Feature Writer: Hannibal Ravencraft /

Feature Title: Also, Satyr of Lust /

Published: 20.11.2005 /
Story Codes: Erotic Horror /
Synopsis: Woman is seduced by a dark influence /

Atho, Satyr of Lust

Elisha knew what her husband was up to. She knew where he spent his nights, and why he was never home. He was at the inns and bordellos, getting drunk and hanging with loose women and whores leaving his wife at home. Of course she realized she was getting older and her beauty was quickly fading. She would look at herself in the mirror and weep at what she had become. It was said to her by a fortune teller that every aristocrat suffered from at least one great sin.

Her greatest sin was pride. All her life she prided her beauty and when that began to fade away she was left with nothing. 

She wondered through a cold house. Though filled with servants and fine furniture, great art the massive Gothic structure was dull and meaningless. She pitied herself and fell into the bottom of many wine bottles as months of lonely nights rolled by. It was in fact during intoxication that she sat at her vanity table, slit one wrist and sung this poem to the mirror:

Mirror, gazer of gazes;
Curiosity of the curious,
And the maze of mazes.

Listen to my plead,
Listen to me weep,
Listen to my song,
Long whispered in feverish sleep.

A confession to my tormentor,
The mirror; mask of cruelty,
For I shall sell my soul,
If to regain my beauty.

With her blood she drew a pentagram on the mirror, then watched as it trickled down. The candles that lit the room began to flicker and dim. The house once cold now seemed to warm. A strange presence overcame the room but Elisha thought to mind it not. Instead she had a servant bandage her wrist and clean the mirror. Once everything was in order so that her depression and dark thoughts eluded her husband, she retreated to bed. Quickly she drifted off to sleep, eyes closed from the exhaustion of her turmoil.

Elisha awoke to the sound of a flute being played. Lighting the candles nearest to her bed she searched the room not finding her husband, but a strange creature crouched at the foot of the bed. The creature was five and a half feet tall, with red flesh and wild green hair. His upper torso was that of a man, his jaw line sharp and narrow coming down to a point where his long green goatee hung from. His lower half was that of a goat. The fur of his lower half was rich dark brown, but instead of hooves were feet like a ravens, so that he could perch over Elisha. Indeed, he looked like the little imps seen in terrible paintings depicting night terrors only a much larger specimen. Unlike imps, he displayed quite the intelligence by playing a hypnotic tune on his flute.

The music was soothing and carried Elisha off to another place and time. She closed her eyes letting the soft notes float delicately into her ears as a distinct feeling of weightlessness overcame her. She opened her eyes once the tune was finished and touched at her skin. It felt different; softer, smoother. She removed herself from her bed and went over to the mirror to find herself looking as if she was twenty again. A gasp escaped from her lips and a tear streamed down her eye as her greatest wish had come true.

The satyr hopped off the foot of the bed and walked with a strange gait over to the vanity table that Elisha had sat herself at. His gait was very strange, and quite alien. His knees bent backward, and he could straighten them only so much so that they were always bent a little. He walked with a slight spring at the knees, his upper body often swaying slightly from one side to the other like a dancing flame seducing it’s moth. Indeed he was a strange creature with pointed ears and deep dark eyes. He moved behind her and reached over her shoulder to pick up a diamond necklace, then slowly slide over her neck and then latch it in the back.

“Who are you?” Elisha asked, watching the creature in the mirror.

The satyr gave no immediate reply. Instead his hands rubbed at her shoulders while he leaned in close to her ear. “I am Atho,” he whispered, “the Granter of Wishes”.

Elisha’s eyes closed as the creature massaged her shoulders. She was in her night gown before him, but felt no shame. His hand then glided down rubbing her upper chest before coming up her throat to under her chin. “Why grant my wish Atho?”

“Because you asked,” Atho whispered. “You called out in song, and we respond to music with music in kind.”

“Are you a devil?” She asked.

A smirk crossed his face as he glided his nose across the base of her neck taking in her scent. “I am satyr. We are spirits dedicated to freeing souls from puritanical morality.”

Looking away from the mirror Elisha came to a stand. She moved herself from the clutches of the beast clutching herself at her heart. “Tricksters and pranksters they say,” she commented, “is this but an illusion?”

The satyr quickly retorted. “Morality is the illusion, mere propaganda by the religious who seek control over your mind. All who oppose are target to character assassinations. These are truths all know but refuse to believe.” He moved back to her, behind her, her height only slightly taller than his. His hand gently ran down her spine with a soft and warm caress. “Are you selfish for wishing for your beauty to return? To have it and hold it forever?”

“Perhaps” Elisha replied.

“Perhaps not” the satyr whispered. “You do not lust, but you long to be the subject of man’s lust.”

“Is there such a difference?”

“Oh yes,” Atho’s other hand then moved to her side, his fingertips running up her ribs to give her a slight tickle. “Pleasure is merely the icing of a cake, you wish to be worshiped.”

Elisha noticed the sound of the creature’s voice. It was deep and rough, but carried a soothing rhythm. She closed her eyes at his touch, how she longed for a man to do the same for many years. To be worshiped, and desired as in youth, yes that was her greatest wish. She felt passion inflame within her again, a sweet sensation she thought long lost. She found herself desiring this creature. When the realization of this desire came, she felt disgusted and ashamed and once again moved away from the beast.

Sensing her shame and self disgust Atho moved to the bed sitting on it. He found his flute and once again began to play the haunting melody. Elisha felt more at ease, the notes drifting through her pores like the caress of a thousand lovers. The satyr only played the few notes he needed before he stopped to speak. “You feel ashamed,” he began. “That cannot be of discredit to you for you were raised to feel ashamed. Go to the mirror and look upon yourself.”

She did as asked. Elisha gazed deeply into the mirror looking at herself. The cold air of night had caused her nipples to harden, embarrassed she covered them by folding her arms over her chest. She felt the eyes of the beast upon her and began to shrink in stature. “You look upon me with such amusement!” she snapped.

Atho smirked. “Ashamed?” He asked. When he received no reply except her distant stare into the mirror Atho leaned back on the bed. “Undress yourself.”

“I will not!” Elisha snapped once more.

“And why not? Why should you be ashamed of your body?” Atho made a gesture with his hand, and through magical influence lit the other candles in the room. The darkness which hung over the two thus far disappeared instantly. “Humans,” he continued, “are such bizarre creatures. You teach yourselves to be ashamed of your own body, to fear it as if it was a plague. Oh what folly, what folly! You convince yourself decadence is unnatural but true creatures of nature are at peace with their naked selves. Look upon me and see that I am not ashamed.”

Elisha turned to find the creature standing. The first she saw of it in full light instead of in shadow as when only her bedside candles were lit. She noticed two small stumps upon his forehead but her eyes did not linger there for long. Soon they were attracted to the large phallus of the creature as it hung to his knees, danglingly freely. The shock cost her the breath in her lungs and her balance. She braced herself on the back of the chair at the vanity table turning away.

Her eyes betrayed her good judgment, and she stared upon the reflection in the mirror. A wave of heat overcame her and she clutched her eyes closed trying to gain composure of herself. She felt the beast’s hands touch at her back with a loving caress. She could feel his hot breath fall upon the back of her neck and his dangling flesh rub at the back of her thigh. He pulled the straps of her gown from her shoulders and down her arms, letting the gown fall to the floor. Elisha did nothing to stop it.

“Open your eyes” the satyr whispered in her ear. His body pressed tightly against her nude form. His heat passing into her supple flesh. Elisha opened her eyes, and viewed herself naked in the mirror with the creature behind her, running his hands up her arms. “You should never be ashamed of such a beautiful figure.”

His hands slid down her sides to her thighs then came up to her stomach. Her skin was melting into his touch, her heart pounding with excitement and her mind in a confused twirl. His hands continued upward running over her breasts, his fingers rubbing against her hard nipples. Elisha watched herself in the mirror, as the creature delicately fondled her chest. “All you wish, all you desire can be yours. This spell of beauty is only temporary, but I can make it forever.”

Elisha began to moisten. Biting her bottom lip she listened to the creature carefully, trying to focus on what he was trying to strike up with her. But his long, forked tongue running along her shoulder blade distracted her. She let out a soft groan when his hand slid between her legs. “Forever beautiful” she whispered. “What is it you want?”

“What you promised in song.” The satyr whispered.

A single tear fell from Elisha’s eye. It trickled down her cheekbone as she lost herself in her own eyes. “My soul” she whispered back. “How do I give it?”

“By giving yourself to me.”

Her heart beating, she tossed the chair aside. Slowly she bent over, her eyes locked on the mirror. Bracing herself on the vanity table, she spread her legs apart offering her dripping honey pot to him. Her hands clutched the sides of the table, readied she awaited him. She cried out as she felt him push inside of her, sliding deep into her. Nearly exploding in passion right away Elisha took a deep breath to regain calm. Her nerves came alive.

The slow, rhythmic thrusts pushed her into the table. His hard flesh stroked her walls while the head pushed into her depths. Groans bellowed from her throat as the heat of passion consumed her entire body. Her heart raced and her eyes watered from the pleasure as that hard flesh of the creature pounded faster and harder inside of her. Her skin was on fire, burning in the decadence. Her chest heaved and her body shivered with each wonderful thrust after thrust of unbridled animalistic sex.

His entire length rammed into her body over and over each met with a passionate cry from her full lips. Her arms gave way and she pressed her hands against the mirror the sensations flooding against her control. The mirror was fogged from her hot breath and her back was arched. She began to slam her hips back into the creature the sweat dripping off her body and falling to the floor.

Her heart pounded, her flesh tingled, her cries loudened, her eyes closed, her teeth gritted, and her fleshy flower burst into it’s orgasmic bloom. Her howl in rapture filled the house and echoed far down the halls. When the servants came to investigate, they found no one in the master bedroom. Instead, they were met with horror and confusion as they gazed into the vanity mirror.

Mirror, gazer of gazes,
Curiosity of the curious,
And the maze of mazes.

Look upon thyself,
Look upon thy glass,
Look upon thy reflection,
Forever shall it last.

The image of a woman,
Naked and young,
Locked in your reflection;
Weeping upon herself,
Tricked by a trickster,
And forever imprisoned.


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