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"That's a well-bred mare," Alaric remarks. He gently rubs my round abdomen. "You've got foals from half the herd in here, beautiful. How's that feel?"

I meet his wide, proud grin and return it almost shyly. "Amazing," I whisper.

How many stallions bred me tonight? I don't even know. Yet their combined efforts are contained within my bulging belly, every cherished contribution safe and sound.

The centaurs shuffle, letting Alaric move. He maintains contact with me, trailing his fingers over my skin as he circles the bench until he stands between my legs. Strong hands hold my tired thighs apart. Cum dribbles freely from my exposed hole.

"There's one more thing I'd like to do for you, Kitten," Alaric says gently. "Can you take it?"

"Yes," I reply. I don't need to know details. I want Alaric to be my first and last of the night. That's his right, isn't it? He's my Stud. He's the one who looks out for me.

Alaric brings his hand to my jizz-dripping, fucked-open hole. He pushes his fist inside with ease. There's no resistance whatsoever. Compared to a big centaur cock, Alaric's arm feels…comfortable. Small, even.

He's gentle as he presses deep, watching my face carefully. "When I pull out, I want you to push against me, Kitten. Bear down. You understand?"

I see what he's going for. "Yes," I breathe.

Alaric pushes in a little more, then quickly withdraws. I bear down hard, my weary muscles screaming as they comply. The waterfall of cum as Alaric's arm yanks from my hole is accompanied by the unfolding of red flesh. My fucked-out hole prolapses easily.

I felt that rosebud peek multiple times tonight, but now Alaric catches the large bloom as it fully appears. He holds several inches of my vulnerability in his hands: an intimate, hidden part of me exposed to the light. White cum coats the slick petals of the red rose.

"Oh, yes, Kitten," Alaric whispers. He dips his head to lick the shimmering surface. I groan. I feel his hungry tongue swiping up each creamy streak of cum. Still holding my red flesh in one hand, Alaric very, very gently presses on my swollen stomach with the other.

I cry out. Cum squirts from the center of the red bloom, and Alaric drinks it down. He maintains pressure with the heel of his hand, patiently pushing out his fellow stallions' loads — and his, mixed in — so he can swallow it all, taking the herd's cum directly from my body into his.

The sensation makes me quake. Masculine voices murmur around me, but I focus only on their soothing timbres. I reach blindly for a nearby hand and grip it tight.

As my round belly slowly deflates, Alaric's licking tongue and gulping throat never stop. These stallions filled me up and now my Stud is draining it back out, consuming every drop, relieving the uncomfortable pressure. I quiver and weep. I can hardly believe he's doing something so intimate; so generous.

I'm too focused on Alaric to notice who else touches me. The owner of the hand I'm gripping lets me squeeze hard without protest. Another hand combs my damp hair; a third pets my half-deflated belly; a fourth strokes my arm. Centaur musk and sweat fill my senses. Their large bodies radiate heat from all sides. I'm overcome with a deep sense of gratitude for them all.

Alaric lets the red rose recede into my body but continues to lick my sore, leaking gape. The wash of his warm tongue is an aching comfort. When he meets my eyes, stars dance in my vision, framing him with bright sparkles.

Alaric leans forward…and presses one fond kiss to the tip of my cock. His soft lips are wet with the herd's combined release. His gaze is affectionate and warm.

"Beautiful," he whispers against my crown.

I pass out.

Chapter Eleven

Iwake in Alaric's arms.

He holds me bridal-style against his warm chest as he carries me through a parting crowd of stallions. It's surreal; dreamlike. They murmur praise as we pass, like a strange receiving line.

"Thanks for playing with us, cutie," Leon smiles.

"You were amazing!" Fallon beams, his heart-shaped face blushing pink.

The captain's expression is stoic, but his blue eyes are kind. "Well done, Kitten."

Jethro towers above the others. His bass voice is a gentle rumble, like thunder from a departing storm. "Get some rest, little one."

Humbled gratitude grips my chest. Their fond words and warm expressions are too much; too touching. I can't stand it. I can't.

Alaric carries me to a cozy nest of blankets in a quiet corner. He folds his legs beneath him, carefully lying down and situating us both. He wraps a soft, fuzzy blanket around me. My head spins like a coin on a table. I gaze up at him in stunned anguish.

Alaric smiles. Snuggling me close, he encourages me to rest my head on his chest. "I know, Kitten. It's okay."