Vessel of the Gods

He gives you a bemused smile and then leans in and kisses you, sudden and pleasant. Glancing down, you see the head of his penis, poking up from beneath his toga.

You come up for air from the kiss, his hot hand on your thigh. Flustered, you hop up to go pour yourself another drink, although you are skeptical about drinking it, already the wine has made your cheeks flush and your pulse race. The wine is dark and smells fantastic.

He follows, one hand playing with a lock of your hair that had sprung free.

"No need to be so skittish, Brenna, we're all friends here." He stands close, his body radiating heat.

"Mmmhmmm." You offer unhelpfully, sipping at your wine. "Have you always been a merchant?" you ask, returning to the couch. He stays at the bar, refilling his scotch and watching your legs as you stretch out.

"No, I'm afraid. One upon a time, I was actually a historian." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Um.. a philosopher that studies old places to learn about what happened many years ago." You nod encouragingly.

"What changed?" He comes and joins you on the couch, and begins to absent-mindedly rubbing and fondling your thigh, which actually feels quite pleasant.

"I found something." His eyes light up. "A series of vases in a village, not too different from this one, that depicted something falling from the heavens. Something heavy, like the metal you use for your swords but stronger."

He's in full storytelling mode but he drapes an arm around your shoulders while he is doing it.

"The vases tell a story of what happened to the metal, how it was taken to the king as an offering and where he was buried." His fingers creep under your chiton, tracing the swell of your breast idly, sending shivers of sensation through your body and causing your nipple to stiffen.

"Now my studies had drawn some attention, and the people who found out about my work had some experience with this metal." He closes around your nipple and a small gasp escapes your lips. He leans in and plants a kiss on your neck.

"Was that Selena?" You ask, feeling his other hand slide up your thigh and towards your pussy, already wet and willing.

"Mmmhmm," he says, "Well, her company. Sternenbauer." His fingers find their mark and you moan, as he starts to skillfully stroke your lips.

Suddenly, he pulls up. "Enough talk." He unclasps the top of your chiton, it falls to your lap leaving your breasts exposed to the open air. He gazes at your chest hungrily, and then takes a pause.

"Tell me Brenna, in your village, were you arrested as a criminal?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Have you spent much time in Egypt or perhaps Persia?" You shake your head.

"No, why do you ask?" He gets a coy smile.

"No reason," His fingers move faster, more intensely, rubbing your clit and tracing the lips. You shudder and throw your head back in pleasure. You've got to get control of this situation or you are going to cum right here.

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him in for warm kisses. He returns your affections for a moment and then takes your hand and pulls it down into his toga, your hand finding his throbbing cock. You palm the fat head, your fingers struggling to wrap all the way around it, giving it a few tentative strokes.

He goes back to fingering you, faster and vigorously, his thumb working the clit while his middle finger delving inside you, pressing up and stimulating you from the inside. You feel the pressure building, almost pushing his hand out as you clench and clench. Fuck, he is good at that. You scoot your hips to the edge of the couch to give him a better angle, caressing his muscular chest before returning to stroking his thick cock. It jumps in your hand, eager to be inside of you.

Are you going to do this? You have a moment of doubt. He's a dangerous man, you are preparing to arrest him, he sells drugs for gods sake. You pull back, trying to free yourself from his skillful hands. You look up and see a wicked grin on his face.

"Oh no, we are going to finish this." He withdraws his hand and grabs your chiton by both hands and rips it apart.

"No!" You shout, pushing against his chest. He pushes his toga to the ground as struggle against him. He pries your legs apart.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He says. "A modern tattoo on your chest? Come now Brenna."

He rubs his thick cock against your pussy, sending lightning bolt sensations throughout your body.

"Who sent you? The Russians? Selena? Interpol? I doubt MI5 would ever let me get this close. I doubt they would let me fuck their agent." He pushes the head inside you, you shudder as you stretch to accommodate his large cock. Your groin is radiating pleasure throughout your body.

"Oh fuck, fuck fuck!" You shout, beating your hands against his chest helplessly. Your body is on fire as he pushes deep inside you, stretching you. He reaches down, grabs both your legs and just rails into you, thrusting with wild abandon. You brace yourself against the couch as your hips come off the cushion, your legs pointing straight up in the air.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Your cries are guttural, animalistic as he uses your body as his own pleasure toy. He grinds his groin against your clit and stars explode behind your eyes. The orgasm sweeps through your body, unbidden and unwelcome, as you clamp down on his cock, close your eyes and moan.

"Uugggnnnnnnn... " you babble. He pulls out and roughly throughs your legs to the side, flipping you over so your face is pressed into the back of the couch, butt up in the air. He slides back inside you, his thick cock stretching your sensitive pussy.

"Uh huh." you moan as he slides in and out, frantic for his own pleasure. SLAP! He lands an open palm on your butt, SLAP! Again. And the pace becomes more and more desperate.

"Cum for me, cum for meeeeee" you moan, debasing yourself. You feel dirty, you feel used. He reaches forward and grabs your hair, pulling you up roughly, still deep inside you.

"Tell me! Tell me who sent you!" He shouts.

"Dannnnnnny Quilllllp." You moan as you feel the pleasure hit you again, your whole body tense and then going totally limp. He picks up the pace, enjoying the depth of your wet inviting body, the slapping of your bodies filling the space. You slump forward into the couch, limps splayed and limp as he uses you like a fuck doll.

Finally, he gives one mighty thrust, deep inside you and you feel his shuddering release, filling you up till you are dripping with cum. Reluctantly, he slides out of you as you collapse onto the couch with a whimper.

He staggers back, taking a few breaths to steady himself and then slipping back into his toga. He glances over at the flagpole and the moonlight.

"Hmmm, only 35 minutes until we land. I best dispense with your friends before they cause too much of a nuisance." He picks up the pistol from the bar and points it at you. The jolt of adrenaline brings your right out of your post orgasmic haze.

"Danny Quilp, eh? I recognize the name but I'll have to make some calls. I would shoot you right now but then when the timer went off, it would deposit your dead body next to me on the baggage claim, and that would just invite too many questions. So congratulations. You are now an official guest of the temple until some time as I figure out what to do with you."

He gestures with the pistol. "Up. Get up. Grab your clothes, we are going for a walk." You quickly snatch your chiton, relatively undamaged by the roughness and your bandolier and walk before him up the hallway back to the inner chamber.

"Sit." He gestures to the chaise lounge. "Face forward." You comply, staring at the big double doors. You hear a grinding of stone behind you followed by a heavy thud. Marquis walks back into your field of vision.

"There's food there on the offering dish. It should hold you for a day or two, which should be long enough for me to make some calls back in the real world. There will be guards at the door, please do not tempt them, I would hate to have to get blood out of the temple floors again."

With that, he slips through the double doors out to the party. You hear drums and horns and adulations, "All hail the vessel of the gods!" as you prepare your escape.

"Oh fuck." You say, your voice echoing in the empty inner sanctum. The torches flitter incessantly, their spluttering matching the churning of your own thoughts. You take a deep breath and try to put things in order.

One, that was intense. You are literally still feeling his excitement drip out of you and adrenaline is pumping through your veins. The assault had left you breathless, a seduction turned violent, and now your friend was in danger. You grip the chaise lounge, trying to slow your breath, slow your heart rate, and think.

Marquis is going to do something to Maurie and Danae, probably imprison them somewhere. Would he trust the guards to do it or would he deliver the command himself?

You creep off the lounge and go to the double doors, listening, you can hear the sounds of revelry beyond as the party moves on to another festing hall. As the sounds of jubilation fade, you can hear the gentle sounds of leather and metal clinking together. Cracking the doors ever so slightly, you see Marcus, the broad handsome black guard, standing watch, his back turned to you.

Okay, so he left and there's only one guard. You do a quick inventory of your bandolier, nothing that could work as a distraction or a weapon unless Marcus suddenly got a very strong craving for trail mix. You could smash something and try to get him in here and make a run for it but you doubt you would be able to outrun him and he might do something extremely foolish like stab you with his sword.

You fumble at the stone wall but are unable to locate a latch or button to reopen the secret passage. Time is running out - you need to warn your friends!

You take a deep breath and kneel, folding your hands in front of you. "Io Athena," you begin, whispering softly. "Hear my call, I sit in a temple to Olympus, and I am in trouble. I am imprisoned while my friends are in danger and I need to help them. Please, mighty weaver, goddess of war and peace, help me!"

You feel an odd popping noise in your ears and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end as the door to the feasting hall creaks open and Marcus walks in. He stands stiffly, his face completely blank.

"We cannot... hold this body... long..." the voices that are not voices whisper through his mouth. You don't pause, you bolt.

Grabbing your clothes and bandolier you shuffle as quickly as possible out of the sanctum, closing the door behind you. The feasting hall is mostly deserted, a few drunken louts remaining in a stupor in chairs or on the floor. You sweep past them with purpose, following the sounds of revelry through the temple.

The Temple itself is a mess of hallways, alcoves and statues but you follow the sounds out to evening air. There! A throng of torches and togas making their way along a stone path towards the cliffs overseeing the village. You follow at a discrete distance.

After about twenty minutes of walking, the muted sounds of conversation being blown back to you by the mild mediterranian breeze off the water, the crowd comes to a cave set into the cliff face and ventures inside.

Thankfully the moon provides enough light for you to rock hop into the cave, which actually opens onto a discrete beach, sheltered by the large sea stacks on either side. A small stage has been constructed on the sand, where musicians pound giant drums, an echoing rhythm. Next to the stage, a woman is perched on a tall chair above a pit in the ground filled with writhing snakes. An oracle.

The crowd is dancing amongst the spluttering torches on the beach, leaping and jumping in a bacchanalian celebration, raising their voices to echo amongst the stones and sea.

You join the edge of the crowd, a seething mass of people pressed in tight, raising their voices in celebration. You scan the crowd - no sign of Marquis or your friends. You crane your neck, looking for another exit - there! Caves at the back of the cove. You slip away from the crowd and make your way into the dark, dripping cave.

"AHH!!" You hear a cry of pain and wet slap. You leap forward over the rocky floor of the cave, bounding around the corner before coming to a sudden halt. There in the dim light, you see them. Danae and Maurie, bound with rope on their knees in the sand. Marquis stands over them, ready to reel off another punch. Danae is flopped over, her lip busted. Maurie eyes blazing defiantly.

"Are you one of Selena's bitches? This will go much easier if you tell me." Marquis grabs Maurie by her chiton, hauling her forward.

"This will go easier if you tell me." SPAT. She spits right in his face, he swipes his face trying to get his eyes clear.

"No matter, in a few minutes the plane will be landed and I will be departing. You, on the other hand, will get to stay here, in the hands of my friends in the village. I can make that a pleasant stay or a very unpleasant one." He spread his hands theatrically. Danae begins to softly whimper.

"There's no need for all this unsavory behavior. Simply tell me who sent you and I'll be on our way."

In a burst of courage, you snatch Maurie's pistol from her pile of clothes and run at Marquis. He turns in surprise,

"You?!" he shouts before the butt of the pistol collides with his nose giving up an impressive spray of blood as he tumbles backwards on his ass. You spring forward, pinning his chest with your knee and cracking him across the skull with the pistol butt. He flops backwards, arms spread, his body limp.

"Fuck." You shakily stand up, dropping the pistol in the sand like a live snake. The adrenaline is still racing through your veins.

"Don't freeze, get me free!" You hear the voice distantly, like a bumblebee trapped outside a window. You look down at the blood on your hands.

"Brenna!" Things snap into focus, Maurie is there, frantically wriggling to get out of her rope.

You stumble over, swiftly untying the knots. She bolts for the gun, snapping it up in her hands and pointing it at the prone figure of Marquis as you help Danae up.

"Oh thank you!" Danae says, giving you a warm embrace as you free her from her bonds. "I was so scared, he kept asking me what I knew and I swear I didn't know anything but he hit me, he hit me right here on the lip..." she juts out her full lips. ".. and it hurt and then he kept yelling..." You give her a sympathetic squeeze and glance over at Maurie, who has rolled the Marquis over on his side.

"He's out." She says as Danae's babbling fades out.

BING. A loud electronic chime echoes across through the cave.

"What the hell was that?" Maurie shouts, her skin glowing in the flickering torchlight. Yes, definitely a glow, like a sheen of pale moonlight was radiating out of her skin, making her look absolutely magnificent. You glance down, Marquis is also glowing, and you, the light shooting out of your finger tips.

Danae looks back and forth between the three of you, not illuminated in the slightest.

"You have been chosen, the Gods of Olympus have marked you!" She shouts in delight. You and Maurie share a quick look.

"I think we are about to be ejected." You say. Maurie looks alarmed. "Do we need to do anything?"

"Hold on, let me see about the rest." You race outside the mouth of the cave where the party continues undaunted. Drums pounding, wine pouring, chanting from the oracle and the head priest. The crowd was a sea of dancing and writhing.

But the moon. The moon shines as bright as ever... except for a thin slice of darkness at the very top. A wedge that is slowly getting bigger... a timer! The moon is a timer!

You race back inside the cave.

"Okay, I think in just about five minutes we are all getting dumped back into the real world." Maurie has finished tying Marquis up like a turkey roast and gives you a firm nod.

You give Danae a firm hug. "Are you going to be okay?" She nods through tearful eyes.

"Yes, I think so. Not quite the festival I hoped for." You give her a sympathetic mummer, but already she's squinting at you as your skin glows bright. You look over at Maurie, who has hauled the unconscious Marquis to a sitting position and holstered her weapon.

"You stay here," you tell her. "I will see you when we return to the real world." She looks up alarmed.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get something before we get beamed out. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine!" She looks not the least bit reassured but you are already headed out of the cave towards the wild dancing throng of revelers on the beach. The moonlight washes the scene in off-white as the bodies of the festival goers writhe before you to the sound of the pounding drums.

Summoning your courage, you step forward and let out a fearsome whoop - drawing the eyes of the dancers, your glowing skin reflected in their eyes.

"I have been chosen as the vessel of Aphrodite!" You shout, raising your voice over the crash. They turn towards you, your cheeks growing hot under their hungry gaze. You reach up and undo the clasp behind your neck and let your chiton tumble to the ground. The warm sea air caresses your shining skin, your heart beating like a big bass drum. Your gaze flits from muscular tanned body to muscular tanned body - tousled dark hair, almond eyes, toned shoulders, many bodies waiting for the moment.

"Come worship me!" You cry above the roar of the surf. Time slows as the teeming masses of people lunge forward. The adrenaline spikes through your veins, icy-hot, as the people swarm towards you.

The nearest man, a clean-shaven Bucky Barnes shaped festival goer, cradles your face and pulls your lips to his. His kiss is deep, his tongue playful. You feel a second body pressing against your backside. You break free and glance back, to see Kyril, your hunky Orlando Bloom winemaker, rubbing his broad hands up and down your sides. You feel his lips on your shoulders, on your back.

You feel hands on the inside of your thighs. Soft hands, slender fingers.

You look down and there is the most beautiful woman kneeling before you. Her deep brown eyes sparkling with tiny flecks of gold, wicked with delight, are quickly hidden behind a thick cascading waterfall of curls. She presses gently, but firmly on your hot skin.

You shuffle your feet, spreading them slightly to give her better access but your world is spinning. The man you are kissing, Flash you decide to name him, cradles your body while Kyril shifts around, gently caressing your butt while tracing kisses to your breast.

"AH!" You gasp as the worshiper between your knees finds her mark - her tongue drawing lazy tours before darting to just the right spots. You are seaweed, adrift in the warm mediterrian as schools of fish swirl around you.

The tempo builds. You rake your fingernails across Flash's back, Kyril moves, or maybe you do - carried as gently as a cloud, as the beating waves build around you. Your friend with the gold flecked eyes slides away and you are face to face with the handsome chin of Kyril and

his

cock

Is

sliiiiiding inside of you. You moan, deep and full mouthed as he fills you up. He rocks you forward, with a cocky thrust of his hip, as you grind your clit into him. Stars explode behind your eyes but there's firm hands on your tits, squeezing them, groping them, using them.

"Oh fuuuuuuuuuck." He's fucking you and you are fucking him. You throw your arms over his shoulders and thrust him right back.

Over his shoulder, you can see the beautiful woman sitting on the beach, legs splayed lewdly, frantically masterbating to the sight of you fucking Kyril.

And you definitely are fucking him. You are pounding down onto his thick cock, coating him and you. You've lost count of how many times you felt like you were coming but it kept going and going. You look up at the moon, the wedge of darkness had now consumed all but the tiniest slice of the moon's surface. Time is almost up. Kyril pulls at your urgently, straining as feel the big one build.