Part I- Bold
“Mistress! Please, I beg you! Don’t punish the wench.”
Lady Helen Paris didn’t bother turning. She knew exactly who would dare burst into her private chamber. Ol’ Nan raised Helen since childhood, sitting on her father’s dock as the seasons drifted. Teaching right and wrong. Once Helen got a little older, the wily old woman shielded the rebellious charge from encouraging various fishermen. Big men, rough, and not inclined to gentlemanly advances. Foolish Helen thrilled at their leers and whispers. Their calloused hands sent a primal instinct pulsing between properly crossed legs. At night, she imagined their coarse fingers molesting every inch of flesh.
Fortunately, Ol’ Nan prevented Helen from ever acting on those fantasies. She chased off the riffraff and introduced the local beauty to a higher class of suitor.
“Those dreams are for ya husband,” she instructed when Helen brought up the growing sweet discomfort. “He’ll fix that. But stay strong, Mistress. Cause sinners needs be punished. It’s the way of the world.”
So, it was a slight surprise to hear Ol’ Nan defending an adulteress.
“Nan,” Helen adjusted the hat upon her head, the small black veil falling in front. “Part of my duties as Lady Mayoress requires enforcing the social and moral fiber of our community.” The Brunswick coat fit tightly over her dress; despite the conservative choice, it still highlighted her figure. Helen’s youthful voluptuousness had grown into a practiced statuesque beauty. To dress modestly with her full breasts, round ass, and hourglass proportions required more effort than she’d ever admit. Especially as her husband, Lord Mayor Raphael Paris, did not want her dressing like some dowdy spinster. 'I married a beauty to enjoy the view,' he quipped once at a dinner party. The men all laughed.
“Besides, she’s been quite the hypocrite.” Helen continued. “Wouldn’t you say? Acting the Saint at town meetings.” She picked up two pairs of gloves, showing them to her oldest co-conspirator. “What do you think? Ivory? Or cream-colored.”
“Listen to me,” Nan pointed instinctively to the ivory gloves, which Helen began to slip on. “I’d be glad to put the whore in the stocks myself. Sullying their marriage vows with a blacksmith! Filthy. But to chastise her… now! Far too dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Nan, I’m not frightened of witless Minne Weaver-”
“Not from her!” Nan went over to the window and peered as if worried some Tom might be watching. “Have you not heard the music on the wind these last four nights? Felt the rhythm?”
Two nights ago, Helen did awake to a low melody, a simple series of notes which slithered inside her brain. But the flute played so faintly, she wasn’t sure of its reality. Even still, she could feel the thrill from the dream: her chest aching, nipples hard, and throat parched. The Lord Mayor Paris awakened from the same vision. She hadn’t felt him this hard since their wedding night. He pulled up her nightgown without a word, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She’d never been so wet.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re referring.” Helen turned, raising an eyebrow at Ol’ Nan. “Or what this has to do with the slut.”
“A satyr,” Nan closed the window, bringing her voice to a whisper. “Named Capricos. He’s traveled in these woods long as there’s been trees. A wicked creature. Hedonist. Reprobate. He considers himself the protector of the drunken, the debauched, and the desperate. The tales of his seductions and the ruined virtue of maidens, wives, widows, even nuns could fill a library. Men too. None are safe from his ravenous appetite.”
“Fiction,” Helen pushed open the shutters again. “Stories to justify bad behavior. I swear, Nan, you’d believe anything if you heard it round the well.”
The old woman looked Helen directly in her field green eyes.
“If you punish Minne Weaver while Capricos visits… I’m afraid he’ll mark your ladyship.”
“And what? Eat me? Turn me into a tree? What’s this monster supposed to do?”
“He’s… like I said, earlier… seduction-”
“Right. And what does this charmer look like?”
“He’s a furry beast, with cloven hooves, curved horns…”
Helen put a gloved hand on her former guardian’s shoulder. “Nan, I promise you. I will not fuck a goat.”
Nan gasped at the language, and Helen smiled that her rebellious spirit hadn’t completely evaporated over all these years.
…….
Helen finished reading out the copious list of Minnie Waver’s sins as two guards locked the former wife and mother into the stocks. Most jeered, some laughed, but all would be reminded of the price for unacceptable behavior. Helen nodded in satisfaction until a sharp note cut through the air. No one else seemed to perceive the high pitch whistle as they grinned and threw tomatoes toward the captured harlot. Helen slowly turned as if bound by hemp rope until she faced the neighboring field.
A creature unlike any other stood among the animals. A beast, no doubt, but imbued with humanity. The curved horns caught the light emerging from curled light-brown hair wet with dew. Shamelessly, he wore nothing. Bare-chested with powerful muscles sculpting his human dimensions. Equally shamelessly, Helen stared. At first at his broad chest and defined stomach, but her gaze continued to fall. His legs had short, clipped fur, and the hooves glistened black as if recently shined.
Then there was his cock.
Helen could see it from a field and a half away. A third limb hung between his legs, touching his knee. Thick enough to provide perspective.
He blew a kiss, leapt into the air, clicked his hooves, and vanished. No lights. No sound of thunder. Simply gone.
Her breath needed a few more minutes to return.
Part 2- Bawdy
Three Weeks Later
The cider did nothing to help the growing fatigue draining the Lady Mayoress. Still, the sweet, fermented juice did calm her nerves a tad. She looked into the mirror. You couldn’t tell she’d been losing sleep. False humility was not her sin. But that silly daydream conjured by Nan’s wild stories had a greater effect than she’d admit.
Helen had subtly asked about town if they’d heard rumors of this goat man. The younger generation knew nothing, but the elders of the town all shook their heads and peered around corners.
“Careful of them questions, My Lady,” Gregory the Falconer warned. “It’s been many years since he’s been spotted but can’t be too careful. Ol’ Capricos is a capricious spirit, and it's best never to catch his attention.”
But none would say what precisely the satyr would do.
Still, days passed, the harvest season continued, and other than a silly case of anxiety, the lewd beast of the field came to nothing.
Well, almost. She had not been able to forget that perverse expression on Capricos’ face, the powerful form, the inhuman cock. Helen could not ignore the profound disappointment that night when her husband stripped naked before bed.
Which was ridiculous; the Lord Mayor hunted, competed in jousts, and even trained with the guards. He’d kept himself in excellent physical condition. She’d always enjoyed their evenings. But since that day, whenever he reached under their covers, cupped a breast, and squeezed, Helen felt unsatisfied. And when he threw the sheets aside, gripped her ankles, and thrust into his once squealing wife, she literally felt unfulfilled. Like his dick could do nothing more but tickle, get her hunger going, and leave her body craving more.
“This too will pass,” she muttered, sipping more of the cider. Helen got up and moved towards the mirror. “We’ll be fine.”
She tried to remember that night not so long ago. When both Lord and Lady escaped sleep, desperate for each other’s body. A song playing gently on the wind. How did it go?
Helen peered again at the mirror. Something about this felt dangerous. She pursed her lips together and whistled. It had not been a difficult melody, the kind of thing which sticks in your head.
“Mmm,” she enjoyed another sip, her tongue touring every inch of her own mouth to absorb the flavor. “That was it.”
As she continued to whistle the tune, a flute not far away joined, as did a set of drums. Helen felt the rhythm immediately. Her hips swayed, at first gently side to side. The music intensified, and the coarse, limiting fabric held her body prisoner as she tried to spin. The woman in the mirror copied every movement. The beat raced onward. Helen’s fingers gripped handfuls of hair to free her curls. Then she tore open her blouse, displaying her corset and full breasts, already glistening with sweat.
“Faster,” she mouthed, and the music obliged.
She squeezed her chest together and bent forward, giving her reflection a full view; a wicked grin smiled back. She flung her now wild hair back, arching her spine and letting the curls taste the floor. Her legs spread open, then flew closed, gyrating to the building rhythms. Hands reached towards the ceiling before slowly tracing down her body, undoing each corset clasp. Freed from the prison, she pulled herself tall and erect, holding the binding above her head. Every part of her body would have its moment. Her hips shook, one side then the other. Her stomach writhed like a flickering candle, every muscle coming to life. She threw the garment into the fire.
Helen had never felt so powerful.
The sensual gentleness of the flute vanished, replaced by the furious conquest of drums. Her seductive movements gave way to physical spasms. Between her legs, an engorged, hungry jewel cried out for attention. So, while one hand stretched upwards, moving to the music, the other stained its fingers, slipping in and out of her soaking entrance. The orgasms hit with rhythmic precision, causing her to moan and cry on cue.
“Fuck!” As the fifth wave overwhelmed her already fragmented mind. “FUCK!!”
She felt the slap across her face. The music stopped, and the world slowly pieced itself together. Nan stood. Her expression heartbroken.
“What… what was I doing?”
“I warned you, misses. I did warn you.”
Part 3- Brazen
That Night
“I’ll be safe in here,” Helen asked her husband, clutching the blankets to her body. “Promise.”
The spirit Capricos had marked her as his newest conquest. That much was obvious. The pounding in her head, veins, and between her legs never stopped. The sweat kept the nightgown sticking to her flesh. She squeezed the sheets against her chest, surreptitiously relieving the ache in her breasts. But it irritated the erect nipples. She moaned.
“Gods,” her husband sneered. “Stop it! You sound like a whore.”
She bit her bottom lip, imagining what the guards patrolling the halls would pay for their lady tied down. Ten men patrolled the estate looking for the satyr, but she could take them on their break. Helen wouldn’t be able to stop, bound to the bedposts, as they undid their doublets, pulled out their cocks, and passed the silver coins to her husband. They’d sink into the open legs and soaking pussy while hearing her beg for more. The most righteous woman in the town passed around as a reward.
She could probably take two at a time.
“Please, baby,” she grinned, crawling towards her husband. “I’m so thirsty. Let me have a little taste. I’ll suck it all down. Won’t leave a drop, promise.”
She felt his muscular legs, the blanket had fallen aside, and her nightgown did nothing to protect her modesty. Helen could see her husband’s cock straining against his trousers, a measly seven inches. But the starved never turned down a meal.
“Get away from me,” he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled, and threw her back onto the bed. She screamed, furious, humiliated, and hoping he’d punish her. That his gloved hand would leave red marks on the ass she presented to him. But his cruelty knew no bounds. “I had no idea what a disgusting slattern you truly were. When this is over, I’ll pack you away to a nunnery so I never have to look at you.”
“A crime against nature,” a cheerful voice interjected coming from the skylight above their head. “Not to mention a dereliction of duty. The people in this charming hamlet need their Lady Mayoress.”
The satyr leaned casually, his body half hanging over the now open hole in the roof. The curved horns and bright-green eyes spoke to his otherworldly nature, while his wicked grin spoke of his devilish intentions.
“GUARDS!” The Lord Mayor shouted. “We’ve got the intruder!”
“Oh, they’ve run off,” Capricos winked. “Saw something and gave chase. We’ve got some time.”
He didn’t so much leap down as allow himself to fall, twisting in the air like a house-cat before landing on his cloven hooves. The fur matched the light earthy brown of his curled hair. He wasn’t particularly tall, coming up to the mayor’s chin, but every part of him seemed to swell. His chest, biceps, back, and ass all screamed strength. And, of course…
His cock was fully erect. It stabbed the air in front of him, jutting out at least the length of her forearm, smooth and curving upwards. So thick Helena knew both hands wouldn’t fully wrap around the shaft. But she would try. The entire thing was a dark purplish color, and a thick steady stream of precum dropped from the glistening head and onto the floor.
“Before I’m done,” Capricos said to her cowering husband. “You’re going to lick that up.”
The Lord Mayor pulled his sword and tried to stab, but the satyr dropped to the ground, his hands touching the polished floor, and let out a kick like a mule in heat. The hooves hit her husband in the stomach, causing him to double over. Capricos pushed himself up, picked up the blade, and waved it around for a moment before tossing it out of the window.
“Those things can hurt.”
He then turned to Helena. She hadn’t moved from the place where she’d landed. Watching the entire event, her head turned sideways on the pillow, back arched, her inner thighs dripping, staining the ivory sheet as she slowly spread her legs open.
The curved weapon of the satyr stopped inches from her face, and she felt her throat parch and her pussy spasm.
“Worship,” Capricos voice lost all friendly banter. “Worship my cock.”
Her tongue traced at least thirteen inches of flesh before her two delicate hands stretched to strangle the monster. As prophesized, she failed. But with each kiss, lick, and bite, she muttered her thankfulness.
“Beautiful. I’m unworthy. Thank you. Blessing on your favor. I tremble to be filled with your power. If I die from your cock, it’ll be the finest moment of my life.”
The words spilled out of her mouth as if rehearsed. She heard a distant whimper.
“What of your husband?” Capricos stroked Helen’s hair lovingly before gently pushing her face further down into the pillow and widening her legs. She could no longer see the pulsing spear of flesh but could feel it weighing on her lower back.
“Pathetic. He can’t satisfy me. I need to be filled. Stuffed. Emptied of everything but your-”
Her final words were replaced by an echoing moan. Stuffed didn’t come close to describing the feeling. The head alone split her open, the hours of lubrication not enough to ease his entrance. Pain, pleasure, all the above. She braced as it inched forward.
“Gods,” she managed to squeal. “More! I can take it!”
More came. His strong hands helped, holding her up as the cock continued onwards. It felt as if her inside were pushed aside, adding to a building vibration that threatened to burst through her skin. Her eyes twitched, legs quivered, and breath escaped in ever sharper and higher octaves. She reached back to pull him in but found him still out of reach. His cock still had at least half a foot to go.
“More,” she hissed, collapsing into the bedding. The satyr now held her up as the mounting pressure increased exponentially. It wasn’t the pleasure she felt at the moment, though; that sweetness banished any pain as her body expanded to fit this inhuman presence.
It was the ecstasy she felt gathering ever deeper inside her core. Just out of reach, like the power of air after being denied. Once his cock touched this magic place so far inside, no human could reach, nothing would be the same.
“More,” she mouthed and then she broke.
The orgasm tore through her body. Every muscle furiously spasmed. Helen would have flown from the bed if Capricos’ strong hands didn’t keep her body down. She heard the strange sounds tear from her throat like a farmyard animal baying into the night. Tears cooled her burning cheeks.
Suddenly, she was empty. As he pulled out, this vast hollowness pleaded for his homecoming. Helen didn’t even have time to beg before his cock returned, changing the angle and energizing new currents of pleasure. Places she’d never considered came to life. Her elbow tickled, toes curled, and nose burned as literally every part of her body felt the high. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t human.
His speed increased, and she could no longer tell when he was thrusting deeper or pulling away. The world didn’t feel real. Bright white spots began to overtake her vision as the orgasms robbed the air needed for a functioning brain. Her tongue hung out of her open mouth, drooling as Helen couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t make her muscles do anything. Capricos’ strength was the only thing keeping her aloft. The white spots were now a blinding light as pure sensation replaced consciousness.
The last thing she saw, however, would have brought a smile to Helen’s lips if she were capable of mustering the energy.
On the floor, her husband, Lord Mayor Paris, furiously worked his cock. And not only that, true to their new Lord’s promise, her husband licked the precum from the floor, muttering prayers of thanks.
