This part concludes the first piece of Lillian's story. If there's demand and I feel the urge, I'll venture further in the story line -- it'll most likely be called "The Centaur's Mother".
Thankfully the chieftain did not seem to spend his nights sleeping in the great tent, which meant that Lillian had some privacy with which to clean herself up. It also helped her sleep a little easier knowing the lecherous centaur wasn’t undressing her with his eyes from across the room. Her jaw still hurt from the punishment he’d given it.
It wasn’t clear how she was going to escape, the main entrance was guarded by spears and even if she slit the wall or managed to slip under it, she would still be running from the center of a camp which was crawling with creatures that could outrun her ten times over. What’s more those creatures would be obligated to do so, even the one who had befriended her.
But then which was worse? Being spit through the back with a spear or being spit from behind by something softer yet perhaps just as deadly? The only way she could keep herself from panicking was by promising herself that if the time came, she would make a run for it, no matter what the consequences. She didn’t make much of her odds, even if she managed to elude centaur pursuit, which she doubted, there was always the looming threat of giant wolves. Granted the wolves would probably bring her to a kinder end.
But there was nothing to be gained by staying up and worrying about it. The fact was she was exhausted, if she wanted to try and somehow escape tomorrow she would need all her strength. And so she bunched her cloak beneath her head and laid down to a fitful night of sleep. Her dreams were haunted by visions of demonic creatures chasing her, tormenting her, and ultimately taking her.
She awoke at some point after dawn. The sun had not reached its apex, at least if the light spilling in from the tent’s ceiling was any indication, so it had to be before noon. Orieus was nowhere to be seen, which was a small comfort. The sleep had done her some good, she felt as though her wits had come back to her.
Lillian paced along the nearest wall of the tent. At roughly three foot intervals pegs had been driven through to hold it to the ground. Whoever had put the structure in place had taken great care to make sure that the material was stretched taught at every point. Try as she might she could not manage to lift the material more than an inch or two above the caked dirt that made up the floor. That just meant she needed to find something sharp to cut it.
The place was mostly empty, though she saw that the chieftain had left the support structure sitting where he’d used it the night before. It now had another piece of wood dangling off of it, held by a leather strap. She dismissed it from her mind. It wasn’t going to help her cut through the rough canvas of the tent. What she needed was a knife or a dagger. Something with a keen cutting edge would do nicely.
Unfortunately the tent was scrupulously empty of such implements. After scouring the place a few times she eventually came up with a metal implement – a spare tent peg. It wasn’t much, the point was so dull she almost doubted that it could hammer through the canvas, let alone cut it, but it was all she had and having it made her feel a little bit better.
She took the peg and drove it into the ground next to the chief’s wooden structure, so she’d know where to find it. Even with the entirety of its metal length buried in the ground it’s nub of a head still stood out conspicuously. Lillian knelt over it and worked her fingers into the packed dirt, carefully shaping the soil into a covering for the peg. After that she used her boots to tamp it down so that it looked roughly even with the surrounding area. It still looked a little obvious to her that something was buried, but she hoped that it was only due to the fact that she already knew it was there.
She heard a rustle and jumped back from her buried treasure. A guard stood in the doorway, a spear at his side.
“You’re to come to the noon feast, the chief wishes you to entertain his circle of headmen,” he said.
“Headmen?” she asked.
“Don’t ask questions, just come,” the guard instructed, picking up his spear in a menacing fashion.
Lillian sighed and tied her cloak back around her shoulders before getting up and letting the guard lead the way. They walked through the encampment. Lillian still attracted a fair number of stares. Eventually the guard spoke to her.
“I will say this, creature, the headmen are the most respected members of our herd, aside from the chieftain, so you had better behave. You don’t want to upset the chief.”
“But why am I going?” Lillian asked.
“Because the chieftain wants you there,” the guard replied unhelpfully.
Eventually they came to a small area free of tents, latrines, and common centaurs. There was no natural formation or centaur-built structure that designated it a special area, it was simply the presence of the centaurs standing there and the air of importance they projected.
Lillian looked at them all as she approached. Not one of the forms standing in the circle was female. Perhaps this world was not so unlike hers after all. The faces of these ‘headmen’ were as varied as any group of men she’d come across in her world. In the center of them all was a face she’d come to dread, though. Orieus. He laughed easily and seemed very satisfied with himself. After a moment he seemed to notice her approach and directed the attention of his small audience to her.
“Behold, my newest acquisition. Marvel at this oddity, it is exquisitely strange, is it not?” He beckoned for her to come to him. When she did not immediately comply the guard shoved her forward with a swift jab from the butt of his spear.
She stumbled to her knees in front of Orieus.
“Ah, you see? She just loves to get down to cock-height, didn’t I tell you? It was the damndest thing, mounting a mouth,” he winked at a centaur standing to his right.
Lillian said nothing, she simply got back to her feet and tried not to let herself wince despite what was surely a rapidly forming bruise on her back.
“I thought you said it talked?” said one of the headmen.
“Oh it does! It’s just being shy. Come now, my pet, say something, prove you can cobble a few sentences together,” the chief cooed to Lillian. She only glowered in reply.
“I said talk!” Orieus delivered a stinging backhand blow that sent Lillian right back to her knees.
“What do you want me to say?” she choked out.
“There, you see? I’m still breaking her in, but she’ll learn to take commands,” Orieus assured his audience. He trotted forward and pulled Lillian up so that she was on her feet once more.
“And you’ll be delighted to see that her top half is every bit centaur as it looks.” He yanked off her cloak and then stripped off her bodice and blouse, tearing them in the process.
Lillian stood half naked in front of this crowd of creatures. The breeze and the adrenaline pumping in her system had set her nipples erect, two small pink towers atop hills of milky white breast. A headman trotted up and fondled those breasts. She was so stunned by this brazen forwardness that she wasn’t sure how to react until he tweaked her nipples and she pulled away.
“See? Breasts as fine as any centauride,” the chief said proudly.
“Yeah, but what’s the bottom half look like?” said the headman who’d fondled her. There was a raucous chorus of cheers that went up from the rest at this.
“This is where it gets exotic,” Orieus replied. He tugged at her pants and belt, but the tough leather didn’t give so easily. Lillian quickly undid them to keep the chief from ruining those as well. Aside from her boots she was now entirely naked. She held one arm down her center, the other gripping it below the elbow. This managed to cover her left breast and the small amount of dark hair that sat atop her mound, but not much else.
Orieus grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, giving the crowd a look at her naked bottom. Rather than be impressed or howl cat calls as human males may have done, the centaurs merely look confused. That is until the chief pushed her forward by her neck so that she stood bent over. Now they could see the soft lips of her slit trailing back towards the hint of an opening. This was a sight the centaurs could recognize, even if it was still strange. They hooted and jeered once more.
“How much?” asked one of the headmen.
“She’s not for sale, lads,” Oreius replied smugly. “At least not until after tonight. If there’s anything left I’ll hand her over to the highest bidder.”
Lillian almost retched. If he had his way, and if she survived, all she had to look forward to was being sold off so that another centaur could take her, and so on. The sky seemed to spinning, it was all too much. In her bent over posture the blood had started rushing to her head, the smell of centaur was overwhelming, and their raucous laughter seemed to be pushing her mind far away. She fell to the grass and knew no more.
When she awoke it was in the tent, she could see the canvas material of the walls directly in front of her. To her right was fire light, she must have been out for a while if they’d lit the fire in the great tent. Then her heart jumped, if they’d lit the fire then that must have meant that it was night! Where was the chief? Was it too late for her to run?
Then she realized that she was slumped forward, her hands and head held rigidly still in… something. She moved her head left and right as far as she could and saw her hands sticking out of a wooden frame to either side. She though back to dangling piece of wood on the support beam and suddenly realized what it was. Oreius had made his craftsman fashion a crude stockade! She couldn’t see her body, but the dirt beneath her feet and the warmth of the fire clearly informed her that she was even more naked now than when she’d been in the field.
While she’d been out they must have removed her shoes and stockings. She heard a movement and saw a shadow stretch across the tent wall across from her. It was in the shape of a distorted centaur.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the chieftain said.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
“No, that’s the last thing I’m going to do. Don’t you remember? We’ve got some business tonight. Tomorrow maybe I’ll let you go, that is at least you’ll no longer be staying with me,” he said.
“You can’t do this!”
“Oh but I can,” he laughed.
The wooden frame shook and she could feel the heat of a body close to her. If she strained her eyes up she could barely make out the looming torso of the chieftain. His front half was resting on top of the board holding her head and hands in place, his forelegs hanging to either side of her.
Wasting no time, the chieftain bucked his hips and Lillian felt his monstrous cock press forward against her ass. It smeared her skin with slippery liquid. Orieus tucked his hips and thrust again, this time his cock pressed against her pussy, but the head was fully flared and all it did was push her forward, painfully, into the stockade and slip up and down against her. He thrust again and his cock slid right up and over her ass, resting along the lower half of her spine.
“Damn, this isn’t working,” Orieus grumbled. “Guard! Send in my seneschal!”
There was a rustle of tent fabric and the soft clopping of hooves.
“My chief?” inquired a voice.
“Did you bring what I asked?” the chief asked impatiently.
“Y-Yes, my chief,” the voice answered.
“Then get to it.”
Lillian wasn’t sure what was going on behind her. She could hear the new centaur moving around and then she heard an odd squishing noise. She suddenly felt the chieftain’s cock pressed against her as it thrust forward again, only this time it was held in place so that it could not slip.
The chief bucked his hips and she felt half of his flared head push between her pussy lips. It wasn’t just being held in place, it was somehow slicker, as if it had been coated in something.
“Yes! It’s almost in,” the chief cried.
Another thrust pushed the head of his cock inside her in its entirety. It was larger than anything she’d ever taken before and she cried out. She could feel the centaur above her, repositioning on the support to get better leverage. Another thrust pushed about a foot of absurdly thick cock inside, filling her to the brim. She wasn’t being torn in two, but it wasn’t pleasant, it was too big. It felt like an immense pressure inside of her, like she’d burst apart at any moment.
“Good, good, it’s in. Oh and it’s so tight. You can go now,” the chief said, dismissing his seneschal.
He began thrusting, hard. With each thrust his enormous cock barely slid out of her stretched pussy before it was slammed forward again. She could feel his cock bend each time it failed to find more room inside of her. Every thrust actually pushed her up off the ground an in or two, his cock alone supporting her.
The pain grew worse the longer it went on. And the longer it went on, the harder the centaur went at it. He was in a frenzy, bucking his hips with abandon. Tears flowed freely down her face. The chieftain cried out and she could feel his cock grow rigid, its head expanding painfully inside of her. She was held up off the ground for a long moment by his rigid member. And then what felt like gallons of hot cum was sprayed into her, filling every spare bit of space the centaur’s cock didn’t already occupy. A few more spurts and thrusts and then the softening, but still large, cock slid out of her. A torrent of centaur cum streamed from her aching pussy, running down her legs and to the dirt beneath her.
The chief dismounted and carelessly flipped open the crude stockade. Lillian slumped to the ground and put her hands to her abused slit in a futile effort at stopping the pain. She lay on the ground and moaned. She wasn’t dead, she hadn’t been mortally wounded, but she was going to be in pain for days at least. Her hand came to rest on an irregular lump of dirt. The peg. She scratched at the dirt with as much strength as she could muster. The iron peg quickly appeared. With groping fingers she managed to pull it from the ground.
Orieus still stood nearby, ignoring her. His half-hard cock was slick with whatever it’d been coated it and it glistened in the firelight.
“Well, I was right, you were a nice tight fit. I’m sure you’ll fetch a pretty price,” he said. “But then, maybe I’ll keep you a bit longer. I could do with fucking that little hole of yours a few more times.”
She whirled and stabbed up with the peg as best she could. The iron pierced the chest of the centaur’s horse half. Blood poured from the wound and Lillian pressed it home with all her strength.
Orieus screamed and reared, pulling the peg from her grasp. For a second it looked like he was going to land on her and trample her beneath his powerful hooves, but instead he gagged and fell sideways into the fire. Engulfed in flames he didn’t more, apparently already dead. She didn’t know if centaurs had two hearts or one, but she guessed she’d stabbed at least one of them and that seemed to be enough.
She got to her feet and hobbled over to the side of the tent where her clothes had been carelessly thrown to the ground. She put them on as best she could, making due with the torn bodice and blouse. But how would she escape now? The peg was still lodged in the chieftain’s body which was now starting to roast in the fire. The fire!
Lillian stooped and grabbed a flaming brand. The canvas of the tent quickly caught flame as she touched the brand to it. Soon the whole wall was on fire, but at its center where the fire had first started a hole opened where the charred material crashed to the ground. She hurried through the gap just as the guards entered through the front flap.
What followed was a painful and nightmarish run through a confusion of centaur bodies. She could hear horns sounding from somewhere back in the direction she’d come from. She ran straight into a heavy centaur.
“Oh, running away now, half-monkey?” said a centaur with a scarred face. It was Pholus.
And then Pholus was reeling backward under the blows of another centaur. Anchius! He grabbed Lillian and swung her onto his back. They stole into the darkness far faster than she ever could have on foot, especially with the pain each step brought to her abused insides.
“Hang on tight,” he whispered. She had never known a horse to go so fast. Anchius was sprinting as hard as he could. The confusion and pursuit were quickly left far behind. They had no idea where to look for her and, at the moment, probably didn’t know that she was being run to safety on the back of one of their own.
“You saved me,” she sobbed.
“Not soon enough… I was by his tent, I heard what happened. I’d meant to rescue you before, but he never let you out of his sight and I feared the worst. When I saw the fire start I knew it had to be you. Only you would be brave enough to try something like that.”
“I just want to go home,” she said softly, tears now flowing down her face.
“Do you know how to get there?” Anchius asked.
“No,” Lillian said forlornly.
“Then let’s go back to where I first found you. At the very least we’ll keep you far away from my herd. I owe you that much.”
It took them a day to reach the field. In that time they talked little. Lillian wanted nothing more to do with centaurs. What happened may not have been Anchius’s fault, but she’d been marked by it. The sight of him made her jump and it took a conscious effort on her part to bear his presence without screaming or running away. To his credit, Anchius seemed to understand this. He did not push conversation on her, and he kept his distance when they made camp.
When they reached the field Lillian slipped down from his back. It was just a field, nothing more. There was no well, no phantasm. She got to her knees and rested her hands in the grass. All she wanted was to go home. It didn’t matter what she’d do if she got there. She couldn’t go back to her town, she’d be jailed by the duchess, but she could go somewhere else. It could be anywhere, so long as it had no centaurs.
“Is there anything I can do?” Anchius asked quietly. Lillian jumped at the sound of his voice.
“No… I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do. I think I’m stuck here. I just don’t know why. I came here through a well… but there’s nothing here.”
“There’s a river a few miles to the west, let’s go there, at least you can get cleaned up,” Anchius suggested.
Lillian agreed to go. Some few miles later they stood at the river’s bank. It was a larger body of water than Lillian had ever seen. Her home was spotted with small ponds and marshes, but nothing truly large. She’d heard of large bodies of water, of course. There were lakes and even oceans, she’d just never seen them.
She walked to the river’s edge and looked into the water. At first she saw her own reflection staring back at her. It was a haggard face that she didn’t recognize all at once. There were dark bags beneath haunted eyes. Then the reflection distorted and what she saw was not herself but the outline of a figure, the phantasm. It seemed to reach out of the water and envelop her. And suddenly she was sinking below the surface, wrapped in this ghostly embrace.
In another shift without seeming transition she was standing in a familiar clearing beside a well. Was it…Could it be? She turned around in a circle and came to a dead stop when her eyes fell on the phantasm. It was fuller now, with more detail. While still largely insubstantial its image now suggested a woman of great beauty and strong features.
“What are you?” Lillian asked.
“I’m the river spirit,” it replied.
“But there’s no river in this world.”
“There was,” the spirit replied. “This well leads down to the last remnants of it. I am weak here. I am a shell of what I once was. In that other world, the river flows strong.”
“Then why not stay there?” Lillian asked.
“I am in both places, though I would not long remain here without the river, and once gone from this world, I would be gone from the other,” it answered.
“So you’re dying?”
“That’s as accurate a description as any other. But no longer. You have bridged the worlds.”
“What does that mean?” Lillian demanded.
“Your worlds are the same, but set apart by a thin veil. Prophecy held that until a centaur was conceived of this world, your two worlds should never meet.”
“But there aren’t any centaurs here! How could one be born?” Lillian protested.
The spirit reached out and laid a hand over Lillian’s stomach.
“You hold within you the answer to that question,” it replied.
“You mean?” Lillian held her face in her hands and sobbed. “Will it be a… monster, like them?”
“It will be a centaur. And it will be your son. Do not raise him as a monster and he will not be.”
When Lillian looked up the spirit had vanished. Then the ground began to shake violently. She was thrown hard from her feet. When the shaking finally subsided and she looked up, the world had changed. Where there had been a clearing and a well, there was now a scar in the earth, a trench that went down twenty feet or more. On one side stood the world that she knew, with its hills and forest. On the other side stood the world she wished she didn’t know, with its wide open plains. The trench filled with water and before long it looked much like the mighty roaring river that she’d gazed into only minutes before.