A brave warrior journeys to locate the temple of a mythical Goddess in the hopes of gaining her blessing to win his bride. The Goddess consents and puts the warrior through the ultimate test of trial, dedication, and true love.
Chapter One – Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away
Oh, did he feel stupid. Brandos Nikolos Rankos, the great ex-gladiator, the famed Spartan warrior, the powerful self-made man, was following a child’s tale. It was in the middle of the night and the stocky warrior strode lithely in the dark. Legend had it that there was a hidden temple of an Etruscan Goddess who, if summoned, would grant the mortal caller any desired boon.
Brandos Nicolos Rankos was at his wits end. He had never lost a battle in any of his twenty three years of life, and he would not stop now. It was out of a mixture of desperation and madness that granted him the energy to quest for a mythical temple. And so, he ran off into the darkness with only the moon to illuminate his way.
Brandos traveled light, as usual. On his back he carried a small sack that contained the necessary offerings to appease the Goddess. His curved Eastern scimitar hung against his thigh and gave a lilted swagger to his ambulatory motions. Brandos wore no armor but a clean leather tunic and plated boots. His hair was cropped short as he was ever the suave Spartan male. His dark eyebrows knitted in determination as he stomped over pebble and stone and over bristle and branch on this warm midsummer’s night.
Brandos had first heard of this Etruscan Goddess in the most scholarly of places, a brothel. His lusty thirst for womanflesh was quenched every now and then betwixt the plump thighs of a pretty whore, but he hoped with relish that those days would soon come to an end. He lay drunk with three woman pawing over his bulging muscles when one of them began to talk.
“Have you heard of the Legend of Saphara?” purred Anatalia, a stunning strawberry blonde with huge tits.
“No.” he rasped, uninterested in this seemingly pointless tale. Anatalia flicked him on the nose in retort.
“Hey!” he barked, but he was too inebriated to do anything else.
“Saphara is our Lady Goddess. It is she we pay homage to. My mother told me that she has an altar somewhere on the island of Icaria, and she will grant whoever summons her his deepest desire. Saphara is, after all, the Goddess of Love, Sex, and Feminine Pleasure. Surely, Brandos, you of all people should respect her, seeing as you are constantly worshipping her at her Temple.” Anatalia began to stroke down the side of stubbly jaw whilst the other two whores began to rub their lithe bodies against his hard rippled form.
“What do you mean Temple?” he asked with a slight hoarseness. An unseemly rise began to grow from his nether regions; round two was about to commence.
“Every woman has a Temple dedicated to Saphara between her legs. When you pleasure a woman, you worship the Goddess.” Anatalia began to suck on his earlobe.
“Well,” said Brandos after a few minutes of sweet torture, “Perhaps I am a religious bastard after all.” And with that, Brandos pushed Anatalia onto her back and plundered her juicy Temple with a hungry tongue.
At the ripe age of twenty three years old, Brandos did not have a care in the world. He was sold into slavery as a child, was raised in the Gladiator pits, and eventually became the fiercest warrior by the age of seventeen. Brandos had won enough money to purchase his freedom and had enough left that he wisely chose to invest. Brandos became a wealthy and established citizen of Sparta in just a few short years. It would have taken others from social classes higher than he decades if not lifetimes to complete what he had done in just a few years. Brandos lived in a simple yet elegant, (despite the typical barren Spartan decorating motif), villa in the countryside, and he spent all his money on alcohol and whores.
It just so happened that Brandos was in the market closest to him when he first saw her. A magistrate from the lovely island of Paros was visiting Sparta and with him he brought his only daughter. Flavia Kay was the most beautiful woman Brandos had ever seen. Oh, and he had seen lots of beautiful women. Time stood still and his breath caught in his thick throat. Dainty feet graced the ground she walked upon. Slender calves sculpted by the Gods, skin as pure and as creamy as sunshine on the sand. Her body was veiled in a silken purple gown that seemed to capture and caress her sensuous and alluring curves. Gods, that waist! So perfect, oh how he wondered what it would be like to place his calloused hands on her beautifully scalloped figure. Large breasts threatened to burst through the fabric and bounced heavily with every little step she took. Her hair cascaded down her back in light silvery gold tresses and framed her slim shoulders nicely. Flavia Kay’s eyes were a dream. Blue and dauntless, the cerulean portals were wide, large, and hypnotizing. Even from far away Brandos noticed how she demurely lowered thick black lashes to conceal her precious eyes form the blinding sun. Her cheeks were tinged a light pink and rested smoothly above a wide rosy mouth. Flavia Kay was quite literally the most perfectly formed individual in the whole world.
As he was so thoroughly ensorcelled by her unusually vibrant beauty, Brandos completely forgot what he was doing. For a period of five or so minutes, Brandos experienced a temporary loss of communication betwixt his brain and nervous system. It was if he had undergone a reversal of the evolving process and had become nothing more than a warm horny sack of sperm and schlong. Brandos was not even aware that he was walking; his feet left the ground and he floated towards the living breathing goddess. He ran over an old lady, knocked over a cripple or two, nearly crushed a small child, and would have probably devoured Flavia Kay on site if he hadn’t walked right into a van of slaves carrying a portly merchant in a litter. Brandos collided into the side of the seated part which caused the entire litter to topple over. The slaves struggled and panicked to maintain balance but they lost control and the seated occupant hit the ground with a large thud. Brandos was conked on the head by one of the rods used to carry the litter. He fell to one knee and was dazed. In his stupor Brandos did not realize that he had landed into a fresh warm pile of shit. He stood up and grimaced at the filthy stain on his leg and at the dull throbbing bump on his head. He ignored the angry slaves and fallen merchant, who rolled on the ground in exaggerated agony. Brandos swung around them but alas, his fair maiden had vanished. It was at that moment he felt the desperation he had felt during his first fight in the Arena. He would find her.
At first, Brandos began his search with trepidation. He didn’t know where to start. He scanned the houses in the wealthier districts of the city but could not find the elusive woman. It took him about a week to learn that she was the daughter of the magistrate from Paros. Her name was Flavia Kay and she would be returning in a few days to her island home, to be married. She was betrothed to a privileged son of corrupt political official. Brandos, being wealthy himself, and after having ascertained the whereabouts of maiden fair, dressed himself in his nicest attire and went to offer his hand in marriage. The magistrate was unable to see him, but Brandos was granted admission to speak with the magistrate’s personal secretary. Brandos pleaded his love and offered a price that only a prince could beat and was in turn was laughed at by the secretary.
“Surely my good man, you jest. A former slave marrying a noblewoman. Haha, absolutely preposterous.” The secretary laughed until he started to wheeze. The scrawny waste of a man couldn’t even conjure the grace to politely decline Brandos’s advances. Brandos stood as solid as a mountain and his fury boiled his blood within. He stared splinters of ice into the secretary until he quieted. Not waiting to be dismissed, Brandos fumed out of the hall and began to format a plan to kidnap the lady. He went as far as to hire some mercenaries to take care of the guards. And, as in the nature of all fairy tales, the lovely Flavia Kay had left Sparta back to Paros before Brandos had enough time to do anything. Brandos was desperate. He rode furiously towards to coast in hopes of catching a ship to Paros. Unfortunately there was no captain available to transport him. Oh, how distraught the poor warrior was! He sat with shoulders drooped in a bar and toyed with a stiff drink. Not even in the depths of alcohol-induced oblivion could he escape the fantasy that was her body. Perhaps it was a stroke of madness that made him think that it would be a good idea to locate an ancient Temple and summon a Goddess to his aid. But he did.
Icaria was not far from coast. Brandos hitched a ride from a fisherman and set off on his quest. Through forests and swamps strode the warrior. It was night time now, and he had three days before Flavia would be married. He had asked locals on Icaria if they had ever heard of the Temple and was told that it would be somewhere near waterfall in the middle of the island. All the hairs pricked up on the back of his neck at the first sound of trickling water. Brandos picked up the pace into a brisk run and his eyes widened when he saw a small waterfall bubbling in the crystalline moonlight. He slowed to a walk and approached the waterfall with care. The closer he got he was able to tell that there was a cave behind the waterfall. He jumped through the icy waters into cool cave. Moonlight filtered in from a hole in the rocky ceiling and gave the hollowed chamber a milky glow. Brandos squinted his eyes in order to better make out the cave. A statue of a woman was positioned under the spot where the moonlight effused in. A black offering bowl lay at the statue’s feet. Brandos had found the Temple of the Etruscan Goddess.
Brandos knelt his massive bulk in front of the altar. With trembling fingers, Brandos reached into his pack and withdrew the offering. Three fragrant crimson roses were pulled out and placed in the black offering bowl. Brandos lit a spark with his flint and the roses began to smoke. Flames grew and lapped at the wilting petals and an unusual aroma of smoking flowers permeated the Spartan’s senses. He waited. After a few minutes the roses were completely consumed into ash and the fire began to bank. He waited. Brandos began to get a little restless. Swearing a blackened oath, Brandos towered to his full height.
“Fuckin A!” he cried. “Dumbass! Why in the name of all the Gods would I think this would work!?” Angrily he glared at the stone idol. “You and your divine companions never heard my screams as I bled in the Arena, I’m sure you are ignoring me now just as you did before!” Brandos turned around rapidly and would have exited the Temple if naught for a small form blocking the watery entry.
“Brandos! To blaspheme when you don’t get your way is most childish. Really…” she scolded.
Brandos’s normally dark tanned skin paled. His light blue eyes widened in shock. Surely he must be crazy.
The Divinity stood before him glowing. Her body illuminated the dark room and sent shivers down Brandos’s spine. Her skin emanated a pure white, and reddish brown hair curled in messy tangles down her body. A set of wide mossy brown eyes were wreathed in sooty black lashes, and a full red mouth creased in a smile. Light freckles danced over her elegant nose and two perfectly arched eyebrows were raised in a stance of amusement. The Divinity’s hands were perched on her curvy hips. It was at that point that Brandos realized her nudity. All she wore besides a smirk was jewelry. Two small yet firm breasts jutted out from underneath her tumbled hair. Rosy pink nipples presented themselves proudly. Her tiny waist was encircled by a silver strand of jewels, and the sacred crevice between her shapely thighs was denuded of hair.
“Brandos,” she crooned melodiously, “Stop gawking at me. I’m sure you have seen a naked woman before. There is nothing unusual about a naked Goddess, is there?”
Brandos just stood there and stuttered and felt an unseemly tightness in his undergarments.
“SPEAK!” she roared! “I was not summoned here to be raped by your gaze!”
“Goddess, I, uhhh…” stammered the poor Spartan. The Divinity’s gaze softened. She sighed.
“Oh all right, I’ll put on some clothes.” With a snap of her little fingers a pink silken dress draped around her slim form. While it left nothing to the imagination, her blazing nudity was somewhat concealed. With a delicate flick of the wrist, the Goddess beckoned for torches that Brandos did not see to roar with life. She conjured a small cloud and reclined leisurely onto the soft puffs. Saphara waved her hands in the air until of shiny goblet of ambrosia was made. She sipped the nectar and her eyes held the Spartan’s with wonder.
“So, mortal, what is your business with the Goddess?”
“It actually worked?” that was the first thing Brandos could of think to say. He was still coming out of his shock at seeing a Divinity.
Saphara rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, it worked. Why wouldn’t it have? Now, and this is the final time I ask you this, what do you want?”
Achievement Unlocked: Summoned Goddess
Brandos dropped to his knees and bowed towards the glowing Goddess.
“Goddess,” he began, “I beseech your help. The love of my life is to be married to some other man. It is impossible for me to get to where she is before the wedding. I have searched for you in order to have your blessing to call this woman my own. I want her to be my wife.”
Saphara relaxed and sipped more of her nectar. Her hungry brown eyes raked the form of the mortal’s with undisguised lust. After some time she sat up.
“You know,” she began, “I have more to offer you than she.” The Goddess spread her legs slowly and waved her hand to lift the face of the warrior. Brandos tensed at this motion but was powerless to stop it. He stared with wide eyes at her brazen display of sex.
“Goddess,” he pleaded with a sad tone in his voice.
“Tell you what; I will give you eternal life in exchange for becoming my personal pleasure slave. I haven’t enjoyed a Spartan in a very long time.” Saphara purred. She began to giggle at Brandos’s discomfort. He stared quietly at her as if he was in pain.
“Oh all right,” she said after a time, “I will grant you the largest penis ever as well as eternal life. Are we in accordance now?”
“Please, I love her.” It was a simple statement and a test. The Divinity knew what lay in Brandos’s heart. Of course she would help him, why couldn’t she also play with him as well?
“Oh you wound me!” and in a mock attempt of hurt, Saphara placed a small arm over her eyes and a hand over her heart. “I suppose I must help you, I am a love Goddess after all.” She released him and he slumped onto the cold floor. Saphara closed her legs and crossed the
m. She picked back up her goblet and returned to nurse it. Brandos stood straight and rubbed his arms; it was a little chilly in the cave. “Brandos,” inquired the Goddess, “Tell me about this love of yours.” And so Brandos told her. Saphara listened with rapt attention as this rugged warrior revealed his heart. Brandos spoke of her beauty, his failure to gain her hand, and his desperation of claiming her.
“I would do anything, Goddess, anything.” He finished. The look of determination in his vivid blue eyes bespoke of a passion not commonly found. With a smirk, Saphara raised an arched eyebrow. “Anything?” she asked. The was a small hint of wickedness in her voice and her brown eyes flashed black before returning back to their usual shade. Brandos nodded his consent without fear. Saphara chuckled and flew off of the cloud. Her little form clung to Spartan’s body and the two of them evaporated into thin air.