Serving the Amazons Ch. 01

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A fantasy about an ancient time.
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Part 1 of the 11 part series

Updated 10/26/2022
Created 03/08/2003
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anteros
anteros
534 Followers

WARNING! This story does contain violence. None of the violence is sexual and all of the sex is consensual, but if violence really disturbs you, please don't read this story.

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Chapter 1

No one really knows how old our Earth is. Who really knows if the Earth is 4 billion years old or 10 trillion years old? For centuries, scientists have proclaimed their theories to be facts, only to be proven wrong by subsequent generations. Does the vanity of present scientists allow them to think that their theories won't be disproved in 100 or even only 20 years?

Modern historians tell us that the first great civilizations of the world originated a mere 4000 years ago. They are wrong. Although no structures exist from the first dawn of civilization, man possessed great cities, science and medicine nearly half a million years before the Egyptians started building their first pyramid.

Many of the legends of ancient Greece and Rome were exaggerations, but had basis in fact. The stories were embellished over the millennia as all stories are. After the stories were told thousands of times, warriors that excelled in battle became heroes that could kill one hundred men in a day. An army known for their ferocity became "Titans" and great kings and queens became the gods and goddesses of Olympus.

This is a story of that time. The legend of Atlantis was based on a kingdom that existed long before the ice age. Atlantis was a wealthy and powerful nation ruled by a benevolent king. He was a wise king, a man of science and knowledge. Atlantis' power was ensured by superior technology. The king sold the fruits of this technology to the rest of the world, but jealously guarded its secrets.

All nations were forced to trade with Atlantis, since Atlantis alone could manufacture the iron and bronze weapons to ensure their protection from invaders and the medicine to protect their citizens from disease. The king was wise enough not to try to rule the world by force, but was clearly the most powerful man in the world, because he controlled the world's wealth.

This is not the story of Atlantis, but the story of one man. He was not born in Atlantis, but a hundred miles away, in no kingdom or village, but in a tent a few yards away from one of the many roads to Atlantis.

The boy's mother died just a few hours after his birth, leaving his father to care for him. His father, a soldier for hire, knew he could not care for the boy alone, so he set out for the next village.

He felt great sorrow over the death of his wife and felt equally bad for his unnamed son. Without milk, his son would starve to death in just a few hours. He prayed that there would be a woman in the village that was willing to be his infant son's wet nurse, or at least a goat for milking.

He walked for half a day, seeing not a soul until he ambushed by bandits. There were four of them and even without a child to protect, he knew he was not likely to survive against these odds.

A warrior lives by his wits as well as his sword, and he quickly made several decisions and formed a plan of action. He knew he couldn't let go of his son, because the bandits would surely use him as a hostage. He ran to the trees and dropped his pack on the way. With a little luck the bandits would settle for his belongings and no blood would be shed here today.

He was not so lucky. The bandits ignored his pack and pursued him. When the warrior reached a thicket he drew his sword and turned to face them. At least this way, they couldn't attack him from behind. He realized that the bandits wanted his sword and his armor. They were more valuable than the few gold coins and the food in his pack. He also knew that he wouldn't survive long without them, so he had to stand and fight.

His iron sword was far superior to the bronze, wood and stone weapons of the bandits. He certainly could have defeated one or two of them, but four could overwhelm him. His plan was to find the right moment to charge them and try to kill the largest one quickly. Perhaps this would frighten the others off.

Again, luck was not with him today. The bandits did not continue their charge, but slowed and fanned out, trapping him against the thicket and giving him no opportunity for a surprise attack. He knew now that this was his day to die, but he was determined to take one of the bandits with him. He quickly, and as gently as he could, lowered his son to the ground next to him and pulled his long dagger with his left hand.

With a blade in each hand, and the bandits being lightly armored, he knew he could kill one of them. He had decided on which one to kill and which combination of dagger thrust and sword stroke to use. Either would kill the cursed bastard. His hoped that the sword would be parried and the dagger would find its way into the bandit's stomach. That way he would suffer, perhaps for days, before he died. But die he would.

The bandits moved closer and the warrior hoped that they would kill his son also. It was not a cruel thought, but a merciful one. He feared they would try to keep the boy alive to sell him into slavery. This would only prolong the child's suffering, as death was inevitable if he were not fed soon.

The warrior's intended target was one pace away from his intended fate. The warrior anticipated that he would be struck in the legs by a stone axe and bronze sword immediately after wounding his target. If he were allowed any good fortune today, one of the bandits would strike him in the head instead, killing him quickly. A trained warrior would go for the easier target of the legs, but these bandits may not. Even an ignorant bandit would know that their weapons wouldn't pierce the iron plates he wore over his torso.

The bandits stopped. The warrior waited for the last pace that would start and finish the battle in just a few seconds. Then his luck finally changed.

He heard the distinct sound of a bowstring being released, the low soft whistle of an arrow in flight and thud of the arrow finding its mark. The bandit the warrior intended to kill, was killed instantly as an arrow entered his face.

Before the arrow arrived, the warrior heard another bowstring released and another bandit had an arrow hit him in the stomach and pass completely through him. The bandit put his hands over the new hole in his midsection, took a few steps then fell forward as he took his last breath. The two remaining bandits turned and fled, but didn't get far. From the brush emerged a man and a woman.

The warrior didn't see them until the bandits were within striking distance. The powerful looking man nearly sliced one bandit in half with an iron sword and the woman struck the other bandit across the knees with the wooden shaft of an iron tipped spear.

The surviving bandit lay on the ground, moaning. He was conscious, but clearly in great pain. One of his knees bent in an unnatural position. He had dropped his sword when he fell and now he had the woman's razor sharp spear point pressed against the hollow of his throat.

The warrior stood motionless, stunned at the speed of the attack. He kept his weapons at the ready, unsure of what was to happen next. He heard a woman's voice from the trees behind him.

"Put your weapons away, Warrior. We will not kill you today."

He did not put his weapons away, but instead tried to locate the source of the voice. He noticed that two more women had emerged from the trees in front of him.

"Put your weapons away! If we intended to harm you, you would already be on the ground bleeding with the others."

The warrior, realizing the truth of this statement, sheathed his blades and picked up his son. Four more women emerged from the trees behind him. All four carried bows and short swords.

The women were tall and dressed in skins and cloth that were the combinations of gray, brown and the dull green of the forest. Their bows were as fine as he had ever seen and surprisingly stout for bows used by women. He wouldn't have thought that a woman would have the strength for such a bow.

His attention turned the lone man in the group. He was dressed similarly, but his chest was impossibly deep. He surely had some armor under the outer garments. None of the women wore armor.

The apparent leader of the group was a raven-haired woman. She stepped over to the surviving bandit.

"Give me a reason I should let you live," she snapped at him.

He did not answer. She glared at him with a look of utter contempt and then kicked him on his damaged knee. The bandit screamed.

"Give me a reason to let you live," she again demanded.

The bandit, very fearfully, started jabbering. "He stole the child from our village. We were only trying to get it back."

"It?" asked the woman. "Why not she? Why do you call her it?"

"I meant she!" blurted the bandit.

The woman stared directly into the bandit's eyes and asked, "How is it that you don't know that the stolen child is a boy?"

With that, she made eye contact with the woman holding the spear. The spear-wielding woman quickly put her full weight on the shaft. The spear went through the bandit's throat and into the ground. He only lurched once, since the sharp, broad spear point pierced his spinal cord. Death was instantaneous.

The warrior's first instinct was to speak to the man, but it was clear that he wasn't in charge of this band. He spoke to the woman that questioned the bandit.

"I thank you for saving us, dear lady." He bowed his head respectfully when he spoke.

"You are welcome, Warrior. We did the world a service by dispatching those vermin."

"Indeed you did. Is there anything I can do to repay you?" he asked.

"I believe there is, but I don't know if you are willing," said the woman.

"Ask, and it is yours, dear lady."

"Very well. I want your son."

These words struck him senseless as surely as a blow to the head. His mouth hung open for 10 seconds before he regained his wits.

"Why would you want to take my son? You are Amazons, are you not?"

"Yes, we are Amazons."

"But everyone knows that Amazons kill their male children! Why do you wish to harm my son?"

The Amazons and their male companion all laughed.

"Apparently everyone knows this except the Amazons. We do not kill children. We bear no male children so we must adopt them. We buy slaves, we take in orphans, but we treat them as one of our own. We have a man with us. He has lived with us nearly thirty years. Does he look dead to you? Does he behave as if he was even mistreated?"

"Why my son?"

"We have been watching you as you passed through our territory. You are a large and powerful looking man. Your son will likely be large and powerful also. This makes him ideally suited for training as a soldier and protector of the Amazons. We saw your wife die after giving birth to him. We know that he will not survive another day in your care. You can't even feed him. Give him to me and he will survive and be well treated. Keep him and he will die."

The warrior's eyes filled with tears. He knew that the Amazon spoke the truth about his son's chance of survival. He could not keep his son alive, but he didn't want his son to be a slave. He spoke to the man.

"I don't want my son to be a slave. What say you, soldier? Does she speak the truth?"

"Indeed she does. I have been well treated by the Amazons and I wish to have no other life. Your son will have a very pleasant life if you give him to my mistress," he said with a nod of his head toward the Amazon leader. "He will be allowed to leave when he comes of age, but I have never known a man who wished to do so."

The warrior kissed his son once on the forehead and held him out in the direction of the Amazon leader. She stepped forward and took the boy.

"Does he have a name, Warrior?"

"I didn't name him, but I was thinking of naming him after my wife's father. His name was Anteros."

"Very well, Warrior. Anteros it is. You have made the right choice. Anteros will be fed, clothed, educated, and trained to use a sword and bow. We will love him as our own child, and he will want for nothing. Farewell, Warrior. I must rush Anteros back to our camp. We have horses there and I will take him to our city and see that he is fed. You may pass through our territory, but do not attempt to follow us or reach our city. We will not allow this. The only men allowed in the Amazon city have been there since they were infants."

With that she turned and trotted away, with the man leading the group and the other Amazons following in a line.

Anteros' father did not attempt to follow. This was fortunate since the Amazons would have killed him, without hesitation or remorse, had he done so.

Chapter 2

Anteros was taken to the city of the Amazons and nursed by a woman that had given birth to a daughter only a week before Anteros was born. This woman was the closest thing he had to a mother, but in Amazon society, males are raised by the community, not just one woman. To further insure that Anteros was not too attached to just one woman, and to spread the burden of an extra child, every day he was sent to another wet nurse. With a four "mothers" the strain of caring for an infant took less toll on the women than caring for him full time on their own. Each of his wet nurses also had a female child of their own, and that was enough to take care of every day.

After he was weaned, he slept in different houses. He really had no permanent home. The entire city was his home. The Amazons carefully selected who he would stay with and when. It was all part of his education. All the girls, women and men, treated him kindly although he was expected to be respectful of all females and all adults. Anteros learned quickly to be subservient. This is what was demanded by Amazon culture. There were at least twenty females for each male in the city so Anteros missed out on much of the male bonding that is common in other societies. .

His introduction to reading and writing started at the age of five. He started training as a soldier at the age of seven. Each day the instructors trained the boys and girls together. They were all treated equally, as the girls would need to fight men when they got older. Only sticks and blunt arrows were used with such young students.

Anteros was taught that females were the superiors in Amazon society. He called all women "mistress" and all girls "miss". If he violated this rule, an immediate apology was insisted on. Then the offended party would give him three strokes across the behind with a leather strap that was used for corporal punishment.

The severity of this punishment varied depending on the mood and strength of the person administering the discipline. Fortunately, when he was very young, the strokes were very light. Now that he was older, and the punishment would be more severe, he just didn't make the mistake.

Anteros was curious about girl's bodies. He often saw them naked in the community baths, but tried not to stare. He had an urge to touch them in ways that he felt was improper. He did touch them in his soldier training, but not in the way he was thinking right now. He never had the opportunity to touch a woman intimately. He would never dare suggest such a thing and no woman had asked him to.

Amazon women were tall, athletic and beautiful. Anteros just thought about some of the beauties he saw every day and felt a familiar stiffening in his trousers. He didn't know why he couldn't control this. He had a good idea of the purpose of this stiffening. He had seen livestock mating. The thought of this embarrassed him and he blushed.

He was on his way to the baths. He must make this go away before he arrives. Anteros sat on a bench and waited. It seemed like it took forever. Every time his penis would start to soften, another woman would walk by and greet him and he would immediately wonder how her breasts would feel in his hands and his mouth.

Nearly an hour passed before he was able to enter the baths. He disrobed and quickly entered the water, keeping his eyes averted from the beautiful females in the room. This wasn't the first time he had to carefully time his entrance and exit into the baths. It had become a familiar routine in the last few years.

Now, safely in the water, he allowed himself to watch the lovely Lydia, washing her hair. She was blonde and about five years older than Anteros. She looked so lovely moving her hands on her head, causing her firm young breasts to jiggle. He immediately became fully erect, but did not worry about it since the water concealed his penis.

All was well until Lydia noticed him staring at her breasts.

"What are you staring at, Anteros?"

"Nothing, Lydia," he said as he looked away. He was so flustered he didn't even notice his social error.

"Lydia? Did you call me Lydia? I believe you meant to say Mistress Lydia or at the very least, Miss Lydia."

"I'm very sorry, Mistress Lydia. Please accept my apology."

"Of course I will accept your apology, Anteros. But, you must pay the price. I'll bet it has been a long time since you got three strokes on the behind. It is going to sting on that wet behind." Lydia climbed out of the tub, exposing the rest of her shapely body. "Come here, Anteros. Let us get your punishment over with."

"I can't, Mistress Lydia. Not now... please," Anteros begged.

"Nonsense, Anteros. Get out here now!" Lydia demanded.

Another woman chimed in. "Do as she says, Anteros, or I will give you ten strokes for disobedience.

Anteros recognized this woman as Rosella, a deputy to the Amazon queen. He knew that she could and would carry out this threat.

"But, Mistress. I can't!" he whined.

Her face was twisted with anger as she approached Anteros. Rosella was not accustomed to having anyone question her orders, least of all a male. She tried to wrestle him to the edge of the bath when his "problem" poked her in the belly. This caused her anger to soften into amusement. She reached down and tightly gripped his erection.

"So, this is why you won't leave the bath, is it?" she laughed. "Ladies, it seems that our young Anteros is now a man. He has an erection the size of a stallion!"

Laughter broke out throughout the room.

"Okay, Anteros. I told everyone and it is really nothing to be ashamed of, so get out and show everyone," ordered Rosella.

Anteros didn't move so she dragged him to the edge of the bath by his penis. This only served to make Anteros harder. She led him up the steps and showed his embarrassing situation to everyone. Anteros tried to hide his genitals with his hands, but Lydia and Rosella kept pulling his arms away.

Anteros was not normally shy about his body. He knew that he had an admirable physique. Many women had favorably commented on his build. The physical training that he and all able-bodied residents of the city received, kept them strong and fit. Anteros was tall, deep chested and broad shouldered. Although not fully filled out, he was already larger than many of the other men.

"Now bend over and put your hands on the bench," ordered Rosella. "Lydia owes you three strokes."

Anteros hesitated and looked at Rosella's face, raising his gaze from the ground for the first time since being pulled from the bath. He had no doubt that she was serious.

"And I owe you ten strokes, Anteros," Rosella added. "If you have not assumed your position in 5 seconds, I will have you bound and I will give you twenty strokes."

Anteros quickly bent over and received three humiliating and painful strokes across his wet butt. Then Rosella gave him ten more. All of this and his erection remained. Having twenty naked women in the room was not helping matters any. He stayed in position, not anxious to expose his hard penis to the crowd. At least in this position, only Lydia, sitting at the end of the bench, was able to look. And look she did.

anteros
anteros
534 Followers