An Encounter with Hercules

AN ENCOUNTER WITH HERCULES

She had been on the run for sometime now and her clothes were in tatters. Where should she go from here? From her current vantage point she would be able to see them long before they spotted her. She still found it difficult to believe that she had escaped her kidnappers.

She sat upon the hill top watching the movement of people throughout the village below. Rickety carts drawn by horses moved along the well worn dirt road. There was a forest behind her and she had spent the last two nights sleeping on soft moss in the shelter of the trees. This was the second day that she'd watched the comings and goings of the little village.

Again she watched him from afar. He wore no shirt and he was moving the load with seemingly effortless ease. The sun was high in the afternoon sky and tiny sweat droplets glistened like small diamonds against his bronzed skin. His shoulder length brown hair was streaked with sun-burnished gold.

He was tall, broad shouldered, solidly built. He wore brown leather breeches that clung tightly to his hips and powerful thighs. He had a unique presence, almost godlike. Something more than just a man and his every movement was full of grace. Simply put, he was beautiful.

As always her breath caught as she looked at him and something stirred in her belly. He turned again, his eyes coming to rest on her and she looked away quickly. But she had been caught and she looked back to find he was staring at her. When her eyes met his gaze he merely smiled and then returned to the task at hand.

She was mortified that she’d been caught staring. She got to her feet and retreated to the forest fortress as she liked to think of it. She lowered herself down onto the soft moss and fell asleep dreaming about the man down the hill.

A few hours later, Hercules climbed the hill in search of her, he’d sensed her watching again this afternoon. She watched him, and the village but hid upon the hill. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of him and he was going find out who she was. Somehow he sensed she was in trouble of some kind.

Dusk was falling as he slipped through trees, stepping with quiet stealth not wanting to alarm her and he searched for her. She had chosen her spot well, a patch of mossy growth almost completely surround by the trunks of three rather large trees. If not for the white of her garment he would have missed her entirely.

Easing in closer he saw that she slept. Her face was beautiful, her hair the color of cornsilk and his breath caught as he felt himself grow hard at the sight of her. Then she rolled over to her other side and he saw her back. Merciful Zeus! who had done that to her? Across the entire span of her exposed back the ivory flesh was marred by lash marks. Little wonder she was hiding. But from who?

He eased into her refuge, kneeling beside her. He reached out, touching her gently and she started, and then scrambled away from him in terror. ‘Shhhh” he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes were glazed with fear until she recognized him. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see who you were and why you were hiding up here?”

“You didn’t tell anyone about me, did you?’

“Of course not. Let me help you.” She eyed him warily. She no longer trusted anyone. She would never trust any man again.

He offered her his hand and she met his gaze, and although still not entirely sure of him, she saw nothing to fear in his beautiful blue eyes. Still not quite willing to trust him she asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Hercules.” She gasped, the stories she’d heard were true, for the claims of his good looks were an understatement. No wonder she had been mesmerized watching him. His father was Zeus, king of the gods. His hand was still extended.
She relaxed and took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She winced as pain seared across her back again.

Her gasp didn’t go unnoticed by Hercules, “Let me help you …? He asked pausing for a name.

She shook her head, unwilling to reveal herself quite yet. Even to the famous Hercules. He lifted in her as easily as if she were a feather. Cradling her in his arms he carried her out of the forest. Taking her to the tavern where he had a room. He looked around carefully making sure they weren’t seen and slipped in through a rear door.

The room was lit only by candles and firelight as he gently cleansed each wound on her bared back. Over and over, Hercules dipped the cloth into the cool water, carefully tracing the path that each lash of the whip had left behind. Angry red welts and vivid black and purple bruises marred her soft, ivory flesh.

Drawing a ragged breath, Hercules cursed his thoughts; tracing the path of a lash mark that crossed her back from shoulder to hip. Trying as he might not to look, he was first and foremost a man, and as such saw past the lash marks, his gaze repeatedly drawn to the narrow waist and soft curves that were undeniably feminine and infinitely desirable. Her hair was loosely woven into a long, thick braid and draped over her shoulder, resting on the sheet which covered her chest and was haphazardly wrapped around her lower body.

She tried to control her breathing. She was ever aware of his touch, He was gentle in his ministrations and she tried not to look at him, lest he see the havoc his nearness was wreaking on her senses. She should be afraid, why should she trust a man she’d just met?

Trusting in men had gotten her caught up as a pawn in a male powerplay; kidnapped and abused by the enemies of her future husband. For some reason her kidnappers thought she knew personal things about the man she was to marry. She’d seen him all of twice in her entire life. She had no interest in the match. But it was not her choice. It had been arranged by her father. Her father ignored all her pleas to let her marry for love. She was just a pawn in refilling his depleting coffers of gold.

In a cruel twist of fate the time had come for her join her intended, and the one she loved was one the one tasked to escort her to what she considered her doom. She didn’t think it could be worse, until the raiders attacked them. The last she had seen of her beloved, he was taking on two of the raiders and two more were running at him.

Peter shouted for her to run and she had. But the raiders eventually caught her anyway. They told her everyone in her traveling party was dead but she hadn’t seen Peter fall.

They had bound her up against a tree and had whipped her mercilessly wanting answers to questions to which she had no answers to. For hours she was tied to the tree, blindfolded and bound, her chest up against the rough bark; the back of her dress torn away and the man wielding the whip continued to laugh as lash after lash marred her back.

She wished for darkness to take her, so she would feel no more pain. But she had no answers and they continued whip her. Apparently, when she finally lost consciousness they had cut her down. They must have thought her either dead already or too far gone to move. She had awoken to find that ropes binding her now were only loosely tied.

Glancing around at her captors she noticed they all slept and she could smell spilled wine. All of them had apparently drunken themselves into oblivion.

She had taken the opportunity and fled until she’d come across the little forest refuge.

Hercules gave himself a mental shake, finally finishing up the task of cleaning of her back. Then he moved on to the next step. Digging in his supply bags he found the small pot of healing ointment , His eyes began to water when he opened the jar. The ointment was strong--burning his nostrils. She was equally affected the fumes coming from the jar, and glanced back over her shoulder at him, the look on her face skeptical at best. “Tell me that isn't going on my back,”

“I know it smells bad, but it works, I know that from my own experience. It will sting at first but then the pain will fade away.”

“I don’t know,” she said, a hesitant catch in her voice.

“You don’t want to worry about an infection do you?”

Once again she presented him with her back. Sitting behind her on the bed Hercules gently applied the ointment to the welts on her back. When he finished with her back, he reached for her hand; to spread the healing salve on the rope burns at her wrists.

For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what possessed him to do what he did next. Temptation overcame him as he finished with the first wrist and reached for the other one; but instead of spreading ointment, he leaned forward to kiss her injured wrist.

He was intrigued when she didn’t protest or pull away. Turning her hand slightly he pressed a kiss into her open palm.

She came to her feet; then turned to face him. As she looked down at him, her blue eyes-undaunted and trusting-locked with his own. He came to his feet, his traitorous hand continuing with its own mind to seek her-to touch her. A single fingertip traced the path of a scratch the tree bark had left behind on her cheek.

He leaned down, intending to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head and he found her mouth instead. It was just a brief touch, her lips soft beneath his-just a brief taste of her sweetness-but it was his undoing. In that single moment all of his smoldering desire burst into open flame.

She could see the it in his eyes. Reaching up she mirrored his action her fingers tracing the lines of his face. At the first touch her hand against his face Hercules groaned in defeat, bowing to his passion.

Ever careful of her injuries, Hercules pulled her up against his bare chest, claiming her mouth, his tongue delving into her sweetness. She moaned into his assault her arms slipping around him, as tears began to slide down her cheeks. The saltiness of her tears mingled with the sweetness of her mouth and Hercules pulled back to stare down at her face. His voice was husky with desire, “Do you want me to stop?”

Her smile was timid, “No,” She couldn’t let him stop. She needed to feel something. She had been numb ever since they had told her Peter was dead. She needed to feel warmth-to feel something to get past the ice cold pain that surrounded her heart.

Hercules’ kiss had sparked a tiny flame inside her. She had to have more. She pulled him to her, kissing him with everything she had in her. Drawing on the anger she felt for her attackers, the grief over Peter, she gave herself to him. Desperate to feel anything. His hands moved across her shoulders, his lips caressing her shoulders and neck.

Her response was to step back and let the sheet between them drop to the floor in open invitation. His eyes roamed the length of her freely, accepting the gift she was offering. He drew in a ragged breath, his arousal straining at the leather breeches as he ran his hands down the length of her body his fingers gliding smoothly across her soft skin.

Her hand moved against his chest, curling through and teasing the hair on his chest as she looked up at him. His hands caressed the fullness of her hips and then he moved back just enough to take a breast in each hand, gently teasing her nipples with his thumbs as he lowered his head to kiss her again. His tongue pushed forward to taste of her again, and she sighed into his mouth, arching into him, aching for more.

His arms went around her lifting her off the floor and crushing her to him. He held fast, guiding her legs one at a time around his hips. She clung to his shoulders her head falling back as his mouth nipped voraciously at her neck and shoulders. He carried her to the bed, and lowered her onto it. She was laying sideways on the bed as he disentangled himself from her arms.

He stood watching her breathing for a moment watching the rise and fall of her ample breasts as she drew ragged breaths and his eyes traveled downward to the juncture of her thighs, her legs
wide open in blatant invitation beckoning him to partake of the sweetness within. It only heightened his desire for her.

Stripping out of his clothes and dropping to his knees between her legs at the side of the bed, his hands moved feathersoft against her inner thighs and she moaned when his lips brushed against them as well. Then he began to lap at her with his tongue, tasting her, teasing her body about things yet to come. Her fingers curled into his thick mane, as she arched her back seeking more. She moaned in response to the tender assault he was commiting between her legs and she drifted even closer to the edge. Hercules sensed her climax coming and he continued on, pushing deeper with his tongue, feeling the spasms of her release.

Her breathing was still ragged when he moved away and joining her on the bed. His mouth found hers again, his tongue delving into her mouth and her tongue met his and she pushed with her own tongue back into his mouth tasting herself on his lips and tongue. His hands moved across her breasts teasing the nipples to peaks and he suckled on them. His hand moved downward to seek again what he’d already tasted. He slipped a finger inside her and she gasped, then he pushed a second finger in and stroked her with a gentle rhythm as the heat in her belly began to rise once more.

Soon her sweet nectar was dripping around his fingers and he could feel her climax beginning to build again. Moving quickly to position himself above her, but remaining upright on his knees, lifting her hips Hercules pressed his throbbing erection against her moist entrance. He entered her slowly allowing her adjust to him, then he reached the barrier that prevented him from full entry. He hesitated and she met his eye.

She was aching for something more and thrust her hips upward toward his invasion and he pulled back and giving one hard thrust past the barrier --and she was filled with the entire length of him. She stiffened at the pain and Hercules remained still until her pain faded and he felt her relax beneath him and then he began to thrust slowly into her until she finally found his rhythm and began meet his thrusts with a rhythm of her own.

On and on they danced through the fires of passion until they found they found release together.

He collapsed beside her and pulled her into his arms her head resting on his shoulder. It was only a few moments before he noticed she was crying. “Little one, what's wrong?”

“It’s not you,” she whispered sitting up. She didn’t want him to think he’d done anything wrong. Heavens, he was her salvation. “It’s just that this is the first time in days that I have felt safe.”

Hercules didn’t push further for answers, she would tell him in time. He was just glad to know she had found some sort of comfort in his arms.

“Hercules?” she said, glancing back over her shoulder to meet his eye.

“Yes.” His smile was tender as his hand of its own accord was moving in a feathersoft caress down her arms.

“My name is Valeria.” she said with a smile, swiping a hand across the tears on her cheek.

“Nice to meet you Valeria,” Hercules said, pulling her back to him and he claimed her mouth again….


The End