The Hysminean Rhapsody Ch. 01

As she sped along the path to Athens, there outside the steep southern walls of the city, the crafty goddess Athena, disguised herself as a servant girl, sobbing in the middle of the road. She threw herself at the striding Bithynia, wailing, beating her breasts. The young warrioress tossed her off onto the dirt with ease. With one foot atop her chest, she lifted her brows in anguish and shouted, "Out of your mind, wretched Athenian? A death wish for yourself, a weakling like you attacking an Amazon. Who are you?"

Athena, in her perfect disguise, cried back loudly, "Kill me now, merciless Amazon. What difference would it make if I fight or surrender, 'tis my fate to meet certain death either way. I am a servant girl from the noble house of Alcmaeonidae. Only moments ago, your comrade Anaïtis, and her merciless gangs, they barged in. Yes, it was her. I still recognise that cruel face, even after all these years. She was but a little girl when my master took her in, adopted her when the god Dionysus destroyed her mother, left her an orphan in her house. For five years he sheltered her, nursed her well as his true-born daughter, before she repaid his magnanimity with acts of shame. My master had to cast her out, there was no other way. And now she is back, exacting her vengeance. She just seized my mistress by her hair, and up they went to the King's palace on the Acropolis aloft the city heights. My fair lady in all her maidenly virtue — like a big sister she cared for her, that heartless wench. Now she's but a helpless prey under the claws of a fully grown tigress. You savage Amazons, you are all alike. What do you care for justice in war. Kill me now, and I swear, the deathless goddess Athena will avenge us."

Bithynia, her spirit leapt at learning Anaïtis' whereabouts, lifted her foot, allowing the fallen girl to sit up. "Talk to me not about justice of war, you who waste away your lives in front of a loom. What do you know of honour and courage in combat? Men have made you weak in this city, left you with no means to defend yourselves. Look here, I am on my way to Anaïtis. If, by the gods, I find your mistress, trapped like a fawn cornered against a pack of vicious hounds, I will lend her my helping hand. But if Anaïtis had her singled out, one against one, then pray to the immortal Artemis, for she must fight her own battle, hand on hand. It is our Amazon way." At that, Bithynia bid her farewell in haste, leaving behind in the dust that crafty goddess with a sly smile on her face.

As swift-footed Bithynia finally ascended the steep Acropolis of Athens, the goddess Nyx, Lady of Night, had veiled her soft black drape over the sky. King Creon's palace, a magnificent structure built wide with porches and colonnade of polished stone, perched high atop this formidable rock. A bustling and opulent place only days ago, now it stood eerily silent, ruinous, a grim degrading piece of work. Occasional high pitched cries and moans pierced the night skies, as sashed and lovely palace maids whored with Anaïtis' female gangs, willingly or by force. The young Themiscryan stood there, stunned, a raw revulsion seized her heart, "O Father Zeus, no god's more deadly than you! No mercy for we mortals, even kings. There you raise us to the great heights yourself, only to plunge us deep into misery, brutal hardship." But her mind quickly drew back, focused on her task at hand. How was she to convince Anaïtis, this violent woman, her savage tempers even Marpesia dared not provoke. Through the inner courtyard and the royal halls Bithynia hurried, heading straight for the Queen's forbidden bedchamber, nestled deep inside the lofty palace, all masonry in smooth lustrous ashlar.

Wild shrills echoed from the other side of the bedchamber's wall, a struggle within! Not a moment to waste, Bithynia bolted through the doors. Inside was a dim room, lit with warm candles dotted about the stone walls, and sweet scent of frankincense pervaded the air. There crouched low was Anaïtis, that black-hearted beauty, kneeling stark naked on the deep red carpet. Her long raven-dark hair, wild as the rough sea, straggling over her flushed red face. Startled by the young Amazon, she broke off her 'lust song' and sat up, collecting herself. "Behold, a rare guest! Daughter of Lysippe, chaste in her body and mind, unsullied by the pleasures of men. Could it be she is here to get a taste of the delight only a woman can bring?" Still panting hot breaths, she winged forward those inviting words. Her eyes wandered over the young intruder from head to toe, and back up. Beads of sweat trickled down her tawny smooth body, rolling onto a pale blonde stretched out beneath.

A look of disdain flashed across Bithynia's face. "Have you got no sense of shame, licentious harlot, carrying out such indecency, tarnishing the glories of our hard fought victory?"

Anaïtis adjusted herself atop, securing her prize before answering, "Speak not of what you do not understand, Bithynia. This war may be over for you, but for me, it has only begun. We are much alike, you and I, lovers of war we are, only I of a different type. While you don Artemis' bow, I wield Aphrodite's whip. We both fight with courage: one lays siege to the strong city of her enemy, the other the private garden of her prey. You battle for boundless fame and riches, and I, I conquer for no less worthy an aim, her complete submission in body and will."

With scorn, Bithynia countered, "Do not mix the noble art of war with your dark craft, vile wench! We are nothing alike. Your conquests, heinous deeds they are, ravaging defenceless women suppliant at your knee. What do you know of courage and honours in war?"

"Forget not, my Themiscryan sister, the blood of the Taurian Amazon runs through my veins. I am no stranger to warfare — those thronging troops, and billowing fleet — indeed a beautiful sight on this dark earth. But gaze into the pleading eyes of my conquered, Bithynia, see how she surrenders herself to me, to become my ultimate plaything. Tell me, if you can, what is more gratifying in this world?" With those words, Anaïtis released from between her thighs, her naked dishevelled captive. At once, she tried to break free, twisting her body, thrashing her limbs about. But a few hard slaps across the face had her howling her surrender. And there she's laid again obedient, her breasts heaving from that short scuffle. Anaïtis pressed her delicate cheek against the hard floor, displaying her to the young Amazon. Promptly, a blush of shame came to her pale face, like roses glowing bright among the lilies. Brimming tears streamed down afresh. She looked divine, even in her pitiful state.

"Behold Thera, from the noble house of Alcmaeonidae, Megacles' daughter. She was my sister, though born of different wombs, we lit fire to the same hearth, 'til that fateful day. It was Megacles years ago, he took me in, adopted me into his family after my mother died in battle. Young and malleable, or so he thought I was, he tried to tame my wild spirit, cultivate me into a proper Athenian lady. Each step I took, every word out of my mouth, scrutinised. Sick to my heart, only the sight of Thera, his noble daughter, lifted my spirits each day. She cared for me like a true big sister, hiding from her father those bruises I had, after brawling with the neighbouring boys. She bathed me, combed my hair back straight, and rubbed soothing oil down my sore body. All night long she would stay up, secretly stitching back my torn tunics, embroidering it with ever more beautiful patterns. In time, Aphrodite inflamed in my young heart a deep burning of love. Her demure and graceful movements, her honey-sweet laughters, not even soft warm sleep numbed my passion for her. I told her my feelings, and kissed her, but she was abhorred. She fled from me, and I pursued her, begged her to unleash her true feelings. Alas, such a coward she was. She betrayed our sister bond, and told her father everything. Everything! So I was thrown out, left to face this cruel world on my own, a young girl barely past her coming of age."

At that, Anaïtis yanked Thera's golden tresses, straightened her tear-stained face, and penetrated her deep with a vengeful gaze. "But now at last, I have you in my grasp, Thera. Time has not worn down your beauty, but I, I am no longer that innocent little girl, wet behind the ears. There is no escape for you tonight, no, this time you will surrender more than just a kiss, my dear sister." Like a wild feline crouching over her enticing treat, she slid down, and forced her lips upon Thera's tender neck. The noble blonde made no sound from under, her mouth slackened by trembling fear. She stared into Bithynia with her teary eyes, pleading in silence. But the young Themiscryan hung back, her mind filled with questions — this Athenian with her golden hair, surely she is a Heliad. But what roots does she claim? Who is her mother, and how did she wed into the house of a Greek noble? Why did she lose her Amazon ways, raising a daughter so feeble and lacking in spirit?

Nevertheless, her heart went out to the sorry blonde, her words too, in a winging flight of pity, "Let her go, Anaïtis, she's suffered enough, long since that day the Fates brought you into her house. To violate your big sister, the one who shared her hearth with you and cared for you, is that your twisted sense of justice? Gone is your grip of the Amazon virtue? Be done with these heartless deeds. Here, my sister Marpesia seeks your help. We must sail for Delos, to find news of Parithyia, our queen. And you, only you know these treacherous waters of the Aegean like the back of your hand. Meet us at our camp in three days time, take us there, to Delos, in your black ship fitted for the deep sea, and set aright the forgotten Amazon virtues and justice, long lost in this terrible war."

Anaïtis sat up and flashed a sardonic grin at the young Themiscryan, before spewing out her bitterness, "Enough of your lofty words, Bithynia. Justice — what is justice but the will of the strong over the weak. Tell me, where was justice when my mother, the rightful heir to the Taurian throne, was exiled. She died an outcast, in Ephesus, when the god Dionysus and his army hunted us down like vermin. All this because she was the weaker, losing her fight against her cousin, that shameless usurper. So there is justice for you. As for virtue — "

Anaïtis broke off, casting a look of contempt down at the weeping blonde, whipped, quaking. Spinning around, she held her arm, and trapped her at the face with the weight of her own torso. Her free hand frisked about that frail body, white and smooth, as if cut from everlasting Parian marble — the lithe neck and shoulders, pinned hopelessly against the deep red floor; those soft breasts, formed as if they were made for pressing; her flat belly below that delicate waist, and those creamy thighs...

"Open!"

The tearful blonde complied at once. Fear had robbed her of strength to resist. She spread wide and presented to Anaïtis her uncharted darkness. With legs clamped around her neck, the lusting beauty pulled herself down that naked flesh, probing with care her offerings up close. Her hot breath made the blonde's limbs tremble in delight, like the surface of the wave when ruffled by the warm south wind. A rush of wild passion swept through Anaïtis now. Hunger-stricken, she dove in with her face and feasted. Her tongue buried between those luscious nether lips. A tempest began to rise down below. She felt the swelling torrent, but she plunged only deeper, relentless. Whirled around and tossed about, she can only hear the hums in her own ears, pressed hard against those burning thighs. She clung on tightly, braving out the surging waves beneath her, each more violent than the previous, a crescendo to the peak — until at last the great storm subsided, tamed, reduced to but small tremors.

Drenched in bliss, Anaïtis slid back, her wanting bottom slowly eclipsed Thera's flushed face, now aglow with raw pleasure. She pushed herself up, pressing firmly on the blonde's jutting breasts, heaving hard from the violent climb to ecstasy. Her palms felt that disgraced body beneath, denuded of its maidenly dignity, twitching still, here and there, in pure delight. Wearing a wry smile, Anaïtis looked up at Bithynia, licking her chops as a big cat that had just finished her meal, and went on with her scoff, "So here is virtue for you, Bithynia. Nothing but lies, a bondage of the powerful to the enfeebled. Megacles, if you can still see from the depth of Tartarus, the virtuous daughter you raised to perfection, noble and chaste like a goddess — when stripped down naked, she is no different than a Lydian whore, coating my face with her sweet juice of love." With that, she let out a stinging laughter. But it was cut short by a high-pitched shrill, heart-wrenching, as her verbal assault bruised Thera beyond her limits. Mustering all her strength, the seething blonde rose up and toppled Anaïtis, sending her crashing onto the hard floor.

There, they tussled and rolled with wild cries, tearing at each other's done-up hair, scratching, slapping. Thera climbed on top, seemingly getting the better of her tormentor, but there's no fooling the young onlooker. Bithynia saw through it all, that game Anaïtis was playing, like a cat toying with a mouse. She had her legs around the blonde's waist, readied to end the scuffle, to squeeze the fight out of her unwitting victim at an instant. Even so, not a moment too soon, not before she's had her fun. Trapping Thera between her thighs, and with that sneaky hand Anaïtis went for her privates again, fingering her at will. The second time came even quicker for Thera, as her piercing shrieks of fury whimpered, her hand clasped her own mouth, lest her shameful cries broke out aloud. But no sooner then she peaked, Anaïtis noosed those merciless arms around her delicate neck and squeezed tight, strangling away her dear life just as she splattered her love juice once again, all over the deep red carpet. What a hopeless struggle from the ensnared blonde now, her throat crushed, drool trickled from the corner of her mouth — alas her warmth frittered away, the world went black as night across her eyes. There her lifeless body spread on the harsh floor, convulsing still, glistening dews of erotic bliss, dripping wet between her legs.

Bithynia stood still as a tree, dumbfounded, bereft of her senses. Her heart racing, as she took a glance at that ravaged noble maiden, sexually conquered, and then physically destroyed. Looking quietly to the ground now, her mind couldn't help but wondered the forbidden. A faint blush flashed across her guilty face, like a girl seeing her betrothed on the wedding night. The handiwork of the boy god Eros it was, Aphrodite's son. Rearing his playful head, unseeable by all mortals, he drew in full strength his bow, aiming at her, readied to pierce the heart of the young Amazon with his arrow of erotic passion. But Athena made him miss. She tipped his bow in the nick of time, that invisible arrow, only just skimmed Bithynia's skin.

Even so, Anaïtis still caught her reddening cheeks. Too easy was her mastery over Thera, yet all that rough and tumble lit up a scorching fire down her belly, a quenchless ravening fire, and she yearned for a discharge. Lusting for a fresh conquest, she rose up, stalking slowly towards Bithynia. "So it is my help you seek, young Amazon? Then a favour for a favour, my golden Themiscryan. You are in my lair now, do my bidding, let me have a taste of you, for it is a disgrace to lay waste such beauty. And then, I swear by Aphrodite in all her might, you will please the heart of your sister with my reply." On that note, she brushed against her new prey. Her hot body aglow under the candle lights, smouldering for the steely Amazon, aching to melt her into submission. But Bithynia pushed her away and dressed her down at once, "You have no heart in you, shameless bitch, not a pulse-beat! Your own sister, you wiped out in such fashion. Dionysus should've kill you too on Ephesus, and haul your spirit down to the House of Death where you belong."

"Hush now. What a feisty cat you are, Bithynia. For six summers I watched you, daughter of Lysippe, braiding your pretty golden hair, pleading to your sister to take you out to each battle, like a young cub eager to go on her first hunt. Well, I am a huntress, Bithynia, a huntress of bodies and hearts. And a huntress always chases what runs hard, and leaves behind what can be taken easily. So resist me, struggle, it would make my conquest sweeter still." At that, she looked back at Thera, that noble maiden, her despoiled body discarded on the carpeted floor like a trampled flower left by the wayside.

And back to the Amazon she turned, winging her words in a throbbing rising voice, "If a fight is your heart's desire, no regret then, Bithynia, when I break you and have you shackled to the stone wall, your beaten body quivering, stripped for a flogging, then, only then will you wish you had it easy like Thera. No, too little too late, I will whip you stroke on stroke —" Leaning forward now, Anaïtis brushed back the young Themiscryan's golden mane, and breathed softly in her ear, "Your sister will get my reply tonight, rest assured, but only after I tame your spirit and send back your broken body, hot between the legs."

These abrasive insults infuriated Bithynia. No longer holding back, she unleashed her fury, and lunged herself at Anaïtis, taking her down in a flash before the raven-haired beauty had realised what happened. Like a wild feline whose den was stumbled upon by another, she jumped on the insolent intruder, growling down at her throat. Anaïtis was taken by surprise. Eros must had stolen her wits, so carelessly she provoked that tigress with her words. Too late for a fair fight now. Why risk more humiliation. She wisely remained acquiescent in her vulnerable position. Better to stay patient, and let her winning foe make the next move. And Bithynia read her mind. Mounted atop, she stared the supine hellcat down, pinning her with those glaring eyes. The heart in her chest pounding, torn — should she rain blows on that pretty face? Or check her rage and beat her fury down?

As her racing spirit veered back and forth — from the shadow of the room emerged Princess Semele, King Creon's daughter, that treacherous Athenian who sold her city for love. Fair as a white lily, with a heart just as dark to match, the blonde veiled herself only in a short nightie, filmy and loose, betraying all her naked secrets underneath. Parting those rosy lips, she poured forth her sweet poison. "Mind not those crude words, my dear Amazon, she's only having harmless fun. Come now, release my lover who is at your mercy. You have put her in her place. Many times I warned her, when the entrance to her prey is shut against her violent charges, gentle words of love can soften those harsh doors. A hard lesson you just taught her now, but put your weary heart at ease — of course we will sail you to Delos, yes, both of us will, Anaïtis and I, I swear to the gods. So here, loosen that tense body of your, allow me to caress it. Surrender to my fingers and I will turn those growls of yours into purrs of a pussycat."

Semele's voice, ringing like a tinkling bell, titillating Bithynia's senses, rattling her tender young heart. Rising to her feet, she back-stepped as the conniving blonde slithered towards her, her sparkling eyes grey as glass. Cornering her against the bronze door, with those supple white arms Semele embraced her. Her wanton thigh, coiled tightly around Bithynia's tanned flank. And there went that winged boy Eros again, rearing from behind, drawing his bow, looking to kindle a flame in the virgin Amazon's frigid heart. But this time Athena caught him, broke him off before he could let loose his burning arrow of passion. Her left hand seizing both wrists of the boy god, right hand tearing away the bow and quiver off his shoulders — Athena spanked Eros with his own weapon, three times on the buttock, smiling broadly now as her victim writhed away and showering arrows scattered. Bursting into tears the boy god slipped from under her clutch, like a wild dove that flies from a hawk's attack, so he fled back to Mount Olympus, his archery left on the spot.