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Calliope of Aetaea caught her bronze-tinged reflection and couldn't answer the question. To those that asked the name of the mysterious foreigner, she did her utmost to sidestep rather than give an answer. The identity of the merchant's slave-wife was clearly out of the question. The name Calliope itself was an oozing wound that throbbed with each mention. Always, she'd loved that name, s treasured the memento given to her by the late Ebele of Aetaea. But, she couldn't keep it.
No, she continued to exist within Colchis as a ghost, a specter that did not truly bond with any of the denizens of that city. Little by little, she examined herself, from the reflection in the mirror to the soul buried deep within the flesh reflected. She broached the subject of identity, taking her own thoughts with a grain of salt. For years, her ideas were disregarded. She was seen only as a prize, as a caged bird never to squawk or peck at her cage with her beak. Forced again and again, the young woman was all but broken by Alector of Athenia...
Though time passes and the wounds have long healed over, the scars remain.
The young woman felt her food taste as ash in her mouth, the need for distraction growing stauncher and stauncher in her thoughts until it could be ignored no longer. The fugitive wife dressed herself in an ebony chiton that slung over her right shoulder, bound by a silver fibulae socketed with a single sapphire that matched the hue and sheen of the sapphire amulet wrapped about her throat. A single sash bound at the waist held the garment tight against her. Her movements were slow, her shoulders somewhat hunched and ebony waves tossed over her right shoulder as a thought sought to envelop the subject of identity.
She thought of Alector of Athenia and all that he'd taken from her. Virginity, companionship, friendship, desire... Love. It was that loss that stung at her the most. Even as Calliope endured the neglect of it at her father's hand, she hoped for a day when she might find it elsewhere. But, it was for naught. Pain replaced love, and the woman that had once followed in Alector's shadow was no more than a wraith swiping at the thread of Fate, hoping with naught a hope of success for it to be cut.
Love...
She thought of the Goddess, one of the lights within the pantheon of Gods that she and all of Greece worshiped. Aphrodite could show Calliope the way. If family neglected her and humanity abandoned her, then surely the Gods would have the answer she sought? She hoped, desperately, that she was right as she inquired as to the location of the Temple of Aphrodite. It was a fool or an ignorant that failed to understand that the Aphrodisias was in Midas, and she mustered up the courage to make her approach and have the question that burned within her be answered.
A night with one of the Harimtu...
Calliope was not naive to the services within the Aphrodisias. Well-learned in her time in Athenia, legends traveled far and widely enough for the blush to carry upon her features. She sifted through Aphrodite's temple, and once within its boundaries and out of the beaten path to entry, she fell to her knees. From within her coin purse, she withdrew a single ruby and placed it on an offering saucer set upon the floor. She bowed her head in reverence to the Goddess, her eyes falling shut as she murmured her quiet prayer.
“Oh, Goddess Aphrodite, show me the way forward. Let my wounds bleed no longer.”
A single tear fell upon the ruby offering before she bowed her head lower still.
“Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.”
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Who am I?
Calliope of Aetaea caught her bronze-tinged reflection and couldn't answer the question. To those that asked the name of the mysterious foreigner, she did her utmost to sidestep rather than give an answer. The identity of the merchant's slave-wife was clearly out of the question. The name Calliope itself was an oozing wound that throbbed with each mention. Always, she'd loved that name, s treasured the memento given to her by the late Ebele of Aetaea. But, she couldn't keep it.
No, she continued to exist within Colchis as a ghost, a specter that did not truly bond with any of the denizens of that city. Little by little, she examined herself, from the reflection in the mirror to the soul buried deep within the flesh reflected. She broached the subject of identity, taking her own thoughts with a grain of salt. For years, her ideas were disregarded. She was seen only as a prize, as a caged bird never to squawk or peck at her cage with her beak. Forced again and again, the young woman was all but broken by Alector of Athenia...
Though time passes and the wounds have long healed over, the scars remain.
The young woman felt her food taste as ash in her mouth, the need for distraction growing stauncher and stauncher in her thoughts until it could be ignored no longer. The fugitive wife dressed herself in an ebony chiton that slung over her right shoulder, bound by a silver fibulae socketed with a single sapphire that matched the hue and sheen of the sapphire amulet wrapped about her throat. A single sash bound at the waist held the garment tight against her. Her movements were slow, her shoulders somewhat hunched and ebony waves tossed over her right shoulder as a thought sought to envelop the subject of identity.
She thought of Alector of Athenia and all that he'd taken from her. Virginity, companionship, friendship, desire... Love. It was that loss that stung at her the most. Even as Calliope endured the neglect of it at her father's hand, she hoped for a day when she might find it elsewhere. But, it was for naught. Pain replaced love, and the woman that had once followed in Alector's shadow was no more than a wraith swiping at the thread of Fate, hoping with naught a hope of success for it to be cut.
Love...
She thought of the Goddess, one of the lights within the pantheon of Gods that she and all of Greece worshiped. Aphrodite could show Calliope the way. If family neglected her and humanity abandoned her, then surely the Gods would have the answer she sought? She hoped, desperately, that she was right as she inquired as to the location of the Temple of Aphrodite. It was a fool or an ignorant that failed to understand that the Aphrodisias was in Midas, and she mustered up the courage to make her approach and have the question that burned within her be answered.
A night with one of the Harimtu...
Calliope was not naive to the services within the Aphrodisias. Well-learned in her time in Athenia, legends traveled far and widely enough for the blush to carry upon her features. She sifted through Aphrodite's temple, and once within its boundaries and out of the beaten path to entry, she fell to her knees. From within her coin purse, she withdrew a single ruby and placed it on an offering saucer set upon the floor. She bowed her head in reverence to the Goddess, her eyes falling shut as she murmured her quiet prayer.
“Oh, Goddess Aphrodite, show me the way forward. Let my wounds bleed no longer.”
A single tear fell upon the ruby offering before she bowed her head lower still.
“Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.”
Who am I?
Calliope of Aetaea caught her bronze-tinged reflection and couldn't answer the question. To those that asked the name of the mysterious foreigner, she did her utmost to sidestep rather than give an answer. The identity of the merchant's slave-wife was clearly out of the question. The name Calliope itself was an oozing wound that throbbed with each mention. Always, she'd loved that name, s treasured the memento given to her by the late Ebele of Aetaea. But, she couldn't keep it.
No, she continued to exist within Colchis as a ghost, a specter that did not truly bond with any of the denizens of that city. Little by little, she examined herself, from the reflection in the mirror to the soul buried deep within the flesh reflected. She broached the subject of identity, taking her own thoughts with a grain of salt. For years, her ideas were disregarded. She was seen only as a prize, as a caged bird never to squawk or peck at her cage with her beak. Forced again and again, the young woman was all but broken by Alector of Athenia...
Though time passes and the wounds have long healed over, the scars remain.
The young woman felt her food taste as ash in her mouth, the need for distraction growing stauncher and stauncher in her thoughts until it could be ignored no longer. The fugitive wife dressed herself in an ebony chiton that slung over her right shoulder, bound by a silver fibulae socketed with a single sapphire that matched the hue and sheen of the sapphire amulet wrapped about her throat. A single sash bound at the waist held the garment tight against her. Her movements were slow, her shoulders somewhat hunched and ebony waves tossed over her right shoulder as a thought sought to envelop the subject of identity.
She thought of Alector of Athenia and all that he'd taken from her. Virginity, companionship, friendship, desire... Love. It was that loss that stung at her the most. Even as Calliope endured the neglect of it at her father's hand, she hoped for a day when she might find it elsewhere. But, it was for naught. Pain replaced love, and the woman that had once followed in Alector's shadow was no more than a wraith swiping at the thread of Fate, hoping with naught a hope of success for it to be cut.
Love...
She thought of the Goddess, one of the lights within the pantheon of Gods that she and all of Greece worshiped. Aphrodite could show Calliope the way. If family neglected her and humanity abandoned her, then surely the Gods would have the answer she sought? She hoped, desperately, that she was right as she inquired as to the location of the Temple of Aphrodite. It was a fool or an ignorant that failed to understand that the Aphrodisias was in Midas, and she mustered up the courage to make her approach and have the question that burned within her be answered.
A night with one of the Harimtu...
Calliope was not naive to the services within the Aphrodisias. Well-learned in her time in Athenia, legends traveled far and widely enough for the blush to carry upon her features. She sifted through Aphrodite's temple, and once within its boundaries and out of the beaten path to entry, she fell to her knees. From within her coin purse, she withdrew a single ruby and placed it on an offering saucer set upon the floor. She bowed her head in reverence to the Goddess, her eyes falling shut as she murmured her quiet prayer.
“Oh, Goddess Aphrodite, show me the way forward. Let my wounds bleed no longer.”
A single tear fell upon the ruby offering before she bowed her head lower still.
“Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.”
It was a quiet night in the Aphrodisias, a gentle breeze blowing in from the entrance and cooling the stone interior. The sweet and effusive scent of freshly-picked flowers caressed her nose, stopping for a moment to enjoy the aroma. Euterpe’s feet were almost cold against the flagged walkway as the priestess moved again to drift through the temple, shivering slightly through the thin ivory silk that encased her. Filtered moonlight on her cheek illuminated bright hazel eyes, and pushing waved scarlet hair from her face is when she first noticed the young woman kneeling on the ground before the offering plate.
She was a vision all in black with creamy skin that nearly seemed to glow in the light of the nearby brazier. Tangles of dark hair framed a sad, yet beautiful face, drawing Euterpe in like a moth to an open flame. The woman murmured ardent pleas that the priestess was hard pressed to hear, moving in closer only to catch the last whispered words:
Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
The fiery-haired courtesan stopped in front of the young woman, airy skirt billowing around her as she lowered herself to her companion’s eye level. “You’ve come to the right place,” she said in a soft murmur, voice kept quiet so as not to startle her. Whenever she looked up, Euterpe smiled, a soft dimple forming at the corner of curved lips. “Even if Aphrodite hasn’t heard your prayer, I have. And what am I but an instrument at her call?”
Offering out a hand to help the woman from the floor, her other hand lightly raised her chin. Ever so gently, she wiped away the trail the lone tear had taken, her fingertips trailing over silken skin a few moments longer than they really needed to. Carefully raising the woman to her feet, Euterpe’s thumb caressed the back of her hand before releasing it.
“My name is Euterpe,” she introduced herself, voice soft and unobtrusive so as not to disturb the peace of the sanctuary. “I am one of the Harimtu of this temple.” Nodding down to the ruby glimmering in the scant light, her smile deepened. “I don’t want to assume, but… is it our company you’re seeking?” Her shoulders shook in a quiet laugh. “And if I am wrong, I am still happy to help you. In whatever way you wish.”
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was a quiet night in the Aphrodisias, a gentle breeze blowing in from the entrance and cooling the stone interior. The sweet and effusive scent of freshly-picked flowers caressed her nose, stopping for a moment to enjoy the aroma. Euterpe’s feet were almost cold against the flagged walkway as the priestess moved again to drift through the temple, shivering slightly through the thin ivory silk that encased her. Filtered moonlight on her cheek illuminated bright hazel eyes, and pushing waved scarlet hair from her face is when she first noticed the young woman kneeling on the ground before the offering plate.
She was a vision all in black with creamy skin that nearly seemed to glow in the light of the nearby brazier. Tangles of dark hair framed a sad, yet beautiful face, drawing Euterpe in like a moth to an open flame. The woman murmured ardent pleas that the priestess was hard pressed to hear, moving in closer only to catch the last whispered words:
Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
The fiery-haired courtesan stopped in front of the young woman, airy skirt billowing around her as she lowered herself to her companion’s eye level. “You’ve come to the right place,” she said in a soft murmur, voice kept quiet so as not to startle her. Whenever she looked up, Euterpe smiled, a soft dimple forming at the corner of curved lips. “Even if Aphrodite hasn’t heard your prayer, I have. And what am I but an instrument at her call?”
Offering out a hand to help the woman from the floor, her other hand lightly raised her chin. Ever so gently, she wiped away the trail the lone tear had taken, her fingertips trailing over silken skin a few moments longer than they really needed to. Carefully raising the woman to her feet, Euterpe’s thumb caressed the back of her hand before releasing it.
“My name is Euterpe,” she introduced herself, voice soft and unobtrusive so as not to disturb the peace of the sanctuary. “I am one of the Harimtu of this temple.” Nodding down to the ruby glimmering in the scant light, her smile deepened. “I don’t want to assume, but… is it our company you’re seeking?” Her shoulders shook in a quiet laugh. “And if I am wrong, I am still happy to help you. In whatever way you wish.”
It was a quiet night in the Aphrodisias, a gentle breeze blowing in from the entrance and cooling the stone interior. The sweet and effusive scent of freshly-picked flowers caressed her nose, stopping for a moment to enjoy the aroma. Euterpe’s feet were almost cold against the flagged walkway as the priestess moved again to drift through the temple, shivering slightly through the thin ivory silk that encased her. Filtered moonlight on her cheek illuminated bright hazel eyes, and pushing waved scarlet hair from her face is when she first noticed the young woman kneeling on the ground before the offering plate.
She was a vision all in black with creamy skin that nearly seemed to glow in the light of the nearby brazier. Tangles of dark hair framed a sad, yet beautiful face, drawing Euterpe in like a moth to an open flame. The woman murmured ardent pleas that the priestess was hard pressed to hear, moving in closer only to catch the last whispered words:
Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
The fiery-haired courtesan stopped in front of the young woman, airy skirt billowing around her as she lowered herself to her companion’s eye level. “You’ve come to the right place,” she said in a soft murmur, voice kept quiet so as not to startle her. Whenever she looked up, Euterpe smiled, a soft dimple forming at the corner of curved lips. “Even if Aphrodite hasn’t heard your prayer, I have. And what am I but an instrument at her call?”
Offering out a hand to help the woman from the floor, her other hand lightly raised her chin. Ever so gently, she wiped away the trail the lone tear had taken, her fingertips trailing over silken skin a few moments longer than they really needed to. Carefully raising the woman to her feet, Euterpe’s thumb caressed the back of her hand before releasing it.
“My name is Euterpe,” she introduced herself, voice soft and unobtrusive so as not to disturb the peace of the sanctuary. “I am one of the Harimtu of this temple.” Nodding down to the ruby glimmering in the scant light, her smile deepened. “I don’t want to assume, but… is it our company you’re seeking?” Her shoulders shook in a quiet laugh. “And if I am wrong, I am still happy to help you. In whatever way you wish.”
Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
To another soul, the prayer might've sounded exaggerated, the complaints of a spoiled young woman bawling at a heartbreak. But, for Calliope, she felt the plea pouring from the depths of her soul, a current of fire that made her so intimately aware of how the wind caressed her, how it reached beneath her chiton and set against her skin. Then, she felt the fabric of a skirt brush along her shoulder. She heard the voice murmur to her. The flush began just beneath her eyes, brandishing itself across her cheeks and the breadth of her throat.
The voice of a siren.
It might not be so foul to be lulled to the depths, to crash against the rocks and fall to the darkness if it was that voice that took her to Hades. But, it wasn't meant to be. The single tear had turned to two, caught by the polished stone of the Aphrodisias as the young girl caught herself by her palms, lifting herself from her bowed posture in order to properly gaze at the siren who sought not to bring her to her doom, but back to the world outside of prayer. When Calliope lifted her head, she met gazes with a sight that brought that same fire to her cheek and welled it within her chest.
Pandora, was her first thought as she drank in her features. The tick within her chest rose quickly until its hammering pace was surely heard by the Harimtu before her. Of course that's what she was, but the notion stuck with her. She was the Pandora that lifted her spirits from the depths of oblivion and made her yearn in a way she both didn't quite understand and couldn't get enough of. Of course, Calliope heard her. Perhaps she didn't hear anything else. From the moment that her attention was called for, it was inexorably Euterpe's. The sensation of the stone against her knees was nothing, the sound of the pious indulgences in the distance. Nothing else mattered.
Euterpe, she repeated in her mind. She didn't answer the Harimtu for a long moment. Instead, she allowed her eyes to roam along the breadth of her features, undisguised admiration. But, there was more to it. Euterpe's expression seemed to palpably... content. So full of life was her expression, from the dimpled smile to the vibrancy of her gaze. Then, there was the rest of her. Incredible beauty, surely made all the more auspicious in her particular profession for the fiery tresses that framed her face.
Prone to vivid indulgence to imagination, Calliope's lips parted to answer as the vision of the siren wilted to nothingness.
"Euterpe," she repeated aloud as the vibrant mane of hair seemed to come alive. Carried almost by the wind, she imagining the flapping of wings formed from flame. She imagined the phoenix rising from the urn that was her body. The ashes flickered to life, a pillar of flame that rose to the sky, a resurrection from the nothingness. Was it Euterpe that was the phoenix? Or did Calliope imagine herself, claiming the woman's confidence and rebirthed anew. She let the soft chuckle escape her lips as she wondered just how long she'd been silent for. She drew just slightly closer to theHarimtu, nodding slowly.
"Of course you are. Y-you're exquisite. Aphrodite only accepts the finest to her temple," she answered, keeping the gait of her speech slow, letting the timbre return to normalcy.
"I... I am," she affirmed. Still, she saw the visage of the phoenix, though as the flames withered again, she saw within her mind the flames scatter soot on the ground. The soot seemed to form a single word that spoke to the phoenix's resurrection, the fiery mane before her inspiring the woman in a way she never would've thought possible. A hand rose up to draw along the Harimtu's jawline, her lips curved into a dazed smile as she said,
"I am. Your company would be an honour, Euterpe.
My name is..."
She read the single word that formed in her thoughts, the soot of resurrection that breathed life into the young woman once again.
"Anastasia."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
To another soul, the prayer might've sounded exaggerated, the complaints of a spoiled young woman bawling at a heartbreak. But, for Calliope, she felt the plea pouring from the depths of her soul, a current of fire that made her so intimately aware of how the wind caressed her, how it reached beneath her chiton and set against her skin. Then, she felt the fabric of a skirt brush along her shoulder. She heard the voice murmur to her. The flush began just beneath her eyes, brandishing itself across her cheeks and the breadth of her throat.
The voice of a siren.
It might not be so foul to be lulled to the depths, to crash against the rocks and fall to the darkness if it was that voice that took her to Hades. But, it wasn't meant to be. The single tear had turned to two, caught by the polished stone of the Aphrodisias as the young girl caught herself by her palms, lifting herself from her bowed posture in order to properly gaze at the siren who sought not to bring her to her doom, but back to the world outside of prayer. When Calliope lifted her head, she met gazes with a sight that brought that same fire to her cheek and welled it within her chest.
Pandora, was her first thought as she drank in her features. The tick within her chest rose quickly until its hammering pace was surely heard by the Harimtu before her. Of course that's what she was, but the notion stuck with her. She was the Pandora that lifted her spirits from the depths of oblivion and made her yearn in a way she both didn't quite understand and couldn't get enough of. Of course, Calliope heard her. Perhaps she didn't hear anything else. From the moment that her attention was called for, it was inexorably Euterpe's. The sensation of the stone against her knees was nothing, the sound of the pious indulgences in the distance. Nothing else mattered.
Euterpe, she repeated in her mind. She didn't answer the Harimtu for a long moment. Instead, she allowed her eyes to roam along the breadth of her features, undisguised admiration. But, there was more to it. Euterpe's expression seemed to palpably... content. So full of life was her expression, from the dimpled smile to the vibrancy of her gaze. Then, there was the rest of her. Incredible beauty, surely made all the more auspicious in her particular profession for the fiery tresses that framed her face.
Prone to vivid indulgence to imagination, Calliope's lips parted to answer as the vision of the siren wilted to nothingness.
"Euterpe," she repeated aloud as the vibrant mane of hair seemed to come alive. Carried almost by the wind, she imagining the flapping of wings formed from flame. She imagined the phoenix rising from the urn that was her body. The ashes flickered to life, a pillar of flame that rose to the sky, a resurrection from the nothingness. Was it Euterpe that was the phoenix? Or did Calliope imagine herself, claiming the woman's confidence and rebirthed anew. She let the soft chuckle escape her lips as she wondered just how long she'd been silent for. She drew just slightly closer to theHarimtu, nodding slowly.
"Of course you are. Y-you're exquisite. Aphrodite only accepts the finest to her temple," she answered, keeping the gait of her speech slow, letting the timbre return to normalcy.
"I... I am," she affirmed. Still, she saw the visage of the phoenix, though as the flames withered again, she saw within her mind the flames scatter soot on the ground. The soot seemed to form a single word that spoke to the phoenix's resurrection, the fiery mane before her inspiring the woman in a way she never would've thought possible. A hand rose up to draw along the Harimtu's jawline, her lips curved into a dazed smile as she said,
"I am. Your company would be an honour, Euterpe.
My name is..."
She read the single word that formed in her thoughts, the soot of resurrection that breathed life into the young woman once again.
"Anastasia."
Oh Mistress of Desire, allow me to feel once again.
To another soul, the prayer might've sounded exaggerated, the complaints of a spoiled young woman bawling at a heartbreak. But, for Calliope, she felt the plea pouring from the depths of her soul, a current of fire that made her so intimately aware of how the wind caressed her, how it reached beneath her chiton and set against her skin. Then, she felt the fabric of a skirt brush along her shoulder. She heard the voice murmur to her. The flush began just beneath her eyes, brandishing itself across her cheeks and the breadth of her throat.
The voice of a siren.
It might not be so foul to be lulled to the depths, to crash against the rocks and fall to the darkness if it was that voice that took her to Hades. But, it wasn't meant to be. The single tear had turned to two, caught by the polished stone of the Aphrodisias as the young girl caught herself by her palms, lifting herself from her bowed posture in order to properly gaze at the siren who sought not to bring her to her doom, but back to the world outside of prayer. When Calliope lifted her head, she met gazes with a sight that brought that same fire to her cheek and welled it within her chest.
Pandora, was her first thought as she drank in her features. The tick within her chest rose quickly until its hammering pace was surely heard by the Harimtu before her. Of course that's what she was, but the notion stuck with her. She was the Pandora that lifted her spirits from the depths of oblivion and made her yearn in a way she both didn't quite understand and couldn't get enough of. Of course, Calliope heard her. Perhaps she didn't hear anything else. From the moment that her attention was called for, it was inexorably Euterpe's. The sensation of the stone against her knees was nothing, the sound of the pious indulgences in the distance. Nothing else mattered.
Euterpe, she repeated in her mind. She didn't answer the Harimtu for a long moment. Instead, she allowed her eyes to roam along the breadth of her features, undisguised admiration. But, there was more to it. Euterpe's expression seemed to palpably... content. So full of life was her expression, from the dimpled smile to the vibrancy of her gaze. Then, there was the rest of her. Incredible beauty, surely made all the more auspicious in her particular profession for the fiery tresses that framed her face.
Prone to vivid indulgence to imagination, Calliope's lips parted to answer as the vision of the siren wilted to nothingness.
"Euterpe," she repeated aloud as the vibrant mane of hair seemed to come alive. Carried almost by the wind, she imagining the flapping of wings formed from flame. She imagined the phoenix rising from the urn that was her body. The ashes flickered to life, a pillar of flame that rose to the sky, a resurrection from the nothingness. Was it Euterpe that was the phoenix? Or did Calliope imagine herself, claiming the woman's confidence and rebirthed anew. She let the soft chuckle escape her lips as she wondered just how long she'd been silent for. She drew just slightly closer to theHarimtu, nodding slowly.
"Of course you are. Y-you're exquisite. Aphrodite only accepts the finest to her temple," she answered, keeping the gait of her speech slow, letting the timbre return to normalcy.
"I... I am," she affirmed. Still, she saw the visage of the phoenix, though as the flames withered again, she saw within her mind the flames scatter soot on the ground. The soot seemed to form a single word that spoke to the phoenix's resurrection, the fiery mane before her inspiring the woman in a way she never would've thought possible. A hand rose up to draw along the Harimtu's jawline, her lips curved into a dazed smile as she said,
"I am. Your company would be an honour, Euterpe.
My name is..."
She read the single word that formed in her thoughts, the soot of resurrection that breathed life into the young woman once again.
"Anastasia."
Of course, Euterpe was oblivious to what was happening behind the young woman’s eyes, the illusions of flame and phoenix the outlined her, though the frank admiration on Ana’s face was clear. Dark eyes traveled along every inch of the courtesan’s flesh, a reverence on her companion’s face that was almost worshipful. The priestess was not vain or conceited, but her heart did swell to see the way the woman looked at her. As if she truly were the muse her namesake claimed.
It was a long, long moment before the supplicant spoke again, repeating her name like a prayer. Euterpe’s smile widened in response, inclining her head in acknowledgement. Even if she was not the boastful type, she knew she cut a striking figure. Eyes did not wander long when the Harimtu entered a room, drawing the gazes around her with an unintended magnetism that she often attributed to the scarlet hue of her curls. Her companion’s lips framed words of praise, the priestess leaning gently into the hand that cupped her cheek. It was a blessing that the woman gravitated to her allure, perhaps even a divine intervention. She was sure if there was anyone here who could help the vision before her, it was Euterpe herself.
“Anastasia,” she echoed the name, drawing the syllables in the air with a slow roll of her tongue. The name felt like music as it caressed her lips, reaching to cover the hand that caressed her jaw. The sudden light in this Anastasia’s eyes was reflected in her own, taking the hand she covered and twining its fingers between hers.
“Come with me, lovely Anastasia.”
Another smile was cast over her shoulder, the expression lingering as she met the woman’s gaze. Gently, Euterpe tugged the hand she held, leading her down a long hall of rooms where the sounds of pleasure just barely penetrated the walls. Turning a corner, she stopped at the first door on the left, pushing it open and ushering her beautiful patron inside.
“Welcome to Aphrodite’s domain,” she murmured, her tone soft and reverent in the quiet stillness of the room. Brightly colored linen hung over the windows, billowing gently in the evening breeze. The lighting in the room was soft and muted, candles flickering in nooks in the walls that cast an almost ethereal air about the chamber. Lighting incense from the nearby brazier, she blew it lightly as she carried it to its holder, the soft scent of rose joining the scent of the flowers already strewn about the room.
Flickering firelight deepened the red of Euterpe’s hair as she rejoined Anastasia, a soft touch caressing the woman’s shoulder down her arm. Lightly clutching her hand again, the priestess raised her fingertips to her lips, brushing a kiss along them.
“Tell me, Anastasia,” she murmured against her fingers, hazel eyes flicking back up to meet Ana’s. “Have you ever lain with a woman before?”
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Of course, Euterpe was oblivious to what was happening behind the young woman’s eyes, the illusions of flame and phoenix the outlined her, though the frank admiration on Ana’s face was clear. Dark eyes traveled along every inch of the courtesan’s flesh, a reverence on her companion’s face that was almost worshipful. The priestess was not vain or conceited, but her heart did swell to see the way the woman looked at her. As if she truly were the muse her namesake claimed.
It was a long, long moment before the supplicant spoke again, repeating her name like a prayer. Euterpe’s smile widened in response, inclining her head in acknowledgement. Even if she was not the boastful type, she knew she cut a striking figure. Eyes did not wander long when the Harimtu entered a room, drawing the gazes around her with an unintended magnetism that she often attributed to the scarlet hue of her curls. Her companion’s lips framed words of praise, the priestess leaning gently into the hand that cupped her cheek. It was a blessing that the woman gravitated to her allure, perhaps even a divine intervention. She was sure if there was anyone here who could help the vision before her, it was Euterpe herself.
“Anastasia,” she echoed the name, drawing the syllables in the air with a slow roll of her tongue. The name felt like music as it caressed her lips, reaching to cover the hand that caressed her jaw. The sudden light in this Anastasia’s eyes was reflected in her own, taking the hand she covered and twining its fingers between hers.
“Come with me, lovely Anastasia.”
Another smile was cast over her shoulder, the expression lingering as she met the woman’s gaze. Gently, Euterpe tugged the hand she held, leading her down a long hall of rooms where the sounds of pleasure just barely penetrated the walls. Turning a corner, she stopped at the first door on the left, pushing it open and ushering her beautiful patron inside.
“Welcome to Aphrodite’s domain,” she murmured, her tone soft and reverent in the quiet stillness of the room. Brightly colored linen hung over the windows, billowing gently in the evening breeze. The lighting in the room was soft and muted, candles flickering in nooks in the walls that cast an almost ethereal air about the chamber. Lighting incense from the nearby brazier, she blew it lightly as she carried it to its holder, the soft scent of rose joining the scent of the flowers already strewn about the room.
Flickering firelight deepened the red of Euterpe’s hair as she rejoined Anastasia, a soft touch caressing the woman’s shoulder down her arm. Lightly clutching her hand again, the priestess raised her fingertips to her lips, brushing a kiss along them.
“Tell me, Anastasia,” she murmured against her fingers, hazel eyes flicking back up to meet Ana’s. “Have you ever lain with a woman before?”
Of course, Euterpe was oblivious to what was happening behind the young woman’s eyes, the illusions of flame and phoenix the outlined her, though the frank admiration on Ana’s face was clear. Dark eyes traveled along every inch of the courtesan’s flesh, a reverence on her companion’s face that was almost worshipful. The priestess was not vain or conceited, but her heart did swell to see the way the woman looked at her. As if she truly were the muse her namesake claimed.
It was a long, long moment before the supplicant spoke again, repeating her name like a prayer. Euterpe’s smile widened in response, inclining her head in acknowledgement. Even if she was not the boastful type, she knew she cut a striking figure. Eyes did not wander long when the Harimtu entered a room, drawing the gazes around her with an unintended magnetism that she often attributed to the scarlet hue of her curls. Her companion’s lips framed words of praise, the priestess leaning gently into the hand that cupped her cheek. It was a blessing that the woman gravitated to her allure, perhaps even a divine intervention. She was sure if there was anyone here who could help the vision before her, it was Euterpe herself.
“Anastasia,” she echoed the name, drawing the syllables in the air with a slow roll of her tongue. The name felt like music as it caressed her lips, reaching to cover the hand that caressed her jaw. The sudden light in this Anastasia’s eyes was reflected in her own, taking the hand she covered and twining its fingers between hers.
“Come with me, lovely Anastasia.”
Another smile was cast over her shoulder, the expression lingering as she met the woman’s gaze. Gently, Euterpe tugged the hand she held, leading her down a long hall of rooms where the sounds of pleasure just barely penetrated the walls. Turning a corner, she stopped at the first door on the left, pushing it open and ushering her beautiful patron inside.
“Welcome to Aphrodite’s domain,” she murmured, her tone soft and reverent in the quiet stillness of the room. Brightly colored linen hung over the windows, billowing gently in the evening breeze. The lighting in the room was soft and muted, candles flickering in nooks in the walls that cast an almost ethereal air about the chamber. Lighting incense from the nearby brazier, she blew it lightly as she carried it to its holder, the soft scent of rose joining the scent of the flowers already strewn about the room.
Flickering firelight deepened the red of Euterpe’s hair as she rejoined Anastasia, a soft touch caressing the woman’s shoulder down her arm. Lightly clutching her hand again, the priestess raised her fingertips to her lips, brushing a kiss along them.
“Tell me, Anastasia,” she murmured against her fingers, hazel eyes flicking back up to meet Ana’s. “Have you ever lain with a woman before?”
Truly, the phoenix was a beautiful creature.
The flames rose up from Euterpe, bringing all the more credence to the heat that rose within the Athenian herself. The fire welled in her stomach, crept along her spine. It brandished itself upon her cheeks, bringing the colouration to her pale visage. Calliope, or rather, Anastasia, felt overwhelmed by it. However, never did she back away. No, the once-caged bird felt liberated, a sort of freedom that could only be wrought in fire. She reveled in the Harimtu's pronunciation of the given name, the flush drawing deeper. Then, she said it again, taking hold of Anastasia's hand and lowering it from her jawline before she twined her fingers into hers. It was, truly, a blessing for the young phoenix to be shown such affection, such mercy from a woman who drew her name from the Muses that brought music to the world.
The phoenix brings music to the silence within, she reflected. Certainly, it was true. The drumming pace of her heart surely echoed within her chest. Her mind was abuzz with music and sensation that solicited... she wasn't sure what it was but desire.
Life.
She realized it immediately as the music of pleasure registered. They were sounds all too unfamiliar, for Anastasia had never given off such moans with Alector. As the young woman was welcomed within 'Aphrodite's domain', she let her senses consume her surroundings. The rich hanging linens, however, escaped her notice. There was room only for the phoenix and the way the flames upon her head seemed to dance in ethereal light. Guided as Charon would a passed soul, the wanderer stopped when Euterpe released her hand, tilting her head in a sort of awe as she watched the Harimtu ignite incense, the tiny plume of smoke immediately giving off a flowery scent that solicited deep breaths from Anastasia.
"Tell me, Anastasia. Have you ever lain with a woman before?"
Her voice superceded the muted moans in adjacent rooms. Her visage commanded her attention. The slight pressure on her hands from the echo of her kiss commanded sensation. Anastasia felt the flames encompass her again, deepening the flush upon her features as the question roused a thought from her. Always, her gaze had wandered to women, but... she'd never considered the fairer sex in that way. Limited only in her brutal experiences with the terrible Alector of Athenia, she'd come in... search of something different. Something new. Seeing Euterpe only deepened that desire.
Hazel orbs met hazel as she shook her head. She felt strength bolster from within her at last, the awe of the moment blown by the wayside as a fervent need encompassed her. Need tempered by nothing at all. Anastasia was fascinated, she was enthralled by the sight before her.
And for now... she's mine, she mused, the thought bringing a smile to her lips.
The hand that Euterpe kissed soon relinquished itself from her grasp. She felt herself... let go and allowed a sense of instinct to lower her hands and allow them to trace the frame of Euterpe's shoulders. Then, she sought to dismantle the fibulae that kept the Harimtu's attire in place as she leaned forward,
"Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted..." she realized, Euterpe's question bringing the need to vocalize a truth she'd never confronted. Anastasia drew forward, intent upon claiming the Harimtu's lips with her own, seeking to press her chest to hers as well. She craved proximity with the phoenix, so that the heat of her flames might absolve her of her pain.
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Check out their information page here.
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Truly, the phoenix was a beautiful creature.
The flames rose up from Euterpe, bringing all the more credence to the heat that rose within the Athenian herself. The fire welled in her stomach, crept along her spine. It brandished itself upon her cheeks, bringing the colouration to her pale visage. Calliope, or rather, Anastasia, felt overwhelmed by it. However, never did she back away. No, the once-caged bird felt liberated, a sort of freedom that could only be wrought in fire. She reveled in the Harimtu's pronunciation of the given name, the flush drawing deeper. Then, she said it again, taking hold of Anastasia's hand and lowering it from her jawline before she twined her fingers into hers. It was, truly, a blessing for the young phoenix to be shown such affection, such mercy from a woman who drew her name from the Muses that brought music to the world.
The phoenix brings music to the silence within, she reflected. Certainly, it was true. The drumming pace of her heart surely echoed within her chest. Her mind was abuzz with music and sensation that solicited... she wasn't sure what it was but desire.
Life.
She realized it immediately as the music of pleasure registered. They were sounds all too unfamiliar, for Anastasia had never given off such moans with Alector. As the young woman was welcomed within 'Aphrodite's domain', she let her senses consume her surroundings. The rich hanging linens, however, escaped her notice. There was room only for the phoenix and the way the flames upon her head seemed to dance in ethereal light. Guided as Charon would a passed soul, the wanderer stopped when Euterpe released her hand, tilting her head in a sort of awe as she watched the Harimtu ignite incense, the tiny plume of smoke immediately giving off a flowery scent that solicited deep breaths from Anastasia.
"Tell me, Anastasia. Have you ever lain with a woman before?"
Her voice superceded the muted moans in adjacent rooms. Her visage commanded her attention. The slight pressure on her hands from the echo of her kiss commanded sensation. Anastasia felt the flames encompass her again, deepening the flush upon her features as the question roused a thought from her. Always, her gaze had wandered to women, but... she'd never considered the fairer sex in that way. Limited only in her brutal experiences with the terrible Alector of Athenia, she'd come in... search of something different. Something new. Seeing Euterpe only deepened that desire.
Hazel orbs met hazel as she shook her head. She felt strength bolster from within her at last, the awe of the moment blown by the wayside as a fervent need encompassed her. Need tempered by nothing at all. Anastasia was fascinated, she was enthralled by the sight before her.
And for now... she's mine, she mused, the thought bringing a smile to her lips.
The hand that Euterpe kissed soon relinquished itself from her grasp. She felt herself... let go and allowed a sense of instinct to lower her hands and allow them to trace the frame of Euterpe's shoulders. Then, she sought to dismantle the fibulae that kept the Harimtu's attire in place as she leaned forward,
"Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted..." she realized, Euterpe's question bringing the need to vocalize a truth she'd never confronted. Anastasia drew forward, intent upon claiming the Harimtu's lips with her own, seeking to press her chest to hers as well. She craved proximity with the phoenix, so that the heat of her flames might absolve her of her pain.
Truly, the phoenix was a beautiful creature.
The flames rose up from Euterpe, bringing all the more credence to the heat that rose within the Athenian herself. The fire welled in her stomach, crept along her spine. It brandished itself upon her cheeks, bringing the colouration to her pale visage. Calliope, or rather, Anastasia, felt overwhelmed by it. However, never did she back away. No, the once-caged bird felt liberated, a sort of freedom that could only be wrought in fire. She reveled in the Harimtu's pronunciation of the given name, the flush drawing deeper. Then, she said it again, taking hold of Anastasia's hand and lowering it from her jawline before she twined her fingers into hers. It was, truly, a blessing for the young phoenix to be shown such affection, such mercy from a woman who drew her name from the Muses that brought music to the world.
The phoenix brings music to the silence within, she reflected. Certainly, it was true. The drumming pace of her heart surely echoed within her chest. Her mind was abuzz with music and sensation that solicited... she wasn't sure what it was but desire.
Life.
She realized it immediately as the music of pleasure registered. They were sounds all too unfamiliar, for Anastasia had never given off such moans with Alector. As the young woman was welcomed within 'Aphrodite's domain', she let her senses consume her surroundings. The rich hanging linens, however, escaped her notice. There was room only for the phoenix and the way the flames upon her head seemed to dance in ethereal light. Guided as Charon would a passed soul, the wanderer stopped when Euterpe released her hand, tilting her head in a sort of awe as she watched the Harimtu ignite incense, the tiny plume of smoke immediately giving off a flowery scent that solicited deep breaths from Anastasia.
"Tell me, Anastasia. Have you ever lain with a woman before?"
Her voice superceded the muted moans in adjacent rooms. Her visage commanded her attention. The slight pressure on her hands from the echo of her kiss commanded sensation. Anastasia felt the flames encompass her again, deepening the flush upon her features as the question roused a thought from her. Always, her gaze had wandered to women, but... she'd never considered the fairer sex in that way. Limited only in her brutal experiences with the terrible Alector of Athenia, she'd come in... search of something different. Something new. Seeing Euterpe only deepened that desire.
Hazel orbs met hazel as she shook her head. She felt strength bolster from within her at last, the awe of the moment blown by the wayside as a fervent need encompassed her. Need tempered by nothing at all. Anastasia was fascinated, she was enthralled by the sight before her.
And for now... she's mine, she mused, the thought bringing a smile to her lips.
The hand that Euterpe kissed soon relinquished itself from her grasp. She felt herself... let go and allowed a sense of instinct to lower her hands and allow them to trace the frame of Euterpe's shoulders. Then, she sought to dismantle the fibulae that kept the Harimtu's attire in place as she leaned forward,
"Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted..." she realized, Euterpe's question bringing the need to vocalize a truth she'd never confronted. Anastasia drew forward, intent upon claiming the Harimtu's lips with her own, seeking to press her chest to hers as well. She craved proximity with the phoenix, so that the heat of her flames might absolve her of her pain.
Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted...
Euterpe’s smile brightened her face, standing with a patient warmth as Anastasia undid the fibulae holding her chiton over her shoulders. Unfastened, the airy fabric fell to the floor in a soft ‘whoosh,’ the crimson-haired courtesan rising from the discarded gown like Aphrodite from the waves. A lushly curved frame with lily-white skin was revealed, the outline of shoulders and hips illuminated by the firelight in a manner that was nearly surreal. Hazel eyes caught the flickering flame as they silently caressed her patron’s face, her hand reaching to join her gaze. Light fingertips trailed down the woman’s cheek before ardent lips were pressed against her own.
Even if there was little skill in the gesture, passion abounded—a precious, untutored ardor of which Euterpe was only too happy to fan the flames. Anastasia’s kiss was returned just as fiercely as it was given, gentle yet concupiscent in its intent. A practiced tongue flicked gently at the woman’s lower lip as she pressed in closer, the hand at her face brushing down along Anastasia’s side. Resting on a rounded hip, she pulled her in flush against her body as the other hand moved to divest the other of her own clothing.
Another rustle of fabric preceded the chiton falling to the floor, Euterpe delicately pushing it away with the tips of her toes. Her free hand lightly tangled itself in Ana’s hair as the kiss deepened, her other arm wrapping around the woman’s waist. There were some patrons who wished to rush to their completion, a quick and dirty romp before they were gone from her room and her life within minutes. But, with women, Euterpe often found this wasn’t the case—the fairer sex tended to move at a slower pace with more consideration for their partner, ensuring both were satisfied with their experience. The priestess had no intention to rush anything with the lovely vision in her arms, particularly not when she seemed so broken and raw. If they remained all night, so be it. Euterpe would show her what the true meaning of passion and desire should be.
The hand in Ana’s hair slowly disentangled itself, stroking gently down her throat and shoulder until it came to cup her breast. Light, deft fingers caressed the peak she found, her thumb brushing and teasing it to stiffness. Smiling against the woman’s lips, she pulled back only to kiss her way down Ana’s neck, gently biting when she reached her collarbone.
“Do not hesitate to tell me if there is something you don’t like,” the priestess murmured against Ana’s skin before kissing her again. “Or if it becomes too much. I know there can be nerves in situations like this, and the last thing I want is for you or the goddess to be displeased.” Lips moving gently down Ana’s chest, she stopped again with a kiss between her breasts. Smiling, she nuzzled gently against the breast she held before replacing her hand with the warmth of her mouth.
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Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted...
Euterpe’s smile brightened her face, standing with a patient warmth as Anastasia undid the fibulae holding her chiton over her shoulders. Unfastened, the airy fabric fell to the floor in a soft ‘whoosh,’ the crimson-haired courtesan rising from the discarded gown like Aphrodite from the waves. A lushly curved frame with lily-white skin was revealed, the outline of shoulders and hips illuminated by the firelight in a manner that was nearly surreal. Hazel eyes caught the flickering flame as they silently caressed her patron’s face, her hand reaching to join her gaze. Light fingertips trailed down the woman’s cheek before ardent lips were pressed against her own.
Even if there was little skill in the gesture, passion abounded—a precious, untutored ardor of which Euterpe was only too happy to fan the flames. Anastasia’s kiss was returned just as fiercely as it was given, gentle yet concupiscent in its intent. A practiced tongue flicked gently at the woman’s lower lip as she pressed in closer, the hand at her face brushing down along Anastasia’s side. Resting on a rounded hip, she pulled her in flush against her body as the other hand moved to divest the other of her own clothing.
Another rustle of fabric preceded the chiton falling to the floor, Euterpe delicately pushing it away with the tips of her toes. Her free hand lightly tangled itself in Ana’s hair as the kiss deepened, her other arm wrapping around the woman’s waist. There were some patrons who wished to rush to their completion, a quick and dirty romp before they were gone from her room and her life within minutes. But, with women, Euterpe often found this wasn’t the case—the fairer sex tended to move at a slower pace with more consideration for their partner, ensuring both were satisfied with their experience. The priestess had no intention to rush anything with the lovely vision in her arms, particularly not when she seemed so broken and raw. If they remained all night, so be it. Euterpe would show her what the true meaning of passion and desire should be.
The hand in Ana’s hair slowly disentangled itself, stroking gently down her throat and shoulder until it came to cup her breast. Light, deft fingers caressed the peak she found, her thumb brushing and teasing it to stiffness. Smiling against the woman’s lips, she pulled back only to kiss her way down Ana’s neck, gently biting when she reached her collarbone.
“Do not hesitate to tell me if there is something you don’t like,” the priestess murmured against Ana’s skin before kissing her again. “Or if it becomes too much. I know there can be nerves in situations like this, and the last thing I want is for you or the goddess to be displeased.” Lips moving gently down Ana’s chest, she stopped again with a kiss between her breasts. Smiling, she nuzzled gently against the breast she held before replacing her hand with the warmth of her mouth.
Never... But, I've looked. I've wanted...
Euterpe’s smile brightened her face, standing with a patient warmth as Anastasia undid the fibulae holding her chiton over her shoulders. Unfastened, the airy fabric fell to the floor in a soft ‘whoosh,’ the crimson-haired courtesan rising from the discarded gown like Aphrodite from the waves. A lushly curved frame with lily-white skin was revealed, the outline of shoulders and hips illuminated by the firelight in a manner that was nearly surreal. Hazel eyes caught the flickering flame as they silently caressed her patron’s face, her hand reaching to join her gaze. Light fingertips trailed down the woman’s cheek before ardent lips were pressed against her own.
Even if there was little skill in the gesture, passion abounded—a precious, untutored ardor of which Euterpe was only too happy to fan the flames. Anastasia’s kiss was returned just as fiercely as it was given, gentle yet concupiscent in its intent. A practiced tongue flicked gently at the woman’s lower lip as she pressed in closer, the hand at her face brushing down along Anastasia’s side. Resting on a rounded hip, she pulled her in flush against her body as the other hand moved to divest the other of her own clothing.
Another rustle of fabric preceded the chiton falling to the floor, Euterpe delicately pushing it away with the tips of her toes. Her free hand lightly tangled itself in Ana’s hair as the kiss deepened, her other arm wrapping around the woman’s waist. There were some patrons who wished to rush to their completion, a quick and dirty romp before they were gone from her room and her life within minutes. But, with women, Euterpe often found this wasn’t the case—the fairer sex tended to move at a slower pace with more consideration for their partner, ensuring both were satisfied with their experience. The priestess had no intention to rush anything with the lovely vision in her arms, particularly not when she seemed so broken and raw. If they remained all night, so be it. Euterpe would show her what the true meaning of passion and desire should be.
The hand in Ana’s hair slowly disentangled itself, stroking gently down her throat and shoulder until it came to cup her breast. Light, deft fingers caressed the peak she found, her thumb brushing and teasing it to stiffness. Smiling against the woman’s lips, she pulled back only to kiss her way down Ana’s neck, gently biting when she reached her collarbone.
“Do not hesitate to tell me if there is something you don’t like,” the priestess murmured against Ana’s skin before kissing her again. “Or if it becomes too much. I know there can be nerves in situations like this, and the last thing I want is for you or the goddess to be displeased.” Lips moving gently down Ana’s chest, she stopped again with a kiss between her breasts. Smiling, she nuzzled gently against the breast she held before replacing her hand with the warmth of her mouth.
Never before in Anastasia's life had she burned with envy and intrigue in the same flicker of light.
Of course her gaze flickered, following the path of the gown as it fell from Euterpe's form. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the workings of whatever it was that compelled garments to fall to the ground deepening the flush that settled so ardently upon her expression. It was all the young Ana could do to stop her mouth from falling agape as her hazel eyes explored the flesh presented to her. As the Harimtu's fingers brushed along the flesh of Ana's jawline, she craned her neck in the opposite direction to allow the courtesan's fingers to work more easily along the path.
Then, she sought claim over Euterpe's lips, a fierce proclamation of the woman whose time was her own was only met by the press of her own against her. The moan that caught in Anastasia's lips muffled against those lips, and well before she knew it, the gaze that fiercely clung to Euterpe was interrupted. The void of space behind her eyelids followed as sensation replaced it altogether, as she felt an experienced tongue cast along her lower lip as the phoenix's fiery touch brushed along her side, instead. Never before had she felt such adulation in a touch, so gentle even as she commanded the totality of the newly ordained Anastasia's attention.
The phoenix drew her in closer and it was then that she was revealed to be something else altogether. She was the Scylla and Anastasia a ship, tendrils whirling about her in an effort to pull her into the depths of a sea of ecstatic desire. And so willingly did she plummet, the waves of heat coursing along the expanse of flesh as she was separated from her attire. The chiton fell to the floor with but the slightest delay, and the moan that broke out before paled to the one that followed as the heat of another body claimed all that was Anastasia's ability to endure it. She felt the furnace within her chest, the raging pulse that spread heated desire through her veins. She allowed herself to be consumed, her body an ingot for the smith that was Euterpe to shape and bend in any way that she chose.
Anastasia was consumed by the Scylla and she reveled in every moment in it.
Fingers drew from her hair and she utilized the newly gained freedom in kind, craning her head, allowing her lips to guide the movements of her head. She wouldn't know if her eyes could even see, for so staunchly they remained shut as she indulged in these sensations as a woman dying of thirst might delve into a river to drink. Anastasia's fingertips kneaded so gently along the flesh of Euterpe's back as she found the woman's lips at last, claiming them all too eagerly, seeking to wrest those lips apart and entangle her tongue with the Harimtu's. As Euterpe's fingers dipped lower, claiming Anastasia's modest breast, it took but the touch for goose-flesh to trickle along her milky skin, the nub stiffened before her thumb even sought to toy with it. But, toy with it she did, bringing Ana to part from her lips.
The gasp that escaped her lips was met with her head thrown back, the heady pleasure that cast throughout before she returned inexorably to those lips, bound by the magnetism of Euterpe's presence. Then, she pulled away and Anastasia craned her neck forward, her chin resting against the Harimtu's shoulder-blade as those plump lips claimed her throat in a rhythm that alternated smooth flesh and rigid teeth. As Euterpe's words bled against heated flesh, Anastasia could only nod, the tremor that moved throughout her body shifting her weight so that she was pliant to the Harimtu's shifting attentions. Lips pressed between her breasts, and she felt her touch part to replace the teasing of her peak with the moisture of her tongue.
"Ah... E-Euterpe..." she breathed out.
Never before has Anastasia felt such pleasure, and she hadn't even moved to the lower half of her body. A body so experienced in being penetrated and forsaken, of being beaten and neglected. Never before had the woman reached completion in the dozens upon dozens of nights she'd shared with Alector, and yet... she felt the lofty heights of ecstasy so very close by the barest touch and experienced hand of a woman.
It was intoxicating.
"I n-need more...
Give me more," she demanded, her lips hanging open as she reveled in every moment spent with this envoy of Aphrodite.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Never before in Anastasia's life had she burned with envy and intrigue in the same flicker of light.
Of course her gaze flickered, following the path of the gown as it fell from Euterpe's form. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the workings of whatever it was that compelled garments to fall to the ground deepening the flush that settled so ardently upon her expression. It was all the young Ana could do to stop her mouth from falling agape as her hazel eyes explored the flesh presented to her. As the Harimtu's fingers brushed along the flesh of Ana's jawline, she craned her neck in the opposite direction to allow the courtesan's fingers to work more easily along the path.
Then, she sought claim over Euterpe's lips, a fierce proclamation of the woman whose time was her own was only met by the press of her own against her. The moan that caught in Anastasia's lips muffled against those lips, and well before she knew it, the gaze that fiercely clung to Euterpe was interrupted. The void of space behind her eyelids followed as sensation replaced it altogether, as she felt an experienced tongue cast along her lower lip as the phoenix's fiery touch brushed along her side, instead. Never before had she felt such adulation in a touch, so gentle even as she commanded the totality of the newly ordained Anastasia's attention.
The phoenix drew her in closer and it was then that she was revealed to be something else altogether. She was the Scylla and Anastasia a ship, tendrils whirling about her in an effort to pull her into the depths of a sea of ecstatic desire. And so willingly did she plummet, the waves of heat coursing along the expanse of flesh as she was separated from her attire. The chiton fell to the floor with but the slightest delay, and the moan that broke out before paled to the one that followed as the heat of another body claimed all that was Anastasia's ability to endure it. She felt the furnace within her chest, the raging pulse that spread heated desire through her veins. She allowed herself to be consumed, her body an ingot for the smith that was Euterpe to shape and bend in any way that she chose.
Anastasia was consumed by the Scylla and she reveled in every moment in it.
Fingers drew from her hair and she utilized the newly gained freedom in kind, craning her head, allowing her lips to guide the movements of her head. She wouldn't know if her eyes could even see, for so staunchly they remained shut as she indulged in these sensations as a woman dying of thirst might delve into a river to drink. Anastasia's fingertips kneaded so gently along the flesh of Euterpe's back as she found the woman's lips at last, claiming them all too eagerly, seeking to wrest those lips apart and entangle her tongue with the Harimtu's. As Euterpe's fingers dipped lower, claiming Anastasia's modest breast, it took but the touch for goose-flesh to trickle along her milky skin, the nub stiffened before her thumb even sought to toy with it. But, toy with it she did, bringing Ana to part from her lips.
The gasp that escaped her lips was met with her head thrown back, the heady pleasure that cast throughout before she returned inexorably to those lips, bound by the magnetism of Euterpe's presence. Then, she pulled away and Anastasia craned her neck forward, her chin resting against the Harimtu's shoulder-blade as those plump lips claimed her throat in a rhythm that alternated smooth flesh and rigid teeth. As Euterpe's words bled against heated flesh, Anastasia could only nod, the tremor that moved throughout her body shifting her weight so that she was pliant to the Harimtu's shifting attentions. Lips pressed between her breasts, and she felt her touch part to replace the teasing of her peak with the moisture of her tongue.
"Ah... E-Euterpe..." she breathed out.
Never before has Anastasia felt such pleasure, and she hadn't even moved to the lower half of her body. A body so experienced in being penetrated and forsaken, of being beaten and neglected. Never before had the woman reached completion in the dozens upon dozens of nights she'd shared with Alector, and yet... she felt the lofty heights of ecstasy so very close by the barest touch and experienced hand of a woman.
It was intoxicating.
"I n-need more...
Give me more," she demanded, her lips hanging open as she reveled in every moment spent with this envoy of Aphrodite.
Never before in Anastasia's life had she burned with envy and intrigue in the same flicker of light.
Of course her gaze flickered, following the path of the gown as it fell from Euterpe's form. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the workings of whatever it was that compelled garments to fall to the ground deepening the flush that settled so ardently upon her expression. It was all the young Ana could do to stop her mouth from falling agape as her hazel eyes explored the flesh presented to her. As the Harimtu's fingers brushed along the flesh of Ana's jawline, she craned her neck in the opposite direction to allow the courtesan's fingers to work more easily along the path.
Then, she sought claim over Euterpe's lips, a fierce proclamation of the woman whose time was her own was only met by the press of her own against her. The moan that caught in Anastasia's lips muffled against those lips, and well before she knew it, the gaze that fiercely clung to Euterpe was interrupted. The void of space behind her eyelids followed as sensation replaced it altogether, as she felt an experienced tongue cast along her lower lip as the phoenix's fiery touch brushed along her side, instead. Never before had she felt such adulation in a touch, so gentle even as she commanded the totality of the newly ordained Anastasia's attention.
The phoenix drew her in closer and it was then that she was revealed to be something else altogether. She was the Scylla and Anastasia a ship, tendrils whirling about her in an effort to pull her into the depths of a sea of ecstatic desire. And so willingly did she plummet, the waves of heat coursing along the expanse of flesh as she was separated from her attire. The chiton fell to the floor with but the slightest delay, and the moan that broke out before paled to the one that followed as the heat of another body claimed all that was Anastasia's ability to endure it. She felt the furnace within her chest, the raging pulse that spread heated desire through her veins. She allowed herself to be consumed, her body an ingot for the smith that was Euterpe to shape and bend in any way that she chose.
Anastasia was consumed by the Scylla and she reveled in every moment in it.
Fingers drew from her hair and she utilized the newly gained freedom in kind, craning her head, allowing her lips to guide the movements of her head. She wouldn't know if her eyes could even see, for so staunchly they remained shut as she indulged in these sensations as a woman dying of thirst might delve into a river to drink. Anastasia's fingertips kneaded so gently along the flesh of Euterpe's back as she found the woman's lips at last, claiming them all too eagerly, seeking to wrest those lips apart and entangle her tongue with the Harimtu's. As Euterpe's fingers dipped lower, claiming Anastasia's modest breast, it took but the touch for goose-flesh to trickle along her milky skin, the nub stiffened before her thumb even sought to toy with it. But, toy with it she did, bringing Ana to part from her lips.
The gasp that escaped her lips was met with her head thrown back, the heady pleasure that cast throughout before she returned inexorably to those lips, bound by the magnetism of Euterpe's presence. Then, she pulled away and Anastasia craned her neck forward, her chin resting against the Harimtu's shoulder-blade as those plump lips claimed her throat in a rhythm that alternated smooth flesh and rigid teeth. As Euterpe's words bled against heated flesh, Anastasia could only nod, the tremor that moved throughout her body shifting her weight so that she was pliant to the Harimtu's shifting attentions. Lips pressed between her breasts, and she felt her touch part to replace the teasing of her peak with the moisture of her tongue.
"Ah... E-Euterpe..." she breathed out.
Never before has Anastasia felt such pleasure, and she hadn't even moved to the lower half of her body. A body so experienced in being penetrated and forsaken, of being beaten and neglected. Never before had the woman reached completion in the dozens upon dozens of nights she'd shared with Alector, and yet... she felt the lofty heights of ecstasy so very close by the barest touch and experienced hand of a woman.
It was intoxicating.
"I n-need more...
Give me more," she demanded, her lips hanging open as she reveled in every moment spent with this envoy of Aphrodite.
The sounds Anastasia made were like music to Euterpe’s ears, the stuttered exhalations and moans that resulted from the courtesan’s touch. There was a smile of deep satisfaction crinkling the priestess’s eyes as her tongue laid claim to the peak of Anastasia’s breast, teasing and caressing it to the point of profound arousal. One of her hands slowly reached to claim the other, softly kneading the flesh it held as her tongue flicked over and over in a repetitive motion.
More, the woman begged for more, and Euterpe was happy to comply. Her mouth separating from the breast it latched onto, she tilted her head back to meet Ana’s gaze. The knuckles on the back of her hand slowly stroked down her face, her throat, her arm until they reached her hand, grasping her fingers and pulling gently. “Come,” she murmured in the reverent stillness of the room.
Leading her over to the bed, Euterpe’s arms wrapped around her once more and captured her lips in a kiss. For several long moments, it lingered, lips caressing hers in a way set to induce passion and comfort alike. It was a gesture that was both sensual and undemanding, only asking for as much as her beautiful patron would give. Trauma and heartache alike marked this one as clearly as ash on her face, and the priestess meant to do whatever she could to aid in the woman’s healing. This was the true reason she served Aphrodite; to bring the power of love to those who so desperately needed its blessed restoration.
Delicate fingers traced through Anastasia’s hair, coming to tenderly clasp the back of her neck as her other hand rested at her waist. Slowly, carefully, Euterpe bent her back over the bed, gently easing her hips onto the soft purchase of the mattress. For another stretch of time, the priestess hovered over her, gentle fingers stroking and massaging the flesh bared before her. Down her shoulders, her arms, her waist, her hips—kneading soothingly at the curve of her thighs, Euterpe’s head dipped to kiss her again.
Lips tangled with Ana’s, her tongue probed again in a gentle, yet insistent dance, one she led with ease. Slowly releasing her thighs, one hand reached to cup her patron’s face, while the other gently eased her legs apart. Leisurely sliding up the silken flesh of her leg, Euterpe stopped just short of her center, one thumb gently brushing over the pearl that nestled there.
Pulling back for a moment, Euterpe paused to gauge Ana’s reaction, watching her face for any telltale signs of discomfort. Finding nothing there that would discourage her progress, the priestess smiled and kissed her again while her hand proceeded towards its target. One finger, then two, slid within the velvety walls her legs concealed, slowly stroking within as her thumb deliberately circled the little bundle of nerves that contained the woman’s pleasure.
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The sounds Anastasia made were like music to Euterpe’s ears, the stuttered exhalations and moans that resulted from the courtesan’s touch. There was a smile of deep satisfaction crinkling the priestess’s eyes as her tongue laid claim to the peak of Anastasia’s breast, teasing and caressing it to the point of profound arousal. One of her hands slowly reached to claim the other, softly kneading the flesh it held as her tongue flicked over and over in a repetitive motion.
More, the woman begged for more, and Euterpe was happy to comply. Her mouth separating from the breast it latched onto, she tilted her head back to meet Ana’s gaze. The knuckles on the back of her hand slowly stroked down her face, her throat, her arm until they reached her hand, grasping her fingers and pulling gently. “Come,” she murmured in the reverent stillness of the room.
Leading her over to the bed, Euterpe’s arms wrapped around her once more and captured her lips in a kiss. For several long moments, it lingered, lips caressing hers in a way set to induce passion and comfort alike. It was a gesture that was both sensual and undemanding, only asking for as much as her beautiful patron would give. Trauma and heartache alike marked this one as clearly as ash on her face, and the priestess meant to do whatever she could to aid in the woman’s healing. This was the true reason she served Aphrodite; to bring the power of love to those who so desperately needed its blessed restoration.
Delicate fingers traced through Anastasia’s hair, coming to tenderly clasp the back of her neck as her other hand rested at her waist. Slowly, carefully, Euterpe bent her back over the bed, gently easing her hips onto the soft purchase of the mattress. For another stretch of time, the priestess hovered over her, gentle fingers stroking and massaging the flesh bared before her. Down her shoulders, her arms, her waist, her hips—kneading soothingly at the curve of her thighs, Euterpe’s head dipped to kiss her again.
Lips tangled with Ana’s, her tongue probed again in a gentle, yet insistent dance, one she led with ease. Slowly releasing her thighs, one hand reached to cup her patron’s face, while the other gently eased her legs apart. Leisurely sliding up the silken flesh of her leg, Euterpe stopped just short of her center, one thumb gently brushing over the pearl that nestled there.
Pulling back for a moment, Euterpe paused to gauge Ana’s reaction, watching her face for any telltale signs of discomfort. Finding nothing there that would discourage her progress, the priestess smiled and kissed her again while her hand proceeded towards its target. One finger, then two, slid within the velvety walls her legs concealed, slowly stroking within as her thumb deliberately circled the little bundle of nerves that contained the woman’s pleasure.
The sounds Anastasia made were like music to Euterpe’s ears, the stuttered exhalations and moans that resulted from the courtesan’s touch. There was a smile of deep satisfaction crinkling the priestess’s eyes as her tongue laid claim to the peak of Anastasia’s breast, teasing and caressing it to the point of profound arousal. One of her hands slowly reached to claim the other, softly kneading the flesh it held as her tongue flicked over and over in a repetitive motion.
More, the woman begged for more, and Euterpe was happy to comply. Her mouth separating from the breast it latched onto, she tilted her head back to meet Ana’s gaze. The knuckles on the back of her hand slowly stroked down her face, her throat, her arm until they reached her hand, grasping her fingers and pulling gently. “Come,” she murmured in the reverent stillness of the room.
Leading her over to the bed, Euterpe’s arms wrapped around her once more and captured her lips in a kiss. For several long moments, it lingered, lips caressing hers in a way set to induce passion and comfort alike. It was a gesture that was both sensual and undemanding, only asking for as much as her beautiful patron would give. Trauma and heartache alike marked this one as clearly as ash on her face, and the priestess meant to do whatever she could to aid in the woman’s healing. This was the true reason she served Aphrodite; to bring the power of love to those who so desperately needed its blessed restoration.
Delicate fingers traced through Anastasia’s hair, coming to tenderly clasp the back of her neck as her other hand rested at her waist. Slowly, carefully, Euterpe bent her back over the bed, gently easing her hips onto the soft purchase of the mattress. For another stretch of time, the priestess hovered over her, gentle fingers stroking and massaging the flesh bared before her. Down her shoulders, her arms, her waist, her hips—kneading soothingly at the curve of her thighs, Euterpe’s head dipped to kiss her again.
Lips tangled with Ana’s, her tongue probed again in a gentle, yet insistent dance, one she led with ease. Slowly releasing her thighs, one hand reached to cup her patron’s face, while the other gently eased her legs apart. Leisurely sliding up the silken flesh of her leg, Euterpe stopped just short of her center, one thumb gently brushing over the pearl that nestled there.
Pulling back for a moment, Euterpe paused to gauge Ana’s reaction, watching her face for any telltale signs of discomfort. Finding nothing there that would discourage her progress, the priestess smiled and kissed her again while her hand proceeded towards its target. One finger, then two, slid within the velvety walls her legs concealed, slowly stroking within as her thumb deliberately circled the little bundle of nerves that contained the woman’s pleasure.
Was this normal? Was this what laying with another was supposed to feel like? Anastasia had come to the Aphrodisias in search of answers, and the one meant to give them to her certainly didn't hesitate or mince words in her efforts to do so. No, immediately, Anastasia was thrust into a realm of sensation, her eyes shut as she pleaded for more. Desire welled fiercely, a grip that would not be so easily relinquished. The heat that flustered throughout Ana's body as Euterpe touched at her breast, as her tongue and hand work effortlessly in tandem to bring both of her peaks to a rigid state... it was so decadent in a way that she might've never known had she not taken this first step.
Aphrodite's domain was not something to be feared, not something to dread or push away. Intimacy and desire, as Euterpe proved with the passion behind her ministrations, were things to be beloved. And so Ana basked in the woman's attentions, as her hand pulled back and her hand was caught in Euterpe's own. Eyes were opened, but half-lidded, glazed over with the rich feelings that stirred within her, a flare within her chest that she'd never felt before in her life. She nodded, her mouth slightly ajar as if she meant to speak, but she could not. She fell into step behind Euterpe, a tremor cast throughout her body. The both of them stood before the bed for a moment.
Then, Euterpe moved her. Anastasia fell so easily into the movement, falling into the mattress with naught a complaint, her lips parted as fingers threaded into her hair. Then, Euterpe's hands began diligent work along the length of her body, eliciting wave after wave of sensation. The world was gone to her, her eyes closed as she reveled in the touch at her body then the lips that claimed hers, the tongue that parted them and the gentle insistence that was Euterpe's every action. She had no misgivings, and the desire she felt sought to encroach her, to overwhelm her. Anastasia's legs moved with but the gentlest of touches by Euterpe, the touch upon her thigh such a tantalizing thing until... her touch moved towards her center, her thumb brushed along the bundle of nerves and a cry parted Anastasia's lips.
She tipped her head back, her eyes at last opening, if just slightly, as she caught Euterpe's gaze searching her own. No, there were no signs of discomfort, for her gentle ministrations and caution were setting the woman at ease. She needed this, and reveled in the way her mind seemed to let go, instinct and want pulling at her motions as she pressed into that followed kiss. Anastasia sought to part Euterpe's lips, craving the heat and taste of her tongue as her arms wove about the courtesan's shoulders. He drew her chest to the Harimtu's breasts, letting the cry of pleasure pour into her ear as Euterpe's thumb began to work at the bundle of nerves and her fingers penetrated her.
Two digits and yet, she felt herself stretch about the courtesan's digits, but there was no pain. There was no suffering in the tender embrace of Euterpe the Harimtu, the phoenix that liberated her from the bonds of pain and suffering. Anastasia's moans muffled against the Harimtu's lips as the courtesan coaxed pleasure upon pleasure from her, her hips shifting with the motions as she sought more still. She felt the quiver within her, the tightening of her core as she felt herself let go. Her thoughts withered to nothingness as the urge parted Ana from Euterpe's lips.
She cried out in ecstasy as she tightened about the Harimtu's fingers, only to fall into the bed, a quivering, unapologetic mess as those heavy eyes set upon Euterpe, as a hand rose up to pull her closer to her.
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Was this normal? Was this what laying with another was supposed to feel like? Anastasia had come to the Aphrodisias in search of answers, and the one meant to give them to her certainly didn't hesitate or mince words in her efforts to do so. No, immediately, Anastasia was thrust into a realm of sensation, her eyes shut as she pleaded for more. Desire welled fiercely, a grip that would not be so easily relinquished. The heat that flustered throughout Ana's body as Euterpe touched at her breast, as her tongue and hand work effortlessly in tandem to bring both of her peaks to a rigid state... it was so decadent in a way that she might've never known had she not taken this first step.
Aphrodite's domain was not something to be feared, not something to dread or push away. Intimacy and desire, as Euterpe proved with the passion behind her ministrations, were things to be beloved. And so Ana basked in the woman's attentions, as her hand pulled back and her hand was caught in Euterpe's own. Eyes were opened, but half-lidded, glazed over with the rich feelings that stirred within her, a flare within her chest that she'd never felt before in her life. She nodded, her mouth slightly ajar as if she meant to speak, but she could not. She fell into step behind Euterpe, a tremor cast throughout her body. The both of them stood before the bed for a moment.
Then, Euterpe moved her. Anastasia fell so easily into the movement, falling into the mattress with naught a complaint, her lips parted as fingers threaded into her hair. Then, Euterpe's hands began diligent work along the length of her body, eliciting wave after wave of sensation. The world was gone to her, her eyes closed as she reveled in the touch at her body then the lips that claimed hers, the tongue that parted them and the gentle insistence that was Euterpe's every action. She had no misgivings, and the desire she felt sought to encroach her, to overwhelm her. Anastasia's legs moved with but the gentlest of touches by Euterpe, the touch upon her thigh such a tantalizing thing until... her touch moved towards her center, her thumb brushed along the bundle of nerves and a cry parted Anastasia's lips.
She tipped her head back, her eyes at last opening, if just slightly, as she caught Euterpe's gaze searching her own. No, there were no signs of discomfort, for her gentle ministrations and caution were setting the woman at ease. She needed this, and reveled in the way her mind seemed to let go, instinct and want pulling at her motions as she pressed into that followed kiss. Anastasia sought to part Euterpe's lips, craving the heat and taste of her tongue as her arms wove about the courtesan's shoulders. He drew her chest to the Harimtu's breasts, letting the cry of pleasure pour into her ear as Euterpe's thumb began to work at the bundle of nerves and her fingers penetrated her.
Two digits and yet, she felt herself stretch about the courtesan's digits, but there was no pain. There was no suffering in the tender embrace of Euterpe the Harimtu, the phoenix that liberated her from the bonds of pain and suffering. Anastasia's moans muffled against the Harimtu's lips as the courtesan coaxed pleasure upon pleasure from her, her hips shifting with the motions as she sought more still. She felt the quiver within her, the tightening of her core as she felt herself let go. Her thoughts withered to nothingness as the urge parted Ana from Euterpe's lips.
She cried out in ecstasy as she tightened about the Harimtu's fingers, only to fall into the bed, a quivering, unapologetic mess as those heavy eyes set upon Euterpe, as a hand rose up to pull her closer to her.
Was this normal? Was this what laying with another was supposed to feel like? Anastasia had come to the Aphrodisias in search of answers, and the one meant to give them to her certainly didn't hesitate or mince words in her efforts to do so. No, immediately, Anastasia was thrust into a realm of sensation, her eyes shut as she pleaded for more. Desire welled fiercely, a grip that would not be so easily relinquished. The heat that flustered throughout Ana's body as Euterpe touched at her breast, as her tongue and hand work effortlessly in tandem to bring both of her peaks to a rigid state... it was so decadent in a way that she might've never known had she not taken this first step.
Aphrodite's domain was not something to be feared, not something to dread or push away. Intimacy and desire, as Euterpe proved with the passion behind her ministrations, were things to be beloved. And so Ana basked in the woman's attentions, as her hand pulled back and her hand was caught in Euterpe's own. Eyes were opened, but half-lidded, glazed over with the rich feelings that stirred within her, a flare within her chest that she'd never felt before in her life. She nodded, her mouth slightly ajar as if she meant to speak, but she could not. She fell into step behind Euterpe, a tremor cast throughout her body. The both of them stood before the bed for a moment.
Then, Euterpe moved her. Anastasia fell so easily into the movement, falling into the mattress with naught a complaint, her lips parted as fingers threaded into her hair. Then, Euterpe's hands began diligent work along the length of her body, eliciting wave after wave of sensation. The world was gone to her, her eyes closed as she reveled in the touch at her body then the lips that claimed hers, the tongue that parted them and the gentle insistence that was Euterpe's every action. She had no misgivings, and the desire she felt sought to encroach her, to overwhelm her. Anastasia's legs moved with but the gentlest of touches by Euterpe, the touch upon her thigh such a tantalizing thing until... her touch moved towards her center, her thumb brushed along the bundle of nerves and a cry parted Anastasia's lips.
She tipped her head back, her eyes at last opening, if just slightly, as she caught Euterpe's gaze searching her own. No, there were no signs of discomfort, for her gentle ministrations and caution were setting the woman at ease. She needed this, and reveled in the way her mind seemed to let go, instinct and want pulling at her motions as she pressed into that followed kiss. Anastasia sought to part Euterpe's lips, craving the heat and taste of her tongue as her arms wove about the courtesan's shoulders. He drew her chest to the Harimtu's breasts, letting the cry of pleasure pour into her ear as Euterpe's thumb began to work at the bundle of nerves and her fingers penetrated her.
Two digits and yet, she felt herself stretch about the courtesan's digits, but there was no pain. There was no suffering in the tender embrace of Euterpe the Harimtu, the phoenix that liberated her from the bonds of pain and suffering. Anastasia's moans muffled against the Harimtu's lips as the courtesan coaxed pleasure upon pleasure from her, her hips shifting with the motions as she sought more still. She felt the quiver within her, the tightening of her core as she felt herself let go. Her thoughts withered to nothingness as the urge parted Ana from Euterpe's lips.
She cried out in ecstasy as she tightened about the Harimtu's fingers, only to fall into the bed, a quivering, unapologetic mess as those heavy eyes set upon Euterpe, as a hand rose up to pull her closer to her.
A broken creature when she arrived, Euterpe could feel the woman beneath her letting go of that initial restraint and surrendering to the euphoria the priestess offered. Sex was meant for pleasure, yes, but it was an intimate act that so often held so much more. As much as it could harm, it could heal, and to watch Anastasia reclaim her own pleasure was a joyous sight to behold.
The speed of her fingers increased, though she maintained a gentle touch, her lips caressing Ana’s as delicately as her digits below. Again and again, her thumb brushed and coaxed for the woman’s ecstasy, and when it came, it came with an echoing cry. Pulling back from her patron just enough to watch her face while bliss overtook her, Euterpe’s lips lifted in an indulgent smile. Had the woman ever had an orgasm before, she wondered? She found that to be a rather common thing among her female clientele; so many men were only concerned with their own pleasure than they rarely took the time to ensure the woman had hers. The priestess, of course, would never allow that to happen. Besides the fact that it was quite literally her job, she loved to observe the wash of ecstasy on one’s face, the total lapse of control that made bodies writhe and breath come short.
Slowly withdrawing her fingers as Ana’s tremors eased, she brought them to her mouth with a slow swipe of her tongue. Easing herself onto the bed next to her patron, she allowed Ana to pull her in closer—molding her body to the smaller woman’s and wrapping an arm around her waist. The other hand drifted through Ana’s dark locks, a soothing and repetitive gesture, as she placed a tender kiss against her temple.
“It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately,” she murmured in the woman’s ear, the arm around her waist moving to instead gently stroke down her side. “The closest we shall ever come to touching the goddess herself is through the cries of bliss that part our lips in the night. The dancing of bodies, the indulgence of passion, the free offering of ourselves to another… these are the things that please her the most.”
Another kiss dropped against the soft flesh of Ana’s neck, Euterpe gently nuzzled her shoulder. “Just as there is nothing more displeasing to her than communion without love or joy. Beautiful Ana, I do hope you have felt her presence here tonight. It is my keen belief that she is very well pleased.”
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A broken creature when she arrived, Euterpe could feel the woman beneath her letting go of that initial restraint and surrendering to the euphoria the priestess offered. Sex was meant for pleasure, yes, but it was an intimate act that so often held so much more. As much as it could harm, it could heal, and to watch Anastasia reclaim her own pleasure was a joyous sight to behold.
The speed of her fingers increased, though she maintained a gentle touch, her lips caressing Ana’s as delicately as her digits below. Again and again, her thumb brushed and coaxed for the woman’s ecstasy, and when it came, it came with an echoing cry. Pulling back from her patron just enough to watch her face while bliss overtook her, Euterpe’s lips lifted in an indulgent smile. Had the woman ever had an orgasm before, she wondered? She found that to be a rather common thing among her female clientele; so many men were only concerned with their own pleasure than they rarely took the time to ensure the woman had hers. The priestess, of course, would never allow that to happen. Besides the fact that it was quite literally her job, she loved to observe the wash of ecstasy on one’s face, the total lapse of control that made bodies writhe and breath come short.
Slowly withdrawing her fingers as Ana’s tremors eased, she brought them to her mouth with a slow swipe of her tongue. Easing herself onto the bed next to her patron, she allowed Ana to pull her in closer—molding her body to the smaller woman’s and wrapping an arm around her waist. The other hand drifted through Ana’s dark locks, a soothing and repetitive gesture, as she placed a tender kiss against her temple.
“It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately,” she murmured in the woman’s ear, the arm around her waist moving to instead gently stroke down her side. “The closest we shall ever come to touching the goddess herself is through the cries of bliss that part our lips in the night. The dancing of bodies, the indulgence of passion, the free offering of ourselves to another… these are the things that please her the most.”
Another kiss dropped against the soft flesh of Ana’s neck, Euterpe gently nuzzled her shoulder. “Just as there is nothing more displeasing to her than communion without love or joy. Beautiful Ana, I do hope you have felt her presence here tonight. It is my keen belief that she is very well pleased.”
A broken creature when she arrived, Euterpe could feel the woman beneath her letting go of that initial restraint and surrendering to the euphoria the priestess offered. Sex was meant for pleasure, yes, but it was an intimate act that so often held so much more. As much as it could harm, it could heal, and to watch Anastasia reclaim her own pleasure was a joyous sight to behold.
The speed of her fingers increased, though she maintained a gentle touch, her lips caressing Ana’s as delicately as her digits below. Again and again, her thumb brushed and coaxed for the woman’s ecstasy, and when it came, it came with an echoing cry. Pulling back from her patron just enough to watch her face while bliss overtook her, Euterpe’s lips lifted in an indulgent smile. Had the woman ever had an orgasm before, she wondered? She found that to be a rather common thing among her female clientele; so many men were only concerned with their own pleasure than they rarely took the time to ensure the woman had hers. The priestess, of course, would never allow that to happen. Besides the fact that it was quite literally her job, she loved to observe the wash of ecstasy on one’s face, the total lapse of control that made bodies writhe and breath come short.
Slowly withdrawing her fingers as Ana’s tremors eased, she brought them to her mouth with a slow swipe of her tongue. Easing herself onto the bed next to her patron, she allowed Ana to pull her in closer—molding her body to the smaller woman’s and wrapping an arm around her waist. The other hand drifted through Ana’s dark locks, a soothing and repetitive gesture, as she placed a tender kiss against her temple.
“It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately,” she murmured in the woman’s ear, the arm around her waist moving to instead gently stroke down her side. “The closest we shall ever come to touching the goddess herself is through the cries of bliss that part our lips in the night. The dancing of bodies, the indulgence of passion, the free offering of ourselves to another… these are the things that please her the most.”
Another kiss dropped against the soft flesh of Ana’s neck, Euterpe gently nuzzled her shoulder. “Just as there is nothing more displeasing to her than communion without love or joy. Beautiful Ana, I do hope you have felt her presence here tonight. It is my keen belief that she is very well pleased.”
"It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately..."
Euterpe's words rang through with every understanding that the broken Greek had of the Goddess. And yet... Anastasia had never known the pleasures offered for herself. She'd known Alector's gold grasp, his unyielding pace, his body hovering over hers and smothering her as she was subjected to his whims. Never had she experienced anything remotely similar to this towering ecstasy that threatened to consume her. She wanted more, craved more, but instead, she allowed herself to soothe with the words Euterpe spoke.
The flames began to smolder and the tight grasp of pleasure's influence began to wane and truly, she considered how it felt to be in Aphrodite's domain. Certainly, the Goddess had been with Euterpe, channeled through her for this experience to have been so sublime. Even once her service was complete, Euterpe continued to kiss her, weaving her arms around her, pulling her against the taller woman's voluptuous body. She couldn't help the touch that set along the Harimtu's body, gentle digits beginning at her arm to slide between flesh and grasp at her breasts.
A flickering touch, for her lithe chest met the other woman's larger one as those hands trickled to dance along the small of Euterpe's back. Her fingers kneaded next along her waist, then her hips, taking hold of her thighs as a shuddering gasp escaped her lips. She sought to remember Euterpe, to memorize the exquisite curves of her body so as to immortalize the godly harlot who had in many so many ways set Call- no, Anastasia, free. She felt... new... reborn. Could the past be left where it was? Could pleasure truly be basked in like this? It felt like cheating, like denying the reality of her station to pilfer into the realm of the divine.
And yet... she'd reveled in it. She moved with every touch of Euterpe's, basked in every sensation and now... she felt a sense of curiosity, a completeness to her that hadn't been when she first arrived. She was not healed, but... she was not broken. Anastasia didn't know what she was, but she wanted to find out.
"Thank you, precious Euterpe," Anastasia said, looping her arm around the Harimtu's neck to bring her into a heated kiss from the smaller woman. Then, she pulled away, a wide smile cast upon her lips as she moved to reclaim her clothing and allow for the exquisite Harimtu to go on and uplift another mortal soul.
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"It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately..."
Euterpe's words rang through with every understanding that the broken Greek had of the Goddess. And yet... Anastasia had never known the pleasures offered for herself. She'd known Alector's gold grasp, his unyielding pace, his body hovering over hers and smothering her as she was subjected to his whims. Never had she experienced anything remotely similar to this towering ecstasy that threatened to consume her. She wanted more, craved more, but instead, she allowed herself to soothe with the words Euterpe spoke.
The flames began to smolder and the tight grasp of pleasure's influence began to wane and truly, she considered how it felt to be in Aphrodite's domain. Certainly, the Goddess had been with Euterpe, channeled through her for this experience to have been so sublime. Even once her service was complete, Euterpe continued to kiss her, weaving her arms around her, pulling her against the taller woman's voluptuous body. She couldn't help the touch that set along the Harimtu's body, gentle digits beginning at her arm to slide between flesh and grasp at her breasts.
A flickering touch, for her lithe chest met the other woman's larger one as those hands trickled to dance along the small of Euterpe's back. Her fingers kneaded next along her waist, then her hips, taking hold of her thighs as a shuddering gasp escaped her lips. She sought to remember Euterpe, to memorize the exquisite curves of her body so as to immortalize the godly harlot who had in many so many ways set Call- no, Anastasia, free. She felt... new... reborn. Could the past be left where it was? Could pleasure truly be basked in like this? It felt like cheating, like denying the reality of her station to pilfer into the realm of the divine.
And yet... she'd reveled in it. She moved with every touch of Euterpe's, basked in every sensation and now... she felt a sense of curiosity, a completeness to her that hadn't been when she first arrived. She was not healed, but... she was not broken. Anastasia didn't know what she was, but she wanted to find out.
"Thank you, precious Euterpe," Anastasia said, looping her arm around the Harimtu's neck to bring her into a heated kiss from the smaller woman. Then, she pulled away, a wide smile cast upon her lips as she moved to reclaim her clothing and allow for the exquisite Harimtu to go on and uplift another mortal soul.
"It is through our ultimate pleasure that we commune with Aphrodite most intimately..."
Euterpe's words rang through with every understanding that the broken Greek had of the Goddess. And yet... Anastasia had never known the pleasures offered for herself. She'd known Alector's gold grasp, his unyielding pace, his body hovering over hers and smothering her as she was subjected to his whims. Never had she experienced anything remotely similar to this towering ecstasy that threatened to consume her. She wanted more, craved more, but instead, she allowed herself to soothe with the words Euterpe spoke.
The flames began to smolder and the tight grasp of pleasure's influence began to wane and truly, she considered how it felt to be in Aphrodite's domain. Certainly, the Goddess had been with Euterpe, channeled through her for this experience to have been so sublime. Even once her service was complete, Euterpe continued to kiss her, weaving her arms around her, pulling her against the taller woman's voluptuous body. She couldn't help the touch that set along the Harimtu's body, gentle digits beginning at her arm to slide between flesh and grasp at her breasts.
A flickering touch, for her lithe chest met the other woman's larger one as those hands trickled to dance along the small of Euterpe's back. Her fingers kneaded next along her waist, then her hips, taking hold of her thighs as a shuddering gasp escaped her lips. She sought to remember Euterpe, to memorize the exquisite curves of her body so as to immortalize the godly harlot who had in many so many ways set Call- no, Anastasia, free. She felt... new... reborn. Could the past be left where it was? Could pleasure truly be basked in like this? It felt like cheating, like denying the reality of her station to pilfer into the realm of the divine.
And yet... she'd reveled in it. She moved with every touch of Euterpe's, basked in every sensation and now... she felt a sense of curiosity, a completeness to her that hadn't been when she first arrived. She was not healed, but... she was not broken. Anastasia didn't know what she was, but she wanted to find out.
"Thank you, precious Euterpe," Anastasia said, looping her arm around the Harimtu's neck to bring her into a heated kiss from the smaller woman. Then, she pulled away, a wide smile cast upon her lips as she moved to reclaim her clothing and allow for the exquisite Harimtu to go on and uplift another mortal soul.