[mf] [noncon] A Hunter’s Touch: Chapter 1

Thanks for reading! If there's interest, I'll continue posting the chapters.

.Please note that this story contains noncon elements, including attempted centaur rape…fair warning!

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I've lost count of the days.

I woke up in the dark. All I could feel was the moist, squishy dirt against my face. After a few moments, I became aware of a dancing fire in the distance. I lifted my head, hair plastered to my cheeks and forehead, and scanned the horizon. ¬ Twenty-odd centaurs sat on their fat haunches around a campfire, roasting an unidentified animal on a spit. A rather large unidentified animal. I gulped and lowered my head back into the mud. I realized I was quite naked, gagged, and pitifully hog-tied to a small flowering bush.

I began a quiet struggle against my bonds, vicious ropes that cut into the tender skin of my wrists. I rubbed one wrist so raw that I cried out into my gag, a cloth jammed into my mouth secured by another wrapped round my head. Although my cry was muffled, it was loud enough to alert one of the centaurs that I was conscious.

I saw him leer at me over the fire. He had fierce blue eyes and icy blond hair mirrored in his long, braided beard. He stood and nimbly picked his way over the mud and brush to where I lay. I continued to struggle, which seemed to please him. Several other centaurs rose to their feet. The blond centaur flipped me over onto my back to see a circle of smug grins hovering above me.

“What a prize, Magdolon," a centaur with coal-black eyes growled. "Those hips will bear you fine half-breed foals. They'll sell very well."

"Let me have a go at her," a gaunt centaur with a greasy braid said. His eyes pleaded with Magdolon. "I want to have a try!"

"Let me buy her from you," said the one with black eyes. "I'll give you all the meat I stole from the butcher in that last town. I'll throw in the girl I took, too."

"Shut up, both of you," Magdolon said. "That girl was far too thin. I want healthy foals. This maiden will serve me well." He ran a rough hand over my breasts, stopping to pluck at my nipples. Although I was frightened I could not help the biological response–I quickly became aroused. My nipples stood obediently like two soldiers at attention and I felt myself become quite moist in the nether regions.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a grotesque grin. I moaned and squirmed uselessly in the mud, trying to free myself. Magdolon chuckled.

"I'm going to have fun with you." He slid his hand between my thighs. I cried out again and tried to shake him off, but the more I moved my hips from side to side and made muffled moans into the gag, the more lustful the centaurs looked. I rolled onto my side and got a full view of the area between Magdolon's legs–his male parts bulged and stood straight out, long and threatening. Far too large for me.

"Get away, you two," Magdolon said. The other centaurs didn't budge as he plucked me out of the mud. I continued to moan and make muffled shrieks, which only seemed to excite Magdolon. He carried me to a grassy part of the plain, free of underbrush, and lay me on my stomach. I panicked as I lost sight of what was going on.

I felt rough hands on my buttocks, first squeezing them and then pulling them apart. I continued to squirm as Magdolon ran a finger down my backside and along my cleft, collecting its juices. I heard him slurp on the finger, then felt it slide inside of me. I screamed into the gag.

Suddenly, the finger slid out.

"I said, get back!" I heard Magdolon rear onto his hind legs, then a loud THUMP as he presumably kicked his companions. They whimpered and galloped to safety.

Magdolon returned, grumbling. I felt him kneel down over me. The heavy sweat of his equestrian body enveloped me. At any moment he would enter me and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Just as I felt the tip of his enormous member slide inside me, I heard him scream. He fell backwards off of me. I squealed into my gag as someone hoisted me from the ground and threw me over his shoulder. Hot, wet liquid coursed down my face–was I bleeding?

"Stop moving! I'm trying to help you!" A gruff voice whispered. I didn't have much of a choice–I became still and stiffened, trying to make myself easier to carry.

The man picked up speed. It seemed like he ran for miles before reaching the edge of a wood. He placed me down gently on a bed of pine needles. Ouch–I was already sore down there!

It was too dark to see him as he unbuckled his tunic and stripped, but I prepared myself for the inevitable. At least he had to be smaller than the centaur's horse parts.

But he handed the tunic to me, then pulled a knife from his boot and cut my bonds.

"Put that on," he said. He turned around so that I could dress. I sat there, quizzical. This was all happening too fast!

"Well, put it on!" He muttered. "We haven't got all night." He tossed me a small leather pouch–my pouch! The one I had lost struggling with the centaurs when they kidnapped me!

I pulled off my gag with trembling fingers.

"Where did you find this?" I held up the pouch. The man glanced at it.

"It was lying near you. I thought it might be yours."

"It is," I said. Tears jumped into my eyes. "My journal, my figurine, the Trigger…I can't believe you–well, I can't go home without it!" But he wasn't listening. He was on the lookout.

I stood on shaky knees and slid my arms into the tunic. It was long enough to cover me like a dress. I looked at him and he nodded, avoiding my gaze.

"Let's go." He started off into the trees at an alarming pace. I did my best to keep up.

"Thank you," I said as soon as I managed to connect my thoughts to my mouth. "Thank you for saving me from that–that vile–"

“It's nothing," he said. "Just hurry."

I trotted to keep up with his long-legged gait. He must have been ten inches taller than me, lithe and willowy. His feet barely touched the ground; he made almost no sound as he walked. A huntsman, no doubt. I clomped along after him, heavy and clumsy.

"Where are we going?" I said, huffing and puffing.

"Here," he said.

I followed his gaze. To my surprise, a small cottage had appeared out of the wood. The man trotted to the entrance and pushed the heavy wooden door open.

"Well, come on," he said with an impatient nod of the head. As visions of fairy tale cottages danced in my head, I joined him. Together we stepped over the threshold.

The Hunter swung the heavy door shut behind us and we were engulfed by darkness. Suddenly a panic attack set in. What the hell was I doing? Fresh out of grad school with a Master's in Art History, I should have been working at a library or museum. I shouldn't be following a strange man into a dark house. I felt my breaths quicken, a cold sweat on my brow.

A tiny light flickered a few feet in front of me, then burst into flames. A warm glow from a wood-burning stove cast itself over the coziest room I had ever seen. The man stepped back from the stove and threw his match into the fire.

"Lie down," he said, and he gestured to the bed in the corner. A mattress stuffed full of hay, covered with a thick padded quilt and wool blanket. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on that bed and sink into nothingness.

But I remembered my pouch. My journal! The figurine! The Trigger! My heart dropped down into my belly. I drew near the fire and fumbled with the leather pouch the Hunter had tossed to me. I first drew out this journal, the first 30-odd pages of which had been ripped out of my own doing several weeks ago.

My anxious fingers then closed around smooth stone. Elation! I pulled a carved figurine no larger than my thumb from the pouch. Upon thorough examination, I concluded that the detailed chess queen had been protected by my pouch's thick leather. Not a hair on her beautiful marble head, smooth breasts, or nimble fingers had been harmed. I was so relieved that I kissed the little beauty right on her tiny lips.

When I looked up, my rescuer stared down at me. He did not seem amused by my excitement. Just very confused.

"It's a chess piece," I explained, holding it closer to the fire so that he could see. "In my universe–where I'm from, it's very valuable."

"I see," he said. But I could tell that he couldn't see.

"You've never played chess," I said. I slowly realized that I was talking to a woodsman, not a scholar. "It's a game. There are lots of pieces kind of like this one, but they each have a different purpose. You use them to fight a battle."

"A battle?" he said, still lost.

I was too tired to explain. "Thank you again," I said, standing. It really was a marvel how tall and thin he was. I had to weigh at least as much as he did. How the hell did he carry me away from the centaurs' camp? I'm not sure any modern man I knew would be able to do that.

The thought of the centaur camp sent me reeling. The entire ordeal seemed ages away.

"I think I'll lie down," I said. And I did.

But after lying awake for ten minutes, I knew I had to write all this down. I've been working away at the pages for hours as the Hunter sits in a rickety chair before the fire, stoking the logs. These people really know how to have fun.

Yesterday I was writing in this journal from the comfort of my futon. My cat was curled up beside me. It was raining, a dreary waste of a day.

I'm writing now in a cottage in the heart of a wood filled with medieval fantasy beasts.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1nle0b/mf_noncon_a_hunters_touch_chapter_1