As the satyr's hot juices flow together with hers down her thighs, Galla blushes and tries to cover her nudity. Her shame. She glances at Myrine, pain and betrayal in her eyes. "How is it that you survived, Myrine?" She crawled, not walked, crawled to the beautiful woman, and kneeled at her feet. Galla was naked, her body still throbbing with the pleasure of climax, a pungeant aroma of sex all around her. She looked up at her sister and tears came flowing from her eyes. "Have you come to take me from slavery? Does the army still stand? For I see you still do."<br/><br/>Galla did not forget about Dionysios, after all, he had brought her to climax. A fast, forced one, its potential glory interrupted by the visitors. By Myrine. Who should have been dead. Whose death had brought so much pain and suffering to her. Galla pulled herself to a standing position, copious amounts of sex fluids escaping her. The satyr had definitely filled her, but due to the sudden stop of their fucking, she was still unfulfilled. And angry. "Explain yourself, Myrine. Explain your survival and my captivity." She whispered through clenched teeth.