Mila and Balthazar Ch. 03

Mila the Orc sat in the bushes on the outskirts of the now abandoned centaur camp. After her rescue by the Minotaur Balthazar, the two had drawn up a plan to deal with the returning band of Centaur slavers. With the hulking form of the Minotaur out of sight, however, the Orc was beginning to have doubts about their ability to tackle 50 Centaurs. Still, she thought to herself, the Minotaur had saved her from imprisonment – she owed him.

As she went over the plan once more she heard the rumble of the herd approaching from the west. She took the moment of their approach to prepare her equipment. As she had to scavenge it from the Centaur camp it was quite meagre; a tight fitting but good quality studded leather jerkin, a small round steel shield and helm, a heavy bladed machete-like gladius, a few daggers and a light crossbow. Her clothes too were scavenged from the quadrupeds' encampment, resulting in an absence of both footwear and trousers. Nevertheless, she was an Orc. She was tough. She would make-do. The returning Centaurs were now entering the camp and Mila noticed they led a group of captive Minotaur heifers. The Centaurs guarding the heifers prodded them towards the caged wagon that once housed the lurking Orc – it would have been a tight fit in there had the five buxom, muscled, 8 foot tall Minotaurs been forced into the cage along with Mila, however it was at this stage that the guards noticed the Orc was gone and all that remained was the body of the young stallion that had been guarding her.

Immediately the alarm went up and soon Garsh of the Running Grass, leader of this herd, was raging about the camp, gathering warriors to him. That was Mila's signal. Slowly she raised herself from the scrub in which she had hidden. Then, attempting to make just enough noise, she turned on her heel and began to jog away from the camp. The Centaurs noticed her exit with alacrity and all too soon she heard Garsh scream "There's the bitch! Get her!"

Six Centaurs quickly broke from the rest and began to give chase. The Orc lengthened her stride, the tough soles of her feet pounding over the grasslands. She was fast, with great conditioning, but she was being pursued by Centaurs – experts in a chase. Thankfully she could see the slight rise that was her destination ahead of her. She fervently hoped the Minotaur Balthazar had come up with a plan that worked – the hill was another ten minutes away and the Centaurs were gaining. She was going to be cutting it fine.

On the other side of the small slope was a rough gully, carved by a now dry creek. Within crouched the bulk of the Minotaur Balthazar and in his hand he clutched a massive greataxe. His sharp ears picked up the sound of the approaching chase quite easily. With his green skinned ally nearing their planned ambush site, Balthazar nestled back into the gully embankment and waited. A few minutes later the toned form of the Orc Mila hurtled over the lip of the creek bed, tucked herself into a roll and sprang up the other side of the bank. With nary a backwards glance to give away her waiting comrade, the Orc quickly ascended the opposite embankment before dropping to one knee and levelling her crossbow at the charging Centaurs. Her quarrel struck true, deep in the chest of one of the onrushing group. Discarding the empty weapon, she unslung her shield and readied her blade.

With a shout, the remaining Centaurs launched themselves over the crest of the dry creek bed. Faster than Mila's eyes could really register, Balthazar's axe described a sweeping arc through the air, cleaving the hind legs out from under one of the leaping beasts. Surprised by the unexpected assault, the Centaurs staggered on their climb of the opposing embankment. Seizing her opportunity, the Orc leaped forward, stabbing downwards with her short sword into the shoulder of a stumbling pursuant. Balthazar, by that point, had wound up for another inexorable swing of his axe and promptly unseated one of the Centaurs' torsos from his equine aspect. The remaining two slavers balked and turned clumsily to face their ambushers, but were cut down in very short order. A scant minute later and the Orc and Minotaur were grinning at each other from across a gully now splattered with gore.

"Time for the second act..." growled the Minotaur, viciously.

Severed Centaur head in one hand, drawn blade in the other and covered in gore, the Orc Mila was a vision of furious vengeance as she stalked boldly to the edge of the camp. The four legged slavers quickly noticed her entrance, bold as it was, but it was when she threw the head of her erstwhile captors in a high arc towards the herd leader Garsh that all eyes in the camp fixed on her.

"Garsh!" she challenged, "Face me, or will you hide behind more of your peons?!"

"I shall relish fucking your broken body once I beat the arrogance out of you, slave," spat the herd commander as he seized a spear from a guard beside him and began toward the defiant form of the blood spattered Orc.

Working into a canter and then a gallop, Garsh was streaking across the intervening distance in very short order. Mila was ready, however. A smooth dagger cast overhand caught the Centaur leader in the chest of his horse-body. Before the dagger hit, the Orc was moving, cutting to the left and drawing her short sword. The staggered Centaur thundered to a sharp turn, hurling his heavy spear at the Orc as he banked around her. Mila felt her left wrist break with a shudder through to her toes. The point of the spear had been turned by her hastily raised shield, but the impact had not. Garsh was not ten feet from her now, drawing his own sword, and pain matters little to an Orc in battle – with a haste borne of instinct, she charged towards the profile of the Centaur, driving her shoulder into his side even as he drew his sword and brought it downwards in one fell swoop.

Despite the absence of the Orc, twelve Minotaur heifers will tend to fill any space they occupy; as it was, only four were in the barred wagon while the rest were chained behind it. Tall, proud herd-members, the heifers bore the haunch tattoo of the Caldus clan. Although farmers, they were still Minotaurs, and were well muscled and in good shape, taking pride in their physique. Their physical prowess and their eight foot height made the centaurs understandably cautious of their prisoners. Despite this, the duel between their leader and the runaway Orc was drawing much of the troop's attention. So it was that the Centaur guards did not notice the women discover a small cache of weapons and a key under the hay of the caged wagon.

Twisting sideways and leaning backwards into the flank of her foe, Mila parried upwards as Garsh's sword came downward. The impact was jarring, but Mila turned again, stabbing her short blade into the Centaur's exposed flank. Using the offered leverage of the buried sword's hilt she hauls herself onto the hapless troop leader's back. Garsh was getting more frantic with each pint of blood that gushed from his side. Roaring as he felt the Orc sling herself onto his back, he turned and connected an elbow with the impudent creature's jaw. With dismay he saw the Orc shrug off the pain, dropping her shield to grab his left arm with hers to press herself up to his back. With the Orc riding right up against his back, Garsh felt helpless as the Orc drew another dagger from her right boot. He felt nothing as she slit his throat with it.

Mila slid off the dead Centaur's back as it slowly collapsed to the ground. Bending to pick up her scattered weapons and shield she looked up to see the remains of a brutal melee being prosecuted upon the shocked, dishevelled and leaderless remaining slavers by a progressively better armed cadre of freed Minotaur women and one furious Minotaur bull. It was not long before what few Centaurs remained were fleeing across the plains.

The prison wagon was used to carry the wounded, and the Centaur mare that Balthazar had taken captive found herself between the reins pulling it. With the assistance of the able rescued captives, the wounded Minotaurs were taken quickly to the nearby Caldus village. Mila had been treated immensely well by the rescued minotaurs and, despite her protests that it was only a slight injury to her wrist, she found herself seated on the wagon driving bench watching the rump of the centaur prisoner between the leads ahead of her. From her raised position she saw the village clearly despite early night dimness.

Consisting of fairly elaborate tent like structures, Minotaur villages were mobile affairs to suit their nomadic lifestyle. Because of the vast strength of their architects, they could still be fairly elaborate and solid. Folding out of wagons driven by herds of oxen, some were vast structures of canvas and wood capable of having numerous floors. Villages tended to have two locations between which they migrated, a few of the more important structures were given solid foundations and were constructed close to a small, permanent wooden keep the clan maintained even during their migrations.

It was from this keep a troop of Minotaur warriors came running to greet the approaching group. Questions abounded and messages were soon sent to the freed Minotaur's farm informing them of the liberation of the captives. The wounded were carried to an infirmary tent and Mila and Balthazar were propelled by a boisterous group to a huge, semi permanent affair that could only be the inn and tavern.

The inn was packed with all manner of people. Mila cast her eyes about the cavernous main room and noted, mingled in among the looming bulk of the Minotaurs, a number of other races. Against a pillar leaned the tall, lithe form of a Felis, her furred bosom heaving as a bulky, muscled, leather clad barbarian attempted to make a good impression. Her flexible tail could be seen coiled around his leg and disappearing up his kilt. A number of humans dressed in a fashion similar to the barbarian chatting up the cat-woman were in the midst of consuming volumes of ale; obviously mercenaries on caravan duty, noted Mila. Against the furthest wall, seated at a table clearly oversized for even a human (and therefore making them seem quite small indeed) was a male goblin merchant and two female goblins. Mila could not tell if they were the merchant's guards by the way they were dressed, or concubines by the way the three of them were carrying on.

As Mila was surveying the scene, the bulk of a Minotaur appeared beside her. It was an old bull, massively tall, with a bulk borne of muscles going to fat. The Orc realised she was in the presence of the herd chieftain.

"Here," he said, thrusting a corked phial into her left hand, "the shaman says this will help your wrist. And I say this will help with everything else!" the big bull exclaimed as he foisted an over-brimming flagon into the other.

"Now, I believe I have an announcement to make," he continued as he shouldered his way through crowd to a small raised stage.

Mila downed the contents of the phial quickly, knowing from experience that healing draughts often had a flavour that made the wounds they healed seem almost appealing. She chased it quickly with a deep quaff from her flagon of rich Minotaur ale.

She was lowering the tankard from her lips when the old Minotaur began to speak. His deep voice quickly silenced most of the chatter in the room. "As many may know, the Caldus herd was recently raided by Centaur slavers; well, I, your chief, stand before you to state that justice has been delivered upon them! The captured slaves are returned, the slaver's leader lies dead, and what remains of the vermin are now scattered to the wind and the grasses."

The bull paused to drink deeply from his own flagon, and continued, "Herdguard Balthazar acted with cunning and tenacity to strike down our foes and return to us those the slavers had taken. With bold strokes of his axe he slaughtered the cowardly slavers!" another cheer erupted from the crowd as they turned to congratulate the hulking form of Balthazar.

"However," continued the ancient chief, and once again the room was hushed, "Balthazar was not alone. Our herd-members would not have been returned to us were it not for the valour of this Orc!" He gestured to Mila, who now found all eyes on her.

"Her actions have saved members of this herd, and so it is with pleasure that I proclaim her honorary Herdguard!" with the chief's proclamation a huge cheer erupted from the massed patrons. His following announcement that tonight's drinks were on the house brought forth another deafening roar from the crowd.

"The herd must further examine the cause of the raid to ensure more will not follow. Our guard may have to be strengthened. But strategizing and plans are for the morrow. Tonight, we celebrate!" With that exclamation, the tavern descended into a riot. Ale flowed, and as the barrels emptied the celebration took became progressively more debauched.

Towering above the room, despite the presence of numerous Minotaurs, Mila could easily make out the form of Balthazar. He was standing near the bar, arm around the shoulders of an ample bosomed heifer, his large hand inside the front of her leather tunic. The Orc slowly ran her eyes over the well muscled form of the bull. Clad in belted leather trousers but disregarding a shirt, the Minotaur's deep brown fur gleamed in the torchlight. Quite short and relatively light over his vast chest and chiselled abs, his fur became almost black over his back and legs and grew quite long over his shoulders, forming a thick mane that grew up and over his head. All in all, thought the Orc, a fine specimen.

She reached the bar and leaned her heavy breasts against the tall bar counter. The tawny young heifer that had been Balthazar's companion sauntered behind the bar and began to fill Mila's empty flagon as the Orc turned and met the gaze of the ten foot tall bull. She caught the flicker of his eyes as they moved upwards from her toned, rounded behind. She flashed a toothy grin and walked over to him.

By now the party had become an orgy, and various creatures were in various states of undress and coitus all around the room. The Felis still had her tail wrapped around a barbarian, except he wasn't the same one she had been talking to earlier and he was vigorously stuffing his heavy cock into her raised fuck hole. The goblin merchant was lying atop the huge table he was previously seated at while one of the goblin women slowly lowered her dripping pussy onto his upright (and, noted Mila, disproportionally large) shaft. The other female goblin was on the other end of the table, lying on her back with her face in the crotch of a female Minotaur, tongue working furiously. Meanwhile the long, thick cock of a Minotaur was firmly seated between her oil breasts. The young bull's member was so massive compared to the tiny form of the goblin that she had scissored her legs around it and was using her whole body to jack the beast off.

Taking a cue from the rest of the inn, Mila undid Balthazar's belt and unbuttoned his fly. Reaching into his trousers, she wrapped a hand around the semi-turgid member within and hefted it out of the Minotaur's pants. At ten inches while still semi-flaccid, the Minotaur's cock was going to be clearly too large for a human cunt, but Orcs were equipped a little differently from humans, and Mila licked her lips in anticipation.

Taking the thick, veined penis in both hands, she slowly began to stroke back and forwards across the velvety surface. A thick drop of pre-cum dripped from the flared tip of the Minotaur's cock as it began to engorge under the Orc's attention. In no time it had extended to a full twelve inch long and three inch wide throbbing, hard fuck pole and Mila's juices were flow in hunger.

With a glint in her eye and a wet groin starting a fire in her mind she growled huskily at the hulking Minotaur, "Fuck me. Now."

"My pleasure," smiled Balthazar as he watched the curvy form of the Orc strip off her clothes and drop them to the floor.

Her smooth, hairless, green skin shone under the flickering firelight. Her double-D breasts were heavy and round, crowned by small but pert dark green nipples. Despite being six feet tall and as muscled as a warrior should be, the Minotaur picked her up with ease and lowered her towards his waiting, erect cock. Mila locked her arms around the bull's broad neck while spreading her legs and wrapping them around his waist. Balthazar shifted his broad hands took a firm grip under each of the female Orc's firm ass-cheeks. Mila could feel the blunt, wide tip of Balthazar's shaft parting the lips of her pussy and with a shudder of pleasure the slid down onto the thick cock. With her head against the smooth, short fur of Balthazar's chest, the baritone rumble of satisfaction he emitted seemed loud above moans and groans of the orgy in full swing around them.

Flexing his immense biceps, Balthazar slid the smaller form of the Orc down his veined, granite erection. Mila's copious cunny-juice quickly lubricated the hefty member and before long the huge Minotaur was easily lifting the grinning form of the female up and down upon his cock, fucking her with long, slow, powerful strokes. Mila's clit was swollen with desire and elicited a shudder of pleasure from her every time the bull slid it along his rod. With each thrust she could feel the orgasm growing inside her and when Balthazar seated her on the edge of a table and began to quicken his pace all she could do was tighten her grip on him and watch in lusty fascination as twelve inches of Minotaur penis slid in and out of her.

Balthazar's first torrent of cum set off Mila's own orgasm. As it rippled through her, she felt her pussy contract over his turgid shaft, her muscles tightening as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her. The huge bull leaned over her, groaning a deep, rumbling moan as the Orc's battle hardened body tightened around him like a cock-sleeve, dragging out his already gushing orgasm interminably. His massive tool poured enough thick spunk into her that the creamy white liquid began to leak out and pool on the table edge and the floor below.

With a deep sigh of satisfaction and an audible pop, Balthazar withdrew his spent member from the tight confines of Mila's pussy. More of his viscous cum dripped out of her well used cunt as he stepped back from the nude, buxom Orc and flopped down onto the bench behind him.

"A good fighter and a good fuck too. I think you'll make a worthy companion, Herdguard Mila," smiled Balthazar.

"I think we'll get along just fine," she replied as she raised herself from the cum spattered table and sashayed over to the bar to refill her flagon.