Centorea Shinaus

Centorea: It took a few long minutes in order for that to happen, Centorea’s hair matting down with sweat before her entire body wound up going slack within the ropes, totally exhausting herself in her futile attempts at freeing herself. Eventually, however, she did manage to settle down, out of necessity if nothing else, turning her head around in order to better stare at the human that did this to her. From the tales that she had heard, and what little she’d seen of others her species during her forays into the world of man, there was no positive outcome to an encounter like this. If he was a slaver, this might be the only chance she had to get anything back at the man consigning her to her fate before she was sold off. If he was some sort of trainer, well… Getting him pissed off enough to start ‘punishing’ she might allow for someone more sympathetic to come along and help. Of course, while all those reasons sounded pretty, Centorea’s true rationale was mostly just that the sight of the man’s face pissed her off. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: There was a long moment of thought, as Centorea settled her hooves down on to the logs, about whether or not she should do it. Whether she should try to call his bluff (a dead centaur wasn’t any good for anything, after all), or even if she should push the things away herself, now that her weight was forwards. The blonde centaur shuddered in spite of herself. Eyes narrowing slightly, she took the manacles in hand, looking them over to remind herself of exactly how they worked (there wasn’t exactly much call for them in the herd, after all), hooves teetering precariously on the edge of the logs as she thought about her options. Slavery, though of which sort she couldn’t know just yet, or death? There was a pretty good chance that her falling body would break her neck, after all, and all that it would take to make sure that she didn’t become another of the horror stories told around the night fires was a little push. A twitch of her hooves. And yet, despite herself, she couldn’t bring her legs to move. Instead, she could only choke back a sob as she fastened the heavy metal cuffs about her wrists, wincing at the metallic sound of their closure, knowing that in some way she’d already lost. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Centorea’s entire body shuddered as the heavy fetters were clamped about her legs. The weight alone was bad enough, each of them enough that the human who had captured her was using both hands to carry them around, the metal necessarily thick to prevent breakage from the more powerful equine part of her body. The long length, while slightly comforting in still allowing her the range of movement that she was used to, wouldn’t help with that either. Not that it mattered. With these chains on, even if she could manage to bolt she’d tire soon enough thanks to the weight, and with them dragging along the ground tracking her would be pathetically easy. They were effective in a way that made the mare’s heart sink, leaving her wondering if the man had just gotten lucky with his strategy, or if she was far from the first to be placed in these chains. Considering just how smooth he had been so far, Centorea knew which way she was leaning. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Her ‘musing’, if one could call it that, was broken rather rudely by the sudden addition of weight on her back, the centaur grunting as her captor’s weight forced the air out of her lungs and caused her already precariously positioned legs to wobble dangerously on the logs supporting them. She’d carried people around before, of course, those few humans willing/trustworthy enough to make it out to the herd, but those had always been a remarkably different experience… Being ridden by someone just after letting them ‘ride’ in a different manner had always been a remarkably close sensation. A connection between the two of them. This man felt like a violation of all that, especially after the burlap mask was dragged over her head and the mare was locked into total darkness, her entire body tensing and trembling at the unfamiliar experience of being blindfolded. With her eyes open but seeing nothing, Centorea was only just holding herself back from outright panic. “Pl’essh.. y’uh donfft eed’ ish! Ish w’onsh b’abff o’u uh a’way wff essh ch’affs aff’way r’ifft? Y’uff omff eedf t’ohf blff me’f t’oof!” (P-please… You don’t need this! I… I won’t be able to run away with the chains anyway, right? You don’t need to blind me too!) She protested behind the bit gag. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Whimpering slightly in spite of what little pride she had left, Centorea let her front legs kick the logs away, falling awkwardly to all four hooves. She knew, even before she had made the move, that it was the likely the best chance she was ever going to get to free herself. She could kickback off of them. Rear up properly. Try and tip the human off of her. But what then? Hobbled, gagged and blind, she wasn’t going to be going anywhere fast, and trying to escape seemed like just the sort of thing that would get her some of the worst punishments. The sorts of punishments that had made her rival Rachnera’s BDSM sessions look tame. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Instead, Centorea stumbled along in the direction she was pointing, shuddering and half-tripping as a hoof impacted against rocks or crevasses that she had failed to notice, performing even worse than she otherwise might have, even with her mask, because of Jimmy D’s fingers running along her flesh. The sensation disgusted the girl to her core, her entire body shuddering as he trailed up and along her sides. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: “If y’ouf wanff meef t’uh g’uh f’as’ferf pe’rfs y’ff s’uld t’ak ish o’ff! (If you want me to go faster, perhaps you should take this off!) Centorea groused, her shoulders hunched in an obvious display of defeat as she helplessly worked her way forwards, hooves tentatively knocking against the various stones and dips of the trail. She really wasn’t slowing herself down intentionally, all things considered… Walking blindfolded was hard! Walking blindfolded with some giant human on your back was even harder. She wasn’t built for heavy loads, already showing herself as more of a sprinter or dressage-girl, her legs trembling slightly beneath the gigantic farmer, sweat beginning to bead across her human-half from the exertion. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Despite what the man was saying, it was rapidly getting obvious that the centaur didn’t have anything more to give, his weight and the rough terrain both keeping her speed at little more than a slow trudge… One that got progressively slower as the minutes ticked by and her already straining muscles began to falter. It was a slow thing at first, one of her legs wobbling hard as she hit a hole in the road, then just on what passed for flat ground. Before long the woman was moving like a newborn foal, her entire body shuddering unsteadily with each movement that she made, forcing the pace down to an almost literal crawl before Centorea eventually gave up, sinking down to her haunches with a slight, weeping, cry. She couldn’t do it anymore. Any longer and her legs would give out under her. If it happened here, she was dead meat… And she knew it. It was better to give up. To admit she couldn’t safely move any further. Whatever punishment she got (and her mind flinched at that thought), wouldn’t be worse than what would happen if she wound up with that sort of an injury. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Centorea’s body wasn’t in the best of shape at the moment, and her attempts to walk towards the barn looked more comical than anything else. The lack of weight meant that she could stand up again, but it didn’t stop the fact that her legs felt like jelly, wiggling and unsteady as she wavered back and forth in her attempt to follow after the rope that was pulling her along. There was a rather erotic element to it as well though… The tired girl’s human half was shining in the setting sun and her unstable method of walking caused her breasts to bounce with every movement that she made, something that Centorea seemed legitimately unaware up as she forced herself the final distance towards the barn and, hopefully, a little bit of rest. END_OF_DIALOG

Centorea: Some part of Centorea knew that she should be just as horrified by this as she was by everything else that had happened today, but as tired as she was she simply couldn’t summon up enough energy for it. Instead, with a slight smile at the fact that she actually seemed to be done her forced march, she just collapsed into the soft dirt of the stall floor. It was dry, it was cool, she probably wasn’t going to be eaten by wolves. That was about all that the girl could ask for at the moment. She’d panic about it tomorrow or something. END_OF_DIALOG