The Princess Of Atlantis

Princess Ariadne of Atlantis was excited, of course, when she gazed from the steps of the Temple of Poseidon over the crowd assembled for the ritual contest. What young woman would not be excited on her Honor Day, the day when her first consort would be selected? Near her, Queen Pasiphae, her mother, stood surrounded by her generals and the council of governors who had traveled to the capital for the contest and celebration. They were the stern-faced women, and a few men, who did the hard work of running the vast empire. The princess herself stood with the queen at the head of the group, but with her mother's dominating presence she was almost an afterthought, even though it was officially her day.

The princess's suitors, the men of Atlantis brave and strong enough to enter the contest for the princess's favors, stood before them, all naked according to the custom of the contest.

Queen Pasiphae swooned over a man named Talos, her favorite, a large man of exceptional beauty, as if he were a statue of one of the gods come to life. He was a younger version of her current consort, Radamanthys, the same jutting jaw and straight nose, the same long, wavy locks flowing down to broad shoulders. The Queen's preference in men was well known. Radamanthys stood by her side, uncomfortable.

"Oh, Ari!" her mother exclaimed, "don't you just want to eat him up!"

Talos did not appeal to Ariadne, even though he met all the requirements for physical beauty in a man: strong shoulders, square-jawed countenance, narrow waist— and, of course, an ample phallus and large testes hanging between his muscular thighs, which the queen could not take her eyes off, and which her hand seemed to keep reaching for on its own. He leered and grinned at Ariadne as her mother admired his manhood; no doubt he expected to be using that implement on her tonight after he'd won.

She turned her gaze away from him, looking west toward the harbor where the contest would begin with the boat race. Inland and east, directly beyond the temple, and beyond the canals that flowed into the harbor, stood the dark mass of the Forest of Amphitrite, where another event would take place, the hunt. And to the east, on the other side of the dunes and the marsh lay the rocky shore, the most difficult part of the contest. Then back here at the temple where the suitors, those few who would be able to finish the challenges, would return to perform the final test, the Honor of the Princess.

"Oh my! For all the gods in Heaven!" Queen Pasiphae exclaimed, moving on to the next suitor. "Look at him!"

Even more repulsive was Talos's main competitor, Sarpedon, now the object of her mother's admiration, whose muscles were so gigantic, especially his massive thighs, that they called him the Bull. Ariadne might want him to pull her in a carriage, but she could not imagine taking such a beast between her legs, even if he could fit in there. He wore a cup over his genitals, permitted to avoid injury, so she could not tell what might be waiting for her tonight if this man-mountain won the right to her bed. But the cup was large.

Damatis, the high priest of Poseidon, standing by the queen, stamped his ceremonial trident three times and proclaimed, "Suitors! Pay your respects to Princess Ariadne of Atlantis and proceed to your boats!"

Ariadne glanced over the other suitors, maybe twenty or thirty of them. The contest was open to any man of Atlantis. She smiled at each in turn as they bowed before her, and wished each the favor of the gods. Each man's attention to her breasts was gratifying.

Following Atlantean tradition, and like all women in the seafaring empire, Ariadne displayed her bare breasts openly and proudly for the suitors and the spectators. The women of Atlantis had a well-earned reputation for possessing the most beautiful bosoms in the world. Ariadne's, like her mother's, were as wonderful as any two could be, round and full, with their aureoles prominently displayed for all to admire, like pink flowers on her creamy skin. On this day especially, her breasts were the center of attention for each of the suitors, because they were the final and most important event in the whole competition.

# # #

It was a relief to return to her rooms after the opening ceremony to freshen herself for a few minutes. After her maids had washed her and dressed her in a fresh gown that pushed up her ample breasts even more prominently than before, she said to them, "Call in Daedelon. Then leave us alone."

He strode in soon, his bright blue eyes shining. "Ah, Ariadne. Were I twenty years younger!"

She went to him and hugged him tightly. "If only you would compete. I would select you." Officially, she would decide who would be her consort. But the contest had so much history, going back generations, and so much ritual surrounding it with the priests of Poseidon recording and judging everything, that she would only have the chance to decide on her consort if there were a tie, or close to it, between two champions.

"No, my sweet student, my time has passed."

"Not at all, Tutor." She took his hands and placed them on her naked breasts. His hands naturally began to play with her nipples, which instantly made her wet down in her delphys. In contrast to her mother, Ariadne was much more attracted to what was between a man's ears than what was between his legs. She didn't mind the tiny wrinkles around his eyes when she made him smile, and the strands of gray appearing in the waves of his raven-dark hair only reinforced the life experience and wisdom he gave her in his lessons. He was not an athlete, but he was trim and strong. Moreover, what was between his legs was strong, and had taught her much as well.

She knelt before him and put her hands on his phallus through the cloth of his leggings, and fondled the testes hanging with it. This was by no means the first time Ariadne had knelt before her tutor, nor was there the tiniest bit of his male flesh that she was not intimately familiar with. Daedelon had been her tutor for a few years now, since she'd come of age, and had taught her everything— geography, literature, nature, mathematics, philosophy— and also, secretly, the most important lessons for her, the joy it was to be born a woman, knowing the ways in which a man can please a woman— at least some of those ways— and her power to reward a man worthy of her.

"No, princess, our time—" Daedelon struggled to speak as she drew his phallus out and began to kiss it, the way he had taught her— "our time is over. Please, Your Majesty! Ah!"

But Ariadne would not be denied. She loved her tutor, and would have chosen him as her consort in a second over some arrogant, muscle-headed athlete. She resolved, as she fellated her teacher's long, bronze shaft, that when she was queen the contest would be about qualities that were important to

her,

not her mother.

She could tell from experience that he was close, the change in his taste and the way his glans swelled on her tongue. She pulled him out and aimed him at her breasts, ready for his seed.

"No," he said, trying to be quiet and not give them away, his longing straining his voice, "not on your Honor Day, of all days."

She understood, all too well. "Then let me have one more taste. Your phallus is a red as Ares' sword. We still have time." She kissed his phallus, licking off drops of fluid from his meatus.

"No, my lovely student. You know I am not an admirer of Ares. I have done my best to prepare you to someday rule as queen, and I hope I have succeeded, for your sake and for the sake of Atlantis. Now, please, show the wisdom I have tried to instill in you, which you will need when you ascend the throne." He gently took her hands off his phallus and pulled her to her feet.

"You have prepared me," she said. She put his hands back on her breasts, where they'd started. "You should be rewarded."

"Your magnificent beauty and good sense are all the reward I need."

"Oh, Teacher, your reward should be to become the father of my first-born."

"Your Majesty, you know I already have children, from my late wife."

"Children I've never met."

"They have been studying and training in the empire and with the Mycenaeans."

There was a knock on the door. From behind it they heard, "Your Majesty, it is time."

"But trust me," he continued, "the right men for you— I mean the right man— is competing today. I believe he will win, and you will win double. Trust me."

They hugged.

# # #

When Ariadne arrived at the queen's balcony, she saw in the distance that the suitors had trekked to the harbor and were tending to their boats while they waited for the race to begin. Her mother, of course, had not yet shown up, and wouldn't until everyone else was in their seats and waiting for her. She always loved to make an entrance.

Ariadne accepted many congratulations on her day and many compliments on her dress that so admirably showed off her physical charms. And of course enjoyed the admiring stares from every noble in the audience, both male and female. Her younger siblings, the princes, placed behind the consorts, looked on with envy. She felt very proud of herself, the crown princess.

The queen strode in, to enthusiastic applause from the guests on the balcony and the vast crowd below, followed by her entourage, mostly handsome, scantily dressed men. She waved acknowledgement to everyone. As she took her place in her large gilded chair she nodded to the nobles and pretended to adjust her diadem, encrusted with a giant ruby from Punt flanked by a variety of jewels the Phoenicians had given her as tribute. And then finally she waved to Ariadne, acknowledging that it was, after all, her daughter's day. She beckoned to Radamanthys to bring her the royal trident, bronze tipped with gold from the mines of Poseidon. She touched it, barely, and gestured for him to give it to Ariadne.

The Princess of Atlantis had practiced the ritual. She took the royal trident into her grip and held it high above her head for all to see. The crowd cheered; the suitors stood ready at their boats. The women in the crowd, as bare-chested as she was, raised their arms as she raised hers. Ariadne felt proud to be a woman of Atlantic.

"Men of Atlantis!" she yelled, "I await you!" The priests had prepared a symbolic bull, a bull's hide wrapped over a padded bench, with horns and skull at one end. She threw down the trident into the bull's hide, where it stuck and stood straight up. The symbolism was as loved as it was obvious. The crowd roared even louder.

The suitors raced to their boats. The contest always began with the boat race, to honor the island's sailors, who made Atlantis the dominant sea power in the known world. The race was a simple out and back, but the men were allowed to form loose teams to block out competitors. By the queen's command, there were very few rules in the contest. Queen Pasiphae did not like rules, especially for herself; and she liked seeing men fight and claw for her favor.

A wide variety of craft set out, reed canoes, skin boats, slow coracles, whatever, it seemed, would float. Teaming up was not forbidden for this leg of the competition, so small fishing skiffs with two or more suitors were popular, since they were harder to capsize. Ariadne was distressed to see so many dirty tricks done, skin and reed sides holed, canoes tipped, oarsmen pulled over the side. Besides enemy action, many of the boaters went into the water through their own inexperience or simple bad luck. It was chaos out there, and rescue boats had to be sent out.

"Your Majesty, as I've mentioned in your lessons, men can sometimes be very stupid." Daedelon had appeared at her side as she stood and watched the race. "But notice the one in the small, narrow craft, dark-haired." He pointed. "Athena is guiding him. Watch him take advantage of his speed and agility to circumvent the melee and score well. I think you noticed him earlier."

She had. He'd been one of the suitors in the front row that she'd inspected at the temple. He'd seemed familiar, as if she knew him somehow. They'd locked eyes for a moment. "I did find him quite—" she began in reply, but her tutor had retreated to his spot well in the rear.

The first boaters reached the shore, their order recorded by the priest-judges, and ran up the street, over the series of bridges connecting the harbor to the palace grounds, and reached the tavern set up there, the next test in the competition.

A successful man, per Queen Pasiphae, needed more than strength and stamina to win a place in the queen's— or in this case the princess's— bed. He had to be able to hold his wine. Atlantean grapes were known throughout the Mediterranean for their sweetness, and the wine was known even better for its strength. Each suitor had to drink as much as he could, as much as he let himself, under the priests' watchful eyes, before the next test, which would stress their cunning and coordination.

Talos, the queen's favorite, had finished the boat race first, earning applause from the queen and her entourage, with Sarpedon and another competitor close behind. The young man Daedelon had pointed out was just behind them, staying clear of that jostling pack, who were elbowing and shoving each other in what Ariadne considered a juvenile and pointless manner.

The priest-judges held up placards with Atlantean numerals as each man drank as much as he could, to more applause, after which each one trotted into the Forest of Amphitrite. One suitor was held back, not getting a placard. The priests, following the queen's guidelines, didn't think he'd drunk enough and set out two more cups for him to finish. The crowd jeered at him, the women jiggling their bare breasts at him as a taunt. He would never win the Princess's charms.

The Forest of Amphitrite was a large, hilly expanse dense with trees and wildlife, where the suitors were to test their hunting skills, because a consort needed skills beyond the bedroom. Talos, on the way to the forest, was able to trip Sarpedon, sending him into a canal. Lasting harm was forbidden between suitors, but dirty tricks were considered part of the fun. At least for the queen, who laughed and pointed. Sarpedon was not hurt, but he had to splash his way to the canal's edge and climb up the bank covered in mud and scrapes, losing time and expending extra energy. He also staggered a bit, perhaps having drunk too much in his effort to impress the crowd. He did not impress Ariadne.

She sought out the young suitor her tutor had mentioned, scanning among the crowd of suitors now trotting to the forest to pick up their hunting weapons. But he wasn't among them. She went to the balustrade to get a better view.

"Ohh! Ohh!" she heard behind her and had to turn away so no one saw her grimace. "Ohh, Raddy!" her mother moaned. Ariadne put on as calm a countenance as she could manage before turning back to look.

Queen Pasiphae was standing, though mostly bent over and supported by consorts on either side holding her up while a maid lifted her dress, as Radamanthys serviced her from behind. It was technically in tradition, the queen giving her consort one last time before she took her new one, but it was a bit early in the competition. Ariadne gripped the railing and choked down a curse. The custom should only have applied if it were the queen's consort being selected, not Ariadne's.

But the queen and her men had been drinking the same strong wine as the suitors, perhaps as much, and she was the queen, after all, and could do whatever she wanted. Ariadne couldn't hear over the now constant cheering and yelling of the crowd, but she thought she saw her mother pronounce Talos's name as her consort serviced her. If Talos did win, she thought he would spend as much time in her mother's bed as in hers. That thought did not increase Talos's appeal to her.

She turned her attention to applause from below. She found the young suitor still at the tavern, still drinking. The applause was for him as he drained one more in a series of cups, surrounded by a group of suitors. There was always a large group of Atlantean men who entered the race even though they had no hope of winning, simply to say they'd competed among the boats. And then spend the rest of the day drinking. Was the young man giving up and joining them? Ariadne felt a bit disappointed in him. She'd hoped for better, especially after her tutor had pointed him out. Daedelon was rarely wrong in his appraisal of character.

But he wasn't just drinking. He was making his way through the other suitors, greeting and talking with them. And then, perhaps the last of the suitors to continue to the forest, he waved good-bye to the drinkers and headed out, pushing his way through well-wishers and women pressing their breasts against him as encouragement.

Ariadne was relieved, but worried. The placards showed that he'd drunk more than anyone else, at least anyone continuing the competition. That was great news and put him among the leaders, but how could he hunt with a head full of wine?

She worried more when through her spyglass she saw him stride past the rack of weapons without picking up any of them, only a length of leather rope. Talos had chosen a bow and arrows; Sarpedon had hefted a long spear. Others had picked similar weapons. She looked back at Daedelon and caught his eye. He didn't seem worried, and in fact smiled and nodded.

It was not possible to see what was going on in the forest. The cedars and other trees formed a dense canopy. Food was served on the queen's balcony, and more wine, of course. Ariadne took small sips of her drink and ate a few of the small delicacies offered, but was too nervous to enjoy the repast. It looked like Talos would be climbing into her bed tonight, and his phallus would be the first to feel the inside of her delphys.

She viewed that prospect with reluctance and trepidation. The Princess of Atlantis wanted her trusted, loving tutor inside her. But he was an honorable man and had refused.

# # #

"Please, Teacher," she had begged some days before the contest. "Please, take me. I need you inside me."

She was leaning back on her divan, her dress bunched about her waist and her legs spread, as Daedelon had taught her, to be ready for his tongue. She'd been on her knees for the first part of the lesson, practicing again the techniques he'd taught her to make a man's phallus grow and harden like beaten bronze.

He stood before her, heaving from the intense pleasure her practice gave him— she was an eager, talented student— and the next part of the lesson had always been to practice her own climax, during which his versatile and skilled tongue used both words and physical stimulation to teach her how wonderful it was to be a woman and to possess a

kusthos

between her legs. That was such a vulgar term for her delphys! He only spoke that word from between her thighs, and it always made her climax more intense.

The next part of her lesson, after her orgasm, would be one equally enjoyable in its own way, to take her teacher back between her royal lips and give him his climax, relishing his bull's milk. She was always pleased with the way she was able to satisfy her tutor, with her body as well as her mind. His milk was a reward and a compliment for her assiduous scholarship.

This time, though, she wanted more. She took his phallus in her hand and pulled it to her delphys.

"No," he replied as she displayed herself, wet and hot, for him. "It is not my place."

"It is, Tutor, I owe you so much and I want you so much," she pleaded again. "Take my

kusthos.

"

Tutor Daedelon taught her everything, including everything sexual, and helped her grow as a woman in so many ways, for which she would be eternally grateful. But there were two sexual experiences he refused her: first, he would not let her milk him in her delphys, would not even put himself in her, not even after she'd used the oral techniques he'd taught her to take control of a man, and some innovations she'd invented herself, to make him extra stiff, with his phallus-head swollen and ready; and second, he would not honor her breasts the way her suitors soon would.