Submission in a Strange World

Important Info : This story is set in the mirror universe of the Sovereign, first shown in the Hercules episode "Stranger in a Strange World." The people populating it are the same as those of the Xenaverse, but altered. It is the inverse of the world of the Xenaverse, where good is evil, but still connected, so that when a person dies in one world, their counterpart in the other does as well. Olympus is also affected : In the mirror world, Ares is the suavely seductive god of love, Cupid is the evil god of war, and so on. This is important to know if you find it necessary for characters in PWP's to be "in character." For further details check out the Afterwords, and Whoosh! for a more complete episode summary and synopsis.

Content Warning : This story contains graphic depictions of lesbian sexual acts involving themes of domination and submission. In other words, the only sub in this story ain't the text... (I've always wanted to be able to use that disclaimer. <G>)

Xenite Disclaimer : Thanks to the wondrous healing capabilities of the Ambrosia imbibed by her counterpart, Priestess Callisto was unharmed during the execution of this story. <EG>

Without further ado...

The priestess paused in the shadow beneath a vaulted archway, feeling the warmth of the sun gleaming on her back as she rested in the shadowed pool of darkness hiding the entrance to the foreboding fortress. Rusted spikes, despite being bare, still remained crusted with the blood of the victims that had once been displayed upon them for the edification of visitors, and for the enjoyment of the cruel lord who dwelled within. Shivering as she threw off the spell of horror still lingering like a pall of doom, she entered the gates.

She had never had more than the most basic level of skill in the mystic arts despite her exalted ecclesiastical rank and her... unique perspective on life, but her more skilled sisters in the service of the gods swore that this place fairly screamed with the memory of old pain. As she entered the depths of this monument to now past evil, she could feel instinctively that they were right. Death and despair had been graven into the very bones of the earth by the vanquished lord, and the memory of the torment yet lingered, most strongly at this spot, where so many had been touched by the hooded goddess Persephone.

Suppressing another shiver, the priestess continued on. She had no time to deal with the hollow shades of the past. Her task here was more urgent... and more personal.

Passing through the cordon of the first set of guards, she didn't even bother to pull back her cowl. Her robes, unadorned with decoration and covering her from head to toe, were as much a badge of office as any of the most gilded of scepters or gaudy crowns, and the guards waved her through without the slightest hesitation or question. She was known here, and well respected.

Descending deeper into the bowels of the fortress, the priestess was actually amused by the number of guard posts she had to pass through. Even at his height of power, the former owner of this place had never stationed more than a token guard presence here, despite his tyranny and his unpopularity. Though as she passed yet another checkpoint, she had to wonder if his odd behavior was because he simply didn't care for such mundane matters - plotting, as he was, to overthrow the gods themselves - or if he actually wanted the relief from the daily tedium that an armed assault on his person would bring. Knowing him as she did, she suspected it was the latter.

The final guards before her destination interrupted her silent musings. They actually crossed their spears across her path and denied her admittance, despite her rank. Crossly, she finally pulled back her cowl, revealing her brilliant blonde hair and the sharp, almost elfin features of her face. "Darius? You were in Draco's unit during the rebellion, correct? You know who I am. Why are you blocking my way?"

"I do know who you are, Priestess Callisto, but not even you should visit the creature behind these doors." The guard looked distinctly uncomfortable to be denying her anything - or perhaps to simply be speaking directly to the famous priestess, but he refused to be swayed from his position.

"You know Joxer..." she paused, then restated herself, "Er, the Lord Regent Joxer will grant me entry. So please, let's not make a scene." She smiled angelically, her eyes virtually glowing with the strength of her resolve and conviction despite the dim torchlight. "Set aside your weapons and let me pass."

He seemed to shrink beneath the power of her certitude. "Very well," the chastised guard acquiesced, "but I want everyone here to know that this is against my better judgement." After Callisto and his fellow guards had nodded in acknowledgement of his misgivings, he removed a huge, elaborately engraved key from his belt. Using the key, he unlocked a trio of massive deadbolt locks, the locking shafts grating against stone as they withdrew from the depths of the stone doorframe with an audible effort.

With the help of the other guards, Darius levered the massive locking bar up and out of its brackets. The bar, designed to foil the impact of a battering ram, was the final barrier against the escape of what lay imprisoned behind that titanic door. Handing the key into the care of his second with an almost ceremonial flair, Darius firmly pulled open the massive door with the ear-splitting squeal of unoiled and infrequently used hinges. "She's in the last cell on the right, around the corner," he informed the priestess.

When she didn't respond, he dared to touch her arm, jerking it away from her person when he knew he had her attention. "I must warn you : because of the acoustics in this hellhole we can't hear anything coming from that cell - it's why we put her there in the first place - so if you get into trouble, we won't know of it until we come to bring her dinner in a few hours. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Callisto thanked him gently, resting her hand briefly on his arm in a combination of blessing and commiseration, "and I'll also need the key to her cell."

Darius opened his mouth to protest the added request, but shut it again with an audible snap as she simply smiled and held out her hand for the key.

After he still made no move to comply with her request, his second softly whispered, "She does have that right..." though even he sounded dubious of the request's wisdom.

"May the gods protect you," Darius whispered fervently, slowly removing the key from his belt pouch and handing it to her with an unsteady hand, "for there is no mercy to be found in that cell."

"I understand. But don't worry... the gods are with me."

"They'd better be," one of the guards muttered from behind her, only to be swiftly shushed by his fellows. Their position was one of honor - the last line of defense against the evil within, but the tension of the duty could wear against even the bravest and most dedicated of men.

Ignoring the sotto voce comment, Callisto simply slipped through the gap left by the ajar door and headed towards the cell.

As the priestess stepped through the doorway, Darius watched her with a tormented expression, absolutely convinced he was consigning her to Hades, but seeing no other option available to him. His hand clutched the hilt of his short sword as the other guards swung the door shut behind her, sealing her within.

The clanks of the locks slamming closed sounded prophetically final. "She's too good to last long in this world," he whispered to himself, to the sorrowful nods of agreement from his fellow guards.

Making a mental note to reinforce his garrison before they went to feed their prisoner - in case the prisoner managed to get out of her cell while killing her visitor - Darius slumped against a nearby pillar, already mourning for the heroic priestess who had done so much for the movement during the revolt against the Sovereign. How was he going to explain this to Lord Joxer?

Callisto paused a moment to gather herself before proceeding deeper into the depths of the dungeon. The air in this subterranean prison was dry and stale, and the dim illumination of the few torches hindered more than helped, destroying any night vision, but casting their light only a short distance. It was a dim, shadowy place, much as the legends held Tartarus to be... a perfect spot to lock away the prisoner who was kept within its walls... a perfect reflection of the turmoil clouding her soul.

Despite the self-confident air of certainty she had shown the guards, she knew her own attitude for a facade. She had to be here. She knew that fact with an unshakable conviction, but why she had to be here... that was a much more slippery question. Frankly, she couldn't explain it to her own satisfaction, let alone someone else's. Her own motivation remained a mystery to her, despite her conviction that she was following the necessary course.

Slowly walking down the corridor that had been hidden behind the massive door, she stayed squarely in the center as she passed the gaping openings of cell after empty cell within the deserted dungeons of the Sovereign. Not even a rat stirred in this place, the walls too stout to allow even the smallest of vermin entrance... or to allow anything to escape its grasp. Not even hope could long survive within these blighted depths.

Only one prisoner remained locked within these hellish walls... the second most feared and hated person in the history of Greece. A person whose true name was known only to herself, having become in truth the very embodiment of the title bestowed upon her by the Sovereign.

The Executioner.

Callisto froze in the corridor, staring through the bars at the figure that had haunted her dreams for years, and still troubled her despite the downfall of the Sovereign. Oddly enough, the first thought that ran through her numb brain as she stared at the prisoner was "she looks good."

Despite the limited exposure to sunlight her incarceration provided, her color was actually improved - the ghastly pallor she'd sported while in the Sovereign's service replaced with a pale, but healthy pink. Her hair shimmered lustrously in the dim light, the lank, lifeless red of her hair faded to a rich strawberry-blonde. The black rings that had seemed painted around her eyes when she'd appeared chained and shackled at her trial had faded, leaving her looking much less monstrous and even pretty in a vaguely peasantish, round-cheeked way. She wore only the briefest of halters, the sickly green color looking especially bilious against her pale skin, and a brief leather Amazon skirt that would have barely covered her thighs... had she been upright. As it was, it served only to emphasize her form, rather than to conceal it.

The Executioner hung head down on the wall, her feet wedged between the crosshatched bars of the tiny window that let only the slimmest rays of sunlight enter the gloom of her cell. As the priestess watched, she began to perform vertical situps, using only the muscles of her abdomen to bring her head up to touch her knees. Stunned by the athletic performance, Callisto could only watch with mouth agape as the prisoner repeated the feat over and over again, until her skin was flushed a delicate rose from the exertion and she glimmered with beads of sweat.

Unconsciously, the priestess licked her lips as she noted what the prisoner's labors had done to her brief clothing. The halter had slipped down to expose the undersides of her breasts, while her skirt had bunched around her waist, each repetition flashing her bare loins at the blushing priestess, only to be concealed by her head as she sat up again.

This - however intriguing and distracting - was not, she firmly told herself, what she was here for. Clearing her throat, she waited patiently for the prisoner to acknowledge her presence, firmly settling her thoughts on the gods and away from her reaction... though Ares, the suavely seductive god of love, seemed to be filling her imagination with other, more... provocative images as she gazed upon the prisoner's sleekly muscular, sweaty body.

And still she waited. The Executioner continuing her exercise until the watching priestess' stomach muscles began to ache in sympathy for the torment the other woman's abdomen must be feeling.

At length, the Executioner rested, still hanging upside down, panting slightly from the exertion as she stared at the woman watching her from outside her cell. Scanning her visitor minutely, she felt her skirt slip another finger's breadth, revealing the bushy thatch of red hair surmounting her center. Seeing her visitor's eyes immediately focus upon that spot, she smiled mockingly, waggling her hips in an erotic dance that made her skirt fall even lower.

Coming back to herself, Callisto blushed as she realized that not only had she been staring, but the prisoner was well aware of her fascination with her... Closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself, she regained a semblance of her composure, but couldn't stop the fresh rush of color that flooded her cheeks.

Chuckling lightly, the Executioner slipped free from the bars, performing an acrobatic flip in midair to land on her feet in front of the cell door. "Welcome," she said, her voice rough and slightly rusty from disuse and the dry air. "Feel free to come in." She swallowed, moistening her throat with saliva as she stared unblinking at her visitor, her eyes as cold as a viper's.

To the prisoner's shock, the woman promptly did just that. She calmly unlocked the door and entered the cell. Before the prisoner could react, she swiftly swung the door shut once more and locked it, then flung the key back down the corridor, trapping herself inside the cage with the prisoner, with no protective barrier of bars between her and the imprisoned killer.

So stunned was the prisoner at the unbelievable action, that she made no move towards the briefly opened door, despite the perfect opportunity it presented to slip free from the first of the barriers holding her within the dungeon. She could only stare, mouth slightly agape at the slight woman who had just imprisoned herself with her.

"Thank you," Callisto said brightly, pleased to have disconcerted the other woman as much as she had been.

"And those people at the trial said I was insane," the Executioner muttered, staring at the priestess. "Why are you here?" she demanded, still a bit befuddled by the inexplicable behavior.

"Truthfully, I don't know," she replied. "Ever since your trial, after the collapse of the Sovereign's empire, you've... haunted my dreams, been... in my mind. I... I... simply had to see you," she hesitantly tried to explain, blushing furiously.

"Do you have a death-wish or something?" the prisoner demanded, leaning close to snarl into the priestess' face. "I hear you've already been dead. What's the matter - Persephone not touch you good enough? Do you want me to try it? I guarantee I can do the job right."

"No... this has nothing to do with that... inexplicable incident. I just... I don't know why!" she cried out, senses aflame with the closeness of the woman, her knees weakening and belly quivering as her nostrils flared, drinking in the smell of her : the rich musk of sweat and exertion, and the sweet, almost floral smell that oozed from the prisoner's pores.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for this moment. She'd been a simple priestess in Corinth, leading the hymns of praise to Dionysis, the virgin god of abstinence and self-control, and Hera, the sweet-natured goddess of music, offering sacrifices to Ares, the god of love, and Zeus the King of the Gods...

Until one day she'd abruptly died in the middle of performing an offering, with no explanation for the cause. A few days later, she'd awoken and staggered out of the catacombs she'd been entombed in, hale and whole once more. Shortly thereafter, it happened again; she died inexplicably while petitioning the Sovereign for more freedom to practice religion, and once more she'd arisen - incidentally making him very disturbed by her very existence and causing him to grant her petition - so long as she stayed far away from his palace, that is.

Not even the gods had been able to answer how or why such events had happened to her, but she'd been changed by the experiences, becoming more driven, but also giving her a slightly otherworldly, fey air. Soon she'd risen to the highest ecclesiastical rank, leading the unified clergy of the pantheon of Greece in its subtle defiance of the Sovereign and his schemes for domination.

Her life had been devoted first to the people, and then to the gods, so she'd never felt the need to indulge in the carnal pleasures, not even the more personal, hands-on practices used by the Dionysian virgins to deal with their urges without disqualifying them from His service. She was thus wholly unprepared to deal with the fire she could feel growing within her.

Feelings she'd never felt before raged through her, making it impossible to think. How could she articulate what she didn't understand herself, the priestess bemoaned silently, shivering despite the heat she felt within her as the prisoner moved closer to her.

The Executioner's lips slowly turned up in a smirk as she easily interpreted the priestess' body language despite the concealing robes she wore. Picking up the threadbare scrap of blanket that served as her only bedding from atop her broken-down cot, she slowly pulled off her sweat-dampened top, making no effort to conceal herself as she discarded her scant clothing.

The priestess' pupils dilated and her breathing deepened as her eyes began to trace over the supple lines of the prisoner's curves. A delicate blush rose from her neck to suffuse her face with a fresh wash of color.

The Executioner kept her expression studiously blank as she considered her visitor's reactions. Frankly, she hadn't seen such intense desire in a long time - for herself or anyone else, for that matter - even if the woman didn't recognize it within herself. Her visitor's behavior as she stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes simply confirmed her suspicions about her motivation... Not that she truly objected.

After her home village of Potadaiea had been burned to the ground by one of King Gregor's raiding parties - both to prevent the Sovereign's men from getting the town's meager wealth and to collect the booty from the tiny village for himself, she'd been forced to make her way among the rough men and rougher women of the armies that had vied for supremacy in the land of the Danäans before the Sovereign's rise to dominion. That had matured her far faster than she'd ever dreamed, and she'd grown up participating in, and later leading, the massacres of enemy armies - at first in the hopes of creating order in the troubled times, and later because she enjoyed it.

The name bestowed upon her - the Executioner - actually started as something of a joke. When the Sovereign had first seen her practicing with a double-bladed battle axe, she'd slipped and almost cut her own leg off. He'd laughed and mockingly named her his Executioner on the spot, being in a rare good mood. The name had stuck - especially after she became inhumanly proficient with blades - and her given name was forgotten over the course of the long years of battle and conquest that had followed.

She'd learned of her own leanings, both in the delightful slaughters that had elevated her to one of the Sovereign's chief followers, and in the embrace of some of the outcast Amazons that had allied themselves with his forces. Although she'd always found both men and women desirable, after her... treatment at the hands of Gregor's troops, the gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) loving of other women was all she craved.

Swiftly rising to the position of one of the demigod's chief lieutenants, she'd cut almost as wide a swath through the women in the Sovereign's forces as she did through the enemy armies, seeking something - she knew not what - but perfectly willing to accept a night of pleasure when her attempts to satisfy the hollow yearnings she felt proved to be in vain. Attracted by both her aura of power and danger, women vied for her attentions and she'd gloried in her abilities : both in dealing death to her enemies during the day, and in sating even the most jaded of carnal appetites at night.

After she'd officially become the Sovereign's Executioner (upon his self-bestowed elevation to ruler of Greece), though, the offers to share her bed had dried up. Somehow that hadn't seemed to bother her. For some reason she could vaguely remember wanting only to kill, perfectly content to wait patiently for weeks if necessary... until the Sovereign wanted someone dead... and caring for nothing else.

That had changed - slightly - after Xena's arrival at his court.

She'd felt an immediate intense attraction, despite the haze of bloodlust and madness she'd often found herself floating in during those years. Xena's obvious appreciation of, and almost carnal delight in the artistry she showed in the slaying of the Sovereign's enemies had touched something within her, and for a time she'd hoped Xena would become her bedmate - especially after she'd attached herself to the Sovereign's permanent retinue like a remora to a shark.

That spiteful and conniving... woman... had broken her heart - what there was left of it by that time, anyway.

Even now she couldn't quite bring herself to curse Xena. The pull had been that strong... but the match was simply not to be. The manipulative woman had proven to be unwilling to do anything to risk jeopardizing her position by the Sovereign's side - especially after they'd begun plotting together to take over Olympus. Xena had simply ignored the Executioner's subtle and not-so-subtle offers to share her bed, though she'd continued to visit her... probably because she liked seeing and inflicting death almost as much as the Executioner did.

Her feeble efforts at seeking company rebuffed, she'd thrown herself back into her executions with a will, striving to bury her evanescent passions under the blood of her victims... and it had worked.

The Executioner drew back from her reminiscence of past pain with an effort, but the sad truth remained : it had been years since she'd been intimate with anyone, and her hand, while enjoyable, was simply no comparison to even the most unskilled of partners. She hadn't even bothered with pleasuring herself in months...

Not that doing it while her guards watched didn't add a certain piquancy, but it lacked appeal. She had been raised in a small town after all, and considered some things to be private. She'd never become quite debauched enough to throw off her upbringing entirely... just mostly.

Slowly wiping the sweat from her body with her blanket, the Executioner considered her options. It was clear the sweetly virginal priestess had not a clue what she wanted... but she knew... Oh, Ares, did she know... and she was beginning to burn with the desire to show her. A delicious warmth that she had almost forgotten existed flared into life within her belly, and she could feel herself dampening beneath her skirt.

The flimsy material of the brief garment hid the moistness of her loins from her prisoners eyes - barely - now that she was upright.

Discarding the wet blanket, she stretched, feeling only a mild burn from her exercise as her tired muscles tensed before relaxing once more. Choices, choices... she mused. She had never been a slave to desire, but it had been a very long time, and the woman was practically shaking with the strength of her need, stirring her own passions in instinctive reaction.

Smiling, and with more than a hint of cruelty showing in her grin, she slowly untied the connecting laces on her skirt, letting the garment slip down the length of her legs to puddle around her ankles. She held the position momentarily, posing for the priestess and letting her see her in all her naked glory.

Callisto's breath caught and she couldn't stop herself from watching as the garment slid down the length of those incredible legs before lifting her eyes to once more stare at the uncovered womanhood. She'd never felt this way before - it was a thought that she found running through her mind again and again as the duration of her visit lengthened. She hugged herself tightly, trying to still the pounding of her heart as the naked woman glided across the stone floor with the sinuous fluidity of a hunting panther to the small ledge that served her as a dresser.

When the Executioner turned back to face her, she held a knife in her hand. Callisto's eyes instantly focused on the gleaming metal weapon, identifying it as being only a sharpened spoon, but patently deadly in the right hands.

Her lungs stopped working as her mind froze. Possibly the most dangerous living creature in all of Greece approached her, armed with a very sharp blade. The other woman's face twisted into a contemptuous sneer, and the priestess gasped for breath as that creature stopped directly in front of her.

"So... Priestess Callisto..." the armed but naked prisoner drawled, slowly inspecting her from head to toe despite the enveloping robes shielding her body from the hungry gaze. "The woman who came back from the dead... the woman even the Sovereign didn't want to cross... the woman the gods personally chose to serve them... Tell me," she asked conversationally, "Why are you here?"

"I...I..." Callisto stammered, then licked suddenly dry lips. "I d - don't know..." Before the burning gaze of the woman standing so arrogantly before her she felt naked, despite her all-concealing robes. An aura of power and darkness burned around the unashamedly naked prisoner like a mantle, making her desperately want to either flee or prostrate herself before this avatar made flesh - and frankly, she couldn't decide which impulse was the wiser.

"You only think you don't know," the Executioner corrected her, slowly walking around the stiff-standing woman, moving with the sensuous grace of a predatory cat. "But you do."

"N... no, I..." she froze as the sharpened spoon was held near her face from behind, letting her see how much time and effort had been spent on making it as sharp and as lethal as possible.

"I remember you," the prisoner whispered into the priestess' ear, pausing to nibble on one perfectly shaped earlobe. "from the trial."

"Yes," Callisto gasped, fear and something else lancing through her as she was forced to remain still while the muscular woman sniffed and nuzzled her ears, the blade held ready in front of her eyes. "I... I... was there," she admitted.

"Yes..." the word was stretched out, breath warm as it crossed Callisto's ear like a breeze out of the heart of an inferno. "The others wanted to kill me... but you cast the deciding vote... convinced them not to. Why?"

"I... I thought... I thought you... you... were..." she stopped and shivered as she felt a tongue tracing the intricate whorls and scallops of her ears.

"You thought," she heard, the voice deeper, coarser now. "I know what you thought. I felt your eyes on me... your hungry gaze caressing me... exploring my body like you wanted your tongue to do... You wanted me. Didn't you...?"

Callisto froze.

"Yes..." was whispered into her other ear. "The saintly Priestess Callisto wanted me... desired me... needed me... didn't you... don't you?" Hotly whispered, teasing at the edges of her mind, tickling her desires, igniting a warm trickle in the depths of her being. The voice was everything, melting into her and becoming one with her soul, consuming her resistance as she yearned to yield to the siren song utterly.

The blade was abruptly pulled away from her face. "Tell me what you want..." the voice was silken, smooth, caressing, flowing over and through her like warm milk. "Tell me what you need..." A purr entered that voice, an animal growl that resonated against her spine and stoked a fire in the unmoving woman's core.

"You." The word came from her soul in a sudden ejaculation, slipping past startled lips to reveal the truth she'd hidden even from herself, baring her deepest desires to the eminently dangerous woman that was teasing and tormenting her. She recognized it as the truth, and couldn't believe she hadn't realized it for herself. She wanted this woman, as she had never wanted anyone or anything before.

"Yes... you do," the voice was huskier now, but also pleased, excited, the prisoner's own growing desire giving it an edge. "And what do you want me to do...?" she drawled slowly, playing the game she so loved, casting a spell of domination and obedience over this woman, who had come here to naïvely offer herself to her, making her hers as completely as though she were a common, branded slave.

For a moment, Callisto didn't respond, her mind desperately seeking an answer. At last, she found the answer she yearned to give.

"Take me," the priestess begged, unable to believe her own words. She'd remained a virgin through the long and dangerous years of the Sovereign's reign, and now she was begging for this... this killer to take her like a common harlot. Yet, she didn't care. She ached for her touch so badly that she'd gladly die if only the incredible woman would just...

For the first time in what seemed like hours, the Executioner slipped back in front of her, freezing her mind midthought, moving fluidly until her burning gaze locked on the priestess' eyes and stared deeply into their depths.

"Remain perfectly still," the prisoner commanded, holding up the blade again.

Shivering, her visitor strove to obey, though her knees shook with the effort to hold her upright.

The Executioner smiled in delight, a wicked smile that didn't dim the heat blazing forth from her green eyes. She was an artist with weapons, her skill and control transforming the blades she held into extensions of her own body. And now her latest work of art stood before her, desperate to be created, to be carved free from her restraints and wrappings...

Holding the sharpened spoon by the handle, she delicately sliced the laces holding the priestess' robes together, parting the thin leather effortlessly on the sharp edge she'd spent months polishing and perfecting against the unyielding stone of her cell.

A small shudder passed through the priestess' delicate frame as each of the straps holding her within her robes of office was severed. Soon the final tie was cut, and her clothing hung from her body with only the minuscule forces of friction holding it together around her.

Pausing to admire the effect, the Executioner noticed the two small lumps poking out against the fabric of the woman's chest. She was clearly having an effect on the woman.

Smirking, she tapped one with the point of her shiv, cleanly slicing through the coarse fabric of the robe, and making the swollen red-pink nub of a nipple burst free into the cold air, without so much as even grazing the delicate flesh with the razor edge of her blade. Even aching with need and lust, she still had perfect control.

Callisto gasped as the tip of her breast freed itself, the shock of the cold air on her sensitive nipple lancing into her like one of Zeus' lightning bolts. Crying out, she slumped to the ground, a tiny paroxysm seizing her center as she exploded in a climax.

Eyes widening, the prisoner watched her "captive" quivering on the ground in the throes of an orgasm. That had been unexpected. She had been keyed up, to be sure, but to be so sensitive, so responsive to her slightest touch... Her mouth curled into an evil smirk as she contemplated how she'd spend the enjoyable hours to come until the guards arrived to bring her dinner.

For her part, Callisto was enjoying the sensation of her first orgasm too much to care about much else. As a priestess of all the gods, including the god of love, she'd read many accounts, and counseled many women on the mechanics and techniques of how to enjoy themselves, but she had never felt the need to partake of the pleasures of the flesh - serving the gods was pleasure enough. Glowing in the wake of her first climax, she found herself longing to make up for the lost time.

The Executioner had other ideas, though... "Get up, Priestess," she barked, nudging her gently in the ribs with the toes of one foot despite the harsh tone. "This isn't over yet."

The priestess didn't know whether to be worried or gleeful. Slowly rising to her feet, she clutched her robe around her, hiding herself within its voluminous folds, but unable to do anything about the slash in the front that left part of her breast exposed. She drew it around herself as best she could, and rose in automatic compliance with her command.

"Let go."

"What?" Callisto asked, startled. Let go of what?

"Let. Go." the prisoner repeated, emphasizing each word with a subtle growl.

Oh, she realized. Letting go of her robes, she felt them start to slip away from her body, the fabric sliding sensuously across her limbs to gather in a pool of cloth about her feet.

She shivered, the air cool against her overheated skin since her undertunic barely covered her torso. The cut in the fabric over her breast didn't do much to help it keep her warm, either.

The Executioner's eyes burned feverishly as she drank in the clean lines of her limbs and the full swells of hip and breast. She was magnificent, and she was all hers... a fact that sent a fresh flood of moisture racing through her core.

While she was still thinking rationally, she strode back to the tiny ledge where she kept her meager personal effects, and secreted her self-made blade in a minuscule crevice, protecting it from confiscation. She didn't need it now... and considering the woman's responsiveness, she doubted she'd want it, either.

Turning back to her willing captive, she feasted on the vision of loveliness displayed before her once more, then commanded, "Take it off."

Callisto paused, uncertain. True, the other woman was naked as well, but there was a... hunger in her eyes that made half of her want to cover herself as best she could. The other half, of course, wanted her to feed that hunger for the rest of her life.

At the fierce scowl that briefly crossed the other woman's features, she swiftly slipped her arms free of the shoulder straps, letting her undertunic fall atop the pile of her robes about her feet. She stood silently in the prison cell, cold and naked, torn between fear and the new feeling that was filling her heart that she could only call desire.

"By the Gods!" the prisoner whispered, eyes roving shamelessly over the newly revealed assets of the naked woman. "You're beautiful..." A small trickle of moisture began to leak its way wetly down her thigh as she gazed upon the unclothed beauty. She could feel her heart beginning to pound furiously as she slowly licked her full lips, savoring the coming conquest.

Callisto nervously crossed her hands across her breasts, beginning to feel self-conscious and uncertain. She was starting to understand her own feelings for the dangerous and exciting woman she had come to see... and she realized now, surrender to - but she still ached from her uncertainty about the other woman's feelings.

She'd thought the Executioner found her attractive, but since she'd disrobed, all the woman did was stare at her. The prisoner was so incredibly beautiful, surely she must have had other women pursue her before... but, she thought morosely, she knew herself to be only pretty, rather than beautiful, from the cruel comments she'd overheard from her fellow priestesses. Would she be sent away now... naked and humiliated?

Her doubts faded as her lips were devoured, bruisingly kissed as she was swept into the embrace of a pair of warm, muscular arms. Their breasts rubbed deliciously together, the firm points of nipples brushing teasingly against soft skin as she was crushed into the powerful woman's embrace. Her tongue was brushed aside as another one swept into her mouth, swirling between her lips to tantalizingly tease with the blunt tip of the fleshy organ.

Groaning into the other woman's mouth, Callisto melted, holding herself tightly against the strong form of the prisoner to whom she had surrendered her heart and body. She was a study of contrasts, this woman... the hard lines and solid bulges of her muscles balanced by the soft swells of her womanhood; both tender and cruel, capable of bringing pleasure and as the testimony at her trial proved, unbelievable pain...

Reveling in the other woman's blatant surrender to her, the Executioner straightened, moving her mouth away from the priestess' openly lusting face and gazing down into the dewy eyes staring up so trustingly into her own steely ones. Licking her lips, she ordered her "Stand up straight," her tone gentling even as she issued her command.

The priestess obeyed, although she swayed slightly, almost swooning at the amazing and new emotions surging through her body.

Smiling in pleasure at her obedience, the prisoner nipped softly at the pulse throbbing visibly in her neck, drinking in the intoxicatingly tangy aroma of sweat and arousal oozing from her skin. The priestess' groan of desire vibrated the skin of her neck against her lips, and the Executioner sucked roughly on her throat in response, marking her moistly with a visible indication of her ownership... but that was only the beginning.

Callisto's eyes widened as she felt the tongue begin licking its way down the length of her throat, following the pale line of the blue vein visible through the translucent skin of her neck. She arched her neck, leaning into the mouth that was so lustily laving her, and moaning at the sensations. She lifted her arms to draw the woman loving her - that was the only term she could give to what was being done to her - but stopped when she heard the harsh growl of "Stand still." She desperately wanted to move, but still obeyed automatically, quivering at the feelings her submission were evoking in her heart.

Purring in satisfaction at the woman's latest surrender, the Executioner smiled into the warm, pale flesh she was lavishing with attention. Years of nothing, and she was given... given the most perfect creature to do with as she willed...

She had no care for the gods; they'd done nothing to help her or her baby sister Lila when Gregor's men ravaged her town, and after seeing the gods at their petty and immature worst while in the Sovereign's service... Despite this, she still felt a sudden desire to thank whoever had sent this priestess to visit her. The brief impulse soon passed however, and she turned her attention back to the sweetly shivering form in her arms.

The priestess' collarbone was so adorable she had to divert herself from her downward trend long enough to nibble along the entire length, her tongue following behind and soothing the skin after the love bites began to gently sting. Her willing victim moaned throatily, but remained still, obeying her instructions despite the delicious torment being inflicted upon her.

Gasping for breath, Callisto's chest heaved like a bellows, thrusting her breasts into her lover's face again and again as she resumed her southward journey, teasingly gentle nips and kisses covering the pale skin displayed before her like a sumptuous banquet. Suppressing a moan, the priestess turned slightly, moving her neglected nipples into the path of her love's mouth.

"I said to stand still," was the only response, followed by a stinging slap on the startled priestess' backside, the impact making her jump in startlement and edge forward, trapping the prisoner's face within the perfumed valley of her breasts.

The Executioner purred, delighting in the sensation even though she'd been disobeyed, and responded by delivered a light spank to her other cheek, making sure to cup her hand slightly to maximize the sound without inflicting as sharp a pain as she did. "Don't move," she growled into the heaving chest, rubbing her face against the yielding globes of the full breasts, reveling in the gloriously smooth texture.

Callisto remained silent and tried to still her movements, but as she felt the tongue slowly trace its way on a winding course from her sternum to her navel, she couldn't help but groan, her legs shaking in reaction.

"Mmmm..." the prisoner hummed, delighting in the shape and form of the adorable pucker of the woman's navel. Teasingly poking her nose inside the depression, she swiftly replaced it with the wet probe of her tongue, covering it in moisture and delighting in the way her stomach muscles clenched and shook as she teased and played with her. "Good girl," she sighed in contentment, well pleased with her new toy.

Lifting her head back, she gently blew across the damp patch of skin before her, causing an intriguing ripple to cross the stomach as she shivered from the cool sensation and the intensity of her emotions.

Chuckling wickedly, she nipped roughly at the woman's left hip, easing the sting with a gentle caress from her calloused fingers. Hearing the dreamy gasp in response, she slowly nibbled her way down the curve of her hip, following the line where her leg joined her abdomen. A sharp intake of breath from over her head let her know where she was expected to proceed, but she ignored it, pausing only long enough to rub her forehead briefly into the pale thatch of hair nestled at the base of her belly before softly biting her way back up the other hip, bypassing her heated center and continuing the sweet mutual torture of arousing the woman to unbelievable levels without giving in to her own desires.

Sinking to her knees to ease the tension in her thighs, the Executioner stared directly into the priestess' core. The thick musk of arousal surrounded her as she breathed in the scent of need that poured from her nexus, but though she yearned to give in to her desires, she held herself in check. Need and reason warred as her nostrils flared, drinking in the smell of sex and passion that surrounded them, but reason won out... barely.

Beyond words or thought, the priestess rocked with each new, tortuous soft touch on her overstimulated body. Unable to suppress a fresh groan as she felt herself clench in anticipation, Callisto's head flopped backwards on her neck, her back curving into a gentle arc as she strained to keep her hips still despite the growing need for added attention burning in her torrid depths, and the emotions swirling in her mind making it increasingly difficult to remain upright and stationary.

Hot exhalations from her lover's mouth crossed her thighs and she shook with need, remaining still only by application of a tremendous effort of will as she felt the Executioner's face pass across the tangled, matted hairs on her groin... feeling the heat of her passage, but without the slightest touch against her quivering skin.

Gasping, the priestess prayed for release, desperately wanting the slow, slow build up of her passions to be over and for her dangerous lover to take her, but her prayers went unanswered. Soft and supple lips kissed and teased slowly down her inner thighs, until they began to suckle at the hollows behind her knees, the feather-light touches almost enough to unbalance her as the moist tickling made her begin to rock dangerously to and fro.

The Executioner was in Elysia. The soft sighs and moans elicited from the woman at every light touch of her lips and tongue were driving her mad with need, but she controlled herself, not willing to give in to the primal lust that burned through her veins.

She was going to savor every instant of this delicious encounter, she vowed silently to herself as her tongue slurped along one delectable inner thigh. She'd engrave every sound, every taste and every sensation in her memory to hoard and treasure and savor through her incarceration.

Tasting the nectar painting the priestess' thighs, she could feel the fire surging through her own loins, her channel clenching in aching sympathy as the sweet honey of this incredible woman began to coat her tongue. It was ambrosial; so delicious it coated her tongue like liquid fire.

Her twin lusts for sex and death screamed in her brain, spurring her to take her to devour to consume to rend and destroy and bite and tear and eat and slash and...

No.

No, she paused, gritting her teeth in a frightful snarl as she strove to master herself. No, she would not give in to these impulses... The Sovereign was dead... she was no longer his killer. The world had order now... there was no need to... to... No... she firmly wrestled her dark side into submission, continuing to gently lap up the overflowing desire from the woman's well of passion, only a low growl of mixed feral rage and lust escaping to reveal the mad impulses throbbing in her head and the fierce war of conflicting urges vying for supremacy.

The priestess had given herself to her, and she was hers... She would not break her property; she would be as powerful and dominating - but still as loving and instructive - as Ephiny had been when she'd introduced her to the pleasures of Sapphic love all those years ago.

She'd been so young, so afraid, expecting a repeat of her experience with Gregor's army, but Ephiny had been so patient and kind... She could do no less than to pass that kindness along to this woman. She would savor her, treasuring her... She was a gift - of the gods or of the Fates, she didn't care. Wholly unexpected but utterly wonderful, she would guard her as zealously as a dragon would his hoard.

Despite her growing conviction that she must not destroy this woman, her soul remained shadowed with the dark impulses and wicked drives that had been her focus for years. She'd given her darkness free rein for years, a single almost incidental reasoned choice was not going to make them simply go away. The turbulent emotions racing through her fevered mind needed some release... it had simply been too long since she'd felt anything like them to have the control that she'd had in the past, and the primal rage and lust surging in her soul in response to this unanticipated but delicious encounter was creating a conflagration that threatened to burn away her reason and restraint if she wasn't careful - putting the sweet submissive who was even now leaking her love onto her tongue at risk.

Giving in to the least of the impulses raging in her, she reached around the priestess' hips, grabbing cheeks still rosy from her mild spanking and squeezed roughly, digging in her nails and shoving the hips forward, even as she buried her face in the drooling nest of her core, licking and slurping the swollen labial lips into her mouth as her nose roughly rubbed against the ruddy pearl peeking from between the flushed, damp folds.

"Gods!" Callisto screeched, her hands of their own volition threading themselves through her lover's long red hair. Her muscles tensed as she fought to force the mouth and incidentally the head it was attached to into her body, blindly seeking to maximize the awesome feelings shooting up her spine. Her hips began grinding forward on their own, rocking herself wildly against the prisoner's suckling mouth, wresting control of her body's movements back from the powerful hands still clenched in the soft flesh of her backside.

After the long, drawn out, teasing seduction, the sudden shock of overwhelming stimulation hit her like a lightning bolt. The pain of sore cheeks squeezed in a powerful grip was just another sensation melding with the lightning shooting from her spasming core into a bolt of pure passion that lanced through her mind.

She exploded in ecstasy, mouth babbling nonsense words of carnal joy as molten desire poured from her nether lips to be gathered up and devoured by the mouth consuming her passion, drinking of her essence and driving her higher and higher. Her mind exploded, expanding to encompass the world as she screamed out her shocked climax in a cry of primal ecstasy that echoed down the long, lonely corridor.

Every muscle in her body spasmed at once, her hands tugging painfully on the prisoner's hair even as her hips slammed against the mouth that was driving her insane with pleasure, burying the woman's nose in the damp, matted thatch of her pubic hair, and squeezing her cheeks unmercifully against her facial bones as the Executioner's face was compressed between the spasming muscles of her powerful thighs.

It was too much for the priestess. She simply couldn't remain standing as the waves of ecstasy washed away conscious thought, the passion and its fulfilment eroding her control over her legs until she slowly began to fall over backwards, babbling and gasping as the prisoner's mouth followed her motion, continually lapping and slurping and milking her through paroxysm after paroxysm of pleasure.

Feeling her slipping, the Executioner locked her arms around the small of the woman's back, her biceps bulging as she held her in position. Holding her upright, her muscles strained as the orgasming woman began to slump bonelessly to the floor, only to be checked by solid brace of the prisoner's arms. Screams of delight and cooing nonsense words of carnal fulfillment continued to resound through the cell as the priestess learned just how skilled the prisoner truly was.

Gradually slowing the action of her mouth and tongue, the prisoner eased her sweet submissive down from her orgasmic high, still drinking in the flood of slickly flowing nectar.

It was not enough, the Executioner growled, licking her lips clean and gathering as much of the essence from her face as her tongue could reach. She hung on the edge of her own climax, but she was unable to reach the pinnacle without touching herself - something she refused to do while the blonde was available to sate her urges.

Rising, she easily picked up the other woman, despite their comparable sizes, and carried her over to her cot.

Callisto felt herself lifted into the air, and she snuggled into the warmth of the woman's powerful arms, feeling loved and treasured, but most of all tired. When she was abruptly dropped, her eyes opened wide and some of her exhaustion drained away as her body tensed in automatic anticipation of impact. She was unceremoniously dumped onto the cot. "Wha -" she screeched in startlement, only to stop as she bounced against the coarse surface of the mattress. She turned her head to look at her lover, and froze, overwhelmed by the sight.

The dark aura that had surrounded her before they had begun to consummate their desires was so strong as to be almost visible now, muscles tensed and twitching as she stood over her, fists clenching rhythmically, bringing the corded muscles of arms and shoulders into taut relief. Slowly, Callisto raised her eyes to her lover's stark expression, eyes widening as she noticed what she realized were her juices smeared across the woman's cheeks and jaw, then widening further as she saw the lust burning in the green eyes, the prisoner's expression hungry and tense.

"Um..." she slowly began, then stopped, unsure of how to refer to her new lover. The situation was utterly new to her in many respects, but somehow calling the obviously needing woman "The Executioner" struck her as simply the wrong thing to do.

"Shut up," the Executioner gritted out, closing her eyes and straining to control herself. She'd kept it slow, mostly gentle, pleasing her lover before herself, but now she was riding the knife's edge, needing release both physically and mentally from the control she was imposing upon herself.

Grabbing the frame of the cot, she jerked it away from the wall with a sharp yank, the foot of the bed skittering across the stone floor with a subdued clatter. Grinding her teeth together, she straddled the end of the cot, moving forward until her dripping core was hovering just above the nervous priestess' knees.

Growling animalistically, she grabbed the woman by the shoulders, roughly twisting her torso until she lay on her side.

"What are you..." Callisto began, letting herself be positioned on the cot as the woman desired.

"Shut up," she was commanded, anger dripping from the words. "You wanted me... You gave yourself to me... so obey me."

The priestess closed her eyes, overwhelmed by her surging passions. She'd thought that she had been drained, the woman's talented mouth drinking all that she had to give, but as she stared up at the woman, she found herself responding anew, her saliva-slicked womanhood reawakening as her pulse raced.

Staring up at the prisoner who had awakened passions undreamed of in her, she couldn't help but become aroused.

Her long flowing hair, tousled from her fierce grip as she'd climaxed on her tongue, hung over her face, partially obscuring but unable to hide the fiery light of lust and passion burning in those incredible eyes. Corded muscles stood out in stark relief as she hovered over her, power and mastery radiating from every line. A pink blush had risen from between her breasts to suffuse her face with color, dappling her heaving chest and making her look even younger than her youthful age.

She was magnificent, primal, a goddess of desire with the fire of human emotion burning within her, and a fresh flood of desire poured from the priestess' depths as she whimpered in slightly fearful desire. "Take me," she whispered again, longing to be loved completely, mastered by the powerful woman.

Maybe it was the whimper, or possibly the whisper of gentle surrender, but whatever triggered it, the Executioner was released from the spell of control she was imposing upon herself. With a truly delighted grin, she gripped the pale leg she straddled, digging her thumbs into her calf and wrapping her fingers around its slim curve.

The priestess moaned at the rough touch from her strong hands, her toes curling as she felt a jolt of pleasure race through her core.

Eyes alight, the prisoner lifted the priestess' leg, bending the knee to maneuver it between own legs, then flexing her own knees to grind her moist mound against the woman's calf, leaving a damp spot glistening on her skin.

Callisto shivered, her leg straightening to rise into the air seemingly of it own volition, perpendicular to her body. She felt herself opening to her lover's heated gaze, lips pouting and drooling with the intensity of her passion.

The Executioner smiled in pleased desire. Reaching down, she traced the circumference of the flushed portal, gathering and smearing the juices over her fingers, lubricating the labia and the gentle swell of the pubic mound before tweaking the clitoris with her blunt fingernails.

Hearing the priestess moan and seeing her clench the muscles in her butt, she couldn't help herself. The woman was so incredibly responsive to her every touch, she simply had to do more to and for her, despite her own yawning desire.

She slipped a finger inside her lover for the first time, stopping in shock before she had penetrated much further than a knuckle's length.

The priestess was still a virgin.

She ignored the priestess' instinctive hip thrust, pulling her hand back and staring down at the woman's face as it contorted with a mix of love and lust.

The prisoner had been thinking of the priestess in descriptives like "innocent," "naive," and "virginal," but hadn't once thought she was dealing with an actual virgin... she was simply too old (though still youthful, to be sure) for that condition to be possible... and yet her maidenhead was intact.

Callisto's eyes opened as the stimulation of her inner folds stopped, and she looked up into the surprised eyes of the woman who moments before had been stoking the flames of her passion, uncertain of the cause of the cessation. "What's wrong?" she panted, after the haze of desire had faded slightly.

Remaining mute, the Executioner simply continued staring at the excited virginal womanhood exposed to her longing gaze. She'd never been with a virgin before... but the idea thrilled both her tender side and her cruel, possessive side.

A sudden thought halted her reactions. She had never been with anyone... then... that meant... the priestess' responsiveness to her touch was wholly untrained... instinctive. Her every effortless move had brought the woman to new heights of arousal, and it was without the slightest experience to guide her way. There was no guile, no learned responses underlying her displays of pleasure and enjoyment... She really did thrill that much to her touch.

A warm glow began to burn in her heart as she looked down on the woman who had voluntarily submitted to her passionate touch. She hadn't felt like this... since she was a child, really. For the first time in ages, she longed for the days before she had been feared and reviled, when she'd been just another soldier, or even before, and she'd shared love and companionship with others.

Where was Ephiny now, she wondered... had she ever returned to her tribe, or was she still wandering the world, selling her sword? Or Velaska, who had been the first to lovingly show her how pleasurable giving and receiving pain could be? She still treasured the scars. Terreis was dead, she knew, spitted on a warlord's arrow, but her other lovers - not just bedmates, but true lovers... were they all gone as well? How could she have ever come to be so... so heartless... and even... evil? For the first time she began to question her choices in life. Would Ephiny even deign to speak to her now?

Callisto was confused. At first her lover's face had been shocked, then that expression had melted into a pleased smirk, but now she looked slightly saddened, though her eyes hadn't moved an iota from the soft swell of her pudenda. Again she was struck by her inability to refer to her lover by a name... "the Executioner" wasn't exactly a loving term of affection, and she certainly wasn't the kind of woman to warrant a pet name like "Cuddles" or "Lovey." Instead, she simply asked, "Are you alright?"

A gentle, almost contented smile crossed the Executioner's face. "I'm better than alright, love," dropping a kiss on the calf she still held in front of her. Her voice dropped, and almost inaudibly, the priestess heard her whisper, "You've unchained my heart." Blinking several times to clear the water standing in her eyes, she altered her plans, surprised to find her bloodlust and the stark clarion call of death and pain fading under the warm blanket of affection she felt for the little blonde woman.

Still holding the priestess' leg aloft with one hand, she slowly ran her free hand across the sensitive lips of her own drenched folds, eyes squinting slightly as she fought the urge to penetrate herself more deeply with the blunt digits. Gathering her plentiful outpouring of love in her hand, she stretched and offered it to the woman who had given herself body and soul, and had received a soiled and battered heart in exchange. She pressed her body against the length of the upraised leg, nestling it in her damp pubic hair and cradling it between the mounds of her breast as she offered her essence to the priestess.

Callisto delicately stretched out her tongue to taste her lover for the first time. Her tongue running slowly down the length of a calloused finger, gathering the beaded droplets of nectar and bringing them into her mouth. A small moan escaped her as she savored the delicious flavor, and she attacked the plentifully bedewed hand with the fervor of a starving babe, suckling and slurping until not even the tiniest hint of the juices remained.

"Gods!" the Executioner gasped as the priestess sucked on her fingertip, tongue swirling around the tip and flicking teasingly against the cuticle. Every move this woman made turned her on... and this was a virgin? Ares protect her when she gained experience... Groaning as she felt herself tightening, she pulled her hand away from the hungry mouth, the mewling sounds of disapproval coming from her lover at their withdrawal striking her like a blow.

She ached with need, her depths clenching and dripping as she rubbed herself gently against a smooth, shapely thigh. "Want more, do you?" she asked, a wicked smile growing on her face at the priestess' moan of agreement.

Smirking, she lowered herself, commingling the bright red hair of her mound with the pale blonde ones of her lover. Both women groaned as their centers met, damp lips gliding slickly over heated skin as they rubbed together. They paused to savor the sensation, nestled together and smearing their passion across each other as they softly gyrated, until the fire within the Executioner's soul could be denied no longer.

Her hips began to gyrate, rocking back and forth, driving her center down onto her lover's. The feeling was unbelievable... the immovable solidity of pubic bone, the slick dampness of aroused folds, the scratchiness of damp hair meshing together...

The Executioner hugged the upthrust leg to her chest, gripping it tightly as she began to thrust her hips forward, fucking herself and her lover together, the slick sounds of skin sliding against skin accompanied by sweaty grunts and moans of passion.

Ares, but she loved this, the Executioner moaned silently, feeling herself nearing a pinnacle. The worst of her bloodlust and need to kill was subdued, but she still felt the powerful need to dominate, to control, and that the woman surging under her clearly loved her and what she was doing, made it all the sweeter.

As she thrust her hips forward, grinding her clit against her lover's damp folds, she began to grunt out, "Mine," "Mine," "Mine," with each powerful thrust.

Callisto responded, bucking her hips to meet each movement and calling out, "Yes," "Yes," to each movement, surrendering and submitting to the rough loving of the Executioner, thrilling to each pounding impact of the woman's thrusting pelvis. Her heart surged, fire racing through her veins. She was being taken by the fierce woman, and loving every intense moment of it!

The cries of "Mine," were becoming more grunts than words, the speed of their fucking increasing as they neared the point of no return.

Her mind racing, the prisoner thought of the delicate hymen, still unbroken despite the pounding of her hips as she fucked the priestess lovingly but mercilessly. Oh, for her harness, she mourned, the long, blunt phallus that would nestle within her own depths, yet also arch out to pleasure another. She could almost feel it as she thrust, imagining the shaft penetrating her lover with each forceful movement of her hips, driving it into herself as powerfully as it went into her lover.

She'd take the priestess' maidenhead with it - she abruptly knew that with a sense of absolute certainty that chimed in her soul with the clarity and perfection of the purest crystal. Sundering her virginity with the blunt shaft of her phallus, the vibration as it thrust through the thin membrane shivering through the instrument and transmitting itself deeply into her own core, making her completely hers. She exulted, thrusting forward with a rocking twist to her hips, dragging herself across the coarse hairs of the woman's mound and sending a thrill shivering through her body.

Everything came together at once : her darkness exulting in her plan to despoil the (technically) virgin priestess, her tender side thrilling to the loving she was giving and receiving, her body surging as her clit rubbed through her lover's soaked silken folds... It was more than enough to send her over the edge. The prisoner's harsh cry of "Callisto!" merged with the priestess' shriek of fulfillment, echoing through the dungeon as they orgasmed in unison, their fluids blending together only to be smeared across heated centers as their hips rocked together, finding a perfect rhythm as they rode out their climax, synchronized in their spiraling emotions, and overcome by the explosion of pleasure.

They hung there for a moment, poised on the much-abused cot, hips moving slower and slower as they melded together, riding the final crest of their climax down to a warm, sated glow. The prisoner collapsed into the priestess' loving embrace, dropping a happy kiss on one sloppily erect nipple before snuggling together in a pool of contentment, sharing the warmth of their bodies' heat in the heart of the cold dungeon.

"Callisto?" the Executioner panted, breathless from her excess of emotions and the joyous exertions she'd undergone while sating her passions.

"Yes?" her lover asked softly, nibbling gently on her neck.

"My name..." she paused, then her voice firmed as she revealed, "My name was... Gabrielle."

Callisto's eyes shone as she gazed deep into the Executioner's melting verdant pools, unshed tears shining in both their eyes. "I love you, Gabrielle."

The Executioner's lips moved, and though she could not speak it, the priestess read her lips as they slowly articulated "I love you."

Epilogue

Ares watched through the bars of the cell as the two women snuggled together, instinctively drawing closer to each other as they settled down to sleep, still basking in the afterglow of their passion. "Some things just work out so perfectly..." he exulted, offhandedly straightening his jewel-encrusted white leather jumpsuit.

"That was so totally unfair, Ares," Cupid groused, appearing in a flicker of blue flame. "It was majorly uncool to use the priestess to snag my death-babe like that."

Raising an eyebrow, the god of love turned to the god of war and affected an expression of wounded innocence, placing his hand over his heart as though to shield it from hurt. "Moi? What do you call keeping her so doped up on that Primord venom that she didn't even know her own name? Keep her bloodthirsty and dumb and everybody's happy, right?"

"That was the Sovereign's doing and you know it," the angry wargod bit out, flexing his leathery pinions in anger. Stroking his bow, the one that he used to shoot the barbed bolts that created instant hate in the hearts of his targets, he sneered at the contentedly snuggling pair of women. "The muscles, the training, the ability, years of effort spent preparing her to become my Chosen one... all wasted. All she wants to do now is to pleasure her," he sneered.

"Oh, yeah," Ares sighed contentedly, basking in the emotions that were emanating from the prison cell with an almost physical intensity.

Cupid ignored his comment, continuing to vent his displeasure at the mortal's union. "If I'd had my way, she'd be marching my army into Rome, putting that arrogant son of a bacchae Brutus up on a cross. Thanks to our dearly departed half-brother, I'm probably going to have to get his snivelling little worm of a sidekick Julius to betray him before these mortals start to believe they can get away with what he's been doing."

Snorting in irritation, the winged war god added, "That Julius... You'd think someone that good looking would have more of a backbone." He paused to consider his plan and a wicked grin slowly crossed his bestubbled face. "Actually, this might be kinda fun..."

"You and your plots," Ares shook his head sadly. "That's what's so perfect about this. They," here he paused to gesture at the two mortals, "did this all on their own. No intervention required - honest." Shrugging at the look of disbelief on the wargod's face, he could only say, "It happens."

He paused, and an uncomfortable expression briefly appeared before being hidden behind his normal suave half-smile. "I admit that whole Xena thing was a severe miscalculation... I never once thought she'd actually work with muscle-boy, but..." he shrugged. "Oh well. At least she managed to convince that mercenary to run off with her to Ch'in when she left."

Cupid's snarl was feral, and his eyes literally glowed with the intensity of his rage.

Snapping his fingers, Ares was the picture of innocence as he pretended to suddenly remember something. "Oh, I'm so sorry... I forgot you had plans for Borias, too. I don't mean to cause you so many problems, but..." He visibly gloated as he concluded, "I believe that makes the score Love : 2, War : 0."

"Keep it down out there... can't you see we're trying to get some sleep?" the Executioner barked.

Ares and Cupid traded startled looks then stared into the irritated mortal's burning eyes.

Scowling, Cupid vanished with his signature blue flame erupting around him. Ares paused to wink and flash the women a big thumbs-up gesture, then vanished, a glowing pink heart slowly fading into the air behind him as he flickered out.

"Are they gone yet?" Callisto whispered, her face still nuzzled in the valley of Gabrielle's breasts.

"Yeah," Gabrielle commented, smiling down into her new lover's eyes. "They're gone."

"Was it true what he said? About the venom, I mean?" Callisto asked hesitantly.

"Maybe," Gabrielle slowly replied. "It would explain a lot. My 'illness' when I was first put in prison, why I can't remember very much from my time as His Executioner... my eagerness to kill." Moments later, shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. "It really doesn't matter, though. I was no innocent... I'd damned myself to Tartarus a thousand times over before he ever began feeding me any drugs. If he even did - the gods aren't the most truthful of sources for information, y'know."

"Shh." Callisto whispered, putting a stilling finger across her perfectly sculpted lips. "You can change. I know you can. I can sense the good in you."

"You have to think that... you're a priestess," Gabrielle demurred, dismissing the idea. She knew exactly how vile and black her soul truly was, and was half afraid that her very touch would permanently tarnish the soul of the adorable woman nestled so snugly against her - or worse, that her dark side would cause her to injure or kill her.

"Maybe... I am a priestess, but I think I'm beginning to understand your attitude about the gods... a little," Callisto murmured sleepily.

Snickering softly, Gabrielle gently massaged the small of her back. "I don't know... maybe you're right. Once, not long after my village was burned..."

She trailed off and Callisto held her breath, desperately eager to hear the small confidence that she was about to be entrusted with. "Yes?" she asked gently, rubbing her face against one firm breast as she looked up into those wonderful green eyes.

"I somehow wandered into a temple to Ares." A half-smile, almost self-mocking briefly crossed her face before she continued. "I was so young... no virgin wandering about proclaiming 'Pwaise Dionysis,' but... Hades, I was so innocent. I was... lonely, and curious, and Ares seemed so appealing to me... Anyway, there was this fresco there, and what I remember thinking was, 'That's not humanly possible,' but... I dearly wanted to find out. Maybe I can become, like his priests claim, 'A lover, not a fighter.'"

Callisto's heart ached at the pain lurking behind the "casual" and self-mocking tone and wording of the reminiscence, and the trust implicit in that tiny opening revealed in the Executioner's armor. "Did you?" she murmured, dropping a small kiss on the closest patch of bare flesh - tongueing the pert nipple into alertness. "Do you want to find out now... if it's humanly possible, I mean?"

"You're incorrigible," Gabrielle smirked, dropping her hand from the priestess' back to the soft swell of her buttock. "Don't ever change."

Ares smirked as he watched the two begin to lovingly entwine themselves about each other once more. "Ooh, I just love that girl," he gloated, buffing his nails on chest.

The End.

Afterword : Well, you've made it through my latest attempt at a plot-what-plot tale. It started out much differently, with Priestess Callisto trying to understand the Executioner's motives and wanting to know how she became what she was and so on, and a whole question and answer thing, but I realized rather early in the creative process that it was turning into a "Silence of the Lambs" clone. Which... frankly, had been done. Rather than scrap the idea entirely, I created this little tidbit of a PWP laden with plenty of useless plot to frame it and invented backstory inserted to give it some depth.

Allusions & Further Details (FYI) : The Hercules episode "Stranger in a Strange World" was the primary source for this piece, though the Sovereign turns up in "Armageddon Now" and drops some hints about his home turf. Be warned : there's probably more spoilers in this explanation than there are in the story... : )

In essence, the mirror world of "SIASW" is the inverse of the Xena world, where good is evil, Joxer is the heroic leader of the rebellion against the evil Hercules, Ares is the god of love, and so on. Also, since the two worlds are linked, if someone dies in one world, the counterpart in the other world dies as well.

We really don't know much else about the mirror world, and especially not much about the alternate Gabrielle & Callisto.

Gabrielle is revealed to be The Executioner for the Sovereign, sporting a pallor, dark ringed eyes, and a weird voice under her all-covering black outfit, though she's pretty handy with an axe. 'Course, Iolaus dumps her on her butt with one blow, but it was a Herc ep, after all...

Of Callisto we know even less. When Callisto, the Goddess from the Xena world, pulls the Sovereign from the vortex between the two worlds (with Ares' help), he calls her "Priestess Callisto" and says he likes her skimpy leather outfit.

That's pretty much it. That's what I had to work with. <sigh> Well, bards thrive on challenges... or at least that's what I read in a pamphlet when I registered as one (write to Pueblo, CO for more details), so I set out to create the encounter.

Let's leave the origin of the um, action scenes to your imagination, and focus on the other elements... <g>

We are given some direct references to the alterations in the divine hierarchy in the episodes : Hera is the goddess of music, Aphrodite is the modest and reserved queen of the gods, Zeus is still king, Ares is the god of love, and Cupid is the evil god of war. Given the premise of the mirror world, it makes sense except for the Hera thing, really.

I did a little further reshuffling for my own amusement : Dionysis : god of revelry and wine becomes the virgin god of abstinence and self-control <snicker>, and Hestia becomes the goddess of well, she ain't no virgin, and let's leave it at that... though I did leave a reference to bacchae unaltered. Persephone, the goddess of fertility and growth, also swaps roles with Celesta.

Cupid retains his bow, but it creates hate, and his angelic wings become demonic dragonish wings to reflect his altered nature. Hey, it could happen... Anyway, I left their cronies out of it since Strife and Discord would be love gods and Bliss would be evil... which if nothing else would mess up the descriptors in the language, so I let that element slide.

Brutus rules Rome, and his snivelling sidekick is Julius... who is also portrayed by the actor who plays Cupid, incidentally, which explains the bit in the epilogue... like you didn't already know that. <g>

About midway through the story, at about the first spanking, I think, I was struck by a thought... <oof!> In the Xenaverse, Callisto dies, is shunted into Xena's body becoming technically alive, gets sent back to Tartarus, is revived by Hera, becomes immortal, becomes a god, is imprisoned (but remains alive)... and eventually gets stabbed and dies. So... while this was going on, what happened to her counterpart - Priestess Callisto?

Well, now you know. ; )

I rewrote the backstory, added some details, and never looked back.

Of course, I don't mention anything about what will happen to the budding relationship shown here when Callisto-the-Goddess gets stabbed with the hind's blood dagger... Go ahead and write that story for yourself. It's time for the coming of Gabrielle, the Destroyer of Nations. <EG>

I started off wanting to write Gabrielle as evil and a dominatrix type, with lots of leather and bondage, and Callisto as sweet and submissive and innocent... Well, I got it half right. I just couldn't do Gabrielle as truly, unabashedly evil. Wicked, cruel, and dark, yeah, but... different. I wound up with the Executioner being half Xena and half Callisto, and Priestess Callisto being the Gabrielle of the relationship, if you get what I mean, and by the end I started to emphasize that characterization. And Ephiny worked her way in, too. <g>

Oh well... at least this has helped me mostly get around a block I had with writing Deus Ex Gabrielle. I'm going to try to get an abbreviated part 11 posted before I go on vacation at the beginning of February, but if not, it should be out shortly after I return. So... let me know what you think, and feel free to write your own stories fleshing out this vision of the mirror world I presented herein.

Send me your comments / questions / etc at : Chris M.