Gaze of Athena

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction not suitable for minors and people offended by explicit f/f domination and submission themed stories.

Please note this is a try at erotic/explicit storytelling, and while there is plenty of explicitness , there is a lot of buildup too, so if you're looking for a quick release, I urge you to look elsewhere. Please excuse the grammatical and spelling errors, but I'm not a native speaker and this my first attempt at writing. Feel free to msg me regarding any mistakes. Any and all Feedback is of course greatly appreciated.

Note: I've started out with an homage to Greek tragedy of sorts and despite my intentions it might be somewhat crude, so skip the first paragraph if you want to avoid that.

As I lay in this tub filled with cleansing hot water, mesmerized by the simple beauty of steam, condensing on the walls of my bathroom and running down in perfectly shaped drops; I feel this crushing weight being gradually lifted off of me. My Breathing becomes slower and it takes more and more will to force my eyes open and see my fleeting essence dilute in hot rose colored water. The pain is but a fading memory and I can't help but wonder about the chain of events that lead to this very moment. This conclusion was inevitable that much I know, that's not to say I didn't try to fight it, I've tried it all. I've tried crying, shouting, begging and every other means at my disposal, but my goddess remained untouched, which is not surprising since she already blessed me with far more than I deserved. Thus the absolute certainty of this inevitable outcome did not take me by surprise, but how do you prepare for that. How do you prepare yourself for the moment when all meaning will be taken from you, your purpose for breathing will be gone and all the beauty and color of the world that you were given sight of, will be ripped from you and you will be left, blind, death, alone and without purpose in this all but desolate place. I try to focus on the gifts more than their loss, now that my next breath could very well be my last. One might wonder, why this conclusion was inevitable, not me, but someone who never witnessed her perfection, smelled her hair, tasted her skin, was never pierced by her eyes, never saw the sunlight embrace her divine features. To make you see, as I saw and make you feel what I felt, I need to take you back a couple of months to where it all began. To where the gift of purpose, of which I am no longer worthy, was bestowed upon me.

The new semester was about to begin and I had yet to see my new roommate. Sarah, my previous roommate, had thrown college during the holidays and the newly available place was not yet assigned. I had returned the day before, having spent Christmas with my parents at home. I was relieved to get away from the all too often drunken blabbering of my dad and the bible-camp alike indoctrination of my mum. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents as much as the next girl who went to college 1000 miles from home, but they are difficult sometimes and life here was much easier. At least there was less praying and breaking furniture and I could do, say and think what I wanted to. Anyways, I was sitting on my bed, reading John Locke, which was required for the upcoming semester, when she came in. She didn't knock she just came in, like the place was her's all along and I had merely been granted permission to keep it clean in her absence. I wanted to remark upon her obvious lack of manners, but turning my eyes to the door, my mouth betrayed me. I was stunned by her beauty, it was this rarest of moments, that too few people are ever gifted with, where you behold something almost unnaturally beautiful. Her shoulder long blond hair was like a fluid wave of gold, reflecting the last rays of sunshine from the day, and creating a symphony of marvelous divinity with her immaculate face. Her features were so delicate and perfectly even that she reminded me of a Greek goddess. It was almost painful to look at a beauty only the likes of Samuel Barber and Albinoni could properly convey, she had the slightest hint of a tan that accentuated her blue eyes. Those eyes, they were unnaturally clear like water in some long forgotten lake far up north, unspoiled by man, but somehow too cold. She was slender but still exuded an aura of strength and superiority that was almost thick enough to grasp. She wore an open black jacket over a white sweater, that left far less of her big perfectly round breasts to the imagination, than any sweater I owned, or would have dared to wear. Her black jeans fit tightly around her long legs and and created the impression as though they hugged her by desire, not form following function. So before me, stood a goddess, as much as one could be divine in flesh and blood and I dared not scold her about her rudeness. It felt inappropriate for me to address her that way and I found myself wanting to make a magnificent first impression.

I didn't understand this almost compulsive reaction to her, yes she was beautiful, but I didn't usually react to a female body, or any body for that matter, like that. I assured myself the fascination with her was a purely based on her aesthetically unique presence and just accepted my desire to abide by an unspoken social contract of sorts.

She closed the door behind her and looked at me. "I am Aurore", she said. Of course she was, I thought, who else could she have been. Her parents must have known, even before she was born that they would bring a goddess into this world, deserving of such a name. I blushed as I heard the thought in my head, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but she cut me off by putting her bags on top of her bed and declaring that she had a long trip, was exhausted and needed to clean up and that we could talk later. Her choice of words, left little room for doubt, let alone disagreement, so I just watched her take what she needed into the bathroom and close the door behind her. When I heard the water running I realized what had just happened and I was taken aback by her rudeness. I thought it might have been a necessary consequence of being so beautiful. There it was again, this thought about her beauty. I forced myself to pick up my book again, closed my eyes for just a moment and willed my heart to beat slower. The letters were still blurry and the words made no sense, so I blinked her image away and focused on the task at hand. After a couple of blinks, the words formed sentences again and with the sound of running water in the background fading from my perception, John Locke's theories on government became ever so clear. I realized she had finished her shower as the sudden lack of background noise had me stop my reading and I found myself anticipating her return to our room. Just to see what she changed into, to see if she was indeed as spoiled as she appeared and wore expensive clothing at home when there was no cause to do so, I rationalized my curiosity. When she entered our room I was shocked to see that she had not changed into anything, but just wore a big towel wrapped around her chest. It barely covered her ass and I blushed while I tried to tear my eyes from these mile-long legs that walked by me. Her every step was a piece of art, her slender feet looked like she had been carried all her life, her legs were a testament of strength, hidden behind feminine perfection. I wanted to stop the upward travel of my eyes, tried reasoning with myself that I shouldn't look despite her obvious lack of shame, but I couldn't keep myself from catching a glimpse of the onset of her ass. I didn't see much but I was convinced her ass must have been hard like steel, it looked like that of a ballet dancer, only slightly more full and rounder.

I pinched my leg and the pain helped me regain my composure, so I could force myself to stare out of the window instead, questioning if I had lost my sanity in a less than an hour. She picked some clothes out of her bag and disappeared into the bathroom again. I wondered why she had not taken them along in the first place, but at least I was strong enough to keep staring out of the window and focus on the red shimmering of the sun's last kisses of that day, instead of her. I didn't know it then, but this walk of temptation would become my daily companion hence forth.

When she came back dressed we had our first conversation and thankfully her tone had lost most of its prior rudeness, however this aura of power, of unconditional command was still lingering. She told me her parents were french, that she was 18, like me and she surprised me by telling me she didn't come from an overly wealthy family. She paused briefly after having dealt with one subject and looked at me in a distinctive fashion, so I could tell her about myself in comparison to what she had told me. She didn't ask me anything, I just knew what she wanted me to tell her and when. I told her about my home, left out the part about my religious zealot of a mother and my dad who wasn't strong enough to keep Mr. Jack Daniels at a distance. She had signed up for English literature, like I did, she liked, classical music and art, read a lot and she kept in shape by practicing karate. I was surprised to see how much we had in common, somehow I had expected someone who could have been daughter to zeus to have different interests than me. Well I didn't do martial arts or any sports for that matter, which is not to say I was out of shape, I watched my carb intake and kept a slender figure myself. I was not beautiful in the way she was but I wasn't painful to look at either with my long brown hair, my witty green eyes and my moderate b cups, or so I had been told before. As unusual as her entrance was our conversation was very good and pleasant. Later that night I thought about what had transpired and I tried to understand why her looks had such an impact on me, I wondered if she had forgotten her clothes on purpose and if so, did she want to be provocative or did she intend something specific. It took me almost 2 hours before I fell asleep, the answers to my questions still eluding me.

The next days went by under the theme of preparation for classes and other then her constant towel-walks nothing noteworthy happened. We talked occasionally and I realized she seemed to have major mood swings. She could be almost nice at some points, well maybe not nice but less cold and somewhat considerate, other times she would stare at me with those blue ice crystals of hers and despite me not having done anything wrong, I felt sorry for disappointing her. Not a day went by where I didn't notice her beauty, she looked amazing in whatever she wore. After 2 weeks had passed I was convinced she'd look like Helen of troy even when covered in tar and feathers. Our conversations never gained any depth however, since she did not share anything other then her interests. I had accepted my fascination for her beauty and although I didn't like it, I couldn't seem to shake it either; and had that been the end of it, all would have been OK. A little staring here and there would have done no harm, but it was not the end of it, it was not even the beginning of my ascension into her service. That happened about 3 weeks after her arrival.

She had found a dojo near by where she signed up for practice and on that day she went there for the first time. I was listening to some lounge music, lying on my bed when she came in. I looked up briefly to see her dressed unusually casual in track suit that hid her divine features. Her blond hair was curling into cute locks due to the moisture; I couldn't remember the sound of rain but decided to be apologetic about it anyways. I let her know I was sorry she didn't outrun the rain. There they were again, those ice crystals, that blinding blue stripping me of my worth and silencing me. In an even sharper tone than before she scolded me, if I moved my worthless ass more I'd know sweat from rain. With that she slid out of her track suit, standing in the middle of the room, no more then 2 feet from me, wearing nothing but her underwear. Her slightly tanned skin was glistening with moisture and I was transfixed by the drops of sweat that moved slowly down her stomach, pausing briefly above every one of her slightly visible muscles. She was covered in sweat, it was flowing down between her big boobs, her Grey cotton bra covered with darker spots where the glistening liquid had soaked it. I tried to look away, but it was useless, I had lost my free will, I followed the drops from between her round breasts down, barely missing the most beautiful navel I had ever seen and onto her Grey panties. They were soaked too as if they had been dying with first that only the sweat of a goddess could quench. Dozens of small transparent pearls, one more beautiful then the next, holding on to her firm body, finally losing their battle against gravity and flowing down those firm legs, onto feet that were too precious to be used for walking. That was when it hit me, the sweat dropping from her body. She looked like a depiction of Athena that I had once seen. Her heavenly sweat covered breasts seemed only inches from my face and I felt this overwhelming sensation to kiss her stomach, lick away the sweat from this masterpiece of divine creation. I was taken back to reality when I felt a sharp pain on my scalp, she gripped a fistful of my hair and forced my head up. I looked into her now dark blue and icy eyes and heard her hiss, what the fuck I was doing. Was I a dyke, a perverted little slut that would smell and lick her soiled panties, when she wasn't around? Would she need to seal her used laundry from me? Did I spy on her showering? Or did I just stare so I could get off to her image later? The questions came so fast I couldn't have replied, even if my mouth wasn't dry and my hole body clenched with fear. The pain was so intense my eyes flooded with tears. I tried to tell her I was not that way, I didn't think about her sexually, it was just an abstract fascination, but even if my mouth had followed my mind, she would have been even less convinced than me. She did not even wait for an answer, she just pushed me back on my bed roughly and told me she would severely punish me if I behaved like a lesbo whore again. Then she disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

I didn't understand why she would hurt me, insult me so badly just because I stared at her. How did that make me a lesbian. But then I saw it, through the veil of my tears I saw my nipples hard as rock, almost poking holes through the fabric of my white shirt. It was when I saw them, that I felt their tension, the sensation of swollen and sensitive flesh encased in too tight clothing. And suddenly I felt their was something else, something beneath the pain, something far more powerful, something that wanted to be let out, that threatened to overwhelm me, to consume me. How could this be. I looked further down and saw the wet spot of betrayal between my legs. What the hell, was happening here. I wiped my face clean, grabbed my jacket and rushed towards the door. I needed to get out of here, away from her, away from these feelings, from this sick and twisted thing luring beneath the humiliation and pain, pounding on the walls of its prison, sending jolts of pleasure directly to my hard nipples and moist pussy. I needed air, I couldn't breath anymore. The cold air of this starless winter's night would cleanse me off these twisted thoughts. They weren't me, or so I thought. I would come to realize not soon after that I had barely scratched the surface of what I was longing for, what she would give to me and how it would forever alter my understanding and experience of pleasure when she let my true nature out of its prison.

Despite my best efforts and the freezing cold I couldn't forget the image of her sweat covered body, her merciless blue eyes, her aura of complete power and what she had stirred up inside me. Long after I had to get out of the cold I was still to afraid to face her and waited until late at night to sneak into my own room. I did not know whher she didn't hear me or chose to ignore me, but I was relieved either way. I was to afraid to wake her, so neither undressed nor showered, I just slipped under the covers and tried to get some sleep.

The next morning began like the night before had ended, I cowered in fear under my blanket, refusing to let her know I was awake. I didn't understand why, but she did not mention what had happened the night before, when I came out of the bathroom that I had rushed into during a short absence of her's. Over the next few days though I sensed the nature of our relationship had changed. We rarely talked and the few words that were said were requests from her. Unlike other people's requests hers did not allow for disobedience though. It was the way she told me to get her shampoo, or toothpaste, tea, coffee or whatever else she desired from the store, that made it unnecessary for me to think; a notion that due to all my reading would have been laughable only a few weeks earlier. Regardless, all I needed to do now was what I was told and that had a strange calming effect on me. It wasn't that it didn't bother me, it was actually feeling good, like she had forgiven me my transgression and allowed me to work my way back in her favor. In the beginning she would even smile at me, when I handed her whatever she had told me to get, but the smiles got fewer and fewer until there was only the all too familiar stare of dark blue ice. I didn't understand how I was failing her, but it didn't take long for me to be given new opportunities to earn her smile and over just a few days my inhibitions were swept away and all I wanted was to make her happy. She told me that keeping the room clean was my responsibility on top of doing all the chores, and I happily obliged bound by her smile. But despite my silent obedience whatever I did was not enough and she soon found reasons everywhere to scold me.

It took her less than a day to go from just cold staring to insulting me again. She told me not to be such a lazy slut and take whatever time it took for me to get her the specific brand of water she waned, not some cheap crap. What made it more difficult was that not only had the image of her sweat covered body been burnt into my mind, her insults grew more and more sexual and degrading, and what made it worse was the twisted prisoner inside me grew stronger with every insult. Every time she called me a bitch, a useless whore, a slut it felt less wrong and more justified, even somehow good. I started masturbating in the shower to the memory of her cold stares and insults and let this thing inside me come out for air, just for a second I reassured myself. I lied to myself by rationalizing my desire for her to tell me what to do, to insult me and threaten me as a natural part of sexual orientation and with every passing day it was less of me opening the prison cell for my hunger for a few brief moments and more my hunger allowing me to lock the door again. When I fingered myself in the shower my orgasms became more and more feral; less control and more twisted thoughts, I remembered her image and wanted to lick the sweat of her stomach, imagined that moment unfolding differently, while I was pinching my nipples and rubbing my clit furiously. I envisioned her telling me what a worthless lesbian whore I was and that all I deserved was to suck her glistening toes when she came back from training. During my masturbation sessions I lost all grip on my former self and it was harder each time to get it back again.

It went on like this for a couple of days until my Hunger refused to be locked up again. It was a sunny day and I knew she would be home any minute from training, sweaty and glorious, my Athena. I knew I had to leave before then, or I would do something stupid, something to make her mad. I couldn't lose her, but I couldn't stop rubbing myself either. I needed to sweet release, needed this powerful wave washing away what little conscious thought I had left. So here I was in the shower feverishly rubbing my clit and enjoying my sweet surrender that was real in sex crazed visions only, or was it. That's when I heard the door. I turned off the water immediately and rushed out of the shower, frantically trying to get dressed as fast as possible, while willing my fingers away from my dripping pussy. I managed to get my bra and panties on before the door opened. Enter Athena. God, how could she look so perfect, like Michelangelo himself had carved her out of stone this very moment, and placed a thousand little diamond drops all over her body. She had already stripped out of her training gear and was standing in the still steam filled bathroom in her matching black bra and panties. She stood there, less than 1 feet from me and just seeing her divine muscles in slender form glistening with what surely tasted like the essence of the heavens, her moist hair, hiding the bright blue spark of her crystal eyes, as she tilted her head slightly, assessing the state I was in. It was as if time slowed and every little diamond dropping from a hair tip forced itself into absolute focus. I watched the unwilling decent of drop after drop of this divine essence, that defied gravity longer then it should have, watched her hot body radiating with pulses of pure energy, that hit me like tidal waves of joyful promises. My Hunger was refusing to bow to reason, I wanted to close the distance between us, touch this delicate skin, rip of that soaked bra and devour those big sweaty tits of hers, lick the sweat off of every inch of this heavenly creature, wanted to smell her moist hair and I didn't care what it would cost me. She must have seen my intentions, for before I moved a muscle time sped up again and just as one more drop was wasted on the bathroom floor my lust crazed mind registered a sharp pain in my cheek. I regained focus and heard the strange sound of filigree yet strong fingers leaving an imprint on my face. Her eyes were burning with blinding bright fury as she slapped my face again. For the first time the insults were shouted at me, what kind of sick slut I was, that she would beat me badly if I ever tried to touch her, that I should get my degenerate dyke ass out of her sight before she lost her composure. Her full naturally red lips moved in perfect synchrony with her flying hair as she told me that I was the most useless whore she had ever been forced to be around, I saw her delicate fingers form a fist that promised power beyond measure. Fear got the better of me and I looked to the floor mumbling how sorry I was and that it wasn't like that, to avoid being seriously hurt. She seemed satisfied with the result of her showing me where my place was. She calmed down and told me to get the out of there and make myself useful by doing her laundry. I walked past her, not daring to look and had almost closed the door when she harshly told me to wait. I extended my hand as I was told and felt it being filled with hot and moist fabric. I looked at my hand and saw her bra and panties. She told me to wash those too. I realized the implication of the treasure in my hands, she had no clothes left to hinder my sight, she was standing there nude. I had to risk it, I looked up and for the first time I saw her true magnificence. Athena after having vanquished the worthless Trojan soldiers and covered in sweat, blood and glorious victory could not have been a more thrilling sight. A peerless beauty, perfectly round and big breasts, that did not bow to gravity, crowned with stiff pinkish nipples, over a flat muscular stomach that lead to a cleanly shaven pussy. I had never marveled at the sight of a pussy in what few explicit movies I had seen, but her sweat smeared pussy with a an ever so slightly opened labia burned into my brain and fueled my lust. I had less than a second to take it all in for that was all she allowed me for now, before slapping me again. A lot harder this time, the intense pain brought tears to my eyes. And before she closed the door behind her and in doing so showed me that perfectly round granite ass of hers, she told me that stupid perverted cunts like me needed slapping to understand their place and respect boundaries.