The Centaur Ranch Pt. 05

Sean slapped One's rump:

"Now you will circle this post. You have to learn how to work as a team."

The centaurs began to walk, but, as they had never done that, their stride was uneven, and they kept banging on each other's bodies. Sean yelled:

"Pay attention, or you will walk on your fellow's hooves! Go slowly until you learn how to do it."

Walking very slowly, the centaurs managed to make a full circle around the post. They repeated the movement several times; then Sean ordered them to go in the opposite direction. Three made a mistake and stayed behind the other two; he felt a hearty tug on his neck as the chain on his neck stretched to full extension – the other centaurs were a step ahead.

"Together, together! Don't look down at your fellows' feet, just feel as he walks, and follow! You can do it, I am sure... Every centaur in this farm can. Keep walking!"

Sean was pleased to see how they plied to his command, their faces showing an unusual expression of concentration as they tried to adjust to each other's pace. He said to himself that it was enough for a first exercise in team walking; he opened the door of the pen and said:

"Now out!"

The bright daylight blinded the centaurs for some moments; they blinked and walked out in the area before the stable.

Sean whistled for them to stop. He moved to One, clipped his collar chain to the fence and put his hands on his nipple rings, feeling his firm, muscular chest under his fingertips. The centaurs looked magnificent, their dark bodies next to one another, their black fur almost purple in the direct sunlight of the midmorning.

For the first time since he had come into the pen, the centaur did not react at the feeling of a human hand on him. He let Sean caress his chest and flanks, while he looked again to the place where the opening had stood. He could not figure out how it has disappeared.

Pedro, Jorge and another farm hand approached them and threw blankets on their tops; each of them held a worn-out saddle on is other hand.

One sniffed the strong smell of polish and leather of the saddle; then he felt a wave of rage going up his chest. He bucked and kicked his hind legs; as he tried to prance, the small chain held him, only to increase his anger.

"I don't want any of your human things on me!" he yelled.

Sean took out the control from his pocket and sent a medium shock to his neck. One seemed to suffocate and put his hands to his neck, trying to pull out the collar.

"Stop that! The saddle is for me to ride on you."

Not in his wildest nightmares had One imagined that someone would ever be on his back; as a wild centaur, he didn't even know that men rode horses. He stared at his master, bewildered, as the trainer cinched the saddle buckle under his belly.

Sean brushed his chin and clipped a pair of leather reins to his nipple rings. One was trembling; he heard the man's calm voice again:

"I am going to put my foot on the stirrup and go up on you. Don't move, I want you to get used to my weight." And he did as he had said. Two and Three were already saddled. One looked at them and saw a human straddling each of his fellows; they kept still, and One thought it was better to imitate them. The man was strongly built; he could sense his legs closed on his flanks, his hand caressing his shoulder as he just stayed there.

"Calm down! You are a strong lad, you can certainly carry your master with no effort!" He brushed his hand on the just shaven skull and felt it rough under his palm.

"Now, when I kick your sides like that" – Sean gave a hearty kick with his heels on the soft sides of the centaur – "this means, move on." One made a step forward and stopped.

"Very good, now try to walk."

One was tense, his muscles showing under his neck skin, his shoulders bent forward. He walked slowly to the end of the area, then felt a sting on his left nipple.

"When I pull the rein to a side, you turn to that side, understand? Now let us go back to the pen."

He made the turn and walked. Sean was glad to see him becoming more manageable; but the centaur had no idea of how to carry a person, and he bounced his body as he moved. Sean had to move to the sides to keep his balance.

He took a carrot from his pocket and handed it to the centaur, his eyes on the other two, who were carrying their riders along a parallel line. One grabbed it and munched on it.

"See, you are doing very well!" said the man. "Now, try not to bounce so much, or your rider will have a hard time mounting you. Let's do it again."

One felt the heels on his flanks and set moving. The man spoke again:

"When I talk to you, you answer me, and don't forget to call me Master."

One was feeling defeated. The opening was not there anymore; how could he escape, if no opening was in sight? He was carrying a human on his top, like his friends who had come to that cursed place. He had no choice but do what the man told him to, or that bug would bite him again. This much was clear to him. He heard himself saying:

"Yes, master."

"You are learning very well! You must have been the leader of your group." He had used the past tense on purpose, implying that now One occupied no longer that position. But the centaur hadn't enough intelligence to notice those subtleties of language; he kept walking, getting accustomed to carry those two hundred pounds on his back.

Sean clicked his tongue and pulled on the reins lightly. One felt a sting on both his nipples:

"This is the signal for you to stop."

He stopped. The man had his hand on his shoulder; he could feel as his palm rubbed him. On his side, Sean was glad: the male was on his way to be tamed, and would certainly please his future owner.

"You are obeying me well. You will be a very good worker," he said.

One took a deep breath:

"Master, I don't want to be a worker. I want to go back into the woods, it is much better there..."

Sean's voice sounded angry and stern.

"Never say that again, do you hear me? You belong to me now, and I will train you. Besides, you know as well as me that you would starve and die in the woods, and ... you would never have a female there, as I know you have been defeated by stronger centaurs."

One opened his mouth wide. How did the human know that? Was he there, hidden behind some tree, as Matombo had kicked his chest and sent him aground? He lowered his head, puzzled; a long sigh escaped his mouth, and he stopped, stomping his front legs on the ground, puzzled. Sean said:

"Don't stomp! Who told you to stop?" The centaur felt the man's heels kicking on his sides and started moving again.

Sean was looking at his back, seeing how the dark skin moved, with the muscles underneath so defined and fluid.

He heard the centaur's voice:

"Master... how do you know that Matombo won that fight?"

Sean held his breath. So, this lad had belonged to the same herd as Matombo, and had been expelled with the other males, after the customary fight for the females. Probably, Two and Three had been born in the same herd, as they had come together into the snare. He decided to try his luck:

"I know many things, One. For instance, that more males from that herd are now in my stables."

"Yes, master, the other two who are with me there also came from that herd." In fact, several of the defeated males from Matombo's herd had found their way into the welcoming pens, but One did not know about that yet.

"I knew that, One... Trust me, I know many things, and this is why I am the master of this place. If you work hard, I will allow you to cover a female; if you are lazy and complain again, you will be punished. Do you understand that?"

As he was talking, they heard a powerful roar: Nine, who had been brought to the cart and was to be harnessed for the first time, had raised his front legs and was trying to kick the trainer who had brought him from his pen.

Sean pulled hard on One's reins and made him turn. He took the control from his pocket and sent a series of powerful shocks towards the centaur; then he kicked hard on One's flanks and shouted:

"Quick! Trot!"

One was taken by surprise and obeyed; in a minute, they were by the unruly male, who was lying on the ground, gasping for air.

"Up, you!" Sean's voice had a cutting edge to it.

The centaur stood up and looked at the man in front of him.

"You do not raise up, ever! If you do it again, the bug will bite you so hard that you will regret the day you were born. Now I want you to repeat, ‘I must not raise up at any human', three times in a row."

"I ... I... will never... I will never raise up..." The fight in the centaur's mind was visible: on the one hand, the hate and anger that he felt; on the other, the fear and a feeling that the man was so much above him that he had only the choice to obey. He held his collar with his hands, trying to understand where the bug lodged. Uncertain of that, he repeated two more times the words the man had ordered him to say.

The sight of the male's shaven skull as he bent down his head, of the glinting steel rings on his nipples that made his chest stand out even more, caused Sean to feel a familiar bulge in his pants. He let his finger play with the centaur's rings, and was pleased to see that he did not react.

"Now you let yourself be harnessed, like a good black centaur, and pull that cart. And" – he turned to the trainer – "make sure he pulls double distance. I want this lad sweating, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," replied the man, and he pulled Nine by his collar. One watched as the big male let the leather straps be tied around his waist and held the handles of the heavy cart, loaded with two hundred pounds of stones. The farm hand sat on the seat and whistled: Nine took a deep breathe and began pulling the cart.

Sean had not dismounted from One's back. He kicked his flanks and the male moved on. He had noticed that the centaur had given no sign to recognize Nine; consequently, they did not come from the same herd. Maybe he was from the same group as his first centaurs; in this case, Kumbo and Ximbo would have been the winners in those fights.

"Tell me, One. Are there many like you roaming around in the wood?"

"Yes, master."

"Nine came from a herd unknown to you? He was defeated too, but not by Matombo, nor by Banto," he went on.

At the mention of Banto's name, One shivered: Master really had been there, watching, as the males had left their native herd and fought to know who would have the mares.

"I have never seen him before," said One.

"Then he must have come from Kumbo's herd, or from some third one, not known to us yet," Sean thought to himself. He kicked the centaur's flanks and set him moving. He rode the black male for a whole hour in every direction inside the closed area he had destined for exercising Sargent Oliveira's new centaurs, sensing how his stride became smoother as he got used to carry a person. The farmer was a bit tired, and the bulge in his pants was growing. He directed One to the top of a small hill and said:

"I am pleased with you, One. You are smart, you have learned to obey! I am sure you don't want to be bitten by the bad bug."

As he spoke, his hand slid along the centaur's human torso to the line where the fur started; it felt very sensual when touched. He noticed the sweat on his arms and shoulders, and put his mouth to the centaur's shaven skull. He took a deep lick at it, feeling the surface rough because of the tiny ends of hair that had been left on it. He breathed deeply: One did not seem offended by his licking.

"Now we will gallop uphill," he said. "Go!"

One was so happy to be allowed to gallop freely again that he barely noticed the man's weight on his back. As they arrived to the top of the small hill, he was panting profusely and almost out of breathe. Sean pulled up his reins and they stopped under a huge tree.

"That was very good. You've learned to run with a person on you. You will do this many times in the new place that you will go to. Now, look down the hill: do you see those tiny black points moving there?

"Yes, master."

"They are my other centaurs, working for me. There are many females down there; if you behave well and help me, you will be allowed to mate one soon."

One felt happy at the prospect of being with a female; after all, he was a grown-up centaur, and had he not been vanquished at that fight, he would have become a herd leader and have females as many times as he wished.

Sean caressed his skull. He was running that farm for more than a year now, but he still marveled at how easily black centaurs were taught to obey commands. This fine male had been fooled by a simple snare, captured and locked in a dark pen; some shocks and a lot of human applied intelligence after, there he was, standing under the tree shadow, saddled and collared, listening attentively to his master's words.

Sean rubbed his collar and felt it drenched with sweat. He took his shirt off and pressed his body against the centaur's back, then reached around and played a bit with his nipple rings. The sweat on them made his fingers slide slightly; he felt the satin like touch of the black skin and shivered from pleasure.

"There are many males and females on my farm now; some, like you, came from the woods to live in a warm and safe place. Others were born here, as the males bred the females and they delivered. They are just as hard workers as the ones from the woods. And I am master to them all; I enjoy them all, as long as they obey me. This is what your kind was made for, One."

One let that bit of news sink into his head. Sean rubbed his cock on the line dividing the fur from the human torso and went on:

"We are a big family, like the big groups in the woods; but instead of one centaur being in charge, I am. You all belong to me."

One seemed not to notice the rubbing. He was staring at the scene beneath his eyes, the small black points coming and going on the fields. He understood that they were pulling carts, just as he and the others had.

Sean was getting more and more aroused as he rubbed his still clothed cock on that fine black skin. Then he made up his mind: he took it out and began to rub it on the lower part of One's back.

The centaur felt something different there and turned his head. Sean used his free hand to put it back to place:

"Keep still, One... you have to learn to wait for your master."

His right hand moved fast, holding his cock against the taur's smooth skin. He was very aroused; he had not done this yet to any of his males, and the sensation was very good. He felt as his cum rose up his shaft and spurted from his dick onto One's back; he was reminded of the day he had met the first centaurs and cum on Dara's face, then made Kumbo lick it all.

One felt something sticky on his back and moved his muscles, uneasy. Sean gave him no time to think:

"Good, my friend! "Now we will go back to the pen; you have to be washed and fed, it is almost lunchtime."

He put his cock back into his pants and pulled the reins. One felt the sting again on his nipples; turning left, he began to walk down the hill, and they reached the stable without incidents.

That afternoon, the hair Sean had shaven from the centaurs heads had dried up. He ordered Beau to bring the bags that contained it to the welcoming stable.

"I want you to teach the males to tress this," he said. "When it is done, we will fit handles on the braids to make nice riding crops. And remember, you will spend the next few days teaching those beasts to obey a jockey."

Beau nodded. She was a good trainer, and many of the centaurs in the farm had learned to obey commands from her. But up to that day, she had trained only females; the four stallions – Kumbo, Matombo, Moleke and Ximbo – had been tamed either by Sean or by male farm hands. It would be a challenge to teach those big, wild males to carry humans.

She went to the stable and opened up the first pen. As she walked in, she saw the three big males chained to the post, half-asleep.

"Wake up, you!"

As the centaurs opened their eyes, she came near them.

"You know me already," she said. "From now on, I will train you into being ridden. But not today; first, I want you to learn something."

She took some of the hair from the bag she had brought with her and showed the centaurs how to make a braid of it.

One recognized the girl: it was she that had come with Master the day he had got the steel rings on his nipples. He looked at what she was handing him: it was their manes, those very manes that the man had shaven from their skulls a few days before.

He looked puzzled to the brown girl in front of him:

"Isn't this our hair?"

"Yes, it is, and it will become useful when you finish doing what I am showing you."

She put some hair into each taur's hands and taught them what they had to do. Their wide fingers had some difficulty to do such a delicate work, but after some time they got the idea and prepared the hair as the girl had directed them to. She pulled hard the tresses to make sure that they were tight; then, without a word, she left them there and went to meet Sean.

"Here, master, they have done it."

"Good," said Sean. "Now take this to the workshop and tell Marcos to put handles on them. You keep one, one will go to Miss Linda, and one to me. As you train those animals, make sure to use the whip made from their own hair to speed them up. I don't have to tell you not to hurt them without reason, but I want you to be very firm with them. I want them ready in two weeks; then I will call Sargent Oliveira to take them out."

31. Sean fulfills his promise

Meanwhile, in the other parts of the farm routine went on as usual. Every morning, having washed themselves and brushed their teeth, the mares were taken to the milking shed; some milk was taken to the main house, some used for the breakfast of the personnel, and the remainder sent to the town to be sold at the dairy shop in a cart pulled by two male centaurs.

The store was in the main square of the small town. In front of it there was a pole for hooking horses – and centaurs. The two males would stay there, waiting patiently as the farm hand in charge sat to have a beer at the local bar. Very often, there were some other centaurs at the pole, their masters having sent them to bring things necessary for their farms. People stopped to watch the spectacle offered by the magnificent creatures, chained from their necks like horses, but talking to each other like human beings. After this time for rest, they would go back to the ranch to do what was required that particular day: chop wood, pull out thumps from the ground, move the big wheel on top of the well to bring out drinking water, and so on.

After milking, the mares were separated into two groups. The ones selected for the Cream Factory would be hooked to the wall and stimulated until their flasks were full with their scent; every week, the precious cargo was dispatched to California, to be used in the preparation of the aphrodisiac salve. Then they would be harnessed to carts and join the other females already working in the fields, or be mounted by farm hands to do errands.

In the foalry, colts and fillies were washed and fed; in the big house, the ebony girls, now turned into maids, helped with the necessary chores. They still carried their pussy rings and chastity belts; every two or three days, they were opened, scooped for their secretion, and allowed some time unbelted, for hygiene and eventually for some play among themselves.

That morning, as James, Sean and Linda were having breakfast, two of these volunteers were pouring some centauress milk into their bowls. They were barefoot, their breasts exposed, and under their skirts, which came down to their calves, the belts were securely locked. The topic of what to do with them was bought up by Sean: