Savaged by the Centaur

Hey there! Hope you enjoy the fourth installment in the "Wild World" series.

You don't have to read the others — since this is a stand-alone — but they might provide some context if you're meeting Robin for the first time.

Without further ado...

*****

Light rippled along the red locomotive as it rattled toward the sleepy town of Southnesse. It wended down the mountainside, sputtering a column of smoke into the clean, crisp air.

Robin opened the window of her carriage and breathed deep. Her eyes swept across the broad valley and rolling plains, the latticed streets so far away among blocks of red and gray roofs.

'Beautiful' isn't the right word, she thought. It looks magnificent.

She idly wondered if Mara was somewhere in that cobbled geometry of cottages, criss-crossing roads and stores. She was surely going about her morning chores. More likely than that, she was tidying her home for her big sister's arrival.

Robin smiled at the thought.

"Ey, lassie," came a voice from outside the compartment. Robin turned to see a man hanging forward between the doors, his broad, hairy chest extended outward. At second glance, it was clear he wasn't a man at all. He was a troll.

They'd come from the wilderness years back and assimilated with local communities. There weren't many of them, but they were easy to distinguish. Their stature and distinct features were unlike any of the beastmen now commonplace.

The troll in the doorway had a heavy brow over a pair of dark eyes. A long nose hung like a limp sausage across part of his mouth, filled with square, gray teeth. Dense fur bristled from the parts of his body that weren't covered by an ill-fitting vest and coat.

"Mind if I share this cabin with ye?" he asked.

"Uh— of course," Robin stammered. He was exceedingly polite for a troll, but then again, she'd never met one before. They were just as large as she imagined — just as ugly — but the stranger's rag-tag clothes made him look far less imposing.

Still, she could smell the stranger's heady musk as he lowered his bulk across from her. The seat groaned beneath his mass as he shifted back and forth. As much as the troll affected an air of civility, he was a monster, at least in size.

"Couldn't stand the wife's nattering," the troll explained. "Had to leave fer a bit."

"Ah," Robin said, nodding. Her wide blue eyes were fixed on the troll, full lips pursed in the beginning of a question. She wasn't sure what she was going to ask, but she knew she had to say something. "So what brings you to Southnesse?"

"Needed a break," the troll replied. "Thought I'd 'blow off some steam,' as ye humans say."

"Right," Robin said. She smiled slightly, glad the window was open. The troll's thick aroma was almost visible. "Were you planning on anything in particular?"

"A gathering a'friends an' some family down by the riverside. My pal'o Samson sent me a letter a little while back, said to take a few days off. So I told the wife, 'We're going to Southnesse.'"

The troll rested his large, hairy hands over the windowsill and looked out across the valley. The morning sunlight softened his roughhewn face. Dark eyes glittering, he said, "Quite a sight, innit?"

Robin followed the troll's gaze. It was quite a sight.

...

Her foot had hardly touched the platform before Mara was there, hugging her in a tight embrace. Robin was suddenly overwhelmed with orange hair, the scent of hay and a rapid volley of questions from her captor, each more filled with laughter and lovelier than the last.

"Was it a good trip? Was it long? Were you comfortable? Were you—"

Mara's excited giggling cut the line of inquiry short. She pulled back from Robin and looked up into her big sister's face. A wide smile dimpled her tan, freckled cheeks, her large blue eyes shining with boundless affection.

"I was very comfortable, buttercup," Robin replied, drawing her sister against her chest. "And it was long, but it was a good trip. I met a very friendly troll."

Robin felt her sister gasp. She pulled back with an expression of shock and delight. "You met a troll?" Mara asked. She glanced around the platform for any sign of him, grinning with giddy curiosity. "Was he big as the stories?"

"Bigger," Robin said. "And guess what."

"What!"

Robin raised a folded piece of paper. The letters on it were loose and almost illegible, but an address and time were clearly marked among the creases.

"He invited me to a party at his friend's home. Might be something to do..."

"Robin!" Mara half-whispered, as though the invite was something scandalous.

"Mara," Robin said with a coy smile, "It's only a party."

"Nothing's ever... only anything with you," Mara said, pausing over her words.

"Come again?"

"Nothing's ever... nothing's only ever..." Mara tried, but she burst into laughter.

"You've become quite the philosopher since we last met," Robin said, giggling as she linked arms with her little sister and left in the direction of the town, suitcase in tow.

...

Mara's cottage was cozy and colorful. There were flowers in the windowsills, flowers in the garden and flowers along the path that led to the door. She had even painted flowers on the mailbox, tulips and pansies in pink, red and yellow.

Robin quietly admired her sister's greenery as they pushed through the white picket gate. "Are you planning on entering this year's flower festival?" she asked.

"Maybe..." Mara said, pursing her lips. "Maybe, maybe."

"Why maybe? You're always—"

Robin paused mid-sentence at the rhythmic stamping of hooves. The steady sound grew louder as something — presumably a horse — galloped closer.

A figure emerged from behind the house, cutting the sunlight with his impressive form. He was half-horse, half-man, rippling with muscles and menacing in his expression. The centaur looked down on Robin with a furrowed brow and tight frown, stroking his dark beard with a hairy hand. Intimidating though he was, the broad, heavyset brute was making a clear attempt to avoid the flowers.

Mara greeted the stranger with a loud, "Morning Aristanes!"

The centaur nodded, never taking his eyes off Robin. "Who is she?"

"This is my sister! Robin!"

"G-good to meet you," Robin said, extending a trembling hand. She was slightly shaken by the centaur's unexpected arrival, his powerful presence and steely gaze. He looked at the gesture with disdain, then turned his flank and galloped away.

"He's a little slow to trust," Mara said, watching him leave. "But he's nice once ya get to know him. Er... he's nice enough. Just have to give him some time. Let's go inside."

Mara led Robin along the rest of the path to a wide wooden door, turning its rusty knob as she pulled it open. "C'mon," she said, kicking off her shoes and climbing a step into the small kitchen. It was spotless, as Robin had expected, but that was far from her mind.

"You don't lock your door?"

"No need," Mara said, spinning on her heel. She caught a teapot by the handle and brought it to the sink, turning the faucet as she continued, "Southnesse isn't like the city. We don't have much crime here. And Aristanes is also around."

"About him."

"Mm?" Mara hummed, arching her eyebrows as she placed the teapot on the stove and turned the dial. "What about him?"

Robin shook her head a bit, as though the question were obvious. When Mara didn't answer, she asked, "How did that start?"

"Ah, well, he was passing through with his herd. Or is it a tribe? He was passing through with his friends, and he decided to stop off in Southnesse for a short time. Which isn't too uncommon," Mara explained, opening the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. "We met, and he's been here ever since."

Robin tilted her head. "I feel like there's something missing from your story."

"Like what?" Mara asked with a small smile. Robin narrowed her eyes, fixing her sister with a piercing stare until she held up her hands. "All right! Okay!"

"You really...?"

"Not entirely," Mara replied, a blush spreading across her tan cheeks. "We should probably sit down," she said, drawing a chair from beneath the kitchen table.

"Ah, so you can still sit. That's good," Robin teased, eliciting a slight giggle.

"Stop," Mara said, still smiling. "We haven't gone all the way or anything. I mean, we tried, but he's, uh..." She hid her face in her hands a moment, then looked out at Robin from between her fingers. Her next words were muffled.

"What?"

"He's too big," Mara said.

"I see. And you've tried—"

"We've tried a lot of different things," Mara said. "But nothing really works. So for the time being, I just, um, help him in other ways."

Robin perched her chin on her hands and leaned forward. "What other ways?"

"Well, with my hands, with my mouth..." The teapot hissed.

"Hah!" Robin clapped her hands. "My little sister is into centaurs. Who would've known?"

"Not me," Mara said as she stood from her seat to pour the two of them tea. "Not until I tried it for the first time. He's just so..."

"So..."

"So dominant."

"Beastmen usually are," Robin replied.

"Yeah! Who are you to talk, anyway?" Mara asked, grinning. "You've slept with your share of beastmen. And that troll..." She lifted the teapot carefully as she filled the two mugs.

"Regular men aren't really my thing. And you just can't compare them to..." Robin started, then stopped. Mara turned around, holding the mugs. The teabags had just started to seep.

"Can't compare them to...?"

"I think you have enough experience to know what I'm talking about," Robin said.

"What kinds though?"

"Sorry?" Robin said, leaning back in her chair.

"What kinds of beastmen have you been with?" Mara asked, setting the mugs on the table as she took the seat next to Robin.

"Never a centaur," she said with a mischievous grin. "But I've been with bullmen, horsemen, pigmen, satyrs and lots and lots of dogmen."

"Wow." Mara blinked. "Why dogmen?"

"I'll give you one guess," Robin said, swiveling to pronounce her wide hips and heavy butt. The soft fabric of her dress clung to her womanly form, catching slightly.

"Ah," Mara nodded. "And it's always a one-time thing?"

"Not always. But most of them are a lot more animal than man, I can tell you that," Robin said, smiling down into her tea. "Anyway, are you and Aristanes... Is that right? Aristanes? Are you and him exclusive?"

"Not really. I think that's for the best though," Mara replied, bringing her mug to her lips. She blew on it, took a cursory sip and scrunched her face. "Hot hot hot."

"Right," Robin said, taking an absentminded sip of her tea.

...

The sky was a deep, speckled blue, cloudless and clear. It was late in the evening, but the air was still warm and Mara seemed no less energetic. She skipped ahead of Robin, her arms freighted down with bags from various stores.

Robin fought to keep up, carrying the clothing and curios they'd purchased over the course of the day. It had been long, and tiring, but she relished every second with her little sister. Even when she overspent on useless trinkets.

"Almost home!" Mara shouted.

They were walking down the dirt road toward the cottage, and the flowers which were so colorful in the daylight now looked like they were sleeping, muted and pale. The glow from the street lamps only emphasized the effect, adding shadows to the growing darkness.

At long last, they arrived at the cottage. Mara had already passed through the gate and front door, leaving both of them open for Robin's convenience. She slipped into the yard, but stopped at the distant sound of hooves. Aristanes must have still been up.

Her mind wandered back to earlier that day — not for the first time. She remembered his bulky musculature and broad body, the definition in his front legs and massive flanks. He was so powerful, so masculine, and the sheer idea of him made her restless.

Saving that thought for later, she passed through the doorway of the cottage.

...

Robin checked her phone. It was 11:15 PM. How could it be 11:15 PM? She felt like she'd checked hours and hours ago, but only fifteen minutes had passed. That wasn't possible.

Swinging her legs from the bed, she stood upright and turned around. The sheets were a mess. With a sigh, Robin looked down at her feet, then at the body-length mirror by the wall.

The dim moonlight wasn't much to see by, but it emphasized her shapeliness with shadows. She turned from side to side in her white negligee, biting her lip as she played with a thought. It had been with her for much of the day, and now, in the darkness, it crept from its hiding place.

Would Aristanes be open to... Robin mused. Would Mara be mad if...

Robin paced from wall to wall, stopping in front of the window. She pulled the curtains open a bit more to peer through. Far across the yard was the barn where the centaur was staying. Mara was kind enough to let him live there if he fixed it up, or so she said that afternoon.

I wonder if he's still awake... there's no harm checking. And I really should apologize for today, Robin reasoned. She knew it was a flimsy excuse, but it was enough to get her moving. Wrapping a red robe around her negligee, she padded down the hallway past her sister's room. When she arrived at the back door, she stopped.

"Okay," Robin whispered. She found her courage and turned the knob, sliding through the doorway without a sound. Softly, slowly, she closed the door behind her until it clicked into place. Robin let out a breath and started toward the barn.

The night was silent, save for the chirping of field crickets, and Robin worried she'd step on a branch and wake her sister. But the yard was clear and the farther she went, the less anxious she felt. A new sensation was building inside her — one of excitement, curiosity and arousal.

She could feel her heartbeat quicken, the pangs of pleasure in her lower stomach. The warmth in the valley of her thighs was starting to swell. Will he be rough? Will he mount me like a mare? A hot flush swept through Robin's face and chest at the lurid thought.

Before long, she was at the entrance to the barn. Her robe had fallen open to reveal the freckled fat of her full breasts. They strained against her negligee, and when she noticed she made only a modest attempt to conceal herself.

Now what? Should I knock? Robin thought. I shouldn't sneak in. He might think I'm an intruder. So I guess it's best to knock.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugged her robe and lifted her fist to the large wooden door. She held it there. And held it there. And finally...

Knock-Knock-Knock

...there was no response... then rustling. Robin heard the unsteady clop of hooves on creaky wooden boards, as though an enormous monster was hoisting itself upright. Seconds later, a latch clicked and the barn door slid aside.

Robin's senses were inundated with musk and dust, her eyes watering as she looked up into the dark face of Aristanes. His features were obscured in the dim light, but the towering centaur was clearly displeased.

"The hour's late. What brings you," he said, his words as stiff as his stoney expression. His eyes, however, weren't as dispassionate as the rest of him. They traveled down Robin's neckline to the valley of her cleavage.

Robin straightened her back, leaning forward a bit as she said, "I felt like I didn't make a great impression earlier today. It was bothering me..."

The centaur stomped his back hooves as though irritated, but he didn't look irritated. If anything, he seemed anxious, the corner of his lips twitching beneath his beard. His nostrils flared as he continued to shift.

"I just wanted to say... ooh..." Robin lifted her shoulders and clutched her arms as a breeze tussled her hair. "It's a little chilly out here. Do you mind if we talk inside?"

Aristanes stepped back from the doorway. He flicked on an electric lamp hanging from the rafters as Robin crossed the threshold. She looked around the spacious room, from the flattened straw where the centaur presumably slept to the vacant stables. A raised platform along the back wall made her think of her conversation with Mara, and the blanket over the neighboring partition only confirmed her suspicions. She smirked.

The rattle of the barn door disrupted her thoughts. Robin turned to Aristanes as he fastened the latch with a click of finality. All pretense had vanished.

Robin smiled, sauntering forward. "I'd really like to start over, with introductions, I mean." In the soft glow of the lamplight, she undid the belt of her robe. "No handshakes this time."

Aristanes breathed sharply through his nose as the robe slid from Robin's shoulders. She let it fall to her feet. Her negligee did little to cover her form; the cleave of her heavy breasts; her ample thighs; the width of her sizable hips.

"You wanna see more?" she teased, tracing a hand along her motherly figure to the dark patch on her panties. She turned her back, baring her broad hindquarters to the centaur. The sound of his excited stomping brought a smile to her rosy face.

"Take it off," Aristanes demanded.

Robin's heart leapt at the command. She looked over her shoulder and grinned. "Take what off?" she asked. "This?" Robin played with the strap of her negligee. "Or this?" She pulled at the hem of her panties.

The centaur gave a decisive nod as she tugged at her waistband.

"You're all business, huh?" Robin said with a laugh. She hooked her thumbs in her panties, bending for the centaur's benefit as she shimmied the material over her expansive backside. She felt the air and smelled her own arousal. Soon enough her panties joined her robe.

Robin lingered like that for a moment, presenting herself to her mate, her pink, swollen lips gleaming with moisture. She reached between her legs to spread her folds.

"Do you think you'll fit?" She asked with a coy smile. "I heard you're pretty big."

Aristanes trotted toward Robin, his gait off-kilter. A column of horsecock hung beneath him, bobbing with each step. It was twice the length of a forearm and just as thick. A pair of cantaloupe-sized balls swung at its base.

Robin's eyes widened at the sight. Still bent over, she tried to stand but was quickly knocked onto all fours. All the air in her lungs left her in a sharp gasp, her palms and knees burning from the sudden contact with the wood.

It was clear how Aristanes intended to take her — like a broodmare in season. She could feel the weight of his underside against her back. The centaur's stout frame allowed him to stoop lower, and he did, dragging his flare up her inner thighs as he snorted.

Aristanes lined up his head with Robin's entrance. She bit back a cry when his horsecock pressed hard against her pussy. He was making short, uncertain thrusts, grunting above her as he searched out her hole. Robin raised her hips to help him.

With a whinny of pleasure, Aristanes slipped his flare into Robin's pussy. She arched her back and opened her mouth wordlessly, blinking. Her voice eventually returned to her in a long, low groan. It hurt — he was stretching her beyond her limits — but the sheer size of him was agonizing ecstasy. She clenched her jaw, shuddering at the sensation.

Aristanes held himself there, and Robin heard a throaty chuckle. "Far more suitable than your sister," the centaur said. And with that, he thrust downward, deeper into her passage. She cried out as the brute buried his fat horsecock in her tensing pussy. She could feel his flare traveling lower and lower in her stomach. "Raise your ass, woman."