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Pagol ended up naming his newest centaur Mikathon. Mik--Mikky if he was feeling playful--for short.
He decided to take a different approach to his training, rather than giving him the usual work load that the other centaurs got. Mik was young and still had a lot of growing to do, and Pagol didn’t want to stunt him by hooking him up to a plow too quickly.
So Mik spent most of his days in the barn, gagged with the usual bridle and bit. Pagol had set up a special framework just for him.
A couple swats of a birch switch the the backs of his front legs was enough to get Mik to rear up, balancing on his hind legs until he figured out how Pagol wanted him positioned. A swinging pull-up bar was dangled in front of him, and it only took Mik a couple tries before he hooked his front legs over it, and was finally able to remain upright.
While he towered over Pagol on two legs, he watched the man with fearful eyes and the swinging crop in his hand even more carefully.
Mik’s hind legs were buckled into a frame, giving him a bit more support to remain standing but also not letting him kick. Hobbles were attached to his front ankles as well, and with a tight rope to an eyebolt in the floor, Mik was no longer able to unfold his legs from the bar, leaving him pinned in place.
His wrists were bound together, their rope stretched up to the ceiling, leaving Mik with little wiggle room to actually struggle.
He whimpered, shifting as much as the restraints would allow as he realized how stretched out and vulnerable he now was. His pale white underbelly quivering, the skin soft and sensitive where the hair thinned out.
A circular frame of scaffolding surrounded the set up as well, letting Pagol climb all the way up to Mik’s head to feed and water him.
The position, however, allowed Pagol access to what he really wanted.
It only took a couple days of feeding Mik the aphrodisiac-laced food before his cock was peaking shyly out of its sheath and his balls had drooped low and fat in their sack. The centaur blushed whenever Pagol pointed it out, unable to look the man in the eye as he was forced to show off his dripping hard length with no way to hide.
The first time Pagol actually put his hands on the massive, round head of it had taken his breath away.
“Today, we start your real training,” he had said that morning.
Mik didn’t look convinced, confused when his usual breakfast of grain was replaced with only a huge jug of water that was refilled twice. He didn’t look happy about drinking it, but he didn’t dare disobey Pagol.
He whimpered as Pagol settled on the space underneath him, grabbing his cock and hefting it up. It was positioned at waist height for the farmer, perfect for what he intended to do.
Pagol gave Mik’s barrel chest a scratch and a pat, the thump echoing through his rib cage.
“Easy, boy,” Pagol said. “You’ll like this.”
He dragged one of his thumbs over the winking hole of Mik’s urethra, cushioned in the center of the rounded glans. The intimate touch over such a sensitive organ had Mik jolting in surprise, letting out a high pitched whine when he couldn’t pull away.
A crystal clear drop of precum oozed from the tip, wetting itself like a cunt under Pagol’s touches. After such a steady diet of powerful aphrodisiacs, Mik had to be pent up.
“I barely have to open you up,” Pagol said teasingly, dragging the callus pad of his finger over the fluttering entrance of Mik’s urethra.
With just a bit of pressure, he was able to push the tip of his finger in, the warm, wet insides immediately suckling at him as Mik keened. With a little more pressure, Pagol was able to insert his finger to the second knuckle, and then all the way, precum squelching out to the sides as he wiggled and pressed.
Mik’s back legs jerked, rattling the wooden stakes that kept him pinned, but Pagol knew how to restrain a centaur. Mik wasn’t going anywhere.
“Oohh, I know it’s scary,” Pagol crooned, starting to pump his finger in and out and listening as Mik began to sob. “But concentrate on the parts that feel good, hm? This big, pent up cock wants to cum. Imagine how good it would feel to relieve some of that pressure building up in your balls, how it would feel pumping out of this small hole.”
He pulled his finger out, admiring the winking opening already coaxed to opening up a bit more under his hands. He circled two fingers around the vulnerable hole this time, drawing a panicked whinny from Mik as he struggled to yank his hips away.
“But the pressure would be nothing compared to my fingers,” Pagol said, teasing just the tips inside and marveling at the tight, wet heat.
It felt better than Den’s trained ass, better than his swollen prolapse. Better than any ass or cunt Pagol had fucked before in his life.
His own cock throbbed, already desperate to invade the hole.
But he wanted Mik’s first time to be pleasurable, not painful, and he wanted to train the centaur up slowly. It would take time to develop the muscles around the small hole, but Pagol was certain with enough training, Mik would become the best fuck on the farm.
“Just open up,” he coaxed, easing his two fingers deeper. “And let me in.”
*******
After just a few short weeks of progress, Mik’s newest hole was developing nicely.
He was kept tightly restrained at almost all times, balancing precariously on two legs and baring his cock for inspection whenever Pagol wanted. With the diet that Pagol provided, he was slowly starting to bulk out, but it would be a year, maybe longer, before he reached full size.
He still hadn’t cum.
Pagol was careful with that.
He wanted to time Mik’s first orgasm to be the first time they fucked, and he had jerked his cock before bed far too often imagined the warm gush of cum flooding up Mik’s urethra, bathing Pagol’s cock in the hot liquid and adding to the pressure.
The weeks hadn’t been easy, but Pagol was getting there.
He was sitting on a stool underneath Mik’s form, his hard cock drooped over with the head dangling over a spare bucket. Pagol had his usual crop in his right hand, keeping the leather patch on the tip pressed threateningly to one of Mik’s massive balls.
Mik’s muscles were quivering, his entire horse half shivering as he struggled to clench and hold the steadily increasing portions of water that Pagol made him guzzle. The smooth velvet furry skin of his stomach was actually pushed outwards, his bladder swollen and tight.
“Hold it,” Pagol ordered, keeping an eye on the flexing entrance to Mik’s urethra.
He dragged the crop across the surface of Mik’s ball, pushing just enough to make it sway. It was mottled with previous welts and bruises, evidence of other trainings where he didn’t obey. He sniveled, whimpering, but even his tearful sobs sounded far away to Pagol.
“Alright,” he said. “Push out. Gently. I only want a couple of drops.”
With a moan of appreciation, Mik shifted, and Pagol shuddered in delight as the lips of Mik’s urethra flexed outwards, opening an inch further. After a small moment of both of them holding their breaths in anticipation, a small trickle of liquid oozed out. It splashed loudly, obviously into the bucket, and Mik's urethra pulled tight as he whimpered.
Pagol had only given him permission to let out a couple of drops.
That was nothing compared to the building pressure growing in his bladder.
As Pagol continued watching, Mik's urethra opened up again and another small stream of hot piss trickled out.
"Good slut," he praised, pulling the crop away.
Mik still held himself tight, his bladder quivering and every muscle kept tense. Pagol, of course, didn’t give him permission to let anything else go.
Pagol reached forward, cupping the head of Mik’s cock and bringing it to eye level, blowing a soft gust on the entrance just to watch it shiver and clench. Mik wailed, and a droplet of precum bubbled to the surface.
Pagol grinned, letting the cock drop back over the bucket before slipping two fingers into the urethra, pumping them roughly and feeling Mik’s muscles spasm and struggle to hold. The inside of his cock was hot and tense, wet with both piss and precum, but it was now loose enough that two of Pagol’s fingers fit with ease.
With a grin, he tucked in a third, making a slight cone, and plunging them in as hard as he could.
With a cry, either of pleasure or pain, Mik tensed his entire body and then lost the fight. With a sob of humiliation, the tight clench of their cock went limp, and then hot almost boiling liquid flooded Pagol’s hand, having to fight for space to dribble out around his fingers.
Mik whimpers of humiliation slowly changed to panting pleasure, as his cock throbbed and clenched around Pagol’s fingers, fighting to push out the piss. It took several long minutes, drawn-out and strung along like a good orgasm.
In the end, the only reason Mik was able to empty himself completely, was Pagol pulling out his fingers and letting it all gush free, splattering into the bucket and filling it halfway with the frothing, steaming liquid.
Pagol dried his hands on a rag before clambering up the scaffolding to get face to face with Mik.
The centaur’s eyes were rolled back in his head, his tongue dangling out of his mouth, and his chest shuddered with his breathing as he struggled to recover. Pagol grinned, gripping a fistful of his head and giving his face a couple slaps to bring him back to his body.
When Mik’s eyes finally cleared and focused on Pagol, the pleasure and bliss shifted to recognition and then dismay, and Pagol just smiled.
“You didn’t even cum,” he told the centaur, grinning eagerly as tears of confusion and humiliation flooded Mik’s eyes. “It just feels that good to piss.”
***********
"Relax," Pagol ordered sternly, tucking his thumb a bit tighter against the palm of his hand and widened his stance, preparing to push.
Mik was hissing through his teeth, biting down hard on the wooden bit Pagol had strapped in his mouth. He groaned, and for once, Pagol wasn't upset with him, because he knew Mik was actually trying to obey.
Pagol could feel the developed muscles in Mik's cock working, clenching and loosening and trying to open up for the cone of fingers pressed tight at the entrance. Occasionally, hot dribbles of piss would squeeze past his fingers, trickling down his wrist, but Pagol was mostly using the slick wet grab of precum to ease his way inside.
His heart was hammering in his chest, the same throb in his cock.
So close. So close to sticking his cock into a hole Mik had never once considered being fucked, and now, it would be all Pagol's.
He would breed the centaur over and over and over, until only his cum dribbled out of the massive throbbing cock. Maybe he would never let the centaur cum for himself, his horse cum inferior to Pagol's human cum. Besides, with the way Pagol was training him, Mik would just be glad to piss, the sensation of emptying his bladder becoming more addicting than emptying his balls.
With a strangled moan, Mik caved, his muscles of his urethra going limp, and Pagol's hand sunk inside. Pagol gasped, briefly caught off guard and marveling at the tight clutch of the cockhead now wrapped around his fist.
Mik whimpered his needy little whines as his hips shifted, trying to fuck his cock forward when the restraints wouldn’t let him.
And he flexed his muscles exactly how Pagol had trained him, clenching and loosening to milk the fingers with just his cock. Pagol could feel piss starting to build up on the other side of his knuckles, droplets sneaking their way down whenever Mik pushed but unable to get past the plug of Pagol's fist.
“Clench,” Pagol ordered, unable to hold back his own moan of pleasure as Mik obediently tightened his cock, squeezing down on his fist with a guttural groan of his own. “ Holy fuck .”
Mik was starting to hiss around his bit, trying to form words as he struggled to understand the sensations and what Pagol was doing underneath him when he couldn't see.
“Be patient,” Pagol ordered, twisting his fist around and slowly opening the cone of his hand until he met the velvety resistance.
Mik’s moans turned sharply to gasps of acute pain, and Pagol knew he had hit the momentary wall. After one last moment of stretching out his fingers, he eased his wrist back.
The exit was just as slow as the entry, Mik’s urethra distending outwards as it continued to suckle Pagol’s hand. The round head deformed around Pagol's knuckles as the hole was stretched tight, and then with a gush of precum and piss, Pagol’s fist popped free.
Mik squealed as if he were cumming, his hooves dancing up as the wooden restraints rattled as he briefly struggled. And then he fell limp, panting and wheezing as he leaned on the wood for support. His cock looked as exhausted as he sounded, drooping halfway over and dangling over the bucket Pagol had left on the floor.
As Pagol watched, the hole flexed, like a breathing mouth or a pulsing hole. It flared outwards, limp for several moments, until a few clear drops of precum dribbled out, before it contracted back, tightening itself up and returning to its more normal appearance. Almost .
Pagol was hypnotized, tempted to pull out his cock and fuck the hole right then and there.
But he was so close. He just needed a couple more days of work, and then there would be no risk of hurting Mik.
And if Pagol hurt Mik the first time, he would have to wait even longer for him to heal before continuing to stretch him. No, it was better to make sure he got everything right the first time around than to lose control over his own urges.
Pagol wasn’t some animal.
**********
“Give my cock a kiss.”
Pagol’s breath caught in his throat as, with a pathetic moan, Mik obliged.
The gaping entrance to his urethra fluttered outwards, like an overused asshole being pushed out. The stretched lips strained, searching, before finally connecting with the head of Pagol’s own cock in a tender kiss.
Mik managed to hold it for several moments before, with a gasp, his cock went limp, and his hole retracted. It left behind a sheen of precum, a thin line connecting his and Pagol’s cocks like a string of spit.
There was a moment, Pagol let him recover, and then Mik was flexing his cock again, the muscles well practiced at this point.
Months. Agonizing weeks. All of the training, and it was finally time.
Mik was broken, bent to Pagol’s whim. He was eager and desperate every morning, whimpering and swishing his tail excitedly. Like a puppy. He hadn’t seen the other centaurs yet and didn't know just how dangerous Pagol was.
His cock was no longer his, his urethra no longer just an exit.
He quivered and whimpered whenever Pagol played with his cock, the muscles of his urethra so well-trained at that point. He could hold his bladder as long as Pagol demanded it, and the pressure on his prostate along with all the aphrodisiacs he ate kept him perpetually half hard.
With practiced ease, his urethra gaped outwards, stretching the small gap to Pagol’s cock and kissing it reverently on the tip again and again. Each time left a couple more droplets of precum along with the hot burn of barely-contained piss.
Pagol could have kept him like that forever, luxuriating in the absolute control he held over the centaur’s body, the depravity of Mik's cock so desperate and in love with his own, the sweet worship of it. Was it even fucking at this point? The muscles in Mik’s cock were so developed that it could clench and milk and suck just as good as any of his other holes.
Maybe even better.
But Pagol hadn’t waited this long just for a chaste little kiss on the tip of his cock.
He cradled the tip of Mik’s horse cock, hefting it up and bringing it in line with his own cock. He almost barked a laugh when the Mik’s drooling hole pulled tight, as tight as it could get, as if terrified at what was finally happening.
There was nothing Mik was able to do to resist.
Pagol pressed forward slowly, dragging the tip of his cock over the entrance and collecting a bit more precum, before slowly pushing inside.
The entrance gave in like a cunt, the soft lips fluttered tightly, clamping around the ridges of the head of his cock as it slowly squeezed inside. The insides were velvety soft and as wet as a cunt as well, hot and clenching, already milking the few inches Pagol had given him.
Mik’s hooves danced on the sawdust covered floor, the leather straps creaking as he struggled to hold his body back from fucking his cock forward.
“God, look at you,” Pagol groaned, tucking his crop under his arm so he could drag his hands down the massive length of Mik’s cock, teasing the veins and ridges along the way until he got to the sensitive skin of his sheath.
The hair was fuzzy and thin there, almost as soft as a horse’s nose would be, and as Pagol teased his fingers inside the tight entrance, Mik’s entire body trembled before he moaned, huffing with his own pleasure. His massive, pendulous balls were already pulled up tight, his desperation a razor’s edge after so many weeks of denial.
“My perfect cock slut,” Pagol said, shifting his hips to slide a little deeper into Mik’s cunt.
His hands moved past the wrinkled skin of Mik’s sheath up to the bulge of his bladder right above it. Pagol cupped the tight dome of skin, heat pouring off both with the strain of Mik’s muscles as well as the hot piss the centaur was struggling to hold back.
He gave it a sharp slap, just because he could, the wet, hollow thud echoing through Mik’s body as his cock tightened sharply. Mik moaned, and Pagol knew he was trying hard not to piss himself.
It made the insides of his cock flutter, pulling tight to prevent the flood of piss--and a punishment for failure--and staying limp enough that Pagol’s cock wasn’t painfully coring it open.
Despite that, Pagol could feel a couple drops of warm liquid meet the head of his cock, plugged up, and he grinned, knowing that Mik had slipped up. He would be able to hold that against the centaur for later, to justify a punishment.
For now, he pushed his cock deeper, the late-summer haze of the atmosphere of the barn almost a chill compared to the comforting heat of Mik’s cock. Pagol wanted his entire cock cradled in that warmth, held delicately and lovingly.
Then he would whip Mik’s balls to make the centaur squeal and buck, tightening his cock and milking Pagol to his orgasm. Pagol still hadn’t decided if he wanted Mik to cum or not.
“This slutty, fucking cock,” Pagol growled, using both hands to grip the wide head of Mik’s cock and driving himself in to the root.
Mik gasped sharply, no doubt feeling the scratch of Pagol’s pubes dragging against his sensitive insides as his cock was forced open and Pagol finally bottomed out. Pagol squeezed the cockhead tight, creating a perfect seal to hold in the piss and precum that was threatening to make its way out of Mik’s cock, plugging him up and fucking it back down.
“Really just a cunt,” Pagol said with a moan, pulling his cock back just a couple inches before fucking it back into the tight heat.
Mik was babbling, no coherent words making it past the bit gag strapped across his mouth, but he was still obviously trying to form words. The next steps of his training would be beating that bad habit out of him, teaching him that animals didn’t talk and that if his holes weren’t taking cock, they were to be plugged to have a use.
“Tighten up,” Pagol ordered with a growl, managing to get the words out through gritted teeth as he dragged his cock out of the velvety head before plunging it back in and setting up a steady pace.
He nearly came the moment Mik clamped down on him, his cock becoming so tight that Pagol had to fight to get himself back inside. The insulated heat from the trapped piss and the squelching froth of their precum was all a heady mix, but the cock throbbing in Pagol’s hands was what Pagol loved the most.
He gripped the flared ridge, wrapping his fingers around the fat head of it like the cinched waist of a brothel whore. Every thrust of his hips slapped into the head with a ripple of force, and every time he pulled back, a small splash of piss always squeezed out.
The splatter of it hitting the ground was almost drowned out by Mik’s sinful noises, his moans and whimpers only driving Pagol to fuck him harder and harder.
The heat pouring off his equine body had Pagol sweating far sooner than he expected, and it wasn’t long before he was breathing as hard as Mik was, both of them gasping as the wet slap of skin echoed through the room.
“Fuck,” Pagol gasped, feeling his balls starting to pull up as he approached the edge of his orgasm.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the quivering hairy underbelly of Mik’s barrel, breathing in the fresh-hay-sweaty-animal smell of him. He let his eyes flutter closed, focusing on putting as much force behind his thrusts as he could.
Keeping on hand cradle under Mik’s cock to keep him in place, Pagol pulled out his crop again, squinting his eyes open just enough to aim at Mik’s swinging balls.
“I want my cunt tight ,” he growled. “Fucking tighten it.”
The first swing of the crop connected solidly with the center of Mik’s ball, and with a squeal of pain he thrashed against the restraints, his body twisting in protest. The crack of leather across the skin had his cock spasming, and Pagol groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as his cock was milked.
The second swat had Mik sobbing, slumping in the restraints as he took the pain. His cock tightened sporadically, desperately trying to satisfy Pagol to escape the pain.
And Pagol just embraced him, pressing his face into the coarse hair of Mik’s belly and pressing a firm kiss into his trembling skin. He pulled his cock out, so just the very tip sat inside the tight heat of Mik’s, and let the centaur tremble around him.
And then, savoring every inch, Pagol sunk back in, legs trembling, and gave Mik’s balls one last hit, putting as much strength behind the hit as he could.
With a howling scream, Mik came, his cock tightening almost painfully around Pagol’s. Pagol groaned, cumming down Mik’s cock and breeding the hole in reverse.
A moment later, he felt the swell of Mik’s cum hit his cock. It wasn’t as hot as the piss but it was thicker. Mik squealed as his orgasm was cut short, not the swell of pleasure he had been looking forward to but a backed-up pressure building in his cock to only dribble out.
Pagol moaned as the hole around his cock tightened even further. He could feel Mik’s cum squeeze past him, dripping off his balls. He managed to hold himself in place for a moment longer before the pressure forced him out.
He stepped back, ripping his cock free.
It pulled out with an obscene pop, and Mik’s cock jerked, urethra gaping, as the backed-up cum splattered against the ground. It wasn’t in the powerful ropes or jets that a good orgasm allowed, instead just an overwhelming waterfall of liquid that Mik could no longer hold onto as his muscles went limp.
Mik hadn’t even run out of cum before he was pissing, losing control of his bladder moments after his orgasm. He didn’t piss himself so much as he couldn’t tighten his muscles anymore.
Pagol pumped his cock, adding a couple more spurts of cum to the top of the mess with a moan before staggering out from under the centaur. He had to catch himself on one wall, still trying to catch his breath, and his legs were actually shaking from his orgasm.
He dumbly took in Mik’s form, shaking arms still strung up to the ceiling and his equine body in its careful balancing act. The mess of cum and piss underneath him would have to be cleaned up, but that could wait.
Pagol was still recovering.
His cock throbbed again, only half hard but desperate for another round, and he stroked himself idly, taking in the fucked out mess that was the head of Mik’s cock. The urethra gaped outwards, the delicate pink insides a teasing wink before fading to an alluring dark red. Even that small stretch had Pagol’s balls thrumming, and he wanted more .
He wanted to make it worse.
Pagol knew his cock wasn’t the biggest, but he couldn’t wait to ruin Mik further with his fist. His cock was long enough for it too. Pagol could work his way slowly up his arm, from wrist to forearm to elbow. Once he reached his shoulder, he could finger Mik’s bladder himself, squeezing his prostate from the inside out.
And he would keep Mik’s muscles elastic but well-trained, ready and willing to tighten up the moment Pagol wanted to trade his fist for his cock.
“What a good cock slut,” he said, finally managing to pull his hands away from his cock.
He had one last surprise for Mik. He set his crop down, leaning it against the wall as he walked over to where he hung the saddlebags, flipping one open and starting to dig through the contents. He had carved a specific plug just for Mik, treating it with oil and measuring and cutting the leather straps so that it could be tightened around Mik’s cock.
The thick, wooden plug was longer than Pagol’s own cock by several inches, only because Pagol wanted to start the deeper stretching as soon as possible. Pagol had refrained from adding too much texture, wanting Mik to only know the sensation of a cock or a fist inside his new cunt.
But Pagol had poured all his time into the detailing at the end of the plug.
It was flared at the base, like all good plugs should be, carefully shaped so that it would sit perfectly in the small divot of Mik’s cock. And in the wood, Pagol had every-so-intricately carved out the delicate folds and ripples of a cunt.
The gloss he had used as a finish made it gleam, and buried at the top, peaking out like a shy erection, was a small but perfect clit.
So Mik’s new cunt could look like it was supposed to.
Pagol hefted the plug, smirking as he stepped back underneath Mik, his presence not even acknowledged by the fucked out centaur. He pulled Mik’s cock up, rubbing his thumb roughly across the still gaping entrance, unable to hold back a moan of appreciation as, with a pained, overstimulated whimper from Mik, it tightened back up reflexively.
Pagol didn’t give him more warning than that, hawking up a wad of spit and adding it to the mess that was already Mik’s cock.
The plug slid inside so cleanly, not a moment of resistance until it settled inside. Mik let out a strangled moan, his hooves kicking up one last bit of fight before falling limp.
The leather straps were easing to loop around and tighten, holding the plug in place and preventing Mik’s cock from retreating fully back into its sheath.
The gleaming wooden cunt stood out starkly from the pink and black mottled flesh of Mik’s cock, drawing the eye and leaving no doubt on what the hole’s purpose actually was.
Pagol patted Mik’s flank, craning his neck to look up and try to catch the centaur’s eye.
“Good slut,” he said, even though there was a vacant, far off look to Mik’s eye and a line of drool was starting to trickle out of the corner of his mouth.
Pagol huffed a laugh.
“It’s always a lot the first time,” he said, petting over Mik’s hairy hindquarter before tangling his fingers in the coarse hair of his tail. He did his best to be gentle, yanking it up to give the fat, round donut underneath a critical look. It shivered and clenched as if it knew it was being stared at and judged. “Thank god you’ve got more than one virginity to lose. By the time we’re done with all your firsts, you’ll be a natural whore.”
Mik barely registered the compliment with a moan, but Pagol didn’t mind.
He would give Mik enough time to recover, let him sit and process his first time. Soon, he would learn to beg Pagol to fuck and fist his cock, learn that while he still had a cock, it’s only purpose was to hold his true cunt. He wouldn’t be able to cum without something plugging up his urethra, and every time he came it would be tainted with his piss.
His bladder would just become another thing to empty at the height of his pleasure.
Maybe, if-- when --Mik got too loose for Pagol, he would pull that massive horse cock back between his legs and let his other centaurs breed him.
And then his bladder would just be a womb, and the cum and piss that dripped out of him would no longer be just his own. And at that point, Mik’s orgasm wouldn’t just be him pumping his cum out of his cock, it would be pumping any cum out of his cock.