As always, if you like what you read, [redacted]I hope you enjoy![/pre-story]
Ciri in Heat; Ch. 1
The inn’s wooden door creaked softly as Ciri pulled it closed behind her. The night air was chilly, but not unbearable on her smooth, pale skin, and between the nearly-full moon and her lantern, she could see just fine. She let her emerald eyes close as a fait breeze swept past her, feeling it blow across her skin and through her long, ashen hair. She quite liked nights like this. She felt like she could relax a little, like she didn’t have to be constantly peering into the darkness, watching the treeline for some monster to emerge. It was exactly what she needed, at the moment.
Ciri hadn’t even taken off her usual travelling clothes yet. Her cream-colored, wide-necked blouse was worn loosely around her chest, baring much of her shoulders, a split down the middle offering a tantalizing glimpse of the bra beneath. Leather bands around her upper arms held the sleeves in place so they wouldn’t bind when she moved, fitted leather gloves extended up to cover most of her forearms before flaring out slightly at the end. A thick leather wrap, almost like a corset, hugged her torso from her hips to just below the swell of her breasts. She wore two belts, one a string of engraved metal squares with rounded corners, each bearing a blue stone at its center, which hugged the thinnest point of her already-narrow waist, the other, a simple leather belt that hung off the swell of her hips, bearing a few small pouches and trinkets. Below, she wore soft leather pants, dark gray, almost black, the hide specially treated so as to stretch and shift freely with her movements while still clinging tight to her slender thighs. Her boots rose to almost her knees, fastened with leather straps that wound around her ankle and calf, leaving the uppermost edge loose and rumpled.
She couldn’t sleep. The meeting with her father was still fresh in her mind, even after several days on the road. She tried not to think about it, but that was like putting a lid on the boiling pot of anger and disgust in her core- All it did was hide the problem while it got worse and worse, until it eventually boiled over. He’d really thought he could just… buy her, that he could just offer Geralt a pile of gold and he’d just hand her over. Of course, Geralt had refused payment, but the very idea infuriated her. Treating her like… like something to be bought and sold, traded or wagered, a possession, an animal… Like the horse he’d ‘generously’ given Geralt after his gold was refused.
A thump and a whinny from the stable suddenly caught her attention. Instantly, her body tensed up and she turned toward the simple structure standing beside the inn, readying herself for a fight. Had something gotten into the stable and spooked the horses? Her mind ran through the possibilities as she swiftly crept closer, eyes focused intently. There was another whinny, and another heavy thump. She slowly pushed open the door, lantern in one hand, the other on the hilt of her blade, peering into the dark stable. It was a relatively standard stable, basic construction, a wooden floor covered in dirt, straw, and stains of various sort. Stalls on either side, a workbench in the back, an open space in the middle, a loft above for storing hay and whatever else might fit… But she didn’t see anything unusual. Of course, that didn’t mean much, something might be hiding in some corner, or it might be a ghost or a phantom of some sort…
As Ciri crept into the stable, scanning all around, sudden movement caught her eye. The black stallion in the last stall, her father’s gift, threw its head back and shook itself, bouncing on its front hooves before snorting and pawing at the ground. Ciri hurried to the beast’s side, reaching out to stroke the side of its muscled neck. “Shh, sh sh sh…. Calm down… It’s alright…” She soothed, still scanning the stable for what might have frightened the poor creature. But the longer she looked, the more it became clear that there was nothing to see. Any yet, the horse whinnied again, tossing its silky black mane, still clearly upset.
“What’s wrong, big guy? What’s got you all worked up?” She whispered, still soothing the stallion as she turned her attention to the animal. It was a fine horse, to be certain, tall, proud, and strong, with smooth, black fur that glistened slightly in the lantern-light, a barrel chest, and finely-trained muscles that twitched and tensed under her fingertips. Geralt had only had him for a few days, so he hadn’t yet spent enough time in the company of a witcher to develop the more strange traits common to a witcher’s steed. Roach had been a fine mount, but she’d been of common stock, whereas this stallion was a purebred Nilfgaardian, it was clear just from the sight of him that he was in a different league. Though, Geralt always named his mount Roach, so Ciri supposed she had to get used to calling this horse ‘Roach’ as well.
“Let’s see if we can’t figure out what’s bothering you, Roach…” She muttered, pulling open the stall door and slipping inside to give the horse a closer look. She always loved animals, and taking care of a creature in need would be a welcome diversion. She didn’t even really mind the smell, though she would have to have a word with the stable boy, he clearly hadn’t been washed before being put up for the night. Still, he wasn’t injured anywhere, there were no biting flies or crawling ticks she could see immediately… He’d already cleaned out his feeding trough, and he still had water… Perhaps a rock in his hoof? Ciri sank down into a squat and took hold ahold of one of his forelegs, lifting it up to take a look. The hoof was nearly as wide as her hand with fingers spread, but there was no sign of a rock or anything, and he hadn’t thrown the shoe…
As she set the hoof down and reached for the next Roach shook once again, and Ciri let something warm brush against her shoulder. When she turned to look, her eyes widened, and the problem became clear. The stallion’s cock swung pendulously beneath him, a black serpent with mottled patches of pink. The horse was hung, well, like a horse, his length was fully emerged from its sheath, as long and thick as Ciri’s forearm, with a ridge in the middle and a wide-flared tip at the end. He hadn’t been gelded, apparently, as behind the shaft swung a pair of coal-black balls the size of ripe apples that hung heavy in their smooth sack. The smell was much stronger down here, the scent of equine sweat, thick with pheromones intended to attract any nearby mares…
A blush crossed Ciri’s cheeks. That explained it. One of the mares in the stable must have been in estrus, and Roach, having caught the scent, was ready to do his duty as a stud. It made sense that a purebred Nilfgaardian stallion would be used to studding, any foal he sired would be worth a small fortune. But at the moment, there was little to be done. She couldn’t exactly find the mare and have him do his business now, in the middle of the night, not without her owner’s blessing, at the very least. But then, if she left him like this, he might hurt himself trying to get out of his stall to satisfy his urges, not to mention he had to be suffering. Ciri sympathized, on the road with Geralt, it was nearly impossible to find enough privacy to… relieve some stress. It had been nearly a month since she’d last had the chance, and even then, she’d very nearly been caught in the act...
The smell was starting to get to her, this close to the source, it was just so thick in the air that she couldn’t get away from it, each breath filled her nose with the stallion’s potent, animal scent. The beast’s pheromones weren’t made for humans, but then, she wasn’t exactly human, and as she continued to breathe, she found the scent less and less unpleasant, a fog slowly descending upon her mind. Her thoughts turned to her own suppressed desires, to the warm, itching ache in her core that begged to be soothed each night, only to be denied over and over. This poor stallion felt the same, surely, if not worse, she’d heard men talk about the ache that came from desire denied, but this noble creature had no way to deal with his own desires, he relied on his master’s mercy to ease his suffering. Her father hardly seemed the sort to care for the suffering of a horse unless it affected its performance, so there was no telling knew how long it had been since Roach had had the chance…
At some point, without realizing it, Ciri had shifted from a crouch to her knees, the proud witcher-in-training kneeling beneath Roach’s belly, her gaze lingering on the enormous shaft gently swinging this way and that with every movement the stallion made. It was almost hypnotic. She swallowed, her mouth watering, though she couldn’t understand why. Her hand was already in motion, rising up and reaching out toward the swaying member, before she’d even made the conscious decision to help ease Roach’s suffering. It wasn’t a sexual thing, she told herself, it was just… taking care of him, no different that cleaning a stone from his hoof…
Ciri’s gloved fingers brushed against the length of Roach’s equine shaft, and the beast huffed in surprise, but its body responded instantly. The flaccid shaft twitched, swelling larger beneath the girl’s delicate touch. Ciri didn’t flinch away, she only stared, mesmerized, as her fingers slowly slid around it, exploring it as it slowly began to grow longer and thicker. Her fingers curled around it and gave it a curious heft, feeling the impressive weight of the meaty shaft. She hadn’t seen many men naked before, but this was something else entirely, even now it was bigger than any man she’d ever seen, and still it grew… and grew… and grew… Soon her fingers could no longer close around its girth, and it slowly began to stiffen, tendons at the base grinding as they lifted the weighty pillar of horsecock into place, jutting proudly from his hips, ready to plunge into a mare and pump her full of the potent, pure Nilfgaardian seed that boiled in his heavy nuts.
Ciri’s free hand came up to join the other in exploring Roach’s endowment, her gloved palm caressing the stallion’s length before it reached those heavy balls, gently cupping and hefting them each in turn, feeling their weight, feeling them shift in their sack beneath her fingers. She swallowed again, her mouth still watering. A warmth was swiftly growing in her belly, spreading through her core and down between her thighs. Her breath grew ragged, a quiet, heated panting, her soft pink lips parting slightly. Roach’s musky, animal scent grew so thick she could TASTE it on the air. But she wasn’t getting turned on, she reassured herself. Ciri was a stubborn girl, her mind wouldn’t let her even consider the possibility that she was wrong. There was nothing sexual about any of this, she wasn’t some perverted slut who would get aroused while… while stroking a big, fat horsecock… while milking the cum from a stallion’s heavy balls… while kneeling on a stable floor beneath an enormous, powerful animal, attending the needs of a beast like a servant servicing a king...
Roach snorted, tossing his head as his equine cock reached full hardness, the tendons at the base tugging hard enough to make the pillar of horse-cock smack against his belly. Ciri gaped at it for a moment, arms slowing to a stop. It was thicker than her wrist and almost as long as her arm, crowned with a wide flare the size of a fist! Roach snorted again, pawing with a forehoof as his member lurched again, and Ciri snapped out of her trance. This was the point of no return, she knew she couldn’t stop anymore, not until Roach was satisfied. Ciri swallowed again as both her gloved hands moved to wrap around Roach’s girth and slowly began to stroke, pumping up and down his length, trying to ignore the growing, needy heat between her legs.
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