Chapter Text

 Part I

Lydia could only assume that the gods had been guiding her, because she had no idea how she'd made the perilous journey to one of the most remote islands in the known world while sailing a tiny, narrow, barely intact fishing skiff. The seas had been calm, the sky just cloudy enough to keep her from baking in the heat of the day, and she'd brought in food each time she cast out her net. It seemed she was fated to arrive here after all.

Only now, as she stared at the great gaping maw of the cave before her, she found herself almost wishing she'd wrecked before she even left the Athenian coast. A huge mass of dark rock loomed against the cobalt sky a few hundred paces away from her, split in the center as if some titan had hacked into it with a colossal ax. The beach sloped gradually up to it, the sand as white as pounded seasalt.

Her fishing skiff ground up against the shore, finally coming to a stop. Waves lapped at its sides, the sound playful and innocent despite the dread that was settling in the pit of Lydia's stomach. She stood and stretched, her limbs and core sore from so much time sitting in one place. Then she fumbled around in the bottom of the vessel, tossing aside a few empty clay urns that had once held a mixture of water and sour wine. Lydia removed a worn, cracked leather belt, which she cinched around her waist. On one side, several small clay pots were lashed to the belt's side, all of them empty. On the other, a sheathed sword dangled against her hip. The weapon banged painfully against her knee when she bent down to retrieve her shield. It was a simple brass dome, but the inside was polished to a sheen, so that she could avoid looking into the creature's face.

The thought of what was coming made the weight in Lydia's stomach sink even lower, until she wished she could bury herself in the sand and vanish entirely. She made sure her belt was secure and that the leather thongs attached to her shield were firmly wrapped around her wrist. Then she stepped down onto the beach. The ground squished beneath her simple leather sandals, hot grains finding their way between her toes. She began the slow trek up the slope, toward the mouth of the cave, dragging each step and nearly stumbling twice.

The beach was unnervingly idyllic. Vivid green palm trees shot up and spread their fronds against a bright afternoon sky. The air was sweet, bearing none of the rot that Lydia would've suspected from a monster's lair.

She almost hoped she'd made a mistake. Or maybe the gods truly were watching over her, but had seen fit to lead her to some safe, gentle paradise instead. Perhaps she could recline in the shade and share wine with nymphs, or feast with dryads.

...as if.

Lydia knew her own luck. She had been born unique, her body blessed by Hermes and Aphrodite both. They'd given her beauty, so much of it that it tormented her, drawing the ire and hunger of men and women alike. And they'd blessed her flesh in other ways too, ways Lydia did not often like to think about. She was glad the flowing white garb of the Cult of Dionysos hid so much of her. But she could feel it, that god-touched part of her, chafing and faintly pulsating between her thighs.

She didn't like to think much on her appearance. Often, Lydia found herself wishing that she looked like nothing at all. But for a moment, she found herself imagining how she must look as she struggled up the beach toward the yawning maw of the cave. A slender thing, tall, her figure willowy and athletic in a way that would make you think she'd be graceful. That is, until you saw her nearly beheading herself with a sword, stumbling over her own feet when she tried to dance, or vomiting after less than a single urn of wine. She was finely tanned, her dark curls tamed into a warrior's braid, though she had done a somewhat sloppy job. No hair grew anywhere beneath her eyelashes, which she supposed was a blessing, though it sometimes made her feel like a marble sculpture, a thing too pretty and too cold to ever be real.

"Gah!"

Lydia yelped when her foot caught on something solid buried in the sand. She went stumbling forward and fell on her face. By the grace of the gods, she didn't accidentally skewer herself on her own sheathed blade.

When she sat up, she spat sand from her lips and twisted around so that she could see the object that had tripped her.

A human hand protruded from the beach, carved from stone and broken off at the wrist, fingers clutching desperately at the open air. Lydia scrambled away from it. Her left hand caught on a broken-off piece of a leg. She bit down on her lip so that she wouldn't scream, and she forced herself to stand.

Stone fragments littered the beach around her. Lydia saw pieces of fingers and toes, along with large chunks—arms still attached to shoulders, whole torsos. And as she stumbled backward, her heel struck the left half of a man's face, one eye staring up in frozen, endless terror. His mouth was locked in a scream, and Lydia nearly joined him.

By nightfall, would pieces of her be littering the beach too?

She had to force herself to keep going, step by trembling step. Not for the first time, she thought of abandoning her quest, taking the boat, and fleeing to parts unknown. Lydia didn't know what kept her from running. She didn't care about glory, and though the Cult of Dionysos insisted that her god-blessed body marked her for greatness, she didn't care much for destiny either. But when she imagined the shame of ducking her head and fleeing, it was even worse than the terror squirming like vipers in her belly. She had never been able to live without drawing the attention of others. At least being constantly surrounded by praise and desire was better than scorn.

The thought of praise made her perk up a bit. That was what would carry her forward. The Cult of Dionysos had charged her with retrieving the venom of gorgons, a priceless liquid that would exalt their full-moon rituals to heights not experienced in an age. And they would be oh so grateful to her.

Lydia rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. She tried to think of herself as a noble hero, ready to charge in and claim the gorgons' venom.

As soon as she stepped over the cave's threshold, shadows closed in around her. The air was hot and humid, and sweat blossomed over her skin beneath the thin fabric of her gown. Lydia wiped a hand across her brow.

She continued on. Soon, the cavern twisted, winding its way downward, and daylight was lost to her. Only a thin light still filtered in from cracks high above her, falling on strange-shaped mounds of rock. It took Lydia far longer than it should have to realize that these were people.

And not just people. Women. All of the intact statues were girls not much younger or older than her. Here and there, she saw the shattered remains of men scattered across the cavern floor like refuse. But each female statue had been lovingly preserved, the stone gleaming even in the low light. The women's petrified faces all wore expressions of true mortal terror... but Lydia recognized a different emotion mixed in with them as well. She'd seen it over and over in the faces of participants in the cult's orgia—ecstasy in its purest form, where you could no longer tell if a person's screams were from torment or unbearable heights of pleasure.

Each of these girls had frozen in a moment of horrific, all-consuming delight.

A hot prickling flush spread across Lydia's shoulder blades, working its way along her back. She wove between the statues, trying not to meet the blank-eyed stares of these frozen women, doing her best to avoid their outstretched hands, to keep from accidentally brushing against their naked, helpless forms.

Her sandals scraped against a bed of coarse sand. She'd entered a rectangular chamber. The heat down here was almost overpowering, and it smelled of incense and serpents’ scales. Lydia lifted her shield. She started in, turning slowly, watching the wobbly reflection of stone columns passing along either side of her. Torches burned on bronze sconces at each pillar's base, casting flickering light over everything and making the shadows dance and interweave. Lydia kept thinking she saw flickers of motion, but she wasn't sure if it was her imagination, or if one of the creatures was stalking her, even now.

She wanted to call out a challenge to the monsters nesting here, but her tongue felt heavy and thick in her mouth. Lydia loosened her sword, ready to draw it. She'd trained with a blade before, but her arms felt dense and cumbersome. She couldn't even imagine what she would do when...

With a quick, sharp hiss, an arrow streaked past her face and embedded itself in the sand before her.

Lydia shrieked.

Her own voice echoed through the wide hall, mocking her. She spun, forgetting for a moment that she shouldn't dare look upon one of these creatures, and she hid her face behind her shield again. As the echo of her own voice faded, a new one joined it. A hissing titter sluiced between the columns, winding itself around Lydia like a constrictor.

"Is that all it took to frighten you, little warrior? You entered so boldly into our chambers. Surely you were prepared for us to defend ourselves, were you not?"

Another arrow sliced through the air, this one embedding itself in the sand a mere hairsbreadth from Lydia's foot. She dodged back, whirling to face the direction the arrow had come from and lifting her shield up to defend herself.

The air shifted around her. She could feel the creature moving just out of view. Lyida slid her sword free, brandishing it, though she didn't expect the creature to offer her a chance to strike.

"You are quite a fetching thing. Won't you dance for me?"

An arrow struck the ground between Lydia's feet. She dodged again, trying to bite back a scream. A second arrow clanged off of her shield, striking it so perfectly that Lydia knew the creature had aimed for it on purpose.

It could kill her anytime, she realized. This wasn't a fight. She was a plaything at best.

Lydia turned and made a mad dash for the exit, slipping and stumbling over the sand. She lifted her head, daring to glance up at the tunnel in front of her.

A shape stepped out from the gloom, blocking her path.

Lydia had the briefest glimpse of a woman's figure, as wide-hipped and pleasantly proportioned as the marble sculptures adorning the gardens of the temples of Aphrodite. She saw light glistening off of emerald skin, naked breasts as large as gourds, a skirt of pearls and white silk around the gorgon's waist. The monster's hands were dainty and elegant, grasping her bow like a master artisan as she leisurely knocked another arrow. Her fingernails were sharp black claws.

A fine collarbone cut a sculpted groove into the place beneath her soft, long neck. Her chin was gently pointed. Her full lips parting to reveal gleaming white fangs, a long pink serpent's tongue dancing behind them, cheeks like a doll's...

Lydia tore her gaze away. She turned her back to the gorgon, looking into the base of her shield.

Gorgeous, nightmarish eyes burned in the gloom behind her, like the lanterns on the prow of a warship. All around them, dozens of slender bodies coiled and probed at the air, a wild mane of living serpents surrounding the crown of her head. The gorgon stepped forward, swaying her hips like a dancer, bare feet moving easily over the sand. She hadn't even drawn her arrow yet. Everything in her posture showed that she wasn't afraid of Lydia.

And deep in her heart, Lydia knew the monster didn't have to be.

Lydia was going to fail in her quest. But she no longer cared about returning to the cult empty-handed. She just hoped she would return at all.

With a shout that sounded far more like a terrified squeal than a warcry, she turned and struck out blindly at the gorgon's head. Her blade cleaved through empty air as the monster stepped away, laughing as Lydia stumbled past her. She struck Lydia's ankle with the butt of her bow, knocking Lydia off her balance. Her sword slipped from her hands, landing on the sand with a dull thud.

Lydia held her shield over her head as she grabbed for it, but the gorgon kicked it away. She was far stronger than she looked. Her movements stayed casual, but the blade went flying, spinning end-over-end until it vanished in the gloom at the far side of the chamber.

"And now what will you do, little huntress?" the gorgon whispered. Her lips were right next to Lydia's ear, her breath even hotter and thicker than the air in her chamber.

Lydia whirled, swinging with her empty fist. The gorgon caught her blow, long slender fingers gripping Lydia's wrist with a steely strength. She squeezed just enough to make tears of pain well in Lydia's eyes. If she wanted to, this creature could crush the bones in her arm as easily as smashing old, brittle clay.

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. The cruel heat of the gorgon's gaze slithered along her face, daring her to return it. Lydia trembled. She brought up her other arm, swinging with her shield toward the gorgon's head.

But before her blow could even connect, the gorgon was pulling Lydia against her, like they were lovers sharing an embrace. Lydia sank against the warmth of the gorgon's chest, the overwhelming softness of her skin. In the rush of battle, the sudden wave of sensation was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. Her arm went limp, and the shield slid from her grip and tumbled against the floor.

The gorgon laughed. The razor tips of her claws brushed the bottom of Lydia's chin.

"Will you beg, little huntress? Or are you the type to pretend to be brave? Maybe you'll try to bargain with me. Perhaps you do have something that I want, after all..."

Her fingers were at Lydia's throat now. Not squeezing, but tracing its contours like a master sculpture appraising her newest piece. A sensation both fiery and frigid spread out everywhere her claws met Lydia's skin, running down her body like oil spilled onto the sea and then set alight.

"P-please..." Lydia whimpered.

"Ah! So you've chosen begging. Please what, little huntress?"

Lydia didn't even know what she was asking for. For the monster to make this quick?

No, she wasn't in any hurry to die.
To be released? She'd rather die than end up like one of the statues outside, frozen in mixed agony and pleasure until the gods saw fit to let the seas reclaim the world. But Lydia was no fool. She'd wandered into the gorgon's nest. There was no chance of her escaping now.

But still, the word pushed its way out through the back of her throat. "Please..."

She could feel the gorgon leaning in close, her lips parting, hot breath whispering over Lydia's ear. "Beg, little huntress."

"Please... k-keep touching me... only a little longer..."

The gorgon's hand paused. Lydia herself was too stunned by her own words to pull away. Where had that come from!?

All her life, she had been the Cult of Dionysos's most sacred treasure, her body a blessed gift that couldn't be sullied by common hands. But as a result, Lydia had grown up touch-starved and lonely, yearning for someone else but yet being told that she was too precious to be given away. And so now, feeling the hands of a monster rake callously over her throat, Lydia's own body was betraying her.

The gorgon's laughter slithered delicately along her ear. "Oh? There is no need to beg for that, of all things. I planned to enjoy you thoroughly from the moment I heard the approach of your footsteps."

The gorgon's hand slipped down to Lydia's shoulder, claws tracing the contours of her collar bone, and then made their way down to her chest. The monster's palm, so strangely soft despite the vicious edges of her nails, pressed right up against Lydia's breastbone. She could feel her own heart beating wildly in her chest. The monster moved her hand so that she was caressing the small pert mound of Lydia's tit. She cupped it in her palm like she was savoring a ripe fruit. Lydia could hear the wet sound of the gorgon running her long tongue over her lips.

"Such a delightful figure. You'll make a fine piece for our garden. But it is a shame to keep you hidden, isn't it?"

The gorgon's hand trailed down over Lydia's stomach, fingers searching for the knots of fabric that held her gown wrapped around her body.

And as they crept lower, they brushed against it.

Lydia's own treacherous body had allowed her to stiffen, her arousal unmistakable, the god-blessed part of her figure straining desperately against the thin fabric.

The gorgon shivered in mixed surprise and delight.

"Ah! The gods have favored us with a truly delightful gift indeed! We should honor their generosity then, shouldn't we, little huntress?"

All Lydia could do was whimper. She didn't dare let her eyelids part, and so she blindly shook in the gorgon's grasp as the monster began to strip her out of her dress.

She seemed to be having a bit of trouble.

Her fingers toyed with the many decorative knots at the dress's hips, and eventually she hissed in annoyance under her breath.

"Confounded thing. Hmm. You won't be needing it anyway..."

The gorgon's grip tightened around the gossamer fabric. And then in a single violent motion, she tore at it with her claws, shredding Lydia's gown off of her body. Beneath it, as was the cult's tradition, she wore nothing else to obscure the sacred delights of her body. The hot air wrapped itself around her in a sudden shroud, drawing small beads of sweat that dripped sensuously down the narrow cleft between her breasts, over the taut muscle of her stomach, and along the inner parts of her thighs. Lydia groaned, the sudden vulnerability too much to bear. She was helpless in the grasp of a creature that could kill her whenever she wished, and now she was naked too.

But she wasn't even trying to pull away.

Because this monster had promised to touch her. And a part of her hoped, perhaps vainly, that she might...

The gorgon's fingers brushed along her shaft. Lydia arched her back, her mind going blank as a choked wet moan burbled up from between her lips. Her hips pressed against the gorgon, shoving herself against the monstrous woman's soft palm. And to her delight, the gorgon curled her fingers around her length, giving it a single teasing pull.

Lydia was already dripping, her own nectar wetting the gorgon's fingers.

"Where is your terror now, little huntress? You seem so eager, I'd almost think you were offering yourself to us willingly."

She slid her hand along Lydia's cock with an agonizing, cruel slowness. Lydia's thighs could hardly support her weight anymore, they were quaking so badly. She tried to thrust herself into the gorgon's grasp, but she pulled back.

"Not so quickly. My appetite has gone unslaked since the last foolish maiden dared to charge in here and face me. I will enjoy this to the fullest..."

She cupped the soft orbs of Lydia's testicles, giving them just enough of a squeeze to make Lydia cry out.

For a fragment of a second, Lydia's mewling gasp echoed through the stone chamber. But the gorgon quickly silenced her with a kiss. The thick full petals of her lips were against Lydia's mouth, and her tongue was worming its way to the back of Lydia's throat, pressing Lydia's own tongue down like the gorgon was trying to force her to submit. Lydia could feel the monster's writhing mane of snakes now only inches from her face. Their little bodies wormed their way over her cheeks, tiny jaws nipping at her brow. The gorgon's kiss pressed all the way into the back of Lydia's throat, until Lydia was sure that this monster meant to choke her.

She felt the gorgon's tongue wriggling its way down her neck. Lydia choked, her throat seizing as she tried to pull in air. Golden embers of light swam in front of her eyes. She tried to pull away. But the gorgon held her pinned in place, relishing the predatory kiss even as she caressed Lydia's poor throbbing length...

Without really meaning to, Lydia came.

The rush of it was sudden, the white-hot force hitting her body like a blow to the gut. She released into the gorgon's palm, anointing it with her essence. It was the first time anyone else had brought her to climax.

She wanted desperately to moan, but she could only choke wetly on the length of the gorgon's tongue. Slowly, its slimy length slithered out from her throat, and Lydia collapsed, gagging, a mixture of her and the gorgon's saliva dribbling down her chin.

The gorgon caught her. "So soon, little huntress? If you have nothing more to give than that, then this will be over far, far too soon for either of us..."

Lydia had to fight to keep her eyes shut. The gorgon's arm was around her waist, supporting her.

Her other hand... Lydia had no idea where it was. Then she heard the slick sound of the gorgon's tongue against her own skin.

"Delightful. You have more for me, don't you?"

This creature was tasting her!

Lydia had seen far more depraved during the cult's moonlit frolicks. But she had never had anyone drink her own essence right in front of her. Heat flashed along her cheeks, and before she could stop herself, she opened her eyes to peek at the lewd display.

The gorgon's fingers were in her mouth, tongue slithering between her fingers to scoop up every little drop. She grinned, flashing Lydia her fangs.

"Well? Come now, little huntress. You must know that won't be enough."

She pulled Lydia closer, her spit-slicked hand gripping Lydia's softening member. Lydia's skin was still blazing and oversensitive from the sudden rush of her climax, and the feeling of being touched again was more agonizing than if the gorgon had struck her. She squirmed, trying to free herself, but the monster overpowered her easily.

And in spite of herself, she could feel that she was already growing hard again, her body desperate for more despite her terror.

"There. I knew you wouldn't disappoint. Now..."

The gorgon kissed her again, forcing Lydia to taste her own bitterness on the monster's slender tongue. Then she sank to the ground, graceful as an eastern dancer, trailing burning kisses over Lydia's breasts, down her stomach, and finally...

The gorgon's hot breath washed over Lyda's cock. The monster's face was between her legs. Lydia could feel the excited wriggling of her serpent mane, the little creatures wriggling themselves up against her inner thighs.

She was throbbing now, even as her skin felt raw and bristling with oversensitivity.

Lydia could think of only one thing that the monster meant to do to her. And deep in the core of herself, she yearned for it, even if she knew there was no longer any chance of her leaving this cavern. She wanted to feel herself worshiped, enjoyed, used.

The gorgon bent in. The molten flow of her breath against Lydia's flesh was almost unbearable. She bent in, sweetly kissing the tip of Lydia's cock. Lydia could tell she was already oozing. Her body wouldn't obey her, she couldn't make herself push her way between the gorgon's lips. But she whimpered, begging for more in tiny, half-formed syllables.

She felt the creature's grin. Her lips parted...

"Medusa, you greedy bitch! Quit keeping her for yourself! You already wasted your turn with her. Don't drag this out any longer!"

The voice came from somewhere to Lydia's left, so sudden and so piercingly loud that she shrieked, her body forgetting the prize that was right in front of her, and she stumbled away from the gorgon kneeling in front of her. Her foot slid on the sand, and she fell on her ass. Lydia looked around wide-eyed, and only remembered to avert her gaze when she saw a second gorgon stepping out from the shadows.

The newcomer was shorter than Medusa by a few inches, but where Medusa's build was plush and wide-hipped, her companion was hard-edged, angular, her body all taut muscle and lean, powerful limbs. She was naked from the waist up, her chest boyishly modest, and her skin was a fiery orange. Her serpent-hair was wild, an angry nest of adders that snapped and hissed in anger. She stomped out from the shadows, a sheathed sword swinging at her waist, dirty skirts swirling about her ankles.

Lydia looked away. Her body was still jittering with energy, and she was still shamefully and obviously aroused, her member jutting out from between her thighs like a clumsily wielded dagger.

Medusa turned her attention away from Lydia for a moment. She wiped her mouth and faced the newcomer, though she didn't stand.

"Euryale," she said. The vicious, carnal edge was gone from her voice now. "You have as much tact as ever, sister."

"Fuck tact," Euryale spat. "The wench wandered into our cave. She brought weapons. We should enjoy her and be done with her. You waste so much time trying to woo our prey. As if it matters."

"I've always been committed to doing things properly," Medusa said.

"Hmph. I'll show you proper," Euryale growled.

She started toward Lydia, and Lydia tried to scramble to her feet, to do anything. Now that Medusa's bewitching trance had worn off, she remembered she was about to die, and Lydia wanted nothing more than to flee for her life, naked or not.

But Euryale moved with the same fiendish warrior's grace that Medusa had earlier. She was standing over Lydia before Lydia had a chance to react. The gorgon lifted her foot and planted it against Lydia's chest, pinning her in place. The rough skin of her sole, enmeshed with tiny bits of grit from the chamber's sandy floor, ground against the soft skin of Lydia's sternum. Lydia cried out. The monster could crush her ribcage if she wanted.

She should have known that that wasn't what Euryale wanted at all.

On some level, her body must have known what was coming next. Some survival instinct could sense that she wasn't going to die, not quite yet. Instead, her flesh reacted with an aching, overwhelming need, even as terror frothed like a cauldron in her chest.

"Open your eyes," Euryale hissed. "Now."

Lydia whimpered. She kept them tightly shut.

"I said open. Your. Eyes. I'm not wasting any more time with you than I have to."

She leaned more of her weight onto her foot, and a steely pain lanced through Lydia's chest. Air wasn't flowing into her chest, and could feel her ribs creaking, threatening to shatter like a fine glass sculpture.

"G-guh!" she choked, fighting to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming with tears.

A pair of eyes stared back at her, the color of firelight glinting off of burnished copper. And Lydia, her brain clouded with fear and panic, no longer had the wherewithal to keep from looking back into them.

The moment she did, she could feel Euryale seeping like poison through her veins, a numbing chill spreading from Lydia's heart and flowing down into the tips of her fingers and toes. She craned her neck, unable to do anything but stare in horror as the skin of her feet paled to gray. When she tried to curl her toes, she found she couldn't. It was as if nothing beneath her ankles existed at all. The pallor crept upward, like fire consuming tinder, until it reached her calves, then her knees, then her thighs...

And then it stopped.

The spread of petrification ended a hand's length down from Lydia's hips, leaving her looking as if someone had replaced her legs with ones stolen from a statue. She couldn't feel any pain in her frozen limbs. But they were heavy. Lydia tried to drag herself across the floor, but her fingers raked powerlessly through the hot sand.

"There," Euryale hissed. "Terrifying, isn't it?" She stared at Lydia, her burning copper eyes as hot and oppressive as twin suns.

Lydia glanced away, and Euryale laughed. "Don't worry. You won't be joining the others in the garden. At least, not yet. I don't want to ruin the one part of you that's worth anything."

The second gorgon sister dropped to her knees, for a moment looking bizarrely like a supplicant bowing before her god. She bent in, and Lydia's member throbbed so hard it hurt, her own flesh somehow sensing what the monster meant to do. Lydia's entire body craved it now, the fear once again intertwining with the shameless need to feel another's touch, to be taken, to be enjoyed.

Euryale moved with none of Medusa's sensuality. She curled her fingers around Lydia's cock, tugged at it hard enough to make Lydia squeal. And then she bent forward and enveloped it with her mouth.

"A-ah!"

Lydia cried out, her back arching, her hips simultaneously trying to push herself into the gorgon's mouth while also trying desperately to pull away from the sudden intensity of Euryale's tongue dancing along her, her fangs sliding threateningly over sensitive skin, her lips reaching all the way down to the base of Lydia's shaft. Lydia's tip pressed against something slick and tight, and she realized Euryale was going to take her all the way down her throat.

"Mmmm..."

Euryale let out a hungry growl, the back of her throat vibrating around Lydia's oversensitive meat. It was too much, too fast—the silkiness of her mouth, the coiling grasp of her tongue, the strange cold heat of the gorgon's saliva.

For a moment, Lydia saw nothing but white.

And then she felt the tide breaking her, her testicles pulsing so hard that she felt like something within her was going to rupture. She exploded down the back of Euryale's throat, and the gorgon let out a choked, startled yelp. Instead of pulling away, she sank her fingers painfully into Lydia's hips, like she was trying to punish her, and shoved Lydia down her gullet.

When Lydia at last stopped twitching, Euryale pulled back, letting Lydia's spit-slimed meat slither out of her mouth.

"What the fuck was that?" Euryale hissed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry..." Lydia squeaked, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"We haven't had a maiden come to us in two-hundred years, and you finish in twenty seconds?" Her mane of serpents coiled and snapped around her head. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Lydia's drooping cock, pulling at it and making her squeal. "Again. Give it to me again. If I don't get to feel you inside me, I swear to the mother of the depths I'll..."

Medusa sidled up beside her sister, sliding her fingers over Euryale's shoulder. "You're frightening the poor thing," she cooed. "You expect her to perform with you pawing at her like that?"

Euryale scoffed. "You're always so gentle with them, sister. She's not our guest. We don't have to treat her like one."

"Perhaps not," Medusa said. She stepped away from Euryale and knelt by Lydia's shoulder. "But she is such a precious thing, isn't she? It would be a shame to spoil her so quickly." She reached out and touched her hand to Lydia's cheek. Lydia shuddered, but the gorgon's touch was gentle, the tips of her claws like the caress of a well-honed knife.

Medusa leaned in, touching her lips to the bottom of Lydia's ear. "Well, little huntress? What would you like us to do to you?"

"N-not kill me," Lydia whimpered.

Medusa laughed, her soft breath almost agonizing against Lydia's flushed cheek. "No hunter, no matter how delightful to look upon, has ever left our cave alive. But perhaps, if my sisters and I truly take a liking to you..." Medusa kissed Lydia's jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone. "...you may survive longer than most."

"I'll do anything," Lydia said immediately.

"Oh! I do appreciate an eager lover. Don't you, sister?"

"I appreciate one you can give me what I want," Euryale spat. She pulled at Lydia again, so hard that Lydia was afraid the gorgon was going to tear the entire thing off.

Lydia tried to bite back the cry of pain, but couldn't. Medusa scowled.

"Sister. You're going to ruin the poor girl before we've even had our fun."

"What would you have me do? Whisper sweet nothings into her ear?" Euryale rolled her eyes, the serpents in her mane coiling around one another in annoyance.

"Perhaps. Would that please you, little huntress?" Medusa gave Lydia a teasing smile.

Lydia... wasn't entirely sure how to answer. As a sacred treasure of the Cult of Dionysos, she'd had praise heaped upon her for much of her life. It could feel meaningless, after a while. Sweet words would mean little to her.

But there was one thing the cult had always refused her.

"Touch me," Lydia whispered.

Medusa stared at her for several long seconds. The gorgon's eyebrows, Lydia realized, were made from a thin arc of brilliant scales. One of them raised in surprise.

"Sister?" Medusa said. "I think the gods have finally seen fit to send us a boon."

Euryale folded her arms over her chest, huffing like a petulant child. "They sent us a girl who can't last longer than a minute. I'm not exactly about to fall to my knees in worship."

"You can't just grab whatever you want and take it, sister. Sometimes, you need a subtler approach. Watch."

Medusa leaned in and brought her lips to Lydia's. This time, the kiss was strangely restrained, like the gorgon was a nervous courtier trying to gain her favor. Lydia was almost disappointed...

In fact, she was quite disappointed. She opened her mouth, tongue nervously prodding up at Medusa's mouth. But the gorgon had already pulled away, kissing along Lydia's chest, down her stomach, and lower still. Her hand cupped Lydia's meat, softly massaging it, coaxing it to harden again.

And Lydia could feel the stirring inside of herself. Medusa's touch stoked the hunger in her, and the smoldering need in Lydia's belly started to spark and glow. Heat rushed down her belly and into her crotch, and she started to squirm, rubbing the skin of her bare back and bottom against the hard grit of the sand.

"There," Medusa cooed. "Now. Open your eyes. I want you to watch me, little huntress."

Lydia still had some self-protective instincts. She shut her eyes.

"You're safe," Medusa laughed. "You don't think I'd petrify you now, do you? When we're so close to the best part?"

Lydia opened a single eye.

Medusa was lying stretched out on her stomach, her face level with Lydia's cock. Lydia herself was still only halfway to her full height, but she could feel the need uncoiling itself within her. The gorgon stared up into Lydia's eyes, those hypnotic golden pools suddenly filled with a strangely sweet, caring look.

"Watch," Medusa said.

Lydia swallowed the nervous, sludgy feeling that had built up in the back of her throat. She nodded.

Medusa brought the tip of Lydia's cock, still slightly damp with Euryale's saliva, to her lips. She kissed it like she was trying to bless it. Then she took it in her mouth, letting the half-hard flesh rest against her tongue. She suckled at it like she was relishing ripe fruit, her long tongue curling around Lydia, pulling at her. There was none of Euryale's insistent cruelty. Rather, it was like she was trying her best to avoid hurting Lydia at all, to make her feel comforted, precious, safe, delicious.

Euryale knelt beside Medusa. She folded her arms over her chest, giving her sister a withering glare as Medusa worked her head lower, then up again, pampering Lydia's cock and letting it grow hard in her mouth.

"You disgust me," Euryale spat.

Medusa grinned. She didn't even glance at her sister. Her eyes stayed focused on Lydia's as she lowered, letting Lydia's tip kiss the back of her throat. A long, wet, slurping sound escaped her throat, and a single bead of her spit dripped down onto Lydia's testicles.

Euryale shook her head, her serpents dancing in annoyance around her shoulders. "Treating her like she's some kind of princess. She's our plaything."

Medusa pulled her head back, letting Lydia's shaft stand proud in the torchlight. She was as hard and as ready as iron freshly pulled from the forge. The slick mess Medusa had made of her glistened, and the gorgon looked on what she'd done with pride.

"You're not wrong, sister," Medusa said. "But I treat my toys well. And now, since I've so graciously readied her, I think I'll enjoy myself."

Medusa rose up on her knees and began undoing the tie that held her skirt around her hips. Euryale turned away, gritting her teeth. "I suppose you've earned it. But be quick. You're not the only one of us with needs."

"Always so eager to rush things, sister. For an immortal, you're so terribly impatient. I, meanwhile, like to enjoy every. Little. Moment."

Medusa undid the tie and let her skirt slip down her legs. Her wide hips and the soft bounty of her thighs made Lydia groan, her body sinking back into pure animal want. And it was clear that Medusa liked that.

"Ready, little huntress?"

On pure instinct, Lydia knew that she certainly was not. But she nodded, though she was certain that the gorgon wouldn't have cared even if she'd refused.

Medusa scooted forward, so that she was straddling Lydia, her knees making divots in the sand. And then she reached down and positioned Lydia's cock, working its tip against her entrance. She was hairless, and way in the back of her mind, Lydia was relieved that she didn't have more snakes down there. The gorgon was gushing, her petals slick and dripping with her own dew. As seductive and charming as she was, Lydia realized, Medusa needed this. Perhaps she was the only creature in the titans' great creation even needier than Lydia herself.

The thought only made Lydia want to be inside of her even more. She strained, trying to push herself upward. But she could hardly move, pinned down by her own frozen legs and Medusa's weight.

The gorgon grinned. Her eyes dripped with golden, honey-sweet lust.

"Eyes on me," Medusa whispered. And she lowered herself down, skewering her own wetness on Lydia's rod.

The gorgon's body was more than ready for her, taking Lydia inside in a single squelching stroke. To Lydia it was nearly unbearable. Every slick, soaking crease of Medusa pressed against her tender flesh, the weight and the pressure as torturous as it was wildly delightful. Lydia tried to scream, but her throat was too dry.

Her eyes squeezed shut on their own. Medusa placed a firm hand on Lydia's stomach, claws barely prickling her skin.

"Eyes. On. Me," she said.

Lydia forced them open, watching the gorgon lift herself up and lower again, stroking Lydia in and out of her. The gorgon's flower was fully in bloom now, spilling its nectar freely down Lydia's shaft, so that it dripped from her and wet the sand underneath her bottom. It was far from the first time Lydia had ever witnessed another woman in the throes of pleasure. She had seen men, women, and people in between gallivanting beneath the moonlight in honor of Dionysos, heard their cries, seen them spill their love atop the fresh grass.

But nothing compared to the sight of the gorgon atop her. Medusa had taken control completely. Lydia, pinned as she was, could do nothing more than let the gorgon shove her in and out of her needy sex. The pleasure showed on every inch of Medusa's face: the way her eyes fluttered half-closed, the way her mouth hung open, small hissing gasps of pleasure pouring from her lips. The way she shuddered, her insides almost tugging at Lydia's cock, as if desperate to make sure it stayed inside. Her serpent-mane coiled and undulated along with her, tiny mouths letting out a chorus of chittering mewls of joy.

Lydia could feel herself swelling, ready to burst within the gorgon.

Medusa must have felt it too. She leaned forward, driving her hips down again and again, and placed her hands on Lydia's chest, claws pricking at her breasts.

"Not yet, little huntress. Hold off me for, won't you? I'm so very close..."

Lydia whimpered. She clenched the muscles in her belly, dug her fingers into the sand, gritted her teeth and tried to breathe slowly. On some deep level, she knew that if she disappointed the gorgon here, she might not stay alive for much longer.

Hold on, she begged herself. Hold on, hold on...

Medusa slammed herself down atop her with reckless, savage abandon, her thighs slapping gleefully against Lydia's own narrow legs.

To Lydia, it was like trying to hold back all the dark force of the Styx with only her hands. A screaming point of white-hot pressure was building inside the root of her cock, pressing upward and threatening to tear her apart if she didn't let it loose soon.

But the look in Medusa's eyes forbade her.

"Not yet. Not yet..." the gorgon clenched her teeth. Her hips were moving like an animal in heat now, all of that sensuous grace replaced by a bitchy need to breed. "By the queen of the depths... fuck, little huntress... the gods deserve endless praise for... sending you to us... mmmm!"

Medusa's inner folds squeezed around Lydia like the hand of a god. Lydia threw her head back, arching her back like a torture victim after the first stroke of some deadly implement. Now, when she finally had the gorgon's permission to cum, she found she couldn't. Sheer, raw terror was still holding her own seed prisoner inside her body.

Medusa collapsed against Lydia, her mouth on Lydia's neck, little gasping breaths sluicing from her lips.

"Oh, little huntress... I could worship this thing at an altar... I'd sacrifice to it every night... what mad titan could've ever crafted something so wonderful?"

She was still stroking herself over Lydia, but slower now, her body quaking.

Lydia tried to let herself relax. She wanted so desperately to finally ease the maddening lust that had wound like steel wire within her body.

But Euryale had other plans.

In a flash of orange flesh, Euryale tackled her sister like a wrestler in the arena, knocking Medusa aside. Lydia's cock slipped from inside her with a long, slick squelch. Medusa hit the ground with an ungainly yelp. She rolled, popping up onto her knees. Her snakes writhed around her head, and she bared her gleaming fangs. Lydia had forgotten for a moment what a true monster this creature really was. For a brief moment, all the unearthly beauty was gone from Medusa, and Lydia was staring upon the visage of a proper horror.

"I was enjoying myself, sister," Medusa spat.

"You've had her to yourself long enough! I can't wait anymore," Euryale hissed back. Her serpent-mane whipped around her head, and the two gorgons stared one another down, eyes blazing. Lydia was shaking, her poor cock trembling with her, still slick with Medusa's slimy essence.

She might go unsatisfied, though. Medusa opened her mouth to argue, her own serpents coiling into little angry ς shapes, ready to strike.

Lydia was powerless to move away. She only hoped she wouldn't die if the two sisters came to blows over her.

But before things could properly boil over, a new voice fell over the chamber like a shroud.

"Quit bickering, the both of you. Medusa, learn to share. Euryale, learn some manners." The new voice was feminine, but deeper than the others, with a dark richness to it that reminded Lydia of woodsmoke. She heard footsteps in the sand somewhere behind her, and she felt the prickling weight of a gorgon's eyes upon her. But she couldn't twist around to see who was staring at her.

"She's the one who always hogs our playthings!" Euryale complained, sticking out her bottom lip.

"That's because you treat them terribly. It's why they always prefer me. Isn't that right, little huntress?" Medusa winked at Lydia.

Lydia knew better than to answer that.

Euryale gritted her teeth. "Greedy bitch..."

"Tactless harlot," Medusa murmured.

"Enough. Medusa, give your sister her time with our new guest. Euryale, learn a little patience. And try not to break the poor thing. Look how you've exhausted her already."

"Yes, Stheno," both sisters said. They locked eyes once more, some silent challenge flashing between them. And then Euryale was clambering atop Lydia. She undid the clasp holding up her skirt and tossed it aside, revealing she was just as slick between her thighs as Medusa had been. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed Lydia's cock, holding it tightly, possessively, as she positioned it against herself.

She straddled Lydia, but faced away from her, so that Lydia could see only the smooth, muscular slope of her back and the shapely mound of her bottom. Her serpent-mane wriggled around her shoulders, and Lydia could feel small, nervous tremors racing through Euryale's thighs.

When the gorgon finally slipped Lydia inside, Lydia was more than eager for it.

Euryale was far tighter than Medusa had been, so that Euryale had to cram her in inch by inch, and by the time she was in fully, both of them were nearly screaming.

Medusa knelt beside her sister, placing a teasing hand on Euryale's cheek. "You see, sister? She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"F-fuck..." was all Euryale could say in response.

"Now that you've felt her, you can forgive a girl for getting a little carried away, can't you?"

"Would you s-shut up... and let me... f-finish already? Fuck, fuck..."

Medusa clicked her tongue. "Uncouth, isn't she?" she said to Lydia, winking.

Lydia couldn't respond. Her brain was far from being capable of forming words.

Euryale was riding her with a brutal ferocity, slamming her hips against Lydia like she was trying to snap Lydia in half. Lydia was sucking in ragged gasps of air into her lungs, trying to keep from blacking out. She wrapped her hands around Euryale's hips, trying to make the gorgon slow down. But as Lydia squeezed her, that only seemed to encourage Euryale, and she quickened her pace, until Lydia was sure that the sisters wouldn't have a chance to petrify her. Her heart was going to explode in her chest.

Pure liquid heat was expanding in the core of her body, the pressure of her denied climax now pushing its way through the rest of her.

Lydia cried out, wordlessly, unable to bite back the warbling moans that rolled out from her lungs.

Euryale joined her, her own groaning gasps joining with Lydia's, so that their voices made a single discordant dyad of pure, agonizing ecstasy.

"Don't you dare finish before me... don't you... f-fucking dare... if I feel you cum... I'm tearing out your throat with my teeth..."

Lydia wasn't even sure if she wanted to finish anymore. The force of it might rupture her like overripe fruit.

Euryale didn't care, though. She was growling through her teeth, sounding more enraged than pleasured. Again and again, she slammed into Lydia with a violence that made it seem like she was trying to hurt herself. Again, again...

"Fucking finally..."

Euryale stabbed Lydia up into herself, curling over, her serpent-mane going wild, snapping at the air. She clenched around Lydia until Lydia wailed. Euryale's climax, like everything else about her, was quick and violent, a few spurts of hot juices that spattered Lydia's thighs, a few shaking tremors, and a throaty gasp that made her sound like a wounded animal.

The moment she finished, Euryale started to lift herself off of Lydia.

But Lydia wasn't ready to be done. She dug her fingers into Euryale's hips and pulled her back, shoving into her and finally releasing.

"What are you doing? Wait! I never said... inside me!? You fucking bitch!" Euryale cried.

Euryale threw her head back, howling as Lydia spilled into her. It was a torrent, each pulse of her cock sending a fresh wave of overwhelming sensation crashing over Lydia, wracking her with shuddering fits, every muscle in her body spasming. She strained against her frozen legs, but she was trapped, pinned by both the weight of stone and refusal of the bestial, instinctual part of her to pull out of Euryale's red-hot slit.

And then she was done.

Lydia collapsed, blinking away small black motes that swam in her eyes.

Euryale crawled off of her, pearly beads of Lydia's seed dripping from her petals. "You're dead... you're fucking dead..." she hissed.

Medusa tittered. "You'd have me believe this scrawny little thing overpowered you, sister? It seems far more likely that you wanted it. I've certainly never heard you scream like that. You sounded like a dying dolphin."

"Shut up," Euryale grunted. Then she sank to the ground, her whole body twitching. More of Lydia's essence oozed from her, and she shuddered.

Medusa flashed Lydia a coy grin, then glanced up at the third gorgon. "So, Stheno? Are you going to take your turn with the poor girl too?"

"Hardly," the voice said from behind her. She heard footsteps approaching, so quiet they were more like whispers flowing along the sand. A tall figure stepped into view, looming high over Lydia and silhouetted by torchlight.

Stheno was the tallest of the three by far, with the kind of slender yet weighty figure that a master sculptor could have labored their entire life trying to replicate, yet still never gotten close. Her serpent-mane was straight and placid, so long that the snakes swayed around the backs of Stheno's knees. A few of them lifted their heads and stared in Lydia's direction, tongues flicking out inquisitively. Stheno's skin was a deep sapphire, the color of the open ocean, and her eyes were a cloudy, stormy gray.

She took a step closer, so that her feet were enmeshed in the sand right next to Lydia's cheek.

"Look at how you've exhausted this poor thing," Stheno said. She knelt, and placed a gentle hand on Lydia's brow. "She would die before I had a chance to satisfy myself. Medusa, free her. Then find her a place to wash, rest, and fill her belly."

Medusa brightened. "We're keeping her as a guest?"

"For now. I assume this foolhardy little warrior isn't so foolish as to try and escape, is she?" Stheno glanced down at Lydia, the corners of her lips raising to show off her gleaming fangs.

"N-no, of course not," Lydia stammered. Her throat was raw, even getting a few words out left her lightheaded.

"Good. Medusa, she is in your care. I'm going back to sleep. I'll need my strength, I think, once she's ready for me."

Lydia tried her best not to think about how those words sounded like a threat.

"As you wish, dear sister," Medusa said. She bent in over Lydia again, her mouth moving toward Lydia's crotch, and Lydia's whole body trembled in fear.

Medusa laughed. "Not yet, little huntress. But soon." She kissed the tip of Lydia's poor brutalized meat, then moved her lips lower, peppering Lydia's thigh with tiny brushes of her lips. When she reached the part that was still frozen in stone, she pressed her mouth against it in a long kiss. Lydia heard a faint crack. Then the stone around her legs split, fragments of rock as thin as eggshells falling away from her flesh.

She sighed in relief. Then her sigh became a startled cry as blood rushed back into her legs like a wave of hot needles. Lydia flexed her toes, then bent her knees. Everything worked, it seemed.

Medusa stood, though her legs were shaking nearly as badly as her sister's, and she wobbled on her feet, nowhere near as fatally graceful as she had been before. Lydia felt strangely proud of that.

"Can you stand?" Medusa asked. She offered Lydia her hand.

Lydia took it. Medusa helped her up, though Lydia nearly fell.

The gorgon caught her, her arm ending up slung around Lydia's shoulders as easily as if the two of them were new lovers stealing away on a midnight tryst. Naked as they both were, Medusa's body heat flowed over Lydia's side like the tide gently creeping through the shore. Lydia realized just how vulnerable she was, stripped down to her skin and without a weapon in sight to defend herself. But the sensuous delight of skin against skin wiped any worries away from her mind.

"There," Medusa said. She sounded eminently satisfied. In fact, she pulled Lydia tightly against her, almost clingy, like she was afraid one of her sisters would come to steal Lydia away from her. "Let's get you taken care of, little huntress. And then the fun can begin again."

She led Lydia toward the far end of the chamber. Now that Lydia's eyes were adjusting to the darkness, she could see a doorway cut into the stone wall of the cavern. Behind it was a hallway of stone blocks, lit faintly by torches. And beyond that, well, Lydia supposed she would find out soon enough.

Some part of her did consider tearing away from Medusa and running for it. But where would she run to? The temple of Dionysos, to be placed on a pedestal and kept away from anyone else's touch, her flesh remaining pure while her body grew cold and lonely again? Now that she'd had a taste of what it was like to be desired, to be taken, Lydia wasn't sure she could ever go back to a life of solitude. Death would be preferable.

And now that the rush of fear and the sudden explosion of sensations that had come with sex were wearing off, Lydia felt good. Fantastic, even. A faint warmth had kindled in the root of her, and it seeped upward and into her chest and downward to her toes, filling her with a kind of easy lethargy. She wanted to rest, bathe, and most of all, to eat.

So she let herself sag against Medusa, so that the gorgon had to half-carry her downward into the winding halls of the sisters' monstrous lair. And Lydia went willingly, as a guest, as a prisoner, and as prey.