Chapter 8 Theron
THERON
Elowen pours out a story of woe and regret…a late night trip with her classmates from the Nature temple dorms to a witch’s cottage…the rest of the girls snatching wish flowers…and the witch catching them all.
Then the curse.
“Say it to me,” I urge her, when she falters at this part. “Do you remember the words?”
“Of course I do—I have an excellent memory for anything magical.” She lifts her chin and begins to recite
“A fire shall burn you, fierce and wild
No longer maidens—soon with child!
Seek the roughest male you can find
Beg him to take you—fuck you blind.
You’ll crave his touch, you’ll need his hands
You’ll beg his tongue to meet demands
No prayer will grant you sweet release
Until at last your hunger’s ceased
But once within his seed is cast
Your hidden shame will rise at last.
Your belly swelling as you rut,
Is proof to all you’re just a slut!”
Just as she finishes, another girl in white priestess robes stumbles into The Anvil. She has a wild look in her pale blue eyes and her pointed ears make it clear she also has Fae blood, just like Elowen, who stiffens at my side and whispers,
“Name of the Goddess! It’s Mirabella!”
“Who?” I murmur, never taking my eyes from the girl. Sheltered in the shadows of the hearth as we are, she clearly doesn’t see us. She’s looking frantically around at the different patrons of the bar, as if she’s searching for something…or someone.
“You!” she exclaims at last, going up to the Satyr with one crumpled horn.
He looks up from his ale with a snort, his slotted goat’s eyes bloodshot and glaring. Aside from his eyes he looks like a human man from the waist up. But when he stands up from his stool to tower over the little priestess, his lower half becomes visible.
He has shaggy fur starting at his waist and the backwards bending hind legs of a goat. His hooves tap on the stone floor as he shifts his stance.
“What do you want, girly?” he asks in a thick, braying voice.
“You have to fuck me!” The girl’s eyes are wild as she tugs on his arm.
“What?” He’s so surprised it comes out in a bleat “Whaaaaa?”
“Fuck me! You heard me—fuck me!”
She pulls open her robes, showing a slender body and budding tits tipped with pale pink nipples.
That’s enough to convince the Satyr—his kind are legendary for their lust.
The furry pouch between his thighs ripples and a dark red cock begins to emerge. It’s long and thick and glistening with precum, already getting hard for the little priestess.
As the whole bar watches, he lifts her onto the bar where she obligingly spreads her thighs. Her robes are all the way open, showing her bare body—her ripe tits thrusting upwards and her pink pussy already shiny with her juices. Which makes the other males’ eyes narrow with lust.
“I should try to stop her,” Elowen breathes. “She’ll ruin her life!”
She half stands, but it’s too late. The Satyr is already fitting the bulbous crown of his dark red shaft to the pale pink slit of the little priestess’s pussy.
As he pushes inside, she lets out a cry of mingled relief and despair. Then she wraps her legs around his waist, dragging him deeper into her.
“More!” she begs, even as her pussy stretches wide to take his thick, animal girth. “Deeper! Fuck me!”
The Satyr obliges her. Pulling back for a moment, he surges forward, skewering her tight pussy on his cock.
The girl throws her head back, her long brown hair streaming over the bar as she moans and cries out in what sounds like a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Oh Goddess, yes! Fuck me!” she begs. “Take me hard. I need it deep inside me—stretch me out with your cock!”
The Satyr doesn’t answer in words. His big, rough hands grip her narrow hips as he plows into her even harder, his flat belly slapping against her inner thighs as he fucks into her.
The other males at the bar are watching the show eagerly—even the half troll bartender is caught up in the display. He stares at the rutting pair, the dirty dishrag he was using to wipe the bar hanging limp from his big hand.
“Fuck her deep!” the Minotaur snorts.
“Yeah—fuck her little pussy,” one of the Orcs snarls.
Beside me, I’m aware that Elowen is in distress. Her whole body is tense—I can feel it where she’s pressed against my side. Her breathing has gone shallow and she’s staring with wide eyes at the scene on the bar.
She must be worried about her friend, who is clearly under the same curse she is, I think. But her scent is a mixture of things—not just concern but also desire. In fact, she smells even more strongly of sexual need than she did when I kissed her.
My attention is dragged from Elowen back to the bar when I hear the Satyr speaking over the sounds of the other males cheering him on.
“Gonna come in you now, girly,” he grunts, looking down at the girl writhing under him. “Gonna flood your womb with my cum—plant my seed in your belly!”
The girl’s face twists in a mixture of despair, lust, and resignation.
“Please!” she begs, but I can’t tell if she’s begging him to come in her…or not to.
A moment later, it’s a moot point because he slams into her, burying his whole long, thick goat cock in her to the hilt and begins to come.
And then the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever seen happens.
As the Satyr erupts inside her, shooting his seed deep in the little priestess’s cunny, her flat belly starts to swell. I stare in disbelief as her lower abdomen goes from being flat as a pan to the gravid belly of a heavily pregnant woman in a matter of seconds.
“Holy fuck,” I hear myself whisper hoarsely and beside me Elowen makes a sound of pure distress.
“Oh Goddess, it’s true—the curse is really working!” she moans softly.
The other males at the bar are backing away, looking at the pregnant priestess uncertainly. Then one of them laughs.
“Fuck, Stanis—I didn’t know your seed was that fucking potent!”
“You got her nine months pregnant with one squirt!” another shouts.
“More than one,” the Satyr, whose name is apparently “Stanis,” grunts. He pulls out with a wet sound and a fountain of creamy white seed leaks from the girl’s wide-stretched pussy. “Anyone want my sloppy seconds?” he asks, nodding at the girl.
“I’ll take you up on that,” the Minotaur snorts. “Don’t care if she’s pregnant, as long as she’s still tight.”
“Tight enough for a bull’s cock,” one of the Orcs says. “I’m next after you!”
The little priestess is laying limp on the bar, looking dazed. Her thighs are still spread and she’s completely defenseless, her pregnant belly weighing her down to the bar like an anchor.
“Oh, stop them!” Elowen pleads, squeezing my arm. “Don’t let them all take her! Oh, poor, Mirabella!”
“They’re not going to be happy about it,” I growl, but I’m already getting to my feet. I go over to the bar, and get between the Minotaur, who’s still fumbling in his breeches for his cock, and the dazed girl.
“That’s enough now,” I say, frowning at the lot of them. “She’s had enough—can’t you see she’s under a curse?”
“A curse? What the fuck are you talking about?” the Satyr demands.
“Get the fuck out of my way—it’s my turn!” the Minotaur snarls and the Orc looks angry too.
“I said she’s under a curse,” I growl, glaring at the lot of them.
I look at the Satyr. “She’s a priestess—she’s supposed to be pure.
And look what happened to her—her eyes are green now and she’s got a big belly.
You think she came in here begging you to fuck her and ruin her life for the hell of it? ”
At my words, the girl on the bar begins to weep. She rolls weakly to one side, trying to hide herself and her pregnant belly with her stained robes.
“But she was beggin’ for it!” the Satyr protests.
“And we didn’t even get a turn!” the Orc snaps.
“And you’re not going to,” I growl. “She’s not a fucking brood mare the lot of you can take a ride on. Go on—give her some room. She needs to get back to her temple.”
Though I very much doubt she’ll be welcomed when she gets there. The Priestesses of the Nature Goddess are supposed to stay pure for life, aren’t they? The loss of her virginity—not to mention her big belly—is probably going to get this girl kicked out.
I hope she has a home to return to.
I help her off the bar and get her on her feet. She ties her robes closed with hands that shake and stumbles towards the door.
Elowen goes to help her.
“Mirabella,” she begins, but she doesn’t get any further before the other girl turns on her.
“Get away from me!” she snaps and her newly green eyes are filled with tears. “You think you’re so good and pure, not giving in to the curse yet. Well, you will! I know you will—you won’t be able to help it! Until then, I don’t want anything to do with you!”
Then she shoves her way out the door of The Anvil, clutching her gravid belly with one arm like a load of shame she can’t let go of.