Page 13 of Achille's Earth Angel
Outraged, she scorched his ears with her verbal assault. “Stop it this instant, you can’t do that to me! I’ll report you for assault, I’ll sue you, I’ll—I’ll cut your balls off while you’re sleeping,” she finished, a sob erupting from her throat when nothing she said appeared to make a difference.
The keening wail she heard sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, but she knew it was from her own mouth and carried on the wind to anyone who might be listening. She prayed no one was listening, but with her newfound knowledge, there was a whole other world that could be listening. Especially the smirking Hercules.
As the spanking continued and her pain grew exponentially with it, she decided she didn’t care anymore who was listening and she wailed her objections to the universe.
Through it all, Achilles hadn’t spoken a word, just continued to plaster her shrinking flesh with those horrible, full-handed swats that had her dancing in place and wishing for a bucket of ice to sit in.
“Achilles...stop...” she cried, arching her back in an attempt to get away but it was like being encased in iron. “Ow,” she cried in a long continuous wail. For some strange reason, her screaming at the top of her lungs seemed to ease the pain—minutely.
Still, he carried on valiantly like a good soldier seemingly intent on destroying every last vestige of pride she had. Take no prisoners, no holds barred, defeat and subdue the enemy completely. She being the enemy of course, and she’d be damned if he didn’t accomplish his purpose.
Her hind end was a blazing inferno of pain, her nose running like a faucet. Her pride was tattered sheets in the wind as she was finally reduced to begging. “I’m sorry...please stop...I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” she sobbed hysterically. “Please, please, just stop.”
He did stop then, and pulled her garments back in place. He picked her up and she buried her face in his chest sobbing pitifully and seeking solace from the same brute that had just beat her unmercifully. “I hate you,” she cried, pounding her little fist against his massive chest. “I h-hate you.”
“Be that as it may, you will still mind me when it’s for your own good.”
She hadn’t expected that. She’d expected an apology or some effort at placating her righteous wrath for doing an old-fashioned man thing that she intended to correct him about—as soon as she got herself back together. He didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
His long strides ate up the ground as he took her into her cottage and sat down on the sofa with her still in his arms. She tried to clamber out of his lap when her buttocks made full contact with his hard thighs. “Let me go,” she demanded with a hissing cry.
“That’s not going to happen. If you keep trying, I’m going to tip you over and teach the lessons all over again,” he added sternly.
“You had no right to do that,” she shouted at him.
When his eyebrows went up and he immediately began to turn her over she begged shamelessly once more, her hands trying to push his away. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I’ll listen from now on.”
“Hmm, that’s better,” he replied smoothly, settling her back between his thighs. “Now then, little earth Angel, you need to know a few things.”
“Like what?” She sulked with her arms folded, but didn’t dare sass him again. At least not right now.
“I told you to stay behind for a reason. If Epaphras had someone with him, I didn’t want another merman to see you and desire you. Which is exactly what happened.” He frowned fiercely down at her. “Sea people and animals have extremely sensitive nose oracles and scent attracts them. Gronk smelled you twenty-five yards away. Your scent, coupled with your beauty, told him immediately why Epaphras wants you. And when he was finished with you, Gronk would be next.”
“I’ve lived here all my life and he’s never come near me before,” replied Ange testily, her heart pounding at his words. “Why is he suddenly interested now?”
“I’d say he just got lucky and finally found the source of a scent he’s been interested in for a long time. You say people have disappeared from this area before. This is an area he likes to visit. It’s not hard to connect the two facts.”
Ange shivered. “If what you say is true, then that means I’ll never be safe in my own home again,” she whispered, staring up at him.
He shook his head uneasily. “I hope that’s not the case. Each person has their own individual scent though, according to the Oracles. Humans don’t notice it as much. Their scent glands are more in tune with the stronger scents of flowers, animals, spices etc. And a lavender scent on one female may smell differently than on another. So, even though humans don’t realize it, the olfactory glands play a big part in their sexual attraction to a mate. Which is exactly why I wanted you to stay behind,” he finished sternly.
Ange shrugged. “You should have told me. I don’t do blind obedience.”
“And I’m used to being obeyed when I give a command.”
“Women have come a long way since the times you lived on earth,” she scoffed. “Things have changed and we have evolved. We have rights too, including the right to make decisions for ourselves.”
“Women are meant to be protected by men. A woman is never more vulnerable than when she’s with child or has young children to care for. They are highly respected for their ability to give a man a heritage and a lineage. In this they are more precious than jewels and gold.” Ange listened, fascinated as her anger cooled.
“But they had no political power in your time,” she protested. Women were little more than possessions of men. In ancient Greece, women were owned by their fathers and if their fathers died, then they were owned by a brother, a husband, or another male figure. They never had their own identity, and rarely the ability to choose their own husband. They were used to create powerful and rich clans and create allies. It’s a horrible way to live, to have no say in what you want to do with your life.”
“And yet, as a woman, you have the ultimate control of a man.” His hand reached down and cupped her feminine mound. “With this, a woman can convince a man to do anything for her.” His voice was low and mesmerizing, his fingers gently pressing into that sensitive spot between her legs. His other hand grasped her hair and gently tugged her head back as his free hand trailed up her stomach until he reached her breasts. “And these can drive a man wild and make him beg,” he husked in her ear.
She gasped when those exploring fingers alternately pinched the tips of her breasts, making them stand at attention and lust for more. Raw need danced and leaped along the chain desire formed between the eager buds and her now weeping channel.
Her last objection to his dark age attitude was lost when his mouth found hers. His lips sucked on hers, his tongue seeking access to the delights within and she opened to him.
When his mouth left hers and he nuzzled along the side of her neck, she asked breathlessly, “Do I have a scent to you?”
