Mila and Balthazar Ch. 02

Inch long incisors on your lower jaw can make sucking cock rather difficult. It was quite a feat that the Orc Mila had not only negotiated that obstacle aptly but had gone further and come to excel at the task. She fully enjoyed lavishing some oral attention upon fine hard specimens, in fact; the bigger the better.

The cock she was currently rolling her tongue over belonged to a young centaur buck. It was hard, and had a pleasant velvety texture, but it was not overly large, for a centaur. Mila reached a deep green hand out to cup the young creature's heavy balls as she bobbed her head over the end of the twelve inch shaft. Each testicle alone easily filled her palms; each was warm and hefty to the touch.

Under normal circumstances this lusty Orc with the double d chest would have relished the task before her. The site of a well hung creature almost always set a fire burning within her. The presence of a cage around her and a crossbow in the centaur's hand changed the circumstances significantly, however.

Prisoner of the centaurs, Mila was in a desperate situation, despite the absence of the entire raiding troop but for the young guard she was currently servicing and an older filly suffering a wounded ankle. Even in such a position, attempting to force a blow-job from an Orc with inch long tusks should have been a brief, ugly and painful experience, but Mila's young stallion guard had demonstrated a singular lack of common sense by not realising that external factors beyond his crossbow quarrel may be keeping the Orc's deep green lips locked around the head of the centaur's throbbing penis.

From her vantage point looking out underneath the round belly of the young buck, Mila's orange eyes could see the filly lying on her side to nurse her ankle, yet angled so as to be able to watch the throat-fucking that was going on at the prisoner wagon. Mila began to stroke a hand up and down the thick horse-cock as she watched the filly begin to masturbate; using the haft of her bow to rub deep within the heavy, moist folds of her pussy. The Orc could sense the young centaur was close to soaking her with cum and yet she broke rhythm, slowing down to hold back the gathering storm. The stallion shifted from hoof to hoof in anticipation.

"Drop your weapons. Both of you!"

The centaur's velvety shaft erupted with a torrent of jizz. Mila's mouth was immediately full of the horse-cock's juices. More of the thick white substance was dripping down the Orc's green chin and splattering onto her heavy, heaving breasts, only to begin a molasses-slow decent into her cleavage.

The order had been delivered in a low, rich, rumbling tone. The order had come from a massive, ten foot tall minotaur, now looming over the centaur filly and hefting a huge great-axe in his left hand and cocking back a smaller hatchet (only about the size of an Orc or human wood axe, thought Mila drily) in his right. It was the same Minotaur that Mila had been watching sneak up behind the reclining female centaur from across the field to the west for the past ten minutes.

The young, stupid centaur guard turned his torso towards the Minotaur bull and began to raise his crossbow. Mila bit down. Balthazar threw his hatchet.

The centaur's crossbow bolt went very wide and hit some grass 150 yards to the right of the Minotaur's ear. Mila spat out the now bleeding penis that was in her mouth. Balthazar's spinning hatchet hit the guard an inch and a half below his left eye. He did not survive the impact. The female with the injured ankle dropped her somewhat sticky bow haft and said, in a small voice, that she would surrender.

The looming Minotaur grabbed the shaking filly around the neck and dragged her to her feet.

"Why do the Centaurii raid these steppes?" his deep voice rumbled.

"We come to take slaves; particularly of your folk," came a slowly mumbled, meek reply.

The minotaur held his massive axe close to the filly's pale neck, caressing the tip down the length of her collarbone, leaving a pink scratch,

"How many of you filth are there? Tell me quick or you'll be of no further use!"

"We are but few for a warrior such as you! The rest have gone raiding – they'll be gone for days more." The filly tried to match her gaze to that of the furious Minotaur.

"She's lying, but you probably guessed that already. There's about fifty of them, they headed off to the west and they'll be back within a few hours," Mila spoke up from her position in the caged wagon. "Let me out of here, please, and I'll be in your debt. The key's on the belt of that dead specimen there," she continued, gesturing through the bars towards the dead centaur guard.

Balthazar abruptly tied the filly's hands behind her back and pushed her to the ground again, telling her to remain still. He then walked over to the dead guard and tugged his hatchet from the creatures head as he retrieved the loop of keys from its belt. Standing before the prisoner wagon, Balthazar looked over the Orc.

Nude and somewhat dirty, Mila still met his gaze, standing proudly, her chest out. "There's sure to be some weapons and armour around here. Arm yourself. If that band truly is headed the way you said then they are headed to my herd's turf. I will need your help," explained Balthazar as he unlocked the cage's door.

"Of course. I'm in your debt. I am yours until the debt is repaid," replied Mila as she stepped from the wagon and offered a muscled arm to the immense Balthazar. He enveloped her hand in his own.

"Fair enough."

A quick search of the camp yielded Mila a tight fitting but good quality studded leather jerkin, a small round steel shield and helm, a heavy bladed machete-like gladius and a few daggers. The young guard's crossbow and quarrels added to her arsenal; however the centaur's particular physiology resulted in a distinct lack of pants or footwear. No matter – Orc soles are notoriously tough, and one improvised loincloth later Mila was ready for combat. Although she'd have to do something about how the jerkin constricted her chest once she found civilization again. She was almost at the point of difficulty breathing.

While the Orc had pillaged what scant supplies remained in the centaur slaver's encampment, Balthazar had found a collar and chain and had fastened it around the neck of his four-legged captive.

With those final preparations complete, Balthazar called the Orc over to him. Grinning slightly he rumbled to his green ally, "Alright, I think I have a plan."