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Revenge Of The Satyr (Boyd Agate)


Revenge Of The Satyr by Boyd Agate

$5.95

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    • Average 4.5 from 2 ratings

The medieval kingdom of Dashane was said to be the most wonderful place in all the known world; an ancient land of fine traditions, high culture and fabulous riches - and thanks to the mighty army of King Leopold - enduring peace. Most precious of all Leopold’s treasures were his three royal women; his wife, Queen Amariza, his daughter, Princess Flamia and last but far from least his sister, the Princess Lilliphane.

But King Leopold had offended a powerful and vengeful enemy. An enemy who would not rest until each of Leopold’s royal women had been dragged down from their golden thrones, scourged, ravished and made to grovel naked in the dirt like common tavern whores.

For this egregious purpose came the Satyr, a man-like creature fashioned in the deepest vaults of a far off kingdom. A being possessed of the darkest and most basic sexual appetites. A creature that would show neither mercy, nor pity to his unsuspecting quarry – for the Satyr knew only how to scourge, despoil and ravish!

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 09 / 2004

No. words: 30000

Style: Bondage/BDSM Fantasy, Male Dom - M/F, Spanking and Bondage

Available Formats: PDF  MS Reader  


Excerpt

The panic stricken peasant fell to his knees, both hands clasped together imploringly. His whole body began to shake jelly-like as Prince Vulkan slowly dismounted from his horse. The haughty young nobleman’s handsome, yet spiteful face creased up into a vindictive frown as he advanced upon the hapless figure.
“How dare you withhold tax from the king you filthy, whingeing swine,” the short-tempered prince screamed at the top of his voice. Punctuating his harsh words with a hail of withering blows from his riding quirt; lacing into the miller’s face with the supple, stinging leather until the sobbing man threw himself prostrate into the dirt at the nobleman’s feet.
“Mercy! Highness! Mercy!” the man begged wretchedly, “the drought has made the river all but disappear and without water the mill wheel will not turn and so I cannot earn enough to feed my family and pay the king’s taxes,” the miller’s voice became even more wretched, “please Highness, I beg you and your gracious father to give me more time to pay.”
The slender prince’s narrow chest seemed to swell with an even greater volume of outrage.
“More time? more time? have you no beasts of burden with which to turn the mill wheel you indolent pig?” he roared, at the same time planting his boot into the back of the miller’s neck, cruelly grinding the terrified, blubbering face into the dank earth.
“P-p-please Highness,” the miller begged again, his voice quavering so much he could barely speak, “we had to slaughter our only bullock for meat and now I have only my wife and daughter to help me in the mill.”
Prince Vulkan took time-out to look slowly around the small collection of tumbledown buildings and ramshackle yard. His mobile, twisting expression a cruel parody of confusion and indecision that instantly had his men smirking and nudging one another as they enjoyed their master’s sinister sense of humour.
“Well then,” the noble youth breathed at last, “let us get both of the lazy peasant sows out here and we shall see how well they turn the wheel with my whip dancing across their idle backs!”
Vulkan nodded curtly to his sergeant-at-arms; a barrel-chested giant of a man, who immediately disappeared into the nearby cottage to emerge a few moments later dragging the two terrified woman behind him, his huge fists buried in their tangled hair.
“On your knees before Prince Vulkan you mangy sluts,” growled the lackey, pitching both females face down into the dirt as he spoke.
The prince slapped his quirt under the wife’s quivering chin and jerked her face up to the sky. The woman may have once been enough, but after twenty odd years of over-taxed poverty and unending toil, her face was lined and tired looking and the sagging bundle of her bosom seemed almost to reach down to her waist. Allowing the mother’s head to fall, Vulkan next tapped the plaited haft of his quirt under the daughter’s chin and was pleasantly surprised to find a fresh and decidedly pretty face suddenly looking up at him, fear and uncertainty writ clearly in the cast of the large, moist brown eyes.
“Stand up trollop,” the prince commanded, his voice softening subconsciously as all thoughts of putting the young girl to the mill wheel faded. His erstwhile peevish mood suddenly began to mellow. The girl climbed hesitantly to her feet to stand fidgeting - gnawing fretfully at the fulsome redness of her lips. She averted her doe-like eyes as the prince lifted her homespun calico dress to expose her shapely teenage thighs; the smooth, pale flesh leading his lascivious gaze inevitably up to the downy pubic mound with its delicate, tightly sealed lips nestling below the gently curving dome of her belly.
“Very well, sirrah,” the prince said at last, his rage finally subsiding, “I will grant you more time to pay. But that time and my father’s inconvenience must be paid for by an afternoon’s use of your charming daughter here.”
The miller’s voice, whether in protest, or relief, simply came out as a strangled gurgle as Vulkan continued to stand uncaringly on his neck.
Flashing a generous smile the prince turned to his grinning men.
“Tie the stupid old bastard up to yonder gatepost and flog some respect into him,” he said, beginning to drag the reluctant teenager off toward the nearby barn, “and then you lot can fuck some happiness into the girl’s mother, she looks as if she could sorely use it.”
As he spoke the miller’s wife began to wail hysterically, her head shaking wildly from side-to-side. The terrified woman suddenly leapt to her feet and ran from man-to-man, imploring each grinning soldier to show her mercy. Her cries suddenly turned to shrieks of horror however, as a pair of laughing troopers began to pull her this way and that between them, ripping her already shoddy dress into long tatters. Exposing her swaying udders and broad, dimpled rump as they suddenly pounced upon her and dragged her howling back into the mill for the first of that afternoon’s many fuckings.
The laughing prince closed the barn door behind him and turned to face the girl who stood paralysed. She stared mutely at him, her small fingers clutching at the neck and hem of her baggy peasant smock.
“We will lie over there,” he said, indicating a fresh pile of straw in the corner, “take off your dress so that I can see what you have for me.”
The girl shook her head slowly from side-to-side and backed up a step.
“Please,” she whimpered, “please let me go master.” Her voice sounded small in the large barn and the pathetic sound of it brought the first serious twitch of interest from the prince’s slowly swelling cock.
The noble smiled coldly at her.
“If you give me any trouble slut,” he threatened, his voice once again taking on a brittle, menacing edge, “I’ll turn you over to my men for a taste of what your miserable parents are getting.”
As he spoke, the crack of the first lash ripping into her father’s back echoed across the yard. Followed immediately by his high-pitched scream as the flesh over his ribs was split apart by the coarse leather tongue of the big sergeant’s bullwhip. The hellish sound made the girl flinch and after a brief moment of agonised indecision, she dropped her hands slowly to her sides. A dread feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed her as she resigned herself to her fate. She watched mesmerized as the prince stripped off his rich garments, exposing his slender, pale body to her until finally he stood naked, his cock sticking straight out from the fuzz of blonde pubic hair. The girl had never seen an erect penis before and the strangeness of it filled her young mind with profound disquiet.
Hissing impatiently, Vulkan took hold of the neck of her peasant dress and tore the flimsy garment straight down the centre, casting away the ruined material so that she finally stood nude before him.


Reviews

what an exciting fantasy story with much sex, humiliation, bondage, torment and action. fun to read. 5 out of 5 (nessasue)

  Author reply: Thank you for that encouragement. I had a great deal of fun writing about the Satyr. Perhaps I'll soon get around to finishing "Fall of the Satyr" and then bring the rascal back in "Rise of the Satyr".

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