Cyra's Cyclopes (4 page)

The more Cyra saw happening, the
closer she came to understanding why the sect leaders worked hard
to keep secret how the serious disciples worshipped Dionysus. He
was much more than the god of wine. While many people focused on
the wine and theater aspects, he had strong connections to both
life and death. Powerful and well supported, he was an immortal
that shouldn’t ever be crossed.

Hopefully her leaving the ranks of
his followers wouldn’t upset him that much. Her decision to move on
had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her discovery
that there was an actual place in society waiting for her to live.
It wasn’t much, but she wanted to love and be loved, to have a
home, and to be needed for what she had to offer. With everything
she sought, found, and the decision to move forward made, she was
eager to get started in fulfilling her destiny.

As she looked around the clearing,
her gaze stopped on a drunken man who lay across one of the longer
stones and held his ass cheeks spread open for a centaur to take
him with his large rod. Kneeling beside them was a satyr who had a
woman’s legs dangling over his shoulders and his mouth on her
pussy.

Both couples appeared content with
their choice of partners and sounded like they were enjoying
themselves. There was something beautiful about their passions that
had her sliding a hand over her breast and played with the hardened
tip while watching the lovers. She liked sex, particularly with her
three Cyclopes, and was missing them. They could read her needs so
well. She had never been left wanting, except for the words. She
wanted the words of love from them.

The centaur wrapped his hand around
some locks of his partner’s long brown hair and used it to lift the
man’s head up off the stone. He picked up the pace of his fucking,
pounding his long thin length in and out of the screaming man’s
ass. After a quick look, she could see on the revelers’ face that
he was experiencing nothing but pleasure.

Cyra couldn’t look away from the
passionate duet. She wanted to watch them until they both came.
There was something in her that needed to know if they moved into
each other’s arms or on to the next person for more sex. She
thought back to how the latter had previously been her choice, but
it wasn’t any longer, because her lovers were able to satisfy her
needs.

Suddenly, a high pitched scream
brought her eyes racing across the orgy until they settled on a
familiar face, her friend Filla and her satyr. Earlier, she’d seen
them together and both had looked happy, but it looked like things
had changed.

From where she stood, Cyra could see
strips of some type of animal’s skin held the other woman’s hands
stretched above her head and secured to a low hanging tree limb.
Before she could move a muscle to help her friend, she watched the
satyr who stood behind her, reach around and pinched the bright red
nipples, pulling them and Filla let out another excited scream. It
was pleasure, not pain, her friend was experiencing.

Her own mouth opened as she watched
the satyr push his hardened cock inside the other woman’s pussy
while he rolled her nipples between his fingers. Cyra didn’t
realize she’d dropped her kylix of wine on the ground and held both
of her breasts while she watched the couple have sex. It was
exciting, made her hunger even more for her men, and then someone
pulled her body back to rest against them, him.

She knew it was a man because she
could feel his hard-on poking her and didn’t like it. There’d been
no invitation offered to anyone and she wanted to be let go. She
dug her fingernails into the forearms wrapped around her middle
while shouting for release.

“Let go!” As soon as they pulled
their hands away from her attack, she whirled around, and was
shocked by what she found. Only one person wore a leopard skin. “Oh
no, I am so sorry, my beloved Dionysus, god of wine, patron deity
of agriculture. I didn’t know you were even here yet and I was
startled and…”

“Everything is just fine, pretty
lady. Wait, I know you, don’t I?” The effeminate god looked at her
carefully and, after taking another deep drink of wine, focused on
her again.

Had she really thought him
attractive? She couldn’t see it. Maybe her Cyclopes had spoiled her
ability to view other men as good looking. There was something else
that wasn’t the same. Despite his reputation for always being fun
loving and happy, she didn’t feel at ease under his undivided
attention, and tried not to show her discomfort. She didn’t want to
upset him any more than she already had by scratching
him.

“It’s Cyra, isn’t it? Yes, I’m sure
it is, but there’s something different about you. You’re soft and
lush, very sexual. Are you having lots of sex? Maybe you’re going
to have a baby, mmm, yes, a baby.”

He ran a hand over her belly and up
to her breast, using his thumb to circle her hard nipple. Before,
whenever he’d touched her, she been turned on and wanted the
pleasure he offered. That didn’t happen. There was no desire for
him and she stiffened with unease. Slowly, she moved away from the
god she’d devoted herself to, and tried to breathe more freely. Odd
that it no longer felt comfortable to be so near him, it probably
had to do with being in love with her men.

“No, no, but I would like to talk to
you about something important to me. Do you have a moment before
the bull is brought out? I know how much you enjoy watching the
ritual sacrifice, dismemberment, and the feast that
follows.”

“Of course, I always have time for
my most devoted followers. Let’s sit down and talk,” he led her
over to the rock where the man and centaur were still fucking.
Dionysus held out a hand for her to sit and she did, while trying
not to stare at the two who were grunting, humping, and sweating on
her other side. It was hard to concentrate on what she’d wanted to
tell him, but she reminded herself of the future she wanted, and
that helped.

“It’s about my life,” she started,
and tried not to jump when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder,
and moved his head even closer to hers. Cyra looked down at her lap
and at her hands gripped there. Showing her nerves wouldn’t help
and again, forced herself to relax. As she felt her muscles ease,
she started again.

“I see more for myself than I—oh,
wait. No, stop! No!” In less time than it took to say a few words,
he had pushed her onto her back, and lay on top of her. She wanted
to be sick, but the fight to be out from under Dionysus was
stronger. With hands on her shoulders, pressing her to the rock, he
kissed her neck. The stench of his breath was more than she could
handle and she heaved, but nothing came up.

“You’re irresistible, sweet
Cyra.”

“No, I don’t want this,” she cried
out, and tried again to push him off her. He was small and didn’t
look very strong, but he was an immortal, and physically he could
do with her whatever he wanted. There was no one around who would
help her and Cyra knew it was up to her to stop him from taking
something she wasn’t offering.

“You look ripe with lust, taste of
nectar, and reek of sex. I must have you,” he growled as he moved
down to press hard kisses against her chest. “I saw you playing
with your delightful breasts and know you want me.”

“Please,” she was losing strength,
and the single word came out as a moan. Unfortunately, it seemed to
encourage the god, and she resorted to her last form of denial.
Even once she did it, Cyra still couldn’t believe she’d kneed the
god of wine between his legs. There was no denying she’d hurt him,
his yelling vile things at her, and eventually rolling off the rock
while clutching his cock and balls ensured they had an
audience.

Without any warning, the centaur
left his lover and, with the help of a maenad, held her arms in a
fierce grip. There was no way she could escape the backlash for
whatever harm she’d caused Dionysus, but she didn’t regret
anything. She’d said no and he hadn’t respected the word.
Apparently the man considered himself above such a trivial
word.

Disappointed at the mistake she’d
made in giving herself over to the god for much of her existence
brought tears to her eyes. He didn’t really know her and she’d
fallen for his faux lines of care and concern.

Before she had a chance to do or say
anything to defend her actions, she heard a commotion behind her.
There was screaming and shouting, and suddenly a large arm wrapped
around her middle and pulled her out of the other two’s hold. The
breath was ripped from her with a moan and then she knew everything
was going to be all right.

“No touch!” Agres shouted at her
captors, put his other arm beneath her legs and lifted her up
against his chest, and looked her over with his single eye. The
thick lashes fluttered, almost covering the beautiful brown orb,
and his expression softened when he caught her looking at
him.

“Are you hurt?” Brontes asked in a
deep rumbling voice as his big hand held her foot and then moved up
her leg, soothing her nerves with his touch.

“We’re here, now. Everything is all
right,” Steropes whispered as he smoothed his finger over her
forehead. He was so gentle, all three of them were, and immediately
she felt safe.

As her lovers gentled her mind and
body, she relaxed, and eventually tuned in to the chatter going on
around them. There were sounds of terror and others voiced shock
that Cyclopes had come to the festival. They were gentle, but
people couldn’t see beyond the past acts by others. They didn’t
realize that people change and that Cyclopes could as
well.

She felt a small hand rest on her
hip and was brought even closer to Agres’ chest. She looked down to
see who dared to come close to them and touch her while in their
arms. Apparently her friend Filla wasn’t afraid of her lovers and
she was happy to see that. Maybe her satyr wasn’t bad
either.

“You were right, Cyra. They aren’t
cruel. They’re gentle Cyclopes and obviously care a great deal for
you.” The other woman smiled and stepped back. However, a mere
nymph coming so close to the horrible giants had somehow defrosted
some of the fear that had fallen over the celebrants.

“What are you ugly beasts doing at
my celebration?” Dionysus, bent over at the waist, shouted at the
Cyclopes. They didn’t look afraid of him and when she looked more
closely at the immortal, his expression was one of anger, and some
discomfort. “You weren’t invited!”

“You touched our mate,” Steropes
shouted as he stepped closer to the god of wine.

“No one scares our woman,” Brontes
roared at the much smaller man.

“I know who you three are. You work
with Hephaestus. Did he send you here to disrupt my special party?
Is that it? Was he afraid to come himself? Probably feared I’d get
him drunk again and make him do something he didn’t want to do.
Apparently the lame god of the forge was afraid of me.”

“We came to protect our lover from
your mad followers,” Agres offered without looking away from
her.

“Really? You guys came to look after
me?” She started to cry. Everyone knew Dionysus’s festivals could
be dangerous. People were known to be brutally killed, dismembered,
and never found again. Unfortunately, no one had ever cared enough
about her to ensure her safety. With a few words, she managed to
feel not just wanted for sex, but loved.

“Of course,” Brontes whispered, and
slid his hand over her body.

“I love all three of you so much.”
She exclaimed and found a way to smile through her happy tears when
three very shocked faces focused on her alone. Each eye widened and
didn’t blink or flutter. Had they really not known how she felt
about them?

“Are you done here?” Steropes asked
calmly, although she noticed his hand flickered and shook as he
smoothed her hair from her face. They all were touching her in some
way, as if they couldn’t bear not to be physically connected with
her. Yes, she was done, but first she had to cut ties with the god
that had been at the center of her life for long enough.

“Almost, but first I’d like to say
something to the god of wine.”

“Okay, but you stay right here,”
Agres tightened his grip, bringing her even closer to his chest.
She enjoyed the protective side of them and offered no complaints.
Besides, her lover was so tall, for the first time in her life she
towered over everyone else and that made her feel even more
powerful.

“Fine. Dionysus, sir, while I
appreciate everything you’ve done as the patron deity of
agriculture, I don’t appreciate your lack of hearing and adhering
to my “no”. I told you I wanted to talk and you pushed for
something else. That proved to me you don’t listen to your
followers and I can’t give my life to someone who is so easily led
by his cock. No thank you.”

“We’ve had sex many times before,”
he exclaimed. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t just playing
hard to get games?”

“When it comes to sex, I don’t play.
I enjoy and indulge myself, but, no matter what else is going on,
no means no. You have allowed, even encouraged your followers to
ignore common sense. You, an immortal with nothing to fear, are far
too reckless with people’s lives and well being for me to remain a
part of your devoted followers.” Cyra felt stronger than she ever
had before. She loved, it also looked like she was loved in return,
and there was a life waiting for them to live together.