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.
