Cyra's Cyclopes Page 3

  Normally she’d be too much a part of the action to notice how raw and horrific the activity actually was.

  The first thing she tuned into was the variety of sounds emanating from the celebrants. Pipes, cymbals, and drums offered nothing of musical value and when screeching, screaming, and sounds of mass fucking were added, it became almost ugly. None of it resembled the beautiful musical outpourings of devotion she’d always thought they were. Maybe she’d focused more on the instruments being played because the horror of what people were doing and having done to them was what shocked her most.

  Satyrs, centaurs, and other seleni, drunken followers, were laughing maniacally and having sex with whomever they could get a hold of. Multiple partners or between two people, it was being played out before her, with all the grunts, moans, and screams that went along with the act, but none of the joy she attached to being with her Cyclopes.

  Some participants seemed to enjoy the physical attention, others sounded like they didn’t want any part of it, and then there were a few that were obviously being forced. Those bothered her the most, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Running into the middle of a group of people madly fucking in order to rescue someone who possibly didn’t want to be there may turn anger on her and she knew what happened in such cases.

  While a major part of the annual celebration, the most disturbing aspect was the sacrifices that took place off to the side. They were supposed to be animals, although she knew there’d been actual humans torn apart and eaten by maddened devotees.

  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.

  Eager to get started, she put her hand on Agres jaw, and waited until he stopped glaring at Dionysus and looked at her with a soft gaze. “Let’s go home.”

  Without another word, Agres held her securely in his arms and hers were wrapped around his neck, and with Brontes, and Steropes, they turned away from the respected Olympian god. The crowd was silent as they started to make their way off the temple grounds when a screech suddenly tore through the air. She tried to look over Agres shoulder to see what was happening, but he put his hand over her face, pressed it to his chest, and took off at a run.

  “What was that? What happened? All I heard was a shriek and that’s normal for the festivities.” He grunted in response and kept running all out. Even though he exerted a great deal of energy, Agres held her so closely and had her well cocooned, which meant she didn’t move at all. She couldn’t hear anything from the other two and was worried about them.

  Had a maenad physically attacked them? They could be ruthless killers and their typical frenzied attitude would be at a peak with Dionysus present and angered.

  Chapter Four

  Agres wasn’t concerned for his brothers’ safety. Cyclopes were tough and knew how to handle themselves in a fight. They’d been through much worse than the mad mob behind them could ever manage to muster, although he was sure Cyra would be happier to know they weren’t harmed. He was sure they’d catch up with them soon and in the meantime, he would savor holding their woman in his arms.

  Earlier in the day, Agres knew he’d been close to losing control of his brightening abilities, and hadn’t been able to pull back by himself. Thankfully h
is brothers and boss had helped him back from disaster, only it hadn’t been enough.

  Their creating the special collar for Cyra had helped, although he’d still been far from maintaining his glow. Even once they saw her standing amongst the celebrants, he had felt better, but not entirely stable. They’d kept their distance so as not to draw attention to their presence, but were close enough to watch their lover, and make sure no harm came to her. It had been difficult to do, but a smart move because, as they’d expected, the festival had turned ugly.

  All he could think about was how good it felt to hold her again. For a moment, he focused on feeling her breath blowing gently against his chest and the softness of her arms wrapped around his neck, which made him shiver with need.

  There was no doubt he needed to connect with her on a deeper level, but first he wanted to hear her say she loved him and his brothers again. Despite the chaos raging behind them, he realized everything inside him had finally settled, and that had happened the moment he had her in his arms. He was finally in control of his unique personification.

  Once he had passed through town and the forge, he started looking for the entrance in the massive stone wall that led to the hidden path which ended at their home. Finally, being in close proximity to their base meant he breathed more freely, although he wasn’t ready to put her down. It may take him some time to get to the point where he wouldn’t panic when she left his sight, but he had time.

  Whatever it took, they’d make it work between them. Unlike any other time in his life, he was looking forward to the future.