Come enter the world of Mythical Nights where all of your fantasies can come true. . .
It's Lela Baldwin’s first shift as a museum night guard, and the most excitement she's expecting to have is a walk through the men's restroom. Long resigned to a life without sexual satisfaction, she is happy to spend her nights at the same museum where, as a teen, she first became aroused by a marble satyr figure from Ancient Greece. How could she not be curious about these mythological beast-men who are known for their sexual prowess and ravenous appetites for wine and women?
It’s too bad that they belong to ancient mythology--or at least that’s what she thinks until the moment she touches the marble satyr’s engorged member. With that simple touch, Lela finds herself embarking on a sexual adventure filled with spanking, bisexuality, and submission--much wilder than she could ever have imagined.
A Satyr's Slave is the first novella in the Mythical Nights series in which, thanks to the Greek god Dionysus, women travel across time and space to fulfill their desires of the flesh with the supernatural hard bodies of ancient mythology.
Reviews
Step aside shifters, here come the Satyrs; half human and half beast, the best of both worlds.
The book is a slow burner with an intense finish. I sure will be following the entire Mythical Nights series.
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A Satyr's Slave
The last two galleries before she reached the atrium were
the ones devoted to the Greco-Roman world and Prehistory. She found her heart
racing as she entered the Greco-Roman exhibit. The lights were dim, and as she
walked through the entrance, a motion sensor detected her movement and began an
audio summary about civilizations of antiquity. The mellow, deep voice of the
speaker, who she thought sounded a bit like Barry White, detailed the early
history of Greek and Roman civilizations, and how they came to influence the
rest of the world. She only half-listened as she neared the part of the exhibit
she had always loved the most: the Greco-Roman mythology display. And most
importantly: the satyr figurine that had played a big part of her secret sexual
desires.
And it was still in its honored place.
Lela held her breath. Between exhibits of pottery shards,
bowls, and bas reliefs, a single, small statue was displayed on top of an Ionic
Greek pedestal in the center of the room. It was illuminated by a spotlight, and
its white marble gleamed in the light like a holy artifact. Or an unholy one.
She instantly felt herself grow wet between her legs. She remembered the many nights she
had spent her in her bed, touching herself, rubbing the nub of her clit as she imagined
the man-beast grasping her and plunging his stiff cock into her-- filling her completely,
making her howl with pleasure.
Lela shook her head, trying to rid herself of this secret
desire. No normal woman fantasized about a half-man, half-beast did she? What
was it about the satyr that turned her on anyway?
She drew closer to the figurine. It was a mere twelve inches
high, a diminutive piece that contained such fine details that she was in awe
of its ancient creator. The maiden in the Satyr’s grasp was frozen in a
terrified pose as she tried to flee the creature that had captured her. Her
hair flowed behind her and a tiny wreath of white marble flowers decorated her
brow. Her diaphanous gown flowed around her, except in the places where it was
strategically torn, revealing her small, pert breasts and the round curves of
her bottom. The muscular satyr, his face split with a lascivious smile, held
onto the maiden's arms, dragging her closer to the swollen, enormous phallus
that emerged from his pelt-covered groin.
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