I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Khillea hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she stood outside the tent. The air was thick with tension, and the noises coming from within stirred something deep inside her—something she had long kept buried. The sound of unrestrained passion washed over her like a wave, pulling her in, drawing her toward the edge of her own desires, ones she had suppressed for years.

Inside, the muffled cries of pleasure echoed, the voice of a woman lost in ecstasy—uninhibited, unashamed. Khillea felt a strange pull toward the scene unfolding just beyond the fabric of the tent, as if curiosity had taken root in her, compelling her to sneak a glimpse into a world she had denied herself. With a cautious glance over her shoulder, she lifted the edge of the flap ever so slightly and peeked inside.

"HAAAAAN! YES!! Ahahaannn❤️!! Harderrrr❤️❤️!!"

The woman's voice was breathy, filled with raw, sensual hunger. It sent a shiver down Khillea's spine, making her body tingle in a way that felt foreign, unfamiliar. Despite herself, her pulse quickened. She could see the woman clearly now—beautiful, ethereal in the dim light, her body arching as she clung desperately to the man thrusting into her with an almost primal intensity.

The woman's legs trembled on the man's shoulders, her face flushed, lips parted in a perfect expression of ecstasy. Her long hair spilled over the table like a silken river, her skin glowing with the sheen of sweat as their bodies collided rhythmically. The man—he was relentless, his powerful hips slamming against her as the table creaked beneath their weight.

Khillea couldn't help but be struck by the scene, a forbidden voyeur watching from the shadows. The man was handsome, undeniably so, his muscles taut as he moved with an effortless confidence. A lucky man, she thought fleetingly, to have a woman like this beneath him—beautiful and utterly lost in pleasure. Even Khillea, who had trained herself to ignore such things, found her gaze lingering longer than she intended.

"Do you want to get pregnant, Aisha?" the man suddenly leaned in, his voice dark and intimate as he whispered into the woman's ear.

Khillea's heart skipped a beat. Pregnant

.

The word struck her, sending a jolt through her body. She swallowed hard, the ache in her throat matching the strange, uncomfortable warmth building between her legs.

That was

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her

wish. A wish she had harbored in secret for so long.

"Yesss! Haaaannn❤️! Make me pregnant, Nathan! Aahaaan❤️! Give me a baby!" Aisha moaned loudly, her voice a mix of desperation and bliss as she nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath his touch.

Khillea felt her pulse race, her breathing quickening as her body reacted to the words. Pregnant

.

It was all she had ever wanted, the one thing she desired more than anything in the world. And yet, here she was, watching someone else live out that fantasy. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her skin growing hot. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.

Nathan smirked at Aisha's words, his hands gripping her waist as he drove himself deeper into her, his movements becoming harder, more purposeful. Khillea could see the slickness of Aisha's thighs, the way her body welcomed every thrust. The wet sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the tent, growing louder as both of them neared their peak.

"Then take it!" Nathan growled, his voice low and commanding.

"HYAAAAA!!! SO HOT!! HAAAAANNN!!!" Aisha's body arched off the table, her scream of pleasure echoing in the small space as she climaxed, her legs quivering uncontrollably around Nathan's shoulders. Her release was so intense, so primal, that Khillea's own body responded involuntarily. A rush of heat spread through her, settling low in her belly, making her legs weak. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs pressing together as she fought the growing tension between her legs.

"Wh...what's happening to me?"

In that moment, Khillea was utterly invisible—erasing her presence with the precision only a Demigod blessed by Zeus himself could muster. Even Nathan, despite his obvious power, was far too engrossed in the heat of the moment to notice her watching. His focus was on Aisha, on the pleasure he was giving and receiving, and Khillea was nothing more than a shadow at the edge of the tent.

But her eyes weren't on Aisha anymore. They were on him, Nathan. His sweat-slicked body glistened in the dim light, every muscle taut with exertion. For a fleeting second, one of his eyes glowed with a strange, unsettling golden hue, a slit forming where the pupil should have been. It sent a chill racing down Khillea's spine. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, his eye returning to its normal blue. She shuddered but didn't care anymore.

She had already made her choice.

This was the man she had been searching for.

Judging by the discarded armor, he appeared to be a Spartan warrior—solid, unyielding. Khillea's lips curled into a smile as she stepped away from the tent, her heart racing with a mixture of exhilaration and anticipation. The flush on her cheeks betrayed the excitement she felt. She inhaled deeply, the cool evening air doing little to calm the heat stirring inside her.

As she walked, a curious thought crossed her mind. Her gaze flicked downward, toward the subtle dampness she felt between her thighs.

"Had I really gotten wet just from watching them?"

The raw, carnal act she had just witnessed played on a loop in her head. Her fingers grazed the side of her tunic absentmindedly, a shiver running through her. Or was it simply the thrill?

Excitement, maybe. No, more than that—it was exhilaration.

The notion that it would be her turn soon only added to the growing sense of anticipation. The image of the man, his powerful body moving in sync with Aisha's, flashed again in her mind.

"I need to get ready," Khillea murmured to herself as she picked up her pace, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. Her footsteps carried her with purpose as she headed back to her own tent. This wasn't just a chance encounter. This was

destiny

. Achilles had given the order, and she was bound to follow through. It wasn't as if the man would refuse—no one refused the call of Achilles.

But just as she was lost in her thoughts, the familiar figure of Patroclus appeared in her path, stepping out of the shadows. His presence startled her for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a smile.

"Achilles," Patroclus said, addressing her formally at first, though his tone softened when he realized who it was. "What are you doing here?" He had just finished a strategic discussion with Odysseus and was on his way back to camp when he spotted his cousin.

Khillea's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with a spark of mischief. "I found someone ready to give me a child," she declared, her voice filled with excitement, as if she had just uncovered a long-lost treasure.

Patroclus nearly choked on his own breath, his face going pale for a moment. His eyes darted around, making sure no one else had overheard such a bold statement. He turned to her, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper, though laced with concern. His protective instincts toward her flared up immediately.

Khillea's expression didn't falter. In fact, she seemed more resolute. "I'm going to die in this war, Patroclus. That much is certain." Her tone was casual, but her eyes held a quiet determination. "So, I'll leave something behind. A child. It will be my legacy."

Patroclus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He couldn't bring himself to argue, not when she spoke so bluntly about her own fate. The thought of Khillea—his cousin, the woman he had always treated like a sister—dying in this senseless war twisted something deep in his chest. But her mind was set, and he knew her well enough to understand that no amount of reasoning would sway her.

"Do you know him?" Patroclus asked after a pause, hoping, against hope, that maybe there was something more behind her decision. "Is he someone you've been seeing? Someone you care about?"

Khillea's laugh was sharp and short, almost dismissive. "What? No. I just met him today. But he's good enough to give me a child." She shrugged, as if the choice were as simple as selecting a new weapon for battle.

Patroclus stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "You're really going to…"

"Yes," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I'm going to fuck someone I just saw. Are you going to help me or not?"

There was a finality in her words, a challenge even. Patroclus knew that nothing he could say would change her mind. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple as he resigned himself to her plan.

"Fine," he muttered, still uneasy but unable to deny her. "What do you need me to do?"

Khillea's smile returned, softer this time, almost girlish. "As soon as he leaves the tent, call him over. Tell him I've summoned him to mine."

Patroclus frowned, understanding exactly what she intended, but he nodded nonetheless. "As you wish."

"Good," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried off toward her tent, her heart pounding in her chest.