Theseus to the Dark Tower Came
By Suzi Q  (souzeequ@hotmail.com)
An ancient Greek romantic tale of Faerie, featuring real Amazons

Warning – like many a hot-blooded woman, I get a buzz out of writing
about virile, powerful men. Therefore there follow descriptions
hereafter not just of Hypollyta, the invincible Queen of the Amazons,
but also of the more intimate regions of Theseus, King of Athens. So,
if you were ever confused, look away now. If not, read on.

                              *

The boreal moon loomed large on the horizon, the hoar-frost crackled on
the trees, and Theseus' breath wove solid, freezing cloudly ghosts in
the darkening sky. His sandaled feet broke brittle leaves beneath their
tread, and moss made iron by the cold stood resolutely white on every
trunk. There was no breeze, yet crows were busy by the gibbets hanging
here and there beneath the canopy, where brazen chains whined against
the weights they bore. A parade of grotesques – spavined men, great
warriors all, crushed, broken and eyeless – hung there and about, for
mile upon mile. Each one, Theseus knew, a tale to tell – each one, like
him, set forth upon their quest, to defeat the beast that imprisoned
fair Hypollyta, the beauty of the Amazons and their queen.

For a hundred days and nights Theseus had marched into the freezing
Scythian north, battling through hideous tribes of trolls and mutated
mortal men; past dragon eyries louring over blackened, blasted heaths;
he'd fought the fabled Bull of Norrawa and won, hammering iron deep
into the beast's black rancid heart; he'd scaled the peaks beyond
topless Olympus, and raised his fist and railed against the fates; and
now as he grew near his journey's end, the dead all around, he knew
fear, and it troubled him.

A goblin's shrivelled laugh rang whip-crack through the trees and
startled the great king, who whirled, an arrow knocked against his
creaking bow. A hairless head, a fleeting glimpse, then nothing.

"Have you come to slay the dragon, o mighty man of Athens ?" The voice
a sing-song, chanting mockery that rankled Theseus' will, and spurred
him on to haste. He charged towards the voice, his strong legs
instantly alive with endless power. Driven to flight, the hideous
little goblin flew from his stopping place, and Theseus overtook it in
an instant, hoisting it in the air with one powerful hand around its
throat.

"This beast is dragon-like, you say, wretched creature ?  How then the
broken bodies hereabouts no char upon their clothes, all hair in place
and skin fresh and pink for the carrion birds to peck ?  Thou liest to
me, and for this your punishment a broken neck shall be, if you not now
tell me aright and true the nature of the beast."

The creature gasped for breath, its tiny fingers scrabbling fruitlessly
for purchase against the Athenean's crushing grip. It might as well
have tried to topple Atlas, there being veins of power crossing
Theseus' arms that exceeded in thickness its very thumbs. It gasped and
rasped and cried for release as Theseus strode on, carrying the
creature as though he were a tiny doll. It whispered then, and Theseus
heard and cursed the creature, and flung it against a stump with such
force that its back broke, and it was still. "The beast is what you
bring with you – my mistress' prison is no jail for her."

At length the hero's fury carried him into a clearing at the centre of
the forest, where stood a single rearing ivory tower, fully the height
of a dozen trees, yet slender, merely thrice his height across the
base. A door there then was open, and a shaft of light spoke of warmth
and shelter laying inside. Heedless for peril, mighty Theseus ran
across the freezing glade, and ducked inside the portal, jamming it
closed and scanning the scene inside with speedy warrior's eye.

Alone stood Hyppolyta in the chamber there afore the fire, her straight
black hair a curtain falling fully to the floor, her glistening body
clad in clinging muslin white as snow, her face a heart-stopping oval
fine-drawn perfect beauty, its cheek-bones vivid angled slashes beneath
eyes blue-black and huge as wells of night.

She motioned silence to the king with one long finger to her wicked
smiling lips, then with her other hand she beckoned him toward her,
toward the huge white bearskin rug that stood before the fire. And
arousal overwhelmed the king of Athens, and he didn't see the danger in
the oaken arms of Hypollyta, whose sinews strong and straight did glide
beneath her skin at the slightest motion of her honeyed arms, eclipsing
even the mighty limbs of great Theseus himself.

She stood beside the rug that stood before the fire, and tore the
chemise from her rosy-gold skin, and grinned a filthy grin and watched
the Athenean's loins as his mighty organ swelled at the sight of her,
and laughed softly as she saw his eyes take in her magnificent form,
and laid herself before him on the rug, her hair awash about her,
carpeting the night.

Theseus ripped his clothes away from him and pounced on Hypollyta, the
steel of his body meeting ancient, invulnerable oak in her superb form.
His massive biceps strained to pull her to him, but she lay rigid, the
slightest ripple in her arms gave evidence that she had resisted him –
that and the smile that played across her perfect face. He ran his
hands across her golden body, caressing tissue-paper skin neath which
the fibres of her power stood proud, arousing him to unbearable heights
of passion.

But she wouldn't let him in. His beautiful member, a foot long and
thick as a man's wrist, all veiny, healthy, surging, potent, delicious
and oiled with his lust, could gain no purchase at her writhing, rock-
hard portal, and his hands clawed at her grapefruit biceps as she
slowly pulsed her power in them, laughing softly as he tried to master
her. He ejaculated then, powerless to control his ardour, sending great
finger-thick ropes of sperm to form rivulets in the gorges that criss-
crossed Hypollyta's magnificent stomach.

She grasped him then, long fingers forming mind-shatteringly painful
bands about his upper arms, and tossed him away from her, where he
landed twenty feet away amid the ruins of his clothes. She rose, and
from a goblet gold and dainty poured crystal water across her body to
rid herself of his ejecta. All the while, she laughed softly to
herself, her small, high perfect breasts rising and falling atop the
oaken bands of her thickly muscled chest.

Theseus, King of Athens, lay dazed, his anger rising.

"I will have you, woman", he bellowed, leaping to his feet, and she
allowed herself an inward frisson of pleasure as she noticed the speed
of his recovery. This time she caught his manhood in her hand, and
wrapped her other arm about his long, hard body. She felt his arms pull
uselessly at her shoulders, enjoying the little whines of frustration
he was making as she held him there, above the floor, as she crushed
his waist in her grasp, and teased his nipples with her tongue, and
squeezed his penis with intolerable power. The orgasm she forced him to
have brought screams of pain from the helpless warrior, as so tight was
her grip that the ensuing deluge had no escape. It built, and built,
and built, and Theseus screamed, hammering insignificant fist blows
across her oaken back, and she let him loose his pent-up sperm, which
flew, hissing, into the fire. And again she cast him fully across the
room, laughing a disgusting, disgusted laugh.

She waited, goading the Athenean with her body. She smoothed scented
oils into her perfect abdomen, laughing as her fingers fell completely
within the crevices she found there. She exercised her arms by hanging,
one hand at a time, from a hoop that descended from the ceiling, and
with glacial slowness raising herself up, using just the power of her
arm. She cartwheeled and tumbled before the beaten warrior, making the
muscles of her back dance seductively before his eyes, and the long,
slim pulsing hardness of her legs, fully four feet long, brought fresh
lechery to his woebegone eyes.

With a snarl Theseus rose again to his feet, his manhood springing
indomitably to life. He dashed at Hypollyta, intent on bearing her up,
but quicker than Hermes she dodged his lunge, caught him across the
chest from behind, and pulled him to her with consummate ease. She
carried him to her trysting rug, and laid him down, and turned him
over, and finally, seeing tears of relief and joy, mixed with a sudden
panic, in Theseus' eyes, she enveloped him in her impossibly powerful
loins, and made her muscles dance before him, caressing her own
breasts, and fondling her abdomen, as she oscillated the muscles of her
pelvis, forcing Theseus to a state of arousal beyond the ken of mortal
man.

In seconds it was over, and Theseus once again spent,
completely unable to control what Hypollyta was doing to him.

"That's too bad," she whispered in his ear, licking the lobe and
laughing as wave after wave of orgasm smote his quivering body. She
clicked her fingers, muttering the words of a spell, and her hair
instantly danced to life, tendrils of it seeking out every pleasure
centre on the groaning man's body. Gripped in unutterable ecstasy, he
moaned incoherent in pleasure and terror, unable to stop his suffering
member being dragged to full attention yet again.

Hypollyta gripped him once more with her staggering strength, turning
him upside down and clasping his waist in her arms, so that his
towering manhood pressed her ear. She teased the shaft of his throbbing
with her tongue, keeping up the spell on her hair that was robbing
Theseus of his sanity, and slowly she increased the power of her grip
on the waist of her rescuer. Soon he reached the point of orgasm again,
and bucked and thrashed and screamed in terror as his whole body was
racked with the most monstrous pleasure, beyond endurance.

He passed out then, as Hypollyta tensed her biceps for one last effort.
She crushed his pelvis with unstoppable ease, enjoying the sound as the
bones ruptured against the pressure exerted by her formidable chest,
and viewing with pleasure the way her veins writhed in her forearms as
she extinguished Theseus' life, crushing his spinal column and
squeezing still further until his internal organs ruptured and turned
to blood and he vomited their contents at her feet. She cast the broken
body to one side, and rang the bell to call her servants for her bath.