Prophet Seeking Pt. 02

It was the damndest thing. One second Phoebe was bringing her fist back to strike his smug, annoyingly handsome face, the next second her arm was frozen in mid-air. She stared at her raised fist in shock before letting out a roar of frustration.

"The belt has many tricks as you will see. Herakles gave it to me himself."

"The girdle of Hippolyta." She choked out in shock.

"Ah, so you know of it."

"Of course I do. It's part of our history." Practically required reading for all Amazon girls, right up there with The Art of War and The Vagina Monologues. "Our Queen Hippolyta gave it to Herakles to fulfill one of his twelve labors. And then he betrayed her."

"The situation was more complicated than the tales tell. He loved her. But sadly it did end in her death." An unmistakable look of pain darted across his normally stoic face.

"Serves her right for trusting a man." A bitter edge crept into Phoebe's voice.

"I suppose your patron Ares felt the same way because he since put a curse on the belt. The wearer is at the mercy of the one who places it on them. They must obey their every command."

"Impossible!" She reeled in astonishment as the implications of his words began to sink in.

"Would the lady like another demonstration? -- Your arm must be getting tired. Why don't you lower it." The limb tingled as if sparked with an electric charge and no matter how hard she resisted it shot down to her side. "Now bow."

Humiliation burned hot in her cheeks as her body dipped at the waist in a submissive bow. Her cheeks may have shown humiliation but her eyes burned with anger.

"If looks could kill." He whistled as he took in her outraged expression.

"You'd be a smoldering grease spot on the floor right now." She seethed.

"In that case, we both might feel a bit more comfortable if you had less weaponry." Like a well-trained SWAT member his hands began a systematic sweep of her body. In no time they had found the short sword at her side, the bow on her back and daggers of varying size secreted in her clothes. Including the one she thought quite cleverly hidden in the lining of her skirt. With a raised brow he looked at the substantial arsenal of weapons that had piled up on the table near the fire. "Perhaps a strip search is in order."

Taking one of her knives from the table, he swiftly cut her clothing to neat little shreds until she was down to nothing but the girdle clinging to her narrow waist. Suddenly she felt vulnerable, which was a new experience for Pheobe. It was not the lack of clothing that made her feel so naked. She was an Amazonian of the Alcippe clan. A warrior. Control and power had always been her armor, more vital than her sword and bow. Stripped of those defenses she was lost. She longed to cover her most exposed parts with her hands but her limbs simply would not comply.

Phil wasn't making it any easier for her. He stood very close, slight smirk on his lips, his thumb stroking small circles on his stubbled chin. A gesture that tugged on her memory. "Hmm, what to do with you now? I had thought to make you polish my boots or scrub my pots but seeing you there in all your glory I think your talents would be entirely wasted as a scullery maid."

She smirked. "I don't do dishes but I can make a splendid pair of garters out of a man's entrails. Gimme the knife and I'll show you."

"Stand by the fire." He directed, ignoring her threat.

When issuing commands his voice took on a rough edge. The sound of it made her lungs tighten so that she had to fight for breath. The arousal from earlier returned in full force. It was maddening. Her body just wouldn't listen to reason. It continued to be attracted to the detestable Argonaut.

"Clasp your hands behind your head." Her traitorous body did as instructed. The position forced her chin up and her breasts forward.

He circled her slowly like a hunter, admiring her nakedness. Obviously liking what he saw if the sizable tent in his tunic was any indication. "So capable and yet so beautiful. Your body was made to please, to serve. Isn't that right?"

Now rough hands joined in to admire her form. They ran up from the curve of her hip, over the grooves of the cinched belt, finally resting on the supple swell of her breasts. He touched her possessively and without hesitation, as if he owned her. When his thumbs grazed the dark circles of her nipples they instantly peaked with excitement.

"Isn't that right?" Suddenly he pinched the tender buds.

"Yes." Phoebe shrieked. She wanted to spit at the indignity of her situation, yet she felt her head nodding obediently like a marionette on strings.

Anger and desire warred within her. Phoebe tried to hold onto her rage though she couldn't resist the call of her traitorous body. The sensation of his rough fingers rolling her sensitive flesh back and forth shot bolts of pleasure to her rapidly swelling pussy. She let her head loll back and a whimper of lust escape her lips. Phil smiled. Without warning his grip tightened and he tugged upward so that she had to raise onto her tiptoes as he lifted her by her captured nipples.

"Do you like that?" He hissed.

"I don't know." She answered, which was mostly the truth. She really wasn't sure if she liked the sublime torture.

"There is a simple way to find out. Spread your legs further."

Her thighs fell open.

He released one breast so that his free hand could explore the place between her thighs. Sliding a digit deep inside of her, he held his glistening finger in front of her face and then slowly brought it to her lips so that she could taste her own rich earthy arousal.

"You're soaking. You want to please me don't you?" Tears of confusion welled up in her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks. The hand still trapping her nipple tugged her breast up a little further. "Tell me the truth."

"Yes, I want to please you." The words spilled from her lips.

"Well, then. Who am I to deny a lady? Get on your knees." His eyes were twinkling as if he was enjoying her torment. What a prick! A soon to be prickless prick if she had anything to say about it.

Despite her inner resistance her uncooperative knees buckled on their own. She found herself kneeling on the hard dirt floor before the despotic son of a harpy. Inwardly she vowed her revenge, planning scenes of torture that involved turning Phil from a baritone to a castrato. Using a very dull knife.

"Yes master." She declared, her voice practically dripping with insincerity.

"I see you disapprove. Am I to believe that you would treat me any differently if the tables were turned?" The flash of fury in her eyes was all the answer he needed. "That's what I thought."

Yet her rage did nothing to curb his enthusiasm, she suspected it only heightened it. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later as he reached beneath his tunic to retrieve his cock. It was very big and very hard and only inches from her face. He grasped the shaft and pumped his fist along its engorged length. Its purple head glistened in the flickering light of the fire. Despite her anger, Phoebe couldn't help but admire the majesty of the thing. Her tongue tingled, longing to taste him. Yet her mind recoiled at the idea of performing a task intended to put her in her place.

So when she felt the silky tip of his manhood press against her lips she stubbornly squeezed them shut. He could easily have ordered her to open them but he didn't. Instead he reached down and pinched her nostrils shut. Willfully she resisted, merely glaring defiantly into his eyes as he grinned down at her, patiently waited for her to run out of air. The outcome was inevitable. Stubborn or not, eventually she had to take a breath and when she did he promptly forced his way down her throat.

The sizable girth parted her lips wide, his large head butting up against the back of her throat made her choke and sputter, bringing her dangerously close to losing what shreds of composure she had left. Just as panicked tears began to prick at her eyes her throat relaxed and she managed a few shaky breaths through her nose. He gave her a moment to recover and then took complete control. Lewdly he fucked her mouth, directing her motions up and down the shaft with a fist balled tightly around her raven hair. He was not gentle. Phoebe braced her hands on his powerful thighs and let herself be used.

As her composure returned so too did the yearning heat between her thighs. Every sharp clench of his jaw or gasp of breath Phil made sent a tremor straight to her clit. Her whole body quivered with a longing to please him. It was as if in pleasing him she was pleasing herself. The belt's magic, no doubt.

Hopeless to resist, she gave in to the feeling, working him with her hands while taking him further into her mouth. Her tongue joined in massaging the tender spot on the underside of the head every time she ran her mouth down his length. The low approving moan from deep down in Phil's chest practically made her beam with joy. Phoebe's jaw ached. Saliva dribbled down her chin. The ground bit harshly into her knees but she didn't care. She carried on unbothered, wanting only to bring him pleasure.

"Gods, your mouth is so hot." He whispered between clenched teeth. She wasn't sure he had meant to say that out loud, which gave her a thrill of pride. Even as a slave, on her knees, she could still wrest some power from him. He must have guessed her thoughts because before she knew it he had pulled himself from her mouth. She frowned at the absence, instantly missing the feel of him inside of her.

"What a sight you are, naked in the dirt, plaything for a lowly man. What would your fellow Amazons say if they could see you now." He reached down to casually stroke her breast as he taunted.

"How should I know?"

He quietly tsked. "I bet you could guess. I think they'd say that you're a dirty, little slut. Don't you?"

"Yes." The flush of humiliation sent a flood of moisture to her cunnie. She had never felt so dangerously out of control. "Now are you going to fuck me or are you just going to bark orders all night?"

His dark eyes flashed at her challenge and he snatched his hand away. "On all fours." She followed his command, this time with a bit less inner reluctance. His authoritative tone seemed to speak to her on a level she hadn't even known existed. It made her feel safe and feminine.

Yuck! What the hell was she thinking. Must be that damn belt, she thought glumly.

"Arch your back like a cat in heat. Good, now part those hungry little lips for me."

Embarrassment rose up inside her but her hand dutifully sprang into action, snaking between her legs and parting the smooth lips of her sex, opening her fully to him. He brushed his finger across the little bud at the top of her needy slit. His touch was feather light but oh so good.

She gasped.

He paused.

The honesty of her unguarded show of pleasure scythed through the air between them.

"You want this don't you?"

More than anything! She turned her head to hide from the intensity of his gaze. She knew he would read the naked truth of her desire was written all over her face.

"I'm going to do whatever I want with your body and you're going to like it. Aren't you?" He continued to tease with his gentle strumming finger until she was sure she would go as mad as a maenad.

"Yes." Her head managed a shaky nod. She both loved and loathed his firm command, his total ownership of her body.

"Good, and maybe if you're a really good girl I might give you what you came here for." It took her lust fogged mind a moment to understand his meaning. What she had come for. The mission. His seed. That all seemed so unimportant with his fingertip doing torturously light circles around that hypersensitive bunch of nerves in her clit.

"But on my terms" He abruptly removed his hand, smiling at the little sigh of disappointment Phoebe couldn't quite manage to stifle. "I say when, I say how. Repeat that."

"You say when. You say how." She answered, no longer knowing if her words were true or a product of the belt's enchantment. Did it matter?

There was no use denying it. The crudeness of his words enticed her. The directness of his commands made her insides quiver like nothing before. The wet proof of her excitement gathered between her legs threatening to pour down her thighs.

"Good girl, now offer your cunt to me. Use both hands." He directed, her back arched further in response.

In order to follow his instruction she had to bend sharply at the waist, lowering her face to the ground so that her cheek rubbed against the dirt floor. Her ass was now shamelessly high in the air in an overtly submissive pose. A cool gust tingled her pussy as she spread it open wider to his view.

Phoebe froze and waited... and waited. She could practically feel his eyes upon her, sizing her up, deliberating what to do with her next. All she could do was remain still, knowing she was utterly at his mercy. The air shifted as she sensed him move up behind her. Her heart raced. But still he did not touch her.

The anticipation was torturous. The feeling of vulnerability total. Still a tremor of lust wracked her body. It was a revelation to discover just what delights could be found in being open wide before a man, to do with as he wished, nothing hidden, nothing withheld.

No, not a revelation, she tried to remind herself, but a delusion born of treacherous magic.

Magic or not, her heart beat even faster when she finally felt him position his erection between the lips of her parted sex. He lingered there to rub the thick tip against the wet, swollen folds. She felt a thrill of expectation when his hard cock brushed the fingers that still spread her open.

Letting out a claiming grunt, he slid inside her easily. In one decisive motion of the hips they were joined. Wasting no more time he began to drive into her, setting a demanding rhythm. He filled her completely with hard punishing strokes. Her cheek ground roughly into the dirt. His fingers gripped into her hips brutally, keeping her ass aloft as he drove in and out. She knew there would be bruises there the next day but she didn't care. As a warrior, she understood that acts of passions were even better when delivered with a bit of violence.

With a sudden jerk, he pulled her up by her dark hair until her back was pressed flat to his sweat dampened chest. His breath gently teased the nape of her neck. Roughly he yanked her head to the side so he could plunder her mouth, his tongue hot and demanding against hers. He pounded away while holding her tight, obliging her to take whatever he gave her.

Phoebe choked out cries of pleasure, her head falling back against his shoulder. She was helpless to resist. He was breaking down all her carefully erected defenses with brutal efficiency. The firm but steady rocking of his hips bringing her closer and closer to oblivion.

Her orgasm was so near, as tantalizing as ripe fruit dangling just out of reach. She could practically taste it. But a little warning bell rang in the back of her mind. Deep down Phoebe knew she mustn't reach for it. She mustn't give him this ultimate victory. She may not be able to withhold her obedience from this man who would take everything from her but she could withhold her pleasure.

Yet her adversary refused to relent. The gloves were off. His motions were forceful, demanding. She could tell he was close too by his clenched jaw and heaving chest. Still he kept working her, holding back his satisfaction in order to claim a rarer prize; mastering an Amazon. Distantly she wondered why he didn't command her to come. Her body would have no choice but to comply. Yet he didn't. He refused to take her last shred of control. He must want her to give it over willingly.

Clearly she had underestimated her opponent. She had thought complete control over her body would be enough to satisfy Phil's need to dominate. Oh, how wrong she had been. He obviously wanted more. He sought to master her will as well. It frightened her. Yet what frightened her even more was the part of her that was tempted to give it to him.

He ground against her wearing away her resolve one barrage at a time, like waves slowly wearing down the seashore. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for her to give in to the unbearable onslaught of pleasure. Yet her pride would not let her surrender. She whimpered, her muscles tensing in confusion. As if sensing her turmoil, the machine-like motion of Phil's hips suddenly ceased.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, the tone of his voice no longer commanding but surprisingly kind.

Stop?! Her mind and body cried out in horror at the very thought.

And then it hit her. With a jolt of mortifying pleasure Phoebe realized that her desire held her in place more firmly than the binding corset. She no longer cared about her clan, her position or her pride. She only cared about the blissful sensations that she knew he could give her.

"No." She hissed between gritted teeth. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

New and intense feelings flooded her before she could even identify them. Normally she had so many people counting on her, so many decisions to make. It was exhausting. But under Philoctetes firm command she was free of all that. There was something oddly liberating in finally letting go of the reigns of control. Of utterly submitting to the will of another.

To her kind submission had been something to be feared and avoided at all costs. It hadn't occurred to her that surrender could be so freeing. Until him. When he resumed his thrusts she no longer resisted the swiftly mounting pleasure, giving in to it completely. Her hips began to lift up to meet his, her lips let out little moans, small actions but admissions, nevertheless, of her ultimate surrender.

Philoctetes sensed her change, instinctively plunging deeper. In a delirium of pleasure he sank his teeth into the tender flesh at the base of her neck. Eager to mark her. To claim her. Then with a quick shove he pushed her back onto all fours. Rough hands kneaded her ass lifting it higher and forcing her spine into an unnatural arch. With her hips tilted further she reveled in the deeper intrusion of his cock.

She bucked back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Each time his cock hit the sweet spot deep inside her it brought her closer to that perilous abyss. Her body grew taut and quavering like the string of her trusty bow. The tight sheath of her pussy shuddered around him, gripping his shaft with increasing force. He was clearly trying to hold back his pleasure, jaw clenched tightly in determination.

"You are mine." He announced in a husky whisper. "Your body is mine to command, your pussy is mine to fuck."

"Yes, yes, yes." She screamed.

Thwack! He smacked her ass with his open palm, hard. Hard enough to make her scream... and cum. She went off like a barrel of Greek fire. There was no question of holding it back this time. The force was unstoppable. Endless pulses of pleasure rippled through her from her sex outward until even her fingertips and toes tingled. He continued to fuck her through the last trembling pulses of pleasure and only then did he join her, flooding her insides with warmth.

"Good girl." Phil purred stroking her cheek with his palm.

Phoebe leaned into the caress marveling at the rightness of his touch. She had never dreamed anything could feel so right. Submission carried so steep a price she hadn't imagined it could hold such sweet rewards. When he bid her clean him up she did it without even a thought of refusal, happily taking him into her mouth and licking up every drop of their shared pleasure.

Finally, they tumbled to the ground together, the heady smell of sex surrounding them. She allowed him to pull her to him, their sweat covered bodies nestled together with ease. She had never felt this way before. Exhausted, dominated, debased, and completely at peace.