0 comments/ 38692 views/ 11 favorites Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 1 By: Goldeniangel Author's Note: These chronicles will only be based on Homer, I am not following his story exactly... this particular chapter has remnants of lesbian sex and bdsm, but is mostly MF consensual sex. Enjoy! --------------------------------- Helen lay curled beside her husband, Menelaus, who was already asleep. As well he should be, he'd completely worn himself out with his abuse of her that evening... she was just as exhausted as he but the aching pain her body wouldn't allow her slumber just yet. Tonight had been awful... he'd been angered about his brother Agamemnon's lust for power and he'd taken it out on her body... Menelaus liked his women submissive and controlled. Helen had spent long hours tied as he whipped her and did unspeakable things to her body, taking her in ways that no woman should be had in. She was well aware that out in the fields, and with the soldiers, young men were often introduced to sexual pleasures by older men... and she sometimes wondered if Menelaus hadn't preferred those young men. He certainly took far too much pleasure in thrusting his meat into her mouth and anus for her peace of mind. Or her peace of body... he'd only pleasured himself in her womanhood once that night, the rest of his assault had focused on taking her like a man takes another man. Shuddering a little, Helen pulled herself a little further away from her husband, wishing fervently that any of the other suitors had succeeded in winning her. Wishing that she could be far, far away from the demon that she was bound to... Then her eyes widened as a small ball of glowing light came in through the window and began to grow. She stifled a gasp, not wanting to wake her husband up. A sweet female voice laughed, "Do not worry sweet, he will sleep soundly through this night, you can be sure." Helen stared amazed as the shape formed in front of her was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, glowing with power and smiling at her benevolently. "Come with me," the woman said, reaching out her hand, and before she knew what she was doing Helen had reached out her hand as well, touching the fingertips of the unknown woman. Air rushed by them, and Helen screamed with fear... the only things that seemed real were her and the woman, and she was barely touching her... if she let go, would she fall through the rushing clouds beneath her feet? Then, suddenly, the air stilled and she did fall onto the cloud... but not through it. "You are hurt," murmured the woman, and she lowered her lips to the bruise on Helen's cheek. She began kissing Helen's naked body all over, and where her lips touched the hurt disappeared and pleasure tingled. Helen wanted to protest, she felt so strange... she'd never been a lover of women - not that she loved Menelaus either - but she didn't want to stop the healing. Or the pleasure. The strange woman lingered over her breasts, teasing the sore nipples to hardness with her tongue... but instead of the mix of pain and pleasure that Menelaus created, there was only pleasure and the recession of pain. Then the woman's mouth traveled down Helen's body and between her legs, and Helen gasped as pleasure broke through her wet folds... pure pleasure, not the strange mix that preceded an unwanted orgasm created by her husband. Wave after wave of crashing ecstacy as the tongue laved her womanhood. Helen screamed her pleasure... not wanting it to ever end... not sure if she was dreaming or if this was real, but hoping that it wouldn't ever stop. Sadly, it did, but the reminder of pleasure still tingled in her body as she stared at the woman, panting a little from the sensations. The woman smiled at her, and then turned, gesturing through the clouds, "This is Paris." Helen saw a young man walking towards her, closer to her own age in her early twenties then Menelaus was in his late thirties. He was very handsome, and he was smiling with some of the same light in his eyes that Menelaus sometimes had... she wanted to shrink from him, afraid that she had been healed only to be hurt again. "She's beautiful," Paris said to the woman. Helen was surprised, how could he think her beautiful when he was looking straight at the most gorgeous woman she'd ever seen? Obviously the woman was some kind of Goddess, how could Helen possibly compete? "The most beautiful woman in the world," The woman said to him, "Just as I promised." And then the woman began to walk away, leaving Helen alone with Paris. Helen wanted to cry out to her, beg her to return and protect her from this man... but she was gone almost as swiftly as she'd brought Helen there. All she could do was stare helplessly and frightened at the man Paris. He smiled at her, completely innocent and unassuming, and she felt a little of her fear trickling away. So young... he was so young, she knew that they were probably about the same age, but she felt so old in fear and experiences. "So beautiful..." he murmured as he looked at her. And then he stepped forward, kneeling in front of her and reaching out to touch her hair. Menelaus had never knelt, not even when she'd been sprawled on the ground at his feet. Helen smiled at the compliment, unable not to... it had been so long since anyone had complimented her. When she'd first been married she'd had so many suitors fighting over her, wooing her... but now that she belonged to Menelaus there was nothing of the sort. It felt so good to be admired again. Paris returned the smile and leaned in to kiss her, his lips hesitant, unsure... Helen felt herself responding, liking the fact that nothing was being demanded of her. She was still tingling with leftover pleasure from the lips of the Goddess, and suddenly she very much wanted to lay with this young man. This young man who was not demanding, who was hesitant... who thought her beautiful. After all, she was lying in clouds, taken there by a Goddess. Obviously she was dreaming, why not make love to her dream man? He gasped, almost as though surprised - which delighted her - as she deepened the kiss. Reaching out, his hands gently curled around her body, making her sigh with happiness at the gentleness of his touch, the soothing caresses that ignited fire in her body. She'd never understood why she would wetten for Menelaus' rough treatment, why it would arouse her to be abused... and she much preferred this desire for Paris, this excitement for sex that had nothing to do with pain. "Take me," she whispered into his mouth, laying back and pulling him on top of her. Paris groaned, the groan of a man who is still unbelieving of his incredible good fortune. Smiling, Helen spread her thighs for him, feeling his swollen member nudging at the entrance to her body. Gently he began to press into her, almost teasingly slow, as if he didn't want to hurt her. "Harder," she told him, "You can be harder..." She hated that she wanted him to, hated that response in her body that wanted less of the gentleness... but it was what she wanted. And he would not be doing it maliciously, taking pleasure in any of her pain or discomfort, and that would make all the difference in the world. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, making her melt with his eyes. Helen wrapped her legs around him, trying to pull him further inside her. "It doesn't hurt," she said, and she strained upwards to catch the lobe of his ear between her teeth. Paris gasped and pushed in suddenly, unable to control his response. Helen moaned as he filled her completely, knowing that she was tightly gripping him and creating pleasure in his body. "Take me take me take me..." she murmured in his ear, licking it as she talked. Paris began to pull out, and then thrust back in... hard. She lifted her hips up to meet him with a cry of pleasure, moving beneath him as he began thrusting back and forth inside her body. "Be mine," he said to her, running his hands over her soft flesh, pleasuring himself inside of her, "Be mine, always and forever... come home with me and be my wife." "Yes," she promised, "Always..." after all, what harm could a promise be to a dream? And then he ground against her body, and she felt pure unadulterated pleasure welling upside her, rushing through her veins and sending her soaring higher than the clouds that they were coupling on. Dimly, through the haze of her ecstacy, she could feel Paris tensing on top of her, his member swelling inside her body, and spurts of liquid entering her womb. ************************************* The next morning, Helen awoke, feeling better than she had in ages, without any soreness in any limbs. Surprised at her well-being, she looked to the window... and froze. Those were not her drapes. Turning quickly to the man beside her, she found herself trapped beneath the strong, possessive arm of Paris... NOT Menelaus. Staring at his young handsome face she whispered, "What have I done??? Oh Gods... what have I done..." ************************************ Across the sea, Menelaus awoke to an empty bed with no wife... he roared his fury and went on a rampage through the palace. He tortured and raped her maid, demanding information, and then turned the young woman over to his men when she wouldn't tell him anything. It wasn't until he consulted an oracle that he was informed that the Goddess Aphrodite had taken his wife from him, that she was now laying in a bed beside Paris, Prince of Troy. *********************************** Menelaus went to his brother Agamemnon for help, and the armies of the Greeks gathered... Helen of Sparta had been kidnaped. The honor of Sparta was at stake, and Agamemnon had wanted to battle King Priam of Troy for a very long time... Agamemnon was hungry for the spoils of war and the power that the defeat of Troy would bring him. And so the armies gathered... Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 2 Author's Note: This story involves MF incestuous sex, exhibitionism and some elements of Non-Consent/Reluctance. Enjoy! ----------------------------------------- The Greek armies stood gathered on the shore, staring with frustration at the gently lapping waves. Never had there been such a lack of wind, especially not after such a huge sacrifice of oxen to the Gods! "We must sail brother," Menelaus growled, "By now the Trojans will have heard of our gathering and be preparing for battle... we must give them as little time as possible to be ready for us!" "Don't you think I know that?" snapped Agamemnon. He was pacing back and forth in his home, looking out of the balcony that overlooked the sea. There were ships all over the little harbor, so many ships ready to carry soldiers that would give him victory... and all of them had utterly limp sails. They could not row all the way there... at least, not if they must be ready for a fight at the end. And every boat must be filled completely with soldiers if they were to have enough men to hope to overthrow the Trojans, so he could not have slaves on board either. Looking up to the skies Agamemnon pondered, "What can the Gods want? They have always favored me, especially with such opulent sacrifices as we offered yesterday! And yet still... no wind!" Turning abruptly, he went to the door of the room and called to his servants, "Bring me a seer!" Menelaus grumbled, not sure at all that bringing in a seer would help. He tended to put less trust in the Gods than his brother... but he wanted his wife back. In fact, his loins were filled with pressing need to have her back... not that he hadn't helped himself to several of the young men and women in his brother's household, but Helen was the perfect find. So easily humiliated, so vulnerable, so beautiful... and she always ended up enjoying it despite herself. Which just humiliated her more. Thinking about her sweet, tender body just made him more irritable though, since she was not there. Finally the seer was brought in, and Agamemnon questioned him. Looking up at the skies above the boats, the seer proclaimed: "You have angered Artemis this past hunt, by murdering one of her sacred deer. The ships will not sail unless you sacrifice your daughter Iphigenia's maidenhood and spread some of her blood on each of the ships." He turned to Agamemnon, "And it is you that must do this, you and you alone." ******************************************** Agamemnon stood in front of the gathered armies, strong and barbaric, wearing nothing but a loincloth. Through the crowd, two of his soldiers were practically dragging his daughter Iphigenia to him... his stomach turned a little. Not that he didn't think his daughter lovely, but she was his daughter after all, and 19 years and still a virgin. He had not been willing to give her up to a husband yet. "Father, please..." the young girl sobbed as she was brought forth to the alter. Agamemnon forced himself to ignore her pleas and had the soldiers hold her standing before the alter. The watching armies cheered as he began to cut his daughter's clothes from her lithe, young body, exposing her beautiful pale skin, firm curves and virgin womanhood to their watching eyes. They knew that they were to sail soon, and before that they were going to watch quite a show. Tears rolled down Iphigenia's cheeks, and Agamemnon stood staring transfixed as his daughter trembled between the soldiers. He had not expected her naked body to arouse him, but it was. This was not the way that he'd ever looked at his daughter, but seeing her now his member was swelling, ready to thrust between her sweet thighs. She was beautiful, young, and he stepped forward, taking her into his arms from the soldiers. Iphigenia trembled against him, crying out as his hand squeezed her young breast, her father's lips pressing against hers as his tongue invaded her mouth. Agamemnon found himself becoming more turned on by the sheer strangeness of it all... his young daughter whom he was about to fuck in front of his entire gathered army. Roaring filled his ears as his loins pressed against hers and she tried to pull away... excitement as her nipple hardened against his hand and he began to pinch it. She moaned as his lips pulled away from hers, more tears as he lay her back on the alter and began to kiss her pale breasts, paying special attention to those sensitive pink nipples. Confusion was apparent on her face as her father touched her body; the humiliation of being exposed rivaling with her fear of what was to come, and all of it mingling with the pleasure that her body was beginning to feel. Agamemnon could smell his daughter's arousal, feel the responses in her body that she wasn't even aware of as a virgin. The army roared as he tore the loin cloth from his waist, pulling his daughter's hips to the edge of the alter. Iphigenia cried out as her father's swollen hardness pressed against her open womanhood, seeking entrance to her body... it felt impossibly wide. Her body arched as he began to press in, and he leaned down to catch her nipple between his lips... pain fought with pleasure inside of her as he began tiny thrusts in and out of her body, working deeper with every movement. Although she was wet, this was very new... and when he reached her barrier he paused before giving a mighty thrust that broke through. Iphigenia wailed as the sharp pain of her broken hymen wrenched her body... and then her father was on top of her, fully inside of her, swollen and huge. Agamemnon had meant only to break her virgin barrier, because that was all that was required... but he had not expected to become so aroused by his daughter, or for her young womanhood to feel so wonderful. Tight, wet and rippling, muscles spasming around the invading flesh inside of her, Agamemnon began thrusting in and out of her tender body. It felt fantastic, and the troops cheered even louder as their leader's member, covered in fluid and blood, plunged in and out of the young girl's body. Iphigenia whimpered, although the tears had slowed... it felt so strange to have something moving inside of her. Her father took pity on her and moved his hand to the top of the juncture of her thighs, rubbing the tiny nub that was there. She gasped, her body thrashing as his fingers began to manipulate her tiny bundle of nerves, surprising pleasure making her spasm and clamp down on him. A small fire began burning in her loins, not a painful one, but a kind of itch that desperately needed to be scratched. Iphigenia moaned and started to move back against her father, despite the pain and humilation... the sensations he was arousing in her body were not to be denied, even if she had no idea what they were. Rubbing her tender flesh harder, Agamemnon realized how much it turned him on to have his daughter writhing on his shaft, to see her face going from pain to exquisite pleasure. Removing his hand, he hunched over so that his groin would rub against the little nub that was now peeking out of her folds. Iphigenia gasped at the change of position, the sudden force against her body... it felt good to feel the swollen meat sliding in and out of her, and she let out a throaty groan as her father's groin rubbed against her splayed folds. Leaning down he kissed her, deeply, and this time she accepted his kiss to the cheers of the men watching. She kissed him back, their tongues melding as their bodies already had, her father's hands tightly gripping her young breasts. The fire in her loins was getting hotter, and she arched as it began to come to a head... her body thrashed as her father plunged in and out of her, hands clawing at his shoulders as she spasmed with utter ecstacy. Every thrust he made just sent her higher and higher on a whirlwind of pleasure, and she cried out with abandon as it washed over her in waves too wonderful to bear. Feeling her tight sheath rippling around him, Agamemnon roared out with triumph and filled her to the brim with his meat, grunting as it began pulsing inside her, filling her young body with his juice. Iphigenia gasped as hot liquid poured into her, shuddering as her father relaxed on top of her and then pulled away from her. Now came the most humiliating part. The pleasure was fading, and she was once again becoming aware of the large group watching... then her father dipped his fingers into the mingled juices between her legs - pink with her blood - and walked over to wipe it on his ship. Then, one by one, every commander of a ship walked forward and pressed his fingers between her legs. They stared at her lasciviously, touching her swollen flesh that was both sore and sensitive... some of them just dipped the tips of their fingers in, others traced her womanhood. A few actually pressed their fingers inside her. Man after man molested her young, deflowered womanhood... and because she was so sensitive, before they had finished she was orgasming on the fingers of a man old enough to be her grandfather. His face grinning at her as she writhed on his fingers which were wriggling inside of her. Exhausted from the whole ordeal, she just lay still as the last few commanders scraped juices from the inside of her body. Then, servants finally came down to cover her with a blanket and help her back to her home where she would be bathed and put to bed. On the shore, the wind began to pick up, blowing in the direction of Troy. "To war!" Roared Agamemnon, his cry answered by the gathered armies... and they began boarding the ships. "To Helen..." whispered Menelaus, rubbing the hand slick with his niece's juices along his swollen shaft... he wished it were possible to bring some young women with them... but as it were, young men in the army were always initiated into sensual pleasures by the older men of the army. In fact, one of them passing in front of him looked like a likely prospect, younger and very well-built. Menelaus would have the young man brought to his cabin later. And the ships began to sail towards Troy, where King Priam and his elder son Hector were gathering their own armies to defend the city from the Greeks. Helen lay in bed, her legs spread for the thrusting body of Paris, taking his enjoyment in her again... she cried out with pleasure that was tinged with fear for she had heard that Menelaus was coming for her. Coming across the ocean to claim back his wife, who lay in the bed of a Prince of Troy. Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 3 Author's Note: This story involves MF sex with elements of Non-Consent/Reluctance and is loosely based on the myth of the Trojan War. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------- It was long days on the ships, although the wind blew hard and fast. The Greek armies spent every day looking straight ahead over open seas... many heroes were among them. The lead ship was captained by the world's greatest fighter, Achilles, son of the Sea Goddess Thetis. Other heroes were captaining their own ships, Ajax, the clever Odysseus... and Agamemnon in the middle of the huge fleet. In Troy Priam's son Hector was gathering his own forces, trying to bring many in from the country-side. Unfortunately not all of the neighboring villages and towns believed the warnings sent out by their King, or at least they didn't believe that Agamemnon would arrive so quickly. They took their time about evacuation preparations, feeling assured that they would have plenty of time to scurry behind Troy's high walls, before the Greeks arrived. But the Greeks arrived very early, ready for a fight... but when they marched on Troy, Hector simply closed the gates and did not fight, other than to order his archers to shoot at the massing army. Agamemnon was exceedingly frustrated by these tactics, knowing that he could not scale the walls and he was at an extreme disadvantage. When his scouts reported that there were nearby towns which still had Trojans in them, Trojans which hadn't made it to the safe walls of the large city, Agamemnon smiled. The very next day, a large force hit one of those nearby towns... warriors screamed murder as they trampled down Troy's citizens, killing anyone brave enough to fight back against their overwhelming numbers and superior skills. People fled in the streets, hiding, fleeing burning buildings. At the Temple of Apollo, finally, the slaughter was stopped... those who had fled inside for sanctuary were left unharmed as the oldest Priest, Chryses, bargained for their safety. Agamemnon rode through the streets, ignoring the cries of the inhabitants... just observing as his warriors gang-raped and murdered. Slowly the unrest dwindled, and the survivors were gathered and roped together, ready made slaves for the army camp. Only the Priests of Apollo would go free, and Chryses was trying to stay and argue about one of the female prisoners that had been saved. Stepping up, Agamemnon listened as Chryses argued with the soldiers, demanding that his daughter be released with him. "Is she a priestess?" Agamemnon asked, looking down from his horse. Chryses stared up at him with eyes that were empty of fear, "No, but she is the daughter of a Priest of Apollo." And he pointed her out. The girl was beautiful, buttermilk skin with hair that was flaming red, dark grey eyes like smooth stones stood out in her face. Her clothing clung to her sweet curves, and the tears on her cheeks did not take away from her beauty at all. "How old is she?" Agamemnon managed to ask. "Eighteen." Chryses answered. Looking her over, Agamemnon felt his loins stir, "I have a daughter about her age," he told Chryses, neglecting to tell the Priest under what circumstances he had last seen his daughter, "I shall take responsibility for her. I will care for her, as I have my own daughter." Chryses looked at him with hard eyes, finally nodding as if he understood this was the best deal he could hope for. Then, with one last look at his weeping daughter, he led the rest of the Priests away, down the road towards Troy. They also carried with them a letter from Agamemnon, informing King Priam that he would continue his ravaging of the country-side around Troy unless the old King would allow his armies to leave the walls and fight. "Lift her up here," Agamemnon told his soldiers, and they placed the weeping girl in Agamemnon's lap on his horse. Trotting off, Agamemnon wrapped his arm around her slender figure, feeling her heavy breasts pressing against his forearm, and he grinned as her slight body aroused his manhood. He'd never had a redhead before... he wonder if all of her hair was this flaming color. ******************************************** When they returned to camp, Agamemnon took hold of the girl's arm, and told his captain to see to the other slaves, making sure that they would all find places in the camp. Then he took the silent girl to his tent... she'd finally stopped weeping at least. Once inside, Agamemnon began stripping off his armor until he was wearing absolutely nothing. The girl couldn't see, she was standing in the center of his tent, staring blindly at nothing. Agamemnon reached for her, pulling her against his naked chest, and she gasped, realizing that he was completely nude. "STOP!" she cried. Agamemnon smiled at her, "What is your name?" It was such unexpected question that it caught her completely off guard, she stared at him, trembling and answered, "Chryseis." "Well Chryseis," Agamemnon answered, "You are now my slave, and as such, I do with you as I please, and you never, ever tell me to stop. Or go. Or anything. I tell YOU what to do." His hands traveled down her back and began kneading her buttocks, hard, pressing her body against his swollen member. Chryseis moaned with fear in her eyes. "You promised my father," she whimpered. "So I did," Agamemnon smiled, "I shall look after you as I did my own daughter." His flesh swelled even more, with the memory of his daughter Iphigenia, and Chryseis' eyes went their widest yet as his mouth descended on hers, realizing what he meant. She fluttered against him like a trapped butterfly, utterly useless resistance. Agamemnon rather enjoyed her weak struggles in fact, he forced her, step by step, over to his sleeping mat, pressing her down with his body weight. His tongue was deep in her mouth, and she tasted sweet... With her trapped beneath his strong legs, Agamemnon supported himself on one hand as he began ripping the clothes from her body with the other. Her skin was almost glowing it was so pale, the nipples topping her large breasts were a light pink... freckles were spread over any part of her that the sun had touched, but the covered areas of her body were as smooth and pale as cream. Agamemnon groaned low in his throat as she sobbed and tried to keep him from pulling her clothes away... he shuddered when he revealed the patch of red hair between her thighs, as bright as the hair on her head. Then he kissed her again, his body pressing against hers... the tears on her lips made her taste salty and sweet, and his hand cupped one breast, squeezing the tender flesh. Chryseis moaned into his mouth as man's hands touched her for the first time, confused by the shudder of pleasure that went through her as he teased her nipple to hardness. She was frightened, pressed underneath his weight, knowing that she was about to be raped, and yet his fingers toyed gently with her nipple, making it hard and sensitive as he rubbed it. His kiss was rough, but his hands were gentle as he began to play with both of her breasts, and she tried to push against his chest, wanting the pleasure to stop... Her struggles just encouraged him though, and she could feel his manhood pressing against her hip, hard as the muscles on his chest and arms. When his lips left hers, she cried out, and then they were pressed against her nipple, sucking on the tender bud and she couldn't help the sudden pleasure that made her entire body shudder. Agamemnon sucked the young girl's nipple deep into his mouth, biting it gently, feeling the response in her body... her soft moan of pleasure made him even more eager to enjoy her body. Agamemnon began biting down harder on Chryseis' nipples, he began biting into her pale flesh and sucking, leaving purplish bruises all over her tender breasts. Chryseis cried out and writhed, unable to decide whether it hurt or felt good... she gasped whenever he bit down on her tender nipples, and yet her groin seemed to be kindling with fire. Roughly, Agamemnon pressed two fingers between her thighs, shoving them into her body and Chryseis cried out with the strange sensation... painfully stretched on his wide fingers. The first things to ever enter her body in that manner. They explored the tight virgin channel, finding her thin barrier and then retreating. The excitement was too much, Agamemnon positioned himself above her, and Chryseis began to struggle against him anew, knowing what was about to happen... and then the thick meaty staff was pushing into her body. Her womanhood opened for it, although it was so big that her outer lips felt like they were being pushed in with it. Agamemnon groaned at her tightness, pressing forward until he found that slight barrier to his invasion... grinning down at her tearful face, he pulled away and then thrust roughly, breaking it easily. Chryseis spasmed beneath him as his manhood slide deeper, her hands came up and scratched at his face, forcing him to hold her wrists down above her head as his entire weight came to rest on her body. She sobbed, feeling the shaft of a man inside her, painfully stretching her open... it felt like she couldn't breath because it was so deep in her body. Agamemnon groaned... she was the tightest virgin he'd ever had the pleasure of entering, and wet enough that it didn't chafe him at all. Using just one hand to hold down her wrists, he began squeezing her breast and pinching her tender nipple with the other as he began a steady thrusting in and out of her body. Chryseis whimpered at the confusing mix of pain and pleasure that was coursing through her, not knowing how to respond to either. She was trapped beneath the thrusting man, unwillingly separated from her father, and now being raped by the opposing army's warlord... and yet there was a strange burning need that caused her to press her body upwards against him as he plunged into her. His eyes dug into hers, and she closed her own to escape that knowing gaze, to escape the face of her tormentor... but when she closed her eyes she could only concentrate on the sensations he was filling her with. The insistent need between her thighs... and his lips pressing roughly against hers again, his tongue taking her mouth as he was taking her body. The sounds of celebrating soldiers were all around them, cries of glee, songs of victory... and the moans and sometimes shrieks of women, those female slaves whom were the unlucky recipients of the soldier's attentions. Chryseis knew that she should be trying to fight more, trying to resist more, but she also felt her need growing, the demanding sensation between her legs that felt as though it was coming to completion. Chryseis began writhing beneath Agamemnon, as much as she could with her wrists held above her head... her hips thrust upwards and her legs wrapped around his body before she knew what she was doing. Her ankles crossed behind him, and she tried to press him against her as her back arched with pleasure. This incredible response made Agamemnon roar like a bull, thrusting in and out of her hard and rough. She cried out as flashes of pain mingled with the pleasure, but every time he thrust home she also felt that tingling promise of something ineffably wonderful. Then, suddenly, ecstacy overtook her, and her entire body tensed and arched beneath him as he continued to ravage her young body. Agamemnon rode the girl through her entire first orgasm, her spasming pussy nearly causing him to lose control... And then as she was starting to wilt beneath him, the gasping pleasure releasing her, he thrust with frightening force and practically knocked the air from her lungs. Chryseis could actually feel him swelling up inside her sensitive channel, could feel the pulsing that meant he was filling her with his juices. Then, he relaxed on top of her, shrinking a little inside her but twitching as well. Chryseis whimpered, feeling the soreness between her legs now that the heady rush of pleasure was over. Once he had gathered himself, Agamemnon left for a war meeting. Chryseis quietly got up, found the basin of water, and began to wash herself. Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 4 Author's Note: This story contains MF sex with some elements of Non-Consent/Reluctance. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------ Briseis screamed as she was pulled from her hiding place, rough hands on her wrists dragging her forcibly out from the horse stall of the inn where she worked. She'd seen the flames, heard the screams from her fellow villagers and had immediately hidden... Although the Temple of Apollo with the head Priest Chryses was nearby, she knew that she would probably not make it in time. If she managed to hide and remain hidden, perhaps she'd have a chance... but when the Greek warriors had come into the stables, they'd looked in every stall. Now she was being dragged out into the street by two eager men, her sobs and pleas for mercy ignored and unheard. They handled her dark chestnut hair and pale skin, talking to each other over her head. She was too distraught to listen to them, especially as one of them pulled her up and the other showed her a wicked looking knife. Briseis almost fainted as he came closer to her, but then he began cutting the clothes from her body rather than her flesh... She let out a despairing moan as more men crowded round, watching the clothe slip from her sweet, young flesh. A twenty-year old virgin at the moment, she still knew what happened when cities were sacked... she was about to be gang-raped, possibly to death. The one behind her ground his groin into her ass cheeks, while the one in front began putting on a show for his comrades. Cupping her breasts he thumbed her nipples to hardness, all of them laughing at her shame as her body responded. More tears dripped down Briseis' cheeks, humiliated as the soldier's rough mouth sucked on each of her tender nipples. She struggled, uselessly as he knelt in front of her, hands forcing her creamy thighs apart. Turning her head, she couldn't look as he roughly thrust two fingers into her cleft, spearing her body on his hand. Gasping, she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, his fingers breaking through the very thin barrier of her virginity... it didn't hurt as much as she had expected it to, but it was bad enough. Especially when he pulled his fingers from her body and showed the small amount of blood to the rest of the men. "STOP." The group suddenly froze, and Briseis looked up through tear-stained eyes at a very tall warrior. He didn't seem to be any more strong or intimidating than the men surrounding her, but they were all watching him very warily, as though they feared him. The man looked her over, and she blushed heatedly at his intense and frank inspection of her naked body. She still didn't understand why the men holding her had just stopped, she could see their bulges, threatening her still. "I claim her," the man said finally, his voice calm without much inflection at all. Briseis' eyes widened, he must be some kind of nobility or something to just claim her from this large group of horny soldiers! And he showed no fear that they might not want to give up their prize. One of the men behind her started to grumble a little, but his comrade hit him and whispered, "Don't anger Achilles!" Achilles... that must be his name. Briseis was pushed forward, stumbling her hands came out to catch her fall, and Achilles caught her wrists. He pulled her up in front of him on the horse with one swift motion, his easy strength making her gasp. Although her buttocks were now pressed tightly against his groin, she felt no sign of arousal from him. They moved easily through the city, the men who had been holding her had already dispersed to find new victims, and Briseis closed her eyes to the awful carnage. It was a relief when they came upon the line of prisoners, unmolested thanks to the High Priest Chryses, all of them gathered in front of the Temple of Apollo. She blushed, as she realized for the first time that she was still naked and so many eyes were on her, most of them her own country-men. There was some kind of argument going on, between Chryses and a War-lord, but Achilles spurred his horse onward without a backward glance. The last thing that Briseis saw was Chryses leaving and the warlord approaching Chryses' beautiful red-headed daughter Chryseis. The look in the warlord's eyes was not encouraging, and she was surprised that Chryses would leave his daughter behind to a man like that. But then they were out of sight, and Briseis turned forward to see the approaching tents... her new home. ************************************************** Achilles tossed Briseis onto the bed, although he did not immediately mount her. Instead he found a clothe and wet it in the basin of water waiting for him. Then he came at her, and she scrambled back. He froze, standing at the edge of the bed. "I do not mean to hurt you," he said, "But you have a bloody lip, surely you want to clean it?" Briseis reached up a tentative hand and touched her swollen lip, then she lisped, "You do not mean to hurt me? Then why am I here?" He raised an eyebrow, "You would rather be out in the streets, spreading your legs for any passing soldier rather than in here where there is just me?" "And what if you decide to share me with your men?" she demanded, guessing from the fact that this was obviously JUST his tent that he was somewhere in the command structure, "And either way it is rape anyway. One man or a hundred." Achilles smiled at her as he lowered himself onto the bed on his knees, reaching forward with the clothe to wipe the blood from her lip. She let him. "I promise you I will not share you," he told her, "And as for rape," he scooted closer, "It will not be rape if you want it." Looking up into his eyes, Briseis found that she had no words... there was a kind of intensity in them that froze her, like a deer in the woods. It was not the same lustful look that the soldiers had when they looked at her, it was something much deeper and more frightening in a way. His lips lowered very gently to hers, respectful of the cut on her lip... he tasted salty as his tongue slipped between her lips. She trembled at his touch, unable to tell him no even thought part of her wanted to. Then his hand began sliding up her back, pressing her forward to him... she put out her hands to stop the forward motion and found herself pressed against his chest. Releasing her lips, he looked her straight in the eyes as he began disrobing... she found that she couldn't move, couldn't look away from him. It was almost as though he had her hypnotized with the intensity of his gaze. When he was completely naked, his broad muscular chest free of armor and his manhood swelling upwards towards his belly, he began to crawl back towards her on the bed. Briseis tried to back up, with no where to go. "No," she whispered. "Yes," he whispered back as he reached her, running his hands through her hair and pulling him to her again. Her soft breasts were crushed against his muscular chest as he kissed her, much more deeply this time. When he finally pulled away from the kiss she was gasping, her body tingling with unfamiliar sensations. Looking her in the eyes he let his hand slide up her body and begin to massage her breast, making her ache between her legs and she moaned. "If I do not take you now," his lips nuzzled along her neck and collarbone, "Then you are not mine, and you are free to be any man's meat." Briseis bit her lip as his mouth found her nipple, suckling it to hardness as his hands caressed her. She shuddered, her legs spreading slightly without her even realizing it. Her back arched as he began to suck on her other nipple, his fingers deftly pinching and twisting the already hard one. Although she didn't want it to feel good, it did... and she knew that he was right. Better to be his concubine than one of the girls expected to service multiple soldiers. Her Trojan pride made her want to resist, but her sense of survival as well as the growing heat between her legs kept her quiet. Well, quiet other than the gasping moans as he licked down her stomach. Then he buried his face between her legs and Briseis cried out with shock and pleasure... his questing tongue was so much softer, so different from the rough soldier's fingers that had penetrated her body before. She felt like she was melting, her hands gripping the sheets around them as she writhed for him. Lifting her legs over his shoulders, Achilles continued to lick at her womanhood as he reached up and began to squeeze her breasts again, fingers flicking at her nipples. Sensations shuddered through her, making her twist in unaccustomed pleasure, her heady moans filling the tent. The last of her resistance faded, she was nothing more than a creature of sensations, her body taking over her mind in rushes of pleasure. One of his hands left her breast, and she suddenly felt fingers entering her body... not only her pussy but her anus as well. Tightly wedged into her, pressing deeper and wriggling inside of her... her entire back arched as her hips lifted in ecstacy. Achilles began sucking at the very top of her womanhood, his tongue flicking out against a spot that made her body explode with pleasure. Briseis screamed her passion, thrashing on the bed before him like a sacrifice waiting to be spitted. He rose up over her as she shuddered and rode the waves of pleasure, his meat finding her entrance and pushing in. The sudden shock of something so large entering her helped to push Briseis out of her reverie of ecstacy, and she groaned, reaching up to try and push him away. Achilles took her hands and held them down on either side of her head, leaning forward to kiss her as he pushed even deeper into her body. Briseis cried out with the strange stretching, the slight cramping pain. "It will get easier," he breathed, grunting as her tight sheathe wrapped around him, "I promise." Although she moaned as he thrust harder into her, shoving more of his meat deeper, she believed him as well. Fortunately, the pleasure he'd given her with his mouth hadn't totally faded either, and that helped her a great deal. She pressed herself against him, her hands digging into his as he held them, his hard body pulling himself out and then shoving in, filling her with his heavy meat. Their lips molded together, in unison with their bodies... his hands left hers, swinging down to pull her legs over his shoulders. As his manhood pierced her even deeper in this new position, she moaned and thrashed, her fingers digging into his shoulders with passion. Briseis had never known such exquisite pleasure, it felt like every nerve ending was on fire, her body gripping him tightly as he rubbed her inside and out. "Oh gods..." she moaned as the fire inside her began to curl, tightly winding into itself and preparing to explode, "Oh gods... OH GODS!!!!" Her nails dug into his flesh, biting into him as her body gave way to pleasure beneath his stabbing spear, her cry of sweet anguish filling the tent. Others outside knew that Achilles' prowess was just as great off the battlefield, and they raised their cups to the sound of her passionate cry, knowing that he'd just conquered his new concubine's body. Tears streamed down Briseis' cheeks at the unaccustomed pleasure that wrapped her like a cloak, until Achilles' let out a mighty roar and buried himself to the hilt, leaving her gasping and writhing. Her womanhood spasmed in pleasurable reaction as he swelled inside of her, and then spurted, filling her deflowered sheathe with his essence. Briseis shuddered one last time and then fell still beneath him as Achilles let her legs drop to either side. She hissed a little, her body felt so sore, especially the muscles that had just been put to new use. Stroking the sweaty hair back from her face, Achilles kissed her lips tenderly, his hand stroking down her body. Sighing a little, she kissed him back, knowing that she really should try to resist and yet not feeling any inclination to. Her hands explored his muscular back, finding the marks where her nails had dug in and rubbing them gently. Achilles cupped her breast, making her gasp as he nuzzled the still tender nipple with his lips, sucking the swollen bud into her mouth. She groaned as she felt him beginning to swell inside her again, not sure that she could take any more... and yet his hands and lips on her body sent flashes of fire through her loins. And he never gave her a choice anyway. Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 5 Author's Note: This story contains MF sex with elements of Non-Consent/Reluctance. Enjoy! ------------------------------------ The third day after Agamemnon sacked the nearby town, Hector led his armies out of Troy to fight... however the Greeks were badly bloodied and left in retreat, leaving many of their dead behind. Hector was a shrewd commander and did not allow his troops to follow, although Agamemnon rallied his armies in case the Trojans followed his retreat. Disheartened by the days' events, the Greeks were a sober lot around their campfires as they dressed their wounds. A messenger was sent to Agamemnon, Priam was allowing the Greeks come and gather their dead. The next morning Agamemnon and Menelaus discussed possible battle plans against the Trojans. "We must make a full out assault on the city," Menelaus' eyes were red with anger, "I must have that whore back! SOON!" Although he'd been taking out his frustrations on some of the captive women, none of them were as pliant or vulnerable as his Helen. She couldn't deny the pleasure taken from his rough treatment, and none of these captives even came close to the heights of ecstacy that he could drive her to with his abuse. He missed her mightily. Agamemnon stared at his brother with disdain, "You never did have much battle sense. To make an assault on Troy's walls is to lose... but we should have beaten the Greeks yesterday in battle." He gritted his teeth, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, "We had superior numbers, superior warriors and they slaughtered us!" Thinking it over he said, "The Gods must be against us, just as they were when we first tried to sail." And to Menelaus' disgust, his brother called in a soothsayer. Brought to the tent, the soothsayer knew immediately what was wrong: "You have lain between the legs of a Daughter of Apollo, after promising her father that she would have safe conduct. You must return Chryseis to her father, for Apollo is angered at the treatment of the daughter of his Servant." Menelaus laughed as Agamemnon sent the soothsayer away angrily, telling his brother, "Ha, now do you believe in the messages of soothsayers? Those weaklings who tell you to relinquish your battle prize, when they have never lifted a sword?" "Be quiet," growled Agamemnon, "Call the generals together." *********************************************** The leaders of the Greek army gathered in the tent to discuss the previous battle and what had gone wrong. Everything they said just seemed to confirm suspicions that the Gods were angered... finally Menelaus told them what the soothsayer's advice had been... Agamemnon glowered at his brother. All of the generals could tell that their commander did not want to give up his prize, and they assured him that it had just been human error that had lost the battle. Apollo had nothing to do with it. All of them, except Achilles. "My mother is a Goddess, and the Gods are not to be denied," he stood in the middle of the meeting, obviously frustrated with his comrades' placation of Agamemnon's petty desires, "If Apollo wants his Servant's daughter returned then that is what we must do, or we will never defeat the Trojans." Agamemnon sneered, "You are quick to say so, because it is my war-prize that must be returned... if it was that pretty girl that you've taken to your own tent would you be so quick to say so?" "Of course," replied Achilles breezily, "The Gods are the Gods, their whims and desires must come before ours." "But I am the leader of you all," stated Agamemnon, his eyes hard, "What of my whims and desires." Achilles answered without thinking, "As our leader then your whims and desires must come before ours, but the Gods must come first." "Well then, let the Gods come first," Agamemnon said, his triumphant grin splitting his face, "But since my whims and desires come next then I shall take Briseis from you, just as Apollo takes Chryseis from me." Turning to his soldiers, "Bring the girl Briseis to my tent." "HOLD," shouted Achilles, his hand going to his sword, "She is mine, my prize." "And Chryseis is mine, my prize... and yet I must give her up," Agamemnon said softly, his smile grim. Achilles was across the room, he would never make it all the way to Agamemnon to fight, not with all the generals sitting between them. The generals immediately clamored for Achilles to be reasonable, there would be other sacks where he could pick up a new concubine... There was nothing too special about this Briseis anyway, common soldiers had been about to have their way with her when Achilles had intervened. Cold eyes flashing, Achilles quieted them all with one wave of his hand. Staring straight at Agamemnon he declared, "Take the girl then. But my soldiers will not fight as long as she is not in my bed. See how well your battles go without Achilles and his Myrmidons there to fight." The rest of generals grew quiet and wary as Achilles stalked from the tent... although greatly angered Agamemnon knew that he could do nothing. Instead he smiled cheerily, "As if that man could ever stay away from a battle... as soon as he starts thinking with his head instead of his loins he'll be fighting alongside us, girl completely forgotten." Reassured by their leader's good humor, the generals laughed and began to plan. All except clever Odysseus, for he knew that Achilles would not go back on his word... and he knew from talking to his friend that Achilles' had more than just a mild interest in Briseis. There would be grief over this. **************************************************** By the time Achilles returned to his tent, however, Briseis was gone. Angrily he threw his armor to the ground and called in his best friend and sometimes lover Patroclus. "We do not fight." he said, sitting on his bed as rage filled his body, "They have taken Briseis and we do not fight until she is returned." Patroclus wanted to argue, he was much younger than Achilles' and had been trained by him for war, but he realized that his friend was far too angry to see reason now. Instead he just nodded and left, giving orders to the Myrmidons. *************************************************** Briseis lay, frightened and naked in the bed of Agamemnon, her hands were tied at the wrists by the men who had come to fetch her from Achilles' tent. She had no idea what was going on, only that the men told her she served a new master. When Agamemnon entered the tent she recognized him as the man who had take Chryseis from the town, and she shivered, huddling herself into a corner of the sleeping pallet. He smiled, wide and cruel. "Not bad," he said, looking her over, "Not bad at all, although I still don't understand why he was so determined to keep you. Nothing special really." Briseis' heart leaped as she realized that he was speaking of Achilles... Achilles had not wanted to give her up. She felt strangely relieved that she had not just been abandoned, although she still dreaded what was to come at the warlord's hands. At least she knew that Achilles had not wanted to give her up. Agamemnon was stripping off his armor, making her shudder as his brutish hairy body became visible to her... nothing like the strong, hard lines of Achilles. Although Agamemnon was a very strong man, his muscles were not well defined... too much drinking and carousing had softened his body, he was in no way an equal warrior to Achilles. Feeling sick as he approached her, his shaft curving upwards with a drop of fluid on its tip, Briseis turned away as he tried to kiss her. "Oh no," he cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue invading her mouth... she forced herself to lie still, without responding at all. Part of her wanted to bite him. Pulling away he smiled at her, "Resisting eh? Don't worry, I will make you scream with pleasure before the night is out, so that Achilles knows that Agamemnon is as much a man as he." Taking her bound wrists, Agamemnon tied them to the head of the sleeping pallet, leaving Briseis stretched out and completely vulnerable before him. Straddling her slender body, he began to squeeze her breasts, teasing her nipples to hardness. A few tears sparked in her eyes at the betrayal of her body... she closed her eyes to take away the visual, but that only made her concentrate more on the sensation of her nipples being pinched and gently twisted. With a low moan she forced her eyes open again. As hard as it was to watch Agamemnon above her, touching her, it was worse when her eyes were closed and all she could think about was the fact that it felt good. Agamemnon played with her breasts, his touch slowly becoming harder, rougher... she tried not to wriggle, not wanting him to know that he was getting to her... but Agamemnon was much more experienced than she was. He saw and recognized the heated flush in her cheeks, the slight glaze in her eyes... and her very hard nipples. Leaning over, he kissed her breasts, letting his beard scratch along her tender skin before taking a nipple into his mouth. Briseis gasped... someone should have told her, should have warned her, that she could hate the man on top of her and it would still feel good. Agamemnon sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his teeth and drawing another gasp from her as he bit down gently. Allowing the small bud to pop from his mouth he transferred his affections to the other, slowly sliding his body down hers so that his manhood rested against her thigh. Briseis trembled, feeling him so close to her... she might be aroused but she still didn't want him inside of her. Agamemnon could tell. He let his mouth travel down her stomach... and Briseis moaned in anguish as she realized his direction. Trying to keep her legs closed did no good, he was much stronger than her, and he spread her thighs to see the wet glistening of her womanhood. Smiling widely he pressed two fingers into her, making her gasp and writhe uncomfortably at the penetration. Resting his thumb on her bud of pleasure, he began pumping his fingers in and out of her body, mimicking what he would soon be doing to her. Although she didn't want to, Briseis felt pleasure building between her thighs, her body betraying her heart as Agamemnon skillfully played with her senses. Watching her face, he grinned as he lowered his mouth to the sweet slit, letting his tongue taste her body, caress her wetness. Moaning, Briseis writhed, unable to deny the exotic pleasures that she was feeling as he feasted upon her, shuddering as he found a spot within her body that made her tighten with exquisite pleasure. Then Agamemnon's mouth moved lower, and she cried out with pleasured shock as he tongued her crinkled anus. She hadn't even known that was possible... Whispers around the tent as her first cry of pleasure was heard were ignored by the occupants of the tent, they were much too immersed in their physical bodies. Agamemnon's tongue lashed against her tiny hole as his fingers twisted inside of her, pressing against it and trying to find a way in. Briseis moaned and writhed, the pleasure was incredible, and she finally gave in, closing her eyes so that she didn't have to see who was above her. She was finally realizing that he could coax responses from her body whether she wanted him to or not. As she came on his fingers and tongue, her cry was heard clearly from those around the tent, the throaty shriek of a woman wrapped in ecstacy. Inside the tent Agamemnon smiled as he loomed above her, using his hand to guide himself to her sheathe. Briseis whimpered as he began to enter her... he was long, much longer than Achilles although not as wide... he pressed deep into her body, opening up parts of her that had been untouched. When he finally buried himself completely inside of her, his manhood was bumping up against some kind of barrier. Briseis cried out as he began to thrust, half in pain as he hit that back wall in her body... but he was skillful and managed to keep from hitting it too hard. Pleasure was still seeping through her, she was so sensitive from her first orgasm, that having him inside of her, so large and so deep, was extremely pleasurable. His hands ran up and down her body, from her bound wrists that were tied high above her head, to her breasts and aching nipples, to her tingling hips. Everywhere he touched there was fire. She writhed beneath him as he reached under her bottom, his finger finding that tiny second hole and teasing it... her entire body tensed as he began to push in. Her back arched as the tip of Agamemnon's finger pierced her virgin anus, making her tighten both of her holes over his invasions. Growling under his breath, he attacked her breast with his mouth, sucking and biting at her nipple as he pressed more of his finger into her body. Briseis moaned, it felt so uncomfortable and so full at the same time, a sensation that she didn't quite know how to deal with. At the same time he was plunging in and out of her, rubbing himself through that thin barrier between his finger and manhood, questing deeper with both. Completely vulnerable beneath him, helpless to do anything but accept, Briseis shrieked as his finger buried itself completely within her... It felt incredibly wide, stretching her open. The most full she'd ever been. The pleasure that she'd received by his hands and tongue had given him a foundation to build on, and the fire inside her flared much more quickly this time... her back arched and she screamed her ecstacy as it flowed over her. Agamemnon felt her tightening around him, her sheathe rippling exquisitely, and he bellowed his triumph as Achilles' war-prize writhed in ecstacy beneath his thrusting body. He would take her completely. Thrusting into her to the fullest extent, he hit her barrier, making her cry out again as he began to spurt inside her, as deep as he could go. Briseis sobbed with pleasure and reaction as he swelled and released, feeling him pulsing inside her body... Agamemnon had taken her traitorous body as thoroughly as Achilles' ever had. ************************************************ All through the camp, men talked in whispers about the throaty female cries that had come from Agamemnon's tent that night... but no one quite had the courage to tell Achilles. He sat in his own tent, angry and alone. Greek Myths: The Trojan War Ch. 7 Author's Note: This story is based on Greek Myths, but is my own interpretation (and therefore even more fictional =). This chapter contains MM sex. Enjoy! ----------------------------------------- The day after Agamemnon had taken Briseis from Achilles, he led his troops against the Trojans. Achilles ordered his Myrmidons to stand down, taking no part in the fighting... instead, watching from a distant hill top. The day did not go well for Agamemnon and the Greeks... they were not as badly beaten as they had been when Chryseis had been in his bed, but they did not win either. At the end of the day both sides withdrew from battle, the Trojans feeling slightly more triumphant... after all, they did not have to win, they only had to defend themselves. And with Achilles and his men, the Greeks did not have enough force to over power them. That night, Agamemnon's generals urged him to make peace with Achilles, to return the slave-girl so that Achilles would rejoin the fight. He did not take his generals advice immediately... instead retiring to his tent to think things over. But he did not spend himself between the girl's thighs that night either. ***************************************** That same night, Patroclus was returned to the tent of Achilles... much younger than the famed warrior, this was Patroclus' first real battle. But he'd been trained by Achilles, mightiest of the mighty, and he looked forward to gaining his own legendary status in battle... however if Achilles continued to hold his men back that status might never be realized. Achilles was lying in his bed, on his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling... Patroclus wondered what he was seeing. The young man studied his leader, his hero... seeing the strong muscular curves. He loved Achilles in the way only a young Greek soldier could... he had been trained by Achilles in both battle and in eroticism, as was often the way within the Greek army. Although he was never jealous of the women that Achilles brought back to his tent, Patroclus always remembered his time spent with Achilles when he heard the feminine cries of passion. Walking forward to his leader, Patroclus sat next to him on the bed, "If we do not fight, the Greeks will fail." "I do not care," said Achilles and indeed his voice was full of indifference, he continued to stare at the ceiling, "I told her I'd take care of her." Patroclus hesitated, he knew how seriously Achilles took his promises... maybe if he could just get him to see that Achilles was not the only one who cared. "She has not been abused," he told his leader, "And even now the others are imploring Agamemnon to return her to you." "I don't know that I'll return to the fight even if he does," said Achilles listlessly, his face and voice hardened for a moment, "I hate that man." Patroclus didn't know what to say, although he could feel his heart sinking at the idea that Achilles and his Myrmidons might withdraw from the fight. Whether or not Achilles got Briseis back... this was a War of the centuries and he badly wanted his name to be listed as one of the heroes. His own bit of fame... for surely a protege of Achilles would triumph in battle. But instead of arguing with his friend, Patroclus just laid his hand on Achilles' arm... hoping that Achilles could see in his eyes the pleadings for the future. Instead, Achilles looked up at him and then quickly sat up, his hands going to either side of Patroclus' face and pulling him in for a kiss. Although startled, Patroclus had been Achilles' occasional lover long enough not to be startled enough to pull away. Now, in his twenties, he leaned into the kiss without enthusiasm, feeling his loins stirring. While there were plenty of slave women around after sacking the town, none of them had particularly interested him and so he'd had very little outlet for his desires... especially since he was the youngest of the Myrmidons. There was no young man that he was teaching to fight. His memories of Achilles from several years ago caused his breath to quicken and his member to harden, he could feel Achilles pulling him down onto the sleeping pallet. The older warrior rolled on top of him, their hard muscular bodies pressed together, and Patroclus could feel Achilles becoming just as aroused as himself. Groaning, they pressed together, and then suddenly Achilles was moving up Patroclus' body. Ripping off his own loin clothe, the famed warrior pressed his hard member to Patroclus' lips, the younger solider willingly opening for the firm, smooth shaft that eagerly sought out the deepness of his throat. Achilles' cupped Patroclus' head in his hands, pulling the young man's mouth further onto his shaft and moaning as Patroclus' tongue lashed the underside of him. Looking up, Patroclus realized that Achilles' eyes were closed as he began thrusting in and out of Patroclus' mouth... they had never been closed before. Achilles had always liked to watch himself disappearing between Patroclus' lips. Patroclus ran his hands up Achilles' hairy thighs, squeezing them hard with firm fingers, Achilles' eyes flew open... but he was still staring blindly. Patroclus' heart sank a little as he realized that Achilles was seeing Briseis in his minds eye, not the young man that was eagerly pleasuring him. Still... he was the one in Achilles' bed tonight... not her. It was he who would take Achilles' seed into his body... and if nothing else he could savor that. Suddenly Achilles moved, rolling Patroclus over and pulling him up onto all fours, roughly and quickly so that Patroclus didn't even have time to react before the wide, hard head of Achilles was pressing against his anus. He let out an agonized cry as the tiny whole was forced open, the blunt head of Achilles' shaft pressing forward and stretching him. It had been so long since the last time that he was incredibly tight, and Patroclus had to bite his lip to keep from asking Achilles to stop. As the burning shaft pressed deeper he reminded himself that he wanted this, though his body spasmed as Achilles pulled out a little and then pressed forward again. His tightness gripped the wide length of Achilles, muscles rippling over the questing shaft and massaging it. But Patroclus refused to give into the cramping pain... his own shaft had softened somewhat as he blinked back tears... but he was a warrior and he refused to give in to something he knew would eventually bring him great pleasure. Still, he couldn't help but grunt as Achilles thrust forward roughly, burying his entire burning length into Patroclus' backside. Then, to his relief, Achilles held still there, his hand gently caressing Patroclus' buttocks as his shaft twitched inside the younger man. Then that caressing hand moved down to the front of Patroclus, finding his half hard dick and teasing it gently with his fingertips. Patroclus groaned, but not out of pain this time, as the soft touch of the hardened warrior brought his flagging spirits back to life; his ass clenched as pleasure shuddered through him, a soothing balm to the ache in his buttocks. He began to push back against Achilles' groin, his cock springing to life... and Achilles began to thrust in and out of his tight ass. Patroclus moaned and wriggled, thrusting his dick back and forth through Achilles' hand in the same rhythm that Achilles was using to penetrate him. The shaft in his ass felt so large, slippery... incredibly erotic as it plunged back and forth, like it was pushing his dick from behind. The two men grunted and moaned as they moved faster and faster, their hard warrior bodies shoving against each other. As Patroclus bucked, his seed began to spill forth onto Achilles' sleeping pallet, and his body tightened around the spear inside of him. He heard a moan, and then a pulsing inside of him, feeling every spurt of the older warrior's seed as it sped into his body, filling his darkness with white froth. He gasped as Achilles pulled out of him roughly, shuddering at the sudden emptiness inside of him. Liquid began to trickle down his thighs as he stayed on all fours, quivering. "Thank you friend." Achilles said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. And he left Patroclus there as he went to wash. Friend. That one word said it all. Patroclus sighed and went to his own washroom. ******************************** The next morning the troops cheered as Briseis was brought back to Achilles' tent, knowing that their hero would be returning to the battlefield soon.