Legend

Then he was there, standing before her, studying her, his displeasure nearly palpable, his face a mask of disgust. Confused, she held her hands out imploringly, revealing the cuffs that encircled her wrists. He grabbed them and twisted cruelly, forcing a small cry from her lips, but she did not struggle. One powerful arm held her to him while the first finger of the other hand slipped into the ring at her throat.

In a voice both guttural and heavily accented he spoke, "You wear my collar. That is clothing enough. Do not displease me in this fashion again." And he was gone.

Her hand flailed out to catch the banister, barely retaining her balance as she reeled to sit on the stair. His scent had been many times stronger than she could remember and every nerve in her body twanged painfully. She wrapped her arms tightly against herself in an attempt to stop the quaking need that coursed through her with agonizing urgency, until finally, the trembling subsided and was replaced with astonishment.

He had spoken to her! It had never occurred to her that the creature was capable of speech, although why, she could not answer. "You wear my collar." The phrase fairly echoed in her brain. What did that mean? Oh please, she chided herself. You know exactly what it means. Involuntarily, her hand floated up to touch the leather. As soon as her skin had made contact, she quickly removed the thing and the cuffs, as well. She deposited all to the top of the box and returned to the stair where she eyed them warily, as if she had just discovered three cobras in her cellar.

Her sleep that night was filled with images of herself and the creature, images of the what she knew was expected of her. No, demanded of her. There was no doubt of that now. She saw herself tied, bound, blindfolded, even gagged. She saw the creature taking his pleasure of her in every way. And she saw herself responding to him wantonly, willingly. That night she took the food to the cellar naked, but for the leather that was his gift to her.

He appeared almost immediately, his face showing an approval that was nearly as strong as his scent. She breathed deeply of it as she sat the plate of food it its usual spot on top of the box. It had no more than left her hand before he was on her. With lightning speed, he clipped a rope lead to the ring at her throat and forced her to her hands and knees. "Your status is that of slave," he growled. "I had hoped you would prove worthy of more."

He turned and strode across the cellar to a far wall, the lead firmly in his grasp, and she had no choice but to crawl scrambling after him. On arriving at what appeared to be his destination, he jerked up on the rope twice in quick succession and she took that to mean she was to rise. Once on her feet, he pushed her against the wall and secured her wrists to unseen hooks above her head, obviously mounted there for that purpose. That done, he kicked her feet wide until the leather of the cuffs bit slightly into her flesh. He stepped back two paces and his frankly lustful gaze swept over her helpless form.

Her heart pounding fit to explode, she met his eyes only once, though it seemed to her that he stood there looking at her for hours. She felt terribly exposed and acutely vulnerable and more than a little afraid. She had time to think as she hung there, covertly watching him watch her, but the thinking terrified her more than the reality of her situation, if it was indeed reality. Perhaps she had gone mad after all, agreeing to this. For, by her own actions, she had certainly stated her agreement. She sighed in resignation.

He was instantly before her, pinching her nipples until they were painfully stiff and she was forced to cry out. He pushed her head back and covered her mouth with his, then continued, her cries turning into soft whimpers against his tongue as his fingers tweaked and squeezed her swollen breasts. One hand slid down her body and between her legs. She heard herself moan as she shamelessly squatted, pushing against the presented hand. He dropped to his knees, his rough, cat-like tongue snaking into her secret place and hot desire rolled through her like a tidal wave. She thrust her hips forward and she squatted even more, stretching the limits of her bonds.

Over and over he brought her close to completion only to draw back and watch her quivering need. His fingers probed and dug in all her most hidden spots, and once he brought her close using his hand alone. He prodded and explored and licked and sucked every part of her before he was through. Toward the end and out of her mind with desire, she vaguely remembered begging for her orgasm, pleading for release. And when he deemed that she had suffered enough, he relented to her supplications. Her orgasm tore through her with such hurricane force that she felt her consciousness slipping away on light wings. A sharp slap to her left breast brought her quickly back to reality.

He wrapped one arm around her waist as he released her arms. It kept her from falling immediately to the floor. Once she had her footing he stepped back from her once again, a smile wreathed his face. The back of his hand gently stroked her cheek and his lips brushed softly across her mouth.

"You please me, Slave" he said simply. And her eyes filled with tears.

Part - 4

The leather collar chafed at her neck as she stood waiting in the damp chill of the cellar. Her nude body pimpled in the cold air and her nipples grew taut as a wisp of breeze touched them. Still, she waited for her Master, as she had waited for the last several days, starting at every little creak and bump the old house made, both dreading and anticipating his appearance. Idly, she fingered the scrollwork of the matching wrist restraints; the tooling was set in such intricate knots and whorls so ancient that she couldn’t begin to guess at its origin. She wondered, not for the first time, if the set had been charmed or magicked in some way. She had never believed in such nonsense, but neither would she have believed that a satyr lived in her cellar, had, in point of fact, ravaged her, had she not seen the creature - and felt it.

She studied the wall where he had chained her, where she had begged like a common whore for sexual release. After what seemed like an eternity he had granted her entreaty and the orgasm that had torn through the very soul of her left her weak and trembling. She longed to repeat the experience while she damned herself for the feeling.

Her mind wandered, reviewing her other encounters with the creature, all of them equally as humiliating, yet, to her, arousing. Color flooded her cheeks as her eyes fell on the place where he had aroused her to the point of ecstasy and vanished with a derisive laugh, leaving her with a heed that pulsed like a living thing inside her. She wanted him with a lust she had never experienced with any human male. Her stomach sickened with that acknowledgement, even as she reminded herself that it was, after all, quite literally the nature of the beast that he should stir such strong emotions in her. That his scent contained huge amounts of some type of pheromone or aphrodisiac was beyond question. Her own physical reaction to the creature was all the proof she needed to reach that obvious conclusion.

Where was he? She hadn’t seen him for several days and had thought of little else. For that matter, she had thought of little else since her first encounter with him. Clad only in the collar and matching restraints he had given her, she had dutifully replenished the bottle of wine each evening and returned each morning to find it gone, but saw no sign of the creature himself. She sighed as she sat on the steps to wait a little longer. Some time later she awakened and made her way to bed, full of longing and disappointment.

From a darkened corner of the cellar, the Satyr watched her go, a satisfied smile spread across his face and lit his tilted eyes. It had been many years since he had smelled one of the Old Blood, too many years. But he had found her. Strong in the blood of her ancestors, she could not resist him. Perhaps he would come to her tomorrow. Perhaps she had waited long enough and would be ripe for the next lesson. The smile widened in anticipation. As he stepped from his pace of concealment to claim his offering a slight chuckle escaped his lips.

The morning dawned gray and dismal. The sky grudgingly leaked moisture from heavy clouds rather than gives the earth an honest rain. She gazed out her kitchen window and decided the gloomy landscape matched her mood exactly. Predictable, her thoughts returned to the Satyr. Scooping up her coffee, she wandered through the quiet house to the study. The desk was piled high with books on mythology that she had purchased over the few weeks since her first meeting, when this creature of legend had stepped from the shadowy depths of her cellar to claim her and change her life forever..

There was really very little written about them. Each book read nearly the same as the one before it, as if the author of each had copied the information word for word, then changed it around a little, fearing an accusation of plagiarism. Cross-referencing had proved to be of little use, as the definitions only folded back on themselves and reiterated the same basic knowledge she had already obtained from other volumes.

Listlessly, she leafed through the now familiar pages of text. Satyrs were the attendants of Dionysus, the god of wine, singing, dancing and “creative ecstasy”. It was a phrase peculiar to her, but she had the feeling she was only just beginning to experience its true meaning.

She passed the remainder of the day doing small household chores and waiting for evening and time to replace the ever-present bottle of wine. She made her evening meal of cheese and honey and the coarse brown bread she had recently developed a taste for. Finally, the sun dipped below the horizon and she made her way down the rickety steps. He was waiting there for her. She rushed across the intervening space and fell to her knees before him.

“Master,” she whispered softly, and was rewarded when he caressed her bowed head in approbation. Tears of happiness and relief flooded her eyes.

He smiled his approval. He had not yet taught her to present herself to him in such a way. She had known, though, that this was proper. Yes, the Old Blood was strong in her, but she was unaware of her ancestry. It was of no importance at this time. He would educate her to that as well as other, more intimate things. He let her stay there, kneeling before him, for many long moments before he raised her to her feet. He looked into her eyes, moist with unshed tears, her face, so full of anticipation and an eagerness to please him. His sensitive nose caught the scent of her, much stronger than in any of their previous meetings. She had no idea of what their association portended, but she would, oh yes, indeed she would. He wrapped his arms around her and she fell into his embrace, clinging to him in her need. He held her close for a time, stroking her hair until he felt her relax against him. He could ask for no better time to begin her lesson.

Abruptly he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her away from him. He bent her over the old packing crate where she usually placed her wine offering. As he thrust himself into her he was rewarded with her gasp of pleasure. He had kept her waiting the exact length of time necessary for this response. Her hands gripped the crate tightly as she met him stroke for stroke. Her orgasm came within minutes. She was indeed ready for the next lesson.

He remained within her for a time, stroking her back and buttocks until the aftershocks had subsided. He allowed a controlled release of his potent musk, knowing it would flood her senses and arouse her again. She moaned softly as he finally withdrew from her, never stopping the rhythmic stroking and kneading of her bottom. She breathed deeply of him, letting his powerful scent work its will with her, allowing it to awaken every cell of her being. She felt his hand slide slowly down the cleft of her ass. When his finger touched to opening of her sex, she arched her back to receive him. His soft chuckle at her response thrilled her. He was pleased!

“Have you a need, Slave?” he asked, as he resumed the previous stroking rhythm.

“Yes, Master.”

“Your only need is to please me; your only desire is my approval. Is this not so?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good!” he shouted, as his hand came down hard on her vulnerable backside.

She gasped and stood straight up in pain and surprise. Faster than her eyes could follow, he grabbed the tether ring in the front of her collar, pulling her down again with such force that she fell, sprawling, across the packing crate. He held her there as his hand rose and fell on first one cheek, then the other, until her eyes grew bright with stinging tears. The assault stopped as abruptly as it had begun and the stroking motion resumed once more. She heard a low growl deep in his throat.

“Wh - why?” she choked. “What have I done?”

“Done? You have pleased me. Now it pleases me to punish you. You must find your pleasure in pleasing me!”

With that, he began a renewed assault on her already tender and reddened butt. Again and again his hand struck the tender flesh until her ass felt swollen and flaming. She writhed and whimpered with each blow.

Suddenly, he was again inside her, thrusting and pumping her. Her back arched of its own volition and she raised her hips to meet him. At the point of her release, he quickly withdrew and the spanking resumed with renewed vigor. Her cry of anguish sounded loud in her ears. She squirmed and twisted away from the pain, but his hand on the back of her neck held her as securely as iron chains. Over and over he brought her to the threshold of pleasure and replaced it with pain until she thought she surely must explode with need.

It seemed to go on for hours. Her voice grew hoarse from crying and pleading. At some point he bent to whispered in her ear, his voice harsh and rasping.

“Surrender!” he commanded. “Surrender to the pain. You must submit to me!”

Before she could puzzle out the meaning of his words, she felt him inside her yet again. Her orgasm became a pocket of air moving slowly through a heavy, viscous liquid. It gained momentum as it grew with each thrust of him, each new sensation, until it was speeding to the surface of her consciousness and, finally, ultimate release. He drove into her again and again and her orgasm crashed through her in violent waves of passion. It was barely over when the spanking began again, but this time her body was too saturated in sensation to protest. She surrendered to the pain, as he had commanded her to do. She absorbed it, took it into herself and then, somewhere deep inside, she knew. His pleasure became her pleasure and she felt her body relax, though the blows had become even more furious than before.

Then she was out! Out of her body and floating in a void of soft, blue light. Her body continued to receive the punishment, but she was no longer there. She was free, freer than she had ever been. It was quiet there, in her void, warm and welcoming. She floated effortlessly on a sea of pure sensation so magnificent she could hardly believe it. Contentment spread over her like a gentle cocoon.

She was dimly aware that the spanking had ceased. He was stroking her again, softly murmuring words of approval and encouragement. She took it all into herself, never wanting to leave the quiet serenity of this amazing place she had discovered.

“My good, good girl,” he whispered, as his hand gently brushed the sweat-dampened tendrils of hair away from her face.

Reluctantly, she stirred.

“Come back to me, my pet,” he whispered. “Now that you have found your special place, it will be easier for you to return. But for now, you must come back to me.”

The sound of his voice, low and crooning, pulled her back. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him in wonder. He helped her to sit. She was light-headed and felt almost as if she were drunk. He removed her collar, replacing it with something much lighter and cool against her skin. The restraints followed. He gently rubbed her wrists and kissed each one in turn.

“Now you are truly mine,” he said, quietly, and was gone.