Page 21 of One Night With the Herd

I open for him. Funny how quickly these centaurs have rewritten my perspective of a "big" cock. What Fallon is working with is still equine and too big for me to fit even half his length down my throat. Yet he's slimmer than the others, so as he presses into my mouth, I think, oh, this is a comfortable size.

Magnus, on the other hand, is thick. Even though he's heavily lubed and I'm gaping wide, it takes a grunt of effort for him to push through my sloshy hole. He slides slowly into me, expanding my sore channel with every inch he gains. It's fucking insane how deep and wide he reaches. I didn't think my body had any room left to stretch.

Magnus finds a strong rhythm but doesn't last long. Maybe the knowledge he's thrusting into Vincent's still-warm release tips him over the edge. When he comes, only one sharp grunt escapes him.

Mmmm. I think I'm already addicted to the feeling of a huge centaur cock splashing hot cum in my guts. My body has become nothing but a receptacle for their pleasure — as it should be.

Peacefulness hums beneath my skin. Despite my efforts to stay alert, my mind drifts. I am increasingly reluctant to pay attention, to mentally track the centaurs around me and note who shoves which part of themselves where.

Damnit, I just want to let go and enjoy. Can I? Do I trust these centaurs enough? Or will I come to my senses later and regret being so vulnerable?

Both cocks withdraw from my body. A calloused finger strokes wet paint across my ass. Its diagonal sweep reminds me it marks load number five.

Fallon mounts the bench and pushes into my hole. His smaller size feels reasonable compared to the others. He sighs, muttering in awe about how hot and wet it feels.

Nobody claims my mouth, giving me a rare chance to breathe. I stretch my sore jaw. My tongue is swollen, as if I'm drunk or cold. Fallon's steady thrusts in my body are rhythmic; lulling.

A finger hooks under my blindfold. "I'm gonna take this off for a second, kitty. You ready?"

I'm spacing out so much that Alaric's voice startles me. "O-tay," I mumble.

When the blindfold comes off, I wince. Even the low candlelight makes me blink. When my eyes adjust, I find Alaric's warm gaze.

"Fallon is number six, Kitten," he says softly. "That's a perfectly respectable number for your first time. Do you want to stop? You're nice and loose, and you're doing so well. I believe you can take more, but it's up to you. Be honest, beautiful."

I squint at him. I shouldn't. Right? If we continue, I'll drop into subspace for sure. I rarely allow that. I have to keep my head above water, look out for myself because no one else will.

Unless…Alaric will? I search his handsome face. I like him, but does that mean I can trust him?

My half-mumbled words are jostled by Fallon's thrusts. "If we…I'm g-gonna…I'm gonna f-fly. W-will you…?"

Alaric studies my eyes. His smile is warm and knowing. "I hear you, Kitten. I get it. Don't be afraid to fly, okay? We'll give you all the cream your hungry kitty belly can hold, and all you have to do is enjoy. I'll be right here the whole time. I promise."

"P-pinky swear," I mumble.

Alaric laughs. "Yeah, beautiful. Pinky swear." He squeezes the back of my neck. I. Got. You.

I stare into Alaric's kind eyes. All at once, certainty settles deep in my bones. "Okay. I trust you."

As if on cue, Fallon empties into me with a little cry. His hot cream fills my insides, mixing with the five huge loads that came before it.

My eyelashes flutter. Alaric's warm smile blurs. Happiness buzzes in every corner of my brain — and this time, I sink into it. Tension dissolves. My body sags against the restraints. I feel secure, peaceful, and safe.

The cock in my hole tugs free, Fallon panting breathlessly as he clatters to the ground. Alaric kisses my cheek before resettling my blindfold. I hear him shuffle a few steps — and whistle.

Movement surges from all around: eager, drumming hoofbeats. I have no idea how many stallions Alaric summoned, but I'm not worried. I'm just the herd's fucktoy. I don't worry about these things. Alaric will look out for me, and it'll all be fine.

I close my eyes…and let go.

Chapter Nine

Unknown hands stroke me everywhere. I don't bother cataloging the pets, pinches, and caresses. Exploring fingers evaluate my gaping hole while others push into my mouth, testing how well I suck. Both are pulled out and replaced by achingly thick centaur cocks.

Complete strangers whose names I may never know dump their loads into my body one by one. My limp body is tossed within the restraints, shaken like a rag doll by the force of each stallion's pumping. Voices babble in the background of my bliss; whether they are speaking to me or to each other, I don't know or care.

Only Alaric's voice rises above the noise. He orchestrates everything. He tells the lustful centaurs when they're allowed to mount or touch, and when they have to give someone else a turn. He commands whoever is fucking my ass to slow down or speed up, thrust harder or shallower, depending on if I'm silent — or moaning around the cock in my mouth.

I am vaguely aware of the tally marks accumulating, but I lost count long ago. My stomach swells. My formerly flat belly is round, pressed tight against the leather. My hole is sore and my throat is ragged, but my awareness of the pain is distant, like I'm reading about it in a book instead of feeling it.