Author's Note:
Dear cherished Lit readers, this is a 56k word novella that will be released in installments. It is completed, so I am submitting all the chapters at once.
As the length would suggest, it is a complete story, which basically means there is going to be some build-up to the steamy parts. This is my writing debut in the Non-Human category so I am really interested in feedback from the regulars here.
I do hope you enjoy reading this tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
Dakota Lynn
A Satyr's Mate
by Dakota Lynn
CHAPTER ONE
Auction Day
The day of Grachhus, as it had come to be known, came far too quickly this quarter annum. Once regarded as a celebration of freedom, it had evolved into nothing more than a gross display of the corrupt underpinning that supported the city of Sibiu. It was the one day that all lifeforms were allowed to roam the streets so they may bid on the slaves that Grachhus offered. This quarter, I was to be auctioned with the rest.
It would be difficult for me to identify the exact event that led to my indenture to Grachhus. I wasn't born a slave to him. No one was, in fact. That would violate common law. It was, however, perfectly legal to gamble the freedom of your only daughter in a game of Tesserae, which is precisely what my father did. But while that was the circumstance, it was far from the beginning. Or the end.
It was no coincidence that I'd just seen my thirty-sixth season. Eighteen full planet cycles since parturition. My
Givea
. I was free to seek a partner and have babies, and all that went with that, whatever that was. I had some idea what that entailed, and there were rumors, but no direct experience with such things. Having been born in Sibiu, where such matters were taught to only the boys in their last month before maturation, I was to remain ignorant of this natural part of a Sibiu woman's life. Forever, maybe.
Keeping people ignorant was one very effective technique the directorate used to control the general masses. I didn't realize this growing up. That's the beauty of ignorance, it truly is bliss. Until you know the truth, of course. But I digress.
A warm bhakri was shoved into my palm by the corner bread maker near my father's domicile. I'd passed that shop a hundred times with a stomach half as full without notice. Every Sibiu citizen was aware of the auction docket, though, and so suddenly I was worthy of attention. And pity. And charity. While the community may not embrace diversity, they are sympathetic to those about to lose their freedom forever. For this one day, I was one of them. They would embrace me for the hour leading up to my sale, and then let me go forever in a river of insincere tears.
I studied the faces passing me on the street. Their eyes held genuine pity for my situation but that was most certainly because any one of them, or someone they truly cared about, might be next. It was impossible to get to any reasonable age of awareness and not know at least one person to walk the stage. And there were no fairy tale endings. No wealthy businessmen looking for suitable wives, no rich relatives coming to the rescue at the last moment. Grachhus made certain of that. It wouldn't be good for business.
Grachhus wanted to get paid. If there was a relative with money, he extorted their riches before the auction. The auction block was for last chances only. It was a gamble. Sometimes the gamble paid off, bringing the payday that Grachhus wanted, while other times it did not. And then there were the runners.
I can't pretend that it didn't cross my mind. It did. But it was suicide, plain and simple.
If I would've somehow managed to evade Grachhus' goons, and every citizen that owed him something, or felt they might better their standing with him by ratting me out, there were still other dangers outside our village. To the east, the thick forest guarded many creatures that would've hunted me down for dinner. While I was tall, standing a full six feet in height, and quite capable of outrunning the shorter legged forest carnivores, I was no match for the ogres. At eight, and sometimes twelve feet in height, they possessed uncanny speed in a chase and were not above ripping trees out by their roots so they could swipe your feet from beneath you as you ran. They were a despicable species in every sense. Fowl-smelling, lewd, and cruel. I'd only ever seen them on auction days as they sometimes emerged from their forest dwelling to bid on slaves. I was locked in a stare with one such creature when the warm bread touched my palm.
For reasons I couldn't fathom, he was following me through the streets. Ogres weren't typically interested in female slaves. Then again, I was anything but typical.
Even though I'd been born in Sibiu, to a Sibian mother, my father was not. He was a fourth generation Isle of Baltia native, and I inherited every physical characteristic from him. Standing a full two inches taller than the average Sibian man, and eight inches over the women, I tended to stand out in crowds. But that wasn't the only reason. I also lacked the darker skin tone of the native Sibiites as well as their bleached, wispy straight hair. Their features were designed to handle the unforgiving rays of the noon day sun on the valley while my fair skin and thick, dark wavy hair were not. It seriously limited my options for employment, not that any of that mattered now.
Skirting down an alleyway too narrow for ogres, I managed to ditch my new admirer. My minutes of freely roaming the streets of the city were rapidly dwindling and I wasn't about to spend them beneath the watchful eye of a twelve foot beast that smelled a lot like aged cheese.
I twisted my torso as I dashed down the alley, making sure that he wasn't able to follow me and just as I was righting myself again, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Standing directly before me and filling the entire opening of my escape route was a rather large being. Its height alone suggested that it wasn't Sibian, and it was too fit for an ogre.
Standing on two legs, it appeared to be humanoid. The sun behind it kept me from clearly making out facial features, but I could tell it had horns. A satyr?
It wasn't usual to see satyrs in the village, auction day or not. They had little use for Sibian slaves, in fact little use for Sibians, in general. They occupied the mountainous region to the west of the city, known as the Saia Heights by the locals. They were a self-sufficient species, but that was the extent of my knowledge about them. We were not taught anything about the satyr culture in school, except that we should never attempt to enter their domain. Those that did had not returned.
The distinct odor of cheese wafted over me, making me aware of the ogre waiting at the other end of the alleyway. He could no doubt see that I was trapped and would be waiting for my retreat in his direction. I didn't know what he wanted from me but I was also pretty sure it wasn't good, whatever it was. I decided to take my chances with the stranger.
"I'm ... excuse me."
The creature didn't move a muscle.
"Um, do you speak?"
The creature tilted his head to one side. "Of course I speak."
The deep timbre of its voice indicated that it was male. My cheeks suddenly heated in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to offend. I didn't know...I wasn't sure..."
"You have not met a satyr before?"
