London, March 1885

Sabrina struggled and whimpered against the assailant who had seized her, but to no avail—she could not counter the powerful grip. Whoever robbed her of her freedom was as strong as the devil himself, rendering her utterly defenceless and at their mercy.

"Shhh, Sabrina, it is I."

She recognised the voice, and the moment she felt her body released from the grip, Sabrina turned and struck the man's chest with her clenched fists. "How dare you frighten me so terribly?!"

He pressed a forefinger to his lips, signalling her to lower her voice. "We have company in the next room."

Sabrina said nothing, her bosom heaving in her attempt to reclaim the remnants of her composure left within her core, and the effort itself felt like a goddamn ordeal!

When his golden eyes keenly perused her figure and settled upon her face, he couldn't help but inquire, "Why so tearful, my dear? I thought I would find you in a brighter disposition when I noticed you striding away from the ballroom. The second part of the evening's programme has only just begun."

"Being wed to a scoundrel, I find a scarce reason for merriment," she retorted, turning her face away so Damon might not see another set of fresh tears welling in her eyes.

Yet he was not one to be easily discouraged, hence he gently cupped Sabrina's face and turned it back towards him. "I thought yours was a marriage in name only. I'd wager your husband is occupied elsewhere given how in demand he seems to be tonight. Folks flock to him like flies to a dung!"

Sabrina might have chuckled at the comparison under any other circumstance, but his jest fell flat at the time. "There's particularly one blonde, slender and young fly," she muttered bitterly.

Damon's lips parted as if he wished to speak, then closed again as he reconsidered, though the brief hesitation didn't escape her notice.

"What?" she asked, her voice crude.

He sighed, then replied, "I'm sorry, Sabrina, but I indeed saw your husband withdraw into a private room with a young, slender blonde."

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to overcome the pain of a figurative gut blow delivered by Damon's words, her ordeal becoming unbearable. Tears spilled once more from her eyes. "Blasted prick warned me to avoid being intimate with anyone this evening—for the sake of decorum and our station, he said. Two-faced devil he is! Not once did he appreciate me, but rather manipulates and makes me feel inferior, always. This hurt is too much, Damon—could you make it stop? Could you make it all cease, at once?"

Sabrina's eyes remained closed, hence she couldn't see the flames of anticipation and hunger being kindled in his golden gaze, nor the way his tongue moistened his lips. She couldn't possibly know that the satyr was observing her from afar, while Moira and Victoria occupied her attention. This gentleman knew full well that whatever was being imparted to her was also greatly weakening her composure and making her vulnerable to his dark influence.

At the height of her despair, he would show her the height of a pleasure she would never forget. The prey was now in the hunter's claws, and it didn't take much labour besides a few words to ensure her ultimate yield to everything he had in store for her.

Indeed, had Damon possessed a tail, it would have wagged wildly in sheer contentment that the situation had unfolded in his favour, just as he had predicted. By driving a wedge between the Grantchesters, the beautiful American with sensual lips was free to be taken at his will and mercy.

Feeling the touch of hot, demanding lips pressing against hers with unparalleled passion, Sabrina quickly opened herself to his invading tongue as his action took her by great surprise.

"I-I thought you—" she stammered once they ceased the kissing to catch their breath.

"You want me to make all your pain go away? Then stop thinking altogether," he remarked, snickering. "Now come, I want to show you something."

Damon approached the wall they shared with the next room and hang down a large painting, revealing two pairs of holes in it, then motioned for Sabrina to come closer.

She took a measured step to see what was transpiring in the next room, her eyes discerning a man and a woman playing cards, though they were almost nude. The gentleman's breeches and the lady's drawers were all that remained to be removed.

"Lord Galway and Lady Shrewsbury are playing... faro this evening, methinks, though I'm not well versed in games of chance," Damon said in a low voice. "It would be quite embarrassing had you entered their chamber."

Sabrina continued to observe the pair, as it seemed they were a moment—or rather a round—away from deciding upon the winner, ergo the loser would become completely nude. They were so loud and merry that they probably didn't even hear her cry when she was seized by Damon.

Suddenly, the lady screamed, tossed the cards on the table and rose to her feet with the intention to run away, yet the lord was quicker in grasping his muse by her waist and tossing her onto the nearby daybed. She laughed, yet pretended to deny her companion his rightfully earned victory of removing the last piece of fabric concealing her flesh.

The duchess had to chuckle at this folly, knowing full well that, given the lord's spirited disposition, there was no way for the lady to avoid paying for her loss but to yield to his advances. However, when the door to the couple's chamber opened abruptly and another gentleman entered the scene, they immediately rose from the daybed and regarded the man with fright in their eyes.

"Uh-oh, Lord Shrewsbury may not take it lightly that his wife is being ploughed by Galway," Damon remarked.

Sabrina was expecting an argument on a grand scale, maybe even fisticuffs to ensue, but then Lord Shrewsbury began to undress.

"Is... is he...?"

"He's engaged in their act too," Damon acquiesced. "And you should play too, Sabrina. Play with me," he continued in his husky, seductive voice.

She hadn't looked away since her eyes first fell on the pair that would soon become a threesome. Her tongue moistened her lips as Galway finally pulled the lady out of the drawers and began to kiss her, his hand tracing the secret place between her thighs. Her husband tied her curly hair back and began to kiss her neck as he toyed with her tits.

There was so much tenderness and care given to the woman, making Sabrina sigh with jealousy and wish that it was her in between the men.

At the moment she felt Damon's deft hands working their way through her mourning gown. Considering she had on just as many layers as an onion, it was going to be quite an arduous task, though he relished in toying with his prey, preparing her for their coupling before devouring her whole.

Lady Shrewsbury knelt, grasped both men's cocks and began gently stroking the vehicles of her pleasure. She then eagerly took Galway's glans into her mouth and Sabrina could discern the playfulness and devotion in her gaze as she beheld her lover's face. The lord smiled wistfully and stroked his mistress' cheek gently, then the lady turned her attention to her husband's cock, which also became a pillar of delight under her firm touch.

Sabrina could see that while the lady served her lovers, she was also cherished for what she provided for their lust.

The duchess then raised her hands to allow Damon to remove her chemise. He then took a handful of her exposed tits in his hand as he pressed himself against her back.

"Ah, they're quite slow tonight," he remarked, and Sabrina could sense he was smirking at the scene he saw through one of the holes. "Gives me plenty of time to undress myself and not tear off a single button in the process."

He let go of her form as she remained rooted to the spot. Lord Shrewsbury tapped gently on his wife's back, seemingly telling her something, to which she nodded with a smile and kissed him on the lips. The lady then went all four on the daybed and performed fellatio on Galway's ballocks while her husband went behind her back, spread her buttocks and pressed his face into the opening crack.

"I... I do not quite comprehend what he's doing to her arse," Sabrina heard herself say.

Damon chuckled as he positioned himself behind her again. "Perhaps one day I can illustrate it for you, my dear."

She could feel his exposed skin against hers, even his cock gliding gently over her derriere. Sabrina looked down to see that she was standing in a pile of fabrics, collapsed crinoline and wrinkled skirts with undergarments except stockings she still wore. Apparently, the devil had a thing for covered legs.

"I need you to spread your legs for me, love," Damon said in a husky voice that was a mixture of a sinful desire and a divine plea.

As Sabrina obliged, she felt his deft fingers touch her hot lips, already glistening with moisture. He took his time to explore what she still kept from his gaze, breathing on the nape of her neck.

"I haven't seen your pussy yet and I can tell it's beautiful and yearns for my caress."

She briefly closed her eyes and swallowed. Who allowed this stranger to say the exact words she desired to hear from the despicable blackguard she had married?!

Her eyes widened when he slid one of his fingers inside her, causing her to gasp. To his surprise, Sabrina shifted her hips and leaned forward slightly, her hands pressed against the wall, all the better to feel him at a more favourable angle.

"Good God," he murmured. "You are dripping wet!"

Sabrina was barely aware of his words when she noticed Lord Shrewsbury standing up and positioning himself to insert his cock into his wife's pussy. At first he teased her opening, but then buried himself deep in one thrust as he grasped both of her hips.

For a second, she envisioned herself caught in the middle between her husband, who kept pounding her from behind, and Damon approaching her mouth to be orally pleasured.

A second was enough to arouse her to the heights of no return, though she closed her eyes tightly to dispel the vision, the temptation that had no place in her waking life.

Why, why can't we have it so good? she inquired inwardly.

Because the world seldom works in your favour, her inner voice replied.

Sabrina had no time to ruminate any of these unfortunate proclivities, as Damon's fingers forced a sweet moan from her. Her eyes opened and she realised that there was a virile man with her at this very moment, clearly determined to make her serve his desires in a similar manner to Lady Shrewsbury; a man who seemed to have descended from the pages of Grecian myths, perhaps as Pan himself.

"I'm the furthest thing from a gentleman, but I still have to inquire—are you prepared, love?" Damon drawled into her ear as his fingers withdrew from her depths.

"Prepared for what?" Sabrina replied with a question of her own, her voice betraying her utter enchantment and anticipation.

At that very moment she felt her pussy being impaled on his hard, demanding cock, causing her to gasp audibly and her hear to beat wildly.

"A devil doesn't knock twice," he said in a smug tone. "Mate with me, Sabrina."

"Be gentle, I beg you," she pleaded, to which he chuckled in amusement.

"Gentle?! My dear, you are no longer a girl, but a woman who can take some delectable roughness."

For some reason, his words brought all the crimson to her cheeks; warmth assailed her form, yet a chill traversed her spine. Indeed, Damon was asserting his dominance over her, the hunter and his captive, the haughty lover and his gentle apprentice.

The satyr and his nymph.

He slowly and deliberately withdrew his shaft from her, only to return with all his male might as the scene changed before Sabrina's eyes—Lady Shrewsbury now lying with her back on top of her husband on the daybed, welcoming his cock in her bottom, and Galway taking his turn to have his way with her pussy. All three seemed to be overcome with pleasure and moaning, which certainly drowned out the sounds from the neighbouring room as Sabrina moaned and cried, feeling the tears trickle down her hot cheeks.

The postlude to her mating with Damon drew to its conclusion rather quickly, and once she reached the peak of no return, she cried out and began to tremble mightily in her lover's prepared embrace. He slowly lowered her to the floor, cradled her form and uttered sweet nonsense to help her come to her senses.

Only after she realised the depth of her fall and the possible consequences did Sabrina mutter, "I can only hope you haven't got me with child."

Damon smiled and stroked her chin. "But would that be the worst thing to happen to you, though? My seed is strong and healthy, you should see my children one day, it might change your mind."

Then he stood up and Sabrina could see that his cock was still hard as a rock, which made her breathe a sigh of relief in her chest. If he had deposited his seed inside her, his shaft would hardly be so aroused, would it?

"Could you do me a favour, beautiful?" Damon inquired, taking a handful of her hair. "Taste yourself," he said, noticing her brows raised in curiosity.

Sabrina could see his shaft glistening with her come, but she wouldn't hesitate twice to please her master that night. Emulating what she had seen Lady Shrewsbury do to her lovers, she too began to lick Damon's glans in slow, deliberate motion of her tongue.

He sucked in a breath as she moved her lips to take his cock into her welcoming mouth, only to change course and slide her tongue along his throbbing, veined side.

"Toying with me, huh?" Damon drawled with a content smirk. "This sort of jests warrants me mating with you once more, but we are short of time for that, I'm afraid."

She chuckled softly and took him whole as God made him, coaxing a moan from him.

"You are my goddess, Sabrina," he said, cupping her head gently to move deeper in her throat. "I am nothing but a slave to your perfection."

Sabrina sighed, but found the right rhythm that allowed her to alternate her breathing with Damon's hardness. He sped up a little and began to tremble as he approached his climax, warning his lover:

"I am going to come in your mouth, love. Do you trust me?"

She moaned in response and within four or five thrusts a hot, salty liquid filled her throat, mouth and trickled down her chin a bit. It came as such a surprise that Sabrina simply swallowed it all. Damon was breathing rabidly, sweat trailing down his forehead, but before he even allowed the peak of his orgasm to slowly ebb from his body, he dropped to his knees and kissed Sabrina's lips, stained with his spunk.

"Sheer perfection," he murmured. "Allow me to cleanse you, my lady."

He then leaned into his newly acquired mistress and licked off the silky beads of his product from her stained tit, collarbone and throat. When Damon's gaze met her face again, he found her eyes shut.

"My poor lady must be exhausted," he cooed, stroking her hair as it came undone from all the pins the maids had painstakingly put in her coiffure. "Come, allow me to tuck you into bed."

As if in a haze, Sabrina rose from the floor and allowed the satyr to guide her by the hand into the bed, where he covered her nude form with a blanket. He then sat down besides her and observed her with a pensive gaze.

"Who are you?" she inquired, her eyelids drooping slightly. "Or should I ask ‚what are you', Damon?"

Damon smiled faintly and replied, "Your friend, and now also your mate."

She inclined her head. "I'm a married woman."

"As if it could change what is to come," he replied hoarsely and Sabrina felt a touch on her belly, then he leaned into her face and kissed her forehead. "I shall make love to you soon Sabrina, have no worries."

Seeing him get up and commence to attire himself, she inquired with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, "Where are you off to?"

"To uphold our reputations," he replied, donning his hat adorned with an ostrich feather and leaving the bewildered Sabrina to the mercy of solitude she sought earlier.

Upholding anyone's reputation, lest his own, was the least of Damon's concerns.

In the chamber, the haze of climax eased its grip on Sabrina's reason, allowing her to think clearly at long last.

"Oh, fuck!" she cursed into the dimness of the chamber.

Her fingers darted to inspect the depths of her pussy, but she found no trace of semen. Yet she was aware of women who had been blessed with child despite avoiding a man's seed in their womb—the recollection of such stories made her shudder.

How on earth could she take such a risk?!

Wasn't she supposed to be much wiser than the well-hung-but-clueless dimwit she married?

Apparently, Damon was a seducer nonpareil and her volatility got her exposed to his every vice. The swiftness with which she succumbed to his potent male charm brought another surge of warmth to her cheeks, and the reminiscence of what he had done to her renewed the hunger in her lower parts.

Their sex, however, was pure rawness, accentuated by her hurt feelings demanding to be patched up to stop the heavy bleeding. And, as it seemed, being fed his come like a damned whore was working much like the finest medicine she could have taken.

But that shall be not tolerated, she resolved, and after a moment, decided to get out of bed. Hurrying back to the ballroom became the paramount task, lest she provoke a scandal.

Just then the door opened, causing Sabrina to start and gasp in one breath.