Coveted by the Coven

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

****

The Shrouded Woods vibrated with a beauty that only the brave could bear witness too. Spanning the lower slopes of a deviously rugged mountain range, the woods took no prisoners and sometimes did not even care to release those that they ensnared, leaving them lost and wandering for year after year, kept alive by its sustenance but only barely. From the mountains, it stretched through a temperament jungle, water dripping from leaves that always seemed to be moist as the air clung with a thicker sense of humidity to each and every tree, the age-old magic of the land rising up as if from their very roots.

Those trees had seen much in their time in the world but the ones that they saw the most of, although they did not often stray all that far from their tribes, were the satyrs: a primitive people with cloven hooves, haired legs and the torso of humans. Often barely going without anything to cover them at all, they drew the attention of wild animals with their bulk and height, despite being known for, in their own way, being excellent, stealthy hunters. When they were not slipping through the forest, however, with mud and leaves pounded into a masking pulp to cover their scent and features, they did not concern themselves all that much with the affairs of the wider world. Their huts and caves sheltered them, wherever the separate tribes chose to live, and each one kept themselves mostly to themselves for they were known to clash in more ways than one when they did come across one another. They were hardly always looking to expand their territory but, sometimes, things happened that they could not account for, needing to compete for food and sustenance. And, with their formidable antlers, of course, their clashes too had the potential to be bloody and feral in nature.

And yet they were becoming far from ferals that could not think of anything else but what they needed, learning and evolving. It took a while, of course, for their bodies to catch up with things, not being as small and as malleable as the rest of the world seemed to think them to be. It was strange how that assumption had come to be, truly. Most expected satyrs to be small and quiet, although that was merely a myth and one that they did not help quell by the simple fact that they kept themselves to themselves. They had a society of sorts, growing more and more as their kind aged and learned, coming into a new sense of being with the changing of the times.

Varossion sighed, hunching down to the ground, although that small act alone did not truly serve or assist him in the slightest in making himself seem less conspicuous, standing at over two metres tall. Folding his muscled bulk down into a crouch was harder than expected, skin bulging with muscle and veins, puffing slightly from the hike he'd undertaken. As far as satyrs went in the dangerous forest, he was one of the boldest and the bravest too, one who could travel between villages without, at least, too much concern for his safety. Shifting his weight from one massive cloven hoof to the other, he groaned and scratched the back of his head, his antlers spanning out from his head, flatter cups like those of fallow deer, although they were much larger.

He was big enough to fight off near enough anyone but, well... Even a satyr like Varossion could be led astray from time to time, such was the way of things.

He listened carefully, half-closing his eyes. His dark hair spilt down the back of his head and shoulders in a thick mane, rising around to his chin in the form of a thick, voluptuous beard that he had tied off so that the ends would not get in his way. Varossion was still finding his sense of place and being in the world but even he knew that practicality really was one of those things that a satyr in a dangerous location could not be at all lax on. It was just the way of it.

And yet... He paused, keeping his breathing slow and even, ears pricked (not literally) to catch each and every sound blown his way on the breeze. Someone approached. Several 'someones', in fact. The satyr swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he shook his head, waiting for them as calmly as if he was merely taking in a meal at the end of a hard day, body aching from gathering his tribe sustenance. It could not be bad. And maybe that self-confidence, the over confidence of one who had only come of age a couple of years back, was just what led him straight into their trap.

The bushes rustled and his eyes lifted as a woman with fiery, ginger hair stepped out from the undergrowth, her dark green eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief that not even he could miss. His shoulders relaxed just a bit but he still remained vigilant as she was swiftly followed by a brunette and a blonde who were as different from one another as he was from them, despite being all female.

Their eyes dropped and Varossion shuffled his hooves uncomfortably: of course, there could be no qualm as to just what had so captured their attention. Of course, Varossion remained bare from head to toe, the only form of covering that he had on his body the brown hair on his legs, which still left his considerably oversized cock and balls on show. The satyr stiffened slightly, blood pumping as he raked in a breath, windpipe sore and tight as if in anticipation of something, the heat of lust rising in the back of his mind, tingling through to his traitorous loins: a satyr curse or a blessing to become so easily aroused, depending on how one looked at it at any given time.

"Are you lost?"

The red-head woman smiled, baring her teeth in what could have very well have been seen as a feral grin, something wilder and more untamed than what the otherwise innocent Varossion was used to. And yet he straightened slowly, looking her over with an eye that was not wise enough to understand what was happening to him, what their ill intentions towards him were. The three women grinned, although each smile held a different nuance to it, and the male could not help but return it in kind, although his was a softer, more genuine expression, reaching his eyes in a crinkle of soft good-feeling.

"Not at all," he said with a confident intonation, tipping his chin up without any note of fear. "But it is my pleasure to see you lovely ladies on my travels."

That seemed to appease them somewhat, although they still cast their eyes over him with a near enough predatory stare that should have, perhaps, set the nerves of a smaller, less dominant satyr on edge. But just what was it that Varossion had to fear for when he towered, his bulk and might obvious to all around? The brown-haired woman was yet to make herself known but her dark eyes glittered even as she smiled, fingers twitching on her wide, motherly hips as if she wanted to do something right there and then, even though, somehow, she managed to hold herself back to.

"I am Namara," the red-head said, introducing herself with a saucy flick of her hair, not that it covered her huge breasts anyway, which seemed to bulge forward dominantly, putting themselves on display, allowing Varossion to get an eyeful and a half of her hard nipples, perked up in the cool air. "This is Kasura and Enniru. We...have a proposition for you."

Varossion raised his eyebrows and stroked his beard, fingers teasing through the hairs to the tie at the bottom.

"Is that so?"

It was almost sarcastic but, perhaps, more accurately disbelieving; satyrs didn't really understand sarcasm, at least not as yet in their little corner of the world.

"It is not often that three beauties such as yourselves come out of the woodland," he said slowly, although Varossion didn't make any pretence of not looking them over, enjoying the view of their lusciously full and strong bodies as much as they, surely, enjoyed his. "And a proposition speaks of something more."

"Ah, such a clever calf..."

Kasura, who turned out to be the brunette with a full-figure and a motherly tone, her features soft, sashayed up to him as if she was not trying to put on any sort of action at all, everything coming naturally to her. She snaked an arm around his waist, head only coming up to his shoulders, and squeezed him softly, murmuring gently just how strong he was, how big he had grown. Some of the words did not quite seem to match up to a beast of his size and ilk but Varossion found himself warming to her all the same, leaning into her touch even as her hand slipped down lower and lower, teasing across the bone of his hip, seeming to point down to his shaft and balls, which were, by any stretch of plausibility, impossible to ignore.

"Yes, you really are astute, aren't you?"

The final of the three worked her curves, seeming to need his eyes on her, Enniru dropping him a wink as she turned side-on to him, showing off her large backside, which rounded out with her plaited, blonde hair falling all the way down over it. Against his will, Varossion swallowed hard again, although moving his tongue in his mouth didn't help moisten it in the slightest.

"So strong and handsome..." She turned his face to her, dimples forming at the corners of her lips, blue eyes brimming over with obvious desire. "Why don't you come with us? Listen to what she has to say..."

"Yes."

Namara, once again, took centre stage, sweeping her red hair back from her shoulders as she stood up strong and proud, confidence oozing from her.

"My darling... You seem to be a male in need and we are in...need...of a male to assist with a tribute to the Green God, a ritual of our tribe. And when the stars did not call us to choose a studly beast of a male from our tribe, we sent our search elsewhere."

Varossion shivered, although suppressed it the best he could. The tributes and rituals... Well, those were well-known to him and he'd even participated in a few of them with just a few of the persuasively sweet woman from other tribes, all dancing before the flames, which flared up just so to please the gods so very high above them. His seed had been the most virile of all the males in the clan that night and he had sired many children -- strong children that were growing from babes to tottering toddlers. Yes, he knew well enough what they were asking for him. The problem was that it was not quite his mind that was going to answer the question for him.

Namara's eyes gleamed and she clasped her hands imploringly before her heavy breasts, dragging down like the teats of a feral beast. Easy, too easy... He would be theirs!

"I'd love to breed all of you..." He rumbled huskily at last, eyes downcast to drink in the sight of their bodies as rampant satyr need caught up with him, wickedly sending blood rushing to his loins. "You're all so gorgeous."

It was not the most eloquent of things to say but his body spoke louder for him, cock throbbing up hard and rampant, pulsating with need. Varossion groaned as his balls churned, already over-sensitive as he ached to take them, although it had been some time since he had last enjoyed the pleasures of a fine female satyr. Maybe that was just why he was so forward in more ways than one, making his needs known through the shift and throb of his body, the scent of his arousal and musk coming thicker and fuller in the air around him: a breeding haze. He could not have been held responsible for his decisions and yet he would forever be accountable for what that day brought to him.

"Come with us then," Namara said, eyes glittering as she crooked a finger in the direction of the masculine satyr, unable to even hide just how weak at the knees his deep voice made her. "We shall complete the ritual and then you may go on your way. But it is one where you must satisfy each and every one of us first..."

Varossion grinned widely, shaking his head, antlers rustling the branches of the pine trees above -- a scent that he too carried with him. There should never have been any question as to whether or not he was going to do what they asked for him but, perhaps, he should have been warier of the ladies than he had been. Of course, they were not like the satyrs that he knew and the tribes that he had encountered previously and there was no possible way for him to have truly known what lay in weight but, ah, one sometimes did not develop that sixth sense in time... Whether that came out to his detriment or not in the end was something that only Varossion could say.

A touch on his wrist. They led him, giggling and flirting all the while, to the site of the ritual, his shaft hard and aching, drooling pre-cum that he could not even be embarrassed about in the moment. His lust and virility, of course, was something that made him just who he was and his skin tingled in anticipation of more, despite the churning of his vastly over-sensitive balls. Chuckling throatily with them, Varossion ducked down to their level, sharing kisses and touches, gropes and teases of their breasts and wide, child-bearing hips, all that a normal male may have need to ramp themselves up and yet Varossion was a stud all ready for action.

A wooden rack on a small but well-structured platform loomed before him and the satyr smiled, fingers curling and uncurling from a loose fist as the lustful tension in his body rose. It was not unusual for rituals to be performed at such a site, although he preferred those that were around natural rock formations for the beauty of them, just as they stood.

"Come with me, dear one," Kasura murmured, taking the much larger male by the hand and leading him up the steps, the wood creaking under the weight of him. "We'll see you to rights now, don't you worry."

And just how could he have thought that such a motherly figure was trying to take advantage of him, make use of his body for her own needs -- and yet he had the form and function that she required, the tips of her fingers grazing his fat, heavy balls even as he shivered and juddered beneath her touch. The rack loomed before him imposingly and Varossion hesitated, a cloven hoof knocking the top step even as he paused there, poised like a sculpture for the action that all three of them truly knew was coming.

"Over here," Namara said, patting the rack. "You've got to be ready, flat down here."

"I'm not so sure," Varossion rumbled, cocking an eyebrow. "Maybe one of you ladies should be on the rack?"

But his false bravado fell on deaf ears, all three of them seeing it for what it was as the teasing touches swept down his chest, caressing his strong thighs, Enniru whispering just how sexy he was, how powerful and masculine. It would have taken a far stronger satyr (let alone a male of any species) to resist the sweet cajoling and it seemed like all he did was blind and then find himself leaning over the rack, his chest flat to a platform that left his legs splayed and braced, cock and balls swinging below, so very easily and obviously on show.

For a satyr who was hardly more kinky than missionary, it was a strange position to find himself in but the soft, soothing hands sweeping his body from head to toe, oiling him up sensually, were distracting enough. He hadn't heard any rites spoken of in the slightest but all seemed to be moving off at quite a pace, a hand grasping his cock or at least trying to. His studly girth was far, far too thick to fit in a hand and Enniru cooed over him, marvelling at his length and size as she tried to fit her lips over the head. Too fat to even get entirely into her mouth with her jaw parted as wide as was possible for her anatomy, the most she could do was French kiss his tip, slipping her tongue teasingly into his urethra, teasing and testing just what could get him harder than ever for her.

It took very little for the satyr to orgasm, tensing and holding onto the rack with a heady grunt as his cock pulsed and throbbed, wanting more. It was strange, very strange, but sensations and the reaction of his lusty body could not be denied as he tensed up, wanting to hold back and to orgasm both at the same time. Alas, one could only have one of the two and someone took his balls in their balls, rolling and kneading his fat nuts, as he bellowed out his orgasm, gripping the table and rocking his hips with feverish need.

That may have been it if something lesser than what was actually happening was going on but the ladies were far, far from being done with him as yet. Three pairs of lips caressed the full length of his cock, kissing and suckling up and down the length as if they simply could not get enough of him, moaning out how lustful and virile he was, how well he would breed them. Truth be told, he'd forgotten rather about the breeding part of the equation but they didn't even allow him to rest as he painted Enniru's face with a creamy dose of seed, her lips parted to take all that she could into her mouth and straight down her throat.

That was not all to come, however, and the satyr heaved for breath, skin darkening in the prelude to sweat as his skin heated up, wanting to expel all that he could possibly have to give. Kasura whispered to him, something that he couldn't catch, as she kissed across his buttocks, the sensual brush of her long hair a refreshingly light and brittle sensation that almost drew attention from where her lips were going. It was hard enough to tell apart one sensation from the next as hands pumped his length, squeezing and caressing in a mimicry of lovemaking, but her lips teased closer and closer to a very private and intimate zone that he may have otherwise have never considered for the act of intimacy.

Yet Varossion had little to no say in the matter she lustfully spread his rear cheeks with her hands and swept her tongue around his taut anal ring. His body tensed and relaxed, torn between trying to keep her out and subjecting himself to the tormenting touch. It was hardly something that he would have volunteered for if he had known just what was going to happen but that was no longer the point of the matter as she, quite crudely, tongue-fucked his anal passage, forcing the wet, wriggling appendage in and seeking out just what made his body tremor so delightfully. For all that the coven was looking for was a male that would cum over and over again, devolving into a feral state of breeding lust that could satisfy their need of what a male was supposed to be. The funny thing was that they hadn't been able to find a male willing to do that entirely of his own free will in civilised society and so had been rather 'forced' to take extreme measures.

He could not complain, rounding and hunching his back to thrust as he shot another load, not knowing or even caring in the moment just where it landed. Were those lips around the head of his cock? Something pushed against his urethra once again and he could not quite have said what they were doing but something just made him want to come over and over again, something firmed and less yielding than a tongue squeezing up into his cock!

Another orgasm. And then another. They swapped places, learning and understanding just what made his body tick as sweat poured down him, the beads turning to rivulets, oily skin shiny with perspiration. He could not hold himself back as he climaxed once again, gasping for breath, mouth a wide, dark gape, rocking his hips and thrusting like a deranged creature. Just how many times would he have to cum for the ritual? Ah, such thoughts should have been far from his mind by that point but Varossion was, at heart, a satyr of honour and still very much believed that he was there to do a job, to fulfil a purpose for the trio who took him and whispered such warming, sweetening words.