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Silence greeted me. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but I felt certain that they had heard me. I piqued their attention. An almost imperceptible growl rose from the forest.

“I know you plan to lay waste to my city, for those are the orders of your Spartan lords and you are but wolves—animals, to them. But hear me: I offer you the chance to be men, if only for a night. You see, I am a virgin. I offer you my body, for an entire night—do with me as you will, but spare my city. Defile me to your heart’s content, but leave my people be.”

Horror graced the faces of my handmaidens and my father’s men.

“What say you, Spartan wolves? Would your Spartan overlords ever give you a taste of their favorite slaves, let alone their daughters? I’m inviting you into my chambers. Come, take your pleasure in my body, in my father bed. Feel my silks against your skin as you do with me what you will. Drink my wine, eat my food, live like men, like the best and luckiest of men, if only for a night.”

There was no response from the wolves. A cool chill descended over my heaving breasts. My nipples hardened in the chilled air—the harvest had already been collected and winter would be here soon.

“Princess, this is madness,” one of my father’s men hissed at me.

“Madness?” I whispered back, turning fiercely towards him. He seemed to shrink before me. “Madness? This is Baratheos.”

He took a step back, placing his hand defensively on the hilt of his sword. Yet, he did nothing else.

Then, slowly, one by one, shadowy figures began to emerge from the forest, coming into view. There were six in all, and the moved cautiously but confidently, with slow, powerful strides towards the gates.

As they came into the halo of light cast by our torches, it became clear that they were indeed the wolves: they walked on their hind-legs but they had the bodies of wolves, huge and powerful, covered with thick fur, their long snouts snarling and fangs bared as they gazed up at us. Never had I seen such a terrifying sight, especially considering that they could easily rip me apart. Had I made a horrible, horrible mistake? Even if they agreed to my offer, how could I trust them? Even if I could trust them, would they kill and devour me once they had finished me—even if I survived all their desires, all the depraved things they could decide to do to me…

“What is the meaning of this?!” a loud, shrill voice came from behind me. I turned around to see my father storming up the battlements, holding his long, heavy, luxurious robes so that they wouldn’t get caught on his jewel-encrusted sandals.

“Father, I am saving the city,” I said calmy.

“Saving the city? By whoring yourself out?”

“If that’s what it takes,” I said, my demeanor serene, in total contrast to how I felt inside.

“How could you allow this?” my father demanded of my handmaidens. He turned to one of the men guarding the gates. “Put the whores to death and see that my daughter is returned to her chambers. And then, slaughter those beasts!”

He raised a trembling finger to point at the wolves outside the gates but suddenly, they were gone. And then they were on the battlements—they had leapt the distance, nearly thirty feet, from the ground to the top of the gates, landing with a crash on all fours. Up close, they were even bigger than they had been on the ground, growling and hissing, outfitted haphazardly in Spartan armor. My father’s men all drew their swords but it was clear it would be useless. After a tense few seconds, the brave Baratheosian soldiers laid their weapons down and unceremoniously ran down the steps, disappearing into the city.

“Don’t touch me!” my father squealed. “I… am… king…”

“It’s not the king we want,” one of the wolves growled, a low guttural moan. “It’s the princess.”

And then they began to transform: they shrunk, but only slightly, for these would be big men, even if they weren’t werewolves. They were still monsters as they shrunk into their armor, fur disappear, their snouts retreating into their skulls, their teeth receding but only slightly. Their eyes, yellow and bestial, became only slightly more human. Now, we were surrounded by six huge men, muscled in a way that virgin girls could only dream up, their powerful bodies encased in cruel, fierce looking armor.

“I am Lysander,” the one who spoke said, stepping forward. He was by far the biggest—the alpha male of the group. The pack leader. “I am the King of the Spartan Wolves.”

I bowed politely.

“An honor, your majesty,” I said, remembering all my etiquette lessons. The other wolfmen began to laugh.

“That’s the first time I’ve been addressed as such,” Lysander said with a cruel smile. He was surprisingly handsome, especially for someone who had only minutes ago been a terrifying monster…

“I should hope that my ability to recognize nobility in all places will reflect well on me,” I said uncomfortably, not sure what else to say.

“I should think your tits and ass will reflect even better. Why are you still wearing that slutty little tunic, princess? We want to see what we’re getting in exchange for betraying our Spartan masters. You know we risk our lives if we disobey them.”

This actually struck me as surprisingly reasonable. I shot a fiery glance at my father, who cowered well-behind me. I nodded to my hand maidens and they rushed to my sides, easing the tunic over my head. I held up my arms to make it easier for them and then, there I was, revealed in all my naked glory to the wolves. They watched me with hungry eyes, their cruel orbs gazing over my hairless, tanned body, taking in my curves, my dark nipples and my nether lips, peeking out from between my legs.

“Not bad… Not bad at all,” was Lysander’s reply. “But, you claim to be a virgin. How can I be sure of that?”

“Feel free to investigate,” I said immediately. A cracked sob came from my father, which I ignored. I was in control of these negotiations now.

“Very kind of you,” Lysander said, and strode forward. He ran a big, calloused hand over my belly and I couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his hand drifted closer and closer to my center. I was getting wetter and I felt myself blush as he pressed his big, thick fingers between my legs. He rubbed my lips a bit, teasing my clit with the rough pads of his fingers, and then slid a single, long digit inside of me. I gasped, leaning my head back. Sure, I had played with myself, pleasuring myself in the bath… What girl of eighteen hadn’t? But this was far more than one of my own dainty fingers. I felt like he might break me, he stretched me so.

“Well, if that isn’t the tightest cunt in all of Greece,” Lysander cackled. “If she’s not a virgin, she’s doing a damned good job of pretending.”

“Then are we in agreement? A night with me, anything you desire… And then you’ll march away from our city?”

“And what do we tell our Spartan masters when they demand to know why we haven’t strung the lot of you up by your entrails?” Lysander asked, rubbing his fingers along my inner thighs. I’d never been touched like this by a man and it was making it very, very hard to concentrate.

“You tell them you were defeated in battle,” I said simply, whimpering as Lysander’s fingers got closer to my tight hole again.

“Ha! And what do you think they’ll do then?”

“They’ll release you from your obligations once they see that you’re no longer potent warriors. And you’ll be free.”

Lysander’s face changed, looking confused and thoughtful at the same time, where before, he had just been cruel and smug.

“You’re a bit too smart for a woman,” he growled. “You’ll need to watch that when you get older. It’ll be the end of you.”

“Do we have an agreement, your majesty?”

Lysander snickered again. If I had reached him on some level, just now, it was gone.

“I’ll never get used to hearing that. We do. We do indeed. Show us to your chambers. And you—“

He turned to my father. “Send us your best wine, your best food. Your daughter will need to keep up her strength tonight and we plan on working up a thirst. And tell your men to stand down—if anyone tries anything, we’ll put the entire town to the fang and claw.”

These wolves carried swords but I doubted they ever used them, when they have so many more fangs, so many more claws than any man could carry swords or spears…

And so, we processed to the palace, a strange little convoy: my father, stopping at wine merchants and butchers ahead of us, placing orders through his humiliated tears. I was still naked but the wolves kept a respectful distance behind me, looking about warily at the citizens who watched us in amazement and shock. Here was their princess, naked, walking behind their king as he groveled and begged for wine and honey and bread and grilled mutton, all followed by the biggest, most terrifying warriors anyone had seen. There were still men, sharpening their swords and spears outside their homes and businesses but they didn’t bother to raise them against the wolves—it was so clear that it would have been useless and besides, they were too shocked to take any sort of action as it was.

We entered the palace and strode through the halls, luxurious with marble and jewels and sculptures, all the spoils of decades of tricking the Spartans and Athenians. Had my great grandfather, the man who elevated Baratheos from a poor fishing village into the wealthy hamlet it was today, imagined how his great-grand daughter would pay for the sins of her family? I’m sure he hadn’t. No one, of course, could have foreseen what Gracchus had done. And no one had foreseen what the Spartans would do in response. And no one had foreseen how I would undo the sins of my father…

My father fell back as we walked down the halls to my chambers, so I took the lead, my bare feet padding along the floor cold floor. By now, my mother and sisters had heard what was happening but they didn’t dare intervene. I saw their eyes peeking out at my from inside their rooms, tears streaming out of them. Did they realize I was doing this for them? I sure hoped that they did.

As we entered my chambers, I could tell the wolves were impressed. These were hard beast men. They were not used to the comforts and pleasures of home, much less a luxurious one. Certainly nothing like this… My plush feather bed must have looked so inviting to them, if only for the promise of sweet, uninterrupted sleep, let alone the virgin they were about to have in it. And that didn’t even take into account the plush couches, stools, pillows, the curtains, everything else, all gold and jewels, and soft silk imported from far afield.

“Bring us wine, your majesty!” one of the wolves roared at my father down the hall before slamming the door shut. Lysander approached me and the others watched, all but salivating. I realized what was happening: as the pack leader, he was alpha. He would be the first to take me, and then the others could take their fill…

“Well, my little princess,” Lysander said, reaching a hand out to stroke my cheek. He eased his helmet off his head, shaking out his dark curls. The other wolves began to undo their armor, revealing a group of handsome young men—such a change from the beasts I knew they could become at any moment. But, of course, would they be beasts still, now that they would men? There was only one way to find out…

“Well, well, well… Now, how shall you save your people?” he asked.

“However you’d like, my lord,” I replied, suddenly terrified. Oh, gods, what had I gotten myself into? I uttered a silent prayer to my namesake, Aphrodite, begging her to give me the strength to please and love these beasts of men, to take them to heights of pleasure they had never experienced and in doing so, keep my city safe…

“I’d like to see you use your imagination,” Lysander ordered. I took a deep breath. What to do? My hands found their way up to my breasts and they began to squeeze my own soft flesh, tweaking my nipples, stroking my dark skin. It felt good but I couldn’t help but feel a little silly, doing this for the wolves, performing for them. They watched in rapt silence, however. Probably, they were more used to taking this by force rather than seeing it offered up to them.

“Like this, your majesty?”

“Yes,” Lysander grunted. I noticed a massive bulge growing beneath his loincloth. Gods, how was I to take that inside of me? Aphrodite, preserve me, please!