Bred by the Spartans

Bred by the Spartans

By

Emily Tilton

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Tilton, Emily

Bred by the Spartans

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Bigstock/Wisky and Bigstock/Jgroup

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Preface

The people of the small Greek isle of Monelos told a tale that was long lost to students of Greek myth, but has recently emerged from the sands of Egypt, recorded upon a scrap of papyrus. The tale gives the story of the births of their founding hero, Monocrates, and of his companion Photeros, both sons of goddesses. The myth is of great interest, not only for its rather shocking sexual dynamics, but also for its claim that Monocrates was an ancestor of the royal houses of Sparta, from whom the famous Leonidas, savior of Greece in the battle of Thermopylae, descended.

For the reader’s enjoyment, I have modernized the tale somewhat.

Chapter One

Thaleia and her sister Argeia sat, silent and bored, on the bench in the courtyard of their father’s palace on Mount Olympus. The spray of a lovely fountain filled the air above them; the fountain meant that the sisters’ family held responsibilities over waters. Indeed, their family, sprung from Nereus (the girls’ grandfather) took care of a large proportion of the waters in the region of the lands of men called Greece, or Hellas. As they had grown up in their father’s house on Olympus, Thaleia and Argeia found that the other immortals sometimes called them goddess and sometimes called them nymphs; the essential thing about them, though, which they shared with all the other inhabitants of Olympus, was their divine immortality.

“What are we going to do?” Thaleia said, finally. At nineteen she was the older sister.

“I know!” said eighteen-year-old Argeia. “Let’s stay up all night and watch Apollo bring the sun up in the East over the lands of men!”

Thaleia’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t think we’ve ever done that before!”

“Why do we still sleep, anyway?” Argeia asked.

“Well,” Thaleia replied. “Mother says it makes our charms look fresher, doesn’t she?”

“I think she made that up,” Argeia said. “I don’t want to sleep at all, anymore.”

“Me either!” Thaleia said. “So what do we do while we don’t sleep?”

“Let’s have dares!” said Argeia. “You go first. Dare me to do something.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Um, climb onto the roof of the palace.”

They gave each other dares until nearly midnight, and there was a great deal of climbing and splashing and the holding of divine breath ever longer (the girls could pass out, though of course no harm could really come to them).

Finally, Thaleia said, “I’m bored. Let’s play knucklebones.”

“No no no,” Argeia said. “I just thought of the best dare ever. Run around the courtyard of the palace of Zeus.”

“Argeia, are you crazy? What if Zeus sees me? He might… you know…” She blushed as her voice trailed off. What gods did with goddesses, especially young goddesses like Thaleia and Argeia, had recently become a subject of much more interest to her than it ever had been before. Thaleia thought about the deeds of Eros more often than she would care to admit even to her sister, wondering what they would feel like and whether she could ever tell a god what she really longed for: to be made to do the deeds of Eros with him, while she cried out in shame for her ruined honor.

The female goddesses did their best to prepare young immortal girls like Thaleia and Argeia for what might befall them at the hands and loins of the gods. All nymphs went to lessons at Mother Hestia’s palace three times a week. Mostly they learned to spin and weave, which were duties they shared with mortal women, though the cloth woven by immortal fingers had magical properties that enhanced gods’ and goddesses’ powers. Even Athena herself, mighty goddess of war and wisdom, spun and wove, in her person as the deity of craft; she came to Hestia’s, too, to teach more advanced lessons in weaving, as well as in the wiles of gods and men.

And Thaleia seemed always to be remembering a certain thing she had heard from the lady Athena at one of those lessons. Indeed, the little lesson had stuck firm in her mind, and seemed to rise to the surface of her thoughts, unbidden, at least once a day. The conversation had been about the maiden calling, as Athena and Hestia and Artemis named their perpetual refusal of the deeds of Eros. Lady Athena had said to all the girls present, “Some of you may have the maiden calling, and if you do, you need not worry, for the Olympian gods will stay away from you. If it should happen that you escape the clutches of a god—don’t laugh, girls—” (for many of them had tittered at the idea that they might resist when a god set his desire upon them) “it happens—you may go to Artemis, and she will receive you into her band, and give you a trial in the maiden calling.

“Some of you, though, may have a more troubling calling: you will crave the deeds of Eros, but you will be unable to admit it. I am afraid that the fate of such girls is to be broken and sent down to the lands of men as mortal women.” A murmur of concern ran through the girls at Hestia’s palace. “I will say, though,” continued Athena, “that I have often envied the few girls I have seen broken. Their lives are full of adventure. If a time should come, girls, when you feel that you cannot admit that you wish to be forced, say to the god who demands your favors, ‘You must break me.’ He will take you to the halls of Aphrodite, and break you there.”

“What is… breaking?” Thaleia had asked, apparently the only goddess present brave enough, or curious enough, to ask.

“I do not know,” Athena had replied, “though I know that the girl is made to do the deeds of Eros just as she has always longed to be made to do them.”

Thaleia swallowed, remembering that lesson now, and tried to conceal from Argeia what wicked thoughts her simple dare had inspired.

“Well?” said Argeia, teasingly. “What if Zeus did see you, and choose you? Don’t you want a little hero?”

“Argeia, be serious. Mother and Father would never speak to me again. You know what they say about young nymphs staying out of trouble.”

“Oh, come on. Zeus is down in the lands of men, anyway.”

It was true; they had both seen him depart, in the form of an eagle, that morning.

“And Lady Hera sleeps soundly,” Argeia continued. “It’s hardly a dare at all. You’re so timid, Thaleia!”

“I am not!” she said, and stalked out of their father’s courtyard without another word, walking in the direction of the summit of Olympus, where Zeus’ palace lay, five palaces up from theirs. When she had reached the halfway point, she saw that Argeia was following her, and she waited for her sister to catch up.

“I’m not timid,” she said.

“We’ll see,” said Argeia, giggling.

At the open gateway to the courtyard, Thaleia paused.

“There’s a light on in the
andron
,” she said, trying not to sound frightened.

The
andron
was the men’s dining room. Thaleia knew gods sometimes took nymphs to the
andrones
in their palaces to make them do the deeds of Eros. After a cousin had been taken to Ares’
andron
one night a few years before, the girls’ mother had finally told them about how heroes were made, and how a goddess who was going to have a hero was taken by Hera, the goddess of marriage and childbirth, to the palace of Hestia, the goddess of the family, to stay until it was time for her hero to be born and sent to the lands of men. Now the cousin had a little child of Ares, a hero, to watch over down in Argos.

As she considered the light in Zeus’
andron
, Thaleia remembered again the words of Lady Athena about breaking. If something happened tonight… would she be brave enough to claim that calling?

“That’s just the lamp that’s always burning there,” Argeia said. It was true; the
andron
in Zeus’ palace always seemed to have a lamp burning inside it.

Thaleia took a deep breath, gave a little nervous laugh, and started to run, as lightly as she could.

Halfway around the courtyard, she froze. The unmistakable sound of Zeus’ voice came from the dining room. “Get that bottom nice and high for me, Clea,” the father of gods and men said in a booming, commanding tone.

No!
Zeus wasn’t even supposed to be on Olympus today, let alone apparently to be having a little party of some kind in his
andron
. How stupid to take the dare!

Now Thaleia felt every bit the timid thing Argeia had teased her for being, as she stood still in the dark, opulent courtyard. But at the same time the sound of Zeus’ voice, saying the odd thing about Thaleia’s cousin Clea’s bottom, made her feel something else—something strange and new. Her curiosity battled fiercely with her fear. It sounded like Zeus was intent on what was happening in the
andron
. Perhaps it was safe to see what was going on, or at least to listen.

Suddenly Thaleia heard a less familiar voice coming from the
andron
—was it Lord Poseidon, Zeus’ sea god brother?—saying, “There you go, Clea, just open up that throat.”

They were doing the deeds of Eros, Thaleia realized with a strange shock that seemed to make her whole body tingle, and to make her feel that funny way between her thighs, in her secret places. Both Zeus and Poseidon… with Clea.

Thaleia remembered cousin Clea saying only a few days before that she thought she had caught Zeus’ eye, and giggling with delight that Zeus might choose her for a special night with him, the way he seemed to choose girls from time to time.

Thaleia could get away if she had to, couldn’t she? Her curiosity won. She moved, silently, to the doorway of the
andron
and peered around the doorpost, and nearly swooned at what she saw.

Cousin Clea was naked, on her hands and knees on a dining couch. Zeus, enormous lord of the sky, his muscles rippling, was behind her, moving his hips back and forth against her backside. Poseidon, lord of the sea, Zeus’ mighty brother, almost as tall and just as firmly muscled, was in front of her. Thaleia could see that something strange had happened to his manhood, for it stood straight out from his body instead of lolling against his thigh the way those things usually did when the gods and men had their sports.

And he had it in Clea’s mouth, Thaleia saw with astonishment. As she watched, Lord Poseidon withdrew himself from Clea’s lips. He said, with an almost kindly air, “You like it, Clea, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord,” Clea said, somehow both eager and apprehensive at the new things to which these immortals had introduced her, and gasping as Zeus, behind her, continued to move against her backside.

Poseidon put his manhood back in Clea’s mouth, and he, too, began to move his hips back and forth, holding her head in his hands and pushing into her at the front just as, Thaleia now understood, Zeus must be pushing into her in back. Clea’s eyes were watering, Thaleia could see, but the eager expression was still there upon her face, as the sky god and the sea god seemed intent on reaching some shameful goal of their own, using her body for their pleasure.

The sight made Thaleia feel so faint, with sensations and emotions she had never before felt so strongly, that she actually had to put her hand out to touch the doorpost. That was when, perhaps alerted by some magic of his palace itself, Zeus turned his head. Not ceasing to thrust his muscular hips against Clea’s white flanks, he said, “What have we here? Thaleia, isn’t it?”

Thaleia turned to run, but suddenly she felt the air pushing against her, pushing her back into Zeus’
andron
. The power of the mighty sky god effortlessly turned her around and positioned her so that she stood close to where Zeus and Poseidon were enjoying Clea upon the dining couch.

“Brother,” Zeus said. “You may take this one’s womb.” He gave Clea a little slap on her bottom, to indicate to the sea god which one he meant. “You may make a hero there tonight, if you like. I’ve had my eye on little Thaleia for quite some time.”