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From: "Purple Herald" <purpleherald@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} [Sapphic] "Daughter of Three" (FFF, Myth)
X-Original-Subject: {ASSM [Sappic] "Daughter of Three" (FFF, Myth)
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<1st attachment, "Muses.txt" begin>
This story is mine and is copyrighted by me, The Purple Herald.
Please don't copy it and add it to your website and make a profit off
of my hard work. Please don't strip my name off of the story and claim
it for yourself. Please don't be an asshole.
This story was written for the Sapphic Erotica Festival.
Send your prayers, devotions, confessions and pleas to
purpleherald@hotmail.com
My Stories can be found at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PurpleHerald/www/
Daughter of Three
By the Purple Herald
Great were the Nine Muses for from their thighs sprang forth
every art and every inspiration. Poets owed every song to their honey
lips, sculptors touched marble only after first feeling the Muses' pale
breasts and great thinkers could only ponder the depths of the universe
after touching the depths of the Muses' hearts. Only when a Muse was
wooed could real Art spring forth.
Despite their Power, their Grace, or their role as the Keepers of
Wonder, the Muses were unhappy. Both men and women sought their
companionship but when they lay with a woman, no story, no art and no
ideas would take root in their sacred wombs. Tala's voice was never
heard, Hemena never painted the wonders within her and Adena's name
never competed with Homer.
Not only did women artists fail to create art but their stories
and views were lost as well. Everyone knows of Hercules but no man
deigned to tell the story of Bremusa, angriest of the Amazons. Many
are the vases that tell the tale of Jason but no man ever told the True
Tale of Medea. Glorious is the Temple of Zeus but no man desired to
build the Temple of Mother Earth.
"No more," cried Calliope of the beautiful voice. "No more shall
the stories of men's conquest flow from my lips until the conquest of
women is told as well!"
"No more," cried Erato, awakener of desire. "No more shall I
enflame the lusts of men until the lusts of women is enflamed as well!"
"No more," cried Melopmene, singer of darkness. "No more shall
my breasts console the sorrows of men until women are allowed to suckle
from me as well!"
"Foolish muses!" Thalia snickered. "You can lay with as many
women as you wish but they lack the seed that starts the spark of
creativity. You need a woman with a cock and that is no woman at all."
They ignored the heckling of their younger sister. The three
Muses knew she spoke true but they also knew that under the Gods
anything was possible. They turned to their other sister Muses and
asked if they would aid them. All refused. Men were enough for them
and the ideas of women were not their concern.
Calliope, Melopmene and Erato sighed but they did not give up.
Together the three went forth to request aid from the Gods. Together
they traveled to Mount Olympus and demanded an audience of their father
and his siblings. Together they stood and when they raised their
voices, the Gods listened.
"Father Zeus, your wisdom is known through the world. From your
head sprang Athena and from your loins walk the heroes of the world.
We ask you to give us the ability to lay with women so we can nurture
their ideas between our thighs."
But Zeus the rapist would not help them.
"Aunt Hera, protector of marriages, your vengeance on behalf of
women is known in the world. Please give us the boon we crave so that
the married woman who is wronged may give voice to her pain, her grief
and her indignation."
But Hera the Slave to Zeus would not help them.
"Aunt Aphrodite, from no man did you spring yet all men adore
you. Love exists among women as well as men. Aid us so that your
praises may come from two lips instead of one."
But Aphrodite was jealous of the Muses' skills and did not want
to be jealous of mortal woman as well.
"Aunt Athena, champion of wisdom, surely you know the value of
what is in a woman's head?"
But Athena counted Zeus as her mother and as her father and knew
not of the value of women.
Discouraged, the three Muses left Mount Olympus. Melopmene's
head hung low and Erato's heart slowed to a dull beat. Calliope
however was not distressed for her realm was that of the epic and she
knew that there were other Gods. She consoled her sisters and together
they traveled the far lands in search of what they sought.
In distant Egypt, Isis had no secrets in her dusky breast.
In mysterious Sumeria, Ishtar told them that the cure they sought
wasn't written on any stone.
In the cold isle, Morrigan offered to slay their father but she
could not give them the wisdom they sought.
In the mountains of China, The Nine Queens offered them rice and
shelter but warned them against disturbing what nature has ordained.
"I tire of walking the world," Erato complained. "But I shall
not embrace another man until women can share my embrace as well."
"I long for my home," Melopmene mourned. "But I will not sing
for the lament of a man until women can lament as well."
"I know of other gods," Calliope the bravest said.
They visited a Trickster God chained underneath the world. As
poison dripped on his face, they asked for a trick for their puzzle.
The Trickster God only screamed.
They visited a Quiet God in the desert. Amidst sheep and
shepherds they made their requests. The Quiet God did not speak.
They visited a Sleeping God in a sunken city. Amidst monsters,
fish and dreams, they made their petition. The Sleeping God did not
stir.
Calliope pushed her sisters harder. Further and further they
traveled between stranger and stranger Gods. Gods who have no names
and Gods who have no functions were consulted. Gods who reigned over
great Dragons and Gods who had never seen dry land were awaken and
questioned. Further and further they went into the past.
Finally, at a Crystal Palace they found one who could aid them.
On a Satin Throne and reading from a Purple Book they found one who was
born when Lust first rolled its companion over to have its pleasure.
Erato knew his name and called him Grandfather. Melopmene looked in
his face and knew the root of sadness. Calliope looked at his smile
and knew that the first hero was a lover.
"The secret I keep is simple," he said. "Your Mother was Memory
but your Father was the Thunder. You are in both of their images. You
remember the past and your art is filled with the passion of the sky.
You may never lay with a woman like you may lay with a man for the
Thunder in you demands the explosion of seed and the Memory in you
requires the first act of creation to be repeated."
The Muses were silent and turned to leave but he wasn't finished.
"But it is possible to create a muse who can. If you three lay
together, your sorrow, your passion and your desire will come together.
You will not create art together, but you will create something better.
Turn away from men and look for the Thunder in each other."
The Muses looked at one another and knew he was right. Was not
Erato the fairest and most deserving of a touch? Was not Melopmene the
most compassionate and most in need of comfort? Was not Calliope the
bravest and most inviting of them all?
The Old God left them alone at a shimmering pond where the three
Muses shed their clothes. Erato kissed Melopmene till the sadness
faded. Melopmene clutched Calliope to her breasts until the bravest
felt safe enough to relax. Calliope licked between Erato's thighs
until the awakener of desire was finally sated.
The three Muses discovered new passions and new delights within
each other. Calliope wrote the greatest epic on Melopmene's back and
thighs until the mourner laughed out loud with delight. Melopmene
played touching games with Erato's belly and breasts till the lustful
one could take no more. Erato taught Calliope the poetry of her own
body as she massaged and penetrated parts of the champion that the
champion did not know she had.
For sixty days and sixty nights the Muses made love. When
Calliope's tongue could lick no more, she collapsed with a sigh. When
Melopmene could cry out in pleasure no longer, she fell asleep with a
smile. When Erato's sex could be fingered, kissed or stroked no more,
she finally closed her thighs and fell asleep exhausted.
Nine hours later, their daughter was born. The Muses awoke to
find the baby sleeping among them and they knew that she was of their
flesh. Golden hair flowed from its head and its tiny body was the
perfect expression of femininity. The baby looked at them and smiled
and they smiled back at her. They saw its future and they knew she
would grow up to be the most beautiful and desirable of all the muses.
"Thadea will know great depths of happiness but will also know
great sadness," her mother, Melopmene said.
"Thadea will be desired by both men and women though she will
always reserve her love for women," her mother, Erato said.
"Thadea will face trials, drama and hardship and she may
sometimes falter but she will never be forgotten," her mother, Calliope
said.
Their prophecies spoken, the three Muses took their daughter back
to Greece. Thadea grew up to become the tenth Muse and even doubtful
Thalia accepted her as one of their own. The women of Greece found
inspiration between her perfect thighs and nursed wisdom from her full
breasts. Many were the men who tried to woe her, especially after the
Poet Sappho impressed them all with her gifts but Thadea ignored them
all.
The rest was history.
<1st attachment end>
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