Medusa's Desire (The Fate of Eros #1) (The Fate of Eros Series)

by E. B. Black

  Medy nodded her head.

  "Well, maybe they would pay for you to watch while they slept with me."

  "Sounds easy enough, watching from afar." Medy wasn't sure why that was supposed to be pleasurable.

  "You don't know what I mean, do you?" Cithara chuckled. "You'd have to take your clothes off and rub yourself."

  Medy blushed again. "Do you mean stroke myself where I think you do? I could never-"

  "Oh, come on," Cithara said. "You can't lose your virginity with your finger. A lot of noble women would be cheating on their husbands if it counted as sex. I wouldn't let the customers near you. I'll rip off their dicks if they try. We'd both get paid. You could give your family the money they need and it would all be legal."

  Medy knew that Cithara couldn't guarantee her safety. She had seen several prostitutes beaten by men, including Cithara herself, but her heart pounded with the kind of excitement she felt when she knew she was going to do something that was a bad idea. "Won't I lose my hymen, though?"

  Cithara's mouth dropped open. "You mean-you've never pleasured yourself before?"

  Medy shook her head.

  "If you rub just the outer lips of it, you won't damage anything. Besides, it's not like you really need proof of your virginity. You don't plan to get married."

  Medy shrugged. "I guess you're right, but I'm unsure."

  "Even if you change your mind, you can always stain the sheet with pig's blood. Many less scrupulous women have done the same on their honeymoon."

  Medy traced the ground with her foot. "I don't know."

  "Come on! Try it one time," Cithara said. "And if you hate it, you never have to do it again. It will be beneficial to both of us."

  "Okay."

  "Good," Cithara said. "We'll start tomorrow."

  Chapter 2

  Medy spent extra time the next morning getting ready. Her hands shook as she combed out her hair. She hardly slept the night before. To avoid her family, she had to leave early. She grabbed the water pail and left before any of them woke.

  When she arrived, Cithara was there with a white dress clutched in her hands. The material was thin and Medy could see the wrinkles in Cithara's finger joints beneath it.

  "What is that?" Medy was pretty sure that any woman who wore the dress in the sun would give a clear view of her bare body to the world.

  Cithara raised an eyebrow. "It's your clothing for today."

  Medy felt unusually conscious of her nipples and the light pubic hair between her thighs. "I can't be naked in public."

  "Of course not," Cithara said. "That's why you're going to wear this. No one will get to see you without it for free. It'll give them enough of a taste to whet their desire."

  Medy sighed, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

  Cithara smiled. "It may feel awkward at first, but you'll get used to it. Now, let's get you changed inside."

  Cithara walked into the building, but Medy froze. She knew the kinds of things that went on in there, but she'd never seen it.

  Cithara stuck her head out and waved. "What are you waiting for? Come in! There's nothing to be afraid of."

  Medy's feet walked one in front of the other, as though they no longer belonged to her. A more daring woman controlled her movement; she was light-headed and petrified.

  As she passed underneath the stony archway, she was hit by the smells of dirt and pleasure. Lamps burned in every corner, filling her lungs with smoke. They flickered and illuminated the gray walls seductively. She heard grunting to the right and saw a naked old man on top of a young woman. She lay on a stone slab and both their faces were scrunched in ecstasy. The doorways were archways into open rooms, where everyone served the clients in full view of anyone walking by.

  Another woman stood to the left. She was on her knees in front of a man, sucking on him. Most wives in Athens found this act shameful, but the woman moaned and stared into his eyes.

  Medy struggled to shut her mouth, which was hanging open.

  Cithara followed her gaze. "This is why men come here. We give them things their wives won't. Our threesome will thrill many."

  Antonius was bent in front of a man who cried out with every thrust. The man periodically slapped his butt. Antonius smiled and winked at Medy. He looked so giddy, she was surprised he wasn't laughing out loud. "I'm back in business!" he mouthed and then let out a loud moan, obviously intended for the satisfaction of the customer.

  Medy's face warmed; the walls were closing in on her. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

  She heard whimpering up ahead. Someone was in pain. Medy flinched, hoping the job didn't demand her to be beaten by clients. She had heard of men who had fetishes for whips and blood.

  "Ambrosia is having her baby!" Cithara announced in excitement and Medy's shoulders relaxed. "She's been in labor since yesterday, swearing because the baby is taking so long to come out!"

  Medy struggled not to vomit as Ambrosia's shrilly scream met her ears. Her room smelled like copper and brine. Clear liquid and blood covered the sheets spread on the ground. Her legs were parted. Her face was red and sweaty, her hair plastered to her forehead.

  Medy wanted to look away, but the horror of what she was seeing

  wouldn't allow her to. Another prostitute sat in front of her. She must have been the closest thing they could get to a midwife.

  Between Ambrosia's legs popped a bloody head of hair. She shrieked again. Medy gagged and turned away.

  They went to a private corner of the brothel and sat down across from each other. Cithara ordered Medy to change her clothes as she pulled several items out of a sack. She took a vial and smeared red liquid over Medy's lips.

  "What are you doing?" Medy mumbled.

  "Making you look beautiful. I dab berry juice on my face every morning. It gives you more color."

  Medy nodded appreciatively. She had always noticed that Cithara's lips were unusually red and plump.

  She also handed Medy a necklace. It held a tiny bottle at the end of its chain. She uncorked the lid and smelled roses. Perfume was expensive. She spilled a few drops on her neck and wrists.

  "I want you to have this for good luck," Cithara said. "It was given to me by my mother when I was a little girl."

  Medy handed it back. Cithara's mother had died a few years ago from a fever. Cithara had scared customers with her crying and punched the teeth out of a man who called her mother a good-for-nothing whore.

  "I can't keep this," Medy said.

  "I'll be insulted if you don't. Hide it under your clothes, so your parents won't see it, but use it every day before you come to work. Consider it an initiation gift."

  The sound of a baby crying filled the air. All the whores stopped what they were doing and ran towards Ambrosia's room-even the ones in the middle of pleasing their clients. They pushed one another out of the way for a glimpse at the tiny, red mess, ignoring the complaints of the naked men around them. Bare breasts and asses were shoved everywhere.

  The baby was a little girl. Medy's heart broke as she saw her. From this end of the process, she was beautiful. Ambrosia took the child to her breast and fed her.

  Cithara and Medy went outside with smiles on their faces. They wondered whether Ambrosia would let anyone else hold her daughter or be too protective. Medy pretended that she wasn't trying to solicit men, but soon someone approached them.

  He was overweight and balding. He smelled like a pig and had the round face of one. Cithara had warned her that some clients might be repulsive. This man fit the bill.

  His eyes wandered up and down Medy's body. She had to fight the urge to cover herself; her skin suddenly chilled. Cithara grabbed Medy's hand and spun the two of them around, so he could get a full view of what he was purchasing. He licked his greasy lips.

  Cithara demanded money if he wanted to see any more. If she waited for the payment until afterwards, more often than not the men would pull their pants up and run without giving a single drachma. Coins
jingled in the man's hand as he dropped them into Cithara's palm. She clenched them and led the way inside.

  They stretched out in an unoccupied corner and the man rubbed Medy's shoulder. She leaped out of the way as Cithara slapped his arm. "She is not to be touched. That isn't part of the deal. She only watches."

  Medy stared at the ceiling as they stripped naked. She was used to seeing Cithara nude, but was frightened by the man pig. He had rolls of fat. His belly swallowed up his penis in its folds. He jumped on top of Cithara and jiggled in a way that made her skin crawl.

  He ran out of breath as he thrust in and out of her. The room smelled like something had died. His skin grew slick from the movement.

  Cithara gave her a warning look and Medy rubbed herself fervently. It hurt after a while. She watched the faces Cithara made and tried to imitate them. The whole experience was awful, but was over more quickly than she thought it would be. She was pleased because she could go out and breathe fresh air again.

  Cithara split the money with Medy once he left. The weight of the coins lying in her hand made her heart leap into her throat. She had never possessed this much power over her own life and future. The whole thing was worth it.

  Cithara crossed her arms. "You're lucky he didn't demand his money back."

  Medy's eyebrows met. "What do you mean?"

  "You looked like you were in pain."

  "You could tell I didn't enjoy it?" She had thought she was doing so well, too.

  "Yes," Cithara said. "It's not something you should fake. You need to orgasm for real. You think of someone else. Imagine a beautiful young man with muscles you'd like to stroke. Pretend you're on the beach, rolling around with him in the sand. Use whatever fantasy helps. I think of my boyfriend, Bartholomew."

  Medy smiled. "So that's the name of your slave lover boy!"

  Cithara's eyes glowed. "Yes. Our love gets me through all of this."

  She seemed so happy and it made Medy doubt herself for a moment. Maybe she could find joy with a man as well. She shook the idea out of her head.

  Medy knew she should probably leave. She only meant to try this one time, but before she knew it, they had reeled in another man and she was agreeing to go back into the brothel.

  This man was young and handsome. In fact, Medy felt jealous of the fact that Cithara would be touching him. His gray eyes were lighter than his tan skin. His blond hair was long, his stubble scruffy, and his body rough and muscular. She felt a warmth pool into her stomach and tighten it. This is what lust must feel like.

  She kept her eyes open as they pulled off their clothes. She was satisfied by every inch of creamy skin he revealed to her. She longed to run her fingertips up his abs. She shivered as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him on the lips and the chest. Her breath hitched as he positioned his erection over Cithara. She rubbed herself as he entered her.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. She imagined herself alone with him, his heated body pressed against hers as he pleasured her instead. She gasped as her insides contracted. Her nerve endings tingled as she shuddered. The urge to shout in excitement choked her as the waves took over.

  This time when Cithara handed her money, her body felt shaky. She would remember this moment so she could daydream about it with other customers in the future.

  Cithara smiled. "If you can do that every time, we'll have a lot of good business together."

  When she headed home, as the sun was beginning to set, she wondered what to do with the money. She'd hand it directly to her mother, but she'd be questioned on where she got it. Women couldn't make a living through purity.

  Already, as it was, her father was sick of "providing" for his family. He threatened to kick them out all the time. Her new job was a good excuse to get rid of her for dragging down the family name and making it hard for him to do "business", which for him was just gambling. Besides, she knew her dad: he'd act like she'd cut his balls off if he knew she was making more money than he had in years.

  She bought a pair of fancy shoes on the way, the kind her mother loved to dance in. Ceto had sold most of her pairs and Medy could see the sadness in her eyes every time she did so.

  She also stopped by the well and quickly pumped some water into the pail. Juggling the shoes and carrying the water was a heavy burden for one woman, but she would manage. She wished she hadn't lived a life of leisure, so she would have the muscles to drag stuff around more easily.

  When she got home, she left both the shoes and the drachmas in her father's room while her parents were fighting. Her father had gambled away the money for the next day's food and Ceto was angry. She announced her return by dropping the big pail of water at their feet, sloshing it around a bit.

  She knew her father was too drunk to question it when he found the money. He had been so privileged all his life that he was used to the idea of it popping up out of nowhere. He'd probably think a friend had let him borrow it and assume he'd blacked out the entire conversation. Ceto would find a way to take enough of it to feed them.

  Her father complained about what a waste of money his family was, but shut up once he realized that the satchel at his desk was full of it. Ceto found the shoes and gave Phorcys a sloppy kiss on the cheek as she twirled around the room in them. Her father grinned at the feel of her mother's lips. She wished she could punch him for taking all the credit. At least her parents weren't fighting, but he'd probably gamble away at least half the money she'd made. There would be no thanks for selling her body to help them live.

  Over the next few months, she threw herself fully into her new business. She pretended to have made some friends and told her mother that the lavish dinners and flowers she came home with were presents from suitors. It wasn't a complete lie and it made Ceto happy. She found a carpenter to fix the roof and a slave girl to clean part-time. She told her mother that Phorcys had hired them. Ceto thought that her husband had suddenly become more responsible.

  He still wandered the streets drunkenly as he always did, swearing at his friends until they'd make bets with him over stupid things like dog fights and dice rolls. Not that Medy was doing much to help the family's reputation.

  The brothel's dinginess was driving rich customers away. Cithara was negotiating prices with a tax collector one day when Ambrosia ran out of the front door, screaming at the top of her lungs as a naked man ran for his life.

  "He sucked the milk from my tit!" Ambrosia said. "That's how I feed my child! If he wanted dinner with the show, then the little shit should have paid me more!"

  The tax collector's face twisted in disgust. He ripped the coin purse from Cithara's hand. They had been discussing an alternate form of payment for their taxes and instead they had lost all the money they'd struggled for that day.

  "I think it's time we start working for ourselves," Cithara said.

  Medy's eyebrows rose. "We can do that?"

  Cithara smirked. "You can when you attract customers like we do."

  They tested the idea by accepting an invitation to a party hosted by an Eastern merchant. They were given wine to drink that tasted sweeter than the bitter stuff Medy choked down at home. The food was rich with spice and piled high onto their plates. Medy was drunk and full by the time the merchant started to kiss Cithara's neck. He unclipped her chiton and let it fall to the floor, while the other guests grabbed one another and released their passions.

  The merchant threw Cithara on the table and fell on top of her. As the room spun, Medy danced to the music strung by the harpist, who, as evidenced by his erection, was fully aroused by the sights. She threw off her clothes and rubbed each curve of her body, enjoying the fact that she had been born a woman. The merchant thrust into Cithara, but kept his eyes on Medy, enchanted by the seductive way she ran her hands over her soft skin. He cried out as he finished.

  The girls were given the drachmas they asked for, along with a set of silk dresses and combs. Sleeping with a merchant had its advantages.

  The two girls were invite
d to another party later that week. Medy was surprised to see no other female guests except them. They had only been paid enough to sleep with the host, but the other males stared at their chests.

  Cithara looked into the host's eyes and crossed her arms.

  "I haven't forgotten the deal," he reassured them.

  Medy's knees shook as she sat at the table. The men stared as if she was a piece of meat. None of them made jokes. They hardly spoke and didn't eat. Medy gulped her wine too loudly. Her mind grew hazy from the alcohol.

  She frowned. She had only one glass-she shouldn't be this drunk yet. Cithara swayed in the seat next to her; her eyes fluttered. She had swallowed more.

  Medy stood and one of the men grabbed her by the arm. "Cithara and I need some fresh air. We'll be right back, I promise." She hoped her lie was believable. She couldn't feel her lips.

  The man pulled her towards the table and the world lurched around her. "You look tired. Why don't you rest awhile and then go outside?"

  The air was sucked from the room. "No, I need to go now."

  Cithara giggled. "Stay. It will be fun." She was slurring her words.

  "See? You can't leave-your friend doesn't want to go." The words were meant to be reassuring, but the tone sounded threatening.

  Cithara's face turned green. She clutched her stomach. "I don't feel so good." She grabbed the man holding Medy as she passed out. He had to let go so he wouldn't fall on top of her.

  In the commotion, Medy hobbled to the door and opened it. The men wouldn't follow because there were too many witnesses outside; still, she wanted to distance herself from them. She ran into a few people who yelled at her and pushed her. The crowd swirled into a sea of angry faces. She called for help, but no one wanted to help a prostitute. She vomited right before the ground met her face. The world went black.

  She woke hours later covered in her own sickness. She had shoeprints on her arms and bruises on her body. People had walked on her, not caring whether she were alive or dead. She didn't see Cithara anywhere. Maybe she should go back for her, but she didn't know how much time had passed. She could have escaped already. She might be at the brothel.