I Modi No 13: “Jupiter & Juno”

Note: This is the thirteenth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“When I was just a young goddess, not yet supreme as I am now, the empire was brought to her knees by the Gauls.  Rome survived that assault by the skin of her teeth, but the cowardly Latin barbarians to the south, seeing her weakened state, demanded what any brutish thugs demand of a fine woman on her knees—they demanded sex.  The barbarians didn’t have the balls to attack the city.  They wanted only to humiliate her, and so they demanded that the patricians send out their wives as tribute…”

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I Modi No 12: “A Satyr & His Wife”

Note: This is the twelfth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“What a wedding it was! Bacchus himself opened up his court, deep in the heart of the forest. A hundred satyrs were there to be my honour guard, their erections held like lances before them, magnificent and proud. A hundred nymphs were bridesmaids, naked and beautiful as the dawn, bejeweled with dewdrops, wildflowers in their hair. A hundred wild nanny-goats in heat foraged in the garden—their hair as fine and soft as silk. A hundred billy-goats in rut were let loose amongst them—their hair thick and jet black, their horns hard and curled…”

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I Modi No 11: “Polyenos & Chrisis”

Note: This is the eleventh in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“My name is Crisis.  What does that mean?

1. It means I am a breaking point.  I am upheaval.  I am that moment when the stress becomes unbearable and requires immediate and unavoidable resolution.  I am powerful and often violent.  It is that moment when the tension and pressure become too much and are resolved once-and-for-all, with gut-shaking finality…”

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I Modi No 10: “Bacchus & Ariadne”

Note: This is the tenth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“My mother was a woman of incredible lusts. She once fell in love with a beautiful white bull who emerged from the sea foam like some great, horned-and-horny Aphrodite. He was a magnificent beast with a magnificent cock, so my mother had the great artisan Daedalus construct a cow out of polished wood. The outside was covered in hide and looked perfectly lifelike, but the inside was hollow and padded with silk and velvet for my mother to lie inside. There was a hole at the rear to which my mother pressed her gaping cunt, so when the beautiful white bull mounted and penetrated the counterfeit cow, his cock was secretly plunging into my mother…”

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I Modi No 9: “Antony & Cleopatra”

Note: This is the ninth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“When I was a girl of nineteen I was bitten by an asp on the bank of the Nile.  For three days I lay in bed—dizzy and feverish, drenched in sweat, my body aching and shivery—as the snake’s poison coursed through my veins.  The doctors said I came close to death, and my family and servants wept to see my suffering.  But for me the experience was a revelation, for the asp’s poison had the effect of a powerful aphrodisiac.  The ache was the ache of desire, the heat of the fever the heat of lust.  Oh, what dreams I had!   My sleep was full of naked flesh and passionate sex.  When I cried out in my sleep, my attendants thought it was from pain, but it was a cry of climax, a girl’s wet dream.  I spent those three days in a frenzy of masturbation and orgasm…”

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I Modi No 8: “The Cult of Priapus”

Note: This is the eighth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“My upper half is human, my lower half is goat, and my genitals are somewhere in between. Their liminality gives me a certain latitude in their use. I can put my cock in pretty much anything and get away with it. I’ve fucked humans, I’ve fucked animals. There’s nothing nicer than a nanny goat for relieving a bit of tension. See? I can say that without embarrassment, cause I’m basically a goat. I’ve fucked naiads and dryads and nymphs. I’ve even fucked a few trees in my day, but I’d never fucked another satyr until today…”

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Minor Reorganization of Site

Just to let you know I’ve made some slight changes to the way the site is organized. The I Modi posts, and all future series, will no longer be categorized as “Stories.”  You can access all the series posts under the “Series” tab in the navigation bar. The “Stories” tab will be reserved for full-length fiction.

I Modi No 7: “Mars & Venus”

Note: This is the seventh in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“They say that we are opposites, you and I, but it is not so.  We are both great conquerors, we have both brought the mighty to their knees, in one sense or another.  We are creatures of wild abandon, of agony and ecstasy, of frenzied climax and naked zeal.  We are savage gods, devoted to savage drives, but through us savagery is made glorious and noble.  Mortals offer us lust and slaughter and we transform them into love and victory.  And yet we both keep the same dirty secret.  We do not really transform anything.  Love and lust are one; slaughter and victory are the same…”

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I Modi No 6: “Hercules & Deianaira”

Note: This is the sixth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“I saw you riding upon a centaur’s back, your arms around his neck, your naked thighs gripping his flanks.  Tell me, how did it feel to ride him?  Tell me what it was like to feel his withers against your cunt.

I have heard of women brought to orgasm by the jolt and rub of horses between their legs.  Does it make it seem less bestial, less depraved, if he has a man’s face?  If he can speak to you?  Oh, my love, tell me that he forced you into it.  Look me in the eyes and tell me!”

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I Modi No 5: “Julia with an Athlete”

Note: This is the fifth in a series of short stories inspired by Agostino Carracci’s edition of I Modi.

“I love to come here, to the dressing rooms of the palaestra, after a wrestling match. Watching all you naked, oiled men grappling and struggling with each other makes me jealous and horny. I wish I could oil myself up and jump into the fray, pinning men between my thighs, making them submit to me. But alas, women are not permitted in the wrestling ring. So I pick a dressing room at random and wait for an athlete to return from his bout, without knowing whose room I have chosen. It doesn’t matter to me. Sometimes I am a little extra reward for the laurel-crowned winner, another wreath to crown his other head; sometimes, like today, I am a consolation prize for the bruised loser…”

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