Chapter 2 - Have a Little Faith: Chapter 2--by Volpone

                                            Have a Little Faith

                                                 By Volpone
                                                  Chapter 2

          It was already dark when Cordelia stood and gathered up her books. She needed to be on her
way to work, but she couldn't admit that. "This is all very interesting, but I've got to be someplace
where people actually have a life."
          "I've got to go, too," said Willow. "I need to pick up some witchy stuff. You never know when
eye of newt is going to come in handy."
          Giles said, "Be especially careful. If you must go out, please travel together."
          "I'll go with them," Oz offered. "I'm not being too Slayer-iffic this evening."
          The three left the library, leaving Xander, Buffy, and the two watchers to their planning.
          It was only when they reached the parking lot and Oz started towards his old van that Cordelia
realized that she had to cover for her sudden lack of a car. Her father's playing hooky from the IRS for
twelve years had finally caught up to him, and they had lost everything, leaving her with the unpleasant
reality of having to work evenings just to be able to pay for her prom dress. She needed to ditch both of
them or they might ask questions.
          "Oh, I just remembered I parked over by the faculty lot. I was running late and it was closer to
my study hall."
          Willow was her usual helpful self as she suggested they could walk her over. Cordelia finally
said, "Excuse me, but is this 'Be-Kind-to-Nerd Week' of something? I'm still trying to live down the
whole Xander Harris disaster... I don't need to be seen with Witchy-Poo and Teen-Wolf."
          "Okay!" agreed Willow, not really taking offense at Cordelia's words. "If cool is more important
than safe to you..."
          "Go brew yourself some popularity!" She turned and stalked away.
          Willow turned to Oz with great dignity. "Oz... I believe Her Highness has dismissed us from
the royal presence." She took him by the arm and began leading him back towards the van.
          Oz shook his head. "You know, that mouth of hers is really gonna get her in trouble some day."
          He didn't realize just how prophetic his words would be.

                                        ************

          A few minutes later, Oz and Willow pulled up in front of the occult shop. Noticing the
"Closed" sign and the drawn blinds, Willow was disappointed. "Shoot! We missed her." After
considering for a moment, she said, "That's weird. She usually stays open for late shoppers, especially
the week before the full moon."
          Then she noticed that the door was ajar, and sensed that something was wrong.
          Stepping inside cautiously, their calls of "Hello?" went unanswered, but they noticed the
paraphernalia that had been used earlier in the evening.
          Oz stopped and put a hand to his nose, then retreated back to the doorway.
          "Wil, could you put the lid on that jar there. I think I may be allergic to whatever's in it."
          Looking at the label on the jar he had indicated, Willow saw the following inscription:
                              YELLOW ACONITE
                              (aconitum lycoctonum)
                                    Wolfsbane
          "Oh." She giggled. "Of course."
          Her amusement didn't last. As they moved just a bit further into the room, they spotted the
shopkeeper lying as Faith had left her, naked on the floor, alive, but unresponsive.
          Oz told Willow to call 9-1-1. He knelt by the occultist, and after assuring himself that she had
no obvious injuries, he covered her with a displaced tablecloth he found nearby on the floor (both for
warmth and modesty). As he checked her wrist, he saw the odd look of contentment in the unfocused
gaze and re-evaluated the situation.
          By this time, Willow had found the phone but when she picked up the receiver, the severed cord
dangled free.
          "Oz, phone's out!" She sounded worried.
          "She's not hurt. Looks like she's drugged or something." He waved his hand in front of her eyes
and her only reaction was that the smile grew just a tiny bit wider. "Her pulse is good, so it's not an o.d.
Maybe there's another phone in back." A quick check showed no such instrument.
          "I don't like the looks of this." Willow checked and found the brazier was still warm, and that
the jars contained ingredients more than slightly unusual, she told him, "She must have been
performing some kind of ritual. Maybe calling the cops isn't the best thing for her. I think Giles would
be more help than the police."
          They found the shop-keeper's discarded clothing and managed to get her back into them, then
wrapped her in a blanket from the van. They were struggling to get her into the van when a figure
silently stepped out from the shadows.
          "Looks like you could use a hand." Both Oz and Willow jumped before they realized that the
new arrival was Angel. With his help, they managed to get her into the van and back to the school.

                                        **********

          Angel deposited the semi-catatonic woman on the table in the library, and Giles was already
performing a rough examination while getting an account of what Willow had observed.
          "I think she burned some rowan, some camphor... damiana, yellow aconite... uh... mandrake
root, and, uh... oh, what was the last one... oh! oh! goat placenta!"
          Buffy observed dryly, "So we can assume she's not Julia Child?"
          Giles ignored the unhelpful comment by concentrating on determining the woman's condition.
          Wesley began looking through an obscure book on spells for the ingredients.
          "Guys, doesn't the whole naked thing suggest anything?" Xander had quickly latched onto the
most adolescent fact that he had heard.
          Giles disagreed. "Not necessarily. With many witches, there are any number of rituals that
require that they be performed in a... state of undress."
          Oz and Xander both gave Willow a very inquiring look.
          She protested her innocence. "Don't look at me. I'm not up to that whole 'clothing optional
ritual' kind of thing."
          "You say there was no sign of a pentagram or any similar markings that might be used to
restrain a demon or some such?" asked Giles.
          "Floor was clean except for a few things spilled from one of the tables," supplied Oz.
          "No scroll or book? Even an experienced practitioner will use a text if one is available. To not
do so is extremely dangerous, not to mention foolish."
          "Nope. Only other thing was this, and it's empty." He produced an empty backpack.
          Buffy stood and took the pack. After a moment, Giles asked, "What is it?"
          "I think I recognize this." She looked up at her former watcher. "It belongs to Faith."
          Giles nodded slowly. "That might explain the missing text."
          Willow chimed in. "And the cut phone cord."
          The pieces were starting to fall.
          "I'm afraid this doesn't bode well. I would say our young friend here was coerced into
performing some ritual by Faith, and whatever was summoned, either accidentally or intentionally, did
this to her."
          After looking a bit closer at the woman a moment more, an idea occurred to Giles.
          "Oz... uh... could I have a word with you...uh.. in private?"
          The two stepped aside and Giles quietly stammered his way through some delicate questions. In
a few moments, they rejoined the group.
          "I have good news and bad news."
          Buffy couldn't resist the straight line. "I think it makes him feel like Letterman to set up his
jokes this way."
          "I... uh... if I am correct in my assumption, I believe I know what did this to the young lady."
          "That's the good news?"
          "Not entirely. The good news is that, if I am correct, the chance of young lady incurring any
permanent harm from what happened is quite low... other than nervous exhaustion and some severe...
um... chaffing. There may be some temporary psychological trauma... but very rarely is that the case."
          "So what's the bad news?"
          "I believe we're dealing... with a satyr."
          "And this is bad... how?"
          Giles polished his glasses a second time before answering.
          "A satyr isn't quite like the other creatures you've dealt with before."
          "You mean I can't kick him, cook him, or stake him?"
          "It's not that. It's just that... well... first of all, they're not actually evil. Of course, they can be
used for evil purposes, certainly, and that is undoubtedly the case here. However, the satyr itself is a
rather benign creature. It merely has an unfortunate effect... on women."
          "Just women... as in all women?"
          "Well... not... virgins." The last word was spoken in a hurried mumble.
          "So, I take it that's the bad news?"
          "No. The bad news is that you won't be able to get near it without... uh... falling under its...
influence."
          Buffy was completely fascinated by the fact that Giles was probably as uncomfortable as she
had ever seen him on a subject.
          "Anybody?"
          He brightened notable as he said, "Well, men are immune."
          "Not being a member of the Testosterone Club, that doesn't do me any good."
          "No... it wouldn't."
          Xander added enthusiastically, "You mean we're dealing with a monster that is not going to kill
me, turn me into a hyena, or try to drain my bodily fluids? Hey, I'm there! Let's go kick some satyr
tail." He considered for a brief moment and added nervously, "They're not real big, are they?"
Suddenly, Willow broke into a massive attack of giggles, unsuccessfully stifled. She had been
looking through another reference book and had just found the entry for "satyr".
          "Oh... my!" And she giggled again.
          Giles reached over and quickly flipped the book over.
          "So what's the big secret?" Buffy asked, and again Willow tried to stifle her amusement.
          Willow said, "I always thought they were just cute little goat men... like you see in 'Fantasia'."
          "Yes... well...", Giles stammered, "... of course... modern versions have been somewhat...
modified."
          Buffy was becoming somewhat perturbed. "Enough with the cryptic, Giles. I need to know
what I'm going up against here."
          He shot a black look at Willow, who tried to look serious and failed miserably.
          Taking a deep breath, Giles adopted his best lecturing tone.
          "The satyr was native to ancient Greece. They appear to be a human-goat hybrid, with the head
and torso of a human male, and the legs and tail of a goat."
          "Doesn't sound too scary."
          "They are also a creature of immense... sexual appetite." He almost had to force the phrase out.
          "They suffer from what is medically known as 'priapism'."
          "Translation?"
          Willow piped up. "They're sort of like the Energizer bunny."
          Oz added the coup de gras. "Only with a woody instead of a drum."
          Willow nodded enthusiastically. "Big time."
          "A what?"
          Giles stepped back into the conversation to salvage what decorum he could. "They are in a
permanent state of sexual arousal."
          "So are most of the high school boys I've ever met. No prob."
          "Oh... here!" and Giles shoved the illustration Willow had found at Buffy.
          After a brief moment groping for words, Buffy finally managed a simple, "Wow."
          Wesley announced that he had found the process for invoking a satyr, and that the ingredients
matched.
          "That's that, then." Giles continued. "The real problem is that they emit a natural pheromone
which women find impossible to resist... carnally speaking. There is no known antidote or counterspell.
What makes it particularly difficult is that they really intend no harm. There is no malicious
intent in their actions."
          "You mean that she..." Buffy indicated the now sleeping woman on the table.
          "I'm afraid so. Repeatedly, from the looks of things."
          "Wow." Then after she looked again at the illustration, she grimaced and added, "Ow!"
          Oz glanced over her shoulder at the book
          "Sort of the original 'party animal', huh?"
          "No thank you. This guy doesn't even qualify as 'Me Tarzan'. At least I like to keep it within
my species." The look she got from Giles and Wesley made her add, "That is, if I were into that kind of
behavior, which of course I'm not, and not to change the subject but what do we do to stop Faith and
her pet hat rack."
          "And if there's no antidote, why isn't Faith affected?", Willow asked.
          "Yes... I'm not sure how she's managed that. The Greek texts are most specific on how
irresistible these creatures were. Only the goddesses and minor deities such as dryads seem to have
been immune." He grew silent, lost in thought.
          Buffy set down the book and observed to Wesley, "I don't see why you say they're so harmless.
I'd think that most women would have some serious regrets afterword. I mean, it's basically sorta like
rape, isn't it?"
          Wesley loved to enlighten others on topics he knew a great deal about. "Originally, they were
often invoked specifically because of their proclivities. It seems that part of the satyr's power is that it
breaks down the normal inhibitions of its... victim, placing them in an almost dream state... a type of
sexual hyper-receptivity. While there is recollection of the... encounter, the events are so disassociated
from guilt that the woman involved virtually never suffers from any lasting mental discomfort. Those
who would normally feel the least guilt seem to retain the most vivid recollections, while those who
seem the most likely to feel remorse over their actions also seem to be the ones for whom the encounter
becomes unreal in their mind."
          "No regrets, huh?"
          "Apparently not."
          Oz commented, "That would explain the smile."
          Wesley seemed to recollect that they were speaking of sex, and his natural British reserve (and
almost complete sexual self-repression) reasserted itself.
          "Quite."
          Buffy was frustrated. "So Wooly Britches here gets to run around boinking every woman in
sight, and I can't even feel good about stomping his little fuzzy tail?"
          "They're completely non-violent."
          Xander added, "A lover, not a fighter. My kinda guy." Then, when he realized how that might
be taken, he added, "... in a completely homophobic kinda way."
          As usual, he was pointedly ignored by Wesley, who addressed himself to "his" Slayer. "That's
why we would prefer to send it back rather than slay it out of hand. And if you were so rash as to get
close to the creature, I seriously doubt that you would retain thoughts of mayhem about him for long."
          The discussion went on fruitlessly for several more minutes when suddenly Giles interrupted.
          "Odysseus!" The word had a 'Eureka!' kind of sound to it.
          Buffy recognized the name, but missed the connection. "Excuse me?"
          "The Greek hero who became lost for years while returning home from the Trojan war. During
'The Odyssey', he and his men have to sail their ship near the lair of the Sirens. Now, the song of the
Sirens was irresistible to any man. When they heard it, they would throw themselves into the sea to try
to reach them and consequently drown. So Odysseus had himself tied to the mast of his ship so that he
could hear the song but not succumb and destroy himself."
          Buffy looked dubious. "First we were dealing with Mr. Its-Impolite-To-Point here, and now
we're talking about tying me up. I don't care for the turn this conversation has taken."
          Giles impatiently explained. "No, it's just that to protect his crew from the Sirens' song, he had
them stuff their ears with beeswax. They couldn't hear the song, and so were safe." He looked quite
pleased with himself.
          "And this satyr does the same thing, but with smell?"
          "Indeed."
          Buffy rubbed her nose with an uncomfortable expression and commented, "Gross."

                                        ************

          Taking the long way around the school to avoid being seen walking to her job meant that
Cordelia had to cut through the poorly-lit park near the school to get to the shop on time.
          It was a stupid thing to do. People in Sunnydale learned early to avoid quiet, dark places at
night, or they didn't live to learn anything.
          It was also ironic that she hadn't checked her phone messages, or Cordelia would have known
that the owner of the shop where she worked and her assistant were both down with a virus, and so the
shop was closed for the day due to illness.
          Walking along with her pepper spray in one hand, she was a little over half way through when
an odd scent made her slow down. A second whiff, and she slowed to a virtual stand-still.
          "Well, if this isn't just a little slice of heaven." Faith's voice was distorted through the gas-mask,
but is was obvious who she was as she stepped out into the dark path. "Not quite as good as having
Buffy here, but pretty damned close. I'm sure she'll be along on patrol before long.
          "In the mean time, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. He's new in town, so I want you
to make him feel welcome." She beckoned and the satyr hesitantly stepped out from concealment.
          The second the satyr got near Cordelia, the outcome was unavoidable. One moment she was
thinking of how to get away, and the next she was half undressed, rubbing against him and grinding her
pubis against his crotch, the pepper spray falling unheeded into the weeds.
          His hands brushed her blouse from her shoulders, but being unaccustomed to bras (they were
unknown in ancient Greece), he simply ignored it. Then they were off in the bushes nearby where he
was lowering her down onto hands and knees in a secluded patch of grass, her skirt raised over her
waist and her panties ripped away in their haste. Foreplay wasn't his strong point.
          "Oh, god! Ah... uhn!" was all Cordelia managed to gasp out as she forced herself back onto his
rampant cock. He was far bigger than anyone she'd ever had sexually before, but she didn't even
hesitate. He filled her, stretching her to the point of pain, but she merely lowered her head and chest to
the grass and tilted her pelvis so that his thrusts rubbed more strongly against her clitoris. Occasionally
she would manage to gasp out a word such as "Please..." or "Oh!", but for the most part, the normally
vocal woman was incapable of speech.
          Not so Faith. She squatted down by Cordelia and said, "You know, I just wish I had brought a
video camera so I could get a tape of what a cheap whore you look like fucking goat-boy here." She
said the words with relish, savoring their hurtful sound, but she didn't know if Cordelia was even
capable of understanding what was being said to her. Still, Faith enjoyed the words as they rolled off
her tongue. She had always enjoyed talking dirty in sexual situations. This was the same thing, only
with a little more kink to it. She only wished that she could be sure that her abuse was sinking in.
          Grabbing her by the hair, Faith pulled back Cordelia's head and looked into her face as she
spoke. "Too bad the gang isn't here to see you, acting like the little slut they all know you are." When
she still got no reaction, she tried yet another tack.
          "Here, let me help you out of that. I know it's just in your way." She produced her knife and
with a couple of deft flicks, she severed the elastic of Cordelia's bra, and it fell to the lawn ignored. It
gave Faith a charge to see the other woman's breasts sway with the motion of her gyrations. She
enjoyed the fact that it made her look cheap. Still, one portion of Faith's mind had to admit that she had
some "nice tits".
          The satyr ignored the sounds the one in the strange mask was making and continued to stroke
deeply into the other one, enjoying the simple hedonistic feeling of the willing young woman's slick,
tight cleft grasping at him as he mated with her. She had such strong needs... it filled his spirit to feel
her passion. His smile broadened as her fingers dug at the grass and she cried out with her climax... the
first of many he would happily give her. The burst of energy she released fueled his soul.
          Faith was getting turned on as she continued to verbally abuse Cordelia, but when her audience
showed no sign of reacting, she became frustrated. Watching some other woman get fucked silly for
the second time that evening was adding to the feelings of sexual tension she was experiencing. To be
honest, she wanted to get herself off as she watched one of her enemies degraded, but that wouldn't be
cool. It would show that she wasn't in control, and that wouldn't do. She needed to get herself off
while adding to her sense of power and her victim's defilement.
          Then an idea came to her.
          "Oh, yeah... that'll do." She looked around to make sure there was no sign of company, then she
shrugged off her denim jacket, kicked off her shoes and socks, and began undoing the fastenings on her
tight leather pants, which quickly joined the rest on the grass. Dressed in only a thin dark knit top and
the incongruous gas mask, she was ready to carry out her next scheme.
          Moving to the oblivious Cordelia, she reached down and again took her by the hair, this time
pulling the engrossed woman up to a kneeling position. Cordelia responded with a slight gasp of pain
at the rough treatment, but the satyr continued stroking away without concern. (One position was much
like another to him.)
          "I've got a job for you, sweet cheeks. You're gonna show Faith how grateful you are for
introducing you to your new boyfriend. And I know how you can thank me. A kiss'll do nicely." With
that, she swung one leg up and placed her knee over Cordelia's shoulder. Pulling her forward by the
hair, she pressed her trim brown bush against Cordelia's mouth.
          "Come on, sweetheart. Be a good little fuck-toy and get that smart mouth of yours busy."
Faith tilted her hips and mashed her labia against the other woman's lips. Pressing her sex into
the beautiful face which was again contorted in ecstasy, she didn't expect much reaction, but was
genuinely surprised when Cordy's tongue tentatively snaked out and began to explore her pussy. It
seemed that the power of the satyr helped to break down all of an individual's sexual inhibitions, not
just those involving the satyr. Encouraging her actions, she began to hump her hips against the pretty
woman's face and was rewarded with more vigorous tonguing. The next thing she knew, Cordy had
found her clit and was sucking the tiny erection strongly. Their hairy Greek friend looked on with
interest but didn't break rhythm as he continued to plumb the depths of Cordelia's femininity.
          This wasn't Faith's first time with a woman, or even her first time with both a man and woman
at once... if you could truly consider the satyr to be a "man". Her sexual past was long and varied,
beginning long before she had assumed the role of Slayer, and playing outside the rules was part of
what she enjoyed the most. She loved being the outlaw. And the scene she was choreographing was
almost perfect to Faith's mind. The rich bitch who had most often belittled her was eating her eager
pussy as she was being taken from behind by the satyr... the only thing better would have been if it were
Buffy performing so lovingly on her.
          And that would come later.
          That thought was the final straw. Wrapping both hands into Cordy's hair, Faith pulled strongly,
smashing herself to the willing mouth and imagining the rival Slayer as the one whose lips were pulling
at her clit, and as she did, she began to come. She shuddered and gasped loudly as spasms began to
shake her body, firing her nerves as her well-honed muscles shook in intense sexual release.
          "Oh, yeah! That's it! Hunh.... hunh!" Her body shook as the violent tremors of climax pulsed
through her. As in all other things of a physical nature, a Slayer was far above normal in this regard as
well.
          And Faith wasn't done yet.
          "Come on... again!" Another minute of intense cunnilingus and Faith rocketed a second time,
more strongly that the first. Judging from Cordelia's muffled cries, it seemed that she had joined her in
climax this time from the satyr's attentions.
          "One more... one more..." Speeding up the motions of her hips, it took Faith even less time to
explode the third time, and she gave an inarticulate cry of triumph as she Cordelia's probing lips and
tongue rocked the Slayer's world.
          Faith was breathing deeply as she put her foot back on the ground. One hand stroking the side
of Cordelia's somewhat sloppy face, she squatted down with her knees wide spread to put her closer to
the other woman's ear.
          "Well... you're quite the little tramp, aren't you? Nobody can tell me that was beginner's luck.
You've had experience with eating pussy before, haven't you? Have you been doing B behind Angel's
back? Or you just been having all the cheerleaders your tongue could handle?"
She looked into the pretty face just inches from her own, but Cordelia's eyes were closed as she
panted, reaching for her next orgasm.
          Disappointed, Faith abruptly released her hold on Cordelia's hair. The sudden loss of support
made Cordy instinctively flail out to prevent herself from falling forward. It was unfortunate for her
tormenter that in her attempt to stop herself, Cordelia's hand encountered the Slayer's most vulnerable
point...
          Her gas mask.
          As the oblivious woman's hand struck the mask, Faith jerked back instinctively, but this only
served to knock the device completely askew.
          Faith's hand shot out and backhanded the other woman in reaction. It brought a momentary
whimper from Cordelia, only to be quickly forgotten in her state of sexual transport.
          But the damage was done. Before she could readjust the mask, the satyr's heady scent had done
it's job and the Slayer's pulse jumped in anticipation, her will crumbling in an instant.
          "Screw this!", was her only comment as she threw the mask aside in preparation for what was to
come.
          Faith's only problem now was that she no longer wanted Cordelia... the object of her lust was
currently preoccupied humping the other woman. But as in most situations, her basic reasoning
asserted itself.
          "I see... I want... I take." And she seized Cordelia again by the hair, but this time she pitched the
unprepared woman out of the way in a judo throw. Then, reaching down, she began to stroke the satyr's
massive cock which was still drenched with Cordelia's juices.
          "Now you get to see what a real woman's like, huh, Curly? And that's what you've wanted all
along, isn't it?"
          She was completely unprepared when a hand spun her to face the other direction.
          "Bitch!", was Cordelia's only comment as her fist snapped back the Slayer's head.
          It was a beautiful shot, and Faith saw stars for several seconds. Cordelia followed it up by
grabbing the Slayer by the hair and with another shot made Faith momentarily regret that she had
chosen Cordy for a victim. But Cordelia wasn't strong or experienced enough to do any lasting damage.
          Unlike the other woman, Faith was a Slayer who felt no guilt over what she intended to do... the
satyr's powers might compel but they failed to induce the stupor which so many women were reduced
to.
          "Wrong answer," replied Faith, and she drove three stiff fingers into her opponent's left breast,
making Cordelia let go of her grip of Faith's hair as she gasped in pain and surprise. Cordy wasn't
experienced in cat-fights, and Faith had no hesitation about fighting dirty. As she reacted to protect her
assaulted chest, it gave Faith the chance to make her next shot count. The spinning back-kick knocked
Cordelia completely off her feet, unconscious even before she hit the ground.
          "Nappy time, slut," was her parting shot to the senseless woman.
          Satisfied that her opponent was on no further threat, Faith returned to the one who had been the
"bone of contention".
          "Now, where were we?" She began fondling the towering penis of the satyr, and after a
moment, she slowly sank to her knees, biting her way down his chest as she went. In a moment, she
was face-to-"face" with his huge member. Her fingers finding their way between her own thighs, Faith
licked her lips in anticipation and announced, "Get set for a wild ride, Curly. This is strictly E-ticket,"
and as she impaled herself with her fingers, she wrapped her lips around the object of her (temporary)
desire.
          She used every trick she had in her oral repertoire as she manually brought herself pleasure.
She doubted that any woman had ever dared to do this to a satyr, (she was wrong, but it had been a
couple of thousand years for him, so he didn't object), and it gave her a huge rush of power combined
with lust, triggering tremors of pleasure through her. The taste of Cordelia was strong on his throbbing
tool, and it served to excite Faith even more. One hand stroked continually on the lower portion of his
shaft as she sucked away at as much of his tool as she could fit into her mouth, her lips tightly ovaled
around the massive erection. She rotated her head as she bobbed up and down, taking him deeply into
her waiting mouth as she sucked strongly, trying to fuel his lust. Her hand found the patch of sensitive
skin over his prostate and caressed it, rubbing gently, bringing him even greater pleasure.
          "You like that, do you, Curly?" She looked up at him as she drew her tongue up the full length
of him. His expression was hard to read, but his cock jerked a bit as she did, so she took that as a "yes".
When she reached the head again, she engulfed him, taking him down until the crown filled the back of
her throat. Faith had lots of practice at controlling her gag reflex, and she needed it badly this time.
Holding him deeply in her mouth, she applied as much suction as she could manage, stroking the
bottom several inches in time with her marvelous mouth. Then she retreated back and concentrated just
on the head, popping the crown in and out between her lips. At the same time, she began to speed up
the motion of her fingers as they caressed her wet cleft, sliding against each side of her erect clit.
          It took a few minutes, but soon she sensed his building release, and Faith went into overdrive,
sucking strongly in anticipation, bobbing her head wildly, one hand jacking him like a piston while the
other fired her own pleasure. Her zealous performance was rewarded as he grunted and pumped an
absolutely massive load of semen into her wanton mouth. She swallowed quickly and kept stroking
him strongly, keeping up her suction as he continued to shoot spurt after spurt of hot, sticky sperm into
her smiling red lips. By the third gout, she had managed to put herself over the top and gasped out her
orgasm around his erection. Faith was amazed by his capacity, but she gamely kept swallowing each
fresh jet of his seed until he stopped coming. She continued to lollypop him for another minute or so
until she was through having aftershocks, and then allowed his cock to escape her mouth with an
obscene pop.
          When he showed no sign of losing his erection, she commented, "You are my kinda man, sport.
Ready and rarin'...", because she felt the same way. She pushed him back so that he lay back on the
grass, and facing his cloven hooves, she threw a leg across him and positioned him for entry. His
length and rigidity posed some difficulty, but Faith finally got him aimed properly and dropped onto his
tool like it might escape her.
          The result was everything she had hoped for and more as the huge erection lanced up into her
and struck her cervix soundly, which might bring pain to most women but just excited Faith more, the
give and take of pain being a big part of her enjoyment during sex. She began to swivel her hips in an
undulating motion, and as she did, she brought her hands up and began to squeeze her breasts through
the fabric of her top. Tired of the cloth interfering with her squeezing her own breasts, Faith skinned
off the dark top and it sailed out to drape itself on a nearby bush. Closing her eyes and concentrating on
the sensation of this thing filling her pussy, it took Faith less than a minute to build up to another
orgasm... and another... and then another, each improving on the one before, until she had managed to
build to such a fever pitch that with ever her extraordinary physical shape, she was about to
hyperventilate herself into passing out. She continued to keen out her climax as she groped her breasts
until the muscles of her vagina began to cramp from squeezing him so hard.
          Half falling from on top of him, Faith caught her breath in just a moment. Feeling somewhat
worn, but still greatly affected by the magic of the satyr, she took just a few moments to decide on her
next action.
          "Well, Curly, I may be crazy, but I gotta try it." She braced herself and moved to her hands and
knees. Looking back at him, she said, "Get that thing over here. Let's find out how Greek you are." He
moved the few feet between them and began to position himself for entry into her abused slit, but she
put a hand back on his rod and raised his sights just a bit. Obligingly, he held still and let her do so.
Biting her bottom lip, she began to slowly put pressure backwards, relaxing and easing back ever so
slowly. Pain shot through her, but it was mixed with a huge amount of pleasure as well. It was the
kind of pain she got off on, though usually she liked inflicting it. This time, however, she was more
than happy to take, especially since it was something so many women thought of as “dirty”. That just
made it that much better. She continued pushing back a bit at a time, taking him a bit deeper, until
finally, after better than a minute, his hips met her taut derriere and he was completely embedded to the
hilt in her ass.
          "Got you!", she gasped, accomplishing what she had truly thought was impossible. She would
have taken it slower yet, but the imperative of the satyr's scent kept driving her on, and soon she was
rocking back and forth, taking him anally and reveling in the total wantonness of her act. Each thrust
brought another soft gasp from her, until she was beginning the rise towards another climax.
          She was completely unprepared when a masculine voice said, "Well, I really didn't expect a
floor show."
