Chapter 23: The Reign of the Wolf God (Part 2)
My reign in the grotto had become a predictable routine.
Day after day, the cycle repeated. The demigods brought me offerings. The nymphs and mortals offered themselves. I took them, sated my instinct, and retired to a satisfied boredom. The novelty of my freedom was wearing thin, replaced by the monotony of being a god to a flock of trembling worshippers.
'They are broken prey. Their submission is complete. There is no more hunt here.'
I was considering leaving Greece, seeking new territory, new game, when a new scent arrived in the forest.
It was not the ethereal scent of the nymphs, nor the smell of fear and wine of the mortals. This was different. It smelled of sun-hardened leather, the metallic gleam of polished bronze, the sweat of constant exertion, and, beneath it all, a female confidence as solid and unadorned as a granite rock. It smelled of war.
I left my repose in the grotto and flowed through the shadows to the edge of the forest. There, on the line where the olive trees met the open plains, I saw them.
They were a dozen women, but they moved as a single unit. They were tall, taller than most men, with bodies that were not soft and curvy, but carved from muscle and sinew. They wore leather and bronze armor that left their muscular arms and legs exposed, and each carried a double-headed axe and a bow.
They were Amazons.
They had not come to hide or to worship. They had come marching.
Their leader stepped forward. She was a giantess, even among her own. Her hair was a thick black braid that fell down her back like a rope. A web of white scars adorned her tanned skin, the most prominent crossing her left eye, leaving it cloudy but somehow more intimidating. Her muscles were not for show; they were the result of a life of violence.
She stopped at the edge of the clearing, her warriors forming a silent semicircle behind her. She sniffed the air, her gaze sweeping the forest, not with fear, but with the assessment of an expert hunter entering another's territory.
"I have heard the stories," her voice was deep gravel, a voice accustomed to giving orders in the heat of battle. "The spirits of the forest whisper of a bestial god who has claimed this sanctuary. They say his power is absolute. That the children of the gods kneel before him."
She paused, her hand resting on the handle of her massive labrys. "I am Myrina, Queen of the Amazons. We kneel to no one. If this is your domain, then I challenge you for it."
The challenge resonated in the silence of the forest. It was the first time in centuries that someone spoke to me not with supplication, nor with arrogance born of ignorance, but with the pure and honest language of strength.
'Finally.'
The thought was a spark of interest in an ocean of boredom.
'Not prey. Not a priestess. A warrior.'
I accepted her challenge.
I emerged from the shadow of the largest oak, my form solidifying in an instant. The afternoon sun faded as my colossal body blocked the light, plunging the clearing into unnatural gloom.
The Amazons, despite their mettle, instinctively took a step back. Their eyes went wide as they beheld my true scale. But their queen, Myrina, did not move. She simply raised her axe, her face a mask of deadly concentration.
"So the stories were true," she murmured, more to herself than to me. And then, she attacked.
There was no war cry. Only an explosion of movement. She lunged at me, her speed unnatural, a blur of muscle and bronze. Her double-headed axe, glowing with faint divine energy, aimed directly for my throat, a strike designed to decapitate a cyclops.
I didn't bother becoming intangible. I didn't bother dodging.
I raised one of my front paws and intercepted her.
The sound was a thunderous CRACK! that sent birds flying from trees a kilometer away. The bronze-reinforced oak handle, a legendary weapon that had split countless shields and skulls, shattered against my shadow claw as if it were a dry twig.
The two heads of the axe flew in opposite directions, crashing into the trees. Myrina froze, the splintered handle in her hands, her face a mask of pure, absolute disbelief. She had put the full force of her divine lineage into that blow. And I had stopped it as if swatting a fly.
Before she could recover from the shock, my other front paw moved. It wasn't a claw swipe. It was a swat. A simple, dismissive backhand that struck her in the chest. There was no lethal force in it, just the weight of my indifference.
It was as if a mountain had hit her. The air was expelled from her lungs in a violent explosion. Her feet left the ground, and she was thrown backward, flying through the air like a ragdoll. She crashed into her own warriors, knocking down three of them before landing in a heap of tangled limbs.
The battle, if it could be called that, had lasted less than ten seconds.
I stood there, motionless, watching. The Amazons rushed to help their queen. Myrina stood up, coughing, blood dripping from her lips, her leather armor cracked from the impact. She leaned on one of her warriors, her body trembling, not from weakness, but from the sheer shock of having been so completely dominated.
She looked up, and what I saw in her eyes was not hatred. It was not fear. It was awe. Absolute reverence.
Slowly, painfully, she separated herself from her lieutenant. She took a step forward, limping, and then, with the dignity of a queen surrendering her crown, she knelt.
Behind her, one by one, the rest of the Amazons did the same. The sound of their bronze greaves hitting the earth was the only sound in the clearing.
Myrina raised her head, her cloudy gaze meeting mine. "We have searched... for generations... for a being worthy of our strength," she gasped, every word an effort. "An alpha for our pack. A sire to breed a new generation of warriors. We have found you."
She paused, her breathing stabilizing, her voice regaining its strength. "We do not ask for mercy for our challenge. We ask to be claimed. My strength is yours. My warriors are yours. Our bodies are yours to use as you wish. We will serve you."
Silence returned. The offer hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
'They offer their swords. And their bodies. Interesting.'
I approached her. I stopped in front of her kneeling form and leaned down, my massive head inches from hers. She smelled of sweat, blood, and a submission as pure and honest as her challenge had been.
I did not lick her. I did not touch her. I simply sniffed her, a long, deep acknowledgment. Then, I turned and began walking back to the grotto.
I didn't need to look back. I knew they would follow.
The pack had a new queen. And that queen had just found her new king.
The return to the grotto was a parade of power.
When I entered, my colossal shadow form absorbing the light from the braziers, the atmosphere changed instantly. My original devotees, the demigods and nymphs, who had resumed a more timid and nervous version of their feast, fell silent. They parted, opening a path for me, their heads bowed in a mixture of fear and reverence.
I was no longer a simple intruder. I was the king returning to his court.
The Amazons entered behind me, not as guests, but as living spoils of war. Their steps were firm, their faces impassive, but the aura of defeat and submission around them was palpable. They stopped at the edge of the sand, a squad of female power awaiting their sentence.
I lay back in my usual spot, in the center of the arena, a mountain of indifferent darkness. The pack waited. The old devotees watched to see what I would do with the new ones. The new ones, to know what their fate would be.
I did not speak. Power needs no words.
A single shadow tentacle, thin and sharp as a needle, slid from my body. It slithered across the golden sand with serpentine silence, ignoring the trembling nymphs and kneeling demigods.
The tentacle stopped in front of Myrina, the defeated queen. It rose slowly and touched her shoulder. A simple, cold touch. Then, it moved, gliding through the air until it touched the shoulder of her lieutenant, a tall warrior with hair shaved on one side and a steely gaze.
The selection had been made.
There was no fear in their steps as they advanced, only the steely resolve of warriors paying a debt of honor. They left their weapons on the sand and walked toward me, their muscular, tanned bodies glistening with a fine sheen of sweat under the firelight.
They knelt on either side of my reclining form. Their eyes, previously full of battle fury, were now fixed on me with stoic submission. They were ready.
My cock, which had returned to a semi-erect state, responded to their proximity. It swelled fully, a column of red, throbbing flesh rising from my groin, dripping slowly.
'A tribute from the strongest. Acceptable.'
Myrina and her lieutenant looked at each other for an instant, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, they acted in unison.
They leaned in, their warrior bodies moving with brutal efficiency. Each took one of my heavy testicles in one hand, their calloused fingers a strange caress. With the other hand, they guided my massive member between them.
And then, they offered themselves.
They pressed their breasts against my phallus, one on each side. The sensation was a shock of contrasts. My cock, burning with animal heat, was enveloped by the firm, hot flesh of their muscular breasts. Their skin, sweaty and salty from their recent battle, was rough compared to the softness of the nymphs.
The contrast was immediate: my shadow essence, which was cold to the touch like night silk, against their burning skin. The heat of their bodies against my conceptual cold.
SLAP! SLAP!
The wet sound of their flesh squeezing against mine echoed in the silent grotto. Their breasts were different from the other women's. They were not soft and pliable. They were dense, firm, a mass of pectoral muscle covered by a layer of functional fat. The grip was powerful, tight.
They began to move, their bodies swaying in a slow, uncoordinated rhythm, their breasts rubbing up and down my shaft. Their breaths were controlled gasps, the sound of warriors enduring exertion. This was not an act of lust for them. It was a duty. A ritual to seal their submission.
But I had other plans.
I stopped being a passive altar.
A low growl rumbled in my chest, a vibration of power they felt through the contact of their breasts. And then, I began to move my hips.
My rhythm was not slow. It was powerful, crushing. I began to fuck their breasts with the same force I would fuck a cunt. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The sound became faster, more violent, a splashing of flesh and sweat.
Surprise broke their composure. Their grunts of effort turned into sharp gasps of pleasure. The sensation of my massive, throbbing member being hammered between their breasts was something no battle had prepared them for.
My shadow claws slid out and rested on their shoulders, not to hurt, but to hold them, to anchor them to my pleasure. It was no longer them moving; they were my puppets.
"Ahh... by the gods..." moaned the lieutenant, her face contorted into a mask of pleasure and pain.
"What... what power!" gasped Myrina, her stoicism shattering, her hips beginning to move instinctively with mine, chasing the sensation.
The warrior was becoming a whore.
I increased the speed, my body a piston of shadows and lust. Their breasts, once firm, now shook and deformed with every impact, their tanned skin reddening from the friction. My pre-cum, thick and copious, covered their breasts, their bellies, their chins, an obscene lubricant for my assault.
I felt the pressure building, the heat inside me preparing to burst. I took them with me, my rhythm becoming a frenzy, thrusting harder and harder between their pressed breasts.
Their screams were no longer of surprise. They were of pure, overwhelming need.
And then, with a roar that shook the grotto and silenced all the onlookers, I came.
It was not a trickle. It was a deluge. An eruption of boiling seed that shot over them. It covered their breasts, their necks, their faces. It soaked them, a baptism of power and possession. The thick, musky scent of my climax filled the air.
I released them. They fell backward onto the sand, trembling, covered in my essence, their warrior bodies now marked as my property. They lay there, panting, their eyes wide with shock and a pleasure so absolute it had left them speechless.
The other Amazons, who had watched in tense silence, now looked at their leaders, not with pity, but with a new understanding. With envy.
I stood up, my member dripping, and observed them.
'Efficient. Strong. They will serve.'
The debt of honor had been paid. And the embrace of the warriors had just begun.
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