Satisfied At Last (Mythology Erotic Romance): Part Twelve of the Erotic Adventures of Heraklea Read online

  Satisfied At Last

  Copyright © 2014 Roxie Noir

  All rights reserved.

  First, this book is for adults only. 18+. Come on, guys.

  Second, the cover model is only a model and in no way endorses the content of this book.

  Want to get long, firm erotica thrust deep into your aching inbox?

  Sign up for my mailing list for a free erotic short story!

  Satisfied At Last

  Roxie Noir

  Previously on The Erotic Adventures:

  Heraklea stood, still wrapped in her bedsheets, in the largest hall she had ever seen. She wasn’t even positive that she was indoors; she thought she saw a vaulting silver ceiling high above, but it could have been the sky. The floor was white marble, polished to a high shine and cold on her bare feet. Fifty feet away was a golden dais, columns on either side of the dais that went so high she couldn’t see their tops. The dais had six steps leading up to it, and on it were perched two enormous thrones, gold, the armrests carved in intricate patterns and figurines. Hunters chased deer, boars, lions across the thrones; women swooned; men drank from vases.

  What really concerned Heraklea was the two people in the thrones. For one thing, they seemed slightly larger than people should be. Not giants, but slightly wrong, too large by a quarter. For another, they were more beautifully dressed that anyone she had seen before: the man’s robes and the woman’s dress were shot through with threads of silver and gold, and each wore a heavily jeweled diadem on their head. The man had a gray mane and beard that gave him a slightly wild look, mismatched to his immaculate clothing, the immaculate room; the woman had dark hair and bright violet eyes. Heraklea had never seen eyes that color before.

  She didn’t need a map to tell her where she was: this was Mount Olympus, home of the gods, and these two were Zeus and Hera, the king and queen. Heraklea pulled her sheet more firmly around her and wished she were properly dressed. Technically, Zeus was her father or, at least, he had sown his seed in her mother’s womb under false pretenses. Amphitryon was her father, as far as she was concerned. But her feelings on the matter probably weren’t going to be much use with Hera, who was notoriously jealous of Zeus’ conquests and notoriously nasty to the subsequent offspring.

  “First she fucks half of Greece, then you try and marry her off and she fucks her husband half to death,” Hera continued, looking down at Heraklea like she was a particularly revolting insect.

  Zeus leaned on one fist, ignoring Hera. “What are we going to do with you?” he said.

  Silence. Heraklea looked from one to the other and back again. “Is Lykos dead?” she finally asked, her voice sounding tiny in the great hall.

  “Not yet,” said Hera. “Just fucked into a coma. Never seen anything like it. Have you, darling? You’ve got more experience in that sort of thing.”

  Zeus frowned and continued to ignore his wife. “It’s unfortunate you turned out female. Everyone expects this behavior of a rich young man.”

  “Helen never acted like this,” Hera said.

  “I’m sorry,” Heraklea said, tearing up. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  “No,” rumbled Zeus. “But still, you must atone.”

  “King Eurystheus has been having a lot of problems lately, down in Argos,” Hera said. “He could use some help killing monsters.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Zeus said. “Maybe that will exhaust you.”

  Hera smirked, her beautiful face an ill-concealed mask of rage. “He’s a very demanding man,” she said. “You’re to do anything and everything that he asks of you, or you’ll be his servant forever.”

  “Go then,” Zeus said, and with a wave of his hand, golden light filled Heraklea’s vision again, and when she could see again, she found herself in a smaller room, though still grand, in front of another throne, a surprised-looking king on it.

  “The King wants to see you first thing in the morning,” the messenger said, and then he turned and disappeared.

  Heraklea was tired and more than a little annoyed; she’d more or less just stepped off of a boat after going on another fool’s errand for the damn king and, worst of all, it was the second-to-last errand she’d ever do for the damn king and her feelings about it were very complicated.

  After all, she resented being someone’s errand-girl, but the eleven tasks she’d done had been light spots in her life. She’d gotten fisted by a shapeshifter, fucked three centaurs in one afternoon, two river gods at once; there was a dominatrix and a regular lesbian and the weird theatre where she’d had to perform for hundreds of horny men.

  And while she was here, she didn’t have to get married to anyone boring, or have anyone’s heirs, or worry about shaming her parents. In theory, at least, she could have sex with whoever and whatever she wanted, and no one told her no or even seemed to notice.

  Well. The king had noticed, that was for sure. He’d been watching her latest encounter, with the titan Atlas, from a bush behind a tree — hardly inconspicuous, it was like he wasn’t even trying — but then, when she had finished herself and looked up, he’d been gone. He’d traveled across an ocean to watch her have sex with someone else and then he hadn’t even stuck around himself. Heraklea had absolutely no idea what to make of that. She guessed that maybe he just liked watching, but something there didn’t quite compute. If that was all he wanted, he could have ordered her to have sex with his guards — he knew for a fact she was willing, she’d offered more than once and had even outlined how she’d let them gang bang her — but he didn’t. Instead he sent her where no one else could watch.

  She thought all this as she walked through the palace to her quarters. It was the dead of the night and she was still tired and dirty. She had no idea where the king was, whether he had somehow gotten back before her or not. Even though she was exhausted, she wasn’t sure she could sleep in this state of constant unknowing, this state of thinking she might have to pack her bags at any moment, head back to Thebes, to her parents, to a tedious life of princessdom.

  Heraklea paused at the door to her quarters, her hand on the knob, and decided to go take a bath instead. That was where she did her best thinking.

  They were quiet and cold that late at night, but she found the one servant on duty and had him re-stoke the fire in the floor. Before long the place was hot enough to take her mind off of things and she sunk into the hot water, letting it rise to her neck, closing her eyes against the world.

  Then, footsteps. They were soft and wet across the marble floors, and Klea opened one eye, figuring it was probably the bath servant but instead, in front of her, stood one of the King’s personal guards. One of the ones she’d tried and tried to seduce but who’d remained perfectly stone-faced the entire time. Here he was, completely naked and glorious, looking like a statue of a god: perfect, chiseled abs, arms bulging with muscle, round ass like half a pomegranate, even his flaccid cock thick and long and beautiful. Inside, Klea mourned again that she’d never been successful with him. He wouldn’t even have to do anything, she thought, he could just lie there and I’d ride him like a bad pony and it would still be great.

  “Occupied,” she said out loud. He’d never been nice to her, so why should she try?

  Instead of listening he walked down the marble steps and into the same bath as her, not even flinching when the hot water touched his junk. Then he sat there, stone-faced, and looked at her.

  “What?” she said.

  He leaned back, putting both his beautiful a
rms on the edge of the tub.

  “There’s a woman arriving tomorrow.”

  Klea blinked at him.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “The princess of Athens.”

  “Okay.”

  “She’s coming with her father, who’s on a diplomacy trip to Rhodes. Her father who would be terribly happy if he could secure a lasting peace with the king.”

  Klea blinked again at his face, and then slowly began to understand what he was getting at.

  “They’re going to get married?” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s certainly possible.”

  She sat there, in the bath, mouth open. No one, until now, had told her a single thing about any of this, but suddenly things began to fall into place: the menagerie she’d collected for the king, with the hind and the boar and the mares and the cattle. The belt she’d had to fist an Amazon Queen to get. The apples she’d just brought back. All prizes so he could woo his new Queen.

  Klea felt a little light-headed, and not caring that she was stark naked, she pushed herself out of the hot water and sat on the edge. The guard seemed to not notice her nudity in the least.

  “Oh,” was all she could think of to say. She had to admit it made an almost nauseating amount of sense.

  He flicked at the water with two fingers.

  They’d had something, she thought. He’d come to watch her fuck Atlas, only a few days ago. Sometimes he crept into the baths to talk to her, he invited her to dinner in his quarters. Klea could have sworn that there was something between them, even if it was something kind of weird. Finding out that it wasn’t at all what she’d thought, she realized how much she’d wanted it and how disappointed she was.

  She focused back on the guard, luxuriating in the hot water.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  He shrugged, the points of his shoulders catching the torchlight. “You seemed to think there was something there.”

  Klea looked off to one side, embarrassed that he’d picked up on it.

  “It seemed unfair to keep you in the dark any longer.”

  I can’t believe he led me on, she thought.

  “Thanks,” she said. Even though I thought you were an asshole, she thought.

  “You know—“ he started, and then stopped. He shook his head slightly, as if clearing a thought out.

  “Know what?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Klea frowned and splashed one foot in the water.

  “Come on,” she said.

  He sighed and looked away, his tantalizing chest rising and falling. “If you left without doing your last task, I don’t think he’d notice,” the guard said. “He’s a little distracted right now.”

  Slowly, it dawned on Klea that the guard had told her this so she’d leave. He still didn’t like her, for whatever reason. That was his problem. He’d come here to tell her that she should just go, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at her face any longer. For a moment they locked eyes, but then Klea eased herself back into the bath, looking away.

  “When does she get here?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Could I just leave now?”

  “I think so.”

  She didn’t like to let a slimy asshole like him win, but Klea really didn’t care. The king was going to marry someone else and she didn’t want to be there when it happened.

  “All right,” she said.

  He stood, the water coming just to his hipbones, running down him in rivulets. Despite everything, Klea held her breath and hoped against hope that maybe he’d be willing to rub himself against her.

  Instead, he left the bath, climbing back up the steps, giving her a view of his perfect ass. Steps padded back across the floor and then he was gone.

  Two hours later, Klea was in the stables in her riding cloak and armor, carrying bags full of food she’d borrowed from the kitchen and a sleeping roll. She’d be spending some nights outside now, she guessed. It was still dark outside, the horizon just hinting at gray, as she rode from the palace stables.

  “King’s business,” she told the two guards stationed at the entrance, the same thing she said every time she was on a mission from him. By now, they no longer questioned her, just opened the gate and let her go.

  For half an hour, she ambled through the countryside on the horse, leaving behind the palace and thev village around it, getting close to the next one. She watched the sun rise and the farmers get out of bed and go to milk their cows and goats, everyone looking a little suspicious of a well-armed woman riding a very nice horse through their lands at dawn.

  When she entered the woods, she rode with one hand on the hilt of her sword. It was still dark and therefore dangerous.

  Suddenly a white light right in front of her, in the road, blinded Klea and made her horse rear up. She nearly fell off but heard her sleeping roll and supplies crash to the ground, behind her.

  Finally she got her horse back under control. The white light assumed the form of a woman, dressed in a long white robe.

  “Where,” the voice said, “Do you think you’re going?”

  “I’ve finished my tasks,” Klea lied. “I’m going home.”

  “Have you finished them?” the voice asked, sarcastic but sweet as honey. It was Hera, Zeus’ wife who he cheated on almost constantly. For example, with Klea’s mother, creating Klea - Zeus’ daughter.

  “Yes,” Klea said, exasperated. “Look, leave me alone. You’re not even in charge of this.”

  Hera just laughed, and Klea heard a snapping sound. Suddenly she fell to the ground, except now the ground was paved in marble tiles and the horse was no longer there. Looking up, she recognized the place: two thrones, two people, each about twenty-five percent too large. Hera and Zeus.

  She was on fucking Mount Olympus, again.

  Klea stood, brushed herself off, and said nothing.

  “Tell me, darling,” Hera was saying, “How many tasks did the king say there were?”

  “Twelve,” he said. He didn’t really seem to be paying attention, instead looking off somewhere to the left, as if watching something else.

  “How many did she do?”

  “Eleven,” he said. Klea got the sense that he wasn’t hearing any of these questions for the first time.

  “So there’s still one left,” she said.

  No one responded.

  Klea knew what a losing battle sounded like, but that didn’t stop her. “He won’t even notice,” she said. “He’s busy. His mind is elsewhere.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” Hera said. She leaned forward and smiled nastily. “Better get back there.”

  Klea turned and looked at Zeus, who seemed to have mostly checked out. She cleared her throat, and he finally looked at her.

  “Just do the last one, dear,” he said. “Then you’re free to go.”

  “I hear some of the whorehouses in Carthage are hiring,” Hera said. “Plenty of sailors to go around there.”

  “Better that than married to someone who fucks everyone but me,” Klea said.

  Hera’s eyes narrowed.

  “At least I don’t approach all my problems cunt-first,” she said.

  “If it works, it works,” Klea said.

  “That’ll do,” said Zeus, and he snapped his fingers. Klea found herself on the side of the road, standing next to her horse, the sun just barely easing over the horizon.

  “All right, buddy,” she said. “Back home, I guess.”

  She’d kept the pace to a nice trot on the way over but on the way back, she let the horse mosey along as it liked, nibbling at the grass on the edge of the road, taking long breaks to admire the sunrise and watch the farmers get to work.

  The guards at the gate said nothing as she went through, and the stable boy, if he thought anything was weird, didn’t seem to notice that she was returning a horse an at hour when most of the palace wasn’t even awake. Not even dirty, she went to sit in
her quarters and wait for the king to summon her.

  It didn’t take long.

  As soon as the messenger showed up she knew where to go and followed along, behind him, unhappy. The Athenian contingent wasn’t there yet — she’d at least have heard about that many people arriving at the palace — but now that she knew that it was imminent, she saw the signs everywhere. Servants cleaning frantically, up in the chandeliers and balconies, places that normally got cleaned once a year. People coming into and out of the kitchens with enormous butchered pigs, peacocks, bushels of wheat, baskets full of ripe fruit.

  And then the king, in the grand hall though few others were there. He wasn’t holding court that day, not yet, not until later. As she entered he was deep in conversation with an older man, standing next to him with a long list, and when she approached, he looked up.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “Hi, your majesty,” she said.

  He seemed to understand that this was the best he was going to get, and accepted it.

  “I need you to get Cerberus,” he said.

  Klea’s brow furrowed. She was pretty sure she’d heard wrong.

  “Get what?” she said.

  “Cerberus,” he said again. “Three headed dog. Guards the underworld.”

  Klea opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she opened it.

  “That’s, uh,” she said. “He’s in the underworld.”

  “Please figure it out,” the king said, turning back to the man with the list. “I’m very busy. Big things afoot.”

  The guard who’d brought her in rounded on her and stood between Klea and the king, indicating that this audience was very much over, and walked her toward the door.

  “The entrance is in Laconia,” the king suddenly shouted after them. “You know, to the underworld.” Then the doors shut behind them.