Mona wanted to be angry at Malcolm but it was impossible. Although she’d been frightened by the masked men he’d brought to their liaison and furious he’d tricked her into having sex with a man she thought was a stranger, she couldn’t deny she’d never been more aroused in her life. All those men…all those hands…all those mouths on her body…she couldn’t think of it without growing damp. Often she’d sneak into the back room, lie on the bed, and bring herself to orgasm with her own hands as she recalled that night, the hands holding her legs in the air while a man she didn’t know from Adam plumbed the depths of her body with his fingers. And she could still feel that brutal phallus inside her, pressing against the plug in her ass, the wall of tissue between them quivering and tender. And Malcolm’s cock in her ass, she remembered it with such pleasure her nipples hardened with even the slightest recollection of it. Her body buzzed constantly with low-level ardor. If the month didn’t pass any faster, she might go mad waiting for him.

The month passed slowly. She didn’t go mad.

Instead, she went to an art appraiser to have Malcolm’s payment for her night on the auction block authenticated. He’d left a small pastel drawing of figs on the bed, which the appraiser recognized instantly as the work of nineteenth-century Swiss-French painter Jean-Étienne Liotard. She’d almost been hoping for another Degas so she could see Sebastian Leon again. But could she do such a thing? Date a man while her body was promised and sold to another? She was certain Malcolm wouldn’t mind her taking another lover. He’d even told her he wouldn’t stop her from seeing someone else. Malcolm only required her body one night a month after all. But how would she tell Sebastian about Malcolm? She couldn’t, of course, so she did not call him or find an excuse to see him. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her. After two nights with Malcolm and his perversions, she was pleased to find she still had a conscience.

On the fourth Saturday after her last assignation, she found the book of art on her desk again.

Poor Tou-Tou. She had to lift the sleeping cat off the book. He loved paper, loved to lie on it and bask or sleep. He whimpered a small feline protest when she moved him off the book cover and into her lap, but he settled there quickly and was soon fast asleep, twitching as he dreamed of mice or birds or something in between.

What did Malcolm have planned for them next? She was almost afraid to look.

But only almost.

She opened the book to the page he’d marked—again—with the red velvet choker she’d worn the night she’d played his Olympia. The painting this month was one by another French artist, William-Adolphe Bouguereau. Nymphs and Satyr. Four beautiful, nearly-naked women played on the banks of a halcyon lake. They’d caught a satyr watching them bathe, and now three of the four water nymphs tried to pull the reluctant man-goat into the lake as the fourth nymph waved for the others to join her at the water’s edge.

She knew who the satyr was, that was certain.

Mona spent Sunday turning herself into a nymph. She curled her long red hair and put a white flower behind her ear. She found a sheer white nightgown in the back of her closet. Malcolm would surely want her naked, but he could have the pleasure of undressing her himself.

Near midnight she returned to the gallery and entered through the side delivery door. As soon the heavy industrial door latched behind her, she heard music coming from the back room. Music? How odd. It sounded like pan pipes and chimes, playful music, sprightly and light. The score to a satyr’s conquest? Perhaps. She carefully eased the door of the back room open…

A hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the room.

"Here she is!” a girl’s voice called out. "I found her!”

Mona stumbled into the back room, which had somehow been transformed into a woodland paradise with potted trees and a bubbling stone fountain. The girl who’d grabbed her dropped her hand and joined two other girls, all three in gauzy gowns and long ribbons in their hair dancing about to the music. One girl wore a gauzy gown of yellow, her hair was black and tightly curled and her skin a deep and lovely brown. Another girl wore pink and her hair was white-blonde and her skin as pale as milk glass. Another girl wore a sheer gown of blue and her hair was warm copper and stick-straight and her complexion only a shade lighter.

And she, Mona, was now the fourth girl, with hair of apple red in a gown of white.

Mona was caught up in the dance and the music seemingly came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Two girls took her hands and soon they were skipping in a circle around the red and golden chair that Mona had loved since her childhood. It had become a throne now, Malcolm sitting naked upon it, his head crowned with laurels. It was a laughable scene, so Mona laughed and the girls laughed too. It was joyous laughter, not mocking, not disdainful. Malcolm’s beautiful cock lay half-hard on his lap as he watched his nymphs frolic and dance for him. She hadn’t danced in so long, she knew she must look a fool. But it was too pleasant a scene to stop. Her feet felt bewitched by the pipe music and the girls were all so pretty in their gauzy gowns with their hair ribbons flying and their faces all smiles.

"Come dance with us,” the girl in the yellow gown said, breaking from the spinning circle and pulling on Malcolm’s hand. "Come dance with us, you silly old goat.”

The girl in pink gasped and covered her mouth with her hands at the playful insult.

"Silly old goat?” Malcolm grabbed her hand with his other hand and yanked her into his lap. She squealed in surprise and burst into laughter as Malcolm tickled her stomach with his fingers. Mona and the three other girls stood together, their arms locked, watching.

"She’ll get it now for sure,” the pink girl said, shaking her head.

"She’ll wish she hadn’t said that,” said the girl in blue.

"Or she’ll wish she’d said it twice,” the girl in pink added and they all laughed, even Malcolm.

"She’ll have to be punished,” Malcolm said. "Won’t you, wicked child?”

"I’m not wicked,” the girl in yellow said as she wriggled off his lap. "I’m honest.”

"Honestly wicked.” Malcolm grabbed her arm again and dragged her back into his lap. "Now kiss me to say you’re sorry.”

"I won’t!” The girl in yellow sounded adamant.

"Then I’ll steal the kiss and won’t give it back,” Malcolm said.

"You wouldn’t—” It was all the girl in yellow could say before Malcolm kissed her on the mouth.

The two other nymphs dissolved into girlish laughter at the sight of their friend being kissed by Malcolm. One second the girl in yellow was trying to push him away, the next second she had her hands in his hair, trying to pull him closer. Even Mona laughed, though it was her lover who kissed another. She felt no jealousy. This was the game. The satyr must have his nymphs to torment. The nymphs must have their satyr.

At last the girl in yellow managed to flee from the prison of his lap. She rushed back to Mona and threw her arms around her.

"He caught me,” the girl in yellow said. "Don’t let him have me.”

"You’re the one who tried to make him dance with you,” Mona said.

"Oh yes,” the yellow girl said. She stood up straight and proud. "That was my mistake. And he’s still not dancing.”

"But we should dance,” the girl in blue said. "Let’s dance so much he has no choice but to join us.”

It made no sense at all to Mona, but nothing in this room with that man and these silly girls did. Even more, she didn’t care if it made sense or not. She only wanted to dance with the pretty trio, these gauzy golden-eyed nymphs. They pulled ribbons from their hair and spun like dervishes as the music grew louder and faster. The girl in pink with the milk glass skin and pale yellow hair danced around Malcolm’s chair, his throne, and caught her ribbon round his wrist, then used it to drag him to his feet.

"She’s hooked a fish!” the girl in yellow shouted. "A big fish.”

"That’s not a fish, that’s a dolphin,” said the girl in blue. "See how he grins.”

Malcolm leered at the girl in pink who had hooked him. She pulled on the ribbon wrapped round his wrist, but he pulled back—he had his own satyr’s trick. She didn’t let the ribbon go in time, and he caught her and twined the ribbon round her wrists.

"I’m talking my pet for a walk,” he said as he led the girl in pink around the room. "Don’t mind us…”

The girl in pink tried to untie herself as she walked behind Malcolm, a pretty puppy on a pretty pink leash. But there was nothing for her. He had her trapped.

"Let me go, beast. Let me go,” she said.

He spun her around to face him.

"For the price of a kiss,” he said. "I’ll think about it.”

"He means it, Pinky,” the girl in blue said. "Better kiss him or you’ll be his pet forever.”

"Not that,” she said, her cheeks pinking like her name. "Anything but that.”

She pressed close to him and tilted her face up, closing her eyes. She was the perfect picture of a martyr. Martyr and satyr. Satyr and Martyr. Silly fools, all of them. Malcolm kissed his pink pet on the lips and the girls in blue and yellow clapped wildly and cheered. Mona did too, for no reason she could name other than it seemed to be part of the game. The kiss continued, deepening. Malcolm bent the girl backwards in his lust. He brought his large right hand to her breast and groped it over her gown.

The girls in blue and yellow booed, but the girl in pink didn’t seem to mind. Malcolm’s erection pressed between her thighs and was swathed in pink fabric. Red against pink. He yanked the bodice of the girl’s dress down, baring her breast. He latched onto the nipple, sucking it into his mouth as the girl trapped in his grasp gave a little cry of pleasure and fear.

"He’s got her now,” the girl in yellow said. "No getting her out.”

"I told her to stay at home today,” the blue girl said. "She never listens.”

"I never listen either,” Mona said, and that made the blue and yellow girls laugh so hard they almost fell over. They took up their ribbons again and skipped in a circle around Malcolm and the pink girl. He had her dress pushed down to her waist now, so that she was naked from the hips up. Her breasts were small and pale and her nipples pink as her gown, and her face was awash in ecstasy as Malcolm licked her little nipples, his hands huge on her tiny waist.

"He’s not going to let her go until she gives in,” the girl in blue said, taking Mona by the hands and making a bridge with their arms. "Don’t you think?”

"I’m sure he’ll let her go eventually,” Mona said. "Won’t he?”

"But she won’t be a water nymph when he’s done with her,” the girl in yellow said. "She’ll be a wet nymph!”

Even Malcolm stopped fondling Pinky long enough to roar with laughter. They all laughed and the dancing resumed. They whirled and spun and turned and bowed and it seemed Mona would never tire of it. And in the midst of them, Malcolm tore the blonde girl’s pink gown from her body. He turned her around in his arms to take her from behind.

"I knew it,” the girl in yellow said as she emerged from a spin. "You can’t say I didn’t warn her.”

Malcolm took his cock in hand and guided it into the girl’s pink hole. All the other girls, Mona too, clapped and cheered as Malcolm pulled his captured nymph’s hips back against him and rutted into her rapidly. Her wrists were still tied in front of her and she held them to her chest. She gave little sounds of pleasure and protests—oh’s and no’s and oh’s again.

It was a sin to watch and yet impossible to look away. The three free girls huddled together and pointed and giggled behind their hands. Mona felt light as a child, free as a kite. It felt like she’d stumbled into someone else’s erotic dream and since she was there, she might as well play along.

The pink girl’s face turned red as Malcolm took her even harder from behind. He bent his knees to lower himself a few inches, all the better to ram her deep. His hips undulated obscenely. It seemed his legs were far hairier than Mona remembered and his ears more pointed than ever before. She was dizzy, indeed, from all the laughing and spinning, and she already knew Malcolm could disguise himself in mysterious ways. He made an animalistic sound as he pumped into the girl from behind and the girl let out a girlish whimper. Mona grew wet watching, terribly wet, and she was already eager for her turn with the satyr.

Malcolm’s muscles were tight all over his body. He was all sweating skin and straining sinew, organ and bone. He yanked the girl in his grip back against his cock one last time. She cried out in her climax and he grunted in his.

The girl slid off his organ and fell onto the floor on her back.

"Pinky!” the girl in yellow cried. She dropped to her knees at the pink girl’s side and took the ribbons from her wrist. The girl in blue lifted the pink girl’s pale hand to her lips and kissed it.

"Are you there?” the girl in blue asked.

Pinky opened her eyes and raised her head. "He got me.” She gave a pitiful fake cough like a child trying to get out of school for the day.

"In the heart?” the yellow girl asked, her eyes wide with wonder and concern.

"Is my heart between my legs?” the girl, Pinky, asked.

The girls shook their heads.

"Then that’s not where he got me!” cried Pinky.

They all laughed again—even Pinky, who was attempting to play dead.

"Baby Blue…” Pinky said through barely parted lips. Her arm lay over her eyes.

"Yes, Pinky?” Baby Blue asked.

"Avenge me…” Pinky said. Her arm fell to the floor and she was gone…for three seconds, until she giggled again.

"I’ll get him,” Baby Blue said, standing up. "He’ll never see me coming.”

"Why not?” said the girl in yellow. "Or are you planning on covering his eyes when you come?”

Malcolm crouched behind his throne, pretending to cower as the nymphs plotted their revenge. His dark eyes shifted left and right like he was waiting for an imminent incoming attack from enemies unknown.

"You go left,” the girl in yellow said to Mona. "I’ll go right. If he tries to run from Baby Blue, one of us can catch him.”

"What do we do with him when we catch him?” Mona asked.

The yellow-gowned nymph shook her head. "I haven’t thought that far ahead. Let’s just get him. One, two, three!”

The three of them raced to the throne.

Mona couldn’t wait to get her hands on Malcolm, but he was too fast for her—he spun out of her grasp. He was nearly caught by Baby Blue, but he feinted to the right. Just as the girl in yellow was about to catch him with her ribbon, he clasped her wrist and scooped her up into his arms.

"Oh no!” Baby Blue cried. "He’s captured Sunshine!”

"That’s impressive,” Pinky said from the floor.

"Because she’s so fast?” Baby Blue asked.

"Because it’s the middle of the night!”

Baby Blue laughed so hard, Mona had to hold her up. Meanwhile, Malcolm had Sunshine, the girl in the yellow dress, on his lap in the throne again. As she wiggled and struggled, he ripped her dress down to her waist—if Mona had to guess, she’d say the wiggling and the struggling did more harm than good. It certainly made it easier for Malcolm to rip her dress, which may or may not have been Sunshine’s plan all along. Malcolm pulled her bare back against his naked chest and groped her breasts as he bounced her on his knee.

"Should we try to rescue her?” Baby Blue asked Mona.

"Don’t try anything,” Sunshine said, her voice quavering as Malcolm bounced her. "You’ll only make it worse for me.”

"I think she likes it right where she is,” Mona whispered.

"She does,” Baby Blue whispered back. "But he doesn’t need to know that.”

Malcolm tore the rest of Sunshine’s gown from her body. The gauzy fabric ripped like paper and gathered at his feet like an offering of gold. He lifted Sunshine by her waist, and when he brought her down again it was to impale her on his cock. She took it all at once, her back arching and head tipping backward. Malcolm put his hand on her neck and whispered into her ear.

"What do you think he’s saying?” Mona asked Baby Blue.

"Probably something very important,” Baby Blue said. Then she giggled again and pulled naked Pinky off the floor and to her feet. While Malcolm dallied with Sunshine in his lap, the three of them would dance. The trio joined hands and spun in circles round the throne. Then they formed a conga line for a few minutes. All the while Malcolm bounced his captive nymph up and down on his lap—lifting her slight weight, holding her in the air and then sliding her down again, impaling her once more and again.

"Let me go!” Sunshine cried. "I demand you set me free!”

"Never!” Malcolm said, all satyr now, his legs hairy as a pelt, his ears pointed as knives.

"Never ever?” Sunshine asked as Malcolm nibbled her neck.

"Not until you come,” he said.

She nodded sagely. "Well, I better do that then,” she said. He bounced her harder on his lap, making her breasts jiggle and her hair fly here and there. Malcolm fucked her from underneath, bending his hips into hers and sliding her up and down the length of his cock. Finally, his head fell back and he came a foot out of the chair with Sunshine still attached to him, her hips in his grasp as she came and he came and their cries of pleasure mingled into one.

Sunshine slid out of Malcolm’s lap, and Mona caught her before she hit the ground.

"Thank you, lady,” Sunshine said, smiling up at her in gratitude. "He’s a brute, a nasty brute.”

"That’s not nice,” Malcolm said, a pout on his perfect face. "After all I do for you.”

"You were very hard on him,” Baby Blue said to Sunshine.

"I was not hard on him,” said Sunshine. "But he was hard in me!”

Laughter and exuberance were restored. Mona marveled at their playfulness, their lightness, their airiness. They could have been flying kites for all their frivolity. Who knew orgies could be joyful?

All four nymphs danced together as Malcolm watched and clapped in time. They linked arms and changed partners, pirouetted and jeté-ed. Only Mona and Baby Blue were still clothed. Sunshine and Pinky were naked as babes in the wood and didn’t seem to mind one bit. The firelight turned Sunshine’s dark skin golden and turned pale Pinky red. They were light and lovely as fairies. All they wanted for was wings.

"I suppose it’s my turn to face the music,” Baby Blue said as she and Mona joined arms for a set in the center of the circle of trees. "Can’t put it off any longer.”

"Might as well get it over with,” Mona told her.

"He’s not bad when you get used to him,” Pinky told her sweetly.

"No,” Sunshine said. "He’s worse!”

"Kiss me for luck,” Baby Blue said. All three girls pressed soft kisses on her lips. Baby Blue hung her head and slid her feet across the floor as she neared Malcolm’s throne with visible trepidation.

"What brings you to me?” Malcolm asked. He crossed a mighty hairy leg over a mighty hair knee. "You have a favor to ask of me?”

"I do, Sir Satyr.”

"Name it, girl.”

"I ask you to ask a favor of me,” Baby Blue said.

"Very well then. I ask you to favor me with your favors,” Malcolm said. "Will you?”

She turned around and brought her hands to her mouth. To Mona and Pinky and Sunshine, she whispered, "He’s asked me for my favors. How do I say no?”

"You just said no!” Sunshine said.

"Oh, no,” said Baby Blue.

"You just said it again!” Pinky said.

"I’d rather hear a yes,” Malcolm said.

"Yes, what?” Baby Blue said, turning back around.

"That was definitely a yes,” Malcolm said. "You all heard her say yes, yes?”

Mona and Pinky and Sunshine nodded. It was true. She had said yes. What could they do?

Poor Baby Blue. Malcolm bade her to stand before him at his throne and as soon as she did, he tore her dress from her body. Poor Baby Blue. As soon as she was naked, Malcolm took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it while he stroked her between her legs with his fingers. Poor Baby Blue. She had to straddle his lap with her legs trapped by the chair arms so that as soon as he had his cock in her, she wouldn’t be able to run away. Poor Baby Blue. She cried and she cried as he held her by the waist and rocked her on his lap, rocking his organ up into her as he suckled at her breasts. Poor Baby Blue. She came so hard and so loud, it must have hurt her tender throat from groaning that hard.

"Was it awful?” Sunshine asked as Baby Blue was finally released from Malcolm’s grasp.

"Was it terrible?” Pinky asked.

"It was…” Baby Blue said, shaking her head. "It was…big!”

Then she ran back to the throne and kissed Malcolm on his cheek, stole his laurel crown, and put it on her own head.

"I am now the queen of this courtyard,” Baby Blue said. "And I say the next sacrifice shall be…”

She walked to Mona, naked and smiling and serious all at the same time.

"Yes?” Mona asked.

"What’s your name?” Baby Blue said.

"She wears white like the moon,” Sunshine said. "Shall we call her Moona?”

"That’s silly,” Pinky said. "She’s mad as a loon to be here. Shall we call her Loona?”

"Those are terrible names,” Baby Blue said. "I like them both!”

"Call her Moan-a,” Malcolm said, his pronouncement straight from the throne. "And we’ll see if she earns it.”

"Have you ever had this nymph before, Sir Satyr?” Baby Blue asked Malcolm. He shook his head no.

"Then she must be washed in our water first,” Pinky said to Baby Blue. "And him too.”

"I’ll take him,” Sunshine said. "You two take our Moona Loona.”

The nymphs nodded and shook hands like bankers closing a business deal.

Pinky and Baby Blue took Mona by her hands and drew her to the center of their little indoor grove. In the background, music played, now softer than before. The girls drew her white nightdress down and off her body. They were puzzled by her bra and panties, but soon enough they were long gone as well. It didn’t feel strange to be naked—Mona had felt far stranger to be the only one clothed.

On his throne Malcolm watched her intently. Mona would have imagined him done for the night after mounting three young nymphs in a row. But he’d become his character. He was a satyr through and through. His cock, which seemed larger than ever, jutted out, red and proud, from a thatch of thick dark hair. Sunshine knelt at his feet, a large white bowl on the floor and a clay pitcher of water in her hand. She poured the water slowly over Malcolm’s organ, using her free hand to wash it with the water.

He was being purified for Mona, and she for him.

Pinky and Baby Blue drew her into in a wide cream-colored basin on the floor. Though she wasn’t tired—she had danced and frolicked for what must have been two hours—she was a little overheated. She welcomed the cool clear water they poured over her from her neck to her knees. Pinky poured and Baby Blue splashed the water over her breasts and down her back, between her legs and behind her knees. Then she held out her hands and Pinky filled them with water that Mona drank greedily. She held out her hands again and Pinky filled them. This time, Mona splashed the cold water on her face.

Baby Blue intoned a prayer. "We dedicate this girl into the service of whoever it is or whatever it is we want to service on that particular day.”

"We’re very pious,” Pinky said.

"Pious, yes,” Malcolm said. "I shall put her on her knees in piety. Won’t I?”

"Will you?” Sunshine asked, still kneeling at his feet.

"I will,” he said. "Bring her to me.”

"She doesn’t want to come to you,” Baby Blue said.

"Yes, I do,” Mona said.

Pinky glared at her.

"Oh, right,” Mona said. "No, I don’t want to go to him. Anything but that.”

"That’s what I thought,” Baby Blue said. "But you have to. It’s our way.”

Pinky and Baby Blue escorted her to Malcolm’s throne, all five paces.

"Whew.” Pinky ran her hand across her forehead. "That was a journey. She put up a fight the entire way.”

"Sit and rest a while,” Malcolm said to Pinky and Baby Blue. "You’ve done well. I’ll take her from here.”

"He’ll probably take her from there as well,” Sunshine said, gesturing at Mona’s sex. Malcolm reached down and casually tugged Sunshine’s nipple. "I deserved that.”

"You did,” Baby Blue said, and Malcolm did the same to her. "I didn’t deserve that,” she said, "but I shall bear the injustice stoically.”

Malcolm tugged her nipple again and she yelped.

"Perhaps not very stoically,” Baby Blue said.

"Silence, nymphs,” Malcolm said. "I must see if Moan-a is worthy of being numbered among you.”

"How may I serve you, Sir Satyr?” Mona asked, swept up in the game once more. She could hardly keep the smile off her face.

"You may kneel at my feet and kiss the royal scepter.”

"What’s a scepter?” Pinky whispered into Sunshine’s ear.

"It’s a prick,” Sunshine said.

"It’s his prick, Moona,” Pinky said. "That’s what he wants you to kiss.”

"I figured as much,” Mona said. She knelt on the floor, her knees sinking into the soft pile of yellow, pink, and blue gauze left behind from the carnage Malcolm had done to the girls’ dresses. She took Malcolm’s scepter into her hands and rested her elbows on his furry thighs. It felt so real, it all did. The thick hair on his legs and the points of his ears, the warm animal scent of his body. The music didn’t sound like it came from a radio or a record. She swore she even saw fireflies flashing in and among the trees of the sacred grove they played in. And the three girls were all impossibly lovely—their youthful ageless faces, their tender breasts, their hairless bodies. They were watercolor nymphs in a watercolor world.

Had all the dancing and spinning and laughing made her dizzy? Was she dreaming?

Perhaps, but she didn’t care. She was far too happy in the dream to wake up now.

She pressed a long kiss onto the head of the satyr’s cock. Then she opened her mouth and slid the tip between her lips. She tasted his musky flesh, a dash of salt, and craved more of it. Mona ran her hands up his thighs and wrapped her arms around his hips as she sucked the shaft deep into her mouth. Vaguely she heard the nymphs giggling their sweet musical giggles as Mona devoured their satyr lord’s prick with her mouth, sucking it all the way to the back of her throat. She ought to have gagged on it, but didn’t. She was caught up in the moment, in the fantasy world he’d created for them. She felt she could do anything, even fly if she wanted to—though she would turn down the offer of wings to have her satyr inside her.

"A beautiful new draping for my lap,” Malcolm said, as he gathered her hair in his hands, lifted it, and arrayed it all around him so that it draped off his thighs. "Finer than silk, more shimmering than satin, and sucks me off better than any linen ever tried.”

Mona beamed with pride, his organ still in her mouth. Her satyr was surrounded by his nymphs. Baby Blue was behind him, placing the laurel crown atop his head again. He turned to Pinky on his right and kissed her lips before turning to the left to lick Sunshine’s breast. They all took turns kissing him and he took his turns sucking and licking their necks and breasts, poking his fingers into their wet little cunts, and groping their thighs and their bottoms without apology.

"You make me wish I had four pricks,” he said to his nymphs. "I’d take you all at once, my beauties.”

"Or we could find three more satyrs,” Sunshine said.

"I like my idea better,” Malcolm said.

Mona had to stop sucking him simply to laugh. She stroked his prick, catching her breath. After taking the three girls he should have been wilted as a rose in the desert, but under in her hands he was a rod of iron wrapped in warm flesh. She couldn’t stop touching him, wouldn’t stop even if the world had ended. His scent drew her in—his scent and his power.

He tickled under her chin like a master to his cat. She smiled and set to licking the tip again.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, not pushing her away but massaging her, caressing her. He lifted his hips off his throne to thrust deeper. Mona gripped his thighs hard, holding onto him as he pumped into her mouth, addicted now to the organ down her throat. She had to have it, had to taste it, had to suck it. She was sealed to it and it was lodged in her. The satyr Malcolm groaned in his animal lust, stamping his bare foot on the ground as if the pleasure was maddening. The sound it made was hard and hollow as a hoof on the floor.

His nymphs caressed him, their hands and lips dancing over his skin. Mona heard their whispers: "You can do it, Sir Satyr. You can take it.” And Malcolm saying, "No…no…it’s too much. She’ll kill me with that mouth of hers. She’ll suck it right off.”

"We’ll put it back if she does,” one of the girls said. "Who brought the glue?”

And they all laughed except for Mona, who couldn’t stop sucking Malcolm off if she wanted to—good thing, then, that she didn’t want to stop.

Mona gripped the base of the shaft with one hand and took his heavy testicles in her other. Malcolm growled like a wild beast and stamped his foot again. He writhed under her mouth, moving against his will. Oh, it was dirty, dirty bliss and Mona loved it as much as he did. Her pussy throbbed as if her heart was between her legs, beating and pounding and pumping. She felt Malcolm’s hands on her naked back. He clutched at her shoulder blades. She glanced up and saw his head fall back in ecstasy and knew he was there. She sucked as hard as she could, hard enough to make him believe she really would suck it right off. Malcolm roared like an animal again and his body went stiff as a board under her, his hips hovering in the air a few inches off his throne.

Then he came. It was such a surge of hot fluid in her throat, Mona could barely swallow it all. It surged and surged and she swallowed and swallowed. She thought it would never end. It tasted salty as the ocean, but it refreshed her like water from a fountain. When the spurts finally ceased, Malcolm rested on his throne, his head back and his eyes closed and his arms dangling down as the nymphs kissed his fingers. She didn’t want to release her hold on his cock. It had all been so delicious.

She looked at him and he blinked and opened his eyes.

He smiled.

"See?” Sunshine said. "It didn’t break off.”

"That’s good,” Pinky said. "I forgot the glue anyway.”

"Kiss me,” he said to Mona, his voice a whisper meant for everyone to hear. Reluctantly, Mona let him slip from her mouth. She rose to her feet and gave him the kiss he had commanded of her.

Their tongues mingled and mated. He took her by the waist and held her in place so that she couldn’t escape his mouth on her mouth and the tongue that lapped at her lips and delved into her throat. He seemed to be tasting him inside of her. His majesty’s royal scepter was as hard as ever—she felt the bulb of the tip pushing into her belly and she craved it inside her. As they kissed, the nymphs resumed their dancing, hand in hand in hand, weaving around the little trees in a race that seemed to have no end, no beginning, no winner, no loser. Malcolm rose off his throne slowly, not breaking the kiss once. He wound her arms around his neck, lifted her off her feet and brought her down onto his cock. He ran her through with it and she cried in relief as it filled her up to the breaking point.

She was a rag doll, light and limp. He lifted her again, brought her down, slid her up and down the full length of him. His hips bucked into her and she could do nothing but hang helplessly in his herculean grasp as he fucked her. He locked his wrists around her waist, forcing her to bend her back so he could ravage her breasts with his tongue and lips. He suckled and licked her. Mona moaned, earning the name he’d given her. She moaned and whimpered as his mouth clamped onto her breast like he never intended to let it go. All the while he worked inside her aching orifice. The ache grew and grew as he rammed her and pounded her. He was the predator and she his prey and he devoured her like he had not fed in weeks. Her vagina closed on his penis, trapping it inside her with its wild clenching contractions. They were in a battle with each other, both intent on conquest. But when his semen shot into her, showering her insides, she surrendered to him entirely.

He vanquished her with one final, brutal thrust.

She sagged in his arms and he held her close a moment before releasing her to stand unsteadily on her feet.

"Rest now, my lady nymph,” he said, gently pushing her to her knees again. He touched her eyelids like he was bewitching them. Or perhaps, instead, blessing them.

She stretched out on her side on a blanket of gauzy pink and yellow, blue and white. The dance continued around her. Malcolm gave chase to the girls as the music played on. Mona couldn’t look away from the sport, even though her body ached for sleep. The nymphs, lush and lovely, were shameless in their nakedness. Malcolm—hard still or hard again, she didn’t know—caught one in flight. The girl squealed and laughed as he laid her over the throne arms and coupled with her. She wriggled away from his grasp and once free, turned on him and chased him. One minute he was the pursuer, the conqueror, the ravisher of innocent nymphs. The next moment he was the hare in the field, and the nymphs all red and hungry wolves. It was an orgy of laughter, sensual and innocent and erotic all at once. How had he done it? Who were these beautiful girls? As she watched them fight and copulate, dance and kiss, she loved them all. They were finches. They were foxes. They were fools. And she was one of them. A nymph in a moon-white gown. A creature of myth and mist. A girl kissed by goddesses and mated by satyrs.

Until she woke up the next morning in the bed of the back room, that was.

The sacred grove was gone. The nymphs were gone. Malcolm was gone.

And she was merely Mona again.