Hero's Tale (or, A Heroic Homeric)

not gained by morrow dawn, they'd sue for peace. Still worse,
they'd bind up Aechus as an offering—to be
eviscerated at the whim of livid king.
Impelled by desperation, desperate gambit he
did try. In rustic raiment, hid by dusk, he to
the city wall did creep (sure death if he was caught).

He tried to sneak the side-gate; but, as luck would have,
was nabbed by night-watch Dymon. Wanton profligate
he was, who'd oft caroused with Aechus—yet, he'd took
the side of king, as likelier to end on top.
"Oho," exulted watchman, "Lordly rat I've caught,
worth lordly sum of gold to king!" Just one thing now
gave cornered rebel hope: he knew with scruple and
with honor Dymon never had acquaintance made.

"Hold fast," rogue soothed, "you caught me fair, and rich reward
will surely reap. But which reward would be most sweet?
Base metal, cold, devoid of life? Or breathing lass,
bound over as your concubine? In whom you might
(in brief) dip prick as often as desired? I speak
not of degraded slag, but one you praised to Gods
when in the cups: fair Hero—unattainable,
may seem—but yours, if we but pass this port tonight."

Conniver judged his target well—no other lure
had stood a chance to land this prey. But thought of that
enchanting woman, servile tamed to every lust-
laced whim? 'Twas pot too rich to fold the hand (despite
his deep-set and well-founded doubts that Aechus could
be trusted.) All was quick decided: Dymon would
betray the town's defenses; then when Pethus was
deposed, the turncoat would pluck Hero for his spoils.

One hour thence, ambitious lord returned—this time
escorted by his bodyguard. Eight dozen men:
hard-bitten, heartless fighting beasts, unswerving in
fidelity to Aechus. Leaving without word
to fellow captains, masked by soft-step secrecy,
they reached the vulnerable passageway unmarked.
Once there, disloyal Dymon saw them in, and soon,
without alarm, they overmatched the gate-house crew.

Deceitful Aechus knew the thread the Fates had spun
for him would hinge on hours to come. He held in palm
an opportunity most rare—to snatch the town,
and royal clan, before they grasped the mortal threat.
What then, though? Enemies and rivals faced him down
on every side. To thread this needle, knave must call
on all the guile and cruelty he possessed. By end
of day, vowed Aechus, he'd be dead… or else be king!

IV

Sly plotter knew first step must be to stealthy lay
his hands on Pethus. If could not be done, all else
would be for naught. Like armored fist, the tight-knit band
made quiet time through lifeless streets. At palace door,
invaluable service Dymon once again
provided—lulling drowsy guards, 'til they could be
approached and gutted. Barring entrance after them,
troops moved to strike, before full vigilance was raised.

Indeed, disturbance had attracted some remark.
But sleeping citadel was slow to rouse and sense
the crisis now impending. Some of Aechus' men
attacked the hall where Pethus' life-guards dozed. Though less
in number, ruthless band still cut a swath through foes
dream-addled and unarmed. Along with them died king's
best chance of saving. Aechus moved toward royal rooms,
dispatching watch outside with overwhelming force.

Stunned Pethus did have time to bar the door; then naught
to do but cower with his few retainers, poised
for the expected rescue. But the minutes passed,
and no help came, nor sign of struggle in his name.
Soon battering began upon his chamber port.
He knew it would not hold, and so he called for terms.
Cross-fingered, Aechus swore upon Hephaestus' forge:
if door unbolt, nor king nor daughter would be harmed.

Once Pethus and his Hero were in-hand, the main
loose end was dimwit Dymon. Man already had
been making eyes at lovely maid, his promised prize.
Though Aechus hadn't yet decided what to do
with princess fair, he never, with this turncoat, had
the least intent to share. So, loomed a-back of grin-
mugged fool, he twice or thrice in kidneys shivved. Man fell
face-down—to hide one last, condemnatory glare.

With king secure, the palace shut, and life-guards dead
or tightly-tied, tense Aechus pondered his next move.
Though momentarily on top, his circumstance
remained unstable. In the city, warlords who
had (more or less) backed Pethus could still tip the scales.
Outside, his erstwhile allies seethed, supposing him
twice-traitor turned. And rabble-mob was wild card:
they had no love for king, but guessed upstart was worse.

Indifferent to his regal captives, Aechus mused
aloud. "My foes are legion, but divided. Now,
whilst I have upper hand, decisive gesture is
what's needed—ruthless act to both secure my claim,
and also subjugate and terrify. 'Tis plain:
by public execution, our good king must die—
at dawn-break killed, in truly gruesome style. Will serve
to overawe, shore up my title, and strike fear."

Old Pethus faced this stoically enough—'twas how
most kings did guess they'd end their days. Not so
his daughter: horrified, dismayed, she gasped to hear
foul regicide so calm devised. Collected wits,
though; and, erasing tears with shy, coy smile, she spoke:
"Great lord, sure, we did sell you short. My hand you've now
well earned. How glad! I could not breathe of this before,
but… oh, potent stallion, you always I did crave!"

"But now: what cause for talk of death? Why nuptial bliss
should mar with bloody deeds? Let Pethus fade to dim
obscurity, retired ease, the simple life;
while I, your fruitful and most docile queen, do bask
in your reflected glory." Sonorous these words
fell on his ears. How sweet, that she who had once dealt
such famous scorn, now had to plead, and flatter his
virility! (Though, flattery he knew to be).

'Twas not her fawning talk which gave him pause, though, but
a nagging doubt. To kill some guards, or even man
of some regard, like Dymon? Well, 'twas par for course
in coups of this persuasion. Bald-faced slaughter of
a king, however? That was less oft done. Might seem
profane: like claiming Godly dues. Moreover, would
set precedent that might well prove unfortunate
in days to come, should roles here ever be reversed.

At length he spoke: "I'd happy be to spare king's life;
yet all of his legitimacy must be stripped
away, transferred to me. Abundant clear must be,
as well, how dreadful is the risk incurred if I
am crossed—how boundless and how harsh is my resolve.
Perhaps if I do blind him, and… in square
castrate him! So, by gelding render womanly! Sure that
could do." And fiend he was, he smiled at the thought.

Deep, Hero shuddered at these sinister designs.
Yet still, she better thought with honey sway him, than
with scolding words. "What needs thou make a woman, when
I'll give myself to you so eagerly? Don't stoop
to stain voluptuous delights with gory hands,
beloved lord!" //
                         // Oh Gods, 'twas glorious to hear
her flirt and beg—what power it conveyed. Hot lust
did stir his loins; appalling notions piqued his brain:

"One other way I can devise to prove to all
that what was king's is mine. And resuscitate
my manhood (which thou did malicious wound)
in public eye. I'll leave your sire unharmed if you,
'beloved Hero,' do surrender self to me,
full freely and completely, not in marriage bed
but city square. To be—in short—no wife, nor whore,
but farmyard beast: stripped, fucked, inseminate."

V

How Pethus groaned at this sick bargain. Pain could bear—
or even render coin to Charon if need be.
But: live 'neath pall of such disgrace, and see offspring
so vile besmirched? In front of every gawking knave
and cat-call wench who happened by? He must forbid
it: "With brute strength you might impose, but willingly
she'll never give her body up to you!" Irked by
the man's gall, Aechus struck him mute with gauntlet hand.

Poor Hero flinched. Pure desperation drove her now—
the need to spare paterfamilias from harm,
and buy more precious time. But still her soul did quail
from what was asked. "Lord, surely there's no need? I stand
prepared to give myself—take what you will, as right
of conquest dictates. Nor shall we obstruct you when
you take the throne. But 'tis not right to foist such shame,
and such obscenity, on maid in open venue!"

The victor's mouth contorted into sneer. "Don't think
to dicker with me woman; that mistake your sire
did make. I'll have what I will have—if terms of mine
you will not meet, then it's his life that's forfeit." //
                                                             // She bowed
her head to signal meek submission. "Brutal deeds
are often done, yet still Gods and tradition urge
for us some bounds of decency…. But, true—I'm in
your grasp, and have no voice to challenge your commands."

With her capitulation, the aspiring king
quick spurred his men to action. For, there was no time
to lose! They stripped frail Pethus, shackled him, and gagged
his mouth. Then Aechus, Pethus, Hero three did pass
to city plaza, shielded by usurper's band
of steely ruffians. There they mounted up
the dais-platform—on which social rituals
were held, in easy view of every citizen.

First rays of sun sliced slantwise yellow through the air.
The temple chimes clanked clamorous, arousing one
and all to view transfer of power. Groggy still,
both high and low amassed—and goggled at tableau
they found arrayed on stage. They none had slightest clue
of what had happened in the palace, while they pre-
dawn drowse indulged. Yet, Aechus knew he must exploit
the chaos fast, 'fore rival claims could coalesce.

And so, his voice rang cold: "This old, decrepit man
who stands unclad before you—one who long did lord
it over you in greed-steeped tyranny—he is
no longer fit to rule! And so he names me in
his place to sit—King Aechus, I will be to you.
And most benign and generous, if you but heed
my royal words and proclamations. But, as you
will see, most stern indeed to those who would defy."

"As sign of his approval, Pethus granted all
he owns to me—as far as to the clothes from off
his back, good soul!" This prompted snickers from the throng.
"With such rich generosity, he's much appeased
my enmity, aroused when he rebuffed my suit,
and then unjustly punished my august self. But
with one I am unreconciled. This heartless bitch
has my good honor stained, and bill remains unpaid!"

"M-most wise and potent lord," a flustered Hero fought
to stammer out, "…t-that is to say, my king. I sore
regret those idle words, meant just in jest, but in
bad taste and aimed right poorly. Anyone can see—
as could then too—what good and virile qualities
thou doth possess!" //
                         // He frowned. "So tardy an apology
can scarce blot out such injury. Yet, virility,
you can, indeed, aid me to publicly display."

Then louder, for the mass: "With all his chattels, frayed
old man conveyed his daughter. Now a common wench
(though fair enough to eye), she's sunk too low for king
like me to wed. Yet, look! The garb she wears still far
exceeds her place, as beggar's child! Slag, take off those
unseemly robes—you have not leave to wear them!" Hush
came over crowd, to see so-recent princess made
the butt of such humiliation. What would she do?

Stock still, pale white, like statue in the palace yard,
fraught maiden long remained—gazed out above the heads
of folk, intent on finding peaceful spot within
to hide throughout ordeal to come. Old Pethus tried
to rise, protest through rag-stuffed mouth, but rough-hewn guards
restrained and cuffed him silent. Then, at last, with deep
and shuddering inhale, calm Hero came to life.
All quiet grace, she lifted hands to clasp of belt.

The mob was rapt. They were well versed with female form,
of course—but free-born woman (not to say one bred
of royal sire) would die to flaunt her naked wares. On likes
of Hero, nude, most males had never thought to feast
their eyes…. The maid, meanwhile, tried act as if she was
but in the women's baths. She unclasped girdle. Then,
(…quick shallow breaths…), the shoulders of her tunic-dress
unpinned. Brief quaver, and… she let the tunic drop.

For her, life had been marked by ease—thus, easy had
life laid its marks on her. Her creamy body, warm
and smooth, had never known of toil or want. Bare arc
of shoulder; sweep of clavicle; each succulent,
soft curve of calf, thigh, hip did beckon to the touch.
Elastic, pendant breasts swayed gently; generous
pink areola, nipples firmed. And down below:
what hid by golden curls?… Flushed, Aechus licked his lips.

VI

"Though lewd, does not this ornament well-beautify
our town, my people?" Aechus gloated openly.
"Much like to marble form which stands in yard of my
new home—though possibly more finely wrought. I hope
you find it pleasing." Then, to Hero straight addressed:
"Your new attire far better suits your fallen station.
Yet, pliant prostitute must know to hawk herself
more eagerly than this. Provide them better view!"

Bewildered Hero wished to mollify—but true,
she knew not what to do. No prude, and yet had led
a sheltered life from place of highest privilege. She'd
had stirrings of desire; and partway sated them
midst privacy of grove, or alcove. Shielded, though,
she'd been from brazen bawdiness of slags and slaves.
Dismayed, confused, she could but stand there, bare exposed.
Tormenter laughed. "What say? Should render wench some aid?!"

At gesture, two of his most burly thugs approached,
to grip her silken thighs and lift her nimbly in
the air. "Just so! Thus, all can ogle her delights
unhindered! Yet…, my stone-hewn Aphrodite prompts
this musing: statue, though unclothed, does still withhold
one modest secret. Goddess coyly withholds that
which lies between her legs…. But here, no fixity
prevents. Let's open Hero's hidden treasure-box!"

As maid absorbed the import, creeping blush did paint
her face and chest with hues of crimson. Hoist in four
rock-muscled arms, she was a puppet to their whims
(nor had intent to fight them anyway). They leaned
her back and pried her legs apart, revealing pink
expanse between: full labia—shut primly closed,
and half-concealed by spun-gold floss—and, tucked below,
rose puckered anus. Shamed, she turned her face away.

Piqued, Aechus lightly ran a hand between her thighs,
no more than tantalizing brush of thatch (she twitched
away in shy recoil). "What say good folk of mine?
'Tis pleasant tract to view, and goads one to explore—
does not?" The masses hesitated, unsure what
was wanted (though a handful of the coarse-spun louts
did ragged cheer unleash). "Look, slut's clamshell keeps back
her last remaining asset—but we shall have it!"

With gesture, Aechus prodded men, between whom maid
did dangle. Easy shifting her small weight, they reached
hands up inside her thighs, and spread her lips apart.
Inviting gash sprung open midst her golden fleece:
all pliant, succulent, soft dusky-rose. Within,
the clitoris was small and hooded; delicate
folds, oh-so tender, led to dainty hole, her best
kept prize: vagina, tight, but now pulled slight ajar.

Town's servitors and slaves began to shed restraint.
They thrilled to see the highest-born so utterly
demeaned; and told this mood with lusty chorus of
obscenities and taunts. The less-decorous males
craned necks, to try to look down Hero's tempting cock-
canal—as if they thought to see straight to her womb.
Slumped over, helpless, Pethus ached to hear mob mock
his daughter's shame, and raw vulnerability.

A-strut the dais like a farmyard cock, the ham-
fist villain poked her opening with shallow thumb
(as haggling crone does test the wares). Ignoring maid's
reflexive squirm, he flashed proprietary smirk.
"Whore has long put on airs of virtue and
superiority! Yet now," (he lied) "cunt's cunt
betrays her: passage seems well-trod. See how does twitch
and gape?! And I judge Pethus, 'twas, who sampled first."

"N-nay, stay, good liege," she hot-faced rasped back at him (from
her awkward spread). "I am true maiden, virgin pure,
my privacy un-trespassed by dear father, or
by any man, 'til you, yourself, today!" //
                                                             // He calm
replied: "how came you as my property, wench?" //
                                                                   // Glanced
away, in scared dismay, she hesitated. Then
spit out, unwillingly: "M-my father… freely g-gave
me, as a gift…. To honor you as our new king."

Rewarding her with evil smile, "And so he did—
plus warrant that you were intact and undefiled.
But, no: your cunt is loose and eager. Stuffed, it's been,
by cocks untold, and seed by gallon. Do you still
choose to defame me, by denying evidence
which each soul here can see?" //
                                     // Crestfallen, she gave way:
"No, king, I'd never contradict you…. A-as you say,
I am no maid, but carnal pleasures have indulged."

Abrupt, he shifted tone, from oily hiss to rage-
filled roar: "Don't mince words like a princess, slut—you are
no royal bloom! Pronounce it plain!" //
                                                 // She sputtered, all
a-flustered; but quick grasping what was wanted, so
did muster every gutter word she'd ever heard
in castle gossip: "…Er, 'tis true, my lord: …each day
I offer up this… pussy, here, to some new stud;
in hopes they'll stick in dick, and flood my cunt with cum."

The girl's surrender and self-accusation were
delicious. "Now the truth comes out! And do you claim
I lie when I declare the one deflowered you was
incestuous he-goat Pethus?" //
                                           // Cowed, she must concur:
"Ye-es… —p-p-pa, it was, who fucked me first… and first d-did fill
this daughter's willing womb with gush of virile sperm…"
A tear streaked down her face from tight-shut eye, and to