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..."
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.
Fingers teasing down his back, pressing in. He ejaculated without warning, tucking his chin down and clacking his antlers sharply against the rack, eyes half-lidded with unexpected pleasure. He'd only later know, just about, what pressure points were but, by that time, it would all be too late for him, the satyr having become a slave to their lusts and desires, lost to all else but sexual passion. Kasura cried out for him, pressing her tits together as she took his seed on them, marvelling with open wonder at just how much he could produce, his might and strength, all things that made his heart pound all the more desperately for all they could give him.
And yet even Varossion could not miss the fact that things kept going on, orgasm after orgasm coaxed sweetly from him under the influence of sweet hands and tongues and mouths and breasts. They pressed up against him as he tried to draw back, hands holding him down even though he was so much larger than them -- even all of them put together! Something locked around his wrists and ankles and he bellowed out another climax, cock jerking and spurting furiously as he spent himself over the buttocks of the teasing red-head, Namura's eyes sparkling as her plan, finally, came to glorious fruition.
"We'll take care of you," she breathed, tipping his chin up even as the other two kissed and suckled on his dick, teasing him to hardness once more, not allowing any sense of respite even when he needed it the most. "Relax. Cum for us. Again."
He was no longer the one in control and his masculinity, all that they had so craved from him, now become his downfall as he thrashed and heaved, striving with all his might to break free as the platform creaked dangerously beneath him. At any moment it seemed that the wooden structure threatened to tip them to the ground in a shattering of splinters but there was no true risk: the Sisters of the Red Lotus had planned their lustful rites well. After all, satyrs deserved so much more than the civilisation that, ultimately, they had been forced into... They were only there to do Varossion a service as they drew him all the way back to his feral, breeding roots, turning him from manly satyr to a true breeding stud, not able to think of anything bar the need of rampant sexual desire flooding his soul and every last fibre of his being.
Claimed and bound, he should have still, however, been able to break free but there were still so many parts of him that the coven were to uncover, tongues teasing and sweetly cleaning sweat from his body. The oils that they had used, of course, were of a natural ilk that were perfectly safe to consume and Kasura, the motherly one of the trio, spent time on his nipples, teasing and coaxing the little tubs to peaks even through the lusty curls of hair on his bare chest. Enniru was the one though that uncovered what he had, before, strived so very hard to hide, his swollen and heavy nuts aching for something, if not quite her touch.
Barely a brush of her fingertips had him growling and bellowing out his passion, ejaculating in a stream that caught even Namura by surprising, the red-head hastening to clamp her hands around his shaft, taking every last drop of that load into her mouth, gulping it down. Her mouth was stained and drooling with his seed already and one sloppy offering would hardly have made a difference if not for Enniru pursuing what she had found with the single-minded intent of one devoted to the passion and pursuit of true lust alone.
She giggled and toyed with his balls, pressing them lightly together and even allowing their own weight to stimulate him, almost visibly throbbing with need and heat, aching and churning. Despite himself, Varossion gulped and growled and tried with all his might to find the words that would, at the very least, get her to leave them a little more alone -- he needed to recover! -- yet there was no sense of recovery to be had as she tickled them with her tongue, forcing him straight over the edge into another climax even as his body begged with muscle tremors for release and rest from the tentatively delectable torment.
"Oh, are these where the secret lies?" Enniru squealed, clapping her hands together as she trailed her tongue over his nuts, seeking out just where his sensitivity was worst (or best, depending on how one looked at it. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun with this..."
Whether she meant for her or for Varossion begged further discussion but the satyr could not even force words from his mouth, caught up in the need to simply continue on gasping for air. His skin glowed with heat and he tried to stomp a hoof, frustrated by the over-sensitivity in his balls. Instantly, he wanted to cum again and his seed only seemed to be more and more productive with every orgasm, a fact that even through his haze of breeding desire that he could not help but still notice. Alas, as with so very much, it proved to be too little too late as Enniru lavished attention on his balls, varying the pressure as she squeezed down and uncovered every last one of his little limits.
And there was a lot that his body could take -- so much that he had never, not even once, had a partner in lust do to him. He had never experimented and always tried to hide just how easily his balls and, of course, his shaft too could draw a rise of arousal from him, as delectable as the sensations could prove to be under the right circumstances. It was too much and his head swam as they drew more and more from him, balls not seeming to run try as he ardently tried to shift his weight from one hoof to the other, fighting for a position that, at the very least, did not draw more pain to his sore muscles.
Yet his mind was going, slipping down and down and there was no escape. The most he could do as pleasure wracked him was to rock and grind fervently, antlers tipping as he twisted his head. Varossion fought to contain himself but he was already lost to the coven, their whispered words and pleas for his masculinity, his participation in what he still assumed was all clean and wanted, part of a ritual that would bring further lust and life and vitality the forest, all taking him further and further away from the beast he truly was.
"You're doing so well."
The rite... The ritual... He tried to focus on that, blinking through a haze as the massage returned, although it was difficult at the very least to discern one pair of hands from the next, sensations blurring languidly together as time seemed to slow down around him. And yet even if time slowed down that did not make it any easier to bear through the tingling in his balls, burning and throbbing with a desperate combination of a need to orgasm and a need to stop, to rest and have no more, if only for a little while.
His balls ached as the rods that they'd had specially made (not that he was to know, of course) pushed up into his cock, hardly stopping the flow of cum as it pulsed around them. On a lesser male, of course, they may have been more than enough to halt the stream but the raw power and masculinity of such a satyr was a force, indeed, to be reckoned with. The ladies changed places, so many hands on his sore and sensitive balls, Enniru giggling and watching with abject, rapt fascination as his cum poured out around the rod, his orgasms having lost track. What could he be on? One blurred into the next seamlessly, the pleasure lost in the soreness and ache as the need for respite balanced on the tip of his tongue.
No... No, he had to hold on for the ritual. They had asked him for his assistance. Foolishly, for he could have possibly have broken free if he had tried right then and there, he stayed put, allowing them to get his bonds around him as he grunted and thrust, shooting a hot and heavy load over the red-head's face as she moaned for him.
And then he was locked down, forced down, in place for every last bit of the rite, regardless of just what he was actually ready for or not. His erection shot up again, rock hard, and a thicker sounding rod shoved into it, the urethra seeming to flare out at just the right moment. Was that so? It was hard to thick, his body striving to hunch down more and more as he pulled and fought against his bonds, although it was too much for his mind to allow panic in when erotic pleasure washed over him over and over again. The fingers and palms sweeping his body intensified in a flick of red hair, a giggling laugh heralding her dropping down between his legs, teasing his thighs with kneads and squeezes, harder and more forceful as if she was striving to demand something more from his pulsing, throbbing body. Kasura massaged his back and shoulders, the motherly woman whispering to him even through his moans just how well he was doing as she pressed down on just the right points to increase the stream of cum, orgasm intensifying as his balls swelled up, more desperate than ever... But for what?
No... No! He'd said he would do it but he couldn't! No satyr could!
"I need to stop," he breathed, although his words were lost in the pulse of yet another orgasm. "Too much... It's too much."
Yet they had no reason to allow him to stop and ignored his plea as lips crashed into his, Enniru, ever the curious one, moaning into his mouth as she forced some of his own seed into his mouth, another driving behind him, a tongue forcing his anal ring to spread. A kiss from both ends was a strange sensation to take and the satyr bucked and ground, the stage shaking and creaking, yet there was no respite or peace to be had from the wiles and desires of the trio who had so very easily taken him for their own.
Her tongue dominated his mouth, his mind too sluggish to keep up as he sweated heavily, his balls huge and growing larger as if his cum was backed up in there. Were they not letting him have a complete orgasm? Yet each and every climax lasted well over a minute -- the seconds slipping by as he ached and ached and ached -- Enniru releasing him sensually from the kiss as she dug her teeth lightly into his lower lip and drew it out from his mouth with sparkling glee.
"See how virile you are?" She breathed, eyes alight. "You need more... Take it!"
Fingers dug into his balls, his buttocks, Namara grunted as she reamed him, tongue fucking his anal ring at just the right speed to shove him over the edge into climax, the harsher movements having more than an effect once he was warmed up. Varossion's words became more and more incoherent but that did not stop him from heaving and wrenching with as much strength as he had left in him -- when his vigour was stolen to climax, not all that much in the end -- grunting and bellowing like an animal, eyes half-closed.
No... No, no, no. They had to stop, they had to let him go! Only then did Varossion realise just how far in over his head he was, panting and bucking and trying to pull away whenever those fingers jabbed into a particularly sensitive spot. If he had been more with his senses, however, as he flooded the stage with slick seed, cum pouring over the edges like a waterfall as it poured out and out, he would have realised that they were forcing him to produce more and more cum, the sensual massage being nothing but. He was just a vessel for their lusts, their needs rising and throbbing through, thick and full like a rampant male erection, the source of every last shard of their desire.
His balls hung down heavily under their own weight and he groaned, rolling his head to the side, antlers rapping smartly, striving to hunker down and bear through, clinging to the thought that, at least at some point, the ritual too had to come to an end. It simply could not last forever and he had to remember that, strive to bear through as his head pounded and his balls churned and churned with the need to spill his load. It was beyond belief that his body too could, in fact, produce that much cum and he could even see it before him, spilling over the stage, the women kneeling or standing awash in it even as a tongue on his anal ring prompted him to add to it again, his dick feeling so very much larger and thicker than it ever had before. Was that even possible?
And yet they seemed to intricately blur the lines of reality and what he thought could not be, driving him on to orgasm, directing his seed into the pool even as his mouth opened and closed, wanting to stop. Words were no longer his to bear as he slipped down and down, a machine to be milked and used for what he could produce. He didn't have to think and the ache to rest blurred with the need to cum, a heady grunt breaking his lips even as he rocked helplessly into the wood.
Yet the word did not come out, pupils dilated and each ragged breath scraping its way through his windpipe and lungs. He tried to say over and over again that they needed to stop but his words would only have fallen on deaf ears anyway, regardless of just how Varossion's erection throbbed and throbbed -- visibly too! It was not just a sense but something more, something physical, something that really should have been taken note of. But they did take note in their own way, forcing another bucket of cum to join the rest pouring off the platform and seeping into the ground, the thick aroma of fresh seed swamping them like the humidity of mid-summer before a storm. Yet that storm was only just beginning for Varossion.
Kasura clapped her hands, encouraging him on as he near enough climaxed of his own accord, spilling out cum and moaning with only the lightest of touches -- but what fun were those?
"Oh, my stud!"
Their encouragement only reminded him of his predicament, balls several times larger than normal, unbearably sensitive and needy, aching for some kind of relief -- and not what they wanted to provide him with. They praised him for all that he was doing, how fine he was for the ritual, although their words lulled in a soothing tone that could have been reassuring if not for the pulsating desire coursing through him. No longer could the satyr claim to know just what it was that he wanted even as he babbled in nonsense words for release, moans overriding all as hands coaxed one more orgasm from him and then another -- and then another again.
No, there was not to be any true end for Varossion as he was dragged down and down and down, losing every sense of what it meant to be a proud satyr, learning the ways of his kind. What they had in mind was something more, what they thought a male should be -- and what better one to lead into their ideal world than a muscled stud of a satyr? Enniru lapped along his cock, marvelling at just how one touch of her tongue had him climaxing all over again, the spurts reaching across the platform as he demonstrated for them just how studly and powerful he was. And yet he was still in their grasp, performing as they willed, unable to walk even if he had been released.
Fat nuts hung down, brushing the stage, like a stud pig whose only job was to be used to breed over and over again. He didn't need to be able to move -- not for what they craved for him, moaning and simpering over him, fawning as if he was the answer to their wildest dreams and most sanctimonious of prayers. There could be no end to it as his bellow scared birds from the trees miles off, the storming stomp of his cloven hooves shaking the stage, body convulsing against his will and draining even more energy from him, not that he exactly had all that much left to give anyway. His testicles practically burned, although he could not tell what would cool them, cock constantly drooling as seed was forced out by the heralding of the next orgasm, each one of the trio painted in his creamy seed as if they had bathed in it, slipping on the platform with raw, desperate giggles.
And then...lightness. He barely realised it was happening, a broken and subdued wreck of a moaning satyr, head spinning and spinning, antlers too heavy on a head that he almost didn't even have the strength to hold up anymore. The bonds of the rack fell away from him as they murmured and cried out how powerful he was, simply how virile his seed was -- how they had to have it! He panted heavily, trying to get as much air back into his lungs as possible, trying to say over and over again how thankful he was that he was able to help with their rites, the ritual that they had, so evidently, performed together.
He thought he was done, soaked in sweat and stinking of sex, the reek of it causing even his nostrils to pucker. Too much, it was all too much and yet he could not even crawl away as he heaved and his shoulders rounded, eyes bulging even as they tried to close, exhaustion catching up to him in a rush of sensation. No more, surely no more, that had to be it... And yet they giggled, catching up with him as quickly as tiredness did to his heart and soul, surrounding him on all sides, a trio that had turned out, in the end, to truly be a force to be reckoned with.
They had their satyr right where they wanted him.
"So glad... Too much..."
Mumbled words were not to be his salvation, however, as a pair of bare feet and toes filled his vision, the dark trunks of trees framing her in the background. But there was nothing sturdy about him where he could have before matched up to the quiet energy of those pine trees, even his natural scent fading in lieu of the aroma of lust and passion flooding him, surrounding him on all sides like a taste in the back of his mouth that he could not quite rid himself of.
Kasura tipped his chin up to her as he still strove to crawl away around her, slipping to the boards in an ungainly thunk of flesh and muscle, legs too badly shaken and weak to hold him up. She kissed him deeply, hungrily, forcing her tongue into his mouth as she moaned and her heart pounded with passion.
"T-thank you..." He heaved, breaking the kiss with his words. "This... I helped..."
But it was not the end and that was not something that the coven was going to tell him with their words when their bodies could do the same. Namura loomed over him, the powerful satyr on his back on the boards, legs kicked out over the edge and dangling, the trees swaying and bowing above her as the wind picked up and up.
"It's time for the reward of your ritual..."
Yet it was not Namura who was to take him first, to claim her own sort of reward from the lust-addled male that they had broken down to nothing more than a breeding stud, but Kasura, her dimples showing as she beamed and sat astride him. She needed him as badly as he needed her -- or, at least, his cock needed her, balls churning and aching for release that he really should no longer have needed at all -- and moaned as she teased her pussy and folds back and forth across the intimidating head of his cock. And she should have known just how big he was, how much cum he could produce after teasing so many of his pressure points under the guise of massage, before sinking down -- yet his size still shocked her.
Her moan scared birds from the trees that had perhaps decided that it was safe to roost and rest while their debauchery seemed to be coming to an end. With his hands flung out above his head, arms stretched out to the sides around his antlers, Varossion heaved and panted, able to do nothing more than lie there beneath her, stripped of everything that could have possibly have made him an intelligent being. He was big, really too big for her, but Kasura cooed to him even as she sank down, one of her sisters massaging her pussy and teasing her sex just to help her out a little bit. But it was her wide, motherly hips that helped her out the most as she took more and more of his aching cock into her sex, pussy striving to tighten and ripple around his dick even as she was forced to relax for the simple task of taking every last inch of him.
"Oh, you're doing so well..."
She murmured to him, dropping one eyelid in a sweet wink that may have actually reassured him and loosened a little of the tightness in his chest under different circumstances. And yet Varossion was barely aware of just who was mounting him in the heat of the moment, skin pulsating with raw need, teeth bared in lust.
The woman... He needed her!
And then his hands were on her hips, digging in as he snarled and pulled her down, although he did not yet have the strength to thrust up into her, his legs trembling even as they lay out straight, tremors rumbling through beneath the surface of events. Kasura cried out her pleasure, taking one of his massive hands in her much smaller one, rocking and grinding her plump, luscious body on his shaft even as he climaxed right then and there, the lustful stud that they'd just needed to coax out of hiding. He couldn't do much to show, visually, just how far he was gone but, thankfully, the pump of his cock did the talking for him, quickly filling her with a hefty dose of seed.
"So good... So virile..."
It was hard to say whether or not her words were broken up solely because she was struggling to take him or because she placed them just so in her motherly, caring way for effect but it was by the by as thick cream poured into her. Pump after pump of lusciously thick buck-cum flooded her pussy and, as much as she squeezed down around him, she couldn't help so much of it from slopping back out of her pussy. Dollops drooled down his shaft and marked his crotch, the thick hair of his hips and thighs, moaning over and over again, the low of his climax rolling on and on.
"So well... You're doing so well," she murmured, although the hitch in her breath was telling of her pleasure too, her pussy clenching and pushing down on his cock as if it was trying to both force him out and pull him into her. "Fill me! Make me full of your seed!"
She encouraged him softly and sweetly, tipping forward just enough to splay her hands out flat on his chest, nipples and hair poking lightly up against her fingers. Heaving for breath, Kasura squealed and struggled to contain even herself as he rocked beneath her, eyes fixed on the one riding his shaft, even if he was neither entirely with his senses or understanding of just what was happening to him, going on around him. Varossion moaned as his cock was massaged, the rippling caress of her tight pussy too much for his mind to hold back from as Namura squeezed his balls, assisting in her own wicked way, forcing yet another orgasm from him beyond the realm of what should have ever before been considered natural for even the most studly and virile and truly majestic of any satyr.
He whimpered and groaned deep in the back of her throat, leaning into her touch as she strained forward to caress her cheek, pulled down a little more by the weight of her feminine, womanly breasts -- motherly breasts that one yearned to suckle at, tugging lightly away from her body. She whispered to him over and over again just how good he felt inside her, how he had to let go and all would be alright, softening her tone as he growled and filled her once more, more and more cum seeping from her, her pleasantly sore and pounded pussy unable to take any more inside. An orgasm pounded through her but she could not discern where it began or where it ended, the satyr beneath her only aware of a sudden tightening that had his cock spurting all over again, aching with too much stimulation and yet still nothing at all that he could do about it.
Yet there were others to come too and he gasped when her pussy finally released him from its hold, although it was swiftly replaced with another hot passage. Enniru seated herself on his cock as if her voluptuous figure was made to take him, despite his massive size, the stud plunged into a breeding female ready for him in no time at all. Her slick pussy squeezed and rippled as he moaned, fingers trembling, tiredness clawing at him, even if rest was still very much not to be his. She squealed, crouching above him with her back to his head, bouncing and riding him as if he was the last fuck she would ever get, his cock a toy to be used for her amusement, her pleasure.
"Oh... Yes! More! Give me more!"
And yet anything given was most certainly taken as she rocked and bounced, Enniru crying out her pleasure over and over again as her pussy squeezed and pulsed in orgasm, although she was not one to allow her body to get beyond her control. That was just why she'd needed a satyr, a species that she so very much admired for their strength and all that they could offer in the world of sex. Of course, there was more to it than that and she howled out through her orgasm, crying out without any sense of shame at all as she allowed herself to give way to baser, rawer needs, the needs that had been held back for so long. Those were the very same needs that they'd needed to awaken in Varossion too, even if the satyr did not quite know what was good for him.
It did not stop there; of course, it did not. Enniru squealed and gasped, cheeks pink and lips tugging up in a smile as she well enough took advantage of her position to grope and squeeze his nuts, rolling the orbs between one hand and the other as she forced a coarse and crude climax from him, bearing down on just the right spots of his balls to fill her.
And, so, she rode him, forcing orgasm after orgasm from him, although Varossion should have been spent. He kept on cumming, however, pleasing her every which way until, as the sunset tinted the overhanging leaves with a crimson hue, her pussy too lifted from his shaft and another loomed over him.
"My turn... My prize!"
Namura chuckled warmly, although there was no hint of love in the sound, eyes glinting wickedly, lost to her own pleasure. The scent of her arousal too hung heavy in the air as Varossion panted, yet he would not have done anything at all to stop her too from mounting him, pussy slickening the head of his engorged, strained shaft further as she teased him, legs bent to take him as she'd craved right from the very beginning.
She sank down on his cock, straddling his hips and moaning as she forced the tip up into her tight pussy. With his size, however, it was more than a simple struggle and it took her sisters too to help her down, taking more and more of his length into her aching, tensing cunny, head rolled back on her shoulders with raw, sensual pleasure. Her sisters grunted and helped her down more and more, pushing on her shoulders so that the tightest of them all could feel the pleasure of him too.
"Don't make me..."
Yet Varossion's words were too quiet as she screamed out her lust and pleasure, rampant in her glee of claiming him. That didn't stop the satyr from trying with seemingly the last drops of breath in his lungs, eyes bulging even as his strained muscles rang through with pain, arms flailing for her even though they would never reach her.
"No... No... Too much..."
Namura cried out her first orgasm on him, squeezing his balls harshly.
"Stop... It's too much!"
And yet everything that she delivered oh so sweetly unto him, claiming his mind and his body as he devolved into feral, ragged drags of breath was all that he deserved and needed to be -- just enough for him to take. There was so far a body could be pushed, after all, beyond its limits and Namura had practised her art for year after year, teasing man after man into the decrepit lusts and demeanour that truly was their calling. And he was the biggest and best of them all and she ignored his pleas for respite as he sank down and down again, her hips rising and falling on his throbbing shaft, seemingly caught up in a constant stream of ejaculation, cum messily slopping out of her tight cunny.
"Oh... Yes! Huge! The breeder is here!"
What that meant he would never know as Varossion could hold himself back -- not for the first time during the course of the so-called ritual -- howling out his pleasure as she rode him, each grind of her hips forcing her cunny down just a little bit further. Bit by bit, she took him deep inside her, stretching out her innermost walls and teasing up as deep as he could possibly go, forcing her to stretch around him. She would not, after all, be satisfied with anything less and her sisters hugged her, caressed her shoulders, placed pressure on their buck male in all the right places to get him filling her with a long, drawn-out stream of cum.
It was stronger and more powerful than any orgasm they had forced him through so far, Varossion's eyes closed and stars leaping and dancing behind his lowered lids, a mockery of pleasure. Just what was pleasure, after all, when it went so far? There was no telling where the lines of pain and pressure blurred into that ecstasy, awash as he clung on to the shards of his mind, although it was growing harder and harder to remember what he was, why he was there, what was happening to him... Was it really that bad?
Blinking, he took in the forms of Enniru and Kasura standing on either side of their sister, their bellies so vastly bloated that they appeared, to all intents and purposes, as if they were heavily pregnant, cum streaming down their legs even though their stomachs did not reduce in size at all. Smirking, Enniru dipped a finger tenderly between her own thighs and suckled it clean, moaning around the erotic digit as she relished the taste of him, his manly essence of the forest and sexual spirituality.
"Oh, to be bred by such a bull..."
"Sister, we are the luckiest of them all!"
Namura grabbed his head and growled, arching her smaller body forward, forcing him to look at her and not those that he had bred already.
"Do not beg! You know not what you want and I will break you!" Her head tipped back as she groaned, breasts tingling with desire. "If it takes every last ounce of strength I have, I will break you!"
Yet an orgasm was not a breaking and she would have many more from him before he was the broken satyr that she truly needed beneath her, eyes boring into his as she bared her teeth, desperation clawing at her heart.
"Grab his balls!"
The others obeyed instantly, squeezing and kneading his nuts even as Varossion cried out and whipped his head from one side to the other, begging for mercy, words blurring together until they were incomprehensible. The meaning of them, however, carried through and she increased the force of her thrusts down on his shaft, the others giggling and cooing to him in time with her rampant motions, intent on one thing alone.
She would have him. Just like she'd had all the others that had gone before him.
Varossion's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, words lost to him. More, he needed...more. Yet he strove against all odds to hold back, pushing away the lustful monster that threatened more and more with every passing grind of her pussy down on his cock to take over, to claim him for debasement and need and everything that would strip his mind from him, who he was. And yet did he need actually to be who he was?
"You will fall..."
They squeezed his balls harder and he tightened his loins, every muscle in his body screaming for respite as he fought and fought. The only reason that he was able to hold back for so long was the sheer number of orgasms that he had been forced through already, chest heaving with his lungs far too tight for anything at all resembling breath.
It was inevitable and even Varossion knew it. Knowing that her satyr was on the edge of tipping over, Namura rode him all the more fiercely, clutching her triumph, pussy tight and clenching around him, although she was already so tight that it seemed impossible that she could make her cunny even tighter again. And the moment when it came was more glorious than even she, the red-headed lust-goddess of them all, could have possibly have imagined.
He climaxed in a mind-shattering orgasm that sent him completely and utterly spiralling away from anything he had ever known, roaring out his pleasure with breath that was no longer his, cock jerking and spurting like a spout as he filled her, unable to hold off for even a moment longer. And that was just the moment for her to cry out her climax, her victory over the stud, too, breaking him down and down and down as the intensity powered through him with the force of a waterfall, driving down into a plunge pool from which there was never again to be any escape. The satyr, however, would never know that he was trapped after that point, his mind a clamour of pleasure and need that would need to be sated over and over again, the most glorious breeding stud of them all.
Her stomach swelled, plumping out more and more, swelling to grotesque proportions. It should not have been possible but she held it inside her unlike her sisters, moaning and curling her toes as she pressed her hand to his face, holding him there with fingers that trembled wantonly at the very pinnacle of the moment. Her sisters squeezed his balls, intuitively in time with his spurts, taking every last drop that he should have had to give from him, more and more bloating out her belly even as her orgasm died down.
Only when she was satisfied that she and the others had done what they had set out to do did Namura slowly climb off her victim as his cock continued spurting, caught up in the loop of a continuous orgasm, lust having not a single drop of respite at all. Her sisters stood beside her, bellies swollen with his seed and surely already heavily pregnant or getting to the quickening with his seed, stroking and caressing their stomachs as if they were already imagining that they were carrying near full term. Purring softly, she rocked back on her heels, despite her legs trembling, and admired her work: a civil satyr brought back to the breeding divinity and masculinity that he should have embraced right from the very start.
"And now the breeding bull may go forth," she proclaimed, lips pulling up on one side into a smirk. "Go forth... Be your true self!"
Of course, it was the self that he had been broken into, abused to the point where his shattered mind was no longer his own to command, Varossion humping and rocking even in exhaustion as the three women left, satisfied with wombs full of cum. He would be unburdened by intelligence, freed by their kindness, and could not be restored to the bull he was -- not simply a buck to hold back and think that he needed to be something more than what he, naturally, was.
And they left him there, Varossion's eyes dull with the lack of knowing, of seeing, of being, staring out at nothing as rope after rope of cum shot from his cock, obscenely high and ominous. It should not have been possible and yet it was as the moon rose, the owl bearing witness to his fall as he trembled in place, fingers twitching occasionally, but not possessing the strength left in a single muscle to change the course of his path, the fate that he had been, very aptly, thrust into against his will.
He only needed to be a breeding bull.