Page 10 of The Centaur’s Impulse

“Y-Yes,” I stuttered as his tongue trailed over my abdomen.

“Good boy.”

Then, with very little effort, he rolled me over and placed me on my hands and knees, my cock swinging between my legs. The ropes pulled against me as he pushed me into position, spreading my legs wide so I was fully exposed.

“What’re you⁠—”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Relax.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Good boy.”

I didn’t know what to expect as I sat there, staring down at the pillow. But then I felt him shift and something hot and warm against my ass. I gasped, which transformed into a long drawn-out moan as his tongue dragged over my entrance.

“Oh fuck…”

“I had a feeling you’d like that,” he grinned against my hole. “Just wait. It gets better.”

His tongue was insistent, probing deeper as my body responded without my conscious permission. I could feel myself opening up to him, relaxing into the sensation despite my racing thoughts. This was insane. This was beyond anything I’d ever experienced or even fantasized about. And yet I wanted more.

“That’s it,” Dimitrios murmured against my skin. “Just let yourself enjoy it.”

He continued for what felt like an eternity, his tongue working me open with practiced skill. My cock was hard and leaking, swinging with each involuntary thrust of my hips. I was making sounds I didn’t recognize, desperate little noises that I would have been embarrassed about under any other circumstance.

But here, bound and exposed and completely surrendered, I didn’t care.

When he finally pulled away, I was breathing hard, my body trembling with need. I heard him reach for something. When he returned, I felt something cool and slick being applied to my entrance. Lube, I realized. He was preparing me.

“I’m going to work you open,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “And you’re going to take everything I give you. Understood?”

“Yes,” I breathed. And this time I was honestly terrified.

“You need to breathe,” he said, pressing a finger against my hole. “And try to relax. I promise not to hurt you.”

I forced myself to breathe, drawing in slow, measured breaths through my nose. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. The silk ropes dug slightly into my skin as I tensed, then deliberately tried to relax my muscles.

“That’s right,” Dimitrios said softly. “Just breathe.”

I felt his finger press inside me, and despite my nerves, the sensation wasn’t painful. It was strange, foreign, but not unpleasant. He worked it slowly, letting my body adjust to the intrusion. After a moment, it began to feel good, then really good. And I found myself pushing back slightly against his hand.

“See?” he murmured. “Your body knows what it wants. It comes naturally to you.”

He added a second finger, working them in an out gently to stretch me further. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to process the cascade of sensations. Every nerve ending in my body seemed to be firing at once. My cock was so hard it ached, and I could feel myself leaking steadily onto the bed beneath me.

“Please,” I heard myself beg again. “Please, I need⁠—”

“I know what you need,” he said, cutting me off.

He pushed harder, his finger crooking inside me. And suddnely, I was seeing stars. My entire body tensed up as he hit some sweet spot inside me that I didn’t know existed. I barely had time to gasp before I was cumming, painting the bed with my release.

“Good boy,” he whispered, working that spot over and over until I was putty in his hands. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t answer. My face was buried in the sheets, my teeth clamped around the pillowcase. I didn’t know what was going on or my own fucking name. All I knew was that I’d just had the best orgasm of my entire life, and it was still rocking me from head to toe in a way I didn’t understand.

“That was your prostate,” Dimitrios said, withdrawing his fingers. “And judging by your reaction, I don’t think you’ve ever played with it before.”

“I’ve never...” I started, but the words died in my throat. What was I supposed to say? That I’d spent the last thirty-nine years of my life completely unaware of an entire dimension of pleasure that existed inside my own body?