Legends of Lust Read online

  Erotic Myths

  from around the World

  Autumn Bardot

  Copyright © 2019 by Autumn Bardot.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.

  Published in the United States by Cleis Press, an imprint of Start Midnight, LLC, 101 Hudson Street, Thirty-Seventh Floor, Suite 3705, Jersey City, NJ 07302.

  Printed in the United States.

  Cover design: Allyson Fields

  Cover photograph: iStock

  Text design: Frank Wiedemann

  First Edition.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Trade paper ISBN: 978-1-62778-278-4

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62778-279-1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  CONTENTS

  Mistress of the Isle

  By Sword Tip

  Under the Arjuna Tree

  The Walk

  Web of Lies

  The Kiss

  Of Tolls and Tithes

  Diplomatic Necessities

  River Runner

  Riding the Mare

  The Vacation Fling

  Aflame

  Good Medicine

  Seven Nights

  MISTRESS OF THE ISLE

  I am drawing my golden shuttle through the loom’s warp when Hermes races into my home.

  “Where is he?” Hermes takes off his winged crown, wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, and looks with an admiring eye at the elegant tapestries and ocean treasures adorning my luxurious grotto home.

  “He’s not here.” Surprised by Hermes’s visit, I rise from my stool and go to the cupboard. “Are you hungry?” I gesture to the table and chair. “Let me get you something to eat and drink. You’ve traveled a long way.” Hermes had flown over a vast sea to get here, and hungry gods tend to be grouchy.

  “Thank you, Calypso.” Hermes sits down and quaffs the goblet of red nectar I set before him; likewise he gobbles down the ambrosia.

  I stoke the fire and toss in logs of sandalwood and cedar, pretending composure. Hermes is here for Odysseus. And I’m pretty sure of the reason. “Why are you in Ogygia?” I bat my eyes and feign ignorance.

  “Zeus sent me.” Hermes runs his hand through his flaxen curls.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pick up Hermes’s caduceus-tipped staff and trace the golden snakes coiling around it. “Well, get on with it. What’s the message?”

  Hermes yanks his staff from my hands. “Zeus demands you release Odysseus. The mortal is not destined to live out his days as your...slave.”

  “Why not?” I pluck off a wilted leaf from the spray of violets on the table.

  “Zeus wants Odysseus to return home to Ithaca. Says his bad luck must come to an end.”

  “Zeus thinks his time with me is bad luck?” I flick back a lock of hair.

  “The mortal spent ten years fighting in Troy, then his ship capsized on the voyage back home and all his men drowned. The last seven years you’ve kept him here against his will for your own lascivious amusements.” Hermes jabbed his staff toward the bed. “Zeus fears the people of Ithaca have forgotten Odysseus’s merciful reign. Even as we speak cruel men plot the death of his son. Odysseus’s destiny is with his people, his family, and his friends. Not here. Not with you.”

  “You gods are a hypocritical bunch of liars!” I stand, every muscle taut with anger, snatch the violet-filled vase, and throw it against the wall. “How dare you come to my island and tell me I must give up the man I love! Wasn’t it Zeus who caused the lightning strike that sunk Odysseus’s ship and killed his crew? Wasn’t it Zeus who carried Odysseus atop the waves and guided the wind to make sure he washed up on my island?”

  “Calypso—”

  “I found Odysseus on the beach half-dead. I took care of him, nourished him, and made him strong again.”

  Hermes points his staff at me. “And made him your sex slave.”

  “He is enthralled by me.” I toss my hair over my shoulder. “He begs for it.”

  Hermes sets his winged crown back on his head. “Is that why he sits on the beach all day, sad-eyed with homesickness?”

  “Get out!” I point to the grotto’s entrance.

  Hermes, unmoved by my outburst, pours another goblet of nectar, gulps it down, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let Odysseus leave or suffer Zeus’s wrath.”

  I cross my arms. “How? I don’t have a ship or men to sail it.”

  “Figure it out.” Hermes pokes his staff at my nipple. “And quickly.”

  Hermes is gone in a flash, leaving me trembling with anger in the entryway.

  Ignoring Zeus’s command isn’t an option. At least not a smart one. I head toward the beach knowing just what I’ll find: a melancholy Odysseus staring into the blue distance, his heart aching for the wife and child he has not seen for nearly twenty years. I sigh, my sorrow a breeze wafting through the branches, the leaves trembling for me. With a heavy heart, I stroll down the path shaded by verdant alder, black poplar, and cypress.

  As always, Odysseus is sitting on a large rock facing the sea. I take a moment to admire his physique. He is a chiseled hunk of manliness. I will miss throwing my legs over his broad shoulders and watching his biceps flex as he thrusts into me.

  I adjust my gown, sheer as a mist and glistening like the dew, and expose my pale pink nipples. “Odysseus.”

  He turns his head, his aquiline nose and short beard in profile. “My goddess?”

  I move his muscled thighs apart and stand between them. “It is time for you to leave.” I slip my hand under his linen loincloth, wrap my fingers around his cock and feel it swell in my hand. “You must build a boat and go home.” I put my mouth on his ear and bite his earlobe, feel him expand even more. “You can build a sturdy boat, can’t you?”

  Odysseus pulls away and stays my slow-moving hand with his own. “Is this a trick?”

  “Don’t you want to go home?” I run my other hand along his jaw, recall the feel of his beard between my legs.

  “I do.” Odysseus swallows, looks down as my hand slides up and down his eagerness. “I miss my wife and son. But how can I build a vessel strong enough to with-stand the rough s—”

  I silence him with my tongue and rub my breast against his bare chest. His body tenses with pleasure as our tongues intertwine. His kisses always inflame me, and the dew of desire moistens my sex. How I will miss this man who can fuck all night and never tire!

  Odysseus breaks the kiss and narrows his eyes. “Are you serious? Or is my building a boat to go home some kind of new torment?”

  “You dog!” I jerk away and remove my hand from his throbbing cock. “Don’t you know me by now?”

  “I know you like to dominate.” Odysseus grips the underside of my buttocks, his thumbs stroking and prodding the soft flesh. “I know you enjoy making me beg for your cunt.”

  I laugh and set a kiss on his forehead. “I swear—the earth and the sky as my witness—this is no new game.” I thrust out my breasts and press his head against them. “My heart is not made of cold iron but of kindness and love for you.” My fingers run through his tangle of curls. “Come.” I tug on his hair. “Let’s go back to my cave.” Odysseus grabs both my wrists and gives me a hard look. This sudden show of control is surprising and I try yanking away. Odysseus holds tight, his large hands squeezing more than necessary. His lips curl up, his lopsided grin an irresistible mixture of charm and mischievousness. A thrill runs up my arms and des
cends straight between my thighs. I look down at my hands, now constrained by the warrior king I held captive for seven years, and feel something I haven’t in Zeus knows how long. I am flustered. Me! Mistress of the Isle!

  “Let me go,” I say. It is a command. He is used to them, having obeyed me all these years.

  Odysseus loosens his grip and slides his warm hands into mine, lacing our fingers together. “It seems you already have.” He stands, his cock still erect, and pulls me forward. His lips are soft and warm, his tongue circling mine with a tenderness we have not shared for some time. “I’m ravenous, my goddess.”

  I lift our clasped hands to my lips and scrape my teeth over his knuckles. “So am I.”

  We head back to my grotto home, and Odysseus takes the lead while I linger behind to admire his form.

  He is divine, with broad muscled shoulders tapering to a trim waist and muscular legs that are crowned by a firm rounded ass.

  Odysseus stops at the cave’s mouth to cup his hand under the sweet water stream flowing between the green vines and purple blooms. Nearby, a white-throated cormorant spreads its great wings before taking flight. A falcon ruffles its feathers in seeming reply.

  “Are you sure you want to leave this paradise?” My hand traces the line of his spine to his most sensitive areas, the cleft of his sweet ass. “If you stay with me I will make you immortal. Besides, your wife has aged seventeen years since last you saw her. I never age. What does Penelope have that I do not?” I draw light circles on his skin. “How can a mortal wife compare to a goddess?”

  Odysseus’s ass tightens and his erection parts the linen sheath around his hips. “You have no rival, my goddess. All of Penelope’s graces pale beside yours.” His hand skims over my breasts. “Your body, beauty, youth, and sensual appetites are beyond compare. Your nectar tastes like honey and your cunt is always as tight as a virgin’s.” His fingers travel downward, parting my silvery gown as two fingers dip into my warmth. “But I long to see my home.”

  I let out a groan of pleasure as my hips keep pace with his thrusts. “Bring me home now.”

  But he defies me and slows to a languid tempo.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he says, his cheek on mine. “I’ll give you the greatest orgasm you’ve ever had if you help me build a boat strong enough to withstand rough waves and strong winds.”

  I press into his leisured thrusts, my loins heavy with wanting and my sex aching to be touched. “Since when do you think you can make a deal with a goddess?”

  “Since I saw Hermes speeding away.” Odysseus slips his fingers from my pink folds. “He ordered you to release me, didn’t he?”

  “Zeus wants you to go home.” I push his hand back between my thighs.

  Odysseus pulls his hand away. “Well then, I’d say that’s another reason to help me build a seaworthy boat.”

  I lift my chin and see a newfound arrogance in Odysseus’s eyes. Or perhaps I fool myself and this is the real Odysseus, the warrior king of Ithaca, the man known for his shrewd cunning. Is it possible his enchanted obedience all these years was false?

  “I will help you build a boat,” I say. “But if you fail to give me the greatest orgasm I’ll conjure an unfavorable wind and hide the stars behind a blanket of clouds.”

  A slow smile spreads across Odysseus’s sun-bronzed face. “It’s a deal.”

  That evening he refuses to have sex.

  “I demand it.” I spread my thighs on the bed and flaunt my readiness.

  Odysseus looks up from the table and taps the parchment in front of him. “I must design the boat, so be a helpful nymph and don’t distract me.”

  I roll on my side and prop my head on my hand. “Do my ears deceive me or did you just give me an order?”

  Odysseus crosses his arms. “If you want me to make you scream so loud they’ll hear you on Mount Olympus then yes, it’s an order.”

  “I’d rather you mount me now.” It’s hard to take my eyes off of his bulging biceps.

  “Go to sleep, my divine Calypso.” Odysseus blows me a kiss. “And that’s an order.”

  I am strangely titillated by his assertive manner and marvel at the change in him, from compliant to calculating in a matter of hours.

  “Fine!” I pretend annoyance, fluff the pillow, and turn away.

  When dawn arises in glowing splendor, I don a gown of gossamer silver and make good on my promise to Odysseus.

  “You’ll need these.” I hand him a two-bladed axe with a smooth olive wood haft and a polished adze.

  Odysseus hefts both in his hands. “Where are the best trees?”

  “Follow me.” I lead my lover to the tip of the island where tall pine trees grow between alder and poplar. He goes from tree to tree, inspects each for strength, and assesses its seaworthy qualities. “Bring me an auger.” Odysseus swings the axe at a large tree, his muscles rippling with the stroke. “Now!”

  Again with the orders! “Later. I have other things to do.” I turn around and saunter back down the path when a twig snaps behind me.

  Odysseus captures me in his arms, one hand on my breast, the other between my legs. “Now,” he whispers into my ear while rolling my nipple between his fingers.

  “Ouch!” That’s not how I like it. He knows this!

  Odysseus pinches harder while his other hand parts the petals of my lust with a light touch. My pulse quickens, this rough and gentle mixture flooding my senses with lust. Harder! Softer! Pain mixes with pleasure but I don’t want him to stop.

  “Bring the auger immediately.” Odysseus bites my earlobe. “I command you.”

  Odysseus releases me and I flee homeward, Odysseus’s newfound dominance alarmingly seductive.

  By the time I return with the auger, Odysseus has felled twenty trees. I sit on a tree trunk until the blue sky turns pink with dusk’s glow. My admiring gaze never veers from his sweat-drenched body as he splits the trees into posts.

  Odysseus puts down his tools and strides toward me. “I’ll be done in a few days.” He wipes his brow.

  “So soon?” I smell his sweat, a delicious spice I inhale like a drug.

  Odysseus nods, then lifts my chin with his forefinger. “I need more of your help.”

  “What do you want?”

  He unties the linen from his hips. “Suck me.”

  “That’s not part of the d—”

  “It is now.” Odysseus captures my head between his hands and guides me to him.

  His command sends shivers of desire up my legs, and I submit by flicking my tongue over the head and sampling his saltiness.

  Odysseus moans and buries his fingers in my hair. “Suck. It.”

  Instead, I nibble up and down the shaft, relishing this carnal ambrosia of man and sweat. His fingers knead my scalp as my tongue grazes his top ridge.

  “Take all of me in your mouth,” he says as my tongue swirls his length from bottom to top.

  I flick off a droplet of nectar from his tip. “What do I get?” I look up at him and drop to my knees.

  “The best orgasm you’ve ever had.” Odysseus coils my hair in his fingers and tugs me forward.

  “It better be.” I swallow him whole and he groans. Next my mouth rides up and down his length, my tongue fluttering like a butterfly over his head while my fingers skim across the sensitive spot between his balls and ass.

  “So good,” he murmurs. His hand clutches my head and moves it back and forth. “So damn good. Are you wet? Do you want me to fuck you?”

  I nod and speed the pace.

  He’s close, his legs tense with pleasure, his eyes glazed with lust. Odysseus lets out a deep moan and I move faster as he tenses again and again. But now I’ve had enough of being submissive—want to feel the length of him inside of me—and I pull away... I can’t! My hair is wrapped too tightly around his fist.

  Odysseus drops his chin and a curious smile spreads across his face. It is wicked and lustful, and for the first time I see the real Odysseus. He is powerful and
aggressive and as arrogant as any god. And now it’s obvious! He had been playing with me all these years, tricking me into believing I was the aggressor. All this time he had been waiting to reveal his true nature. He is no mere mortal. I suck the cock of a warrior who can snap my neck as easily as a dry twig. I stroke the balls of a king with brains as mighty as his brawn.

  “Calypso,” Odysseus murmurs and twists my hair, “beautiful divine nymph with no equal, your lips are paradise, your tongue my utopia.”

  The tighter Odysseus twists my hair, the wetter I become. By Zeus, how I want him! Worse than ever! I take the full length of him in my mouth, press my mouth against him and draw slowly back. Twice more do I do this before I taste his cum in my mouth and hear him groan with release.

  Odysseus twists my hair again, gives it a yank. “Lick off every drop.”

  I do as I’m ordered and hope he will pleasure me after I’ve completed my salty task. “My turn?”

  Odysseus releases my hair, picks up his linen, and wraps it around his hips. “You didn’t earn your pleasure yet, my goddess.” He aims his thumb at the pile of timber behind him. “I still need your help building the boat.”

  I stand, and because he towers over me, lift my chin. “I never denied you this way.”

  “No?” Odysseus laughs, scoops me up, and throws me over his shoulder. “You have no idea what you’ve denied me all these years.”

  “If you fail to give me the greatest orgasm, I’ll destroy your boat,” I remind him from my upside down position.

  Odysseus smacks my bottom and I flinch.

  “You’re such a naughty nymph.” He smacks it again, then glides his hand over my ass, caressing the stinging skin.

  I quiver with delight. The burn sets my lust on fire. How long can I endure this carnal torture?

  After supper, Odysseus falls fast asleep, yet when I wake to dawn’s pink radiance he is already gone. After packing a basket of his favorite foods, I hurry down the path through the forest.

  Odysseus is a master shipbuilder. He’s already drilled through the planks and bolted them together with stout pins to form the hull. He has thoughtfully placed a tree stump on the ground for me to sit on; I pretend it is a gesture of kindness despite knowing it’s nothing more than a way to keep a sharp eye on me.