The Fate of Leda Pt. 01

When I was young, I believed that the gods were our perfect caretakers. They blessed us with bountiful food, the greatness of Sparta, and powerful mystics to give us direction in life. But those powerful mystics were the very same who robbed me of true life, true freedom, and those gods were the same gods who let me rot in my husband's cold prison of a palace.

We went to see the mystics when we had tried and failed to make an heir for the throne. We had travelled many days to see them, for them to set us straight on the path that was willed by our wise caretakers, and yet they had given my husband all that he needed to justify my suffering.

They told us that though I was barren, my womb would ripen in three years time and I would be instilled with four lives in that summer. I still remember how his face lit up when they said that mine was a divine fate, that my children would change the world. Then, as if to mock his hope and pride, they had told him that his children would not spring forth from my loins. That one of the mighty gods would descend from Olympus and fill me with seed on that summer night, so that I might bear the fruit of the gods.

Ever since that day, my husband saw me as nothing more than a precious possession of which he was in constant fear of being robbed. He locked me here in this very palace, banned me from seeing any men when not in his company, and swore that the gods would not rob him of his rightful progeny...

Though the gods had no need to interfere with that, for the many wars which our country faced kept my husband away for what felt like years at a time. When he was present, his thoughts were too focused on his anger toward the gods to allow true sight of me. I willingly spread my thighs for him as a loyal wife and queen, but felt no passion, even as his seed wasted itself in my barren soil.

By the time the third year's summer finally came, I had accepted that Tyndareus was no longer my king or my husband; he was my jailer.

At the beginning of summer, my husband returned, as usual, for the festival of Hyacinthia. It was an important time for us, and it would be inexcusable for the king to be absent.

When he arrived at the palace, I was standing in the entrance hall wearing my finest robes. Even as he walked up to me, I could feel him looking through me.

"Ah, you look well my queen" said my husband, "have you been safe these past months?"

I nodded.

"Yes, my King. Safe is the one thing I have been."

"Good, good" he said, ignoring my cutting words.

After a few more moments, my husband led me to our bedchambers. He was always in need upon returning from a campaign, and it was my duty to give him release. But even as I willingly stripped for him, I felt a twinge of resentment at how callous our marriage had become.

I felt his eyes wander down from my long dark-brown hair, over my tender breasts and along the soft curves of my hips, down to my firm, muscular legs.

"A true Spartan queen" he said, admiring me as he did his army. "It is no wonder I have to go to such lengths to overcome the gods' desire for you."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"You truly believe that you can outsmart the gods?" I asked him.

He smiled, with a glint in his eye.

"The gods are petty, I grant you. They may take a bitter tone at my slight, and set upon my army with anger as they would have set upon you with lust. Yet, as we all know well, the gods' will is not the single orator of fate."

Thinking of the great stories of those who overcame the gods, I found myself doubting my faith in them. Perhaps my husband really could shatter my divine fate.

"Do not worry, my queen. It is only a matter of days now, and we will be able to free ourselves from this cursed fear of them. Then, when the seed of my true heir is within you, we can live our lives as we wish."

I wanted to laugh at his words, as if he was suffering along with me. Instead, I walked to our bed and kneeled in front of it, leaning forward onto the soft bedding.

"Show me what you will do on that day" I said, looking back at him.

I was lucky that he could not sense my true thoughts, or he might have cast me aside as an ungrateful and disloyal woman. As he discarded his robes and walked toward me, I closed my eyes and imagined a visage of Zeus himself was moving toward me.

I imagined that the rough palm which firmly grasped my hip was the soft hand of a man untouched by worldly concerns. I arched my back, allowing his eyes to cast down on me so that he might know what a simple mortal could offer his senses.

My body tensed as I felt him rub his cock through my moistening folds, but I relaxed myself. It was not my king's cock, but a god's, created just for me. Its purpose, its only aspiration, was to give me pleasure and to impregnate my ripe womb with its master's essence.

The thought of such a thing made my body tingle with desire, and I felt my wetness begin to saturate my opening as it was spread open by the shaft at its mouth. I gripped the sheets as it began to enter me, shuddering with pleasure, my thoughts clouded by the fantasy that my husband had failed to keep me from them.

While bereft of love, my husband's deep and powerful motions were quite pleasing, and I could feel the powerful muscles of a god behind each wanton thrust. I absorbed myself in the moment, thinking only of how wonderful it felt to be taken by a man, listening to only the sounds of our naked bodies desperately coupling. I could almost see the beautiful form that was upon me, the godly creature that was freeing me from my desperate need.

Yet, even as the fantasy threatened to bring me to the heights of ecstasy, I felt myself remembering that it was a man inside of me. I pushed the thought aside, searching for something to envision besides the husband who had me locked in tortuous solitude. Suddenly, I remembered the great statue of Zeus, and my heart began to pound in my chest.

I imagined that the king of the gods himself, captivated by my form, had come down to my palace and seduced me. I could imagine his sculpted body, his broad shoulders, and his handsome face, as the stone was made flesh in my mind. I grasped frantically at the bed, pushing back against him with each time he drove his thick shaft deep inside of me. I panted, gasped, and begged him to sow his seed inside my now-fertile womb.

And so he tried.

I could feel his rich cream begin pouring into me as my womanhood grasped at him and milked him of his offering. I let out a deep moan, the surges of pleasure pounding in my core and sending pricks of elation to the ends of my fingers and toes. Engrossed in those moments of throbbing orgasmic bliss, I forgot about all the injustices of my life and simply lived in that state of delight. I could remember the days when it was the thought of being instilled with my husband's progeny, rather than a god's, that had given me the same pleasure.

When it was over, I felt him withdraw from me, and a thin stream of milky fluid ran forth from my wet opening. A twinge of sadness ran through my mind.

I found myself thinking of it hours later, as I lay in bed, wondering if that had been the night I was destined to be with a god. Perhaps if we had never seen the mystics those years ago, I would be filled with hope at the thought, rather than regret...