Kinktober 2020 - Day 03

{I had a hard time deciding if I wanted to go with captured or rescued...but I couldn't imagine who could possibly rescue Quinn. So, I went with captured, which sort of gets turned on the captor at the end. You'll see. This one doesn't feel as long, but I really want to stay on track, so brevity might be the name of the game going forward. I hope you enjoy!}

Being the Wicked Witch had a lot of perks. I had to live alone in the endless expanse of the enchanted wood, but my house could move wherever I willed it to, and I was free to do as I pleased. The resources in the Endless Wood also seemed infinite, and so I never wanted for anything. Well, almost anything. The biggest con to living as the Wicked Witch was how infrequently I got laid.

Oh, sure, I had my werewolf friend, but even spicy food can become boring if you eat it every day. The lack of variety was becoming a problem, one I was currently patching with a new wooden phallus every night.

And so, it was while searching for fallen branches for this purpose that I was surprised with a sack over my head. I cried out in alarm, but it was muffled and I knew better than to waste my strength when I felt a shoulder in my gut and the world flipping upside down.

It was only a few moments of rough jostling before gravity shifted and I ended up on my butt in the dirt. The bag was jerked away, my hair flying up around my face, and I blinked in the brightness of the mid-day sun filtering into the clearing.

I was outside of a cave, the trees around it had been cut down-I assumed to make fire, since there were no structures in the clearing. Crouched on furry haunches in front of me, bare chested and grinning, was a satyr. He had two horns nestled among his chestnut curls, a neatly trimmed beard, and hair dusted down his chest and arms.

"Hello!" He leaned forward in what must be an attempt at fliration. "I'm Kal. Who are you?"

I glared at him, deciding if I should answer or just lay a curse upon him and be on my way. He was quite fit, his shoulders especially caught my eye, and the hair on his torso drew my attention to the loin cloth draped over the sizeable bulge between his thighs.

"I'm Quinn," I finally answered, slowly bringing my gaze to meet his.

Impossibly, his grin grew. "Oh, wonderful!" He stood and offered his hand to me. I took it and stood beside him.

He wasn't much taller than me, but the way he invaded my personal space made me feel small. He smelled earthy, like dry leaves and spicy tea, and his hands were rough as he rubbed them up the backs of my arms and pulled me close to his chest. I put my hands on his shoulders, wary of his sudden closeness despite my curiosity.

"You'll stay with me for a while, won't you?" he spoke low in my ear, arms tightening slightly.

"Why should I?" I turned my face away from his, but felt his lips brush a smile against my cheek.

"Because only I know where we are, so if you want to find your way back to a familiar place, you'll humor me." He nosed at my jaw, lips brushing down my neck before he placed a light kiss on my shoulder.

I laughed at the absurdity of the statement. He didn't know who I was! I wanted to be angry, but found that I was more amused than anything. Well, amused and horny.

Satyrs were known for their insatiable appetites. Their god was one of wine and excess, among other things. It was rumored they had mating frenzies at intervals impossible to measure on any known calendar, but since none had been seen in several generations, it was hard to verify any of it.

I was in a unique position; face-to-face with a creature who could certainly scratch an itch that I'd been unable to reach for several weeks, who also didn't know that he should fear me. A problem I hadn't anticipated was that being the Wicked Witch meant that I would be infamous. I had met several types of fairies, gnomes, dryads, and nymphs in the months before the cold snap that forced everyone indoors for the next several weeks. Each encounter had ended with the creatures scurrying in the opposite direction from which I'd come.

It was difficult to find someone to screw you when they were all afraid you'd turn them into something nasty once the deed was done. Go figure.

I smiled slowly as rough square fingers unlaced the ties holding my apron, then my dress, moving around the front to loosen the final tie of my chemise. The three layers all dropped together to pool at my feet. I wanted to feel incensed that he hadn't even waited for consent, but he stepped back and looked at me with dark eyes, and I decided I'd save the anger for after if he didn't please me.

His loin cloth was already tenting as he stepped into my space again and pulled me flush to him by the flesh of my ass cheeks. His face went to my shoulder and I knew he was watching his hands knead my globes as I gasped and grunted into his ear at the force of his tugging. Suddenly, he ducked sightly down and his hands slid to the backs of my thighs, then he stood up fully, bringing me with him. I was forced to wrap my legs around his hips, astride the length I could feel growing against my spread folds, and my arms wound around his neck.

He grinned as he walked me into the cave and lay me on a pile of pine needles draped in a roughly woven wool blanket. It was rough, and the fur of his haunches was nothing like the fluff of the werewolf that I'd grown accustomed to. Even the callouses of his fingers caught on the soft skin of my lips as he parted them to ease two thick digits into my pussy.

He wasted no time with rubbing me to orgasm, or stretching me in preparation. Instead, he tested to see how wet I was-enough to make a squelching sound when he thrust his hand-and removed his loin cloth. His prick was short, but very thick, foreskin already pulled back and head glistening with moisture. The wild earthy smell of him was overwhelming now that his member was free and mixing with the scent of my own arousal.

"I knew the moment I saw you that you'd be willing. I can always tell when a lovely lady is hiding perversity." The smile never seemed to leave his face, my submissive position only adding a glint of glee to the darkness of his eyes. I could almost see my reflection in the wide expanse of his pupils.

I opened my mouth to protest that I wasn't a lady, but he was pushing the blunt head of his cock against my center and my breath refused to leave my lungs with any sound other than a drawn out moan.

There's no doubt that his own slickness aided in his process of stuffing me full. My legs were spread uselessly across his haunches as he sat back, gripped my hips, and fed my hungry pussy. It felt so good to be stretched to such a limit, and though I couldn't feel him deep inside at my cervix, I was delighted with the pressure against my g spot.

He didn't wait long after his coarse hair made contact with my pelvis before he drew back and rocked his hips forward again. I choked on the sound forced out of me and focused only on keeping my breathing steady. One hand gripped by hip, the other came to rest beside my head. I reached up to wrapped my fingers around his forearm, hoping to keep some semblance of dignity through the fucking yet to come.

Satyrs weren't really known for heartiness; they weren't known to be able to run far, or to endure extreme temperatures. They certainly weren't made for battle or for long hours bent over a tome. Overall, the books all seemed to hold them in low esteem; creatures made only for leisure and madness. Now I knew that to be bullshit. This satyr, at least, had more stamina than I ever imagined a creature could have.

He worked away at me until we both became slick with sweat, his hand slipping on my hips as he pulled me onto him. The rough wool beneath me was rubbing my back raw, but I was so consumed with the way my pussy kept trying to milk that incredible girth that I couldn't find it in myself to care.

Suddenly he stopped. I panted, trying to get my bearings again, when I was grabbed by the upper arms and hoisted up onto his lap. He leaned back and I tipped forward and then I was on top. He leaned back on his elbows and planted his hooves, giving a rough thrust that sent me sprawling forward. I caught myself on his shoulders, hands slipping in his sweat, and planted my knees on the blanket. I felt needles biting into me through the blanket, but my hips rolled down on him anyway.

I began to meet his thrusts, adding a level of force that had his eyes rolling back in his head. The grin-however-never left his face, even as our movements became uncoordinated. He lay flat beneath me and grabbed my hips, pounding up into me with full force as I writhed and moaned above him.

My pussy was dripping, the friction that had at first felt like too much had turned into a glide that took me up and up and pushed me over the edge of my first definable orgasm. The random fluttery pulses on my pussy turning into a hard clenching that left me frozen in pleasure above him.

Still he rolled beneath me, his member seeming to twist and prod at all of the most sensitive places inside me before he held me painfully tight to him and warmth burst inside me.

I gasped in shock at the sensation. The werewolf always came for nearly a minute at a time, but the satyr's seed was so much hotter than my body, I felt it shooting deep inside me.

We sat there for several minutes; he lying flat with his hands out to the side, lips still tilted up in a satisfied smile, me braced over him with hands planted just above his shoulders, head hanging down as I twitched in the aftermath of exertion. He took a long, full bodied stretch beneath me and I felt his girth-still rigid-shift inside me.

There must have been quite an expression of shock on my face when my head whipped up to make eye contact, because he let out a bark of laughter and rolled his hips again.

"Ready for round two?" he asked, eyebrow quirking up, hands gripping my forearms with force to keep me where I was. He lifted his head and caught one of my nipples in his lips, sucking hard before running his tongue all around the nub.

I bit my lip to stifle the moan that wanted to answer him and focused on breathing deep so I could gather my wits for words once during this encounter. "Yes, I could go for round two. But before we do, I have a question."

He released my nipple, his look cautious but curious. "Oh? What would you like to know?" He rolled beneath me again, I lifted me hips with the motion, and kept them hovering as he relaxed back down.

Finally, a frown! His eyebrows pinched together and the bow of his lips was deliciously full with the downturn of the corners. It was my turn to grin at him. "Do you know who I am?"

He writhed beneath me, his grip on my forearms growing tighter. I half expected him to grab my hips, to force me to sit fully on his cock again, but he seemed reluctant to release my arms. The books never mentioned anything about the intelligence of satyrs, but this one must have heard something in my tone of voice that gave him pause. Or else the smile I could feel stretching my face was more menacing than I'd realized.

"You're Quinn, of course, as you said earlier." The smile he presented looked strained.

"Oh yes, I am Quinn. The Wicked Witch of the Endless Wood." I slid a bit further off his length, his eyes grew wide, then I sat down heavily.

It was as if I'd punched him in the gut. The breath left him in a whoosh, but I was already lifted up again to repeat the motion. I could feel my ass rippling with the force, and my thighs burned from the exertion as I continued to slam myself down in his lap.

I muttered under my breath, little glamour charms that would dazzle his senses just a bit more; make the heat of my body hotter, the wet sounds of my pussy reminiscent of a sonata, the vision of my body rising up over his again and again something akin to a religious experience.

His grip on me loosened, so I grabbed him instead, holding him captive with the grip of my hands on his wrists, the breathy whispers of my glamours, and the bracket of my calves around his haunches.

The cock inside me seemed to grow even thicker as I drove myself closer to another orgasm, but before I could reach my peak, his member burst inside me again. He let out a surprised sort of bleating moan, back arching up into me, hips jerking with no rhythm or finesse as he emptied himself inside me for the second time.

I let out a huff of disappointment when he finished, his member finally going soft and slipping out of me. A torrent of cum followed, slipping down my thighs and dripping onto his flaccid cock and thick hair. I stood over him, rubbing my clit. I took in his flushed face, his heaving chest. I delighted in the sweat matting his hair to his chest and the look of sated dubiousness on his face.

It was knowing that the fear of me hadn't hindered his pleasure that finally pushed me over the edge. I was powerful, but he had been unafraid to grab me, and despite the threat of my position, he'd still been able to have what was probably the best orgasm of his life. My pussy pulsed weakly with nothing to grip, more of his cum slipping out of my gaping hole to dot his stomach and chest.

"Forgive me," he finally whispered. "I never would have approached you, had I known."

"Then it's a good thing you didn't know." I smirked at his bewildered expression. "Next time, ditch the bag. All you have to do is ask." I winked at him and left the cave. I gathered my clothes and headed to the door of my cabin which-naturally-I'd requested to meet me in the clearing outside of the cave.

By the time he'd followed me, my cabin and I were in a different clearing, near a spring I liked to bathe in. It wasn't too far from Kal's cave. I didn't want to make it too difficult for him to find me if he fancied another round.