7281/Playing with Pan's Flute

Playing with Pan's Flute
Date of Scene:	09 August 2021
Location:	The Griffin
Synopsis:	Pan is sent on his way to torment Shazam for the privilege of touching Satana *that* *way*.
Cast of Characters:	Thomas Blake, Satana Hellstrom

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Thomas Blake has posed:
"I wandered lonely as a cloud..." Improbably the great god Pan floats in cloud form. The Greco-Roman crowd is great at that stuff. As he floats along the apostate and sybaritic iconoclast wonders how long his exile will last this time. He'll try going home in a week. Meanwhile, he wonders what people do for fun in this age of boredom? The little cloud rolls over and freezes, despite the breeze.

Is that cinnammon? Oh he hasn't caught that scent in ages. A demon... sniff... female... nubile if you were fool enough to marry her. Oh those Judeo-Christian types were a lot of fun to punk.

Thus did great Pan arrive at the Griffin, bearing a jug of wine. He bangs sharply on the door with his horns, shines a hoove on the fur of his other leg.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Hey! Bloord! Go get that door, will you? Don't worry, it's not human. If you're lucky it'll eat you and you'll get to go back home."

The female voice from within says this blithely without bothering to ensure it can't be heard on the other side.

"I'm busy getting the final touches in on the hippo."

Hippo?

"Do you realize how hard it is to sew doll's clothing for plush hippos?"

What?

So it is that a half-height imp opens the door, peering owlishly up from within at the god of rustic fertility. And sexual madness. Or so it's reputed.

"What do you want?" the imp says rudely. "Mistress is busy dressing the hippo."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Mistress! Ah! Ye-e-e-e-e-es!

Bloor is handed the jug of wine and shoved rudely to the side. The god of rustic rambles saunters in and spies his lovely quarry... sewing a dress on a plush hippo.

"Did you bind a major demon to a plushie? Fuck me! What a woman. Come say the word and we will take pleasure in each other! You are as lovely as a summer day and far less less temperate! The way I like 'em. Let's make some hooved babees!"

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The hot mistress looks up from her work of positioning a plush hippo in coveralls with a rake over its shoulder on the mantlepiece. Dressed in a single-piece microdress, this time, with much of the single piece missing like some mad seamstress took gigantic bites out at the right hip, the left side of the waist, and the right shoulder, and wearing dangerously-high heels in the form of strappy sandals that wind up all the way to her lower thigh, she's very obviously fishing for compliments.

Which her imps have learned the hard way to give her. In an unending stream.

"Hotness Personified," Bloor says from behind Pan. "This goat man wishes to have intercourse with you. Because of course he does, you being..."

"Shut up, Bloord."

"Yes, Mistress."

Bloord hastily scampers off while Satans gives Pan a once-over. Then a twice-over. Pausing at the visible signs of his 'interest'.

Her eyebrows go up.

(It's rare for a succubus to get impressed. Savour the moment.)

"You're the Grecian fellow. Pan, right? The guy with the flute and the goats and the string of bastard children that rivals Zeus?" She tilts her head and smiles, eyes glowing infernal red. "What can I do for you besides the obvious? Need that stick you're wearing under your loincloth burnt down?"

Thomas Blake has posed:
The goat man nods his head politely. "I am indeed Pan, whose flock surpasses that of Zeus or Shub-niggurath! So what do you say, she who's rear rivals that of Aphrodite's? You'll never have anyone make love better!"

This is the point where Thomas Blake enters the room, coffee in hand. With no apparent fear he walks by giving Pan a nod. He grabs the succubus in an embrace and showers affection and love on the vicious creature, finishing up with a lingering kiss. He walks back into the kitchen.

"Hunh," Pan scoffs. "Is that what you make due with little red because... " He launches into an explanation of just what he has in mind lapsing into Greek and then resorting to Infernal which is well suited to the description.

In the study, Thomas shushes the imps and they listen intently. "This is going to be good," he tells Bloord -already into the wine.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana listens with greater and greater interest as Pan talks. Indeed she gives off the demeanour of someone taking notes. When he finishes, she sidles (and struts -- somehow accomplishing both!) up to Pan, resting a hand on his chest as she molds her lower body against him. Her free hand she cups his cheek with.

"Really, Pan, that's very ... exciting."

Then a bolt of soulfire. The pain-causing variety. The description was sufficiently of interest that it's the one in his chest that presents it. Not one positioned more intimately.

"FOR A MORTAL! What, you take me for one of your little-bo-peep shepherdesses?"

She steps back and looks Pan over with disgust. "You're a god, Pan. Act like it! A god of fertility, sure, but also of drunken madness when the mood hits you. Of mischief. Of having FUN! Go torment a goody-two-shoes. There's a bunch of them powered by gods out there. The red ham guy, for example. Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, Mercury. Shazam or whatever. Go fuck with his head. Show that you're a god to be reckoned with! Picture the chaos a creature with those powers paired with your madness could create! Turn him from Shazam to Phazam or something. Be a part of his power set and LET CHAOS REIGN!"

She smiles tersely.

"Don't get me wrong. You're hot and everything, but coming to me and practically begging? TOTAL TURN-OFF PAN!"

She steps back again. "But you cause the kind of chaos I know you can? And I'll be waiting for you here, open and ready!"

Thomas Blake has posed:
In the study Bloord shakes his skull like head. "Bloord does not understand... Mistress dressed like Bo Peep other night for Thomas..."

Thomas was gone. A mere mortal indeed but a man can only take so much. The fatigue from Sturgis is forgotten.

Pan considers the words after a yelp from soul fire. So he has a soul. Who knew?

"You callow little strumpet! Beg! You beg that I do not turn your toy boy into a stuffed cat! I am a god! Slumming among these..."

"These what?" He hears, a moment before he is thrown through that bay window Thomas liked to nap in. The impact on top of the soul fire was enough to leave hm dazed on the grass.

Pan groans, rolls over and spots that mortal, his arm draped around Satana holding her gently for all the brutality his eyes and pose evoke.

"Fuck off! We may be infernal but we have a Judeo-Christian theme here." The lout's hand drops from her shoulder somewhat Southward.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh, Thomas! That was so assertive of you!" the half-succubus simpered, pressing up against Thomas and squealing with delight when his hand wandered south. "You deserve a reward."

And she deserves dessert.

She kisses Thomas, pressing against him like too-tight leather pants, in that special way that leads to a purple aura escaping his mouth and nostrils as he has the mother of all climaxes freezing him in place.

And then she pulls back. Basiumus interruptus, so to speak. Only the costs of not pulling out in time are much higher here. A much higher-stakes game.

And while Pan stares and Thomas sinks to the floor in a stunned stupor, she says, in Infernal: "Cause that chaos with the red ham and you'll have a taste too." She winks. "Call me."

Then down she goes, atop Thomas, to give him the more fleshly joys as a gentle lowering back to Earth from the heights she took him.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Pan gets up, beet red. "I will be vindicated. When I return I will pillow you, leave you wasted and happy and... turn his blood to Gorgon venom! Good day!"

In a moment he disappears into a fine mist.

Across the street, John and Muriel watch unnoticed.

"That guy just tripled our paperwork. So Muriel was that an act of Rage, Jealousy or... Love?" He looks down and sees his partner has morphed into a beautiful and svelte 20-something. Her house coat now several sizes too large hangs off one shoulder. Muriel bites her knuckle considering. Jon turns in disgust and goes into that house.

"What is it about that human?!"