Captive

The high-mage approached the door; it opened before her. Crossing the threshold, the door silently closed behind her, unopenable by anyone but her. She lifted the front of her long gown from the floor as she climbed the spiral staircase to her private quarters.

Her fingers untied the high neck of her gown, moving down the front, slipping buttons open. The gown slipped down her slender body, a pool of swirling purples and blacks surrounding her silver sandals.

Stepping from the material she turned her attention to the only male in the tower. “How is my pet doing? Hungry?”

The chains clinked as he turned to face her. Rising to his feet his curved horns almost scrapped the ceiling.

Not including the horns, her Satyr stood at 7 foot tall. Strong, thick thighs, covered in deep brown fur, led down to ebony hooves. His torso rippled with muscles beneath red skin. Muscles on his arms bulged as he strained against the restraints that limited his movement.

His drawn face, longer than an elf ended with a pointed chin, beneath black lips yellow pointed teeth bit at the air. Bright green eyes glowed from the shadows of his deep-set eyes. His black horns curved back from the top of his head, two feet long, razor sharp edge catching the light, drawing attention to the sharp tips.

Her thin lips curled into a smile as she watched his thick black rod emerge from the dense fur between his legs. She had trained him well, but not well enough to be released from his bonds.

The pressure of being the high-mage, of remaining pure and chaste was too much. An ancient prophecy foretold of her power, binding her immortal life to servitude as the high-mage. Unable to seek out a companion she had, in desperation, summoned the creature.

He said something, but her training in the demonic tongues did not cover the words he uttered. From his tone, she knew it was either something threatening, or something lustful. She felt his eyes boring into her with his passion.

She walked towards him, her fingertips stroking the scars on the back of high thighs, smooth scars resonating with memories. He never meant to hurt her, nor did he, but his claws were sharp, her skin delicate.

When she was within reach of his powerful arms, she felt the moisture between her legs growing in anticipation. His long black rod pointed at her, the tip rising and falling as he breathed.

“Down boy.”

Her instruction was whispered, but he dropped to his knees with practised obedience.

She lifted her hand to her face, her slender, pointed tongue ran up its palm, leaving a shimmering line of saliva. Her eyes locked onto his; her hand slowly reached down. As her hand closed on his black tip, a deep growl came from his throat. Her long fingers slid down his shaft, enjoying the heat of him.

Turning round she straddled his black pole, her back warmed by the heat radiating from his body. The feel of his breath on the back of neck familiar and exhilarating.

The chains rattled as his hands moved to her smooth thighs. Hot palms squeezed her flesh, holding her in place. A low growl rose from his throat, her heart stopped as he reached a crescendo. His upwards thrust buried half of him within her. Without his powerful arms holding her in place, she would have been lifted from her feet and thrown across the room.

She cried out at the brutal impalement, she had never experienced any lover except her prisoner, never experienced tenderness. She took a deep breath knowing her body would adapt to him, that pain would be replaced with pleasure.

He drew her closer, pulling her down his length. His thick fur tickled the backs of her thighs. With a jerk, he rose to his feet, lifting her from the floor. She screamed as he pushed even deeper, her ass nestled in fur. Her hands groped behind her for his body as she was held helplessly before him.

His hands twisted their grip, claws pressing into flesh, almost drawing blood.

The pain of being stretched by his demonic member faded, replaced by the exhilaration of him deep inside her.

His hands pushed her along his full length before yanking her back down to meet his thrust. Her hair flew out around her a tangle of golden strands chasing her head. With his back arched, his face hovered above her, he spoke his mantra into her long, sensitive ears, they were words she knew well despite not knowing their meaning, they drove into her just as deep as his member speared her.

His arms moved faster, the chains rattling. She panted as her body grew hot in his clutches. The room became a blur as she lost herself to the feeling of him within her.

With a roar that shook the room, his final thrust pushed even deeper. He bulged inside her. As his roar echoed in her ears, his torrent was unleashed within her, releasing with it her tension and stress.

She dropped onto the floor before him. Lying whimpering and convulsing her body slowly recovered.

Word Count 869