The Satyress

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A hoplite finds comfort in the arms of a satyress.
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I met her in the andron of Dolius.

I didn't go there expecting love. We met that night to celebrate the good fortune of Phaeacia. We live far from other men, as Phaeacia is on the very edge of the world. But not too far. Not far enough to escape the quarrels of men. We sailed seven days on our ships - which are fast as falcons - to stand in line with our kinsmen against warriors from the east. But that is another song. What matters is that I wore my father's armor and brought honor to us all when I faced the storm of spears. Now I sat with Dolius and Theognis, the wealthy sons of my village, who had stood with me to my left and to my right in the line of battle.

The room was painted in shades of orange. Night was fallen and the only light in the room came from the hot red coals. The smell of burning wood filled the air, along with the scent of roasted lamb. We had begun the evening by slitting an unblemished ewe in honor of mighty Poseidon, wrapped the meat in fat and poured libations on it as it turned on the spit. I cannot even hint at how it smelled. Even if you have eaten a thousand lambs roasted on a thousand fires, the fact that we had passed the test of manhood and lived to tell of it made it more savory and more welcome than any meal I have ever tasted.

All except one, of course.

We reclined on our couches. The rule in Phaeacia was that boys must sit on the floor, while couches are reserved for men. And now that we were fighters, Dolius was permitted to use his father's couch. We sipped wine from saucers. Each saucer was called a kylix, and it held doses of expensive, unadulterated wine from the kills outside Corfus. We talked. We joked. We told funny stories about things we had seen on campaign. And when we ran out of happy memories we sat in silence and stared at the ceiling.

"Did you know Lidio?" Dolius asked.

"The butcher's cousin?" I replied.

"Aye. The son of Ledes. The one who put a snake on his shield."

I laughed, and the story hadn't even started yet. "Yeah, I knew him. He was the joker that kept putting pitch inside people's helmets. He would just smear it around nose-piece and then you'd put it on and walk around wondering why it stank."

Theognis laughed with me. "What was him? Oh, Gods! He did that to the Strategos once. I thought he would murder someone."

"He was a funny guy," I said. "Whatever happened to him?"

Dolius sipped at his saucer. "He died."

We slowly exchanged looks, the three of us, glancing from one to the next. No one wanted to be the first to speak. Dolius must have realized it was stupid to even bring it up. We all knew the roll of the dead. And we were all happy not to be among them, even if we would not admit it. Even to ourselves. But it matters not. Everyone is a shade, in the end. We all drank until our saucers were finished, and then filled them again. The wine suddenly tasted bitter. Everything tasted bitter. Dolius called for his slave.

It was Melissa who snapped me out of my funk. She came to us bearing another vase of wine, decorated with satyrs and other Dionysian art. I might have mistaken her for a valley nymph. She was tiny, with arms as thin as reeds and tiny, sylphen hands. Her skin was the color of warm honey, even aside from the glow of the coals. Delicate hair hung in curling tresses around her face. She was a woman, her full chest told me that much, but I had never seen a woman so petite in every respect. I watched her as she poured wine for us, and when she bent over to fill my saucer I felt something stirring deep inside me. I wanted to reach out and touch her. But I could not. She was not mine to take, and in any event I had been taught to treat my slaves with kindness.

I sipped my drink but said nothing. The wine was rich. We watched her walk away, to wait outside the room. Theognis was the first to say what we all were thinking.

"She is a slave? Are you kidding me?"

Dolius shot him a grin. "Yes. My father bought her while we were away."

"For himself?"

"For the family." This was, admittedly, a point of some contention. There were many men on Phaeacia who would consider their slaves as property and use them accordingly. And I'll admit I had my doubts about why one would buy such a tiny woman if not for that exact purpose. But Dolius was a good man and his parents were good people. They knew better to mistreat their slaves. The servants were members of the household still, and like it or not, your fortunes were bound with theirs. A man who made enemies of his slaves would surely come to regret it.

"I should treat her with kindness," Dolius said. "With my luck, she'll turn out to be a Goddess come to Earth to tempt me. And if I'm cruel to her, she'll turn me into a snail or something."

And at that exact moment, Melissa returned. "Master," she interrupted. "Your visitor is here."

Dolius coughed on his wine. I'm certain he was blushing, although I couldn't tell in the dim light. He was embarrassed to be caught talking about her. It made for poor manners, and there was no telling how much she had heard. But Melissa did not mention it. I watched her beautiful face for the slightest hint of irritation... or infatuation. It could go either way, depending on whether or not she took it as flattery. But Melissa was as calm as a windless lake. Either she didn't hear, or she knew better than to let her feelings show.

"Good," Dolius said. "Good, let her in. I've asked someone special to join us. I think you'll like her."

This was a surprise. It wasn't unusual to hire women as entertainers for feasts and symposia. But our guest that night was very unusual, indeed. Melissa stepped aside, and the visitor entered. She was short, too, and wrapped in dark linens that suggested a very shapely figure. Her eyes flickered like jewels in the glowing light. Straight red hair fell down to her neck. She was every bit as beautiful as Melissa, but in a different way, with rounded cheeks and a heart-shaped face, and her eyelids lined with kohl. Where Melissa seemed sweet as honey, the visitor seemed dark and exotic. And what's more- she was a satyr.

We gasped. A pair of horns sprouted from her head. She walked perched on tiny hooves. A tiny tail perched above her rounded buttocks. In my whole life, I had never seen an actual, real-life satyr. I didn't even know they existed. The satyr walked across the room, sat opposite us, and undid her robe. A green overfold clung to her shoulders and let me see the sides of her ripe, round breasts. A slit up the edge of her dress showed off luscious thighs. Beneath the knee, her legs bent back on themselves and hid beneath red velvet fur.

"My friends," Dolius began. "I would like you to meet Acacia."

Theognis was stammering. "Y-y-you are a satyr?"

Acacia said nothing, at first. She just gave him a wry smile and a wink.

"Aye," Dolius continued. "As real as you or me. Acacia, these are my friends. Theognis, who is slow of mind and tongue. And Teucer," - he pointed at me - "who barely speaks at all."

"I speak when I have things worth saying," I insisted.

"Boys, please," Acacia said. "No need to fight. We've all come for a good time, haven't we?"

"Yes," Dolius replied. "Go on, show us what you've brought."

Acacia's instrument was a lyre. It was somewhat like a harp, but with the bows stretched into a U shape and the strings joined to a crosspiece at the top. Acacia plucked the string with slender fingers. Not as childlike as Melissa's, but longer and somehow more agile. The lyre sat on her lap, and she was sure to turn her side to us so we could see the shape of her ample chest.

"What should I sing?" the satyress asked.

"Sing us a song of Phaeacia!" Theognis suggested.

"Aye," Dolius agreed. "A song about Phaeacia and all her wonders."

"Phaeacia?" she said with mock condescension. "I've barely heard of that place. I don't think she has any songs at all... Except one." At this, she smiled and plucked a chord. "He lay there fast asleep, the long enduring Odysseus, overcome with his weariness; but Athena went to the land and city of the Phaeacians. These dwelt of old in spacious Hypereia, hard by the Cyclopes, those great and arrogant men who plundered them constantly and were mightier than they..."

This was an old story, the oldest any of us knew save for the Iliad itself. She sang the tale of clever Odysseus, who washed up on the shores of Phaeacia broken and alone. Finding himself in this land, Odysseus wandered until he found the Princess Nausicaa playing naked with her friends in the water. The Princess lead him then to her father, King Alcinous, from whom all we Phaeacian hoplites claimed our descent. And then Acacia began a song within a song; For it was in the court of Alcinous that the blind bard sang the song of the Trojan War. On hearing this Odysseus began to weep.

I thought it was funny. I had never stopped to ask why Odysseus wept on hearing the story of his own victory. And then I stopped to think of Lidio the trickster, who was now cold in the ground. And also Damian, Myles, and Eurumanos and a half-dozen other men I knew. Shades, all of them. A hot tear rolled down my cheek. At first I thought to cover my face, but I didn't. If a great hero like Odysseus could cry when hearing the story of his war, why should I be ashamed? I don't think Dolius and Theognis felt the same way. They drank unmixed wine to drown their sorrows, and when the wine was gone they called for Melissa and drank some more.

The story of Alcinous and Odysseus was not just about memories, or the war, or naked girls playing on the beach. It's also a story about attraction that goes unspoken. Princess Nausicaa looks at Odysseus and wonders if she can have a husband like him. And later, Alcinous and his queen offer Nausicaa's hand to him, though Odysseus declines. Every time the story turned towards the love that might have been, I caught Acacia glance at me. She grinned and plucked the strings just a little sharper than before.

The song took the better part of an hour. When it was done, Dolius and Theognis were drunk out of their minds. They reclined on their couches and could barely muster the effort necessary to sip yet more wine. I didn't drink. I would rather cry in front of Acacia and Melissa than let myself be swallowed by oblivion.

"You were in a battle?" Acacia asked. It hadn't even truly occurred to me that she was finished. "I can always tell. The men who have been in battle cry when I sing that song."

To her credit, she doesn't ask any of the stupid questions. It's always the idiot children who ask things like, 'How many people did you kill?' or 'Whose armor did you take?' No. Instead she just set the lyre on the floor, and knelt next to my couch. Slender fingers rested on my leg, and I stared into her deep, kohl-traced eyes.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's all okay."

I didn't know what to think about that. Not at first, anyway. It took me a long time, sitting there in the dark, with her hand on my leg, before I found the courage to speak. "I... I don't feel like I did anything special. I don't feel like I deserve to be here. I don't deserve any of this. You, the slaves, the wine... I don't deserve to be alive. There were better men than me who died."

Acacia didn't say anything. Not one word. We just sat there in the dark until I was ready to speak again.

"Did you know that Phaeacia can field a thousand hoplites? I mean, a thousand noblemen in full panoply. And that's before we even think about mustering the farmers or the nobles outside the city. It's a staggering number, truly. I was nobody. Nobody at all. They placed me in the third rank. And most of the first two ranks were the ones who died. I..." I paused again, grasping for the words. "I'm supposed to crave fame. I'm supposed to be like Achilles. And yet all I want is to forget."

At this she smiled, just a little. "It's all right. I've met so many warriors. And I can always tell. The ones who brag the most are the ones who have done the least."

"You do this often?"

Acacia shrugged. "Sing? Of course. Everyone wants to hire a genuine, by-the-Gods satyress. Half of them just want someone to listen, because their own women are sick of them. The other half think a satyress just wants to fuck. I've known a lot of satyrs and a lot of humans, and most days I can't even tell the difference."

She stopped speaking, and looked away, as if staring at something off in the distance. I almost glanced over my shoulder just to be sure, even though I knew we were inside the four walls of the andron. "But," the satyress said. "But I think that's where we have a lot in common."

I pondered this and, admittedly, came up short. "I'm not following you."

Acacia plucked the saucer from my hand and drank the last of my wine. She took her time finding another vase with which to fill it. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Um... Yes?"

"I know what you mean about not feeling special. Or deserving. However you look at it. I was the same way."

My eyes jumped up and down, from her straight red hair and darkened eyes to her rounded breasts and hourglass waist. Broad goat horns and soft red hair caught the light of the coals. A bare thigh peeked out at me.

"Somehow," I said, "I don't believe that."

Acacia shrugged again. "I wasn't born this way. I was human. And I was the plainest, most boring girl in the village. No suitors wanted me. No one paid me any mind at all. It broke my heart. I wanted to be someone special. Someone important. And one day I met Aphrodite. She made me into... This." At that, Acacia did a little spin and showed off her luscious body. "And now everyone pays attention!"

"And your point is that it's-"

"Okay," she said. Now she sat on the couch next to me. "It's all okay. Whoever you are. Whatever you want. It's always going to be okay. And what the rest of the world thinks doesn't matter."

I thought about this. Somehow, in the dim glowing light, my hand found hers. And at first I didn't even realize it. "I wish I knew you... Before. You're very sweet. You didn't just make that up, did you?"

"Does it matter?" Acacia asked. Then she glanced away. "Are these two asleep?"

"Those two idiots? Oh, yes."

She rose again, with a wine saucer in one hand and a jug in the other. I watched as she crept up on Theognis and prodded him with her little hoof. He stirred, and mumbled something, and his own saucer clattered to the floor. So much for that.

"Don't be hard on them," she said. "They're just as lost as any of us." Cupid-bow lips sipped more wine. Hungrily, now. A stream of crimson escaped the edges and dripped between her breasts. "But that's okay. Can I share with you another secret?"

"What's that?" I watched the dampness spread through her chiton, so that it clung to her perfect, round tits.

Acacia leaned in close to me. I could smell her skin. There is nothing in the world like the scent of a woman's flesh. It quickens the heart in a way nothing else can. She leaned so close that when she whispered, her lips touched my ear.

"You remember when I said, men think all we want to do is fuck? I never said they were wrong."

I seized her face immediately and kissed her. Her lips were sweet and bitter at the same time, tasting of wine and so very warm. I kissed her bottom lip, cradling her heart-shaped cheeks in my hands and pulling her closer. Acacia let me do as I pleased. I even fell backwards onto the couch and she followed me. We kissed again, and our tongues touched. I searched the inside of her mouth, closing my eyes and letting our tongues taste each other. I was dizzy. Overwhelmed. She brought the saucer to my lips and I drank deeply, then kissed her neck and groped at her breasts. One hand crept under her chiton and I stroked her nipple with my thumb. The other found its way to her bared thigh.

For a moment, I couldn't even believe she was real. Then she reached up, undid the drawstrings at her shoulders, and let the chiton fall away. Her breasts swollen, round spheres framed by orange light, punctuated by sweet nipples. She groped her own tit and held it up for me: A beautiful orb of perfect, sweat-glossed flesh.

"What do you want?" Acacia whispered. "Do you want to take me? Do you want to make me your woman?" The tiny little nub of her nipple peeked out between her fingers. She massaged her breast for a moment, and then lifted it to her mouth and sucked at her own nipple. "Do you want to taste me, right here?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, practically trembling.

"You can have it," Acacia said, practically gasping as she touched her own breast. She squeezed it for me, kneaded the flesh and pinched her own nipple. I salivated at the thought. "Oh," she moaned, clenching her tit. "All you have to do is take it. Go ahead. Take what you want."

I pulled her hand aside and took her breast into my mouth. Oh, Gods, how it was perfect. I kissed it. I sucked it. I ran my tongue over it. I tried to take as much of it into my mouth as I possibly could. There has never been a newborn babe who sucked a tit as long and as hard and with as much worship as I did that night. Acacia gasped and held me close to her. Tiny fingers clutched the back of my head. Nails dug into the back of my neck. I took her nipple between my lips and lashed it with my tongue.

"Don't forget the other one" she said. "She feels lonely."

I pulled the shirt off her shoulders. The only thing that could have pulled me away from that gorgeous, full breast was the chance to suck the other one. At first Acacia giggled. Then she gasped. And then she started to breath heavily as I tasted every inch of her breast and played with the nipple on my tongue. I couldn't get enough, and I might have been there all night if she hadn't stopped me.

"Do you want it?" she whispered. "Do you want more?"

She reclined on the couch, and I rested on my knees. When I fumbled the knot at her waist, she laughed. But only for a moment. The dress fell away. Her body was bare to me. Soft, naked, glowing in the light of the coals. Her pussy was already wet. It shimmered with her slick juices. I couldn't help but marvel at it, and traced the edges of her lips with my fingers. It was like a child exploring a ripe fruit before taking the first bite. I glanced up, and she smiled. Then my lips touched hers, and I tasted her cunt.

"Oh, yes," Acaia said. "Oh, yes." A hoof twitched involuntarily. "That's so good."

And it was. I seized the cheeks of her ass as though I were drinking from a bowl. My tongue tasted the folds of her flesh. I kissed it, and licked it, and sucked at it. My fingers probed the edges of her lips, pushing them back so I could find the tiny pearl of flesh she kept hidden. I made love to it with my tongue, and she gasped. At first, Acacia rested her knees over my shoulders. But the more I supped on her wet pussy, the more she relaxed. I could feel her breathing hard. She started to tremble. Soon she was pulling her legs open as wide as she could. It was intoxicating. Narcotic, even. You may recall I made some mention of the greatest, most welcome meal I ever tasted. This was it. I rubbed her clit with my tongue until I forgot to breathe. Her hips were trembling

"No more," Acacia said. "No more."

"Aren't you close?" I asked.

"Yes. But I want you, now."

I had to agree. At this point, my cock was little throbbing. I could feel it in time with my heart. I climbed to her, and she wrapped her arms around my neck as I slid inside her body. She gasped. Her precious lips were just inches from my ear. Her pussy was so unbelievably warm. It was so soft, so yielding, and so very wet.

"Oh, Gods!" she said. "I didn't know it was so big. I- Ah!" She bit her lip as I started to fuck her. I was slow at first, letting myself slide all the way out until just my head was still buried in her. Then I pushed in slowly, letting myself feel her lips sliding up inch by inch. It didn't take long before I was sped up. Little by little, I grew faster and more excited until I was practically pounding it into her. The satyress gasped with every breath. She tried not to cry out.

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