Furryhairybears said:
He tries to resist, but will fall to desire. Maybe becoming some sort of slave to the satyr, or gaining some features of a satyr.
That sounds like a good idea to me. There were also a lot of calls for futile resistance, so let’s see how long David can hold out.
***
It was a different song than the last one which had drawn him into the stables. That one had been jovial and uplifting, and while it had drawn him to the satyr sitting on the barrel, the compulsion had been more suggestive than mandatory. This new song, however, was far more…compulsory. The tempo was hectic and quick, moving quicker than David could think, binding him up in it’s notes and rhythms, worming it’s way inside his head, telling him to dance, let himself go, and obey the satyr.
Still though, David was ready for it this time, refusing to dance or even move, but he needed something to fight back. It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he could counter it with a song of his own, and so he started singing the college football teams fight song back at the satyr. Somehow, the satyr managed to laugh and talk as he was playing, the words almost appearing right in his head as lyrics:
“Ho, so someone has a little fight in them, I hear, well let’s see you handle this.”
The notes flew from the pipes, catching David’s own song in his throat, drowning out every other song in his head, and before he even realized it was happening, he was singing along to the satyr’s tune, unable to stop himself, the feet he’d tried to keep stationary suddenly moving along with the wild beat, and the song, it was everywhere. He did his best to keep it out of his head, but it felt pointless to resist, all of a sudden. No, not pointless, it was more than pointless, it was…he didn’t want to resist at all, did he? No, he just wanted to dance, to dance…and…and fuck, and drink, and pleasure, oh the fucking pleasure of it all!
The satyr wasn’t playing the pipes anymore, but the music was still going, and David realized that the song was still playing inside his head, and he didn’t want it to ever stop–he didn’t want to ever stop, but he was so horny, and he saw the short, thick cock emerge from the satyr’s sheath he thought nothing of bending to his master’s will, and getting down on all fours, allowing the satyr to mount him, the song growing even louder, and when the satyr came, it was accompanied by a surprising tremendous pain in his head, as two curled horns sprouted from his skull.
The pleasure, all of the pleasure. The satyr dismounted, and David rolled over onto his pack, jacking his cock wildly until he shot a load all over his shirt, but he didn’t care–why was he even wearing clothes? He stripped down, still human in form, but far more comfortable in his natural state, and the satyr let out his bleating laugh again. “Good, very good–I think you might give the master of the house a run for his money,” he said, and tossed David the panpipes, “Go, use these, please yourself and others–especially the master of the house–such a sour fool, make him dance until his feet are bloody stumps.”
“Yes my lord,” David said, and then let out a wild laugh and skipped off, the song still running inside him, stuck in his head, but others as well, so many songs to play, such pleasures to enjoy. He slipped back into the mansion, buck naked, wondering who he might find, and who might dance with with him next.
***
Well, that might make things a bit complicated–but maybe we should leave David for a bit…unless we want someone to dance with him.
1) Ken is still looking for the Master’s Suite. I’ve gotten some better ideas from you all here, so thanks for that.
2) And we still have the bigger Bob to contend with–whatever could he find on the main floor?
3) Something else? We still have Dan shoveling coal, and the satyr thrall running around as well.
Two notes: First, I’ve heard that there’s a character limit on the reply box. If this is hindering your creative capacities, then split it into multiple entries, or put it in my ask box–I’m good with that too. Second, if you don’t have a tumblr account, and you use the reply box, chances are I’m not getting your suggestions. I don’t know why this is. Just make an account–it’s fast and free–or send me an anonymous ask, which I know I get even if you don’t have an account.
So, what have you got for me?
Bracken's Corner 