The Pied Piper

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The Pied Piper Page 2

by Celeste Hall


  But the satyrs were not finished with her. They gave her no reprieve from their ravishing hands and intoxicating mouths.

  Pan knelt at her feet, the lord of the forest reduced to a supplicant at the alter of her naked beauty and Chloe cried out in wondrous shock as the heat of his mouth touched the damp folds of her pussy. Her hands trembled at his shoulders, blunt nails curled against hard muscles.

  Behind her, Faunus reached around to tease and pluck at her nipples. The combined assault upon her senses awakening a fresh need for release, every stroke of tongue and finger driving her higher and further than before, making her writhe and whimper in wordless desperation.

  They knew what she wanted, what she needed from them. She was shivering and arching into their hands and mouths as if they held the very key to her salvation. As if there were nothing else in the world but the three of them and the heat of desire that bound them together.

  Pan drove her to the very gates of heaven with his fingertips and tongue, and then he drew back, chuckling softly at her gasping protest. She wanted more of him, more of that wicked tongue and the clever working of his fingertips. But the piper had something much sweeter in mind, pulling Chloe into his arms and carrying her to a patch of soft moss beneath an ancient gray oak.

  As he laid her down and took his place beside her, Pan pressed soft kisses to her mouth and throat. She could feel the warmth of Faunus lying down behind her, and then he was kissing the soft curve of her cheek. Their cocks were hot and hard against her back and her belly, making her shiver with excitement.

  Pan slipped a finger into the wet heat of her pussy, rubbing against the underbelly of her clit, coaxing a fresh flood of honey to the surface. Behind her, Faunus dipped his fingers into the silken liquid of her desire and stroked it back to swirl over the sensitive pucker of her ass. Then she was gasping and shivering as he slid a finger inside that dusky channel, awakening a thousand new sensations and rocketing her back into a white hot need for orgasm

  The piper entered her first, her mouth falling open on a silent moan of exaltation. He moved achingly slow, his lips hot and hungry against hers. He let her body stretch to take him in, driving the thick weight of his cock deeper and deeper, until he was seated to the hilt within her. Then he withdrew slowly and thrust again, and then again, each time plunging to the hilt. Within seconds she was clinging to him, panting and arching to meet him. Yet again he denied her the orgasm she was seeking, making her whimper and claw at his hips in a plea for him to continue.

  “Not yet, little one,” he murmured wickedly, sliding his hands down to cup the luscious cheeks of her ass and spread them open.

  Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as she felt Faunus’s cock, slicked with her own juices, slowly pressing itself into her body from behind.

  Inch by wicked inch he filled her, until he was fully sheathed within the dark heat of that forbidden hole, and Chloe was nearly blinded by the sweet shock of erotic pleasure at having two cocks within her at once.

  “Let your body relax and welcome him in,” Pan guided, but she was already rocking her hips to set off a firestorm of sensations that had her squealing in surprise.

  The satyrs both held still as she squeezed and released, squeezed and released, wiggling against the voluptuously full sensation they created.

  After a moment she began rocking between them, mewling in delight as Pan took a firm hold of her hips and began to match her motion, his pelvis grinding against her already swollen clit.

  “She is full of surprises,” Faunus chuckled against her ear and then he began to move as well.

  It was nearly more than Chloe could bear. She gasped and moaned with every slow thrust of their bodies, moving together, filling her up so completely. She was both soaring and spiraling towards the brink of rapture, a leaf helplessly caught in the storm of their passion, blind to all but the pulsing beat of their carnal rhythm.

  From the tip of her toes to the wild pounding of her heart, she was aflame with a resonating, throbbing inferno of pleasure.

  There was a roiling wheel of molten need whirling faster and faster within the feverish depths of her womb, sparking heat and electricity that arced out through her body, even as it wound tighter and tighter, coiling for a thunderous release.

  The satyrs could feel her need building with every stroke and bared their teeth as they raced to meet her. Then she was shattering beneath them, crying out in ecstasy as she was splintered apart, again and again. She collapsed into their arms as the savage storm broke over her, consuming her body and singeing her very soul.

  The hot pulse and draw of her body around their straining cocks pulled the satyrs down into the fiery pit with her.

  Their harsh roars echoed in her ears even as their hot cum exploded out into her body, a torrential flood of sweet heat that filled her up and sent fresh waves of pleasure racing through her veins. Their hard bodies bucked and heaved against hers, locked in the chains of ecstasy.

  The last sensuous shivers were still tickling down her spine as Pan and Faunus eased her down onto the moss between them. They cradled her delicate figure between them, devoted guardians and lovers, the combined pounding of their hearts thrumming against her oversensitive flesh.

  From the protective shadows of the ancient trees that surrounded them, Chloe could still hear the moans and gasps of women being seduced. There were two and three satyrs for every daughter of Hamelin, they were sinfully outnumbered, but not a single female complained.

  The cool earth was their bed, the lacey canopy of forest moss was their curtain, and the erotic embrace of the satyrs kept them warm.

  The elders of Hamelin never saw their daughters again. But if you go into the woods on a clear night, you might still hear the faint seduction of pipe music whispering through the leaves.

  The End

  About the Author

  Celeste Hall lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, three daughters and a small “herd” of English bulldogs. When not writing, she can most often be found behind the lens of a camera, gardening with her children, or having some fine adventure in the great outdoors.

  To learn more about Celeste and her novels, please visit www.CelesteHall.com

 

 

 


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