The Satyr

Chapter 4

Learning to deal with a satyr

“Leave it, sir.” Artur, glanced toward the grotto entrance. “I’d like to keep it on until I can help Daffydd break the curse.” Smiling, he added, “I have his key, he should have mine.”

“That may be unwise.”

“Then you hold it, sir.” Yawning, he asked, “I need to know a great deal more about this satyr and why it has imposed itself on your family, sir. May I return later and ask about the history?” He stopped, then continued. “And I’d like to be here each night while Daffydd is the satyr and tend to his needs — like I did last night. I think it helped him …”

For a moment, Mr Merthyr said nothing.

“Okay. I’ll speak to your mother.” He smiled. “You’re eighteen next week, but not yet, she still has the final word. Come back at about five and I’ll tell you the history. It’s a bit mystical, but, if you’re going to help Daffydd, you need to know what you’re dealing with.”

His mother greeted him anxiously at home. Briefly he explained that he’d spent the night at the farm, saying Daffydd was ill and needed his company. Later, after a good sleep, he returned to the farm. Mr Merthyr was waiting.

“Good, you’re early, Artur. Come in and we can have tea or something refreshing while I tell you the story.” He glanced at Artur’s straining jeans and asked, “Still want to keep that chastity belt on?”

“Yes, sir.” Artur smiled. “It’s comfortable — most of the time anyway — and it’s a reminder of what I’ve agreed to do.” Taking a seat on the wide verandah overlooking the garden and the distant grotto entrance, he asked, “Please tell me about this curse, sir.”

“Very well. It stretches back about five or six hundred years. One of our ancestors made a pact with one of the elementals who used to rule this land — a satyr — and accepting  possession by the satyr of his body in return for the land and abundance for his family. It was agreed that our family would never want for anything if the land was properly tended and one of the sons in each generation allowed the satyr to possess him. It all worked well until one of the family refused to surrender himself when the satyr chose him. The satyr invoked the default in the original agreement and took the son. Since then we only breed males, all of us have unusually large genitals and our penises are not like other mens, they are muscled and permanently solid. Most of us are what is now called ‘gay’ — and one son, at puberty, sometimes earlier, is chosen by the satyr. We have learned to recognise the signs, and we have learned to control him. Some have been lucky enough to find a true lover — one who offers himself to bear the burden of serving the satyr, and they are then able to live as a couple. The satyr provides everything they need and allows them certain freedom in return. When a ‘chosen’ one is unable to find a partner, he must surrender himself entirely to the satyr and is usually permanently in that form and must live confined to the grotto. When that happens, it often results in a struggle between the host and the satyr — which makes both unhappy, and shortens the life of the host. That was my brother’s fate, Daffydd has had to ‘become’ much earlier than we hoped.” He paused, and his sorrow showed. “During the time they are ‘becoming’ the satyr, and even if they can mitigate it, during the ‘Dark of the Moon’, what you call the ‘new’ moon phase, he assumes the form of the satyr, and the satyr is in control.” He stared at the grotto for a moment. “He bestows on the rest of us certain powers if he is pleased by the couple … but they will have to live a long and, hopefully happy life, with genitals so large they are impossible to disguise, and spending days in the form of the satyr … If you are not truly lovers, there is a penalty — Daffydd will become permanently the satyr, and you will be forced to allow the satyr to control you at all times.” He studied Artur. “My brother and his lover thought they were in love, but his lover was merely in lust … Daffydd is paying a harsh price as a result.”

“Thank you for telling me this, sir. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m Gay, as Daffydd is.” Artur paused. “When I'm with Daffydd I feel different. Yes, some of it is sexual, but not all of it. I liked Daffydd the first time we played together, and I missed his company in the years he was ‘away’, and when I saw him at the pool … it was like the day just got brighter. I don’t know if this is ‘love’, but I mean to find out. That’s why I want to keep this chastity belt on, and why I want to take care of him while he is in this state as the satyr.”

Daffydd’s father smiled. “I think you might just be exactly the right man for him, Artur.” Indicating the now empty glass, he said, “Ready to get dressed for your visit? This rubber suit will be a tight fit, but it is made with a special rubber that includes a metal that prevents the satyr from influencing you.”

“Yes, sir.” He smiled. “I’m ready.” Picking up the suit, he worked his way into it but had to ask for help to seal it.

“Good.” Standing, Mr Merthyr gestured and Artur was sealed into the rubber suit again.

“Wow!” He exclaimed. “How’d you do that?”

“I told you, the satyr gives us certain powers in exchange for our … accepting his taking of one of us as his … servant.” He smiled. “That’s one of them. Come with me and I’ll give you Daffydd’s evening meal. He is caged but unrestrained at present. Give him the food, but do not enter the cage, and do not open the door. Once he has eaten we will come and you can assist us in restraining him, then we will leave you with him for the night.”

The satyr was standing at the bars as Artur entered bearing the tray.

“Ha, our would be lover returns.” The laugh was harsh, but then Daffydd’s softer voice cut through. “What do you know about love, beast? Artur, take care I can’t control it at this time of the moon …”

“I know, Daffydd, and your father has explained the curse to me.” Placing the food on the shelf so the satyr could draw it into the cage, he smiled, and said, “I’m willing to test our love or lust for one another. So I am wearing the chastity belt your father fitted to me yesterday, and will continue to wear it until we can be certain that our feelings for each other are more than just lust.” Stepping back, he addressed the satyr. “Now, beast, your bargain has been explained to me, and I think you have cheated in the past — you know full well what a teenager, a human teenager, experiences in their puberty, and you know how our sexual drive overrides all other feelings.”

“So what?” The harsher voice was back. “Lust is lust.”

“True, and love is something different. Love is what makes one of us willing to sacrifice himself for the benefit of another or for others. Love is what makes us willing to care for the stranger, or makes someone like me, care about the fear, the pain and the frustration something, or someone, like you inflicts on a friend or any other person.” Reaching through the bars, Artur took one of the satyr’s hands. “Daffydd, I don’t know if I am truly ‘in love’ as your tormentor demands, but I’m willing to test it. I’m here tonight and every other night because I want to help you. Your father explained that we can never be entirely free — we will always be part human, part satyr, and sometimes can only be the satyr — and what that means for us both.” He paused. “Daffydd, I am willing to make that sacrifice if it will mean you do not have to spend the rest of your life angry, hurt and frightened by being suppressed by this Beast of the Forest. Possessed to give form to an Elemental exiled from his own realm. Yes, Beast, I have done a little research on the myths and legends surrounding your kind.”

“Easy to say,” the satyr voice was back. “But how does this fulfil my bargain with the family?”

“Instead of having to constantly subdue your host, and be confined here … you will have two welcoming hosts, willing to serve you and willing to share their pleasures and freedom with you.”

The opening of the door cut off the reply and the Satyr Daffydd cowered back against the wall at the back of the cage as the four rubber encased figures entered. He made little resistance as they chained him firmly to the rubber covered ‘bed’.

“Go up to the house, Artur. Your supper and your mother are there. We’ll take care of him until you’ve eaten and then you can come back.” Daffydd’s father, recognisable despite the tight rubber suit and the breather mask, gently steered him toward the door. “You need to eat and drink before doing another stint.”

“Thank you, Mr Merthyr.” Artur paused. “Before I go, I need to do something.” Moving round the older man, he moved to the side of the heavily chained figure. “Daffydd, Im going for some supper, but I’ll be coming back to spend evening with you. Beast, I know you’re listening, so here’s a token of how I feel about Daffydd.” Bending down, he pressed his breathing mask to the satyr’s lips. “Soon, my love, I’ll do that without a mask.”