<strong>Pickles</strong><br/><br/>Gulping, Dionys pressed his face against his bars, as if his eyes alone could sear through the metal and let him at this nubile creature splaying herself for him. His strong jaw clenched, his gleaming eyes never left the performing figure as she undulated only feet away from him. He greedily drank up the sight of her taut and firm body squeezed enticingly against slim metal bars.<br/><br/>The incensed satyr mused frustratedly that he would give a day of freedom to be one of those bars right now.<br/><br/>Performance was a state of mind to him, a necessary function, a therapy, a healing, something to excorsise demons and excersise the soul. Dionys knew a good performance when he saw one. Growling deep in his throat as he watched her slick and puffed up crease leave faint trails on the shining restraints, he grasped a bar with one strong hand until the knuckles went white. His other hand, completely unbidded, absently trailed across a hairy thigh towards his groin whilst his eyes remained locked on the tantalising female, feeding off her curves flexing, her fur lining her muscles perfectly, her tail flicking and thrashing, her small wet tongue hanging out in animal anticipation.<br/><br/>Alternately growling and groaning, Dionys barely realised he was grasping his thick, veined cock and gave himself into the tide of pleasure beginning to rush over his body. His small horns rasped against the cage ceiling and bars alternately as he twisted his position, dodging the bars if they broke his gaze, his forearm muscles engaging and swelling as he tightened his grip on himself, hardly aware of his own self-pleasuring, trying to trick his mind that he was grasping the female, seizing her, owning her.<br/><br/>Hormones of his own and of hers filled his head and clouded all his other senses, knowing he was becoming oblivious to most anything else and wanting to push further into that oblivion, projecting an obsession onto the feline female, wanting at that moment not to breathe, just to mount her and ride her into the ground. Dionys groaned again, sweat beads beginning to form on his fevered torso.<br/><br/>There had to be freedom at the base of her loins.<br/><br/>