Her Romp with Centaurs

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Chapter Three: The Herding Ground


Magorian entered his tribe’s herding ground sometime later at twilight. He came into the wide expanse of a clearing leading the pack. Umbridge was hanging in Magorian’s teeth like an animal of a lower species that was prey to a higher one. Magorian’s mouth held a sagging section of her love handles, and so she hung by the side of her torso.

Another centaur was waiting. He was the oldest and wisest of their herd and it was his job to defend the ground and teach the foals when the others went hunting. His name was Safyph. He came out of his small makeshift hut and peered at his people with a powerful, intelligent gaze. He was quite surprised to see the human in Magorian’s teeth. They had not had a human visit their territory in decades.

Magorian approached Safyph, bowing and lowering his head with reverence. At once he dropped Umbridge unceremoniously onto the dirt floor.

“Father – I suppose this is a gift. Best use of your gift should come through cooking it. We can all have a taste of the meats the human is made of after we butcher her for feasting.”

Umbridge who heard this, managed a moan of misery. It sounded like an animal that wanted to admit defeat and then hurry up and die painlessly.

Bane stepped forward and added in, “She has insulted our kind, father.”

Safyph spoke. “We do not eat humans,” he said in a calm, quiet but firm tone of finality. That ended the argument, Bane and Magorian lowered their heads further, and submissively dipped their noses to the dirt. It was a sign of compliance to their leader.

“To eat a human would steep our kind. It would make us beasts, which we are not. Sons – I ask that you treat this Human as a guest. Many ages ago, I met a Human; a great Human called Dumbledore. I expect nothing less than to treat his people with the same respect we demand for centaurs. So we shall.

“Can one of us step up to remove the sapling? I must have her speak to me.”

A dun coloured centaur came forward and with his hands cracked the sapling lodged in Umbridge’s mouth and then removed it.

“What is your name human?” said Safyph, almost gently.

Umbridge screamed hysterically, “Dolores Jane Umbridge! Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, that is Cornelius Fudge, and I am Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!” She was determined not to forget who she was and also desperately wanted to let them know just how vital she was so they wouldn’t kill her.

Safyph did not look remotely impressed by her titles and obvious significance in her society. He simply probed, “And have you anything else to say for yourself?”

“YES. I – I have been kidnapped and tortured by heathens! UGH! I demand compensation!”

“Your desire for…what you call compensation is not possible. What my men did to you is just, for you insulted my herd,” said Safyph sounding omniscient. He had a way of knowing things that humans including wizards had never heard of. He already knew they had raped her.

“We shall learn what the stars tell us later….Sons, I am hungry as are you. Let us prepare our feast.” For in the centaurs’ culture every time they eat it is called a ‘feast’ not a meal. They eat the daily feast at early evening after a day of hunting and other activities.

Umbridge watched in morbid fascination as the centaurs hurried to their huts surrounding the open clearing. They returned with wineskins and other parcels. Meanwhile, other centaurs went to get vats of water and some stocked a fire from piles of sticks.

Umbridge then observed some more centaurs who were not helping out, but grazing on the ground. She suddenly noticed these ones had a full belly, visible like a kangaroo’s patch.

Umbridge’s eyes widened feeling even more alien and strange in this surreal place. She realized, as she studied these pregnant centaurs what they were.

“Impregnated males. Horrific lawlessness. Beasts!”

Another centaur was busy gathering the food and assembling it, he turned to Umbridge. Forcing to ignore the woman’s complaints he said, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and do your part woman?”

“Yes. Safyph made you our guest now. It means you eat with us,” added a red coloured centaur.

“Certainly no! I will not,” said Umbridge obstinately.

“Then don’t,” said another one harshly and he turned away to stock the smoking fire they were cooking with.

Umbridge turned back from them. She did not need to watch them make their disgusting food.

“Humph,” she said crossly and she folded her arms protectively over her chest, staring blankly into the forest.

A moment later, smaller centaurs were milling about, watching her with bright, almost innocent eyes. They were curious and fascinated having never seen a human. They were little foals that stood at much shorter heights than their grown counterparts and on wobbly legs.

Umbridge’s eyes widened in terror at the youths. She was afraid enough of the passions of youth in her own kind. So she flitted her hand as if to shoo them away like flies.

“I do so hate children! Little boys most of all – Get away child beasts!”

The foals obeyed without uttering a sound. They went to their teacher, Safyph where they would ask him questions of the woman, wonder why she was so unfriendly.

Finally the meal was ready. The fifty centaurs gathered on a large plot of flat moss, strapped together by ropes. It served much like a picnic blanket. Umbridge with Safyph escorting her approached their table, as Umbridge thought it or whatever it was.

She sat up and observed their style of etiquette, a judging look falling upon her with every passing moment. She did not touch her plate or rather her buckets. All of the centaurs ate and drank out of large buckets, made of rough-hewn oak. They faced each other at their meal, but they did not speak. They slurped quietly from the buckets, in which they reposed on the blanket, laying down, all of them with their hind legs sticking out behind, hooves tucked under their backsides.

“How like pigs…Don’t even eat with their hands,” Umbridge couldn’t help but bitterly mutter. The words said under her breath escaped her before she could fully contemplate the possible consequences. She hoped they hadn’t heard her.

But Roran responded. “Again you reveal your ignorance, Human. We find eating with our hands to be the disgrace.”

Bane said roughly, “This could very well be your last meal before we divine your ultimate fate. Be grateful Safyph bestows this hospitality.”

Bane went back to supping, digging his head into his bucket. Umbridge’s stomach made a loud gurgle suddenly. She was hungry and the thought of a last meal made her even more ravenous. She should try to eat their food so that she might survive.

So from the bucket she retrieved a wad of their meat. It was raw turkey. She sniffed it testily and then swallowed rapidly not enjoying the taste despite it being perfectly juicy and tender. She then cupped her hands and dug into the bucket of liquid. It was as yellow as urine.

Once she swallowed, she realized it was wine. She took with her hands another piece of the meat, but Safyph with his hands grabbed her cheeks in his hands and said, “No. You eat straight from the bucket, woman.”

Safyph directed her mouth into the bucket. Umbridge obeyed and feeling like a wild hog dug in.


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