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The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 01

By: GilbertRusk



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of bits and pieces pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

This chapter contains an erotic coupling scene, though it also qualifies as a "first time" scene.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Prologue

Glory! Sing, sweet Muses, for the glory of Tythoros! Sing of the warrior who defeated great monsters to save the city that betrayed him. Sing of the curses and hardships he overcame for redemption's sake. Sing of the mighty gods, the brave allies, and the uncommon beauty who aided Tythoros in his quest.

Sing to me, great Muses, and help this humble author tell his tale.

Chapter 1

Begin, Muse, with that fateful night many ages ago in the proud city of Thebes. It was a cold, black, and foggy night, but no one in the city's main palace had noticed or cared.

The palace's hearth roared with flame that night. The banquet hall was filled with the light and warmth of a dozen torches. Musicians played merry tunes over the growing volume of roars and laughter. The hall's enormous tables were covered with all manner of succulent meats, fruits, cakes, and jugs of wine. It was enough to feed a village, but the proud fighting men of Thebes were eating through it all with remarkable speed.

Flush with recent victory, this gathering of warlords and generals celebrated with raucous vigor. They laughed, they sang, they drank, and a few had even helped themselves to the nubile curves of their host's servants. One soldier in particular -- tall, with broad muscles and resplendent golden armor -- sat at the head of one table with a comely brunette under each arm. The women had stayed with him all that night, whether they wanted to or not.

Elsewhere, at the head of a different table, a man gripped his scepter (crafted by the god Hephaestus himself) and stood. Everyone in the banquet hall grew quickly silent, for Ammochrusios was such a mountain of a man that even without his royal scepter, and even with so much food and drink caught in his ample beard, the king had a presence that commanded attention.

His voice boomed through the hall. "Mighty Thebans, Olympus smiles upon us this day! Together, we have proven that no mortal force on this Earth could ever hope to match the strength of Thebes!"

Ammochrusios paused as his soldiers banged their fists against the table, thundering their approval.

"Not only have you earned honor for yourselves," he continued. "But you have earned the gratitude of a kingdom. Not only did you strike everlasting fear into the hearts of our enemies, but you brought tremendous glory and hordes of treasure back to your beloved homeland."

More thunder, as the soldiers roared and banged once more.

"Though you have all earned your places in song and story for generations to come, special praise must be given to the sharp-eyed Xalchon."

There was more applause as the gold-armored warrior threw his new female companions aside and stood next to Ammochrusios. No one at that table questioned that Xalchon deserved praise above them all. The comrades in arms had all seen Xalchon's golden armor turn red with the blood of countless adversaries fallen by his spear. His prodigious strength and ragged visage were enough to terrify all who stood before him.

"Xalchon," said Ammochrusios, "for your vital part in this victory, I award you first choice of the spoils. Name any prize you wish."

"My lord," replied Xalchon, "I ask only for what I am owed. The gold, the weapons, and the women I took by force are all mine. But that is not enough, for you promised me another prize. You promised me a young and heavenly beauty, never before touched by man. A woman of many skills and crafts who would be mine until the House of Death claims me. For this victory, king of Thebes, you owe me your first daughter. You owe me Pheira's hand in marriage."

Ammochrusios offered his hand to the sharp-eyed warrior. "I remember this promise," he replied, "and I will gladly hold to it. You shall wed my daughter tomorrow, and take your share of the war spoils as dowry."

The king and his champion clasped hands, and it was done. The celebration continued anew, in honor of the warrior and his engagement.

***

As was often the case with arranged marriages in those days, the engaged couple had never met or seen each other previously. In fact, Pheira was shut in her bedchamber at that very moment, far away from the noise of the banquet hall.

Yet despite the distance and Pheira's vain attempts to keep distracted, she could still hear all the noise. Her father and his men were making such an awful din that Pheira could barely hear someone knocking at her door. She didn't even think to answer the door until she heard a muffled voice say "My lady?"

She finally opened her bedchamber to find a lanky fellow with pleasant features and a thick head of oak-colored hair. Though he was dressed as one of the household servants, Pheira couldn't recall ever seeing him before. That was hardly unusual, though: The royal family had more servants than Pheira could keep track of.

"I thought my lady might like some food from the banquet," said the servant. Indeed, he was carrying a large plate full of meats, fruits, and bread. He had even included a couple small cups of wine. Pheira couldn't deny that the food looked heavenly.

"Thank you," said Pheira. "Do come in."

The servant set his plate down on the floor and closed the door behind him. "You've been here alone this whole time, my lady?" he asked.

"A moment's peace has been very hard to come by lately. I'm thankful to have one before the wedding."

"So you heard that the king has given you to Xalchon?"

Before replying, Pheira helped herself to a grape. It was remarkable how one little piece of fruit could taste so delicious. She couldn't recall ever tasting such sweet juice. Clearly, the girl didn't know just how hungry she was.

"My marriage to Xalchon was set before the warships had ever left," she said between bites of beef. "It's all that my mother and Cleia have been able to talk about." Pheira paused to gulp down some wine. "Then again, as they incessantly remind me, I am far too old not to be married." In fact, Pheira was eighteen years of age in a time when girls typically got married off at fifteen.

The servant helped himself to an apple. "Perhaps," he suggested, "it will all be worth it now that you've found such a powerful husband."

Pheira paused to brush some crumbs off the curves of her chest before continuing. "I'm not sure what to think about Xalchon. I've heard that he's a brave and valiant gentleman who brings great honor to our kingdom. I've heard that he's a brute who lusts only for his own power. I've heard that he once decapitated a live bull with his bare hands. There are so many rumors about him, but I don't know which ones to believe. I've never met him personally."

A thought suddenly came to Pheira. "You just came from the banquet hall," she pointed out. "Did you meet Xalchon?"

"I saw him briefly, my lady," answered the servant, hesitating before going on. "He was as merry and drunken as anyone else at the table, while groping any serving woman who got within arm's reach."

Pheira let out a heavy and frustrated sigh. "Well, he is a fighting man, and he'll be next in line for the throne after the wedding. I suppose it's his privilege."

The servant looked hard into her bright blue eyes. "Highness, marriage is never a thing to be taken lightly. He will be responsible for your happiness, and you his, for all time. That's a heavy responsibility, my lady. Do you trust him with it?"

Pheira paused. "As I said earlier, I don't know."

"Then don't take that chance," begged the servant. "Put your faith in a man who would grant happiness for you and your kingdom."

Pheira was growing impatient with this line of questioning. Who did this servant think he was, addressing a princess in such a manner? "And where," she asked testily, "do you propose I go looking for such a man?"

She had been expecting him to try and kiss her, but she could never have predicted her own reaction. Pheira would have had to put this servant to death for such insolence, much as it would have broken her heart to rid the world of such a kind and charming man. But then his lips touched hers.

In the moment of that kiss, Pheira completely forgot where she was and who she was with. This contact with the servant had filled the princess with such joy that she only wanted him to touch her more.

In an instant, she went from pulling away to pushing deeper into the kiss. Her hands held his chin as the servant caressed her waist and they pulled each other closer. His hands moved to grab her round, plump ass through the fabric of her clothing. Pheira gasped at the touch, leading the servant to stick his tongue in her mouth.

Pheira was so entranced that she gladly let him in. As the vibrant warmth of his tongue probed her mouth, Pheira took even more pleasure in feeling his strong biceps. His firm chest. His abs were so well-defined that she could feel them through his clothes. She could even feel a tremendous bulge that quickly responded to her touch.

The bulge was so huge that Pheira finally broke her transcendent kiss to see it. The moment she looked down, Pheira knew she had to see more. The thought aroused and excited her that this strong, abundant mound of flesh was the first penis she had ever touched, and the first she would ever see.

"Allow me, your highness," said the servant. He quickly undid his belt and the clasp of his clothing. Within moments, the servant stood completely naked before Pheira. The princess marveled at his flawless complexion, with muscles so toned and perfect that they might have been carved out of stone.

But of course, Pheira's eyes were quickly drawn to his groin. Those thighs were hard and large enough, but then there was the phallus swinging between them. The princess was so impressed with its length and girth that she had to see what this cock was like when it was more than just half-erect.

Though Pheira had obviously never pleasured a man herself, her mother had provided more than enough verbal instruction about consummating a wedding. For the first time in her life, this princess lowered to her knees for a serving boy. With one hand cradling his scrotum and the other gently wrapped around his shaft, Pheira began licking the very tip of his penis.

Pheira could hear him grunt with satisfaction, but her pleasure was far greater. Sweet Gods on Olympus, even his cock tasted amazing. Almost instantly, she started sucking on the head of his prick. After that, she licked all up and down the shaft, slowly tasting as much of his salty-sweet warmth as she could.

"Gentle, now!" cried the servant. Before Pheira even realized it, she had started sucking on his balls.

She immediately released them. "I'm sorry!" she blurted. "Did I --?"

"You're doing fine," he interrupted. "Just going a little hard, is all. Maybe you should get back to this," he said, gesturing to his shaft. "I wonder how much of it you could fit in your mouth."

So encouraged, Pheira put one hand on the base of his shaft, one hand gently grasping his balls, and her mouth around the head of his penis. Then -- as slowly as she dared -- Pheira moved it as far back into her throat as it could go. She wrapped her plump lips tight around his cock, keeping its warmth within her. She continued to move her tongue around it, eager to keep on tasting that sweet flesh. As she moved her mouth back and forth along his shaft, Pheira could hear the servant grunting and moaning with pleasure.

"Oh, yes, my lady," he said. "Just like that." As he spoke, Pheira could feel the veins and muscles of his cock stiffening in response to her touch. She could feel his soft hands brushing through the curls of her dark blonde hair. She could feel his hands on her shoulders. And yes, she could feel him undoing the clasp of her toga.

Finally, Pheira was treated to a sugary taste emerging from the servant's tip. The servant moaned louder than ever as she furiously licked at the tip of his prick, tasting as much of his warm precum as she could, until she finally let go of him.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, "but my mouth is so tired --"

The servant knelt down and took her oval-shaped head in his hands. "That's perfectly natural," he said. "You were wonderful. Now, I'll return the favor."

She took his hand as they stood up. Without the clasp to hold them, Pheira's clothes came undone as she stood, falling into a heap around her. Pheira made no attempt to hide her rosy and unblemished skin. She stood unashamed before the servant, revealing her luscious curves and her round, plump ass.

Pheira looked down at the servant's prick, which was now standing at full attention in all of its incredible girth and length. It was so lovely to her that Pheira couldn't resist reaching over to touch it again. As she did, the servant leaned in for another kiss.

Their lips locked in sweet embrace, they moved over and fell onto the bed. Pheira was underneath him, her arms spread-eagled. Her body was open to him, and the servant started with her chest.

Her breasts were more than large enough for any man, but they were a perfect fit for the servant's big, smooth hands. As he and Pheira continued probing each others' mouths with their tongues, the servant gently massaged her breasts. His touch was perfect, not hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough to feel incredible. More than that, his hands seemed to spread a warmth so overwhelming that it went all through her breasts and right to her heart.

The servant made sure to brush his thumbs against her small, pink nipples, and they responded in kind. When they became stiff enough to hurt, the servant finally moved down and licked them, switching from one to the other. Pheira arched her back as far as it could go, eager for all the sensual friction his tongue could offer.

Her moans and gasps had been uncontrollable by now, but she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming when the servant reached down to massage her thigh. As he gripped her ass, Pheira started bucking her hips uncontrollably. When she did, the both of them felt just how wet the princess had gotten.

The servant stopped to reach between her legs. Pheira felt the electric touch of his fingers rubbing up and down her labia, getting coated in her moisture.

"Oh, please," she cried out. "Please!"

"Please what, highness?"

"Don't stop. Whatever this is that I'm feeling, don't make it stop."

With that, the servant set his knees onto the floor. He put his hands on Pheira's thighs, which were resting at the edge of the bed. He spread her legs apart with no resistance, then moved his hands up to just under her sopping wet pussy.

Pheira grabbed fistfuls of sheets the instant she felt his breath on her pussy. She cried out in ecstasy at the feel of his tongue lapping against her slit. Every time his hands rubbed her thighs, she felt sparks all through her spine. Every time his tongue stroked her pussy, she let out another moan of joy. She couldn't even form words until his tongue finally hit the hard nub of her sex.

"There!" she exclaimed. "Right there!"

She continued crying out as the servant licked her clit furiously. Pheira's back arched, her hips thrust, and her fists clenched as so much raw energy spread from her sex to her entire body.

"Don't stop! Don't stop! DON'T STOP!" She was right at the tipping point, and the servant knew it. Sure enough, Pheira felt a brief but overpowering explosion of pleasure within her. Her muscles spasmed uncontrollably as she cried out in bliss.

But the servant wasn't done. Pheira opened her eyes to see that the servant was now standing between her legs.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked while stroking his still-erect cock.

She was still dazed and limp from the climax that came not ten seconds previous. She was supposed to be a virgin for her upcoming nuptials. But somehow, all of that seemed far away when she saw her lover and that wonderful organ in his hands.

Without hesitation or a second thought, she commanded "Give it to me."

As quickly as she said it, the servant placed the tip of his cock right on her mound. He spread her lips with his thumbs and -- bit by bit -- slid his impressive length inside her. Pheira couldn't feel any pain, only warmth and raw delight. She couldn't even feel her hymen break, nor did she notice or care that her first penetration left no blood. The princess could only feel the intoxicating friction of her lover's cock as it rapidly thrust in and out of her.

The servant kept his hands on the princess' hips, but Pheira had finally let go of the sheets. She was now grabbing hold of her breasts, which gave her even more pleasure.

"Oh! Oh! OH! YES!" Her moans kept perfect time with the rapid thrusting inside her, and her cries got higher in pitch the longer he kept pounding.

As if by reflex, Pheira wrapped her legs around the servant's waist. In response, the servant bent down and then stood, picking her up. The moment she embraced him, the servant reached down and supported her by the buttocks. He spread them open as he continued thrusting, without ever breaking rhythm.

It wasn't every man who could lift or carry her so easily if this was any other day, but in this moment, with this man all around and inside of her, she felt lighter than air. Pheira embraced him as tightly as her arms could allow. She buried her face into his neck, alternately kissing him and moaning into his shoulder.

"It's coming again!" she cried. "Just keep going!"

At that exact moment, the servant lowered her back onto the bed. Only this time, they were lying on top of each other, with Pheira's legs still wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Me too," he grunted. "Keep at it!"

By now, they were working in perfect rhythm. Their hips were grinding in perfect unison, and grinding quickly. Once again, Pheira felt her entire body seize up with anticipation for that one glorious moment.

As the servant continued ramming his cock into her with unrelenting speed, the moment finally came.

"OH, GODS!" she screamed in absolute bliss, loud enough to wake those sleeping in Hades. Pheira could feel warm, liquid joy spreading from her broken maidenhead through her entire being. Every muscle in her body convulsed for a short blessed moment that felt like an eon.

Finally, her arms and legs unwrapped themselves as Pheira went totally limp. Her brain felt completely blank. She didn't know or feel anything except a happy weightless feeling.

It was a long time before Pheira could find the breath to say "That... was amazing," but she said it to no one at all.

"Hello?" Pheira called, suddenly feeling rather stupid because she didn't know the servant's name. She had no idea where he had went to or how to call for him.

He had vanished, gone without a trace.

***

At that exact moment, mighty Zeus had returned to the peaks of Mount Olympus. He had scarcely crossed the gates to those palaces of marble and gold when he heard "Ah! There you are, my lord and husband."

With a muted sigh, Zeus turned to face his wife. "Well met, sweet Hera. What tidings do you bring me?"

"Oh, it may well be nothing," said Hera, "but I notice that the fog around Thebes is peculiarly thick. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Her tone was sweet, but Hera's cow-eyed stare bored directly into the gaze of her husband, the king of Gods. Zeus could only answer "I hadn't noticed. If it should trouble you, my lady, I could dispel the fog quite easily."


The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 01



"Please do," Hera requested. "I imagine it's an inconvenience to those celebrating there now. You know, they just offered up a sacrifice to me, so that I may bless the engagement of sharp-eyed Xalchon."

"I was not aware that he had been betrothed," Zeus coolly replied.

"Oh, yes," Hera said, turning the screw. "But then, you wouldn't know a thing about the bride, would you? I'm sure you don't have a care in all the world about sweet, beauteous Pheira, do you?"

Zeus' temper was rising, and Hera could see it. "Do you dare to accuse me of something, Hera?"

"Would you dare to seduce her, my husband, as you have seduced so many others before?"

Zeus advanced upon her. "Be careful, sweet bedmate, with your vengeance. I know that your jealousy and spite have no limit. I have seen too many of my consorts and children suffer too greatly for the sake of your injured pride."

"For the sake of our marriage!" Hera retorted.

Zeus spoke over her. "Take care, my queen! Take care that you do not exact punishment on those who have not earned it!"

The moment hung between them in silence. "Do you deny laying with that girl?" Hera finally asked.

"I insist," Zeus answered, "that you leave Ammochrusios, his daughters, and all of his servants alone. Disobey me in this and you will know the limits of my wrath."

Hera could only say "As my husband wishes," with a bow, before they left for other business. Zeus went back to his throne, and Hera went to seek her daughter, Eileithyia.

***

The following night, every servant and guest of the palace in Thebes had come to the banquet hall. They were being treated to yet another feast, this time to celebrate the nuptials of their princess and to witness the moment when she became newly wed to Xalchon.

This feast was even more grand than the one before, for Pheira was such a beloved princess that no one in the palace had spared any effort or expense to wish her marriage well. Pheira herself was draped from head to toe with a beautiful white dress embroidered with gold, a thick veil covering her face. She was sitting at the head of one table, surrounded by her mother, her sister, and all the other women of the palace. The men sat at another table, surrounding Xalchon in his gleaming golden armor.  

And above them all, lying unseen in wait, was Eileithyia.

That goddess who watched over pregnancies and birth pangs had been given very strict instructions by her mother, the jealous Hera. Eileithyia patiently obeyed the queen goddess' wishes, taking count of all those women who were with unborn child while waiting her cue.

Finally, Ammochrusios took his staff in hand and stood at the front of the hall. The room went quiet as Xalchon went to stand by the king and Pheira went to join him. All eyes were on them, until a loud retching noise was heard.

No mortal in the banquet hall ever saw Eileithyia at work. They only saw the queen Cuphora, visibly pregnant at the time with the king's only son, violently throw up in a display of morning sickness. A handful of other women present, all of whom were pregnant, vomited uncontrollably soon after.

Out of concern for the guests or fear of poisoned food, the entire hall was thrown into uproar. But the worst was yet to come.

"Pheira!" someone shouted. "The lady Pheira has fallen ill!"

Everyone's attention had turned back to Pheira. She was on her knees, with frightened tears in her eyes, but not a soul went to help her. In a gross violation of tradition, the bride had removed her own veil.

Far worse, Pheira's wedding gown and veil had been ruined by the vomit of her morning sickness.

What followed was a long and terrifying moment of stunned silence. No one could think of anything to say, save only for Ammochrusios.

"OUT!" he roared. "Everyone, begone from this place! Get out! Get out!"

The guests obeyed, dispersing to tell the whole city what had transpired. The only ones who remained were Ammochrusios, his wife, his two daughters, and the man who would have been his son. All were too shocked, too embarrassed, too angry to say anything.

"What have you done?" It was Cuphora who first ventured to speak. Her words were so soft and so frightened that it would have been better if she had shouted. "My daughter, what have you done?"

Pheira could say nothing.

Xalchon had held his rage in check for long enough. "She was supposed to be a virgin!" he exploded. "You swore to me that no man had touched her!"

"It would seem," said Ammochrusios, putting a great deal of effort into keeping his voice even, "that my daughter has fallen into the arms of a man without my knowledge."

The king turned on his daughter. "And from your condition, it would appear that this happened not long ago. Who was it, you wretched girl? For whom did you bring shame upon yourself and on all those here now?!"

The king's voice echoed through the empty banquet hall as Pheira carefully chose her answer. "My lord and father," she began, "I only know that after loving me as no man had ever before loved a woman, he disappeared more quickly than frost before the sun. If I laid with any other than mighty Zeus whose shield is thunder, I pray that he may grant me the kindness of killing me at this moment."

"Heresy!" cried Xalchon. "Outrageous deceit! Who are you, foul whore, to blame the king of all gods for your crime? I beg you, king Ammochrusios, put this harlot to death as payment for her broken promise and yours!"

Pheira cried for her life, but it was Cuphora's retort that reached everyone's ears: "What if she's right?"

That was too horrible a scenario for anyone to consider. Zeus was known through all of creation for his indiscretions, and he would surely punish any mortal who harmed his consorts.

"Father?" asked Pheira as Ammochrusios went over his options.

Finally, he addressed Xalchon. "Sharp-eyed Xalchon. On my family's behalf, I cannot apologize enough for this great shame upon our families."

"Your apologies are ill compensation for a broken promise," retorted Xalchon.

"Oh, but my promise will be kept yet," said Ammochrusios. He gestured to Cleia, the young girl -- no older than fifteen -- who had been hiding behind her mother this whole time. "In the place of my first daughter, I offer my second. You will see for yourself that she is quite beautiful, and if she is not a virgin, I should give you my kingdom!"

Upon hearing this, Pheira's limbs had suddenly found their former strength. "No," interjected Pheira as she stood. "No, you cannot hand innocent Cleia over to this barbarian! Punish me as you will, but I pray you, father, do not make her suffer for what I've done!"

"Guards!" called Ammochrusios, ignoring his first-born. "Guards!"

When two armed soldiers appeared, hearing their master's call, Ammochurios continued. "This wench is no longer my daughter," he decreed. "See to it that she is removed from the kingdom immediately and imprisoned upon her return. I never want to hear her name spoken again!"

***

So it was that the unhappy maiden Pheira, banished from her own kingdom, headed south while with child. Over time, she was able to beg and barter her way to the city of Athens. In a welcome and long-overdue bit of good fortune, it was there she met Plakinos, an old marble quarryman.

Plakinos was pleased to take in the disgraced princess, as he was a widower with no child of his own. Indeed, he had hoped to wed Pheira in due course, but his courting was all for naught. Alas, the tragic maiden had been so badly cursed by Eileithyia that she died in childbirth.

In her place, Plakinos bestowed upon her child the name of "Tythoros," and raised the boy as his own son.

***

The story will continue shortly in Chapter 2. In the meantime, your comments and feedback are more than welcome.

Special thanks to LaRascasse, for graciously agreeing to review and edit this chapter, and thanks to you for reading.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 02



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of bits and pieces pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 2

Though Pheira had died giving birth to Zeus' son, Hera's jealousy had not yet been sated.

She watched intently as the marble quarryman Plakinos raised Pheira's son as his own. She watched Tythoros become a master marble cutter, taught by Plakinos until the old man finally went down to the House of Death.

She saw this bastard, this illegitimate son of her husband, grow into a wonderful man. He was tall and handsome, with thick oak-brown hair and his mother's blue eyes. His skin was made tanned and rough through many long days in the quarry.

And yet she continued to wait. Twenty years had passed before the time finally came for her to strike again.

***

As Tythoros walked home after work that night, he took some time to pass by the Parthenon. He did this very frequently. As much as he revered the wise warrior goddess Athena, Tythoros admired this temple still more for its craftsmanship. This was a house designed to last throughout the ages, built from the finest marble bricks in all the kingdom.

He would normally have gone into the temple to pray further, but there was no chance of that. The entire city had flocked to Athena's temple in anticipation for the upcoming Panathenaia, when the grey-eyed goddess' birthday would be observed. The crowds assembling around the temple would be true Athenian citizens, no doubt, and Tythoros wanted nothing to do with such people that day.

With a silent prayer of apology to the favorite daughter of Zeus, Tythoros continued walking by. He was going home, where he would find the greatest blessing the gods had yet granted him.

***

Not only was Tythoros a mere commoner (so far as everyone knew, anyway), but his birth by a foreign woman barred him from formal citizenship in Athens. Even so, he had no shortage of suitors. Given his reputation as a handsome, kind, strong, and charming man with great success in business, Tythoros could have had his choice of any woman in the city. Men came from leagues away, offering handsome dowries if only Tythoros would marry their daughters.

To the outrage of many women, and the bewilderment of many men, Tythoros eventually chose Aloche.

That night -- as with every night for the past few months -- Tythoros got to eat dinner opposite the adorable dimpled smile of a brown-haired girl in her late teens. "How go preparations for the festival?" he asked his wife.

"Very well," replied Aloche. "Getting the peplos ready is never a simple matter, but it will be done on time." Aloche was one of the ergastinai, those craftswomen who worked every year to build a gown (the peplos) for the Parthenon's massive statue of Athena as part of the festival.

She continued, "Speaking of work, how are things in the quarry?"

"There is high demand for marble in Eleutherae," answered Tythoros. "I spent all day carrying marble there from the quarry. All day, sweet Aloche, carrying one block after another from the quarry to the construction site in Eleutherae. What other man in all the kingdom could do such work for so long?"

Indeed, Tythoros had such strength and endurance that he could work a dozen mules into the ground. No mortal could ever have known, but this was the gift of his immortal blood. In any case, Aloche guessed that Tythoros didn't stress the point simply to brag.

Aloche set down her dinner. "Certainly, no one else in the kingdom who could do so much," she agreed.

"Not even the strongest runner in the Panathenaic Games, you can be sure," Tythoros pointed out, as he aggressively continued eating.

Aloche watched him for a few concerned and uncertain moments. "My dear husband, what ails you?"

Tythoros set down his meal and breathed a heavy sigh. "I hesitate to say," replied Tythoros. "For it would mean speaking ill of the city and the people that I love."

Aloche moved to sit next to her husband. "Sweet Tythoros, you know I would not judge you, nor would I divulge anything you wished secret. I pray you, please tell me what the matter is."

After a long, thoughtful pause, Tythoros finally spoke. "I was born in Athens. I was brought up by a citizen of Athens. All my life, I've lived by the laws and customs of Athens. Yet because my mother -- the mother I never knew -- was not born here, I can never be considered a true citizen."

Aloche put a hand on Tythoros' thigh. "And why, dear husband, would you wish to be a true citizen? You fear being treated as a person of lower class? There should be no concern for that, you have enough success in cutting marble. You wish to compete in the games? No one could defeat you in competitions of strength and the whole city knows it. You wish to honor Athena by taking part in her birthday rituals? You honor each of the gods all year with the temples and statues made from your marble. You deeply love the city and no one would dare claim otherwise. So what is it that you want?"

Tythoros put a hand on her shoulder. "I only regret that I was cursed with an uncertain past. My whole life, I never felt like I truly belonged anywhere. Even worse, I know in my heart that there is some place out there where I may be accepted freely and completely."

Aloche responded by taking his cheek in her hand, leaning over to tenderly kiss him. With that one kiss, she made it clear that he would always be at home in her arms.

Finally, the kiss was broken. Tythoros looked over the round face, the soft green eyes, and the big, pouty lips of his wife.

"Are you with child yet?" he asked.

"No," she replied sadly. "Not yet."

As Tythoros got up, he said, "We must do something about that."

***

As Aloche led him to the bedchamber, Tythoros spent every moment admiring the body of his wife from behind. She was a full-figured woman, with just enough meat on her bones to provide some amazing curves. Aloche swayed her hips as she walked, knowing that her husband had his eyes on her backside the whole time.

No one else could understand why Tythoros turned down so many tall and slender beauties to marry a wider woman who was shorter than him by a head and a half. It was not a decision that he regretted for a moment.

When they finally reached the bedchamber, Tythoros put his hands on her waist. He pulled her closer, pressing her back against his lower chest. Tythoros crouched down, Aloche craned her neck back and upward, and they kissed deeply.

As they kissed, Tythoros moved his hands all over her. The two of them melted into each other as their warm tongues probed each other's mouths. She pressed herself tighter against him as his rough hands and strong arms explored her wonderful curves.

Slowly, Tythoros moved his hands up to her chest. He lowered his mouth to kiss her neck, the better to hear her moans of pleasure. She happily rolled her head to the side, allowing for more of his warm touch on her light pink skin.

Oh, how Aloche sighed at the feel of Tythoros gently rubbing her huge, supple breasts through the fabric of her clothes. She gasped with delight as his fingers teased her nipples, which grew ever harder at his touch.

A short time later, Aloche's nipples were so erect that they visibly poked through her clothes. Tythoros moved his left hand to continue pleasing her right breast as his right hand slowly traveled downward. Down past her navel, just barely grazing her pubic mound, finally settling on her thigh.

She could feel his large, strong hand on the inside of her thigh, raising her skirt at a leisurely pace. Aloche responded by swaying her hips, moving them side to side against the great arousal of her lover. The feel of her big, round ass rubbing against his prick sent shudders of joy throughout his entire body, but Tythoros would not be distracted from his task.

Finally, Tythoros succeeded in raising Aloche's skirt, exposing the damp, meaty lips and the dark brown curls of her sex. She let out an ecstatic yelp as he began to gently caress her intimate flesh. All the while, he continued to massage her breast, tease her nipple, and kiss her neck.

It was too much. Aloche reached with one hand to fondle her other breast while the other hand reached upward for Tythoros' shoulder. Her entire body was open to him.

"My love," she whispered. "Please don't torture me like this. I'm ready. I need you."

With that, Tythoros quickly rubbed her pink folds one last time before gently inserting two fingers. The warm friction of his rough fingers inside of her made Aloche groan loudly with joy. The feel of his thumb rotating against her pearl made her hips grind harder.

"That feels so good!" cried Aloche. "Deeper! Faster!"

Tythoros obliged. His thumb pressed harder against her clit. His fingers moved in and out of her with a quick and unyielding rhythm. The friction created heat that radiated through Aloche's entire body. Her senses flooded with ecstasy, combined with the feel of the pressure on her breasts and her lover's warm breath against her neck.

Aloche could feel the rush overcoming her, and she made no attempt to resist. Tythoros felt her go rigid in his arms with an "Ah! Ah! AHHHHH, YES!" His wife then collapsed, panting for breath, into his arms.

When the wave of senseless euphoria had finally passed, she looked up at Tythoros, who was now back to standing at his full height.

"I think we should disrobe, don't you?" he suggested. Indeed, as Aloche soon realized, they were still fully clothed.

As simple as that, Aloche immediately got her second wind. She stood, unclasped her chiton, and took the fabric from her luscious body as quickly as she could. At the same time, Tythoros moved to uncover his tanned skin and his enormous muscles.

After taking in the sight of him, she came forward for another kiss. She had to stand on her tiptoes and he had to bend down a ways, but they did kiss deeply once again.

"I love you," she said.

"And I you, my dear."

They kissed again before Aloche moved to kiss his thick neck. She slowly moved down to kiss his rock-hard chest as she felt his bulging biceps. Tythoros loved the moment when she started kissing around his navel, because it meant that she was going to put his cock between her breasts. His wife did not disappoint.

He took a sudden gasp as Aloche squeezed her warm, tender breasts around his member. "Oh, sweet Tythoros," she cooed. "Look what you've prepared for me." His member was standing at full attention between her tits. She rubbed it between them, feeling his heat as he could feel hers.

"It's all yours," said Tythoros. "Please, do what you will with it."

Aloche was well aware of his godlike stamina, so she knew he could last a long time. There was no need to go easy. All the same, she took some time to lick his erection from base to tip, going as slowly as she dared. She kept steady eye contact with her lover the whole time, so each of them knew full well how much the other was enjoying it.

She took his shaft in one hand while caressing his large, sturdy thigh with the other. Tythoros watched her take the head of his cock into her mouth, and he felt her tongue circle around it, to his audible satisfaction. Aloche slid him into her mouth as far as she could, then another few times until her tongue had thoroughly lubed him.

She quickened her pace, being careful to match her rhythm with that of her husband's groaning. Tythoros could feel her mouth sucking harder with every pass. "Oh!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet, you feel so good!"

He reveled in the heat and moisture of her mouth. He loved their moments of eye contact as she pleasured him. And oh, how they both loved the feel of her plump, moist lips against his stiff, throbbing cock.

Aloche savored the taste of his pre-cum, though she took it as a sign to stop. She took out his cock and stroked it by hand. "I think he's ready to go someplace else," she said.

"Lean over on the bed," he directed.

Aloche obeyed. Though her feet stayed on the floor, she rested face down on the mattress. She spread her legs wide, eager with anticipation for what was to come. Tythoros could see that her pussy was still sopping wet from the previous orgasm. He rubbed his erection against her moist outer folds, and Aloche let out a pleased groan at the feel of it.

"Here it comes," he said, before slowly pushing himself into her. He felt Aloche's muscles tensing as he entered her one inch at a time. All the while, she enjoyed the transcendent feeling of being whole as her husband's thick, hard cock filled her so completely.

With his hands resting on her hips, he began thrusting. He moved slowly at first, the better to savor that sweet moist warmth wrapping tightly around his penis. Though his thrusts were slow, they were hard, such that Aloche felt a blissful tremor through her body every time he entered her.

Aloche reached down to rub her clit as he continued pounding. "Faster!" she cried. "Go faster!"

Tythoros was all too pleased to oblige his wife. He pounded her with increasing speed, his strong and tireless hips moving in perfect rhythm with Aloche's cries of ecstasy.

His hands moved from her hips to her ass. He groped Aloche's gorgeous, perfectly round bottom which so sorely tempted him even in dreams. He grabbed firmly onto her ass as he pounded it, never breaking his stride.

"Ah!" Aloche groaned as he felt her husband's firm grip on her ass.

"Oh, you like that?" he asked, his voice ripe with lust.

He gave her rear a good hard slap. "Harder," she gasped. He slapped her harder, his palm thudding with an audible smack. "Harder!" she cried. Tythoros slapped her plump, red ass even harder.

"Harder, my love! Smack me harder! Fuck me harder!"

Tythoros leaned down to grope her breasts, even as he continued pounding her harder and faster. His pelvis was smashing into her buttocks with such force that he didn't even need to beat them.

Aloche, still furiously rubbing her clit with one hand, grabbed fistfuls of sheets with the other. Meanwhile, Tythoros continued working and willing himself to orgasm. She needed his sperm, and by Eros' strongest arrow, he was going to deliver it. Tythoros' endurance was such that if he tried to hold out, they could be humping all night and be no closer to a child for it.

Finally, his head tilted back, his eyes shut tightly, his back arched, his jaw hung open, and cream sprayed from his cock inside of her as guttural moans of pure ecstasy burst from his lips.

Aloche was just on the verge of orgasm herself when Tythoros pulled out. She was grateful for the seed he had given her, of course, but it frustrated her to have come so close. Luckily, she knew Tythoros' stamina. She looked back to find that he was indeed still erect.

"Lay down, darling. I want a chance to finish."

"Gladly, my sweet." He laid down on the bed, his prick pointing to the sky. Aloche crouched down to briefly suck him off again, tasting her own sugary juices mixed with her husband's hot cum. Tythoros' back arched at the familiar pleasure of his wife's strong tongue on his rod.

She stroked him lightly a couple of times by hand before straddling his hips. With one hand on his firm shoulder and the other holding his cock steady, Aloche lowered her engorged, dripping pussy around his length.

Aloche furiously rubbed her clit while grinding her hips back and forth. Tythoros groped her enormous breasts, teasing her large, brown nipples while enjoying the friction of his huge arousal in her tight, hot little hole.

No doubt about it, the woman was desperate to get off, and Tythoros was eager to assist in any way he could. He sat up to orally please her succulent tits, sucking and licking them to Aloche's delight. Aloche herself was thrusting as hard as she could, rubbing her throbbing clitoris with all of her strength. Her moans got louder, her breathing grew faster, she was so close to climaxing she could feel it just barely within reach...

...But Hera was watching.

Hera had only let the girl live this long because giving a little meant taking a lot. At this very moment, Tythoros knew beyond any doubt that he had a loving and beautiful wife, a chance at having a child, and the near-certainty of living happily with a good family for the rest of his days. Now, at the brightest and most blissful moment of his life, it was time to take all of that away from him.

At the very moment of Aloche's climax, when every pleasurable spot in her body exploded with joy and she screamed her happiness to the heavens above, Hera finally made her move.

In response to Hera's unseen touch, Aloche's expression instantly turned from unimaginable happiness to total rage. "Aloche?" Tythoros asked, still disoriented from lovemaking. "What --?"

He never got to finish the question, for Aloche's hands had clutched themselves around his throat. She wasn't nearly strong enough to crush his muscular neck, of course, but it still took considerable effort for him to pry her hands away and hold them steady.

"My sweet, why are you acting so?" pleaded Tythoros. "What mad spirit has possessed you?" Aloche's sole response was to spit in his eye.

Tythoros threw his wife off the bed as he wiped off her spittle, but she would not stay down. Naked and frothing at the mouth with senseless anger, Aloche threw everything within arm's reach at her husband. Tythoros attempted to placate his wife, but he couldn't even hear his own words over the crashes of thrown items and Aloche's incoherent screams.

Finally, Aloche picked up a white marble statuette of Aphrodite. Tythoros recognized it immediately: It was the one a friend of his had made as a wedding gift. In that moment, Tythoros knew that for whatever reason, his wife was seriously intent on killing him. In that moment, he considered letting her do so.

"My love," he croaked, with tears forming in his eyes. "Please stop."

She screamed again while rushing toward him with the statuette raised high. Tythoros pushed to resist her with all of his might, only to find that his hands connected with her forehead. They had both attacked with such aggression, and Tythoros' strength was so much greater than hers, that the impact broke her spine with a sickening snap.

It all happened so fast. Tythoros needed many seconds to realize that his wife lay crumpled on the floor of their bedchamber.

He moved to nudge her shoulder. "Aloche?" he whispered. "Aloche, my love, please wake up! Please come back to me!" But it was plainly no use. His short marriage, and the woman who brought him four months of wedded bliss, were no more.

Tythoros began to weep as he slowly moved to close her eyes. Though her skin was still flushed red with wrath, and though her neck was bent at an odd angle, Tythoros could only see the beautiful woman who had shared so much happiness with him only a few brief eons ago.

Tythoros began sobbing out loud, just as someone banged at the door of his house.

"Tythoros?" called out one of the neighbors. "Aloche?" Bang bang bang. "Is everything all right?"

Scared and confused, with no idea of what else to do, Tythoros threw on some clothing, went to the back door, and ran.

***

Tythoros had no idea where he was going, and he was far too confused, too scared, and too heartbroken to care. He only knew that he had to get as far away from his former home as possible. He had to leave his house, his belongings, his city, everything that carried a memory of her and anything that might try to hurt him as she did.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 02



Tythoros' legs were as tireless as his arms and other muscles, but his energy was still limited. What's more, he was still exhausted from all the rampant intercourse with...

He finally collapsed. As far as Tythoros had run, he could go no further. Athens was many leagues away, and so was every other city. He was standing in an open field, with no roads, buildings, or people in sight.

He was alone. Lost and alone.

His knees on the cold, hard ground, Tythoros raised his red and tear-filled eyes to the only lights in view. With every breath he could muster, he lifted his head toward the stars and screamed "WHY?!"

"Mighty gods of Olympus," he shouted, "if any of my works have ever done you good, please hear me and answer me! I beg of you, please tell me what I have done to deserve this cruel fate! Please tell me my crimes and how I may atone for them! Please show me how to set my wife's soul at rest or send me down to join her! JUST DO SOMETHING!"

Tythoros crumpled back down to the ground. "Just please do something, I beg of you," he whimpered as tears poured from his eyes.

"Why do you pray so loudly?" said a voice.

Tythoros jumped back. He was startled to find a handsome young stranger standing nearby, merely a boy in the prime of his youth. The hair on his chin looked like it was his first beard.

"The gods can hear you clearly," the boy continued, "so why do you scream at them thus?"

"Who are you?" Tythoros coughed, for his throat had gone sore from shouting. "How did you come all the way out here so quickly and quietly?"

"I came hither with these," said the boy, using a golden wand to point toward his sandals. There on his feet, glistening in the moonlight, were winged sandals of never-dying gold.

Tythoros immediately kneeled before the boy, recognizing him as none other than the immortal Hermes. "Praise be to the merciful Zeus," he rasped, "for he has sent his son to carry my ghost to the underworld."

Hermes put a reassuring hand on Tythoros' shoulder. "My father sent me to do no such thing," spoke the god. "I am to guide you someplace else."

"Where?" Tythoros pleaded to know. "Great messenger of the gods, what would you do with me?"

"Though you killed your beloved in defending your own life, you did kill her nonetheless," said Hermes. "Would you truly work to set her soul at rest and redeem yourself in the eyes of the gods for this crime?"

"I would do anything for such redemption, great shepherd of men."

"Then leave your wife to the people of Athens," Hermes replied. "They will ensure that she safely passes though the gates of Hades with all the proper burial rites, and I will escort you to the place where you may atone for her death."

"Where?" asked Tythoros.

"We will go from the kingdom of Athens," answered Hermes, "to the kingdom of Thebes. There, you will meet the king Ammochrusios and tell him of your plight. You will perform any task he demands of you, and so earn absolution in the eyes of the gods."

Tythoros rose to his feet. "If the will of this king is the will of the gods, then I swear it shall be done."

In response, the giant-killing guide imbued Tythoros with fresh spirit. "Then come," he said. "Together, we shall arrive by daybreak."

***

The story will continue shortly in Chapter 3. In the meantime, your comments and feedback are more than welcome.

Special thanks to GentWithHandcuffs, who generously agreed to review this chapter.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 03



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of bits and pieces pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 3

As swift Hermes guided Tythoros to the palace of Thebes, an enlightening dream flew from the top of Mount Olympus to the bed of slumbering Ammochrusios. Hovering at his head rose the vision of a handsome young man with oak-brown hair and vaguely familiar blue eyes.

"Listen to me, quickly!" the dream cried out. "I bring you a message sent by Zeus, a world away. Let no loss of memory overcome you when the sweet grip of slumber sets you free, for you must remember this face. The man you see now will appear to you again tomorrow. He must be shown every courtesy of your house, or the thunderbolt's powerful wielder will bring his wrath upon you!"

***

Ammochrusios was left to ponder this dream through every waking moment of the next day. His mind raced with questions: Who was this man? Why was he so important to Zeus? Could this be the trick of some malicious spirit?

"Father?" said a voice.

Ammochrusios was so distracted mulling over his options that he failed to notice the approach of his own son. The young man's blonde hair and surprisingly tall stature made him all the more difficult to miss.

"What is it, Sidrophus? Has Xalchon returned?"

"Not Xalchon, my lord," said Sidrophus, "but a stranger who appeared at our door. He insists on meeting with you, though he rambles with delirium about being sent by the gods on a quest of redemption. Shall I send him away?"

"Bring him to me first," replied the old king.

Mere moments later, Tythoros was carried into the central court by two royal guards, one under each arm. Alas, Tythoros had been left by his immortal guide outside the city gates. Without the god to grant him strength, and with no rest or food over the course of his journey, Tythoros was quickly bereft of energy.

Still, as tired and filthy as Tythoros was, Ammochrusios had no difficulty recognizing the face that haunted him all day.

"I pray you," whispered Tythoros. "Let me speak."

Though the king was cautious of his own nightly vision, this sight compelled him to obey it.

"Speak?" he asked. "Young man, you can barely speak at all in your state. Sidrophus, take him to a bath. Let our guest be washed and rested with fresh garments to wear when he tells his story over supper tonight."

"I admire your charity, Father," Sidrophus replied, "but do you think it wise? Do you know this man? Are you sure he can be trusted?"


"First of all, boy, do not dare to question me" said Ammochrusios. "Secondly, I am placing this guest in your charge. You will ensure that his needs are tended to and you will be responsible for watching his conduct. Is that clear?"

Sidrophus bowed. "Yes, my lord." At a wave of the king's hand, Sidrophus walked away, followed by the royal guards carrying Tythoros.

"My lord is most generous," croaked Tythoros as he was led away.

Ammochrusios found his concern slightly diminished, but he was given something else to worry about shortly after. The doors to the central court had admitted still more visitors to welcome.

"Hail, Ammochrusios!" Xalchon's voice rang throughout the court.

"Xalchon," said Ammochrusios with audible relief. "Well met. How went the journey to Delphi?"

"Uneventful," Xalchon answered as they clasped hands. "The journey back was far easier."

Indeed, though Xalchon's entourage appeared tired from the long trek, no one seemed too much worse for the wear. What's more, Ammochrusios had little doubt that their travels home were far easier without the treasures brought to offer the oracle.

"Were you successful?" asked Ammochrusios. "Did you ask the oracle about the fate of our next military campaign?"

"We did," Xalchon lied, though his next statement was true. "The oracle would only say 'Beware of a weary stranger who comes to seek redemption.'"

The old king immediately turned pale upon hearing these words. "You must be mistaken!" gasped Ammochrusios. "A weary stranger came to the palace not two hours ago!"

"Did he speak of redemption?"

"I was told that he rambled on at the gates about being sent by the gods for absolution. Xalchon, if the gods themselves protect this man, then we cannot harm him without risking their punishment. Our enterprise is doomed to fail!"

Xalchon retained his nerves. "Patience, Highness," he said. "Let us walk together and plan how we might turn this to our advantage."

***

"Your story is a most unbelievable one," said Sidrophus. The sentiment was shared by Ammochrusios and the rest of the king's family, though they all listened with rapt attention as Tythoros told his story over dinner that night.

"I know it," admitted Tythoros. "Even so, I swear by Hermes' golden wand that every word is true. Yet whether or not the gods led me here, my lord, my beloved wife still lays dead and I am still responsible."

"You feel guilt for defending your own life?" Cleia inquired. It was Xalchon who answered.

"Even in self-defense, sweet Cleia, murder is an offense punishable by exile."

"That is true," said Tythoros. "Even so, I have no desire to return to that city."

"Have you no property in Athens?" asked the old queen, Cuphora. "Have you no family or place of employment?"

"Aloche was the last of my family, and nothing in Athens means anything to me without her. I could never hope to continue my life until the guilt for her murder is purged from my heart."

Ammochrusios leaned forward onto the table of the banquet hall. "Why did you come to me seeking penance for your wife's murder?"

"It was the will of the gods," stated Tythoros. "I was given no other reason."

"I see," said Ammochrusios as he leaned back.

"My lord," Tythoros continued, "if you still do not believe me, I beg you to assign me a task anyway. For my own peace of mind and your benefit, please give me this chance for redemption."

"And how far would you go for such a chance?" asked Xalchon.

"I would give my life as payment for Aloche's death," answered Tythoros.

At this answer, Xalchon and Ammochrusios traded glances. The king nodded to his son.

"To your fortune," said Xalchon, "we have been hearing some strange reports from our allies to the north. It seems that many strong men have gone missing in the kingdom of Thrace, and giant man-eating insects have been sighted in the forests."

"There are rumors," Ammochrusios added, "that the cause is a monster called 'Dusedre.' A terrible creature with poison that could kill the mightiest soldier."

"Is anything else known about this monster?" asked Tythoros.

"Information is scarce," Xalchon pointed out, "because anyone who might know more about the beast would be long dead."

"It would benefit us to rid our allies of this creature," said Ammochrusios. "Your task is to find Dusedre, kill it, and bring back its poisoned barb as proof."

"I would gladly attempt such a feat as penance for my crime," replied Tythoros, "but is there any more news or assistance I may have?"

Ammochrusios gestured to his son. "Sidrophus will provide whatever weapons, armor, and supplies we can spare. After that, he will join you on your quest."

"You shall journey for absolution," said Sidrophus, "and I shall journey to prove myself a capable warrior."

The two young men stood and clasped hands. "I am grateful for your help, good Sidrophus, and I look forward to knowing you better. When can we leave?"


"Come to the armory at daybreak," replied Tythoros' new companion. "We leave tomorrow."

***

In Xalchon's bedchamber, there lay a young woman with dark brown hair and flawless olive skin. She could barely restrain herself from screaming with joy when Xalchon arrived there after dinner.

"Oh, my love!" said the woman, showering him with kisses. "My strong lord Xalchon, how I have missed you in our bed!"

"Darling Klinopa," replied Xalchon, "my journey was brief, yet I ached for the touch of your skin through every moment." They kissed deeply as he held her waist and she pushed her chest against his.

It was a joyful moment between them, but Xalchon had to finally break the kiss. "What news among the other servants?" he asked. "Have you gained any more support?"

"Every Theban in this castle knows the sharp-eyed Xalchon's valor," reported Klinopa. "They see that Ammochrusios grows older and weaker by the day. Some remain loyal to the king, but they are easily outnumbered. Most were already inclined to follow their senses. Some others," she added with hands on her sumptuous chest, "were persuaded to follow their loins."

Klinopa was barely more than a child when Xalchon won her in a chariot race almost a decade prior. In the time since, she had grown into one of the kingdom's most beautiful concubines. It gave Xalchon immense pride to know that he had shaped this woman into such a loyal and attractive plaything.

"I am very pleased with this news," he said. "It means that the throne is good as ours."

"Then the oracle foretold our triumph?"

"Not exactly," Xalchon admitted as he went to sit on the bed. "When I asked if our plan would succeed, she said only 'Beware of a weary stranger who comes to seek redemption.'"

Klinopa frowned. "I heard that such a stranger came here today."

"And he will be gone tomorrow. Ammochrusios himself will send the stranger north to kill a venomous beast. If the fool actually succeeds to fetch a weapon from this monster before we kill him, so much the better. If he dies in the attempt, none the worse. Either way, he will be no trouble to us in our enterprise."

Klinopa moved to sit beside him. "And what about the rightful heir?"

"Poor Sidrophus will be out proving himself as a warrior beside our unlucky stranger. One problem solves another."

"Then what else do we have to wait for?" Klinopa eagerly asked.

"Ammochrusios is planning his next military campaign. When he publicly calls for Thebes to prepare for war, then you shall be the concubine of a king."

Klinopa brought her lips close to his ears. "And then," she whispered, "the wife of a king?"

"Absolutely, my love," Xalchon lied calmly, enjoying the feel of her soft, tender lips planting aggressive kisses on his neck. Klinopa's hands patiently explored the fabric of Xalchon's clothing, feeling the granite muscles and intimidating scars underneath. But Xalchon was not in a patient mood that night.

He grabbed one of her hands and brought it to the bulge between his thighs. "Your attention belongs here," he said. They both knew it was meant as an order, and Klinopa was sincerely happy to comply. Xalchon straddled her as she sank to her knees and raised the skirts of his tunic.

Very quickly, Xalchon's phallus was uncovered. Klinopa had seen it so many times before, but she still idolized this perfect tower of flesh. She saw this organ as the ideal of masculine power and beauty. It was man's greatest gift, an unending font of ultimate happiness for both sexes.

Xalchon's cock was long and thick enough to make most women flee in terror, but this was the only one that Klinopa had ever known. She and this phallus had pleasured each other so frequently, over such long periods of time, that she was well-accustomed to the feel of his tip at the back of her throat.

Klinopa not only made love to this phallus, she worshipped it. Every stroke of her hand was done with gentle affection. She licked his shaft from base to tip as slowly as she could, savoring every moment of his stiff and responsive flesh against her tongue. She got a thrill from the feel of his balls as they squirmed and moved in her mouth. Klinopa especially loved moving her tongue around that magical spot just under very tip of his member, hearing those wonderful moans of joy when she did so.

This was a kind of submissive behavior that Xalchon couldn't get from anyone else, certainly not the daughter of a king. Klinopa was the only one who truly made Xalchon feel as powerful and beloved as a god. When Klinopa gave him that look of selfless adoration from between his legs, Xalchon felt the closest thing he ever knew to love. Even so, he got far more enjoyment from the feel of her warm, wet, enthusiastic tongue against his throbbing manhood.

Finally, Xalchon's shaft had reached its maximum length. Klinopa stroked his cock with decreasing speed while giving its tip a series of short and quick kisses. Xalchon knew what was coming, and he was just about to take it by force.

At that preise moment, Cleia walked into the bedchamber. The two lovers didn't cease their activity, and Cleia was far too used to the spectacle to care. She calmly closed the door behind her.

"Good evening, sweet Cleia," said Xalchon, though he was irritated by her timing.

"Good evening, my lady," said Klinopa, though she was far more focused on the task at hand.

"Well met," Cleia replied. "The children are all finally asleep."

"And what of – Ah! – Sidrophus?" asked Xalchon, groaning just as Klinopa took his length into her mouth.

Klinopa passionately moved her lips back and forth against his cock, using her hands to gently stroke his gonads, as Cleia replied.

"Excited to finally be proving himself," she said. "Sidrophus can barely sleep, much as he needs to."

"You worry... too... much... about... him!" Xalchon moaned. By now, he was holding Klinopa by the hair and thrusting himself in and out of her mouth.

Cleia knew better than to interrupt at this point. Xalchon was smashing his manhood into the girl's throat with all the speed and force she could take. He was clearly working toward the point when sheer pleasure would overwhelm his capacity for rational discourse. Klinopa was gagging too loudly for Cleia to be heard, anyway.

Sure enough, Xalchon eventually let out a loud and prolonged grunt of dominance as he held Klinopa's head firmly against his crotch. Meanwhile, the slave girl dutifully and gratefully swallowed every drop of her master's hot discharge. Klinopa even licked her lips in delight as they released each other.

"Are you quite finished?" asked Cleia.

"Finished, my sweet? No, Klinopa was just about to start again, and I expect you to help her this time."

Xalchon's tone afforded no argument, so Cleia could only reply "As my husband wishes." Not that she necessarily minded, of course. Her husband was indeed skilled with his good, strong cock, and though she and Klinopa had their differences, the latter was a beautiful and pleasant young bedmate.

Cleia knelt down, taking his cock in one hand and his scrotum in the other. Klinopa sat to the side, massaging the powerful muscles in Xalchon's thigh. They shared their lover's phallus, wrapping it completely in their warm breath and their moist, eager tongues.

Xalchon knew there was a rivalry between his wife and his concubine, and he did everything possible to encourage it. Cleia was the first to take him inside her mouth, dribbling saliva over the head of his cock before passionately sucking him off. Klinopa took her turn, vigorously shaking her head while keeping her tender lips wrapped firmly around his prick. Cleia knew just how to use her teeth, gently grazing him in a way that sent shivers through his spine, but Klinopa was blessed with a quick and flexible tongue to rotate around his tip.

They continued in this way, each woman working to prove herself more gifted at oral pleasuring while passing the phallus between them. And while one woman was sucking his head, the other was licking his shaft. Xalchon watched the mutual jealousy with delight, grunting and moaning as their competition brought renewed vigor to his loins.

When Xalchon's prick had once again become fully erect, it was Cleia who felt his arousal in her mouth. She responded by reaching for the clasp to undo her chiton, casting the fabric aside. Motherhood had been very kind to Cleia, blessing her with curves that might have been the envy of any woman.

Indeed, Klinopa was instantly distracted by the sight of Cleia naked. After all, as much as Klinopa loved her master, Cleia was her mistress as well. She owed Cleia her love and service, and the mistress' exposed sex was clearly in need of both.

Klinopa laid upon her back and slid her face underneath the crotch of her mistress. While Cleia had her husband's entire length in her mouth, she moaned with pleasure at the feel of Klinopa's expert tongue against her sensitive folds and light blonde curls. Klinopa was moaning into Cleia as well, for the concubine had reached down to pleasure herself while pleasing her mistress.

Xalchon relished the sexual excitement and passion of Cleia's oral performance. Yet through the haze of his own sensual ecstasy, he kept looking down – past the apple-shaped ass of his wife – to see Klinopa's growing arousal. It was intoxicating to watch those long, pretty fingers so vigorously rubbing those smooth young folds. He listened to Klinopa's muffled screams of joy while watching those fingers grow coated with thick layers of sweet juice.

He had to have it. Xalchon extracted himself from the mouth of his wife and stood. "Get up, Klinopa," he commanded.

Both ladies stood. Xalchon reached over, ripped the clothes from Klinopa's body, and pushed her onto the bed. Klinopa was on her back, and Xalchon pulled her ass to the very edge of the bed.

"You must continue pleasuring your mistress," said Xalchon. At a gesture from her husband, Cleia got onto the bed, her knees straddling Klinopa's heart-shaped face. Cleia immediately resumed moaning as the concubine got back to licking and sucking on her engorged mound.

Klinopa reached up to rub her mistress' inner thighs, using her thumbs to open Cleia's slippery entrance. Cleia could feel the girl's tongue probing ever deeper, and she responded by grinding her hips back and forth against the girl's face. At the same time, Cleia began pleasuring herself, rubbing her clit with one hand and a nipple with the other. Every muscle in her body was singing with joy.

Klinopa's tongue started moving even faster as Xalchon spread her thighs open and took in the girl's juices. Xalchon slowly and deliberately stroked himself while flicking his tongue against her sweet inner folds. Klinopa's hips bucked heavily at the feel of his hungry lips so deep into her pink flesh. Cleia cried her approval of the aroused moans and the excited tongue against her sex.

Finally, Xalchon stood up and slapped the head of his cock against Klinopa's slit. He penetrated her, burying his cock to the hilt. At that exact moment, Cleia felt Klinopa's blissful scream echoing through her whole body. It was enough to make Cleia give a joyous cry just as Xalchon did the same.

Xalchon's enormous hands grabbed hold of Klinopa's big, olive-skinned breasts, squeezing their sumptuous bulk without mercy as his unyielding rod plowed into her over and over. Xalchon's entire being glowed with satisfaction at the feel of his concubine's warm and welcoming vagina. His thrusts were powerful enough to send vibrations up through Klinopa's body, through her mouth, and into Cleia's dripping hole.

"Xalchon!" cried Cleia, "I want you inside me!"

"Do you?" asked Xalchon.

"Yes!"

"Beg me for it!"

"Please, my lord," begged Cleia between moans. "Do you see my wet, dripping sex? I need you inside me! I need your strong cock inside me!"

"No!" gasped Klinopa. "Sorry, my lady! Just a little more, I'm begging you!"

Xalchon redoubled his efforts, deaf to the screams and pleas of his wife. He only cared to hear the muffled cries of his concubine as her back arched and her muscles seized up. Klinopa grabbed Cleia's thighs even harder, pushing her mouth even further into Cleia's soaking mound.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 03



Cleia rubbed her clit harder than ever, driving herself mad with bliss, yet she could still easily feel Klinopa's overwhelming rapture. The concubine let out a series of high-pitched cries in perfect rhythm until she was finally pushed over the edge.

"AHHHHHH YES!" Klinopa's voice and her ecstasy rang through Cleia's entire being. Xalchon at last withdrew his phallus before pointing it at Cleia.

"Taste it," he ordered Cleia.

Faintly aware of how humiliating this was, Cleia quickly went over to her husband, kneeling on the floor to take him into her mouth. Klinopa rolled over, the better to watch.

Cleia licked and sucked his prick with renewed vigor, overjoyed to savor the extraordinary taste of Xalchon's flesh mixed with Klinopa's juicy spray.

"You both taste so good," she said, "but can I please have this inside me now?"

Xalchon grabbed Cleia under each arm, lifted her, and set her on the bed in Klinopa's former place. He rubbed his cock against the outer folds of his wife, teasing her into a desperate frenzy.

"Keep begging," he ordered.

"Please," Cleia implored him, lifting up her feet to rest on his shoulders. "Please stop torturing me like this! I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me. Please... AHHH, FUCK!"

Xalchon had stuffed himself into his wife's eager hole, pounding away to his heart's content while she furiously continued rubbing her clit. He grabbed hold of her ivory-white thighs while humping, which left her pink, puffy tits for Klinopa to pleasure.

Cleia was filled to the brim with arousal. Her entire body felt alive with the heat and movement flooding from her most treasured and sensitive spots. "Don't stop!" she cried out. "Please don't stop!"

...But Xalchon stopped. Mere moments before Cleia reached her climax, she once again heard the loud and dominant moan of her husband. Then she felt his manhood wilt after spurting inside of her.

Xalchon pulled out and moved away from the bed. "GAH!" he roared with frustration. Then, to Klinopa, "Take care of her!"

In an instant, Klinopa had moved to kneel between her mistress' legs. She thrust her tongue deep into Cleia's sex, hungrily lapping up the hot, fresh cream of her master mixed with Cleia's warm lubrication. Her quick and long fingers went to determined work on Cleia's pearl.

Cleia's hands moved to her breasts and began playing with her painfully erect nipples. Her whole body began writhing uncontrollably. Her pelvis bucked repeatedly under Klinopa's expert treatment. Cleia desperately needed satisfaction. Every fiber of her being was ready for the moment to come. With all of her soul, she grunted and moaned and screamed with hysterical desire for that sublime climax.

It felt like an eternity, but Cleia finally came. She let out a long shriek as her pussy erupted with pent-up ecstasy. Cleia went totally limp, panting uncontrollably as Klinopa gladly licked away the syrup she had squirted.

Distantly, she could hear the voice of her husband. "We had best clean ourselves before retiring for the night," he stated.

By the time Cleia had regained enough of her senses to look around, she saw that Xalchon and Klinopa had both left. They had undoubtedly gone to clean each other, leaving Cleia alone. Once again, she felt that familiar melange of jealousy and loneliness.

As Cleia wiped herself off, the thought occurred to her that without Sidrophus, Xalchon would be next in line for the throne. Xalchon was enough of a selfish tyrant toward his wife; how bad would he be toward his people? The possibility distressed her even more than the thought of her beloved younger brother laying dead so many leagues from home.

The thought was too much to bear. After putting her chiton back on, Cleia went to her window and looked to the sky.

"Hear me, Apollo, god of the silver bow," she prayed. "If I ever burned the long rich bones of bulls and goats on your holy altar, now bring my prayer to pass. Help my brother on his quest. Ensure that he and his companion succeed, and bring them home safely."

***

Her prayer went up and Phoebus Apollo heard her, though it would be many days before he answered. Tythoros and Sidrophus spent many days walking north toward Thrace, though they could find no clue as to where Dusedre might be found. But of course Apollo, leader of the Nine Muses, knew where to find the monster.

The traveling companions had just crossed the border into Thessaly when Tythoros looked up to the sky and saw a flock of crows flying past.

"Look!" he said to Sidrophus. They watched together as the crows flew to their right, north and east as guided by Apollo.

"A good omen," Sidrophus remarked.

"The gods themselves guide us," declared Tythoros. "Follow their signs and we cannot fail!"

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback.

Special thanks once again to GentWithHandcuffs, who generously agreed to review this chapter.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 04



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 4

Now, Muses, sing to me of that fateful night in the temple of Athena Itonia. Dusedre was not yet a monster, but the beautiful daughter of a wealthy olive farmer. After worshipping the bountiful Aphrodite from a young age, the goddess had rewarded Dusedre with uncommon beauty.

She had a perfectly curved body and flawless milk-white skin underneath her glittering robes. Her strawberry blonde hair curled into ringlets around shining golden ornaments. Never content to simply be beautiful, Dusedre wanted everyone to know that she was both beautiful and rich. The girl delighted in breaking hearts, driving suitors away as quickly as they flocked to her.

The last heart she ever broke was that of Ploutus, the strongest slave in her father's employ. He was handsome, abundantly muscled, dim-witted, and married to a very homely girl. Dusedre could not have asked for a more perfect companion in her endeavor.

It was Dusedre who led Ploutus to the temple's inner chamber on that warm night. Their only light came from the oil lamp in her hand. The Pamboiotian Festival had ended a few weeks prior, so the chamber was empty of visitors and priests. In fact, the chamber was meant to remain empty unless a holy celebration was in effect.

"We should not be here," whispered Ploutus.

"Why do you worry, Ploutus?" Dusedre replied. "We are here in the service of a higher goddess. You must have faith in the golden Aphrodite, she who gives love and beauty to all mortals, for her power will protect us."

She gestured to the temple's magnificent bronze statue of the warrior maiden Athena. "In truth, the divine goddess will surely reward us for so bravely defiling the temple of her greatest rival. Look upon her, Ploutus. Look upon this foul and ugly creature of discord. Look how she dresses in such unwomanly fashion, armed to spill blood and spread war." Dusedre spat upon the statue to show her distaste.

"Dusedre, my lady," Ploutus begged. "Why must I be party to such blasphemy?"

She turned to face him in response, with a mischievous and seductive look in those dark violet-blue eyes. "Do you think me beautiful, Ploutus?" Dusedre asked with a knowing smirk.

Ploutus could not bring himself to answer. He had spent many days in the field watching Dusedre's radiant beauty from afar, and he had spent many nights secretly dreaming to be in her bed. He did not dare betray his master and his wife by admitting these feelings, yet she was also his master's daughter and he was thus compelled to obey her.

After watching his conflicted hesitation for several moments, Dusedre unclasped her robes, letting their glistening fabric fall to the floor. Numb with shock, Ploutus could only stare at Dusedre's luscious breasts, so pale and flawless they glowed in the oil lamp's light. He could feel his manhood twitch at the sight of those smooth, tight lips between her thighs.

She asked again, with a clear hint of aggression in her voice, "Ploutus, do you think me beautiful?"

Ploutus could only nod. "Take off your chiton," she ordered.

In an instant, Ploutus' clothes were pooled around his feet. His chest was broad and perfectly defined, though obscured by a thick mass of dark hair. As Dusedre gazed at his gorgeous physique and the giant cock swinging before him, Ploutus could not remember feeling more vulnerable.

"Oh, you are a man of great beauty," Dusedre remarked with a voice as sweet and seductive as wine. She walked over to him, taking care to sway her hips with every step. Ploutus was backed into a marble column, unable to resist her advances. "It was golden Aphrodite who blessed us so," she continued.

She reached down to affectionately stroke his inner thigh. In spite of himself, Ploutus could feel his prick stiffen in response to the touch.

"I need you," she said, "to help me prove why the goddess of love is stronger than this so-called goddess of wisdom. Let us demonstrate the joy that Athena may never be part of to show the hag how weak and foolish she truly is."

She tenderly kissed his lips, though he did not kiss back. She caressed his rippling biceps, yet his hands were planted firmly on the column behind him. The feel of her fingers running through his chest hair gave him great pleasure, but he wouldn't dare to touch her in response. Ploutus could only stand there and accept whatever Dusedre thought to do, neither denying his mistress nor betraying his wife.

Dusedre knew that her slave was being reluctant, but that was no matter. After all, she didn't need his entire body. She only needed that disobedient pillar of flesh between his legs.

Her lips left a warm trail of sensual kisses as she moved from his strong neck to his firm chest to his sensitive navel. Ploutus felt as if days of agonizing temptation had passed before she finally got on her knees. But his agony had only just begun.

Dusedre took his phallus in her hands, marveling at how thick and responsive it was. She felt that familiar rush of domination, knowing that a man's vitality and power were literally in her hands. What woman, she wondered, would ever have need of a spear when she could bring a man to his knees with her tongue? What weapon of war could be more beautiful or pleasurable than such an organ as the one she was holding?

She put a hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles tense as she licked his shaft. Dusedre could hear a moan of pleasure escape from his lips every time she kissed the swelling head of his prick. Though she had pleasured several men in her twenty-seven years, Dusedre had never known oral sex to be such a bewitching form of torture as this. It was so arousing to see Ploutus' conflicted ecstasy that she had to take it farther.

Ploutus could feel her hand as it released his thigh. Her fingers traced a path over the soft flesh of his groin until they finally settled on his scrotum. He loudly and repeatedly gasped at the feel of her warm, soft hands so gently rubbing his sensitive testes. His breathing got even harder when he felt two fingers reach back to rub his taint. And all the while, he could feel the moist friction of her hands and tongue on his shaft.

His cock was standing at its full length by this point, just as colossal and muscular as the rest of him. It pointed straight at Dusedre, offering syrupy pre-cum. It was simply begging to be sucked. She looked up at Ploutus with those violet eyes and made a show out of greedily licking her round, red lips. Their eyes never broke contact as Dusedre pressed the tip, then the head, then the entire shaft of Ploutus' length into her mouth.

The slave cursed himself for thinking it, but there was no way his wife could treat him like this. The feel of her wet, plump lips going back and forth on his length had given him greater sexual bliss than he had ever known. Her versatile tongue and the ridges of her soft palate created friction against his prick that left Ploutus crying out in joy. The friction of her hands and fingers was even better, as they expertly rubbed and circled his most sensitive points. Ploutus could feel his hips buck reflexively, cursing his body for such betrayal even as his mind became clouded with pleasure.

Dusedre's unyielding neck moved her head at varying angles and speeds back and forth on his phallus. She stroked his shaft harder and faster, twisting the sensitive flesh as she went. She rubbed his taint with increasing aggression and speed. All the while, she continued coating his shaft with all the saliva she could muster.

Finally, Dusedre released him from her mouth. The phallus was so coated in spit that it glistened by the oil lamp's light. Ploutus was panting quickly and heavily, much to the arousal of his mistress. She continued stroking him slowly, but affectionately.

"Do you enjoy this, dear Ploutus?" she asked with a wide grin.

"I serve... at your pleasure... my lady," Ploutus wheezed between gasps for breath.

"Oh, your arousal gives me great pleasure," Dusedre happily replied. "I would have this inside of me right now, but the night is young and we are in no hurry. So for now, let us simply do this."

The servant let out a surprised yelp as Dusedre pressed his lubricated cock between her breasts. The sensation of her warm, soft flesh wrapped around his member left him breathless. His mistress was also overcome with bliss as she pinched her aroused nipples and groped her luscious breasts. His throbbing arousal spread heat through the girl's chest, much to her delight.

Ploutus' entire body went rigid as Dusedre rubbed his penis between her breasts. His groans of ecstasy became uncontrollable at the feel of her smooth, fleshy mounds moving so quickly against his eager prick. All the while, his mistress continued to pleasure his tip, lubricating it with her spit or putting it in the tip of her mouth.

Dusedre was almost disappointed to feel the telltale spasms of his shaft. Nevertheless, she did take his engorged penis in both hands to start jerking it furiously. Despite Ploutus' attempts to delay this moment, he knew the pressure in his loins would wait no longer. His whole body seized up with rapture and a loud, prolonged moan of joy escaped his throat as his cock released its load. Streams burst from his manhood, one after another, until Dusedre's pale and beautiful bosom was soaked with hot spunk.

Ploutus gasped for breath, struggling to stay on his feet, still holding onto the pillar behind him for dear life. Finally, he lifted his head to the statue nearby. All at once, Ploutus remembered that this was a temple to chaste Athena, whose house had now been defiled by his own seed.

"My lady," he urged, "we must leave at once."

"You will stay were you are," she commanded. "We are not remotely finished."

"Yes, you are!" boomed a voice.

In an instant, unseen ropes flew through the air at the two lovers. The ropes themselves had tied Ploutus to his pillar, and his strength was not enough to break them. Dusedre's hands were wrenched behind her, tied together with her feet and hair behind her back. They could not run or defend themselves, no matter how they struggled, but they could look over to where the statue once was.

There stood Athena herself, the fair goddess of weaving. Her silvery eyes were brimming with anger, yet the proud Dusedre would not be intimidated.

"Begone, wicked Athena!" she shouted. "I am a servant of golden Aphrodite, a far greater power than you could ever be. Release us at once or the goddess will bring her wrath upon you!"

Another stretch of rope flew toward Dusedre's mouth and tied itself around her head. Though her protests were muffled, she continued to shout them.

"You have committed multiple blasphemies against me and my temple," said Athena. "No deity would come to save you for such gross transgressions as yours."

Dusedre could feel more strands of rope as they crawled over her body. She felt their coarse fibers and rough knots as they scraped her naked flesh. The ropes moved in a straight line down her front before squirming their way between her legs. She let out a very loud yelp at the touch of a knot pressing against her clitoris.

The cords continued roving all over her body, weaving between loops and knots along her front and back. In mere seconds, her entire torso was covered in an elaborate framework. Dusedre was especially mindful of the ropes that bound her breasts, as well as the ropes that had painfully settled themselves between her delicate vaginal folds.

Athena's lean and powerful arm reached down to tug on one of the ropes. Dusedre squealed behind her gag as the entire framework tightened around her. Athena mercifully released her grip a moment later, and Dusedre gasped with relief.

"Do you enjoy this?" asked the goddess. "Were you driven to wickedness for such carnal pleasures as these?"

She reached down and gave a stern outward pull on the cord by Dusedre's pelvis. The framework constricted around her captive's tender breasts, pinching them until her nipples stood painfully erect. The sensation was so overpowering and her chest was so tightly locked in the framework that Dusedre was left struggling for air. She lay there in transcendent agony until Athena released the rope, which hit Dusedre's wet cunt with an audible snap that was felt through her whole being. She let out a muffled scream before continuing to pant heavily.

The goddess looked over this helpless girl. She was clearly in so much pain, yet the hunger in her eyes and the soaking mess between her legs showed great arousal as well.

"Unbelievable," spat Athena. The goddess reached down once again to touch the same rope as before, except this time, she gave it a hard pull upwards.

Dusedre cried out as much as her shortness of breath would permit. She felt the familiar torment of those bindings on her chest and waist, but those sensations were multiplied a hundred-fold this time: Pallas Athena was applying her immortal strength to the rope she held between the girl's intimate folds.

Athena violently yanked the the cord from side to side. Her captive was made delirious by the rope's texture moving so abrasively against her aching pink flesh, to say nothing of that huge knot rubbing against her engorged pearl. What's more, Athena began slapping the girl's aroused breasts, turning their milk-white skin to a deep scarlet.

Dusedre could see lights erupting behind her eyelids. She was so flush with arousal and so short of breath that she couldn't tell if an orgasm or death was near. She would have welcomed either release. Whatever the climax was, the girl could feel it in her reach when Athena finally let go.

The mortal collapsed into a gasping heap on the temple floor. Though her senses sang out in relief, she felt a rush that had to be sated.

"Impressive," said Athena. "It was sexual lust that brought you here to defile my chamber, and it is sexual lust that makes any attempt at physical punishment impossible."

She reached down and took one of Dusedre's shoulders, dragging her to the space between two pillars.

The ropes moved to untie and reconfigure themselves. No longer tied behind her back, Dusedre's hands and feet were tied to the two pillars on either side of her. The restraints held her high enough that she had to stand on the tips of her toes, so that even the soles of her feet were unprotected. The framework on her torso had removed itself, leaving trails of red marks on her pale flesh. She hung there completely open and naked, in all of her beauty and defiance, before the wrathful Pallas Athena.

"So now," the goddess continued, "we will try something else."

Dusedre's eyes widened at the sight of a knife that Athena had drawn. The goddess advanced toward the captive, deaf to her muffled pleas. Athena brought her blade to the level of Dusedre's neck, and the girl looked away in terror, but she only felt strong hands on her strawberry-blonde hair. With one swipe, the blade cut through Dusedre's hair, which then fell to the ground.

"To punish you with death would be pointless," Athena said as her knife was sheathed. "No, your fate must be far more painful."

Athena then produced a short whip, moments before Dusedre's eyes were covered by yet another rope. Though she screamed and struggled in protest, her binds and her gag were adamant. She was powerless to do much of anything except wait with grim anticipation for what came next.

She had only ever been the pampered daughter of a wealthy man. Her skin was soft and smooth, bereft of the durability that came with any kind of physical labor. When the first strike fell against her midsection, she cried and convulsed at the feel of a pain she had never known.

The girl twisted and squirmed in her restraints, struggling to move her feet and hips in a vain and blind attempt at dodging the whip. But the goddess Athena wielded her lash with unerring accuracy and all the strength of an immortal.

Dusedre felt one jolt after another as the whip came down upon every part of her exposed flesh. Her spine arched back and forth with every welt that formed on her soft, round tits. Waves of shock rippled through her body with every strike against her shapely ass.

Her toes throbbed with the stress of supporting her entire weight, but that was nothing compared to the sting of Athena's whip against her heel. Without her long and flowing hair to shield it, Dusedre's back quickly became scarred with crimson lines. Her curved arms and legs jerked reflexively with every lash against them, though there was no escape to be found.

Through the fiery pain and the deathly fear that clouded her senses, Dusedre could still find relief in one pleasant feeling. She found meager solace in the touch of that warm, sweet syrup that dripped down her tense thighs. The pain had somehow increased her arousal, especially when the goddess' whip struck upon her swollen vagina.

Cuts and welts spread through Dusedre's entire body. Athena struck her without any kind of pattern, refusing Dusedre such a small mercy as the ability to predict what might be hit and when. She screamed and moaned as every patch of her tender skin turned from red to purple to black.

But then, quite gradually, Dusedre noticed that the sting of the whip was not nearly so painful. Her whole body seemed to feel numb, until Athena pressed the butt end of her whip against Dusedre's anxious crotch. Her hips thrust hard against that leathery knob, but the goddess always kept it just barely within reach. Though Dusedre's arms were weak and the ropes were strong as ever, her hands were desperate to escape their bonds and rub those greedy folds to the point of blissful release.

"You still lust for sexual pleasure?" asked Athena. Though Dusedre's vocal reply could not be heard through the gag, the imploring tone and the nods of her head made her desires quite clear. "Very well," the goddess continued. "Take what you've earned!"

In an instant, the ropes withdrew. Dusedre's blindfold was lifted, and the first thing she saw was Ploutus. He was still gagged and tied, but now lying helplessly on the temple's floor. His penis was hard and dripping with excitement over the display he had just witnessed, though his eyes were wide with terror.

Dusedre did not care why he looked upon her with such horror, nor did she care why he was struggling so horribly against her. She only cared that his firm cock was inside of her, pressing the walls of her greedy channel as her hips thrust against him. She groped her tits, rubbed her sex, and rode him with inhuman ferocity, aching for the climax that had evaded her all night.

At the moment her muscles started tensing, she felt the familiar spasms of his manhood inside of her. She grinded onto him still more aggressively, going faster and faster as the height of ecstasy overcame her.

"Oh, yes!" she moaned. "Ah! Ah! Ah! AAAAHHH!" A beastly shriek echoed through the temple as her whole body went rigid. That was also the moment when she felt Ploutus' warm semen dispersing through her.

Dusedre fell forward, collapsing onto Ploutus' chest. When she finally caught her breath and came to her senses, she found that her lover was dead.

In the violent throes of sexual climax, Dusedre had unwittingly thrust her tail in such a way that its poisoned barb cut into Ploutus' skin, killing him instantly. It startled Dusedre to learn of this, but it startled her still more to learn that she now had a tail.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 04



After the numb pain had passed from her body and the sexual frenzy had passed from her mind, Dusedre finally had the sense to look down at herself. The dark welts that were spread through her entire body had transformed her skin into a hard black coating. Her legs had become far brawnier, her arms had turned into giant pincers, and two sets of arms had grown between them.

"This is the punishment for your defiance," decreed Pallas Athena. Though the goddess was no longer visible, her voice boomed in Dusedre's head. "Your proud beauty has been made so hideous that no being in all the cosmos will come near you. If you should find a mate who will accept your appearance, or if you should take a mate by force, your uncontrollable urges will kill him. Every seed taken into your body shall multiply your suffering. Now go and fornicate no more!"

Dusedre might have been foolish enough to curse the goddess for such treatment, but she saw that the sun was just beginning to rise. Quite wisely, she elected to flee the village before anyone might see her.

***

In the seven days that followed, Ploutus' seed did indeed multiply her suffering. He had given her multiple beastly children, all of whom gnawed, kicked, bit, and clawed at her from inside the womb. Far worse was the pain of giving birth to a ghastly litter of seven giant ants, each the size of a newborn colt.

Though her children were abominations who caused great pain in birth, they were her loyal children nonetheless. They scoured the woods of Greece, seeking out food and wandering young men for their mother. Dusedre raped every man foolish enough to be taken alone and unaware, for she was still addicted to joys of the flesh. Her victims were all killed, and every session of intercourse yielded another litter of children with all the suffering of their birth, yet her sexual hunger would not be diminished.

In the interest of avoiding hunters and finding fresh meat, the family of monsters constantly moved north, never staying in one home for very long. Though the brave journeymen had no way of knowing it, the crows sent by Phoebus Apollo had guided Tythoros and Sidrophus onto the very same path that Dusedre had tread, aiding them in their quest.

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback. 

Thanks for reading, and special thanks to my editor, GentWithHandcuffs.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 05



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 5

A stag was resting in the woods of Thessaly when Tythoros and Sidrophus came upon it. Sidrophus was the first to notice the creature, quietly signaling Tythoros to stop and observe their next meal.

Sidrophus prepared an arrow with the stealth and precision that could only come from years of training. Though his aim was certain and the arrow flew gracefully toward its target, the strike was not enough to kill. The prey moved to escape, but Tythoros was ready. With his godly strength and his practiced throwing arm, Tythoros launched his spear and killed the target instantly.

"If only I had your strength," said Sidrophus, "that would have been my kill."

"If not for your sharp senses," replied Tythoros, "we might have gone hungry today."

The two companions ate heartily a short time later, after offering up the animal's fat and bones in thanks to Artemis of the Wilds. They feasted on juicy meat cooked over a fire until strange noises reached their ears. With a shared glance, Tythoros and Sidrophus knew that they had both heard it.

They gathered their weapons and Tythoros led the way. He followed the mixed sounds of growling, an unearthly rattling, and the shouts of a woman. The companions followed their ears to the top of a knoll, and then looked down upon the strangest gathering that either of them had ever witnessed.

There were three ants in the clearing below, each the size of a bull. They were fiery red in color, with enormous black mandibles chattering away beneath their flesh-colored heads. The ants were locked in combat with three large wolves and one very beautiful young woman clad in animal pelts.

A wolf snarled and barked before charging toward one of the ants. The insect snapped its mandibles around the beast's neck, cutting its head off with one blow. The woman screamed and tried to charge at the crimson abomination with her bare hands, but a remaining wolf pressed itself in her way.

At the very moment when the ants started to charge forward, Tythoros ran down to the clearing with a mighty roar. One of the ants was pushed back by the mighty thrust of Tythoros' spear, but its armor was hard enough to resist the blade. The target and one of its brothers turned to face Tythoros, rattling their mandibles in anticipation for a fight. But Sidrophus was watching.

The prince stood on the knoll with his bow and arrows at the ready. He launched an arrow and hit his target on the head of an ant. Though it was not enough to kill, it was enough to distract the beast. Tythoros attacked, running his spear through the joints of the creature's neck. The second ant moved in to avenge his brother, but the woman ran at it from the side.

She attempted to grapple with the monster, climbing aboard its back to snap its legs off. Despite her strength and tenacity, the ant succeeded in throwing her off. By that point, Tythoros had retrieved his spear, and his blade struck into the insect's neck for another killing blow.

Tythoros went over to the woman. "Are you unhurt?" he shouted over the noise of combat.

Until that moment, the two remaining wolves had been keeping the last insect at bay. One of them turned to run for Tythoros until he was felled by Sidrophus' arrow. The other was soon cut in two by the sharp teeth of its opponent. 

This was too much for the young woman. Her vibrant skin flushed red with anger as she let out a primal scream and charged at the beast. The ant was ready to eat the girl alive, but it could never have expected the girl to catch its mandibles in her hands. With desperation and blind rage to power her, the woman pushed apart the beast's powerful mandibles until they were torn from its head completely. 

Sidrophus walked down to the clearing. He and Tythoros looked on as the monster let out an unearthly screech, keeling over to die from its injuries. "Good lady," said Sidrophus. "That was most impressive. Are you unhurt?"

In reply, she let out another primal roar and launched herself at Sidrophus. She was fast, but Tythoros was faster. He succeeded in catching the woman, though she bit and scratched and struggled to escape his grasp. She was very strong for a woman, and tenacious as any beast, yet she was no match for a son of mighty Zeus.

Tythoros forced her to the ground, pinning her while taking care not to hurt her. She continued to struggle, but his strength and endurance was enough to outlast her.

"He must die!" she screamed. "If he will not die, then delay no further, but send me down to the House of Death this very moment!"

"I cannot let you hurt my friend," Tythoros shouted over her cries, "but we will not hurt you either! We have no quarrel with you!"

"No quarrel?!" she shrieked, with tears in her eyes. "That man killed my brother!"

"Good lady," said Sidrophus, "I swear to you by Apollo's bow that I have yet to take the life of any man!"

"No man," she snarled, "but the wolf who lies with your arrow in his side!"

The two companions shared a confused moment.

"You mean to say," asked Tythoros, "that your brother was a wolf?"

"The wolves who lie here were all my brothers," the woman replied. "They were the last of the pack that raised me from infancy. They cared for me after my own parents had left me to die in this forest after my birth. Those wolves were the only family I have ever known, save only for Artemis of the Golden Reins. It was she who taught me how to hunt, how to fight, and how to speak the tongues of men and beasts. May she strike the both of you down if you dare abuse me further!"

"We do not intend to abuse you," Tythoros said as calmly as he could manage, "but I will not have you bring harm to us."

"My lady," interjected Sidrophus, "how could I have possibly known that the wolf was kin to you?"

"If he had not launched that arrow," added Tythoros, "your brother would have killed me. And if we had not arrived to help, you would have joined your brothers in death."

The woman did not answer that, but there was no need. Tythoros could see that she had no response to the truth in their words. Her piercing green eyes became red and swollen with tears as her rage finally gave way to sadness. She could only scream out in impotent grief.

"We had no choice in the matter," said Tythoros, "but my heart is truly broken for your loss."

"Liar," she spat back at him. "You carry the stink of comfortable city life, with strong houses to sleep in and markets to provide your every need. What would you know of loss?"

"You think those in the city are immune from death?!" cried Tythoros. "You think that orphans only exist within the forest? My mother died in my birth and my father abandoned the both of us before that! A kind man took me in and raised me with love before old age came to take him from me, so do not dare to say that I fail to understand the pain you now feel!"

His sincerity and emotion stunned the woman into silence. She was certain that his situation was honestly described, and she took comfort from his genuine compassion.

"I will release you," Tythoros told her softly, "so that you may mourn your brethren. Will you agree not to act against us?"

The woman nodded her assent. Tythoros finally let go of her, and she ran to the corpse of her nearest brother. She buried her face in the wolf's fur and wept openly for a long time. She mourned each of the wolves in their turn, uttering words unknown to any Theban. It was Tythoros who finally dared to speak when she arose to face them.

"Pray forgive me, but I am not familiar with the burial rites of the forest. How may we ease the passing of your family?"

"Leave them be," she replied in a raspy voice, hoarse from shouting and crying. "The forest will reclaim them in due course."

"We have a fire not far from here," said Sidrophus, "with plenty of meat to share. Come with us, I pray you, and let us offer what hospitality we can."

The woman brushed her auburn hair back out of her moist eyes, for the tight braids at the back of her head had come undone in the struggle. "Lead on," she said. "I will follow."

Tythoros led them as they walked back up the knoll. "I am called Tythoros," he said. "My companion is Sidrophus. Did the creatures or the goddess of the forest grant you a name?"

In reply, she said "It was Artemis the Queen of Beasts who granted me a name. You may call me Callioa."

***

"Pray tell us," asked Sidrophus as they walked back to the fire, "what were those monsters we fought?"

"They are called Myrmekes," Callioa replied. "These woods have been thick with them since that wicked Dusedre passed through."

"You speak of Dusedre?" Tythoros asked with surprise. "What more do you know of her?"

"I know that the Myrmekes are her children and servants," said Callioa. "Dusedre kills whatever bandits and hunters roam these woods, shortly after taking their seed to birth more abominations. The mother and her children usually travel in one pack. I would assume that the three we fought were somehow left behind."

"And where is the pack now?" asked Sidrophus.

"They went somewhere to the north some time ago. Why do you ask?"

"It is our mission to find Dusedre and to kill her," Sidrophus replied.

"Do you also seek to kill the Myrmekes?" asked Callioa, with no small measure of interest.

"If we can, we will," said Sidrophus.

"Perhaps you would like to come with us," Tythoros offered. "We would gladly assist you in taking revenge for your family if you would but help us in our journey."

"I would accept," said Callioa, "though you must remember that I am a disciple of the guardian Artemis. The company of men is forbidden to me, and I am sworn to defend my chastity to the death."

"It shall be as you wish," said Tythoros, and Sidrophus nodded his assent. The three of them clasped hands. Moments later, they had returned to the campsite and rekindled the fire. The new allies shared in the stag's meat and no man or woman's hunger lacked its fill.

***

That night, high on Mount Olympus, Aphrodite summoned Eros to her.

"My lovely son," she said, "go forth to find Dionysus of the Grape. Discreetly use your love-tipped arrows to burden him with lust, then say that I wish to speak with him regarding a matter of the utmost urgency and privacy. I shall be here waiting for him in my bedchamber."

The swift and mischievous boy flew to discharge his task as laughter-loving Aphrodite scented her bedchamber with sweet perfumes and incenses. Around her shapely waist, she wrapped her golden heart-bewitching cestus belt. With fragrant balm, she made her skin more white than ivory newly sawn.

She clad herself in a robe out-shining the brightness of fire. It was a splendid robe of gold, enriched with all manner of needlework, which shimmered like the moon over her tender breasts. She also wore twisted brooches and shining earrings in the form of flowers. Her soft neck and snow-white breasts were adorned with golden necklaces and jewels which the gold-filleted Seasons wear themselves.

The heavenly Aphrodite had just finished curling her flowing tresses into ringlets around shining golden ornaments when the spirited Dionysus came to her door. The youthful wine god had of course expected to be met with the everlasting beauty of Aphrodite, yet the radiant goddess in all of her preparations and enchantments was still enough to strike the god speechless with awe.

"Good Dionysus," she said in a delightfully musical tone. "I thank you for coming by so quickly."

"If your joyful voice would only call them, fair Aphrodite, the very mountains would move to be at your side. To what do I owe the honor of being welcomed into your bedchamber?"

"I require a favor," she replied with a smile.

"Name your desire."

Aphrodite walked closer. At one moment, her garment moved aside with quite lascivious affection so that it revealed her supple thighs. At another moment, it would cling tightly and vividly, outlining the pleasurable curves of her backside.

"I expect," said Aphrodite, "that you know about the mortal Dusedre."

"I do," replied Dionysus. "As I recall, the grey-eyed Athena punished her quite terribly for daring to defile the goddess' temple."

"Dusedre's actions were very foolish," Aphrodite admitted as she poured nectar into two shining goblets, "but they were done out of love for me. Indeed, she spent her life worshipping me in thought, word, and deed. Besides, even if the chaste warrior's wrath was justified, it was quite excessive."

Aphrodite offered a goblet to Dionysus. Never one to refuse a libation, Dionysus of the vine quickly drained his cup of the sweet, divine nectar within. "If I may ask," he ventured, "why does the plight of young Dusedre weigh upon your mind?"

"She has weighed upon my mind since the day she was transformed," replied the goddess. "Every day, Dusedre prays to me that I may restore her beauty. If it were only in my power, I would grant her wish. The girl has spent her life worshipping me in thought, word, and deed. Even now, after the injustice done to her by Athena, her faith in me remains unshaken. I must reward this somehow."

Dionysus went to fill and drain his goblet once more. "Hers is a pitiable tale," he agreed, "but how does this concern me?"

Aphrodite sat at the edge of her bed and took a sip of nectar before answering. "As we speak, two men from Thebes are on their way to find and kill Dusedre. As a kindness to my disciple, I plan to stop them with your help. As we speak, the fools are following Dusedre to the mountains of Thrace."

In an instant, Dionysus understood. "In mere days, they will be within reach of my fearsome Thracian Maenads!"

"You will command the Maenads to reach these travelers and rend them to pieces before they can slay poor Dusedre."

"It may not be that easy," Dionysus pointed out. "The Maenads are creatures governed entirely by emotion, bereft of reason or self-control. Not even I can govern them completely."

Her dark-lashed eyes locked sharply onto his. "Are they not your servants? Do they not listen when you speak?"

"They listen," said Dionysus, though he was distracted by Aphrodite's hand as it played at the robe's opening between her tempting breasts.

"Perhaps," he continued, "I may set them on the proper path. It would be a simple matter to point them in the right direction before they destroy everything in their way."

"That will do," said Aphrodite, her voice more alluring than ever. She lifted the hem of her robe to reveal a flawless and shapely thigh. Dionysus felt his cock stiffen as he wished she might pull that robe only slightly higher.

"And what may I expect in return for this favor?" he asked.

Aphrodite responded by standing to let her robe fall to the floor. From the shining tresses that flowed from her hair to the perfectly groomed triangle between her thighs, every last detail of her appearance was without flaw.

The god impulsively rushed toward her, but was stopped by the goddess' hand. "Stay, Dionysus. We are in no rush, and you have not yet agreed to perform my task. When you have, I shall grant a small sampling of the boundless joys that await you when Tythoros and his company lie mangled at your Maenads' feet."

As she spoke, the goddess slowly removed her cestus belt one latch at a time. Dionysus was caught in her spell, powerless to do anything but watch as she revealed another small patch of skin at a time. Finally, the cestus belt lay discarded on the floor, and Aphrodite's ample bosom bounced freely. She stood before Dionysus in all of her immaculate beauty, with every ideal curve of her smooth and dazzling skin on display.

"Lead me to your bed, fair Aphrodite, and I shall do as you command."

The goddess stepped forward to take his hands in hers. Though he tried to reach for those pert and plump orbs beneath her golden necklaces, Aphrodite held his hands firm.

"Why rush, good Dionysus?" she asked. "Act in foolish haste and I may lose my good temper."

She led him to the edge of her bed, where she lay him down with his feet resting on the floor and her head between his knees. She massaged his thighs through his tunic, her fingers only a hair's width from his waiting prick. Dionysus wished so badly to reach out, force her to the floor, and take her as he would one of his drunken disciples. Still, Aphrodite had made her conditions clear. Dionysus could only grasp the silken sheets of Aphrodite's bed and trade his control for the pleasures she gave.

With practiced care and the patience that could only come from living an immortal life, Aphrodite spread the flawlessly sculpted thighs of the wine god. His length had already grown partly erect, making its presence known under the rising skirts of his robes.

At the sight of his growing arousal, the goddess of beauty was convinced to take things a bit farther. She slid her delicate palms along the inside of his thighs, moving the robe upwards until his manhood jumped into view.

"Ooh, Dionysus," she cooed. "What a big, strong cock you have." Indeed, it was a penis far larger and wider than any earthly man might have been blessed with. A mortal woman might not have been able to wrap her hand around it, much less her lips, but the goddess of lust could take it easily. She delighted in taking his firm prick in her warm hands, gently stroking and twisting the sensitive flesh as her soft lips moved wetly back and forth along his length.

The god moaned uncontrollably as he writhed atop the downy bed. As his cock swelled to its full and impossibly huge size within Aphrodite's mouth, he could feel raw pleasure spreading like ambrosia through his divine blood. Her mouth seemed to radiate all of the sun's heat when his member was inside it. Even the lubrication of her flexible tongue and moist lips created an intense feeling of bliss as it stuck against his prick.

Yet Aphrodite continued to act slowly. She sucked him with a deliberate and consistently relaxed pace that left Dionysus mad with desire. He would try to grab the back of her head, but Aphrodite would only throw his hands back. "No, no," she said, "you must be patient," before going back to work on his manhood. He would thrust upward into her mouth, either purposefully or by reflex, but Aphrodite would only stop to chide him. "Come now, good Dionysus, you must be patient."

Of course, Aphrodite knew she was teasing him to the point of cruelty. She could feel his shaft throb uncontrollably with pent-up urges. She could taste the syrupy, sweet, heavenly taste of his frustration as pre-cum dripped from his cock. Yet the great deity of sex continued to hold back. Aphrodite resisted his advances, waiting for that inevitable moment when the dam would break and the god would take charge.

Finally, Dionysus could take no more. The most sensual mouth in the entire universe had worked his divine sex until it was fit to burst. In a sudden instant, Dionysus finally pulled himself from the goddess' mouth. With a very frustrated roar, he grabbed Aphrodite under each arm and threw her on top of the bed. In the very next moment, Dionysus had spread her legs and rested her feet on his shoulders. With a firm hold on both of her perfect breasts, and her bright pink nipples pinched between two fingers, he buried his cock up to the hilt inside of her.

"Oooh!" cried Aphrodite as the god thrust his hips in a frenzy. "Oh, you're so strong, Dionysus! So big and rough! Ah! AH! Come on, give it to me harder! HARDER!"




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 05



Her sweet words and seductive voice encouraged the god further. His penis quite literally vibrated with endless vigor as he fucked her with thrusts powerful enough to topple buildings. What's more, though Aphrodite had taken many lovers, her godly vagina was still tighter and smoother than that of any mortal virgin.

Aphrodite delighted in the feel of pure ecstasy rippling from the thrusts inside her snug channel. For extra measure, she made a show of reaching down to spread her intimate folds and rub her sensitive clitoris. Dionysus was greatly aroused by the sight of this goddess pleasuring herself and moaning without restraint. He lost himself to the all-consuming desire of finding release in the affectionate flesh that so firmly grasped all sides of his member.

The god was desperate to get the satisfaction that Aphrodite so delighted in refusing. He continued humping through a haze of ecstasy until that moment when his cock spurted fountains of semen within her. At the exact same moment, Aphrodite screamed and made her entire body go rigid, all in perfect imitation of an orgasm.

Dionysus roared with satisfaction and pride, having successfully laid with the goddess of sex. Though his godly muscles struggled to relax, he continued thrusting forcefully until every last drop of his seed was inside of her.

"Ah! Ah! Oooh, lusty Dionysus," moaned Aphrodite, "that felt so amazing."

She looked on as the proud god of wine and revelry collapsed onto her bed. His expression was blank with rapture, his muscles were limp with overexertion, and his penis was coated in a mixture of bodily fluids. Not only had Aphrodite had raised his confidence beyond the point of rational thought, but she had granted him an unforgettably powerful session of intercourse with minimal time and displeasure to herself. He would do anything for the goddess after this, if only she might grant him another and far superior night of lovemaking. It was just as Aphrodite had planned.

Sure enough, Dionysus looked heartbroken as Aphrodite got up to retrieve her robe.

"No, good Dionysus," Aphrodite said before the god could even get a word out. "That was the sampling I promised you."

The goddess stood facing away from the bed, leaving Dionysus to watch as the shimmering robe covered her shapely backside.

"Know that far greater passion awaits when Tythoros and his company have been killed by the Thracian Maenads." With a finger under his chin, she added "A solid night in my bed, and I will let your manhood go anywhere it wishes."

Dionysus leaped from the bed to the door as quickly as his lithe and eternally youthful limbs would carry him. "Think no more of Tythoros!" he shouted with confidence. "He and all those who join him are doomed!"

***

As the Fates would have it, this union of Dionysus and Aphrodite would later give birth to the fertile god Priapus. Alas, Hera cursed Priapus with a hideous countenance, for Aphrodite conceived her child out of wedlock with Hera's son, Hephaestus of many crafts. But that is a story for another day. 

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback. 

Thanks for reading, and special thanks to my editor, GentWithHandcuffs.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 06



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 6

The three travelers continued moving northward, trading stories about themselves as they went. Their progress was unimpeded until the time came one evening to set up camp. Tythoros pointed to an opening in a mountain nearby, though its entrance was blocked by an enormous stone.

"This cave will serve as shelter for us," he said.

"A fine shelter indeed," remarked Callioa, "for no man or beast could get inside there."

Sidrophus, meanwhile, simply looked on as Tythoros easily pushed the boulder aside.

"By the golden reins of Artemis," asked Callioa, "how did you come upon such power?"

"I wish to the gods that I knew," Tythoros answered. "Perhaps it was granted to me by Plakinos, that kindly man who raised me from childhood to cut and carry stone."

Callioa turned to Sidrophus. "Are all men from the city blessed with such strength?"

"In truth, fierce Callioa, they are not. I could only wish to have such endurance as that of good Tythoros."

"And I," said Tythoros, "could only wish to have your aim and stealth with a bow."

"I am well aware of his skill at archery," Callioa said curtly.

There followed a tense pause, as each of them silently wished that the previous few seconds could somehow be undone.

Finally, Tythoros pointed skyward. "The hour grows late," he said. "Come, let us make camp and retire for the night."

Just as the three of them set down their burdens, a peculiar jingling sound was heard.

"Do you hear that?" asked Sidrophus.

"I do," replied Tythoros. "But what is it?"

The three of them spread out in search for the peculiar noise. It was Callioa who first figured out what it was.

"Tamborines," she said. "We must stay close!" she shouted, turning around to face her companions. They all turned back to find that their belongings had vanished.

"Have you lost something, foolish travelers?"

The voice belonged to one of two ugly and bearded men, both of them carrying the stolen supplies. They had round and upturned noses, with horns and pointed ears like those of animals. Though they appeared like men from the waist upwards, they stood on legs like those of a goat and rough, bristled fur covered their bodies entirely.

"Satyrs," hissed Callioa. "After them, quickly!"

In a flash, the creatures ran away into the forest, laughing and shaking their tamborines as they fled. Their speed and the growing cover of dusk might have made their getaway easy, but their constant noise gave away their position. Tythoros followed them with an endurance that could outrun and outlast any creature of the forest. Callioa ran in tireless pursuit as well, after a lifetime of chasing down far stealthier prey.

Still, the chase was not an easy one. The satyrs led their hunters around trees, through branches, over bushes and streams. Yet Tythoros was too powerful to relent and Callioa knew her way around forested land too well.

At last, Tythoros made a running leap at the satyr he was chasing and wrestled him to the ground. At the very same moment, Callioa had captured her quarry and twisted his arms into an especially painful lock. Her satyr cried out in pain.

"I am sorry!" he screamed. "I am sorry! We were only having fun! Please let me go, for we never did harm to any of your company!"

"Pathetic," sneered Callioa. "You satyrs are such worthless and cowardly jokers."

"Yes, I am only a coward," the creature sobbed. "I am such a pathetic creature next to your beauty." He howled in pain as Callioa tightened her hold.

"It was not my beauty that caught you," she corrected, "but my strength and speed."

"Yes, I am but a slow weakling compared to you," the satyr amended. "Please just take your things and let us go, I beg of you."

"You shall never trouble us again?" asked Callioa.

"Never, should I live a hundred years."

"And all the other satyrs in this wood will leave us in peace?"

"I will see to it, I swear to you."

"Then get out of my sight." Callioa released the satyr, who then hurried away into the woods. Tythoros then turned to the satyr in his hold.

"Shall I turn you over to her?" he asked. In response, the satyr shook his head wildly.

"Then I believe we have an agreement. You and your kind leave us be." Tythoros released his captive, who quickly followed his companion.

"Well done," said Tythoros. "No woman from the city could have run with such speed or intimidated with such bravery."

Callioa brushed an auburn hair back into place. "It takes little bravery to scare a satyr," she said. "They are normally quite peaceful, and any offense they give is meant purely in jest."

"They were quite difficult to catch, for such peaceful creatures." he pointed out.

"Satyrs are most elusive," replied Callioa. "Most hunters spend their lives failing to catch a satyr with bow and arrow, but you did it with your bare hands. I never thought I would see or hear of any man who could claim such a feat."

Tythoros looked toward her. Callioa's diamond-shaped face glinted with the moonlight reflected from her green eyes. He was moved to ask why she rebuked any compliment about her beauty, when another thought came to his mind.

"Sidrophus," he said. "Where is Sidrophus?"

They looked around to find that indeed, he was nowhere to be found.

"It seems he could not match our pace," said Callioa. "He must have been left behind."

"We must search for him."


"The night has grown too dark," argued Callioa. "If we search for him, we will only get lost ourselves."

"We cannot leave him behind," Tythoros insisted.

"He will have to wait until daylight."

"As we sleep here and hope he survives?!"

"Wait," said Callioa. "Listen."

At that moment, the two of them heard a distant brustling noise. They moved to face it, bracing for combat as the noise moved closer. Very soon, another satyr made himself known, carrying Sidrophus over his shoulder.

"I believe this man is one of your company?" asked the satyr as his passenger was lowered to the ground.

"He is," answered Tythoros. "Thank you."

"Go you well, travelers," said the satyr as he ran off. "And pray forgive my brothers for their sport."

Sidrophus watched as Tythoros and Callioa traded an uneasy glance. "What troubles you?" he asked.

"Are you unhurt?" Tythoros asked him.

"Yes, I am quite well, and yourselves?"

"It is good that we are all well," replied Tythoros, "for we must keep moving."

"Why?" asked Sidrophus. "Would it not be safer to set camp here?"

"If the satyrs meant to play with us," explained Callioa, "they would have split us up and left us lost in the woods. Instead, they brought us all to this same place."

In an instant, Sidrophus understood. Sleeping there risked laying vulnerable to further dangers. "Let us continue," he said, "and find someplace more suitable."

The three of them collected their supplies and continued moving north.

***

At that very moment, the satyrs continued running with all haste away from the three travelers. There was no point in staying to risk further harm and confrontation. No, the satyrs had already done their part by bringing the humans further north at a faster pace.

They had lured Tythoros and his comrades closer to the boundaries of Thrace. It was just as their lord, the ivy-bearer Dionysus, had commanded.

***

The companions set up camp a comfortable distance from where the satyrs had left them. Sidrophus sat awake to keep watch, though he could not have slept anyway. His mind kept drifting back to the day's events. Tythoros and Callioa were fast and strong enough to recover their supplies, while Sidrophus had to be dragged to them by another satyr.

Though Tythoros had always been generous with praise for Sidrophus – and grateful for the company, without a doubt – the prince felt like a weakling against the godly strength and endurance of his friend. As for Callioa, it stung his pride to know that he could be so badly outmatched by a woman. Sidrophus had also been partly responsible for killing her family. That grudge clearly endured in some way, no matter how strongly she denied it. She was a beauty he could not hope to woo, even without her vow of chastity, and that stung his pride even more.

In Thebes, he was the only son of a king. In the woods, all of his power and wealth amounted to nothing. He was a stranger wandering far from home, and a mortal in the company of near-demigods.

Sidrophus' thoughts wandered to his home. He worried for his dear sister, poor Cleia, who had cared for him from infancy. How were her children, he wondered? Was there any hope that brutish Xalchon was treating her well? Perhaps word had come at last about that lost sister she had always pined for.

He worried for his parents. How long could Ammochrusios hope to continue holding power, as old and infirm as he was? What would become of frail Cuphora when he went down to the House of Death?

Sitting there, next to his mighty companions, Sidrophus felt strangely unfit to govern Thebes in his father's place. Then again, he would still be better for the throne than Xalchon. It was too much to think that the bastard might have been ruling over Thebes at that very moment, for all Sidrophus knew.

He lifted his eyes to the heavens and prayed as loudly as he dared, without waking up his friends.

"Gods of Olympus, please hear my prayer. I beg of you to watch over the people of Thebes in my absence. Help them prosper under the rule of my father while I am gone from his side. If I should return to the vibrant city I love so well, an enormous banquet shall be held in celebration of this quest's successful end, and many fat sacrifices will be made to honor your good graces."

***

The prayer went up and it was heard, though the gods did not respond. Far away in Thebes, other events were being set in motion.

***

Mere moments after Sidrophus had finished his prayer, a strange noise reached his ears. The noise was faint, but it almost sounded like the screams of women. Sidrophus left his comrades, moving quickly and quietly to investigate.

He came upon a clearing, where he found a red-haired woman moaning loudly as she thrust her hips back and forth against a blonde woman's face. The blonde was lying on the ground, with the head of a black-haired woman between her legs. All three were completely nude, save only for the wreaths of ivy that adorned their heads. Their pale skin shone in the starlight, though the red-haired woman's face was flush with color.

Sidrophus could not guess why these young beauties wore wreaths of ivy, nor did he know why fawn skins and enormous wooden clubs surrounded them as they made love. He could only watch spellbound as the redhead arched her back, squeezed her pert pink breasts, and cried out to the skies in pleasure.

He felt so ashamed for watching, but Sidrophus could not think of anything else to do. He did not know who these women were, he did not know if they required assistance of some kind, and he certainly did not know what to tell the others if he went back.

The prince's dilemma did not last long. After her vocal orgasm, the redhead opened her eyes. By some strange chance, her faint blue eyes opened to meet those of Sidrophus. In an instant, she dismounted and rose to her feet. Though Sidrophus could not hear their talk, all three of the women rose to look at him.

Sidrophus moved to avert his gaze and apologize, but he never got the words out. They were on him in an instant, clutching his arms with surprising strength to drag him into the middle of the clearing.

"Ladies," he started to say, "what is the meaning of this? I am truly sorry for the intrusion and I will gladly go on my way --"

It was the redhead who tore away his robe and wrestled him to the ground, but the blonde threw her off. The blonde straddled his chest and kissed him deeply, tenderly but firmly clutching his face in her hands.

Sidrophus meant to repeat his demand for an explanation, but he could not pull his mouth away to ask. Instead, the shock and arousal went straight to his penis, much to the delight of the other two women. He could feel them fighting over the great pile of flesh between his legs. They were each eager to put him into their mouths, sucking and stroking him with fast and aggressive movements before the other one could take control.

Finally, the blonde took her mouth away from his. Before Sidrophus could think of a rational question to ask, she sat upon his face, spread her intimate folds with her fingers, and proceeded to grind her hips back and forth along his mouth and chin. Meanwhile, the black-haired woman had taken sole possession of his cock, sucking and stroking it while the redhead contented herself to lick his anus.

Sidrophus tried mightily to resist this treatment, but all of his mortal strength could not budge the firm thighs pressing themselves against his cheeks. His hips bucked wildly – both in a vain attempt to escape and in response to the intense pleasure swelling in his loins – yet these women would not be denied.

Finally, Sidrophus let out a cry muffled by pale flesh and curled blonde hairs. His back arched and his loins shot spurts of pearly discharge into the black-haired woman's waiting throat. She finally released his manhood after swallowing every last drop of his release, but there was no relief for Sidrophus. The redhead took his newly-limp phallus into his mouth and immediately set to work making it hard again.

Meanwhile, the black-haired woman moved to lick and caress the blonde's puffy nipples. Sidrophus had no idea what to do except to help pleasure the blonde and hope that her orgasm might end this. He reached up to rub her tight folds, pushing his tongue as deeply inside of her as he could. He kissed and sucked those delicate pale lips, all while savoring the sweet nectar pouring forth.

At last, her thighs quivered around him and her sex covered his face with sweet satisfaction. She roared incomprehensibly with overwhelming delight and climbed off Sidrophus' face. With his head finally free to move, he looked to the side and was struck with shock by what he saw.

Almost a dozen other women of all sizes and colors had emerged from the forest, all of them shedding their robes of fawn skin and setting their wooden clubs to the ground. Some wore wreaths of ivy, others wore wreaths of vine leaves, and a rare few wore crowns adorned with bull horns.

Sidrophus desperately tried to rise, but the blonde and the black-haired woman held his hands to the ground. Meanwhile, the redhead got to her knees and moaned loudly as she lowered herself onto his erect and meaty shaft. She bounced up and down on his cock as her two sisters held his wrists and pressed his hands between their legs. He tried clenching his hands into fists, but the women delighted in rubbing their excited pearls against the ridges of his knuckles.

Though his mind grew hazy with the red-haired woman's humping, that was before the other women joined in. An olive-skinned beauty and a full-figured brunette had kneeled down to start licking on his nipples. Those two women were in turn being orally pleasured from behind by girls on their backs. The women at his hands had two gorgeous attendants apiece to rub and suckle their erect nipples as they continued grinding against Sidrophus' knuckles. The red-haired woman riding him cried out as a curvaceous brunette crowned with bull horns kneeled behind her and reached to tease her small yet responsive breasts. Finally, another nubile girl – this one with dark blonde hair – kneeled down to tenderly kiss his mouth. Her breath tasted like fine wine.

Sidrophus was lost in an ocean of sexual ecstasy. He could hear nothing but blissful moans and cries of every pitch. He could see nothing but the writhing naked flesh of young and beautiful women. His senses were so flooded with arousal of every kind that his climax came easily. The redhead sighed sweetly at the feel of his warm semen filling her womb.

The ladies all switched positions in an instant as the redhead dismounted. The women at his nipples traded places with the beauties who had been pleasuring them previously. Another redhead – this one freckled and wearing bull horns – sat upon his face and thrust her hips while the blonde and the black-haired woman licked her jiggling chest. His fists were taken by another two women, each of whom were pleasured by the roving hands of their own two attendants.

His limp and wet cock was taken by the dark blonde nubile, though she shared it with a rose-lipped beauty. The bull-horned brunette was content to sit nearby and furiously rub her own sex as she watched and groaned in pleasure at the sight. All the while, Sidrophus felt two soft hands wander all over his most sensitive parts. He could feel two experts sets of lips and tongues as they wandered over his tip, his head, his shaft, his balls, his taint, and even his anus. They greedily sucked and kissed and licked him to the insatiable content of their hearts.

Ah, but his phallus had grown tender from so much rampant use. His cock was so sensitive that its further arousal shook Sidrophus to his core. He moaned and grunted and screamed with abandon into the soft pink flesh of the bull-horned redhead atop him, which led her to cry out in great joy.

When Sidrophus's cock had once again reached its full strength, the bull-horned brunette took it for herself. The brunette took him completely into her sopping wet channel as she straddled him and thrust her hips with beastly strength. The dark blonde nubile and the rose-lipped beauty, meanwhile, had taken to suckling the brunette's ample chest as they reached down to pleasure themselves.

Sidrophus was desperately gasping for breath. His manhood was being pressed and rubbed to such an extent that Sidrophus worried it would come off. Every muscle in his body had seized up with so much pleasure for so long, and every moment without relief was agony. It was a sweet yet unbearable form of torture such as the prince had never heard of.

***

It was at that moment when Tythoros awoke. He nudged Callioa from sleep.

"Callioa?" he whispered. "Do you hear that?"

Her senses returned slowly as she awoke. "I do," she replied. "Though I do not know the sound."

In truth, the ceaseless lovemaking around Sidrophus had become so intense that the excited screams and blissful moans had reached the ears of his companions. They followed the noises to the clearing, where they saw Sidrophus' curled blonde hair under the mass of writhing nubile flesh.

"That looks like Sidrophus on the ground," Tythoros pointed out. "How on earth did he get into this?"

"Perhaps we should leave him here," said Callioa, dryly. "He seems to be having a good time."

Before Tythoros could answer, a soft voice came to his ear. He knew at once that it could only be the whisper of a divine Olympian.

"Do not approach them!" said the great counsellor Athena. "These are the wild Maenads of Thrace. No weapon can wound them, and fire does not burn them. They mean to tear your friend apart after they have had their satisfaction with him, and their sharp teeth will rend your mortal bones as well if you interfere blindly."

Tythoros motioned for Callioa to hold back. She looked on with some confusion as Tythoros spoke with the goddess.

"Great Athena," he asked, "how can I save Sidrophus without confronting the monsters around him?"




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 06



"Turn to the leaves beside you," said the voice.

There, by Tythoros' feet, was a small pile of leaves. Sidrophus kneeled down to find that they hid a beautiful golden flute.

"That flute was crafted by renowned Hephaestus from my own design," said Athena. "Its music will bring an enchantment of sleep upon any man or beast. Take it with you to the Rila Mountains, where Dusedre makes her lair, after you have saved your friend."

Emboldened by the goddess, Tythoros put the flute to his lips and blew. Though he was ignorant of musical crafts, the godly instrument turned his clumsy notes into soothing melodies. When Tythoros stopped playing, he was greeted with silence. The Maenads had all fallen atop each other in a deep slumber.

Tythoros raised his face to the skies and whispered as loudly as he dared, "Praise and heartfelt thanks to wise Athena for this blessed gift!"

He looked to Callioa for assistance in moving on, but the flute had enchanted her as well. Tythoros paused to look upon his sleeping companion, for he had never seen her in such peace. It was the first time he had ever witnessed a smile upon those lips, and it was a sight to melt his heart.

Tythoros stroked her cheek. The skin was soft and rosy with life. It pained him to know that Callioa was so unhappy in waking, for she was a radiant beauty in this happy sleep. The temptation arose to peek underneath her robe of animal pelts – the curve of her firm thighs had certainly caught his eye – but he disregarded the thought of such a shameful act against his chaste friend.

Instead, he walked back to the campsite to gather as many supplies as he could carry. He then returned to the clearing and gently extracted the naked prince.

Sidrophus, Callioa, and the supplies for all three of them were a heavy burden, but the powerful strength and endurance of Tythoros had been well-rested. He continued walking until dawn, when he set his friends down and watched over them as they slept.

***

Apollo's chariot of fiery horses had run many leagues across the sky before the Maenads woke up. The forest rang out with shrill and incoherent cries as the beastly women found that their sport had somehow tricked them and escaped.

The immortal Maenads were eager to tear the prey apart for making them look like such fools, but they could find no evidence of where he had gone to. He had only left his chiton, and the Maenads saw that the cloth had come from Thebes.

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback.

Special thanks once again to Minx Black, an old and dear friend who helped proofread this chapter.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 07



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 7

Poised on her golden throne aloft Olympus' peak, Hera looked down. She saw the bastard son of her husband climbing and fighting his way through the forested mountains of Macedon, and her heart filled with loathing. This spawn of her husband's infidelity could not be allowed to live any longer, and he certainly could not be allowed victory.

Yet Hera was ever mindful of great Zeus, at rest on the ridges and craggy heights of Olympus beside her. How could Queen Hera outmaneuver Zeus the mastermind, with his battle-shield of storm and thunder? At last, one strategy struck her mind as best.

Hera strode to beckon Ares away from the other gods. She whispered, "My son, I need your love of strife and battle for a favor, away from the eyes of your father. Would you grant me such a favor, whatever I may ask?"

"Father Zeus and I bear no love for each other," he replied. "Name your desire, mother Hera, and I will be eager to cause whatever mayhem can be done."

They withdrew to conspire in private.

***

Hera then visited the bedchamber of Aphrodite. "Dear child," she said, quick with deceit, "I must borrow those powers you use to overwhelm all gods and mortal men. I am off to the House of Death, for I have been called to settle an argument between Hades and his queen, Persephone. For the sake of continued peace in the underworld, would you grant me the power to lure them into each other's arms?"

Aphrodite, with her everlasting smile, replied "It would be impossible -- nay, wrong to deny such a warm request, especially from she who lies in the arms of mighty Zeus."

With that, Aphrodite thrust her heart-bewitching cestus belt into Hera's hands. "Wear this band," she said, "and I know you will not return with your mission unfulfilled."

"I thank you deeply for this favor," said Hera. The goddess then withdrew to her room, the chamber her loving son Hephaestus built her, locked with a secret bolt no other god could draw.

With divine ambrosia, Hera cleansed her enticing body of any blemish. She then massaged her skin to a soft glow with a deep olive rub, the breath-taking and redolent oil she kept beside her. She combed her hair, twisting her braids with expert hands. Sleek, luxurious, and shining down from her deathless head they cascaded.

Then she took the enchanted cestus belt and put it into place beneath her breasts. Round her shoulders she swirled wondrous robes, pinning them across her breasts with a golden brooch. Her waist was sashed with a band that floated a hundred tassels.

Now, dazzling in all her rich regalia, Hera sped in a flash to Zeus who gathers the clouds. At one glance, lust swirled over him and his immortal heart raced. He rose before her and savored the feel of her name on his tongue.

"Hera," he said in awe, "where are you rushing? What wild desire brings you from Olympus?"

Filled with guile, the noble Hera answered, "I am off to the underworld, to visit Hades and Persephone, and to dissolve a feud between them. My chariot stands ready at the gates of Olympus, but I have come now to visit you, Zeus. I fear that you may flare in anger against me if I should go in secret to the House of Death."

"Why hurry, Hera?" asked mighty Zeus. "That is a journey you can make tomorrow. Now, come. Let us go to bed and lose ourselves in love! An irresistible longing for your embrace has overcome me!"

"Nay, husband, I shall not lay any more with a man who has been so unfaithful to me so many times." Hera's back was turned as she said this, so that Zeus could not see the grin on her face.

Though her words were hurtful to Zeus' ears, his eyes were no less entranced. "My dear queen!" he exclaimed, "I have told you countless times that no consort could take your place in my heart! I have taken many other women, yes, but I would not take any of them to replace you as my wife."

With a hand on her shoulder, he turned her around to face her. "You are the loveliest woman in all the cosmos. Your beauty is never far from my mind, and yet I have never been more overcome by your beauty than at this moment!"

He moved to kiss her, but Hera stopped him with a hand. She continued to play with his lust. "You say such flattering words to a wife who has repeatedly done harm to your consorts and your bastard children? You bear no ill will for my acts of vengeance?"

"You were justified in every act of retribution against me," said Zeus, proving that lust had completely driven the king of all gods from his senses. "I would forgive and forget every one of them, if only you would continue loving me. Do you love me, my queen? After all the times I have wronged you, do you still love me?"

Hera looked deep into his eyes and replied with an honesty that startled even herself. "I do," she said, shortly before pulling away once again.

"Even so, you burn to make love on the heights of Olympus for all the world to see?" she asked. "Think of the scandal there would be if one of the other deathless gods were to see us!"

"As you wish," Zeus answered. "We shall go to my bedchamber, with unbreakable locks of dear Hephaestus' craft. And I will wrap us round in a golden cloud so dense that not even the Sun's rays, the sharpest in the world, will pierce the mist and glimpse us making love!"

With that, Zeus lifted his wife into his arms, and they retired to his bedchamber.

***

The very instant they were concealed from all disturbance, Zeus held his wife tightly against him. He was desperate to taste her tender lips, her flexible tongue, her soft cheeks, her shapely neck, and all the rest of her sweet olive-rubbed flesh. Hera submitted to all of her husband's desires, gasping and moaning in a seductive manner at his affectionate kisses and touches. She dug her fingers into his back, eager to pull his chest toward hers.

Zeus' hands caressed her waist, searching blindly for the tasseled belt encircling it. The belt came undone at his touch, followed by the golden brooch, and Hera's robes collapsed at her feet. She stood before Zeus entirely naked, save only for the cestus belt that held her ample breasts.

The enchanted belt and all of Hera's preparations had a powerful effect on the king of Olympus. To his eyes, her flawless skin glowed with radiant beauty. He was entranced by the cascading braids of her hair and the gentle heaving of her wondrous bosom. Yet she could see that his eyes were drawn to her legs.

Hera rubbed her shapely thigh, the better to bring attention toward her silken lips. "How shall I serve you, my lord and husband?"

In a flash, Zeus cast off his royal garments, leaving those shining robes in a pile on the floor. "I would have you tend to my arousal," he said, "as I taste your sweet sex!"

With his enormous hands, he lifted Hera and spun her upside down. He held her aloft with bulging and ageless muscles, bringing her close enough to lick deeply and hungrily from her eager vagina. As his rapid tongue sent overwhelming waves of pleasure through her body, Hera reached out to put the world's largest and strongest penis into her mouth.

She delighted in the feel of Zeus' manhood turning impenetrably hard at her touch. He grew to an enormous size that would have broken a mortal woman in two, but Hera's godly lips were able to accommodate him. The divine beauty sucked and stroked him with tight, moist lips, aided by a tongue and a neck that could never tire. She pleasured him with increasing and unrelenting speed, all while moaning uncontrollably at the pleasure he gave her.

Hera's skilled mouth drove Zeus into such a frenzy that he hungered for more of his wife's sex. Her dripping crotch was eager to yield copious amounts of discharge that tasted sweeter than divine ambrosia to Zeus' lips. There was so much of the glistening syrup that Hera could feel it trail warmly down her tight belly and through her cleavage. Zeus' mouth continued to probe deeper, and Hera's mouth continued to reward his efforts.

The reciprocal bliss was so overpowering that Zeus and Hera could feel themselves melting into each other. Finally, Zeus said "I can wait no longer, my lady."

"Take me, great Zeus," she answered. "I long to feel this inside of me!"

Hera set her palms against the floor as Zeus lowered her. His powerful hands gripped her sensitive thighs, holding them up while spreading them apart. The god's stiff arousal pointed directly to the sopping and quivering entrance of his wife. The two of them moaned with great pleasure as Zeus moved to penetrate Hera.

The god of thunder quite literally humped her with the force of an earthquake. Every one of his rapid thrusts sent powerful vibrations through the wet and responsive folds that clung so tightly to his member. Hera cried out repeatedly, her mind clouded by the overpowering friction of her husband's cock and the feel of his firm grip on her thighs. Yet she still hungered for more.

"Harder, my lord!" she cried out. "Keep fucking me harder!"

The tremors spread rapture through her entire body. Hera's nipples had grown painfully erect as her breasts swayed against the cestus belt, yet she was forced to keep her hands planted on the floor. Her clitoris had become fully engorged, screaming out for a touch that Hera could not provide.

It was all too much. In one movement, Hera arched her back all the way up until it was pressed against Zeus' chest. She reached back to wrap an arm around Zeus' thick neck while her other hand furiously rubbed her clit. Zeus remained thrusting all the while, holding his wife's thighs while standing upright.

Hera craned her head up and backward to take Zeus' lips. They kissed passionately, as Hera probed Zeus' mouth to taste her own juices within. "Take my breasts," she moaned. "My bosom cries out for your touch, mighty Zeus!"

The god gently relinquished his hold on the goddess' legs, letting her feet drop to the floor. "Let me see them," he said, withdrawing his cock from inside her.

Hera turned to face him. Her luscious breasts were pointing straight outward as her nipples stood erect and full of arousal. He bent down to obligingly kiss and suckle them as his hands worked to undo the cestus belt. The enchanted garment soon fell to the floor and the responsive mounds held within bounced free.

Zeus' great hands massaged those soft orbs and kissed their eager nipples as his lips and tongue wandered over her chest. He came upon a drop of sweet syrup that had dribbled there earlier from between Hera's legs.

The goddess arched her back in joy as her husband's tongue lapped up the trail of her arousal. He followed the liquid between her soft breasts, all over her smooth abdomen, and between her shapely thighs, taking in every drop as he went.

Hera's fingers grasped her husband's thick hair as his mouth and fingers explored her inner thighs. Every time his touch grazed her sensitive folds, she let out another loud gasp. Her clitoris was so engorged that it sent pulses of need through her whole body.

Finally, she lifted a knee onto Zeus' shoulder. With her fingers, Hera spread open her lips to show the dripping pink flesh within. "Again, my love," she commanded. "I need you inside me."

"I can see that," said Zeus, with a glint in his eye, "and I will grant the satisfaction you need." He put a hand on Hera's raised thigh, running his hand along her leg as he stood up. Hera had one foot on the ground and the other held atop Zeus' shoulder. The two stood facing each other, with her breasts eager for attention and her vagina spread wide open.

Zeus leaned in to kiss his wife, and heard her shout with bliss as he thrust inside of her. He reached down with his free hand to grab her ass while fucking her senseless. Meanwhile, Hera put her arms around Zeus, pulling him close to squeeze her tender breasts against him.

She broke their kiss to set her head on his free shoulder, screaming and moaning with delight at the sensations racing through her body. He relished every cry of "Oh! Oh! Oh! Ah, yes!" next to his ears. "Don't stop!" she pleaded. "Almost... almost..."

A moment later, a single sound escaped her lips. It was a note higher than any mortal or godly instrument could produce. Zeus' heart nearly burst with joy to hear such pure and sweet music. Hera's euphoria rang out for a long and blissful moment as her ageless muscles spasmed in her husband's arms.

Hera set her foot back on the ground and kissed her husband deeply. His cock had stopped humping for the moment, though it was still hard with arousal and still coated with lubricant inside his wife's warm flesh.

"Shall we continue?" asked Zeus, "Or would you dare leave me so unsatisfied?"

"Let us go to the bed, my love," Hera replied with another kiss. "Sit on the cushions and let me tend to your energetic shaft."

Zeus grudgingly withdrew his penis, leaving it fully erect in all of its mass and dripping with Hera's juices.

"I have had my fill of foreplay," said Zeus as he moved to sit on his opulent bed. "My loins yearn for release."

Hera put her hands on his broad shoulders and straddled his colossal manhood. "Oh, my lord and husband," she said. "I will grant the climax you so badly seek."

Hera lifted up her legs to plant her feet on the bed behind Zeus. Her thighs were spread open before Zeus, and he wasted no time placing the throbbing tip of his prick against her moist opening.

"Not there, handsome Zeus," Hera said with a glint in her eye. "Place it a bit further back."

Zeus grinned widely as Hera moved her hips forward, the better for Zeus to position his tip against his wife's waiting anus. The goddess arched her back and screamed out as she lowered herself onto him. Though Zeus' member was slick with Hera's sweet lubricant, it was still an enormous pillar of flesh pressing through a very tight and very sensitive opening.

Hera moved downwards onto Zeus' cock in perfect rhythm with his upward thrusts inside of her. Zeus held his wife's jiggling buttocks, grasping them firmly to separate them as he pounded her ass. Hera reached downward to pleasure herself with one hand, furiously rubbing and stroking the flesh that had climaxed in pleasure only moments ago. She had also taken one of her breasts in hand, leaving the other breast for Zeus to suckle aggressively.

All the while, Hera's bowels clenched in rhythmic pulses around the god's mighty prick, pulling upward as they tightened around the vibrating organ. Zeus grunted and roared at the feel of such powerful suction and friction around his manhood. He pumped as hard and as fast as his deathless muscles would allow, filling Hera's deepest and darkest places with heat.

"Do you like that, Zeus?" she asked loudly. "Do you like the feel of my tight ass?"

"It's amazing, sweet bedmate," he moaned. "Don't stop!"

After many long hours of heavenly bliss, Zeus' loins had finally come to their climax. With a roar that echoed through the vast and opulent bedchamber, Zeus filled Hera with warm, liquid joy until she was taken over the edge as well. She climaxed once again with her fingers rubbing her sex, her hand tightly grasping her chest, and her husband's penis between her buttocks.

They kissed as their climax passed. Their minds were so flooded with bliss that they had quite forgotten how and why they had come to lie together.

"My lord, you were wonderful," Hera said, "but I still yearn for more of your passionate touch. Pray tell me that your loins have not lost their strength so quickly."

As she said this, Hera leaned back until she was lying parallel with the floor, her hands gripping his powerful calves. The queen Hera's body was completely stretched out before Zeus, leaving him to admire her taut stomach, her flawless skin, her gorgeous breasts, and her large round eyes. Hera gave such an alluring view that she could feel Zeus stiffening again inside of her.

"I?" shouted Zeus. "I, the king of the gods, rendered impotent after one climax? Nay, Hera, my shaft will continue to pleasure us both until such thoughts have gone from your head!"

With that, the king and queen of the gods continued to lose themselves in love for many long hours more.

***

Unbeknownst to Zeus, the lovers were trapped inside their bedchamber. In his haste, Zeus had failed to notice the warlike Ares hiding outside the chamber door. At Hera's instruction, Ares locked his immortal parents inside, wrapping an adamant chain around their door the very instant it had been closed.

It would be many days before the chain would be broken and the door unlocked. Even so, Ares could not risk acting openly and allowing word of his deeds to reach Zeus later on. He needed an agent to act on his behalf, and Ares knew where to find one.

***

It was a bright sunny day when Tythoros and his company had reached the Vardar River. Sidrophus, now dressed in the pelt of a deer they had hunted a few days prior, had begun unfurling a long and sturdy rope from his pack. Callioa took one end while Tythoros tied the other end around his waist.

"You may proceed when ready," said Sidrophus.

After a pull on his rope and a nod toward his companions, Tythoros dove into the river. Though the cold and swift waters raged around him, Tythoros' mighty limbs carried him forward. Most other men might have drowned in the attempt, but Tythoros had such godly strength that he could easily swim across.

He was of course dripping wet upon reaching the other side, but there was no time to dry off. Tythoros could only warm himself for a brief moment before holding his end of the rope high above his head. Across the river, Callioa did the same.

"Ready!" Tythoros shouted to his companions.

"Ready," said Callioa to Sidrophus. At this signal, Sidrophus reached to grab the suspended rope. Taking care to move quickly without shaking his lifeline too much, Sidrophus climbed his way across the river while being held aloft by his companions.

"Good work, Tythoros," said Sidrophus as he set foot on the opposite bank.

"It was a good plan," replied Tythoros. "Now perhaps you would be so kind as to gather some firewood? We shall need the warmth very soon."

Sidrophus agreed and set to his task. Meanwhile, Callioa was tying the group's supplies together with her end of the rope. When the packs were secure enough for her satisfaction, Callioa stood at her riverbank and tugged the rope firmly with both hands.

At this signal, Tythoros began pulling on the rope with all of his incredible strength. Callioa frantically kicked upwards to keep herself and the gear above water, all while holding onto the rope as firmly as she could. The work was so tiring that Callioa was gasping for air and shivering from the cold water, her clothes and hair completely disheveled, when Tythoros pulled her onto the bank across.

"I pray," she coughed, "we never have to do that again."

"I quite agree," said Tythoros as he helped her up. "You did very well."

"Can we take some time to rest before going further?" she asked while adjusting the pelts of her clothing.

"We have both earned a moment to rest," said Tythoros. "Sidrophus has already started gathering firewood."

At that very moment, they heard the voice of Sidrophus himself from the nearby woods. "Weapons!" he cried out. "Draw your weapons, quickly!"

Sidrophus came running out of the woods to meet his companions. Behind him was a fully-grown horse with wings and hind legs like those of a rooster. It was a hippalectryon, one of those elusive and passive creatures that roam forests away from the sight of man. This particular one had been peacefully wandering a short distance away until Ares drove it mad with bloodlust.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 07



Quickly, Tythoros reached down to grab a handful of dirt, which he then threw at the hippalectryon's face. The attack was not enough to harm the beast, but it was enough to distract it. The hippalectryon let out an enraged crow before turning on Tythoros, who swiftly ran further from the river to evade those powerful hooves.

The hippalectryon was preparing to ram into Tythoros when it whinnied in pain. Sidrophus had thrown a rock that successfully hit the monster on its white, feathered flank. The strange horse then turned to attack the prince, who outmaneuvered the beast until Tythoros threw a fallen branch to distract it yet again.

In this way, Tythoros and Sidrophus worked together to divide the monster's attention, stalling for time as Callioa searched through her companions' gear. Tythoros' spear was clearly visible, as were Sidrophus' bow and quiver, but she was in search of a far more powerful weapon.

"Tythoros!" shouted Callioa, finally drawing the hippalectryon's attention. She attempted to throw a gleaming golden object toward him, which the monster then leaped up to catch with its teeth in midair.

"NO!" Tythoros attempted to retrieve Athena's flute, but he was forced back by the hippalectryon's bucking legs and their sharp talons.

The powerful creature attempted to eat the godly flute, but its teeth ached in their attempt to break the unyielding gold. Further pained and enraged, the strange horse reared its head and threw Athena's gift into the churning river. What happened to it afterward is a story for another day.

Tythoros looked on as the divine flute was lost to the waters and a powerful rage overtook him. He charged toward the beast with a great roar, but the hippalectryon was too quick. The strange horse reared up and knocked Tythoros back with a hoof to his chest.

The beast moved to kill the stunned Tythoros, but Sidrophus had retrieved his bow. He launched an arrow that embedded itself within the horse's flank. The hippalectryon was injured, but raw hatred obscured the pain. With a terrible crow, it moved to trample Sidrophus.

The creature ran toward Sidrophus too quickly for the prince to nock another arrow, but Callioa was ready. She had tied the rope into a lasso that she threw toward the beast's approaching head. Her aim was true and the horse's neck was gripped tightly by the rope.

Callioa fought to keep the hippalectryon restrained, though the beast fought with all its strength to escape the yoke. The monster moved erratically and flapped its enormous wings, desperately trying to gain an advantage, yet Callioa stood firm. The rope, however, was fraying quickly.

Finally, with a loud neigh, the horse stood on its hind talons to pull hard on the rope. But Tythoros had recovered his strength. With a great leap, he mounted the unsuspecting monster's back just as the lasso snapped.

Though Tythoros was safe from the hippalectryon's wings, teeth, and dangerous legs, the creature could still attempt to throw him off. The hippalectryon's frantic bucking was not nearly enough to throw its hostile cargo, but it was enough to distract Tythoros from landing a fatal blow. The two opponents were at a violent stalemate, though it was a temporary one.

Sidrophus did not dare fire an arrow while the risk of injuring his friend was so great, so he instead reached for Tythoros' spear.

"Tythoros!" he called out. In the next moment, Sidrophus tossed the spear to his friend. Tythoros caught the shaft with one hand and buried its blade into the monster's neck. The hippalectryon crowed and bucked in the throes of death until finally, gradually, it fell to the ground.

Tythoros freed his leg from underneath the beastly carcass. He was covered in the hippalectryon's crimson blood, and his face showed incredible pain. "Well done," he panted. "Are you both unhurt?"

"We both appear to be fine," said Sidrophus. "What of yourself?"

"Relieved to hear of your safety," replied Tythoros, his eyes brimming with tears. "But I fear that we have failed in our mission. We were blessed with a gift from grey-eyed Athena herself, and it is now gone! We were granted help from the great daughter of Zeus, and it slipped through our fingers! How could we possibly succeed in our quest after squandering such good fortune? How could mighty Athena forgive such negligence?"

Callioa was the first to step forward. "You sit there, bathed in the blood of a mad hippalectryon that took us completely by surprise, and you dare to speak as if we are helpless without that flute? Though it would have served us well in our journey, we did not need it to kill this monster and we will not need it to kill Dusedre!"

"We may yet find a way to kill Dusedre within our mortal means," said Sidrophus. "However, we should still attempt an apology to the goddess Athena. Perhaps we could offer this creature as a sacrifice, for it is a strong and healthy beast with fresh and succulent meat on its bones."

Tythoros took a moment to gather his wits before standing. "My friends," he said, "you speak wisely. Let us quickly gather a fire and make an offering to Athena the defender. Let us pray for her forgiveness and continued help."

And so it was done. Athena received the offering and the prayers, though they were ill compensation for such a treasure lost. Nevertheless, her loathing for Dusedre went unabated, and so Tythoros' prayers for forgiveness were granted.

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback.  Thank you for reading, and special thanks to my returning editor, Minx Black.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 08



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 8

After a very long and tiring journey, Tythoros fell to his knees.

"Praise the gods," he rejoiced. "We have arrived!"

The travelers had come at last to a large and grassy meadow in the shadow of the Rila Mountains. They were overwhelmed with awe at the sight of those enormous rocky peaks, and with terror at the thought of what waited for them inside.

"Are we close enough?" asked Callioa. "Will this place serve our purposes?"

"We cannot waste any time looking for more suitable ground," answered Sidrophus. "This will have to do."

"Then we should get to work," Tythoros said as he stood. "Callioa, you can fetch some game. Sidrophus and I will gather kindling."

"Nay, Tythoros," Callioa retorted. "Sidrophus' bow will be faster and stealthier in catching the meat we need. Let him go hunt, and I shall take his place."

Tythoros and Sidrophus traded looks of surprise at this but the prince could only agree. After gathering his bow and quiver, Sidrophus left to search for prey in the forest.

"Something must be weighing on your mind," guessed Tythoros, as he walked into the woods with Callioa. "I have never known you to refuse a hunt."

"I am curious," began Callioa, "what will you do when this is over? Where will you go, and who will be waiting for you there?"

Tythoros hesitated for thought, and then started to gather branches and dead leaves. "I had not considered it," he confessed. "I suppose I will return to Thebes with Sidrophus. Surely he can help find some place for me there."

"You have no other friends in Thebes? No remaining family anywhere else?"

"Now that my wife is dead, I have none."

"During our travels, you spoke very fondly of your old life in Athens."

"That life is gone!" Tythoros blurted, his voice starting to crack with sadness. He took a moment to calm down before continuing. "My entire past was closed off to me the moment Aloche died. I have nothing left but a chance to earn a new beginning with Dusedre's extermination."

They both knew better than to continue the conversation. Tythoros and Callioa worked in silence, bringing armfuls of kindling from the forest to the campfire. Callioa watched her friend all the while, waiting for his temper to cool before speaking further.

"We have much in common," she finally said. "When we first met, you observed that we both grew up with uncertain parentage, and we have both lost many loved ones. I do not know where I came from or what I might have been, any more than you do."

Tythoros turned to look at her. He had never seen such vulnerability in her features, nor heard such sincerity in her voice.

"At least you have a home," he said. "You can return to the woods of Greece when your loved ones have been avenged."

"Where in the forest could I go?" she asked, with tears welling in her bright green eyes. "I may have been raised among beasts, but I am a woman! What pack of animals would take in a strange human as one of their own?!"

She threw down her leafy burden in frustration and wiped away her tears. Tythoros put his own gatherings down and softly put a hand on her shoulder.

"You could come with me and Sidrophus," he offered gently. "We would find a place for you in Thebes."

She nodded, but in a very resigned and melancholy way. "I am no fool, Tythoros. I always knew the day would come when I would have to leave the wilderness and join my own kind. Now that my family is dead, I know that moment cannot be delayed any longer."

"I understand what it means to leave your entire life behind," Tythoros reminded her. "I know you are afraid, but the fear will pass. In time, you will adapt to life in society."

Callioa's eyes were red with fresh tears as she turned to face him. "I have heard how those of my sex are treated in society. I would be treated as less than a person until I could find a mate, and then I would be treated as less than my husband. I would spend the rest of my days dependent on others -- on men! -- for my every desire and need!"

"Brave Callioa," Tythoros interrupted, "you are without doubt an uncommon woman among Greeks. Aloche was very uncommon as well. She fought for those she loved and refused to compromise her virtues, no matter how many times she was pressured to do so. No other man would have taken her for a bride, but I did. I could have married any other woman for her beauty or wealth, but I chose to marry Aloche for her spirit."

Tythoros took Callioa's hands into his own and went on. "I swear a solemn binding oath to you now that no matter how many Greek men try to claim their dominance over you by right of their sex, you will never stand alone against them. As I honored the strength of my late wife, so shall I honor yours."

Callioa saw deep affection and honesty in Tythoros' expression. She knew the time had come at last to utter those three words she had secretly been waiting for years to say.

"I challenge you."

Tythoros was taken aback. "What did you say, Callioa?"

"Taking a husband would mean breaking my vow of chastity to Artemis of the Hunt," she explained. "The same vow I took in return for her tutelage and protection while growing up. I would be turning my back on the chaste goddess who helped raise me, and risking her terrible vengeance as well. I believe you are a man who would be worth the risk, but this is not a choice to be made lightly."

Callioa returned to her work as she continued explaining. "When I was a young girl, I promised myself that I would never give my chastity to any man who had not earned it. I decided that any man who would take my heart must prove himself my equal in strength, speed, and intellect. I challenge you, Tythoros, to prove yourself."

"I have not yet redeemed myself for the death of my wife, and I am to compete for your hand in marriage?!" he asked in bewilderment.

"If you will not compete for my heart," she replied, "then compete to prove yourself my equal."

"In what contest?"

"A game of wrestling," she said.

"I have already defeated you at wrestling!" he exclaimed. "I pinned you to the ground when we first met!"

"I was caught by surprise," she countered. "I did not know my opponent at that time, and neither did you. I want a second match, and I want it conducted fairly."

Tythoros could only shake his head in disbelief. "I see no point to this exercise," he grumbled, "yet there is no harm in a friendly sporting match and I can see that you will not be dissuaded. Very well, let us finish our task and we will compete this evening."

So agreed, Tythoros and Callioa returned to their task of gathering all the dried leaves and dead wood they could carry.

***

While hunting earlier in the day, lucky Sidrophus had found a field that was flat and large enough for a wrestling match. He guided his companions to this grassy field shortly before dusk.

"I still think that this is a foolish exercise," he said. "So close to the monster's lair, we should either be preparing for an assault or on our guard."

"Our preparations for assault are complete," Callioa answered. "And if we are attacked, our weapons lay within easy reach."

"But we have so many wrestling arenas waiting for us in Thebes!" countered Sidrophus. "Must we do this now, here in hostile wilderness?"

"Yes," she replied simply and forcefully. Sidrophus could only look to Tythoros, who gave a resigned shrug.

With a sigh, Sidrophus asked "Could I at least get some help in drawing the boundaries?"

"You are the referee, my friend," said Tythoros. "You set the terms of the match."

With the butt of Tythoros' spear, the prince grudgingly set to drawing the wrestling-ground's edges. The resulting square was smaller than most, as Sidrophus was eager to have this distraction over with. As he worked, Tythoros stretched his muscles in preparation while Callioa arranged her hair into tight braids about her head.

"It is finished," Sidrophus reported. "You must disrobe before entering the ring, lest you grab hold of each other's fabric unfairly."

In the past, Callioa had always avoided the sight of her male companions in the nude. She had also taken great effort toward hiding her body, and her comrades had been noble enough to respect her wishes.

Tythoros turned to Callioa. "You may still call this game off if you so wish," he said.

He and Sidrophus had both expected Callioa to refuse, yet she only flinched for a moment when Tythoros removed his chiton. She did not object when her godlike opponent exposed all of his tanned flesh and sculpted muscles. His massive penis swung freely, in full view, and Callioa made no attempt to look away.

Instead, she removed the pelts of her clothing in one smooth movement.

Tythoros and Sidrophus were struck with awe as she stood before them in all of her naked glamor. She was tall and lean, with skin that was pink and flush with life. Her limbs and waist showed many alluring curves, with muscles that betrayed no sign of weakness. A seductive nest of dark auburn curls sat between two firm and shapely thighs. Beneath her long and smooth neck rested two plump and perky breasts.

Callioa's male companions were stunned at the sight of this forbidden beauty, but her eyes stunned them most of all. Her piercing green eyes showed a defiant lack of shame. Her diamond-shaped face was set in an expression of determined pride.

"Let us begin," she said. Tythoros followed her to the ring, his eyes drawn to her taut, round backside as they walked.

Sidrophus finally willed himself back to his senses, forcing himself to recall the wrestling games he had witnessed while growing up.

"During this match," he said, "there will be no biting, no eye-gouging, no intentional punches or kicks, and no grasping genitals. Your opponent will score a point if your back touches the ground, if any part of you touches outside these boundaries, or if you concede defeat at any time. The first combatant to three points wins. You will obey my commands and my rulings at all times. Are we agreed?"

"We are agreed," said Tythoros and Callioa.

"Clasp hands." They did.

Sidrophus proceeded to guide the combatants to their marks, just outside arm's reach of each other. He then left the boundaries of the ring as Tythoros and Callioa crouched into fighting stances, waiting for a signal from their friend.

"Begin!" shouted Sidrophus, shortly before Callioa and Tythoros collided.

They gripped each other's biceps, trying to force their arms upward. They pressed toward each other, refusing to yield any ground. They tried each other in this way until Tythoros was able to force his arm under hers. He would have reached down with his other hand, but Callioa was too quick -- she blocked him with an arm under his.

Tythoros stood with Callioa's supple breasts against his chest and her warm breath on his cheek. They struggled for a moment, enjoying this test of each other's strength. Callioa showed the power and tenacity that had come from so many years of wrestling animals. She had made wolves and bears submit to her over the years, but she had never clashed with a son of Zeus.

Callioa put so much strength into her arms that she neglected her feet. Tythoros kicked an ankle out from under her and the two began to tilt sideways. Callioa reflexively dropped a lithe arm to catch herself, freeing Tythoros' hand to grab a slender ankle. Tythoros fell atop her, lifting her leg skyward until her back was on the ground. Her legs were wide open as she lay pinned on her back, though Tythoros could only savor the view of her quivering folds for an instant.

"Halt!" shouted Sidrophus, too quickly. "One point for Tythoros. On your feet."

Both combatants got to their feet and returned to their original positions. "Callioa," muttered Tythoros, "please quit this waste of time before we exert ourselves too much."

"Begin!" shouted Sidrophus. In an instant, just as Callioa approached, Tythoros pushed her away by her lean triceps to duck under her arm. He then dove to take hold of her bulging thigh and gripped it with both hands as he stood, using his head to push against her ample chest. He might have tripped Callioa then and there if not for her fast reaction.

Tythoros did not expect Callioa to put so much strength into pushing his head closer to her crotch, away from her chest. He could smell the pungent scent of her sex when she bent down to trap his head under her chest and reached to grab his far knee. He could see her trapped foot loop around to the near knee, but there was not enough time to react. She pulled his knees out from under him, sending Tythoros upon his back. He was sprawled upon the ground, with Callioa on her hands and knees atop him. She leaned in toward his ear.

"If you love me," she whispered, "then fight for me!"

"Halt!" shouted Sidrophus. "The score is tied at one point each. On your feet."

Callioa got up and strode back to her position, but Tythoros hesitated before standing. He lay there for a moment as a realization finally dawned on him.

"Come on!" roared Callioa. At last, Tythoros stood and got into position. If Callioa so badly wanted him to fight back, then he was not going to disappoint.

"Begin!" shouted Sidrophus, when both contestants were ready. This time, they gripped each other's shoulders and grappled for control. They were at a deadlock until Callioa reached behind Tythoros' neck. She attempted to push his head down, though she was not nearly strong enough to break his resistance. Instead, Tythoros retaliated by trying to move an arm under her shoulder, but that was not about to work twice.

Callioa quickly brought her arm up and inside, ducking down to avoid his hold. She then thrust her head between his legs, wrapping her arms around each of his enormous thighs. Tythoros sprawled in response, forcing his hips downward and his knees to the ground. Callioa got the wind knocked out of her as Tythoros lowered all of his weight onto her, yet she still kept hold. He tried to get her head out from between his legs by pushing against her shoulders and moving his hips back. They were both acutely aware of his partly-erect manhood rubbing against her neck as he did so.

Though Callioa fought to keep control, Tythoros gradually extracted her head and slipped an arm under hers. With a great roar, he rotated on his knee, dragged Callioa forward until they were side by side, and then pushed her sideways onto her back.

Tythoros looked down to see Callioa's perky breasts and their bright pink nipples pointing upward at him. He noticed that her skin was now gleaming with sweat, as was his. They were both panting from the exertion of resisting each other, but Callioa's bright green eyes had a glint that craved more.

Then came the familiar cry of "Halt! The score is now two to one in Tythoros' favor. On your feet." But they did not get up.

"Sidrophus," asked Tythoros, "perhaps we could have a moment to rest before we continue?"

"That is a very sound idea," agreed the prince. "Do you have any objections, Callioa?"

After a moment's consideration, Callioa groaned "Get off me, then, and we will break."

The contestants went to opposing sides of the ring. Tythoros was deep in thought as he sat in the grass and looked up at the darkening sky. He paid no attention to the brief yet heated argument between Sidrophus and Callioa.

Resigned to her stubbornness, Sidrophus walked over to crouch beside Tythoros. "She will not yield," said Sidrophus. "She is determined to win this foolish contest."

"Callioa does not want to win," Tythoros quietly replied. "She wants to put in her best effort and lose anyway."

Sidrophus showed his confusion at this answer. "But why?" he asked.

"She wants us to marry when we get to Thebes, but she is too afraid of breaking the chastity oath. This way, she can truthfully claim to the vengeful Artemis that she defended her maidenhood with all of her strength before I earned the right to take it."

"She might have told us that," Sidrophus indignantly remarked.

"Callioa was raised by feral beasts and the goddess Artemis, all of whom despise the company of men. Our concept of love is a strange one to her."

Sidrophus completed the thought. "She has no idea how to cope with her feelings, much less how to express them in words."

"Instead, she pushes me on to fight for her affections."

Sidrophus let out a very heavy sigh. "And what about you, my friend? How do you feel about this arrangement?"

Tythoros did not answer immediately. Sidrophus pushed on.

"Do you return her sentiments? Are you truly competing to win her hand?"

"I told her that I would compete to prove myself her equal," Tythoros finally replied. "I cannot bear to answer truthfully. My words might go down to my wife in the realm of Hades while her death still lies heavy on my conscience. The gods might hear my answer while I am still on a quest to earn forgiveness in their eyes."

Tythoros, his face clouded with anguish, turned to face the prince. "I cannot voice my true feelings, Sidrophus. Not while I risk the wrath of the gods and not until I am certain that Aloche rests in peace."

Sidrophus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I understand," he said. "We will speak no more about this until our mission is ended."

He stood up and moved to walk away, but Tythoros stood to stop him.

"Pray forgive my asking," Tythoros whispered, "but are you at all attracted to our companion?"

Sidrophus ruefully shook his head. "Nay, Tythoros. Though she might grow to forgive a man who accidentally killed her brother, she could never grow to love him. Far worse, though it pains me to admit it, I could never hope to defeat her in a wrestling match."

The prince looked directly into Tythoros' eyes as he continued. "Even so, Callioa is a most uncommon beauty. If she ever finds a worthy husband, I shall not think any worse of him. On the contrary, her affections are so hard-won that I would greatly admire any man capable of earning them."

The two friends shared a smile at this as Tythoros patted Sidrophus' shoulder in gratitude. No more words between them were necessary.

At that moment, Callioa approached them. "We must continue," she insisted. "The night approaches quickly."

Indeed, the western sky was radiant with purple shades by that time. Quickly, the three of them took their positions. Once again, Sidrophus shouted "Begin!"

Callioa pressed her hands against Tythoros' broad shoulders as he reached to grip her arms. They might have continued struggling against each other in this way, but the time for testing each other was over. This match had to end, and it had to end with absolute certainty.

Tythoros broke her control simply by pulling hard on her arms. He kept hold of Callioa's triceps while ducking under it. He then drove his other arm between her legs to grab hold of her knee. He felt her moist arousal on his forearm as she attempted to sprawl, forcing her weight down to trap him underneath her. The sensation was very brief, however.

In a flash, Tythoros spun hard out from underneath her while pulling her knee downward. Callioa's momentum took her face-down to the grass, and Tythoros was instantly on her back. Before she had regained her senses, Tythoros already had both of his arms under hers, with his hands above her neck. His legs were on the inside, spreading hers apart.

Callioa struggled for any kind of leverage, but there was none to be found as she lie flat on her stomach with her limbs spread out. She tried to reach back and break his grip, but he was too strong for that. She wriggled and struggled beneath him, feeling his hot and firm cock against her buttocks as she did so.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 08



Alas, Callioa's back had not touched the ground, nor was she out of bounds. The match would continue until she conceded.

"Submit, Callioa!" shouted Sidrophus. "There is no shame in losing this match between friends. You fought valiantly."

"I am not beaten yet!" screamed Callioa. She roared and struggled for many minutes afterward, determined to expend all of her energy in a vain attempt at escape. Though she tried with all of her strength, and her body grew slick with perspiration, Tythoros' hold was unyielding. He allowed Callioa to prove her fidelity to Artemis, and never once did he accept the chance to take her virginity by force. Tythoros had acted exactly as Callioa hoped he would.

But alas, she never got the chance to tap out.

Tythoros and Callioa both froze in the ring. They and Sidrophus had heard it at the exact same time. An unearthly rattling noise was coming from the neighboring forest, and they knew exactly what that meant.

Tythoros turned to Sidrophus. "Our weapons! Now!"

Sidrophus ran to where their weapons lay. He tossed the spear to Tythoros, who stood to catch it just in time to drive the iron point through a fiery red ant the size of a bull.

Instantly, a horde of Myrmekes descended onto the field. Tythoros and Callioa were standing beside each other once more, using their combined strength to keep the insect beasts at bay. Callioa broke the legs and mandibles of her attackers while Tythoros drove his spear through the Myrmekes' vulnerable joints. All the while, Sidrophus loosed one arrow after another into the Myrmekes' flesh-colored heads.

The ground was quickly littered with crimson shards of carapace, though the travelers were badly outnumbered. Far worse, Tythoros and Callioa became slower and weaker as the battle continued, for they had not yet recovered from the wrestling competition. Sidrophus was better-rested, but the Myrmekes were drawing close enough to make his arrows worthless.

"Retreat!" cried Sidrophus. "Follow me, into the woods!"

Tythoros fought his way backward, through the sea of abominations surrounding him. He was beset on all sides by encroaching Myrmekes, but it was surprisingly easy to deflect their mandibles. The monsters defended themselves from his attacks, but they were not overly aggressive in fighting back.

In fact, the Myrmekes had begun to retreat by the time Sidrophus and Tythoros reached the edge of the field. It gave them relief to stop fighting, and the clamorous rattling of legs and mandibles could finally be purged from their ears. But then they heard the screaming.

Tythoros' face fell with an awful realization. When he heard those screams, he knew that the Myrmekes wanted their prey alive.

Over an ocean of crimson ants, Tythoros could see the form of Callioa, naked and helpless as she struggled to free herself from the mandibles of her captors.

"CALLIOA!" roared Tythoros, as he ran towards her.

The enraged warrior had to leap over the corpses of many fallen insects, but he did eventually catch up to the horde. With fresh anger to power his muscles, Tythoros killed a handful of Myrmekes bringing up the rear. But his efforts were for naught. Mere moments later, Callioa had been taken out of sight and hearing.

Tythoros had fallen to his knees in sorrow and fatigue when Sidrophus finally caught up with him. "Take heart," said the prince, "for there could only be one reason why they have not killed her yet."

They both looked on as the Myrmekes marched onwards toward the Rila Mountains. Tythoros answered his friend with rage and anticipation in his voice.

"They are taking her to Dusedre."

***

The story will continue shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback.  Recognition is due to Carl "wrestlechampion" Adams, whose detailed instructional videos on YouTube made this chapter possible. I'd also like to thank dind, the editor for this chapter.

Thank you for reading.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 09



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 9

"LET ME GO!"

Callioa screamed and struggled, but it was no use. Even if she had the energy to free herself from the grip of three Myrmekes, their brothers would have recaptured her anyway. Nevertheless, Callioa tried her best to resist as the swarm of insect beasts carried her toward the top of a peak at the Rila Mountains.

At long last, the monsters finally stopped to release Callioa. The Myrmekes set her down before a large opening in a wall of craggy black rock. They did not advance, but they watched their prisoner closely. Callioa knew she could not fight them and survive, but she faced them and stood her ground anyway.

"I will not enter this cave," she declared to them.

At that very moment, before she could scream again, a powerful hand came from behind to press her mouth shut. Two strong pairs of arms reached out from the darkness, holding Callioa still while pulling her inside.

"Come," a deep and sultry voice hissed in her ear. "Let us see what my children have brought me tonight."

***

Tythoros and Sidrophus had followed the swarm of Myrmekes to their destination, though they stayed far enough behind to avoid detection. They watched from a distance as Callioa stood before the cave's entrance.

"She is still alive," Sidrophus observed.

A moment later, they watched as she was taken into the cave.

"And she is with Dusedre," seethed Tythoros.

"Are you prepared?" asked Sidrophus.

Tythoros finished putting on his chiton, now that he finally had time to do so. "I am ready."

A heavy silence hung between them. There was so much to say, but not enough time.

"This will be the first time we go into battle separately," remarked Sidrophus. "If anything should happen to either of us—"

"Nothing will happen," Tythoros interrupted. "Your plan is a sound one. We can do this, but we must act quickly."

With that, they clasped hands.

"Bring her back," said Sidrophus.

"Kill them all," retorted Tythoros.

***

Outside the cave, a giant mass of red carapaces glinted in the moonlight. The Myrmekes stood their guard, still as statues, until one of them fell over dead.

The ant-beasts shrieked while Sidrophus nocked another arrow. The monsters all saw him there. Standing downhill from them out in the open, he was impossible to miss.

"Come at me, foul vermin!" shouted Sidrophus. "Will you cowardly maggots come fight me all at once, or shall I kill you one by one?!"

Another arrow flew, and another ant fell dead. Two Myrmekes descended while the rest stayed in place to defend their mother. Sidrophus could have felled them easily from a distance, but he had to conserve his arrows.

Sidrophus set down his bow to pick up Tythoros' spear. When his adversaries had drawn close, he nimbly ran past them to gain the upper ground. With a bladed shaft through their necks, the monsters were readily dispatched.

"What?" he taunted. "Is that all you can spare?! It will take far more than two of your weak and wretched kind to kill me!"

Though the Myrmekes could not voice their response, they saw this and agreed. A massive contingent separated itself from the swarm, descending upon Sidrophus down the hill. At the sight of this, Sidrophus hurled Tythoros' spear as far away as possible, picked up his bow, and ran into the woods. Predictably, the Myrmekes followed him.

When the coast had cleared, Tythoros moved to climb up the mountain, picking up his spear along the way. Only a handful of Myrmekes remained to defend the cave. Even by himself, Tythoros knew that he could defeat them.

***

Callioa was blinded by darkness and frozen by surprise. She was held in a tight grip that felt human, yet somehow strange and unfamiliar. The muscles holding her were perfectly smooth, devoid of warmth, and impenetrably hard. It was almost as if they were not made of flesh at all.

The huntress was not only weak with exertion, but also with nausea at the overpowering stench of decay that filled the cave. The monster's footsteps fell with a sickening crunch that reverberated through the stone walls.

Callioa was grateful for the light and heat of a fire they were approaching, but then she saw the fresh corpses littering the stone floor. Men of all ages and builds were rotting around her, with orgasmic faces and limp penises exposed to the open air.

"My old lovers," purred the monster. "Every one of them brought me a brief moment of joy, but always with the great agony of pregnancy and birth to seven Myrmekes."

Callioa was spun around and thrust against a cave wall. Her hands were pinned above her head and rare horror overcame her as she finally came face to face with Dusedre herself.

It was like Dusedre's features, so divinely beautiful in their human form, had been molded into the shape of a snake's head. Her strawberry-blonde tresses had fused together into a blood-red hood like that of a cobra. Her violet-blue eyes now shone a bright and vivid purple around vertical slits. Her skin, once delicate and white as fresh milk, had turned deathly pale.

Her chest and shoulders were like that of a human, but coated in an armored carapace that glistened with the dark purple color of a bruise. This armor extended through the rest of Dusedre's body, shaped like that of a massive scorpion.

Athena's curse had granted Dusedre eight limbs. The foremost limbs, shaped like enormous pincers, were those which held Callioa's wrists. The limbs furthest back were shaped like human legs, but large enough to support the monster's weight upright. Between these sets were two pairs of human-shaped arms and hands.

Over them both -- the woman and the monster -- swung the treacherous bright green barb of Dusedre's long tail.

Without a chance to dress herself after the wrestling match, every alluring curve of Callioa's body was completely naked. Dusedre appraised her prisoner with lustful eyes. The monster grinned to show pointed, gleaming white fangs. Callioa raised a leg to kick, but Dusedre simply caught it with one of her lower hands.

"Let. Me. Go!" said Callioa, with all the strength and courage she could gather.

"Go?" asked Dusedre. "Oh, but it has been so long since my children brought me a woman."

She leaned in closer to breathe Dusedre's scent. The monster's nose hovered slowly around Callioa's hair, her neck, her breasts. "So long since I could slake my everlasting sexual hunger without fear of childbirth."

Callioa flinched as a forked tongue flitted just under her neck. "Your flesh is warm and ripe, my pretty thing. I can smell your longing for carnal release."

"You may get no sexual pleasure from me," asserted Callioa. "I am a servant of the chaste goddess Artemis, and she will strike down any man or beast who—"

In a flash, Dusedre cut her off with a hand around her neck. At the same time, the monster's poisonous barb placed itself right next to Callioa's cheek. She could feel that venomous needle within hair's breadth of her skin, yet she could not move her head away.

"You think the gods will save you?!" shrieked Dusedre. "I spent years in worship to the goddess Aphrodite, and she is now deaf to my prayers! With every waking moment, I beg the gods for their forgiveness and release from this cruel curse, yet they send no relief!"

Dusedre pressed closer. "No god on Olympus came to save the men lying here dead, and no god will save you now. So if you try to resist, or if you utter one more word against me, I will have my way with your corpse before it has grown cold."

Callioa kept still and quiet, though her look of hatred and desperate fear said everything. When Dusedre reached with an upper hand to push Callioa's head to the side, she had no choice but to relent. "Such a smart and obedient girl," smirked the monster. "So deeply in denial of her own excitement, the little slut."

Even the slightest touch of Dusedre's rough lips against Callioa's smooth neck made the poor huntress shiver. The monster's breath smelled of poison and felt cold on her skin. She had to fight back a scream at the feel of pointed fangs grazing slowly across her neck. Dusedre hungrily kissed the girl along her neck and shoulders, taking care not to kill her too quickly. She was greatly aroused, both by this feeling of domination and by the girl's stubborn refusal of her own obvious fear. She especially loved how Callioa faintly whimpered at the feel of a forked tongue flitting on her skin.

The girl was coated in salty perspiration, but the flesh underneath tasted warm and sweet. Callioa's arms were made of such ample and succulent muscle that it made Dusedre's mouth water. It was all so stimulating that she was compelled to reach down with one of her lower hands. She pushed away the armor plating between her back legs, stoking her arousal with the eager nether lips that lay underneath.

Though Callioa screwed her eyes shut and willed her senses to abandon her, she could still feel the monster slowly leave a trail of cold kisses down her chest. Even if she had the strength to resist, the damned barb made it impossible. She could not even protest or pray to the gods for protection, for fear of that fatal needle by her cheek. Tythoros and Sidrophus were her only hope, but all thoughts of her companions were driven away by the cold, strong hands that suddenly grabbed her breasts.

With her upper humanoid limbs, Dusedre took a jiggling breast in each hand and began squeezing. At the same time, she lifted Callioa's legs so that each lower hand was massaging a shapely thigh. All the while, Callioa's own hands were curled into fists, immobilized by the demon's pincers.

Callioa gasped and groaned at the invasive, unfamiliar, overpowering sensations that spread throughout her being. Though her own body seemed to rebel against her, she fought hard to deny the monster its perverted joys. If it cost her the very last ounce of her strength, this child of the forest would fight to keep her legs closed.

Alas, she knew that would be a losing battle, and she already had no choice but to give up control over her breasts.

Dusedre's mouth teased the nipples of her captive without mercy. She switched from one virgin orb to another, suckling them both until their pink nipples stood firmly at attention. Silently, Callioa cursed her own body for responding to this abuse, especially when Dusedre licked those erect buds with her vibrating tongue. Callioa had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming, even as her back arched uncontrollably, desperate for more.

"You enjoy this, you little whore?" asked Dusedre. Callioa bit down hard, struggling to keep a single noise from escaping her mouth.

"Deny it all you wish, my dear," Dusedre purred, "but your womanhood betrays you. Come, look."

Dusedre worked to pry Callioa's legs further open, but the huntress still refused. She fought to close her muscular thighs, until Dusedre pressed that poisoned needle against her cheek. Another twitch, and it would puncture skin.

"Give me what I want," the monster hissed, "or I will kill you and take it anyway."

At first, Callioa could only think that she would rather die. But somehow, a glimmer of hope returned to her. The huntress remembered that her friends and protectors were somewhere beyond this cave, and they would surely come for her before this ordeal went too far. She only needed to stay alive until then.

With great reluctance, Callioa acquiesced. "That is much better," Dusedre said, easing her pressure on the needle. She then pushed open Callioa's thighs, exposing the damp auburn curls between them.

"Oh, my!" declared Dusedre. "You really do want this, don't you?"

Callioa let out a surprised yelp when Dusedre placed her cold, hard fingers against the girl's most sensitive and inviolate place. Dusedre rubbed those vestal lips and their crowning nub with vigorous circular motions, all while her forked tongue and her other three hands continued pleasuring the girl's sensitive thighs and chest.

The poor huntress was writhing uncontrollably with spasms of loathsome bliss. Despite all efforts, she could not stop her quickening breath or the pressure of ecstasy building inside of her. It was like her own body was betraying her, and most unforgivably of all, it felt impossibly good.

After a time, the circular motions stopped. Instead, Dusedre began rubbing a single long finger up and down her captive's tight, wet slit.

This was too much. Callioa had to risk some form of resistance, though she was too weak and powerless to do much of anything by this point. She could only whimper "No."

Dusedre gripped Callioa's neck and brought their faces close together. The monster grinned, savoring every syllable as she hissed, "You will not refuse me."

The whole cave rang with Callioa's scream of agony.

The monster's finger plunged in and out of her prey's defiled sex, all while her thumb rubbed the girl's clitoris. Though Callioa's breathing was now quick and shallow, she moaned and screamed with her whole might. All pride forgotten, Callioa cried out with the impossible hope that some friendly means of assistance would hear.

Of course, the girl's screams only aroused Dusedre further. The monster inserted a second finger into the captive, thrusting both fingers into her throbbing sex. Callioa yelled and writhed with renewed energy, though the merciless friction of her sex poured forth more lubricant.

Suddenly, it all stopped. Though her legs and hands were still held in place, Callioa's vagina was abruptly released. She crumpled with relief, gasping furiously to catch her breath. And then she finally looked up.

Dusedre was admiring those two fingers. She watched as they glistened in the firelight. She observed the thin strands of syrup that formed between them.

"Do you see, my pretty toy?" Dusedre gloated. "Do you see this evidence of the pleasure I bring you? Do you see the happy discharge of your sex?"

Once again, Dusedre pressed a hand against Callioa's neck. This time, however, she was forcing Callioa's mouth open. Before she could even begin struggling, Callioa was choking on the beast's moistened fingers. Her own sweet lubricant was being pressed against her tongue and she was unable to even bite down, for fear of breaking her teeth on the plating of those vile fingers.

After only a few painful seconds, Dusedre withdrew her hand. Callioa gasped furiously to regain her breath, until Dusedre reached down to continue rubbing that soaked auburn slit.

The monster once again coated a finger in the juices of her captive. This time, however, she put the finger in her own mouth. She made a show out of licking every last drop, her bright purple eyes rolling upward at its delicious taste.

"Mm, what a heavenly potion you create," said Dusedre. She then lowered her head to the level of the girl's crotch. "I must have more!"

Dusedre focused all of her attention toward those reluctant genitals. Two of her hands kept those muscular thighs open wide while the other two furiously rubbed Callioa's sensitive folds and engorged pearl. All the while, Dusedre's forked tongue vibrated ever deeper into the snug canal, while her lips sucked hard to take in every drop of juice that spilled forth.

Callioa was breathing so rapidly that she could not find the air to scream. She could only moan and grunt while fighting the tidal waves that raged through her being. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, begging for more while pleading for this nightmare to end.

She fought to deny the vibrations from deep within her core, and she struggled to ignore the friction that her loins somehow found so pleasing. Alas, Dusedre's perversity seemed to infect her. There was a pressure behind her swollen sex that demanded release, and Callioa did not have the strength to resist.

Even while arching her back, Callioa fought the unfamiliar sensation that overcame her. Even as every muscle in her body went rigid, she fought release. She gritted her teeth, she closed her eyes tightly shut, and she wished with all her heart for the strength to hold out longer. Then, all at once, it came.

The breath that she had been holding escaped in a loud, protracted scream. The concentrated joy that had been pent up in her womanhood had flooded through every muscle in her body. Callioa was brought to spasms, one right after the other, as this strange and intense feeling ran its course. She was breathing deeply and heavily when it finally ended, overcome with relief and shame.

"Well done, my dear," hissed a voice between her legs.

Callioa could not bring herself to look down, but Dusedre was happily licking her lips clean of fresh lubricant. "You made so much sweet juice, all for me. But wait, are you resting?"

Dusedre reached up to slap Callioa's face. The girl glared at her captor as the blow stung her cheek.

"You cannot rest now, after that lovely climax I gave you!" exclaimed Dusedre.

With that, the monster removed Callioa from the cave wall and laid her upon the floor. She straddled the girl with her hind legs, restraining the captive with her humanoid arms as she did so.

Callioa's eyes widened as a plate of armor between Dusedre's legs slid aside. What lay underneath appeared to be a vagina, but it was deathly pale and surrounded by lips of withered flesh. It smelled of decayed corpses, coated in a sickly green slime.

"See how you excite me so, little slut?" Dusedre gloated. She grinded those nauseating genitalia against Callioa's face, all while the captive turned her head and kept her lips tightly pursed.

"Don't be like that, pretty slave!" exclaimed Dusedre. "Pleasure me as I pleasured you!"

Ah, but Dusedre had already made her fatal mistake. In her maddening lust, she failed to notice the warrior who had snuck into her cave. Alas, Tythoros could not risk advancing while Callioa's wrists had been trapped in those sharp-bladed pincers. She was now freed from that danger, but Tythoros needed Callioa still further from harm.

Silently as he could, Tythoros picked up a rock. With strong Athena guiding his aim, Tythoros threw the heavy missile at Dusedre's unprotected head. The attack hit its mark with a great crunch, and dark purple blood flowed from the enormous gash it created.

The monster's hands flew up to cover her face as she reeled in pain. "My face!" she cried. "What have you done to my face?!"

With Callioa's chastity violated, Artemis was finally moved to act. The savior goddess breathed new life into her disciple, filling Callioa with fresh energy and spirit. So moved, and with her arms freed by the distracted beast, the huntress curled her hand into a fist. Dusedre's swollen sex was still exposed, and Callioa pummeled it with all of her strength.

That singular impact was so powerful and precise that Dusedre stumbled backwards, screaming in mindless pain. Callioa was now free to stand and face the beast that had violated her.

"You bitch," whimpered Dusedre. "You little BITCH!" At this last word, Dusedre's venomous barb lashed out at the huntress.

"Callioa!" Tythoros called out in warning, though there was no need.

Callioa was ready, and she caught the monster's tail in a firm grip. With roars of great fury, and with repeated chops of her hand, Callioa fractured the monster's tail in seven different places. Dusedre was paralyzed, for the shame and agony she had inflicted upon Callioa were returned and doubled in that assault.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 09



Tythoros attempted to grab his spear and move in for the kill while Dusedre was so distracted, but his moment had passed. Through her cloud of pain, Dusedre knocked the spear out of Tythoros' hand before beating him with the back of her other pincer.

The impact threw Tythoros into Callioa and the both of them against a cave wall. Fortunately, Athena and Artemis both worked to cushion the blow so it was not fatal, though Tythoros was still winded and Callioa had been knocked out. Thankfully, a mere glance was enough to show that she was still breathing.

Relieved by this knowledge, Tythoros slowly picked himself up and moved away from Callioa, hoping to distract the monster's attention.

Dusedre was limping with pain, and her tail dragged behind her, inert. "Where are my children?!" she shrieked toward the cave's entrance. "Where is my great horde of Myrmekes to kill these intruders?!"

"They are dead," replied Tythoros. "Many fell at the tip of my spear, others by the hands of my brave companions."

Dusedre turned back to face him, her purple eyes aflame with shock and fury. Moments later, a wild and fanged grin spread across her bloodied face.

"No matter," she purred. "You will father new ones for me. And then, after I give you such pleasure as you have never known, you will DIE!"

With the collective strength of four limbs, Dusedre leaped toward her adversary. She did not use her pincers, for fear of killing him before she could collect his seed. Without fear of those blades or of her poisoned barb, Tythoros charged toward his enemy.

He threw a mighty punch toward that deformed face, but one of the monster's plated hands caught his fist. Dusedre had deflected the blow, though the strength of Tythoros' punch was enough to shatter her hand in the process. She countered by attempting to grab hold of him with another hand, but Tythoros ducked under that arm for a swift and mighty blow to the elbow.

Dusedre's scream was so ear-shattering that it was enough to rouse Callioa from her slumber. She awoke to find the monster glaring at Tythoros, her two upper humanoid limbs hanging limply by her side. Callioa did not have enough time to act, or enough breath to shout in warning, before Dusedre brandished her pincers at Tythoros.

Such bloodlust was in Dusedre's eyes that Tythoros knew she would no longer wait to rape him before killing him. Even so, the former marble cutter from Athens felt no fear of her. The two mortal enemies ran toward each other with roars of battle in their throats.

In that brief instant, Tythoros brought forth the tragic memories of his wife. He recalled that burden of unspoken love for the woman lying defiled nearby. He thought of his brave friend Sidrophus and all of their adventures together. He thought of the doomed men lying around him, waiting to be vindicated. He remembered that this vain beast stood between him and a new chance at happiness. Fueled by these hopes and fears and sorrows, Tythoros let out a wild cry of rage as he charged toward Dusedre.  

THWACK!!!

With virtuous Athena to guide his powerful strength and emotions, the son of Zeus ducked between the monster's pincers and landed a devastating uppercut. Dusedre's armored corpse flew backward and crumpled to the ground as her detached head traced an arc through the air. Fragments of shattered fangs rained down upon the cave floor.

Tythoros, bastard son of Zeus whose shield is thunder, stood victorious beside the monster he had defeated, among the countless men -- and the young woman -- who now lay avenged.

A moment passed before the heat of battle had left him. When it did, he finally remembered someone.

"Callioa!" he blurted.

Tythoros spun around to see that she was now awake. She was alive, and still unclothed.

Forcibly reminded of the crime he had witnessed against her, Tythoros averted his eyes. "Are you unhurt?" he asked softly.

"I am alive," she replied simply.

Slowly, Tythoros reached to undo his chiton. "Take this," he offered, blindly extending the clothes in her direction. She took it and began to dress herself in silence. Meanwhile, Tythoros began stripping one of the fallen soldiers around him. With prayers of thanks and apologies, he donned the other man's clothes. He remained silent the whole time, trying to avoid meeting Callioa's eyes.

"Tythoros?"

The warrior fell to his knees before her. "Dear Callioa, I profusely beg forgiveness. I could not bring myself to risk saving you, not while your slender wrists were trapped in that monster's blades. My heart broke to hear your cries as she defiled you, and I sat powerless to do anything."

"Tythoros, stop this," Callioa interjected. "The monster said herself that she would have continued were I alive or dead. But I am alive, and her act was interrupted, because of you. By your actions, we have both taken our vengeance and placed this abomination where no further punishment may reach her."

She kneeled down to place a hand on his cheek. It was a soft and tender touch, like none that she had ever given him before. Callioa raised his face to hers, looked deeply into his eyes, and hoped with all her heart that emotions could show what she did not have the words to describe. Instead, she could only say three words.

"I forgive you."

He raised a hand to return the touch on her cheek. Tythoros' heart soared to see her accept this contact with a bright smile of love on her face.

"I thank you," said Tythoros.

The moment ended when a new and fresh smell of decay, one even more potent than the others, reached Tythoros' nose. Plugging his nostrils, he looked sideways to the massive corpse of Dusedre. After retrieving his spear, he used the blade to finish severing the monster's venomous barb. From the nearby corpses, Callioa fetched a helmet to carry their trophy in, and a cloth to wrap the bundle with.

"Let us leave this place," said Tythoros, "and think no more of what happened here."

"But what of the Myrmekes awaiting us?" asked Callioa. "Did you speak truly when you said they were all slain?"

"That depends on Sidrophus," Tythoros replied.

***

Upon leaving the cave, a magnificent sight waited for the two companions. Far in the distance, they could see the animated orange lights of a massive pyre at the precise spot where they had set up camp.

Tythros pointed to the flame with pride and relief in his expression. "Look, Callioa," he said. "There is our sign of victory."

True to his plan, Sidrophus had lured the Myrmekes to the campsite, where huge piles of meat awaited them. Predictably, the beasts had gone after their bait, scrambling atop the gathering of wood, kindling, and animal fat that the travelers had built earlier that day.

The mindless creatures had rushed straight into the trap, launching themselves into the beacon lit by Sidrophus' fiery arrows. What few stragglers had remained were killed easily enough in combat with the Theban prince.

"Dusedre and her Myrmekes are vanquished," said an elated Tythoros. "Our quest is nearly at an end."

Callioa moved to hold his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Then let us go to Thebes," she replied.

***

The story will conclude shortly. In the meantime, I look forward to your comments and feedback. Special thanks are due once again to dind, who graciously edited this chapter.

Thank you for reading.



The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 10



This is my attempt at a "porn parody" (for lack of a better description) of Ancient Greek mythology. It is not a direct adaptation of any one story, but an original tale made of tropes and archetypes pulled from several Greek myths. The intention was not only to create a work of erotic fantasy, but an epic saga that paid loving tribute to the poets and playwrights of antiquity.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Chapter 10

After a well-deserved night's rest, Tythoros and his companions walked south to the River Nestos. They carried their precious and deadly cargo beside the river, following the water to the Theban colony of Abdera. Sing, Muses, of what dreadful surprises were disclosed there.

On each side of the gates to Abdera, there stood a tower manned by a sentry. In front of the gates, two armed soldiers were stationed. With their spears, they moved to keep the approaching strangers at bay.

"Halt!" shouted a sentry. "No one may enter this town. Turn away this instant!"

Sidrophus stepped forward. "I am Sidrophus, the son of Ammochrusios, king of Thebes. My companions and I are returning from an errand for my father, to whom you owe allegiance. You will let us pass."

The soldiers talked among themselves at this. One of them called to a tower sentry. "Send for the lady Cleia!"

Sidrophus was stunned. "My sister, the princess Cleia, is here in Abdera?"

"She is," the soldier replied. "If you speak truly, then she will vouch for you."

After a short time, the gates did open to reveal the princess of Thebes. Overcome with joy, her eyes shining with tears, she ran toward her brother and embraced him tightly.

"Oh, Sidrophus, you are here and alive!" she cried.

"My companions and I are well," the prince answered. "And we are victorious."

Tythoros held his bundle aloft. "We bring the poisoned barb of Dusedre, that beast your father sent us to slay."

Cleia looked to Tythoros, and regret clouded her face. "Oh, Tythoros!" she wailed. "I beg your forgiveness. These past few days, I have prayed to the gods for your swift and horrible death. If only I could snatch those horrid words from the gods' ears, now that I see Sidrophus alive!"

Sidrophus tried to calm her. "Come, dear sister," he said in a soothing tone. "I can see that we have much to discuss. Let us go to our father so we may share our tales and give him the wretched treasure he sent us for."

Cleia's sobbing was redoubled at his words. "Alas, Sidrophus! Our lord and father Ammochrusios lies dead in the palace of Thebes!"

Sidrophus was too stunned and saddened by this news to speak. Instead, it was Tythoros who asked the heavy questions of "When?" and "How?"

"Treason," was the horrid reply. The memory sent fresh tremors through Cleia's body and voice. "Murderous treason and conspiracy. Father had called for a gathering at our public square to announce his latest military campaign, but fate silenced him first. With all of Thebes as witness, Klinopa -- sweet, foolish Klinopa! -- came forth to bury her knife in Ammochrusios' back."

"Who is Klinopa?" asked Callioa.

"Who is this wench?" asked Cleia, forgetting her manners in her grief.

Tythoros held his companion back while answering. "This is Callioa, good lady. She is an ally we found during our travels. But if you please, precisely who is Klinopa?"

"She was Xalchon's lover," Sidrophus answered, his heart filled with rage. "She was the concubine of Cleia's husband, my brother by marriage, and she will pay for this bloody deed."

"Klinopa has already paid the ultimate price," said Cleia. "She was slaughtered by the royal guard as the king still lay dying."

"This stinks of Xalchon's planning," Sidrophus said through gritted teeth.

"Xalchon took the throne immediately," Cleia admitted. "Our dear mother -- may the gods bless her old and fragile heart! -- died of grief when our father was so brutally slain. With the king dead and his son away from the kingdom, there was no one else to stand in his way."

"Alas, poor sister!" lamented Sidrophus. "Both our parents dead and our birthright taken from us by force?! We must go to Thebes at once and make that traitor pay!"

"We cannot go to Thebes," replied Cleia. "The city is barred from us."

"You cannot be afraid of your husband," intervened Tythoros, "not when the rightful king has returned!"

"Thebes is barred from us," Cleia repeated, "because no human reigns there now. Mere days after Xalchon's coronation, the city was beset by Thracian Maenads. They caught us completely by surprise and turned entire houses to rubble. Our weapons were useless against them, and the streets ran red with the blood of our people. Countless men, women, and children all lay dead."

The princess collapsed, weighed down by the burden of such horrific memories. "Xalchon himself went to challenge the invaders, but not even his great strength or broad armor could save him. I watched as those abominations tore my husband limb from limb, shredding him to pieces with their sharp nails and teeth."

She looked up at Sidrophus. "The whole time, they waved Theban garments through the air. They carried your clothes, nearly torn to ribbons. Oh, Sidrophus! I knew in that moment that you had been sent by our father to die!"

The princess wept openly on her brother's shoulder and he took her into a reassuring embrace.

"Dry these tears, Cleia," he insisted. "My heart is heavy with so many ill tidings, yet I am alive and I am here."

"But pray tell us," asked Tythoros, "how did you come to be here?"

"When Xalchon died," the princess answered, "I gathered our children and all the palace servants we could find. I guided them through the secret passage in the catacombs of our palace that leads outside the city. From there, we made our way to Abdera, where we may rebuild our kingdom."

"You will not rebuild it here," said Tythoros. "There is still hope that we may reclaim your city."

"We cannot face the occupying Maenads!" cried Cleia. "Every weapon of Thebes was used against them, but none could kill or even scare those beasts!"

"There is one weapon you have not yet tried."

***

That very night, Tythoros and his companions took a crew of boatmen and set sail. With Poseidon's grace, the company docked only a few days later in the coastal town of Delium. After a brief rest, they carried their precious cargo on foot to the city of Thebes.

Of the seven gates in the mighty wall that surrounded inner Thebes, one stood open, empty and silent. No man or beast stood to guard it, to close it, or to pass through it. That lonely gate was the ultimate emblem of how wounded and vulnerable the city had become.

There was no life anywhere in sight, save only for the birds which came to feast on corpses in the streets. Buildings were toppled, the streets were dyed red with blood, and fragments of various body parts were scattered everywhere. This once-proud city had become a festering cesspool of rot and disease.

It was a vision to break the heart of any mortal who looked upon it, but Tythoros and Sidrophus were consoled with the knowledge that they would soon take the city back.

"Do we know that they are still here?" Tythoros asked. As if in reply, a horrific shriek was heard from the other side of the gate. It was a sound Sidrophus knew all too well.

"They are here," he seethed.

"Let us go back and set up camp outside the city," said Tythoros. "It would be unwise to go any further until nightfall."

"I only wish I could help you dispatch those foul beasts," growled Sidrophus.

"As do I," replied Tythoros. "But your people will need their rightful king alive and well, whether we succeed or not."

***

When nightfall came, Tythoros loaded his pack with all the wineskins it could carry.

"We will be back by daybreak," said Tythoros.

"See that you are," returned Sidrophus. "I cannot bear the thought of leaving you behind."

After trading wishes for good luck, the company split. Sidrophus stayed behind as Tythoros and Callioa ran through the open gate.

The two moved quickly and quietly. Their noses had been plugged with wax, to block out the stench of putrefaction around them. Callioa had gone to help track the Maenads, though it turned out there was no need. An enormous bonfire sent up smoke as it illuminated the city. She led the way toward the fire, keeping a lookout for trouble while Tythoros carried the weight of two dozen wineskins.

The bonfire was located in the remains of a marketplace. The Maenads had cleared it out so they could dance, play music, fornicate, and drink around their fire. The followers of Dionysus greatly coveted their wine, and nearly came to blows when a vase ran dry. They screeched and swiped their claws at each other, fighting over the last cup of wine even as many other vases lay waiting to be opened.

Slosh!

A peculiar sound was heard by the edge of the marketplace. The Maenads turned to see a wineskin sitting on the cobblestones. In their addled memory and impaired judgment, none of them could recall seeing a wineskin there previously.

Still, when the Maenads went to inspect the container, they found that it was indeed full of wine. They fought over it for a time, until they found another wineskin close by. Indeed, there appeared to be a trail of wineskins leading outward from the marketplace. In their gluttony and inebriation, the Maenads followed this trail and drank every drop of wine they came across.

When only one Maenad remained in need of drink, the streets behind her erupted in screams. These were not the usual incoherent cries of anger or lust, but gargling screams of unbearable agony that faded too quickly into silence.

She ran back to the campsite, only to find that all of her sisters lay dead or dying. With a great roar of anger and bloodlust, the Maenad ran to find a responsible party. She paid no mind to the wineskins, nor did she run with any sense of direction. She thought of nothing but bloody revenge.

That Maenad spent many hours running through the streets, screaming in rage and destroying everything in sight while searching for whatever it was that had killed her sisters. After completely exhausting her strength, the Maenad finally heard a noise.

She followed the sound of a bird call, so single-minded in her pursuit that she failed to notice Callioa hiding as she passed.

Shortly after the Maenad passed her, Callioa leaped out to thrust her mighty arms under the beast's shoulders and up around her head. At the very same instant, with the Maenad's sharp talons pinned above, Tythoros darted from his hiding place to force the opening of a wineskin into her mouth.

Neither of these mortals would have stood a chance against a Maenad of Thrace, but they acted too quickly for such a tired Maenad to offer any resistance. Instead, the womanly beast took a moment to eagerly swallow the sweet wine pouring down her throat.

The inhuman followers of Dionysus were able to drink any libation of mortal craft. They could even drink tinctures of hemlock or aconite with no ill results. But the venom in that wineskin had been made from a godly curse.

The Maenad screamed and thrashed violently, but she was too weak to break free from Callioa's hold. She could not even spit out the drink, for Tythoros' strong hands gripped her nose and throat. Though the Maenad was too strong for Dusedre's poison to kill her instantly or quietly, her body did finally go slack as the last breath of air sighed from her lips.

When daybreak came, the city of Thebes lay entirely still. Tythoros and Callioa had left to present Sidrophus with the corpse of the last Maenad. They had left her sisters limp and lifeless, killed by their own foolish gluttony.

***

"He will pay," seethed Dionysus. From high on Olympus, he watched as Tythoros emerged victorious. "He will suffer madness and agonies until the end of his days. I will make him suffer for this!"

"For what?" boomed a voice behind him. Dionysus turned around to face Zeus who marshals the storm clouds.

"My lord and father," Dionysus asserted, "surely you bore witness as Tythoros slaughtered my Thracian Maenads!"

"He killed your ageless consorts after they had invaded Thebes," answered Zeus.

"That is true, my lord," began Dionysus, but Zeus did not let him finish.

"And why did your Thracian Maenads invade Thebes to begin with?" questioned the supreme ruler. "What brought them so far from their home to attack this city?"

Dionysus remained silent. He could not shame himself by answering truly, yet he dared not lie to Father Zeus.

"Were they provoked in some way?" Zeus continued. "Were they brought to Thebes by force? Speak!"

Dionysus looked down, unable to meet the Olympian's gaze. "I can offer no explanation, my lord," he muttered.

"Your Maenads traveled over many leagues to attack a city for reasons you do not claim to know," Zeus thundered. "Either you are a liar, twice-born Dionysus, or you are incompetent. Either way, Tythoros will not be punished for defending Thebes from an undeserved assault, nor will he be disciplined for your stupidity. Is that understood?"

Dionysus shrank before the fiery gaze of Zeus who wields the thunderbolt. In a tiny voice, Dionysus said "I hear and obey, my lord."

Content with this answer, Zeus left to join Hera. They sat beside each other on their neighboring thrones, presiding over Olympus.

"I expect you know that Tythoros and his companions have retaken Thebes," Zeus said to his wife.

"I have learned as much," Hera coolly replied.

"He was born an orphan, his wife was cruelly taken from him, he faced rough terrain and a number of dangerous beasts, yet he still accomplished his quest and so much more."

"Indeed," Hera replied tersely.

"He has overcome many hardships that no mortal was ever meant to face. It is almost as if some immortal force attempted to block his way."

Hera turned to glare at him. "Do you accuse me of trying to harm him?" she hissed.

"I do not," Zeus answered, "for if the great queen of Olympus had truly meant to kill him, he would most assuredly be dead by now. Is that not so, my love?"

"It is as you say," answered Hera, discreetly clenching her fists.

They spoke no more of Tythoros, and turned to other matters throughout the cosmos. But for many eons afterward, Zeus would recall the way Hera's fists clenched in that moment. The memory would always bring him a proud smile.

***

Four months after the Maenads had been cleared out, a circle of sacrificial altars was erected. Cups of wine and various trinkets had been placed upon them, along with the bones and fat of all the most bountiful offerings in Thebes.

A woman, veiled and clad entirely in white robes embroidered with gold, stood by Tythoros as he lit the holy pyres. Tythoros himself was garbed in extravagant robes of deepest scarlet.

In seven great blazes, the tributes were sent up to Zeus, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes, Aphrodite, and Hera.

"Mighty gods of Olympus," Tythoros intoned, "we are eternally grateful for the favors you have granted us. With these humble offerings, we pray that you continue to watch over us."

With a look toward the veiled woman, Tythoros added, "We shall honor the Olympians to the end of our days if only you would lend your aid to make this marriage a happy one."

The prayers went up to the heavens, and they were heard.

***

It was a clear and starry night as the hearth roared with flame in the palace of Thebes. The banquet hall was filled with the light and warmth of a dozen torches. Musicians played merry tunes over the growing volume of roars and laughter. The hall's enormous tables were covered with all manner of succulent meats, fruits, cakes, and jugs of wine.

The men and women sat at separate tables, yet they were all united in gratitude to Tythoros. They were among the Theban families who had come back to rebuild their homes, and their work could not have been made possible if not for the groom of this wedding. For weeks, they watched in awe as Tythoros hauled stone blocks and fallen trees for as long as his tireless muscles could carry them. Dozens of houses had been built in only a few days, all thanks to him.

Of course, the citizens of Thebes were deeply in debt to the bride as well. She had helped the local farmers to restore the city's crops and livestock, keeping the citizens healthy and fed through the reconstruction effort. These two strangers had brought the city back from destruction, and the city was eager to bless their union in return.

When the time came, Sidrophus rose from the banquet table. With the scepter of his forefathers in hand, he proceeded to the front of the hall. Tythoros and the veiled woman rose to face each other in front of the new king.

After a pause and a deep breath to savor the moment, Tythoros slowly lifted the veil to reveal the radiant smile of Callioa.

"The veil has been lifted," Sidrophus decreed. "Before all of those present here to witness, Tythoros and Callioa are newly wed." With a warm smile to his friends, he added "May your union be blessed."

Applause roared through the banquet hall as the happy couple held hands and beamed at their guests.

***

The whole city came out to wish the bride and groom well. Huge crowds flooded the streets and cheered as the newlyweds were carried by in a cart. Tythoros and Callioa waved and smiled as they passed by, surrounded by the applause of new friends and total strangers.

The procession finally ended at a tract of land that Sidrophus had given as an early wedding present. Atop it sat a house that Tythoros had built himself, with generous help from the local carpenters and architects.

When the two of them were finally alone in their new house, Callioa grabbed her new husband by the shoulders and kissed him deeply. Though he was surprised to be starting so quickly, Tythoros quickly leaned in to return the kiss as his hands caressed her waist.

Very slowly, Callioa pulled away to break the kiss. "So that is what it feels like," she said.

Tythoros gave a short laugh as he understood. "That was your first kiss, was it not?"

"It was," she nodded.

Tythoros put a hand on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. "I know that this must all seem very strange to you," he said. "We can take things slowly if you wish."

She interrupted him with another kiss. "If this is to be the start of a happy marriage, then I want it to start as soon as possible."

Callioa ran her hands over his chest, feeling the sculpted muscles underneath the fabric. "And anyway," she added, "now that sweet Cleia has given me some instructions on the subject, I am quite eager to know these carnal pleasures that were denied me for so many years."

With a warm smile, Tythoros removed her veil and threw it aside. "Then let us go to bed," he whispered in her ear. He moved to kiss her neck, and she rolled her head aside for him. Their lips explored each other's warm and inviting flesh as they moved to the bedchamber, leaving their immaculate clothing in a trail behind them.

Callioa began by pushing Tythoros on top of their bed and straddling him. Tythoros let her take control, savoring the feel of her hands roaming all over him. He moaned with delight at the feel of her lips brushing up against his neck and shoulders. She was clearly imitating his earlier movements until he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"Ow!" Tythoros interjected.

Callioa released him to ask "What is the matter?"

Tythoros rubbed the spot on his neck. "Did you just bite me?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she admitted. "Is that wrong somehow?"

"Just a bit hard is all," he said. "Try doing that again, but a little softer."

She tried nibbling his flesh again, listening for his signals to bite harder or softer. Callioa switched up her technique, sometimes brushing her lips against his chest, sometimes licking his taut skin, and sometimes giving his firm muscles an affectionate nip. The sensation was new to Tythoros, but it sent an unexpected jolt running through him that he found quite enjoyable.




The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 10



When he had grown hard enough, Tythoros gently took her hand and drifted it downward, grazing along his rock-hard abdomen, and settled her palm against his waiting prick.

"Do you feel how hard it has gotten?" Tythoros asked.

"I do," she replied. She rubbed his cock to gauge its stiffness, watching him groan uncontrollably as she did so. "I was advised to put this in my mouth. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes," moaned Tythoros, "but try to keep your teeth away."

Callioa kneeled by the edge of the bed. "This is a thing of beauty," she remarked, "but it is so huge! How am I to fit it in my mouth?"

"Perhaps you could try licking it first," he suggested. In response, Callioa ran her tongue up and down his shaft.

"Slower," instructed Tythoros. "A bit slower. Yes, that feels wonderful. Now try touching the sack of flesh underneath. Cup it in your hand, but be gentle. Ohhh yes, just like that."

Callioa could feel his manhood grow even more in length and girth. Its blood vessels engorged, creating warm ridges that felt wonderful on her tongue. After a time, she noticed a clear and salty fluid that began to coat his member.

"That liquid is coming from the tip," Tythoros pointed out. "Try licking it off."

His shaft in hand, Callioa flicked her tongue back and forth across the tip of Tythoros' manhood. Tythoros began writhing at the sensations that coursed through him, which Callioa took to be a positive sign. She was encouraged to take a step further and put the head of his erection into her mouth.

Through his entire being, Tythoros could feel Callioa's tongue circling around his tip while it was inside her warm mouth. "That feels so good," he said. "You can try putting more in if you like, but there is no need to rush."

Ah, but Callioa felt the need to prove that she could do this. As quickly as she dared, she pushed as much of his girth into her throat as she could. He was far larger than anything Callioa had practiced on with Cleia, but she ran her moist lips back and forth along his length as much and as quickly as she could. She jerked his cock and sucked him off with great enthusiasm, eager to learn and prove herself as a lover.

Tythoros was lost in bliss. "Yes," he uttered. "Just like that. Ohh, keep going!" He barely knew what he was saying, for Callioa's eager foreplay had clouded his mind so entirely. Tythoros used his godly endurance to delay ejaculation, hoping that this beautiful friction would last for as long as possible. And then the friction ended.

"What is the matter?" asked Tythoros. He sat up to see Callioa on her knees, gasping for air.

"I am resting for a moment," she coughed.

"I understand that it is quite tiring," he said. "You did wonderfully."

Tythoros got down from the bed to kneel in front of her. He looked down at her crotch, which had been freshly shaven before the ceremony. He brushed a finger along Callioa's slit, sending shivers through her spine.

"It is not yet ready," he observed. "Come, my love. It is my turn to pleasure you."

He picked her up to lay her down upon the bed. He started kissing her neck before moving downward, tracing a trail of kisses down her chest. At the same time, his hands began caressing her waist and slowly rubbed their way upwards.

Callioa let out a great moan when Tythoros' hands and lips met each other at her breasts. Her sensitive orbs fit perfectly in his hands, and he massaged them with most tender care. All the while, his tongue and his lips teased those puffy pink nipples until they grew to a point. Callioa's back arched underneath him, helping the eager buds reach upwards for more affection.

"Does that feel good?" he asked between kisses.

"Oh, yes! Yes, Tythoros!"

"How about this?" He softly brushed his teeth against one of her nipples.

"Harder!" she groaned in response. When he bit a little bit harder, she shouted "Yes, just like that! More, more!"

Callioa moaned in total delight at the jolts of pleasure rippling through her chest, but then she felt his hand on her thigh. An entire host of new sensations came alive, radiating from her upper legs and that greedy space between them.

Her hips began rocking, and Tythoros could guess why. Though he continued squeezing her breast with one hand and her thigh with the other, Tythoros moved his head in a trail of kisses down her body and toward her crotch. He felt her tense up as he lightly ran his tongue along her opening.

"You are growing wet," he remarked. "You will need to be even wetter before we can proceed."

"Then get it done," she pleaded. "Do anything it takes."

So encouraged, Tythoros placed his hands on the inside of her thighs, rubbing her entrance with both thumbs. At the same time, he ran his tongue and lips all over her sensitive outer folds. Callioa cried and bucked her hips as those petals of flesh grew more sensitive and engorged.

Quite soon, Tythoros could smell the alluring and pungent scent of her arousal. He was able to taste the sweet juices seeping from between his wife's shaking thighs. Redoubling his efforts, he gently pulled the lips apart to expose the tender and bright pink flesh within.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!" screamed Callioa. At the feel of his warm tongue burrowing deep inside of her, she could only cry out for more.

Tythoros surfaced briefly to guide Callioa's hand to her swollen pearl. "Rub this," he said, before going back to work on her sex. Callioa followed his command, fervently rubbing her clitoris as Tythoros continued to orally pleasure her. The moment she started, she had the urge to never stop.

Callioa felt as if she would burst from all the joy pent up inside of her. All the raw warmth and happiness overpowered her, such that her muscles went entirely rigid. She leaned forward, putting all of her strength into rubbing her clit, as her mouth locked open in anticipation of a scream. After so much combined effort from man and wife, the scream finally came. Her whole body convulsed as all the pent-up ecstasy released itself in a loud scream of rapture and a heavy wave of lubricant. She gradually stopped pleasing her clit, and Tythoros took that as his signal to stop.

"How do you feel?" he asked as his wife lay panting uncontrollably. Her cry of pleasure was still ringing in their ears.

"That," she gasped, "is what carnal pleasure feels like?"

"Oh, the best is yet to come," answered Tythoros. "Your maidenhead is still intact, and it appears to be ripe for the taking. We can proceed anytime you're ready."

Callioa did not hesitate. "What must I do?"

"All you have to do is lie there," said Tythoros, as he crawled up onto the bed between her legs. As he lay atop her, he reached down to guide his tip toward the sopping entrance of his wife. She wrapped her arms around him, tightening her grip at the feel of his hard and eager rod against her quivering slit.

"This will hurt at first," said Tythoros, "but I will try to be gentle."

Callioa spread her legs even wider beneath him. "I was told about these pains," she said, "and I welcome them."

The pains did indeed come when Tythoros slowly pressed his way inside her. She could feel her lower muscles reject him, though she struggled against the reflex. Callioa had promised herself that after surviving so much harm while living among beasts, this would not be the agony to break her. She fought hard to relax the muscles of her sex, willing them to welcome the loving flesh of her chosen mate.

Finally, they both felt the snap of that intimate tissue breaking. Callioa bit her lip hard to keep from crying out, though she could feel the pain from her torn maidenhead. It spread like a dull heat through her hips, along with the feel of what she knew was blood.

"Relax, my love," said Tythoros. "It will pass." And it did. As Callioa lay gasping for air, she could feel her inner muscles relaxing. They molded tightly around her husband's massive cock, such that she could feel every ridge of his shaft. He slowly pushed his remaining length into her, and she savored every moment of the friction between those two most intimate organs.

Finally, he stopped. "It is done," he said. "How do you feel?"

"I want you to keep going!" she insisted between gasps.

"Very good," Tythoros said with a grin. With a quick motion, he rolled over so that Callioa now lay atop him. "You set the pace. Just move your hips in whatever way feels best to you."

Callioa experimented with great fervor. She moved her hips upwards, downwards, sideways, and in circular motions, all as quickly as her sore genitalia would allow. Her pleasure came to mix with the pain, such that all of her thoughts and emotions were drowned out by intense physical sensations.

"Lean back," Tythoros grunted. Callioa obeyed, and Tythoros could feel renewed vigor in his loins at the sight of Callioa bouncing up and down on his cock. He watched as her skin grew slick with perspiration and red with passion. He watched her pert breasts jiggle with every movement of her hips. He felt Callioa's aggressively tight canal wrapped around his throbbing arousal, and he watched himself enter her over and over again.

Unable to hold back any longer, Tythoros thrust his hips upward in time with Callioa's hips. Her moaning immediately doubled. When he guided one of her hands toward her breasts, she grabbed hold and refused to let go. When he guided her other hand toward her crotch, she rubbed it as furiously as before while continuing to ride him.

"Keep going," he said, "just like that!" He reached back to grip her firm and round buttocks, spreading them open as he continued thrusting into her.

Tythoros looked deeply into the eyes of his wife, watching her reaction. Through his own haze of ecstasy and his burning need for release, he refused to let it happen until his wife could climax with him. When he saw her eyes roll upward, he knew he would not have to wait long.

Every muscle in Callioa's body sang with joy. Every one of her most sensitive parts was getting such pleasure as she had never dreamed of, and that incredible bliss spread to her very soul. She could feel her body go rigid again, and yet she refused to stop. Though her breathing grew short and hips became numb with pent-up happiness, she kept struggling to hump until the climax finally came.

"AH! AH! AAAHHHHHH YES!" Callioa cried out to the heavens as her loins exploded with rapture. At the very same moment, she felt Tythoros spasm underneath her as he released his own hot satisfaction inside her. Callioa's mind went blank as the excitement ran its course. Tythoros leaned up to embrace his wife and they collapsed on the bed in each other's arms.

They laid together on that bed for a brief eternity. In that moment, as Tythoros' cock deflated inside his wife, they were content to lie together while gathering their thoughts.

Callioa's mind was a jumble of sensations. The pain and the pleasure of sex were still fresh in her memory, but there was more than that. She could also feel the satisfaction of knowing that she had changed and grown for this loss of virginity. She felt safety and warmth in the arms of this man. These were only a few of the many thoughts that ran through her head, and yet it all seemed to coalesce into a single emotion. One that she hoped she would feel for the rest of her life. There could only have been one name for it.

"Tythoros," she whispered, "I love you."

He held her more closely and kissed her forehead. "I love you as well, my dear Callioa."

As they fell asleep in each other's arms, Tythoros knew that he had found something. Something he had been searching for all his life and risked death countless times to earn, all without ever knowing it.

In the city he had saved, in the house that he had built, in the arms of a wife he had fought hard to woo and marry, Tythoros knew that he would never again be considered an outcast. He would never again be haunted by his past or worried for his future.

He was safe. He was loved.

Tythoros had found his home.

Epilogue

Tythoros and Callioa would go on to have other great adventures. They would also give birth to many fine children, all of whom had brave and noble offspring of their own.

Sidrophus ruled for many years as a wise and charitable king. He would eventually find a most worthy queen and start a family of his own. Cleia never remarried, though she and her children were of great assistance in restoring Thebes to glory.

All of these are stories for another day. For now, it is enough to say that they all lived happily to the end of their days.

***

Acknowledgments

At this time, I feel obligated to give thanks and credit to those who contributed vital help to the completion of this project. If I've forgotten anyone -- and I'm sure I have -- I hope they will accept my deepest apologies.

-- To the Theoi Project, the massive online compendium that served as my primary reference for all things pertaining to Greek mythology.

-- To the Perseus Digital Library of Tufts University, whose robust Greek/English translator was instrumental in developing names for my characters.

-- To Carl "wrestlechampion" Adams, whose instructional videos on YouTube made Chapter 8 possible.

-- To Robert Fagles, whose magnificent translation of The Iliad was a key inspiration for this story.

-- To the late, great Edith Hamilton, whose "Mythology" has been one of my most treasured books since grade school.

-- To LaRascasse, GentWithHandcuffs, Minx Black, and dind, all of whom helped edit and improve this story at various points.

-- To Oscar, Joseph, Ayla, Kika, Hillary, Hailey, Aaron, and Nate, for all of the various ways that they contributed emotional and creative support.

-- To the good people at Literotica, who generously gave me a place to publish this story.

-- To you, the reader of this story. I am so sincerely grateful that you took an interest in my little saga and thought to read it all the way through. Happy trails, always.