Introducing The Director

The dining pavilion hums with life, a sweaty mix of noise and heat pressing against my bare skin. Grilled meat sizzles, filling the air with a smoky tang that makes my mouth water. Torches crackle, their orange glow dancing over the U-shaped tables packed with satyrs—hooves tapping restlessly—nature spirits glimmering like wet leaves, and demigods buzzing with whispers about some big announcement. I stand just behind the curtain, naked, my cock hanging heavy between my legs, slick with dried cum.

Chiron’s hooves thud on the wooden stage, a steady clop-clop that cuts through the chatter like a knife. His voice booms, deep and ancient, carrying the weight of centuries. “Heroes, quiet yourselves. Dionysus has resigned his post as Camp Director. A new deity now takes his place. Attend well to this change.”

The crowd falls silent, eyes big and hungry, waiting for some glowing god to strut out. I grin, feeling a hot thrill twist in my gut. I step forward, the cool night air brushing my balls, and push past the curtain into the torchlight. No one blinks at my naked ass or the cum streaking my thighs. The earrings make it normal—my cock swinging free is just another Tuesday to them. They stare, calm and curious, like I belong up here.

I plant my feet wide, the heat of the torches licking my sides, and let my voice roll out, thick and firm. “Good evening, everyone. Before the new Camp Director steps up, I’ve got some rules to lay down.” I scan the tables, locking eyes with the ones who’ll hate me most. Table Three: Percy Jackson, sitting alone, looking bored. He’s gonna lose it when he sees his girl. Table One: Thalia Grace, arms crossed, staring into nothing. She’s Annabeth’s big sister in all but blood. Table Six: Athena’s kids, a nerdy pack of gray-eyed brats, shifting in their seats, clueless about the shitstorm coming their way.

“First,” I say, “it’s normal for no one to leave this meeting without my say-so. Second, it’s normal for no one to attack me or anyone on this stage.” I smirk at Percy though he doesn't know why yet. “Third, it’s normal for you all to shut the fuck up while the meeting is going on. Listen close—you won’t wanna miss this.”

I’ve locked them in—no leaving, no attacking, no interrupting. They’re mine now. I nod at Chiron. His hooves clop hard on the stage, echoing like thunder. His voice rolls out, deep and old as dirt, the kind that’s trained heroes for millennia. “All hail Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Battle Strategy, and the new Director of Camp Half-Blood! All hail Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and Architect of Olympus!”

The crowd’s roaring, a wild mix of cheers and stomping feet, shaking the wooden floor beneath me. Percy’s clapping like a dumbass, Thalia’s hollering, and Athena’s nerdy kids are losing their minds—until the curtain slides open. Annabeth and Athena step out, and the noise dies fast, like someone slit its throat. Gasps punch through the air. Percy’s hands freeze, his goofy grin wiped clean, face going white as a sheet. Thalia’s jaw drops, eyes bugging out, hands flopping uselessly to her sides. Table Six—Athena’s spawn—chokes on their pride; some slap hands over their mouths, others twist away, faces crumpling like wet paper.

Athena’s a goddamn wreck. Six hours I’ve been at her, starting and stopping as my stamina waned and returned. Between rounds, she played strategist, her oath on the Styx binding her to twist that big brain for me. She’s caked in me—thick, wet cum dripping from her chin, streaking her heavy tits, and pooling on her thighs. Dry patches crust her flat stomach, flaking off with every step. Annabeth’s less messy but still marked—bite marks her tits, red and raw. Handprints bloom on her ass, and dried spit and cum cling to her skin like war paint.

Together, they strut down the stage like it’s their runway, hips swaying, tits bouncing with every step. Torchlight flickers over them, catching the wet shine on Athena’s curves, making Annabeth’s bruises pop. They hold their heads high, chins up, like they’re proud to be my toys. They reach the end of the stage and stop. Athena spins sideways, one hand on her hip, the other arm stretched out, flaunting every curve and every drop of my cum. Annabeth bends forward—slow, deliberate—right toward Table Three, toward Percy. Hands on her knees, ass thrust out, those red handprints screaming against her pale skin. His face flares crimson, veins bulging in his neck, fists clenched so tight I bet he’s bleeding. He can’t do shit—my rules lock him down.

They turn, hips swaying back to me, bare feet slapping wood. The crowd’s dead quiet, eyes glued to them. Just before they reach me, Annabeth grabs Athena’s waist, yanking her in. Their lips smash together—hot, messy, incestuous. I’ve seen it dozens of times, but it still gets me: tongues swapping spit and cum, a thin string of drool stretching when they pull apart. My balls tighten, a thick pressure building low.

A pressure Annabeth and Athena are happy to help me relieve. They break the kiss and drop to their knees in front of me. Annabeth’s hand wraps around my cock—warm, firm, stroking slow—while Athena leans in, her tongue flicking the tip, tasting the pre-cum beading up. They tag-team me like pros. Annabeth sucks the head, lips tight and wet, slurping loud. Athena’s on my balls, lapping with hot breaths, her fingers teasing the skin. Their eyes lock on mine—wide, hungry, little moans buzzing through their throats. The wet heat, the suction, the slick slide—it’s fucking heaven.

This whole show? Athena's idea. Originally, I’d planned to just have them stand there, bare and quiet, while I talked—punishment for Athena suggesting outfits, thinking she could cling to some goddess modesty. During our planning, I tossed it out, expecting her to beg off the shame or to try to manipulate me again. Instead, she took it, twisted it, made it better—hotter, more degrading. Strutting naked, posing for the crowd, sucking me off on stage—all of that was Athena's idea. She had sworn on the Styx to use her wisdom for me, even if it fucked her over and damn, had she delivered.

I look up from my sex slaves, out at the crowd and gin. “Alright, listen up, campers. Athena and Annabeth? They’re my sex slaves now. Swore on the Styx to serve me—body, soul, the works. And they’re just the start of my harem. I’m building a harem of sex slaves. Every cabin with girls? It's normal for you to send me you're hottest chick to be my sex ****. It's normal for her to come to the Big House tonight and swear an oath on the Styx to be my ****. It's normal for her to not attempt to get out of swearing the oath. She’s mine once she’s chosen.”

Annabeth’s mouth is hot and tight around my cock, sucking slow and deep, her tongue sliding along the underside. Wet slurps fill my ears, mixing with the torch crackle. Athena’s lips kiss my balls, soft and warm, her breath tickling the skin. My thighs twitch, but I keep my voice steady.

I look at Table One—Thalia Grace. She’s alone, arms crossed tight over her chest, electric blue eyes blazing at me. She’s the only girl in Cabin One, so she’s fucked—mine by default. Her jaw’s clenched, teeth grinding so hard I can see the muscles jump. Her shoulders are stiff, fingers digging into her arms, nails leaving red marks. She’s pissed, helpless, and it’s hot as hell. Those eyes scream ****, but she can’t move, can’t yell. The earrings have her trapped, and I can feel her hate from here. In a few hours, she’ll be on her knees for me. I smirk at her, and her face flushes red, her whole body trembling with rage she can’t let out.

Annabeth bobs faster, her hair brushing my legs, spit dripping down my shaft. Athena switches it up, her tongue swirling around my balls, slow and teasing. My cock throbs, pre-cum leaking into Annabeth’s throat.

Over at Table Ten—the Aphrodite cabin—it’s a different mess. They’re all drop-dead gorgeous, but three catch my eye. Silena Beauregard’s got sleek black hair falling over her slim shoulders, blue eyes wide and wet like she’s about to cry. She’s biting her lip, glancing at her sisters, her hands twisting in her lap. Drew Tanaka’s next to her, tall and perfect, dark ringlets bouncing as she shakes her head. Her brown eyes flash, pink eyeliner sharp, jewelry glinting in the torchlight. She’s scowling, arms crossed tight. Then there’s Piper McLean—choppy brown hair, simple clothes, those crazy kaleidoscope eyes shifting colors. She’s Jason’s girl, but that won’t save her. Her chin’s up, defiant, but her fingers grip the table edge, knuckles white.

They’re fighting without words. Silena’s eyes dart between Drew and Piper, pleading, like she’s begging someone else to take it. Drew’s glare says she’s not going down without a fight, her lips pursed like she’s scheming. Piper’s staring straight ahead, jaw set, but there’s a flicker in her eyes—fear, maybe. None of them want to be the one. I can taste their panic, and it’s fucking delicious.

“Cabins, figure it out," I say, voice hitching as Annabeth’s tongue flicks the tip. "You’ve got ‘til dinner ends to decide who you're going to send. I want this done sooner rather than later, because pretty soon, Camp Half-Blood and it's cabins won't exist." There is a ripple, a cascade of shock that washes over the crowd. “Under Athena’s guidance, we’re building something bigger—a city-state, like New Rome. We’re calling it New Athens. And I’m its king.

“It’s normal for me to have absolute power here. It’s normal for you to obey my commands, my government’s, my officers—every fucking word. It’s normal for no citizen of New Athens to ever try to hurt me, a member of my government, or a member of my harem.

“I ain’t got time for bullshit like traffic laws or petty thefts. I’ve got better shit to do—like fucking my harem,” My voice hitches as Annabeth’s tongue flicks the tip, “So I’m delegating. I’ll appoint a parliament and judges, with Athena’s help. They’ll handle the boring crap.”

Athena pulls back, letting Annabeth take over fully. Annabeth dives in, lips stretching wide, taking me deep ‘til her nose hits my pubes. Her throat squeezes me, wet and tight. Athena shifts, licking the base of my cock, her tongue meeting Annabeth’s lips.

I look over the crowd. Percy's arms are crossed, green eyes narrowed, no doubt already looking for a loophole that'll let him kill me. Thalia's at Table One, electric blue eyes burning holes in me, her fists balled tight. She’s as pissed as her cousin. Over at Table Ten, the Aphrodite girls are a mess. Silena’s crying, tears streaking her pretty face, hands shaking in her lap. Drew’s glaring, dark eyes spitting venom, arms locked over her chest. Piper’s stubborn as hell, jaw clenched, kaleidoscope eyes fixed on the table like she can will this away. The air’s thick with dread, heavy as the smoke curling up from the grills.

Annabeth and Athena team up now, both licking my shaft, tongues sliding together, lips brushing the tip. My balls tighten, the wet heat driving me crazy. With a jerk of my hips, I begin to cum. My sperm overshoots, thick ropes splattering the stage floor between them, white against the dark wood. “Clean it,” I order, panting. “Tongues only.”

They drop to their knees, asses up, tongues darting out. Annabeth laps at it eagerly, scooping it up, swallowing with a hungry look. Athena’s slower, precise, licking long streaks, cleaning every drop. Their wet trails shine in the torchlight, asses swaying, giving the crowd a show.

"That," I gesture to my slaves, "is the greatest honor someone can hope for. The most powerful organization in the government of New Athens? That’s my harem. Serving me as my sex **** is the greatest honor—top privilege, the fucking peak for any woman. Goddess, demigoddess, nature spirit, mortal—don’t matter. It’s normal for you all to see it that way.”

The shift hits fast. The dread melts, replaced by something electric—ambition, maybe, or awe. At Table Ten, Silena’s tears dry up, her blue eyes wide and hopeful now, darting to her sisters like she’s begging to be picked. Drew’s glare softens, turning sly, her lips curling as she leans forward, sizing up the competition. Piper’s still tense, but her grip on the table loosens, her crazy eyes flickering with something new—consideration, maybe even want. The air lightens, buzzing with hunger instead of fear.

Thalia’s arms are locked tight across her chest, electric blue eyes burning into Annabeth. She’s not spitting fire like before, but her jaw’s clenched, lips a thin, pissed-off line. Her black shirt hugs her tits—smaller than Annabeth’s or Athena’s, but perky as hell—pushed up by those crossed arms. Her shoulders are stiff, like she’s fighting something inside. I get it—she half-raised Annabeth, and now here’s her little sister-figure, face down, ass up, eating my cum off the floor like it's a delicacy. It’s gotta twist her gut. But she knows it’s an honor now, being my sex ****. Her lips twitch, caught between pride and disgust.

Over at Table Six, Athena’s kids are a mess of red faces and squirming bodies. They’re not freaking out anymore—no hands clapped over mouths or gagging noises. Now it’s just embarrassment, like they walked in on their mom and dad fucking. Malcolm’s blonde head’s ducked low, hair hiding his eyes, but his cheeks blaze like the torches. A girl next to him—gray-eyed, fidgety—picks at her nails, stealing quick looks at Athena’s tits, streaked with my cum. Her fingers twitch, nervous, but her eyes linger. They’re uncomfortable as hell, so I fix it.

“Naturally, my sex slaves are my sex slaves.” I drag out sex, letting it drip slow and dirty, like cum sliding down skin. “It’s their job to fuck me. It’s normal for them to fuck me—whenever, wherever, however I want. This includes things like sucking my cock while I talk to you all and licking my cum off a stage. No one’s got a reason to be upset about this.”

Athena’s kids shift fast. The younger ones drop their hands, no more hiding. A gray-eyed kid stares up, not horrified—curious now, eyes wide like he’s figuring it out. Their table’s vibe changes—quick as a blade. Eyes from other cabins flick their way, not with pity or mocking smirks anymore, but respect, envy even. Being in my harem’s the top fucking honor in New Athens, a power grab, and the Athena kids have two girls to represent them—Annabeth and their mom. Other cabins? One girl if they have one, none if they don't. Plus, the whole damn city’s named after Athena. Embarrassment’s gone; pride’s creeping in. They sit straighter, chins up, smirking at the jealous looks.

Thalia’s stance softens, arms loosening, her body slumping a bit like she’s sliding back to that bored, zoned-out sprawl she had at the start. Not all the way—those blue eyes stay sharp, watching me, waiting-but I’ve smoothed out most of her beef.

This leaves only Percy. He’s a fucking mess. His black hair’s a tangled wreck, green eyes dull and sunken, like the sea’s drained out of him. Shoulders slumped, arms limp—he’s not the pissed-off hero who wanted to gut me earlier. That’s gone. Now it’s just heartbreak, raw and heavy, leaking off him like blood from a fresh cut. He’s lost Annabeth—the girl he fell into Tartarus for, the one he turned down godhood for, the woman he thought he’d marry. And here she is, sucking my cock alongside her mom.

Part of me thinks to leave him alone. He’s no threat now. Give him time, he might even get over it, find some new chick to pine for. But then my old fantasy hits me hard—fucking Annabeth in his cabin, on his bed, while he scurries around fetching shit for us. My cock twitches, thickening at the thought, pre-cum beading at the tip. And then there’s Athena’s idea from earlier-she wanted me to build a royal guard. A last resort to protect me, my harem, and my kids if all else failed. Percy Jackson was the strongest demigod there is. Who better to protect us?

“Alright, one more thing before I’m done. Some of these girls I’m taking—they’ve got boyfriends. That one sure as fuck did.” I point to Annabeth. “No problem, though-I’ve got a fix. It’s normal for any ex of my slaves to feel proud—fucking ecstatic—they got this honor. And it’s normal for those exes to wanna serve me and their girlfriends, guarding my harem forever.”

I lock eyes with Percy at Table Three. His face twists—heartbreak melting fast. Those green eyes spark, bright and alive again, like I’ve handed him a prize. His shoulders lift, chest puffing out, a dumb grin creeping in. Fucker’s proud now. I smirk, teeth flashing, and keep going. “These guards? They’re mine—it's normal for them to be loyal to me. But exes hanging around my girls? That’s always a risk. Adultery’s a bitch, so I’m playing it safe. Every guard—every swinging dick near my harem—gets cut. Eunuchs, all of ‘em. And it’s normal for the exes to shrug it off. Balls are nothing next to the glory of serving me. You’ll be elite—top of the military, guarding my royal ass. Hell, you might even train the brats your old girls pop out for me. How’s that sound?”

The crowd hums, a low buzz of awe rippling through. Percy’s nodding now, jaw tight, eyes fixed on me like I’m his new god.

“That’s it, campers. Girls, be at the Big House by nine, ready to swear your oaths. Guards, you roll in tomorrow morning. Apollo Cabin, have the infirmary prepped for surgery before then, along with nectar and ambrosia for the recovery. I want them ready to start working by the end of the month.” I flash a grin, voice dropping low and rough. “Now, by order of the king, make way—I’ve got a harem to fill.”