Such a fine nymph

"Have I told you how amazing you are?" Jack asked his nymph as they made their way down the stairs. Millia looked at him, her cheeks flushed, her legs wobbling and Jack suddenly remembered she too was under the influence of the Breath of Aphrodite.

"That was the hardest thing I've done," she said, her voice hoarse. "To not let her in between my legs..." Her beautiful, emerald green eyes were hazy and unfocused, her arousal evident in every line of her body.

Jack smiled and put his arm around her, guiding her down the stairs. "Well, I'm proud of you. You did well." He kissed her hair and pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her warm body against his.

Millia looked up at him and smiled, her eyes still hazy. "Enough to maybe rescue your poor, innocent nymph from her current tribulation?"

Jack tilted his head, looking down at the pleading little nymph. "Nah. I think I'll let you suffer a bit more. It will amuse me to see you working the bar with trembling legs and a dripping cunt."

Millia groaned, her body pressing against his. "Please, master Jack. I'm your good, obedient little nymph. Have mercy."

Jack chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Later, Mil, I will grant you what you deserve after your performance up there. Now, let's get to work." He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "And don’t even think about touching yourself in secret. I'll know." He placed his hand on her breast, kneading it through the fabric of her chiton. "Understand?"

Millia whimpered and nodded, her face flushed. “Yes… yes, master Jack.”

"Good girl." He released her and went to the bar, whistling merrily.

She'd become such a fine little nymph.

***

The Parthenon was a large, ornate club with a Grecian theme, complete with statues of gods and goddesses lining the walls, and columns that went from floor to ceiling. The lighting was dim and intimate, and the music was pulsating and seductive. Several bars were scattered throughout the space, each with their own unique theme and design, and tables and booths were placed around them, allowing patrons to sit and socialize while they drank. Dancers were performing on raised platforms, dressed in short, thin chitons and laurels, their bare legs and arms weaving a pattern of sinuous suggestions, enchanting the guests in rhythm with the pulsating music. It was a place designed to entice and tempt, to draw people in and make them want to let go and indulge their desires.

And trapped in the vortex of this whirlpool of seduction, one nymph was in the fight of her life. She was dressed in the traditional uniform of the bar staff, a short, sheer chiton that clung to her body and revealed more than it concealed, leaving her arms and legs bare. Her golden hair flowed free over her shoulders and back, and her feet were clad in open-toed sandals. The attire didn't bother her - she'd worn ones very similar her entire life. And the loud music didn't distract her, as it held nothing compared to the moans and cries she'd ignored growing up in her mother's home. It was the pulsating need between her legs that was her greatest challenge. A thumping, pounding, demanding need that had her clenching her thighs together and biting her lip.

She’d never felt anything like it before, never experienced such a powerful, all-consuming desire. She had to fight for every breath, for every moment of clarity, as her mind was fogged with lust and need. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and thrilling all at once.

And yet, she stood her ground. She moved with purpose despite her legs shaking in ways outside her control. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips parted, and her skin flushed. She was a picture of lustful temptation, and yet, she resisted. Because she was a good nymph.

She served drinks with unsteady hands, her body aching with need. She took orders, her voice husky and breathless. She moved through the crowd, her movements fluid and alluring. And she ignored the looks and the touches, the whispers and the offers. She ignored them all, focusing solely on her task.

Maybe that's why she didn't notice the young woman tracing her with eyes darker than the night. The young woman that stood across the room, her eyes never leaving Millia. Watching her every move, every gesture. Following her with her gaze, her own body ever in line with the nymph’s.

She didn't seem to care about the other patrons of the club, despite the multitude of both men and women trying to catch her attention. She looked young, maybe twenty, with a slender build, long black hair and toned skin revealing her Latin origin. She was wearing a tight, black dress that hugged her body in all the right places, and her makeup was dark yet subtle. Her eyes seemed to gleam with an inner light, like stars in a clear night sky, her lips l curled into a predatory smile as she watched Millia.

The nymph, unaware of the woman’s gaze, continued to serve drinks, her movements becoming more and more **** as the night wore on. Her body was moving of its own accord, her hips swaying and her chest thrusting forward as she reached for glasses and bottles. Her chiton was slipping off her shoulders, revealing more and more of her pale, perfect skin. The nymph’s nipples were hard, poking through the thin cloth, her thighs slippery with her own juices.

And then, just when Millia thought she couldn't take it anymore, when her body was screaming for release and her mind was lost in a fog of desire, a hand closed around her arm and pulled her to the side. She turned, her eyes wide and ****, and saw Thomas, the other bartender who’d mentored her the other day, looking at her with concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "You don't look so good." He glanced down at her body, his cheeks flushing as he saw her hardened nipples.

Millia swallowed, her throat dry, body trembling. "I'm... I'm okay," she said, words strangled and voice hoarse.

Thomas frowned, his hand still on her arm. "No, you're not. You look like you're about to pass out." He looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Why don't you go take a break? I can handle things here for a bit."

"A-are you certain? I can manage this burden, if need be-" But before she could finish her sentence, Thomas was pushing her towards the back room, his hand firm on her arm. She stumbled, her legs weak, but he caught her, holding her steady.

"Go," he said, his voice firm. "Take a break. You need it."

Millia nodded, her eyes falling to the ground, and she turned and walked away, her body swaying with every step. Thomas watched her go, his frown deepening, before turning back to the bar.

But unbeknownst to him, the dark-haired woman across the room had watched the exchange, her smile growing wider. Raising her glass to her lips and taking a sip, her eyes never left the spot where Millia had disappeared. And when she lowered her glass, her smile was like that of a tigress who had just caught the scent of its prey.