A Sensible Purchase Ch. 04

"He's had enough of my time. I need to save a portion for my wife."

Something about the sincere, angry tone in Simon's voice, combined with the way he said "my wife" set Jansetta's woolly brain on fire. She didn't care who heard her as she cried out, "I'll do anything you want! Oh please!"

"Oh? I do hope I'm not being an inconsiderate guest."

Jansetta's breath retreated in a tight, sucking way.

She was certain that was the eldest prince's voice. She didn't have a clear image of his face in her mind, but she knew his voice fairly well. It was lyrical and powerful.

Stepping away, taking Simon's fingers out of her, Jansetta hissed up to him, "Don't anger your prince." Her fingertips went into a groove to pull the upper wall closed.

She sank down onto the floor, rubbing her lips together. Without considering herself, she put her hand under her clothing, between her thighs, and she caressed herself as deeply as her little fingers could allow. Her free hand pressed one of her long sleeves against her mouth as she completely ignored the male voices from outside the walls. Their words weren't important to her.

Simon, she thought to herself, please hurry! Hurry!

Her heart seemed to race and leap.

And then ...

And then ...

BAMN!!

"What?" Jansetta said it aloud, distressed at being interrupted. She abandoned her aching womanhood and straightened her clothes.

That startling noise had her thinking a centaur had actually kicked a wall. The crackling, snapping, wooden sounds confirmed it for her. She wiped her fingers under her chemise. Then she opened the upper wall again.

Simon ... he was snorting out so much air that Jansetta wondered if he was in the middle of a sneezing fit. His hair was nearly as wild as his green eyes, and those eyes were angrily pointed at a centaur wearing many tinkling trinkets of gold and silver. One of the walls looked to have been kicked in. There were harsh, sunken cracks in the wood. Jansetta was certain that Simon was the one who kicked the wall, because his back legs were the closest to it.

The prince looked at her.

He was a handsome man. That wasn't really an important fact, but it was a fact she noted all the same. Overall, he was a gold champagne creature, at least in his coat and long hair.

And he was looking at Jansetta like she was a sugar pastry, licking his lips and lowering his eyelids, as if he was making plans that involved his teeth. He spoke to her, and as he did so, Jansetta remembered something. While she never focused on his face when she danced for Simon, the prince would certainly have seen her. All the men would have.

"Good evening, Madam," the prince said with a short nod of his head. His jewelry sounded like wind chimes as he moved. Even the festoon of silk on his body had pretty metal things dangling and twirling about. "I hope you won't be concerned when I ask this question." His pale eyes seemed ... less adoring than the sort of eyes Jansetta had lately been accustomed to seeing on a centaur. "Have you grown fond of this family?"

It took Jansetta perhaps five seconds to find the proper words. She took a few steps backward, bowed to him, and said, "Your Highness, I'm honored that you would bless me with your speech." Her fingers closed together, and her hands layered before her. "I have not lived in this house for long, but the people here have been gracious, and I have needed nothing."

"I'm glad to know that, but what if you could live among princesses?"

What?

Jansetta looked down at the floor's mats. She didn't want to even try to interpret the possible meanings in the prince's visage. "I don't understand. I am meant to live here. The marquess has purchased me, and I am meant to be his. Is His Highness suggesting that my noble sisters-in-law would be chosen to be princesses? If so, they would leave this place once they are purchased, and I would be left alone with the dowager marchioness until her younger sons have found brides."

She heard hooves tap against the earth as one of the men moved closer. Her eyes rose a bit and she saw the sumptuous tunic of the prince. He gripped the edge of the lower wall. His rings clanged against the wood. "I imagine The Soothing has not finished for you, Madam. There's still time for another man to purchase you from the marquess, if you both agree to it."

Jansetta didn't know if he was being rude or not, but she wasn't fond of the idea of being sold again. "His Highness is kind to flatter me so, but I'd rather not entertain the idea. I worry for my husband. He's been determined to cosset me, and I hate to ruin his plans."

"You must have grown very, very fond of this family then." The disappointment in his voice was thick. His fingers slid away, and he retreated from the wall. "I'll let you be. Goodnight."

He left then. Simon moved to close a hallway wall and locked it with an angry, shaking hand. He seemed to lean towards the panel, taking deep, calming breaths, as if he needed to blow out several flames.

When Simon appeared calmer, Jansetta asked him, "What sort of man is he?"

He slammed his palm against the panel, which caused Jansetta to recoil a bit. "He's a fool! A rebellious fool! If his mother disapproves of an action, he'll perform it with glee! If he wasn't so high above me, I'd have trampled him! All the native women in the world available to him, and he bothers me about my wife, my foreign wife, who doesn't know our ways!"

He made a rough, growling noise, and he reared back, his upper legs rolling and kicking in the air. Then his body lowered, but his front legs pounded down a few more times. Jansetta flinched at each attack on the earth.

"I should've knocked his head into a table!" Simon went on. "Putting so much pressure on someone who doesn't have the confidence of a native! A native woman would've screamed at him; his station would be completely irrelevant!"

"Is my husband being honest, or is he venting out his anger?" Jansetta rested her arms on the edge of the lower wall, peering at Simon's gleaming black coat. If he had been a horse, Jansetta would have thought he'd be a prize of an animal.

"It doesn't matter." He backed up, sighing, and then he repeated the words with a softer tone. "It doesn't matter."

A thought had Jansetta's eyelids rising. "The prince must have access to a great amount of wealth. If he desires a woman, he could pay an exuberant price. Perhaps he would even grant one land or social status."

"It doesn't matter!!" Simon went to the lower wall, reaching over and scratching at the decorated wood, staring down at Jansetta as one of his eyelids twitched.

Feeling a warm sense of calm spreading out from her heart, Jansetta nodded and smiled. "You're right. It doesn't matter." She approached, and then she was hugging him again. "It doesn't matter at all."

A sigh blew onto the top of her head. "I'd never accept any price from him. Nothing he could offer is worth losing a woman with such a sweet nature."

"Oh, Simon!" Her body was pulsing again, silently humming with carnal need. "Take me to the men's side! Carry me there! I'll lie back on your straw and do whatever you please! Don't fret over the clogs, hurry!" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet like an excited child, her hair and clothing rustling against him. Her voice became a sad little whine. "My feet are in shoes. They're protected."

Soft little chuckles were made against her cheek as his lips brushed against her flesh. "Do you honestly believe that women are expected to lie in the straw?" A kiss was put to her ear, which made her squirm and grin. "Open the wall so I may arrange your feet as a proper husband should."

Jansetta obeyed, sliding the lower wall away and putting her backside on the floor so that her legs could dangle over the boundary. She watched as her husband stepped back, lowering himself so he could reach under the women's floor and gingerly hook his fingers inside the counters of the shoes. He pinched the clogs together, pulled them towards himself, and turned them so that the toe boxes faced his hooves. Then, his hands went to Jansetta's feet, and he very carefully unlaced each leather shoe, placing them on the floor mats so they wouldn't touch the dirt.

Trying her best not to roll her eyes and disrespect this man, Jansetta smiled and sighed as her stocking clad feet were guided inside the clogs that Simon held up so kindly. Then, even though Jansetta reached up like a toddler needing attention, Simon decided to take the time to remove her cloak, fold it up, and put it aside. Then he pushed the ends of her long sleeves inside her belt.

Finally, once he was satisfied, his hands went to her waist and he lifted her up. He didn't take her to where he slept. He took her to a room where there was no straw. Instead, there was an arrangement of tall furniture, and even a single lit brazier. The brazier was placed on a tall frame, similar to a floor lamp, and it had a bowl shape. There was a stone wall that had lit scones, but other than that, and the glowing brazier, the room was very much blanketed in night.

Jansetta's backside was placed on a tall table that not only had a mattress-like cushion on it, but also a few pillows and a thin blanket. These soft things were cool and smooth to the touch, but Jansetta imagined they would soon be warm. She decided that she had essentially been placed on a tall bed. She also decided that her wooden clogs were almost useless, because her feet had never been close to the soil.

Another kiss ... yes!

She was kissed again, her tongue suckled and played with. Hot hands were sweeping all around her, then under her skirts, under the chemise, branding her thighs and buttocks. Her backside was gripped and kneaded with spread fingers. Her thighs felt the cold air again, even as his hands warmed her.

Both of them gasped as their lips separated. Then Jansetta felt Simon's teeth and breath tickling the side of her throat.

"Would you please lie down?" It was a sweet, gentle request, but his tone was gruff and nearly dominating.

She couldn't deny him. She put her back against the cozy bedding. Even when she felt her legs and hips being pulled, she didn't resist. Expecting bliss, Jansetta closed her eyes and waited.

She didn't wait long.

A tongue laved up, from the bottom to the tip of her slit, then back down to begin again, and she keened out her enchantment.

"Ooohhhhhh ... yes ... yeeeeeeees!!" Jansetta dug into the bedding, her legs pressing against the man's shoulders. He seemed to be bending over.

He also seemed quite encouraged. He lapped at her sensitive parts, humming into her. His tongue then wiggled inside, tasting the smoothest flesh there, adding more moisture.

Jansetta's legs bounced upwards. Her clogs banged against his back. Simon didn't seem to care at all.

And then ...

Oh yes ...

He went there. He put his mouth right at her clitoris, and she screamed and begged him to keep going.

Tight, throbbing insanity was spreading out from her core to her brain, changing her into a hedonistic being, uncaring of anything except the pleasure.

"Simon! Oooohhhhhh ... Simon! Yes! Lick me, suck me up! Oh please!" Even as her hips were held, they rocked against the lovesome tongue and lips that enthralled her senses. Then the only sounds she could make were tiny chirps. Her muscles seized up.

"Oh! Oh! Ohohohohohohohhhhhhhh!!"

And she was dazed. She barely heard Simon say, "I believe I have the right to feel quite proud of myself." He lowered her body so she was flat on the mattress. Then she was pulled up again, but the opposite way, so she was sitting again. Simon took one of her hands, and she didn't feel offended at all. Then, he guided her hand to something she didn't expect to even exist.

Simon was holding his tunic up a little, and there was something sticking out from a patch of fluffy hair. On a typical horse, Jansetta didn't normally see such a poof ball of hair, and what was sticking out from the hair was something even less likely to be on a horse, at least on that spot.

This wasn't a horse, though.

But that was a penis.

An erect one.

Jansetta stared down at it, stupidly blinking like a member of a disturbing cult that was told what reality is like. She touched it, vaguely understanding what it was, but not certain about why it was there.

"Oh, didn't you know? I believe a manual was left in your room. Women love to write about the subject much more often than men, I've noticed."

She put her hand on her lap and looked up at his patiently amused face. "I don't understand."

"I purchased a carnal manual written by a woman who had given birth to many sons and a few daughters. I thought you would have read it by now."

All she could think of to say was, "Huh?"

Crinkles of laughter formed under his eyes. His lips pursed for a moment as he held in a snort. "Centaurs have two penises, the first one is in the front and the second one is in the back. The one in the back is much longer than the first one. Because of this, the first penis is the one that usually receives the most attention."

Well ...

Hmmmmm ...

"I ... I suppose it's no less startling to see on a horse body than a humanoid torso, assuming one has never seen a centaur before."

He kissed her. Then he grabbed her hand again.

She was touching him, and the way he moaned against her, rocking his body back and forth, told her that he loved a sweet touch just as much as she did. That was fine, more than fine, really. Her fingers curled about him, holding onto him. Then he guided her hand up and down. The shaft had a silken texture; it was almost fun to stroke. It was new and interesting and it didn't seem threatening in any way.

"Jan ... Jan!" He seemed to invent that nickname at that moment, without considering what she'd think of it. He didn't need to consider that, though, because she loved it, and she wondered what sort of nickname she should give him.

"Hm? You've given me a tiny name. I'll have to think of a grand name for you." Her thumb found an interesting ridge under the head and she played with the texture, petting and flicking the skin.

A stomp on the soft floor rang out. "Damn it! Please! I want this cock in you!"

Her cheeks burned at his words, and although she still had twinges of anxiety, she knew she couldn't refuse him, and she honestly didn't want to.

"How should this be done?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, come here!"

It was simple and severe all at once.

Simon pulled her legs apart and took her hips. Then, with a thin intake of breath, he shoved her onto him, sinking his penis into her ... his cock.

Jansetta tried not to scream. She didn't want to scream. She did it anyway. Her fingers clawed onto his shoulders and she screamed up at him. It was all because it hurt. She thought there was blood. There had to be blood, no doubt.

"You'll adjust!" He sounded determined, yet shaky, as if he was trying to convince himself instead of the woman he held so closely.

"I will?"

"Yes, please! I'm sorry, terribly sorry!" His words sounded weak, like a prisoner struggling to push himself through the bars of a cage.

She looked at him. His nostrils were so thin, and the shadows of the room made him look even more distressed. His jaw seemed tight. The veins in his throat were very pronounced.

Jansetta sighed.

Then she leaned into him, pulling her sleeves out of her belt. "Then I must endure." She wiggled her hips, putting more of him inside. She cringed into his tunic. "Now that I know what this feeling is, it's easier to learn."

Simon hissed down at her. "It feels like paradise! Damn! I'm sorry!" His fingernails bit into her hips. "I don't want to hurt you, but ... Ah!" He moved in to kiss her jaw. Then he murmured, "Let this sweet little cunt be mine. Pleeeeease?" His tongue drew a wet spiral on her cheek. "I promise, I'll pamper your body if you let me keep it."

Wetly, very wetly, little channel spasmed, and Jansetta thought the pain was dulling down. "You want to push and pull, don't you? It's fine. I've happily opened myself to you."

He didn't bother with a verbal response. He simply did as he pleased, in and out, stretching her insides. Their breaths were laboring between them. Jansetta felt the pain dwindle and then there was something similar to the feeling of having thick fingers inside of her. It was different, though. All she could think of was the word more. There was more in there, filling her up, touching more of her flesh all at once than a man's finger could.

It went on for the longest time, and then something different happened.

Simon pulled her away, popping his erection out, and then he actually did something a little rough. Without consulting her, he flipped her body over. Jansetta's breath was forced out of her belly as she landed on the mattress.

Then she learned that a penis could be shoved in from behind, and it really felt amazing! Her voice returned after perhaps three strokes. "It's tight! So tight! Yes! I love it!"

"Do you, Jan? Do you?"

She was pulling at the blanket beneath her. "Don't stop, please!" She didn't need to say that. Subservient and aggressive all at once, Simon was guiding her body and treating her little cunt to something delicious. Her legs were flailing.

Yes!

Hot ...

Thick ...

Jansetta knew she'd become quite accustomed to it.

No, not only that, she'd beg for it every damn night.

She was gasping then, feeling her channel squeeze the shaft, as if it alone was catering to him, which had her brain cheering at the concept, because he was catering to her too. They were pleasing each other.

"Simon, yes! Yes! More! Please!" Jansetta was screaming at him.

Then she was screaming at herself, at her pleasure, at his, and at how oddly rewarding the circumstances were.

When she was calm again, she heard Simon holler, then stop as abruptly as he began. Then Jansetta felt full, so full that she wondered if she might explode.

Simon slid out of her, making a gooey noise. Even though she was satisfied, a part of her wanted him to continue, but she imagined that he needed a rest. It was best not to complain.

For a minute or so, he stayed at the tall bed, his hands planted on the mattress, on each side of her. He was quiet, probably thinking.

Jansetta pulled her legs up so she could move her body around. She put herself in a sitting position and grinned at his sleepy face.

Ten minutes later, she still hadn't gone back to the women's side. After Simon brought her a damp cloth so they could clean themselves off, she stayed on the tall bed and chatted with him. She even reached out and touched his horse-like back, loving the soft coat.

"I'm surprised you were so eager to come here," Simon told her with a wide grin. "I've heard that many foreign wives need much more time to be convinced to visit their husbands."

Jansetta folded her legs and bent over, putting her cheek against the warm second back. His natural, earthy aroma was so relaxing, and his black coat was wonderful against her skin. "Perhaps the men need to be more aggressive."

The muscles in his second back twitched under her face. "No. We're too big for that. We could hurt women too easily."

"I said aggressive, not careless." She pushed herself up, but she kept a hand on his body. "Do you brush your coat? I'd imagine the brush handles would be very long."

He nodded. "Yes, but we have long and short brushes. Some are even meant to be placed on the hand."

Jansetta knew that she wanted to brush him. She asked for two of these brushes. Simon left to find some, and when he returned, he placed two different brushes on the table, a hard one and a soft one. They were no different than what one would use to brush a horse with.