The Princess of Atlantis

Princess Ariadne of Atlantis was excited, of course, when she gazed from the steps of the Temple of Poseidon over the crowd assembled for the ritual contest. What young woman would not be excited on her Honor Day, the day when her first consort would be selected? Near her, Queen Pasiphae, her mother, stood surrounded by her generals and the council of governors who had traveled to the capital for the contest and celebration. They were the stern-faced women, and a few men, who did the hard work of running the vast empire. The princess herself stood with the queen at the head of the group, but with her mother's dominating presence she was almost an afterthought, even though it was officially her day.

The princess's suitors, the men of Atlantis brave and strong enough to enter the contest for the princess's favors, stood before them, all naked according to the custom of the contest.

Queen Pasiphae swooned over a man named Talos, her favorite, a large man of exceptional beauty, as if he were a statue of one of the gods come to life. He was a younger version of her current consort, Radamanthys, the same jutting jaw and straight nose, the same long, wavy locks flowing down to broad shoulders. The Queen's preference in men was well known. Radamanthys stood by her side, uncomfortable.

"Oh, Ari!" her mother exclaimed, "don't you just want to eat him up!"

Talos did not appeal to Ariadne, even though he met all the requirements for physical beauty in a man: strong shoulders, square-jawed countenance, narrow waist— and, of course, an ample phallus and large testes hanging between his muscular thighs, which the queen could not take her eyes off, and which her hand seemed to keep reaching for on its own. He leered and grinned at Ariadne as her mother admired his manhood; no doubt he expected to be using that implement on her tonight after he'd won.

She turned her gaze away from him, looking west toward the harbor where the contest would begin with the boat race. Inland and east, directly beyond the temple, and beyond the canals that flowed into the harbor, stood the dark mass of the Forest of Amphitrite, where another event would take place, the hunt. And to the east, on the other side of the dunes and the marsh lay the rocky shore, the most difficult part of the contest. Then back here at the temple where the suitors, those few who would be able to finish the challenges, would return to perform the final test, the Honor of the Princess.

"Oh my! For all the gods in Heaven!" Queen Pasiphae exclaimed, moving on to the next suitor. "Look at him!"

Even more repulsive was Talos's main competitor, Sarpedon, now the object of her mother's admiration, whose muscles were so gigantic, especially his massive thighs, that they called him the Bull. Ariadne might want him to pull her in a carriage, but she could not imagine taking such a beast between her legs, even if he could fit in there. He wore a cup over his genitals, permitted to avoid injury, so she could not tell what might be waiting for her tonight if this man-mountain won the right to her bed. But the cup was large.

Damatis, the high priest of Poseidon, standing by the queen, stamped his ceremonial trident three times and proclaimed, "Suitors! Pay your respects to Princess Ariadne of Atlantis and proceed to your boats!"

Ariadne glanced over the other suitors, maybe twenty or thirty of them. The contest was open to any man of Atlantis. She smiled at each in turn as they bowed before her, and wished each the favor of the gods. Each man's attention to her breasts was gratifying.

Following Atlantean tradition, and like all women in the seafaring empire, Ariadne displayed her bare breasts openly and proudly for the suitors and the spectators. The women of Atlantis had a well-earned reputation for possessing the most beautiful bosoms in the world. Ariadne's, like her mother's, were as wonderful as any two could be, round and full, with their aureoles prominently displayed for all to admire, like pink flowers on her creamy skin. On this day especially, her breasts were the center of attention for each of the suitors, because they were the final and most important event in the whole competition.

# # #

It was a relief to return to her rooms after the opening ceremony to freshen herself for a few minutes. After her maids had washed her and dressed her in a fresh gown that pushed up her ample breasts even more prominently than before, she said to them, "Call in Daedelon. Then leave us alone."

He strode in soon, his bright blue eyes shining. "Ah, Ariadne. Were I twenty years younger!"

She went to him and hugged him tightly. "If only you would compete. I would select you." Officially, she would decide who would be her consort. But the contest had so much history, going back generations, and so much ritual surrounding it with the priests of Poseidon recording and judging everything, that she would only have the chance to decide on her consort if there were a tie, or close to it, between two champions.

"No, my sweet student, my time has passed."

"Not at all, Tutor." She took his hands and placed them on her naked breasts. His hands naturally began to play with her nipples, which instantly made her wet down in her delphys. In contrast to her mother, Ariadne was much more attracted to what was between a man's ears than what was between his legs. She didn't mind the tiny wrinkles around his eyes when she made him smile, and the strands of gray appearing in the waves of his raven-dark hair only reinforced the life experience and wisdom he gave her in his lessons. He was not an athlete, but he was trim and strong. Moreover, what was between his legs was strong, and had taught her much as well.

She knelt before him and put her hands on his phallus through the cloth of his leggings, and fondled the testes hanging with it. This was by no means the first time Ariadne had knelt before her tutor, nor was there the tiniest bit of his male flesh that she was not intimately familiar with. Daedelon had been her tutor for a few years now, since she'd come of age, and had taught her everything— geography, literature, nature, mathematics, philosophy— and also, secretly, the most important lessons for her, the joy it was to be born a woman, knowing the ways in which a man can please a woman— at least some of those ways— and her power to reward a man worthy of her.

"No, princess, our time—" Daedelon struggled to speak as she drew his phallus out and began to kiss it, the way he had taught her— "our time is over. Please, Your Majesty! Ah!"

But Ariadne would not be denied. She loved her tutor, and would have chosen him as her consort in a second over some arrogant, muscle-headed athlete. She resolved, as she fellated her teacher's long, bronze shaft, that when she was queen the contest would be about qualities that were important to her, not her mother.

She could tell from experience that he was close, the change in his taste and the way his glans swelled on her tongue. She pulled him out and aimed him at her breasts, ready for his seed.

"No," he said, trying to be quiet and not give them away, his longing straining his voice, "not on your Honor Day, of all days."

She understood, all too well. "Then let me have one more taste. Your phallus is a red as Ares' sword. We still have time." She kissed his phallus, licking off drops of fluid from his meatus.

"No, my lovely student. You know I am not an admirer of Ares. I have done my best to prepare you to someday rule as queen, and I hope I have succeeded, for your sake and for the sake of Atlantis. Now, please, show the wisdom I have tried to instill in you, which you will need when you ascend the throne." He gently took her hands off his phallus and pulled her to her feet.

"You have prepared me," she said. She put his hands back on her breasts, where they'd started. "You should be rewarded."

"Your magnificent beauty and good sense are all the reward I need."

"Oh, Teacher, your reward should be to become the father of my first-born."

"Your Majesty, you know I already have children, from my late wife."

"Children I've never met."

"They have been studying and training in the empire and with the Mycenaeans."

There was a knock on the door. From behind it they heard, "Your Majesty, it is time."

"But trust me," he continued, "the right men for you— I mean the right man— is competing today. I believe he will win, and you will win double. Trust me."

They hugged.

# # #

When Ariadne arrived at the queen's balcony, she saw in the distance that the suitors had trekked to the harbor and were tending to their boats while they waited for the race to begin. Her mother, of course, had not yet shown up, and wouldn't until everyone else was in their seats and waiting for her. She always loved to make an entrance.

Ariadne accepted many congratulations on her day and many compliments on her dress that so admirably showed off her physical charms. And of course enjoyed the admiring stares from every noble in the audience, both male and female. Her younger siblings, the princes, placed behind the consorts, looked on with envy. She felt very proud of herself, the crown princess.

The queen strode in, to enthusiastic applause from the guests on the balcony and the vast crowd below, followed by her entourage, mostly handsome, scantily dressed men. She waved acknowledgement to everyone. As she took her place in her large gilded chair she nodded to the nobles and pretended to adjust her diadem, encrusted with a giant ruby from Punt flanked by a variety of jewels the Phoenicians had given her as tribute. And then finally she waved to Ariadne, acknowledging that it was, after all, her daughter's day. She beckoned to Radamanthys to bring her the royal trident, bronze tipped with gold from the mines of Poseidon. She touched it, barely, and gestured for him to give it to Ariadne.

The Princess of Atlantis had practiced the ritual. She took the royal trident into her grip and held it high above her head for all to see. The crowd cheered; the suitors stood ready at their boats. The women in the crowd, as bare-chested as she was, raised their arms as she raised hers. Ariadne felt proud to be a woman of Atlantic.

"Men of Atlantis!" she yelled, "I await you!" The priests had prepared a symbolic bull, a bull's hide wrapped over a padded bench, with horns and skull at one end. She threw down the trident into the bull's hide, where it stuck and stood straight up. The symbolism was as loved as it was obvious. The crowd roared even louder.

The suitors raced to their boats. The contest always began with the boat race, to honor the island's sailors, who made Atlantis the dominant sea power in the known world. The race was a simple out and back, but the men were allowed to form loose teams to block out competitors. By the queen's command, there were very few rules in the contest. Queen Pasiphae did not like rules, especially for herself; and she liked seeing men fight and claw for her favor.

A wide variety of craft set out, reed canoes, skin boats, slow coracles, whatever, it seemed, would float. Teaming up was not forbidden for this leg of the competition, so small fishing skiffs with two or more suitors were popular, since they were harder to capsize. Ariadne was distressed to see so many dirty tricks done, skin and reed sides holed, canoes tipped, oarsmen pulled over the side. Besides enemy action, many of the boaters went into the water through their own inexperience or simple bad luck. It was chaos out there, and rescue boats had to be sent out.

"Your Majesty, as I've mentioned in your lessons, men can sometimes be very stupid." Daedelon had appeared at her side as she stood and watched the race. "But notice the one in the small, narrow craft, dark-haired." He pointed. "Athena is guiding him. Watch him take advantage of his speed and agility to circumvent the melee and score well. I think you noticed him earlier."

She had. He'd been one of the suitors in the front row that she'd inspected at the temple. He'd seemed familiar, as if she knew him somehow. They'd locked eyes for a moment. "I did find him quite—" she began in reply, but her tutor had retreated to his spot well in the rear.

The first boaters reached the shore, their order recorded by the priest-judges, and ran up the street, over the series of bridges connecting the harbor to the palace grounds, and reached the tavern set up there, the next test in the competition.

A successful man, per Queen Pasiphae, needed more than strength and stamina to win a place in the queen's— or in this case the princess's— bed. He had to be able to hold his wine. Atlantean grapes were known throughout the Mediterranean for their sweetness, and the wine was known even better for its strength. Each suitor had to drink as much as he could, as much as he let himself, under the priests' watchful eyes, before the next test, which would stress their cunning and coordination.

Talos, the queen's favorite, had finished the boat race first, earning applause from the queen and her entourage, with Sarpedon and another competitor close behind. The young man Daedelon had pointed out was just behind them, staying clear of that jostling pack, who were elbowing and shoving each other in what Ariadne considered a juvenile and pointless manner.

The priest-judges held up placards with Atlantean numerals as each man drank as much as he could, to more applause, after which each one trotted into the Forest of Amphitrite. One suitor was held back, not getting a placard. The priests, following the queen's guidelines, didn't think he'd drunk enough and set out two more cups for him to finish. The crowd jeered at him, the women jiggling their bare breasts at him as a taunt. He would never win the Princess's charms.

The Forest of Amphitrite was a large, hilly expanse dense with trees and wildlife, where the suitors were to test their hunting skills, because a consort needed skills beyond the bedroom. Talos, on the way to the forest, was able to trip Sarpedon, sending him into a canal. Lasting harm was forbidden between suitors, but dirty tricks were considered part of the fun. At least for the queen, who laughed and pointed. Sarpedon was not hurt, but he had to splash his way to the canal's edge and climb up the bank covered in mud and scrapes, losing time and expending extra energy. He also staggered a bit, perhaps having drunk too much in his effort to impress the crowd. He did not impress Ariadne.

She sought out the young suitor her tutor had mentioned, scanning among the crowd of suitors now trotting to the forest to pick up their hunting weapons. But he wasn't among them. She went to the balustrade to get a better view.

"Ohh! Ohh!" she heard behind her and had to turn away so no one saw her grimace. "Ohh, Raddy!" her mother moaned. Ariadne put on as calm a countenance as she could manage before turning back to look.

Queen Pasiphae was standing, though mostly bent over and supported by consorts on either side holding her up while a maid lifted her dress, as Radamanthys serviced her from behind. It was technically in tradition, the queen giving her consort one last time before she took her new one, but it was a bit early in the competition. Ariadne gripped the railing and choked down a curse. The custom should only have applied if it were the queen's consort being selected, not Ariadne's.

But the queen and her men had been drinking the same strong wine as the suitors, perhaps as much, and she was the queen, after all, and could do whatever she wanted. Ariadne couldn't hear over the now constant cheering and yelling of the crowd, but she thought she saw her mother pronounce Talos's name as her consort serviced her. If Talos did win, she thought he would spend as much time in her mother's bed as in hers. That thought did not increase Talos's appeal to her.

She turned her attention to applause from below. She found the young suitor still at the tavern, still drinking. The applause was for him as he drained one more in a series of cups, surrounded by a group of suitors. There was always a large group of Atlantean men who entered the race even though they had no hope of winning, simply to say they'd competed among the boats. And then spend the rest of the day drinking. Was the young man giving up and joining them? Ariadne felt a bit disappointed in him. She'd hoped for better, especially after her tutor had pointed him out. Daedelon was rarely wrong in his appraisal of character.

But he wasn't just drinking. He was making his way through the other suitors, greeting and talking with them. And then, perhaps the last of the suitors to continue to the forest, he waved good-bye to the drinkers and headed out, pushing his way through well-wishers and women pressing their breasts against him as encouragement.

Ariadne was relieved, but worried. The placards showed that he'd drunk more than anyone else, at least anyone continuing the competition. That was great news and put him among the leaders, but how could he hunt with a head full of wine?

She worried more when through her spyglass she saw him stride past the rack of weapons without picking up any of them, only a length of leather rope. Talos had chosen a bow and arrows; Sarpedon had hefted a long spear. Others had picked similar weapons. She looked back at Daedelon and caught his eye. He didn't seem worried, and in fact smiled and nodded.

It was not possible to see what was going on in the forest. The cedars and other trees formed a dense canopy. Food was served on the queen's balcony, and more wine, of course. Ariadne took small sips of her drink and ate a few of the small delicacies offered, but was too nervous to enjoy the repast. It looked like Talos would be climbing into her bed tonight, and his phallus would be the first to feel the inside of her delphys.

She viewed that prospect with reluctance and trepidation. The Princess of Atlantis wanted her trusted, loving tutor inside her. But he was an honorable man and had refused.

# # #

"Please, Teacher," she had begged some days before the contest. "Please, take me. I need you inside me."

She was leaning back on her divan, her dress bunched about her waist and her legs spread, as Daedelon had taught her, to be ready for his tongue. She'd been on her knees for the first part of the lesson, practicing again the techniques he'd taught her to make a man's phallus grow and harden like beaten bronze.

He stood before her, heaving from the intense pleasure her practice gave him— she was an eager, talented student— and the next part of the lesson had always been to practice her own climax, during which his versatile and skilled tongue used both words and physical stimulation to teach her how wonderful it was to be a woman and to possess a kusthos between her legs. That was such a vulgar term for her delphys! He only spoke that word from between her thighs, and it always made her climax more intense.

The next part of her lesson, after her orgasm, would be one equally enjoyable in its own way, to take her teacher back between her royal lips and give him his climax, relishing his bull's milk. She was always pleased with the way she was able to satisfy her tutor, with her body as well as her mind. His milk was a reward and a compliment for her assiduous scholarship.

This time, though, she wanted more. She took his phallus in her hand and pulled it to her delphys.

"No," he replied as she displayed herself, wet and hot, for him. "It is not my place."

"It is, Tutor, I owe you so much and I want you so much," she pleaded again. "Take my kusthos."

Tutor Daedelon taught her everything, including everything sexual, and helped her grow as a woman in so many ways, for which she would be eternally grateful. But there were two sexual experiences he refused her: first, he would not let her milk him in her delphys, would not even put himself in her, not even after she'd used the oral techniques he'd taught her to take control of a man, and some innovations she'd invented herself, to make him extra stiff, with his phallus-head swollen and ready; and second, he would not honor her breasts the way her suitors soon would.

Daedelon's phallus pulsed in shock when he heard his student use such a vulgar word for her own genitals. She could tell he wanted to be in her delphys as much as she did. "Please, Tutor, your psole," she cried, the earthy term he'd once taught her for an erect phallus. And seeing him scowl even more, she spoke for the first time an even more obscene word she'd once heard in the street, "Force your sathon into me!"

His eyes narrowed even more, but he shook his head again, firmly.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She so needed to give herself to him!

He growled. "You are such a bad student! Turn over!" He didn't wait for her to obey, but grabbed her leg and wrenched her around to present her backside to him. The shock of being so roughly handled stopped her from hurling more crude words at him, and then a searing pain down there burned away all her words and thoughts.

He slapped her ass cheeks several times, as hard as a carter might on a stubborn donkey. It was the first time she'd ever been spanked— no one would ever touch the crown princess that way, it would mean instant flogging and expulsion to the mines— but he did it to her. She seemed to burst into flames down there with the heat of his repeated smacks, and understood why a woman's genitals were sometimes call an eschara, a hearth.

But then he continued to an even more outrageous, transgressive, and dangerous act. With his hand pressing her down on the divan, he took some oil from a nearby table and did something she couldn't see behind her.

"You are the best bad student I've ever had," he said. "Now you're going to learn something a princess should never know about. Take your punishment! And your reward!" And with that paradoxical statement he pushed his phallus like a pikestaff into her virgin anus.

Ariadne had never before felt such a thunderbolt of sensation and emotion explode in her, as if Cronus himself had plunged his sickle into her buttocks. The pain was sharp, but less than the spanking, and soon replaced by a fullness she'd never imagined. Her body was stretched open by her teacher's flesh the way her mind had bloomed with his knowledge and wisdom.

Daedelon slid himself way up into her, farther into her than she'd ever been able to take him orally. She willingly gave herself up to him and his wonderful phallus, gloriously filled with the man she loved most in the world, and thought she would always love most.

# # #

Queen Pasiphae, bored with waiting for the suitor/hunters to finish that event and head out of the forest to the next and most grueling part of the competition, had begun to play with one of her other consorts, stroking him and all but kissing his phallus. She liked to show off her male harem in front of the noblewomen, and would have soon had his little spear inside her, but the crowd roared as a form appeared walking out of the far end of the forest. She dropped the phallus for a larger tube, her spyglass. "Talos!" she cried.

Indeed, through her own spyglass Ariadne confirmed, with disappointment, that the first to emerge from the forest was the queen's favorite, carrying over his shoulder— Ariadne had to use a maid's shoulder to hold the glass steady so she could study it closely— a fawn. That was Talus's hunting trophy? A baby deer? Ariadne really did not want a fawn-killer in her bed. Even more, she definitely did not want fawn-killer milk spurting into her delphys.

Soon another figure emerged, wider, carrying a heavier kill, Sarpedon. The strong man kept a steady pace, apparently not troubled by an animal that had to weigh as much as a man.

Then others followed, each with some kind of kill as an offering to the princess. That was going to be one of the most difficult parts of the contest for her, telling the winner how wonderful it was to be given a dead animal. She was a princess, not a butcher's apprentice. But her mother thought the whole thing was manly and Atlantean.

The crowd loved this segment of the contest also, not because of the killing, which was an everyday occurrence, but because the suitors then had to carry their kill the nine stadia back to the temple, three times three to honor Poseidon. Even unburdened it would have been a tough trek, over sandy beach and rocky shore to a narrow path through swordgrass-covered dunes. It was much more exhausting and treacherous when already fatigued by the rowing, the hunt, and the wine, with a dead animal on one's back. The crowd cheered on the leaders; spectators who'd positioned themselves along the trek's path jeered and prodded at the laggards to egg them on.

Several suitors collapsed. Some helped each other, which was not forbidden by the rules. Most just trudged. Simply finishing was an accomplishment that would bring them honor their entire lives.

Someone yelled, and the crowd by the forest echoed the yell. Out of the forest staggered another suitor, limping. Ariadne saw in the spyglass that he was one of Talos's main competitors, nearly as tall as Talos but leaner. She also saw why he was limping: he had an arrow in his thigh. He only had two hares hanging from his neck, but was unbowed, and limped stiff-legged as the crowd cheered him on.

But how had he been wounded? She could see the priests conversing, and one walked along with him a bit, talking. It was a mystery.

And where was the dark-haired young man? She scanned from the forest, along the shore, through the swordgrass, to the temple. Her spirits fell. Talos was in the lead, trudging but still ahead. Sarpedon had gained on him at first, but had slowed and now barely kept up with him.

Her mother was no help. The queen was now being serviced by one of her other consorts. She wasn't even paying attention to the contest. She knew her favorite was going to win. Ariadne sank into her chair and let a maid take the spyglass. She wanted to cry.

"It should happen soon," she heard next to her. She turned her head toward the familiar voice. "Keep your eyes on the forest," said her tutor, now kneeling next to her. "His name is Pelias."

"But Tutor, he drank so much! How could he hunt?"

"Oh," Daedelon laughed, "that was— don't worry, my beautiful student. Just watch."

It was hopeless, but she looked, only because it was Daedelon, her tutor and secret lover, who asked. Even if that young man, Pelias, appeared now, there was no way he could catch the leaders, even if he weren't carrying a kill.

The crowd at the forest gasped and ran back, some running away. Others pointed. From the cedars, just as Daedelon had predicted, she saw a man hurtle out. But what kind of man? He seemed to be a centaur, and he flew past the slowest contestants like a dolphin leaping over tuna.

"There he is!" Daedelon said. "They call the animal he's riding a horse. Wonderful creature. Very strong, very fast."

The crowd cheered and made way as Pelias galloped down the shore, jumping rocks and rivulets, stamping down the swordgrass. Talos and Sarpedon looked back, then hurried, willing their exhausted legs forward. It was clear that Pelias was going to catch them. Ariadne and everyone on the balcony, everyone in the crowd, which was most of the city, jumped up and down and cheered. No one had ever seen such an extraordinary beast. It was breathtaking.

Ariadne jumped as high as anyone, straining to see the race. Pelias, yes! She wanted Pelias in her bed!

"These horses," Daedelon went on, "are raised by the tribes north of Mycenae. Primitive nomads, but they know animals."

The crowd's cheers swelled as the horse and man approached the leaders, and Ariadne's heart swelled along with the cheers. But then, just as he was about to overtake Talos and Sarpedon, Pelias halted his exotic but magnificent animal and jumped off it. Ariadne gasped along with the people of Atlantis. What was going on? She desperately wanted him to continue, he was so close, to be first to pass between the bull and the dolphin, the giant statues that marked the entrance to Poseidon's temple grounds. Being first would not make him the winner. There was one more test, the most important. But finishing first would make him first for the final trial and would count a lot in the priest-judges' estimation.

Pelias had halted at the wounded suitor, still limping forward but bleeding and in great pain. Pelias did something extraordinary then, unprecedented in the history of the competition, as far as Ariadne knew. He helped his wounded competitor onto the horse and then led the horse, trotting along with it, to the temple, where they finished together, just behind Talos and Sarpedon.

Ariadne's heart felt ready to burst. She was so full of love for this dark-haired hero who'd given up so much to aid a fellow competitor; yet she was so full of despair that he'd given up his chance to win her with such an honorable act. Her maids had to guide her from the balcony, down the way to the temple to greet the finishers.

"He was so brave, so noble," she sobbed. "So generous and honorable. But now—"

"Don't despair," Daedelon counseled as he came alongside her. "The contest is not over. Athena's wisdom always prevails over Ares' hubris."

# # #

Princess Ariadne should have reveled in this moment, the finale of her Honor Day. It was the moment the priests and teachers and her mother had told her about since she was a little girl, the moment when the greatest men of Atlantis would prove their worth, and the greatest man among the greatest would become hers.

Instead, she felt trepidation as she knelt on the padded dais and watched the four finishers advance toward her. Damatis, the high priest of the temple, approached, his tall trident in hand. He stamped it on the ground three times, calling the top three finishers to the dais, and announced, "Brave suitors! Honor your princess!"

Talos took his place first, dumping the dead fawn down on the marble pavement as if the poor baby deer were a sack of fish entrails. He hardly paid attention to Ariadne, instead grinning at the queen's group to one side. Ariadne was surer than ever that she did not want a baby deer killer's baby inside her. But she didn't know how to prevent it. He had won the boat race and the hunting trek, had done well enough in the wine drinking, and now . . . his large testes had to hold enough seed to give her a big honor and win a place in her bed.

She might have broken down in tears, but a glance at Daedelon, who'd forced his way to the front of the nobles, gave her courage. He subtly pointed. Next to Talos, Sarpedon huffed and grunted and slowly set down a full adult deer, a many-pointed stag. He growled and showed off his muscles, drawing a cheer from his fans in the crowd. Although he'd come in second in the boat race and the trek, he'd drunk more wine and his gift to the princess, a stag instead of a fawn, was much more honorable.

She didn't know what to think when her eyes moved to the third spot. It was empty! The crowd murmured. Damatis whispered to his assistant priests and finally spoke. "Antenor has withdrawn in favor of—" he hesitated while an assistant spoke in his ear, "Pelias!"

The young man, Pelias, stepped forward. Ariadne wanted to cry again, this time for joy. He was so handsome! Up close, his dark, wavy hair and blue eyes made her insides shiver. Even his phallus was handsome, long and as bronze as a sword. And, she thought, he must have godlike stamina because, in contrast to the other two exhausted and sweaty suitors, he seemed fresh and full of energy. The crowd roared their approval. Pelias was their favorite too, something Damatis and his priests noticed.

"Hold!" the queen interjected. "This—" she waved at Pelias as if dismissing him from her court— "This suitor was fourth!" Everyone knew she favored Talos and would do whatever she could to ensure his victory. The crowd fell silent.

"Your Majesty," the high priest answered, bowing, "Antenor of Phidia is too incapacitated by his wound to perform. He is not able to honor Princess Ariadne."

"But— but—" she protested.

"There must be three," the high priest explained, his voice firm. His was the final word on ritual. "The number is sacred to Poseidon." He stamped his trident in emphasis.

The queen sniffed and made a dismissive gesture. But then she brightened. "Hold!" she spoke again. "This . . . suitor . . ." she refused to say his name . . . "has not brought his gift!" She grinned. Pelias stood in his place, but there was no dead animal at his feet.

The high priest turned to Pelias. "Suitor, where is your gift to the Princess of Atlantis?"

Pelias stepped away for a moment. He soon returned holding a leather strap, leading the horse. The nobles close by moved away to give the great brown beast plenty of room.

Queen Pasiphae's mouth gaped open, as did everyone's. The horse, close up, was even more magnificent than it had appeared in the distance during the race. It— or rather he, since its phallus was prominent— snorted and pranced in place from the crowd noise, until Pelias calmed him with a few pats. The queen, Ariadne noticed, couldn't keep her eyes off that phallus, which put to shame her consorts'. But she recovered quickly. "It is indeed a wonderful animal. But it is not dead."

"Your Majesty," the high priest answered, "you made no rules concerning the state of the animal. Live animals are not forbidden." He faced Pelias. "In fact, Suitor Pelias, it honors the princess even more that you have captured rather than killed your gift, and present it to the princess . . ." For a moment he fell silent, admiring the animal. ". . . So full of life."

Pelias bowed to Damatis and then to Ariadne. He stepped forward and placed the reins in her hand. His phallus lengthened as he gazed down at her kneeling figure and his testes dangled like ripe plums, making her head swim and her mouth water.

He retreated to his place, his eyes fixed on her. A maid took the reins from her trembling hand. She wished she could just go to Pelias, take him in her arms, and treat him the way he deserved. He was her hero. She glanced again toward Daedelon. He smiled broadly and winked at her, which seemed to mean something, though she could not imagine what.

The high priest stamped his trident three times to silence the crowd. Perhaps also the queen before she could make another objection. "Let the honor begin!"

Talos stepped forward to stand before Ariadne. He grinned in anticipation, holding his phallus like a sausage and pointing it at her. But his grin was aimed still at the queen's group, not Ariadne. She didn't understand. He worked his hands over his organ, pulling and stroking. It lengthened. She cringed, waiting for the inevitable climax. But unlike her tutor's glans, his did not swell and she had no desire to put her lips to it to encourage it, the way she had many times for Daedelon.

Talos at last looked down on her as she waited. He worked his phallus harder, but it shrank instead of growing. She lifted her breasts toward it, though they were already on full display for him and for the rest of Atlantis. She wanted at least to get the chore over with quickly.

His member shrank further, it seemed. He looked again toward the queen.

"I declare," Queen Pasiphae said loudly, "help for suitors shall not be forbidden!" With that announcement she gestured one of her consorts, a recent acquisition, over to them.

Damatis frowned. It was outrageous of the queen, changing the rules during the contest. He reluctantly nodded and gestured for the young man to come closer. She was, after all, the queen. The young consort, clean shaven with a very pretty face, knelt next to Ariadne. She didn't understand how he could help.

Until he leaned forward and took Talos's phallus in his mouth. Then she understood, and also understood Talos's attention to the queen's entourage. So the rumors about the strange goings on in the queen's bedchamber were true. If he won, Ariadne would not need to worry about him spending too many nights in her bed. Nor about her mother stealing his affections. Talos would be busy every night with the consorts.

In contrast to Ariadne's breasts, the pretty young man's mouth quickly brought Talos to full erection. She had performed the same service for Daedelon many times, but this was the first time she had actually seen the service performed. The pretty man did not show the affection that she showed to her tutor's phallus. It was clearly just another phallus among many that he had serviced. Talos grabbed the lad's head and pumped himself in and out, as if masturbating with the young consort's mouth. The lad made choking sounds but did not resist. Daedelon had taught her about such deep service to a phallus, but he had always been careful and respectful when teaching her to use her throat. Talos used the young man the way a foreign sailor, ignorant of Atlantis's norms, might use a cheap prostitute by the docks. Ariadne had nothing against man-lovers. But this man was disgusting.

At last he was done with the young man and pulled him off his phallus by the lad's hair, tossing his head away as if it were another dead fawn. He directed his swollen member toward her, closed his eyes, stroked himself over and over, and finally spurted on her breasts in a series of ample streams. The crowd applauded.

The priest-judges quickly moved in as Talos stepped away and turned to the crowd, raising his arms in a victory salute. They scooped up the emissions and deposited the white fluid into a phial so they could measure it. The high priest proclaimed, "Twelve deci-kotein!" It was a considerable volume and generated more applause. The most important responsibility of a consort was to give Atlantis its next queen, and the quantity of a man's seed was evidence of his virility.

The priests quickly wiped her clean and up stepped Sarpedon. He undid the straps holding the pouch to this crotch and showed everyone what he'd been hiding underneath. It was not impressive. Most of the contents of the pouch, she saw because she was one of the few close enough to view it before the strong man tossed it to a helper, was padding. The pouch had held far more sheep's wool than human flesh.

Sarpedon at least got hard staring at her breasts. His phallus reached its full length in seconds, though that was not a great distance. It took only a minute more for him to emit his gift onto her breasts, which she lifted so that his weak spurt would reach them.

Polite applause greeted his withdrawal. It did not take long for the priests to acquire his meager volume. The high priest did not embarrass the athlete by announcing the result, only relaying the number quietly to the priest-scribes.

Pelias stepped forward. She smiled up at him and lifted her breasts to him, trying every way she could to encourage him. His phallus was already mostly erect, a bronze spear like her tutor's, a clear drop of fluid hanging at its meatus, so like the only one she'd ever known intimately. She leaned forward to get as close as she could and, because she'd never heard of a rule against the act, gave Pelias's glans a quick kiss for luck, licking up the little dew drop. The crowd gasped in surprise. Then cheered. The people were on Pelias's side. Perhaps the time spent in the tavern, toasting and talking with the suitors, had not been a mistake.

But Pelias, though he was stroking his very nice, very stiff member, and was clearly pleased with her show of encouragement, did not begin the process of honoring her breasts. He stepped back and spoke up, saying, "I also call for a helper, as it is not forbidden!" He pointed into the crowd.

From behind the nobles another young man came forward. Ariadne almost lost her balance, though she was on her knees, she was so shocked. It looked like Pelias was walking to her from the crowd. She looked up and there Pelias still stood before her, his phallus as hard as ever. She looked back.

"Welcome, brother," Pelias said as the man came to them. Twins!

"Thank you, brother," the twin said. They made a quick embrace. He turned toward where he'd come from and said, "Thank you, Father!"

Ariadne almost fell over again. He was thanking Daedelon! Her tutor and lover!

"Your Majesty," Pelias said to Ariadne, "Please allow me to introduce my brother, Neleus, who also is here to honor you." Neleus bowed, then removed his leggings to display a phallus identical to Pelias's. Ariadne couldn't believe what she was seeing. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear her vision, but when she opened them again they were still there, two beautiful phalluses as identical as the young men who bore them, aimed at her. She kissed one, then the other, then the first again, then—

"Hold on!" the queen yelled. "This— this—"

The high priest pounded his trident. "Your Majesty gave her command. Help is not forbidden."

"But— but— two?"

"History tells us that our patron, Poseidon, long ago married Cleito, daughter of the autochthon Evenor, and that she bore him five pairs of twins, Atlas and Eumelus, Ampheres and Evaemon," Damatis proclaimed, and continued to recite all the names from memory, pleased to be able to demonstrate his erudition to the crowd. "The gods smile on twins as embodiments of fertility. They are as one to the gods, and they shall be for us mortals."

"Still— oh, where is his gift?" She crossed her arms and gave a smug look. "By my decree that ordered this competition, suitors are required to make a gift before honoring the princess with their seed."

There were murmurs and glances around.

"Your Majesty," Ariadne said, and rose from her kneeling pose. Her knees were getting cramped anyway. This whole honoring test was not supposed to take so long. "If I may." Then she commanded, "My horse!" Her hand reached out to take the reins back from her maid. She had to spend at least a few seconds studying this amazing beast up close. Those eyes contained so much energy. But then so did the eyes of the twin men before her. She led the horse the few steps to her mother, who frowned at her, still with her arms crossed in vexation.

Ariadne sank into a deep curtsy. "Mother, Your Majesty, per the high priest's ruling, the twins are as one and this is their gift. And as it is not forbidden, please accept this small token of my affection for all you have done for this unworthy daughter." She laid it all on as thick as she could. She knew her mother. "I and my consorts," she announced, "offer our gift to you." Rising, she placed the horse's reins in her mother's hands and withdrew.

Queen Pasiphae's frown was immediately replaced by a gaping grin and eyes grown as big as those of the animal she now possessed. Those eyes grew even bigger as she peered around the horse's flank to view the immense phallus hanging underneath. That magnificent organ was more than adequate compensation for a man-lover's, however handsome.

Princess Ariadne resumed her kneeling position, nodded to the high priest to resume and complete the ritual, and pulled her two wonderful suitors to her by their testes. She kissed each tip and smiled up at the young men, ready for them to honor her.

The crowd, it seemed all of Atlantis, roared their approval.

# # #

Princess Ariadne greeted her two consorts in her bedroom in a fine wild-silk robe, her breasts fully exposed for them and her delphys barely hidden behind the sheer fabric, woven especially for her by Atlantis's finest weavers. As the two men entered her chambers, the first men to be officially admitted to its secret space— though she had let Daedelon sneak in many times— she parted the robe to display for them the treasure they would soon enter and share, even more secret than her bedroom.

"Your Majesty," Neleus exclaimed, "You are not a princess, you are a goddess!"

"I am your goddess, Hero of Atlantis." She would have led them to her bed right then, but Daedelon appeared from behind them. "Oh, Tutor!" she exclaimed as she hugged him. "I am so grateful!"

"Thank my sons. They succeeded through effort, perseverance, and cleverness."

"Oh, I will, I will," she answered, giving the twins her broadest smile.

"I called them home from their travels especially for your contest. I knew you would be pleased with them. Pelias has been studying as a scribe in Mycenae, where he learned about the horse tamers in the north. Neleus has been working as a sailor, learning about our empire. It was Neleus that I pointed out in the boat, a novel design from Egypt.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"And, Your Majesty," Neleus, added, "I learned during my travels how to drink, and how to make friends." The men laughed. Neleus had been able to spend time at the tavern, winning the competitors and crowd to their side, knowing that his brother would take over in the forest.

"Very clever," Ariadne said. "You take after your father in so many ways." She moved to them and took a phallus in each hand. They were hers now. "And so honorable, Pelias, for you to stop to help that poor wounded man— Antenor? Was that his name?"

"He was the champion of Phidia," Daedelon explained, "and would perhaps have competed well to win a place in your bed if not for Talos's treachery." To her questioning look he continued "The arrow that struck him was identified as belonging to Talos, who is now in custody in the temple. He has greatly offended Poseidon and the queen cannot save him."

"Ah." Ariadne felt a pleasing twinge of revenge. Talos would soon be sent to the gold mines of Poseidon, notorious for their hellish depths that reached under the sea. The guard-priests there would know how to treat him, and he would find more male flesh to service there than he could satisfy in ten lifetimes. "But," she said, "I'm so sorry I had to give away your horse. A magnificent animal."

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Pelias replied. "It was a brilliant stratagem on your part to placate the queen in that way. And we have a large ship on the way with more, both stallions and mares, as the tribes call the male and female. The animals are ours. And since we are yours, they are yours. You will soon be the richest person in Atlantis, more even than your mother the queen."

She curtseyed to them in thanks. But that was not enough, not nearly enough, to express her gratitude. She sank to her knees and called them to her. She moved away their leggings with each hand, pulled them to her by their testes, and took possession of their phalluses. As she did so she realized she was in the same position as the first time she'd touched their phalluses, at the temple, and it was as if the hours between the Honor test and now— the pledging ceremony, the feast, the dancing— had only been a moment.

# # #

Damatis, the high priest of Poseidon, stood near the dais where Ariadne knelt, gripping his trident with more force than needed, his eyes intent on her and her prominent breasts with her nipples pointing stiffly straight out with the sexual excitement that coursed through her. Her delphys had become a fountain between her legs. The crowd of nobles had moved in closer, jostling for the best view. Ariadne scanned the crowd until she saw him. Their eyes locked. Yes, everyone who could squeeze in was watching, the whole population of Atlantis would have watched if they could, but for her only he counted, only her lover Daedelon. As she pulled the twins' phalluses to her and began kissing and stroking them, her eyes were fixed on him. She wanted him to know that really she was doing it to him, for him, through his sons, whose phalluses were, for her, extensions of his.

And when the moment arrived, all too soon, for the two young men to shoot their seed all over her wonderful breasts, only then did she look up into the eyes of her new consorts.

The priests did their part, retrieving from her breasts every drop of the honor she'd extracted from both men, and depositing it all into the measurement phial, but it was all a formality. "Twenty deci-kotein!" Damatis proclaimed. But everyone had already seen how much the two young men had produced. The high priest's announcement could hardly be heard above the cheering.

# # #

Princess Ariadne knelt on her hands and knees, naked, her delphys dripping in desire and anticipation, as her new consorts ascended to her bed. She was the happiest woman in the Queendom of Atlantis. Not only had she avoided the disaster of having to take a cheating fawn-killer to her bed on her Honor Day, she had moreover gained two— two! consorts to enjoy. Two virile, handsome men to satisfy her royal needs!

Daedelon had resumed his role as tutor and guided her through an introduction to his sons' phalluses. He helped her control her excitement and give each man and his phallus the pleasure each richly deserved. He led her through the techniques he'd taught her, the many different and fascinating textures of a phallus, the several ways to drive a man crazy with her lips and tongue, how to scratch just right along him with her teeth to make him shiver. And of course, each new lover got his turn to feel his phallus slide between her wonderful breasts, now freed from the push-up features of her formal dress, that each had so plentifully honored.

The twins, though so identical physically that she could not yet tell them apart when looking at their faces, were different in their sexuality, perhaps because, as she learned later, one had enjoyed the women of Mycenae while the other had sampled delphyses from around the sea. One loved her tongue play and begged for more; the other could not get enough of the deep, slow strokes between her breasts. She could have easily, and would have willingly, made each of them in turn give up more seed to her, this time drinking their seed down instead of leaving it for the priests.

But her tutor instructed her to pause, a difficult order for her to obey, no doubt also difficult for her twin consorts. "The bed," he ordered, pointing. "Open your legs."

Then in turn Daedelon instructed his sons in how to pleasure a princess's delphys with their mouths. Neleus was new to it and required detailed guidance from his father; but Pelias took to the service immediately, his mouth nearly as talented as her tutor's, and she was soon on the verge of gushing her first climax on his wonderful tongue.

But again Daedelon made them stop, though both she and Pelias wanted to take her to orgasm. "Please!" she said, "Please!" She didn't know which of the three men with her she was directing her begging toward. All three, really.

"Your Majesty has many happy days ahead in her life, which I pray Poseidon will make a long one, to enjoy her two consorts' tongues. But Her Majesty's first climaxes with them should be in the special way she has saved herself for and which they have earned."

She knew what he meant. "As always, Teacher, you are so right."

Again following their father's directions, each young man in turn moved between her legs and entered her innermost sanctum, like the special place in the very middle of Poseidon's temple, a place so sacred only nobles were permitted, where she'd been allowed only once in her life so far, at the ceremony of her menarche years ago.

"This is glorious!" she exclaimed, her delphys full of phallus, her legs squeezing each man. They took turns pumping in and out of her as hard as they could until Daedelon saw they were close and made them switch. Back and forth they went, giving themselves time to rest. But not her. Her world became nothing but phallus. She'd heard stories from Daedelon about phallus worshipers in far way exotic lands. She understood. But she needed more, a more complete experience of her new lovers. "Oh," she cried, "if only I could have you both at the same time!"

And so now here she was on her bed, on her hands and knees, with one twin moving behind her, entering her very soaked and ready delphys with his very wet phallus, and the other, she didn't know which one and it didn't matter, about to fill her mouth.

Her consorts entered together at each end. The pleasure, the moment, the joy of being a woman, was indescribable.

"This is what you deserve, Your Majesty," her tutor told her as he knelt next to her and stroked her back as she wobbled between his sons' thrusts. She wished she could thank him, and vowed that she would in the most intimate way as soon as either of her openings became free. At one point when Pelias withdrew she said, "Please, tutor, show me more."

He ordered Pelias to lie on the bed, and her to sit down on his phallus, straddling as if riding a bull— although no bull phallus could satisfy her delphys the way this twin's was doing. Then he ordered Neleus to kneel over his brother so she could enjoy eating him. She loved this position even more, because she was in control. She could move each of her consorts in and out of her exactly as she wished. It was beyond glorious.

But as she enjoyed the two young men, she saw, as she glanced to the side as far as she could with her mouth full of phallus, how her tutor, Daedelon, whom she loved more than anything, was struggling with his own phallus, as stiff in his leggings as his sons'. As wonderfully happy as she was at this moment, her happiness could not be complete unless he was also completely happy.

But then she brightened. She was the Crown Princess of Atlantis. Someday she would be queen, the most powerful woman in the known world. She had no equal, and no limits. Like her mother, even beyond her. She was not yet able to extend the Atlantean empire, but she could extend her own personal one. She knew what to do.

She took the twin's phallus out of her mouth briefly. "Tutor Daedelon," she commanded.

Her firm words startled him. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Your princess needs you."

"Whatever Your Majesty desires."

"I need you!" She wiggled her buttocks as obviously as she could without dislodging the phallus already inside her delphys. "Now. Hard."

He stared, not quite comprehending her.

"It would be the ultimate lesson, would it not, Tutor? Have I not learned well?" She wiggled her pyge again. "Please?"

He understood, and unwrapped from his leggings his own phallus, as long and hard as his sons'. "If you command, my sweet student."

"I do command."

With that, Daedelon knelt behind her and soon she had her three favorite men inside her, her new consorts where they belonged and her tutor in the special place he'd taught her to enjoy. She was not yet queen of Atlantis, but she felt already that she had become the Goddess of Love.

# # # # # # # # #

An afterword on history and archaeology in this story:

Yes, this is a fantasy. The original, and only, source of knowledge about Atlantis is Plato's all too brief and incomplete second-hand descriptions. Those descriptions, more like a treatment for a Hollywood disaster movie than a historical summary, have been a continuing inspiration for innumerable implausible theories and fanciful extrapolations (such as this one, I admit).

Regarding Atlantean technology, a detail-oriented reader may note that the "spyglass" was not invented until the 17 th century. But archaeological discoveries such as the Antikythera device show that ancient civilizations were capable of technological feats we have yet to appreciate, and may have been lost. Horse domestication had occurred in the Caucasus already in the historical period of this story. Its adoption was slowly progressing through Bronze Age civilizations.

Geological evidence proves that Plato was mistaken when he placed Atlantis in the Atlantic Ocean, despite the name. 'Atlantis' is not derived from 'Atlantic'. Rather, both names are derived from Atlas, the Titan condemned to hold up the Earth on his shoulders. So the location of this ancient empire, if it existed, could be anywhere in the Mediterranean.

There is significant, though still controversial, evidence that the Minoan civilization, a maritime empire that existed in the early Bronze Age and was eventually destroyed by the giant eruption of the Thera volcano, or perhaps crippled into a slow decline, was the source of Plato's account. But the Minoan civilization was a thousand years gone by Plato's era; and Crete, the center of that civilization, had declined into a sleepy backwater hard to imagine as the successor of a great empire. So it's understandable if he could not believe that it was the source of the oral history.

The writing systems of early Minoan civilization, Linear A and others, are still to be deciphered. But archaeological research shows that the Minoans were master sailors with a prosperous and extensive trade network; that they worshiped Poseidon; that women held an important place in it; and that perhaps it was a matriarchy. Paintings still extant at Knossos Palace and various temples also show that women there openly exhibited their sexuality.

And yes, as the paintings clearly show, they prominently and proudly displayed their lovely breasts.

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My thanks for comments and edits to @AlexFourways, @MormonJack, @PennyThompson, and @shelleycat1.