Agate Boyd - Revenge of the Satyr

Evidently, the knights were there to offer their advice, either that, or they were the frigging bouncers snorted Vulkan to himself derisively. When he sat on Leo's throne, he promised himself, those benches would be the first pieces of crap to go in the moat.

Vulkan looked around, noting sourly that the were no women present at all! Apparently, the Knight's Court was a male only talking shop – how unutterably fucking tedious he thought – another custom to be ditched. Nonetheless, the prince had to agree that the keep itself and indeed, all of the surrounding land he had glimpsed from his chamber windows were most impressive. The granite keep seemed to rise like a small mountain over an area of at least ten acres; a truly monumental undertaking and obviously the result of many generations of effort and far superior to his father's ramshackle holding.

The prince was jerked out of his reverie by the sound of his name being called and adopting the most scrupulous punctilio, he strode forward and gave Leopold his deepest bow.

The king listened intently, his quick grey eyes drinking in every detail of the man before him as the seneschal whispered in his ear. Explaining a sanitised version of the rescue of the countess no doubt, thought Vulkan although, he doubted very much that Max would tell Leo that his wife had been well shafted by a no account border reaver.

"Prince Vulkan," said the king at last, "I hear that we have much to thank you for. Not least that you have restored the precious Countess Jessica to us, but also that you have slain the cowardly dogs who attacked her party, we are indeed most grateful."

Vulkan bowed deep once more and injected a healthy dose of pomposity into his voice.

"It was no more than my duty and my honour demanded, Majesty."

The king nodded graciously and a fraction of a moment later the bouncers all nodded too.

"Perhaps there is boon I may offer you by way of thanks," the king suggested expansively.

Vulkan considered his reply carefully. At the same time staring across at the glowering seneschal, who, by the increasingly suffused state of his complexion, must have visited his wife and seen the unholy state of her. Clearly, he wanted to move on to the next order of business with all speed. Vulkan decided that he had already been fortunate enough to secure rooms in the seneschal's tower and been granted an audience with the king, all within hours of arriving. Best not to push it he told himself.

"I require no special thanks other than those gracious words Your Majesty has already spoken," he replied.

The king nodded once. The matter was closed.

Later, after carefully exploring the corridors and halls of the vast, rambling keep, Vulkan headed back to his chambers to find a page awaiting him outside his door. The lad brought an urgent summons from the countess and so it was with a spring in his step that Vulkan followed the page up to the seneschal's apartments, but not before collecting some stuff from the small chest Malpurgo had given him.

Presently, he found himself standing beside the anabiotic countess' huge four poster bed, whilst one of her chambermaids raised her mistress' depleted form up into a sitting position, the crone fluffing her pillows and clucking away moistly like an old turkey broiler.

"Leave us," commanded the countess weakly.

"But, My Lady," cried the old woman scandalised, "you! alone with this strange knight, in your private chamber!"

Vulkan resisted the urge to throw the interfering old cow out of the window.

"This strange knight saved my life," replied the countess and then with more authority, "wait outside the door and see that we are not disturbed."

As soon as the door latch fell behind the maid, the countess threw off the counterpane and hauled up her nightdress to expose her sex to him. Vulkan sat down on the edge of the bed and allowed her to unfasten his breeches whilst he dipped his fingers into her steaming hot vulva. Despite her obvious exhaustion, the countess arched her back in a violent spasm as soon as she felt his touch.

"I need you inside me now my prince," she hissed desperately as he forced his fingers up into her tract, feeling the incredibly hot and febrile tissues suck and grip at his digits as he slowly manipulated her, "I want to feel you everywhere, my cunt, my arse, please lover, pump me full of your gorgeous spunk," she purred lasciviously.

"Patience bitch," counselled the satyr, pushing her back into the pillows as she reached for him, "the time is not right, old Max is likely to call in after the meeting finishes and you're also forgetting the hag listening outside the door."

"Oh fuck him! fuck them all!" the countess whined, her tongue sliding wetly around her swollen lips, "I need you."

By now, she had succeeded in liberating his erection, which despite his use of self- hypnosis was as hard as a pikestaff. Vulkan knew that he would have to give her something, or risk her disturbing the entire household. Grinning salaciously at her, he slid toward the bottom of the bed and pulled her after him by her hair, which the maid had just brushed out to its full, fiery length.

She understood his intent immediately and allowed him to pull her over onto her back and drop her neck over the edge of the mattress until he could slide his cock into her mouth and on down into her gullet. Vulkan groaned as she deep throated him with comparative ease after undergoing her metamorphosis. The prince remembered at the last moment not to cry out as she sank her teeth into the base of his shaft in her desperation. Her own moans of pleasure were effectively silenced by the massive column of gristle plugging her oesophagus. Even when he stretched over her to close his mouth over her fluttering vulva and began to pump his rod in and out of her gullet, the only sound she made was a soft, rhythmic snorting through her nostrils as he occasionally cleared windpipe.

The couple stayed locked together like that for several exquisite minutes until they spasmed together. She, as his serpent's tongue raked amongst the pulsating folds of her cunt, and he, as she sucked down the endless streams of spunk flooding from the massive balls squashed against her forehead.

As soon as he could disengage himself from her, he slipped a small pill into her mouth and held his hand over her face until he was sure it had dissolved. The potion had an almost immediate cooling effect upon her ardour and she flopped sulkily bag into the pillows, her blue eyes dark and moody as she watched him neck an identical pill.

"What is happening to me?" she asked at last, "I feel like I'm on fire all of the time and just the thought of you…" she shivered, leaving the thought unfinished.

Vulkan decided to be relatively candid with her, as he had already decided that she could be an invaluable asset in his mission.

"When I fucked you, I infected you with a heat, a disease if you will," he told her, "a sort of nymphomania that can only be assuaged by more of the same."

"Sex with you?"

The satyr nodded as he forced his slowly subsiding phallus back into his breeches.

"What about those pills we just took, they seem to have curiously cooling effect, my whole mouth, my belly feel like ice."

"They will help you to fight the urge to copulate. Later, I will teach you another way of controlling yourself, but for now, there is no time.

He dropped some more of the tiny blue pills into her palm. Take one of these if you begin to inflame," he told her, "try to avoid frigging yourself and men who excite you."

"Why have you come to Leopold's Court," she probed, "and don't tell me you're just here to win our precious little Flamia."

She watched him as he weighed her up; she knew he was trying to gauge how far he really could trust her. She took hold of his hand.