Glance back

You cast a quick look over your shoulder. They aren't as close as you thought, but they're closer than you'd like. But, taking your eyes off the corridor in front of you, you don't notice that the passage turns until it's almost too late. You manage to not slam headlong into the wall, but slowing down to careen around the corner allows the satyrs to catch up. A strong hand closes on your wrist.

"I got him!" one of the satyrs shouts.

You whip around, your other arm swinging, but the second satyr grabs it and twists it up behind your back, wrenching your shoulder and making you yelp in pain.

"Easy, Mel," the dark satyr says. "The sorcerer said we're not allowed to hurt him."

"Sorry," the golden satyr--Mel, you suppose--says, relaxing his hold just a little. "I forget how delicate these human creatures are."

"This one may not be as delicate as he acts," the dark satyr says, stepping closer to you. "It is troll cum that I smell." He reaches behind you and you struggle in vain as he slips two long fingers between your cheeks and into your sensitive hole, making your body shudder and your cock harden.

"Look at that, Amos," Mel says. "I think he likes it!"

"Hold him still," Amos says, stroking his furry black sheath until the slick, shiny red tip of his cock emerges. "When I'm done, you can have a turn."