The Dryad's Potion

Author's Note: This takes place in the same universe as my story 'The Dryad's Lair', following the misadventures of another young satyr woman.

Phoebe woke slowly to the sound of her own confused moans. She was on her knees? That was a strange position to sleep in...

The satyr girl blinked her eyes open blearily and peered around. Was she in a cage? Her head was so foggy. She must have drunk far too much wine...what had she been doing? Hadn't she been out at a city tavern with her friends? And then she had gone off with a human man because she'd been getting horny for a bit of cock.

She moaned again as her pussy immediately twitched at the thought. Her body was heated and needy like she'd been recently teased, her cunny swollen and tingling, begging for a hard fuck or at least a good rub. Phoebe reached down between her legs to touch herself.

Or she tried to. The bindings on her wrists stopped her.

Phoebe scrunched her eyes closed and then opened them again, trying to clear the clouds in her vision as well as in her mind. Slowly, full awareness of her position began to seep in through the haze of confusion and lust.

She was in a cage--a small one, not tall enough for her to stand in, the sort that might be used to display a live pig at the market--and the cage was inside of a dim room, maybe a shed. Her wrists were bound in front of her, and the rope that bound them was tied in turn to one of the bars that made the top of the cage. Between the size of the cage and the restraint of the rope, she was forced to kneel, unable to fully lay down or to stand, unable to lower her wrists from around the height of her chest.

She was also entirely nude, which wasn't so unusual for a satyr, but she'd definitely been wearing clothing last she remembered.

Phoebe squirmed and tugged against the rope again, and then groaned loudly as the movement rubbed her thighs together around her dripping pussy. Satyr women were well-known for their sexual appetites, taking sexual partners as they wished and with great frequency, and Phoebe was no exception, but she'd never felt the need for a cock so strongly. Her fluffy tail curled up, instinctively displaying her needy sex to try and entice a satyr man to come fill her, but there was nobody around to see.

"Ohh," Phoebe whimpered, squirming again. This wasn't normal, but she couldn't think past the pounding lust to try and untangle what was happening to her. She needed to be fucked so badly. She couldn't even touch herself. "Ohh, oh no..."

She spread her knees wider, trying to lower her hips enough to rub her throbbing pussy against the floor of the cage, and only managed to just lightly brush her plump labia against the wood of one of the bars. Even that light contact sent sparks of pleasure dancing up into her desperate cunny. "Oh! Oh!"

Phoebe rocked her hips, tickling and torturing herself with the sensation, rubbing her over-sensitive nipples against the soft fur of her bound arms. Her eyes rolled back at the torturous pleasure. The light touches felt incredible, especially in her hyper-aroused and under-stimulated state, but they weren't bringing her any closer to satisfaction; they just stirred up the heat in her guts and made her pussy gape and clench, burning to be touched more firmly, to be penetrated.

The overwrought satyr girl was so lost in her desperate search for pleasure that, although she heard the heavy noises outside the door of the room, she didn't register them as footsteps until the door opened. She gasped and panted, looking up at the two humans in the doorway--a woman and a man, both dressed in rough, worn clothes and too well-armed to be normal working city folk. A spark of fear went through her, but she couldn't stop rocking her hips.

"Well, I guess it's working," the woman said, snorting.

"I should hope so. We payed that dryad enough." The man approached the cage in slow steps, his boots heavy on the floor, and Phoebe squirmed and stared up at him.

"Please," she whimpered. "What...what did you do to me?"

"Just slipped a little something in your drink." He walked around behind the cage, and Phoebe's tail immediately lifted again, her spine sparking with anticipation just at the fact that a man was behind her, even if he was a human man--equipped with a cock maybe half the size of the average satyr man--and her captor. "Heat potion, to bring out the animal in you. Look at that red little cunt, huh?"

"Ohh," Phoebe moaned, squirming. "Please..."

"No point in begging. You'll get all the cock you could want soon enough," the woman said, smirking, like she was making a joke. "Maybe more than."

Phoebe opened her mouth to ask what the woman meant by that, but she was interrupted by the sudden impact of the man's boot on her gaping pussy as he kicked her with bruising force, and then kept pushing, wedging the toe of his boot against her opening.

She shrieked and then squealed, her eyes crossing as the pain and pleasure overwhelmed her senses and yanked a violent half-orgasm out of her, an acute spike of pleasure ruined by the pain of the kick and the simultaneously too-wide and too-shallow stretch of the boot. Her confused body squirted a hot gush of fluid over his foot and she shook and twisted against her bonds, trying to hump back into the boot, desperate to satisfy the pounding need inside her.

He retracted his foot, laughing. "There you go. Nice and ripe, huh?"

"Please! Please! Oh, oh, oh, my pussy," she whimpered, squirming and rubbing her thighs together. "Oh, please, please let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!"

The two humans just laughed at her. The man pressed his boot between the cage bars again, against her asshole this time, and she groaned and rocked her hips urgently back against him, unable to resist chasing any stimulation that was offered to her. "Ohh, fuck," she moaned. "Please fuck me!"

"I thought you wanted us to let you go?" the woman mocked.

"Yes, yes, I mean--please--" Phoebe babbled. The woman stepped up to the front of the cage and reached through the bars to pinch one of Phoebe's nipples. The satyr squealed, her spine curling and her tail flagging as her eyes rolled back, hips rocking desperately back into the pressure of the boot against her asshole, knees knocking painfully against the floor of the cage as she flailed. "Oh! Oh, oh, please fuck me, please, please!"

The woman laughed and let her go again. "Yeah, that stuff was worth the money."

"She's a satyr. It doesn't take much to turn them cock-hungry," the man said, withdrawing his boot as well. Phoebe groaned and slumped in her bonds, wiggling her hips from side to side as she tried to settle down close enough to the floor to rub her pussy against it again. "Do we have a good crowd coming for tonight?"

"Yeah. Already have some bets coming in," the woman said. The man walked around the cage to join her, and they turned to leave, talking as if Phoebe wasn't even there.

"Wait!" Phoebe wailed as they reached the door. The woman paused and looked back at her, not looking particularly sympathetic to the sight of the squirming, dripping captive. "Please, at least--just untie my hands?"

"Oh, you want your hands free?" the woman asked, her voice going mockingly sweet. "Why's that? So that you can rub your slutty little pussy?"

"Yes," Phoebe whimpered, too needy to be stopped by her shame. "Please, please, the cage is locked, I can't get out! Just let me touch myself!"

The woman walked back to the cage and bent over, putting her hands on her knees, so that she was face-to-face with the teary-eyed satyr girl. "Aww. Do you feel really needy, sweetheart? Even after my nice friend just made you squirt all over his boot?"

"It wasn't enough," Phoebe whimpered. "It wasn't...I just...please..." she trailed off in a moan when the woman reached through the bars again and began gently massaging one of her nipples, fingers flicking expertly back and forth over it in a pattern that sent hot ripples of pleasure straight down to the satyr's clenching, wet pussy. "Ohhh...oh please..."

The woman ended the massage with another hard pinch, making Phoebe squeal. "No," she said, and then laughed. "Besides, you'll just hurt yourself. That potion puts you into heat like an animal, you stupid slut. That means you'll only feel properly satisfied with a fat cock up inside you. You'll rub yourself raw with your hand before you get a good orgasm out of it."

"No, no," Phoebe whimpered in denial, even though she could feel the overwhelming need to be fucked and bred in her quaking cunny. Surely her hand would give her at least some comfort. "You can't leave me tied up like this, please!"

"Just sit tight there for us, sweetheart, and get nice and wet," the woman said, standing and reaching through the bars again to pat Phoebe on the head like a dog. Then she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

"No!" Phoebe wailed, and then struggled wildly against her bonds for several seconds, until she finally was forced to stop because she was rubbing her skin raw on the rough rope. She collapsed into a slump again, sobbing, until her body once again forced her to start rocking her hips, dragging her swollen labia against the bars on the bottom of the cage to light up sparks of teasing pleasure in her desperate body.

***

Hours later, Phoebe had fallen into a daze. She drifted in and out of consciousness. She dreamed of fucking, of massive cocks ramming her open, and she cried when she woke again to her tormented reality. Her hips were sore and her body sweaty from the non-stop rocking, driven relentlessly by the burning between her legs to seek whatever stimulation she could.

Sometimes she would stop and squeeze her thighs together with all of her strength, groaning at the pressure deep in her body. It almost felt like what she needed, but she couldn't stay like that for very long since it made her knees press painfully against the bars on the floor of the cage.

This was what Phoebe was doing when the door opened again and a different woman walked in. Phoebe gasped as her knees fell apart again, her hips thrusting forward as if following an instinctive need to display her dripping slit. "Please, please help me," she begged.

The woman just gave her an irritated look, and then lifted a bucket and up-ended it over the top of the cage. Phoebe shrieked in surprise as ice-cold water splashed over her, sluicing away the sweat that had been collecting on her skin and the grime in her fur. The sound of the water made her abruptly realize how thirsty she was, and she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, spluttering as she drank what she could. By the time the bucket was empty, she was coughing and shivering.

"Please," she whimpered weakly. "I didn't do anything wrong, you can't keep me here!"

The woman rolled her eyes and turned, leaving the room without a word. The door closed behind her, leaving Phoebe alone again.

The rude shock of the cold water distracted her body for only a little while before the need crept back in again, heat filling up her pelvis like wine filling a cup, even more acute for her having re-hydrated herself.

"No, please," Phoebe whimpered, pleading with herself now, like she could control the affliction they'd placed on her if she could just reason with her body. Her pussy clenched in response, and she squeezed her hands into fists, desperate with the thought of how good it would feel to just reach down and shove her fingers into herself, to grind the heel of her hand into her erect clit.

She tried to put her thoughts to something else. She needed to rest. She needed to keep her mind clear. She needed to escape, and then...then she'd be able to touch herself as much as she wanted to. She could go home and get fucked by every satyr in her town.

"Ohh," she groaned, and squeezed her thighs together again.

***

The woman with the bucket came twice more. Phoebe struggled to track the hours between her visits, lost in a haze of fear and burning need, but she thought only a day or so must have passed when the door opened and two familiar humans entered again: the man and the woman from before.

Phoebe was limp and exhausted by that point, hanging loose against the bonds of her wrists so that her breasts pressed out between the bars of the cage. The woman laughed and immediately walked over to pinch and tug at one of her nipples. Phoebe cried out as the sudden flash of pleasure to her deprived, aching body made her writhe.

"Yeah, she's ready," the woman said.

"Come on," said the man, and he unlocked the cage. There was no door; instead, the entire top of the cage lifted off. He pulled it up, pulling Phoebe up with it since her wrists were still bound to the bars. She struggled to get her hooves under her, her muscles weak from exhaustion after hours of humping and squirming.

"Come on," the woman said, grabbing Phoebe by the arm to steady her and knocking down the front of the cage so she could step out. They untied the rope from the cage, but not from around her wrists. Phoebe's legs trembled under her weight and she sniffled.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Don't worry, you'll love it," the man assured her, reaching back to give a sharp tug on her lamb-tail. Phoebe squeaked and lurched forward, stumbling as she tried to spread her legs, her body reacting instinctively to the way a satyr man might pull her tail up to fuck her. The woman caught her and put her back on her feet again, laughing. Phoebe tried to reach down between her legs, but the man pulled on the rope, keeping her hands in front of her.

"Please, please," Phoebe whimpered, feeling the slick fluids of her own arousal dampen the fur on the inside of her thighs. "I can't take this any more, I need to come!"

"You will soon enough," the woman assured her. "Come on."

The man pulled her forward by the rope around her wrists, and the woman walked next to her, pushing her with a strong hand between her shoulder-blades. Phoebe stumbled along helplessly, her usual goat-like sure-footedness abandoning her, her hooves numb from hours of kneeling and her thighs shaking with the desire to rub her burning pussy.

It turned out that the room she had been in was more like a closet than a shed. They led her through a maze of rooms, some wooden but most with stone walls; there were no windows, but light filtered down from high overhead through gaps in wooden ceiling slats. If she looked up between the slats, she could see the underside of a structure, something held up with wood struts.

"Where are we?" she asked. Neither of the humans answered her, but she got her answer soon enough. After turning a few more corners, they stepped out onto the dirt and into the center of what was clearly a fighting ring.

Thick wooden walls bordered the ring, with wooden stadium seats rising up above the walls to look down on the action. The structure where her cage had been kept had been underneath the seats. Many of the benches were already filled with onlooking humans; some of them whooped and whistled as Phoebe was dragged to the center, and a few threw things down, pelting the ground around her with peanut shells and fruit pits. Phoebe squeaked and flinched, and the man yanked on the rope to hurry her along.

Once she was in the center of the ring, it was harder for the humans to toss far enough to reach her, but that didn't make her any happier, because she could see their destination: a wooden structure like a stocks, with holes for her arms and her head as well as manacles at the base that were doubtless meant for her ankles.

"No!" she cried out, starting to struggle again, but the two humans were stronger than her even on a good day, and she was worn out from hours of tortured writhing in the cage. They easily pulled her forward, the man holding her head down while the woman untied her wrists and placed her hands in their respective holes so that they could close the top of the stocks over her, locking her in place. Then the woman knelt down and yanked one of Phoebe's ankles into place, strapping the manacle just above her hoof.

Phoebe sobbed and squirmed, lifting her other hoof to try and keep it from being grabbed, then groaned as the motion ground her thigh against her aching pussy. The woman snorted and yanked her thighs apart again.

"Just cooperate now and you'll get what you want."

"Please, what are you doing? What's going to happen to me?" Phoebe begged. She continued to squirm to evade the woman's grip, though she didn't dare kick out with her hoof, well aware that she was too restrained to fight back if they decided to hurt her.

"What do you think? You satyr girls really are stupid sluts, huh," the woman said, and then grunted in frustration as Phoebe squirmed out of her grip again. "Stop that. Wait, I know." Then she reached up between Phoebe's legs and pressed two fingers firmly right against Phoebe's clit.

Phoebe cried out and stamped her hoof down on the ground to brace herself, humping hard into the delicious pressure of the woman's hand. The woman used her free hand to maneuver Phoebe's hoof into place and lock the other manacle around it; Phoebe couldn't bring herself to care, too focused on the hot pleasure racing through her body as she ground her under-stimulated clit into the sensation. "Oh! Oh, oh, oh fuck, yes, yes!"

"Yeah? You like that?" the woman laughed breathlessly once she'd secured Phoebe into place. She started rubbing, massaging the aching little button with both fingers, and Phoebe wailed and shook.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, oh, oh--" Phoebe thrashed and yanked against the manacles, trying to stamp her hooves as the tension in her body wound up tighter and tighter. She was so, so ready to come, her whole body on edge after a full day of torturous throbbing and teasing.

But she felt it right as she hit the edge: that need, clawing deep inside her cunt. She didn't want her clit rubbed. She needed to be fucked, needed a cock buried deep in her.

"Please! Please! Inside my pussy, please, please!" Phoebe began to babble desperately. The woman just laughed and kept rubbing away at her clit, and Phoebe gasped and then groaned as the stimulation built, wobbled, and then tipped her over the edge into a weak, unsatisfying orgasm, her pussy rippling with spiky waves of pleasure that only served to remind her of how empty it was. "No, no, no, oh...please put, put your fingers in me--"

"I'm all done here," the woman said, slipping her hand out from between Phoebe's thighs, and Phoebe started to sob and twist against her restraints. The tiny orgasm, barely stronger than a ruin, had done nothing to take the edge off of her need.

"No, no, please! Oh, what did you do to me? What's wrong with my clit?"

"I told you already," the woman said, then shook her head and slapped Phoebe on her butt, making her tail flip up and her hips rock. "Oh, never mind. You're not a great listener, are you?"

"I want to come," Phoebe sobbed. "Please! Please fuck me!"

"You'll get fucked, don't worry about that," the woman assured her, and then she walked away.

Phoebe sniffled. The stocks held her bent forward, the manacles forcing her legs to brace far apart, leaving her exposed to the leering humans in the stadium seats. She shuddered and tried not to think about how the humans behind her could doubtless see how her cunny was gaping and twitching, dripping down her thighs, desperately empty. The thought was embarrassing, but it also didn't do anything to cool her heated blood.

The woman disappeared back through the door they'd entered from, but the man was still standing some feet away. He raised his hands for attention, and the crowd quieted just a bit.

"Honored citizens! Thank you all for coming to our show tonight. Behind me, you see our Beauty," he called, gesturing back towards Phoebe, eliciting whistles and excited cries from the crowd. "And tonight, we'll have two Beasts fighting for the right to claim her! This is your last chance to place bets on the winner!"