The Saga of Tythoros Ch. 04

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We learn the origin of a monster in this flashback chapter.
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Part 4 of the 10 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/26/2012
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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.

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