Cassandra in the forest of pleasure

Φολόη Forest, Greece — 1585 AD

Cassandra had survived the Minotaur, and escaped its own colossal clutches along with her life undamaged. Certainly she need not fear a whispered fantasy of the faun from the forests. Peasants said such things, invented nightmares in a world filled with them, to corral their women, to induce innocent women to remain within strict boundaries.

Cassandra knew better: she could venture into The woods. Even if there was such a creature, a warrior blessed by the gods could manage it. And hours afterwards, from the depths of the enchanted forest, she found herself at a sorry state . The creature had bared her young breasts into the atmosphere, each heaving breath jutting them further still. Pale pink nipples capped them almost too well, as sweat glistened, unnatural heat having swelled up from inside the young girl. That heat radiated from her heart. Simply being close to the creature had been enough, been dizzying, been overpowering, been… arousing. As she breathed the magic pollen fluttering around her, the delight in her loins only appeared to magnify.