#LIKE---- HIS ANTLERS ARE HIS SWORDS?!?!? fuckin SICK!!!

[kabukiaku]

guess who’s my fav for that new kung fu panda show

I love him, he writes emotional poetry 🥺💖🦌

#my art #kung fu panda dragon knight #kfp colin #colin the stag #dreamworks #anthro #furry #kfp dragon knight #kfp colin the stag #im actually liking the series. but it definitely feels different compared to the kfp movies #but then you have characters like veruca and COLIN omg colin i love him #i have two episodes left to watch---i hope he shows up for the finale. #he's so!! cool!!! #LIKE---- HIS ANTLERS ARE HIS SWORDS?!?!? fuckin SICK!!! #look as soon as i saw his design i fuckin knew he was gonna be right up my alley in fvavs. #I FUCKIN CALLED IT!!!!!!!1

[burtlederp]

Writing Blurb 8

This is not my best piece of writing, but I’ve been itching for a couple days now to post something else. This is also pt 1 of the third draft of this friggin writing blurb I’ve written, I just wanted to get validation for it now. XD Enjoy, and welcome a new character (well, recycled old character), Damien!

TW: blood, gore, burns

“Oh, gods, I’m so sick…” Damien muttered to himself, relying heavily on the slippery railing to ascend the icy steps to his apartment door. He took some time to retrieve his keys from one of many pockets, and even more time to get the key into the lock, fingers so numb that he might as well have been drunk--which, honestly, would be preferable. The door to his dark, lonely apartment swung open, and he quickly closed it behind himself. He pulled his bag off his shoulder and hung it on the coat rack, except that he missed, it fell to the hardwood floor beneath. But he didn’t notice, stumbling into the living room. He knelt, or rather fell, in front of the cold fireplace, shivering as he pulled off his gloves.

“Another damn sprite… Why… Why’d it have to be now? In th’dead of winter? In fuckin’... Alaska…” He muttered darkly as he pulled logs off the stack by the hearth and heaped them in the ash from that morning’s fire. He paused, trying to remember what came next, and reached for the box of matches. He paused again. “No, I need… Alcohol, then matches…” He held his freezing, shaking hands over the logs, palms down, and tried to summon to mind the chemical formula for ethyl alcohol. And yet, though it was a substance he knew through and through how to create spontaneously from his hands, he could not, for the life of him, remember its chemical make-up. He sat there in his empty apartment, cold, hungry, sick, and tired, hands held out over the wood uselessly. 

He drew his hands back close to himself, shuddering, then keeled over as his stomach suddenly cramped painfully, gasping. He curled up tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Something was in him, twisting his stomach and yanking at his intestines and pulling on his organs like harp strings, and it was awful. He had no way to stop it, he just had to stay still and hope it passed quickly.

Luckily, it didn’t last too long, soon leaving him feeling even weaker and colder than before, his brain feeling like mush. He unsteadily rose back onto his knees, wearily looking down at the still cold, unlit logs, wishing fire would just appear there, and he could be warm. Summoning the energy from somewhere inside himself, he once again held his hands over the hearth, and tried to think, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“C-c...two…” He said to himself. It starts with carbon, right? “H… He? No, no, H...five. H-five. O… No, no! N! N… th-three?” His teeth were chattering, arms aching from the cold. “Fuck it, it’s got hydrogen in it, it’s gotta be flammable…” He growled, and a clear, pungent liquid dribbled from his hands, spattering atop the logs. Tired and desperate for the fire, he didn’t really register that the fluid didn’t smell much like alcohol, and put what he thought was a satisfactory amount on the wood, shaking the last of it from his hands as he reached for the matches. Excited for fire, he quickly pulled out a couple matchsticks, knowing it was going to take a couple to light anyways. He lit one and brought it down to the log.

The damn fireplace exploded. His slow, foggy mind didn’t register the initial reaction, instead he was only aware that one second he was kneeling in front of the supposedly-alcohol-laden logs, freezing his ass off, and the next, he had been thrown across the room into the wall, ears ringing, and he was burning. Flames seemed to have covered the room in an instant, and panic, as fierce as the explosion had been, rose in his throat. He rolled, putting out the flames that danced on his clothes, and got to his feet, thrusting forth his hands as jets of water spouted from his palms. The fire hissed and went out, quickly extinguished by the heavy dousing the whole apartment received. 

Soon, no fire remained, the water stopped. Damien, shakily, looked at his hands with wide eyes, then fell to his knees, screaming. He had been burned, badly, he could feel it on his face, certain spots on his singed clothes where the heat had penetrated and cooked the flesh beneath, and his back and head ached from being thrown back so far--but it all paled in comparison to his poor, crippled hands. The skin covering his hands, and some of his knees, was a patchwork of white and black char, huge pieces of flesh actively beginning to snap as they cooled and curl back. 

He felt sick. He felt light-headed. He couldn’t think, only stare at his mutilated hands, his gasps more like pained, choked cries. He couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs, his mind whirling, but only a single thought present: What the fuck had he lit?

He didn’t have time to ponder it, his eyes rolling up into his head as he collapsed sideways.

--- 

Hovering above him was a gloopy, oozing mass of angry purple slime, large eyeballs and goop inexplicably, unceasingly generating at its top and rolling down, dripping, but nothing ever landed on Damien’s face directly beneath it. Behind it, a large aura of pitch black, with bright white rays glowing out from it in a very simplistic flower pattern. Damien met those constantly rolling, constantly shrinking eyes with his own bored, somewhat exasperated expression. It didn’t really look terribly proud of him. He sighed, resting his arm over his face.

“What the hell did I light?” He groaned.

“C2H5N3, otherwise known as ethyl azide, or azidoethane. It is incredibly explosive and dangerous. And you produced almost a liter of it and lit it point-blank.” The creature replied with a deep, rumbling voice that had no discernible origin. “Damien, how the fuck did you forget the chemical formula for alcohol? Where did you get nitrogen from?!”

“Oh shut up! There’s a new asshole who’s been bouncing around my body all day, fucking up my insides, and you know that!” Damien hissed, sitting up and getting to his feet. “Where is the bitch, anyways?” 

“I don’t know, it’s your mind.” The floating ball of goop responded shortly.

“And you live here, Atom.” Damien snapped, walking away, the creature, ‘Atom,’ following him. 

Damien was no longer within his apartment. Well, he was, his body still lay on the soaked, charred carpets, but his mind did not rest anymore when he had fled the waking world. He spent most of his unconscious hours wandering his mindscape, trying to keep the many residents of his body under control. Some days it was easy, some days it was hard, and some days, there was somebody new.

“Damien, Damien!” A high-pitched voice called, quiet and far away, and Damien looked down to see a mouse carrying a spool of red thread, a needle in its other hand, its giant ears perked towards him. “It’s at the hollow!”

“Thanks, Des,” Damien leaned down, holding out his hand, and the mouse named Despereaux hopped on, skittering up his arm. He moved fast through his own mind, the world warping around him as he ran towards the hollow. 

The hollow was not just a general hollow one would find in any woods--it was a particular one, a place that Damien knew very well in the world outside his skull. Many a summer day and even a few wintry ones he had spent in that lush, well-forested spot, where the earth fell down into a flat clearing of moss and soft grasses, shaded generously by a thick canopy high above. He and friends who had long forgotten him had spent the days when they were free from school here in this place, climbing trees, weaving around the tightly-spaced trunks, gorging themselves on the wild berries that grew in abundance just outside its thick walls of wood. It was, subconsciously, a kind of home for Damien, a comforting memory. A time when life had been so sweet, and not so bitter as it was now. 

He slowed as he approached the trunks that formed the outer rim of the hollow. His eyes scanned the undergrowth for any movement, any sign of something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He was tense, waiting, fists clenched.

“Damien, there--!” Despereaux squeaked suddenly, Damien’s head snapping around just in time to see it, but not in time to react. A huge, golden lion bore down on him, slamming him into the dirt. He was dazed, and it sunk its teeth into his neck, tearing his throat free from him. Damien didn’t scream, he couldn’t, choking on blood as he kicked the monster off himself. The lion flew back, hitting a tree and falling to the ground. It rose to its paws, hissing and baring its huge fangs as Damien got to his feet, hand clutching his throat, from which blood poured. He glared at the lion, and realized it was not one, not entirely. Rising from its two-color mane was a proud set of antlers, on its back a huge pair of blue and green feathers with gold spots, a matching plume on the end of its long tail, and a dappled pattern of various shades of gold covering its flank. It was, in short, a very fancy lion, but Damien didn’t care. 

He scowled, leaning on a tree, looking down at his blood-covered hand, the wound starting to stretch itself back over the empty space where his windpipe was supposed to be, healing rapidly. “This isn’t my first time doing this kind of thing, you bitch,” He rasped, his voice slurred as he gargled blood, throwing himself towards the monster, his own teeth bared. The creature ran at him as well, trying to swipe with one large paw, but he ducked. A sword materialized in his hand and he slashed the monster across the chest. It yowled, dodging his next attack, and snapped at his middle, though its jaws closed on air. 

Atom and Despereaux stood on the sidelines, watching as Damien took a harsh blow to the torso. They did not step in to help Damien: they couldn’t, not really. Damien had made it clear in the past that he did not want their help. This wasn’t their body, nor their mind, it was Damien’s, so it was his fight alone, he insisted. They didn’t need to help anyways, not with this one, as was soon apparent as Damien dropped the sword in favor of clasping his hands together and smashing the lion’s jaw shut so hard that the end of its forked tongue was cut clean off. As it staggered backwards, trying to keep its footing, Damien stepped forwards, took hold of one of its great antlers, and yanked, snapping it in half. The lion reeled away, and took off into the undergrowth.

“This ain’t over!” He screeched after it, his voice hoarse, leaning heavily on a tree, blood still trickling from his throat. He lowered his head, gingerly feeling his neck, that familiar, terribly unpleasant exhaustion that he could only get from wounds he sustained here creeping into himself.

“Are you alright?” Atom asked gently. 

“Yeah… I’m fine…” Damien wheezed. “Gods, I’m going to be so sick when I wake up…”

“Yes, about that,” Atom floated into his view, that odd dark aura obscuring the forest behind him. Distantly, an alarm was ringing, the ground beneath his feet vibrating. “You probably ought to do that now.”

#writing blurb #writing #my writing #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: burn #tw: burns #damien #superhero #superhero character #my oc #mine #oc #this is only the beginning of his bad day #it only gets worse from here friends

[g-w-3-d-damn]

Satyr Sickness (2/3)

  (¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯¯¯¯¯¯¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯)  ( \I encourage the free share of my content!/ ) ( \ )Please share, use, & build upon my work( / ) ( ) (        My work can be supported         ) ( ) ( / )               Via Patreon!            ( \ )  ( /    https://www.patreon.com/mythicide    \ )   (_.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸_______.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸_)

“I want fucked until I can’t move,” she growled.

“I know,” he said, “I’ll be ready again really soon, you just keep workin’ that fuckin’ hungry pussy on my fingers till then.”

---- ----

Randy watched the way her nipples revolved in little circles while she bounced her hips on his hand.   Exhaustion overwhelmed him.  He was spent from the chase and the intense affair with Eltiana.  The uncomfortable wet leaves on his bare back and the drizzling rain kept him awake.  He wanted to be back at the Dam Tavern, laying naked on the heated stone floor in front of the long firepit, at the bottom of a pile of warm wenches.  Eltiana was still on fire.  Her skin was warm and wet.  Her body still moved with enthusiasm.  His senses dulled, while she grew more responsive.  She was fully alive and could feel every bit of the world around her with a sensitivity most could only dream of.  He was anesthetized, and grew number by the moment as the chill of the night rain sank into his bones.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t always get everything I want.”

She brushed the water out of his hair with her fingers.  He lifted his face to taste her clit once more.  He hoped to feel her fire, hoped that another taste would reignite him with haste.

“Neither do I,” he said the words between kisses.

“As much as I love this rain, as much as I love being naked out here,” she started.

He took her clit between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue to stop her from suggesting they leave, or do anything that involved a risk of the two getting separated.  He flicked the rune for the draconic word ‘mine’ with his tongue.   She froze, every muscle tense.  She grabbed his hair and tapped his head excitedly

“Stop,” she whispered.

He released his hold on her and licked her clit apologetically.

“No, stop,” she whispered.  “Listen.”

They heard no sound of rain.  Tiny breaks in the rainclouds above let fuzzy bits of blue moonlight into the drizzle.  Beyond their vision, they heard forest leaves rustle.  The danger lifted the fog of post-coital exhaustion for a moment.  Randy sighed.

“It’s just deer,” he said.

“Deer wouldn’t be anywhere close to the kinda noise we’re making,” she whispered.

“Satyrs, then,” he laughed, “listen though, it’s the sound of cloven hooves.”

“How can you tell the sound of cloven hooves from anything else in the forest?” she said.

The skepticism dripped from her voice.  Randy reached up her stomach and fondled both of her breasts.  

“Let’s just fuck again,” he said, “one more fuck, then we’ll find a shelter and sleep through morning.”

“You’re ready?” she asked.

She reached a hand behind her and fondled his half flaccid cock.  He flinched and hissed and brought her arm back around to the front.  He rubbed her hand between his.

“When did your hands get so cold?  You’re so warm inside!” he said.

“I didn’t realize,” she said.

“It’s not you, you’re perfect, we just need a fire,” he said.

Above them, a torch flared to life.  Eltiana jumped back and reached for where she left her sword.  It was missing.  Torches flared up all around them, each held by a cloaked figure on a deer-like steed.  Randy wrapped an arm around her hips as they realized they were surrounded.  The tallest of them strode forward with his torch.  Two huge hounds with icy blue eyes the size of teacups escorted him.  The hounds paid the naked couple no mind, but glowered into the forest, past the torch holders and growled at creatures unseen.  As they walked closer, their signature short, slick, blue-grey coats  and pointed ears identified the pair as purebred Tinderbox hounds.  The steed was a painted longhorn Hynde, a beautiful relative of the white tail deer, whose antlers cascaded out and down the delicate jawline to prevent predators from attacking the jugular.  All stopped .  The rider offered the torch to the pair.

Randy took the torch from the rider and felt its heat on his face.  He and Eltiana noticed the huge shoulders on the man.  Randy lifted the torch to better see the rider’s face.  The firelight reflected off a dark man’s well groomed beard and gemlike hazel eyes.  

“You appear to be having fun, your grace,” the man said.

“Are you not Sir Humphrey?” Randy asked.

The man nodded and bowed his head.

“The same,” he affirmed.

“Then could I ask you to…”

Randy spoke with the suave promise of a returned favor.   Sir Humphrey raised his hand to silence his prince.

“We’re all being watched,” Humphrey said.

His voice was deep and commanding.  His voice would have aroused Eltiana had she not already been engulfed with passion.  Still, the combination of his sexy masculine voice and the threat of danger caused her to shudder in Randy’s grasp.  The hounds sniffed and fidgeted with their short hackles raised.  Randy looked around.  Beyond the ring of torches which had them surrounded, he spotted the brief red-ringed reflections of wild eyes.

“Satyrs?” Prince Randy asked.

“They are the only reason we haven’t taken your lady friend into custody,” Humphrey said.

“Satyrs kill anyone who interrupts an act of lust that entertains them… true voyeurs,” Randy said with amazement.

“Saved by lusty satyrs,” Eltiana giggled.

“Oh, not quite,” Humphrey said, “you see, they leave when you’re finished.”

Randy looked down and heaved a sigh of relief that his half-mast erection survived both cold hands and the interruption.

“What will happen to her once we’re ‘finished,’” Randy asked.

“You will both be given provisions and shelter, she will be kept with two watchmen at all times, and you will both be returned to Castle Shadowsong, only you will be escorted to the castle, and she will be delivered directly to her Majesty the Queen.”

A second longhorn Hynde pranced up to the party.  The hounds shrank back from its approach. “Let’s go,” the rider demanded in a beast-like gravelly voice.

“I did not intend to test your patience,” Humphrey said, “I have one more question to ask of the couple.”

“Then do it, and leave them alone,” the rider spat.

Humphrey smiled and looked back at the couple.

“May we watch?” Humphrey asked.  

The Hyndes stirred.  The hounds stood to attention facing the mystery rider.  Eltiana and Randy looked at each other.  To let them leave the couple alone with the satyrs would mean to invite every satyr to join in their lovemaking.  To let them watch meant no escape from the Queen, but also the promise of safety and shelter immediately following the act.  Eltiana nodded.  She would take her risk with the Queen’s mercy before she would take her risks with the lusty Satyrs’ kindness.

“Yes,” Randy said, “you may watch.”

Without a second thought he kissed her.  

“Damn you,” the mystery rider said to Humphrey.

A bedroll fell to the ground beside them.  It startled Randy.  They looked at the bedroll, then back up to Humphrey.   The riders came by one at a time to drop a torch in a pile nearby.  Each rider lit another before returning to their post in the protective circle.  Soon the pile of torches grew tall enough to suffice for a campfire.  

“Thank you,” the prince said.

No one responded, even with politeness.  The riders speculated that any further interaction might be viewed as an affront, and begin a horrid fight between the menfolk and satyrkin.

While Randy unfurled the bedroll near the flaming torches, Eltiana caressed his growing erection, but stared at the strange rider.  His shoulders were as broad as the gargantuan Sir Humphrey’s, only he seemed to sit a full head shorter than the larger man.  He used no saddle to steady himself on the wildborn Hynde steed.  His hair was a mess of wet matted golden curls, though his eyes were intense and dark as he stared back at her.  Most notably to Eltiana, this strange rider who stared back at her was entirely naked underneath the riding cloak.

“What’s your name, stranger?” Eltiana asked him sweetly.  

Humphrey startled and looked at the rider.  The rider and Humphrey exchanged glances.  The mystery rider squinted at Humphrey with irritation.  He turned his attention back to Eltiana and addressed her directly.

“I’ve names I don’t believe you could pronounce,” he said.

“So tell me one that I can pronounce,” she demanded.

“You may call me Ram.”

“Hello, Ram.”

He did not respond.  She smiled, shook the wet leaves out of her long blonde hair.  She peeled wet leaves off her skin and threw them to the side before stepping onto the bedroll.

“It’s okay to enjoy this, stranger,” she said to the rider.

She presented him with a full frontal view and a wink before twirling around to lay face down on the bedroll in front of Randy.  The rider rose on his steed a bit.  Randy glanced around, and found himself as aroused by her willingness to exhibit herself and her desperate, insatiable libido.  

“You’re okay with this?” Randy asked.

She laughed.  The firelight reflected off her jiggling naked body.

“This is awesome,” she said, “I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He pushed her ass into the position he liked.

“You don’t have to wait any longer,” he said.

“Skins,” she insisted as he started to mount her.

A small leather envelope hit him from behind and fell on the bedroll at his feet.  Eltiana giggled once more.  Ram shot Humphrey a final warning glare.  Humphrey chuckled under his breath and kept his eyes on their naked asses.  Ram settled back into a relaxed pose and rode his steed away from Humphrey, just as Randy finished wrapping his cock.

Eltiana bit her bottom lip and looked over her shoulder at him with her ass in the air as he mounted her from behind.

“Thanks to the firelight, I can really see you this time,” she said.

“Do you want to lay where you can face me?” he asked.

“No, I mean, yes, but this is my favorite,” she said with a wiggle, “this is what I want right now.”

“We are being watched by two dozen men and countless forest spirits, plus a herd of satyr,” he said.

She just raised her ass a little more, in enthusiasm and excitement.

“You know I’d probably fuck them all,” she whispered.

He looked down at her face, and imagined watching her fuck all the satyrs after he was finished with her.  He suddenly understood how aroused the men in the forest watching them were about to become.  

“You are fuck-drunk!” he accused.

“And I want to keep drinking until I pass the fuck out,” she giggled.

He slid his cock inside her, and she closed her eyes and arched her neck back, in response, which straightened her face forward.  The strange rider, Ram, had taken position directly in front of the pair, giving Ram a full view of her face in its state of ecstasy.  When her eyes fluttered open, she knew she’d see him; she smiled when she did.

“Your desire echoes my own,” Randy said.

He fucked her slow, high from watching her spine bend to his will in the firelight.  He ran his nails down both sides of her back.  She moaned encouragement.

“Mine,” he growled.

He looked at her.  He saw her stare straight ahead at the underdressed rider named Ram.  He looked into Ram’s eyes, and repeated himself.

“Mine,” he said.

The Hynde stomped its foot instinctually.  

“Mine,” challenged Randy, once again.

The Hynde took a tiny jump forward, and was reined in by the rider.  Eltiana maneuvered herself in a way that pushed Randy’s cock halfway out.  She squeezed herself around him, caused a suction just around his cockhead.  She bucked, rocked herself back and forth to pick up the pace.  He moaned, pushed her ass away with his hands.  It felt amazing, but Randy wanted this time to last a good long while.

“Too fast,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for fast since before this group showed up,” she whined.

“I don’t want… When we’re done, we’re done, I don’t want to be done!” he said.

She turned to face him and took his face in both hands.

“Listen, nothing will stop them from taking us.  Nothing,” she said, “so I wanna fuck the way we wanted to fuck, the way we want to fuck right now.  If you want to fuck slow, we’ll fuck slow, but only for you, not because they’re here.”

“No, you’re right,” he said, “what do you want?”

“I want you to be passionate,” she said, “I want you to fuck me like you were gonna fuck me, I want you to fuck me like we’ll never see each other again.”

“We’ll probably never see each other again, so no matter what we do yeah that’ll be the case,” Randy choked.

“Exactly,” she said, “so ignore these goons.  Ignore the past, ignore the future, and just exist in the present, right here, with me, and do what makes us both feel good, right now.”

“Okay,” he said.

She brought his hands to her breasts for comfort and kissed him tenderly.  

“What do you want it to be like,” she whispered, “what do you want?”

He thought for a moment, and kissed her.  He pressed her down toward the bedroll, and hooked his arms under her thighs.  He pulled her pussy into his lap and she rested her ankles on his shoulders.   Squeaks and excited chirps from the dark bits of the forest encouraged the pair.  She loved the feel of his lap under her ass.  Within hours of meeting him, she reached a point of trust and ecstasy where every inch of skin-to-skin contact with him tingled.

“I wanna feel you come on my cock again,” he said.   

Her hand slipped between her legs.  She pulled his cocktip against her pussy and made him watch her rub it against her clit.  The little strokes got longer as she used it to tease her own pussy lips.  He watched the slick lips envelop the head and he watched the head emerge again, travel over the clit, and repeat a few dozen times.  She put the head between the lips and pushed herself onto the tip.  She let go of the shaft and held his cock in place with the rings of muscles within her.  She pulled open her labia with one hand and circled her clit with the fingers of the other.  The rings of muscles tightened, and she rocked gently.  Her lips pouted and her eyebrows curved in that way that only makes a woman look concerned or aroused.  She used his cockhead for a plaything.  Her nipples made little circles in the air.  He reached forward to fondle them, and in so doing, bent her legs over just a little more.  

He felt his cockhead just barely touch the swollen bump inside her, stroking the same spot on the same bump that drove her insane the last time.  He reveled in her reaction to the lightest touch; her rings clamped, her pussy sucked his head, she moaned and pressed her hips toward him.  Her body asked him to go deeper before she could get the words out.  He looked in her eyes and pressed.  His chin dropped a touch in concentration; there was a spot in her that felt so intense to him that he had to push past to make the night last.  He leaned forward and rested his torso on the backs of her legs.  His weight, though slight, bent her.  He could feel the shaft pressed firmly against the swollen spot once the head made it past the intense bit.  The yips and yells from the satyrs in the forest intensified.  Haunting reed music from woodwind instruments, accented by wooden percussion, filled the air around them.  

Randy looked up from his thrusting to see the satyrs dance round the riders in a figured pattern.  Satyr pairs and even satyr trios fell to the wet ground to fuck within the circle or riders.   Most of the riders stroked themselves.  All of the riders were aroused.  Eltiana reached up from playing with herself to take Randy’s face in her hands.  She redirected his gaze to her face and he realized she would come again soon.  He reached between her legs and flicked her clit for her.  Her back arched, her thighs tensed hard, and she bent herself in half under his weight.  She threw her head back and screamed out.  

Randy felt her pulsations all around his shaft, sucking him into her.  He focused on her clit, and with her next breath came her second orgasm.  He pushed his fingers against her clit and held them there to feel it throb.  Her clit pulsed under his fingers, as if it were drawn inside her and released over and over again.  There was no more music.  Every satyr was fucking.  The only rhythms left were the speed of his thrusts and the pulse of her clit and the beat of their hearts, and all these things made a music more intense than an orchestra of satyrs could achieve.  

Her clit throbbed long after the intense orgasm suction stopped the assault on his shaft.  He kept thrusting, eager to last longer than the last time, and pleased with himself so far.  Her every breath ended in a sigh of desire.  She looked at him.  Her eyes sought direction.  She did not have to ask what came next with words.  He pulled away and set his hands on her ass.  He slipped out of her, an opportune moment with no stimulation for his cock to settle down.

“Turn back around,” he whispered, “face down again.”

She rolled over.  He pet her ass with both hands and she shuddered.  

“I love how this feels,” she said.

He dove back into her and reached under her to her still puffy clit.  She had just taken a peek to discover that Ram never left his spot straight ahead.  But when Randy’s two fingers massaged her swollen clit, the sensation struck her blind and she buried her forehead in the bedroll.

“Oh fuck, Oh sweet fuck, I’m going to come again!” she screeched.

The bedroll soaked up a wet spot as she shrieked and Randy roared the roar of a victor.  She shuddered to a stop and tapped his hand.  He slowed his thrusts and rubbed her lower back and ass with both hands in little circles.

“You alright?  What do you need?” he asked.  

She couldn’t answer, only breathe and pant.  He pinched her hips and slipped deep, then held still to feel her pussy throb on him.  She gasped and shuddered and made fists full of bedroll fabric.  Her toes curled from aftershocks.  The last orgasm wasn’t expected, and the strength of it left her in need of a short recovery.  

“You know what you want to do yet?” he asked without moving.

The way her pussy flinched let him know she had an idea.  

“Tell me.  Tell me what it is,” he insisted.

She shivered.  He leaned forward and laid on top of her with his chin on her shoulder.  His stubble tickled her neck.  He wiggled to get his lips as close to her ear as possible.

“I wanna know what’s going on in this sick little fuck-hungry mind of yours,” he whispered.

She moaned.  He could have sworn she orgasmed again just from the whisper, but he couldn’t be sure.  He grinned.  He licked her neck.  He thrust a bit more and stopped.  He pulled out, leaving the tip touching the slick opening as a tease.

“Tell me what you want so I can give you all that you want of it,” he said.  

She caught her breath, rolled over, ran her fingers through his hair, and pulled her lips as close to his ear as possible.  His abs worked overtime in the firelight as he panted against her neck.

“Let’s turn around, feet facing that way,” she said, indicating Ram’s direction, “with me on top, so that all that guy gets to see when you come is my bouncing asshole.”

Randy laughed with deep, genuine amusement.

“I love you,” he said, “let’s do it.”

They both sat up and Eltiana pushed Randy back down on the bedroll the other direction.  

“I might not last through this one, you know,” he said.

She laid atop him and kissed him.

“Ready to pop?” she whispered.

“Too ready,” he replied.

“So pop then,” she said, “it’ll be fine, it felt damned good like this last time.”

“I bet you want that guy to see how good,” Randy said.

Randy winked at Ram over Eltiana’s shoulders.  She gasped and blushed a bit in the firelight.  Randy slipped the underside of his cock against her clit and hunched.  Eltiana imagined Ram staring at her winking vulva.  She imagined the stranger pushing her down against Randy’s chest and mounting her from behind.  She imagined Randy staying right where he was, grinding his soaked cock against her clit throughout the whole encounter, because it felt that damned good.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Feign disinterest if you want, but I know better,” he said.

“So you think you know me better than me, now?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a kiss, “I just know your pussy gets warmer when you get really excited...”

He hugged her tight against his chest and hunched her with a quick tempo.  She gnashed her teeth and whimpered.

“And you got lots hotter down there when I said that guy should watch us fuck, that you’d enjoy it,” he whispered.

“He’s kinda hot,” she whined.

“Yeah he is,” Randy crooned, “I’m looking at him.”

Eltiana, wide-eyed with excitement, could say nothing.  Her blush spread to her chin and the tips of her ears.

“He’s got big shoulders and an awesome jaw, his chest is fantastic and he’s soaking wet,” Randy whispered, “and I love the way he’s staring at your ass right now, he has the most killer eyes!”

“Fuck!” she hissed.

“I’d totally fuck him,” Randy said.

“Fuck!” she hissed again.

“I’d totally let him fuck me,” Randy continued.

Eltiana bit Randy’s shoulder.

“Ow! Hey,” Randy laughed, “you want me to stop talking about it?”

“No!” she barked.

“I’d watch him fuck you,” Randy said.

“Fuck me,” she ordered.

“I’d help him fuck you,” he said.

“Fuck me?” she pleaded.

“Yes, fuck you all day long, all night too, pass you back and forth, and fuck each other while you’re napping,” he growled.

“I’d never sleep again,” she whimpered.

Randy grabbed two full handfuls of her ample ass cheeks and pushed them around in tempo with his hunching.

“You ready to show him?” Randy asked.

“Yeah, I told you what I wanted so you’d give it to me,” she hissed.

“You told me you wanted him to see your bouncing asshole,” Randy said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me it’s because you aim to make him want to fuck you from behind,” Randy said.

“Guess that makes both of us horrible teases then,” Eltiana said.

“It’s so true,” Randy said, “but I wish I could see your face with both our cocks in you.”

“You fucking tease,” she said breathlessly.

She shifted her hips, lined his cock up at her entrance, tried to sink down on it.  He wormed his arm between them, grabbed his throbbing shaft, and held it out of her reach.  

“When I ‘pop’, if you’re not finished, fuck yourself.”

She wiggled against him, body begging.  

“I mean it,” he said, “fuck yourself until you come enough, play with yourself until you can’t move anymore, think about fucking whoever makes you happy, however it makes you happy, make them all watch, play with it however you want, I’ll hold you the whole time, just don’t stop until you absolutely can not keep going.  Promise me.  Promise me.”

“I will, I promise,” she said.

“Alright,” he whispered, “let’s give that bastard a show.”

He slid his cockhead in her and petted her clit with his now free hand.  She lay on his arm, belly to belly as he put it in her.  He got himself caught in that spot inside her that felt too amazing.  He couldn’t push past it.  He flicked her clit, knowing he wouldn’t come any slower no matter how little she squeezed or sucked.  She panted.  Little shouts escaped with each breath.  

“Oh yeah I’m definitely gonna come this time,” he said with a shudder.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand between their bodies.

“Play,” he said, “Play with it, I can’t!”

She took over the work of manipulating her own clit with an outcry.  He grabbed her arms as though his grip on her flesh were the only thing anchoring him to this world.  The first shot of cum dribbled out of him and into the skin-condom.  He grabbed her shoulder blades, growled and bellowed as the rest jetted out.  

Randy collapsed back into the sweaty bedroll, hugging her against him.  She kissed his shoulder, then his face, and played with herself with him still inside.  He tensed and took a sharp breath.

“It’s too much,” he said in a shuddering voice.

He reluctantly pulled out, his cock having grown too sensitive to remain inside comfortably.  Lethargy crushed his senses between the softness of the bedroll and the warmth of her body and the flaming torches.  But for Eltiana, the addictive excitement of her gambles to entice Ram and cum once more before he took her into custody forced her heart to race.

“I may pass out,” Randy mumbled.

“That’s okay,” she said.  

She  rested her breasts on his chest while he held her.  She brought her knees up, close to his sides, lifted her ass, fingered herself.  Her pussy winked at Ram in the firelight.  She was happy just to feel Randy’s arms around her while she fantasized and played.  She could feel the stranger’s gaze on her pussy as she slipped her middle finger in it.   She looked back over her shoulder at Ram’s face.  Satyrs fucked each other or masturbated at all sides of him.  She popped her glistening finger out.  It made a little slurp sound on its way out.  Her fingertip came close to her asshole as she flipped Ram the bird between her own legs.  He remained unaffected.  She curled her middle finger in a seductive “come here” motion.  

Ram half suppressed a grin at the invitation, closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath.  He politely declined with a subtle duty-bound shake of the head.  Meanwhile a rider to his left broke formation and rode toward the bedroll.

“What are you doing?” hissed Humphrey.

“They’re done,” he replied.

“Don’t you touch her, Yates!” another rider barked.

Yates dismounted.

“You know what the Queen will do to us all if you’re involved with her,” said Humphrey.

“Involved?” Yates spat, “I don’t wanna fuck this thick bitch!”

“Then get back in your saddle,” Ram ordered.

“I don’t wanna fuck you either, useless sack,” Eltiana said, “do the world a favor and go hang yourself.”

“No. The prince is finished, and it’s time to get his highness’ bitch back to Shadowsong.”

“She isn’t finished,” Humphrey warned.  

“We don’t have to watch this slut debase herself, they’re done!” Whispered Yates.

“Don’t touch me!” Eltiana ordered as Yates reached for her.

Yates pulled Eltiana out of Randy’s arms.  Insulted satyr shrieks pieced the night.  Dozens of red ringed eyes suddenly fixated on Yates.  Yates’ steed bounded over Eltiana and Randy, bounded through a break in the line, and ran full tilt into the dark forest.  Shadows jetted from the darkness and engulfed Yates in hairy, grabby hands.  The hinds reared, the tinderbox hounds snarled and snapped their jaws, and Humphrey’s bellows rumbled through the forest as he ordered his men to stand down.

“Are we just gonna let them kill Yates?” a rider questioned.

“Yes!” Humphrey hissed, “stand down, don’t move!  Get your hand off your sword!”

The group of livid satyrs drug Yates  away at an alarming speed.  His cries faded as satyrs carried him over hill and away.  Randy clung to Eltiana while a rust colored satyr with crooked teeth smiled at her and petted her  hair.  The satyr beat himself off for her, shifting her attention from the fight to the absurdity of his massive, freckled cock.  The rider that had questioned Humphrey sniffled.

“I don’t get it, Humphrey,” the rider said, “he was my best friend.”

“Well your best friend was an an asshole to women,” Ram said.

“We tried,” Humphrey consoled, “we ordered him to stop, we tried to avoid his fate.  If we’re to survive this, we all have to obey that order.”

“I know, but why this?” the rider choked and cried.

“Satyrs.  They thrive off the energy they get from other people’s lust,” Eltiana said.

“I didn’t ask you,” he replied.

“I don’t care.  You’ll hear it anyway.  Ooh!” Eltiana said with a jump.

Randy in his half-asleep state snuggled against her and absent mindedly rubbed her clit while he relaxed.  She put her hand on his and laid back to relax a moment.  Her hips bucked in slow circles.  She shivered and took deep breaths.

“Satyrs love lusts,” Eltiana began, “they seek it out and crave it.  Satyrs value lusts like drunkards value spirits.  Have you ever tried to take a drunk’s bottle from him?  I do it all the time at the Dam Bar.  A drunk will always fight you for it.  The thirst hurts them so much they’ll hurt anyone for a drink.  Your friend refused to realize that Satyrs get just as fuck-drunk off of the lusts of a woman as they do the lusts of a man.”  

Eltiana closed her eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of having her clit played with.  She felt Randy’s hand change, felt his two fingers push inside her and spread.    She took back her place atop him.

“She is the bottle that every satyr in this forest is drinking from right now,” Humphrey murmured, “and your best friend just tried to deprive them of that bottle before it was empty.”

“Aye, because he was sick of seeing them drinking,” the rider murmured.

“This is their house.  Their rules.  Shut up,” ordered Humphrey.

Randy guided her with his fingers, pulled her up and away from his flaccid cock.   She kept her eyes closed and mentally prepared for a final orgasm without the aid of a cock.  She drew the tip of her finger over her clithead and explored for the most sensitive spot of the moment.  She found it easily.  She knew her own body well.  The rings of muscles within her pinched down on Randy’s fingers, and she whimpered.  She beat furious circles on the sensitive spot, tensed, panted, bucked.  Randy clapped his hand hard against her pussy lips in the punishing rhythm she chose.  His fingers beat her favorite spot.  She groaned, shrieked, shouted, squirted, and then collapsed on top of him.  

Eltiana melted over him.  He held her close.  It was over.  Pair by pair, the satyrs reached their fill of each other and slunk back into the forest.  

“Don’t leave,” Randy murmered, “No, don’t go.  Please stay.”

The satyrs continued, unconcerned.  The cuddly post-sex affection shared between Randy and Eltiana deterred the satyrs.  The few remaining satyr pairs quickened their rutting and hastened to leave.  Even the uncomfortably close rust colored masturbating one came and went.  Ram dismounted.  He approached the couple.  As he did, the rust colored satyr quickened his step.

“Wait,” whispered Randy, “please.”

The rust colored satyr looked back at the couple.  Randy could only see the red eye rings reflected from the firelight.  They blinked, and turned, and were seen no more.

A blanket descended over Eltiana.  Strong arms wrapped the blanket under her breasts and picked her up in the same motion.  Her arms slid across Randy’s, as she slipped involuntarily from his embrace.  He grasped  at her wrists, and the mix of sweat and cum on their hands rendered his grasp too slick to hold them.  Their fingers grazed against each other, but at last were separated.  Eltiana could not catch her breath fast enough to fight.  Other riders wrapped the prince in dry cloaks and brought him to his feet.  

Ram delivered Eltiana’s wrapped form to Humphrey’s steed.  The tinderbox hounds moved out of the way.  Ram lifted her to Humphrey, and Humphrey pulled her up the rest of the way.  The two men worked together to set her in Humphrey’s lap upon the saddle without impropriety.  Humphrey held her in place, holding her around the belly and the breast, while Ram sorted the blanket.  Once the blanket was properly tucked around the rider and the saddle in such a way that the beast would be comfortable and the lady covered, Humphrey nudged the beast, which pranced back toward the Dam, with the hounds at its heels.

Eltiana turned in the saddle to look behind her.  Several of the riders followed.  Behind them, several of the riders stayed.  Eltiana searched for Randy, and saw his gaze fixed on her.  He ran after her.  None of the riders dared lay a hand on him to stop him.  They simply kept pace, formed a protective ring around him.  She noticed Ram mount his steed once more, just before Humphrey jostled her around to face forward.

“I can’t promise you will live past your trial,” Humphrey said, “but unless you make me have to kill you, I will personally see to your safety until you reach Her Majesty the Queen.

--this story continues--

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