Men are Swine.
The men did not try anything from then on. I think they noticed the tension between my mother and I. We had a fight over Lysander's men that night.
"I don't trust these men Mother." I tried explaining to her. She simply shook her golden head, sighing.
"Circe, I understand you disapprove of my hobby with men, but I am the head goddess around here." She said sternly. I hung my head in shame and left her bed chamber. I was passed by Lysander on my way out.
"Pardon, young lady." She said with a grin and a wink. I shuddered, and continued walking.
That night I had trouble sleeping. Aside from the moaning coming through the walls from my mother's room, I kept remembering the look on Lysander's face when I passed. It sent a shiver up my spine, and I made a mental note never to be caught alone with that man.
This is exactly what happened.
My mother sent for me to go hunting again, since the men drained our resources faster than we could respond. I hunted daily nearly every day, trying to provide enough for these hungry savages. Luckily, my mother had turned enough men into pigs for me to do this without depriving our stock. Besides, if we needed, she could always turn one of Lysander's men into a pig.
It was that day, as I approached the shore to wash my bow, I saw Lysander. He was alone, and seemed to be repairing his ship. I wondered why he did this alone, and why he was doing it now. Did he really believe he would leave this island alive?
I remembered his wink and the leering faces of his men and stumbled backward, twigs cracking loudly. He turned and came over to investigate the sound.
"Hello, young lady." He said. He did not sound surprised to see me here. "On my ship I have some fresher water, if you would like to rinse your bow in regular water."
Against my better judgment I agreed. Looking back, I don't know what made me agree, if it was his charming smile, or the need to rinse my bow in something other in ocean water. Probably a combination of both.
Anyway, I followed him into the ship, where he led me into the basement. Along one wall was a line of barrels. He opened one, and motioned for me to use it. As I was rinsing my arrow, his hand brushed against my developing curves.
I tried to ignore him, and then he gently caressed his lips against my neck. I pulled away. He pulled back and eyed me up and down, before grabbing me around the waist with his strong hands.
I tried to pull away, and he eventually wrestled me to the ground. He started feverishly kissing my lips and neck. Angrily, I brought my hand up and slapped him hard across the face.
He pulled away stunned. Then his features hardened, and he grabbed my throat and pushed my head against the floor.
"How dare you slap me, you bitch!" he yelled in my ear. "I'll show you who is in charge." He hissed angrily. He began lifting up the hem on my skirt. I attempted to pull it back down, and he back handed me. This brought me back to the floor with a hard thump. My head hit the floor, and the world was spinning.
I dimly felt his hands pry my legs open. Helpless, and too weak to put up a fight, I felt a deep searing pain enter my body as he thrust himself into me. I cried out, and he clamped my mouth shut with one hand, while continuing to plunge his manhood into my body.
After what seemed like an eternity of pain, he collapsed on top of me. I rolled his body off of me, and carefully pulled my dress back down to my feet. Swiftly I got up, aching and in incredibly pain. I grabbed my bow, and limped up the stairs and out of the boat.
I dragged myself into the sea, where I rinsed my self from Lysander's filth. Weak and exhausted, I practically collapsed onto shore.
I managed to drag myself back to my home; after all I was a goddess. I collapsed on my bed, where I slept for at least two days.
When I woke, I was sore, and my inner thighs were throbbing. I dimly remembered the horror from a few days ago, and limped to my mother's bed chamber.
The palace seemed unusually quiet. I decided maybe my mother had decided to turn the men into pigs after all.
Entering the room, I saw the covers pulled back. My mother lay on her golden bed spread, naked. Sticking out from her heart was a silver handled dagger that read in Greek, King of Crete.
A/N: well, review!
The men did not try anything from then on. I think they noticed the tension between my mother and I. We had a fight over Lysander's men that night.
"I don't trust these men Mother." I tried explaining to her. She simply shook her golden head, sighing.
"Circe, I understand you disapprove of my hobby with men, but I am the head goddess around here." She said sternly. I hung my head in shame and left her bed chamber. I was passed by Lysander on my way out.
"Pardon, young lady." She said with a grin and a wink. I shuddered, and continued walking.
That night I had trouble sleeping. Aside from the moaning coming through the walls from my mother's room, I kept remembering the look on Lysander's face when I passed. It sent a shiver up my spine, and I made a mental note never to be caught alone with that man.
This is exactly what happened.
My mother sent for me to go hunting again, since the men drained our resources faster than we could respond. I hunted daily nearly every day, trying to provide enough for these hungry savages. Luckily, my mother had turned enough men into pigs for me to do this without depriving our stock. Besides, if we needed, she could always turn one of Lysander's men into a pig.
It was that day, as I approached the shore to wash my bow, I saw Lysander. He was alone, and seemed to be repairing his ship. I wondered why he did this alone, and why he was doing it now. Did he really believe he would leave this island alive?
I remembered his wink and the leering faces of his men and stumbled backward, twigs cracking loudly. He turned and came over to investigate the sound.
"Hello, young lady." He said. He did not sound surprised to see me here. "On my ship I have some fresher water, if you would like to rinse your bow in regular water."
Against my better judgment I agreed. Looking back, I don't know what made me agree, if it was his charming smile, or the need to rinse my bow in something other in ocean water. Probably a combination of both.
Anyway, I followed him into the ship, where he led me into the basement. Along one wall was a line of barrels. He opened one, and motioned for me to use it. As I was rinsing my arrow, his hand brushed against my developing curves.
I tried to ignore him, and then he gently caressed his lips against my neck. I pulled away. He pulled back and eyed me up and down, before grabbing me around the waist with his strong hands.
I tried to pull away, and he eventually wrestled me to the ground. He started feverishly kissing my lips and neck. Angrily, I brought my hand up and slapped him hard across the face.
He pulled away stunned. Then his features hardened, and he grabbed my throat and pushed my head against the floor.
"How dare you slap me, you bitch!" he yelled in my ear. "I'll show you who is in charge." He hissed angrily. He began lifting up the hem on my skirt. I attempted to pull it back down, and he back handed me. This brought me back to the floor with a hard thump. My head hit the floor, and the world was spinning.
I dimly felt his hands pry my legs open. Helpless, and too weak to put up a fight, I felt a deep searing pain enter my body as he thrust himself into me. I cried out, and he clamped my mouth shut with one hand, while continuing to plunge his manhood into my body.
After what seemed like an eternity of pain, he collapsed on top of me. I rolled his body off of me, and carefully pulled my dress back down to my feet. Swiftly I got up, aching and in incredibly pain. I grabbed my bow, and limped up the stairs and out of the boat.
I dragged myself into the sea, where I rinsed my self from Lysander's filth. Weak and exhausted, I practically collapsed onto shore.
I managed to drag myself back to my home; after all I was a goddess. I collapsed on my bed, where I slept for at least two days.
When I woke, I was sore, and my inner thighs were throbbing. I dimly remembered the horror from a few days ago, and limped to my mother's bed chamber.
The palace seemed unusually quiet. I decided maybe my mother had decided to turn the men into pigs after all.
Entering the room, I saw the covers pulled back. My mother lay on her golden bed spread, naked. Sticking out from her heart was a silver handled dagger that read in Greek, King of Crete.
A/N: well, review!