Mark of the Satyr

The day I was taken was like any other, except for the strange feeling that something was stirring in the air... something wicked, rolling toward our humble farm like a storm.

How was I to know what awaited me in the woods? Satyrs were always the stuff of children's fairy stories--not the terrible, lustful beasts that came upon me that day, intent on having me, right then and there on the forest floor.

I was a maid, an innocent... Will I ever be the same, now that I bear the Mark of the Satyr on my flesh?

*This 3800 word story contains characters that are 18+ years old as well as graphic, erotic, monstrous content. Mature readers only!