The Satyr Ring

Despite his short stature, or perhaps because of it, Barada was a fearless warrior, unequalled in hand-to-hand combat and terrifying to behold in the heat of battle. He was the youngest man in the clan to captain his own ship, and even before his thirtieth year he was rich from the spoils of plunder.

And yet, he was regarded with pity, and whispered mockery, and even the two young women he kept as slaves dared to laugh about him, because he was shamed with a penis smaller than his little finger.

This inadequacy ate at him, and his waking dreams were consumed with the desire for a cock thicker and longer than any other man's, so that he would be worshipped by the women and held in awe by the men.

One day, a traveller arrived in the village, with a rickety cart pulled by a tired horse. Across the side of the cart and its canvas covering were written mystical signs and words of magic. Like the cart and horse, the traveller seemed old and shaky, though his eyes flashed with keen intelligence.

Barada went to him. "Good mage," he said. "Have you any magic that would make my member grow to a respectable size?"

The traveller thought for a moment. "I have a ring of gold that, or so I was told, if worn about a man's cock, will grow that member and make it virile indeed. But I have never worn it myself, having no such need, and cannot say if it will work."

Such was Barada's desperation, that even this slender hope was powerfully seductive. "How much for your ring, good mage?"

The old man shrugged. "I am lonely on my travels, and often cold at night. I hear you have two very pretty slave girls. Give me one for my keeping, and a sack of grain, and the ring is yours."

Barada was reluctant to part with either woman, but he had to find out. Julia was his favorite, so he took Sandra, along with a bag of grain, and bought the gold ring from the traveller. As he held it in his hand, his palm tingled with mysterious power. He rushed home to try it at once.

The ring slipped easily along the length of his tiny erection. (His member had hardened just at the thought of wearing the ring.) It seemed that his cock thickened immediately, if only a little, for once the ring was about the base of his rigid member, it stuck fast and would not move even slightly.

He summoned Julia and had her use her mouth. She was good at this, and her soft lips and tongue suited his small member well. This time, after he had cum in her mouth, he remained hard and hungry for more, so he made her continue until she had a fresh load to swallow, as thick and copious as the first. Still he was hard. "Again," he ordered.

"No more, Master!" she begged. "Use me some other way."

His cock throbbed eagerly, and there was no question it had grown, now the size of his middle finger. Ordering Julia onto her back, he spread her legs and thrust into her beautiful, exposed pussy. She cried out with surprise as much as pain, having known no man but him and this was new for her too. "So big!" she cried.

Never had that been said to him. Excited beyond measure, he pounded with wild enthusiasm, loving the feeling of being enveloped by her tight wetness. He came at last with a roar of pleasure and victory, and wanting more he rolled her over onto her knees and took her roughly from behind.

No longer passively accepting his penetration, Julia thrust back hungrily, urging him on with panting breath until her body tightened with pleasure that left her chest and cheeks flushed a rosy red, and Barada climaxed again at the sight of it.

Exhausted, he lay down beside her, his erection undiminished, his cock now at least twice its original size. Julia wrapped her fingers around its length and stroked gently, but firmly and steadily, though she seemed on the edge of sleep, until he came again, thick white cum splashing out over his hairy chest and belly.

With her hand still wrapped about his hard length, they slept.

*

Barada woke with the setting sun, his cock erect and aching. He brushed fingers across his chest and belly, feeling his cum still wet in places, dry in others, yet everywhere his hair felt longer and thicker than he remembered. His beard, too, had grown, and his blond mane was thick and tangled.

Beside him, Julia slept, her rich aroma of sweat and sex making him dizzy. He rolled her onto her back and eased her legs apart, revealing a pussy that glistened wetly. He buried his nose in that incredible source of raw, fragrant pleasure. Like a thirsty dog he licked the delicate folds and cleaned the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She woke beneath him, confused but intensely aroused, and as his tongue penetrated ever deeper, she thrust against his mouth until, with a loud, surprised wail, she climaxed for the second time in her life, and rewarded Barada with a fresh flood of juice to quench his unusual thirst.

Barada's legs hurt and his feet were numb, but all he cared about was burying himself once again within those sweet-smelling folds.

His cock had not grown while he slept, but he didn't care. What he had was quite enough. Lifting Julia's ankles about his neck, he thrust as deep as he could and settled into a steady, deep thrusting. His first orgasm came swiftly, but he continued to a second and a third, while Julia seemed almost to sleep, twitching occasionally with discomfort.

Barada eased out of her at last, letting her sleep properly, though he would gladly have continued. He stared proudly at the vigorous length that now jutted from his crotch. It would still count as one of the smallest in the clan, but it was no longer something to be laughed at. It was so good to be able to wrap his hand about it and not see it disappear completely.

For the first time in his life, he took pleasure in giving himself pleasure, working his cock with his hand as he knelt between the wide-spread legs of the sleeping Julia, until with a moan he erupted, his cum jetting out in great arcs to fall across her breasts and belly.

Finally the fog of lust lessened, enough for him to become aware of a more primitive hunger, a more necessary thirst. On legs that felt awkward and misshapen, so that he had to walk on tiptoes to avoid sharp pains in his calves, he stumbled through to the larder where he gorged on bread and cheese, washed down with a tankard of ale, all the while wishing to taste again the richness of Julia's pussy, so wet with his own seeping cum as well as her excitement.

After so many years of frustration, this endless lust was a joy, but the unrelenting demand of it was wearisome. For the first time since sliding the ring into place, Barada determined to remove it. Using oil to lubricate its passage, he grasped hold of the ring and tugged hard, trying desperately to twist it or shift it even slightly, but without effect. Slowly his efforts became strokes of pleasure until he was once again frantically working his increasingly thick and wondrously long member, until his seed spilled like fresh cream across the floor.

With a cry of rage, he grabbed his cloak and lurched out into the night, making straight for the traveller's cart. Perhaps hearing Barada's approach, the old man slipped out from the domed cover. The smell of sex - the smell of Sandra - drifted from the dark opening, making Barada dizzy with lust.

Barada grabbed the traveller by the front of his gown, and pulled him close. "Take it off me," he hissed. "You have to take it off me!"

The old man looked around furtively. "You'd better show me," he said.

Barada released him, and reluctantly parted his cloak. When the old man knelt to examine the enlarged and vigorously pulsing cock, Barada fought against a sudden urge to grab the man's head and force his way between the mumbling lips.

The traveller pulled away with a sigh. "Now I understand. This is a Satyr Ring, and can only be removed by severing the penis."

Barada snarled. "Never!"

"Then you must endure the hunger. The more you use your cock, the larger it will grow, until all will flee from you in terror. Your hair will grow wild, and your feet will deform into hooves like a goat's."

Again Brada grabbed the traveller, holding him close with two hands. He had a sudden vision of the old man bent over with Barada's cock ramming into his ass. "There must be some way to end this curse," he said, his voice cold and sharp as ice.

The traveller nodded slowly. "There may be one. I have a map - a very precious map - to a sacred fountain known to very few. The waters of the fountain have a miraculous healing nature."

"Give it to me!"

"It is more valuable than my life."

"I will gladly take your life - and the map too."

"Peace, Barada! I will give it in exchange for the fair Julia and a barrel of ale."

The thought of giving away Julia, whom he had enjoyed so much and wished to again, and again, was difficult to accept. "But I need her!" he whined.

"Today there would be pleasure for both of you, perhaps, but soon you would be too much for her, and your transformation to a wild creature would make you monstrous in all eyes. Save her. Save yourself. Take the map and seek the Fountain of the Goddess."

Barada bowed his head in defeat. "Very well."

*

Barada returned to his dwelling to fetch the ale and his slave, but the temptation to crawl between her legs and taste again the fluids of pleasure in and about her beautiful pussy was too great. Julia whimpered in her sleep as he licked her clean inside and out, and such was his hunger for more that he licked and kissed her belly and breasts clean of his cum. Had she woken up at all, he would have done more with her, but instead he pulled away, remembering the traveller's warning, and prepared and packed for a long, lonely journey.

Waking her at last, he took her to the traveller. Julia had despised and hated him for years, yet now she seemed bewildered and upset to be sold so abruptly and for such a small thing as a faded piece of parchment. However, her joy at being reunited with Sandra washed away her scowl. The dizzying stench of sex was stronger than before. Clearly the old man had prowess and stamina that belied his withered appearance.

It was a cloudless night, cold but bright from moon and stars, and Barada set off at once. The region of the map was far to the south and the journey would likely take weeks.

In fact, it took months, and right from the beginning the chafing of trousers against his erect cock was a torment, so much so that Barada preferred to walk without. He found encounters with other people to be difficult, his unslated lust making him feverish with desire. Villages and towns were rich with cruel temptations. Instead, he forged paths across hills and through forests that ran parallel to the roads he followed. His skill as a hunter served him well, and he dined on rabbits and birds, and sometimes even wild boar and deer.

Wherever he went, his erection pointed the way, and its demand for attention could not be altogether denied. He found sleep impossible without first relieving some of that intolerable pressure. As a result, each day his cock was marginally longer, and his hair thicker and wilder, his lower legs more twisted. Within days, the discomfort of shoes was too great, forcing him to walk barefoot and with an unnatural gait. And yet, as his soles hardened and his bones set firmly in their crooked position, his walking became swift and sure, and whisper-quiet when he wished.

Soon the only clothing he wore was his great cloak. Warm days and cold nights did not trouble him much. His night vision sharpened, and his sense of smell too, so that he was often aware of people at great distances, depending on the wind.

Despite his care to avoid people, and his keen senses, there were incidents. Seeking shelter in a barn one stormy night, Barada surprised a young farmer who was tending to the livestock. The man stared at Barada with terror, then grabbed a hoe, yelled fiercely, and attacked.

Barada swept the makeshift weapon away and wrestled the man to the ground. The farmer was trapped face-down under Barada, and both men were suddenly aware of the thick, hard cock pressing into the tender cheeks below. As before, with the traveller, Barada was faced with an inexplicable hunger to fuck a man's ass, and this one was right there, ready for him to take. Caught between a desire to run into the dark night and flee this awful, baffling temptation, and the aching need to fuck someone, anyone, even a man, Barada stayed still.

The farmer whimpered like a frightened rabbit, wriggling ineffectually in a way that only excited them both. To both their surprise, the farmer's panic was soon lost in a building arousal, until both men were utterly still, both wanting, both afraid.

And how exactly was it to be done? Some of Barada's fellow warriors laughed about the pleasure of the ass on their rampages. "How better to celebrate victory than by taking a man's wife? Or, if he doesn't have one, his ass! All you need is -"

Barada knew what he needed. Kneeling, he rummaged in his pack and retrieved the pot of lard, smearing his cock liberally. He pulled the farmer to his knees too, and the trousers down about them, revealing the target he had never aimed for before. The farmer trembled as Barada spread the last of the lard, but did not resist, did not try to escape. His cock hung hard and heavy beneath him - though Barada had little interest in that.

Now that he had yielded to temptation, he was impatient to breach the entrance before him. Pressing the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscle, he grabbed the farmer by the hips and pulled him back even as he thrust forward. Barada roared with determination. The farmer cried out in pain. But after what seemed like an age, he penetrated the tight hole.

Barada rested for a minute, enjoying the fierce constriction while he caught his breath. The farmer panted and cried and tried feebly to escape, perhaps, shouting words in a language Barada was unfamiliar with. But he calmed eventually and seemed to welcome Barada's suddenly renewed assault.

Deeper and deeper he worked his cock, pulling back a little before each thrust, until the farmer's ass had swallowed him completely. Barada marvelled at the pleasure of it, and knew he would never hesitate again. The only thing that mattered was the exquisite, intimate sensation of being buried to the hilt in welcoming flesh.

The farmer's ass was certainly welcoming. The man was thrusting back against him as if eager to be fucked. Barada gave him what he wanted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming in hard. The man's cry of pleasure was loud, but the storm outside was louder still. No one would hear.

Quickly he found his rhythm, pounding his thick cock hard and deep, the farmer shouting in his strange language. The man's ass was deliciously tight, tighter than anything Barada had ever experienced. It was too much for him. He plunged as deep as he could, and moaned with satisfaction as his cum filled those forbidden depths.

But of course he was far from done. The storm lasted for hours, and the farmer was given no respite. His ass was used relentlessly until thick white cum dripped steadily out and down about his balls. More cum dripped from the exhausted farmer's still-swollen cock.

Barada was well satisfied. He was used to victory on the battlefield, and the sight of another man's ass full of his cum appealed greatly to him. More than one man's ass was left dripping with Barada's cum on his long journey south.

But women were infinitely preferable, for the beauty of their faces, the beauty of their bodies, the beauty of their pussies, and one woman in particular was so beautiful he almost abandoned his mission. She was a goatherd that he encountered a few days after his storming of the farmer's ass. The wind was behind him as he descended a grassy hill and came face-to-face with her amidst a herd of thirty or forty goats.

Barada went to her. The idea that he might not go to her never entered his head. She watched him as if the sight of a half-clad wanderer in the hills, striding towards her like a wild, rampant god, was something wonderful and not something terrifying. Too late it occurred to her to run, and her resistance when he caught her was half-hearted. The smell of her arousal washed away any second thoughts he might have had.

He tore her dress off, finding her naked underneath, and bent to take a nipple between his lips, sucking hard as if in search of her milk, though there was none. Her fingers caressed his length, and she pulled him down with her onto the long grass, her legs spread wide in eager welcome. He accepted the offer swiftly, positioning for entry at her sweet pussy that would soon be a feast for him.

Not a word was spoken between the lovers. They conversed loud but wordlessly, the hills echoing their cries of pleasure. Long he used her, and she used him, until the afternoon sun set and darkness shrouded them. She lay exhausted in the chill air, sighing with pleasure as his tongue swept lovingly through her intimate folds.

"Stay with me," she begged when he stood.

He wanted to. Her wild beauty and her passion for him was so seductive. "What's your name, pretty girl?"

"Mia," she whispered, holding her hands out to him.

With an anguished cry, he grabbed up his cloak and bag and strode away into the dark.

There were other encounters during the long journey, but none so sweet. At long last, Barada came to the region of the map, and followed its path out into a vast desert of shifting sands broken here and there by islands of barren rock. The heat of the sun was like an anvil, the nights fiercely cold. Though he drank sparingly his supply of water was not great. Often in the heat of day or the dead of night, he lost his way amongst the dunes.

On he laboured, determined to reach the end. His lower legs were now entirely twisted, his feet deformed into hooves that struggled against the sand. The hair on his legs was a dense fur, and everywhere else it had grown long and unruly. His cock, that had once been smaller than his little finger, was now too thick for his hand to encircle, so long that it could be held and stroked easily with two hands. As the traveller had warned, his cock had grown to a terrifying size, and soon there would be no one willing to endure it.

Drinking the last of his water, Barada pushed on, knowing that without a cure he was doomed anyway - and besides, the map promised the Fountain of the Goddess was near. Onwards he marched through blinding sunlight that tricked his mind with illusions and terrors. Onwards he marched and went in a grand circle, crossing his own footprints. He screamed at the sky and the gods and pressed on, climbing, falling, falling, falling,...

*

It was dark when Barada woke, his lips cracked and his throat parched, his body aching. He would have lain there to die, were it not for the faint tinkling sound of water falling on water, the faint brush of moisture against his skin.

He forced himself to his feet and followed the sound to a low, rocky summit and a white marble temple. Within, lit by candles, a fountain expressed joyful life about a central statue in the shape of a goddess, beautiful and voluptuous, naked and crafted in loving detail.

Beyond thoughts of sex, beyond thoughts of his long and arduous mission, was a pure, simple thirst for water. For life. He rushed to the water's edge and filled his cupped hands with the cool, clear, heavenly liquid.

"Stop!" The voice was as clear and heavenly as the water in his hands. He hesitated at the point of drinking, his lips a hair's breadth from the surface. "Only women may drink from the Fountain of the Goddess," the voice warned.

He lowered his hands in confusion, and perhaps out of respect, but raised them again and drank, knowing he was doomed whatever he did. A euphoria swept through him so intense that he collapsed to the floor. He lay on his back, his head spinning. His last conscious awareness was of his mighty cock convulsing, spurting cum endlessly in an orgasm that intensified with each pulse of pleasure.