Last Courtesan of Olympus
Content Warnings Overview
The entirety of the book contains: Size Kink, Mentions of Physical Disability and Chronic Pain, Power Bottom Trope, Speed-Play (Akin to Teleportation), Somnophilia/Immobilized Fetish, Mirror Use, Wing-Kink, Oil-Play, Roleplay, Consensual and Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overstimulation, BDSM, including Restraint, Whipping, Blade-Play, Fisting, Praise-Kink, Humiliation, and Toy Use such as Plug and Cock Ring, Tentacles, Heat-Play, Cold-Play, Airborne Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Orgy Sex, Cucking, MMF (without direct contact with the MC), Impotency, Monster/Beast Sex, Electricity-Play.
My apologies if I missed anything, but these recommendations came from multiple beta readers to make the experience the best for all. Before each chapter are specific warnings again, so you can skip those chapters as desired, but the story does have a connected character arc that you may miss if you do, particularly in later chapters. I hope you will give each chapter a chance, but if not, I do believe you can still have an enjoyable experience.
The following prologue contains:
No actual content warnings, but you can expect edging, docking, and simultaneous oral sex.
Prologue: Ascension
I loved my work, my expertise, my calling, as any acolyte of Aphrodite should, and licked up Dax’s long, smooth shaft with a flick at his leaking tip. He exhaled, a sharp hitch in his breath, as his hips heaved a plaintive lurch. I swallowed him deeper, feeling his head paint the back of my throat with a bob like the sweep of an artist’s brush.
But I was the artist here.
“Aikos…” Dax breathed my name with a mix of plea and praise and gripped the base of my golden curls, urging me to finish him.
Perhaps I would, but my own cock hung heavy between my thighs, greedy for like attention. Our credo was to always, always give pleasure first, but to bask in it once earned.
I had more than earned mine.
I sucked the heady elixir from Dax’s cock as I pulled my mouth from his shaft. He smelled like lavender and other infusions from our cleansing. Every luxury had been insisted upon in honor of this day, steam and mud baths and water to purify us, finished with a rubdown of oils to anoint us like gods. The taste of the remnants tingled on my tongue.
From between Dax’s thighs, I raked a hand up his hips and stomach, all hairless. Every bit of him was hairless, aside from his eyebrows and long, lovely locks, like an immortal statue carved by Pygmalion. He was beautiful. Of course, he was, to be an acolyte of Aphrodite like me. Tan skin never overly exposed to Apollo’s light, hair the richest shades of auburn, and eyes large pools of brown, almost black, like the depths of the river Styx. But he wore his hair longer than mine to hide the asymmetry in his jawline.
Few could be as lucky as me and be gifted with true perfection.
My curls were both golden and reddish, like tales of heroes and kings, my skin gently tanned but still fair, and eyes the bright blue of water closest to the coast. Rounded muscles gave way to clean lines of definition, and my ass was so coveted that Zeus himself would have relished in holding these mounds between his mighty palms.
Dax was almost as ravishing as me. If he were a true match, I might have envied him, and we never would have become friends—the top two acolytes of our year to be given to the goddess. That was why we were here, in the training salon, where we first learned to give and receive pleasure. As the most sought-after of this year’s ascension, we were permitted to “prepare” as we pleased. The others were no doubt fussing over their dress tunics and the display of inferior calves.
I could have gone forth to the altar of Aphrodite to accept my assignment as courtesan covered in cow dung and still been chosen by the best. I would be given to the high priest of the temple atop Acrocorinth. The gods would not dare condemn me with less.
“Aikos…” Dax petitioned again.
My musings had distracted me, a deviation I only ever would have allowed in the company of my friend. Such failings were not befitting of a courtesan. I was to be the embodiment of Aphrodite once ascended, personifying beauty, desire, and sex, and letting all who wished to love me worship me, but especially the priest I would serve. He must see me as perfect, his ideal in every way, and not only in the splendor of my cheeks.
Either set.
“I would spill down your throat before receiving our prize.” I pulled Dax’s foreskin tighter. He was long since plump with arousal, springing him forward like a lunging snake. I would milk the venom from his cock and return it to safe softness in its nest, but only after he had likewise choked on mine. “I know how much you enjoy my taste.”
One long lick from base to tip and twirling over his head sent convulsions through him, and his arms flailed for purchase that the cushions could not give. “I am at your mercy, Aikos.”
“Then I win again.” I tugged the pillow from beneath him, flopping him flat instead of hips raised.
“You always win.” Dax squirmed. “But I accept second best if it is your lead I’m following.”
We hurried into familiar positions, parallel to each other, noses buried in each other’s musk upside down so we could mouth cock and sac and bud in sequence. I had many times brought Dax to rapture with naught but my tongue plunged into that bud, which I teased with twirls of a finger while I sucked him back down my throat. He did the same to me.
Dax excelled at swallowing cock. He’d taught me as much as the priests and priestesses. Such perfect lips and a tight, warm throat, but it was the hums and motion and constant friction that had made me spill embarrassingly early the first time he had his mouth on me. I had since learned to outdo him, and I showed him with reverence and thanks for what he taught me, causing his lips to falter, with breath puffing against my swollen shaft.
“Fuck… not yet…” His hips subtly thrust him down my throat. The act of relaxing to receive each other was one of our first lessons. Now, I could take the most bulbous of cocks and not falter or choke on my spit—unless seeing the saliva dribble from the corners of my mouth was something they desired.
I slowed my bobbing but pushed the tip of my index finger inside Dax. He whined, as I swirled the finger inside him, barely past the breach. He wanted to last longer, and I aimed to please, to discover whatever sources of pleasure my masters might not even know they craved.
Keeping my finger there without pushing deeper, I further slowed my swallows and long laps of my tongue. With release staved off, Dax returned to sucking my cock in matched rhythm. He gripped both my cheeks and spread them with a feathering of his fingers along the crease. Just how I liked it, how I wanted it, how I needed it to last like he had asked to last. I preferred to come with the sharp burn of penetration right at the end, and none of the other acolytes could time it like Dax.
We found a rhythm that could keep us here for hours. Then I deviated again, imagining the cock down my throat buried deep between the cheeks Dax kept spreading. That wasn’t allowed, much as we both longed for glorious girth inside us. We could tease and tongue and stroke the inner cushion that raptured like no other when tended to with skill, but we couldn’t penetrate or be penetrated with the rod made for the task. That was to be enjoyed only after ascension by the one who claimed us.
Tonight. Finally, tonight I would know that ecstasy. But I had to remember, my master’s pleasure came first.
I hoped the high priest of Acrocorinth, experienced acolyte and courtesan in his own time, wanted to raw me open until dawn.
Heat pulsed in my gut with the threat of release, and I tamped it down again, commanding it to retreat and wait… wait. My excitement had nearly betrayed me, but I was the best for far more than beauty.
I popped off Dax’s bright burning bulb with a smack of my lips. “One day, when our duty as courtesans has ended and we are the high priests, we are going to bathe in wine at the Festival of Dionysus and meet back at this temple, so I might fuck you until you weep.”
He groaned around my cock, and I sucked back down his, stealing his exclamation through his sopping length. Just as I pushed my finger in deep enough for one long stroke at his insides, heat exploded down the back of my throat. I relaxed, opened for it, swallowed. He tasted like the cleansing too, floral, and clean, and musky with youth.
Growling from his core, Dax scrambled upright and wrestled me back, pressing me into the floor of the raised platform where we’d made a mess of the pillows. He wasn’t angry, but in his loss, he’d make me feel my win that much heartier.
He grinded into me, before hoisting my hips up, and thrust forward like that wet bulb I’d glistened might break the rules and breach its way to bliss. He wouldn’t do that either. But oh, he’d get close.
My opening exhaled with every rock backward, threatening to breathe him in. It contracted and yawned for him, but he was already softening, sticky and spent. He stretched his foreskin back and grabbed mine, touching our tips and working my foreskin over us. We had done this many times, an approximation of what we weren’t yet permitted, and I yearned for the promised suction. Once he’d returned his foreskin to encapsulate mine and we were fastened tight, he pumped and pumped and pumped. The moisture building was as intense as his mouth, and his warm tip kissed mine with every slam.
I moaned, dropping my head back to give full view of my neck in my writhing. Surely, it was a spectacle, a show mostly to let Dax know I was still winning. I counted the pillars from my view of them upside down, letting each increase in number help stretch the time. My breath was steady, only having the appearance of quickening.
I loved this place, the salon as stunning as its inhabitants, with cushioned platforms adorned in silks and other soft fabrics to caress our skin. Between the pillars were views outside to the glorious dusk approaching, and around us were marble statues of the gods. Aphrodite’s was largest among them, towering over our chosen dais, as though watching to give her approval.
Not one god on Olympus could look away from my performances.
The end was building, more than I could delay, and I rolled my head forward to meet Dax’s stare, challenging him all the way to completion. It was too much for him after coming already himself, encased with me in our prison of flesh, but he wouldn’t be outdone. He would be, but I liked that he didn’t bow easily.
I turned my expression pleading, lips trembling, pouty and plump and reddened from fellating him. Every few seconds, seeming agony would cross my features, like I was desperate, like he’d undone me, and then, my weapon—a little of his come still caught in my throat that I curled outward with my tongue and let dribble free, only to lap back up with a leer.
“Fuck!”
Dax gave one last beautiful rut and reached down to jam a finger up inside my hole with the burn I loved. I spurted my load over him at the height of his own returned arousal, leaving him wanting more but too sensitive to claim it. That was how I won, because even brought to the brink, I still lured my partner after me.
Danker musk wafted up when he uncoupled our cocks. Since I’d beaten him, Dax would get the cloths to clean us.
“Brat.” He smacked my chest before lurching to his feet.
“We’re long since of age, Dax.” I lounged in the afterglow. I’d turned twenty a few weeks ago, last of our year to do so. “Just because you’re a month older doesn’t mean you can call me that anymore.”
“How about ‘demandable knave’ who could bring the god of the Underworld to his knees?”
“Better.”
He laughed and cleaned me first with gentle swipes, the warm water soothing as he scrubbed away my spunk. The water smelled of the same oils they’d anointed us with. Dax cleaned himself next, but I was a kind sort, especially when the victor, so I took the cloth and wiped the remnants for him with the same tender touch.
Dax sighed. Hummed. It was the contentment we needed to ease our nerves before this monumental night, from which our lives would never again be the same.
“I might miss you once we’ve ascended,” Dax said afterward, cuddled against me on the silks and cushions, with the soiled cloths tossed into a nearby basket for the younger acolytes to launder.
“You’ll have much to occupy you. I bet you’ll fall so in love with finally getting your ass plucked, you’ll forget all about me.”
He laughed again, and I let his arms and legs coil with mine. “Not even our lady Aphrodite, who has known and bedded the most beautiful men throughout history, could forget you, Aikos.”
“True.” I glanced at her statue as Dax’s laughter echoed louder. It was one of her nude depictions, for we worshiped beauty, love, and sex in her name, and they often corresponded.
Even with an eye for men, I could recognize the attraction of my goddess’s curves, the soft perfection of her breasts, hips elegantly covered by a draping cloth carved into the marble. The paint depicted her in my own coloring, with fair but gently tanned skin, blond hair with a kiss of ruby, blue eyes, and pink in her cheeks and lips. Her curls cascaded down her back like the waves she was being birthed from.
“Can you imagine?” Dax asked, eyes drifting around the room at the other gods. “Being courted by the divine, like in one of the epics?”
“No thank you,” I scoffed.
“You wouldn’t want to be pursued by a god?”
“And which would you want pursuing you?”
“I always had an attraction toward Apollo,” Dax said with a glance at the sun god’s statue.
“The one who killed his lover with a discus?”
“That was an accident!”
Depending on which version of the story was told. “Who else? Would you want to be fucked by a bull?” I gestured at the bearded statue of Zeus. “Turned into a monster?” I continued at Poseidon. “Or how about mutilated by one god who wants to slight another and you’re merely convenient fodder?” I added with a flourish at Ares because no matter how much prowess he might have in the bedchamber as one of few gods deemed worthy by Aphrodite, he was still the god of war. One would be better off with the trickster Hermes, who was least less bloodthirsty. “Best case would be courtship by a troll,” I finished with a sneer at Hephaestus. “I don’t know why they house a statue to the ugliest of the gods in a room meant for pleasure.”
“You blaspheme against our pantheon?”
“No. Our gods are to be feared and adored—from afar. They are each the extreme of mankind’s passions and perversions. I would not want to see where that leads.”
“There are good stories too,” Dax insisted, “ones of blessings and rapture, like Eros and Psyche, with love everlasting—”
“The lucky. But few who meet the gods are lucky.”
“I suppose.”
We were losing the light, which meant it was time to untangle, return to our rooms to change clothes, and head to the main temple for our reward.
“Are you truly not nervous for tonight?” Dax asked, once we’d donned our simpler tunics for the walk back. We needn’t make others jealous by traversing in the nude.
“Why should I be? I am worthy of the best, and the best I shall have.”
Dax shook his head at me, but it was a fond sort of dismissal, and I pulled him close to kiss his cheek, for it would likely be the last time my lips were on him.
I would miss my friend, but I didn’t say so. He was too romantic. While beauty and sex were my pillars, I knew his heart pined for love. Not love with me. He wasn’t that foolish. Our love was of a different sort. But I knew his greatest longing was for an epic love found in the adventures of life.
I hoped he found it.
Just as I would find everything I had coming to me.
***
“As acolytes training to be courtesans under Aphrodite’s beauteous eye, you are the fairest, the most pious, the most studious, and the most desired,” the high priestess addressed me and my peers among a crowded temple of other acolytes, courtesans, and priests.
She was a ravishing beauty, on par with the statues of Aphrodite decorating the temple, though none would dare say more beautiful. Aphrodite did not accept second best.
Nor did I.
I tried not to pick at my tunic, which was luxurious and more alluring than our usual chitons. We may as well have been bare, for the sheerness of the fabric was easy to see through, and short as it was, if I were any more well-hung, my prick would have dangled out beneath for all to salivate over.
The edges were trimmed in gold, the fit low cut and loose to nearly fall from our shoulders. It didn’t connect along the sides, held tight by a golden sash, so our profiles portrayed us mostly nude too, revealing waists and hips and the flash of rounded cheeks with any minor movement. As final adornment, golden laurels rested upon our brows like glittering crowns.
The priests and priestesses with rights to choose from our ranks must have been squirming in their seats and soaking their own tunics.
“As we honor our goddess, you are to be her personification on earth, to provide your beauty, love, and expertise to the priest or priestess who has chosen you as courtesan until the day you reach the age of your next ascension—as priests and priestesses yourselves, when you will either take over your master’s temple or be assigned to another, and have the option of taking your own courtesans, training your own acolytes, and passing down our traditions to the next generation.”
I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. Perhaps I’d lied to Dax a little. I was nervous, but it was with ripe excitement. Finally, I would have my reward for perfection in body and skill and be worshiped as I deserved.
“Aikos.” The high priestess summoned me.
I glanced aside at Dax, a faint smirk in congratulations and farewell passing between us before I moved forward to kneel on the central pedestal. The priestess stood over me from her higher platform, with the largest of our statues of Aphrodite as an overshadowing presence behind her.
“As first among your peers, you are first to be offered to the goddess and to be chosen as courtesan by our highest-ranking priests. Prostrate yourself and receive Aphrodite’s blessing.”
I dropped forward into a lower bow, a rather presenting image, given my ass was higher than my head. With nothing worn beneath the tunic, I was sure Dax and our fellows were enjoying the view, though it was for my future master that I hoped my radiance was most displayed.
“Aikos, the one who speaks for you is—”
The air knocked from my lungs, and I gasped, eyes springing open to see what, if anything, had struck my chest to steal my breath. Nothing had. Nothing could, for I was still bent forward.
I raised my head, and it was not something that had moved to strike me, but me who had been moved. I was no longer in the temple.
A great building surrounded me with a clear evening sky beyond innumerous pillars, like our salon but so much grander, and with more stars and colors in the constellations outside than I had ever witnessed even from the highest of vantage points. The building itself was massive, with many raised platforms bearing pillows and lounging people, as well as long tables piled high with bountiful food and drink. It was some great celebration being had or a temple ritual, for the noise was a steady din of talking, singing, and storytelling depending on which direction I turned my gaze.
And everyone was so beautiful.
I had never known such finery, such embellishments, such radiant faces, or finely-toned bodies. Even among my peers and all who I had trained with and met in service to Aphrodite, I had never seen so many truly beautiful people in one place.
As beautiful as me? More beautiful? The fire in me, having awaited my birthright for so many years, raged to say no. I was still the fairest, even here among…
Where was I?
“Hail, newcomer. My, you are ravishing,” said a man who approached with two others clinging to his elbows, while he carried a goblet in each hand. His companions were among the most beautiful, and he, I had to admit, nearly rivaled me. “I wonder who claimed you.”
“Claimed me?” I stumbled to my feet. “I am an acolyte of Aphrodite, waiting to be given as courtesan to a priest.”
His companions laughed, and he said, “Now you are in the Hall of the Gods.”
I failed to breathe. Clearly, I had passed out from the excitement of ascension, and when I roused, I would be in the bedchamber of the priest I wanted.
“Someone up here chose you for themselves. Don’t look so stunned. Surely you know how beautiful you are.”
“But… I serve Aphrodite,” I said again.
“Think you can do better?” one of his companions taunted.
“She is beauty incarnate,” I hastened to correct, “but I prefer men.”
“As do we,” the other companion tittered, “but do you think that matters with gods? They can be whatever you or they want. I doubt it’s her though.” He looked aside into the throng of celebration. “She’d claim you straight away if it was.”
I followed his gaze, and again my breath stopped. Though not exactly like the statues, there was no denying who I saw in the center of one of the platforms, surrounded by some of the most beautiful among the revelers, many of whom were… performing, and not songs or stories.
There were as many orgies as other merrymaking around me, which my stupor had caused me to miss. I couldn’t miss it now, the way Aphrodite herself was enjoying the sight of two men pleasuring themselves with a shared woman. They were on their knees while the woman fellated one and was deftly fucked by the other. Enraptured by her and each other, the men strained forward to kiss, bodies glistening in warmly cast light, some of which shined from the goddess herself.
Her skin tone and hair and radiance were as expected, but she glowed, shimmered like she was made from stardust, and her eyes, not blue but deep pink like a virgin’s opening, personified all she was goddess of.
I dropped back to my knees, and my greeters laughed again. I was too focused on Aphrodite to care, who turned her head, her gaze, and focused on me. She nodded, like some sign of acceptance, like yes, she knew me, her acolyte, her worshiper, but it was not for her that I had been summoned to…
Olympus.
“Come, child.” The man stepped from his companions to offer me one of his goblets. It was the plainer of the two, for one was gold and bejeweled, and the other clay. “Your patron will reveal themselves. Drink. Make merry. Though careful not to partake in any pleasures of the flesh until your god appears. They are notoriously jealous.”
And childish.
And vengeful.
And murderous.
I returned to my feet and drank greedily from the goblet, which was filled with the richest wine I had ever tasted.
When he stepped back, I eyed the other cup.
“For the deified only.” He toasted me with it and drank from the golden goblet. “And for the gods, when they summon their cupbearer to offer it.”
“Cupbearer?”
He smiled, and I realized I knew this man, god, a man who had ascended as a god, when Zeus abducted him for his beauty. While not as brightly as Aphrodite, he too glowed.
The beauteous youth Ganymede.
“I wish you luck.” Ganymede toasted me again, and his companions reclaimed him, leading him away, and leaving me to the cold wonderment of which god had summoned me.
Oh, not Ares. Or Hades. Or Olympus forbid—
“There you are, little one. I have been eagerly awaiting your ascension.”
The voice boomed like thunder, cracking through the air like a lightning strike. I knew my fate before I turned and struggled to not betray my terror. I was a coveted acolyte of Aphrodite, the best, the worthiest of praise and adoration.
And I had caught the attention of Zeus.
I knew him instantly, for he was everything stories and depictions of him said and more. He towered over me, a head taller at least. Some imagined him with white hair as the leader of the gods, but the truth was not so. His hair was black, though I could see reddishness in it, long and curly with a full, masculine beard to match. His tan skin betrayed no lines as signs of age, yet he had a presence of being older, wiser, powerful. Blue eyes pierced through me like the boom of his voice, and if there was any doubt about who this was before me, his all-white robes were clasped with brooches shaped like bolts of lightning.
I dropped to my knees once more and prostrated myself upon the ground with head bowed. “My lord Zeus, I am honored beyond measure to be chosen as courtesan—”
“Rise, child. I didn’t bring you here for me.”
Thank the gods.
I glanced up, realizing that the angle from there could give me quite the view up Zeus’s tunic if I dared, but the mere shadow of something thick and daunting made me scurry to my feet. I didn’t know what to say, all my training fleeing from my overly addled brain. I tried at least to stand tall and await what Zeus wished of me.
Zeus.
Ruler of the skies.
Creator of men.
King of the gods.
“You are a gift.”
“A… gift? For one of the other gods?”
Zeus grinned, and the expression unsettled me. “Not one. Though worry not, I know your preference is for men alone. You are to be a gift for all the male gods.”
“A-all?”
“Including Dionysus. He is a demigod but does so loathe being left out of the twelve.”
My mind went blank. All the male gods of the major pantheon, including Dionysus, would be seven.
“And Eros of course. Aphrodite insisted. You are special indeed for her to believe you can teach a thing or two to her son.”
Eight. I was to be passed around by eight…
“B-but… my lord god…” I bowed lower. “I would never question you, of course—”
“But you wish to.” The din of merriment and lavish orgies was loud, thrumming, yet I felt as though everyone was watching us. “Go on.”
I spoke only the truth, fearful that any wrong word might mean a death sentence. “As a courtesan, I am meant to serve one master, so that I might give my all to their specific needs and passions.”
“And you will. This is a trial run. All will get to taste you, but only one gets to keep you. And the best part is…” Zeus lowered his head from his gargantuan height to bring his handsome but imposing face nearer to mine and lifted my chin with his large hand. “You decide which one.”
I was going to die here.
Or be turned into a slug.
Or be torn limb from limb in Tartarus for all eternity.
The gods did not share, but worse, they did not suffer slights from mortals. Should I fail to please one, I was doomed already. But surely, I would tempt the wrath of seven gods when I chose one over the others.
Zeus had damned me.
“Would you like to know who is first, little one?” He returned to his towering height.
I was numb, but I slowly rose to my feet to scan around us. Though the building was larger than a bustling marketplace, I took notice of the other platforms, many like Aphrodite’s, dedicated to a specific god. Hers was adorned with twisting branches like scrollwork, covered in perfectly flowering pink blossoms. I ignored it for now and the other goddesses in view to find the men.
Eros was near his mother, equally surrounded by beauty, and easily spotted by his coloring so like hers, even with the same strawberry curls and hibiscus-colored eyes.
Hephaestus stood out being near them, for it was not beauty that attended to him but what looked like scholars and craftsmen, in conversation or presenting him inventions. His head was bowed, face obscured, like he didn’t want anyone to see him, yet I knew it was him from the burliness of a blacksmith in his build.
Ares wasn’t far, Aphrodite’s two main lovers bookending her, the one she coveted and the one she was stuck with. He was darker in many ways, darker hair, tanner skin, armored, and his eyes burned red, like the blood of a thousand battles. It was warriors with him, though many still looked eager to lift their tunics for their god.
Hermes and Apollo were near each other, chatting while their worshipers struggled for their attention. They were similar in stature, both beauteous of face like Eros, but Hermes had a more youthful air, lean and bursting with energy that Apollo contrasted both in his bronze coloring and his calm countenance like a slowly setting sun.
Zeus’s brothers, Hades and Poseidon, conversed together too, sharing drinks with their wives. I wondered what tortures I might endure from them. Most of the male gods had wives and lovers. Did they know? Did they care? Did they wait to get me alone so they might flay me?
Hades was tall and thin like a nymph, black hair as long as Persephone’s. Poseidon looked more like Zeus, though his hair and beard bore braids with the barest hints of blue in their tints instead of red.
Dionysus had a platform too, but he wasn’t on it. Was he at the bottom of the pile of writhing bodies? His orgy had the largest number, with the most decadent spread of fare within reach. Then I caught sight of him pouring wine for others along the perimeter, inviting any who caught his eye to join the fun.
All glimmered like Aphrodite, otherworldly and glorious.
I looked forward to none of them touching me.
I didn’t know who might be gentlest, but I privately hoped for Eros. Surely, the god of love would show tenderness.
“There.” Zeus pointed, but it wasn’t to any of the smaller or more jovial and likely kinder options to begin this nightmare.
“Hephaestus shall have you first.”
Fuck.