The Villain of Ancient Greece

Several days later, night fell.

Lorne sat at the desk in his bedroom, activated the illuminating fluorite, and, as usual, pulled a few ancient magic tomes from the nearby floating bookshelf, devouring them hungrily.

As the sacred ground of the goddess of memory, the library here was unquestionably the most complete in all of Greece.

In theory, as long as Mnemosyne gave permission, any visitor granted access could read whatever they wished.

The books before him were exactly the textbooks he urgently needed, rapidly filling the gaps in his magical knowledge.

While reading, Lorne flipped through the pages at blinding speed, eyes scanning ten lines, even a hundred lines at once.

Yet the moment he set a book down and closed his eyes, every obscure sentence resurfaced in his mind with perfect clarity, as if carved directly into the depths of his memory, forming an eternal palace that would never fade.

The Crown of Inspiration, the Palace of Memory.

This was the blessing bestowed by the nine Muses and the goddess of memory herself.

Legend told of a Greek poet, Simonides, who once attended a banquet.

After passionately reciting a lyric poem praising Castor and Pollux, he was called outside by a divine oracle.

At that exact moment, the banquet hall collapsed, killing everyone inside.

The bodies were mangled beyond recognition, yet Simonides was able to identify each corpse by recalling exactly where everyone had been seated, as if the oracle had allowed him to rebuild the palace of memory with his own hands.

Thus, the Greeks believed that deep in human memory there stood a palace governed by the goddess of memory.

Whoever could open its doors would touch the very source of knowledge and wisdom.

Using it for literary creation and continuing the Theogony and Holy Words was merely its most basic application.

Its true power lay in accelerating learning, turning the accumulation of knowledge into a qualitative leap.

Relying on the inspiration, blessing and retrieval authority granted by Mnemosyne and the nine Muses, Lorne devoured tens of thousands of books in just a few days, nearly emptying the entire library and erecting his own palace of knowledge in the depths of his mind.

His magical knowledge and abilities soared as a result.

Unfortunately, the completion of the Crown of Inspiration also meant he no longer had any excuse to stay.

In theory, he was about to be politely escorted out by the goddess of memory.

Yet after finishing the last few magic tomes, Lorne calmly took out paper and pen and wrote down today’s three ”reading reflections.”

”The Seller of Idols,” ”The Fox and the Grapes,” ”The Lion and the Wild Ass.”

Under the Muses’ inspiration, the three short stories came out vivid, witty, and full of humor.

Lorne read them over once, confirmed there were no taboo phrases, then blew the ink dry and slipped the three parchment sheets into the finished magic books, ready to hand them to Mnemosyne tomorrow.

Following the pattern of the past few days, once she received the returned books and read his ”reflections,” she would most likely praise his studious attitude and generously extend his stay, urging him to keep working hard.

After all, history had proven the enduring cultural impact of Aesop’s fables.

Especially in a divine era filled with schemes and bloodshed, these clever, off-the-beaten-path little stories were the perfect, delightful seasoning for a goddess who loved books and knowledge.

That was precisely why Mnemosyne had turned a blind eye and allowed him to remain.

Having finished tomorrow’s ”update,” Lorne felt refreshed and content.

There was no helping it...

After all, the life of an author was always that simple and pure.

Happy when you have a stockpile, miserable when you don’t.

”Creak~”

Just as Lorne stretched and prepared to go to bed for meditation, the door was quietly pushed open, and a lithe, sneaky figure slipped inside under the cover of night.

”Erato?”

Seeing the lively, adorable Muse, Lorne blinked in surprise.

”It’s so late… is something wrong?”

”Discussing poetry…”

Erato hugged the wax tablet to her chest.

Her burning gaze landed on Lorne and the bed behind him as she licked her moist cherry lips.

(By the way, she was the Muse of love poetry…)

As the temperature in the room rose, Lorne immediately understood, and his throat went dry.

To be honest, it’s been a long time since he’d discussed something with anyone...and since this beautiful muse was inviting, there was no way he could refuse.

Lorne invited Erato to sit on the edge of the bed, ready to have a very practical discussion about the true meaning of love.

And for something as intangible as that, experience was the best teacher.

Clearly, the Muse who had taken the initiative agreed wholeheartedly.

But just as the two literary enthusiasts were about to deepen their ”discussion,” two more figures squeezed through the half-open door.

”Thalia? Melpomene? You two…”

”Discussing scripts…”

”Rehearsing lines…”

The Muses of comedy and pastoral poetry and tragedy, and elegy explained their reasons while casting meaningful glances at the sister already on the bed.

Before they could say more, three additional figures pushed inside.

They were the three elder Muses—Calliope, epic poetry; Clio, history; and Euterpe, lyric poetry.

Then the door opened again from the outside.

Polyhymnia, sacred poetry and rhetoric; Urania, astronomy; and Terpsichore, dance and chorus also slipped in.

Nine Muses now crowded the room, looking at one another, faces flushing with embarrassment.

Lorne coughed lightly, breaking the awkward silence, and asked the six newcomers carefully.

”You’re here to discuss scripts, too?”

”Scripts? What scripts?”

The three elder Muses looked confused.

”We heard from Mother that you’re leaving soon, so we came to see you off.”

”Yes, because of Mother’s orders, we probably won’t be able to leave the temple with you or stay by your side.”

’I’m leaving?’

Hearing such words, Lorne quickly realized this was just Mnemosyne’s casual excuse.

After all, just yesterday she had still been urging him to update more and slack off less.

She was probably just saving face, pretending there was no ”transaction” between them, deliberately keeping her distance.

She also wanted the Muses to maintain some distance from him until the matter was truly settled.

But the daughters had taken her words seriously.

Believing their parting was near, they had all squeezed in to cherish these last moments together.

Realizing the misunderstanding, Lorne smiled and spoke kindly on Mnemosyne’s behalf.

”It’s fine. I understand Lady Mnemosyne’s difficulties.”

”That’s only Mother’s opinion—it doesn’t represent ours!”

Hearing this, the Muses grew even more anxious.

They grabbed Lorne’s arms tightly and declared solemnly.

”No matter when or where, we are willing to stay with you. We have no intention of abandoning you!”

Seeing their thoughts starting to derail, Lorne instinctively wanted to correct them.

But the nine Muses exchanged glances, as if reaching a shared resolve, and spoke with grave determination.

”Tonight, let us fulfill that promise in our own way!”

Fulfill the promise?

While Lorne was still confused, nine pairs of hands grabbed his arms, wrapped around his shoulders, cradled his face, pressed against his chest…

Nine pairs of eyes...playful, steady, gentle, serious, gazed at his handsome face before Erato moved,

Crashing into him, fingers twisting hard into the front of his dark chiton, yanking him down until their mouths collided.

Her tongue drove straight in, tasting the saliva of the delicious Dionysis, as she sucked his lower lip between her teeth, bit down to make it sting, then dragged her tongue over the spot in a slow, filthy caress.

His hands clamped onto her ass through the silk, squeezing hard enough to lift her onto her toes as he kissed her back with matching violence, tongue fucking deep into her mouth like he already owned every moan she would give tonight.

As Erato took the lead, the other eight Muses refused to be outdone.

Calliope pressed in from behind.

Her full breasts flattened against his back while her long fingers sank into his black curls and yanked his head back so Erato could devour his throat.

Her mouth latched onto the tendon there, sucking hard, then scraping teeth down to his collarbone.

Her free hand slid around to palm one of his pecs, thumb circling the nipple until it stood tight and hard.

Clio’s smaller hands shoved under his chiton from the front.

Cool palms glided up his abdomen, nails dragging lightly over muscle ridges, then lower to cup the heavy bulge straining the linen.

She squeezed once, whispering hot against his ear.

’I have recorded every inch of you in memory. Tonight I want to feel it stretch me.’

Well...well well, now Lorne finally understood what they meant by Promise.

Thalia laughed right into his other ear, then bit the lobe and dropped to her knees beside Polyhymnia, shoved the fabric aside, and took the already leaking head of his cock into her mouth without warning.

Her tongue swirled around the slit, sucking the bead of precum like it was the sweetest vintage.

Polyhymnia stayed kneeling but rose higher and pressed her open mouth to the base of his shaft where Thalia’s lips did not reach, tongue lapping slow, reverent stripes while her hands cradled his balls, rolling them gently, worshipping.

Euterpe molded herself to his side, breasts crushed against his arm.

She hummed a low throbbing note directly against his throat. The vibration shot straight to his cock, making it twitch hard inside Thalia’s mouth.

Then she bit down on his shoulder, sucking a bruise into the skin while her fingers pinched his other nipple in perfect time with her song.

Terpsichore’s dancer hands gripped his hips from the front as she rolled them against her own body, forcing his cock deeper into Thalia’s throat until the Muse gagged softly and pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to the glistening head.

Melpomene wrapped ravenously around his other side, kissing his temple, then his jaw, then sinking her teeth into the soft skin beneath it while her hand joined Clio’s.

Both of them stroked his length in tandem, slick with Thalia’s spit, twisting at the crown on every upstroke.

Urania stepped in last, catching his chin, forceding his gaze to hers, starry eyes burning, as she kissed him passionately, her tongue stroning his like she was mapping constellations across it, while her free hand reached down to guide the head of his cock between her thighs, rubbing the slick tip along her already drenched folds without letting him push inside yet.

They swarmed him, filling every part of their lovely male god with themselves.

The Muses were nine goddesses with distinct personalities, yet through their shared domain of arts, they could also exist as a single collective will.

The fluorite prism on the table cracked once, and darkness swallowed the chamber whole.

They needed none.

Under the Muses’ repeated ”worship” and ”devotion,” the new chief Muse could endure no longer.

Looking at Thalia deep-throating him until tears ran down her cheeks, Calliope marking his neck with sucking bites, Polyhymnia licking his balls with her, while Clio jerking him with both hands, and other Muses worshipping every part of his body and his desires swelled.

As he hauled Erato up by the thighs, slammed her back against the marble pillar, and drove into her in one brutal thrust, making her scream in pleasure and triumph, nails raking down his back as he fucked her hard and fast, hips snapping, cock splitting her open, hitting so deep she sobbed his name.

He did not stop until she came, walls clamping, gushing around him.

Then he pulled out still hard and dripping and turned to the next one waiting.

He bent Terpsichore over the silk cushions, face down, ass high, then spread her cheeks, spat on her hole for good measure, and sank balls-deep into her cunt with one long stroke, making her arch like a bow, dancer’s body rolling back to meet every pounding thrust, ass rippling, cries turning raw and animal as he railed her until she squirted, soaking his thighs.

He lifted Melpomene next, laid her on the table, legs over his shoulders and fucked her slowly at first, deep grinding circles that made her sob with how full she felt, then faster, harder until her tears streamed and her pussy fluttered, milking him as she came with a broken wail.

Urania climbed onto him when he dropped to the floor, straddling his lap, before she sank inch by torturous inch until he was buried to the hilt, then rode him with starry, relentless focus, hips circling, rising, slamming back down, taking him so deep her belly bulged slightly with every drop.

Calliope knelt beside them, sucking one of Urania’s nipples while fingering her clit until Urania shattered, screaming, walls spasming so hard Dionysus followed.

Filling every inch of her with his seed, making her scream in ecstasy.

After dealing with her, he took Clio on her back next, legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked, as he plowed her goddess hole, grinding his pubic bone against her clit until she clawed his shoulders and came so hard she blacked out for a second.

Thalia, he took her standing, lifted her against the wall, her legs hooked over his arms, and pounded up into her while she laughed and cursed and begged for more until she squirted again, drenching them both.

Euterpe, he lay on her side, spooned behind her, one hand around her throat, the other between her legs, rubbing circles on her clit while he fucked her from behind, slow then fast then slow again, until her hum turned into a keening cry and she clenched so tight he saw stars.

Polyhymnia he took gently at first, on her knees, face to the floor, ass presented, then harder when she whispered more.

He gripped her hips, slammed in deep, and fucked her until she was chanting his name like a prayer, coming with quiet shuddering sobs.

Then he pulled Calliope down onto the cushions, spread her wide, and sank into her slowly, watching her eyes roll back as he filled her completely, fucking her relentlessly, kissing her the whole time, until she shattered around him with a long keening moan.

He pulled out, stroked himself twice, and came in thick hot ropes across her belly, her breasts, her throat, marking every one of them in turn as they crowded close, licking, kissing, rubbing themselves against the mess, sharing it between mouths and fingers and skin.

While they relished in the aftermath, the eight beauties, he’d just filled, came crashing down, kissing every inch of him, aching for the love of their god.

Under their passion, Lorne rose and continued filling each of the nine again and again, branding them with his mark.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, in the core of the Temple of Memory.

Mnemosyne sat at her desk, watching the bookshelves tremble and listening to the faint, obscene sounds drifting from deep within the temple.

Her face turned black as the bottom of a pot.

In the end, she looked at the three reading reflections in her hand, sighed bitterly, sketched a few Hermetic runes with her finger to isolate herself in silence, and continued reading the manuscripts.

(End of this chapter)