The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

My latest steamy short story is the First Writer Spotlight on a brand new Blog – Erotic Skye. In this heartrending account I become a victim to not one, but two goddesses. You can read the story below and on Erotic Skye

WARNING: Sensitive Content. Contains very explicit material. Adults Only.

Ancient Greece, c. 800 B.C.

        On all fours, I stalk my prey. 

        Like the myriad women I hunt, seize, love and bed, the creature’s eyes widen at the sight of my vast prowling form, camouflaged among the trees. 

        My senses are primed. Stealing the final breath of the creature in my ruthless sights, my snare is set. The lethal path to it is lined with fruits to tempt my prize. I watch the deer wander haplessly through the trees into my hidden trap. From a distance, I raise my bow and shoot an arrow into the flank of my target. I creep up to the deer and bring down my bronze club to quickly end its poor life, thanking the animal for giving its body to sustain my people. 

        I haul my kill down to the village. It will feed a hungry family or two, at least. They welcome me in to distribute my kill and consume a flagon or two of wine. There is often a reward in voluptuous feminine form. If a lady wants my towering muscled body on and in her, she lowers the top of her robe to expose a hard, lustful nipple. I carry her away from the village and make passionate love to her. Women are as hungry for my body as for the kill I bring them. They are often neglected by their men, who are absorbed in war, business, or other men. I love as hard as I fight. I love my women. I fall in love all the time.

        Often a group of ladies lead me back into the forest. I drink, eat and carouse with them, their generous breasts jiggling beneath filmy robes, their hands wandering beneath my warrior’s chiton to seize my engorged manhood. Being very tall, I can mount one lady while I gorge on the wondrous gaping folds of another, her ample thighs locked against my head.

        You would call it an orgy. Their lips yield to my passionate kiss, their ripe dark nipples harden under the caress of my rough hunter’s hands, their luscious vulvas pour on my probing tongue. I thrust my unfettered joy into each beautiful woman. I hear them laugh and scream out their unbridled ecstasy to the night skies.  

        The night skies where I will be banished, forever. 


 So – I am Orion: the mightiest hunter in the world. The most voracious lover in our great Empire. The most handsome of all earthborn men. Oh, and the most boastful.

        I am instantly recognisable by my gold-studded belt, my bronze sword, club and dagger, and my bow and arrow quiver slung across my broad naked back. But you know me as a magnificent constellation in outer space. Seen by generations of astronomers as a collection of billions of stars forming the shape of a giant hunter: a starman. Made immortal in the skies by Artemis: the beautiful, fearsome, Virgin Goddess of the Hunt. 

        The woman who steals my heart. The woman who kills me.

        But before I fall for the Virgin Huntress, I am captured by the insatiable Eos, Goddess of the Dawn. 


I emerge from the forest. Eos is looking down on my lumbering form from her golden sky chariot. Like one of your modern surveillance drones, she hovers over the craggy mountains and beaches of our myriad islands. They say Eos was cursed by Aphrodite to feel constant, unquenchable desire, because the goddess of Love and Lust caught her in bed with her lover Ares, the God of War. For Eos, the hunter is her prey. The morning dew is the cascading juice from her love valley as she casts her lustful eyes on the next hapless young mortal man she plans to abduct and seduce.

        That next hapless young mortal man is me.

Out of the blue, I feel very strong arms around my belted waist. I lie cradled in the arms of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. To a woman – albeit a goddess – strong enough to carry a six-foot-six man built like a brick shithouse high into the sky and across sea and land, I am ready to surrender.


        She is tall, so I am no giant to her. She holds me helpless in her lap. I am mesmerised. I can feel her throbbing, pouring mound beneath her long, filmy dress. Her mass of wavy golden hair is a vast, floating curtain that parts when the sun comes up. We soar through the clouds. I can’t move in her grasp. 

        She whispers, “Orion! My poor big hunter, you are mine!”

        She pulls my head to her vast breast and suckles me. I lick and suck on her engorged nipple and drink her wondrous nectar. I erupt in volcanic release. She shouts my name to the heavens as she reaches her zenith. 

        I gaze into her bewitching brown eyes. 

        “Please kiss me, beautiful Goddess,” I gasp. I must kiss a woman I love.

        She pushes her nails into my throbbing, spent shaft. I cry out. Her captivating cupid’s-bow mouth forms a sneer. 

        “I will not kiss a mortal. You are not worthy. This is what I want. And your hulking body. You will please me again now, my Orion. Or I will fling you back down to Earth.” 

        She mounts me. I am powerless. Her mountain of hair enshrouds me. Her long arms and legs envelope me. Her breasts fly; her vagina devours me as she writhes and screams her joy.


        Her dawn breaks. Eos climbs onto my naked, shattered body. Her mass of golden hair cascades onto my chest, teasing my rock-hard torso, scarred by the mauling of hunted animals. In the blur of being woken, I lift my arms to hold her. But I can’t. 

        While I slept, she had bound my wrists in chains to the posts of her bed. 

        I am captive. I am at her mercy. 

        No woman has ever chained me, ridden me, dominated me. 

        Until now.

        Now, possessed by an all-powerful, predatory goddess, I am spellbound. Even as she hurts me, I am in ecstasy. I only want to please her. 

        I love her.


        Eos has carried me into her magnificent palace on the beautiful island of Delos. Everything in her sumptuous bedchamber is gilt, with gloriously erotic paintings and the sweet aroma of perfume and sweat. I am allowed to sleep just a few hours until her dawn and her desire descend once more. 

        She gazes at me with hunger, running her rosy-fingered hand over my shackled, waking form. Her long nails tear at my heaving chest and tug at my erect nipples. She grasps my manhood and licks its tortured tip. She sits astride my disheveled head. She thrusts her engorged vulva onto my mouth. I taste her wondrous gush, my tongue licking and thrashing deep into her every glorious curve. She contorts in joyous spasms, choking me in her torrent. 

        Then she rides me savagely like I was one of her chariot horses. She engulfs me, twisting and swirling on me. She crushes and bruises me while I lie shackled, unable to touch her glorious massive breasts that shudder out of reach from my chained hands. 

        When I fail to sate her, or I come too soon, she hits me, scratches me, bites me, and beats me. I relish her domination. Me, the big macho hunter, of all people. Sometimes I cry. This only intensifies her violent frenzy. 

        It must be my guilt. My reputation as the rampant hunter, a savage brute. Whatever, the Goddess of the Dawn brings out in me a hidden urge to submit to a beautiful, cruel woman; to please her, to love her.

        But I still want to conquer her. One morning, I do. With a double wrench, I free my arms from their tethers, shattering the fine wood of the headboard. I pull her transparent robe apart and push her down onto the bed. She does not resist. She moans softly while I tenderly kiss her neck and murmur words of love. I clench a handful of her hair and drown her mouth with my kiss. She grasps my backside and pulls me into her. I drive deep, thrusting with abandon. She does not look up at me; I am mere male flesh for her endless pleasure.

        I try to pull out. She tightens around my spent organ. I am trapped in the vice of her insatiable lust. 

        “Do not stop!” she hisses, her dark eyes mocking me. She grasps my hair as she begins to writhe again. I can’t believe she is not sated. 

        “I want all of you, Orion! You will satisfy me! Or I will break you!

        “You are captive inside me!”


 My hunting life ceases while I am in the palace of Eos. I am a kept man. I am her plaything. She feeds me delicious food and wine; we bathe in a vast marble pool. She rides me on her golden throne. 

        We sit together in her dazzling morning light. A wound from her clawing my back stings in the sun.

        “My lady, I must hunt again.”

        Eos stands and sidles up to me, her diaphanous robe swishing around her fulsome thighs, her quivering breasts catching the sun’s rays. One hand clasps my head firmly. Her other bejeweled hand swipes me across the face, her rings cutting my mouth. “You are my slave, Orion. You will not leave me.” 

        She pulls my bleeding face onto her magnificent cleavage. I am helplessly hard. My arms are round her waist, gently holding her. My tears fall onto her breasts. I kiss them tenderly. She digs her nails into my swollen, aching shaft. I cry out:

        “Please don’t hurt me, my Lady! I love you!” 

        “I will hurt you as I please, my big stupid hunter. Now come to bed. You will pleasure me. All the day.”

        I decide to escape, at least for just one day. I can’t live without her, but I must hunt again. I was born to be a hunter. 

        While my goddess flies her chariot, bringing the dawn light to the world, I break loose from my chains. I retrieve my tunic and belt, shoulder my weapons, and walk tall out of her dominion of desire. 


One month later

        I do not return to Eos. I am once again the lone, brave hunter. This is what I live for. The joy of bringing fresh kill to my people. I am the People’s Hunter.

        I stride deep into the forest in the black of night. I am stopped in my tracks. 

        I see a startling vision of powerful womanhood standing on a rock.

        She is poised to strike, her bow raised under the glare of a full moon. Her moon.

        Artemis. Goddess of the Hunt. 

        Sheer magnificence. 

        Her shapely body is partially clothed in a ripped, short tunic. Her ruthless dark eyes are fixed on their target. My heart beats so loud I am sure she will hear it. She shoots her arrow, her silky dark hair blowing behind her. 

        I am transfixed. I am in love. Again. 

        With another goddess.

        Her tunic lowers for a split second to expose a firm, ample breast. She rapidly covers it. She nocks another arrow and aims it at me.

        “On your knees, mortal! I could kill you for that.”

        I plunge to the ground. 

        “My lady, fair goddess, I am Orion. I have heard of your great work as a renowned huntress.”

She looks down at me. I hope my supplicant pose hides my arousal that grows despite my possible impending death. 

        “Get up, Hunter. I’ve heard all about you.” She lowers her bow. Her voice is sharp, commanding, forceful. “And most of it not good.”


 To my joy and amazement, she invites me to hunt with her – on condition I do not venture near her. 

        Or else.

        In that long, wondrous summer we hunt together. She is highly revered everywhere; we take our spoils into the villages to high acclaim. But there are no ample ladies beckoning me to make love to them in makeshift huts beyond the village. I am hunting with a Virgin Goddess sworn never to take a man to her bed. From immersion in the dawn fires of Eos, I stagger on the frozen moon of Artemis.

        I marvel at the sheer skill and energy of her hunting prowess. I’ve never felt like this before. She loves the hunt as much as I do. I am captivated by her power and grace. And to my ever-lustful eyes, her tunic barely covers her legs and firm breasts as she moves through the forest like a swift young gazelle. I fall deeply in love with her.

        She runs off to sleep somewhere in the forest. I hunker down elsewhere. Forbidden to touch her, I am driven to the peak of my desire. 

        Artemis sees me as just another hunter, but gradually I earn her trust. After a day’s hunt we sit together, telling stories by the campfire. We feast on our captured meat and wine gifted by the villagers. She wolfs it with the same gusto as I do. Her lithe, strong arms pull at the animal’s hide; her lustrous dark hair falls across her gleaming shoulders. A frown darkens her resolute face. Sweat glistens on her neck and arms. I am suffused with drink and desire. 

She snaps: “You have had many lovers, Orion. You are notorious. I hear you have been with Eos.”

“Yes, my Lady. I lived with Eos.”

        “More than lived with,” she hisses with cold disapproval. Is she jealous of the Dawn Goddess? The vicious rivalries among our deities make your modern box set thrillers look tame. 

        She pulls the skirt of her tunic down in an attempt to hide the tops of her muscled thighs. This excites me further. 

        I can’t stop myself. I reach over and pull her to me. 

        “My lady Artemis, I love you! I want to marry you!” 

        I force a kiss on her cold, firm lips. For just a few seconds, I feel her yield to my hungry mouth and drink me in. Her arms encircle my neck. I am in heaven. 

        Soon, I really will be. 

        She pushes me away with all the force of her fury. I stagger back, almost falling into the fire.

        “How dare you!” 

        She seizes her dagger and yells, “Go, Orion! Go back to Eos! She will give you what you want!” 

        I hear a catch in her angry voice.

        “Because I can’t!”


        In my frenzy of unrequited love, I do not hear or see a sky chariot descend, nor the shriek of a woman’s voice. 


        She walks over to us. I see beneath her transparent robe the undulating curves of the sumptuous body that aroused and crushed me more than a thousand times. Her curtain of long soft hair I have stroked and kissed is piled up under a warrior headdress. 

The Dawn Goddess yells,  “I don’t want him! He left me! And he never satisfied me!” 

        She moves towards me. She snaps my arms behind a tree trunk and locks them in familiar chains. She pulls my hair back and lashes me across my face. Ripping off my chiton, she exposes my naked arousal that had unwillingly increased with her assault.

        She barks, “He is my slave! I captured him. He submits to my every demand. Look at him! He’s just a piece of pathetic mortal meat. I will ravish him for the last time!”

        Eos seizes my poor aching manhood, like many times before. I gasp in pain and terror. She parts her robe and wraps her legs round me. She grips my throat. Struggling against my chains pushes out my chest for her to bite. Her breasts press against my torn torso. She writhes on my bruised phallus, pulverizing me, howling her crescendo. 

        I hear Artemis shout, “Stop! Set him free! He does not belong to you! He is my friend. I love him!

        With one almighty wrench, I break free from my chains. Eos is thrown off me and backs away. 

        I roar, “I am no slave! I am a proud hunter!” 

        I love him… 

        I push Eos aside and seize Artemis. 

        I love him… 

        With her magic words soaring in my brain, I kiss her. 

       I love him…

        I gasp, “Artemis! I love you!” 

        I seize her by her tunic. It tears, exposing her ripe breasts. 

        It falls to the ground, exposing her naked body. 

        Inflamed with passion, I pull her to me. I kiss her again. Artemis pushes me back, her eyes blazing with fury. 

        No man must see the Virgin Goddess naked. 

        Or else.

        She reaches for her bow.

        I turn and run. 

        I plunge into the sea. 

        Eos shrieks:

        “Kill him!” 

        Artemis raises her bow.

        Her arrow pierces my brain.


Somewhere in the United States: Present Day

        An astronomy student sets up her telescope to view the night sky. It is winter. She fixes her lens on her favourite constellation. Orion. She sees the perfect geometric alignment of the three stars on his Belt and the pinkish blur of his vast Nebula on his Sword. She gazes up in wonderment at his celestial beauty. 

        Suddenly the music in her headphones stops. It is replaced by a cascade of jumbled sounds. She hears a man’s voice. He is crying out in an ancient language, from the depths of outer space. 

        Her Greek origins enable her to interpret the fractured, crackling signals that left the star system over two millennia ago.

        Her heart pounding, with trembling hands she turns on her recording suite to capture his words. When the fazing clears, from hundreds of light-years away she hears him sob, then gasp for breath.

        Then she hears him scream in his death agony:


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