Two centaur women hauled Junus away as he thrashed, his arms and legs beating against their bodies. Bare-chested and fairly pretty, he'd been a fool and fallen for their request to "Speak about a danger to their village." He'd been crossing the nation of Vouna to return home after the great war, and he couldn't pass by the centaur as they pleaded with him.
He was a hero, after all.
With little effort they'd taken his ax; the women were as mighty as trolls. No longer strong and demanding, his voice had gone hoarse from constant screams for help. Calls for "anyone" or "Simon" or "Zeus, help," produced no savior.
His heart raced, shooting blood and adrenalin though his exhausted body, pushing him into an allover body convulsion.
They'd entered a centaur village deep within the Vouna Forest. A large crowd of centaur men and women, as well as humans, watched his abduction with interest.
"Help me!" he called out. The observers looked to each other and laughed, or talked together with waving hands and eager nods. All of them seemed pleased.
The fillies dragged him into a large, wooden building near the east end of the village. There, with little ado, they stripped him of his clothes. His jeans slipped right off his legs like cheap traitors as one woman held his arms and the other worked on the clothing.
"Why are you doing this?"
They didn't say anything to him, but babbled on in the centaur language that sounded like Greek mixed with whinnies, neighs, and snorts. His focus on its nuances, though, died a thorough death as they tore off his smalls.
Soon, he stood bare assed, trying vainly to cover up his bits as the women stood back and admired him. He felt hot and cold all over. Maybe he was delirious, in some fever dream.
That was it.
He was still on the battlefield. In the healer's tent right now. And the healers were all rushing around him, brown robes fluttering in their haste to heal him of his madness. That had to be it.
One of the centaurs licked her lips and smirked. They weren't even the same species!
In a flurry of activity, the two women, joined in by a third, began scrubbing him down with rough bar soap that smelled of leather and wild herbs. They giggled as they ran their hands over every inch of him, leaving nothing untouched. As if from the bites of fire ants, Junus's face prickled as they washed his cock and ass. Due to the angle his arms were forced in, his shoulders ached. He'd almost stopped struggling, too exhausted, too locked in an unreal state of panic.
"You are very lucky to be chosen," said the prettiest centaur women in thick English. "You are sexually pure?"
Junus's skin felt on fire. "Ah, of course not. I'm very experienced." Maybe they'd kick him to the curb if they thought he'd fucked his way across Paralia. He was a soldier, after all. "I've had half the whores in Petra City."
Then, without any hint or warning, something pressed against his anus.
"Gah!" He squirmed away from the intrusion. The women giggled again, smiling and nodding like they'd just learned their first jumping trick.
"Oh yes!" said another of the women. "Very pure. This is fortuitous."
Junus tried to struggle again, but his muscles had gone numb. A heaviness flooded his body. His head flopped to the side. The newest centaur held him upright as the others strapped some apparatus onto his groin.
"Stop!" Did he even speak? The word bounced around in his head. His leg twitched, his heart pounded violently against his sternum. Soon, thick straps of leather separated his cock from his balls, while a slim object punctured his hole. The straps held together with a network of buckles, twisting and turning around his groin. It resembled, in some twisted, masochistic way, an old fashioned chastity belt.
They carried him to a bed of straw covered by a linen sheet and set his unresponsive body onto it. Without another care, the women returned to the washing area and began to clean up. After a few minutes, Junus could twitch a finger, then roll his head.
When partial control returned to his arms, he lunged for the leather straps; he pulled on the leather, fumbled with the buckles, struggled in every way with the apparatus, but all his efforts did was pull tight his dick and almost cut off his bollocks. He's pull on one strap and it would tighten another. He couldn't figure out the trick. The three women stopped their work and watched him. He couldn't remove the thing up his ass either, the harness so tight it gave him no slack to pull it out.
"What is this?" He stood naked, trying to hide his bruised equipment that hung limp around the leather straps.
"It is your ipposkin. Your harness to prepare you for your final claiming in three months."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He could run, maybe dart out the door and hide under the building, crawl into some small place the centaurs couldn't get to. Or climb a tree? Maybe find some horses and ride one out of there?
Everyone would see him, though, naked and trussed up like a sperm cow.
"We must go now. You can walk?" the pretty centaur asked, blinking her slanted eyes at him.
With blossoming hatred, he glared at her.
She smiled warmly, and the original two descended upon him, wrapped him up in a thin, silver robe, and dragged him outside into the bright light of day.
A parade seemed to be in progress as a long, double line of centaurs—all colors and sizes: bays, roans, appaloosas, huge percheron—trotted by, prancing with various articles of adornment such as necklaces or headdresses, though most were as bare as the women who'd manhandled him.
His escorts, one on either side, led him up onto a stage where he shifted on his bare feet, silver robe wrapped tight around his body. The village of kidnappers all looked up at him. He had no idea why they'd taken him, no hope for an ally.
Trapped, and this time, alone. Zeus, he wished Simon and Teris were with him. He wished he hadn't fallen for the pretty centaur's and their plea to his pride. He wished he had slept his way across Petra City. He wished.....
The lines of the parade split; one went right and the other went left around his stage, circling him. At the rear of the progression a centaur woman trotted through the crowd, and the mass of humans and centaurs raised their voices in a welcoming cheer. Her features were typical for a centaur, slightly elongated nose and chin, pointed ears. She had full, brown hair that trailed down her human back to the shoulders of her horse body. Her breasts were firm and modest, and a circle of ivy rested on her head. Her almond shaped eyes were the most brilliant purple he'd ever seen. And they looked right at Junus.
She pawed the earth with her hoof and addressed the waiting crowd, who'd quieted with the simple lifting of her hand.
"Welcome, my people." She spoke in thick English. "I am pleased you have come out to witness the claiming of my Engitis. As you know, it's been many years since the star-watchers had discovered ..."
He stared over at the one of the centaurs on the stage with him. "What is an Engitis?" He expected no answer.
She smiled at him, dipping her head. "It means consort, or chosen one."
Junus suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.
