I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC186: Eating Aisha (1) *
"I don't care," she whispered, her lips curving into a wicked smile. "I just want to be with you right now, Nathan."
Before I could respond, she leaned down and kissed me again, this time deeper, more demanding.
I stopped thinking and grabbed her. My lips crashed into hers with a fierce hunger, claiming every inch of their softness. Those lips—pink, damp, and inviting—melted under mine, pliant, trembling, utterly vulnerable. Her breath hitched, her body betraying a desire even she hadn't yet understood.
The memory of her lips lingered on my fingers as I slipped them between her parted mouth, brushing the delicate flesh with a teasing stroke. Warm, wet, and yielding. A quick flick of her tongue as I pressed forward, coaxing her response, feeling her give in to the silent command in my touch.
My hands, restless now, roamed over her hips, fingers trailing the curve of her waist. I wanted more, needed more. Her lips parted under my demand, but not wide enough. I growled against her skin, low and primal.
"Open your mouth," I whispered, voice thick with barely restrained need.
Aisha moaned, a soft sound bubbling up from deep within her, her lips trembling before she obeyed, her small mouth yielding. The space between us sizzled, crackled like a firestorm about to ignite.
Before she could even breathe, I surged forward, my tongue plunging into her mouth with a hunger I could no longer control. A muffled gasp escaped her as her eyes flew open in shock. The taste of her—sweet, intoxicating, maddening—flooded my senses. I wasn't just kissing her now. I was devouring her.
Her teeth clinked against my tongue, and I growled again, sweeping through every part of her, tasting every hidden corner, every inch of warmth. Aisha's breath quickened, her chest rising and falling against mine, her body growing hotter beneath my hands.
Her eyes, half-lidded, sparkled with the beginnings of pleasure, cheeks flushed a vivid red. She was overheating, melting under my touch. That armor she wore—cracked, torn—had long since become useless. My hands found the bare skin beneath her clothes with greedy urgency.
My fingers slipped beneath the fabric, cold against her heated skin. She gasped, a delicious, broken sound, her back arching into me. "Hmmm~" she moaned, biting her lip as I pressed her closer.
Her softness molded into me, and I could feel the way her body shuddered, reacting to every touch, every whisper of cold air against her heated flesh. The world outside disappeared. It was just her—her and the burning heat between us.
I pressed harder, sliding my hands up her back, forcing her against me until there was nothing left but the taste of her, the feel of her trembling in my arms. Aisha's hands clung to my chest, desperate for something to hold on to as I toyed with her, as I led her further down this path she wasn't ready for but couldn't resist.
Her tongue, hesitant at first, fumbled awkwardly in her mouth, trying to keep up with mine, trying to follow my lead. She was inexperienced—new to this—but there was something in her inexperience that made it all the more enticing. Her awkwardness was a form of innocence I was more than ready to break.
"Hmnnn~" she moaned again, her voice hitching as I pulled her closer, deeper. The sounds she made were becoming more desperate, more needful. Her lips were swollen, wet, trembling. Her mouth—god, her mouth—was all heat and softness, a playground for my tongue as I took control, teasing, tasting, devouring her without mercy.
My hands roamed her hips, fingertips brushing the delicate contours of her waist as I pulled her closer. Without warning, I shifted us both, lowering her effortlessly to the ground while keeping our lips sealed in that deep, all-consuming kiss. My tongue danced with hers, teasing, playing, dominating.
Aisha's hands trembled, weakly pressing against my chest as if she wanted to push me away but lacked the strength or desire to do so.
I pressed harder, deepening the kiss until there was no air left between us, no space to escape. My teeth grazed her tongue, capturing it gently between my lips, and I sucked with deliberate, agonizing slowness. The sensation of her tongue trapped and pulled drew a sharp gasp from her.
"Hmnn!" Her eyes shot wide open in shock, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. I sucked on her tongue like it was the last bit of ice cream, savoring every drop of her saliva, feeling her body tremble beneath mine. Aisha's moan was low, throaty, vibrating from deep inside her, her voice raw with surprise and something else—something darker, more urgent.
"HMNNN~~~!" The sound ripped from her lips as the pressure mounted, her tongue pulled tight in my mouth, that fine line between pleasure and pain making her dizzy. Her cheeks flushed a brilliant red as tears welled up, rolling down her face from the sheer intensity of it all. She was breaking, her body overwhelmed by sensation, every moan she released a testament to her helpless surrender.
"HMMNN! HMMN! HNNN!" Her cries grew louder with each pull, her tongue slick against my lips as I sucked her dry, pulling her essence from her in long, slow movements that drove her deeper into her own need. Her hands clenched at my shirt, knuckles white as she gripped me with desperation, her body pressing harder into mine, pulling me closer as if she couldn't stand to be apart for even a second.
We were both breathless, the air between us thick and charged. I finally pulled back, my chest rising and falling heavily as I let her tongue slip free from my lips, watching as she gasped for breath, her mouth still open, wet and inviting.
"Haaa❤️… Haaaaaa❤️… N…Nathan❤️… Haaaaaa❤️…" Her voice was a husky whisper, breathless and hot, her body trembling from the aftershocks of that dizzying kiss. Her eyes, clouded with pleasure, looked up at me in a desperate plea, her need laid bare, her face streaked with the tears that I'd coaxed from her.
I smirked, licking the salty tear that had slid down her cheek, my tongue tracing the trail of moisture until I reached her lips again. My lips left soft, teasing kisses down her face, each press igniting shivers of arousal through her body, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to quell the growing ache between them.
I kissed her again, this time along the line of her jaw, trailing lower to her neck, down to the hollow of her throat, each touch deliberate, each kiss dragging her closer to the edge. Her legs rubbed against each other, restless, her need growing unbearable.
I leaned close, my breath hot against her ear as I whispered, "Let's get serious for a bit."
"Hmnn!" Aisha gasped, her body jolting at the sensation of my breath tickling her ear, heightening her arousal, making her squirm beneath me. I grinned at her response, the sight of her flushed and trembling fueling my desire further.
Without waiting, I slid my arms under her, lifting her easily off the ground, her body light in my grasp. I placed her on the table, her legs dangling over the edge.
Aisha's black leather pants clung to every curve of her body, the tight material highlighting the roundness of her ass, the smooth line of her thighs. The torn armor had done nothing to hide the sensuality of her figure, and now, as I crouched down, pulling off her boots with a swift motion, I took my time appreciating what was before me.
Her skin was like porcelain, fair and smooth, revealed inch by inch as I peeled away the tight, sweaty leather from her legs. Aisha's breath caught, her fingers gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled tension as I slid the pants down, baring her soft thighs.
The cool air kissed her skin, causing a visible shiver to ripple up her body, but she didn't move, didn't speak, her gaze fixated on me as I undressed her.
With one final tug, the pants slipped off, falling to the floor in a heap, leaving her lower half exposed—bare, vulnerable, perfect. Her legs spread ever so slightly, as though instinctively, inviting me closer, pulling me into the heat of her waiting body.
I grabbed her legs firmly, her skin warm and smooth under my touch as I dragged her forward, pulling her to the edge of the table. Aisha's cheeks flushed a deeper red as I looked down between her legs, where her soft, untouched pussy came into view.
No panties. Not a surprise in the heat of Troy, but it made the sight even more striking. The way she sat, exposed, her fair skin contrasting with the dark, weathered wood beneath her, was nothing short of breathtaking.
My eyes trailed over the delicate slit between her legs, her lips tightly closed as though untouched, not even the hint of stubble marring the soft, pale flesh. Barely any hair—clean, untouched, virginal.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC187: Eating Aisha (2)*
No panties. Not a surprise in the heat of Troy, but it made the sight even more striking. The way she sat, exposed, her fair skin contrasting with the dark, weathered wood beneath her, was nothing short of breathtaking.
My eyes trailed over the delicate slit between her legs, her lips tightly closed as though untouched, not even the hint of stubble marring the soft, pale flesh. Barely any hair—clean, untouched, virginal.
My eyes locked on the sight before me—Aisha's pussy, glistening with her wetness, her arousal pooling and dripping down her thighs, even staining the inner fabric of her discarded pants. The evidence of her need was undeniable, soaking through, a testament to how much that kiss had wrecked her composure. She was drenched, her body betraying her with every drop.
I reached out, slowly, deliberately, letting my fingertip barely graze the surface of her slit. The heat radiating from her pussy was intense, almost burning against my skin. As soon as my finger made contact, tracing the line of her tight, dripping lips, Aisha moaned. Her voice was shaky, her breath catching as her hands gripped the table for support.
"Ahnn~" she whimpered, her face flushed, the sound helpless and needy as she responded to even the slightest touch. I circled around her entrance, feeling her squirm under my hand, her hips twitching involuntarily, desperate for more. Her wetness coated my finger, slick and warm. Without hesitation, I scooped up a generous amount of her juices, bringing it to my lips.
I watched her as I licked my finger clean, savoring the taste of her, the salty, sweet mixture that lingered on my tongue.
Aisha's breath hitched, her eyes flicking away, her face turning redder as she tried to hide her embarrassment. "Delicious," I murmured, smirking as I let the word roll off my tongue. The taste of her lingered, intoxicating.
"Don't… tease me…" she muttered, her voice a shaky whisper, but the desire in her tone was unmistakable.
"It's not the moment to get embarrassed, Aisha," I replied, grinning wickedly as I reached up to her breasts, still hidden beneath her thin, sweat-soaked clothes. My hand brushed over her chest, feeling the softness of her breasts, but more than that—her nipples, hard and erect, poked through the fabric. They were begging for attention.
I grasped her breast fully, squeezing, kneading, feeling the warmth and weight of it in my hand as I continued to tease her.
At the same time, my other hand remained busy, cupping her dripping pussy entirely. I pressed my palm against her slit, smearing her juices as I rubbed her thoroughly, coaxing more moans from her. "Haaa~~~ yesss," Aisha mumbled, her voice barely a whisper now, overcome by the sensations rushing through her.
I could feel the way her body trembled, the way she clenched her thighs as if she couldn't bear it any longer.
A fresh wave of her cum spilled out, coating my hand as she shuddered, her legs instinctively closing around my hand. She was asking for more, pleading silently, her body betraying her every need. I obliged, massaging her small breasts while letting my fingers slide lower, teasing her slit once more. This time, I pressed a single finger forward, slipping just barely inside her tight, narrow entrance.
"Haan!" Aisha's mouth opened slightly, her breath catching again, eyes squeezing shut as she felt me begin to penetrate her. Her pussy clenched around my fingertip, so tight and hot, almost pulling me deeper, but I held back for now, teasing her, testing her limits.
If only I could stretch myself out, elongate my cock like some devil fruit-powered freak and shove it down her throat at the same time. It would have been perfect—to feel her small mouth wrapped around my dick while I continued working her soaked pussy. But I couldn't split myself in two, not yet.
"Haan❤️… haaaa❤️… haaannn❤️… hmmnnn❤️~~" she whimpered, her voice growing more and more desperate as I played her like an instrument, making her sing with nothing but the movement of my hand. I could keep this up forever—her warmth, her tightness, the way she clenched around my fingers, it was almost addictive. But my cock, now painfully hard and aching, demanded more.
I reluctantly pulled my fingers away from her soaked pussy, giving her a moment to catch her breath. Aisha lay there panting, her body trembling, her thighs slick with her own juices. But I had no more patience left. It was time.
I stood up, undoing my pants in one smooth motion, and let them fall to the floor. My dick sprang free, throbbing, the head already glistening with pre-cum, swollen and eager. Aisha's eyes widened in shock as she stared at it, her gaze flicking between my hard, pulsing length and her own petite, tight slit.
"This… this is…" she stammered, her voice filled with disbelief as she took in the size of me. My cock stood tall, twitching, ready to plunge into her, to stretch her untouched pussy in ways she couldn't even imagine.
"Are you ready, Aisha?" I asked, a smirk playing on my lips, enjoying the way she looked at me—equal parts fear and anticipation.
"I-it won't fit…" she murmured, her voice shaky, her eyes wide as she stared down at her own body. Indeed, her narrow slit looked impossibly small compared to my thick, throbbing shaft.
"Don't worry," I said, my hands gripping her ass firmly, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, positioning her perfectly. "Your pussy will stretch, Aisha. It'll take me, every inch." My words were a promise, and I could feel her shiver beneath me as I positioned myself, the tip of my cock pressing against her dripping entrance.
"Ready?" I asked again, watching her face closely. She gulped nervously, her lips trembling, but she nodded, giving herself over to whatever was about to come.
I began to push forward, slowly at first, letting the tip of my cock part her wet folds, feeling the resistance of her untouched pussy as I forced my way inside. Her tightness was almost unbearable, her walls clamping down on me with every inch I pushed in.
"HGHNN!" Aisha let out a grunt of pain, her voice catching as my cock stretched her, forcing its way deeper into her narrow pussy. I could feel her body tensing, resisting, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The pressure was intoxicating, the way her pussy squeezed me like a vice, so tight it almost hurt.
And then I felt it—the barrier. Her virginity, still intact, unbroken. I paused for a moment, letting her body adjust before pulling back slightly. Without warning, I slammed my hips forward, thrusting deep and hard, breaking through her virgin wall in one swift, brutal motion.
"OUCH! AGHNNN! UGHNN!!" Aisha's scream of pain filled the tent, her body jerking beneath me as I tore through her, her tight pussy clamping down hard on my cock as I buried myself inside her. Blood mixed with her wetness as I claimed her, fully seated inside her virgin cunt, feeling her body convulse, torn between the pain and the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely.
Aisha's scream echoed through the room as my cock pierced through her virgin wall, her body jerking in pain beneath me, her legs trembling violently as they instinctively tried to close around me. Her nails dug into the edge of the table, her face contorted in pain as she struggled to process the shock of being filled so deeply, so suddenly. But I didn't pull out.
I stayed buried deep inside her, feeling the way her tight, wet pussy clenched around my cock, so impossibly tight that it almost felt like her body was trying to push me out, but I wasn't going anywhere.
"Haa...haaaaa...hmnnn..."
I gave her a moment, letting her catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily as she whimpered, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Her inner walls were trembling, still pulsing from the shock of penetration, but even through the pain, I could feel her body beginning to adjust, beginning to stretch to accommodate my thick length.
The heat radiating from her pussy was intoxicating, the way her untouched body fought and then surrendered to the intrusion making every second more intense.
I began to move, slowly at first, pulling back just an inch, feeling her slickness coat my cock as I slid out and then pushed back in. Her body resisted at first, still trembling, but each time I thrust forward, her pussy stretched a little more, easing the way for me. Aisha's face twisted as a mixture of pain and unfamiliar pleasure washed over her.
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out, only ragged breaths and quiet, broken whimpers.
"Hnnn❤️… haaaa❤️… h❤️ahhnn…" she gasped, her voice shaky, her breath coming in short, desperate pants as I set a slow, steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her impossibly tight pussy. I could feel every inch of her, every twitch of her muscles as her body slowly adjusted to the size of me inside her.
With each slow thrust, I went deeper, my cock burying itself further into her slick heat. Her pussy clamped down on me like a vice, but I could feel her body beginning to yield, the initial pain giving way to something else. Aisha's breaths were still ragged, but the edge of pain was softening, replaced by a quiet gasp each time I pushed deeper inside her.
Her legs twitched, her hips lifting ever so slightly as if her body was starting to crave more despite herself.
I leaned down, my chest brushing against hers, my lips finding her neck. I kissed her skin softly, teasing her with the contrast between the roughness of my cock pounding into her and the gentleness of my lips as they traced a line down her throat. Aisha whimpered, her body trembling beneath me as I licked at the delicate skin just below her ear, her scent filling my senses.
"You're taking it so well," I whispered against her ear, my breath hot against her skin. "Your pussy is so tight, so perfect."
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC188: Eating Aisha (3) *
"You're taking it so well," I whispered against her ear, my breath hot against her skin. "Your pussy is so tight, so perfect."
She shuddered beneath me, her fingers curling into fists, gripping the table as I began to pick up the pace. Slowly, but deliberately, I started thrusting harder, deeper, my cock stretching her out with every stroke. I could feel the resistance in her body, but it was starting to fade, her wetness now coating my length as I plunged into her again and again.
"H-Haaannn❤️… hnnn❤️… aghnn❤️… ahhh❤️…" Aisha's moans began to change, a new note creeping into her voice, a mix of pain and pleasure. Each time I pushed into her, her back arched just a little, her body responding to the rhythm. Her pussy was still tight, gripping me with an almost unbearable pressure, but the slickness of her arousal made each thrust smoother, easier. She was opening up to me, her body betraying her despite the pain.
I pulled back slightly, my cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming back in, burying myself as deep as I could go. Aisha gasped, her eyes flying open as her body jerked violently beneath me. Her legs kicked out, her hips bucking against me in a mix of shock and something else—something closer to need. I grinned, gripping her hips tightly, pulling her body against mine as I fucked her, pushing deeper and deeper inside her tight, quivering pussy.
"Ahhhh❤️! Haaa! Haaan❤️! Nathan❤️! Nathan!" Her voice was louder now, her moans rising in volume as I picked up the pace, my cock plunging in and out of her with increasing speed. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her body shaking as I pounded into her, driving deeper into her tight, untouched pussy. I could feel her starting to unravel, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps, her legs kicking helplessly against the edge of the table as she struggled to take the relentless rhythm of my cock.
I glanced down, my eyes locking on her heaving chest, the thin fabric of her top barely concealing the fullness of her breasts. Her nipples were rock hard, poking through the cloth, begging to be touched. Without warning, I reached up and grabbed the front of her dress, tearing it down the middle with one swift motion. The fabric gave way easily, the sound of ripping cloth filling the air as her breasts spilled free, bouncing slightly as they were exposed to the cool air.
Aisha gasped, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself, but I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as I stared down at her. Her breasts were perfect, full and round, her nipples pink and stiff, trembling with each thrust. I couldn't resist. I leaned down, taking one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking hard as my hands groped her breasts, squeezing them roughly as I continued to fuck her.
"Haaaaa❤️❤️! Ahhnnn❤️! N-Nooo… ohhh… haaa❤️!" Aisha moaned, her body writhing beneath me as my mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking and licking at the sensitive flesh while my cock continued to pound into her. Her hips were starting to move in time with mine, her body arching into me as I fucked her harder, faster. Her pussy was still tight, still clamping down on me with every thrust, but now there was a wetness, a slickness that made it easier, smoother. She was dripping, her juices running down her thighs, coating my cock as I slammed into her again and again.
I could feel her body starting to tremble, her moans growing louder, more desperate as I picked up the pace. My cock was driving into her now with force, stretching her pussy wide as I thrust deeper, harder, each stroke pushing her closer to the edge. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as I sucked on her nipples, my hands still kneading her breasts, pinching and rolling her stiff, sensitive buds between my fingers.
"Ahhh! Ahhhh! Haaaaa! Ohhhh! Nathan! Nathan!" Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her voice cracking with pleasure as her walls spasmed around my length. She was so close, her body trembling, every thrust bringing her closer to the edge. I could see it in the way her fingers clawed at the table beneath her, in the way her eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in frantic, shallow gasps. Her moans, once soft and sweet, had become frenzied, needy, incoherent.
I leaned down, my lips brushing against her ear as I grunted with each powerful thrust. "You're close, aren't you, Aisha? I can feel it... your pussy's begging for it."
Her head lolled back, her neck arching as her hips rocked harder against mine, her entire body vibrating with anticipation. But just as I was about to drive her over the edge, a sound cut through the haze of pleasure—the sound of voices, laughing, close to the entrance of the tent.
"You heard that!" one voice called out, full of amusement.
"What loud moans! Hahaha!"
I froze for a brief moment, my mind sharpening despite the intense pleasure. Someone was outside. They had heard Aisha's moans—those sweet, desperate cries that had grown so loud, so unrestrained. I hadn't even considered the possibility of being overheard; after all, the camp was full of tents where soldiers were fucking women, their moans echoing through the night air like a symphony of lust. But it seemed Aisha's voice, so pure, so untainted, had drawn attention.
The flap of the tent shifted slightly, and I could see two figures peeking in, their eyes wide with curiosity and lust.
"By Zeus, what a sexy voice this chick has!" one of them muttered, barely containing his excitement.
"Think he'll give her to us when he's done?" the other one added with a wicked grin.
I was still buried deep inside Aisha, her pussy clenching around me, but the interruption had set my teeth on edge. My eyes narrowed, fury flashing through me as I turned my head just enough to glare at the two Greeks with a cold, deathly expression. The playfulness in their faces disappeared the moment they caught sight of my eyes, my left one shifting, transforming—its blue hue giving way to the true dark gold with a black vertical slit.
Both men paled instantly, their bravado evaporating. Without another word, they stumbled back from the entrance, their faces drained of color, and bolted from the tent as if they'd just seen death itself. I smirked and focused back to Aisha, whose body was trembling violently beneath me, her breath ragged, her moans still spilling out uncontrollably.
"Haaa… Nathan… haaaan…" she whimpered, completely oblivious to what had just happened. She was far too lost in the haze of pleasure to notice anything but the sensation of my cock filling her, stretching her, pushing her toward the brink of ecstasy.
I wasn't going to let her wait any longer. My hands gripped her hips firmly, pulling her closer to the edge of the table as I repositioned her, lifting her legs and placing them over my shoulders. The new angle allowed me to push even deeper, her pussy tightening as I drove into her with long, powerful strokes, her slick wetness making each thrust effortless. I could feel myself pressing against the entrance of her womb, her body shuddering as I hit that sensitive spot deep inside her, over and over again.
Aisha's mouth fell open, her head rolling back as she cried out louder than ever.
Khillea hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she stood outside the tent. The air was thick with tension, and the noises coming from within stirred something deep inside her—something she had long kept buried. The sound of unrestrained passion washed over her like a wave, pulling her in, drawing her toward the edge of her own desires, ones she had suppressed for years.
Inside, the muffled cries of pleasure echoed, the voice of a woman lost in ecstasy—uninhibited, unashamed. Khillea felt a strange pull toward the scene unfolding just beyond the fabric of the tent, as if curiosity had taken root in her, compelling her to sneak a glimpse into a world she had denied herself. With a cautious glance over her shoulder, she lifted the edge of the flap ever so slightly and peeked inside.
"HAAAAAN! YES!! Ahahaannn❤️!! Harderrrr❤️❤️!!"
The woman's voice was breathy, filled with raw, sensual hunger. It sent a shiver down Khillea's spine, making her body tingle in a way that felt foreign, unfamiliar. Despite herself, her pulse quickened. She could see the woman clearly now—beautiful, ethereal in the dim light, her body arching as she clung desperately to the man thrusting into her with an almost primal intensity.
The woman's legs trembled on the man's shoulders, her face flushed, lips parted in a perfect expression of ecstasy. Her long hair spilled over the table like a silken river, her skin glowing with the sheen of sweat as their bodies collided rhythmically. The man—he was relentless, his powerful hips slamming against her as the table creaked beneath their weight.
Khillea couldn't help but be struck by the scene, a forbidden voyeur watching from the shadows. The man was handsome, undeniably so, his muscles taut as he moved with an effortless confidence. A lucky man, she thought fleetingly, to have a woman like this beneath him—beautiful and utterly lost in pleasure. Even Khillea, who had trained herself to ignore such things, found her gaze lingering longer than she intended.
"Do you want to get pregnant, Aisha?" the man suddenly leaned in, his voice dark and intimate as he whispered into the woman's ear.
Khillea's heart skipped a beat.
Pregnant.
The word struck her, sending a jolt through her body. She swallowed hard, the ache in her throat matching the strange, uncomfortable warmth building between her legs.
That was
her
wish. A wish she had harbored in secret for so long.
"Yesss! Haaaannn❤️! Make me pregnant, Nathan! Aahaaan❤️! Give me a baby!" Aisha moaned loudly, her voice a mix of desperation and bliss as she nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath his touch.
Khillea felt her pulse race, her breathing quickening as her body reacted to the words.
Pregnant.
It was all she had ever wanted, the one thing she desired more than anything in the world. And yet, here she was, watching someone else live out that fantasy. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her skin growing hot. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.
Nathan smirked at Aisha's words, his hands gripping her waist as he drove himself deeper into her, his movements becoming harder, more purposeful. Khillea could see the slickness of Aisha's thighs, the way her body welcomed every thrust. The wet sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the tent, growing louder as both of them neared their peak.
"Then take it!" Nathan growled, his voice low and commanding.
"HYAAAAA!!! SO HOT!! HAAAAANNN!!!" Aisha's body arched off the table, her scream of pleasure echoing in the small space as she climaxed, her legs quivering uncontrollably around Nathan's shoulders. Her release was so intense, so primal, that Khillea's own body responded involuntarily. A rush of heat spread through her, settling low in her belly, making her legs weak. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs pressing together as she fought the growing tension between her legs.
In that moment, Khillea was utterly invisible—erasing her presence with the precision only a Demigod blessed by Zeus himself could muster. Even Nathan, despite his obvious power, was far too engrossed in the heat of the moment to notice her watching. His focus was on Aisha, on the pleasure he was giving and receiving, and Khillea was nothing more than a shadow at the edge of the tent.
But her eyes weren't on Aisha anymore. They were on
him
—Nathan. His sweat-slicked body glistened in the dim light, every muscle taut with exertion. For a fleeting second, one of his eyes glowed with a strange, unsettling golden hue, a slit forming where the pupil should have been. It sent a chill racing down Khillea's spine. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, his eye returning to its natural blue. She shuddered but didn't care anymore.
She had already made her choice.
I leaned down, my breath hot against her neck, and whispered darkly, "Do you want to get pregnant, Aisha?"
Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a desperate moan. "Yesss! Haaaannn❤️! Make me pregnant, Nathan! Aahaaan❤️! Give me a baby!" Her voice was high-pitched, breathless, filled with lust and abandon as she begged for it, her body arching into me, her legs trembling on my shoulders as I drove into her deeper, faster.
I smirked at her words, feeling the fire burning inside me as I pounded into her with everything I had, thrusting harder and deeper until I could feel the tip of my cock pressing against the very depths of her pussy. My hands tightened on her hips, gripping her with bruising force as I held her in place, her slick, dripping cunt squeezing around me as she writhed in pleasure.
"Then take it," I growled, my voice low and rough as I gave one final, powerful thrust, driving myself as deep as I could go. I felt her body tense beneath me, her back arching off the table as her orgasm slammed into her, her pussy clenching violently around my cock, milking me as she came.
"HYAAAAA!!! SO HOT!! HAAAAANNN!!!"
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC189: Speaking with Aisha after
"HYAAAAA!!! SO HOT!! HAAAAANNN!!!" Aisha's scream filled the air, her voice breaking as her body convulsed uncontrollably, her pussy spasming in a tight, wet grip around my cock. Her legs shook violently on my shoulders, her entire body jerking as she rode the intense waves of her orgasm.
The feeling of her tight, quivering pussy squeezing me pushed me over the edge, and with a guttural groan, I released inside her, my cock twitching as I pumped her full of my hot cum. My hips jerked as I emptied myself deep inside her womb, filling her completely, my grip on her hips tightening as I held her close, not letting a drop escape.
"Haaaan… so… full… Nathan…" Aisha whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper as her body continued to tremble, her pussy still twitching around me. I could feel her legs shaking, her muscles weak and spent from the intensity of her orgasm. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to regain control of her body.
But even as I slowed my thrusts, my cock still buried deep inside her, Aisha's body continued to convulse. Her hips jerked involuntarily, her pussy still milking me for every last drop, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure overwhelmed her.
Her legs, still draped over my shoulders, finally gave out, falling limply to the sides as she lay back on the table, utterly spent. Her chest heaved with each labored breath, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat, her face a beautiful mess of pleasure and exhaustion. I stayed inside her for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy wrapped around me, her body still twitching and spasming in the aftermath of her release.
But as I slowly pulled out, a soft whimper escaped her lips, her body shuddering one last time before collapsing completely. My cum dripped from her still-quivering pussy, her legs trembling weakly as her body finally gave in to exhaustion. Aisha's eyes fluttered closed, her breath slowing as she succumbed to unconsciousness, her body too overwhelmed by pleasure to stay awake any longer.
I stood there, watching her chest rise and fall gently, a satisfied smirk tugging at my lips. She was mine now, every part of her.
After years of liking her and nine long months in this world, I had finally fucked and made Aisha mine.
°°°°°
Ten minutes was all Aisha needed to regain a semblance of clarity. Her breathing, once heavy and erratic, began to steady as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her flushed skin still carried the vivid remnants of our earlier passion. I could see the glow on her body—an afterglow from our intimacy—illuminating her with a soft radiance that enhanced her natural beauty.
I reached for a small flask, one that Amaterasu had given me. It wasn't just ordinary water; it had restorative properties, designed to help one recover their stamina faster. I handed it to her gently, and Aisha took a slow sip, visibly revitalized with each swallow. She blinked, finally finding her voice after the intensity of the moment.
"Here, I brought you a new dress," I said, draping it over the bed beside her. Aisha glanced at it briefly but seemed more interested in the closeness between us. She shifted on the bed, sitting next to me, her bare skin lightly brushing against mine, causing a new wave of heat to rise in the room.
Her face remained flushed from the intensity of what we had just shared. There was an unmistakable glow that seemed to emanate from her, a kind of energy that lingered long after our bodies had cooled. She looked utterly captivating, and despite the satisfaction in my bones, my desire stirred once more.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice softened by concern. "I might have been a bit rough, especially for your first time."
I tried to keep my tone light, but the memory of her words, her soft murmurs urging me on, flashed through my mind. Her legs had moved in perfect rhythm with mine, her body arching, almost demanding more, despite my hesitation. It had been as intoxicating as it was overwhelming.
Aisha shook her head with a soft smile on her lips, her cheeks still a deep shade of crimson. "No," she said, her voice sweet but laced with contentment. "I liked it when you were harder."
I raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh. It was hard not to. Her words caught me off guard, but they also sent a wave of satisfaction through me.
"I see," I replied, trying to suppress the smirk that was threatening to spread across my face.
For a moment, there was silence between us, comfortable but thick with unspoken words. And then, unexpectedly, Aisha's expression shifted. Her gaze fell slightly, and her lips pressed together before she spoke again.
"Sorry for wasting your time," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
I frowned, unsure what she meant at first. But then I realized. She was apologizing for stopping me earlier, for delaying my departure to find Astynome, all so we could have this moment together.
Did I regret it now? Absolutely not.
My task was clear: to deliver Astynome safely to Troy. In what state she arrived hardly mattered to me, as long as she was alive. It might sound heartless, but that was the reality of who I was. My duty was simple. And honestly, Apollo should be grateful. I had brought her back unharmed, and if anyone deserved his wrath, it was Agamemnon—not me.
"Don't worry about it," I said, my voice firm yet reassuring. "I'll find a way to get her."
Aisha's eyes softened, and she sat up a little straighter. "I can help you, if you want."
The offer was tempting, but the memory of how she was treated the moment she stepped foot into the Greek camp flashed in my mind. The way they looked at her, the vile intentions behind their gazes. She had narrowly escaped something far worse than mere hostility.
I shook my head. "Stay with the others. I can handle it alone. I don't want anyone touching what belongs to me."
Her eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. She grasped my arm, fingers tracing the muscles there, her touch light but filled with curiosity.
"Your arms... they're so toned. You look so different, Nathan... What happened to you?"
Her words lingered in the air, filled with wonder, but also a hint of concern. She wasn't just admiring the physical changes in me—there was something deeper in her question, something that reflected her growing awareness of how much I had changed.
Aisha had no idea of the full extent of my strength. She knew me as I had been, not as I was now. I could tell she had her doubts, perhaps sensing something had changed, but she couldn't confirm her suspicions. I had grown adept at concealing my true presence, erasing any trace of the power that now surged within me. On top of that, I had altered my appearance subtly, enough to ensure that even those closest to me wouldn't easily recognize the full transformation.
"Things happened," I began, my voice steady as I decided not to hide the truth any longer. "I was summoned by Tenebria. That's how I escaped death."
"Tenebria?" Aisha's eyes widened in shock, her expression a mixture of disbelief and confusion. She stared at me for a long moment, as if piecing together fragments of information that had eluded her until now. "You... you're the Hero of Darkness? W-what happened at the border of Tenebria? The one who pushed Kastoria's forces back… was that…?"
"It was me," I confirmed with a nod. There was no point in denying it. "I became some sort of Lord Commander there. The demons have treated me better than anyone from the Empire of Light ever did."
At my words, a wave of sadness crossed Aisha's face. I could see the guilt flickering behind her eyes, the weight of her helplessness gnawing at her. She probably blamed herself for not being able to save me back then, for not preventing the circumstances that led to my supposed death. But how could she? I had kept too much hidden from her, from everyone.
"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Aisha," I said, my voice firm yet gentle. "This was my decision. Everything that's happened, it was all part of the path I chose."
She looked down, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on her lap. "I understand," she whispered, though I could sense the pain lingering in her tone.
I leaned closer, my gaze locking with hers, ensuring she grasped the seriousness of what I was about to say next. "Aisha, everything I've told you—keep it secret. For as long as you can. For your own safety, you need to stay within the Empire of Light. Continue to fight for them, just as you're doing now."
Aisha's hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles whitening under the strain. The fury she felt was palpable, directed not at me, but at the Empire of Light, at the Divine Knights who had betrayed me, who had pushed me to this point. She wanted to lash out, to do something, anything to make a difference. But the truth was, she couldn't.
"Yes," she murmured, her voice low and laced with reluctance.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC190: Father?
Aisha's hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles whitening under the strain. The fury she felt was palpable, directed not at me, but at the Empire of Light, at the Divine Knights who had betrayed me, who had pushed me to this point. She wanted to lash out, to do something, anything to make a difference. But the truth was, she couldn't.
"Yes," she murmured, her voice low and laced with reluctance.
It was a relief to finally speak with Aisha after all these months of silence. Seeing her again, hearing her voice, it felt like a burden had been lifted from my chest. Honestly, I felt even better after being with her intimately—it gave me a sense of connection I hadn't realized I was missing. It was selfish, perhaps, but it was the truth.
"But you're the Hero of Darkness..." Aisha's voice trembled slightly as she repeated the words that had been drilled into her by the Divine Knights. "Liphiel kept saying you're the greatest enemy of the Empire, and that your death is the key to us going back to Earth."
Her words dripped with the hatred she felt toward Liphiel. I could see it in her eyes—the rage, the frustration. Everything Liphiel had told them was designed to paint me as a villain, a threat that needed to be eliminated. It disgusted me how easily the Divine Knights spun their web of lies.
"They're experts at spreading lies," I said with a sigh, shaking my head. "Don't believe a single word that comes out of her mouth. But for now, as much as you might hate it, Liphiel is your greatest ally. In this place, she's the one who'll keep you alive."
Aisha's lips twisted in distaste, her anger barely contained. I knew how much she despised Liphiel, and for good reason. But I also knew that Liphiel wouldn't let anything happen to Aisha—not as long as she was one of their precious Heroes.
"I want to kill her," Aisha said suddenly, her voice cold, the hatred surfacing in her eyes.
I stared at her, my expression serious. "Don't, Aisha," I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. "If she even gets a whiff of you being a threat, she'll kill you without hesitation. They weren't sure if I was involved with Oscar, and they still tried to kill me."
Aisha hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Were you involved?"
I gave her a look—one that told her everything without needing to say the words aloud. I wasn't some weak Hero with a useless skill, and I wasn't going to play by the Divine Knights' rules. She was starting to realize that now, bit by bit.
"He wanted to kill me and he tried to attack teacher Amelia while she was sleeping," I said, my voice steady, watching her closely. "I killed him."
Aisha's eyes widened in shock, but then she nodded quickly, accepting my words without question. I had the distinct feeling that even if I didn't have a valid reason, Aisha wouldn't have cared. She was too deep in her love for me, too willing to trust me no matter what I did.
"Poor teacher Amelia," Aisha said softly after a moment, her voice filled with sadness. "Since your death, she's been really depressed, you know? But now, she has a daughter. Maybe it'll help her think about happier things…"
Her words stopped me cold. My heart raced, and my mind spun, but I fought to maintain my composure. I tried to keep my voice steady as I asked, "A daughter?"
Aisha nodded with a warm smile, clearly unaware of the turmoil her words had just caused. "Yes, she was born just before we left. A really cute baby. But we don't know who the father is. For someone to win over our beautiful teacher, he must be quite amazing. I wonder when it happened."
"When you trained," I muttered without thinking.
Aisha blinked, confused. "What?"
"Nothing…" I quickly corrected myself.
I couldn't bring myself to admit that the "amazing man" she'd fallen for was me, and that the moment she fell in love was during our rigorous training sessions. The child she carried—the one they were all speaking of—had been conceived in secret, during one of those fleeting yet intense moments we shared in the dimly lit corridors of the castle. Every encounter was seared into my memory, the passion and the urgency of it all. I had been fucking her in the corridors while they were training outside that was the true.
I was almost certain now—I had to be the father.
"She said she was pregnant before they left?" I muttered, piecing together the fragments of what Aisha had just told me.
It made sense. If she conceived around that time, it would be nearly nine months now. And the baby... the baby had finally been born.
Yes, it had to be mine.
The more I thought about it, the more everything fell into place. Amelia, with her fierce loyalty, her unwavering obsession with me, would never have lain with someone else so soon after my supposed death. She wouldn't have. It wasn't in her nature. The timing was perfect. The dates aligned too well.
But I wasn't about to tell Aisha—not yet, anyway. First, I needed her to recover, to stabilize before dropping this monumental revelation on her. There was no need to burden her with the complexities of my tangled emotions and the reality of what had happened while I was gone.
But a child...
The very thought of it made something stir inside me. It was hard to describe—perhaps a warmth, a flicker of joy—but it wasn't overwhelming. Not yet. I still needed to let it sink in, to come to terms with the fact that somewhere, there was a child who carried my blood. A part of me, and a part of Amelia.
"What's her name?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, as if the question didn't weigh heavily on my chest.
"Sara," Aisha replied softly.
"Sara…" I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue as if it already belonged to me, to my life. "That's a good name." I mumbled, pretending to be indifferent, though deep down, the name resonated within me.
An unexpected longing surged through me—a fierce, almost primal urge to go to the Empire of Light, to see Amelia, and to lay eyes on the child. My child. It gnawed at me, this sense of responsibility and guilt. If I was indeed the father, I should have been there for her, to support her through it all.
Yet, the thought of Sara being born in the Empire of Light left a bitter taste in my mouth. The idea that she had drawn her first breath in a place that now felt like the enemy unsettled me. It gnawed at the part of me that longed for control, for power.
"A lot has changed since your death, Nathan," Aisha murmured, her voice heavy with a sadness that had settled over her like a shroud. The mere mention of the Empire of Light seemed to bring a shadow over her features.
I wanted to press her, to demand every detail of what had happened, but time was slipping away from us. Sienna would return soon if Aisha wasn't back, so I had to send Aisha back to her camp before things became too complicated.
"We should stop here for now, Aisha. We'll have time to talk later—perhaps when things calm down," I said, rising to my feet, my gaze flicking toward the entrance of the tent.
"I won't fight if you're with Troy…" Aisha mumbled, her voice tinged with an almost defeated resignation.
"Not that you could," I replied with a smirk, eyeing her trembling legs. "You're still shaking from our hard sex."
"Shut up," she shot back, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She reached out to punch me, her fist weak but playful.
I caught her arm before she could land the blow, my grip firm yet gentle. My eyes met hers, and for a moment, I let my guard down. There was something I needed to tell her—something she needed to hear.
"Aisha, listen to me." My voice dropped, growing serious. "I'm alive. I'm here. You don't have to feel sad or lost anymore. You don't have to think your life is meaningless. Because your heart—your body—they belong to me. You don't have the right to give them to anyone else. Do you understand?" I held her gaze, waiting for her response.
Her eyes, once dulled by grief and confusion, seemed to light up with a familiar intensity. No, it was more than that—this time, the light in her eyes was fierce, almost obsessive, a reflection of the deep devotion she carried for me now.
"Yes~~" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
I kissed her one last time, a lingering kiss filled with all the unspoken words between us, before pulling away and stepping outside the tent.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC191: Khillea wants to get Pregnant?
Khillea was shocked.
But to understand why, we need to go back ten minutes earlier.
"What are you going to do with me?" Briseis asked nervously, her voice trembling with uncertainty. Despite the kind words Khillea had spoken earlier, there was still an unsettled feeling in her chest. Why had she been brought here, if not to be part of the prize? Khillea had won the battle—what did she need with Briseis, a slave?
In truth, Briseis regretted following. Yet at the same time, she couldn't help but feel some strange relief. The woman standing before her didn't exude the savage brutality that her mind had conjured. Khillea, though infamous, wasn't the beast she had feared. Still, confusion reigned over her thoughts.
Khillea stood up from the basin, water droplets clinging to her skin, cascading in delicate rivulets down her toned, elegant body. Her sharp, yet feminine features were softened by the way the water glistened on her, highlighting every line and curve. Droplets slipped down her neck, trailing between the firm mounds of her breasts, until some slid down to her hardened nipples before continuing over the gentle rise of her belly. The water traced the graceful curve of her hips and thighs, pooling slightly at the warm space between her legs, drawing Briseis's attention to the perfection of her untouched femininity.
Without a word, Khillea took a towel draped over a nearby chair, wrapping it loosely around herself, then using another towel to quickly pat herself dry. She moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, every step measured, every movement intentional. As she stepped out of the basin and onto the cool marble floor, she smiled—a smile that spoke of secrets yet unshared.
"I want you to witness something," Khillea said, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of significance.
"Witness what?" Briseis's confusion deepened. The idea of being a passive observer, especially in this strange, intimate setting, made her uneasy. She had expected anything but this.
"You know I am a woman, Briseis," Khillea continued, her voice soft yet steady. "And I want you to witness the end of my life."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, echoing in Briseis's mind. She blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly.
"The end... of your life?" she repeated, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean? Why would you—" Her voice faltered.
Khillea's gaze drifted towards the open window, where the evening sky was turning a dark shade of violet. "Patroclus knows," she said quietly. "But I don't want to burden him with this tonight. He'll have to bear enough when it's done."
There was a somberness in her tone, and for the first time, Briseis saw something beyond the fierce warrior Khillea had always been known for—a vulnerability, a quiet acceptance of fate. It unsettled her even more.
"Okay," Briseis whispered, though she barely understood what was being asked of her. It seemed Khillea didn't need her to
do
anything, not physically, at least. The way she spoke, it was as though her presence, her mere witness, was enough.
In truth, Briseis thought Khillea simply wanted company—a female companion for what was likely a significant moment. And in a way, she had hit the mark. Khillea had spent years hiding her true self, cloaked in the guise of a man. To everyone around her, she had been Achilles, the greatest of warriors, unassailable and untouchable. She had lived surrounded by men, drinking with them, fighting alongside them, but never truly
one
of them. Any woman who approached her would only do so in pursuit of Achilles the legend, not Khillea the woman.
But now, in these final hours, she could break her self-imposed rule. Death was coming regardless—what harm could there be in revealing her truth now?
"Help me with my armor," Khillea said, nodding toward the simple piece lying on a nearby stand.
It wasn't the gilded, shining armor of Achilles that she wore in battle. No, this was a more modest, functional piece—just enough to keep her safe while she wandered the streets. Tonight, she would not march to war. She was going outside for something far more personal.
Briseis nodded, her hands moving to lift the armor as instructed. The weight of it surprised her, not just physically, but emotionally. Every piece of this woman's life was heavy, layered with burdens she could barely comprehend.
As Briseis helped her don the armor, Khillea's eyes flickered toward her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Thank you," Khillea murmured.
Briseis didn't respond. She simply fastened the last strap, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool metal.
"Where are you going?" Briseis asked calmly, though inwardly her heart raced. Her voice was steady, but the growing unease inside her was hard to ignore. She didn't want to be left alone in this place, surrounded by the Greek warriors who, at any moment, could burst in with their brutish desires. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Khillea smirked, a sharp expression pulling at her lips, as if the answer to the question were too obvious.
Briseis had just finished helping Khillea put on her armor, piece by piece, fastening the straps that hid nearly every inch of her skin. The polished bronze gleamed in the dim light, each segment carefully crafted to encase Khillea's body. As the armor settled into place, it transformed her—where moments ago stood a woman with a soft, elegant beauty, now there was a figure that, with a hardened gaze and powerful stance, looked unmistakably like a strikingly handsome man.
It wasn't strange at all, Briseis thought, as she stepped back to admire the transformation. After all, even the gods, like Apollo, were rumored to possess a beauty that bordered on the feminine. Born of the beautiful goddess Thetis, Khillea's delicate features weren't questioned by anyone. Her appearance was simply attributed to divine lineage, the favor of the gods. In the end, all she had to do was hide the curve of her breasts beneath the armor, and no one would suspect the truth.
"I'm going to find a good man to get me pregnant, of course," Khillea said nonchalantly, sliding on her helmet with a practiced ease.
The words struck Briseis like a slap. "What?" she asked, stunned by the absurdity of the statement. To her, it sounded as though Khillea was planning to walk out into the night and pick the first man she saw to father her child. Was that really her plan? And yet, as Briseis looked into Khillea's eyes, she realized she wasn't joking. There was a fierce, unshakable seriousness in her tone.
Khillea—a virgin, as far as Briseis knew—was truly planning to give herself to a stranger this easily? It seemed unimaginable. After all these years of hiding, was she really going to cast aside her virginity in such a careless manner?
"You should wait," Briseis said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. She spoke not out of selfishness, not because she wanted Khillea to stay, but from a place of concern. "There's still time. Maybe someone worthy will come along?"
Her words hung in the air, unspoken thoughts swirling in Briseis's mind. Perhaps she felt pity for Khillea, for the years she had spent concealed behind the mask of a man, never able to confide in anyone or build meaningful friendships—except, perhaps, with Patroclus, though even that bond had its limits. Khillea had no close female friends, no one to share her burdens or her dreams with.
But Khillea only shook her head. "No," she said, her voice firm. "Today is the right day. I can't let this opportunity slip by."
Briseis understood what she meant now. There was no stopping her. Khillea had made up her mind, and nothing Briseis could say would change it. The warrior had lived her entire life under the shadow of her fate, and now, in the twilight of her existence, she had chosen to claim control over one final act: the creation of life.
"At least… think a bit before choosing," Briseis sighed, her resistance weakening in the face of Khillea's resolve. She didn't want to imagine Khillea throwing herself at just anyone in desperation.
Khillea's eyes softened as she turned to Briseis, a rare warmth slipping through the cracks of her usual stoicism. "I will," she said with a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll be back with a man. Prepare my bed."
Briseis nodded, her lips tight as she murmured, "Yes…"
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC192: Shocked Khillea
"Achilles!"
The raucous laughter of the Myrmidons echoed through the camp, their rowdy voices calling out in jest as they spotted their commander approaching. Some were still chewing on roasted meat, others drinking from overflowing goblets of wine, their boisterous mood amplified by the late hour.
"What are you doing here?" one of them shouted, his grin wide and toothy. "Shouldn't you be enjoying that princess?"
"I thought we'd be hearing screams of pleasure by now!" another added, his laugh booming above the clatter of their drunken revelry.
The men were fearless, knowing their commander well enough to mock him freely, thinking it all in good fun. They knew Achilles, their king and commander, was capable of laughing off their jests. To them, Achilles had already finished with the spoils of war—the woman, Briseis—perhaps leaving her to wait for his next indulgence.
Khillea, hidden beneath the guise of Achilles, laughed along with them, though there was a different meaning behind her smile.
"I'm saving her for later," she replied, her voice steady, casual, masking the deeper thoughts racing through her mind. "You lot should be worrying about tomorrow. It's our last trip." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle for a moment. "We march on Troy at dawn."
The mention of Troy, the city that had eluded them for so long, sharpened the atmosphere for a second—though not enough to sober the men entirely. There was still too much bravado, too much confidence in their own strength and the invincibility of their legendary leader.
"Don't worry, Achilles!" a soldier hollered, raising his cup. "I can beat those Trojans even drunk!" More laughter erupted, the sound ringing through the camp like thunder.
Khillea's lips curved into a soft smile as she looked over her men. Over the years, she had grown fond of them, despite their roughness, their simple minds, and muscle-headed bravado. They were her comrades, men she fought beside, bled with, and ultimately men she would die alongside. But none of them—no matter how much she respected them—could be the one she chose tonight.
They were her brothers-in-arms, but they knew her too well. In the heat of passion, they might recognize the soft curves beneath her armor, the shape of her body that no amount of deception could fully hide. And that, Khillea could not allow. The risk was too great.
What she needed was someone from another army, someone who didn't know her face, someone she could disappear with into the night, leaving only her memory behind.
Her mind wandered to the other kings and their camps, the various soldiers and commanders who had joined the Greek coalition. There were also the famed Heroes of the Empire Light, though they hardly interested her. Children playing at being heroes, Khillea thought with a smirk. What she sought was a real man—a stranger who didn't know Achilles personally, someone who wouldn't question the unusual encounter.
Khillea walked through the camp, her eyes scanning the scene unfolding around her. Men were everywhere—warriors of Greece, their bodies hardened by battle, tall and muscular. Yet, to her, they all blurred together, each one seeming indistinguishable from the next. She passed groups of soldiers openly engaging in rough, unrestrained sex, the sounds of their pleasure echoing through the night air. It was as though the entire camp had been overcome with primal desires, a release before the final push to Troy.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Would I moan like that too?" she wondered, her thoughts drifting to the act she was determined to commit. This wasn't the first time she had witnessed such things—war bred indulgence, and Khillea had long grown used to hearing moans in the background. But now, with her own intentions set on finding a man to father a child, the thought took on a new weight. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined it, the unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment creeping in. Would she lose herself in it, the way the others did? Would her body betray her with sounds she had never made before?
Still, Khillea pushed the thought aside, her focus shifting back to her task. She continued wandering, her keen ears picking up bits of conversation as she moved deeper into the camp. Two men nearby, clad in Athenian armor, caught her attention.
"I really wanna get my dick into one of those virgin girls from Lyrnessus," one of them said with a crude laugh.
"Yeah, but Agamemnon's men took all the women," the other grumbled. "Bastards got the best of the spoils."
"I'm telling you, if I had one of those virgins, I'd fuck her so hard, she'd scream loud enough to reach Zeus himself!" the first one boasted, his voice filled with the arrogance of a man who had never known restraint.
Their words were vile, their intent clear as they spoke openly about assaulting a girl.
But instead of anger, she found herself oddly amused by the absurdity of their boasting.
She smiled to herself. "I'll just pick him," she thought, her eyes lingering on the more talkative of the two. He seemed good enough for what she needed—a man to give her a child, nothing more. It didn't matter if he was trash; he was strong, and that was all she required. Her heart wasn't in it for love or connection, just practicality.
But then, Briseis's words floated back to her mind: Think before choosing.
For a moment, Khillea hesitated. She knew Briseis was right. Her decision now could change her life forever. Did she really want to tie herself to such a man? Someone who lacked honor and respect? The thought made her pause.
Since she was going to die, she should at least make sure her child will be with a good father.
"I'll look a bit longer," she muttered to herself, turning away from the men with a bored expression.
She was about to give up when a commotion nearby broke her thoughts.
"Haiyy!!" A panicked shout filled the air. "Run!"
"What the hell was that freak?" another voice screamed, breathless.
"I don't know!" came the frantic reply, followed by the sound of stumbling feet and men fleeing in terror.
Khillea's curiosity piqued as she saw two men, wide-eyed and pale, tumbling out of a nearby tent, their faces twisted in fear. Something inside had scared them witless, and Khillea couldn't help but be intrigued. Her sharp instincts told her this was no ordinary encounter.
Without a second thought, she approached the tent. As she drew nearer, the muffled sounds of moaning and the unmistakable slap of flesh against flesh reached her ears. The tent itself shook faintly, the creaking of wood and the scraping of a table audible even from where she stood.
For a moment, she paused. The scene unfolding inside was one of raw, unabashed pleasure—someone was lost in the throes of passion, completely unbothered by the commotion outside. And for reasons she couldn't fully explain, Khillea felt a strange pull toward it, a curiosity born from years of suppressing her own desires.
Cautiously, she lifted the tent's flap and peeked inside.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC193: Khillea's choice
Khillea hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she stood outside the tent. The air was thick with tension, and the noises coming from within stirred something deep inside her—something she had long kept buried. The sound of unrestrained passion washed over her like a wave, pulling her in, drawing her toward the edge of her own desires, ones she had suppressed for years.
Inside, the muffled cries of pleasure echoed, the voice of a woman lost in ecstasy—uninhibited, unashamed. Khillea felt a strange pull toward the scene unfolding just beyond the fabric of the tent, as if curiosity had taken root in her, compelling her to sneak a glimpse into a world she had denied herself. With a cautious glance over her shoulder, she lifted the edge of the flap ever so slightly and peeked inside.
"HAAAAAN! YES!! Ahahaannn❤️!! Harderrrr❤️❤️!!"
The woman's voice was breathy, filled with raw, sensual hunger. It sent a shiver down Khillea's spine, making her body tingle in a way that felt foreign, unfamiliar. Despite herself, her pulse quickened. She could see the woman clearly now—beautiful, ethereal in the dim light, her body arching as she clung desperately to the man thrusting into her with an almost primal intensity.
The woman's legs trembled on the man's shoulders, her face flushed, lips parted in a perfect expression of ecstasy. Her long hair spilled over the table like a silken river, her skin glowing with the sheen of sweat as their bodies collided rhythmically. The man—he was relentless, his powerful hips slamming against her as the table creaked beneath their weight.
Khillea couldn't help but be struck by the scene, a forbidden voyeur watching from the shadows. The man was handsome, undeniably so, his muscles taut as he moved with an effortless confidence. A lucky man, she thought fleetingly, to have a woman like this beneath him—beautiful and utterly lost in pleasure. Even Khillea, who had trained herself to ignore such things, found her gaze lingering longer than she intended.
"Do you want to get pregnant, Aisha?" the man suddenly leaned in, his voice dark and intimate as he whispered into the woman's ear.
Khillea's heart skipped a beat. Pregnant
.
The word struck her, sending a jolt through her body. She swallowed hard, the ache in her throat matching the strange, uncomfortable warmth building between her legs.
That was
her
wish. A wish she had harbored in secret for so long.
"Yesss! Haaaannn❤️! Make me pregnant, Nathan! Aahaaan❤️! Give me a baby!" Aisha moaned loudly, her voice a mix of desperation and bliss as she nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath his touch.
Khillea felt her pulse race, her breathing quickening as her body reacted to the words. Pregnant
.
It was all she had ever wanted, the one thing she desired more than anything in the world. And yet, here she was, watching someone else live out that fantasy. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her skin growing hot. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.
Nathan smirked at Aisha's words, his hands gripping her waist as he drove himself deeper into her, his movements becoming harder, more purposeful. Khillea could see the slickness of Aisha's thighs, the way her body welcomed every thrust. The wet sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the tent, growing louder as both of them neared their peak.
"Then take it!" Nathan growled, his voice low and commanding.
"HYAAAAA!!! SO HOT!! HAAAAANNN!!!" Aisha's body arched off the table, her scream of pleasure echoing in the small space as she climaxed, her legs quivering uncontrollably around Nathan's shoulders. Her release was so intense, so primal, that Khillea's own body responded involuntarily. A rush of heat spread through her, settling low in her belly, making her legs weak. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs pressing together as she fought the growing tension between her legs.
"Wh...what's happening to me?"
In that moment, Khillea was utterly invisible—erasing her presence with the precision only a Demigod blessed by Zeus himself could muster. Even Nathan, despite his obvious power, was far too engrossed in the heat of the moment to notice her watching. His focus was on Aisha, on the pleasure he was giving and receiving, and Khillea was nothing more than a shadow at the edge of the tent.
But her eyes weren't on Aisha anymore. They were on him, Nathan. His sweat-slicked body glistened in the dim light, every muscle taut with exertion. For a fleeting second, one of his eyes glowed with a strange, unsettling golden hue, a slit forming where the pupil should have been. It sent a chill racing down Khillea's spine. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, his eye returning to its normal blue. She shuddered but didn't care anymore.
She had already made her choice.
This was the man she had been searching for.
Judging by the discarded armor, he appeared to be a Spartan warrior—solid, unyielding. Khillea's lips curled into a smile as she stepped away from the tent, her heart racing with a mixture of exhilaration and anticipation. The flush on her cheeks betrayed the excitement she felt. She inhaled deeply, the cool evening air doing little to calm the heat stirring inside her.
As she walked, a curious thought crossed her mind. Her gaze flicked downward, toward the subtle dampness she felt between her thighs.
"Had I really gotten wet just from watching them?"
The raw, carnal act she had just witnessed played on a loop in her head. Her fingers grazed the side of her tunic absentmindedly, a shiver running through her. Or was it simply the thrill?
Excitement, maybe. No, more than that—it was exhilaration.
The notion that it would be her turn soon only added to the growing sense of anticipation. The image of the man, his powerful body moving in sync with Aisha's, flashed again in her mind.
"I need to get ready," Khillea murmured to herself as she picked up her pace, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. Her footsteps carried her with purpose as she headed back to her own tent. This wasn't just a chance encounter. This was
destiny
. Achilles had given the order, and she was bound to follow through. It wasn't as if the man would refuse—no one refused the call of Achilles.
But just as she was lost in her thoughts, the familiar figure of Patroclus appeared in her path, stepping out of the shadows. His presence startled her for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a smile.
"Achilles," Patroclus said, addressing her formally at first, though his tone softened when he realized who it was. "What are you doing here?" He had just finished a strategic discussion with Odysseus and was on his way back to camp when he spotted his cousin.
Khillea's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with a spark of mischief. "I found someone ready to give me a child," she declared, her voice filled with excitement, as if she had just uncovered a long-lost treasure.
Patroclus nearly choked on his own breath, his face going pale for a moment. His eyes darted around, making sure no one else had overheard such a bold statement. He turned to her, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper, though laced with concern. His protective instincts toward her flared up immediately.
Khillea's expression didn't falter. In fact, she seemed more resolute. "I'm going to die in this war, Patroclus. That much is certain." Her tone was casual, but her eyes held a quiet determination. "So, I'll leave something behind. A child. It will be my legacy."
Patroclus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He couldn't bring himself to argue, not when she spoke so bluntly about her own fate. The thought of Khillea—his cousin, the woman he had always treated like a sister—dying in this senseless war twisted something deep in his chest. But her mind was set, and he knew her well enough to understand that no amount of reasoning would sway her.
"Do you know him?" Patroclus asked after a pause, hoping, against hope, that maybe there was something more behind her decision. "Is he someone you've been seeing? Someone you care about?"
Khillea's laugh was sharp and short, almost dismissive. "What? No. I just met him today. But he's good enough to give me a child." She shrugged, as if the choice were as simple as selecting a new weapon for battle.
Patroclus stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "You're really going to…"
"Yes," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I'm going to fuck someone I just saw. Are you going to help me or not?"
There was a finality in her words, a challenge even. Patroclus knew that nothing he could say would change her mind. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple as he resigned himself to her plan.
"Fine," he muttered, still uneasy but unable to deny her. "What do you need me to do?"
Khillea's smile returned, softer this time, almost girlish. "As soon as he leaves the tent, call him over. Tell him I've summoned him to mine."
Patroclus frowned, understanding exactly what she intended, but he nodded nonetheless. "As you wish."
"Good," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried off toward her tent, her heart pounding in her chest.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC194: Achilles's request?
After speaking with Aisha, I stepped out of the tent, the cool evening air doing little to ease the tension building inside me. The main reason I'd come to her wasn't purely for the sake of indulging in pleasure, though I won't deny I enjoyed every moment of it. No, my real goal was something far deeper—something more dangerous. I needed her to reclaim her will to live.
Aisha was fragile, teetering on the edge of despair. I knew that much the moment I saw her, the emptiness in her eyes. By telling her she belonged to me—by making her feel needed, claimed—I had done more than just share a bed with her. I had sealed her obsession, yes, but it was a necessary evil. She needed something to cling to, some thread of purpose, even if it was wrapped up in a twisted loyalty toward me. My words, my presence—they would echo in her mind each time she faced death, a reminder that she wasn't allowed to die. Not yet.
I had used my skill, [Deep Voice], amplifying its effects with the absurd luck I seemed to carry. The weight of my words would take root in her subconscious. It should be enough to keep her fighting, even against the strongest enemies.
As I put on the armor I'd recovered earlier, the sense of urgency gnawed at me. There wasn't much time left, and my body was beginning to feel the strain of this place, this era. I was running out of time, and I could feel my strength faltering. I had to bring Astynome back quickly before anyone noticed that I didn't belong here. Each minute that passed increased the likelihood of someone discovering me, and that was a risk I couldn't afford.
Just as I was about to move, a voice behind me cut through the night air like a blade.
"You. Stop there."
I froze.
This wasn't just any voice—it was someone I recognized. If it had been an ordinary Greek soldier, I wouldn't have cared. I could deal with them easily. But this wasn't ordinary. The man standing behind me was Patroclus, the constant shadow of Achilles, the one who had been with him at Lyrnessus, alongside Agamemnon.
This is bad.
My mind raced as I weighed my options. If Patroclus suspected me, I would have no choice but to silence him before he could sound any alarms. I was stronger than him—that much was clear. But strength wasn't the problem. The problem was his relationship with Achilles.
Killing Patroclus would inevitably lead to Achilles hunting me down. And that was a fight I didn't want. Not now, not ever. Achilles was a freak of nature, and the gods themselves seemed to take a special interest in him. Hera and Athena both regarded him highly, and I'd heard rumors that even Zeus had blessed him. Fighting Achilles would be suicidal.
I had no illusions about it. Achilles was stronger than me. He had spent most of his life honing his skills, fighting relentlessly, blessed by gods who favored his every move. His reputation as an invulnerable warrior wasn't just rumor—it was likely truth. I couldn't take that chance.
Though thanks to being summoned twice and having my strength reached new heights after enslaving Amaterasu that wasn't enough against Achilles.
Anyway, If I'm found out right now, I'm finished.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, keeping my voice cold and measured, masking the unease brewing beneath the surface.
Patroclus met my gaze evenly. "Achilles wants to see you now."
I frowned, a sliver of confusion slipping through my otherwise controlled expression. Achilles? Why would he want to see me? I had never met him face to face before, only glimpsed him briefly from afar when I first arrived. And I had barely been here for a day—how could he have noticed me already? The idea that Achilles, of all people, would summon me seemed absurd. Unless, of course, he had somehow realized I was an intruder.
A chill ran down my spine at the thought. If that were the case, I'd likely already be dead. No, there had to be another reason.
"I don't know," Patroclus continued, his voice carrying a weight of caution, "but you should go now and not keep him waiting."
I resisted the urge to sigh. Refusing Achilles wasn't an option. It would only arouse more suspicion and likely lead to the very outcome I feared. Nodding, I turned toward the hill where Achilles' tent loomed like a silent sentinel over the camp. I would go, find out what he wanted, and leave as quickly as possible. Hopefully, without drawing any further attention to myself.
But if a fight happened, I had to be prepared.
My mind raced with contingency plans as I made my way through the camp. I could fight Achilles if it came to that. Transferring my absurd luck into my strength stats would temporarily level the playing field. But I was reluctant to use that option in my current state. The strain it would put on my already fragile body might accelerate the countdown to my inevitable death.
Still, if the worst came to pass, it wasn't as if Achilles was invincible. I remembered the myths well enough—his so-called invulnerability came with a fatal flaw: his heel. If that weakness still existed in this world, it could be my key to victory. But then again, Achilles was always seen clad in full armor, his legs fully protected. It wouldn't surprise me if his gear was enchanted with the highest-level magical spells, resistant to even celestial magic and magical weapons.
I clenched my fists as I entered the Myrmidon's camp. The moment they saw me, their gazes narrowed, hostility radiating from every corner.
"What are you doing here, damn Spartan?" one of them spat, his voice laced with contempt.
"Fuck off before we kill you," another growled, stepping closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Wanna die? Did Menelaus send you?"
Their taunts continued, but it was the last one that drew raucous laughter from the group. "He's probably still whining about being cuckolded by that Paris."
The mention of Helen and Menelaus sparked a wave of jeers and crude jokes among them, their voices rising in a chorus of derision. It was clear that no one here had any love for the king of Sparta.
"Patroclus sends me. Achilles wants to see me," I said calmly, my voice betraying none of the apprehension bubbling beneath the surface.
The Myrmidons exchanged glances, shrugged, and stepped aside without protest. They likely assumed that even if I had lied, there was no way I could pose a threat to Achilles.
I took a deep breath, my mind sharpening as I began the slow ascent up the hill. Each step brought me closer to the large, imposing tent that stood at its peak, its thick cloth flaps closed tight against the outside world. The closer I got, the more acute my senses became—I heightened them to the maximum, ready for any potential ambush or unseen danger. If Achilles intended to strike, I'd sense it before the blow came.
Reaching the entrance of the tent, I paused for a moment, listening for any sounds inside. I could hear the faint murmur of movement, but nothing that hinted at an immediate attack. Still, I wasn't about to let my guard down.
With one swift motion, I parted the cloth flaps and stepped inside.
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