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PREFACE

by

P. Buffoon, esq.

The Sapphic Enferiad is a contested work. The original text is certainly not by the famous poetess of Lesbos, the title ascribed to her only in later copies of the text. For many years the work was written off as a fraud by most serious academics, until the discovery of ceramics allegedly depicting Mythekia, a central figure of the poem, recovered from Egypt by Adeline Sedgwick's expedition.

The original work, like most contemporary works, is in dactylic hexameter; as with many ancient texts, there's hot debate on how best to translate the poetry inherent in the meter. The presence of numerous hapax legomena, referring mostly to various poetic descriptions of its protagonists's endowments, also poses a challenge for modern interpretation; and of course, the richly erotic and scandalous language used. We know little of the Amazonian part of the Hellenic world where the poem is set, though it aligns quite well with Jeannette Kirowan's theories of the so-called 'Khyborian Age' that – while contested – might offer some answers. I advice anyone therein interested to contact Miss Katonic's University for Ladies.

For the reader is here presented, as faithfully rendered in English blank verse as possible, the most well-known part of the Sapphic Enferiad, or the Enferiad of Sappho. More fragments of the work are still being discovered. Readers of a sensitive persuasion are advised to read it on their fainting-couch; and the elements of overtly sapphic romance in the story that lends its name to the work might offend some academics more interested in research pertaining strictly to historical wardrobe malfunctions. Nevertheless, for those with an academic interest in the heroic poetry of Hellenic Amazons, the work presents an intriguing read, and it is my sincere hope I have managed an accurate translation.

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O goddess, sing of Queen Hespera proud,
the fearsome fighter come to Lyka's isle
in search of vengeance, thundering and loud
thus, cleaving waves beneath her mighty prow
her helmet gleaming bronze upon her brow
her dark eyes set up on the columns bare
that made the home of Lyka, witch of spite.
Thus Hespera stood clad and made for war,
with spear in hand, a shield upon her arm
her bosom draped in hammered metal plate,
her loincloth girded firm about her loins
her feet in sandals woven, brass and gold,
her black hair flowing free beneath her helm.

Fair Hespera was tall and mighty-thewed,
her breasts like heavy grapes upon the vine
her voice was clear, and crimson lips were curled
into a snarl of spite and bitter wine.
Now cleaved the ship the waves of Lyka's isle,
now came her hated enemy in sight,
her sisters shrieked and banged upon their shields
the sunlight gleaming fierce on maidens bright
the war-cries carried far above the fields
where olives grew in Lyka's stately home
not knew the witch the coming of her foe
a reckoning, an answer to her crimes.

A maid was there, a woman of nineteen
with curls of black and skin like olive's pits,
who saw the coming of the fearsome sails
and overcome with terror yet she stayed
to greet the sailors from Aenfea's shores
to speak the wily words of Lyka's cause.
”Hail travelers,” quoth she, ”this sacred isle,
protected is by Eris, she of name,
to fickle-fated mortal women strike
with wicked loss, embarrassment and shame.
Turn back at once and save yourselves from grief
turn back to fair Aenfea, whence you came!”

But little listened lithe-limbed Hespera,
the lion-daughter, leaping from the decks
and seized the black-haired maiden by the locks
and spoke thus, all her might to maidens scare:
”To Aenfea came Lyka, wicked witch
to play at parlor-tricks in Hesp'ra's court,
she bade the mighty queen step forth in strength,
I answered, stepped before the waiting girls
to show the foreign sorceress my skill,
to proud display the name of Hespera.
But what did I receive for my proud deed?
A trickery and shame from Lyka's hand,
that yet a blush does smite upon my cheek,
that yet does trouble proud Hespera's sleep.
My loincloth loosed, my mighty breast-plate gone,
I stood before the court in underwear;
Foul Lyka did not cease her shaming there.

She wove a spell of spanking, groping hands
that at my body tickled, poked, and pulled
'til all my linens fell from twixt my loins
'til bonds about my bosoms came unbound,
'til I stood naked in my queenly court,
for cover but a hand upon the mound
between my legs, and one across my chest.
And yet the lusty grasping hands ceased not
to shame me, force me to expose myself
I gyrated in dance to flee their touch
I jiggled, jumped and danced as I was struck
by spankings, slappings, bearing shaming much.
These wind-hands were conjured by Lyka's mind
Eolus never knew such twisted spell,
of Aphrodite's arts and Eris' sin.
To Lyka's isle come I for revenge,
on you, apprentice, now I shall begin.”

So saying tore proud Hespera the gown
that wrapped around the limber-bodied maid
exposed at once her eager youthful breasts
and laughed all with her crew to see the shame
that blossomed on the messenger's dark cheeks
that wound its way to deep between her loins.
”Have pity!” quoth the maid, but Hesp'ra's crew
but cheered and laughed, their hands a mighty din
of clapping, and their voice like Harpies' pipes.
”Of pity I know not, you slattern dim,
your mistress showed me none, and nor will I.”
So pulled proud Hespera the cloth away
that now remained to shield the woman's thighs,
betwixt them was her youthful garden bared,
she squirmed and crossed her legs, and anxious sighs
and moans escaped the messenger so struck
with shameful treatment, all too cruel her luck.

The maiden nude, now Hespera did hand
the messenger to sisters of the ship.
”Now spank her good,” quoth Hespera, ”and make
the naked maid serve wine and do your chores
the way I call for: Naked on the floor!”
So must the girl kneel down and scrub the deck
and take the tasks of any lazy girl
to do it in the nude without a hope
of dignity, or clothes, or cov'ring hands.

But Hespera was set on greater deeds,
and now to Lyka's isle's inner strode
to bring along but two spear-sisters famed
to meet the witch herself, and take the prize
of vengeance, restoration of her name.
The laughing sister Ossia was called,
a dusky maid of Anatolian birth,
who famous was for shooting with the bow
and hitting both the mark, and hitting first.
The other sister melancholy, grim
her mighty name, Mythekia, the fair.
A fearless woman, muscular and pale,
but prone to sorrow, hopelessness and gloom.
Now spoke this somber woman, bearing dooms
of fates that would befall the mighty three:

”Strong Hespera, to smite the maid was much,
it surely lost the favour of the gods.
Tis boding poor for hero-women such
as us to do these deeds against the slaves
that toil and till the fields of Lyka's isle,
that never once did shame your name or deed.”
”My vengeance”, answered Hespera, with heat
that flashed in the twin diamonds of her eyes,
”my wrath and ire falls on all the isle,
unquenched will be, before the island's maids
all naked stand, their heads quite bowed in shame
the witch herself the lowest, kneeling, failed.”
So spake Hespera, and the warriors came
upon the village where the wine was made.
At once the lithe-limbed warrior-woman called
to make good on her heated oath of blades.

”Draw sword, Mythekia, Ossia, bow!”
bade Hespera her sisters, then her spear
did raise against the wine-makers in wrath
to tear and pull all clothing from the girls.
And soon was all her vengeful work quite done,
the women cowed, their pride in tatters laid.
But yet was mighty Hespera not done:
”Get up, you slatterns,” quoth she as they knelt,
quite nude on dusty ground beside the press.
And seizing a poor woman by the hair,
did Hespera the squirming girls address:
”Go on now, there is much work to be done!
My throat is parched, my limbs sore from this fight.
Bring wine, bring olives, and resume your toils
but naked, while the victor sits in joy
to spy your bosoms bare, your bottoms pale.”

So must the women tramp the grapes to wine,
with bare feet, bare limbs, bared beneath the sun
while others fetched for victors food and spoils
to flee her wrath and punishment and toil.
If Hespera, displeased, more torments chose
the girl who pleased her not must take a pose
or touch herself, or suffer spankings cruel.
Now Hespera was wine-drunk on the sweet
that flowed from grapes and victory and girls,
and laughed, and merry made with Ossia proud,
Mythekia's glum doom went quite unheard.

”Tis ill,” the mighty bronze-blade one murmured,
”to drink here where the wicked Eris stirs,
to make strife with the mother of all strife,
I fear she's struck Hespera with a curse.”
So went the bronze-blade mistress quite aside,
and sought the village homes, until she found
the shrine to Eris cruel, the temple's mouth,
and freed her feet of sandals, going in.
A prayer sang from ruby-lipped mouth
to state her name, and purpose here, and cause.
”Mythekia the mistress of the blade,
has not come here to strike your kin, O cruel
and mighty queen of quarrelers and raids.
I mercy beg for proud Hespera's sake,
release her clouded mind from lust and wine!”
So sorrowful Mythekia loudly pray'd,
and beat her breast and somberly did wail.

But from the wine-maid's village fled a girl,
seen not by proud Hespera, slipped her grasp.
A servant-maid whose tray laid on the dirt
beside her clothes that fell when heroes fought.
Now swiftly raced bare-foot for Lyka's hall,
and barreled past the somber temple guards
to throw herself quite nude upon the floor
in deepest bow before her mistress fair.
”The proud Hespera's here!” the maiden quoth,
and trembled, for she blushing fearful was.
”She took my clothes, and made my sisters work
beneath the sun with shameful toils and tasks!”

The Eris-daughter rose, her fair brow crown'd
with apple-branches and her mother's gold,
a wicked laugh did pour from her fine mouth
a cruel smile did curl on her red lips.
”So came the vengeful warrior at last,”
quoth Lyka, unafraid, her voice all mirth.
”To follow Eris' daughter into strife
is folly thus, the fate of mortals frail.
Now bring for me the bowl of water clear
that I may weave my snaring shaming spell.”

So girded with her magic, and her robes,
but bearing neither arms nor armor bold
did Lyka step down marble-pattern'd stair,
her body clad in linen, white, and gold.
So summoned she a retinue of girls,
so strode she to the wine-press village calm,
to meet the hero with a crowd of those
who witness would Hespera's shameful fall.

Now drunk Hespera heard the cymbals call,
and heard the horns, and stumbled, standing tall.
”Swift Ossia, your bow, Mythekia fair,
make ready with your blade, for soon we brawl!”
Mythekia was nowhere near in sight,
alone the two must face the wicked foe.
As Ossia her hand raised, vines entrapped,
her feet, soon snared in grapevine, and her bow
was little use, when worn-out string did snap!
”Ill fate, my sister!” Ossia did call,
”You face her must, with spear and shield, attack!”
So rushed the proud Hespera bravely forth,
the sunlight glinting off her bronze-clad brow,
the mighty spear thrust high and held in hand,
the girded loin-cloth rattling round her thigh.
So rushed the proud Hespera, til a root
did catch and snare her sandal-gracing foot
and tumbled forward did the woman tall
in drunkenness and wicked fate undone.

Up! Flew her bronze-clad skirt, to bare the cloth
she wore to shield her mighty-thewed rump.
Off! Fell the shining helm to spill her locks,
the oil-black hair now flowing on the ground.
She dropped her mighty shield, and sturdy spear,
and raised up on all fours, to race again.
But woe! The clasp of bronze-skirt come undone
of fell the garment whole, down to the ground.
A vicious snarl, a lionesses' roar
now passed across the proud Hespera's lips,
reduced to underclothes beneath the waist
she charged again, made ready for the chase.
Thus Lyka raised her hand, and water dripped
once more upon the dusty ground to feed
the wine-plants, thirsting more for the revenge
sweet Eris promised for their tenders' shame.
The wine itself had turned upon the spear,
the grape Hespera's enemy was made!

So vengeance that had driven her advance,
so vengeance that had been her cherished goal
did double back, ensnare her, make her trapped
so was the fate of mighty Hespera!
Sealed is a mortal's doom when goddess fair,
the thread of fate doth twirl around her hand
she plays the mortal woman like the harp,
a weaving-woman at her loom of doom.

Drunk Hespera against the witch did come,
her spear and shield pinned to the dusty ground,
her swinging fists, her roaring, ruby mouth
the only strength against the foe to bear.
But wine-drunk Hespera, in leisure sweet
had loosened her breast-plate against the heat.
Now hastily secured, it rattled, snapped
a poorly knotted tie in leather strap.
From Hesp'ra's breast the bronze fell sudden, sharp
down to her rushing feet, which hit the mark
upon the slipp'ry surface sandals came
the woman slipped again, and tumbled, fell.

To underclothes reduced, fair Hesp'ra now,
wore bands about her breast, a loincloth thin,
and sandals on her feet, and that was all
that stood between her skin and eager eyes.
But Lyka grabbed the loincloth, now quite near,
and pulled with easy hands upon the knot
which came undone, for cruel Eris' weave
had made all threads of Hesp'ra easy prey.
So similar the knot between the blades
that were down from her shoulders, also loosed
and from Hespera proud fell all but shoes,
her mighty roar and bravery to lose.

Now silent was the warrior in shame,
now folded she her hands before herself,
now was her mighty roar to whimpers made.
Denuded was Hespera, looking thus:
A black-haired beauty, too, between her legs
where wine-dark curls were seen about the lips
that lined her woman's well of pleasures deep
now blushing pink, exposed for all to see.
And of her breasts, this much is to be told:
Her bosoms large, magnificent and bold
upon a strong-thewed abdomen and chest
they danced and jiggled freely, nipples blessed
with perky, pointy shape and brown like gold.
And of her bottom, strong and wondrous rare:
Both powerful and girlish, taut, but there
a little jiggling flesh to dance quite soft
when Lyka's palm came down from on aloft.
And cried Hespera did, and moan, and wail,
her foes had seized her wrists and ankles pale,
for Lyka to administer the touch
of cruel spankings, tormenting her much.

And too the mighty Ossia was seized,
and to her ankles skirt and linens pulled,
and from her breast the plated mail did fall
revealing little breasts and nipples dark.
And Ossia was left such for the maids,
of Lyka's village there to have their fun
in vines her ankles bound, her wrists ensnared
like Aphrodite's statue, stuck, and bared
for all to flick her nipples, touch her breast
to do to Ossia what they thought best.
The mighty woman squirmed, and begged, and wailed
for modesty or mercy, please! and gone
was all her mirthful pride and manners brave.

So Ossia was left to torments cruel,
the village-maids to merry make with her
so Lyka spanked the proud Hespera's rear,
who soon humiliations worse would bear.
Yet there, in Eris' temple, one yet dared
to flaunt the witch's law, to wear her clothes:
Mythekia, the mistress of the blade.
Now fell the warrior down to prostrate deep,
now called she on Olympos for their aid,
to wicked Eris' scheming bring an end,
to help the mortal women with their feud.
Then just as Lyka's guards were drawing near
A voice called out: ”Mythekia! I hear.”

In fear she did not dare to raise her head
but kept her brow down pressed against the floor.
Behind her came the scent of olives sweet,
of wine and wisdom, fluttering of leaves,
an owl's wing above her shoulder perched,
the brow-born child of Zeus had intervened!
So tall Athena spake, and bade the maid
to raise up from the floor, not so afraid.

”O child of Thea, mistress of the blade,
your cautious wisdom once more did prevail,
to not bring needless strife to Eris' isle,
for in such matters mortals, well, they fail.
Now Lyka has ensnared your sisters two
and soon will bring worse woes upon the pair.
Her powers absolute, the scheming witch
has called upon her mother, O, that bitch.
I bless'd Hespera, mighty-thewed and fair,
but Eris has my blessing quite undone
through wickedness in Hespera instill'd.
One victory I promised, but you cast,
this triumph at the women of the town.
Just once my sworn protection was to last,
your sword-sisters did waste it on the girls
a folly that now has them quite undone
in clotheslessness and haplessness and groans,
in shameful nakedness and whining moans.”

”What must I do? O pray, Athena, tell!”
quoth Thea's daughter, weeping at the news
of how her sisters wicked fate would meet:
To grovel and to beg at Lyka's feet.

”Sail swiftly from the island, is my word,”
quoth Athena, while beckoning her bird
to fly a pass above Lyka's domain
and witness what had happened to the girls.
”This battle's lost, the fates have made their call
for Eris triumphs, and Hespera serves
down on her knees, and naked, until fall.
But you, sail swiftly to Aenfea's shores,
there, seek a grove where dwell three dryads kind,
my sister, Artemis, will be your guide.”

”And Hespera is saved?” Mythekia called,
”O goddess, thank you for this guiding star!

”There is but one small flaw, O Thea's child,”
said Athena, her owl to wrist returned,
”As Eris knows you came, Poseidon wild
will on her word the winds becalm and stall
the sailing-winds, so ships stay here til fall,
thus aids he in the working of her wiles.”

”O goddess! Pray his wrath be then removed,
pray Polyphemus' father not to strike!
I must away to save my sister-spear,
I will not fail in any you command.”
”This amulet,” Athena quoth, ”will save,
thee from Poseidon's wrath, if worn
between the legs, and quite upon your mound.”
So held she up a pendant made of bronze,
a pendant made of hammered metal bright.
”You must not take it off, until return'd,
to Lyka's isle, with all that you have learned
you must my words here heed, and this to swear.”

”I promise!” quoth Mythekia, ”I swear!”
”Good,” quoth Athena, ”no more will you wear.
If any other garment you should don,
the bronze will lose its might, Poseidon won
by Eris once again, the wicked god
his wrath upon you doubtless then to turn.”
”What? Athena-” the mistress of the blade
called out, the goddess already to fade
away in smoke and mist and olives' scent.
”Farewell, Mythekia, do as I sent!”

Now crept the child of Thea from the shrine,
now made she her way back toward the shore.
Athena guided carefully her steps,
so none among the villagers her saw.
So stood she at the wine-dark sea again,
so raised she up the pendant and did gaze
upon the storming winds Poseidon sent.
”By wind and cloud the skies are torn and rent,”
Mythekia quoth, ”Poseidon would them stall?
To stop my ship, my crew from sailing forth?
Must all I wear be this bronze pendant small?”
She bit her tongue, she cursed her doubting heart,

Thus did Mythekia shed her bronze breast-plate,
so shedded she her girded metal skirt,
so fell from beauteous loins her underwear
so freed she both her breasts and shoulders fair.
Thus naked by the sea Mythekia donned
the little pendant round her waist and frowned;
it covered naught but her most sacred grove
it left her bottom bare, her breasts to bob,
it bared her slender stomach, long legs pale,
her hair of brown to flutter in the gale.
'Twas almost worse than stripped completely bare,
such that the eye could naught but travel there
where metal glinted, sparkled twixt her thighs
and wonder at the woman's poor attire.

Thus sailed the once-proud mistress of the blade
in nothing but a skimpy hammered plate
for cover cross the wild and wine-dark sea
to seek to set her once-proud sisters free!
Sea-spray upon her chest and in her hair,
Mythekia was forced her breasts to bare
at many ports from Ceris to her home
soon throughout all the cities she was known:
Mythekia the Bare, Mythekia shamed
with nothing but a pendant to her name!
When fair Aenfea's shores she at last saw
a sigh escaped her little pink-crowned breast,
at last, a moment here at home to rest.

She drank of wine and ate of honeyed bread,
in Thea's halls, secluded from the dread
of public viewing and of naked walks
upon the streets with peasants and their gawks.
Thus fed and rested knelt the girl and prayed
for Artemis's guidance, as was named.
That night, in dream, she saw the mystic grove.
By morrow set upon the dusty road,
not daring yet to don a cloak or gown,
for fear Poseidon's wrath on her would frown.
Bare-breasted came she to the dryad's trees,
bare-breasted fell she down upon her knees.

”Fair sisters, Hespera, beloved, to save!
I come before you now, with matters grave!”
Thus stepped three dryads forth from those old oaks
thus swarmed the sisters round the dazzling sight
Mythekia the Nude in dazzling sun,
a lithe-limbed slender beauty in the light.
”For loyalty I've sailed the wine-dark sea,
with nothing to my name, as you can see
but for the pendant here, betwixt my thighs
I pray you, sisters, help me in my plight!”

”Fair Artemis has promised thee our aid,”
the dryads spoke, as one, their voices made
of ringing bronze and running honey sweet,
”we will thee offer aid to bring defeat
to Lyka's isle, to spiteful Eris cheat.”
Now sat Mythekia fair, down in their midst,
now readied she herself for their sweet words
the promise of the gods to be fulfilled.

”Mythekia, the brave, the gloomy soul,
you ill would do to meddle with the gods
who fates and clothes will tear with equal ease
who bare the brave and bring them to their knees.
This doom we say to thee: You'll naked go
Mythekia the Bare, for all to know
you go to conquer hopelessness and shame,
but this quest for all time will change your name.”

”On Lyka's isle is a sacred spring,
from which pours water, bitter with revenge.
The spiteful witch doth all her power take
from this rich source of wrathful wicked spite.
But Aphrodite's herb, the waters cure
flow Love and Pleasure once more bright and pure.”

So spake the dryads three, as flowers bloomed,
around the feet of Thea's daughter fair,
the mistress of the blade was freed of gloom,
the airs of Love now filling all the air,
and drunk on these rich scents and women fine,
Mythekia was moved to lustful bliss.
Off came her little pendant, to her knees,
the woman sunk, and heartily did please
herself with eyes screw'd shut, and blushing cheeks
how shameless! How embarrassing! How weak!
”The herb of Aphrodite's lust is strong,”
the dryads smiled, and watched with faces pleased.
”Be sure to smell it not, but keep it sealed,
while you do sail. The journey's wild and long.
But now you are concealed with trees above,
here no one sees – be free, and filled with love.”

Thus did she spend a day in utmost bliss
among the dryads, sorely then to miss
their soft red lips, their slender touching hands
their beauteous breasts, their kind and cruel demands
for her to please and touch, and still more kiss
them where they asked. She faithfully obeyed,
and likewise did the sisters soon well swoon
over Mythekia, mistress of the blade.
Til drunk on pleasure put at last to sleep,
she woke with blushing cheeks and eager will,
the grove deserted, quiet calm, and still,
and naked, she, alone among the bloom.
”Farewell, O nymphs, Mythekia sends her thanks,”
quoth she, and donned around her blushing flanks
her garment small, and picked the flowers dry,
admired by her bright and cheerful eye.

Mythekia set sail, prepared once more
for reaching Lyka's far forbidding shore.
So gathered she a crew of sailor-girls,
and traveled for where Ceris' currents whirl.
The herb was kept in but a little pouch
hung from the chain which was her only garb.

In Ceris they must stop to fill their stores,
and here a word came for the Captain nude,
a summons come from Queen Kyrina, wise
and curious about the ways of blooms.
Reluctant now the woman brave must go,
before the court in nothing but the bronze
between her legs, and nothing more to wear
to answer the Queen's order almost bare.
With blushing cheek and arms across her breasts,
she stepped into the company of those
far better dressed than she, their gawking stares
made mockery of Thea's daughter's woes.
”O queen, I come,” Mythekia then spoke,
”What knowledge I have gained with thee to share,
then quickly I must sail for Lyka's shores.”
So spoke the brave Mythekia, the Bare.

The queen was gorgeous, plump of breast and hip,
a stately woman, wearing linen garb,
her face a stern and greedy marble mask,
her nose turned up in prideful mocking laugh.
”This Aphrodite's herb, put in my hand!
to share it with me, I thee now command.”
The Queen's black locks fell round her cheeks so soft,
her forceful call, her finger raised in doom,
”Yes, all the herb you have, lay at my throne,
else stripped be of the only thing you own!”

”The herb is mine, O queen,” Mythekia quoth,
”Athena's amulet I well require,
I'll grant you neither wish, O regal clown,
The Mistress of the Blade will not stand down!”
She snatched a sword from hip of hapless guard,
so whirled the xiphos, cutting off their spears!
She spun the sword through belt and clothing crude,
so fearless fought Mythekia, the Nude!
In battle whirled the naked woman swift,
but Eris' finger cruelly intervened,
the knot around the pouch, the heroes' herb,
came loose, and there it spilled upon the Earth!

A heady scent came pouring in the room,
as Aphrodite's blessing was unleashed.
The naked guards came crumbling to their knees,
the wealthy women swooned and faces fanned,
as Queen Kyrina raced down from her throne,
as Queen Kyrina greedy did demand:
”The priceless precious herb for me to seize!”
without a word of safety, halt, or peace.

So filled the precious herb the royal nose,
so hammered Aphrodite on her heart
and soon the pounding sank still further down,
and madness made the queen pull at her gown!
”Oh gods!” quoth Queen Kyrina, ”oh, how sweet!
I must be naked, shackled up and beat!”
Thus saying pulled her fine clothes from her form,
thus saying bared her bosom, feelings storm'd,
within her royal breast, and in her loins,
and soon she bared them too, her garments torn
from twixt her thighs to bare the royal lips.
A stately woman, large and heavy breasts,
now bared there danced and swayed, her gyring hips
did frame a bare-shaved sex, uncovered all,
she twisted, turned, and shook her gorgeous rump,
she sank down to the floor, the woman plump
and tender could not wait for lovers' hands
but used her own to aid her in the dance.
While shamelessly she twisted on the ground,
Mythekia the Bare reached for the flow'r.

The sprigs were gathered once more in the pouch,
but scented made her nostrils flare and twitch
the heady lust was filling up her heart
the bliss of Aphrodite in her groin.
Between her thighs the pendant's touch, like wine
Mythekia made drunk with lover's heat!
She touched herself, one hand the pouch to seal
the other gone to still her lusting need.
Then saw she Queen Kyrina, squirming, bared,
and brought herself to royal kisses steal!
The squirming shameful tyrant could her serve
to still the fire that burned inside her soul,
Mythekia the Bare herself did lower
above the ruby lips of Ceris' queen
to kiss her with the garden of her love;
to throne her, rule her, conqueror thereof.
In bliss Mythekia ruled Kyrina's lusts,
as every courtier, soldier, woman saw
the lewd and shameful ways in which the queen
herself a servant made for moans and thrusts.

Mythekia so tamed the greedy queen,
Kyrina caring but for more of love,
denounced her throne, her clothes, with heady lust
would kneel again, again, and begging must
be dragged quite bare from Ceris' royal halls
to please herself in public, by the walls.
Mythekia, exhausted, slumped and sighed
and thus foul Eris' plot came to apply.
For round the shoulders of the weary maid
was thrown a mantle of the royal grade.
”A kindness”, quoth some smiling woman there,
”for cover, and your shame no more to bare.”
Mythekia, if quick, could throw it down,
could spare herself the doom Athena spake,
but weary, blushing, utterly misled,
she pulled it close around her bosom red.

The Bare no more, the wise Athena's boon
undone at once, between the woman's loins,
the bronze medallion robb'd of all its might,
Mythekia the Bare had hid from sight
her lovely breasts, her little nipples pale,
her firm trim rump and thighs so hearty hale.
At once red rage sprang up within her breast,
to seek the villain having thus her dressed -
but Eris, 'tis was she, had gone and fled
Poseidon's wrath the blade-mistress must dread!
”I cannot,” thought the brave Mythekia still,
”leave Hespera to bow to Lyka's will,
Athena's word – she shall be free by fall!
If dooms Poseidon sends – I'll face them all!”

So thinking rose Mythekia the Clad,
the purple cape round shoulders strong and glad,
to full height rose she, dressed in nothing still
but pendant, cape, and an unyielding will.
Her bosoms bared, her stomach pale and firm,
her back was straight, her bravery yet burned
in naked breast, despite her shame and curse
she strode back to her ship with hopeful words!
”Set sail!” called she, to sailors quite aghast,
to see the Captain cloth'd, but to the mast,
they rushed, the royal garment lifting proud
in winds and gales Poseidon yet allowed.
So mantle whipping round her body bared,
Mythekia once more for Lyka fared.

Poseidon did not make the waters still,
to strand the Clad at sea would suffice ill.
Instead, the mighty god made forth a storm
such hammered at her ship and at her form.
A whipping wind in proud Mythekia's hair,
as rain-wet breasts and stomach yet were bared.
The ship was battered, tossed 'bout like a leaf
but yet her courage never once did cease,
nor did she don another piece of cloth,
her promise to Athena not forgot.
”The amulet made weak,” Mythekia quoth,
”does not undo the sealing of my oath!”

O! Could but courage alter wind and wave,
could mortal will the elements but bend!
If truth and loyal heart could weathers cow,
O, would not all the clouds and winds have bowed?
But such was not the movement of the fates,
Poseidon's wrath was not to soon abate.

Mythekia the Clad was blown off course,
the ship to dash on strange and foreign shores.
Thus shattered cruel Poseidon wooden prow,
thus broke he mast and sail beneath his blow.
Scatter'd were women, sail-cloth, food and stores,
'til on the beach a wet Mythekia crawled.
Her ship destroyed, her crew on isles strewn,
her quest undone by folly and by fate.

”O fates! O goddess!” wailed the heroine,
”Have all that I endured then been for naught?
A bitter shame I suffered weeks and days,
for Eris' sting a wicked fate was wrought.”
Then bitter tears did well from hero's heart,
as salt-stained as the ocean she had fought.
Mythekia the Bare, forever doomed
to lonely wander naked through the loom
that Fate had spun from coarse and cruel thread
and left her none at all to wear instead!
Mythekia did curse her bitter fate,
on foreign shores alone in dire straits.
No hope was left that she'd Hespera save,
no hope to see her sisters, and her name
A mockery, a naked woman, save
for useless bronze that hung around her waist!

Then, there above the wine-dark sea a sign,
an owl across the starry sky did wind.
”To hands and knees, Mythekia, and then
to follow me and yet your tale won't end,”
it seemed to say, on wings of blessed night.
Sprang she for Pallas' messenger in fright!
”O goddess, do you yet remember me?
Mythekia the Bare, who swore thus be?
I follow you, at once, O goddess fair
you favour me still here, on foreign sea!”

So rushed she, cape to flutter in the wind
into a cypress-wood as dark as sin.
'Twas night, and all about cicadas sung,
a heavy night like linen curtain hung.
But there! A fire, a tent, a merry song!
A giggling of rude women and their jests.
On cautious foot our heroine took care
to creep in dark and see who dwell'd in there.

To her surprise, a gathering of maids,
hands clapping, serenading, loud and gay
and who there in their midst was dancing bare?
With cheeks of red both on her face and rear?
With palms-marks cruel across her bottom slim,
with gaiety despite fate's cruel whim?
Who was this shameless maid awhirl in dance?
”Tis Ossia!” a gasp, ”here is my chance!”
From dark cypress-wood strode the maiden fair,
so fearsome, with the wind in storm-tossed hair.
With branch held forth in place of xiphos sharp,
with whipping cape around her bareness stark,
still water salt dripped from her hair, undone,
she raised her weapon: ”Cower now, or run!”

They scattered, thinking Zeus had sent a beast
in woman's form, to punish where she pleased!
In screaming wails they fled, their courage ceased
Mythekia her branch dropped, forwards leaped.
”Dear Ossia!” she cried, and kisses rained,
like petals on spear-sister's bronzed face.
”Pray tell! What news of Hespera, the proud?
What island are we on, what have I found?”
And Ossia did laugh and kiss and cry,
embracing her fair friend in joyous dance.
A moment passed. ”I'm naked,” Ossia quoth,
and blushed at the embrace, so strangely close.
”They kept me thus, the villains, after I,
was made a dancer there to please their gaze.
If at some time my steps were out of beat,
each one paid back upon my naked seat.
'Tis not so bad. I rather liked the girls,
that I was made to strip for and to serve.”

”Sweet Ossia! Your soul is far too kind,”
Mythekia quoth, tears in wrathful eyes.
”Not so,” quoth Ossia, ”for I was spared,
the treatment that vile Lyka had in mind,
on ships her women took me to perform
for coin on other isles, freedom gain,
my debt, once paid, they said, I shall be saved
and so I danced and weathered stinging pain.

But Hespera, our queen, is still in thrall
to Lyka vile, her wicked will to serve.
Bare must she serve as foot-stool for the witch,
serve honey from her breasts for ladies lewd,
her behind treated daily with a switch,
on collar led in temples fully nude
to prostrate there and worship with her lips
the feet of Eris, bashful and brought low,
and many other shameful things have passed
to bring her low and all her pride to strip!”

Thus hearing, struck Mythekia her breast,
and swore an oath of vengeance, bitter, deep
but mindful of Athena's counsel wise,
vowed cunning with the witch, and in her sleep
sneak Aphrodite's herb into the spring
with cunning and with wit the poison bring.

Now made she for dark Ossia a bow,
of yew-branch strong and trembling coiled string,
took linen from the camp for Ossia's clothes,
and once more gave her warrior's garb and pride.
Thus Ossia was dressed, girded for war,
Mythekia did not her god-oath break
and kept betwixt her legs only the star
of bronze Athena fashioned for her sake,
and from her shoulders, Ceris' purple cape
did fall, her body needing not the drape.

The wicked girls that kept Ossia bare,
had gathered in their haste to flee the shores.
”A monster made by Zeus lives on this isle,”
quoth they, ”all flee, run now, and for your lives!”
They raised the purple sails of Lyka's barge,
to Eris' isle again they planned their course,
their anchors drawn, their mighty wooden horse
to sail across the sea in hurried charge.
”Halt there!” quoth Ossia, ”have you forgot?
The kindness you have shown me, when I danced?
Such kindness I will show, 'tis more than fair!”
Now whistled out an arrow through the air,
now pinned it dress and blouse against the mast
now nailed it skirt and sandal to the deck.
Mythekia, the Bare, her limber form,
came charging from the wood, a sword at last,
a xiphos plundered from the scattered camp,
where these lewd ladies made their captives dance.

At sword-point were the wicked servants stripped
cut free of pinioned clothes and arrowed garbs.
And so the wicked women soon must bare
both breasts and bottoms full, and poorly fare
in hiding them in shame from Ossia's glare,
and squirm at all her mirthful jokes and barbs.
”Fine rump!” she'd cry, or ”make your bosoms dance
as mine did, back when you were loved by chance!”

”Each woman, grab the sails, and get to work!”
Mythekia quoth, ”and quickly, ere the mirk
lay down upon us and keep us ashore,
you wicked girls must get now to your chores.
And will you not, by Athena I'll steel
you with the xiphos' side, until you squeal,
but will you serve, your gardens may conceal
'til we reach Lyka's isle. Such is my deal.”

The women who protested there were left
with stinging spanked rears on empty sands
the next passing trireme they saw to beg
for passage naked, at a stranger's hand.
The wiser women saw Mythekia's cause,
and pleaded her to serve and forswear all
of loyalty to Lyka, never join
the wicked witch, and scraps around their loins
was their reward for service. Bared the rest,
they set to blushing work with bobbing breasts.

Mythekia, the Captain, winds were sent
the debt to Eris now at once repaid,
so wild Poseidon's rage had all been spent,
no storm assailed her ship or her waylaid.
To Lyka's isle the course, they traveled swift
with gratitude and thanks for Pallas' gift.

So came at once the island all in sight,
so came the stripped crew to see their home.
Mythekia the Bare, her eyes burned bright,
her xiphos sharp, her body proud and fine.
”Brave spear-sister,” quoth she, ”your bow must play
a trick on Lyka vile, and that you may
be punished for. I will thee this repay.”
Quoth Ossia then, ”Spear-sister, be not moved,
by my hard plights, be quick, the net to slip!”
So crept Mythekia from off her ship,
to swim the wine-dark sea, in secret steal
for Eris's sacred spring, with herbs concealed
the pouch still faithful, hanging at her hip,
despite her twisting fate and storm-wrecked ship.

Dark Ossia stepped to the vessel's prow,
there stood she tall and quite unflinching, proud
an arrow flew from bowstring, striking true
and warned the village folk she was unbowed!
”Bring out the witch! Bring forth Hespera tall!
Else havoc, shame and vengeance on you all!”
So came the witch, stepped forth with water marr'd,
in hurry to the cliffs called by her guard,
poured cursed water to the frothing sea,
with rage and spite malevolent and free!
For Ossia proud could combat any foe,
that Lyka could send forth with spear or bow,
so called the witch instead upon the waves
to batter Ossia's prow, her might to show!

First came a batting wave that threw her far
into the churning sea, its hungry maw
there tossing her and turning her and tore
the clothing from her slender form once more.
Her loin-cloth lost, her breeches pulled apart,
her breasts were bared, her hair was whipped and snarled,
her weapon lost, her pride, she could but fight
against the waves, to swim with all she had
to struggle free of ripping clothes and garb,
to make for shore, unarmed and quite unclad.

So Lyka pulled her form from out the waves,
sea-water on her breasts, in dripping pearls
between her legs in coiling curls there made
a beauty of her garden, and she gave
a cry, a wail of sorrow and of loss
once more to be the witching-woman's slave.
She hoped but now for her spear-sister's fate
to save them both, or suffer bitter shame.
And Ossia was made to naked kneel,
and kiss dread Lyka's feet, now brought to heel.

Mythekia, the cunning, hidden was
in cypress-grove when threats at shore were roared,
she'd spied vile Lyka running for her spells,
she'd seen the woman chasing for the source.
Now knew she where it was, and slowly paced,
her stride so soft, her fair and slender shape
bare but for Pallas' gift around her waist,
to reach the sacred spring, which Eris cursed.
So saw she there the somber rocks, the stream
which sprung from cracked boulders like a knife,
which filled the spring with bitter water clear
among all things to cause the deepest strife.
”Athena, Aphrodite, charms employ,
against your foe, who caused the mess in Troy!”
So spake the blade-mistress, and threw the sprigs
into the water pale, to make her ploy.

At once a sweet scent rose: The water cured,
the last drops thrown into the raging sea
by Lyka, who knew not her magic's source
was now all spent, forever lost its force.
Now but to save Hespera, at long last,
Mythekia stood tall by water's spout,
her breast did heave, a mighty warrior's shout
of triumph, victory and surging joy!

So strode Mythekia, her shame forgot,
in hand a xiphos, dark hair falling wild.
Bare was her breast, and slender was her form
proud was her voice and confident her stride.
Between her thighs the pendant she had sworn,
this sparkling gift yet drawing every eye
to her stark bareness and her fearless shape
no shame or sorrow left, no wince or sigh!
A striking sight, a beauty never seen,
bare but for Pallas' gift came to the scene
at Eris' temple. There she raised her blade,
”Come Lyka, come, to me, O foolish maid!”

The witch her guards sent out to face the foe,
at Thea's daughter sent she spear and shield,
while running to her spring for spells to cause
the earth to fill with wickedness and woe.
So cleaved Mythekia their bronze-made shields,
so struck she spear from haft with mighty blow,
so broke she every weapon, made them yield
before her xiphos' dance, her twirling flow.
”Bring Hespera before me, lest you wish
my xiphos's side to grace your naked rump,
my foot to trample on your bared breast,
do as I say, O guards, it will be best!”

Then ran the beaten guards to Lyka's room,
so beat they down the door, in fear made bold,
and thus Hespera came once more before
her savior, sister-spear, who doom foretold.
Of mighty thew was proud Hespera fair,
her beauteous form and strength, her flowing hair,
her pride was bruised, and naked was the shame
the witch inflicted on her form and name.

For each full breast in honey sweet was glazed
and then down to her navel, sticky, warm,
the substance cross her stomach pale would race
til dripping from her Aphrodite's place.
Her hands were bound with sturdy cord behind
her naked back, and 'twixt her legs did wind
and firm, so that with every step she made
it tighter 'gainst her lips, now shaved quite bare.
The cord did frame her woman's garden, stripped
so clean that there was not a single hair.
But worst of all was there the cursed stone,
that Lyka cruel had tied twixt Hesp'ra's lips
infused it was with wickedness and wrath
and trembled there on Lyka's mere command!

”O spear-sister!” quoth Hespera, the Shamed,
”please free me-” then a long and tortured moan
did leave her lips. Down to her knees she came,
her legs apart, her throat afilled with groans,
her nipples hard, and quivering her breasts,
as squirmed she helpless 'gainst the wicked stone.
From nipples proud the honey trickled still,
and dripped and danced as poor Hespera fought
against the strong sensation, made a slave
to tremors in her groin that Lyka wrought.

”Vile witch!” Mythekia cried, ”come meet my blade!
Cast every spell you will, I'm not afraid!”
So stepped there Lyka forth from Eris' wood,
and held aloft the bowl of water high.
”You fool!” cried she, ”at first you 'scaped my wrath,
and to Aenfea fled. I say you should
have stayed, but now your doom is on this isle!
Hespera's fate you'll share, you wanton slut
who strides about quite naked without shame,
in nothing but a pendant of bronze cut!”

”Tis fair Athena's oath, you lustful witch,
that 'twixt my loins in pride and strength I wear.
Mythekia the Bare, I proudly claim,
this name for me, my nakedness I swear!
I spoken have my name, and now I come
to meet my oath at last! You are undone!
Come spill your chalice, cast what spell you will,
yield now, or of my wrath you'll have your fill!”

So spilled the witch her water, and a scent
of roses and of musk sprang from the ground.
She did not know the waters had been cured
she gazed in awe upon the herbs there drowned.
There flowers bloomed, and there the water pooled
in pleasant puddles, fragrant, still and round.
The witch's smile did freeze upon her lips,
her wicked eyes did open in cold fear,
then caught her nose the Aphrodite's scent
and red lips parted, lashes fluttered shy,
as Lyka swooned and fell and moaning cried:
”Oh gods! Oh heavens! What infernal lust
does burn inside me now? Pray, someone quench
the fire in my loins, and in my breast,
Gods, no, I must – I cannot – nay! Resist!”

Mythekia stepped forth, her xiphos played
across the witch's clothes, to give her aid
off came her linen robes, and underneath
she was quite nude, no underwear to sheath
all Lyka's stately form, at once displayed,
she squirmed, and moaned, and covered with her hands,
but soon they found a more delightful play
as lust her overcame, and had its way.

And such was Lyka's form: her bosoms round,
like apples golden, Helios had kissed
them more than once, on private hidden ground
where Lyka lounged. Her nipples red and bright,
like copper or the rich and dear carmine
did jump and bob, and almost seemed to shine.
Round hips framed Lyka's garden, like a glass
her body shaped, with slim and slender waist,
but thighs quite thick, to better frame the treat
she now showed all; the dark rich curls of that
which women hide, but now could not conceal
from greedy eyes and from the victor's hand.

”None now!” Mythekia quoth, and quickly seized,
the greedy hands of lusty Lyka firm,
then tied about the wrists the leather'n cord
that once tied up Hespera, now the stone
was cast aside, forgot, its power gone
now Lyka wished to have it, mad with moans.
Poor Lyka begged and cried for its sweet touch,
or anything to cease the sweetened curse
that Aphrodite laid upon her skin.
She wanted more, could only yearn for bliss,
Each touch like fire, incense, gold and myrrh,
each stroke of hand or lip a treasure deep,
so sickened was the wicked witch with love,
so desperate for swift and sweet release.

Mythekia, the Brave, did nothing grant.
Instead her sister strong she stood, and dressed.
Queen Hespera once more had linen garb
no more her bosoms honey-soaked and bare
no more the cruel cord between her thighs.
She sighed and kissed her savior once and twice.
”Mythekia, O wisest of my friends,
no more I'll seek your counsel to ignore
no more let wine and vengeance take my wits
from out my heart. Nothing do I not owe.
What would you gain? My queendom, land or arms?
All yours, Mythekia, O wisest soul!”

”For love I saved thee, spear-sister and queen,
and naught but love I would of thee request.
Thy kisses are for me the sweetest prize,
and they were given. Nothing do you owe.”

Said so, did fair Mythekia at last
the pendant let from 'twixt her loins fall down.
”Athena, thee I thank for all thy aid,
my oath fulfilled, I stand here, naked, proud
before the woman I had sought to save,
before the queen I swore to love and aid.
And hers I am, her noble arm to claim
Mythekia the Bare, as is my name.”
So did Hespera kiss her savior's mouth,
so did Mythekia kneel and soundly swore
to serve Hespera always, clad in naught
as her queen wished, no greater was the joy
than naked be the envy of all those
who sought Hespera's prizes, land, or gold.
And thus the dryads' doom did make its claim:
Forever now Mythekia the Bare,
but no more shame or shyness for her name,
instead an answer to her deepest prayer.

The squirming wicked witch, whose crimes were great,
was left there on her isle, with a doom:
”Thee Aphrodite plagues, and ever will,
til servitude you learn, and spiteful pride
will leave thy thoughts and heart forever still.
So must you serve all women hand and foot,
forever lusting, always going bare,
a naked maid to Aphrodite swear.”
Thus claimed the goddess then and there her take,
thus Aphrodite seized her spoils of war,
for aiding fair Athena with the herb
that did the witch's wicked web unmake.
And Lyka, freed of bonds of cord and string
found that the spell of lust could not be dimmed
but for one way: To humbly kneel and beg
to throw herself at stronger women's whim.
And slowly, then, the once-proud Lyka turned
to sweet submission, for debasement yearned.

Thus Lyka learned her lesson, and a slave
at wondrous Aphrodite's foot was made.

Description

PREFACE

by

P. Buffoon, esq.

The Sapphic Enferiad is a contested work. The original text is certainly not by the famous poetess of Lesbos, the title ascribed to her only in later copies of the text. For many years the work was written off as a fraud by most serious academics, until the discovery of ceramics allegedly depicting Mythekia, a central figure of the poem, recovered from Egypt by Adeline Sedgwick's expedition.

The original work, like most contemporary works, is in dactylic hexameter; as with many ancient texts, there's hot debate on how best to translate the poetry inherent in the meter. The presence of numerous hapax legomena, referring mostly to various poetic descriptions of its protagonists's endowments, also poses a challenge for modern interpretation; and of course, the richly erotic and scandalous language used. We know little of the Amazonian part of the Hellenic world where the poem is set, though it aligns quite well with Jeannette Kirowan's theories of the so-called 'Khyborian Age' that – while contested – might offer some answers. I advice anyone therein interested to contact Miss Katonic's University for Ladies.

For the reader is here presented, as faithfully rendered in English blank verse as possible, the most well-known part of the Sapphic Enferiad, or the Enferiad of Sappho. More fragments of the work are still being discovered. Readers of a sensitive persuasion are advised to read it on their fainting-couch; and the elements of overtly sapphic romance in the story that lends its name to the work might offend some academics more interested in research pertaining strictly to historical wardrobe malfunctions. Nevertheless, for those with an academic interest in the heroic poetry of Hellenic Amazons, the work presents an intriguing read, and it is my sincere hope I have managed an accurate translation.

~

O goddess, sing of Queen Hespera proud,
the fearsome fighter come to Lyka's isle
in search of vengeance, thundering and loud
thus, cleaving waves beneath her mighty prow
her helmet gleaming bronze upon her brow
her dark eyes set up on the columns bare
that made the home of Lyka, witch of spite.
Thus Hespera stood clad and made for war,
with spear in hand, a shield upon her arm
her bosom draped in hammered metal plate,
her loincloth girded firm about her loins
her feet in sandals woven, brass and gold,
her black hair flowing free beneath her helm.

Fair Hespera was tall and mighty-thewed,
her breasts like heavy grapes upon the vine
her voice was clear, and crimson lips were curled
into a snarl of spite and bitter wine.
Now cleaved the ship the waves of Lyka's isle,
now came her hated enemy in sight,
her sisters shrieked and banged upon their shields
the sunlight gleaming fierce on maidens bright
the war-cries carried far above the fields
where olives grew in Lyka's stately home
not knew the witch the coming of her foe
a reckoning, an answer to her crimes.

A maid was there, a woman of nineteen
with curls of black and skin like olive's pits,
who saw the coming of the fearsome sails
and overcome with terror yet she stayed
to greet the sailors from Aenfea's shores
to speak the wily words of Lyka's cause.
”Hail travelers,” quoth she, ”this sacred isle,
protected is by Eris, she of name,
to fickle-fated mortal women strike
with wicked loss, embarrassment and shame.
Turn back at once and save yourselves from grief
turn back to fair Aenfea, whence you came!”

But little listened lithe-limbed Hespera,
the lion-daughter, leaping from the decks
and seized the black-haired maiden by the locks
and spoke thus, all her might to maidens scare:
”To Aenfea came Lyka, wicked witch
to play at parlor-tricks in Hesp'ra's court,
she bade the mighty queen step forth in strength,
I answered, stepped before the waiting girls
to show the foreign sorceress my skill,
to proud display the name of Hespera.
But what did I receive for my proud deed?
A trickery and shame from Lyka's hand,
that yet a blush does smite upon my cheek,
that yet does trouble proud Hespera's sleep.
My loincloth loosed, my mighty breast-plate gone,
I stood before the court in underwear;
Foul Lyka did not cease her shaming there.

She wove a spell of spanking, groping hands
that at my body tickled, poked, and pulled
'til all my linens fell from twixt my loins
'til bonds about my bosoms came unbound,
'til I stood naked in my queenly court,
for cover but a hand upon the mound
between my legs, and one across my chest.
And yet the lusty grasping hands ceased not
to shame me, force me to expose myself
I gyrated in dance to flee their touch
I jiggled, jumped and danced as I was struck
by spankings, slappings, bearing shaming much.
These wind-hands were conjured by Lyka's mind
Eolus never knew such twisted spell,
of Aphrodite's arts and Eris' sin.
To Lyka's isle come I for revenge,
on you, apprentice, now I shall begin.”

So saying tore proud Hespera the gown
that wrapped around the limber-bodied maid
exposed at once her eager youthful breasts
and laughed all with her crew to see the shame
that blossomed on the messenger's dark cheeks
that wound its way to deep between her loins.
”Have pity!” quoth the maid, but Hesp'ra's crew
but cheered and laughed, their hands a mighty din
of clapping, and their voice like Harpies' pipes.
”Of pity I know not, you slattern dim,
your mistress showed me none, and nor will I.”
So pulled proud Hespera the cloth away
that now remained to shield the woman's thighs,
betwixt them was her youthful garden bared,
she squirmed and crossed her legs, and anxious sighs
and moans escaped the messenger so struck
with shameful treatment, all too cruel her luck.

The maiden nude, now Hespera did hand
the messenger to sisters of the ship.
”Now spank her good,” quoth Hespera, ”and make
the naked maid serve wine and do your chores
the way I call for: Naked on the floor!”
So must the girl kneel down and scrub the deck
and take the tasks of any lazy girl
to do it in the nude without a hope
of dignity, or clothes, or cov'ring hands.

But Hespera was set on greater deeds,
and now to Lyka's isle's inner strode
to bring along but two spear-sisters famed
to meet the witch herself, and take the prize
of vengeance, restoration of her name.
The laughing sister Ossia was called,
a dusky maid of Anatolian birth,
who famous was for shooting with the bow
and hitting both the mark, and hitting first.
The other sister melancholy, grim
her mighty name, Mythekia, the fair.
A fearless woman, muscular and pale,
but prone to sorrow, hopelessness and gloom.
Now spoke this somber woman, bearing dooms
of fates that would befall the mighty three:

”Strong Hespera, to smite the maid was much,
it surely lost the favour of the gods.
Tis boding poor for hero-women such
as us to do these deeds against the slaves
that toil and till the fields of Lyka's isle,
that never once did shame your name or deed.”
”My vengeance”, answered Hespera, with heat
that flashed in the twin diamonds of her eyes,
”my wrath and ire falls on all the isle,
unquenched will be, before the island's maids
all naked stand, their heads quite bowed in shame
the witch herself the lowest, kneeling, failed.”
So spake Hespera, and the warriors came
upon the village where the wine was made.
At once the lithe-limbed warrior-woman called
to make good on her heated oath of blades.

”Draw sword, Mythekia, Ossia, bow!”
bade Hespera her sisters, then her spear
did raise against the wine-makers in wrath
to tear and pull all clothing from the girls.
And soon was all her vengeful work quite done,
the women cowed, their pride in tatters laid.
But yet was mighty Hespera not done:
”Get up, you slatterns,” quoth she as they knelt,
quite nude on dusty ground beside the press.
And seizing a poor woman by the hair,
did Hespera the squirming girls address:
”Go on now, there is much work to be done!
My throat is parched, my limbs sore from this fight.
Bring wine, bring olives, and resume your toils
but naked, while the victor sits in joy
to spy your bosoms bare, your bottoms pale.”

So must the women tramp the grapes to wine,
with bare feet, bare limbs, bared beneath the sun
while others fetched for victors food and spoils
to flee her wrath and punishment and toil.
If Hespera, displeased, more torments chose
the girl who pleased her not must take a pose
or touch herself, or suffer spankings cruel.
Now Hespera was wine-drunk on the sweet
that flowed from grapes and victory and girls,
and laughed, and merry made with Ossia proud,
Mythekia's glum doom went quite unheard.

”Tis ill,” the mighty bronze-blade one murmured,
”to drink here where the wicked Eris stirs,
to make strife with the mother of all strife,
I fear she's struck Hespera with a curse.”
So went the bronze-blade mistress quite aside,
and sought the village homes, until she found
the shrine to Eris cruel, the temple's mouth,
and freed her feet of sandals, going in.
A prayer sang from ruby-lipped mouth
to state her name, and purpose here, and cause.
”Mythekia the mistress of the blade,
has not come here to strike your kin, O cruel
and mighty queen of quarrelers and raids.
I mercy beg for proud Hespera's sake,
release her clouded mind from lust and wine!”
So sorrowful Mythekia loudly pray'd,
and beat her breast and somberly did wail.

But from the wine-maid's village fled a girl,
seen not by proud Hespera, slipped her grasp.
A servant-maid whose tray laid on the dirt
beside her clothes that fell when heroes fought.
Now swiftly raced bare-foot for Lyka's hall,
and barreled past the somber temple guards
to throw herself quite nude upon the floor
in deepest bow before her mistress fair.
”The proud Hespera's here!” the maiden quoth,
and trembled, for she blushing fearful was.
”She took my clothes, and made my sisters work
beneath the sun with shameful toils and tasks!”

The Eris-daughter rose, her fair brow crown'd
with apple-branches and her mother's gold,
a wicked laugh did pour from her fine mouth
a cruel smile did curl on her red lips.
”So came the vengeful warrior at last,”
quoth Lyka, unafraid, her voice all mirth.
”To follow Eris' daughter into strife
is folly thus, the fate of mortals frail.
Now bring for me the bowl of water clear
that I may weave my snaring shaming spell.”

So girded with her magic, and her robes,
but bearing neither arms nor armor bold
did Lyka step down marble-pattern'd stair,
her body clad in linen, white, and gold.
So summoned she a retinue of girls,
so strode she to the wine-press village calm,
to meet the hero with a crowd of those
who witness would Hespera's shameful fall.

Now drunk Hespera heard the cymbals call,
and heard the horns, and stumbled, standing tall.
”Swift Ossia, your bow, Mythekia fair,
make ready with your blade, for soon we brawl!”
Mythekia was nowhere near in sight,
alone the two must face the wicked foe.
As Ossia her hand raised, vines entrapped,
her feet, soon snared in grapevine, and her bow
was little use, when worn-out string did snap!
”Ill fate, my sister!” Ossia did call,
”You face her must, with spear and shield, attack!”
So rushed the proud Hespera bravely forth,
the sunlight glinting off her bronze-clad brow,
the mighty spear thrust high and held in hand,
the girded loin-cloth rattling round her thigh.
So rushed the proud Hespera, til a root
did catch and snare her sandal-gracing foot
and tumbled forward did the woman tall
in drunkenness and wicked fate undone.

Up! Flew her bronze-clad skirt, to bare the cloth
she wore to shield her mighty-thewed rump.
Off! Fell the shining helm to spill her locks,
the oil-black hair now flowing on the ground.
She dropped her mighty shield, and sturdy spear,
and raised up on all fours, to race again.
But woe! The clasp of bronze-skirt come undone
of fell the garment whole, down to the ground.
A vicious snarl, a lionesses' roar
now passed across the proud Hespera's lips,
reduced to underclothes beneath the waist
she charged again, made ready for the chase.
Thus Lyka raised her hand, and water dripped
once more upon the dusty ground to feed
the wine-plants, thirsting more for the revenge
sweet Eris promised for their tenders' shame.
The wine itself had turned upon the spear,
the grape Hespera's enemy was made!

So vengeance that had driven her advance,
so vengeance that had been her cherished goal
did double back, ensnare her, make her trapped
so was the fate of mighty Hespera!
Sealed is a mortal's doom when goddess fair,
the thread of fate doth twirl around her hand
she plays the mortal woman like the harp,
a weaving-woman at her loom of doom.

Drunk Hespera against the witch did come,
her spear and shield pinned to the dusty ground,
her swinging fists, her roaring, ruby mouth
the only strength against the foe to bear.
But wine-drunk Hespera, in leisure sweet
had loosened her breast-plate against the heat.
Now hastily secured, it rattled, snapped
a poorly knotted tie in leather strap.
From Hesp'ra's breast the bronze fell sudden, sharp
down to her rushing feet, which hit the mark
upon the slipp'ry surface sandals came
the woman slipped again, and tumbled, fell.

To underclothes reduced, fair Hesp'ra now,
wore bands about her breast, a loincloth thin,
and sandals on her feet, and that was all
that stood between her skin and eager eyes.
But Lyka grabbed the loincloth, now quite near,
and pulled with easy hands upon the knot
which came undone, for cruel Eris' weave
had made all threads of Hesp'ra easy prey.
So similar the knot between the blades
that were down from her shoulders, also loosed
and from Hespera proud fell all but shoes,
her mighty roar and bravery to lose.

Now silent was the warrior in shame,
now folded she her hands before herself,
now was her mighty roar to whimpers made.
Denuded was Hespera, looking thus:
A black-haired beauty, too, between her legs
where wine-dark curls were seen about the lips
that lined her woman's well of pleasures deep
now blushing pink, exposed for all to see.
And of her breasts, this much is to be told:
Her bosoms large, magnificent and bold
upon a strong-thewed abdomen and chest
they danced and jiggled freely, nipples blessed
with perky, pointy shape and brown like gold.
And of her bottom, strong and wondrous rare:
Both powerful and girlish, taut, but there
a little jiggling flesh to dance quite soft
when Lyka's palm came down from on aloft.
And cried Hespera did, and moan, and wail,
her foes had seized her wrists and ankles pale,
for Lyka to administer the touch
of cruel spankings, tormenting her much.

And too the mighty Ossia was seized,
and to her ankles skirt and linens pulled,
and from her breast the plated mail did fall
revealing little breasts and nipples dark.
And Ossia was left such for the maids,
of Lyka's village there to have their fun
in vines her ankles bound, her wrists ensnared
like Aphrodite's statue, stuck, and bared
for all to flick her nipples, touch her breast
to do to Ossia what they thought best.
The mighty woman squirmed, and begged, and wailed
for modesty or mercy, please! and gone
was all her mirthful pride and manners brave.

So Ossia was left to torments cruel,
the village-maids to merry make with her
so Lyka spanked the proud Hespera's rear,
who soon humiliations worse would bear.
Yet there, in Eris' temple, one yet dared
to flaunt the witch's law, to wear her clothes:
Mythekia, the mistress of the blade.
Now fell the warrior down to prostrate deep,
now called she on Olympos for their aid,
to wicked Eris' scheming bring an end,
to help the mortal women with their feud.
Then just as Lyka's guards were drawing near
A voice called out: ”Mythekia! I hear.”

In fear she did not dare to raise her head
but kept her brow down pressed against the floor.
Behind her came the scent of olives sweet,
of wine and wisdom, fluttering of leaves,
an owl's wing above her shoulder perched,
the brow-born child of Zeus had intervened!
So tall Athena spake, and bade the maid
to raise up from the floor, not so afraid.

”O child of Thea, mistress of the blade,
your cautious wisdom once more did prevail,
to not bring needless strife to Eris' isle,
for in such matters mortals, well, they fail.
Now Lyka has ensnared your sisters two
and soon will bring worse woes upon the pair.
Her powers absolute, the scheming witch
has called upon her mother, O, that bitch.
I bless'd Hespera, mighty-thewed and fair,
but Eris has my blessing quite undone
through wickedness in Hespera instill'd.
One victory I promised, but you cast,
this triumph at the women of the town.
Just once my sworn protection was to last,
your sword-sisters did waste it on the girls
a folly that now has them quite undone
in clotheslessness and haplessness and groans,
in shameful nakedness and whining moans.”

”What must I do? O pray, Athena, tell!”
quoth Thea's daughter, weeping at the news
of how her sisters wicked fate would meet:
To grovel and to beg at Lyka's feet.

”Sail swiftly from the island, is my word,”
quoth Athena, while beckoning her bird
to fly a pass above Lyka's domain
and witness what had happened to the girls.
”This battle's lost, the fates have made their call
for Eris triumphs, and Hespera serves
down on her knees, and naked, until fall.
But you, sail swiftly to Aenfea's shores,
there, seek a grove where dwell three dryads kind,
my sister, Artemis, will be your guide.”

”And Hespera is saved?” Mythekia called,
”O goddess, thank you for this guiding star!

”There is but one small flaw, O Thea's child,”
said Athena, her owl to wrist returned,
”As Eris knows you came, Poseidon wild
will on her word the winds becalm and stall
the sailing-winds, so ships stay here til fall,
thus aids he in the working of her wiles.”

”O goddess! Pray his wrath be then removed,
pray Polyphemus' father not to strike!
I must away to save my sister-spear,
I will not fail in any you command.”
”This amulet,” Athena quoth, ”will save,
thee from Poseidon's wrath, if worn
between the legs, and quite upon your mound.”
So held she up a pendant made of bronze,
a pendant made of hammered metal bright.
”You must not take it off, until return'd,
to Lyka's isle, with all that you have learned
you must my words here heed, and this to swear.”

”I promise!” quoth Mythekia, ”I swear!”
”Good,” quoth Athena, ”no more will you wear.
If any other garment you should don,
the bronze will lose its might, Poseidon won
by Eris once again, the wicked god
his wrath upon you doubtless then to turn.”
”What? Athena-” the mistress of the blade
called out, the goddess already to fade
away in smoke and mist and olives' scent.
”Farewell, Mythekia, do as I sent!”

Now crept the child of Thea from the shrine,
now made she her way back toward the shore.
Athena guided carefully her steps,
so none among the villagers her saw.
So stood she at the wine-dark sea again,
so raised she up the pendant and did gaze
upon the storming winds Poseidon sent.
”By wind and cloud the skies are torn and rent,”
Mythekia quoth, ”Poseidon would them stall?
To stop my ship, my crew from sailing forth?
Must all I wear be this bronze pendant small?”
She bit her tongue, she cursed her doubting heart,

Thus did Mythekia shed her bronze breast-plate,
so shedded she her girded metal skirt,
so fell from beauteous loins her underwear
so freed she both her breasts and shoulders fair.
Thus naked by the sea Mythekia donned
the little pendant round her waist and frowned;
it covered naught but her most sacred grove
it left her bottom bare, her breasts to bob,
it bared her slender stomach, long legs pale,
her hair of brown to flutter in the gale.
'Twas almost worse than stripped completely bare,
such that the eye could naught but travel there
where metal glinted, sparkled twixt her thighs
and wonder at the woman's poor attire.

Thus sailed the once-proud mistress of the blade
in nothing but a skimpy hammered plate
for cover cross the wild and wine-dark sea
to seek to set her once-proud sisters free!
Sea-spray upon her chest and in her hair,
Mythekia was forced her breasts to bare
at many ports from Ceris to her home
soon throughout all the cities she was known:
Mythekia the Bare, Mythekia shamed
with nothing but a pendant to her name!
When fair Aenfea's shores she at last saw
a sigh escaped her little pink-crowned breast,
at last, a moment here at home to rest.

She drank of wine and ate of honeyed bread,
in Thea's halls, secluded from the dread
of public viewing and of naked walks
upon the streets with peasants and their gawks.
Thus fed and rested knelt the girl and prayed
for Artemis's guidance, as was named.
That night, in dream, she saw the mystic grove.
By morrow set upon the dusty road,
not daring yet to don a cloak or gown,
for fear Poseidon's wrath on her would frown.
Bare-breasted came she to the dryad's trees,
bare-breasted fell she down upon her knees.

”Fair sisters, Hespera, beloved, to save!
I come before you now, with matters grave!”
Thus stepped three dryads forth from those old oaks
thus swarmed the sisters round the dazzling sight
Mythekia the Nude in dazzling sun,
a lithe-limbed slender beauty in the light.
”For loyalty I've sailed the wine-dark sea,
with nothing to my name, as you can see
but for the pendant here, betwixt my thighs
I pray you, sisters, help me in my plight!”

”Fair Artemis has promised thee our aid,”
the dryads spoke, as one, their voices made
of ringing bronze and running honey sweet,
”we will thee offer aid to bring defeat
to Lyka's isle, to spiteful Eris cheat.”
Now sat Mythekia fair, down in their midst,
now readied she herself for their sweet words
the promise of the gods to be fulfilled.

”Mythekia, the brave, the gloomy soul,
you ill would do to meddle with the gods
who fates and clothes will tear with equal ease
who bare the brave and bring them to their knees.
This doom we say to thee: You'll naked go
Mythekia the Bare, for all to know
you go to conquer hopelessness and shame,
but this quest for all time will change your name.”

”On Lyka's isle is a sacred spring,
from which pours water, bitter with revenge.
The spiteful witch doth all her power take
from this rich source of wrathful wicked spite.
But Aphrodite's herb, the waters cure
flow Love and Pleasure once more bright and pure.”

So spake the dryads three, as flowers bloomed,
around the feet of Thea's daughter fair,
the mistress of the blade was freed of gloom,
the airs of Love now filling all the air,
and drunk on these rich scents and women fine,
Mythekia was moved to lustful bliss.
Off came her little pendant, to her knees,
the woman sunk, and heartily did please
herself with eyes screw'd shut, and blushing cheeks
how shameless! How embarrassing! How weak!
”The herb of Aphrodite's lust is strong,”
the dryads smiled, and watched with faces pleased.
”Be sure to smell it not, but keep it sealed,
while you do sail. The journey's wild and long.
But now you are concealed with trees above,
here no one sees – be free, and filled with love.”

Thus did she spend a day in utmost bliss
among the dryads, sorely then to miss
their soft red lips, their slender touching hands
their beauteous breasts, their kind and cruel demands
for her to please and touch, and still more kiss
them where they asked. She faithfully obeyed,
and likewise did the sisters soon well swoon
over Mythekia, mistress of the blade.
Til drunk on pleasure put at last to sleep,
she woke with blushing cheeks and eager will,
the grove deserted, quiet calm, and still,
and naked, she, alone among the bloom.
”Farewell, O nymphs, Mythekia sends her thanks,”
quoth she, and donned around her blushing flanks
her garment small, and picked the flowers dry,
admired by her bright and cheerful eye.

Mythekia set sail, prepared once more
for reaching Lyka's far forbidding shore.
So gathered she a crew of sailor-girls,
and traveled for where Ceris' currents whirl.
The herb was kept in but a little pouch
hung from the chain which was her only garb.

In Ceris they must stop to fill their stores,
and here a word came for the Captain nude,
a summons come from Queen Kyrina, wise
and curious about the ways of blooms.
Reluctant now the woman brave must go,
before the court in nothing but the bronze
between her legs, and nothing more to wear
to answer the Queen's order almost bare.
With blushing cheek and arms across her breasts,
she stepped into the company of those
far better dressed than she, their gawking stares
made mockery of Thea's daughter's woes.
”O queen, I come,” Mythekia then spoke,
”What knowledge I have gained with thee to share,
then quickly I must sail for Lyka's shores.”
So spoke the brave Mythekia, the Bare.

The queen was gorgeous, plump of breast and hip,
a stately woman, wearing linen garb,
her face a stern and greedy marble mask,
her nose turned up in prideful mocking laugh.
”This Aphrodite's herb, put in my hand!
to share it with me, I thee now command.”
The Queen's black locks fell round her cheeks so soft,
her forceful call, her finger raised in doom,
”Yes, all the herb you have, lay at my throne,
else stripped be of the only thing you own!”

”The herb is mine, O queen,” Mythekia quoth,
”Athena's amulet I well require,
I'll grant you neither wish, O regal clown,
The Mistress of the Blade will not stand down!”
She snatched a sword from hip of hapless guard,
so whirled the xiphos, cutting off their spears!
She spun the sword through belt and clothing crude,
so fearless fought Mythekia, the Nude!
In battle whirled the naked woman swift,
but Eris' finger cruelly intervened,
the knot around the pouch, the heroes' herb,
came loose, and there it spilled upon the Earth!

A heady scent came pouring in the room,
as Aphrodite's blessing was unleashed.
The naked guards came crumbling to their knees,
the wealthy women swooned and faces fanned,
as Queen Kyrina raced down from her throne,
as Queen Kyrina greedy did demand:
”The priceless precious herb for me to seize!”
without a word of safety, halt, or peace.

So filled the precious herb the royal nose,
so hammered Aphrodite on her heart
and soon the pounding sank still further down,
and madness made the queen pull at her gown!
”Oh gods!” quoth Queen Kyrina, ”oh, how sweet!
I must be naked, shackled up and beat!”
Thus saying pulled her fine clothes from her form,
thus saying bared her bosom, feelings storm'd,
within her royal breast, and in her loins,
and soon she bared them too, her garments torn
from twixt her thighs to bare the royal lips.
A stately woman, large and heavy breasts,
now bared there danced and swayed, her gyring hips
did frame a bare-shaved sex, uncovered all,
she twisted, turned, and shook her gorgeous rump,
she sank down to the floor, the woman plump
and tender could not wait for lovers' hands
but used her own to aid her in the dance.
While shamelessly she twisted on the ground,
Mythekia the Bare reached for the flow'r.

The sprigs were gathered once more in the pouch,
but scented made her nostrils flare and twitch
the heady lust was filling up her heart
the bliss of Aphrodite in her groin.
Between her thighs the pendant's touch, like wine
Mythekia made drunk with lover's heat!
She touched herself, one hand the pouch to seal
the other gone to still her lusting need.
Then saw she Queen Kyrina, squirming, bared,
and brought herself to royal kisses steal!
The squirming shameful tyrant could her serve
to still the fire that burned inside her soul,
Mythekia the Bare herself did lower
above the ruby lips of Ceris' queen
to kiss her with the garden of her love;
to throne her, rule her, conqueror thereof.
In bliss Mythekia ruled Kyrina's lusts,
as every courtier, soldier, woman saw
the lewd and shameful ways in which the queen
herself a servant made for moans and thrusts.

Mythekia so tamed the greedy queen,
Kyrina caring but for more of love,
denounced her throne, her clothes, with heady lust
would kneel again, again, and begging must
be dragged quite bare from Ceris' royal halls
to please herself in public, by the walls.
Mythekia, exhausted, slumped and sighed
and thus foul Eris' plot came to apply.
For round the shoulders of the weary maid
was thrown a mantle of the royal grade.
”A kindness”, quoth some smiling woman there,
”for cover, and your shame no more to bare.”
Mythekia, if quick, could throw it down,
could spare herself the doom Athena spake,
but weary, blushing, utterly misled,
she pulled it close around her bosom red.

The Bare no more, the wise Athena's boon
undone at once, between the woman's loins,
the bronze medallion robb'd of all its might,
Mythekia the Bare had hid from sight
her lovely breasts, her little nipples pale,
her firm trim rump and thighs so hearty hale.
At once red rage sprang up within her breast,
to seek the villain having thus her dressed -
but Eris, 'tis was she, had gone and fled
Poseidon's wrath the blade-mistress must dread!
”I cannot,” thought the brave Mythekia still,
”leave Hespera to bow to Lyka's will,
Athena's word – she shall be free by fall!
If dooms Poseidon sends – I'll face them all!”

So thinking rose Mythekia the Clad,
the purple cape round shoulders strong and glad,
to full height rose she, dressed in nothing still
but pendant, cape, and an unyielding will.
Her bosoms bared, her stomach pale and firm,
her back was straight, her bravery yet burned
in naked breast, despite her shame and curse
she strode back to her ship with hopeful words!
”Set sail!” called she, to sailors quite aghast,
to see the Captain cloth'd, but to the mast,
they rushed, the royal garment lifting proud
in winds and gales Poseidon yet allowed.
So mantle whipping round her body bared,
Mythekia once more for Lyka fared.

Poseidon did not make the waters still,
to strand the Clad at sea would suffice ill.
Instead, the mighty god made forth a storm
such hammered at her ship and at her form.
A whipping wind in proud Mythekia's hair,
as rain-wet breasts and stomach yet were bared.
The ship was battered, tossed 'bout like a leaf
but yet her courage never once did cease,
nor did she don another piece of cloth,
her promise to Athena not forgot.
”The amulet made weak,” Mythekia quoth,
”does not undo the sealing of my oath!”

O! Could but courage alter wind and wave,
could mortal will the elements but bend!
If truth and loyal heart could weathers cow,
O, would not all the clouds and winds have bowed?
But such was not the movement of the fates,
Poseidon's wrath was not to soon abate.

Mythekia the Clad was blown off course,
the ship to dash on strange and foreign shores.
Thus shattered cruel Poseidon wooden prow,
thus broke he mast and sail beneath his blow.
Scatter'd were women, sail-cloth, food and stores,
'til on the beach a wet Mythekia crawled.
Her ship destroyed, her crew on isles strewn,
her quest undone by folly and by fate.

”O fates! O goddess!” wailed the heroine,
”Have all that I endured then been for naught?
A bitter shame I suffered weeks and days,
for Eris' sting a wicked fate was wrought.”
Then bitter tears did well from hero's heart,
as salt-stained as the ocean she had fought.
Mythekia the Bare, forever doomed
to lonely wander naked through the loom
that Fate had spun from coarse and cruel thread
and left her none at all to wear instead!
Mythekia did curse her bitter fate,
on foreign shores alone in dire straits.
No hope was left that she'd Hespera save,
no hope to see her sisters, and her name
A mockery, a naked woman, save
for useless bronze that hung around her waist!

Then, there above the wine-dark sea a sign,
an owl across the starry sky did wind.
”To hands and knees, Mythekia, and then
to follow me and yet your tale won't end,”
it seemed to say, on wings of blessed night.
Sprang she for Pallas' messenger in fright!
”O goddess, do you yet remember me?
Mythekia the Bare, who swore thus be?
I follow you, at once, O goddess fair
you favour me still here, on foreign sea!”

So rushed she, cape to flutter in the wind
into a cypress-wood as dark as sin.
'Twas night, and all about cicadas sung,
a heavy night like linen curtain hung.
But there! A fire, a tent, a merry song!
A giggling of rude women and their jests.
On cautious foot our heroine took care
to creep in dark and see who dwell'd in there.

To her surprise, a gathering of maids,
hands clapping, serenading, loud and gay
and who there in their midst was dancing bare?
With cheeks of red both on her face and rear?
With palms-marks cruel across her bottom slim,
with gaiety despite fate's cruel whim?
Who was this shameless maid awhirl in dance?
”Tis Ossia!” a gasp, ”here is my chance!”
From dark cypress-wood strode the maiden fair,
so fearsome, with the wind in storm-tossed hair.
With branch held forth in place of xiphos sharp,
with whipping cape around her bareness stark,
still water salt dripped from her hair, undone,
she raised her weapon: ”Cower now, or run!”

They scattered, thinking Zeus had sent a beast
in woman's form, to punish where she pleased!
In screaming wails they fled, their courage ceased
Mythekia her branch dropped, forwards leaped.
”Dear Ossia!” she cried, and kisses rained,
like petals on spear-sister's bronzed face.
”Pray tell! What news of Hespera, the proud?
What island are we on, what have I found?”
And Ossia did laugh and kiss and cry,
embracing her fair friend in joyous dance.
A moment passed. ”I'm naked,” Ossia quoth,
and blushed at the embrace, so strangely close.
”They kept me thus, the villains, after I,
was made a dancer there to please their gaze.
If at some time my steps were out of beat,
each one paid back upon my naked seat.
'Tis not so bad. I rather liked the girls,
that I was made to strip for and to serve.”

”Sweet Ossia! Your soul is far too kind,”
Mythekia quoth, tears in wrathful eyes.
”Not so,” quoth Ossia, ”for I was spared,
the treatment that vile Lyka had in mind,
on ships her women took me to perform
for coin on other isles, freedom gain,
my debt, once paid, they said, I shall be saved
and so I danced and weathered stinging pain.

But Hespera, our queen, is still in thrall
to Lyka vile, her wicked will to serve.
Bare must she serve as foot-stool for the witch,
serve honey from her breasts for ladies lewd,
her behind treated daily with a switch,
on collar led in temples fully nude
to prostrate there and worship with her lips
the feet of Eris, bashful and brought low,
and many other shameful things have passed
to bring her low and all her pride to strip!”

Thus hearing, struck Mythekia her breast,
and swore an oath of vengeance, bitter, deep
but mindful of Athena's counsel wise,
vowed cunning with the witch, and in her sleep
sneak Aphrodite's herb into the spring
with cunning and with wit the poison bring.

Now made she for dark Ossia a bow,
of yew-branch strong and trembling coiled string,
took linen from the camp for Ossia's clothes,
and once more gave her warrior's garb and pride.
Thus Ossia was dressed, girded for war,
Mythekia did not her god-oath break
and kept betwixt her legs only the star
of bronze Athena fashioned for her sake,
and from her shoulders, Ceris' purple cape
did fall, her body needing not the drape.

The wicked girls that kept Ossia bare,
had gathered in their haste to flee the shores.
”A monster made by Zeus lives on this isle,”
quoth they, ”all flee, run now, and for your lives!”
They raised the purple sails of Lyka's barge,
to Eris' isle again they planned their course,
their anchors drawn, their mighty wooden horse
to sail across the sea in hurried charge.
”Halt there!” quoth Ossia, ”have you forgot?
The kindness you have shown me, when I danced?
Such kindness I will show, 'tis more than fair!”
Now whistled out an arrow through the air,
now pinned it dress and blouse against the mast
now nailed it skirt and sandal to the deck.
Mythekia, the Bare, her limber form,
came charging from the wood, a sword at last,
a xiphos plundered from the scattered camp,
where these lewd ladies made their captives dance.

At sword-point were the wicked servants stripped
cut free of pinioned clothes and arrowed garbs.
And so the wicked women soon must bare
both breasts and bottoms full, and poorly fare
in hiding them in shame from Ossia's glare,
and squirm at all her mirthful jokes and barbs.
”Fine rump!” she'd cry, or ”make your bosoms dance
as mine did, back when you were loved by chance!”

”Each woman, grab the sails, and get to work!”
Mythekia quoth, ”and quickly, ere the mirk
lay down upon us and keep us ashore,
you wicked girls must get now to your chores.
And will you not, by Athena I'll steel
you with the xiphos' side, until you squeal,
but will you serve, your gardens may conceal
'til we reach Lyka's isle. Such is my deal.”

The women who protested there were left
with stinging spanked rears on empty sands
the next passing trireme they saw to beg
for passage naked, at a stranger's hand.
The wiser women saw Mythekia's cause,
and pleaded her to serve and forswear all
of loyalty to Lyka, never join
the wicked witch, and scraps around their loins
was their reward for service. Bared the rest,
they set to blushing work with bobbing breasts.

Mythekia, the Captain, winds were sent
the debt to Eris now at once repaid,
so wild Poseidon's rage had all been spent,
no storm assailed her ship or her waylaid.
To Lyka's isle the course, they traveled swift
with gratitude and thanks for Pallas' gift.

So came at once the island all in sight,
so came the stripped crew to see their home.
Mythekia the Bare, her eyes burned bright,
her xiphos sharp, her body proud and fine.
”Brave spear-sister,” quoth she, ”your bow must play
a trick on Lyka vile, and that you may
be punished for. I will thee this repay.”
Quoth Ossia then, ”Spear-sister, be not moved,
by my hard plights, be quick, the net to slip!”
So crept Mythekia from off her ship,
to swim the wine-dark sea, in secret steal
for Eris's sacred spring, with herbs concealed
the pouch still faithful, hanging at her hip,
despite her twisting fate and storm-wrecked ship.

Dark Ossia stepped to the vessel's prow,
there stood she tall and quite unflinching, proud
an arrow flew from bowstring, striking true
and warned the village folk she was unbowed!
”Bring out the witch! Bring forth Hespera tall!
Else havoc, shame and vengeance on you all!”
So came the witch, stepped forth with water marr'd,
in hurry to the cliffs called by her guard,
poured cursed water to the frothing sea,
with rage and spite malevolent and free!
For Ossia proud could combat any foe,
that Lyka could send forth with spear or bow,
so called the witch instead upon the waves
to batter Ossia's prow, her might to show!

First came a batting wave that threw her far
into the churning sea, its hungry maw
there tossing her and turning her and tore
the clothing from her slender form once more.
Her loin-cloth lost, her breeches pulled apart,
her breasts were bared, her hair was whipped and snarled,
her weapon lost, her pride, she could but fight
against the waves, to swim with all she had
to struggle free of ripping clothes and garb,
to make for shore, unarmed and quite unclad.

So Lyka pulled her form from out the waves,
sea-water on her breasts, in dripping pearls
between her legs in coiling curls there made
a beauty of her garden, and she gave
a cry, a wail of sorrow and of loss
once more to be the witching-woman's slave.
She hoped but now for her spear-sister's fate
to save them both, or suffer bitter shame.
And Ossia was made to naked kneel,
and kiss dread Lyka's feet, now brought to heel.

Mythekia, the cunning, hidden was
in cypress-grove when threats at shore were roared,
she'd spied vile Lyka running for her spells,
she'd seen the woman chasing for the source.
Now knew she where it was, and slowly paced,
her stride so soft, her fair and slender shape
bare but for Pallas' gift around her waist,
to reach the sacred spring, which Eris cursed.
So saw she there the somber rocks, the stream
which sprung from cracked boulders like a knife,
which filled the spring with bitter water clear
among all things to cause the deepest strife.
”Athena, Aphrodite, charms employ,
against your foe, who caused the mess in Troy!”
So spake the blade-mistress, and threw the sprigs
into the water pale, to make her ploy.

At once a sweet scent rose: The water cured,
the last drops thrown into the raging sea
by Lyka, who knew not her magic's source
was now all spent, forever lost its force.
Now but to save Hespera, at long last,
Mythekia stood tall by water's spout,
her breast did heave, a mighty warrior's shout
of triumph, victory and surging joy!

So strode Mythekia, her shame forgot,
in hand a xiphos, dark hair falling wild.
Bare was her breast, and slender was her form
proud was her voice and confident her stride.
Between her thighs the pendant she had sworn,
this sparkling gift yet drawing every eye
to her stark bareness and her fearless shape
no shame or sorrow left, no wince or sigh!
A striking sight, a beauty never seen,
bare but for Pallas' gift came to the scene
at Eris' temple. There she raised her blade,
”Come Lyka, come, to me, O foolish maid!”

The witch her guards sent out to face the foe,
at Thea's daughter sent she spear and shield,
while running to her spring for spells to cause
the earth to fill with wickedness and woe.
So cleaved Mythekia their bronze-made shields,
so struck she spear from haft with mighty blow,
so broke she every weapon, made them yield
before her xiphos' dance, her twirling flow.
”Bring Hespera before me, lest you wish
my xiphos's side to grace your naked rump,
my foot to trample on your bared breast,
do as I say, O guards, it will be best!”

Then ran the beaten guards to Lyka's room,
so beat they down the door, in fear made bold,
and thus Hespera came once more before
her savior, sister-spear, who doom foretold.
Of mighty thew was proud Hespera fair,
her beauteous form and strength, her flowing hair,
her pride was bruised, and naked was the shame
the witch inflicted on her form and name.

For each full breast in honey sweet was glazed
and then down to her navel, sticky, warm,
the substance cross her stomach pale would race
til dripping from her Aphrodite's place.
Her hands were bound with sturdy cord behind
her naked back, and 'twixt her legs did wind
and firm, so that with every step she made
it tighter 'gainst her lips, now shaved quite bare.
The cord did frame her woman's garden, stripped
so clean that there was not a single hair.
But worst of all was there the cursed stone,
that Lyka cruel had tied twixt Hesp'ra's lips
infused it was with wickedness and wrath
and trembled there on Lyka's mere command!

”O spear-sister!” quoth Hespera, the Shamed,
”please free me-” then a long and tortured moan
did leave her lips. Down to her knees she came,
her legs apart, her throat afilled with groans,
her nipples hard, and quivering her breasts,
as squirmed she helpless 'gainst the wicked stone.
From nipples proud the honey trickled still,
and dripped and danced as poor Hespera fought
against the strong sensation, made a slave
to tremors in her groin that Lyka wrought.

”Vile witch!” Mythekia cried, ”come meet my blade!
Cast every spell you will, I'm not afraid!”
So stepped there Lyka forth from Eris' wood,
and held aloft the bowl of water high.
”You fool!” cried she, ”at first you 'scaped my wrath,
and to Aenfea fled. I say you should
have stayed, but now your doom is on this isle!
Hespera's fate you'll share, you wanton slut
who strides about quite naked without shame,
in nothing but a pendant of bronze cut!”

”Tis fair Athena's oath, you lustful witch,
that 'twixt my loins in pride and strength I wear.
Mythekia the Bare, I proudly claim,
this name for me, my nakedness I swear!
I spoken have my name, and now I come
to meet my oath at last! You are undone!
Come spill your chalice, cast what spell you will,
yield now, or of my wrath you'll have your fill!”

So spilled the witch her water, and a scent
of roses and of musk sprang from the ground.
She did not know the waters had been cured
she gazed in awe upon the herbs there drowned.
There flowers bloomed, and there the water pooled
in pleasant puddles, fragrant, still and round.
The witch's smile did freeze upon her lips,
her wicked eyes did open in cold fear,
then caught her nose the Aphrodite's scent
and red lips parted, lashes fluttered shy,
as Lyka swooned and fell and moaning cried:
”Oh gods! Oh heavens! What infernal lust
does burn inside me now? Pray, someone quench
the fire in my loins, and in my breast,
Gods, no, I must – I cannot – nay! Resist!”

Mythekia stepped forth, her xiphos played
across the witch's clothes, to give her aid
off came her linen robes, and underneath
she was quite nude, no underwear to sheath
all Lyka's stately form, at once displayed,
she squirmed, and moaned, and covered with her hands,
but soon they found a more delightful play
as lust her overcame, and had its way.

And such was Lyka's form: her bosoms round,
like apples golden, Helios had kissed
them more than once, on private hidden ground
where Lyka lounged. Her nipples red and bright,
like copper or the rich and dear carmine
did jump and bob, and almost seemed to shine.
Round hips framed Lyka's garden, like a glass
her body shaped, with slim and slender waist,
but thighs quite thick, to better frame the treat
she now showed all; the dark rich curls of that
which women hide, but now could not conceal
from greedy eyes and from the victor's hand.

”None now!” Mythekia quoth, and quickly seized,
the greedy hands of lusty Lyka firm,
then tied about the wrists the leather'n cord
that once tied up Hespera, now the stone
was cast aside, forgot, its power gone
now Lyka wished to have it, mad with moans.
Poor Lyka begged and cried for its sweet touch,
or anything to cease the sweetened curse
that Aphrodite laid upon her skin.
She wanted more, could only yearn for bliss,
Each touch like fire, incense, gold and myrrh,
each stroke of hand or lip a treasure deep,
so sickened was the wicked witch with love,
so desperate for swift and sweet release.

Mythekia, the Brave, did nothing grant.
Instead her sister strong she stood, and dressed.
Queen Hespera once more had linen garb
no more her bosoms honey-soaked and bare
no more the cruel cord between her thighs.
She sighed and kissed her savior once and twice.
”Mythekia, O wisest of my friends,
no more I'll seek your counsel to ignore
no more let wine and vengeance take my wits
from out my heart. Nothing do I not owe.
What would you gain? My queendom, land or arms?
All yours, Mythekia, O wisest soul!”

”For love I saved thee, spear-sister and queen,
and naught but love I would of thee request.
Thy kisses are for me the sweetest prize,
and they were given. Nothing do you owe.”

Said so, did fair Mythekia at last
the pendant let from 'twixt her loins fall down.
”Athena, thee I thank for all thy aid,
my oath fulfilled, I stand here, naked, proud
before the woman I had sought to save,
before the queen I swore to love and aid.
And hers I am, her noble arm to claim
Mythekia the Bare, as is my name.”
So did Hespera kiss her savior's mouth,
so did Mythekia kneel and soundly swore
to serve Hespera always, clad in naught
as her queen wished, no greater was the joy
than naked be the envy of all those
who sought Hespera's prizes, land, or gold.
And thus the dryads' doom did make its claim:
Forever now Mythekia the Bare,
but no more shame or shyness for her name,
instead an answer to her deepest prayer.

The squirming wicked witch, whose crimes were great,
was left there on her isle, with a doom:
”Thee Aphrodite plagues, and ever will,
til servitude you learn, and spiteful pride
will leave thy thoughts and heart forever still.
So must you serve all women hand and foot,
forever lusting, always going bare,
a naked maid to Aphrodite swear.”
Thus claimed the goddess then and there her take,
thus Aphrodite seized her spoils of war,
for aiding fair Athena with the herb
that did the witch's wicked web unmake.
And Lyka, freed of bonds of cord and string
found that the spell of lust could not be dimmed
but for one way: To humbly kneel and beg
to throw herself at stronger women's whim.
And slowly, then, the once-proud Lyka turned
to sweet submission, for debasement yearned.

Thus Lyka learned her lesson, and a slave
at wondrous Aphrodite's foot was made.