The Centaur & Her Princess Ch. 01

"This is going to be a wonderful week," Kyrie breathed out, her hands clapping together in a show of soft delight, their long and graceful fingers lacing together in a serene clasp. She turned a beaming smile on to her bodyguard, her sapphire eyes shining with fondness for her oldest friend. The Crown Princess' soft features fit her sunny disposition well, framed by the ridiculously intricate updo-ponytail her golden hair had been pulled into. "A parade! Why, we haven't had a parade in three months. Last year we had a parade every month!"

Reva snorted out of habit. From her, the noise was more chuff than not, a simple habit her people had. She crooked a patient smile down at her ward. The pair of them drew attention wherever they went.

Where Kyrie was radiant sunlight, Reva's appearance spoke more to a woman of nature, her face as powerful as it was lovely and smattered with freckles. The bright green of her eyes spoke to her fey blood. Her long hair fell wild down her back, a curly riot of red hair, a proper mane befitting a centauress. Confident as she was in her skill as the Crown Princess' personal knight, she wore little armor most of the time and left most of her human flesh bare. Though the leather halter she wore was studded for protection, its true purpose was to secure her impressive rack, hefty enough that other centauresses eyed them with jealousy. The top showed off her tanned skin and rippled stomach, and lest anyone get too interested in her or the Princess, arms that could clearly crush a man.

On her four cloven hooves, Reva towered over most men at eight feet tall. It wasn't just their beauty or stations that made them stand out, but their height. Kyrie's mother had been one of the few amazons to survive the Southern War, and she inherited plenty from her. Though the princess was no warrior, she had just enough lean muscle to fill out her six foot frame. Not that most people noticed it over her pouty lips or her full tits, large even on such a tall woman. Her bubbly ass was always safer to ogle (what was Reva going to do, turn on her heel?) but far less fun.

Though the Princess usually dressed conservatively, the Empire's capital had brutally hot summers. Men, even royalty, often went bare-chested while women went for lighter, more revealing clothes. Kyrie had chosen a tunic dress this morning, its white just sheer enough to hint at the tone of her fair skin beneath it. Artful gold embroidery scrawled across its collar. Reva could swear it outlined her charge's breasts more than it obscured them. Gods, but the thought of those soft pillows wrapping around...

No. No, no, no. It was her tribe's greatest honor that Reva had been sent to guard the Crown Princess.

Reva cleared her throat and looked to the path ahead of them, the stables and the royal riding grounds not far from them now. Kyrie was kind, if a little slow at times. It never seemed to click with her that bringing a centaur horseback riding might be offensive.

Actually, it was incredibly offensive. But Reva minded her tongue; she did her duty with grace and honor. It was only an hour or so each week. Kyrie couldn't be expected to learn about centaur culture. They were such a tiny part of the empire, after all, even if Reva was her constant companion and one could _reasonably_ expect some interest, if not learning by osmosis. She often suspected that Kyrie's overly voluptuous chest was her body's compensation for Kyrie's naivety. That one day, Kyrie would make up for her ditziness by wrapping her awe-inspiring mammaries around Reva's...

Nooo, no. She was looking again. "Reva?" Kyrie chimed, smiling beatifically as she noticed the staring. "Did I stain my tunic at breakfast?" she asked in her sweet innocence, checking herself before the flat-footed centauress could summon her wits and reply properly. There wasn't anything that she could see, but it was reasonable for her to assume there might be something on the front of the garment or perhaps on the bottom slope it created while hugging her tits. Her hands lifted and rounded over them, putting on an inadvertently lewd show of cupping her breasts and feeling over them.

Whatever words Reva wanted to say were lost in the returned fantasy of pinning her charge down on a table beneath her and fucking that beautiful cleavage with her unsheathed horse cock. Her breath caught before she snorted again, one leg stomping on the dirt floor, distracting herself from getting too aroused. Kyrie did /not/ know about her cock. It wasn't a conversation she meant to have with the princess, who seemed utterly unaware of her sex appeal or even sex itself.

"I-- no, Kyrie. I was just admiring it," Reva replied. It... wasn't a lie. Not really. She just wasn't being honest about what she was admiring. Kyrie accepted that answer with a fresh, beaming smile. They proceeded to the stable in companionable silence, with Reva forcing such improper thoughts from her mind. The princess loved to wear sandals with high laces up her calves during the summer, though she kept a pair of thigh-high riding boots in the stables. Once she had changed her footwear, they spent a time looking for the stablehand, who seemed to be out.

"Not a problem. I can prepare Silverlight for you," Reva assured Kyrie. Silverlight was her brother's horse, the only one that she would be willing to ride.

"Fantastic," Kyrie clapped her delight once more, excitement coursing through her body. Oh, but she loved riding horses. She loved the feel of such a large, muscular beast between her thighs. Its power, her own spreading warmth. Never with a saddle, of course! Her mother always said a true amazon rode bareback. Everyone smiled and laughed when the Queen said that, and a few people blushed too. If it made people happy, Kyrie was just as happy to take it at face value.

Neither stablehand nor Silverlight were present in the stables.

"How odd," Kyrie frowned, an expression that only emphasized the fullness of her virgin mouth, perfectly shaped for sucking cock. Reva thoughtlessly closed her eyes as the image struck her: the Crown Princess of the Cesta Empire laying on her back over a low table. Just low enough that Reva could stand comfortably over it, her rock-hard horse cock held between the plushness of Kyrie's tits while her royal tongue dutifully worshiped its head.

There was a suction-born pop as her lips left it and as she licked free the string of saliva that kept her mouth attached to the object of her affections, slowly squeezing and dragging the stiff pillar between her mammaries as though in compensation.

"Perhaps," Kyrie told Reva breathily, "my brother has Silverlight out for a ride. The stablehand must be out for errands." She blinked slowly, then darted her tongue down to lick the slit of her cock's head. Reva shuddered. "Perhaps he's buying fresh hay and carrots!" That was ridiculous, of course. Such things would be delivered to the royal stables. That rational thought reminded Reva that Kyrie was not, in fact, laying on a table, alternating between jacking her cock off between her breasts and tasting its head.

Reva blinked and realized at some point, her eyes had opened and she had begun staring. She cleared her throat again and chose to go with the path of least resistance and perhaps move the conversation somewhere else instead. "Maybe so, Your Highness. Would you like to wait here or carry on the day elsewhere until your appointment with the royal seamstress?"

They had been together for eleven years now, and Reva defaulted to informal address when in private with the princess. It usually made both of them more comfortable, more at ease. Whenever the naive princess got like this, though, her centaur knight threw up formality like a restraint. It helped her keep her focus, reminding her that for all her behaviors, Kyrie was not a bitch to be bred.

Kyrie bit her bottom lip in consternation, folding her arms just under her -- no, no, Reva was not going to look at them again. Especially not while Kyrie was doing as she often did when seized by indecision, absently swaying her body back and forth... back and forth... she could feel her rod begin to stir, begin to push its way out of its sheath. She snorted, willing herself to be free of a centaur's summer lust.

"I don't know," Kyrie sighed, letting her arms drop and turning, habitually graceful in her pacing along the other stalls to look over each horse in turn. None of them had Silverlight's coloring or gentle bearing in spite of a powerful size. She considered the horse more friend than animal. Stopping before a chestnut-brown stallion's stall, she leaned over the rail to consider the animal. "I was so set on riding today." Were the horse any shade of humanoid, it would be entranced by the way the princess' proud rack hung over the barrier.

Instead, it was a horse, and it took her nearness as a challenge, tossing its head and snorting a warning before lunging its head forward to bite her. Kyrie's gasp of alarm quickly became a squeak of surprise as one of Reva's thick arms scooped her up like a child and pulled the princess out of harm's way, leaving her dangled for a moment with her ass still thrust out. "Careful," Reva growled at her charge, snorting and flaring her nostrils at the stallion. It let out a whinny and backed away.

"Oh," Kyrie finally laughed after the shock of the moment passed through her. "Thank you. I'm so lucky to have you," she said, curling her fingers around Reva's broad forearm and grinning sunnily at her. Being up that high reminded her -- and really, Kyrie needed the reminder -- that most of Reva just so happened to be like a horse. And Reva, like Silverlight, was her friend.

"Your wellbeing is my charge," Reva paced away from the intimidated stallion's stall and set Kyrie down, "but you must be more mindful of it yourself, Your Highness." Kyrie's elegant hands didn't release Reva's forearm but rather slid up it, hugging her protector's arm to her bountiful bosom.

She was not, of course, mindful of her pillows' danger. She wasn't even mindful of what her breasts were really for, simply taking it on face value that men and women were different. The Queen had insisted that her daughter "discover what being a woman meant" on her own time, without guidance or study, and she was a fearsome enough woman that even the king toed lightly around her.

Perhaps that would work for a full-blooded amazon; Kyrie the half-blooded amazon managed to bumble through her adolescence without learning the birds or the bees. Her pussy would get wet and sometimes her nipples would grow uncomfortably hard; it was just the way things were. Naive innocence kept her from drawing a connection between her damp panties and being manhandled by Reva.

Thankfully, doing her duty had put Reva in a more zen state of mind. Though she was painfully aware of Kyrie's peak jutting against her arm, she felt no need to act on it and simply accepted the princess' clinging for what it was; touchy-feely gratitude. Then Kyrie had to go ahead and open her mouth one more time, saying something that would turn the rest of their afternoon on its head.

"Could I just ride you?" Kyrie asked, beaming a pure-hearted grin as she plyed herself close to Reva's captured arm. One of her hands fell away from it, touching Reva's side and absently feeling along her ribs. "Your fur is so soft. We wouldn't even need to use a saddle."

Reva's first impulse was to pick the princess up and throw her. She wasn't sure if it would be to show her who would be riding who, or just angry violence at the demeaning, if unaware, implications. It was a show of submission for a centaur to let a bipedal creature ride them like a horse -- acceptable but rare for them to allow a liege or superior to do so in times of great need, because it would certainly turn them into the laughing stock of their tribe.

More common for a centaur to allow their akhani to mount them so. The word loosely translated to "nothing but a slave"; someone who gave themselves over to the centaur in mind, body and soul and bore the brand to prove it. There was no shame in that. In fact, there was great honor in having akhani.

The centauress stared at Kyrie for several seconds before saying in a blunt deadpan, "No."

When told 'no' so flatly by someone so much bigger than them, most people would pick up on the dangerous implications and tread softly from there on out. They would most likely, and quite sensibly, change the topic. Kyrie blinked her big blue eyes and asked with zero awareness of her predicament, "Why not?"

Reva could feel her jaw fall open. She really asked 'why not'. It took her several more seconds to muster up her most eloquent reply. "You just can't."

Kyrie blinked again, her head cocking -just- so like a confused dog. She was incredibly naive, but not so stupid that she could take something like that at face value. "Tell me why you can't." Her arched brows pushed towards one another and with sudden concern she asked, "Is something wrong with your back?"

"No," Reva replied, utterly flabbergasted before irritation took over. "Just drop it, Kyrie. You can't."

Kyrie was beloved by the Empire's people for her genuine kindness and friendly nature, but she was still a princess, spoiled and used to getting her way. If she would not be allowed to ride her knight, she would at least know why. She released Reva's arm and took a step back, her hands finding her hips. With a regal lift of her chin, she addressed her bodyguard. "Dame Reva, I order you to explain yourself to me. Now, without any more excuses."

Reva could have screamed. She managed to get by with clenching her jaw and gritting her teeth, glaring daggers down at the half-amazon princess. Kyrie's maternal blood rarely shone through, but it certainly did there in her stubborn defiance to being told 'no'. It was a staring contest Reva eventually lost, snorting out her agitation. It took her a moment to come up with... well, something.

"We centaurs only let someone who has completed a certain ritual grace our backs," Reva finally explained, which WAS an answer. It technically wasn't a lie. That was good. She felt some of the pressure the situation foisted on her dissipate.

"Oh." Kyrie's stare was killed off by the swift reappearance of her beaming smile. "A cultural thing! That makes sense." Her hands lifted and came together in a merrily decisive clap. "In that case, can we just do the ritual now?" she asked, looking up at her friend with nothing but love and trust on her face after their very short squabble.

Reva's eyes opened wide and her nostrils flared, followed by a rough swallow in her throat. Her cock was threatening to escape its sheath again, regardless of her will to fight against it, and her tongue felt too-large and clumsy in her mouth when she spoke again. "That's not a great idea, Your Highness," she began to explain.

"Nonsense," Kyrie cheerfully declared. "Does it take long?"

"It would depend--"

"Do we have everything we need on hand?" Kyrie interrupted again, perking her eyebrows.

"Well, yes--"

"Then I see no reason to delay," Kyrie clapped her hands with joy once more, her smile wide and open. "What must I do?"

On one hand, Reva knew this was a really bad idea. On her other hand... Reva was beyond frustrated with Kyrie and her thoughtlessness, her ignorance. However, since they began to mature, the crown princess blithely acted like a cocktease towards her without ever realizing how it tortured Reva. She weighed her two options. Her cock won over her brain. She would teach Kyrie a lesson she would never forget.

"Fine," Reva grunted as she came to that conclusion, stepping forth and reaching out to scoop the princess up again by under her arms, much to Kyrie's squealed delight. Her hooves thumped their way down the stable, finding an empty stall and placing her charge inside. Reva's massive body blocked Kyrie's only exit. For all intents and purposes, she was a cornered animal.

"Now what?" Kyrie asked, unaware of any danger and quite happy to be right where Reva wanted her. Right where Reva had wanted her for some time and had always pushed away from, denying herself.

That was a good question. Reva had a ready answer.

"Take off your clothes. Everything but your boots," Reva said, reaching behind herself to her leather halter's ties. It fell away from her body and landed in the stall's hay, baring her high and proud rack to the warm air, their tips jutting out. She only wore the halter in the capital for social norms. Back home, female centaurs were proud of their tits and never hid them.

For all Kyrie's trust and interest in the 'ritual', the request startled her and gave her significant pause. She didn't need to ask 'what'; Reva was clearly serious. Still. "It's filthy in here. Couldn't we do this at home instead?" she asked, so confident in her suggestion that she stepped towards the fallen halter. "Here, I'll help--"

"No," Reva growled lowly, reaching out and grabbing hold of Kyrie by her ponytail, jerking her golden hair like a leash to yank her upright just as she bent to collect the fallen garment. "We do this here. We do this now. You do what I tell you to do. Understand?"

Kyrie, shocked and mouth left briefly agape, could only nod. Reva glowered down at her, pent-up years of irritation and sexual frustration bursting out of the centaur knight now. "And don't make me wait," she barked, her other hand grabbing the neckline of Kyrie's tunic and tearing it wide open. The princess gasped, further startled by the sudden and forceful disrobing. If not for her bra, her tits would have spilled right out of the ruined dress.

As it stood, Reva released the torn part of the dress and grabbed one of the bra's cups, ripping it straight off to reveal Kyrie's perfect, heaving breasts, her nipples beyond pebbled and more like than not ready to cut diamonds. This still wasn't fast enough for Reva, having waited far longer than Kyrie might ever realize. "Everything but your boots," she barked again, giving the blonde ponytail another harsh yank before pushing her (lightly) away.

"Ouch! But I'm-- oh! Right!" Panties were a thing. Beyond damp and sticking to her skin, she had just gotten accustomed to them. She stumbled after the push, but once she found her balance she obediently hooked her thumbs into her underwear and began to pull them down, bending to get them over her thighs. The sudden presence of Reva's hand on her shoulder had her glancing over her shoulder curiously, the sodden panties around her knees.

"Stay bent over," Reva ordered, releasing Kyrie's shoulder in favor of her ponytail once more. She wanted to ride? Fine. Reva had the reins. She snorted lowly and further uttered, "This is an important part of the ritual. You must be exact. Stare at the wall and repeat after me."

Utter bullshit.

"Okay," Kyrie replied softly, still full of trust as she aligned herself forward. She braced her fingers on her knees for balance, the panties falling to stretch between the calves of her boots.

"I beg your forgiveness, Dame Reva, for I have been cruel in my ignorance," Reva growled. Kyrie began to look over her shoulder, deeply confused. She yelped when Reva slapped her ass harshly, jolting her forward and then yanking her back into proper place by her hair. "Repeat after me, gods damn you."

"I beg your forgive--AH!!" Kyrie squealed when Reva spanked her again, gasping and hurrying to ward off another blow to her until-then untouched ass. "I beg your forgiveness, Dame Reva, for I have been cruel in my ignorance!"

That felt good to hear.

Reva smirked to herself, digging her fingers deep into the princess' bubbly ass. She slapped it one more time just for the sake of watching it jiggle and how well the red imprint of her hand showed. "Please," she crooned mockingly, "forgive me for being unaware of my whorish body. I'm just a stupid slut."