Seeds of Empire

The Camp Director’s quarters used to be Dionysus’s, a goddamn god’s pad, and it shows. High ceilings stretch up, grape vines twisting around walnut bookshelves that gleam in the torchlight. A massive TV—the only one in this whole damn camp—sits dark, reflecting flickers of flame. A Persian rug sprawls under my bare feet, soft and thick, patterns swirling like a maze. The king-sized bed looms in the center, linens smooth as silk, big enough for me and two bitches to fuck in. A sofa hugs one wall, leather cool against my ass, and a coffee table sits squat in front of it. The bathroom’s got a jacuzzi, steam still lingering from the shower I just took with Athena and Annabeth. Potted plants dot the corners, green against the wood, but it’s the vines that scream Dionysus—wild, out of place now that I’ve claimed this shit.

Thirteen bodies cram the space, though, and that’s the problem. This room’s built to fit three comfortably—me and two girls. Now it’s me, Athena, Annabeth, and ten new slaves, all packed in like sardines. The air’s thick, warm, heavy with the musk of bodies and the faint lavender tang from our shower. It’s suffocating and there's barely enough space for the orgy I had planned for tonight.

Athena’s on my right, perched on the sofa, naked as I ordered. Her long black hair spills down her back, brushing my arm, and her gray eyes lock on me, sharp and calculating even now. She’s pristine—goddess skin flawless again, no marks, no sweat, just smooth tan curves begging to be touched. Her tits sit heavy, nipples stiff, and her legs part just enough to show off that sweet pussy I wrecked earlier. She’s posing, one arm draped along the sofa back, chest thrust out, like she’s daring me to fuck her again. Annabeth’s on my left, just as bare, her honey-blond curls wild and damp. The shower scrubbed off the cum and sweat, but her skin’s still a canvas of my work—bite marks dotting her tits, red handprints splayed across her ass and thighs. She’s got her legs spread wide, pussy glistening, gray eyes soft with that needy submission she’s mastered. Her breast presses into my arm, warm and firm, nipple poking me like it’s begging for a bite.

The ten new slaves stand in a messy half-circle around us, their heat adding to the stifling air. I don’t look at them yet—why rush? A king doesn’t jump for his slaves; they wait for me.

I turn to Annabeth, my hand sliding up her thigh, fingers grazing her wet folds. She shivers, legs spreading wider for me, like a good little slut. "Annabeth, this Big House is a fucking shithole. And the camp? Just a bunch of cabins in the dirt. Slapping ‘New Athens’ on it doesn’t make it a goddamn city, and calling this dump a palace doesn’t mean shit either. We need a real palace, something built for a king—me. You were the Architect of Olympus, right? Well, now you’re the Architect of New Athens. Design me a palace that’ll make cocks hard and pussies wet, and a city that screams I own this fucking world."

She nods fast, those gray eyes lighting up with that mix of brains and neediness I love. "Yes, Master. I’ll make it grand, impenetrable—a testament to your rule." Her voice is all breathy, eager to please, and I grin, pinching her nipple hard. She gasps, arching into me, a soft moan slipping out as her tit presses against my arm.

Then Athena cuts in, her voice cool and sharp like a blade. "Master, while Annabeth is skilled, as the Goddess of Wisdom and Crafts, I am unmatched in designing a city that’s both defensible and magnificent." I turn to her, my other hand cupping her heavy tit, squeezing that firm, godly flesh. Her nipple stiffens under my palm, and she leans into my touch, breath hitching just enough to show she’s mine too. "So, you think you can do better than your daughter?" I say, smirking, daring her to push it.

Athena locks eyes with me, unflinching, proud as hell. "It’s not a matter of better, Master, but of divine capability. I can craft a city mortals could only dream of—walls no enemy could breach, streets and temples so beautiful they would worship you just for living there." Her tone’s all strategy and confidence, like she’s already mapping it out in her head.

Annabeth shifts beside me, her thigh rubbing against mine, a flicker of tension in her voice. "Master, I redesigned Olympus itself. I can handle this." She’s not backing down, but she keeps it respectful—smart girl.

I’m about to decide who gets to build my empire when one of the new slaves steps forward.

It’s Nyssa Barrera, daughter of Hephaestus, Cabin Nine’s pick for my harem. She’s no stunner—not even close. Muscular, yeah, from years at the forge, her arms thick and tan like she could swing a hammer all day. Latina, same as Clarisse La Rue from Cabin Five, who’s standing a few feet away, all fierce and fuckable. Clarisse has that rough beauty—sharp jaw, dark eyes that scream she’d fight or fuck with equal fire. Nyssa? Her face is plain, average at best, and next to Clarisse, she’s a downgrade. They’re competing for the same 'Muscular Latina' niche in my lineup, but Clarisse fills it better, no question. Still, Nyssa’s got guts, stepping up like this.

“Master,” she says, voice steady but with a little shake, like she knows she’s out of her league. Her dark eyes flicker to me, then down, hesitating. I stare at her, unimpressed, and she falters for a second, swallowing hard. But she pushes on. “As a daughter of Hephaestus, no one’s better at building than me. Whatever you need constructed—a palace, a city—I can do it. Strong, solid, made to last.”

Athena turns, her gray eyes cutting through Nyssa like a blade. “Your offer is noted, Nyssa, but it’s unnecessary.” Her voice is ice. “My automatons can do anything you can—faster, better, without the limits of mortal hands. You’d only slow me down.”

Nyssa’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t back off. “I can make sure it’s perfect, Master. I’ve built war machines, traps—stuff that holds up under pressure. I’m not just some hammer-slinger.”

Athena scoffs, waving a hand like she’s shooing a bug. “Perfection is my domain, child. I don’t need your help to achieve it.” Then she turns to me, her tone shifting—smooth, commanding, like she’s already won. “Master, not only can I design the greatest palace and city in the world, I can singlehandedly construct it. Neither Annabeth nor Nyssa can match that.”

"Master-" Annabeth tries to counter, but I cut her off.

“I’ve made my decision,” I say. “Athena, you’re in charge of designing and building the palace and the city. I want the best, and that’s you. Divine hands, divine power—nobody’s topping that.”

Athena straightens on my right, her long black hair cascading down her back, brushing my arm. Her stormy gray eyes gleam with triumph, as she nods once—regal, confident, like she knew she’d win. “As you command, Master,” she says, her tone cool and precise, laced with that godly certainty.

Annabeth, on my left, flinches like I’ve slapped her. Her honey-blond curls fall forward as her head dips, hiding her eyes. She bites her lip hard, teeth sinking in, and her hands clench on her thighs, fingers digging into the flesh where my red handprints still mark her. Her legs, spread wide a moment ago to flaunt her glistening pussy, now press together slightly, her shoulders hunching inward. “Yes, Master,” she murmurs, voice soft and tight, barely above a whisper—like she’s swallowing the sting of being passed over. The Architect of Olympus, sidelined by her own mom. It’s gotta burn.

Nyssa, standing a few feet ahead, takes it worse. Her muscular arms cross tight over her chest, hiding what little she’s got up top. Her plain face twists into a scowl, dark eyes flicking to the floor, then back up at me with a flash of defiance she can’t quite bury. She huffs, a sharp, frustrated sound, and shifts her weight, her thick legs flexing like she’s itching to storm off but knows she can’t. “Understood, Master,” she grits out, the words **** through clenched teeth, her jaw so tight it might crack.

The room’s quiet for a beat, the weight of their humiliation hanging heavy—until a soft step breaks it. Silena Beauregard glides forward from the half-circle of slaves, her blue eyes wide with concern, long black hair swaying over her slim shoulders. She’s a fucking vision, even among this lineup—daughter of Aphrodite, built for beauty, not battle. Her body’s softer than Annabeth’s or Athena’s, no hard muscle, just gentle curves that catch the torchlight. Her tits jiggle slightly with each step, full and soft, her ass bouncing just enough to draw my gaze. Her flawless skin glows, and her slim frame carries a grace that screams she’s used to turning heads. She doesn’t flaunt it, though—her hands clasp in front of her, nervous but steady, her gaze darting to Annabeth and Nyssa with that kind, caring look she’s known for.

“Master, if I may…” Silena’s voice is gentle, soothing, like she’s trying to ease the sting in the air. “Once the palace is built, I could help with the interior decor. We daughters of Aphrodite have a keen eye for beauty and harmony—I could make sure every room looks perfect for you.” She offers a small, warm smile, her blue eyes locking on mine, earnest and eager to help.

I let my eyes roam over her, appreciating those soft, jiggly curves—her tits begging to be grabbed, her ass ripe for a smack. “Hmm, that’s not a bad idea,” I say, my voice dropping low, rough with approval.

Before I can say more, Athena turns to me, her gray eyes sharp as ever, her posture shifting—chest out, one hand resting on the sofa arm like she’s claiming the space. “Master, while I appreciate Silena’s offer,” she says, her voice calm but firm, edged with that divine authority, “as the Goddess of Arts and Crafts, I am unparalleled in creating decor that not only pleases the eye but integrates seamlessly with the architecture. I can ensure every detail—from the palace’s walls to the smallest ornament—reflects your glory perfectly. No mortal, no matter how skilled, can rival my ability to weave it all together.”

I grin, leaning back, my hands sliding to rest on Athena’s and Annabeth’s thighs—Athena’s firm and warm, Annabeth’s trembling just a bit. “Well, well, looks like I’ve got options,” I say, my tone thick with amusement, enjoying the way they’re all scrambling for me. "How about this? Athena, you’ve got the initial go at it. Design the palace, build it, and do the decor too. You’ve got free rein.”

Athena inclined her head. “As you wish, Master.”

I turn to Silena, who stands there, her slim frame glowing in the torchlight, hands clasped nervously but her face lit with hope. “But once we’re in—once the palace is done and the harem’s moved in—you, Silena, get a look around. If you see anything that could be better—colors, furniture, whatever the fuck—you tell me. We’ll make it perfect.”

Silena’s face brightened, a warm smile spreading across her lips, relief washing over her like a wave. Her blue eyes sparkled as she dipped her head slightly, her voice soft and earnest. “Thank you, Master. I’ll do my best to ensure everything is perfect for you.”

Athena’s jaw tighten, a muscle twitching in her cheek, and her fingers dig into the sofa’s leather, knuckles whitening like she’s holding back a curse that’d turn Silena into a fucking spider. I place a hand on her thigh, squeezing- a warning to restrain herself. If I hadn't, I think she would have smited Silena. Instead, she settles, though Athena's glare still screams ****.

Silena smiles at me, oblivious to the danger she had been in mere moments before. That smile holds until I ask her a question that had been bugging me for a while. “So, Silena, why are you here instead of Piper or Drew? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as fuck, but I was kinda expecting one of them.”

Her smile fades fast , blue eyes widening with a flicker of fear. Her slim frame stiffens, hands twisting together in front of her soft, jiggly curves—tits bouncing slightly. She’s nervous as hell, like she thinks I’m about to boot her back to Cabin Ten and pick one of her sisters instead. That’d be a fucking humiliation, and I can see it eating at her as she stumbles over her words.

“Master, I…” Silena swallows hard, her voice trembling just a bit. “I-I hope I haven’t disappointed you. I was chosen through an election in Cabin Ten. The candidates were Piper, Drew, and me—the three most beautiful girls in the cabin.”

She glances down, then back up at me, those blue eyes pleading for me to hear her out. “There was… um, uncertainty about Piper’s eligibility. Her boyfriend, Jason, he’s… he’s in Camp Jupiter, way off in California. There’s no way he could get to New Athens to join your guards, like—like you require for the exes of your… your slaves.” She hesitates on the word, her cheeks flushing pink, but she pushes on. “My Charles, though, he’s already here. He can join without any trouble.”

Her hands clasp tighter, knuckles whitening as she shifts her weight, the light catching the gentle sway of her breasts. “And even if Piper was eligible, her… her style, it’s… well, she doesn’t try to be pretty. She cuts her hair all short and choppy, avoids makeup and jewelry—everything she can to not be like the rest of us in Cabin Ten. Not shallow or… or vapid.” She’s careful, kind even now, not trashing Piper outright. “The lack of makeup, the jewelry—that could be fixed quickly if she had been picked. But her hair? That would take months to grow properly.”

Silena pauses, her gaze flickering to the side like she’s remembering something. “There was a time, right after Mother claimed her—blessed her—when Piper was… stunning. The most beautiful girl at camp. But that was just once, and Piper hated it. To get that look back, it would take time we didn’t have before we needed to send our candidate to you. Piper barely got any votes.”

I nod, leaning back. Silena’s making sense but my mind drifts to Piper after Aphrodite’s blessing. I remember it clear as fuck: hair long and braided with gold ribbons, cherry-red lips, perfect makeup bringing out those kaleidoscope eyes, a white gown so low it barely hid her tits, gold armbands and a necklace dripping with amber and coral. A Cherokee Barbie, hotter than anyone here, even Silena. That’s the Piper I want in my harem—not the tomboyish one who chops her hair and hides her curves. I bet I could get her to change for me- for the honor of being in my harem. It might take some time to properly doll her up, but I can see her her taking her oath to me in a few months.

Silena’s voice pulls me back. “Drew was… my main competition,” she says, her tone careful, diplomatic as hell. She’s too nice to call Drew a bitch straight out, but I can hear it lurking under her words. “She’s… strong-willed. And she can be… um, hard to get along with. A lot of my siblings find her… her way of leading… tough.” She bites her lip, hands twisting again. “Since Drew and I are equal in looks they picked me because I’m… more approachable, I guess.”

She looks up at me, blue eyes wide and earnest, her slim frame trembling just a bit. “I hope that explains it, Master. I really want to serve you well.”

“Sure, Silena,” I say, voice rough and lazy, dragging it out like I’m bored. “You’re here, you won the election, blah blah blah. But honestly? I’d still rather have one of your sisters instead.”

Her face crumples and her eyes go glassy, tears welling up fast, and her lips tremble as she bites down to hold it in. “I… I thought I could please you. I’m sorry if I—”

“Save it,” I cut her off, waving a hand like she’s a buzzing fly. “It’s not about you not being hot—you are. It’s about what I want in my harem. See, one of the perks of snagging a girl from every cabin is the diversity. Gods pass down specific shit to their kids, right? Makes my collection a fucking rainbow of looks.”

I lean back, eyes sliding over the lineup, cataloging what each bitch brings to the table. My mind’s already ticking through them, sizing up the variety I’ve scored.

Katie Gardener’s over there, daughter of Demeter, rocking wheat blonde hair that catches the torchlight like a field at noon. Her grass green eyes glint, fresh and alive—earthy, grounded, a nature vibe that’s all her mom’s doing.

Next to her’s Kayla Knowles, Apollo’s kid. Short ginger hair, dyed with streaks of bright green and blue, like some wild-ass firecracker. Her sky-blue eyes pop, sharp and clear—sunlight and music wrapped in one tight package.

Julia Feingold’s my half-sister, Hermes’ spawn, and fuck, she’s a problem. Black hair, dark eyes—perfect for melting into shadows, sneaky as hell. She’s got talent and power I never got, and it pisses me off. Always made me feel like the runt of the litter. Can’t wait to put her in her place, make her kneel like the rest.

Bianca Di Angelo’s Italian blood shows—olive skin, silky dark hair in a braid, freckles splashed across her nose. Medium build, not as toned as Annabeth but firmer than Silena. Those black eyes, though—pure Hades, not dark brown like most, but solid fucking black. Unique as hell, and it’s mine now.

Lou Ellen Blackstone, Hecate’s girl, has black hair and green eyes—same combo Poseidon’s kids get. With her, it’s like I’ve got the full set: Thalia from Zeus, Bianca from Hades, and now this pseudo-Poseidon vibe. A goddamn trinity of power in my bed.

I point across the room at Thalia Grace, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tight over her perky tits. “See, I already got a girl with black hair and blue eyes right there,” I say, voice loud and blunt, cutting through Silena’s soft sniffles. “Thalia’s in the harem.”

In my head, I know it ain’t exactly fair. Thalia’s punk as fuck—short, spiky hair, built like a long-distance runner, all lean muscle and attitude. Silena’s the opposite—curvy, soft, a beauty queen ready to play live-in sex ****. Different flavors. “I’d rather have an Asian chick like Drew or a Cherokee bitch like Piper instead, but if you’re what they sent, you’re what they sent. I’ll let you swear the oath. Aren’t you grateful?”

Silena’s voice comes out small, trembling like she’s scared to fuck it up. “Yes, Master,” she whispers, eyes downcast. “I am grateful.”

I smirk, leaning back, cock twitching at how fragile she sounds. “You don’t sound very grateful, Silena. If you don’t want the honor, that’s fine with me. I can always send you back and have them send Piper or Drew instead.”

Her head snaps up, blue eyes wide with panic. “No, Master, please!” she cries, voice cracking as she steps closer, hands reaching out like she’s begging. “I do want to be here. I want to serve you. Please, don’t send me back. I’ll do anything you ask—I swear, I’ll be good for you!” She’s frantic. A girl this hot—way out of my league back when I was just some Hermes runt—begging to be my ****? It’s a rush, dark and hot, surging straight to my dick.

I grin, slow and mean, savoring it. “Anything, huh? Alright, if you’re that eager, you can be the first to swear the oath.”

Her breath catches, relief flooding her face, though her hands still tremble. “Thank you, Master,”

I turn to Athena. “Give her the oath.”

Athena nods, her expression cool and unreadable, like she’s above all this even after I made her lick my cum off the stage with the whole camp watching. She picks up a piece of parchment from the coffee table and stands, graceful as fuck. Her long black hair swings as she crosses to Silena, holding out the paper. “Here is the oath you must swear,” she says. “It is written in Ancient Greek, as you are hardwired to understand it.”

Silena’s hands shake as she takes the parchment, fingers trembling so hard the paper crackle like brittle leaves in a storm. Her blue eyes dart across the text. For a split second, I wonder if she's going to have second thoughts. The oath Athena has written is ironclad. No loopholes, no escape. Once she spoke it, Silena would be mine, body and soul, no takebacks. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, ready to order her to read. I was the king of New Athens, and she couldn't disobey me. Even if she changed her mind now, at the last second, I could make her read the words and once she did, she would be bound to me all the same.

But Silena didn’t ****. Instead, her voice burst forth, rushed and fervent, like she was racing against some invisible clock—afraid I’d snatch this twisted honor away from her at the last second. “I, Silena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite, do hereby swear upon the sacred waters of the River Styx to serve Trevor Miller as his devoted sex ****. I shall obey his every command without question, dedicate my existence to his pleasure and satisfaction, and strive to fulfill his every desire. I shall use all my skills and abilities to bring him joy, and I shall never seek to escape or resist his will. My loyalty to Trevor Miller shall be absolute, and I shall love him above all others. Should I ever find a way to break this oath, I shall immediately bind myself with additional oaths to ensure my eternal servitude.”

A low rumble rolled through the room, distant thunder vibrating the high ceilings, shaking the grape vines against the shelves. The Styx had heard her, sealed her fate.

“Welcome to the harem, Silena,” I say, voice rough and low, thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine now.”

Silena exhales a shaky breath, her shoulders easing as the thunder’s echo faded into the high ceilings of the Camp Director’s quarters. The grape vines trembled faintly against the walnut shelves, and the light dances over her soft curves. A small, relieved smile tugged at her full lips. "Thank you, Master,” she whisper.

I flick my eyes to the nine slaves still standing in their messy half-circle, their heat clogging the air. "Now for the rest of you..."

Athena grabs the other nine pieces of parchments from the coffee table, each one scribbled with the same Ancient Greek script, and hands them to the other girls. One by one, they stepped forward, voices ranging from steady to clipped as they read the oath, inserting their own names into the trap I’d set. Nine claps of thunder cracked through the room, sharp and final, binding them to me—my harem sealed tight.

There is a moment of almost solemn reverence as my girls adjust to their new lives. It doesn't last long before I tell them to listen up. “Today’s a big fucking deal for New Athens, and you’re all in on it. The Romans have their shit locked down with Camp Jupiter and New Rome. They train, retire, get jobs, go to school—all safe behind their legion’s walls. That’s why they’ve got almost a thousand demigods and legacies screwing and popping out kids.

“Us Greeks? We’ve been fucked. Camp Half-Blood’s just a summer camp—no place to live, no schools, no jobs. So we leave, and monsters eat us alive. That’s why there’s less than a hundred of us left, and not a single damn legacy. We don’t survive long enough to fuck and breed.

“That ends now. New Athens is gonna be our New Rome. With Athena’s brains, we’re building a real city—schools, jobs, homes. No more wandering off to get chewed up. You’ll live here, work here, fuck here, and have my kids here. Legacies, like those Roman bastards.

“And that’s where you sluts come in." I smirk, picturing them all swollen with my brats. "I’m the king, so I’m setting the example. Hope you’re ready to be moms, ‘cause I’m gonna knock every last one of you up. We’re making legacies—my bloodline’s gonna anchor this city.”

I point at them, one by one. “That’s the perk of you being from different cabins. Your kids—my kids—will get your powers. Thalia, ours might throw wind and lightning around. Bianca, ours will lead zombie hordes. Lou, fucking magic. You see where this is going. My bloodline’s gonna be unstoppable.

“Here’s the deal in the harem: the more kids you pump out for me, the higher you climb. Simple as that. Wanna be top bitch? Better start popping out my babies like it’s your goddamn job because it is. Will any of you bitches have trouble with that? Any reason you won't be able to have my kids?”

The room went dead quiet, the girls’ eyes darting between each other like they were sizing up who’d crack first. Annabeth shifted beside me, her thigh brushing mine, head dipping slightly—she already knew her deal, that damn pill she’d taken for Percy. I didn’t look at her; I scanned the ten, waiting.

After a beat, Silena Beauregard steps forward. She clasps her hands in front of her, voice soft but shaky, like she was scared I’d snap. “Um, Master… I… I was on birth control.” She swallows hard, cheeks flushing pink. “Because of Charles, I didn’t want to get pregnant before I was ready.”

I stare at her, my jaw tightening, annoyance flaring hot in my chest. “Fuck, Silena,” I growl, leaning forward, hands balling into fists on my knees. “I knew I should’ve gone with Drew instead. You and Annabeth, both on the goddamn pill because of your shitty boyfriends. What a fucking waste.”

Silena’s face crumples, her blue eyes glistening with tears she fought to hold back. Annabeth flinches beside me, her breath hitching, but she keeps her mouth shut—smart girl. I stand up, pacing in front of the sofa, my bare feet slapping the rug, voice rising with every word. “You two sluts were out there screwing your boyfriends, popping pills to dodge getting knocked up. Now you’re in my harem, and I can’t even breed you right. Fucking pointless.”

“Master, I’m sorry—”

“Shut it,” I snap, cutting her off. Annabeth stays silent, her gray eyes fixed on the floor, shame rolling off her in waves. I stop pacing, pointing at the door. “Go on, both of you. Get the fuck out of here. Sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. I don’t wanna see your faces right now.”

Silena’s tears spill over, streaking her cheeks as she nods fast. “Yes, Master,” she whispers, barely audible, her slim frame shaking as she turned. Annabeth rises without a word, her movements slow and heavy, head bowed like she’d been gut-punched. She doesn't look at me, just follows Silena, her honey-blond curls bouncing faintly as they shuffle out. Silena glances back once, blue eyes wet and longing, before the door clicks shut behind them.

The room feels lighter with them gone—eleven now, still tight, but manageable. I turn back to the remaining girls, their eyes locked on me, waiting. Thalia Grace leans against a wall, arms crossed tight over her perky tits, electric blue eyes sharp but quiet. Clarisse La Rue stands tall, dark eyes fierce, muscles flexing like she was ready to fight or fuck—didn’t matter which. The others—Katie, Kayla, Julia, Bianca, Lou Ellen, Nyssa—shift, nervous but silent.

“Anyone else got something to confess?” I ask, voice low and challenging, daring them to test me.

They shake their heads, a chorus of quick “No, Master”s rippling through the group—Katie’s earthy drawl, Kayla’s bright chirp, Bianca’s soft Italian lilt, all blending into submission. Thalia just smirks faintly, her punk attitude simmering but held back, while Clarisse grunts a gruff “Nope,” her tone all business.

I grin, slow and predatory, feeling the heat coil in my gut. “Good,” I say, voice dropping to a rough purr as I stepped toward the bed, cock already twitching. “Then let’s get this fucking orgy started.”