12 Labors of Hercules, Caged Pt. 0912 Labors of Hercules, Caged Pt. 09

Panties

Part 9. Hercules myth revised: caged and tied

4 women and 1 man discover the true myth of Hercules.

TAGS: gentle femdom, pegging, tease and denial, chastity cage, safeword, caged cock, CFNM, mythology, island.

###### Dear Reader. Briefly recap. An academic has the opportunity to spend a month on an island in Greece together with 4 colleagues. But his wife Cathy fears that he will waste his time, distracting himself with cheating and drinking; which hurts both his reputation and career. For his sake, and to increase work productivity, the wife and husband agree that Richard wears a chastity cage to which only she holds the key.

First surprise: the colleagues recruited to collaborate on archaeological research are all young women! Second surprise: they accepted only because he is caged, otherwise, because of his reputation as a female hunter, they would have given up. Third surprise: his wife (now: Miss Cathy) has agreed with the girls (Barbara in love with Teresa, Emily, and Skye) that if they are in the mood they can tease him and even ask for the digital code to open the cage.

Yes: it is all consensual. No: he doesn’t want to escape or divorce (or break the cage or slip out without permission). Yes: the girls get orgasms from him, without reciprocating (giggle). No: there is no hate. Yes: each one laughs a lot, serene and happy. No: the wife is not evil (will be seen in Part Ten). Yes: the Play will last a whole month in Greece – at least, hehe. ######

One does not need any knowledge of Greek mythology to understand what is going on; just as one does not need to know about pirates to read Stevenson or Winnie the Pooh.

###### Do not waste your precious reading time with this boring and useless tale, if these elements do not match your taste.

If you want to help an inexperienced writer, constructive criticism about ideas is the best help.

Please forgive errors in vocabulary and grammar; I am not a native English speaker. ######

§ Chapter 28 — The Island of The Originating Myth.

They got off at the Athens airport. From there, by a quick hydrofoil, they reached an ‘island that looked like the one in the Musical “Mamma Mia!”

This was not the final stop: from there they sailed by speedboat to a tiny island.

After nearly half an hour by speedboat, they arrived at the small island that housed the research center. A large satellite antenna provided internet and telephone connections.

There was no village. The island had no water sources, and cisterns had been built by a Scottish nobleman who wanted to emulate Robert Graves by spending part of his ancestors’ heritage to build a large villa.

In his letters to family members, that nobleman (Malcolm MacCallum, Esquire) claimed that local legends stated that there must have been a Shrine on that island dating back to ancient times. He wrote about some “Temple of Love”: but despite his efforts, he had never found any trace of it.

His parents must not have had much imagination, for the given name from the Scottish Gaelic ‘Máel Coluim,’ which means ‘disciple of Saint Columba’: but the surname, MacCallum, already signified “Son of the Disciple of Saint Columba.”

The dynasty had been extinguished, and the little island remained at the disposal of that Scottish university where Professor van Middenstorm taught. The Greek government was content to collect an easy rent: the island, because of its size and lack of water, was completely useless even for tourism.

Etiquette dictated that Richard disembark first: leaning his right foot against the wooden pier, he thought of that myth, according to which Hector would kill with a single blow the first of the Achaeans who dared to land on the beach of Troy. Everyone hesitated, then Achilles, impulsive as ever, was about to land first–but his mother, the nymph Thetis, held him back.

Another king, Protesilaus, ruler of the small island of Philace, decided to sacrifice his own life for the welfare of all others and was killed by Hector as soon as he touched land. “Am I Protesilaus, I? Am I ruler of a small island, I? Besides, it’s all nonsense, let it be known that Homer doesn’t even mention it…”

But in a little corner of his brain, a thin voice kept telling him, “You must sacrifice yourself for others…”

Greeting him were two women who looked as if they had stepped out of a red-and-black-figure vase: big-eyed and black-haired, with two long, wavy curls at their temples.

They introduced themselves to the professor whom they recognized from the photograph on the university website:

“Good morning professor,” said the shorter one, extending her hand to him with a big smile: she spoke English but with a strong Greek accent. “We hope you had a good trip. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Megara and my colleague is my cousin Alcmena: she speaks English but it is not her favorite language, but I hope you understand since you know the language of the Greeks… of the ancient age!

We çukurambar escort are assigned by the university to take care of everything you need during this month of research: cleaning, cooking, preparing each study room, getting you what you need from the mainland… The two of us will sleep on the big island, but we will always be within cell phone range, and we will commute by speedboat.”

“Perfect,” Richard said.

The scholars, flawless in their travel clothes, goggles, and laptops slung over their shoulders, disembarked one after the other, giving him a chance to introduce them to the factotum cooks.

The two cooks exchanged a look of understanding as they contemplated that strange team of one man and four young women, then handed each the keys to their bedrooms, said their goodbyes, and boarded the speedboat, leaving them on the dock.

There were three rooms. Richard would sleep in the smallest room, which was also the oldest: it had been first built by Sir MacCallum himself. Inside there was also a very small bathroom with only a shower and a small bed that looked as if it had been carved out of wood, with an icon of St. Columbanus above a creaky floor.

The girls would sleep in pairs of roommates in two junior suites that were built later, following the style of Greek hotels: in each suite, there were two beds, a bathroom with a Jacuzzi, and a large balcony overlooking the sea. They had been built with the thought that some professors would go there accompanied by their wives: which, on closer inspection, was what happened to Teresa and Barbara.

Skye and Emily were just friends.

Upstairs there was a terrace with the possibility of getting shade from large tarpaulins to be spread over iron scaffolding: and a large chandelier made from a large oak beam hung from a large hook in the central axis.

The ground floor included three study rooms, with computers and telephones and every other device, and a large kitchen, with large fridges which contained food, appetizers, hors d’oeuvres, and snacks to facilitate scholars in their research. And coffee: at least three or four different tools for making coffee, and being able to wake up Italians, Portuguese, Germans, or Turks, each in their own different way. A large Meeting Room with a huge TV set, suitable for international videoconferencing, with a large table with electrical outlets in a turret, swivel chairs, and two large sofas on the walls.

§ Chapter 29 — “Only I have your KEY: your bedroom’s doorknob doesn’t need it.”.

On the first evening, they saw that the cooks had set up a proper banquet, with hot dishes in bowls, and cold appetizers and salads. But before eating, they each went to their rooms, to take a shower after the travel.

Richard carried the heavy suitcases inside the door.

To avoid moving them too much, he left them on top of two chairs near the door as he entered. He heard the wooden floor creaking as if it had been built with materials from the deck of a nineteenth-century sailing ship.

He stepped into his shower and soaped himself up, trying to wash as much of the cage as possible.

After showering, and quickly drying himself (short hair, men always finish before women), Richard twice heard the sound of “message received” on his smartphone. Coincidence, or was someone spying on him from a remote camera?

When they had landed in Athens, he had texted his lovely wife but had received no reply: as if she had fallen asleep, exhausted by orgasms.

Now instead he had received two messages written in two different fonts.

The first message was all little hearts and angels, written in purple ink on a soft pink background, and Fiolex Girls font:

“Love you so much, honey, best wishes for your Book, have fun with colleagues, I send you all my heart, little heart icon, little heart icon again, little heart icon third, Love, Cathy x x x.”

The second message was written in gold ink on a dark purple background, with a font (“Body Piercing n Chain”) that he had never seen but was all about chains and padlocks:

“Well done, dear Prisoner of my Cage. It is a joy to know that you obey my orders punctually: your Keyholder dislikes lateness. I dislike also the pure idea that you are the owner of any key (for example, your room’s key): therefore, I order you to unscrew with a screwdriver the latch on your room’s door.

Only I have your KEY: your bedroom’s doorknob doesn’t need it. Send me a message with a picture of the unscrewed latch. And, be sure to share this information with the girls–I want them to know that they can come to tease you, flash you, and force you to eat their pussy, anytime… if they feel in the mood for it. I await your answer by 10 p.m.”

If Richard had not chosen to wear the cage, in agreement with his wife, he might have had doubts about these double messages, as if they came from two separate personalities. But during this month, he had discovered that demetevler escort his wife was a much more multifaceted and intriguing person than he knew. And perhaps she had been amazed, too, that she could finally be herself, without secrets and without hiding her fantasies from him.

Without the cage, perhaps Richard would have wondered if a vixen friend of hers, or a sister or a cousin, was suggesting those things to her. But with the cage, Richard had become much less suspicious and much more forthcoming.

Without thinking, he responded to both messages immediately: with a single font, because he did not know how to make two distinct graphic looks (a little corner of his brain suggested that Emily was probably the best person to advise him on fonts). But there was no time to waste.

The first message was answered by Richard-in love: “I love you so much too, honey, I can’t wait until we can be together to hug you, I miss you so much already, how I wish you were here. Kisses and hugs, Richard.”

But to the second message, he responded only with pictures. Had he had time to work out a font, he would have expressed submission and willingness to give orgasms without asking for anything in return… in steel-gray ink on a black background.

He photographed the latch screws he had unscrewed and mailed them.

Just a minute before the deadline (as in every movie).

§ Chapter 30 — The difference between falling in love, and falling in Love.

Seeing the door open, Barbara entered the room, with a large towel wrapped like a robe, and a cotton turban over her blonde hair. Holding by the hand, Barbara led her Teresa, naked except for her nipple piercings: her very short hair made no major drying necessary. The Latina’s feet were bare, while Barbara had worn another mismatched pair of blue and white socks.

“We are permitted to enter, Mr. Dicky?” asked mockingly the blond Barbara, pretending to be a little girl asking permission from her neighbor.

Teresa was naked but no less combative: her eyes sparkled and the only word she said was “Sgrunt.”

Richard decided to play the busy neighbor. “Please, you are welcome, enter my humble abode, Parva sed apta mihi… Horace, if I remember correctly… small, but suitable for me.”

The assist was served on a silver platter, and Barbara could not help laughing. “Oh, Mr. Dicky, sorry sir… I also see another thing, which IS SMALL, BUT SUITABLE FOR YOU!”

Teresa burst out laughing. All pretended toughness and coolness were obliterated by a hearty laugh. How could anyone keep a straight face, in front of the famous Professor van Middenstorm, kneeling in front of a latch with a screwdriver, naked and caged cock? It was impossible: and they were both laughing to tears, heedless of the creaking of the wooden floor.

Summoned by laughter, the brave Skye, and – at an appropriate distance – the less daring Emily also came to ask for an explanation.

The Scotswoman was naked, but she too had gathered her long red hair into a turban: the bush of red curls gleamed, still wet from the shower water. Emily was much drier, and yet she wore a real bathrobe complete with a belt fastened tightly just below the curve of her breasts.

Both were barefoot, as if they were two little kids in the hallway of their parents’ home, instead of in the unknown mansion of a Scottish nobleman.

“Come in, come in please,” laughed Barbara, “our neighbor, Mr. Dicky, is engaged in Do-It-Yourself, but not in the way that most men practice in the DIY basement… because he’s wearing a cage, and the only DIY he has left is with a screwdriver!”

The two latecomers also entered the room, distracted by the beauty of the wood-carved bed, and heedless of the creaking of the floor.

“Screwed.”

“Indeed.”

Skye said: “As an expert in ancient art, I cannot evaluate this carved bed professionally, but as a general lover of beautiful things, I must say that it is truly beautiful. A little small, perhaps, but magnificent. I wonder if the five of us could fit in it?”.

Barbara took her by the elbow and led her to the center of the room, “Um… no… this room is too small, the floor makes too much noise, and in the junior suite where Teresa and I… uhm… we… sleep, there is a beautiful view of the sea… and the bed is more spacious…”

“By the way, Mr. Dicky, what’s inside those very heavy suitcases?”

“Chains,” Richard sighed, “mainly, metal chains, handcuffs, and other tools that during this month Miss Cathy bought to enable you to tease me in a thousand different ways.”

“Really? Yuppie! I didn’t know that!” rejoiced Barbara, in the most classic sorry-not-sorry tone.

“I know you all knew, Miss Barbara, but I’m glad you are all gathered here so we can open and see what Labors my wife has planned for her little Hercules…”

The girls began to jump for happiness, beating High Five higher and higher, and anticipating numerous opportunities demirtepe escort for frustration from him, and more orgasms for them.

Richard unscrewed the last screw: the lock fell in the direction of the floor, and he reached out to catch it on the fly, lest it scratches the wood.

Everything happened in an instant.

By distraction, Richard bumped one suitcase, which in turn bumped the other suitcase. The two pieces of luggage clattered to the floor, already swaying from the four girls’ jumps. They heard a loud “Crac,” then saw the suitcases disappear into a gash on the floor.

Each thought, “Crap, we’ve damaged Sir MacCallum’s original furniture-and now how do we explain that to the accounting department?”

Richard remembered that legally he was in charge of the Science Mission. “Are you girls hurt?”

None were injured.

Much ado about nothing.

But the suitcases had sunk.

The damage had to be quantified and checked for broken plumbing pipes or electrical wires.

“My highly honorable Keyholders, please, a moment’s attention. Yellow Safeword: Brazil. Pause all games. I am serious. Everyone grab a flashlight or a cell phone, and maybe a pair of shoes, we don’t know what we’re going to find down here. Everyone here in five minutes.”

The girls (metamorphosed into spectacled scholars) promptly obeyed.

He stood motionless, trying to smell any gas leaks. He couldn’t smell any particular odor, except the normal smell that poorly ventilated rooms have after being closed for a long time. Richard picked up his cell phone and pointed it at one of his suitcases-it was at least three feet down. The floor had broken between beams: it had probably never happened that the thin laths had to withstand the jumps of four girls and the weight of two suitcases full of chains. The beam had held out: it looked like the Mast of a sailing ship. Richard touched it, as a porter touches a package before lifting it: it was as if stroking the wood could confirm to him that it was solid enough to support his weight.

The professor was not an adventurous person, but here their stay on the island and even the possibility of completing his Book were at stake. This incident had to be resolved as soon as possible. He took his cell phone, clenched the wrist band between his teeth, and without any hesitation lowered himself inside the hole, heedless of the fact that he had not put on his shoes and was still naked, like an adept admitted for the first time inside a sacred shrine.

The girls arrived after he had already lowered himself: the suitcases provided solid support and it was easy to get down. From below, Richard asked that they take a rope and secure it to the bed with a double knot. Teresa had seen ropes in the kitchen, but she also took the ladder that Alcmena used for the high shelves in the kitchen. The Latina girl went and returned in a flash on the sneakers she had hastily donned.

The others had already climbed down, and Teresa climbed down as well, and what they saw was exciting and magnificent, surprising and unique. Each of them understood in an instant that their lives would change, quite unexpectedly, because of that break in the floor.

§ Chapter 31 — Finding the True Hercules: chryselephantine sculpture.

Teresa supported the ladder, relying on Barbara and Richard’s grip, and descended last, stretching her calf as far as she could until she touched the floor. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she too saw what the others had already seen.

They had entered a Greek shrine, probably predating the time of Socrates, about 6th-7th centuries before Christ. There was a stone altar, to kneel before a statue. And the statue, represented, without any doubt, Hercules: but not free Hercules or Hercules with an erect cock. They were contemplating the first and only Caged Hercules statue.

Teresa stood open-mouthed.

Everyone was familiar with chryselephantine sculpture: a special kind of art in which the sculptor added gold details on marble statues.

Here, without the slightest doubt, the artist had carved the naked body of Hercules out of a block of the purest white marble: he then carved the statue’s penis with nicks, which he filled with molten gold. The result was a marble statue with a golden cage, which was held closed by a ring that went behind the testicles, and by a golden belt that encircled the hips, leaving the ass exposed.

The identification was indisputable. On the pedestal was engraved “Heracles.” But even if that name had been added later, the pose was very explicit. It was Hercules at the moment when he holds up the entire Celestial vault, temporarily replacing the titan Atlas.

The right foot slightly forward, the knee bent as if for a fencing lunge. The left foot was raised, to highlight the perfect arch of the sole and posture of the toes, and the other knee was bent. Calves and thighs strained in the effort, highlighting the muscles of the bare buttocks. Knees spread apart like a twerking dancer, shamelessly exposing the caged cock.

Abs tensed, arms spread wide as if to hold up the whole sky, pecs, and laterals at full strength. Neck, and face, contracted as if from exertion, or from the pain of feeling blue balls and struggling cock inside the bars.

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