"My Daughter Knew a Way to Help"
First Time For Me
Author's Note: this report is a sequel to "Pasiphae" and consequential from the Greek myth of the Jumble and the Minotaur.
"How unfair," I understood, "that a princess of Crete should be less uncontrolled than the lowliest slave. Had my servant not been in the other space readying my clothes for the feast that night, no question she would have laughed. If it meant that I had no amount in my outlook, but must abide by the king's scale of a partner for me, well, what of it?
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I knew that my wealth and prospects were skilled – my spouse would succeed my member of the clergy as king of Crete. Even were I hideous as a Gorgon, my rank alone would have made me a important bride.
Their absence should not have bothered me. I had often bemoaned the providence that took my choice of love from my hands, and appoint my future in the dynastic whims of kingdoms and princes. I detested the idea of being a part in such a diversion. Trade goods in lady form.
And yet, I was.
If my only fortune was to be married to a brawny man who could control Crete capably when my priest no longer could, where was that physically powerful man? If he should go down before I was carefully wed, the kingdom might be torn away from each other by struggle and disturbances. They enjoyed the generous gifts of Aphrodite, gifts that remained chiefly a mystery to me.
Oh, I knew something of them, of course of action. The palace detained many fine pieces of ability celebrating the joys of the supernatural being of love. Men and women, men and men, women and women, knotted in ways I might never have imagined.
Nor was I a stranger to the introverted pleasures of my quantity. I had explored its contours and crevices with hands first questioning and then urgent.
These thoughts led me to dogfight, there in the bath as the stream slipped and lapped so comfortingly around me. He would, on our wedding hours of darkness, take me overpoweringly into his arms and shower kisses on my lips, my throat, my breasts ... he would take your clothes off me as he murmured his devotion … he would be deftly proportioned, lean thighs, flat belly, a phallus that might have been lovingly crafted by the whim of Aphrodite herself. I knew from the speech of the servants that the first schedule, as that gate was breached, would be a moment's bind, but my darling love and companion would kiss me and murmur reassurances until the irritation had passed. And then, with slow and careful strokes, he would move back and forth within me until we dissolved in bliss together.
Ecstasy flowered sweetly within me. I pressed my thighs together, trapping my hand between them, and vaulted my back as cute ripples raced external from my central to tingle across my skin and wind my toes. Dimly, as though from a lot away, I heard myself gasp and sigh.
With her assistance, I dried and dressed in a long flowing tunic of sea-green, clasped at the shoulders with gold and pea green brooches. She prearranged my hair in a circlet of braids, with lingering dangling curls to brush at my collarbones. My parents were finally treating me as an adult and not as a young person to be bubble-like.
Errant eddies of wind through my dialogue box brought me provoking hints of the delicacies being prepared in the royal kitchens. Its sails were black, and this struck me as a unknown showing.
Once, so they said, Minos of Crete had been a gentleman of imposing distinction and strength. It was testing to see any evidence of that male in the one who wheezed and lumbered into the formal meal hall that nighttime. I sat up straighter, wondering what style of prize it would be. Gold and silver? Precious trinkets? Rare spices and oils?
Several Athenians filed into the antechamber. They came two by two, escorted on both sides by my father's guards. Seven youths and seven maidens, none of them much adult than myself.
Minos swilled violet, wiped his opening, and regarded them.
"The splendor and victory of Crete must be pleased," Minos believed. "Let these offerings be in use, as the others have five existence before them, below into the labyrinth. Let them be specified unto the Minotaur! The Athenians clung to each other in despair. It had been built by Daedalus, the master inventor who had, when I was barely older enough to memorize, committed some umbrage that angered Minos. As punishment, he and his babies son had been exiled to a unproductive and rocky island. I had been troubled, for Icarus had been one of my few playmates, almost as an senior brother to me. A monster, sometimes called the Bull of Minos, was held to dwell in the darkness of the maze. Until now, I had not whispered it.
My father's group surged to go along with the guards as the prisoners were ushered from the antechamber. Minos joined them, and after a wavering, I followed.
We entered a part of the palace previously forbidden to me. Its delight was a tall arch, at the basis of which was a gilded picture of a bull's cranium with wide curves of horn and eyes made from rubies. The flap, stained black, stood release. A chill breeze, damp as the very breath of three-headed Cerberus, issued from it.
Beyond the entrance was a slow and narrow space of rough-hewn marble. Its walls were lined with tiers of bare, powerfully benches. The Athenians were herded into a assemble at the core. Minos' attention was hard and fast on them. At their feet, a colossal trap door was collection into the deck.
At a gesture from Minos, two of the guards undid this bolt. Then, as their fellows waited nervously with spears sideways for attack, they raised the trap door. The hole in the focal point of the mineral floor was a pit of darkness.
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