GOLD: The Problem with Satyr

Written by Mr K

I wasn’t really sore. I don’t get sore, actually. My body doesn’t do that. I was, let’s say, weary. The whole day had been full of sticks and knives and flipping and sweat. Scorpio ... Karen today ... put Avalon and me through the paces of a new training program she was creating for a sensei friend of hers. She’s really a much better martial artist than I. Magic, super powers and all the rest aside, she’s a joy to watch on the match.

“Turn each disadvantage into an advantage. You have to shift your thinking so that you bring each part of your body into play as the situation changes,” she said.

But that was earlier. I was now showered, powdered, and dressed like a normal person for the first time in a long time. I was now out and about among people who couldn’t fly, do magic, or project energy for the first time in a long time.

“Sure, I’ll be there,” was all I needed to say, and bingo! my evening among the normals was set. High in the hills that surround our city, my old friend Ray was throwing a party. He was the guy who encouraged me to go to Norway to seek my roots as he had in Uganda. I never told him about the part where I learned magic and became a superheroine. Figured I’d leave that out.

I donned three inch heels and a leather skirt that just barely covered my bum. I dug up a skin-tight leopard-skin top. I curled my hair. Maybe, I was trying to look slutty. I don’t know. I felt like a goof. At any rate, I went to the party.

The party was all about beautiful people. Everyone was in something skimpy or sexy. Everyone had oceans of hair gel and suntan oil. They drank tall drinks and dropped names. Within a minute, I was ready to roll out of there. Compared to this, getting tossed around by Scorpio was a joy.

Then people started spotting me.

“Tracy!”

“Hey, it’s Trace!”

Now, I was trapped. I had to smile and be civil. Just a week before this little happening (that’s what Ray called his parties) I was the guest of Scylla and Charibdis, the sexy up-scale couple who were as dangerous as they come. They used something new on me - a blast of energy that they produced by linking hands and pointing at me. It struck me in the forehead and left me dazed and helpless on the floor. I was impressed by the way they trussed me up in Japanese knots and hung me from the ceiling, my legs spread wide.

It was easier to find ways out of that captivity.

Even as a kid, parties never sat well with me. I would get there, and then just vanish into the crowd, wishing I was somewhere else.

I still tried to make small talk at Jay’s, doing a bit of flirting and smiling quite a bit. There was a gorgeous North African man who drifted around behind me all night. He was a bit more subtle than the art teacher who tried to show me how brilliant he was by talking about obscure art movements for what seemed like an eternity. His whole dreary rant was delivered directly to my breasts, not my face. Typical man.

Then, there was the cute lesbian writer who insisted on getting drinks for me and looking very directly into my eyes. She was actually coming off as pretty sweet, until the gin she was drinking went to her head, and she started into a game of wandering hands.

I excused myself.

Things were just getting to the point of absolute living hell, when I noticed something odd. It wasn’t really an odd bunch of acts, just odd for the time and place. As I wandered around the house, room to room, and out to the patio, I noticed a lot of people doing the wandering hands thing. Kissing. Groping. Then I saw a professor I knew was humping someone against a wall. Just humping her right there in full view.

“Huh?” I said aloud. I hand touched my ass. I spun and saw my sapphic suitor, glassy eyed and pawing. Again, I excused myself.

“What the fuck...?”

I spent a moment trying to figure all of this out. It hadn’t been billed as an orgy. And how could everyone be doing it at the same time all over the house?

As I avoided another grope, something rang in my head. I turned a corner and saw ...

“The waiter?”

A gorgeous, muscular man, who’d been serving drinks and food earlier, was now sitting on the bar, eating grapes and drinking from a old vintage bottle of wine. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face and was humming a little tune. He looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

“What? Not having fun?”

“Who are you?” I asked. “How did you do this? Why?”

His face was swept with a type of anger and frustration that I’d only seen in children.

“You’re supposed to be having fun!”

He was in motion now, dropping his goodies and heading towards me. I stood in place ... like a big dummy.

“You’re tall and blond and it’s not working on you! My sex magic is only working on the normals. You’re Gold aren’t you!?! Mother said you might be around!”

“Mother?” I was confused for enough of a second to give him the upper hand. He raised his hand and shot a jet of gas into my face. I don’t know exactly from where it came, but it was enough to incapacitate me. In my heels and mini-skirt, in my leotard top and curly hair, I gasped, staggered back, and clawed at my face.

As he took control, it all became obvious. This was Satyr. This was one of the children of the supervillainess named Succubus. Just like Lilith, my foe Succubus had a litter of demon children. Their powers were not as advanced as hers, and they usually just make mischief like this impromptu orgy.

I was in a fog as Satyr reached up my skirt and gripped my crotch and inner-thigh with one hand. The other took hold of my throat. He lifted me up off the floor , and pressed me above his head. In the bar mirror I could see us for a brief moment - a young, thickly-muscled man lifting the long, athletic body of a blond in a perfect press above his head. I could see my breasts jolt violently. I could see his veins stand out. The muscles of my legs stood out. His face was red with a passionate anger.

Satyr carried me out to the patio that way.

He tossed me over the side, and into the chasm below.

Once, I watched Rage throw American Ninja from the Golden Gate bridge. Tangled in metal cords and pinned below twisted metal, my powers being quickly drained by The Lamprey, I could only watch as Rage, Vixen’s steroid creation, lifted the Asian woman and shot her like a missile out over the storming water.

Now I was a human missile. Too groggy to fly, I dropped to the rocks below. My body doesn’t give like a regular woman’s. It hurt like hell, but I was awake only a few minutes later.

I don’t wear a costume like most heroines. Once, I did, but my powers evolved. I access my magic by pouring the never-ending magic fluid given to me by the witches who trained me. I pour it over my skin, and I am Gold. My skin is covered with an impervious golden skin that is more like paint or a tattoo that clothing. It forms my mask and high-heels, as well.

I carry the small bottle with me at all times, and wasted no time changing once I woke up.
A few minutes after he tossed me, he was facing Gold.

In my costume, hovering over the patio, glowing, I watched his face fill with that rage again.

“You bitch!”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to make people do things they didn’t ask for?”

I encircled him in a ring of golden light. It was simple spell that amounted to an aikido hold. It wasn’t meant to hurt, just contain. He struggled, but was stuck. As I floated down, he continued to curse and rave.

“Shhhhh. Relax. I’m going to talk to you for a moment.”

Suddenly, his mood changed. He smiled that lecherous smile again.

“Talk to this, bitch.” He blinked, and I was now encircled by my own ring of light. My sculpted arms were pinned to my sides, my legs thrust together. Reflex snapped my head back. My eyes were wide.

“Didn’t know I could do that, did ya?”

I tried to talk, but could only gasp and chirp. I’d never been subjected to my own powers before. It was more painful than I had expected. Energy was undulating in and out of me, making me shake like a woman in an electric chair. I could hear people fucking. I could hear myself suffering.

“Mother likes you. She says you’re juicy and fuckable. I might like to try that. Think I’ll do it later. I’ll do you later tonight.”

He shot the gas in my face again, this time knocking me out cold.

When Tin Man gassed me out during our fight in New York City, he could have killed me. Like some villains do, he made use of my helplessness to send a message. When I awoke, I was buried up to my breasts in the hard, frozen soil of a junk yard. When The Pastor knocked me out with a dart, he left me tied to a hundred-foot cross in the middle of the desert. He hung a sign around my neck reading HARLOT.

And Satyr? He left me sprawled face-down among the fucking crowd, a dildo in my sex. There was semen all over my breasts, and a childishly scrawled note was stuffed in my mouth.

COME CATCH ME SO I CAN FUCK YOU, GOLD.

Aching and dizzy, I stood, pulled out the fake prick and took to flight. He left a very clear trail of pheromones for me to follow; I had to play this his way. Succubus was the always the same way - drawing me in and having her way with me. I have never defeated her. Never. Whether she did it with her fingers, her mouth, or a toy of some sort, she was always able to have her way with me. Satyr didn’t have her powers, but was able to overwhelm me in other ways. This was not what I expected this evening.

As I flew, it dawned on me that I’d heard of this guy. Satyr. He’d actually made the rounds. I remembered a conversation with Rosa Cruz that was all about this guy. When she wasn’t Rosa, she was Black Moon. She would toss away her skirt and blouse a la Superman and reveal that her black stockings were actually part of a black body stocking. Skin-tight. Jet black. Black leather high-heeled boots. Her thick, curly black hair would paint the air as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, a curvaceous silhouette against the city lights and the moon’s glow.

Over coffee, months before Satyr interrupted my party outing, Rachel described having her powers nullified.

“I went after him and walked right into a cloud of his pheromones,” she hissed, shaking her head.

I listened, a bit chilled.

“Tracy, it felt so good. He was the best lover I’ve every had. My clit was swollen right away. And, God, was I wet.”
She touched her fingers to her lips.

“He tea bagged me, Tracy. Stuffed his balls in my mouth. I sucked them, Tracy. I just ... sucked them.”
Black Moon has a wide, full, luscious mouth. I could imagine the always-red lips wrapped around a sweaty sack.

“He bitch slapped me. Put me on my knees, and ... oh, Trace, I’ve never had anything so good in my mouth.”

“He owns you, still,” I finally said.

“Yeah. Ripped open my costume. He ate me, he fucked me, came in me. His cum was like ... magic. And then...” she smiled in bad-girl way “He pierced my clit hood and gave me a ring.”

Dead silence.

“He did what?”

“I’m wearing a gold ring in my clit. I can’t get it out.”

She was never the same after that. I’d have to make sure he didn’t get the drop on me again. I wasn’t up for any jewelry.

I followed him. I came to rest on the balcony of an apartment. With a trail this easy to follow, it could only mean that he wanted me to find him and that he would be ready for me. Just as I’d expected, he was doing the same thing as at the party.
Three women. Maybe they were lovers, maybe they were just having a sleep-over, but now they were his puppets. Through the glass I could see him sitting and laughing as the women crawled over each other. In a second, he looked up and smiled, gesturing to me to come in. I knew it was a trap, but I had little choice. I crashed through the glass as he yelled to them.

“Take her!!!”

The women were like models - lanky and tall. Normally women who I’d brush off like fleas in a fight. He’d empowered them, and I was suddenly the one who was battered around. A wave of beautiful women drowned me. One grabbed my right leg and yanked up. I would have swung at her, but her friend already had my right arm. She leaned in and sank her teeth into my right breast. I twisted my face in pain as the last one grabbed me around the waist and drove her shoulder like a football player.

They were stronger.

I was on my back again.

The three naked beauties were all over me, driven by his sexual powers. Just like my friends back at the party, they were reduced to nothing but sex. If my magic is disrupted by an assault on my nervous system, as they were that night with the pheromones in the air, my golden gloss is nothing but golden skin. I can feel everything at times like that.

I felt one sucking and biting my right breast. She was a blond, like me. A willowy beauty with perfect teeth, she dug in deeply around my swollen nipple until I screamed. I forced against her, my golden-gloved fingers woven into her hair. My weakened muscles stained, but she was unmovable.

The Asian girl was busy eating me. She bit the meat of my cunt - labia, clit, whatever she could capture in her teeth - and dug her fingers into my thighs and buttocks. My long legs were thrashing. I fought to get her off, but it was no use. I cursed myself as I felt the warm, rippling currents of an orgasm building in me. I was in pain, and I was close to cumming.
The other woman grabbed my throat, squeezed, and looked back at her controller.

“Do you want to give it to her now?”

Satyr loomed over me. He was naked, glistening, and his cock stood out like an angry animal. He seemed to actually grow harder as he watched me struggle beneath those women. I knew that if he fucked me and gave me the ring, I would be as defeated as Black Moon. Those two elements, somehow, seemed to be a key to his control of you. He could control your mind anytime, but if he gave you the ring and a shot of his cum, you were marked.

“I want to give her this ring now. Yes.”

They continued biting and sucking. They held my legs apart. The Asian girl moved up, spread her legs, and lowered a slick, pink, drooling pussy down to my face. When I tried to breath, I all I could smell was sex. The juices actually poured over my face as I fought in vain to breathe.

He hummed a little tune as he reached down between my thighs. I couldn’t see him, but felt everything as Satyr pinched my clit, maneuvered it, and pierced me with what must have been a short, steel needle. I screamed up into her pulsing pussy for only a second, then darkness took me.

They must have enjoyed me for a few more hours. When I awoke, I was sprawled out among the women on the floor. We had all ended up unconscious. All but the man who had controlled us. Those sleeping women were not the enemy, it was the freak who was gone now who was the foe.

He was the one who left me with the swollen, painful gift between my thighs. I looked down, touched the ring and the swollen sex. A tiny, glistening ring smiled up at me. That bastard! He pierced my clit! No cum was pouring out of me, telling me that although he could have fucked me, didn’t. He was playing this out.

It was still dark. I was sore and beaten. He was gone, and the trail was still fresh. Again, slowly, I rose and continued to chase him.

I had to concentrate during my flight. My body was responding for me, but carried the history of that night. To be honest, I can be made sore. I can be beaten. I can be made angry. This man had done all of that.

I followed his trail over the shimmering lights of the city, my mind on my prey and the damn violated clit. A voice from about snapped me out of it.

“Gold!”

In midflight, I turned, looked, and snapped back sharply as a boot caught me in the chin. My long, golden body formed a curve in the air, and I crashed to a roof top below. I was sprawled face-down, and slowly raised my head to see red boots, muscular, red spandex legs, perfect, red, spandex figure ...

“Red Devil? What are you doing?”

My fellow heroine, a superhuman woman who could move at the speed of light, looked down at me. As her chestnut-brown hair blew in the wind, I could see that Satyr had gotten to her. She was a powerful crime fighter. but was a slave tonight.

“Satyr has a message for you, Gold,” she panted. I started to rise, and she kicked me in the throat. I ended up on my back. I cluthched at my windpipe as she mounted me.

Straddling my torso, she took hold of my breasts. She pushed them up and together, twisted them, bit them, dug with her long, red finger nails. She shoved her tongue in my mouth, and I yielded to the wave of red sex that broke over me.

She gyrated her hips against me.

“He says he likes big girls, like you. He says he says ...”

She kissed me again, still pressing me down with my breasts. I was dazed and sodden again.

“He says to be wet and ready. Because when you reach him, he’s going to have you.”

Her hands went from my big breasts to my hair. I offered nothing as she lifted my head, then slammed it down against the stone. I was a tall, lean, golden blonde, unconscious on the stone. It would be hours before I was a weakened woman on the trial again.

The truth is, my body does have limits.

The trail ended on the roof of an abandoned bath house. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the city, there he was. He was sitting on a gargoyle stroking his huge cock. Typical man.

“What took you?” he called.

“I ....”

He gave his cock a savage stroke and fired a stream of jism into my face. His cum was hot and so thick that it was like putty. It conformed to my face, clogging my nose and mouth. It gummed my eyes shut. I was suffocating. As I clawed at my captive face, I lost the ability to stay aloft. Again, confused and suffocating, I plummeted from the sky. My body shattered a skylight and I struck the marble of the bathhouse floor.

I was only out for a few seconds. As I came around, I discovered the gooey cum could be pulled from my face. It had loosened, and my powers were rallying in those brief moments that I was away from him. I would have to do something while I still had my wits. As I was pulling the gob from my skin, the young man came jumping down through the other skylight. There was that huge, angry cock.

“I’m going to fuck you now!” he screamed.

“You’re getting annoying, young man.”

He stood over me, raised a gray disk above his head and explained what it was with a scream.

“ERO GAS!”

“Oh, jeeze,” I groaned, as he slammed it against the floor beside my face. I was flooded in clouds of thick, white gas. This must have been some of his pheromone essence captured in a gas. I was instantly wet and my big nipples were instantly hard. My legs began to tremble and I desperately wanted him to fuck me. My superpowers were buckling below my lust. My anger was mounting.

“How do you like that? It’s time!” he screamed. He began to bite my ankle.

I still had my wits about me enough to play it up, but I had to act fast before the play became real. The time between the apartment and this place, the time spent passed out, and away from him, gave me some time to pull my powers together. Obviously, this villain’s powers were not a amazing as some others who have kept me overpowered even in their absence.

“Yes, it’s time, lover,” I moaned. I had the sleepy bedroom eyes and whispering voice. My hair was a sultry mess across my face. I was trying my best to rally the last of my powers. That brief moment was fading, but I had a plan.

“YES!”

“Yessss....”

“YE....”

I tossed a handful of his cum in his face. Instinct shut his eyes as he recoiled and stumbled back. Super speed allowed me to sweep his legs out and get on top of him.

“Now you’re really going to be fucked, little man.”

I hit him with full-power punches, my fists glowing with my magic energy. There was nothing for him to throw back at me; it was all just burning into him. Each strike hurt him worse than I’d expected was going to be necessary. That was good, because I was fading fast.

He screamed a lot, tried to get the cum off, tried flounder from under my blows, but finally passed out below the punches. I punched him again for good measure.

I rarely kill. I’ve killed. I don’t like it. Scorpio, Red Devil, and Lone Star - they can do it easily. Maybe my days as a high school counselor don’t allow for such easy taking of life for me. I don’t know. Anyway, I wasn’t about to Succubus’ little boy.

I left him there, battered and bleeding. He would remain out like a light for hours. We’d meet again later, and I kick his muscular little butt again.

As I was limping away, I looked over my shoulder. He was still turgid.

Typical man.