Daphne's Return

TW/DISCLAIMER: This story includes non-consensual sex. The author affirms the story is fictional and in no way condones rape or sexual assault.

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In some ways, Daphne missed her arboreal days. There was a beautiful simplicity in it, feeling the rain fall from her leaves, only to be absorbed by the earth and further nourish her through her roots. But while she was grateful to her father, the river god Pineus, for saving her from Apollo's unwanted advances, she was more than ready to return to her womanly form. She may not have wanted to make love to the enamored sun god (or any other male for that matter), but she certainly would have screamed in frustration if she had been unable to indulge herself in all the pleasures her human form had to offer.

When Apollo went off to chase the Muses, her father decided it was safe to return her to her nymph form, and she was never more glad. If she were honest, she had been a little worried that he was going to leave her like that for eternity, as it was the only way to ensure her chastity.

It was a glorious day, and Daphne reveled in her returned freedom. Never far from the water, she spent the afternoon wandering along her favorite river, her toes teased by the chill of the water. As the afternoon passed, she found herself in a new and unfamiliar part of the woods. As she entered a peaceful glade, bathed in the late afternoon sun, she noticed an oddly placed tumble of boulders, resting halfway in the water and obviously worn smooth by years of high waters, unusual shapes carved into the rocks by the high currents.

As her eyes drifted across the outcropping, her gaze landed on a section of rocks further on shore. A long, rectangular shaped boulder stretched into the glade, and about two thirds of the way down, she noticed a slight protrusion.

Though it was not particularly large, it gave Daphne an idea. She knelt down and ran her hand over the smooth hardness. It extended out no longer than the length of her hand, nor was it any thicker than a fresh date. But she thought that it might serve the purpose she had in mind. Curiosity and desire took hold, and she raised herself on her knees, drew up the hem of her dress, and stretched one leg across, so that she was straddling the stone shaft.

At the first touch of the cool stone on her soft, sensitive flesh, she released a quiet gasp that seemed to echo throughout the peaceful glade. Her juices were already flowing after a year of celibacy, and they quickly coated the tip of the protuberance. Slowly, she drew her hips forward, hovering just above the minerally phallus, allowing it to glide forward and back as it became glazed with the evidence in her arousal.

She had gone too long without orgasm, she thought. Her father may have been overly protective of her virginity, but that did not mean she hadn't found other outlets for her needs. Needs that suddenly went unmet when her father transformed her into a laurel tree. Needs that were heightened through the constant teasing of tickling squirrel feet as they raced up and down her body or the tree snake entering and exiting his home in a strategically placed hallowed tree knot in her lower trunk...

Unable to wait any longer, Daphne lowered herself onto the stoney shaft. Perplexed, it felt even larger than she'd realized, and she had to adjust her angle, tilting her hips just slightly in order to take the unexpected length and girth. When it finally slid up to the hilt, she released the breath she'd been unaware she'd been holding. She reveled in the sense of fullness and the shill of the stone within the heat of her sheath.

She braced her hands on the boulder in front of her and slowly lifted her hips. She would never get used to that feeling of fullness as it was followed immediately by a feeling of emptiness. The stone had barely been removed before she sat back down upon it. Once again, it felt even larger than the last time. She felt filled more fully than she'd ever been before. Never again would she go so long in between her pleasures, she promised herself. That must be why it feels so stretched. Stone doesn't simply grow!She began to move up and down, the stone warmed from her body heat and created that delightful friction she had been craving.

So lost in her pleasure, it was several strokes before she became aware that she was not the only one moving. Her eyes had been closed, so focused was she on the sensations within her, but now she glanced down. It was happening so slowly, she almost believed she was imagining it, but the outlines of the rock were slowly altering below her, becoming more defined, more anthropomorphic. Thinking that perhaps she'd mistaken the rock for some enchanted prince or perhaps a lost automaton from Hephestus' workshop, she started to scramble back but was met with an immovable force.

Instinctively, her hands moved to try to free herself and found a pair of corded, muscular arms reaching around her waist, arms that still carried the chill of stone. She felt strong fingers digging into her hips, holding her in place, the light fabric of her dress the only barrier. A face came into focus as the last of the enchantment fell away, and Daphne was shocked to recognize the face.

"Did you think you'd escaped me, little flower?" Apollo chuckled.

Before she could respond, he thrust into her even more deeply, driving any response from her throat. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to free herself but his grip was too strong. One hand still on her waist, he reached up and tore at the bodice of her dress, her breasts spilling forward and into his waiting mouth. Her back arched as he drew his tongue around her nipple before allowing his teeth to close just slightly. Pain and pleasure swirled within her and she moaned, whether from desire or despair, she couldn't say. For so long she had run from him, but she was too caught up in the pleasure to continue the fight.

In one smooth movement, he rolled her over, still fully sheathed, until she was lying on her back in the grass, her breasts rosy and golden in the waning light. Gathering her wrists in one hand, he held her arms above her head as the other explored her exposed body. Tracing the curve of one breast and dancing across her stomach, his tanned fingers contrasted against her pale skin. They slowly moved south, teasing the hair at the apex of her thighs and his index finger slipped between her nether lips and circled the sensitive bud hidden there.

She would have shot upright if he hadn't had her pinioned her to the ground. Every one of her senses was overwhelmed. While she had played with any number of phallic toys and was certainly not blushing, she technically was still a virgin -- in that she had never accepted a man within her. The heat and sweat, the feel of someone else moving within her, the unpredictability of his attentions to her desires, all new experiences that served to heighten and intensify her awareness.

He was as hard as the stone she'd mistaken him for, his muscles straining as he thrust into her, his hips nearly bruising the soft skin of her inner thighs. He continued to torture the little pleasure nub, and she felt the familiar crescendo build within her. Unable to remain still, she began to struggle against his grasp once more, and his grip tightened. His lower hand abandoned its pursuit and returned to her hip, locking her in place as his pace quickened.

"Give in little flower." Apollo commanded. "There's nowhere left to run, you may as well enjoy what only I can give you."

She understood now why so many of her nymph sisters, so many mortal women, surrendered themselves to the attention of lusty gods like Apollo and Zeus. She couldn't imagine finding satisfaction with anyone (or anything) less, ever again. She cursed him. In giving her such pleasure, he'd stolen any future pleasure she might have found without him.

Her hips began to move of their own accord, tilting to meet his thrusts and deepen his reach. His shaft filled her to capacity and the angle of his strokes ensured the sensitive inner depths of her womanhood were pleasured beyond reason. His fingers were relentless in tormenting her pleasure nub -- no she should call it by its true name, her mons venus. Oh Venus, Aphrodite, if only she'd known!

One final flick of his thumb and she felt herself shatter beneath his touch. Her womb gripped at his thick length, as if she could keep him inside her always. He must have enjoyed her response as he groaned with each flex of her inner muscles, his thrusts becoming longer and more stoccatic. One final jerk and she felt him flood her walls with his godly seed. She had no room for the panic that would come when she realized all godly seed took root; she could only feel bliss.

Sitting back on his knees, Apollo looked at her with distant affection. "As sweet as I'd hoped you'd bee, little flower."

Another conquest completed, his lust slated, Apollo no longer felt hounded by Cupid's curse.

It was time to pursue a new game. But while Apollo may have been intemperate, he was not heartless. A mere thought and he was once again clothed while Daphne found herself cocooned in a bower of soft, sweet grasses. As she drifted off into a satiated sleep, he chuckled, kissed her forehead, and was gone.