Tuesday, July 26, 2016

A Satyr's Sacred Seed: Ch. 1 [preview]

[pre-story]Hey there, Squish here, with a brand-new commission from Galbuscho, featuring a couple of characters you may be familiar with, Varossion the satyr and Alika the enirii! I’m not gonna lie, this one gave me a lot of trouble, but once I stopped trying to force it to match up with my initial plans, I had a lot of fun with it. This is part one, so there should be more of this sooner or later, provided the commissioner sticks around. This is kind of a successor to the story The First Kiss of the Life Seed, so if you want to see a little more of Alika, go check it out!

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Anyways, read on and enjoy!

Content warnings: ball worship, excessive cum, cum-play.[/pre-story]


Chapter 1: Seeking a Sweeter Satyr

The cool morning air of the glade was was still, silent but for the songs of birds and the buzz of insects, the soft, emerald grass glistening with a fresh coat of morning dew in the golden shafts of sunlight filtering down through the canopy above. This was a sacred place, where the Shrouded Woods thinned, the towering trees and dense underbrush kept at bay by the will of the Green God, leaving a pristine glade where the Enirii could perform their most sacred rites. All around the edges of the space, like silent wardens watching over the glade, stood a ring of ancient stone statues, all different sizes, some depicting curvaceous, womanly figures, fertile bellies swollen with the gift of life, others depicted strong, masculine figures with goatlike legs and crowns of antlers, wielding unyielding erections, while still others were simpler, towering monoliths of virility, carved stone phalluses that would never soften. Flowering vines wound over the stone surfaces, embracing the fertile female and virile male icons, and climbing up the masculine pillars like bulging veins. Atop each icon, there sat a wreath of fresh flowers, tokens of faith from the Greenleaf tribe that frequented the glade.

The undergrowth at the edge of the glade rustled, a curtain of leaves parting as a youthful, womanly figure tentatively emerged into the open space. She was nude but for her beaded jewelry, every inch of her soft, curvaceous form on full display, much of her flawless honey-tan skin tattooed a warm, earthy red, tribal patterns in the ink depicting leaves, flowers, sprouting seeds, suns, moons, and flames. A river of chestnut-brown hair flowed behind her, cascading down her shoulders and back, almost to her generous backside. The curtain of hair was held back out of her face by the ceremonial crown of leaves she wore, a woven circlet held together by a tiny statuette of feminine fertility, much like the ones ringing the the glade. She had no need for modesty, her body was a vision of perfection from head to toe. Her legs were strong and shapely, widening from small, delicate feet to thick, creamy thighs. Her hips were wide, generous by almost any measure, supporting the swaying, jiggling twin globes of a simply mouth-watering ass, and bearing a dense bush of soft chestnut-brown hair just above her womanhood, a thicket never trimmed or shaved, but naturally well-contained, leaving the lips of her womanhood soft and smooth. Her figure tapered sharply at the waist, only to widen out once more at the chest, giving her a clear hourglass shape. But above all else, her breasts were her most spectacular feature, mounds easily the size of ripe grapefruit and yet still flawless, standing proudly on her chest, the pillow-soft peaks capped with long, thick, dusky pink nipples that practically begged to be sucked. Young she may be, but there was no mistake, everything about her screamed that she was a woman, ripe and ready for breeding.

Alika bit her lip as she crept into the sacred glade, teeth sinking into the soft, pillowy flesh. It felt somehow wrong to be here alone, like she was intruding on the sacred place. In her mind, she knew she was doing exactly what the glade was there for, that she’d come of age officially at the First Taste of the Life Seed, and now she was to go into the woods and find a satyr mate, and yet, she was still nervous. Satyrs were intimidating creatures, with their great size and strength, their wild and volatile tempers, and condescending demeanor. She knew they would never really hurt her, and in truth, her womanly core was still warm with arousal after watching one ravage the high priestess before her eyes and tasting his seed on the priestess’ lips. She knew, and yet... she just couldn’t bring herself to approach one. But still her need wouldn’t let her just give up. So she’d come here. If she couldn’t approach them, maybe they could approach her…
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