Euoi!

Author's Note: This came out of nowhere. It stands as a one shot, but if there seems to be interest in it I have plans for the rest. Oh, and I'm not kidding about the violence, although it's not graphic.

Deinos surveyed the contents of the clearing with great pleasure as he lounged on his throne, his prized captive at his feet. The humans had made their own punishment devices, Deinos’ jab against Achaean engineering. They were well made, given the amount of time the humans had been allowed to make them, and could even be reused later, if the blood and seed didn’t ruin them.

There were twelve of them, one for each of the captives. Each was a wooden frame, with triangle structures on either side supporting a horizontal bar running between them. Each human had been stripped and bent over the bar. His hands had been tied on one base, and his feet at the other, leaving him bent over and spread wide, off balance and entirely vulnerable. Deinos was immensely pleased, and resolved to find a way to reward Autiphon, who had come up with the plans.

The newly returned brothers seemed equally pleased. All of them were as hard as he was, their cocks thick and bobbing, ready for the event to commence. Ordinarily Deinos would have drawn it out as long as he could to enjoy the anticipation, but he felt he owed it to his brothers to start without much ado. He stood and gestured for silence, and the crowd of satyrs who stood behind him went still. The entire clearing was filled with tension and the heavy scent of satyr lust.

“Gentlemen,” Deinos said, his voice reverberating through the clearing. “You see before you the power of satyr ingenuity. Not only have we returned victorious, bearing our lost brothers back, but we have also brought spoils of war. The prince’s guard is known for its strength and fortitude. We have already bested their strength. Now we shall test their fortitude.” He sat and gave another signal, and the twelve chosen satyrs stepped forward.

The returned brothers had decided amongst themselves who would be given the honor, and Deinos was pleased to see no signs of jealousy or bad temper amongst the ones who had not been chosen. That was as it should be. Everyone would get their turn, after all. They all had choice views of the proceedings, standing in front of the captives so that they would all be able to see their faces as they were penetrated.

The captives had not been gagged in any way, but none of them made any sound, even though they must have known what was going to happen. Deinos was impressed by their discipline despite himself, although he doubted they would keep their silence long. He saw the one nearest him – the youngest human of the guard by about ten years or so – twitch as his cheeks were pried open, and the satyr’s thick, lubricated cock was placed at his hole.

His own captive had not made any noise or movement, his eyes fixed on what was before him. That was also as it should be, and Deinos smiled at the back of his captive’s blonde head. Let Prince Aetos learn what happened when humans dared to capture satyr brothers and march through satyr lands. He gave a little pull on the leash, and grinned when the prince glared back at him.
“Would you trade places with them?”

“What would it change?” Aetos all but spat. “You intend to kill me as well.”
Deinos gestured expansively. “I might not. I could them go for the price of your life. Will you take their fate in exchange for their freedom?”

“Of course.” There was no hesitation, and in the reply Deinos heard as much desperation as anger. Well, well, it seemed Aetos was as noble as the legends said. “I will trade places with them,” Aetos all but begged.

Deinos cocked his head, feigning surprise. “Oh, but I didn’t say I would let you, did I? Commence, brothers.” Aetos’ look of shock was priceless, and he whipped his head back around at Deinos’ command, just in time to see the satyrs push into their captives.

The moment was silent, to start. None of the humans had been loosened, and each of the chosen brothers clearly found it hard to push in even with the lubrication. Their grunts and strains were matched by the grunts and strains of the humans, who were each trying their best to resist their impalement. It was a futile effort, however, and only made victory that much sweeter as each brother managed to gain entrance, pressing into the tight hole before him inch by inch, plundering his enemy. A satyr on the right began to thrust, and the others followed suite.

The clearing resounded with cries. Whatever noise the captives made was drowned out by the triumphant shouts of the chosen rapists and the raucous bellows of the audience. Deinos made no noise, and did not touch himself either, even though the sight of the satyrs reaming out the humans had him hard and leaking. It was everything he had planned. The chosen brothers were all sizeable, proud specimens of satyr, with broad chests and long legs and thick, curling horns. All twelve of the humans were crying out as they were masterfully impaled. The satyrs even had a common rhythm, and the humans moaned in tandem.

The placement of the youngest captive right in front of Deinos’ throne had been particularly fortuitous. He put on quite a show, tossing his head and bleating pathetically, his hands scrabbling at his chains, crying out wordlessly as he was plundered over and over. He was a wonderful specimen of human flesh, to be sure, the kind Achaeans loved to immortalize in statue, and it was an utter pleasure to see him broken. He listened to the humans’ cries and thought about how much he would make his own captive squeal later.

The other satyrs watching the spectacle were clearly as excited as Deinos, all stroking themselves and each other. No one was too drunk yet, except for those few who were always drunk, and Deinos had no sounds yet of orgasm from the crowd, which pleased him. He wanted all of the seed tonight to be spurted on or into human flesh.

The satyr second from the left gave a shout then, out of sync with the others, and humped harder, riding his moaning human frantically, his hooves pressing into the ground and his furry thighs crushing into the hairless ones beneath him as he strove to shove ever deeper into his captive. The human, a burly soldier, gave a desperate moan, and Deinos contained a shiver at the sound. The human gave one last shout as the satyr shoved in and pumped his seed, and then hung his head as the satyr withdrew.

With his orgasm over the satyr looked slightly abashed that he had spent himself so quickly, but his brothers quickly ran out to clap him on the back and horns and congratulate him. He grinned then and gave the human a smack on the rump.

“Come, king!” they beckoned, and Deinos acquiesced, tying his captive’s leash to the throne before making his way to the newly reamed captive. The other satyrs began to reach their own finishes as he approached, their cries of completion matched by the captives’ cries of shame and despair.

Deinos inspected the newly fucked soldier, and was pleased to find him not bleeding very much. He wanted them to last, after all. They had the whole night. He inspected the other captives one by one as each satyr reached his finish, and nodded his approval at the abused looking holes leaking with seed. This was satyr vengeance at its finest.

The satyr fucking the youngest soldier was the last to finish, and the human looked particularly worse for the wear because of it. His hair was covered with sweat, and his every breath was a gasp. His hole was raw and red, and his fine skin was chafed from all the rubbing of the satyr’s fur. His genitals were drawn up tightly into his body, as if trying to escape, and Deinos smiled and grabbed the human’s balls. He let out an admirable yelp, and laughter resounded through the clearing.

Deinos turned to the satyr who had taken him, who stood regaining his breath. “A good fuck, brother?” This was Chrysos, a brave brother who had more than deserved his place amongst the chosen, and even this fine human in particular. Deinos’ disappointment at his loss after the battle had only been matched by his joy to receive him back again after their recent victory.

“Yes, king,” Chrysos said, “Though I fear he won’t last long.” He gestured at the human’s shivering limbs. Deinos considered, and then put two fingers into the captive’s hole, wondering if there was bleeding not immediately visible. The captive whimpered pathetically and rustled in his chains, letting out a despairing whine even as Deinos removed his fingers.

“Monster!” The prince’s shout brought Deinos’ attention back to him. “Blight upon nature! Never have the gods looked upon such disgrace. Spare them or kill them, satyr, but do not make them suffer this.”

Anger suffused Deinos at the way the prince sneered “satyr,” but he smiled.

“Do you hear that, brothers? Prince Aetos begs for mercy. Does he deserve it?”

The brothers roared:

“No! Fuck the bitch!”

“Fuck ‘em to death, king!”

“All hail King Deinos!”

Deinos held up his hands for silence. “You speak truly, brothers. Nevertheless, I am not disinclined to grant mercy. The humans may not think so, but we are rational beings, are we not?” He paused for more noise of approval, and then continued, “I will spare one of your men, prince, on a condition.”

The prince looked at him stonily. “What is the condition?”

“I intend to have you, as you may have guessed.” He gestured to his erection and drew laughter from the crowd. “Come to me willingly – for whatever I ask and as long as I ask it – and I will spare whomever you choose.”

The only sounds were the muffled groans and grunts of the satyrs still stroking themselves, and the pained pants of the captives. Prince Aetos glared, the very picture of aristocratic outrage. His collar and bound hands seemed only to increase his nobility. Deinos was more proud than ever, and his cock twitched at the thought that this was the man he would break. The condition he had asked was an enormous one, and he wondered if the prince would choose his dignity or the life of one of his men.

“Do not take the deal, lord,” came a cry from the right, and Deinos realized one of the human soldiers had spoken.

“Aye, prince,” came another voice, “Our lives are not worth it.” Another soldier agreed, and another, and another.

“You are all noble beyond bearing,” said the prince roughly, and Deinos wondered if he would weep. He had heard that Achaean heroes were given to it.

But when the prince spoke again, it was in a clear voice: “Spare Leander, King Deinos. I will do as you ask.”

“No, my lord!” cried the captive Deinos stood next to, the youngest and most beautiful. Deinos grinned. It was just as well. This captive was not old enough to have been in the first attack, and thus his death was not required. He would make the prettiest slave, to boot. He turned to Chrysos. “You’ve served me well, brother, and have exceeded my greatest hope with your return. Will you accept this captive as a gift for your bravery?”

Chrysos bowed his head. “You do me great honor, lord.”

The chosen human was released from the frame at Deinos’ command, and he struggled unsteadily, hobbling about. “I’m unworthy of this, lord,” he called out to the prince. “Let it be one of the others, if it must be. Myron or Ctephos or Macr—” He broke off then, choking on his own tears, perhaps undone by the thought of all of his comrades who would die that night. Deinos felt cold satisfaction. Let the Achaeans know what it was like to lose those dearest to you. He ordered the boy to be taken to Chrysos’ tent. He looked at the rest of the captives, now with no hope of reprieve with their one chance taken, and at the prince, now sworn to come willingly to his rapist. He returned to his throne and gestured for the next satyrs – eleven now, rather than twelve – to go take their place. They went eagerly, and soon the pained cries of the captives began anew.

Deinos felt he owed it to his brothers to stay for the whole event, despite the way it made him ache to watch without touching himself. At the very least he wanted the prince to see it, and Aetos, to his credit, did not once look away.
“No tears, human?” Deinos asked at one point, as the third of the captives was discovered to be dead, his body carted away from the bloody frame. “Perhaps the death of your comrades does not move you?”

“I give my men the honorable farewell they deserve,” Aetos replied, and would say nothing more.

Eventually it was but one man who remained alive, a beast of a human bigger even than most of the satyrs, and out of deference to his feat Deinos allowed his throat to be cut. The remaining satyrs who had not had the chance to fuck the humans seemed happy to rut with each other, so there was no reason for quarrel.

“A most pleasurable evening entertainment, no?” Deinos asked his captive again.

“It is said by the poets that satyrs are the mix of beast and man,” Aetos said calmly. “But I have never seen man nor beast behave so abominably.”

“You were not at the Battle of Teirsos.” Deinos’ hand brushed the scar on his chest without thinking, and he saw Aetos follow the movement with his eyes.

Snarling, Deinos yanked the leash hard as he rose, and Aetos coughed and stood.

“Happy rutting, brothers!” he said to the orgiastic crowd. Cheers and hoots followed him as he left the clearing, as well as many remarks about his captive. Deinos felt his good humor return. The prince would not remain so proud for long.

Deinos’ tent was the most luxurious of the sounder, filled with flawless animal skins and spoils from various raids, but to judge by Aetos’ reaction it was a hovel. Deinos took a certain satisfaction in that. He lit a lamp and let the prince take in his surroundings. Aetos had lived in his city on a hill for most of his life. Let him learn what life was like down on the ground. “Welcome to your new home, prince.”

Aetos said nothing, but Deinos could see the lines of tension around his mouth, and the tautness in his shoulders as he unlocked Aetos’ hands. “Nervous?” he asked, pouring wine into a chalice and offering it to him. “I’m sure it’s been quite some time since you were any man’s eromenos.” Not that long, perhaps. The prince was younger than Deinos had expected.

“Or maybe such things are not appropriate for a prince,” Deinos continued when Aetos neither spoke nor took the proffered wine. He pressed the chalice into Aetos’ hands, noting how cold they were. “Drink,” he demanded. “Remember that I hold your man’s life in my hands.”

Deinos watched as Aetos drank first that glass and then another when it was given to him. Satyr wine was far more alcoholic than that the Achaeans preferred, Deinos knew, and none of the captives had been given anything to eat for a day or so. “Good boy. Now strip.”

Aetos’ discomfort grew more obvious as he disrobed, casting his armor – still shining beneath the grit – to the floor and then removing his tunic and chiton. His cuirass did not exaggerate at all, Deinos saw. The man was every inch the Achaean hero. His skin was flawless, far fairer than that of most satyrs’, and certainly less hairy, and the muscle beneath it was formed with nearly divine perfection. “So few scars,” he noted as Aetos removed his sandals. “Either those rumors about your immortal parent are true or you’re far more cowardly than I’ve been led to believe.”

“I am not a coward,” Aetos said, the first words he had spoken since his pithy little comment about the nature of satyrs.

Deinos lounged on the bed, his thighs spread and his cock hard against his stomach. “Prove it, then. Come here.”

The prince did as he was bid, and Deinos marveled at how quietly humans moved. Their feet were certainly strange, but silence was one advantage they had over hooves.

Aetos stopped at the edge of the bed, and rather than order him further Deinos simply took his leash and tugged. Aetos fell awkwardly, his hands landing on Deinos’ chest, and Deinos frowned at the relative lack of calluses. “You have hands like a woman.”

“You have hair like a beast,” Aetos replied waspishly.

Deinos laughed. “You, on the other hand, are nearly as hairless as a piglet. I wonder if you squeal as loud.” He pulled Aetos over further, shifting their positions so that Aetos was lying down while Deinos loomed over him. Deinos watched him swallow nervously, clearly less able to keep his fear under control, and he took it as a sign that the wine was beginning to take effect. He removed Aetos’ leash but left the collar, enjoying the look of the metal on his captive’s neck. Aetos’ throat looked soft and pale beneath his weathered brown hands, his facial hair all painstakingly shaved off. Deinos thought about how easy it would be to snuff the prince’s life out.

Too easy by far. The man’s death would ruin all of his fun. “Turn over and get on all fours.”

“Can you not even fuck me like a man?” Aetos’ voice was disdainful as ever, but he obeyed. Deinos gave in to an urge and smacked one smooth, muscular cheek. Aetos jumped and cursed. So responsive. Perhaps Deinos would give it to him in earnest in the future.

“Far better than that, prince. I will fuck you like a satyr.” He fully intended to have the prince on his back at least once that night, but it was easiest to get what he wanted this way, for now. He admired the view of the prince’s smooth, tailless rump while he fetched the oil and slathered some over his fingers. Then he took a hold of Aetos’ hip – not hard enough to hold him there, just enough to make him feel it – and pressed a finger to his hole.

Aetos jerked away at first, out of Deinos’ grip on his hip. Deinos said nothing, waiting patiently and watching Aetos war with himself. There was no need to remind Aetos of his deal. In a moment Aetos pressed back again, presenting his rump obscenely, and Deinos felt a rush of triumph. Sparing the pretty soldier for Chrysos had been a stroke of genius. He pressed his finger into Aetos’ hole in one smooth motion, groaning as he felt the tight heat around him and imagined it on his cock. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” He gave an experimental thrust with his finger, and was rewarded with another huff of breath from his captive.

“Just get it over with.”

“Ah, ah,” Deinos admonished, adding more oil and another finger for emphasis. “We’ll go at my pace now.” He brought his other hand back to Aetos’ hip and started to work his hole in earnest, thrusting and scissoring with his fingers while Aetos struggled not to squirm. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Deinos laughed and experimented with his aim until he hit the spot he was looking for. Aetos’ gasp let him know he’d found it, and he worked it hard, moving his other hand to grasp Aetos’ cock. This was what he wanted. Anyone could fuck a captive, as his brothers had shown for the past few hours. He had something special reserved for this captive.

Aetos grew hard from his ministrations, despite his muttered curses, and Deinos knew it was only soldierly self-control that prevented him from humping back on Deinos’ fingers and into his hand shamelessly. Well, there was still time for that. He withdrew his fingers and oiled his cock while he listened to Aetos pant. “Ready for it?” he asked as he positioned himself between Aetos’ smooth thighs.

Aetos did nothing but clench his grip on the furs beneath him.

“Tell me you’re ready,” Deinos demanded.

“Ready for what? For you to attack me from behind like a coward? My father was right about satyrs. Is this how you fought at Teirsos?”

Deinos saw red. He gripped Aetos’ hips punishingly and shoved in hard, the oil and loosening letting him in but only just. He had to thrust heavily to get just the head in, but the resistance only urged him on to greater efforts. He threw his weight into it, reveling in Aetos’ pained cry and drop forward onto the furs. He sank in slowly but surely, filling Aetos insistently with his hard cock. The pleasure was exquisite after waiting for so long, almost unbearably so. He gave a few shallow thrusts, and finally felt his balls come up against the tender skin below Aetos’ hole.

Overcome by pleasure, he fell forward, molding his chest to Aetos’ back, the side of his face by Aetos. He braced himself on his arms on either side of Aetos’, blanketing him in every way. He took a moment to regain some control, his groin throbbing.

“I suppose you think you’re clever,” he said into Aetos’ ponderous human ear, reveling in the softness of his hair and cheek.

“Only compared to my present company,” Aetos replied with only a small quaver in his voice. He jerked away as Deinos laughed in his ear.

“No need to be clever to fuck you, is that it?” He cut off Aetos’ reply with a well placed thrust, moving back to get a good grip on Aetos’ hips so he could ream him out properly.

He kept his thrusts fast and hard, hammering into Aetos as he pleased. To Aetos’ credit, he never collapsed or tried to escape, limiting his noises as much as he could, twisting his hands in the furs and letting his head hang. Deinos rode him harder, determined to teach his stubborn captive a lesson. One particularly vicious thrust had Aetos crying out, and the defeat in that sound made Deinos nearly blind with pleasure. He repeated the movement, again and again and again, hearing Aetos become more desperate each time. And then he was coming, thrusting as deep as he could, filling his enemy with his seed. The orgasm was unbelievable after so long a wait. He collapsed afterward, driving Aetos down under his weight.

Deinos lay panting, trying to calm his swirling senses. The body underneath him did not help, tantalizing in its alien smoothness. He rolled to one side and listened to Aetos gasp in air. The sight of his heaving back was too much to resist. He pressed a kiss to the center of Aetos’ spine, licking and nipping his way upwards while Aetos shuddered.

“What are you doing?” Aetos asked, although surely he must know. “What are you doing to me?”

Deinos shushed him between kisses and began to nip at his neck, feeling his erection grow again as Aetos all but growled beneath him.

“Stop that,” Aetos finally said, turning around, and Deinos let him. He fell to Aetos’ neck, biting harder. Aetos began struggling in earnest, seemingly more afraid of this than he was of being impaled, and Deinos moved on top of him again, enjoying the way Aetos writhed beneath him. He brought one hand down to Aetos’ cock. Aetos had succeeded in distracting him from his purpose the first time, but Deinos had all night to get it right.

What he found made him frown first and then throw back his head and laugh. Aetos’ cock was sticky with seed, newly spent. Deinos thought he had failed in his first attempt to make Aetos enjoy his own reaming, but apparently finesse had not been necessary. “My, my, aren’t you a perfect little eromenos?”

Aetos snarled and launched himself at Deinos, all thoughts of his promise to cooperate clearly forgotten, but Deinos didn’t mind. He bore Aetos back down easily, pinning his wrists on either side of his face. He was hard again, and took the opportunity to rub his cock against Aetos’ stomach, enjoying the mix of smooth skin and hard muscle. His face was within kissing distance of Aetos’, and he indulged himself, biting those proud lips until they were puffy and bruised and getting bitten in return.

This night could not be more perfect. He had captured the son of his greatest enemy, returned what he thought had been lost brothers to the sounder, given a pretty slave to a valued general, and used that same slave as leverage to plunder his own captive. His captive who, as it turned out, had a pathetic taste for being plundered. “I think you and I are going to have a long, fruitful relationship.”

“I’d rather be in Tartarus.” There was no trace of that cool, marmoreal disdain now; Aetos’ voice was rough and angry.

“Oh, Aetos.” He moved to kneel between Aetos’ thighs once more, watching seed seep out from his hole as he readied himself for the second of what would be many rounds that night. “You already are.”

NB: "Euoi" is the traditional cry of the Satyrs.