Lady Penelope Speaks

by Two Faced Goddess

Finally. I get to say something. Not that I don’t speak so much, I just don’t get to tell my story often. Male historians… They always tell their stories about the “Great Men In History”. They never let on that all these great men are nothing but silly puppets on strings. Wanna know who actually pull their strings? Fair guess it’s us, their women…

As all women, I’ve made some mistakes in my life that weren’t so bad, save one. Marriage. Living in ancient Greece, you don’t have much of a choice, I guess. Still I keep thinking I should have joined the amazons when I had the chance… They don’t get married at all. They don’t get left at home with their children when their hubby is fighting far away in some Big Big War. Yes I should have joined the amazons. Because my husband left me, too, you know.

Our marriage… how did it get that far? Well I met him at a palace of a friend of ours. And I was pretty rebellious then. But, well, what did you expect with all these patriarchal characters around you? There were some men who were drooling at the thought of marrying me, who never got tired of following me around the palace, the gardens and everywhere I might wish to go. Well I can tell you there were handsome men amongst them, but I didn’t care for any of them. I just didn’t feel attracted by their broad shoulders, their deep voices or their strong arms. Each time a man approached me, I thought that I’d choke and die in those big strong arms of his.

So I wasn’t looking for a man to “pick my cherry”, or how did they call it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t … looking at all. You bet I was looking and touching and dreaming. Only, it seemed that I was getting excited about emmmm, the wrong sex. Well that sex wasn’t quite wrong in my opinion, really. Very often, I found myself almost falling off my horse as I saw another luscious dark haired woman crossing the market place. There were just too many sexy women where I lived then. Not to mention my servants. My father was rather protective, so I had an all-female staff. Poor father. He should have known better.

Oh I liked them all right, my loyal servants. I especially liked a woman called Bendis. Bendis was my personal chambermaid. She took care of my clothing, my hair and my room. She was smaller than I am, but her hair was longer than mine. It was like black silk. Her face was like a full moon –she had a skin that was whiter than is normal in Greece- with emerald green eyes that would register each and every move I made. She had a soft, but firm body. And her voice… I loved hearing that voice, especially whenever she sung for me. I called her my little Sappho.

Are you surprised when I tell you I’d rather have her instead of all those rude, brutal men that were so often having dinner with us, burping and farting? My choice was quickly made. As my father wanted me to attend all the meals, I had no choice but to wait till all the guests were satisfied. Then I’d try to look tired and unwell. If I was lucky, my over-protective father would let me go to my rooms, where my dessert waited. Somehow Bendis always knew when I was coming. She’d stand there, in the dim light of the hallway, her eyes flickering when the flame of her torch lit up. She’d lead my to my rooms. I followed her on these nights with impatience, with hunger for what would be coming.

In my bedroom, she would first sit me down and then softly pull the golden pins out of my hair that had kept it up. I loved the feeling of freedom of my hair falling over my shoulders. After that she’d comb my hair, softly stroking and kissing it in the dim light of an oil lamp. She’d wander off with her mouth, first kissing my left ear –always the left one first-, then my neck, while her hands would stroke my shoulders, arms and breasts. Then suddenly, she’d reach up to my shoulder and with an amazing rapidity, she’d take off the buckle that had held my clothing. The soft clothing always reminded me of butterflies as it fell down to my waist.

More butterflies would come when she stroke my shoulders and my breasts with her hair, rubbing her nose and mouth around my nipples. I’d sit as still as possible, trying not to disturb her when she was busy. Sometimes she’d go on like this for ages, rubbing and stroking me to sleep. But that was only when I didn’t see it coming. Mostly, I knew when I was slowly sinking away into a delicious sleep. Then I’d take her head between my hands and I would softly lay her down on my pillows (I always had loads of pillows because they can be such fun), giving her long, hot kisses on her deliciously strong lips. After that, the undressing came.

Sometimes I’d try to undress her, but she never let me. So I’d sit up and watch her as she pulled her tunica over her head with one swift movement, revealing her naked perfection to me. Were I a poet, I’d write pieces on that, gentlemen. Instead I’d honour her by lowering my eyes. I never even did that for Aphrodite… She’d always notice and smile as she lay down again. Then her strong arms would embrace me, as her legs curled around mine.

After that, it would depend on the mood I was in what happened. Where I angry with one of those annoying lovers of mine, I’d violently kiss her and then I’d bite her over her entire body. But when I was in a romantic or dreamy mood, I’d just lick her everywhere –her lips, here eyelids, her ears, her nipples, her navel… Anyway, I’d always end up at her pubic hair. I really loved it, because it was so soft and curly, so unlike my own rasping hair. I’d spend a while rubbing my hair in it, smelling her and the juices her vagina was spreading. Then, like a diver, I’d take a deep breath of air and I would lower my lips, sticking my tongue into her. It was the only way I could ever shock her. Then I’d tell her the epos of my love, my longing, my lust for her, with my tongue, my lips and my fingers. I’d tap soft codes of unspeakable thoughts and wishes on her clitoris. Bendis always knew what I meant.

The funny thing with her was that I never knew when she came. I’d be diligently licking and stroking her, working up to a climax, when she’d pat me on my shoulder and smile her lovely smile, telling me that it had happened. At first it bothered me, but after a while I got used to it and I found it kind of funny, really. It never happened to Bendis, though. As she knew everything about me in an instant, she seemed to have developed a sixth sense for these things. I always felt a bit embarrassed when she went down on me, her eyes focused on my flesh. Maybe it was because she’s so small and I’m so large. When she’d reach that certain spot between my legs, I’d curl my legs around her, supporting her buttocks with my ankles and heels. Sometimes when we lay like this I thought she was my child, trying to crawl back into me again.

Sometimes we’d be in a strange, somewhat kinky mood. Of course Bendis always knew when I really craved for having one of those big candles pushed into me. After doing it, she’d lay her head on my lap, slowly pulling the candle out of me with one hand, a wicked smile on her face. Sometimes she’d just fuck me with it, but mostly she’d climb on top of me, inching above the candle sticking out of me, as if it were a giant penis. Then she’d ride me, ride me, ride me, and I’d come more violently than ever, closing my eyes as I was riding over the waves of the Styx.

I think this went on for about six or seven moons. I believe I’ve never felt happier, or more satisfied in all my life. Often I wish we would have been together longer, but I knew that it had to end someday. Bendis knew that, too. We both knew that someday my father would lose his patience and force me to marry, and be fucked by, one of those great big horny apes that called themselves men. In my dreams, I married them over and over again, always ending up buried underneath a massive male body, and crying. Whatever Bendis did to console me, I was more afraid of marrying every day. She must have realized that.

One night I rushed up to my room again. The dinner had been particularly terrifying for me, as I had to sit next to a man that could not keep his eyes or, especially, his hands, off of me. I’d gotten up as soon as I could, excusing myself for my bad health and I rushed off. I was breathless and I felt half raped, as I stumbled to my rooms. I called for Bendis, but there was no answer. Like mad, I ran around my rooms, tearing off curtains, opening chests, trampling pillows. No Bendis. Eventually I fell face down on my bed, sobbing. Even my fingers between my legs wouldn’t bring any consolation. What I had feared for a long time had happened. Bendis was gone.

After Bendis disappeared, I didn’t leave my rooms for three days. I felt wrecked; especially as my father came over, trying to persuade me to marry soon, because it would, according to him, certainly improve my health. I hated him as I hated the world and I decided to cross the river of dead to go to the Hades to wait for my love. On the fourth night I went out to the nearby well. The air felt cold, and sad on my face. The full moon that lit up my face that night reminded me of Bendis’ face, crying for what I was about to do. I stood still, looking up into the sky, into the moon, into her face. I don’t remember how long I stood there, but I do remember waking up in my bed with her scent in my nose. I opened my eyes, looked around, but she was not there.

That day, we went to that palace of our friend I was talking about. My father introduced me to a small, boyish looking man who called himself Ulysses. He had soft eyes and the hands of a woman, so I decided to marry him and to live with him on Ithaka, far away from the rooms that held so many memories. Ulysses woke tender feelings of friendship in me, which was the best he could do, because all the passion of my heart had gone.

The first time we “made love”, as he’d call it, was of course very different from what I’d felt and done with Bendis. Yes, Ulysses was tender as he laid me down. He was even tender when he thrust his penis into me, but he didn’t know that it would have been nice if he had paid some attention, any attention, to the rest of me, of my body. But I wasn’t mad at him. The thought of Bendis wouldn’t let me. So instead of keeping him out of my bed, I decided to invite him in more often to show him what two fingers and a tongue can do.

It didn’t work. It only made things worse, because the very moment I pushed his head down between my legs, he jumped up and yelled at me that I was no good and that he would not come to me again… ever. So I had to spend the rest of my married life, my married nights, alone, with nothing but my fingers and a few candles to console me. And the worst thing is that he got a reward for it. Nine moons after Ulysses had first squirted his come into me, I gave him a son. He named him Telemachos. I had wanted a daughter.

Not much after that, the Great Men Of Greece started another war. As Homer has written, it was about a woman, Helena. I tell you, it wasn’t. They wanted to have Troy anyway, with or without Helena. Those men want everything. They also took my husband and the funny thing was that I didn’t want him to leave, although he hadn’t been of much use to me either. They came picking him up, so I made up a scheme that would prevent him from going. I told him to act as if he was crazy. Of course he screwed that up; he’s a bad liar. Well he did lie once about this. He told his friends this scheme was his. Men.

Anyway, I waved him goodbye after I’d whispered in his ear that men who want to marry women are like a beautiful wooden horse with warriors in its belly. I believe he didn’t really catch my drift back then, but he sure as hell used my idea at Troy and then he claimed it was his. I should have copyrighted it first.

So he left me on my own. At first I was sad, because I really missed the bastard. Then, as Telemachos grew bigger, I had my hands full of him and I forgot all about Ulysses. Unfortunately, my lovers from way back seemed to have forgotten all about him, too. They came, they saw, they conquered… at least they thought they did. Each day they’d come over to stuff themselves with all the food they could find –my food, of course. Then they’d tell me that I should marry one of them as Ulysses was probably dead, or at least I should let them “enjoy” my female servants. I didn’t think so. I kept them waiting with some kind of lame excuse about a robe I was weaving –at night, I undid all the work I had done that day. But, of course, they fell for it and I kept them off my… well, you know.

Did I have any sex in those long, lonely years? Well what did you think? I was lucky to have another bunch of willing servants around me, so that I didn’t have to spend one night alone. Well, in a sense I was alone. The thing I’d had with Bendis was taken away from me and each time some young gal worked her way in with her tongue, I kept thinking of Bendis’ tongue doing the same thing, only much better…

Then, one day, Ulysses came back to Ithaka. With some friends and his son, he slaughtered all of my male “lovers” and he came back to me. The rest, as they say, is history. A history that a man named Homer has written down in a little different version than mine, but then again, he’s a man, so… If you want to read it, just pick up the Illias or the Odyssee. It’s all in there, though he has left the parts with me out. But hey, he wanted to make this story suitable for children. Idiot.

Well, as he has censored his version, I shall have to tell you how this history ended. I really was happy to see Ulysses again, Aphrodite knows why (I bet she does, the sneaky bitch). But I hadn’t forgotten his attitude towards me and my ideas of “making love”. So the first night when he was home, I wished him a good night and I went to my rooms. How could I know that he followed me? Anyway, we ended up on my eternal pile of pillows and I can tell you he had learned a trick or two. That night he sucked my clitoris like his life depended on it. And I… well, let’s say that I taught him what “giving head” can mean for a man. And when I looked up from his stiff penis, a thread of come on the corner of my mouth, I knew that from that moment on his life was in my hands. That’s the only fair compensation a woman can have for making such a big mistake and not joining the amazons. Because I bet Bendis is there, riding horses like she rode me…

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