The Centaur's Virgin Prize

When young Nysios is abducted by a band of savage warriors, she doesn’t think her life can possibly get worse, but then she’s “rescued” by a mighty centaur and whisked away deep into the forest, far from home. Every Cretan woman knows the centaurs’ reputation, their love of virgin flesh, and Nysios is sure that she’s gone from a bad situation to one much worse.


She must please the centaur in ways she’s never imagined if she hopes to survive.


Warning this 7000 word erotic novelette is intended for adults only. It contains hot monster breeding erotica, dubious consent, massive centaur penetration and a helpless virgin that craves even more.


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Excerpt:


Until the savages came streaming out of the trees Nysios thought that nothing could possibly be worse than spending an afternoon with Choriatis. The sight of their unkempt hair and ragged teeth shocked her out of her boredom. Their screaming made even her mare look around wild-eyed.


“Quickly, this way,” Choriatis said, turning his horse toward the east.


Nysios jerked her reins over, squeezing her legs around the mare’s flanks. The savages swished through the grass, so close she could see the hair on their toes. “Wait for me,” Nysios called.


“Faster.” Choriatis leaned over his horse’s neck, and Nysios wasn’t sure if the word was for her or his stallion.


She urged her horse onward, her heart pounding harder than the mare’s hooves. The savages behind her--there had to be at least half a dozen of them--fell back, unable to keep up their pursuit.


A cry and a thump echoed from in front of her, and when she looked forward, Nysios found the man that hoped to be her husband sprawled in a pile of thistles, his horse tangled in a vine rope. Four more savages closed in on Choriatis, their spears held high.


Nysios tried to angle away, but a rope rose up before her as if by magic. From the corner of her eye she saw even more of the savages holding a pole attached to one end of the rope. Her mare struck the rope at speed, and the poor gal never had a chance. She twisted forward, sending Nysios flying.


The world turned into a blur of blue skies, white clouds and then an unholy thump as Nysios slammed into the green grass of the Cretan high country.


The savages were on her before her vision even cleared. Thick, hairy men. Teeth like old marble, chipped and yellow. They hooted and howled as they dragged her upright and pulled her toward the tree line. She looked around, desperate to see what had come of Choriatis, but one of the savages nearly jerked her off her feet. He barked something harsh and guttural, grabbed her hair in one brutal hand and pulled her face close to his.


“The more you fight,” he said in an accent nearly impossible to understand, “the worse it will be.”