and leaned back languidly in her saddle. "I'm not going anywhere - go ahead, and see if the chief is interested in hearing my words. If not, I will leave peacefully... and present my offer to a different tribe instead. Perhaps _they_will be more interested in reaching for greatness."

The young centaur nodded somewhat stiffly, and galloped back into the camp. She let her eyes roam freely across the tents, albeit with no real hope of spotting the concealed archers the youth had mentioned. The camp looked far different from those she remembered from her childhood with the nomads. No colorful wagons, just a jumble of round, pointy-roofed tents of varying size, each made from the sewn-together hides of a dozen different species. Nothing was moving amongst them - at least nothing that could be seen from her current perspective. Her eyes in the sky, however, could see several huddles of equine bodies, hidden behind the larger tents, and presumably ready to surge out at the command of their chief. Further out, smaller groups were hiding behind hills and grassy knolls, poised to flank her. The centaurs were warriors born and bred, and it showed.

A shrill, undulating whistle suddenly went up from the center of the camp, and for a moment, she stiffened, ready to bolt before the arrows of the unleashed centaurs found her. But her aerial vision saved her composure - the groups of hidden centaurs she had spotted weren't rushing forwards in a mass of spears, arrows and crushing hooves, but rather dissolving and spreading out throughout the camp. At the same time, more centaurs emerged from their tents - including noncombatants. Aging veteran warriors with strands of white and gray mixed into their black hair, mares with foals clustered around their hooves, and young colts who were clearly still unprepared for battle. Apparently, that whistle hadn't been the signal to attack, but an 'all-clear'.

The young centaur who had first greeted her at the edge of the camp came into sight again, nimbly dodging around his emerging kinsmen as he galloped back towards her looking noticeably pleased with himself. He stopped before her - suddenly enough to make his hooves skid across the grass - and bowed. It was an odd sort of sight - his torso curving forwards while his equine forelegs did the equivalent of a curtsy - but it was probably the closest thing to the traditional gesture of respect that he could manage. "My father has agreed to speak with you concerning matters of importance. He awaits you in his Kheymah. I will guide you there."

Straightening his forelegs, he pointed at her riding-beast with a slight grimace. "I will have to ask you to leave your steed here, however." She shrugged and jumped off, landing in a crouch before straightening and grinning at him. "Sure, why not? I can control my beasts with nothing but a thought, at significant distance, anyway. Well, don't just stand around there, lead the way!" She started marching towards the camp before he had time to recover from her statement, but it didn't take him long to catch up, walking quietly by her side with his hands empty and carefully kept in full view. This, she knew, was the only way she could hope to deal with the centaurs. The griffons were bound by powerful honor and strength, but the centaur respected only strength. She had to continuously remind them of HER strength, if she wanted to walk safely amongst them. Any sign of fear or uncertainty, and they were liable to turn on her in a split second.

Now that they were no longer hiding, the camp teemed with centaurs. The grown stallions stared at her with undisguised curiosity, no doubt wondering what she intended to discuss with their chief, and what impact it might have on their future. The handful of mares she could see - each with one or two young foals close at hand - pulled away from her in fear, shielding their offspring with her bodies. The young colts, however... their eyes burned with barely-contained desire. Old enough to have urges, but not yet old enough to join the rest of the clan on the raids that might give them an outlet for those urges. She stared down those who strayed too close to her path, and they quickly jumped out of her way. They knew who she was, and fear trumped lust... at least for now.

Soon, they arrived at the Chief's Kheymah... which was apparently what the centaurs called their tents. Or maybe just the biggest tents, used by chiefs and shamans and other important people? Well, she wasn't there to study centaur linguistics, so it hardly mattered. Her guide paused at the entrance, pulling the dangling fur curtain that was its door out of the way for her, beckoning her inside. With a slight intake of breath to steady her nerves, she walked through the doorway and into the darkness of the tent.

It wasn't as dark as she'd first assumed, though. Two braziers - not far removed from the ones she sometimes used in her own tent - spread a wan light, revealing an impressive collection of spoils. Jewelry, woodcuts, oil-paintings, gilded eating-utensils, and many other impressive-looking things that held little use to centaurs except as a symbol of a successful raid, were scattered around the edges of the tent or piled on top of luxurious - if somewhat scratched-up - furniture. At the center of the tent, flanked by the two braziers, sat the chief.

Well, 'sat' might have been the wrong word, she decided a half-second later. He was... posed on top of something that rather resembled a magnificent, carved wooden chair with its back snapped off, which was probably exactly what it was. At first glance, one could have mistaken him for a man with horse-legs standing in front of a footstool, until one moved a bit to the side and noticed the rather large horse-posterior poking out the back of it. It seemed unlikely that a centaur would NEED to rest his belly on something like that, which suggested that he'd simply decided that he needed a throne because everyone else had one.

Careful not to let her mirth at the sight show, she bowed slightly before him in greeting. "I am Sayn, known as The Beastmaker. I'm here to propose an alliance with your tribe." The centaur returned her bow, albeit with a little hesitation, and she took the opportunity to study his face more closely in the light of the twin braziers. It was lined and weather-beaten, with a large scar across his left cheek, and an even bigger one across the place where his right eye had once been. Clearly not the lead-from-the-rear type of chief. "Greetings, Sayn Beast-maker. I am Chief Parekemnon of the Mykene Tribe. Words of your accomplishments have reached my ears. I will give your proposal due attention."

Nodding, she walked up closer to his throne, rubbing her cheek as she tried to decide on the best way to voice her concerns. She hadn't prepared a speech this time - to the centaur, that would have been an insult. On the other hand, thinking carefully before speaking was considered a sign of wisdom. "In brief, I have need of the strength of the centaur - particularly, your skills with the bow. My creatures are without number, they feel no pain or fear and shed no blood. But they cannot draw a bow, or even work a sling. My enemies know this, and seek to use it to their advantage. The strength of your tribe would turn the battle and send them into disarray."

Chief Parekemnon leaned forwards, eyes shining with eagerness. "Indeed? I hear that you fight within the heartlands of human territory. I assume we would need to join you there in order to lend our support. If you could convince those whose fortresses bar our path to those lands to let us pass, we would be pleased to lend our strength to you." She laughed - mockingly - carefully watching his facial expression for signs that she'd gone too far. It grew stony, certainly, but not overly so. "I am sure you would. And I am just as sure that you would then enjoy rampaging through the length and breadth of the human lands afterwards, raiding, plundering and raping the hundreds of mostly-unprotected villages that can be found there."

He dismissed her concerns with a shrug of his muscular shoulders, but his eyes were sharper now. "Well, I had assumed that the chance to reap such plunder would be our due payment for such aid. Of course, if you wish us to steer clear of certain lands allied to your cause, we would be willing to do so. But from what I hear, the majority of the northern city-states are united in opposing you, are they not? Why would you object to us spreading trouble and death in their lands?" She sighed as the main issue came into view. "Partially because I aim to seize control of those territories, and would prefer that they not be razed to the ground before I have the chance. But mostly because I am heavily opposed to the 'rape' part of your plans, regardless of who your victims happen to pay their taxes to."

His eyes narrowed further, and he lifted himself from his throne to start pacing around the tent, grumbling, for a few minutes. Carefully weighing his words, presumably. She remained standing, following his path with her eyes until he stopped in mid-stride, looking sideways at her. "I feared this would be an issue, you being a human female and whatnot. I'm afraid this will put us at an impasse, however. I could order my warriors to refrain from raping human women, but they would not obey me if I did. Nor should they, for it would be a selfish command. I, at least, enjoy the pleasure of mounting a mare for a short time every year - most of them are not so lucky."

She nodded, careful to keep her voice from betraying how unpleasant it was for her to hear him speak so matter-of-factually about the mass rape of human women. "Yes, I am aware of this 'problem' that plagues your people - so many stallions, so few mares, eh? I fear that old Thenares was rather short-sighted - for a God - in creating you so." She shook her head in not-entirely-feigned regret, while the chief snorted at the insult to the god they still worshiped despite his disappearance. Before he could comment on it, however, she continued. "It took me a while to find your tribe, you know. My scouts ranged out across the Great Plains, searching for the biggest, strongest tribe of your kind. Through their eyes, I saw many tribes, big and small... well, mostly medium-to-small. And not actually all that many. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

His teeth were visibly gritted, and she could see his muscles vibrating with restrained energy as he swallowed the insult - but the implications of it seemed to sap that same energy from him, and with a sigh, he returned to his broken 'throne' and sank down on it. "Yes, Sayn Beast-maker. I do see what you are getting at. The centaurs are a dying race. Every year, the casualties of our raids grow, as humans improve their defenses and their organization. This 'crossbow' that so many of them seem to wield today, did not exist in the time of my father. I organized the union that created this tribe when I was still young and full of energy, thinking to overwhelm the growing strength of humanity with sheer numbers. But it is a delaying-tactic at best. Not enough foals are born to replace those who fall. And in the ultimate calculus of life, that can lead to only one result."

She nodded, suddenly feeling some sympathy for him - he was clearly a wise, charismatic and visionary leader - and because of that level of insight, he was staring down the throat of an extinction that most of his kind probably couldn't perceive. At least not yet. "Indeed. You are warriors. You MUST fight. You MUST raid. But in doing so, you lose lives that you cannot easily replace. That the thing that keeps your birth-rate so low is also part of the reason why those raids are so vital to your kind is merely a touch of bitter irony..." He harrumphed, looking at her with eyes that suddenly seemed old and tired. "Indeed. But I'm afraid I fail to see how that fact can solve our little... problem. Or were you just trying to demoralize me?"

Shaking her head, she flashed him a smile. "No such thing, Chief Parekemnon. I merely wanted to remind you of what you are truly seeking - not passing wealth or temporary pleasure, but the continued survival and prosperity of your entire species. And THAT is what I will offer you for your aid." He perked up at this, tired eyes regaining their former sharpness. "Can you truly offer such a thing?" She started to nod, then shrugged instead. "I believe I can, but I can offer no absolute certitude. I am sure you are aware that humans wield magic far more advanced, and more complex, than the primitive incantations of your shamans, yes?" He nodded - stiffly, but agreeably. It was a fact, after all, and unlike SOME species she could mention, a centaur wouldn't let pride get in the way of progress.

"In return for your aid, then, I will commission the wisest wizards in the land to devise a spell that will alter your birthrate towards something more like a one-to-one relation between stallions and mares. If they fail, I will try another way. You know what they say about me, no? That I am the child of a God? Well, if your God made you this way, then I should be able to correct his mistake." She crossed her arms and tried to look confident, despite being nothing of the sort. "I can promise you this: I will do my utmost to accomplish this, using whatever resources I can find or gather. If necessary, I will go to the dragons and barter for their knowledge. As you might have heard, I have had... prior dealings with their kind."

He nodded, eyes vague as his mind raced with the implications of her offer. It took him a minute to catch up with it, then he spoke again. "A generous offer. Certainly, none could give me more than that. However, I still see two problems. Firstly, even with such a prize on offer, my men would not be able to restrain themselves. They... do not always see the big picture, the long-term consequences. As I said before, they would see it solely as a selfish request on my part, and ignore it." She merely nodded for him to go on, and he looked at her speculatively for a second before doing so. "And second, if you DID succeed at correcting our birth-rate, allowing our people to flourish... where, exactly, would we bloom? Humans are already taking bigger and bigger chunks out of the Great Plains, seeking to cultivate it and expand their territory. In the long term, a rapid growth in the number of centaurs would lead to inevitable conflict, which would put the two of us on opposite sides... and, I suspect, lead to a somewhat faster and more efficient extinction for my people."

She grinned at him, shaking her head. "Ah, so little you think of me... did you believe I had not considered that aspect? The answer is simple - the Southern Continent." He seemed confused for a second, then recognition spread across his face. He HAD heard of it, as she had hoped. The Southern Continent had been first discovered only decades ago, by adventurous sailors seeking new sources of wealth. They had crossed the deep-sea trench with the aid of a merfolk escort, and found the coast of an immense and fertile land. Unfortunately, the land turned out to have prior inhabitants, in the form of a vast variety of very big, very vicious monsters, the likes of which the explorers had never seen before. As a result, only a small handful of well-fortified colonies had been established there, populated mainly by the desperate, hopeful adventurers, and wanted criminals seeking a new start.

"The Southern Continent is a land of immense possibility, but it is also filled by danger. Humans can fight, certainly, but at heart, they are merchants. They seek advantage and profit in all things. Since nothing that has been found down there so far can justify the dangers involved, they have pulled back, unwilling to risk further incursions. Your people are WARRIORS. They thrive on challenge and bloodshed. Turn your arrows and lances on the denizens of the Southern Continent, and carve out an empire for yourself! Perhaps untold wealth awaits deeper inside those lands, but at the very least, it is an enormous amount of LAND. Space to spread, to grow, and to prosper. If, that is, one has the ships and funds needed to GO there..."

He grinned back at her, infected by the enthusiasm she had layered into those words. "Now I see... yes, that would work. If you could make it so that there is a mare for every stallion, we would have no further need for human women. If you could provide us with ships, we could go south, and seize new territory where humans fear to tread." It would, of course, be slightly more complicated than that - outfitting an expedition capable of carrying a large number of centaurs across the southern sea, with the tools and gear needed for them to establish a foothold there... not to mention the price of hiring a merfolk escort, without which crossing the trench was suicidal. But with the course she was currently on, it seemed like she would pretty much have to conquer half the continent just to be left in peace, and she figured that at that point, she'd have the resources to pull it off.

So for now, she merely nodded. "Indeed. That is the long-term plan. Which leaves that one short-term problem of how to rein in your men during the upcoming war, and keep them from taking advantage of all the 'soft targets' they're going to be surrounded by. So tell me... am I correct in assuming that, if their carnal needs are seen to, you will be able to restrain them from raiding villages?" He nodded back at her, with a somewhat dubious look on his face. "I could do that, yes. Collecting wealth is fine, but if we had mares for everyone, there would be no driving NEED to raid." She smiled playfully at him. "Well, what if you had enough WOMEN for everyone, hmm?"

Looking confused, he lifted an eyebrow. "I thought the entire problem here was that you wouldn't LET us take the women we need." She shook her head, sighing at she beheld the cultural gulf separating them. "I said I wouldn't let you RAPE women. I did NOT say that I wouldn't let you have sex with them, if they are willing." He scoffed, laughing out loud at this alien concept, but his laughter died out when her facial expression told him that she was being dead serious. "That seems an... unlikely premise." He commented, doubt thick on his voice. She shook her head, chuckling as she walked towards him.

"I guess you've never had a willing woman then, huh? That seems a shame. I mean, when you went on raids, and took women as you pleased, were it not somewhat... distracting? All the screaming and crying and flailing. Not to mention the dryness." She had to struggle to keep the disgust out of her voice, reminding herself that it wasn't really this centaur's fault. He'd been raised in a culture where such behavior was not merely accepted, but expected. And he was willing to help her CHANGE that culture, which counted for a lot. He flinched somewhat, perhaps picking up traces of her true feelings, or perhaps he merely possessing enough empathy to understand how it must look from her corner. "Well... yes. On all those counts. But it does the trick, and it's all we have."

She sighed as she stopped in front of him, reaching one hand out to run it across his sculpted chest-muscles. "So you think. Well, no woman is going to be very receptive to a band of armed raiders who just put an arrow in her father and set fire to her home, regardless of what species he happens to be of. But you know, if that very same women had met that warrior under different, more friendly circumstances... then perhaps things would be different." He cleared his throat, looking down at the slender hand that was caressing his chest, but he didn't ask her to remove it. "I seriously doubt that, Sayn Beast-maker. Oh, perhaps at first glance, but there is the... size-issue. At least, that tends to be one of the foremost complains of those women I've met, and from the looks of things... afterwards, it seems a fairly reasonable complaint."

Wincing somewhat at that imagery, she quickly shook it off. Yeah, getting a horse-sized cock violently shoved up your pussy with little to no lubrication or warning, and the full weight of a stallion behind it, probably WOULD do a lot of damage. But there was different ways to do things, and that was what she intended to show him. "Oh, certainly, I'm not saying that girls would be falling all over themselves to court you... or your men. But a certain subset of women ENJOY the challenge of... larger scale. And others are experienced enough that they can handle it for suitable recompense. Beyond that, it's just a matter of method. Ensuring decent lubrication, letting the girl set the pace, and not trying to push it any deeper than she can handle."

Her other hand was caressing his face, now. He had the same high cheekbones as his son, and despite the scars and the signs of advancing age, he was a handsome man. He was also obviously flustered by her attention, and her detailed description of sexual procedures. "That... uhh... hmn. Well, I might find it hard to explain such things convincingly to my soldiers. They are used to doing things in a certain way, you understand, and adaptability has never really been our strong suit..." She leaned in now, whispering in his ear. "Well, then I guess you'll just have to be persuasive..." she planted a kiss on his collarbone and felt him twitch in response. "I will give you a demonstration - a chance for you to learn just how much better it feels with a willing partner. When you're speaking from experience, I believe you will be able to make your men listen."

She pulled slightly on his shoulders, and he followed her touch without protest, rising from his throne again to join her on the floor. "But..." he started, then pausing, seemingly unable to formulate his concerns. She chuckled again. "Worried about hurting your new ally? Don't be. I've handled bigger things than you already." She sincerely hoped that this was true, but she was so far past the point of no return by now that she couldn't even see it. Keeping one hand in constant contact with him, she walked around to his side to get a better look at his equine parts. His coat was chestnut, like his son, but lacked any specks of white. It complimented his tanned and weathered skin quite well, providing a smooth transition between the human torso and the horse-body.

Crouching, she looked beneath to find that she had, at the very least, succeeded in arousing him. His cock was hanging limply from his sheath, already all the way out if not yet fully hardened. It had the speckles his coat lacked, being pale and fleshy-colored with spots of dark brown that became denser towards the base, eventually turning into a solid brown color as it disappeared into the sheath. It was also twitching slightly, showing the rate of his heartbeat as she slipped underneath his large, heavy body and assessed the accuracy of her earlier statement. Her immediate conclusion was that it was certainly the biggest cock she'd ever SEEN, significantly thicker and longer than the similarly-shaped staff she'd found on the Horsekin who had been amongst the applicants when she was searching for a consort. On the other hand, she'd never seen exactly how big her draconic visitor had really grown, back when he'd used his magic to scale himself precisely to the limits of her body. It had surely been bigger than this. Probably.

Well, at least it wasn't as wide as a griffon's knot... and she'd just recently spent three days systematically seducing nearly a dozen griffon patriarchs. She'd been able to tell, towards the end, that she was becoming... more elastic. It made sense that being repeatedly stretched open like that - and particularly having those huge knots massaging her orifices from the inside OR the outside - would have some sort of long-term impact. At the very least, she knew that she'd be able to handle his girth - though how much of his length she could accommodate remained to be seen. For now, however, there was the 'foreplay' to be considered, and much like with the griffons, her mouth was her secret weapon. Anatomy suggested that centaur mares would find it awkward - at the very least - to give a blowjob, and rape-victims weren't likely to feel inclined to do so either, so he probably had no idea what he was about to be in for...

Leaning forwards, she started out by planting a delicate kiss on the rim of his unflared cockhead, and was rewarded by the entire shaft jumping upwards, hardening as she watched. It was a strangely arousing sight, and the musky, decidedly masculine smell that her nostrils were beginning to pick up helped quite a bit too. As she pursued the rising shaft with licks and kisses, she could feel herself growing wet inside her sturdy travel-pants, while her nipples hardened against the rough material of her shirt. The mottled skin tasted salty and unwashed, which was hardly a surprise - bathing-facilities were notoriously scarce in nomadic encampments on the Great Plains. She'd been prepared for this, but was surprised at how little she minded when it came down to it. The taste carried with it an undertone of submission - the idea that she wasn't just giving him oral sex, but tongue-bathing his unwashed cock at the same time.

As the shaft achieved its full hardness, leaving it dangling nearly perpendicular to his chestnut-colored belly, she redoubled her efforts, licking up and down the length of the thick rod, caressing the flat, slanted cockhead, and planting wet kisses on the front as her tongue played with his urethra, picking up the slightest hint of something sour and bitter. Then, leaving it temporarily behind, she moved further back to find his dangling ballsack. The size of it was intimidating - each testicle had to be bigger than one of her fists - but at least THAT wasn't going inside her. Holding it delicately, she began to give it the same treatment as the shaft had received - covering it in her saliva as she lavished licks and kisses on it.

It was a procedure she'd perfected during the days she'd spent in the Great Aviary, applying it to several of the self-assured griffon patriarchs and enjoying the way it made them squirm. The taste of sweat and unwashed skin was thicker there, but by now her submissive tendencies were kicking into full force, and she merely enjoyed it. The musky smell was thicker too, tickling her nostrils and egging her on. She could feel him twitching above her, clearly affected by the unfamiliar sensation, and just as clearly enjoying it. When her mouth reached the back of the pendulous sack, she relinquished her hold on it and instead let her hands roam up and down the shaft itself, rubbing the spit-slickened skin while she buried her face in his scrotum.

By the time she came up for air, she felt slightly drunk on the intensity of the male scent she'd been breathing so deeply of - and quite confident that she'd left his balls both sparkly-clean and ready to burst. As she returned her focus to the shaft itself, she was tempted to try and fit his cockhead in her mouth as she sucked him to a messy finish, but she knew there was no way she could swallow a load of such size, and her earlier thought about the lack of decent bathing-facilities in a nomadic camp came to mind when she contemplated the probable aftermath. So instead, she merely freshened up her work, applying a new layer of saliva to the rod - with a particular focus on the front half - in an effort to leave it decently lubricated.

Then, rolling out from beneath him, she quickly shrugged off her travel-clothes. She could feel his eyes on her, burning with intensity as she pulled her riding-pants down to reveal the undergarments beneath. They were soaked with a pungent mix of sweat and leaking pussy-juice, and she suspected that he could smell it as easily as she could. Fortunately from the sound of his snorting, he found it arousing rather than disgusting. As her underwear hit the ground, she stood up - naked, sweaty, and undeniably aroused, and flashed him a grin before walking over to his 'throne'.

She draped herself across it on her belly, spreading her legs behind her to provide him with an inviting vision of her wet pussy and tight, muscular ass. The throne fit her surprisingly well, leaving her petite breasts dangling over the far side while providing her with excellent handholds on the thick, sturdy legs. She could hear his hooves hitting the ground behind her as he cantered up to her rear, and in a single jump, he was on top of her, front legs bending slightly around her shoulders as they landed behind the throne. His legs were long enough that he wasn't crushing her against the seat of the throne, but the throne was also high enough that she could feel the coarse coat of his belly and chest against her back.

She could also feel his blunt, slanted cockhead pushing up against her rear, slipping up her ass-crack with the help of the tongue-lubrication she'd given it earlier. She giggled a bit at the ticklish, yet arousing sensation of the thick shaft parting her buns and grinding across her sphincter, and reached back to help redirect it. "Easy there, big boy... let me give you a hand in finding your mark, 'kay?" He hadn't spoken since she began her - admittedly somewhat direct - seduction, but he could not ignore a direct question. His body froze on top of her, and he stepped slightly back, freeing his shaft from the embrace of her buttocks. "Certainly."

Fumbling behind her rear, well outside her line of sight, she found his spit-slicked cockhead, and carefully guided it lower - towards her eagerly-waiting pussy. With a gentle pull, she directed him forwards, and as he felt her labia part around his sensitive glans, he shuddered slightly and moved his body forwards, impaling her on the thick tool. She moaned at the sensation, feeling her pussy stretch around the intruder. Her labia had no particular trouble, being accustomed to griffon knots slipping in and out... but as he pushed deeper, he found territory that had not seen quite so thick a visitor before.

Nonetheless, his sturdy horsecock fit into her well-lubricated pussy like a hand in a glove, and her breathing grew more rapid as she felt his pulse beating through the long, thick rod. His smooth forwards momentum, however, came to a halt as his cockhead reached her cervix, pushing firmly against the miniscule opening into her womb. She groaned, flinching slightly as she felt his immense mass pushing against her, seeking a deeper, more satisfying penetration that just wasn't available. "That's all I can take... you'll have to use just that much." He replied with a somewhat pained grunt. "That's only half my length..." She quickly flexed the hand that had just recently guided him inside into a fist, and punched him in the ribs, making him jump from surprise more than pain. "Well, you'll just have to adapt to using half your length, then. There's lots of adapting in your future, anyway, so you may as well get in practice. Now, be nice, and _maybe_we'll try something that will allow you to go a bit deeper afterwards..."

She could barely hear him grumble above her "I knew this 'consensual' thing would have drawbacks..." but he complied regardless. His body shifted above her, muscles bunching for the first steps of a dance as old as time. She watched his front hooves skid slightly across the stamped dirt floor as he subtly changed their pose, and quickly moved her hand back down to the chair-leg to get a good grip. Things, she figured, were about to get... intense. As he shuffled backwards she felt nearly his whole shaft abandon the tight confines of her pussy, and then his rough coat rubbing across her back as he curled his spine in the first, full-blooded thrust forwards. The heavy throne shook beneath them as he thundered forwards, his pose slowing the forwards impulse before he reached the end of his thrust.

The spongy cockhead still hit her cervix hard enough to make her wince slightly, but it wasn't the first time she'd endured such a thing, and she could already feel the pain fade into the background as the pleasure took over. She was walking a delicate balance now - her submissive tendencies were writhing in delight at being caught beneath the sheer mass and strength of the centaur stallion, and for that side of her personality, the pain was practically a bonus. However, while she had to indulge herself to a certain degree in order to enjoy this ride in the first place - thus demonstrating to the centaur chief how much better sex felt with a willing partner - she also had to stay on top of the situation in order to demonstrate the meaning of boundaries. She couldn't let him slip into his normal, rapey mindset for several good reasons - starting with the damage he could do to her body if he stopped holding back.

In large parts, however, it would be a bluff. The thick cock in her pussy was stimulating every square inch of her sensitive insides, its sheer girth pulling her clit down into contact with the constantly-moving shaft. The pleasure was drowning her mind. The powerful rhythm of his thrusts was pure and primal - unworthy of terms like 'sex' or 'lovemaking', but rather embodied the primitive, bestial directness of 'mating'. It reminded her of the time she'd spent with the dragon, and not just because of the brutal straightforwardness of his dick-shape. His poise, his scent, the grunts he made as he thrust into her, all carried the beast's instinctive expectation of complete obedience from a mate who was as much a slave to her hormones as he was.

And it was turning her on, to a frightening degree. She knew that if he pushed her - if he challenged her authority at this point - she'd collapse like a rotten tree-trunk, obsequiously surrendering control of her body to him. She'd let him do whatever he wanted to, absorbing the pain of his oversized rod plundering her holes as a delicious spice on top of the pleasure of submission. And that would send entirely the wrong message to him, and probably to centaurs in general. So she had to keep up the bluff, pretend to be entirely in charge, and pray that he wouldn't challenge her... even as she secretly wished that he'd force her down and pound her without mercy.

Maintaining that delicate, mental balance wasn't made easier by the string of orgasms that were now threatening to overwhelm her. His pace was fast and furious - the hurried mating of a prey species, eager to finish and get out of this undeniably vulnerable position before a predator came along. But countering that impulse was the mind of a man - and a warrior, at that. He had nothing to fear, but instead made others fear HIM - and so, like wolves and other predators, he was inclined towards long, leisurely matings with a higher chance of successful impregnation. And so, the thrusts simply kept coming. As she panted for air, she felt a renewed sting of anger at Thenares, the god who had created them so. He had forged such a perfect love-machine, and then locked them into an existence as marauders and rapists.

Little did she know that the stallion above her was only just about to hit his best pace. As his orgasm began to approach, his cockhead flared, widening like the top of a mushroom. Normally, this would suggest that it was time to stop moving, leaving the now-flattened head to serve as an effective barrier against back-flow as he filled her womb with his seed. But with half his shaft left untouched, his climax was building only slowly... and since he WAS extremely creative and adaptable (for a centaur), he had figured out how to use this to his advantage. His thrusts had been shortened and slowed, hampered by the lack of space and the need for 'consideration'... but his newly-flared cockhead could be useful in ANOTHER way.

The acceleration was as rapid as it was certain. Sayn had only just started to notice - and relish - the feeling of his flared cockhead's edges raking across her insides when the speed of his movements increased. As he pulled back, he did not slow down as before in order to stop himself from slipping out - instead, he counted on his now-widened head to catch her labia from the inside, catching him and providing an added, elastic impulse in pushing him forwards again. Her moans rose rapidly in pitch as she finally felt the full capabilities of the toned, battle-hardened body above her, pouring into her pussy in a barrage of thrusts. It seemed almost inconceivable that something so big could move so fast.

When he finally came, she hardly noticed - a fractal pattern of pleasure had consumed her mind as orgasm after orgasm exploded across it. She merely twitched a bit as her womb filled with cum and began to expand, stretching under the pressure as the centaur above her finally stopped moving, leaving his flared cockhead as the cork it was supposed to be. It was a familiar and pleasurable sensation, blending perfectly with the backdrop of orgasmic bliss she was already experiencing. She continued to cum for several more minutes while Parekemnon rested on top of her, wiping the sweat off his brow after the vigorous ride.

It had taken noticeably longer for him to climax than he was accustomed to, but... it had been an enjoyable time. The sensation of a small, subtle body writhing in pleasure beneath him - instead of pain, as he was used to - was quite pleasant... and in particular, he did not miss the screams. They always screamed, even if they were gagged, and he'd always felt that it somehow detracted from his enjoyment. Now that he'd tried it with someone who moaned loudly in pleasure instead, he was forced to concede that, yeah, that DID make a fairly significant difference. Besides, getting a bit of added exercise out of it was a good thing, wasn't it? A warrior always needed to stay in shape, after all.

Normally, a single ride was enough to satisfy him... afterwards, he was used to walking away from the crying wreck of a woman he'd left behind, letting those of his men who hadn't been fortunate enough to get 'first dibs' on any of the captives take their turn. But this time, there was no need to share, and the woman beneath him was still making little, delighted sound as he kept her impaled on his rod. He grunted in annoyance with himself. How easily he was being persuaded, just by a quick lay! Despite the fact that he was still rock-hard and quite ready to go for a second round, he started to back up, pulling out of her. He needed to clear his head. These were decisions that affected the future of his entire race, after all!

A gentle, yet firm hand on his forelegs stopped him, just as his cockhead - which had already lost its flare - popped out of the tightly-grasping confines of her pussy. "That... was VERY nice..." The voice coming up from beneath his body was smooth and throaty, almost sleepy. Somehow, it made his cock jump. It didn't jump far enough, though, for another equally-firm hand had found it, grasping the cum-stained head between slender fingers. "I promised you we'd try something different if you were nice, didn't I? Well, I'm a woman of my word... come, this hole has more space than the one you just left." She pulled on his dick, and he quickly followed, only to find his cockhead pushing up against something tight, and yet slightly elastic.

He pushed forwards, more on instinct than anything else, and felt the tight ring give way to him, opening and engulfing his cockhead. It was hot inside, and very tight. He could feel it squeezing around his shaft, just behind the head, like a strong fist. Only now was it starting to dawn on him what he was doing - or, rather, what she had invited him to do. Curiosity overwhelmed caution, and he stepped forwards, impaling her once again. The tightness felt very good around his shaft. Yes, there was no doubt - she had guided him into her ass. Anal sex had always held a strange fascination for him - it was, in a sense, a forbidden fruit, and now at last he was tasting it.

When mares were in heat, it was the stallion's duty to impregnate her as quickly as possible, so of course, doing something that wouldn't lead to new foals was out of the question. Forcing anal sex on captive human women, meanwhile, had never been a practical course... even if one managed to pull it off (no mean feat on an uncooperative victim), things were likely to turn... exceedingly messy quite quickly. As such, to a centaur, anal sex tended to carry with it the memories of youthful experimentation, as a young colt and a similarly-aged friend decided to ignore the stern commandments of their god and attempt to find pleasure in each other's company instead of waiting the endless years it would take for them to have a chance at the captive humans or the mares. Inevitably, those experiments ended with naught but dissatisfaction, as both parties discovered that the interaction left them entirely cold.

As such, it was not the first time Parekemnon had tried anal sex. It was just the first time he'd been able to ENJOY it. In one sense, it was a small thing - it didn't feel THAT different from being in her pussy, after all. A bit tighter, a bit less wet, and - if she was telling the truth - a bit deeper... nothing else. But in another sense, this was one thing that he'd TRIED to do before, in his misspent youth, and found himself barred from. Now, he was experiencing it, and it was only possible because she was willing to let him. Despite all that had gone before, it was only then - as his cock sank deeper into her ass - that he fully realized the advantages of consensual sex.

And, as she had promised, it sank quite deeply. Her tight sphincter had scraped significant amounts of juice-mixed cum off of his cockhead and shaft, spreading it evenly down its length - and, fortunately, leaving enough left over to coat those extra few unwetted inches that he was now able to push inside. He shifted his body forwards accordingly, his muscles already humming with pent-up energy as they followed his instincts and prepared for another mating. He licked his lips as he felt his cockhead push sideways with the curve of her intestines, adjusting to the new 'limit' the way she had told him to begin with. He heard no complaints from below, so apparently, he was getting the hang of it. Of course, with these increased limits, he wouldn't need to hold back as much as he had before to avoid slipping out... he could go full-speed from the start, without waiting for the flare.

And so he did, his earlier exhaustion forgotten as his hormones and desires raged again. She whimpered beneath him as his thick cock began its rapid-fire pistoning into her ass, but the sound carried with it undertones of pleasure rather than pain. Well, of course, if he was hurting her, she would've told him. Safe in this knowledge, he knuckled down for the duration of the ride, his balls tingling as they slowly built up a fresh load for him. After all, he could - by design - not know that the spreading pain in her ass had pushed her over the edge into full submission.

Her ass had once been claimed by a dragon, and when he did, he'd carefully sized himself according to her proportions - filling her to perfection. But Parekemnon's cock, forged by nature, was not so considerate. It WAS bigger - if only slightly - and a good deal longer than anything she could ever hope to accommodate in its entirety. Her ass was overstuffed, stretching painfully around the equine tool, while the bottom of her rectum received the beating of a lifetime. Violent thrusts poured into her, shaking her entire body... and it was all she could do not to beg him to go faster, to do her harder.

She'd grown increasingly accustomed to anal sex ever since she lost her rectal virginity - mere days after losing her MAIN virginity. It had implications of increased pleasure for the man and increased discomfort for her, which aroused her the same way ropes or a firm spanking might. This, paradoxically enough, led to her gleaning greater pleasure from a vigorous ass-fucking than she otherwise would have. And a good thing, too, considering how unrestrained the reaming she was now on the receiving end of was. Parekemnon's understanding of the ins and outs of anal sex were, after all, quite limited, and so it never occurred to him to be any more gentle than he had been with her pussy. Not that 'gentle' was something that came easily to him in the first place.

All she could do, thus, was to hang on for dear life, clinging to the creaking throne as he sodomized her, pain and pleasure radiating from her ass in a cascade of sensation. And she kept doing so as the minutes ticked past, the rapid pace never changing even as the centaur's breathing grew faster and deeper. The increased tightness and deeper penetration was countered by his need to build up a fresh load from square one, making the second ride just as long and drawn-out as the first. By the time he finished - filling her intestines with his hot cum - his coat was matted by sweat, and her hair was little better. His flared cockhead added additional stretching to her already overextended rectum - drawing fresh, high-pitched moans - but it wouldn't effectively seal the angled passage it was stuck in. Much of the cum thus flowed back, coating the still-hard shaft in a fresh layer of slimy lubrication, before slowly dripping out around the edges of her sphincter to join the pool that had already formed between her legs as the contents of her womb escaped through her labia.

Parekemnon was resting on top of her, now, taking deep, measured breaths as he sought to recover his stamina. His long, hard cock was still inside of her, impaling her ass right to the bottom, and showing no signs of softening. She writhed underneath him, the desire to beg him for more, to surrender herself fully to his strength and virility fast becoming impossible to restrain. She NEEDED more - the dozen orgasms that had exploded across her mind as she endured the anal assault just made her hornier. But she had to maintain the illusion of control...

"Mmm... still got some fight left in you, huh?" she voice was throaty and seductive as she squeezed his still-hard erection between her buttocks, making him flinch slightly. "Well, fine... since you've been such a quick learner, just this once, I'll let you gorge yourself. Keep going 'till you're satisfied. Exhaust yourself. I mean, surely you aren't done YET, are you? They say the centaur can ride for days without stopping, after all. Or is that just a story?" He snorted above her, shaking out his sweat-soaked hair. Centaurs might not have the same sort of deep-seated pride as griffons, but a challenge like that could not be ignored. And so, he began to thrust again, pounding her already worn-out ass with seemingly undiminished strength, determined by now to carry on until he was no longer able to maintain an erection.

This proved to be longer than either one of them had anticipated. Twice more, he came, blasting his sperm into the dank depths of her intestines - making it precisely three more climaxes than he'd ever had in such rapid succession before. Towards the end, exhaustion was starting to take its toll, and his thrusts had slowed significantly - while the centaur DID possess great stamina, the somewhat-awkward ride he was currently engaged in was quite a bit more taxing than the canter he would've used for covering long distances in the field. He also wasn't as young as he used to be, and his rapidly-beating heart was loudly reminding him that he should stop pretending to be. Still, he carried on, through the long, slow build-up to his fourth and final orgasm. By the time he finished that, resting on top of his partner as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, his cock was noticeably sore from the sheer wear and tear of the multi-hour session.

Needless to say, that was nothing compared to the state of Sayn's asshole. Once she had unleashed the centaur stallion on it, there had been no way to call him off - that had, after all, been part of the point, allowing her to enjoy the sensation of submission without her partner being aware. But she had been unprepared for how long it would take - particularly, how much time it took him to work his way up to his fourth and final orgasm. By then, her ass was on fire as the combined impact of the friction, the stretching and the deep-penetration pounding had gradually added up. Fortunately, as his pace had dropped with his mounting exhaustion, she'd no longer needed to cling to the throne for stability - and she'd taken advantage of her freed-up hands, reaching back underneath the throne's seat to play with her still-wet pussy.

The orgasms that she managed to coax from her cum-dripping pussy-hole carried with them their own spikes of discomfort, as the reflexive contractions caused her exhausted ass-muscles to squeeze down on the unyielding shaft within her. But she was, of course, far beyond caring at that point, cumming as much from the feeling of being used and abused by the huge, muscular male whose body was pressing down on hers, as from the direct stimulation of her erogenous zones. Indeed, despite the pain radiating from every square inch of her rectum - with her sphincter, in particular, feeling like a ring of fire - she still had to suppress a whine of disappointment as she felt him begin to soften inside her.

Clearly, though, he wasn't about to have another comeback - rather, he was entirely tuckered out. His legs shook noticeably as he jumped off her back and stumbled backwards, pulling his rapidly-shrinking, cum-covered cock out of her battered asshole. She could feel her sphincter gaping like a landed fish in its absence, cum dripping from its lower edge to ooze down across her already thoroughly stained pussy-mound. The ache in it redoubled as it started struggling to pull itself back into its former shape, but while the blinding pleasure had faded, a bone-deep weariness and fatigue rapidly took its place, turning the pain in her ass into dull background noise.

Parekemnon stumbled backwards a few more paces, then dropped down to his belly on the ground, legs neatly folded under his body. "Well, Sayn Beast-maker - I'm afraid that is the limits of my stamina. I trust I have not disappointed you?" His voice was tired, but held a note of humor that she hadn't heard from him before. She grinned at him over her shoulder as she pushed herself upright, wincing as her legs protested at the sudden movement after spending so long immobile. "Indeed, color me impressed, o mighty chief. It seems like we're both a tad exhausted after such... vigorous negotiations, however, so what do you say we continue this discussion after we've both had some rest, hmm?" He yawned as he nodded. "A splendid idea. You have certainly given me much to think about..." And with that, he folded his arms across his chest, bowed his head to rest his chin on his collarbone, and started snoring. Apparently, that was how centaurs slept - something she had never really thought about before.

Looking around the tent, she realized she SHOULD have thought of it, considering the absence of anything resembling a bed. However... there WAS a pile of luxurious rugs and expensive, gold-stitched throw-pillows piled up in one corner. More valuable plunder that was effectively useless to the centaurs... but not to her. It took little effort to rearrange the thick, soft rugs and fluffy pillows into an improvised bed that went well past 'passable' and halfway into 'luxurious', and with a sigh, she reclined her sweat-soaked, cum-stained body on it, already drifting into dreamland.

She was awakened by the most delightful smell in the world - breakfast she didn't need to cook herself. Well, the clip-clop of approaching hooves helped to pull her back to consciousness, too. She opened her eyes to see Parekemnon approach her makeshift bed with a bowl in one hand and a pair of sticks in the other- from which rose the nose-tickling scent of roast meat. He nodded at her, looking slightly awkward as he did, and placed the bowl on the ground in front of her while handing her the rest of what she assumed to be her breakfast - a pair of sharpened sticks with chunks of well-roast meat impaled on them. She smiled as she took them from him, and he rubbed his neck with his free hand as he returned the gesture. "You've slept for a while... I figured you might be hungry when you woke up." She was, and she indicated as much with a nod as she started biting into the chunks of skewered meat. The bowl could wait - it contained slices of several different fruits and wild vegetables native to the great plains, presumably harvested from the nearby oasis. They were all raw, but freshly-picked and washed.

As she chewed her way through the primitive, yet filling meal, she reflected on how strange it was that someone with as much power as her still cooked her own meals (and most of them weren't much more advanced than this, either.) Early on, she'd had little choice - even the 'servitor' creatures that she utilized for menial tasks such as doing laundry and moving stuff around, lacked the skills needed to cook, starting with a sense of taste. As she'd gained influence, bringing in human servants for such thing had become a real possibility... but at the same time, it had also become an inadvisable vulnerability. Such servants could far too easily be co-opted into spies or assassins.

Of course, by now, she had Korlin on her side... and the two of them cooked their own meals, eating them together. Korlin, being a Kirin, required a vegetarian diet - just the smell of meat was enough to make her slightly nauseous. Sayn, meanwhile, had become accustomed to a high-protein diet early on in her career as The Beastmaker, since her beasts found it easier to chase down delicious critters than dig for vegetables - and by now, she couldn't stand the idea of giving up all that delicious meat. This necessitated some careful positioning for their shared meals, with occasional changes of seating due to shifts in the wind-direction.

Naturally, there was an alternative. The Kirin's Eyes of Wisdom could perceive the true soul of a person, easily ferreting out dishonesty and hidden agendas. Lying to a Kirin was effectively impossible. As such, using Korlin's skills as an 'interviewer', it was entirely possible to recruit some servants who would be guaranteed in their loyalty. But Sayn had never even broached the idea to her lover. Somehow, using that ability in such a cheap way seemed like sacrilege. And besides, while she was still waging this war, she needed to stay tough. Once it was all over... THEN she could set herself up in a nice, homey castle, and let people wait on her hand and foot while she grew soft. But for now, she had to remain sharp.

With this in mind, she set down the empty bowl and the two meat-juice-covered sticks and smiled winsomely up at her host. "Thanks for the breakfast, Chief Parekemnon. For someone with your shortage of experience in consensual relationships, you're really doing spectacularly well." He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "It seemed like the proper sort of thing to do, is all." She nodded, glad to see that her 'session' with him had left a real impression. At least the literal pain in her ass hadn't been for nothing. She'd taken her breakfast while sitting on the thickest, fluffiest pillow she'd been able to find, and yet, she still winced slightly whenever she shifted her weight. Good thing she'd be stuck here for a while regardless - she would not want to try riding in her present condition.

Clambering to her feet - which put her roughly eye-level with his belly-button, she grinned, feeling energized and slightly electric after the rest and food. "Very well, then - now that I've recovered, I believe we had some negotiations to get back to. So... where were we?" He sighed at the playful tone of her last words, and shook his head. "You were convincing me of the merits of 'consensual' relationships with human women, and making some very fine points of it, I believe." She nodded, chuckling slightly as she walked around him, caressing his flanks as she did. "Oh, yes, I suppose I was. Well, don't get your hopes up TOO high. What you experienced wasn't really a representative sample of what you can expect from human women. I'm more... flexible than most, and I have some prior experience that helped too."

He nodded, curtly. "I assumed as much. But if there are other women who can do even HALF of what you just did for me... and ENOUGH of them... then I believe my men would be satisfied." He pursed his lips, brow furrowing. "Of course, I still find it hard to believe that any significant number of such women EXISTS, much less are available to support us at this time." Sayn, however, just grinned back at him. "Still you underestimate me? I have already put things in motion. The women should begin to arrive within a few days. A large, united contingent will be arriving slightly later. I am confident that you'll be left with enough 'camp followers' to keep your men entertained during the march."

His eyes narrowed at this, and he looked at her speculatively. She enjoyed the intensity of his gaze on her still-naked body - it was making her feel a bit excited all over again. It was also, however, making her feel a lot like a bath. "I see... I suppose I should extend you the benefit of the doubt, at this point. I assume you'll be staying here until things are properly set up?" She glanced at him, snorting derisively. "Well, of course I am... no way am I letting those women be introduced to your hungry-eyed men without me around to remind them to behave." Her grimace turned into a grin as she curtsied before him. "So I suppose I will be staying here as your guest for a while... if you don't mind terribly."

He laughed, muscular shoulders shaking. "Of course not - my Kheymah is yours. And by all means, use whatever you need of my trophies to make yourself comfortable. None of these things have any meaning to me, beyond being souvenirs of memorable battles." His face grew rapidly stern again. "However, I fear I will not be around to entertain you much. If this is really happening... if the destiny of my people is about to change so radically... I will have much work to do, preparing my clan for it. They respect and honor me, but they do not follow me without question. I will need to spend many hours discussing these matters with my lieutenants, not to mention the shaman... hah. He and his apprentices will raise merry hell, and no mistake. The whole 'turning our backs on our god and creator' thing, you understand."

He was rubbing his chin now, getting lost in thought as he planned the campaign. "And I suppose I should send some messengers to the other clans while I'm at it, to see if any of them want in on this... I doubt there'll be any takers, but it will be a strong tool later on, if everything works out, and I can tell them that I DID give them a chance to get on board right at the start..." He paused, looking up and blinking as if he had just realized that she was still there. Then, clearing his throat, he walked over to the tent-flat, stuck his head outside, and bellowed something indecipherable. A minute later, the speckled young colt who had first greeted her at the entrance to the camp walked through the door, shouldering the dangling hide-curtain aside as he did so.

He froze in his tracks as he saw her - buck-naked and with suspicious stains around her crotch and thighs. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she decided that it was really about time she stopped walking around in her birthday-suit, and quickly headed towards the pile of discarded clothes she'd left in the middle of the floor the day before. (It hadn't been moved since - apparently, Parekemnon wasn't too concerned with keeping a tidy home, but then again, people who had floors made of stamped dirt rarely were.) The centaur chief waited patiently for her to pull on her simple travel-clothes, one hand on his son's shoulder.

When she straightened up, fully-dressed again (but feeling even more in need of a bath than before, with her grimy clothes pressing against her grimy skin), he nodded at the young centaur and introduced him. "This is Achidias, my oldest son. Since I will be too busy to act like a proper host, he will see to your needs in my stead." She nodded, then paused, eyes narrowing. Something was 'off' about that statement. The centaur was still quite young, and a clan-chief like Parekemnon was presumably first in line when the mares went into heat. "Your OLDEST son?" She asked, hoping that she wasn't digging into something she shouldn't.

A shadow went over Parekemnon's face as he nodded. "At this time, yes." The pain in his eyes told her that this was one subject she was better off dropping, and the way Achidias shifted at the question backed up that conclusion. Taking a deep breath, the aging chief turned to face his son. "Achidias - Sayn Beast-maker will be in your care for the rest of her stay here. She is an honored guest, and if any harm befalls her, it will most likely lead to the extinction of our entire species. I trust you will conduct yourself accordingly." The colt's face showed a burst of pure panic for a split-second, then composed itself back into the calm pokerface he'd shown her when they first met. "Of course, father. I will not fail you."

With a final nod, Parekemnon left the tent without another word, leaving her alone with the young Achidias. She giggled, hoping to dispel the sudden tension in the air. "Your father isn't afraid of laying pressure on you, huh?" The colt's face twitched at this question, but then solidified again. "I am a warrior. To protect me from the truth would be to coddle me as like a foal. He would not do that to me." She nodded, rolling her eyes. After all the work she put into breaking through the chief's serious facade, now she'd have to start over on this youngster. "If you say so... anyway, if you're supposed to see to my needs, maybe you could guide me to the nearest watering-hole? I feel a strong need to bathe..."

The watering-hole was both fairly large, and fairly close by - just out of sight of the camp, across a couple of hills. She could've found it just fine on her own - she still had an 'eye in the sky', after all - but since Achidias had been assigned to help her, she figured she might as well give the youth a chance to feel useful. As she pushed the bushes that clustered around the edge of the small lake aside, she reflected briefly on the fact that her people - the human nomads of the Great Plains - tended to set up camp more or less on top of oases such as these, taking advantage of the shade provided by the trees and the short trip to gather water.

Centaurs, on the other hand, were hardier folks, and their swift quadruped motion probably made the trip to and from the watering-hole a small matter. By keeping some distance from the water, however, they left it as an open trap - most of the animals of the Great Plains sought out watering-holes such as this too, making for some easy hunting. And of course, there was always the chance that an unwary tribe of nomads might drop by... either way, while the centaur didn't mind hunting down their prey, they obviously didn't mind having it drop right into their laps, either. Well, except for the fact that they didn't HAVE laps, obviously. She giggled quietly at that thought as she dipped her toe in the sun-warmed water, finding the temperature pleasant.

Looking over her shoulder, she glanced at the young centaur who had guided her there. She could ask him to give her some privacy, but he'd probably protest, saying that he was supposed to protect her. And if she insisted, he'd probably spend the entire time panicking about the possibility of something happening to her while he was supposed to guard her. Well, he'd already walked in on her naked, and was probably smart enough to figure out what she'd been doing with his father... so there wasn't really much point in being shy at this point. With that in mind, she shrugged off her tunic, and let the rest of her grimy clothes follow suit before she splashed into the shallow water.

She sighed as she floated in the water, letting it carry her as her hair spread out behind her in a fan. The sensation of the sweat - and other stuff - clinging to her skin loosening and washing off was heavenly. Looking down her body, she couldn't help but notice that her breasts were obstructing her view rather more than they had used to, just a year ago. Well, she WAS still a growing girl, after all... and besides, in the meantime she'd gone from being a virgin to having had sexual experiences with most of the intelligent species of the continent. Maybe lots of sexual activity encouraged growth in that department? It sounded right, she decided.

Pushing against the water, she got her feet back under her and, standing in the waist-deep water, began to vigorously scrub her skin. It was all well and good to soak, but she was here to get cleaned up, and that would require some actual activity on her part. While splashing water under her arms, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Achidias staring at her. He looked transfixed, almost hypnotized by the sight of her wet skin. The reason was obvious enough as she lowered her glance and spotted a fifth leg, dangling beneath him. It was strangely flattering.

She grinned, turning around while she continued to wash herself, giving him a better view just so she could watch his eyes grow. "What's the matter, Achidias? Never seen a woman before?" She asked it playfully, but he winced at the words as the lust on his face was briefly replaced by something else. "Well, no, actually..." She lifted an eyebrow at that, leaning forwards to let her hair fall over her shoulders where she could begin to wring it out. "Really? I would've thought that the chief's oldest son would be first in line..."

The young centaur shrugged, trying to act casual like it was no big deal. "I probably would be, but I only recently became a warrior. I've only been on one raid so far, and... it didn't end well." It was obvious from the pain in his voice that 'didn't end well' covered a lot more than just going home empty-handed. She looked up at him and realized that just the knowledge that he, at least, had never raped a human woman, made him look quite a bit more handsome in her eyes. He might have been born into the same rape-culture as the rest of them, but it hadn't yet corrupted him.

And he really was a rather handsome youth... especially with those high cheekbones. It was hard to gauge a centaur's age - they lived as long as humans, but developed much faster. Like horses, they could walk within hours of their birth, and run within days. Their human half took slightly longer to develop, but from what she'd heard, a centaur could hold and draw a bow by the time he was three years old. Well, regardless of all that, he was a 'warrior', and thus an adult in the eyes of his people... and his human half looked to be about her age.

She grinned up at him as she deliberately let her scrubbing take a somewhat more erotic tilt, posing in ways that drew attention to her chest and butt. "A virgin, is it?" The seriousness that had briefly visited his face rapidly melted before the returning surge of desire, and he nodded. "I suppose." She giggled at the annoyed note in his voice. "Well, you might not have to worry about that much longer. Did your father tell you what it is we've been... negotiating about?" He shrugged again, attempting to look casual, but the effort was entirely undermined by the burning intensity of his eyes as he continued to watch her bathe. "He filled me in on the broad strokes this morning. Our military strength in return for your aid in correcting our skewered birthrate, yes? I suppose that WOULD solve the problem, eventually."

She nodded. "Well, yes... but I need your forces NOW, and I also need you to be able to move through human lands without stopping to pillage every village you come across. So I'm putting a stopgap measure in place to deal with your overburden of horny stallions." "A... 'stopgap measure'?" He looked understandably confused, and she laughed as she started to rub her thighs. The insides of them were noticeably sticky. "Can't imagine what that might be, huh? I would've thought you'd be faster on the uptake after seeing what condition I was in this morning. See, as it turns out, under the right circumstances, some human women might ENJOY spending a little quality-time with a centaur stallion..."

He blinked in surprise. "Really? Even ordinary human women? I just figured it was because you weren't really human, despite looking like one..." She paused in mid-wash at that statement, trying to decide whether she should feel insulted by that, but then realizing that he actually made a pretty good point. She didn't know if she was really a half-god, the way people said... but normal people didn't have the kind of powers she had, so there was obviously SOMETHING special about her. Could that whatever-it-was have something to do with why she'd been so willing - eager, even - to sample the sexual skills of non-human races? It wasn't as if it was exactly common practice.

Deciding that he hadn't really said anything untrue, or made any assumptions she could outright reject, she continued scrubbing while shaking her head. "Sure, the majority of women would probably run screaming at the suggestion, but there are a LOT of humans, you know? Even if it's just a small minority who enjoy the idea, that's still a rather large absolute number. You'll see for yourself, soon enough. Several such women are already en route to this camp." Having finished cleaning herself, she straightened up again and grinned over at him. "Of course, YOU may not need to wait that long..."

She walked up onto the shore, putting a bit of extra sway in her hips as she did so, and looked around. The lakeshore was pleasantly isolated, surrounded by densely-growing trees and bushes. Any centaurs who came to collect water would go to one of the points where small streams fed into the lake, a decent distance away and out of sight behind the dense foliage. Achidias jumped slightly as she let one wet hand trail down his flanks, walking up beside him. She could feel her freshly-washed pussy begin to stir between her legs as she looked at the muscular contours of the colt's body.

"Having consensual sex with a human woman... it's a rather foreign thought to you and your kind, no? But it's not really that complicated. All you need to do is exercise restraint, pay attention, and be appreciative. Your father picked up on it all quickly... but of course, he's a wise and visionary leader. Being flexible and adaptable is how he got where he is. Before I drag a bunch of other women into this, I need to make sure that a young, vigorous colt, filled to the brim with unreleased desires, is capable of learning it too." The young centaur stood quite still as she squatted next to him, but underneath, his cock - fully-emerged from its sheath - was jumping up and down with every beat of his pulse. "And your father DID tell you to see to my needs, yes?"

"Of course. I will not fall short of your expectations." The words were firm, but his voice showed some strain, as simple, hormonal desires struggled against youthful anxieties. She chuckled, feeling very worldly compared to him despite their similar age. Then she ducked under his chest to get a better look at the goods. There was less space there than she'd gotten used to last night - the young centaur's shorter legs gave him noticeably less ground-clearance than his father, so rather than kneeling underneath him, she wound up just sitting on the grass with her back bent forwards as she gently gripped his tool and lifted it to her lips.

That, too, was significantly smaller - no surprises there. In fact, it wasn't too far from the proportions of the Horsekin she'd enjoyed the company of during her consort-scouting days. Of course, that still left it with proportions that would turn any human man green with envy, and the straightforward, flat-headed design accentuated its sheer, meaty mass. The equine member needed no clearly-defined head, no knot, no bristles, no bells, no whistles. It was sheer, raw size, with the flare at the end being its only concession to advanced design.

The upshot of all that was that, while she could easily fit him in her mouth, there was no way she'd be able to take him any deeper than that. The thick, spongy cockhead filled her entire oral cavity, pushing her tongue against the bottom of her mouth and soaking it with the taste of sweat and masculinity. Her hands, meanwhile, were busy roaming up and down the shaft as it rapidly hardened, solidifying into a rock-hard rod between her fingers. Earlier, she'd been tempted to try and fit Parekemnon's significantly larger head into her mouth, but now that she'd tried it on a smaller model, she had to concede that she wouldn't have been able to anyway. Her jaw was opened as far as it would go just to accommodate this much...

She hadn't fully considered the implications of that fact, however. Nor had it occurred to her how quickly those implications might come into play. But as she continued sucking on the sensitive head, and jacking the long shaft with her hands, she heard him groan above her, and felt the pressure on her tongue suddenly grow. Her tongue, which had been previously pinned to the floor of her mouth, was now pushed back and up until it was lodged against the front of the head, tickling his urethra. Along with the sudden aching of her jaw, and the way Achidias was twitching, this clued her in on a problematic development: His cockhead had just flared.

Of course, she should've realized that could happen. Parekemnon had lasted much, MUCH longer than that, but this was a young colt, in the throes of his first sexual experience, immediately after spending some time lustily watching her bathe. Of course he'd be on a hair trigger. The wisdom of hindsight, however, did not change the fact that his cockhead was now a solid inch wider than it had been when it passed between her teeth. She couldn't open her mouth further without unhinging her jaw. Trying to get him out while he was flared would thus be rather painful for the both of them. She'd been 'knotted' before, but this was the first time she'd had it happen to her mouth...

But she'd always ENJOYED such 'ties', because they basically amounted to purely biological bondage. No ropes or chains required, just nature's own manacles tying two bodies together. Meanwhile, she'd often enjoyed giving oral sex to her partners because the act of giving pleasure to him while getting none in return (at least directly) carried submissive undertones. Feeling those two things combined for the first time made her pussy throb with desire, and rather than instinctively struggle to free herself, she instead let her newly-freed tongue caress the front of his flared head, tickling his urethra, while redoubling her efforts at milking his long, hard shaft.

It wasn't long before his first-ever cum-load spurted across her tongue, thick and creamy. Her tastebuds were drowned in the familiar mix of bitterness and saltiness even as she rapidly swallowed, clearing her mouth for the next blast. She could see his balls dangling at the end of the thick shaft sticking out of her face, big and heavy... not as much as his father's had been, but still enough to make her question her ability to swallow a full load. But the current situation didn't offer her much choice, and so she let the thick, slimy fluid slide rapidly down her throat, tasting the sexual frustrations of the until-now virgin colt in every mouthful.

Her lips were stretched tautly around the shaft just behind the flare, ensuring that there was nowhere else for his jizz to go but down. Only the barest trickle leaked out around the corners of her mouth as it filled to overflowing, her desperate swallowing barely able to keep up with the forceful spurts. But when the flow started to slow, she was still managing - somehow - and the full contents of his voluminous balls was now resting warmly in her stomach. She had managed to guzzle the colt's entire cumload without letting a drop go to waste.

As the last mouthful disappeared down her gullet, however, her tongue went to work - scraping over the front of the flare, scooping up the layer of cum that had caked there. She could hear him moan as the tender tissue felt the touch of her soft tongue, and upped the ante by applying a bit of suction - her cheeks arching inwards as she sucked the last traces of his load right out of his urethra. Despite this stimulation, however, the flare soon receded, allowing the cockhead to leave her mouth with a pop. She took a moment to catch her breath as she watched the still-hard shaft swaying before her, and let one hand slip down to the point where her thighs met. She was sopping wet, and it wasn't from the bath...

"Well, congratulations, Achidias - you're no longer a virgin." She said it cheerfully as she popped out from beneath his body, looking around. There was no conveniently-sized throne here, but there WAS a flat, water-smoothed boulder lying at the lake's edge - big enough to fit her entire body on it and then some, offering a tantalizing alternative to last night's position. "I trust you're still up for... further experiments, yes?" His face still had the look of someone who'd just taken a club to the back of the head, though in this case the 'club' was his first-ever orgasm. He quickly shook it off and nodded. "Of... of course, Sayn Beast-maker. I'm at your disposal."

She grinned as she walked over to the flat rock and laid down on it on her back, legs spread and dangling over the edge. "Well, then, get over here, and let me test your... restraint." She used two fingers to spread her labia as she said it, giving him a prime look at the moist pinkness of her pussy. Her ass was still far too sore after last night for her to contemplate giving him access to THAT, but her supposedly primary orifice had gone largely neglected by comparison. And the young Achidias seemed eager to correct that oversight...

In a rush and a leap, he was on top of her, front hooves hitting the stone on both sides of her head as he thrust forwards, rock-hard tool seeking her eager orifice. She had a fine view of it, down the canyon between her breasts, and quickly gripped his head with her remaining hand to steer it towards the hole she was still holding open with the other. As it found its mark and pushed inside, stretching her labia apart, she let her head fall back on the smooth surface of the boulder, looking up the centaur's front to see his human half shivering in excitement, a look of ecstatic rapture on his youthful face. It was kind of flattering, really.

However inexperienced he might have been, there was no hesitation in his movements. Instinct guided his body as he danced forwards, hooves skidding across grass and stone as he impaled her. There was no careful gauging of how deep he could go... but as soon as he hit her cervix, he stopped, and without pause, began to thrust in earnest. As the pleasurable friction began to send little electric shocks up her spine, she realized that her worries had been unfounded. Rather than his youthful exuberance robbing him of restraint, his lack of experience left him with no preconceptions to trip him up. He didn't know how deep he was SUPPOSED to go, so he adapted his technique to her body's limitations without even thinking about it.

The two of them moaned in unison, sharing the primal pleasure of the intercourse, and she felt her legs rise on their own with every thrust. Before she knew it, she had wrapped them around his haunches, lifting her butt from the stone it had rested on. It gave him a better angle of entry - a straighter thrust - and made her whole body follow his bucking in a surprisingly natural way. Riding on horseback - or beastback, for that matter - the body found its own rhythm as it kept up with the steed's movements. Now she was discovering that the same was true for riding below rather than on top.

Achidias' youthful virility was a cornucopia of pleasure. He took significantly longer to reach his second climax, and even after he did, his tool never softened for a moment. Sayn, floating on a cushion of countless orgasms, had no intention of telling him to stop. In fact, her hands were clinging to his forelegs by now, practically telling him not to get off. And so, he continued, pouring his overflowing energy into her. The floodgates had finally been opened, and while he still could not entirely believe his good fortune, he wasn't about to question it.

It was past noon before they returned to the encampment... though the fact that Sayn had needed a second bath at the end had contributed somewhat to their expenditure of time. She caught a few odd looks from the other centaurs in the camp as they walked back towards the chief's tent - or 'Kheymah', as she reminded herself to call it. It never hurt to display some respect for the local dialects, after all. Either way, she suspected that at least a few centaurs had heard, if not seen, their morning activities while gathering water, and suspected what was going on. Well, that was fine. They needed to get used to such things, and soon.

The next few days passed quickly. Chief Parekemnon, as predicted, kept himself quite busy - and wasn't limiting his activities to just talking. He'd apparently ordered the construction of a new, king-sized Kheymah, and while the centaurs working on that project (which, of course, involved a lot more needles and hides than hammers and logs) probably didn't know it, Sayn gathered that it was supposed to serve as a residence for the soon-to-arrive women.

In the meantime, Sayn had little to do but wait for her beasts - and Cybra - to return from their assignments. She was able to spend a significant portion of this spare time in the company of Achidias, whose virility never seemed to flag in the least. Whether in his father's tent, or at their favorite spot by the lakeshore, he was always ready to 'see to her needs'. After the first day, with the aches of her session with Parekemnon fading into memory, she also let him sample the tiny, but surprisingly elastic, hole between her buttocks - and like his father, he seemed to find it a transcendental experience. Enough said, she went to sleep every night with two well-fucked holes, and started each day with a bellyful of hot centaur-cum.

But of course, she couldn't pass the ENTIRE day with the hedonistic pursuit of the pleasures of the flesh... and in her spare time, she took advantage of Parekemnon's hospitality to do what she usually did when she found herself left with idle hands. And soon enough, she sensed Cybra's return, along with the detachment of beasts he had taken with him on his search. With Achidias by her side, she went over a couple of rolling hills in order to receive the new arrivals out of sight of the centaur camp. As she watched her beasts flow across the grassland in the orange light of the approaching twilight, silent and tireless, she could somewhat understand the fear she inspired in others.

In this case, however, the intimidating display was somewhat blunted by the presence of women on the backs of most of the beasts. There were young girls and mature women alike, and while most of them wore simple, peasant clothes, a couple were more richly dressed - wearing thick, expensive furs to ward off the chill of the winds. In front of them all, effortlessly keeping up with the larger beasts, Cybra was bounding across the hillocks. Achidias twitched by her side, whether out of nervousness at watching the approaching beasts, or out of eagerness at the sight of the approaching women, she could not say.

As the beasts came to a halt and the women began to dismount, Cybra continued forwards to take its habitual place at her side. "That's quite a haul..." she commented down at it, and got a cynical grin in return. "Well, yeah, it was easier than I'd have expected. Most of 'em are what you'd expect - farm-girls, isolated by geography, growing up surrounded by family and animals, and settling on the latter when their sexuality began to bloom. Once they'd gotten a taste of what a stallion can bring to the table, human men probably didn't seem very attractive... and the idea of getting the best of both worlds seemed attractive enough to make them jump at the offer."

"And the rest?" She asked, gesturing vaguely at the handful of women who did not seem to fit into that narrative. One of them - a brown-haired girl who looked to be a couple of years older than Sayn - noticed the gesture, and began to move through the crowd towards them. Most of the women were stretching and groaning after what had to have been a long, saddle-less ride, but she seemed to have energy to spare still. "A mixed bag." Cybra replied. "Daughters of noblemen and wealthy merchants, deliberately isolated while their father looked for the perfect arranged marriage for them. Wives left alone in isolated country-mansions while the husband constantly traveled on business. Caught up in the romantic ideal of the 'noble savage' and the freedom of the open fields. The reality will probably surprise most of them, but... not in a bad way, if I'm any judge."

He nodded at the brown-haired girl who'd just extricated herself from the crowd to stand before them, bowing respectfully before Sayn, but maintaining eye contact. "Well, this one's a bit different even from them... but you can ask her 'bout that yourself, if you care to." Cybra's sarcastic voice gave no hint of the fact that the subject of his line was standing directly in front of him, and Sayn had to suppress a giggle at the girl's expression. Getting her voice rapidly under control again, she returned the girl's bow with a nod. "Nice to meet you. I am Sayn, known as the Beastmaker." The girl looked somewhat skeptical, but replied nonetheless. "I'm Julie... and you don't look half as divine as I'd been told."

Looking down herself, she was forced to agree. She was still wearing her travel-clothes, and despite having washed them earlier that day, they still bore clear marks of her travels... and other things. "Yeah, well, I've been staying in a centaur-camp for the past several days. It's not the kind of place where pretty dresses survive for long. You might have to prepare yourself for that, too..." She gestured at the girl's clothes which were tasteful, decorative, and rather too fragile for where they were about to find themselves. Julie blushed a bit as she duplicated Sayn's gesture and looked down herself. "Don't get me wrong - I DID bring some practical clothes. I'm not an idiot. I just... wanted to give a good first impression when I got here."

The blushing made her look quite a bit younger, and more attractive to boot. Sayn grinned, and the girl returned the gesture. "So... why ARE you here? When I sent Cybra out to 'recruit' volunteers, I was expecting... well, THOSE girls." The gesture this time included all the plainly-dressed women and girls now clustered around the unmoving beasts, gazing longingly at Achidias' physique, but apparently lacking the courage to approach him. Or maybe it was Sayn that they feared. Julie looked back at them over her shoulder and gave a little shiver. "Right... they already like horses, and a centaur's a step up - plus, they don't have a lot of other prospects. Well, I think that whole thing is kinda' gross - screwing around with an animal and all - but hey, I've never been in their situation, so who am I to judge?"

She shrugged, looking thoughtful. "As for me... well, I guess I just like centaurs. And I don't have a lot of other prospects. You can't tell 'cuz of the clothes I wear, but... half my body's covered in burn-scars. An accident when I was an infant - I don't even remember it. But because of that, my dear old dad is having a hell of a time getting me auctioned off into a 'suitable' arranged marriage. I started taking up riding just to get out of the house... and since our country estate was close to the edge of the Great Plains, I sometimes strayed down there despite warnings to the contrary. I guess a tribe of centaurs were living near there, 'cuz I spotted them several times, keeping my distance so they didn't see me. I always brought a spyglass, you see - for 'bird-watching'."

She giggled a bit at the memory of that simple deception, and blushed a bit more as she continued. "I just kind of liked to watch them. The way they moved. The way they worked together as they hunted. The way none of them wore shirts. All of them fit and muscular and... well, nothing like the fat merchants and butt-ugly courtiers my father was trying to foist me on. I guess none of the DECENT-looking ones would look twice at me 'cuz of the scars. I used to fantasize about how different it would be to live with the centaurs, because they wouldn't care about the scars." She sighed wistfully, then looked around as if she only just remembered where she was, and smiled. "Then THIS weird little thing shows up - a messenger from the infamous, feared, and occasionally worshiped Beastmaker, telling me that I'm absolutely right about the last bit, and if I want, I can go find out for myself."

Squatting down, the young woman reached out a hand to rub Cybra's fluffy head, and Sayn noticed with surprise that it didn't pull away or tell her to back off. Usually, the odd little creature didn't tolerate that kind of thing from anyone but Sayn. Clearing her throat, she pulled the girl's attention back. "Right... Julie. I can certainly see why you took me up on my offer, then. But are you sure you're up for the... physical aspect of this? I mean, from the sound of things, you're still a virgin..." The finely-dressed girl blushed even deeper at this, and quickly looked away while she jumped back to her feet. "Ahem. Yes, I am. Technically. But... well, I've been thinking about centaurs for a while, and I DO know how they're... equipped. We do have stallions at the estate, after all. And... I've been... using various... suitably-shaped objects. If you know what I mean. I'm not quite up to the size of a stallion, but with a bit of work, I'm sure I'll manage. I mean... obviously, it's possible, no?" She pointed over her shoulder at the gaggle of farm-girls who made up the brunt of the recruited women, and Sayn was forced to concede the point.

Following that conversation, Sayn led the girls - escorted by her beasts - back to the centaur's encampment. Even with darkness fast approaching, the camp was far from quiet, and the centaurs stared at the newly-arrived women with hungry expressions. Most of the women stared back in a similar way, though a few looked nervous, like they were having second thoughts. Fortunately, they'd have some time to calm their nerves before the moment of truth. At her request, the newly-made 'women's tent' had already been erected at the outskirts of the camp, and the girls disappeared into it - with the beasts taking up position around it, to dissuade any overly-amorous stallions who might decide to jump the line. The big 'introduction' wouldn't happen 'till the following evening, at which point the rest of her force would have arrived... and those girls might help calm the spirits of any of the first lot who were considering a last-second change of heart.

The second lot arrived the next day, as planned, right around noon, and Sayn again went out to greet them outside the camp. There was no Cybra leading this lot, but a pair of familiar faces were riding on the lead beast instead. Jazera and Jareza... though she was ashamed to admit that she had not known their names until she'd asked Cybra about them. The twin courtesans of Lucravia, once the finest jewels in its Doge's crown... but after the Lucravian army had made the fatal - and rather boneheaded - mistake of meeting Sayn's forces in the open fields, a popular uprising had overthrown the oppressive, plutocratic regime. The Doge had little use for crown-jewels anymore, on account of having neither a crown nor a head.

The twins had been amongst the first candidates that Cybra had brought before Sayn when she searched for a consort - and her first experience with women. They had been... spectacular, and just looking at their lithe, curvaceous, perfectly-identical bodies now made her feel slightly hot under the collar. She had to pull herself together a little to greet them properly as they dismounted their beast, and her composure was further threatened by what she could see behind them - a veritable mob of some of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen. She had not expected such numbers, and like that girl - Julie - from the night before, they'd apparently chosen to dress for the first impression. Tight dresses and eye-catching jewelry all around. Even their hair was neatly prepared.

"That's... a LOT of courtesans." Sayn said conversationally, after the initial greetings were out of the way. The twins grinned naughtily. "Well, yes... like your message so perceptively guessed, there are a LOT of out-of-work courtesans in Lucravia these days." Just like on their first meeting, the two girls started and finished each others' sentences with such perfect smoothness that it was practically impossible to notice when the sentence jumped from one shapely, delicious-looking set of lips to the other. "None of the new leaders want to be seen with courtesans, since that would make them look no different than the old leaders... and most of us had no other useful skills. It's been rough..."

Sayn nodded. When she'd first met the two of them, they'd been overjoyed at being freed from an existence as, effectively, sex-slaves - along with many other girls who had been kept as courtesans by the various Merchant Princes of Lucravia. It hadn't occurred to her then that such 'freedom' could be a double-edged sword, but as she considered the political and economic realities of the situation further, it had gradually become clear to her that the two of them hadn't applied for the position of her Consort purely out of gratitude. "So, what, the new leaders don't have courtesans at all?" She asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. The new regime that had risen in Lucravia following the rebellion was fairly unusual, and followed an emergent political philosophy called 'Democracy'.

The twins snorted in disdain. "Don't be silly, of COURSE they do. They just can't afford to be seen with any KNOWN courtesans. It's been quite a boon for the young up-and-comers, but not so much for the rest of us. Some had to settle for menial jobs, others became common prostitutes... compared to that, the deal you offered sounded quite sweet to many an ear, despite the shortage of details." Sayn nodded. She'd been in a bit of a hurry when she wrote the message, and seeing as it was before she'd actually worked out the deal with the Chief, she'd had to couch it in broad generalities. "Well, more is better. And since you've graciously come all the way here, let me fill you in..."

After a quick explanation of the deal she'd struck with the centaur Chief, the twins nodded in unison. "We understand. You need them to be able to move through human lands without stopping to rape every maiden, so you need us to see to their needs for the duration of the war, correct?" Sayn shrugged, trying to look casual in her stained travel-clothes as more and more of the gorgeously-dressed courtesans clustered around them to listen in on the conversation. "More or less. Of course, the centaurs are going to need willing women who can take care of their needs for at least another generation, before I have any chance of fixing the root problem. So anyone who wants to can certainly stay even afterwards. But once the war's over, I should have the leisure to find more 'volunteers' like the girls waiting in the tent right now - so if you've had enough at that point, you can certainly leave, with your wages."

One of the other girls - a rather young-looking one - piped in from the crowd. "But... what about the... y'know, SIZE-issue? The merchants I used to be with were all kinda' small... inversely proportional to their egos, y'know." Sayn giggled at the way she rolled her eyes at the last bit, and waited for the understanding laughter from the other courtesans to die out before replying. "Well, it's really just a matter of practice and preparations. Some of your new 'colleagues' might be able to advise you in detail. And honestly, you can get far with just a skilled tongue and your hands - these guys aren't used to getting blowjobs, so a bit of oral works even better on them than it does on most men."

"What about the practical stuff? I'm basically broke, so all I've got next to nothing save the clothes on my back..." Another asked, and Sayn had to restrain herself from commenting that, in that case, she might've considered selling the rather expensive clothes on her back for something more sensible. "The centaurs will provide for all of your needs, as part of the agreement. Room and board, for starters. I hope you like roast meat, fresh fruit and raw vegetables, though, 'cuz that's about all they eat around here. If you need stuff like clothes or bedding, though, you needn't wait long - the whole clan will be mobilizing shortly, and moving into the southern city-states. I'll be providing them with funds to buy supplies along the way, so you'll be able to get any NECESSITIES covered." The emphasis eloquently conveyed her opinion on the necessity of pretty dresses. They were certainly NICE, but there WERE more important things in life than just looking good. The twins nodded at this too, apparently agreeing. "One more question..." they said, looking thoughtful. "When we move into the city-states, and towards the battlefield, what about transportation? We can't keep up with the centaurs on foot - will your beasts be staying here?" Sayn grinned as the most interesting of questions finally emerged, and shook her head. "Nope, they're going back with me. I can't leave them down here without a leader, and I don't have a lot of leaders capable of directing them. But don't worry, transportation will be... taken care of."

By the time evening arrived, the courtesans had been settled into the by-now rather crowded tent, and the two groups of women had spent some time sharing stories and tricks. They complemented each other well, Sayn decided. The courtesans were worldly and experienced, and helped the often naive volunteers to understand what was expected of them. The volunteers, meanwhile, helped enlightened the courtesans about what it really entailed to mate with someone who was literally hung like a horse. Once the women had realized that both sides had something useful to share, the boundaries between them quickly broke down, and they settled down for a level of 'shop-talk' that made even Sayn blanch a bit.

In the end, none of the women chickened out, and at the appointed meeting-time, there was a large crowd of women - some plainly-dressed, others sporting slinky, high-class dresses and jewelry - waiting besides the Chief's Kheymah, while the centaurs gathered around in the large, open space before it. The beasts Sayn had assigned to guard the women's tent earlier were nowhere to be seen - the only thing keeping the centaurs under control right now were their stern-faced Chief, Parekemnon. Sayn herself stood by her side, in front of the tent's entrance, waiting for the centaurs to settle down. She wasn't supposed to actually do anything but that - Parekemnon would do the talking - but she had a feeling things would not go that smoothly, and she had an ace up her sleeve for when things started to go sour.

It started well enough. Parekemnon laid out the rough outline of the alliance that had been reached between Sayn and him, skipping over the precise details, and summing it up with grandiose claims about soaring numbers, enough mares for every stallion, great, unexplored lands to conquer and make their own... but first, a quick little war that would give them a chance to show the true might of the centaurs to the humans! The crowd loved it, obviously, with the exception of a small knot of young centaurs clustered around an aging, white-haired and white-coated stallion. Based on the gnarled staff he held in one hand, its top splitting into two bent branches connected by an odd pattern of twine and hung with various feathers, she gathered that he was the Shaman that Parekemnon had expressed concerns about. Like so many other religious leaders, he had a vested interest in maintaining the status quo - while his power did not, in fact derive from their long-disappeared god, but simply from a primitive application of magic, he was still the clan's religious head, the mouthpiece and interpreter of a god who had not spoken in thousands of years. Leaving that god behind meant reducing his authority and importance, leaving him as little more than another hedge-wizard.

She had to admit, though, that Parekemnon had some real skills as an orator. He wasn't giving the Shaman any chances to break into his speech, having neatly skipped over the bit where their imminent prosperity meant abandoning the plan Thenares had originally had for them. And even when he explained that they would NOT be stopping to raid villages on their way through human lands, he carefully phrased it as a strategic necessity - swift and quiet movement was needed, and Sayn Beast-maker had thoughtfully provided them with a whole heap of human women who would be happy to see to their needs on the way, and wasn't that just even better? Less fuss, less trouble, double the fun! The assembled centaurs, whose attention seemed divided equally between the chief's speech and the lovely ladies standing next to him, seemed disinclined to argue.

However, things got more complicated as Parekemnon gave the centaurs a quick 'Consensual Sex 101' overview, laying down the ground-rules for dealing with their new camp-followers. He emphasized the need for restraint, and the importance of accepting the physical limitations of their smaller bodies. He made it clear that the women could and would refuse further 'service' to any colt or stallion that failed to adhere to such rules. He reminded them that the women were neither captives nor slaves, but volunteers who were there of their own free will, and capable of changing their minds and leaving if given sufficient reason to.

These messages brought on a certain amount of grumbling, particularly from the older centaurs, and the Shaman seemed to be taking some very deep breaths, his face drawn and his eyes sparkling with anger at this clear divergence from Thenares' original design. The anger, however, was restrained... until Parekemnon dropped the final bombshell, in the voice of a man who was well aware that something was about to explode in his immediate vicinity. "And finally, since we will be required to move swiftly during our campaign... the women will ride on our backs. Volunteers will be requested, but if sufficient numbers do not appear, I will..." That was as far as he got before the Shaman jumped forwards, staff raised and lightning sizzling between its twin points. His words rang like thunder. "BLASPHEMY!"

"Is it not enough that you piss on the name of Thenares, our great creator? Is it not enough that you cast away our traditions, our legacy, and our pride in allying with humans? No, you must also lower us to the station of mere beasts of burden! There is no prosperity in this alliance, only SLAVERY!" He was obviously ready to talk up a storm - perhaps literally, considering the way the wind was suddenly starting to pick up - and while Parekemnon stood stock-still (presumably considering his next words carefully), and the rest of the centaurs shrank back from the Shaman's rage, Sayn stepped forwards, staring the enraged centaur in the eyes.

"SILENCE!" she bellowed, with all the air she could gather in her youthful lungs. It came out as a larger sound than she'd imagined, seemingly amplified by her rage at the way he was twisting the very generous offer she had laid before his kind - if he succeeded in turning the centaurs away from the path she had opened to them, he would have successfully doomed his entire race, just for the sake of maintaining his own religious authority. Pitting her anger against his, she glared at him as his voice trailed off. "Yes, I ask that you discard your god! And why should you not? He discarded YOU, thousands of years ago - just like all the people of this world were discarded by THEIR gods. As for the traditions and legacy he left you, they are foolish and short-sighted. Following the path he gave you will lead you only to extinction. I came here to offer you a new path - a path of renewal and enlightenment. A path of LIFE!"

The Shaman was rapidly recovering from his initial surprise at her verbal assault, and was now rising back towards snarling rage, his eyes flashing with magical power as he heard the heresy she was deliberately throwing in his face. He raised his staff, lightning surging as it gathered within it, and Parekemnon began to move, as if to intercede in the brewing battle. Before he could take more than a step, however, a glittering bolt of golden lightning emerged from the tent-flap behind her at incredible speed, surging directly over her head and towards the Shaman. He gaped in surprise at the creature that had seemingly just materialized before him, its jaws clamped shut around his staff. The lightning that coursed through the staff did not touch it.

Smiling, Sayn put a hand on the large creature's flank. "After all... Life is mine to give. Or to take away, if I so desire." The beast was one of her finer creations, even if she said so herself - pieced together from Parekemnon's trophies and treasury during her idle hours. Its legs were gilded and covered in fanciful carvings, made from expensive picture-frames. Its coat was made from luxurious rugs, and bore delicate patterns woven with golden thread. Its claws were shards of painted porcelain, from a priceless vase. The collar of an expensive fur coat provided it with a magnificent, lion-like mane. The teeth in its long, lupine face shone with gold and steel, fragments of a gilded dress-sword she had shattered. But most impressive was its face - an oil-painting of a long-dead emperor, stretched across the frame of its head like skin, gave it features that were simultaneously human and not.

And most importantly, the chief's Kheymah was right in the middle of the camp. Everyone had seen her enter it alone, and everyone knew that the shining creature now standing by her side hadn't followed her there. It had been created, born, right in the middle of their camp - a startling, impossible-to-ignore reminder of her powers. When she spoke, the entire camp fell silent. "Shaman. Your skills may be useful in the battle to come. That is the only reason I have not already broken your staff... and your legs. I am giving you one chance - fall in line, or leave. Your god is long gone, but I am right here." The golden beast, responding to her mental command, released the staff from between its fangs and took a step back to stand calmly by her side, one of her hands resting on the thick carpet that made up its back.

The lightning on the Shaman's staff died. His face looked crestfallen, defeated... but then, it lit up again, with the fires of fanaticism. She groaned inwardly, readying the beast to make good on her threat. But instead of raising his staff again, he bowed deeply before her, bending his forelegs. "I beg your forgiveness, Creator of Beasts. I was blinded by the past. You have opened my eyes. It shall be as you command, and let none say otherwise." Startled, Sayn blinked several times, then rapidly regained her composure. She had not expected to see it here, but she HAD faced worship before. In this world abandoned by the gods, there were those who would leap at anything unexplainable as a sign of divine providence. Most of the time, it was annoying. This time, it served her purposes. She nodded with all the demigodly grandeur she could manage. "Very well - as long as you understand, you are forgiven. Rise, and take your place amongst your brethren once again."

The centaur returned to his hooves, eyes still filled with religious wonder. "As you say, Creator! Rest assured, in the coming battle, I shall prove my dedication to you!" He quickly walked back to the cluster of younger centaurs that were, presumably, his students, mumbling under his breath, and the eyes of the clan followed him. Sayn caught herself wondering if she had, perhaps, created a far bigger future problem in the process of solving this one. But there was no time for such reflections now. She had to use the window of opportunity created by the Shaman's sudden conversion to get through to the rest of the centaurs.

"Now, I speak to you ALL!" Her voice thundered again, and she felt her throat begin to ache from all the shouting. "If you think yourself less for letting those women ride on your backs, then what does that say of your thoughts when you ride THEM? They are not your slaves, nor your lessers, when they are beneath your bodies - and neither are you less than them when they are on top of you. As they offer their bodies to you, the least you can do is return the favor. And do not forget... while every stallion and colt will have their needs seen to, there are still many more of you than there are of them... and the ORDER in which you are served will be their choice... as will be the choice of whether to give you more than the most basic release. Consider that, before you ignore Chief Parekemnon's call for volunteers."

With that, she nodded and stepped back - along with the beast on her right hand - ceding the floor to Parekemnon once again. She could feel the awestruck eyes of the women on her back, and turned her head to give them a lopsided smile. The centaur's politically-experienced chief, meanwhile, swiftly took advantage of the awestruck crowd to make the aforementioned call for volunteers - and, predictably enough, he was immediately swamped as virtually the entire clan offered to take on the task. As he started handing out the suddenly-plum assignment - mainly to younger centaurs, with a few veterans mixed in just to prevent it from being obvious - Sayn leaned back against the flanks of her newest beast, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. Things would work out, for both the centaurs and the women. She wondered how many of the courtesans would choose to stay with the savage, nomadic tribe after the current war was over. She'd offered them significant economic incentives to draw them in, and those extra wages would disappear once she moved this 'camp follower' setup to a volunteer basis. But the centaurs had a strange, almost childlike exuberance to them, a liveliness and vitality that she'd learned to enjoy during her short stay amongst them... and, of course, they were all hung like horses.

It was well past dark when the meeting broke up... and 'broke up' was definitely the right word. It did not END, itmerely splintered into smaller segments. Some of the centaurs - particularly the older ones and the Shaman's lot - seemed to be enthusiastically discussing the future, and the new paradigm that choosing to follow Sayn over the wishes of their long-vanished god brought with it. The majority, however, were 'mingling' with the women, disappearing back to their own tents with them, or heading into the large 'Women's Kheymah', which would seemingly serve for the liaisons of the less shy specimens. Already, moans and groans could be heard in the night, muffled by rawhide walls.

Sayn smiled at the sounds. There were no screams, no protestations, no shouts, no crying. Everyone was having a good time, just the way it was supposed to be. The open plaza in front of the Chief's Kheymah was empty now, with even Chief Parekemnon having retreated into his tent... along with the twins, Jazera and Jareza, who had offered to show him how big-shot leaders lived in the Big City. There were sounds coming out of that tent, too. Only Achidias remained, standing by her side as he had during most of her stay... when he wasn't on top of her.

"That was a very impressive speech, Sayn Beast-maker." He commented quietly, staring into the night. "Although, I must confess that I would find it difficult to think of you as a god." Sayn grinned up at him. "That suits me just fine. It's occasionally useful when people do that - like today - but mostly, it's a huge pain. People who think that way always have far too high expectations of me, and tend to look at me strangely when I demonstrate a need for those basic, human necessities, like food and water, or sleep and shelter... or sex and companionship." She watched a slight blush creep into those gorgeous, high cheek-bones of his as she said the last bit, and giggled. An idea was starting to form in her mind.

"Say, Achidias... I'll be leaving within the hour, but before I do, I want to ask... did you enjoy the time we spent together over the past few days?" The smile he gave her in response was far more genuine, and less uncertain, that it would've been when they first met. "Of course I did, Sayn Beast-maker - and I should hope you enjoyed it too." She laughed, nodding. She had, in fact, enjoyed it tremendously. He was full of energy, eager to learn, ready to take on the world... well-hung and endlessly virile. Yeah, she'd enjoyed his company, repeatedly, and for hours at a time. His youthfulness and obvious respect for her also made it easier to resist the submissive impulses that his sheer size and strength naturally inspired in her.

"Well, I was just thinking... after this war's over, I'll have a lot of promises to keep to the centaurs. And while I do that, I need to prevent further conflict between centaurs and humans, without favoring either. Considering that, shouldn't the centaurs have a representative at my side? Someone who could remind me of my obligations to his kind, and - if necessary - provide insight into the tactical capabilities of the centaur forces on the battlefield. And perhaps, just keep me company sometimes..." Her voice grew smoother and throatier towards the end, and his eyes lit up with sudden eagerness as he caught on to where she was going.

"Are you... offering me a place by your side?" His voice left little doubt about his answer, and she nodded with a grin. "Indeed I am. It just so happens, you see, that the position of 'Centaur Consort to The Beastmaker' is currently unoccupied." He seemed about to jump to agreeing, but then his face suddenly resumed the serious expression she'd gotten so used to seeing on it. "A very tempting offer, Sayn Beast-maker. I will have to discuss it with my father, however. I have obligations here, as the chief's oldest son... and while I have younger brothers, none of them have become warriors yet. However, I am hopeful that we will be able to work out an arrangement. After all, ambassadorial duties are important too, are they not?"

She grinned as his voice told its own story. He wasn't about to just skip out on his responsibilities without a second thought, but he also had no doubt that his father would agree. With a nod, she jumped on the well-padded back of her golden beast, preparing to set out. "Very well, then. Ride to the battle with the rest of your people. When it is over, find me - and give me your answer. I'll be waiting for you..." He returned the nod with a smile, and she rode off into the darkness, mentally rallying all of her beasts to her - including the riding-beast she'd left at the camp's outskirts with her packs. Cybra appeared by her side as if by magic as she emerged from the camp, and the beasts began to form up around her.

"Well, that's one more alliance under your belt... and perhaps another Consort as well. You remember when I told you you could only have ONE, right?" She grinned down at it, hearing the note of sarcastic humor in its voice. "Yeah, but what can I say? I'm too much woman for any one man... or griffin... or centaur. And with Korlin around, it's not like anyone's gonna get all backstabbey on me." The fluffy little creature sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I just hope you aren't planning to pick one up at our next destination, too. Having a merman around the camp, tracking water everywhere... what a mess." She giggled at the mental image as the convoy turned towards the shore, and their final destination. "Oh, I'm not planning on anything like that... but on the other hand, I hear the mermaids are quite fetching!"

_______________________________________________________________________

Continued in SEA